11 - May You Be Satisfied (interlude)

11 - May You Be Satisfied (interlude)

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: heartbreaking slow burn Summary: You watched Aaron, the man you loved silently and selflessly, marry Haley, knowing you had pushed him toward the happiness he deserved but could never find with you. In your heartfelt speech, you spoke of love, resilience, and the myth of two halves finding each other. Despite your pain, you hid your unrequited feelings behind support and encouragement. Warnings: Heartbreak incoming. Word Count: 8.1k Dado's Corner: No words, just tears.

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You lingered at the back, tucked away behind the crowd of guests, clutching your champagne flute like a lifeline. The laughter and chatter around you felt distant, muffled, as if you were listening through glass.

Your eyes were fixed on Aaron, the center of it all, his every movement pulling you deeper into a familiar ache. He looked more at ease than you had ever seen him, shoulders relaxed, eyes bright, his smile unrestrained in a way that was both beautiful and painful - and when he looked at Haley, it was as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them.

It was the kind of love that you had seen from afar but never up close, the kind you had never been able to hold in your hands. The kind of love you had convinced yourself he needed. The kind you thought you couldn’t give.

Your chest tightened as you watched him lean in, his forehead brushing against Haley’s, the world around them fading into nothing. You could almost hear the steady beat of his heart, could almost feel the warmth of the happiness that radiated from him, happiness that felt just out of your reach. Your own heart ached with the weight of a choice you had made long ago, a decision that had seemed selfless at the time but now felt like the cruelest kind of betrayal.

.

The hotel room was dimly lit, with only the small lamp on the nightstand casting a warm, golden glow across the space. You were exhausted, the weight of the case settling heavily on your shoulders, but there was comfort in these quiet routines you and Hotch had fallen into. This had become your sanctuary after hours: sitting in silence, each absorbed in a book, allowing the world to melt away just for a little while.

You stretched, feeling the tightness in your muscles release as you let out a long sigh. Hotch glanced up from his own work, and you caught the subtle shift in his expression - concern, a softness reserved only for these moments when his stoic mask slipped away.

His gaze lingered on you, a hint of something deeper flashing behind his dark eyes, before he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped package.

“Here,” he said, tossing it toward you with the kind of casual ease that belied the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. “Thought you might need a little distraction.”

You caught it mid-air, feeling the warmth of his attention settle around you like a blanket. He always had a way of noticing the small things: your exhaustion, the way your shoulders slumped when the day had been particularly rough, and now, this little gift.

You tore open the paper with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, revealing a book: Coin Collecting for Beginners. The cover showed neatly organized rows of shiny, historical coins, their intricate details reflecting the soft light.

You blinked at the book, then looked up at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Coin collecting, Hotch?” you said, tilting your head in disbelief, unable to hide the affection behind your teasing tone. “This is... unexpected.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I used to collect coins when I was a kid. Figured it might be something you’d enjoy after you subjected me to Hegel for Dummies a few months ago.”

You burst out laughing, recalling the moment you’d handed him that book, his initial look of quiet horror, quickly replaced by begrudging curiosity. You had meant it as half a joke, half a genuine attempt to bring him closer to your world of philosophy, hoping to share a piece of yourself with him. “So this is payback? You’re trying to teach me the fine art of coin collecting in return for a deep dive into German philosophy?”

“Something like that,” he replied, his amusement deepening as he watched your reaction. “It’s a bit easier on the brain, at least. Less… existential dread.”

“Easy, huh?” you grinned, flipping through the book, feeling the pages beneath your fingers. It was such a Hotch move - thoughtful, a little surprising, and wrapped in just the right amount of sincerity and humor. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot. Maybe I’ll become an expert and give you a run for your money, no pun intended.”

But as you continued flipping through the pages, your grin faded into confusion. The words on the pages weren’t what you expected, they weren’t even in English. You squinted at the unfamiliar text, your brows knitting together in surprise.

“Wait a second… Swedish?” you said, your voice filled with disbelief as you stared at the incomprehensible words. “Hotch, this entire book is in Swedish!”

He barely suppressed a grin, clearly relishing in your reaction. “Oh, is it? Must have been a mix-up at the bookstore.”

You shot him an incredulous look, your amusement bubbling back up as you realized this was no innocent mistake. “A mix-up? Really?” You held the book up, waving it slightly in mock accusation. “You bought me a book in Swedish?”

“Well,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his voice taking on that teasing edge that always made your heart flutter, “about a month ago, you mentioned you were learning Swedish. Something about expanding your ‘already impressive enough linguistic repertoire,’ if I remember correctly.”

You stared at him, genuinely surprised. That had been a late-night conversation, one of those quiet moments where you were both so wrapped up in work that anything you said felt like a confession shared in secret. “You remember that? I barely remember saying it, it was like one in the morning. I was half asleep.”

Hotch shrugged, but there was something undeniably tender in his gaze, an unspoken care that made your pulse quicken. “Of course I remembered. You don’t have to say something more than once for me to pick up on it. Besides,” he added, his voice dropping a little lower, just enough to make your breath hitch, “you’re my partner. It’s kind of my job to know these things.”

The word “partner” hung in the air, rich with a meaning that went far beyond the job. The way he always said it felt like a promise, like he was telling you that he saw you - really saw you - and that he was paying attention, even when you didn’t think he was. It made your heart skip a beat, a familiar rush of warmth flooding your chest as you tried to keep the growing smile from spreading too far.

You tried to play it off, giving him a teasing smile that you hoped masked the way he made your heart race. “So this is your grand plan? Testing me to see if I’m really learning Swedish?”

Hotch leaned forward slightly, the mischievous glint in his eyes becoming more pronounced as he watched your reaction. “Exactly. I figured this would be a good way to track your progress. Plus, it’s more fun than flashcards, don’t you think?”

You laughed, shaking your head, trying to ignore how his attention made you feel, seen, valued. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“Always a few steps ahead,” he replied, his voice laced with that familiar confidence. But there was something else there too, something softer, as his gaze lingered on you just a second longer than necessary, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you.

