Aaron Hotchner Angst - Tumblr Posts

Sweet & Sour Motivation

Summary: You are casually seeing Aaron Hotchner after his divorce, but what happens when he brings around his pretty friend, Spencer?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader, Aaron Hotcher xfem!reader

Category: smut, angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, needy & jealous aaron, not really cheating, picking spencer, alcohol consumption, reader sings in a band, use of Y/N, age gap (24 & 37)

Word count: 11.7k

a/n: didn't mean to make hotch so pathetic lol my bad --- also wrote this super quick ,, no proof reads ,, no edits ,, apologies in advance

main masterlist

Additional warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), multiple partners, oral (m), fingering, grinding

After the painful end of his marriage, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t looking for anything serious. One night, while drowning his sorrows at a bar, he was captivated by a beautiful woman singing on stage. Drawn to her presence, Aaron began frequenting the bar just to see her perform. Eventually, their paths crossed when he spotted her getting a drink, and his curiosity led him to you—a vibrant 24-year-old who offered him a much-needed escape from the chaos of his life. What started as a casual rebound quickly evolved into something more complicated. Spending nearly every weekend together, you’ve built a bond that straddles the line between friendship and something deeper, though neither of you has dared to define it. As Aaron juggles the pressures of his job and the remnants of his broken family, and you navigate your own feelings about the age difference and the nature of your connection, you find yourselves in a delicate dance that could either solidify into something real or shatter the fragile peace you’ve found in each other.

—

The moment the bathroom door closed behind you, Aaron’s hands were on you, rough and insistent, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel you against him. His lips crashed against yours, the kiss urgent and filled with a need that had been simmering for months, now boiling over. There was nothing gentle about the way he backed you against the wall, his hands roaming your body with a possessive hunger.

“Aaron,” you gasped against his lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he pressed his body against yours, hard and demanding. His response was a low groan, his breath hot against your neck as he bit down, just enough to make you arch into him, craving more of the roughness he knew you wanted.

“You drive me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire as he spun you around, your hands bracing against the wall as he pulled you back against him. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curve of your hips before yanking you closer, his body pressed tightly to yours. There was no room for anything but the raw, desperate need between you.

Clothes were a nuisance, and they were pushed aside quickly, carelessly, until nothing stood between you but the heated press of your skin against his. Aaron’s hands gripped your hips, his hold firm and unyielding as he pulled you back to meet his thrusts, each one forceful, pushing you to the edge with a ruthless precision that only he could master.

The sounds of your moans and his ragged breaths filled the bathroom, mingling with the sharp slaps of skin against skin. It was dirty, intense, everything you had both craved since the first time you saw each other. Aaron’s pace was relentless, his control slipping as he lost himself in the rhythm, the connection between you raw and primal.

“Tell me you want this,” he growled, his voice rough, almost desperate, as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Yes, Aaron, please,” you gasped, the words barely coherent as the sensations overwhelmed you. “I want it, I need it—”

Your words were cut off by a sharp thrust that had you crying out, your body trembling as you reached the peak, the world dissolving into a haze of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Aaron followed you over the edge, his grip on you tightening as he buried himself deep, his release shuddering through him with a force that left you both breathless and spent.

—

For a couple of months, your relationship with Aaron was intense, secretive, and driven by an unquenchable need. You’d meet wherever you could—bar bathrooms, his car, your apartment, motels. The connection was raw and consuming. But over time, the urgency softened, and your quick hookups turned into long conversations, dinners, and movies. You were becoming friends, maybe more.

Then, after an especially intimate moment, Aaron surprised you by wanting to introduce you to his friends. Panic set in, as the reality of your relationship became too close, too real. To deflect, you suggested he bring them to your show, hoping they’d have a few drinks before you had to face them. The thought of what Aaron might have told them—or how he’d introduce you—filled you with unease.

—

Aaron had invited the whole team to come see you perform, and they all eagerly agreed. They were curious to meet the woman Hotch was "seeing," though he hadn’t shared many details, leaving out the more provocative aspects of your relationship. None of them imagined the reality of the situation; they were simply excited that he was opening up after the divorce and sharing this part of his life with them.

When the team arrived at the bar, they settled into a table right at the front, not wanting to miss a moment. The anticipation was palpable as they chatted, speculating about what you might be like. But when your band finally took the stage, their reactions were anything but subtle. The team was flabbergasted. There was no way Hotch was just "seeing" you. You were so young, so hot, so confident—everything they wouldn’t have expected from him. You were the complete opposite of the reserved and serious Aaron Hotchner they knew, and it left them stunned.

“Dude, how much you wanna bet Hotch is just banging her?” Derek leaned over to Spencer, his voice low but teasing.

“Um, that’s—I don’t know. Why would he invite us to meet her?” Spencer replied, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

“That’s a good point,” Derek conceded, “but she’s gotta be at least ten years younger than him.”

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbled, not sure where Derek was going with this.

“I bet he’s using her as a rebound,” Emily chimed in, leaning in closer after having overheard the exchange.

“For sure,” Derek nodded, “but do you think she knows?”

The way you performed on stage—sensual, captivating, commanding every ounce of attention—they assumed you were fully aware of the situation and in control of it.

And Spencer? Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. There was something about you that was otherworldly, enigmatic. You drew him in, fascinated him in a way he’d never experienced before, and he found himself unable to look away.

—

You couldn’t help but notice Spencer staring at you; how could you not? He was the most beautiful man in the bar, his eyes dark and intense, drinking you up like you were the only thing that mattered. There was something magnetic about him, something that made your heart skip a beat, even in the middle of your performance. But then again, he was sitting at Aaron’s table, and that complicated things. Flirting with him? It seemed like a line you shouldn’t cross, especially with Aaron in the picture. You and Aaron weren’t exclusive, sure, but still… it felt like a no-go.

But then an idea struck you. Maybe you couldn’t flirt outright, but you could still send a message, something subtle yet unmistakable. A smile tugged at your lips as you decided to sing your signature cover, one that always held a bit more meaning when you performed it—"Only Angel," the demo version.

Your voice dipped into the lyrics, eyes locked on Spencer as you sang:

“Painted it on your back, I knew we’d get along  

But I caught you in a mirror staring way too long  

I could love you if I didn’t think I’d do it wrong  

I’m gonna have to take you home…”

You let the words linger, your gaze never leaving Spencer’s, the air between you crackling with an unspoken invitation. His eyes widened slightly, and you saw the effect the song was having on him, the way he seemed to lean in, as if drawn by an invisible thread. The tension was electric, and you knew he felt it too. 

The rest of the room faded into the background, the only thing that mattered was the connection sparking between you and Spencer. And for those few moments, you let the song say what you couldn’t—flirting with him in a way that was both bold and discreet, leaving just enough room for him to wonder if it was really him you were singing to. But from the look in his eyes, you knew he understood.

—

As you emerged from the backrooms of the bar, still riding the high of your performance, you were greeted by Aaron’s warm embrace. “Y/N! You were wonderful!” he said, pulling you close, his voice filled with pride.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you murmured into his shoulder, a mix of gratitude and nerves bubbling in your chest. You knew what was coming next—meeting his friends. The thought sent a flutter of anxiety through you, especially after the intense connection you’d just shared with Spencer across the room.

Aaron kept an arm around you as he turned to face the table where his team was gathered. “Everyone, this is Y/N,” he announced, his tone confident and unguarded. And then, with a smile that seemed so simple, yet carried so much weight, he added, “My girl.”

Your stomach dropped at those words, the casual claim sending a wave of emotions through you. You hadn’t expected him to introduce you like that, not in front of his team, not in such a public way. The label—"my girl"—felt both comforting and constricting all at once, like a door closing on the undefined space you’d been occupying together.

“Hi,” you managed to wave, your voice a little shy as you took in the faces around the table. You could feel their eyes on you, studying you, trying to figure out who you were and what you meant to Aaron. It was all a bit overwhelming, especially with Spencer’s gaze lingering on you, more intense than before.

But you held your ground, offering them a small, nervous smile, hoping it conveyed more confidence than you felt.

Emily was the first to break the ice. “So, Y/N, how did you and Aaron meet?” she asked with a playful lilt in her voice, leaning in just a little too close, her breath carrying the unmistakable scent of alcohol.

“Here, actually,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, though your nerves were starting to creep in. You could feel Aaron’s arm tighten around your waist, his fingers splaying possessively against your hip. “He, uh, kept coming to see me sing.”

Derek, already grinning, jumped in next. “So you’re the reason Hotch has been in such a good mood lately,” he teased, giving you a wink. “We’ve been wondering who it was. Didn’t think he had it in him to date a rock star.”

“I wouldn’t say rock star,” you laughed nervously, glancing around at the group. You could tell they were all a bit tipsy, their laughter a little too loud, their movements a little too loose—except for Spencer, who sat quietly, his eyes fixed on you with that same intensity you’d noticed earlier. He hadn’t touched his drink, instead seeming to take everything in with a quiet, respectful demeanor that stood in stark contrast to the others.

JJ leaned forward, her smile warm and kind. “What’s it like dating Aaron? He can be pretty intense, I bet.”

Before you could answer, Aaron, clearly more than a little tipsy himself, pulled you closer, his hand drifting lower than you were comfortable with, even in front of strangers. “She loves it, don’t you?” he slurred slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple. The gesture was meant to be affectionate, but with the alcohol on his breath and the eyes of his entire team on you, it made you mildly uncomfortable.