You glanced down at the book in your hands, flipping through the pages again, the Swedish text taunting you with its complexity. “So how am I supposed to read this if I’m still barely past the basics?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hotch said, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always made your cheeks warm. “I’ll help. I’m planning to quiz you on the first chapter in… let’s say, twenty minutes.”

Your eyes widened, and you shot him a look of mock indignation. “Twenty minutes? You can’t be serious.”

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips unmistakable. “I’m very serious. If you’re learning Swedish, you better prove it. Think of this as motivation.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” you said, shaking your head, laughing despite yourself. “You’re just looking for an excuse to make me suffer.”

He chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine, his laughter rich and warm, like the rarest of rewards. “Not suffer, learn. Big difference.”

“And how exactly are you going to quiz me if you don’t speak Swedish either?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you leaned forward, closing the space between you ever so slightly.

He paused, his smirk widening as his eyes met yours, that familiar spark of playfulness lighting up his expression. “Simple. I’ll make you translate it out loud. That way, I can see if you’re telling the truth.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of it all, the way he always seemed to know how to push just the right buttons. “You’re really going to put me on the spot like that?”

“You did give me Hegel, Hegel for Dummies, but still Hegel” he countered, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light that sent butterflies swirling in your stomach. “Consider this payback.”

Your heart fluttered as you watched him, the flush creeping up your neck as you tried to keep your voice light. “Alright, fine. But don’t be surprised when I start throwing Swedish insults your way.”

Hotch leaned forward again, his eyes locked on yours in that way that always made your breath catch, like he was daring you to cross a line neither of you had fully acknowledged. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The air between you crackled, the playful teasing only serving to underscore the deeper connection that had grown between you over the months. It wasn’t just the words, it was the way he looked at you, the way his gaze lingered, warm and attentive, like you were the only person in the room. It was the way his smile softened when you laughed, and the way he seemed to remember every little thing you said, even in the quiet moments when you thought no one was listening.

As you picked up the Swedish book again, flipping through the pages with renewed determination, you couldn’t help but glance over at Hotch, your heart fluttering as his soft smile lingered in your mind. The air between you had settled into a comfortable quiet, a kind of sanctuary you both retreated to after the chaos of the day. But something was different.

You noticed a heaviness in the way Hotch’s shoulders slumped, the slight tension in his brow as he stared blankly at the file in front of him. He was present, but his mind was miles away, lost in thoughts you couldn’t quite reach.

“Hotch,” you said softly, breaking the stillness between you, your voice gentle but probing. “Is everything okay?”

He looked up at you, and for a moment, the confident, composed Aaron Hotchner you knew so well seemed to flicker, replaced by something raw and uncertain. His eyes, usually so steady, were clouded with doubt. He hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully, and you could see the struggle playing out in his expression.

“It’s… Haley,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual, laced with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “She reached out to me recently. We’ve been talking, catching up on our lives. And today, she told me she wants to try again with us. She said she never stopped loving me.”

The room seemed to tilt slightly, the weight of his confession hanging heavy in the air. You felt your stomach drop, a sinking, twisting feeling that left you momentarily breathless.

You had known that Haley was always a part of him, that their bond was something deep and unbreakable, but hearing it spoken aloud made it feel so much more real. The quiet hope you’d harbored - foolish and unspoken - crumbled in an instant, leaving you with nothing but the sharp sting of reality.

He was hers. He always had been. And you, for all your quiet moments and lingering glances, would never be more than his partner, the one who stood beside him but never crossed the line. You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile that you hoped would disguise the hurt.

“How do you feel about that?” you asked, your voice soft and careful, though each word felt like it was slicing through you.

Hotch ran a hand through his hair, the gesture full of frustration and uncertainty. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to believe it could work, that maybe this time it could be different. But I’m afraid - afraid of messing it up again. She deserves more than what I can give her. I’m still the same man I was back then, always chasing monsters across the country. She deserves someone who can be there, who doesn’t have one foot always out the door.”

He looked away, his gaze distant and pained. “And now, with Rossi gone, the responsibilities are piling up. The team needs me more than ever, and I can’t keep pretending that I’m someone I’m not. I don’t know if I can be the man she needs me to be. And what scares me most… I don’t even know if I can be happy.”

The confession hit you hard, deeper than you expected.

Here he was, this strong, resilient man who had faced the darkest parts of humanity, admitting that he didn’t know how to let himself be happy. It broke something in you, because in that moment, you saw how much he carried alone: the guilt, the doubt, the endless chase for something he couldn’t quite grasp. And you couldn’t help but feel that same restlessness in yourself, that yearning for a peace that always seemed just out of reach.

You hesitated, feeling the sting of your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you, but you knew you had to say something. Despite the ache in your chest, you couldn’t let him drown in his own fears. You took a breath, steadying yourself, and leaned forward, your voice gentle but firm.

“Aaron, you deserve to be happy,” you said, your words laced with a quiet urgency. “I know you’re afraid. I know you’re scared of making the same mistakes. But you’re not the same person you were back then. When things ended with Haley, you were still working as a DA, buried in your ambition, trying to prove yourself. You were driven, relentless. But look at where you are now. You’re not just chasing your career, you’ve built something. You’ve made it.”

He listened, his eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the flicker of doubt mixed with something else - hope, maybe, or the desperate need to believe in what you were saying. You continued, feeling the weight of each word as it passed your lips.

“You’re a lead profiler, Aaron. You’ve achieved everything you set out to do, and you’re doing it better than anyone ever could. You’ve worked so hard, and you’re finally in a place where you can allow yourself to take a breath. You’ve earned it. And you’re so close to that promotion, to being Unit Chief. You’ve proved to everyone, including yourself, that you’re more than capable.”

You paused, searching his face for any sign that your words were getting through to him, but his expression remained conflicted, his eyes shadowed with years of unspoken fears. “Aaron, you’re allowed to be satisfied. You’re allowed to find happiness outside of work. It doesn’t make you any less dedicated. You’re not the man you were back then. You’re better.”

He looked down, the smallest smile tugging at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wish it were that simple. I want to believe you, but I keep feeling like… I’m never satisfied. No matter how much I achieve, no matter how far I go, it never feels like enough.”

Your heart clenched at his admission, and you knew, instinctively, that he wasn’t just talking about his work. There was a part of you that wanted to reach out, to tell him that maybe his restlessness was a sign that he was meant for something more, something beyond the life he was clinging to out of fear. But your own insecurities held you back, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words.

Instead, you tried to offer him the one thing you could, your unwavering belief in him. “Aaron, happiness isn’t a destination. It’s not something you can chase down like a criminal or lock away like a case file. It’s messy and imperfect, and sometimes, it’s just allowing yourself to be enough. It’s letting go of the ‘what ifs’ and the regrets. You have a chance to rebuild something with Haley, to find that piece of your life you thought you’d lost. Why not take it?”

His gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the answers he so desperately needed. And in that moment, you saw something you hadn’t expected - vulnerability, a quiet plea for reassurance. It was like he was asking you, without words, if you thought he could be happy, if you believed in him enough to push him toward the life he deserved.

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You cut through all the noise in my head and make it sound so simple. How do you do that?”

You gave him a small, bittersweet smile, your own heart aching with the unspoken truth that you wished you could tell him. “I just know you, Aaron. I know how much you’ve sacrificed, how hard you’ve worked. And I believe that you deserve to let yourself have something good. To be happy.”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening, but there was still a shadow of doubt in his eyes. “And you? Are you happy?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You wanted to tell him that happiness was a fleeting thing for you, something that came in brief moments - like the way he looked at you when you made him laugh, or the quiet nights when you worked side by side in companionable silence. But you knew that your happiness was tied to him in a way that could never be spoken aloud, and admitting it now would only complicate things.

You took a breath, your smile tinged with sadness. “I’m… I’m working on it. But that’s okay. I think sometimes, the pursuit of happiness is just as important as finding it. And I think you’re closer than you realize.”

He gave you a long, searching look, his eyes filled with an unspoken understanding that hung between you like a fragile thread. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and the familiar banter slipped back into his voice, though softer, edged with something vulnerable.

“You should write a book,” he teased, his smile warm but weary. “Something about the philosophy of happiness. I’d read it.”

You laughed, though it was tinged with the bittersweet realization that even in these moments, the lines between you would always remain. “I’d call it ‘How to Be Satisfied: A Guide for Stubborn FBI Agents.’ It’d be a bestseller, not like the crap that Rossi seems to be writing now.”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting, and for a brief second, it felt like you were back to the way things always were - teasing, pushing, but never quite touching the truth. But there was an undercurrent now, something deeper, a shared understanding that you were both too afraid to voice.

Hotch watched you, his expression softening into something almost tender. “You’re the best partner I could ask for,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere. “I hope you know that,” he repeated softly, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. For a fleeting moment, it felt like he was reaching out, like he wanted to say something more but didn’t quite know how.

You forced a smile, trying to keep the emotions at bay. “I’m just doing my job,” you said lightly, though your voice wavered, betraying the quiet ache beneath your words. “Keeping you out of trouble and making sure you don’t forget to take care of yourself in the process. Somebody’s gotta do it.”

Hotch’s smile was small, tinged with a sadness that mirrored your own. “You do a lot more than that,” he said quietly. “More than you know.”

There was a weight in his gaze, something unsaid that hung heavy between you, and you found yourself wondering if he felt it too, the pull, the unspoken longing that neither of you dared to acknowledge. You wanted to ask him, to push just a little further and see if there was a chance, however slim, that he felt the same way. But you knew that wasn’t fair, not to him, not to the partnership that had kept you both anchored when everything else seemed to fall apart.

So instead, you leaned back, letting the silence stretch, filled with all the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say. “You know,” you started, trying to find your footing again, “I think happiness is a lot like those coins you used to collect. You spend your whole life searching for the rare ones, the ones that seem impossible to find. But sometimes, the ones that mean the most are the ones you didn’t expect, the ones you stumble upon when you’re not even looking.”

Hotch watched you closely, his expression softening as your words sank in. “Is that how you see it?” he asked, his voice tinged with something almost hopeful, as if he were searching for meaning in your metaphor.

You nodded, your smile bittersweet. “I think happiness is something you can’t chase down. You have to let it find you, in the quiet moments, the unexpected ones. It’s not about being perfect or having everything figured out. It’s about letting yourself feel whatever it is you feel, without guilt or fear. It’s messy and complicated, and it’s never what you think it will be. But that’s what makes it worth it.”

He looked down, his fingers tracing the edge of the book on his lap, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. When he looked back up at you, there was a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “You make it sound so easy,” he said, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I wish I could see it the way you do.”

You reached out, hesitating for just a moment before placing your hand gently on his. It was a small gesture, but it felt monumental, like crossing a line you’d both been dancing around for too long.

“It’s not easy,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you deserve it, Aaron. You deserve to find the kind of happiness that doesn’t come with strings attached, that doesn’t make you feel like you’re constantly running.”

His gaze fell to where your hands touched, his thumb brushing yours in a subtle, lingering movement that sent a shiver through you. There was a depth in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read, a mixture of gratitude and something more, something that felt dangerously close to the way you’d been feeling for him all along.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been the one keeping me steady, reminding me why I do this. You make it bearable.”

You squeezed his hand gently, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a warm, heavy blanket. It was everything you’d ever wanted to hear from him and yet not enough, because it was tinged with the painful truth that you could never be more than this, his partner, his confidant, the one who steadied him without ever asking for anything in return.

“I’ll always be here,” you said, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your emotions in check. “No matter what. Even when it’s hard, even when you feel like you don’t deserve it. I’ll be here.”

Hotch nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and for a moment, it felt like he might say something, something that would change everything. But he hesitated, the unspoken fears holding him back, and you knew then that whatever he was feeling would remain locked away, just like yours.

He pulled his hand back gently, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “For everything.”

You nodded, trying to keep your composure, but the sadness of the moment was like a tidal wave crashing over you, pulling you under. You picked up the Swedish book again, using it as a shield against the rising tide of emotions, but the words on the page blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn’t let him see how much it hurt, how deeply you wished things could be different.

As the silence between you grew, you stole a glance at him, watching as he stared at the wall, lost in thought. You knew that his heart was torn between what he wanted and what he thought he deserved, and all you could do was hope that he would find his way, whatever that looked like.