You tried to laugh it off, gently nudging him in the side. “It’s… an adventure,” you said, attempting to keep things light despite the awkwardness creeping in.

“Sounds like it,” Rossi chimed in, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To the woman who’s tamed the wild Hotchner.”

The group laughed, and you forced a smile, but inside you were starting to feel the strain of the situation. Aaron’s handsy behavior wasn’t helping, and you could see the team watching your every move, analyzing the dynamics between you and their boss.

But then, your eyes met Spencer’s again, and you found a moment of calm in his steady gaze. Unlike the others, he wasn’t laughing or teasing—he was just watching, as if trying to understand you in a way the others hadn’t even thought to. It was a small comfort in an otherwise overwhelming situation.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was just a night, just a moment, and you could handle it. Even if Aaron was being more affectionate than you were used to, even if his team was dissecting every word you said, you could get through this. After all, you’d faced tougher crowds before—just never with quite so much on the line.

—

You were pushing your cart down the aisle, absentmindedly scanning the shelves for a few last-minute ingredients, when you noticed a familiar figure standing by the canned goods. Spencer Reid, the quiet and somewhat mysterious member of Aaron’s team, was holding a can of peas in front of his face, staring at it with such intensity that you half-expected it to reveal the answer to some complex riddle.

“Spencer?” you called out, curious about what could possibly have him so engrossed.

He quickly glanced over, squinting slightly as if trying to place you. “Yes?”

“It is Spencer, right? I’m Y/N—we met last week…” you trailed off, hoping he’d remember.

“Oh, Hotch’s girlfriend,” he replied, a hint of recognition in his voice.

You smiled, though his label caught you off guard. “Well, not exactly. But yeah, that’s me.”

Spencer’s lips morphed into a tight-lipped smile before he nodded, his gaze shifting back to the can of peas as if it held some deep, unresolved mystery.

“Did those peas do something to you?” you teased, trying to break the awkward silence.

“Excuse me?” He looked back at you, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“You’re looking at the can like it hurt you and you’re expecting an apology,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Spencer gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, no. I, uh, I forgot my glasses in my car. I was trying to read the label.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the situation suddenly making a lot more sense. “Do you want some help?”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise at the offer. “Um, sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” you replied with a smile, taking the can from him. You quickly scanned the label and handed it back. “Low sodium, no added preservatives. Looks like a pretty solid choice.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said, his voice sincere, though there was still a hint of awkwardness in his demeanor. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you said lightly, hoping to ease his discomfort. “I know how frustrating it can be when you can’t read something.”

Spencer nodded, then hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to assume anything last week. About you and Hotch, I mean.”

You shrugged, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I think everyone assumed a lot that night.”

He nodded again, this time more slowly, as if considering your words. “Well, it was nice running into you, Y/N.”

“You too, Spencer,” you replied, genuinely pleased by the unexpected encounter. “Maybe next time I can help you pick out something more exciting than peas.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of Spencer’s mouth. “I might take you up on that.”

With that, he gave a polite nod and turned to continue down the aisle, leaving you with a surprising sense of warmth from the brief interaction. There was something endearing about Spencer’s quiet, awkward nature, and you found yourself looking forward to the possibility of running into him again.

—

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about you. You weren’t an obsession, but you lingered in his thoughts more than he expected. Whenever he saw Hotch on his phone or noticed him smiling, Spencer couldn’t help but assume it was because of you. Curiosity gnawed at him, driving him to consider going back to the bar just to see you perform, but he dismissed the idea, thinking it might be odd without Hotch.

Still, the thought wouldn’t leave him alone. One Friday evening, knowing Aaron had Jack and wouldn’t be at the bar, Spencer took the plunge. It felt risky, like stepping into unknown territory, but he went anyway, sitting where you might spot him if you were looking hard enough, comforted by the idea that he could slip away unnoticed if things felt too strange.

As the lively crowd buzzed around him, Spencer’s focus was solely on you. His heart raced as he watched you perform, a mix of nerves and something deeper stirring within him. After your set, as you headed to the bar for a drink, you spotted him—a familiar, lanky figure perched on a stool, slightly out of place yet somehow perfectly where he belonged.

“Looks like those peas didn’t kill you after all,” you teased, a grin spreading across your face as you approached him.

“Y/N,” Spencer smiled, the warmth in his eyes genuine. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, genuinely touched by his compliment. You glanced around, noticing his lack of company. “Are you here alone?”

“I am… is that weird?” Spencer asked, his tone filled with curiosity and uncertainty.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said with a reassuring smile. But something about the situation tugged at you. “Does Aaron know?”

“Should he?” Spencer responded, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, the question hanging between you like a weight. It wasn’t an accusation, just an acknowledgment of the complexity of the situation. The lines between you, Spencer, and Aaron were blurred, undefined, and here you were, caught in the middle of it.

Spencer nodded slowly, understanding the unspoken tension. “I just… wanted to see you perform again,” he confessed, his voice softer, more vulnerable. “Is that okay?”

Your heart softened at his admission, and you found yourself smiling, a genuine warmth spreading through you. “Of course, Spencer.”

His shoulders seemed to relax slightly at your words, the tension easing as you both stood there, caught in a moment that felt charged with possibility.

“Maybe we could sit and talk?” you offered, the idea suddenly feeling right. “You don’t have to be alone.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and for the first time that night, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he had made the right choice by coming here. “I’d like that,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, sincere smile.

And with that, the night shifted, the two of you finding a quiet corner where the music faded into the background, leaving room for something new to take its place.

“So, Spencer,” you began, your tone light and teasing as you sipped your water. “Do you usually spend your Friday nights at bars alone, or is this a new hobby?”

He chuckled, a little self-conscious but clearly amused by your playful question. “This is definitely a new hobby. I’m not exactly the bar-hopping type.”

“Really?” you replied, feigning surprise. “I would have pegged you as a regular party animal.”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m more of a stay-at-home-with-a-book kind of guy.”

“Ah, a man of mystery,” you teased, leaning in a little closer. “I like that. So what brings you out of your comfort zone tonight?”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Honestly? I couldn’t stop thinking about your performance. I wanted to see you again.”

His words caught you off guard, but in the best way. There was something so genuine, so sincere in the way he said it that you couldn’t help but feel flattered. “I’m really glad you decided to come,” you said softly, your smile reflecting the warmth you felt inside. “I was hoping I’d see you again too.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he shifted in his seat, clearly a little shy but not backing down. “You were?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your tone playful but sincere. “There’s something about you, Spencer. You’re different. I like that.”

He looked at you, a mix of curiosity and something deeper in his eyes. “Different in a good way, I hope?”

“In the best way,” you replied, your voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “You’re smart, sweet, and let’s be honest—very easy on the eyes.”

Spencer’s blush deepened, but he smiled, clearly enjoying the attention. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know. You have this… presence. It’s hard not to notice.”

“Noticed me, did you?” you teased, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Hard not to,” he admitted, his voice softening as he leaned in just a little closer. “You have a way of drawing people in.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the chemistry between you becoming more palpable with each passing moment. “Maybe I’m just good at reading people,” you said, a playful glint in your eye.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. “Is that so? What do you read from me?”

You pretended to study him for a moment, your gaze playful and assessing. “Hmm… I see someone who’s incredibly intelligent, maybe a little shy, but with a heart of gold. And… someone who’s curious about me.”

“Curious, yes,” Spencer admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And maybe a little more than that.”

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat at his confession. “Good,” you said, leaning in just enough that your faces were only inches apart. “Because I’m more than a little curious about you too.”

The air between you felt charged, the flirtation natural and effortless. There was a comfort in being around Spencer, a sense that you could be yourself without pretense, and the attraction was undeniable.

Just as you were about to say something, your phone started ringing from your bag, the sound cutting through the cozy bubble the two of you had created. You reached for it, intending to silence it quickly, but when you saw Aaron’s face flashing on the screen, your heart skipped a beat. Spencer’s eyes flicked to the phone, clearly noticing who was calling.

“You should probably take that,” Spencer said softly, his voice understanding but with a hint of something unspoken beneath it.

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling a mix of emotions swirl inside you. The timing couldn’t have been more inconvenient.

You offered Spencer an apologetic smile before excusing yourself. “I’ll be right back,” you promised, trying to keep your voice light even as your mind raced. 

As you stepped outside into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but feel the shift in the atmosphere, the warmth and easy connection with Spencer giving way to the reality of your situation. You took a deep breath before answering the call, bracing yourself for whatever Aaron might have to say, all the while aware that Spencer was inside, waiting.

You answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. “Hello?”

“Hey gorgeous, how was your show?” Aaron’s voice came through the line, warm and familiar.

“It was good,” you replied, glancing back toward the bar, where Spencer was still waiting. The conversation you’d just had with him lingered in your mind, making this moment with Aaron feel strangely disconnected.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s tone shifted, laced with concern. He could always tell when something was off, even through the phone.

“I’m fine, still at the bar,” you reassured him, hoping to keep things simple.

“Alone?” he asked, and you could hear the subtle tension in his voice. Aaron wasn’t the jealous type, but there was something there, something unspoken.

“Yeah, wanted to get a drink,” you lied, knowing it was easier than explaining who you were really with.

There was a pause on the other end, then Aaron spoke again, his voice a bit softer, more vulnerable. “Do you want to come over?”