“Aaron,” you said quietly, your voice breaking through the stillness. “I know it’s scary, but you’ve been through worse. And if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you don’t give up. Not on the people you care about, and not on yourself. So maybe… maybe it’s time to stop punishing yourself for things that are out of your control. Maybe it’s time to let go of the guilt and let yourself be happy.”

He turned to you, his eyes filled with a raw, unspoken gratitude that made your heart ache. “How do you always manage to pull me out of my head?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the voice of reason I never knew I needed.”

You smiled, the tears finally spilling over as you tried to laugh through the pain. “Well, somebody has to keep you from spiraling into existential dread. And who better than your favorite philosopher?”

He chuckled, a soft, heartfelt sound that eased some of the tension between you, and for a moment, it was like you were back to the familiar rhythm of your banter, the safety of your partnership holding you together. But beneath it all, the truth remained, a quiet, unspoken longing that neither of you could bring yourself to say aloud.

As the night wore on, you both retreated back into your books, the silence between you comfortable yet tinged with the bittersweet knowledge of everything that would never be. And though the room was dimly lit, filled with the soft hum of the night, the warmth of Hotch’s presence beside you felt like the only light you needed, even if it wasn’t quite enough.

Because as much as you loved him, and as much as he seemed to love having you by his side, there would always be a line you couldn’t cross. And so you would stay here, in this quiet corner of his life, offering what you could, even if it meant letting go of what you wanted most.

For now, you were content to be his anchor, his voice of reason, his silent supporter in the moments when he needed it most. And though your heart ached with the knowledge that he would never truly be yours, you took solace in the fact that, in some small way, you were his.

.

But now, watching him stand before her, so sure and so full of hope, you were forced to confront the painful reality: you were the very reason he was here.

You had pushed him right into her arms.

The realization tore through you, a sharp and bitter reminder of the unspoken sacrifices you had made. You loved him, but you had buried those feelings, convinced yourself that your partnership was too important to jeopardize, that he needed Haley more than he could ever need you. And now, standing here, you couldn’t deny the truth: you had done the right thing, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests erupted into applause, and you clapped along, though the sound felt distant, muffled by the weight of your own thoughts. Aaron and Haley kissed, sealing their vows with a promise of forever, and the room filled with the warmth of their shared joy.

You watched, your smile tight and forced, trying to keep the ache from showing on your face. This was their moment, and you wouldn’t let your own pain ruin it.

The reception began, and you found yourself moving on autopilot, mingling with guests, offering polite smiles and congratulations. But your mind was elsewhere, trapped in the moments leading up to today.

The sleepless nights spent writing and rewriting the speech Aaron had asked you to give, the way your heart had clenched every time you tried to put into words how much he meant to you. You had used the pen he had given you years ago - engraved with the number “200,” a small reminder of that friendly rivalry that had started it all. That pen had been your constant companion, a quiet symbol of the bond you shared, and as you sat alone in your room, writing the speech that would let him go, it had been your only comfort.

But as you reached the final lines, the ink had run out, sputtering and fading just as you tried to finish. You had watched, helpless, as the words disappeared, the pen leaving nothing but a faint, ghostly impression on the page. It had felt like a cruel metaphor for your love for Aaron, something beautiful but ultimately doomed to run dry. It was as if the universe was telling you that this was the end, that it was time to let go.

Now, standing before the crowd, holding the faded notes in your trembling hands, you felt the weight of that moment all over again. You had written the speech with every ounce of love and heartbreak you had left, and now you had to deliver it with a smile, pretending that you weren’t saying goodbye to the one person who had meant more to you than you ever dared to admit.

As you approached the microphone, you took a deep breath, trying to steady the trembling in your voice. Aaron and Haley were watching you, their expressions warm and expectant, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze, even as your heart twisted painfully.

“When Aaron asked me to speak today,” you began, your voice steady but lined with the cracks of unspoken emotion, “I was honored - and a little terrified. Because, well, how do you find the right words for someone who’s meant so much to you? How do you sum up what makes a person like Aaron so special in just a few minutes? But Aaron has always had a way of asking more of me than I think I can give, and somehow, he makes me want to rise to the occasion every single time.”

You glanced at him, your eyes lingering on his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, full of pride and gratitude. It was the look he always gave you when you did something he thought was impossible, when you pushed yourself beyond what anyone else expected. And for a fleeting moment, it felt like you were back in those quiet moments, just the two of you against the world.

“Aaron is one of those rare people who loves deeply, even if he doesn’t always show it,” you continued, your voice softening as you spoke the words that had been weighing on your heart.

“He’s the kind of person who cares quietly, in ways that are often unseen. He remembers the small things, the details most people miss. He listens, really listens, and he makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the room. His love is not about grand gestures or dramatic declarations, it’s in the way he stays, the way he shows up, even when it’s hard.”

You saw Haley’s smile grow as she looked at Aaron, and your chest tightened with the bittersweetness of it all. You had fallen for him in those very moments - the nights when he stayed late just to make sure you weren’t alone, the mornings when he brought you coffee without you ever asking, the quiet, unspoken ways he showed he cared. But now, those moments were no longer yours to hold onto. They were hers, as they had always been.

“I remember when Aaron first told me about Haley,” you said, glancing at her with a warm smile that you hoped hid the ache in your chest. “It was like he was talking about the other half of his soul, this person who knew him better than anyone, who saw him completely, flaws and all, and loved him anyway. Haley, you’ve been his light in the darkest times, the constant he could always rely on. And you never gave up on him, even when things were hard. That kind of love… it’s rare, and it’s worth fighting for.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. It was so hard to stand here, to speak about the man you loved and the woman he belonged with, knowing that your place in his life was always destined to be on the outside. But you couldn’t let your own pain show, not here, not today.

“Aaron, you’ve always been the one to carry so much on your shoulders,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve faced things that would break most people, and yet, you keep going. You keep fighting. And you’ve earned the right to be happy, to have the life you’ve always wanted. You deserve to let yourself be loved, fully and without hesitation.”

You glanced down at the notes in your hands, the faded ink barely visible now, and you felt the full weight of your own words - the words that had run out just as you tried to say what was in your heart.