The question caught you off guard. Aaron had never invited you to his place before, and you knew Jack was there. It felt like a big step, one you weren’t sure you were ready to take, especially with everything that had happened tonight.

“Um, not tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. “I’m really tired, was gonna head home soon.”

There was a brief silence, then Aaron’s voice returned, back to its usual steadiness. “Okay, get home safe. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night,” you whispered, ending the call.

You stood there for a moment, the cool air brushing against your skin, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. Aaron’s invitation had surprised you, but it also made you realize just how complicated things were becoming.

With a deep breath, you headed back inside the bar, ready to face Spencer again, but now with a new weight on your shoulders, one you weren’t sure how to carry.

As you walked back inside, the warmth of the bar contrasting sharply with the coolness of the night, your eyes immediately landed on Spencer. He was standing at the bar, his tall frame slightly hunched as he reached for his wallet. You quickly realized he was paying both of your tabs.

“Are you leaving?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Spencer glanced at you, a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone gentle. “I don’t want to complicate things between you and Hotch.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. The truth was, you didn’t even know what was happening between you and Aaron. Everything felt so muddled, so undefined.

“Okay,” you finally managed, though it came out more as a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said, and there was genuine regret in his eyes, as if he wished things were different, as if he wished he could stay.

“No, I’m sorry,” you replied, your heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid between you both.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then leaned in, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a tender, fleeting kiss. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered, the warmth of his breath lingering on your skin.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you whispered back, watching as he turned and walked away, his figure gradually disappearing into the crowd.

As you stood there, the echoes of the night settling around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had just slipped through your fingers. Spencer’s presence had been a breath of fresh air, a glimpse of something new, and now, as he walked away, you were left wondering what could have been if things were less complicated.

—

Derek leaned against Hotch’s office door frame, a mischievous grin on his face as he asked, “Hey, Hotch, what was the name of that bar your girlfriend plays at? I wanted to take a lady friend there this weekend.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, clearly in a playful mood.

Hotch barely looked up from the file he was reviewing, his expression tightening. “Sanders Pub,” he replied curtly, then quickly added, “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Derek’s smile faltered at the sharpness in Hotch’s tone. “Whoa, sorry. Did something happen?” he asked, his voice dropping to a more serious note.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, a clear signal that the conversation was over. “Not appropriate work conversation, Morgan,” he said, his voice clipped and final.

Derek held his hands up in surrender, the tension in the air unmistakable. “Alright, alright, backing off,” he muttered, retreating to his desk with a bemused expression.

As he returned to his desk, Derek leaned in toward Spencer, who had been watching the exchange with quiet curiosity. “I think things ended with Hotch and his girl,” Derek whispered conspiratorially.

“What? Why?” Spencer asked, his voice betraying a bit more interest than he intended.

Derek shrugged, lowering his voice even further. “I asked about her and he got super defensive and weird, told me it wasn’t work appropriate.”

“Oh,” Spencer said, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the sudden surge of emotions he felt. “Yeah, I wonder…”

You had ended things with Aaron, knowing it wasn’t fair to continue when you were so uncertain about what you wanted. Aaron’s life required stability, especially with a child, and you weren’t ready to step into that role. What you did know was that you weren’t prepared to be a stepmom, and more importantly, you felt a stronger pull toward Spencer. The connection you felt with him lingered in your thoughts, making it clear that you couldn’t stay with Aaron when your heart was drawn elsewhere.

—

As you walked out of the bar, the cool night air hit your skin, bringing a welcome relief from the warmth inside. You hadn’t expected to see anyone lingering outside, so when you noticed Spencer standing next to the brick exterior, staring intently at it as if lost in thought, you were momentarily taken aback.

“Spencer? What are you doing?” you asked, your voice cutting through the quiet night.

Spencer jumped slightly, clearly startled by your sudden appearance. He hadn’t heard the door open. “Waiting for you,” he admitted, turning to face you.

“Why?” you asked, curiosity and concern threading through your voice. His presence here, after everything that had happened, felt significant, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why.

“You ended things with Hotch, didn’t you?” Spencer’s question was direct, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You blinked, taken aback by how sure he seemed. “How do you know that?” you asked, your voice softer now, the weight of the conversation sinking in.

“So you did?” he pressed, his expression intense but gentle, as if he needed to hear it from you.

“Yes,” you finally admitted, the word hanging in the air between you both, laden with unspoken emotions.

Spencer nodded slowly, as if piecing together a puzzle in his mind. He stepped a little closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “And now?” Spencer asked, his tone laced with quiet hope, as if he were afraid to push too hard, yet unable to hold back.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you considered the truth of it all. “Now… I’m trying to figure that out,” you said, your eyes meeting his, the connection between you undeniable.

Spencer’s expression softened, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “I’m here if you need help figuring it out,” he offered, his voice gentle but firm, a silent promise in his words.

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, standing in the cool night air.

“Spencer?” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you took a tentative step closer to him.

“Mhm?” His response was almost a hum, his eyes locked on yours, waiting, searching for what you needed to say.

“Kiss me?” The words slipped out before you could second-guess them, a plea as much as a question, filled with all the emotions you’d been holding back.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it was replaced by something softer, something that made your heart flutter. He didn’t hesitate. Instead, he moved closer, the space between you shrinking until there was nothing left but the warmth of his presence.

His hand lifted, fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that made your heart ache. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb traced the curve of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then, he kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was savoring the moment, the feeling of your lips against his. But as you pressed closer, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, the kiss deepened. His lips molded perfectly to yours, warm and inviting, a slow dance of exploration and longing.

The world around you disappeared completely, leaving only the sensation of his lips moving against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the gentle but insistent pressure of his hands as they cupped your face, pulling you closer still. Every brush of his lips sent a spark through you, igniting a fire that spread from your chest to the tips of your fingers.

Time seemed to stretch, each second filled with the intoxicating mix of passion and tenderness, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate, as if both of you had been waiting for this moment far longer than you realized.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and slightly dazed, your foreheads pressed together, your noses brushing as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer’s eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted, and you could see the faintest hint of a smile playing on them.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath.

Spencer opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice just as soft. “Wow.”

Neither of you moved, savoring the closeness, the lingering warmth of the kiss still tingling on your lips. It was as if the world had shifted, something new and precious blooming between you, something that neither of you were quite ready to let go of.

—

Spencer was kicking himself for not getting your phone number. The thought had crossed his mind a dozen times since that night, and each time, he berated himself a little more for letting the moment slip away. But he also knew that you were still sorting through your feelings, and the last thing he wanted was to pressure you by showing up two nights in a row for your show to ask for your number. He wasn’t even sure if you performed both nights of the weekend. Did you perform every weekend? All year long? What was your other job? Where were you from? Did you go to college? 

These questions swirled around in his mind, each one adding to the growing realization that he knew so little about you, despite how much he felt drawn to you. It was a strange, almost unsettling feeling—like being pulled into a deep, endless well of curiosity that he couldn’t climb out of. He was, as Derek would probably say, down bad. 

Spencer found himself thinking about you at the oddest times—during meetings, while reading, even in the middle of a conversation with someone else. His mind would wander back to the way your lips felt against his, the way your voice sounded when you whispered his name, the way you looked at him like he was someone worth knowing. It was enough to drive him crazy.

—

Meanwhile, Aaron’s constant texts and voicemails weighed heavily on you, each one more insistent than the last, as he pleaded for another chance, convinced he could be what you needed. You understood his struggle—after all, you were the first person he’d been with since his marriage ended, and he was trying to find something familiar and safe in the aftermath. But it was clear he was projecting, hoping to recreate the all-encompassing relationship he’d had with his ex-wife.

You knew you needed to gently explain that what you shared wasn’t the same, that you couldn’t be the anchor he was searching for. Adding to your turmoil was the growing connection you felt with Spencer, which only heightened your anxiety. You were certain that pursuing anything with him, especially under these circumstances, wasn’t the right move.

Caught in a web of conflicting emotions—Aaron’s needs, your own feelings, and the undeniable pull toward Spencer—you realized that whatever decision you made next would have far-reaching consequences for all three of you.

—

“Spencer Reid,” he answered, his tone professional.

“Hi, it’s me. I hope it’s okay I’m calling you at work,” you said, a bit hesitant.

“Y/N?” Spencer whispered urgently and lowered his voice.

“Yeah, is this weird? I’m sorry, I’ll go,” you quickly offered, suddenly feeling awkward.

“No!” Spencer replied quickly, looking around to make sure no one was listening.. “No, just… can you give me your cell, and I’ll call you back?”

You gave him your number, and within minutes, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. 

“Y/N?” Spencer's voice came through, full of relief and curiosity.

“Hi,” you responded, feeling a warmth spread through you just hearing his voice.

“Hi,” he echoed, and for a moment, the two of you simply basked in the quiet connection over the phone, neither rushing to fill the silence.

“What’s up?” Spencer asked, just as you said, “I need to talk to you.”

You both laughed, the nervous tension easing slightly.

“Go ahead,” Spencer urged, his tone gentle.

“Can you come over tonight? I think we should talk,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with the weight of what you needed to discuss.

“Um, yeah, sure. Is everything okay?” Spencer asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Just want to clear the air,” you reassured him, though there was a slight edge of anticipation.

—

Later that evening, Spencer arrived with Thai food in hand and a knot in his stomach. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was determined to face whatever conversation awaited him. Still, he took a deep breath and knocked.