“There’s a story I’ve always found beautiful,” you began, your voice soft but steady, though you could feel the tremble in your hands. “It’s from Plato’s Symposium, a dialogue about love. In it, the playwright Aristophanes tells a myth about the origins of human beings. He says that, long ago, humans were not like we are now. We were whole - complete, with two faces, four arms, and four legs, perfectly self-sufficient, rolling around the earth like spheres. We were powerful, so powerful, in fact, that the gods grew jealous and fearful of our strength, worried that we might challenge them.”

You glanced at the crowd, seeing faces lit with curiosity and confusion, but your eyes found their way back to Aaron. He was watching you intently, his expression soft, his attention unwavering. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that made your heart ache, a recognition of the story you were telling, of the deeper meaning that threaded through your words.

“To prevent us from becoming too strong, Zeus decided to split us in half,” you continued, your voice tightening as the weight of the myth pressed down on you, as if it were more than a story but a mirror of your own silent struggle. “We were cut apart, left incomplete, forever searching for the other half that made us whole. And ever since, humans have been wandering the world, driven by this aching desire to find that missing part of themselves - their other half, their true soulmate.”

You paused, your gaze flicking between Aaron and Haley, who were standing side by side, their fingers intertwined, as if to prove that they had already found what the rest of the world was still searching for. The sight of them - so connected, so complete - sent a pang of bittersweet recognition through you. They were each other’s missing pieces, brought back together by time, by fate, by love.

“It’s a beautiful metaphor,” you said, your voice quivering with the weight of your own unspoken emotions. “Aristophanes tells us that when two halves find each other, there is a recognition, a knowing. It’s not just attraction or desire - it’s a profound sense of homecoming, of finally feeling whole. It’s that quiet understanding that you’ve found the person who completes you, who sees you for exactly who you are, and loves you anyway.”

You looked at Aaron, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, it was as if the entire room had fallen away. All you could see was him, the man you had watched from the sidelines, the man you had loved in secret, the man you had pushed toward his happiness, even when it meant breaking your own heart.

He was Haley’s missing half, just as she was his, and you were simply the bystander, the one who had helped them find their way back to each other.

“Aaron and Haley,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion, “you are living proof of that myth. You found each other once, were torn apart by life and circumstance, and yet, here you are again, standing side by side. You’ve overcome so much, and through it all, you’ve never stopped searching for one another. That’s what makes your love so extraordinary. It’s not about perfection; it’s about resilience, about holding on even when it’s hard.”

Your throat tightened as you thought about how Aaron had told you he was afraid, how he had doubted himself, worried that he would never be enough. You had seen his fears up close, the way he carried the weight of his responsibilities, his guilt, his longing for something that always seemed just out of reach. But today, he stood before everyone, willing to try again, to let himself be vulnerable and open to the possibility of happiness.

“I believe that when two people are meant to be, nothing - not time, not distance, not even the hardest challenges - can keep them apart,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “That’s what Aristophanes wanted us to understand: that love is not a straight path. It’s messy and complicated, full of twists and turns, but if you’re lucky enough to find that missing piece, it’s worth every moment.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes misting over as you forced yourself to continue. “Aaron and Haley, you are each other’s missing halves. You are each other’s home. And today, you stand before us, not as two separate people, but as a whole, as something that the world tried to keep apart but couldn’t. You’ve found your way back to each other, just like you were always meant to.”

“And that’s my wish for you both,” you finished, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back your tears. “That no matter what life brings, no matter how difficult things get, you always find your way back to each other. Because that’s what love is. It’s the quiet recognition of your other half, the person who makes you feel whole, even when the rest of the world feels broken.”

You looked down at your notes, the faded ink barely visible on the page, and you felt the full weight of everything you had given up - every silent hope, every unspoken confession, every small piece of your heart that you had handed over to him without ever asking for anything in return.

“May you always be satisfied.” you whispered, barely able to get the words out, knowing that they were as much a wish for him as they were a farewell to the dreams you had kept hidden.

You stepped down, your heart heavy but resolute, and as the applause swelled around you, you felt the bittersweet satisfaction of knowing that you had done what you came here to do. You had given him everything - your support, your guidance, your quiet, unspoken love - and now it was time to let him go.

As you sat back down, the applause was a distant, muffled roar, the noise of celebration barely cutting through the fog of your thoughts. The room was filled with the sounds of joy - laughter, clinking glasses, the faint strains of music in the background - but all you could feel was the ache that had settled deep in your chest, heavy and relentless.

You had poured your heart into that speech, laid bare every piece of your love for him in words that you could never say directly, and now it was done. You had done your duty, fulfilled the role you’d been playing for so long: the loyal friend, the steadfast confidant, the silent lover who never asked for anything in return.

Aaron and Haley stood at the center of the room, surrounded by well-wishers, their smiles wide and radiant. Aaron looked lighter than you’d seen him in years, the weight that usually hung on his shoulders lifted, even if just for this day. He was happy.

You could see it in every gesture, every smile, every soft look he gave Haley. This was what you had pushed him toward, the happiness you had convinced him he deserved. But now, watching them together, it felt like your heart was being slowly, quietly torn apart.

You were lost in your thoughts, trying to swallow back the rising tide of tears, when you noticed Aaron making his way toward you. He moved through the crowd with that calm, steady grace that was so distinctly his, the kind that made everyone step aside as if drawn by his presence. And suddenly, there he was, standing before you, his expression open and soft in a way that made it hard to keep your composure.

“Aaron,” you said, your voice cracking as you tried to mask the raw emotion you could no longer contain. You quickly wiped away a tear, forcing a smile that felt far too fragile to hold back the pain. But Aaron saw right through it, he always did.

He sat down beside you, closer than you expected, his presence both a comfort and an agony. He looked at you with eyes that were full of gratitude, a quiet intensity that made your heart ache with the weight of everything you’d never told him. It was the look he saved for moments of deep sincerity, when he let his guard down just enough for you to glimpse the man beneath all the layers.

“I knew you’d do a great job,” he said, his voice warm and low, laced with a depth of feeling that you hadn’t expected. “But what you said up there… you outdid yourself. You made today feel like it was always supposed to happen, like it was all meant to be.”

His words were too kind, each one slicing through you like a knife. You looked away, unable to bear the warmth in his gaze, the quiet gratitude that you knew was undeserved. “I just… I wanted it to be perfect for you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You deserve this, Aaron. You deserve to be happy.”

Aaron’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a tenderness that you had come to know so well. “I wouldn’t be here without you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been there for me through everything. When I didn’t know how to move forward, you were the one who kept me going. You’ve been my rock, my anchor. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”

But at what cost? You had stayed by his side, helped him rebuild, guided him back to Haley, all the while knowing that your own feelings would never be returned

“You don’t owe me anything, Aaron,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “The truth was always inside of you. I just… helped you find it, simple maieutics.”

He looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly, the familiar look of confusion that always made you want to explain everything in a way that would make sense to him. And then, as if trying to lighten the heaviness of the moment, he offered a small, sad smile. “I knew, you would find a way to lecture me on philosophy, even on my wedding day.”

You forced a laugh, though it came out shaky, the sound breaking under the weight of everything you were holding back. “Yeah, well, old habits die hard,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, even as your heart splintered. “You know, Socrates believed that the answers weren’t given to us by others - they were already within us, just waiting to be drawn out. That’s what maieutics is. I didn’t teach you anything you didn’t already know. I just helped you remember.”

Aaron’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world had fallen away. He looked at you with such deep, unspoken gratitude, his eyes glistening with the emotion he rarely let show. “I wish I had your wisdom,” he said softly, his voice thick with something that felt dangerously close to regret. “You have always known exactly what to say. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough.”

You tried to smile, but it faltered, your breath catching as you felt the full weight of his words. You had always been the one to lift him up, to give him the strength he didn’t realize he had, but you knew that what he saw as wisdom was just your way of coping - your way of making sense of the unrequited love that had shaped so much of your relationship with him. You had given him everything, and now you had to find a way to live with the empty space he left behind.

“I just wanted you to find what you were looking for,” you said, your voice breaking as the tears finally spilled over. “I wanted you to be happy, Aaron.”

His hand found yours, warm and solid, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles in a gesture so tender it nearly undid you. He held on, just for a moment, as if grounding himself in your presence, and the intimacy of that touch felt like a quiet, painful goodbye to everything that could never be.

“You’ve done so much for me,” he said, his voice cracking slightly as he squeezed your hand. “More than I think you’ll ever know. You’ve always been there, and I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat too tight with the tears you couldn’t stop. You had been there, you had given him all the pieces of yourself that you could spare, and now you had to watch him walk away, back into a life that didn’t have room for you in the way you had once dreamed.

As Aaron stood, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer, but then he was gone, walking back to Haley, his hand slipping into hers as if it had always belonged there.

You sat there, alone in the crowd, feeling the quiet devastation of everything you had lost.

And as you looked down at your lap, at the faded speech you had written with the last of the ink from the pen he’d given you, you realized that it was over.  But you knew, deep down, that you had done the right thing. You had given him the push he needed, helped him remember the truths that were buried inside, and now he was free.

He was free to be the man he wanted to be, to find the happiness you had always wished for him. And though it hurt more than you could ever put into words, you found some solace in the knowledge that, in some small way, you had been part of his story, even if your role was never meant to be the one you had longed for.

Maybe, now he would be satisfied.

Hi there! Can you write some HotchxColonelReader?! Like the Team comes by morging and sees Hotch, Strauss, Rossi and a woman from the army discussing something at Hotch's office about a case. Then, then discovery that THAT is the Hotchs' wife?! Sorry about my english. :) And Thank yoouuuuuuu!! I love all your work!!!

Absolutely!!! This was so much fun to write, and such a different prompt to what I usually get 🫶 Don't worry about your english ;) i'm not a native speaker 💕😘

Reverence | [A.H]

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘈𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘔𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘞: 𝘔𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘱, 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘞𝘊: 1𝘬

           The early morning haze clung to the bullpen, and the rhythmic hum of coffee machines mixed with the muffled clicks of keyboards as the team settled into their desks. The quiet lull of routine was only broken by Morgan’s curious gaze as he caught a glimpse of Hotch’s office from across the room. The blinds were open, revealing an unusual scene - Hotch, Strauss, Rossi, and an unfamiliar woman standing together in what could only be described as a tense, closed-door meeting. The three agents looked on edge compared to her.

           “Hey,” Morgan called out quietly, his voice low with intrigue as he nodded toward the glass window. “What’s going on in there?”

           JJ glanced over from her desk, noticing the woman in uniform standing alongside the senior agents. Her sharp, tailored military attire contrasted starkly against the office's corporate formality. The woman exuded authority; her posture was stiff, shoulders back, chin raised with the kind of self-assurance that comes from years of commanding subordinates.

           “Who is she?” JJ whispered, leaning forward. “She looks like she’s ready to bark out several orders any second now.”

           Morgan folded his arms across his chest, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Definitely military or marines. Look at that posture. You don’t stand like that out of free will unless you’ve seen action.”

           Reid, already drawn into the mystery woman, was fidgeting with the edge of his sweater trying to piece the puzzle together. “Maybe she’s part of an interagency collaboration? It could be something related to national security.”

           As the team watched, the woman turned slightly, her profile sharp and no-nonsense. Her movements were measured, and deliberate - every inch of her seemed to be about precision and control. Even though they were observing her through glass, it felt like her presence dominated the entire office.

           They didn’t have long to speculate before the door to Hotch’s office clicked open. Strauss emerged first, her usual expression in place as she nodded to the agents, followed by Rossi, who sported his signature knowing grin with a quick wink. But it was the woman who truly commanded attention as she stepped into the bullpen. The clack of her polished boots against the floor was precise, each step purposeful and calculated. Her uniform gleamed under the fluorescent lights, the medals and badges catching the glint of rays from the morning sun through the windows. She held her head high, her gaze sweeping the room like a hawk surveying its territory.

           Morgan straightened in his chair as she walked past, eyes wide with respect. “She’s definitely not here for pleasantries.”