“Hi, Spencer,” you greeted him with a warm smile as you opened the door.

“Hi,” he replied, feeling some of the tension ease at the sight of you.

“Come in, come in. I got us all set up in front of the TV, I like noise while I eat. Do you like Doctor Who?”

Spencer’s eyes lit up, and without thinking, he blurted out, “I’m going to marry you.”

“What?” you laughed, clearly delighted by his reaction.

“I love Doctor Who! The fact that you put it on without knowing that? This is a proposal. I’m sorry I don’t have a ring—will pad Thai do?”

“Yes, I accept,” you said with a grin, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest as you both laughed, the earlier tension dissolving into something much lighter, much sweeter.

Spencer’s nervous energy began to dissipate as he followed you into the living room, where you had everything set up just as you promised—cushions, blankets, and Doctor Who already playing on the screen.

You both settled onto the couch, the takeout containers spread out on the coffee table between you. Spencer glanced over at you, taking in how relaxed you seemed. “You really know how to set the mood,” he teased lightly, gesturing toward the TV with his chopsticks.

“Well, I figured if we’re going to have a serious conversation, we might as well do it with the Doctor,” you replied, giving him a playful smile. But then, your expression softened as you looked at him, and Spencer could sense the shift in the air.

“You wanted to clear the air,” Spencer prompted gently, setting his food aside to give you his full attention.

You took a deep breath, nodding as you gathered your thoughts. “Yeah, I did,” you began, your voice steady but thoughtful. “I ended things with Aaron because… well, because it wasn’t fair to keep things going when I was so uncertain about what I wanted. He’s been through a lot, and I didn’t want to complicate his life any more than it already is, especially with Jack in the picture.”

Spencer listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, the empathy in his gaze clear.

“And then there’s you,” you continued, your voice softening even more. “I don’t know exactly what this is between us, but I know it’s something. But I also know that things are complicated, especially with everything that’s happened.”

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as he absorbed your words, the vulnerability in your voice mirroring the emotions swirling within him. “Nothing has to happen between us,” he said softly, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I’m perfectly happy being your friend. Truthfully, I just like being around you, and I’ll take that in any capacity I can get.”

The words had barely left Spencer’s mouth before you were on him, your lips capturing his with an urgency that neither of you had expected. No one had ever said anything like that to you before—no one had ever cared like that before. Complications be damned, Spencer Reid was going to be a hell of a lot more than just a friend.

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, but it only took him a heartbeat to catch up. His initial shock melted away as he deepened the kiss, his hands instinctively finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer against him. The kiss was filled with all the unspoken emotions you both had been holding back, a fiery blend of passion and need that neither of you could deny any longer.

Your fingers tightened in Spencer's hair, the silky strands slipping between them as you tugged, eliciting a low moan from him that reverberated through your body. The sound was intoxicating, feeding the fire already burning between you. You pressed against him more firmly, your body molding to his as the kiss deepened, becoming more heated, more urgent.

Spencer’s lips were soft, pliant, yet insistent against yours, moving with a rhythm that made your pulse race. His mouth parted slightly, inviting you to explore, and you didn’t hesitate, your tongue sweeping across his lower lip before sliding into the warmth of his mouth. He met you with equal passion, his tongue teasing yours in a sensual dance that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

His hands, once tentative, became bolder, fingers brushing over the fabric of your shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of your skin beneath it. Each touch, each caress, sent shivers down your spine, making you press closer to him, needing more.

With a gentle but firm push, you guided him further back into the couch, your bodies shifting until you were straddling his lap, your leg sliding over his to settle on either side of him. The new position brought you even closer, your hips brushing against his, and you felt a tremor run through him at the contact.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, but his lips never left yours. His hands, now anchored at your hips, pulled you even closer, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any space between you. You could feel the tension coiling within him, the way his body responded to yours, and it sent a thrill of power through you.

Your lips moved against his with a purpose, tasting, savoring, as if you were trying to memorize the way he felt, the way he responded to you. His moans, low and throaty, vibrated against your mouth, and you couldn’t help but echo them, the sound swallowed by the intensity of the kiss.

His hands roamed more, this time sliding up to your shoulders, then down your arms, before returning to your hips, where his grip tightened. The need in his touch was palpable, almost desperate, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he could remember.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your position to align your bodies even more perfectly, and Spencer gasped into your mouth, his fingers digging into your ass now as he tried to control the reaction surging through him. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, the connection between you both so powerful that it made every touch, every brush of your lips against his, feel electric.

You deepened the kiss, your tongue teasing his as you nipped at his lower lip, eliciting a low groan from him. His response was immediate, his hands slipping under your shirt, palms pressing against the bare skin of your waist, drawing you even closer.

The heat of his touch was searing, branding you with the undeniable evidence of his desire. You could feel the tension building between you, a coil tightening with every second, threatening to snap at any moment. The way his body responded to yours, the way he moaned into your mouth, only fueled your own need, making you press harder against him, your hips rolling slightly to test the limits of his control.

Spencer’s breath was ragged, each exhale shaky as he fought to keep himself grounded in the moment, but you could feel him unraveling beneath your touch. You could feel the desire pulsing between you, the air thick with the promise of what could be, but for now, all that mattered was the way he kissed you—like he couldn’t get enough, like he was drowning in the sensation of your lips on his. His mouth moved against yours with a desperate intensity, as if each kiss was a lifeline, anchoring him to you.

As the kiss grew more fervent, your hands began to roam, exploring the hard lines of his chest, the curve of his shoulders, the muscles tensing beneath your fingertips as you discovered the contours of his body. You could feel the strength in him, the barely restrained power that made every touch feel like a spark igniting between you.

Your name escaped his lips in a breathless whisper as you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. They were dark with desire, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. His gaze was filled with awe and hunger, like he couldn’t believe this was happening but was desperate for more.

“Y/N…” Spencer’s voice was low, strained with the weight of everything he was feeling, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for.

You silenced him with another kiss, your hands threading through his hair as you poured every ounce of emotion into the contact, letting him know without words that you felt it too, that you wanted this just as much as he did.

The kiss was slow this time, languid and deep, as if you had all the time in the world to savor the taste of each other, to lose yourselves in the sensation. The urgency that had driven you earlier softened into something more intimate, more meaningful, as you let yourselves simply exist in the moment, wrapped up in each other.

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer suddenly breathed out, his voice laced with hesitation and longing.

You paused, searching his eyes, your heart pounding as you tried to read the emotions flickering across his face. “What—what’s up, Spencer?” you asked, your voice soft, trying to keep the moment from slipping away.

“I thought you didn’t want to complicate things?” he said, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for reassurance.

“All I know right now is that I want you,” you replied, your voice steady, but filled with the intensity of everything you were feeling.

“You want to have sex with me?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“We don’t have to,” you assured him, shaking your head slightly. “I want you,” you emphasized, your eyes locked on his. “I want you to tell me all the interesting facts and theories behind Doctor Who and kiss me when I finish a set. I want to go grocery shopping with you and see you in your glasses. I want to cook horrible food together and order takeout when it inevitably fails. I want you, Spencer.”

Spencer’s breath hitched at your words, his eyes widening slightly as he absorbed what you were saying. “Y/N…” he started, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m serious,” you interrupted, needing him to understand how much this meant to you.

Spencer’s gaze softened, but a shadow of uncertainty still lingered. “What will Hotch say?”

You took a deep breath, acknowledging the weight of his question. “I don’t know… but it’s not up to him, is it?”

Spencer considered this, the conflict in his eyes slowly giving way to acceptance. “No, I guess not,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“And besides,” you added with a playful smirk, “you already proposed.”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine, filling the space between you. “I did, didn’t I?”

You grinned, feeling the tension between you dissolve as you leaned in closer. “So, what do you say, Doctor? Are you in?”

Spencer’s eyes shone with relief and joy, the last remnants of doubt fading away as he pulled you closer, his hands resting on your hips. “I’m in,” he whispered, before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Spencer pulled back slightly, a hint of sheepishness coloring his expression as he asked, “Does that mean we’re not going to have sex?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his question, the sound warm and affectionate. Leaning in closer, you whispered with a teasing smile, “Oh no, Spencer, I’m going to fuck your brains out.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then his lips curved into a grin, the tension between you dissolving completely into something playful and charged with anticipation. 

Spencer's playful grin lingered as he leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that quickly deepened, growing more urgent with each passing second. The teasing, lighthearted atmosphere shifted as the heat between you reignited, the need for each other becoming undeniable.

His hands, initially resting on your hips, began to move again, fingers tracing the curve of your waist with deliberate slowness. The touch was electrifying, each stroke of his fingertips igniting a fire under your skin. Spencer’s lips never left yours, his kisses growing more heated, more insistent, as his hands continued their journey downward.

With a deliberate and confident motion, Spencer's hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts. The feeling of his fingers against your bare skin sent a jolt of anticipation through you, your breath hitching in response. His touch was both gentle and firm, exploring with a careful yet eager curiosity that made your pulse quicken.

He found your clit almost immediately, and the moment he touched you, a soft gasp escaped your lips. Spencer paused for a fraction of a second, gauging your reaction, before continuing, his fingers moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made you tremble. The sensation was intense, his touch both tender and commanding, driving you to the edge with each stroke.

“Spencer, oh god,” you gasped, throwing your head back, completely unprepared for him to make the first move.

Your hips instinctively pressed into his hand, seeking more of the delicious friction he was creating. Spencer responded in kind, his movements growing bolder as he felt your body responding to his touch. His name fell from your lips, breathless and needy, urging him on.

As his fingers continued their skilled work, your own hands were not idle. You found yourself reaching for him, desperate to feel more of him, your fingers tugging at his shirt, slipping under the fabric to explore the warmth of his skin. The feel of his muscles tensing beneath your touch only heightened your desire, fueling the fire between you.

Spencer’s breathing became ragged, matching yours, as he continued to drive you higher, his fingers moving against your clit with an almost maddening precision. The pleasure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter, until it was nearly unbearable, a sweet tension that you craved more of with every second. His lips found yours again, this time hungrier, more demanding, swallowing the soft moans that escaped you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly take any more, Spencer’s fingers shifted, inserting two of his long, thick fingers inside of you. His movements were more confident as he found exactly the right rhythm to send you spiraling. He knew exactly what he was doing, every brush of his palm against your clit and the stroke of his fingers sending another jolt of pleasure through you, making your body arch into him, desperate for more.

“Spencer, please,” you gasped, your voice breathless and pleading, your hands gripping his shoulders as you held on to him, grinding yourself into his hand as the pleasure became all-consuming.

He responded with a low, husky moan, clearly affected by your actions, by the way your body was reacting to his touch. Spencer’s free hand slipped beneath your shirt, sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple, adding another layer of sensation that made you shudder.

The combined stimulation was too much, and you could feel the coil inside you tightening to its breaking point. Spencer’s lips never left yours, his kisses growing more fervent, more insistent, as if he could sense how close you were, as if he wanted to take you there, wanted to be the one to push you over the edge.

And then, with one final, perfectly timed stroke, you shattered. Your body trembled violently as you came all over Spencer’s fingers and hand, wave after wave, so intense that it left you breathless, your mind spinning. Spencer’s name fell from your lips in a cry, your hands fisting in his shirt as you clung to him, the only solid thing in a world that had dissolved into pure sensation.

Spencer’s movements slowed, his touch gentle as he helped you ride out the last waves of your climax, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses to your neck, your jaw, anywhere he could reach. His other hand stayed on your breast, caressing you softly, anchoring you as you slowly came back to yourself.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found Spencer watching you with a look that was equal parts awe and desire. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender, and he smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much warmth that it made your heart swell.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, your breath still coming in shallow pants. “Says the man who just made me cum in under ten minutes,” you murmured, your lips curving into a soft smile.

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, vibrating through both of you. “I guess I have a few talents,” he replied, his tone teasing, but the admiration in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You definitely do,” you whispered, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. It was different from the earlier urgency, this time more tender. You could feel his smile against your lips.

When you finally pulled back, you met his gaze, both of you basking in the warmth of the moment. Spencer’s hands gently stroked your back, his touch soothing as you nestled closer into his embrace.

“I’m really glad we did this,” he whispered, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back.

“Do you think we’re done?” you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you began to slide off his lap, letting your body glide down onto the floor in front of him.

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly as he watched your every move, the anticipation clear in his gaze. “I-I hope not,” he stammered, his voice catching as you settled between his knees, your hands resting on his thighs.

A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips as you leaned closer, your fingers beginning to undo his belt, your eyes never leaving his. “Good,” you murmured, “because I’m not done with you yet.”

Spencer's breath grew ragged as you slowly undid his belt, the sound of the metal buckle clicking open echoing in the heated silence between you. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat reverberating through him as your fingers deftly worked to free him from the confines of his pants. The tension between you was electric, a palpable current that made every touch, every glance, feel like a spark igniting in the air.

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his anticipation practically humming through his body. As you eased the fabric down his hips, your hands brushed against his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the slight tremor in his thighs as he fought to keep his composure. His breath hitched again, a sharp intake of air that sent a thrill through you, knowing how much you were affecting him.

Your fingers brushed over the outline of his cock, feeling the hardness straining against the fabric still covering him. The way he responded to even the lightest touch, his hips shifting slightly, made your own pulse quicken. You reveled in the control you had in this moment, the way he was so completely at your mercy, and the way he willingly surrendered to it.

As you freed him fully, Spencer let out a low, guttural moan, the sound vibrating through the air and making your skin tingle. The weight of his cock was heavy in your hand, the heat of him searing against your palm as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling him pulse with every beat of his heart. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his lips parting as he exhaled shakily, the sensation clearly overwhelming him.

As you slid his pants lower, you couldn’t help but notice the soft, dark curls at the base of his length, a natural, intimate detail that only added to the rawness of the moment. Your fingers brushed through the coarse hairs, the sensation making Spencer moan wildly and buck his hips.

You stroked him slowly, deliberately, savoring the way his breath hitched with each movement, the way his body tensed and relaxed in response to your touch. His skin was smooth and hot beneath your hand, the texture contrasting with the firmness of him, and it was intoxicating. You leaned in, letting your breath ghost over him, feeling him twitch in your hand as you teased him with the warmth of your breath.

Spencer's fingers dug into the cushions of the couch, his knuckles white as he fought to keep control, his entire body coiled with tension. But when your lips finally brushed against his tip, all that control seemed to slip away. He let out a deep, shuddering breath, his hips involuntarily lifting to meet your mouth, the sensation overwhelming.

You took your time, letting your tongue explore the sensitive skin, tracing the large vein with a deliberate slowness that had him trembling beneath you. Every moan, every gasp, was a reward, fueling your desire to drive him further, to make him lose himself completely in the sensation.

His taste was intoxicating, a mix of salt and something uniquely him, and you savored it as you took him deeper, your mouth enveloping him in warmth. The feel of his curls brushing against your lips had you soaking further, grounding you in the raw, physical reality of what you were doing. The sounds he made—breathy moans, desperate gasps—only spurred you on, your own arousal building with every reaction you coaxed from him.

You could feel the tension in his body mounting, the way his muscles tightened, his breath coming in shorter, more erratic bursts as he neared the edge. His hands found their way to your hair, not guiding, just holding on, as if he needed something to ground him in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

“Y/N…” he gasped, your name a plea on his lips, his voice raw with need.

You responded by increasing the intensity, your pace quickening, taking him deeper, feeling him throb against your tongue. His grip on your hair tightened, not painfully, but with enough force to convey just how close he was. You could feel him straining, his body on the brink of release, every nerve ending attuned to the sensations you were creating.

“Y/N, pull off,” Spencer's voice was breathless, tinged with urgency.

But you were lost in the moment, too caught up in the sensations to register his words. When you didn’t move, his hand tightened in your hair, and with a firm tug, he roughly pulled you off, causing you to whine loudly. Both from loss and pleasure. 

The intensity in his eyes was undeniable as he looked down at you, his chest still heaving, his breath ragged. “I just… I want to be inside you,” he managed, his voice hoarse, the desire in his words unmistakable. He was clearly struggling to regain control after the overwhelming pleasure you’d just given him, his need for you palpable in every word, every breath.

The raw honesty in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, your own desire flaring at the thought. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly rose, your movements deliberate, feeling his gaze follow you as you stood before him. 

“Well then, big boy, come show me a good time,” you whispered, your voice low and filled with all the need you felt in that moment. You reached for him, your hands steady as you guided him to his feet, bringing your bodies back into alignment. The anticipation between you was electric, a charged silence that spoke louder than any words could.

Spencer's hands found your hips, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulled you closer, his eyes dark with hunger as he looked down at you. The air between you was thick with unspoken promises, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, pouring all of your desire into it, feeling him respond with equal fervor. The kiss was intense, filled with the heat and urgency of everything you both wanted, but before it could deepen further, you pulled away—much too soon for his liking. Spencer let out a soft, involuntary sound of protest, his eyes dark with longing as you broke the kiss.

You gave him a teasing smile, taking his hand in yours, and began leading him toward your bedroom. Spencer followed eagerly, the anticipation between you growing with every step. His hand tightened around yours as if he couldn’t stand the distance, even those few steps feeling like too much.

As soon as you reached the bedroom, without needing to say a word, you moved together, hands exploring, fingers tugging at fabric, as you helped each other remove the rest of your clothing. Spencer’s touch was both gentle and fervent, his hands sliding over your skin as he peeled away the last barriers between you.

The air was charged with anticipation, each brush of skin against skin sending sparks through you. When the last of your clothing fell away, you found yourself in his arms again, your bare bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin against yours only fueling the fire.

With a shared, breathless glance, you guided him to the bed, the softness of the sheets a welcome contrast to the intense need between you. Spencer’s eyes were dark with desire as he watched you climb onto the bed, and he quickly followed, his hands finding your hips as you straddled him.

“Is this okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the question carrying excitement and vulnerability.

“God, yes, please,” Spencer breathed, his voice laced with desperation, as if he needed this as much as he needed air. His hands gripped your hips firmly, but not harshly, his touch grounding you both in the reality of the moment.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him as he filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and fullness that made you gasp, your nails digging slightly into his shoulders as you steadied yourself. Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his lips parting as he let out a low, throaty moan, his hands tightening on your hips as if to anchor himself.

The feel of his pubic hair brushing against you with each movement heightened the sensation, a constant reminder of the raw, unfiltered connection between you. It was intimate, real, and it made you feel closer to him than ever before.