           Before anyone could add another word, the woman stopped, her sharp gaze locking onto the team. It wasn’t just a glance - it was the kind of stare that felt like being x-rayed. The whispers, the subtle looks, the quiet gossip - they hadn’t gone unnoticed. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and with a swift motion, she crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze narrowing.

           The air in the room shifted instantly as she addressed them. Her voice, though calm, carried the unmistakable weight of authority. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

           The team froze. Her tone wasn’t loud, but it was firm, resonating with the controlled power of someone who was used to giving orders. It sliced through the air like a knife, leaving a lingering tension in its wake. JJ’s mouth opened slightly, Morgan leaned forward, and even Reid looked uncharacteristically startled.

           “No, ma’am,” they responded in unison, almost instinctively. The words tumbled out, a reflex to the command in her voice. It was as if, for a brief moment, they were recruits in boot camp being called to attention.

           Her eyes lingered on them for a moment, assessing, before a flicker of amusement danced across her features. Her posture remained as strict as before, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. She nodded once, satisfied with their response, then turned her attention back to Hotch, who stood quietly in the doorway of his office.

           “I’ll be returning to base,” she said, her voice noticeably softer, though still firm. She gave Hotch a look that lingered just a fraction too long for it to be strictly professional.

           “Thank you for coming by,” Hotch replied, his tone warm but restrained. There was something different about the way he spoke to her - his usual clipped authority was replaced by an almost imperceptible tenderness.

           “Of course,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. Then, her voice dropped into something far more intimate. “Aaron.”

           The use of his first name hung in the air, so casual, so familiar, yet it sent shockwaves through the team.

           JJ’s eyes widened. “Did she just call him Aaron?”

           Morgan’s jaw nearly dropped. “Hold up. Did she just—?”

           The woman didn’t wait for their reactions. With a brisk turn, she walked out of the office, her boots echoing down the hallway as she left, her military bearing never faltering. It was only after the door had swung shut behind her that Rossi, who had been watching the whole thing with barely concealed amusement, let out a chuckle.

           “Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Rossi said, crossing his arms as he leaned against a desk in the bullpen. “That, ladies and gentlemen, is Hotch’s wife.”

           The team stared at him, slack-jawed.

           “His wife?” JJ managed, her voice unbelieving.

           “Colonel actually,” Rossi clarified, eyes twinkling with mischief. “She’s been in the army for years. Taught Hotch everything he knows about being strict.”

           “She’s tougher than Hotch,” Morgan added, still trying to wrap his head around the revelation.

           “Way tougher,” Rossi said, winking at the team.

           “That was… something else.” Emily managed to say through her disbelief.

           They turned to look at Hotch, before he returned to his office, his expression unreadable as he resumed his work. For a brief second, though, as his gaze flicked toward the team, they could see the faintest smile - a private, almost imperceptible curve of his lips.

           “You never asked,” he said simply, allowing a rare smile to tug at the corners of his lips before turning his attention back to his office and paperwork, leaving the team still gaping.

It's so adorable and cute 🥺. It took me some time to understand I was the one who requested this🫠 Thank you Jade❤️

Hii! I'm in love with your Hotch adult daughter fics. Could we get one where she is getting bullied in college or where she works and then Hotch finds out somehow and helps her? Please please :)

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.2k

He decides to surprise you. He’s at risk of embarrassing himself greatly, and he’s okay with that risk. 

Hotch stands outside of the George Washington University and winces in the hot weather. The sun beats down on the back of his neck. He’s more aware of how little sun protection he uses as the time stretches on, waiting for you, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s worn full suits in the Nevada desert. 

You emerge from the main building where your last class for the day takes place. He dropped you off here last week, got to watch you walk in and say hi to the custodian. It was a nice insight of who you are, someone he’s proud to be the father of though he had little hand in what you’ve become. 

Behind you are two female classmates. 

Hotch pauses under the tree he’d taken refuge by. 

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the rigidity of your shoulders, your hackles rising as they talk. The brunette gets a nasty look on her face, to which you respond, and the blonde’s volume begins to rise. 

The brunette looks like she might reach for you. “Don’t touch me,” you warn. 

Hotch steps in. 

“Hey, excuse me,” he says, loudly and firmly, the Unit Chief tone in play. He’s gotten very good at raising his voice without shouting. “What’s going on here?”

The two women who were talking to you falter, but the brunette stays fiery. “We’re just talking.” 

“About what?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“If you’re going to lay your hands on her, it becomes my business,” he says. 

There’s a guilt to the blonde’s expression that proves you’d been thinking correctly and that she was going to touch you, even if it were only to grab your wrist, but she bristles and denies. “We weren’t.” 

“Then you have no reason to stay.” 

You frown deeply. “No, they can finish. Clearly they think it’s important–”

“But do you think it’s important?” Hotch asks you. 

Your frown, your anger beginning to ebb. You take a breath. “I suppose not.” 

Hotch levels the women with a look. Just a look, not interrogative or heated, but prompting —it’s the kind of look he gives people when he wants them to realise they’ve missed their cue to leave. 

“See you next week, then,” the brunette says, a threat he abhors. 

“I’m sure she will,” he says, hoping anything unsaid is felt. He has no idea who they are or what you’ve apparently done to make them angry, but you won’t be intimidated. 

“Do I need to talk with Dean Langley?” he asks, turning to you as the women walk out of hearing range. 

“Aaron.” You look at him, look like him, not in appearance but the pinch to your brow as you rub the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” 

“What?” 

“They do it to me every time I’m here.” 

“They do?” 

You sound like it’s a chore. “They think I’m sleeping with our professor.” 

“Why would they think that?” 

“Because ever since I stopped working, my grades are much better, n’ they think I cheated my way there.” 

Oh, of course. Hotch tries to do something good by you —he’s started giving you a little chunk of money every week so you don’t have to work anymore, nothing obsequious but enough to cover everything you need, rent and food and transportation, clothes, textbooks, and he made it clear you can ask for more— and it makes things worse for you instead. Still, “Your grades are improving?” 

“I’m doing pretty well,” you confess shyly. 

He holds your shoulder. “I’m sorry they’re jealous, and I’m sorry they’re inventing a narrative to cope. I really can speak with Dean Langley if you need me to.” 