You began to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that allowed you both to savor every sensation, every brush of skin against skin. Spencer’s hands guided your movements, his fingers pressing into your flesh with a need that mirrored your own. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, each one a testament to the pleasure you were both feeling.

As you moved together, the friction between your bodies built steadily, each motion sending ripples of pleasure through you. The sensation of him inside you, combined with the feeling of his coarse hair brushing against your clit with every grind, was almost too much to bear. You could feel the tension building within you, a coiled spring ready to snap, the pleasure intensifying with every thrust.

Spencer’s hands roamed your body, his touch both reverent and possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, the way you moved against him. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, down to the swell of your hips, then back up to your waist, as if memorizing every inch of you.

With each movement, your pace quickened, the need between you becoming more urgent, more desperate. The sounds of your shared pleasure filled the room—his deep moans, your soft gasps, the rhythmic slap of your bodies moving together in perfect sync.

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tighter as he felt you begin to tremble above him, the tension within you reaching its peak. He bucked his hips up to meet yours, driving himself deeper into you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to maintain control.

“Spencer,” you gasped, your voice trembling with the intensity of the pleasure building inside you. “I’m so close, you’re fucking me so good!”

“Y/N, shit. You can’t just say that. You feel so good,” Spencer groaned loudly, and then, with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered. The pleasure exploded within you, wave after wave crashing over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. Spencer’s name fell from your lips in a cry, his hands gripping you tightly as he felt your walls tighten around him. 

The feeling of your walls squeezing his cock so tightly drove Spencer over the edge. "Oh, I'm gonna—" Spencer's voice was filled with urgency, his breath ragged as the sensation overwhelmed him. And with a few more deep, deliberate movements, Spencer buried himself completely within you, his body tensing as he succumbed to the wave of pleasure that crashed over him. He let out a strained, almost desperate sound as he reached his own release, the intensity of the moment leaving him trembling in your arms.

After Spencer came down, the room gradually quieted, leaving only the soft sound of your mingled breaths. Spencer's hands continued to gently caress your back, his touch tender and soothing as you both returned from the overwhelming high.

He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, a grounding presence that made you feel safe and cherished.

"You okay?" Spencer asked softly, his voice laced with concern and affection as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You nodded, a contented smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'm good," you whispered, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction and peace wash over you.

Spencer's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his touch light and reassuring. "I want to make sure you’re comfortable," he said quietly, his voice filled with genuine care.

Spencer smiled as he helped you shift to a more comfortable position, reaching for the covers to pull them over you. But you gently stopped him.

“I have to pee,” you said with a sheepish grin.

“Thank you for sharing,” Spencer teased, his voice light with amusement.

“Get out and let me up,” you giggled, playfully nudging him.

With a laugh, Spencer shifted to give you room, and you quickly made your way to the bathroom. When you returned, you grabbed some comfortable clothes—sweats and a T-shirt—for both of you.

“Here,” you said, tossing him a shirt and some pants. “I’m assuming you’ll spend the night?”

“Happily,” Spencer replied, slipping into the clothes, a contented smile on his face.

“And you’ll still be here in the morning?” you asked, a hint of playful seriousness in your tone as you pulled on your own clothes.

“Of course,” he answered without hesitation, his eyes meeting yours.

“And you’ll let me cuddle you?” you continued, your smile widening as you crawled back into bed.

“Absolutely,” Spencer said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“And you’ll be my boyfriend?” you added, your tone teasing, but there was a genuine question behind it.

“Duh—wait. Oh, you got me,” Spencer chuckled, realizing he had walked right into your playful trap. He kissed your forehead, his expression softening. “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

You both laughed, the lightness of the moment a perfect contrast to the intensity of earlier. As you snuggled into his arms, the warmth and comfort of being together settled over you like a blanket.

—

The shrill ringing of a phone pulled you from the depths of sleep, and you groggily rolled over, reaching for the device on your bedside table. 

“Hello?” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

“Y/N?” The voice on the other end was unmistakable.

Your eyes widened in sudden realization. “Aaron,” you breathed, your heart skipping a beat.

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a question laced with confusion and suspicion. “Why are you answering Spencer’s phone?”

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg

it's too funny when hotch said "remind me to have her drug tested" WITH A STRAIGHT FACE

When your card declines at therapy and they make you watch season 5 Episode 9 on repeat

“ I worked the case, just like you said ”

she| aaron hotchner

word count: 1618 words

warnings: i hurt my own feelings

"she lives in daydreams with me.  she's the first one that i see and i don't know why..."

brown. 

every little detail about her was brown. 

her eyes. 

her hair. 

her skin.

everything.

until he had met her, the color brown was nothing more than the color of tree bark. 

wood.

dirt.

coffee grounds that he brewed at work. it was a muted color to him. 

nothing that really stood out to him about it. nothing special. 

until she came into his life. 

he couldn't figure out what about her made him want to talk to her and crave to be around her.

not until much later. at first glance she was nothing but ordinary.

just another girl who worked at his work place.

she was several years younger than him, and half his height.

the only thing that intrigued him about her at first was that she was the sweetest girl he had ever met.

she wasn't shy, she wasn't ever rude. not even from her first interview or her first day. 

she wore one of the biggest and most genuine smiles he had ever seen in his life. 

it didn't matter what she was doing. 

she was doing it with a soft smile. or with her teeth on full display.

that was another thing.

she was one of the few people that wasn't intimidated by his stern face.

or his tall frame.

she approached him and talked to him as if they had been friends for many years. he was surprised by how she easily made him feel comfortable. 

how he laughed around her.

the thing is- she had no clue as to what she was doing to him.

she broke down his the layers and layers of walls he had built around his heart. 

and he happily let her in. 

without even meaning to. 

they spent all of their shifts talking. 

making inside jokes. sharing cheesy grins at one another. 

for a year- up until he left.

one month.

in that one month everything changed. 

he was offered an internship in another state that he couldn't turn down. after the internship was done, he would come back to his every day job. he had promised himself he would take her out once he came back.

and he did.

he waited.

and longed for the day he could be in her presence again.

trying to convince himself he just wanted to see his friend and nothing more, that it was just because they were close friends. 

nothing more. 

no, he doesn't let people into his life like that. 

not that easily. 

'she is just another girl'

he told himself this every day up until he came back. 

"she's the first one i see"

there she was. 

laughing with her head thrown back in pure joy.

two things stood out to him at that moment. 

one.

her smile. her smile lit up the entire room. 

and secondly-

he stopped.

the young boy attached to her side. 

the boy who was the reasoning behind her laughing that hard. 

he wasn't sure why his heart skipped as it did, but he knew it had something to do with the lingering hand she had placed on the other guys arm.

why him?

he wasn't anything special. what did he have that i don't?

as the days passed, she paid no mind to him. at least not intentionally. her eyes remaining on the brunette with a smile as wide as hers. 

why...

why him?

he just wanted her to look at him that way. she was supposed to look up at him with her dazzling smile and her love stricken eyes like that. not him.

"she's the first one that i see."

several years had passed. years where all he could do was pretend. force smiles and force laughter as he watched her grow into an adult, with that boy at her side.

spencer.

that's all he was.

nothing more. nothing less.

just an idiotic boy. a boy who happened to make a move before he did.

everything he looked at- walked past, it reminded him of her. 

the smell of honey.

cinnamon.

vanilla.

coconut.

 just the definition of comfort.

that's what she smelled like. no matter what time of day.

he knew all of her favorite things. 

her obsession with anything that sparkled. 

the color purple. 

the white converse she wore til she physically couldn't anymore. 

snacking after eating.

her favorite singer. 

books. 

pens that made her font look just right. 

colors after colors.

he knew it all.

every.

damn.

thing.

he knew her inside and out.

he knew that she didn't like the sun because it caused her to get really bad migraines. 

she loved the rain. 

she loved to spend her mornings at work- writing, because she knew that if she wrote at home she would get distracted by everything else. 

whenever she's sad, she forces a smile but her eyes never leave the floor and when they do- they never make eye contact with him.

because she know if she does.

he'll know right away that something is wrong.

she's the first one that he thinks of when people ask him why he still hasn't gotten with anyone.

every girl eyes him like eye candy.

but he pays no mind.

they want him for his body. nothing more.

but not her.

her. 

her. 

her.

he wants her.

not the girl next door.

not the girl who tried getting with him while he was away. 

but her. 

he wants her dark brown hair coating his pillow as they lay there and talk. 

he wants to listen to her speak day and night about what her plans for the future are.

he wants to see her in his hoodies.

his clothes.

he wants to hear her giggle into his chest as he covers her in kisses.

he wants to steal the glasses that cover most of her face and stare into her eyes all night long.

trace every freckle.

every birthmark.

every scar to ever cover her body. 

'you don't have to be scared you're not enough'

her words echoed in his head over all the other thoughts swarming in there. it overpowered the negativity.

the endless questions.

she answered every single one of them.

'try to quiet the noises in your head,'

she always calmed down his hyperactive mind.

she knew that when he went silent he was overthinking every word he had spoken that day, being quick to jump in and reign him back in.

'what if it was us'

he didn't mean to let that slip.

it felt like hours had passed.

another minute.

and another-

'i tried..' 

he froze.

'but then you told me about how you chose someone else, about her...'

the hurt in her voice was evident. 

he didn't mean to hurt her. 

no. 

he would never. 

not her.