You smile and let yourself lean into his touch. “Inventing a narrative to cope,” you repeat. “That’s a good one. I’ll use that one.” 

You have more fight in you, it seems. “If it gets too much, just let me know. You don’t have to entertain their delusion.” 

“I’ll use that one, too.” 

He laughs, hand sliding behind your back to hug you from the side, his nose briefly pressing to your temple before he gives you space again. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your way out, are you busy? Let me take you to dinner, celebrate your performance.” 

“You realise I wouldn’t have improved without your help?” you ask. 

“I think any parent in my position should provide for their kid,” he says easily. “It’s not help. Not everyone can support their children through college, but I can, and I wish I had been from the start.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say. 

He nudges you into a walk toward his car. “I owe you more than you realise.” 

He takes you to an early dinner, and celebrates your improving grades with the dessert of your choosing. Conversation with you can sometimes feel strange. It’s hard to think you were a kid once and he’d never met you, but then he realises how young twenty two really is, how you’re still willing, longing for him to be a father to you. You’re smug that he’d go to the dean to for you. You like that he stepped in. And you love being doted on, being encouraged. He can see that easily. 

“When can I come back to see Jack?” you ask eventually. 

He wishes he could say whenever you like, but he has a hard time following Haley’s movements. “I’ll ask. Soon, I promise.”

“He took great care of me.” 

The last time you’d stayed over, Jack acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread (which you are, in Hotch’s eyes). 

“You know, he had a little trouble with bullies last year.” 

“They aren’t bullies,” you say, taking a bashful bite of your ice cream. 

“No, of course not. But he’ll understand, if you want to tell him about it.”

“Aaron, he’s five.” 

“He’s six,” he corrects. 

“Oh, sorry. But still, I don’t think Jack wants to deal with that. I couldn’t unload on him, he’s my… you know, he’s my little brother.” 

“Then tell me about it, at least.” 

“You saw the most of it.” 

He sighs. Wishes you’d call him dad, understands why you don’t, and can’t think of what to do. It was easier when Jack had trouble, because little kids bully each other almost on accident. They don’t know what they’re doing is wrong, having learned the behaviour from their parents. It’s almost never personal. 

Your situation is not the same. 

“I’ll talk to the dean,” he suggests again. 

“Don’t bother. It’s alright. And if it gets worse, I’ll tell you.” 

He smiles, reaching over plates to squeeze your hand briefly. “Thank you.” 

You look down at your food. Some shyness to you still at being cared about. “Thank you,” you mumble. 

Request: “#48 with Sam + ‘enemies to lovers’ and ‘stubborn Sam’” by @encounterthepast​ 

Prompt: "Of all the people to get trapped in an elevator with, it had to be you.“ 

Pairing:  Sam x Reader 

Word count: 2.2K 

Warnings: Panic attack, mentions of claustrophobia, there’s a swearword (oh, my), some angst and fluff

A/N: Sam’s kind of a brat in this one but I had fun writing it. Enjoy! :) 

Beta: @princessmisery666​ 

JJ’s Rockin’ 100 - PROMPTS || MASTERLIST || ASK BOX 

(gif) 

Sam’s eyes darted across the parking lot as he made his way over to the entrance of an impressively tall office building. He was still expecting you to show up out of nowhere, like you had the day before when he learned he wasn’t the only hunter in town for this current case.  

He would have taken any other partner on this job, really, but not you. Which was why he had made it clear he wanted you to leave. He knew better than to think you would listen to him. You had hijacked a case from him a few years back, so it was clear to him you had a hard time leaving things to someone else when that person told you they could handle it.   

The two of you had crossed paths a couple of times since then, and there had always been this feeling of tension that made Sam incredibly uncomfortable. Not to mention how, every time you so much as looked at him, his blood started to boil. Everything you said, he wanted to pick apart bit by bit, to correct every detail. It got a rise out of you, which was what he aimed for during most of his interactions with you.  

He couldn’t help it. There was just something about you.  

Keep reading

Criminal Minds + MBTI

"The bond between colleagues is sometimes stronger than that between family, and the team that hunts monsters together never breaks." – Aaron Hotchner (Season 3, Episode 16)

job interview with aaron and as soon as you shake hands your apple watches shows the high heart rate alert (more in a cute crush way than a serious life threating way please💀)

You're not nervous, per se, but there's certainly something that's heating your face and twisting your stomach. You're in the FBI headquarters. You're about to interview for the most prestigious position you've ever laid eyes on, and if you get the job, you'll be set for life. All you're waiting on is your interviewer, and you feel the buzz of your watch on your wrist alerting you to the meeting in your calendar at the precise second that the door beside you opens.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" Your interviewer asks, and you're already halfway out of your seat before he can get your last name out of his mouth. You're impressed with and grateful for his punctuality, but when you turn to face him you discover you've got a whole other reason to be hot in the face.

He's hot in the face.

His eyes and hair are matching dark hues that makes his soft pink smile all the more delicate and tender. His shoulders are broad and tightly hugged by his neatly pressed suit, and the hand that he holds out to you is strong when you shake it.

"I'm Aaron Hotchner," He introduces himself, and you'd known that, but you're infinitely grateful to hear the words out of his own mouth. Anything to prolong the time you get to spend listening to his voice.

Another vibration comes from your watch, this time accompanied by an invasive chime. You rush to shut it off, positive that you'd put the device on silent, but you realize why it's bypassed your settings: it's a medical alert.

Your heart rate has spiked, and while it's not exactly heart-attack material, it's not resting either. Something about this encounter is sending you into a frenzy, and you're quite certain it's not the job interview.

"Sorry," You try playing the situation off with a good-natured laugh, but there's a similar watch resting on his wrist, and you're sure he's heard the alert-specific chime before, "I thought I set it to silent."

"Medical alerts always make a sound," His heavy brows furrow into compassionate concern, and he moves forward to set a hand on your shoulder to guide you forwards into his office, "Come, sit down. We'll prolong the interview for a few minutes until you're feeling better."

Another chime sounds barely seconds after his hand begins resting on your shoulder, and you know right then and there that if he's going to wait until your heart rate is back to normal, the interview won't ever start.