'i never meant to hurt you-'

'you need to open your eyes.

you need to see past the surface.

your anger hasn't let you move on.

he and i have not been together for a long time.

but due to your stubborn self, you chose not to notice...i've been in love with you since that first christmas we spent together.

and you had somehow managed to buy every single thing i had touched while shopping the day before-

i stopped chasing you because you stopped trying.

you gave me the cold shoulder.

you pushed me away.

you never saw how i always came to you first.

always you.

whenever i was in pain.

whenever i was sad.

you saw me at every point.

at my happiest.

at my saddest. 

and

you

did

nothing'

and then it clicked.

memories of her flashed in front of his eyes as if he was watching his whole life on repeat.

her lingering eyes on him. 

her laughter at every joke he made.

her smile.

the twinkle in her eye- the one reserved specifically for him.

she would turn her full focus on him whenever they spoke, something she found hard to do with how antsy she got. 

keeping her feet moving, shifting her weight every two seconds. 

signing with her hands whenever she got nervous or anxious.

but she always stayed steady around him.

like he was the one calming her down.

not the other way around.

her hands cupping his whenever his hands trembled from his anxiety. 

being quick to respond to his messages late at night.

'of course, honey'

'hon, please take a deep breath for me'

'of course i do, you're like one of the most important people in my life'

it was like he was seeing her in a new light.

she was his everything.

and he was hers...

he was the reason why they weren't together.

he remembered hearing about how her boyfriend never treated her right.

about how they were always fighting.

he had never felt more stupid.

he did this. 

he was supposed to sweep her off her feet. 

he was supposed to be the person to keep her safe, and keep that beautiful smile on her face.

she looked nothing like how he last remembered seeing her.

it was as if a filter was removed from his eyes. 

her eyes looked dull. 

her hair was tousled from overworking herself at work, not taking proper care of herself. 

her smile- gone. 

'i have loved you since i was 22- i stopped loving you the second you failed to see how your actions affect those who love you' 

he remembers texting her late at night, after spending his night drinking in his sorrow.

she spent countless nights staying up until the crack of dawn trying to reassure the crying boy.

spending his free time at the gym to avoid any sort communication. 

overworking himself to distract himself from the pain.

he took away his one source of happiness, because he had convinced himself that she would never want him.

he got rid of her.

not the other way around...

why?

why her?

infatuated p.2 | a.h

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

word count: 5.6k words

warnings: cussing, grinding, thigh humping, ptsd flashbacks, blood, guns and knives involved, mentions of religion

mdni por favor

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

part 1 here /spencer part here

You had to pinch your side to ensure that this was truly happening. Eyeing Hotch's tense frame his eyes flickering between you and Morgans faces. Morgans signature know it all smirk graced his features, loosening his grip around your waist pressing a soft kiss on your cheek like he hadn't seen Hotch storm over from the bar table.

What in the world am I doing?

I'm never drinking again-

Hotch internally argued with himself shoving down any negative thoughts, his eyes eyeing your sweaty frame against Morgans. Having to hold himself back from ripping his hands off of your waist. Noting how dangerously close they were to your ass.

He had dragged himself over here before he could talk himself out of it, feeling his body sweating bullets. A huge part of him was hoping you wouldn't turn away from him. But by the look in your eye, a small part of him knew you wouldn't.

It felt like an eternity before either of you made a motion to move from your interlocked position. Hotch's heart rate was through the roof not allowing you to see how nervous he was, switching weight from one foot to the other. It wasn't until Hotch cleared his throat that Morgan pulled away from your body. He lingered on your waist pressing another unnecessary soft kiss as a final poke at Hotch, clapping Hotch on the back as he chuckled making his way over to where everyone else was located.

The dark haired man slid into Morgan's spot, his muscular thighs slotted perfectly with yours stealing a breath from you. The music had changed tempo once more, Hotch not wasting a second before guiding your hips along to the beat.

His body moving fluidly with the music. He looked gorgeous under the strobe lights, his watch reflecting the light barely able to focus on anything other than his tan muscular arms. Without you realizing the taller man had mingled you further into the crowd where he knew no one on his team could see what either of you might get up to. His hands had swiftly found their home around your waist, loving how soft and plush you felt under his fingers giving you a soft squeeze.

"You really know how to push my buttons, don't you sweets?"

A shudder ran down your spine at his words unable to form a coherent sentence. He chuckled against your frame pulling you closer to his toned body. His cologne were all your senses could focus on, that and the sweet scent of jack made his scent even more intoxicating.

You could feel the heat radiating off of his body but you couldn't care less. Wanting to put as little layers between the two of you as possible. Pressing your face against his check laying a small kiss on the exposed skin, trailing the kisses down his neck enjoying the tight breaths leaving his tense body. His head tilted back a tiny bit exposing more of his neck to you, your lips not hesitating to attach themselves to his soft flesh. A small moan escaped his lips sending blood rushing down to your pulsing cunt, clenching your legs tighter against his thigh.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You mumbled against his neck, a deep groan leaving his lips as you sucked lightly on a soft spot on his neck. "I was just dancing..."

"You were basically having sex with Morgan in front of me." His chest rumbled as he whispered in your ear his grip on your hips tightening. Hundreds of thoughts were running through your head as you eyed the gorgeous man standing before you. Trailing your fingers down the black polo, tugging him closer to you his breath fanning over your face. "I didn't enjoy watching another man touch you."

"He wasn't just some stranger-"

"He wasn't me."

A whimper left your lips at the possessive tone of his words, feeling your thighs clamp around his muscular leg out of habit by now. Hotch could have taken you right there, his body loving at the reactiveness of your body. His body moving without hesitation tilting his leg higher up a gasp leaving your lips at the newfound friction.

"I-I um..."

Hotch tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear cupping your face with his calloused hands. Parting your lips almost instinctively as you eyed his plump lips. His dark eyes scanned your barely lit face unable to keep his hands to himself any long, restraining himself to respect your boundaries.

"Can I kiss you?"

You didn't even bother to answer his silly question, tugging him by his polo crashing your lips against his. Waves of shock made their way down your body at the overwhelming sensation of your dream come true. You couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that your boss had you in the position you were in; legs parted with his thigh in between you as he kissed you like tomorrow wasn't guaranteed. A small whine left your lips the second they had met, wanting to deepen the kiss even deeper nipping at his bottom lip. Aaron just chuckled at your attempts, not giving you what you were asking for. He took his time giving your mouth a loving kiss not wanting it to ever end.

Your nimble hands clawed at any clothing you could grasp, the soft material feeling nice against your skin wondering what it would look like on your bedroom floor-

"You taste even sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

Something about that sentence was absolutely filthy. Your mind only thinking of Aaron with his head in between your legs, his face glistening in your sweet juices licking his lips as he uttered those words. Recognizing the look glazing your eyes chuckling against your lips, as he trailed soft kisses up to your ear making you shiver at his teasing. Wanting him to just mark you up and down, letting everyone know you were his.

"How about... we save this for your house? Hm? I want to hear what other pretty noises you got locked up in there," Choking on your saliva as you looked at the smug man with a bewildered look, his body untangling from your compromising position.

I'm sorry- what?

My- my house?!

Hotch tugged your dress further down your thighs, saving you from exposing those pretty panties-

Hold it.

No. Keep it together.

Your underwear.

Not...

Not those soaked panties that had left a small wet spot on his dark jeans, having haunted his mind the second he felt you grinding against him like this was a common occurrence between the two of you.

He guided you from the now overcrowded dance floor, his hand remaining on the small of your back as you swayed your way over to your friends where they were still dancing along to the music blaring from the speakers. You hoped you didn't look as disheveled as you had felt, eyeing the table for a drink only spotting Spencers still full drink. Lifting your gaze to eye the brunette whose cheeks were rosy from drinking his fruity drinks, lips wrapped around a pink straw as he hummed to the song being played.

"Do you mind if I have a sip?"

Bending over Elle to whisper in Spencer's ear, the dark haired girl cat called you as she got a full view of your breasts in the dress. Spencer's eyes had also grown wide trying to keep his eyes focused on your blown out ones, popping his lips off the straw about to grab another one for you before you wrapped your pretty lips around the same one his were wrapped around on.

The sight of your lips sucking on a straw were enough to be imprinted in his brain, playing over and over again. Hotch could barely phantom the sight before him. Your body bent over Elle's lap uttering something to Spencer, your ass on full display for him. Wiggling your hips almost tauntingly, the bubbles of laughter leaving Elles lips made you giggle adjusting yourself upright.

"Mmm, I don't think I've ever had this. What's in?"

Elle had wiggled out of her seat off to find another drink leaving you to take her seat as you tilted your head at the brunette whose eyes were flickering all over you. To your glistening thighs, the sweared lip gloss on your lips, the forming bruises on your neck.

His hand tentatively reached out to guide his fingers against the purple blotches knowing full well those were not there when you had left to go dance with Morgan. HIs mind racing trying to figure out who would have been able to leave those blossoming bruises, graciously taking the drink back from you chugging the rest of the vibrantly pink drink back. You raised your eyebrows at his actions a small smile tugging at your lips, cheering him on. Spencer rested the condensed glass back down on the table shaking his head from the cold sensation in his mouth.

"Oh, Spence. You got a little- here." Reaching up to swipe the dribbling liquid from Spencers chin a small sound resembling a whine left his parted lips, eyes roaming over your face as you came close to him.

Before you could utter any words you felt someone slide in beside you, forcing you closer to Spencer almost tumbling into his lap. The bespectacled boy reached out to catch you but someone had beaten him to it. Running his eyes up the arms wrapped around your waist locking eyes with Hotch, whose eyes were ablaze as he tugged you closer to him. You turned to face the stern man enjoying the feel of his hands on you, barely noticing you were practically sitting on his lap as an attempt to keep you away from Spencer.

"Careful there sweet girl."

"Guys! We should do this more often," Penelope shouted throwing her arms in the air, her flushed face could put a fire truck to shame. You giggled at your drunk friend who was clinging onto Morgan for dear life.

"I think it's time for us to head out. Hotch, you and sweets still coming with us?"

"Yeah, If you don't mind."

"Wait, do you- do you think you could take me as well? I wasn't expecting JJ to leave so soon already."

"Let's go pretty boy."

The walk to the car didn't seem to register in your brain, your body still mentally at the bar not noticing the car had began moving until Hotch nudged his arm against yours. Peeking up at the dark haired man whose eyes were eyeing you curiously, trying to gauge how intoxicated you were. He knew you were still sober enough to register every touch he gave you and the changes in music, protesting when Morgan put on a song that 'wasn't a vibe.'

The seating arrangement wasn't ideal in Hotch's eyes as you were placed directly in between him and Spencer, who were both fighting for your attention. He knew he couldn't get defensive yet as you hadn't chosen who you wanted. Letting out a small huff knowing he couldn't bring himself to force you to pick him if Spencer was the one you wanted.

Almost as if the gods wanted to rub it in his face, Spencer captured your attention pointing at something outside of his window. Eagerly leaning closer to the boy gawking at something outside of the car, giggles leaving your lips. Hotch saw the look Spencer had on his face as he eyed your giggling frame a bubble of laughter leaving the brunettes lips as you both leaned into one another at something you had said.

You were closer in age to Spencer.

The two of you were two of the smartest people he had ever met. Having caught the pair bonding over their endless knowledge, sometimes catching them rambling in other languages.

The kid was sweet.

Even if he was pining after the same girl he was pining after.

He could see the two of you together. Way more than he could see you and him together.

Hotch was rough.

He was like the thorns on a rose.

The gravel under your shoe.

The bark to a tree. Never allowing anyone near him.

But you...you weaseled your way in.

Without trying, your sweet smile and soft words crumbled his walls. Your joyous smile was infectious, everyone around you blossomed in a way he hadn't seen. The endless laughter you brought to the team lightened the somber mood Hotch brought wherever he went.

Light and dark.

Sweet and sour.

"Alrighty, sweets. Your stop is here." Spencer unbuckled his seatbelt opening the door about to jump out so you could get out, a grunt leaving his lips as you climbed over his lap wiggling your way out the car nearly tumbling to stone ground. Grasping onto Spencers thigh to support yourself, adjusting yourself before turning to their grinning face a silly smile gracing your lips as you bowed at your near tumble.

"Need me to walk you to the door?"

"I've got her, Spencer. Morgan you're good to go. I'll make sure to take care of her." The sound of Hotch's husky voice rumbling behind you made you twirl around, the corners of his lips turned up as he offered his arm out to you. The sound of Morgan chuckling made Hotch blush a little at how aggressive his words must have sounded, waving to the car as it drove off.

Wrapping your arm around his waist enjoying the warmth, Hotch chuckled opting to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he began trekking towards your door.  Your amazed eyes scanned the night sky surrounding you rambling about the stars you could see.

"Did you know that most stars come in pairs?"

Hotch's gaze left your moonlit face to gaze at the twinkling stars, furrowing his eyebrows as he saw them all alone.

"To our eyes, they look like they're standing in their lonesome," Mumbling into the cold air, tightening your grip on Hotch's waist. "But in reality... they have a little partner beside them. Isn't that precious? They're never alone..."

You pulled your gaze away from the twinkling stars to watch Hotch with your full attention, nibbling on your bottom lip at the sight of his dark eyes being lit up by the full moon. Tracing the outline of his face with your eyes. The stubble coming in, the sharpness of his jaw. Catching sight of your tinted gloss reflecting against the moonlight a soft giggle leaving your lips. Hotch heard your giggles and turned to face you catching you already looking at him. Your soft eyes made him soften his gaze, cupping your cheek lovingly.

Nuzzling your cold cheek into the warmth of his hand, sighing softly. "Did you know that stars don't twinkle?"

“Really?”

"Mhmm.. the light coming from the stars has to pass through the many layers of our earths turbulent atmosphere. The changes in density make it appear as if they are twinkling.."

The softest chuckle left Hotch's lips, adjusting his hold on you resting his hands around your waist as you tangled your hands on the black polo. Fiddling with the material closest to his belly button, enjoying the slight hitching of his breath your nimble hands grazing the skin beneath the material.

"They say that.. but a small part of me still thinks they do. I mean, how am I supposed to believe they don't when you look at me like that." You mumbled peering up at him through your lashes. Hotch couldn't believe how sweet and how fond you sounded speaking about him in that tone. "Your eyes twinkle every time I look into them.."

Someone as sweet as you thought so fondly of him then surely, she must see something that he can't.

"Pretty girl... I look at you like that because that's how you make me feel. I haven't felt this- this feeling ever since I looked into Jack's eyes for the first time. I don't even think I could describe it. Other than I want to feel this.. for as long as I can."

The smile on your face grew wider than Hotch thought was possible. Fingers running over the shorter hair by the nape of his neck, tilting your head as you pressed your soft lips against his. Hotch couldn't stop the moan that bubble out of his lips, moving his mouth against your hungrily. Running his tongue over your bottom lip parting your mouth slightly, enough for Hotch to slip his tongue inside and roam your mouth like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

Moaning into his mouth as he pressed you against your front door, the cold surface cooling your heated skin as you tugged at his hair wanting him closer than you possibly could.

"Hotch-"

"Aaron." He mumbled against your swollen lips, pressing another soft kiss against your mouth as he scanned your face.

"Aaron... want to go inside?" Aaron grinned at how lovely his name sounded falling from your lips, taking the keys from your shaking hands swiftly unlocking the door as he helped inside. Locking the door behind you setting the keys in the bowl by your door, setting your purse on the hooks nearby. Turning to face the living room a soft smile made its way onto his face as he eyed the room.

Hotch had seen your house countless of times. Every time he had come to pick you up before a case, you were always running late dragging him inside your house as he watched you scramble around. No matter what you had offered him a drink- well, more like you shoved a caprisun in his hands and a snack you had found in your pantry.

You've fed him apples, oranges, rice crispy treats, and once you had shoved a blueberry muffin you had just made into his mouth as you scrambled to put your shoes on. Hotch figures this was another way you weaseled your way into his heart. You respected him as your boss but you didn't stop being yourself around him. You were as bubbly around him as you were around everyone else at the bureau.

But something about being in your house after what transpired tonight, felt different. It felt very intimate to be surrounded by you. The blankets decorating your couch making it feel lived in, the candles you had scattered around made him chuckle trying to take in every detail about you as he could. His eyes stopping over a picture frame reaching down to pick it up his breath hitching as he realized who it was.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

You had never felt this stressed in your life. Fumbling for your phone as you pressed your pinned contact. The phone barely rang before a familiar voice picked up.

"Hotch?"

"Sweets? Is everything okay-"

"Have Pen ping my location. I'm approaching the killers house. I found where he's located. Come as fast as you can."

"Woah, slow down. What?"

"Hotch, please. Just-" You ran your sweaty hand down your jeans as you eyed the dark forest surrounding you, swallowing back any regret. "Hurry. I'm going to set my phone behind a tree. The barn is nearby- just go straight. Trust me. I'll be back."

The cold gun clutched in hand as you took deep breaths to regulate your heart rate, running across the large field of grass the barn coming into view. Having tossed anything that could potentially made any sort of noise somewhere in the grass, not wanting to risk giving away your position.

This had been a case 6 weeks in the making, having spent countless of hours trying to find the person behind all of these kidnappings.

His most recent victim; an 11 year old girl.

It had been a couple days, and you knew that the chances of finding her were slim but you hadn't let go of any hope. You knew what you were doing was stupid.

Beyond idiotic.

Going into a potential killers house, no backup, no one who knows where the barn is located, and potentially giving yourself up to be kidnapped as well. But you knew that you had to act now.

You had finally put together all of the clues he had given at the sites of all of his killings. The message was plain and simple.

The girl was to die at midnight on a full moon, when he felt the portal between worlds was the most vulnerable.

His past killings were trail and error, having 'figured out' what God's proper way was. Which is why going on your own was quite literally the stupidest thing you could ever do. But you couldn't allow this little girl die. Not at your hands. You might be a good profiler, but you had no idea what this man would go through to ensure his sacrifice would happen. Whether that was you or the girl, he didn't care.

You had always been light on your feet knowing the weakest points in the grass, never walking heel to toe when you were sneaking. Always toe to heel. Making you an amazing sleuth unlike Morgan's heavy steps, clutching your gun even tighter as you walked around the barn trying to seek a way in.

The barn smelled of smoke and horse manure, crinkling your nose at the smell. Just as you began to rise to peek into a nearby window you heard a girl scream at the top of her lungs. Perking your head up recognizing the sound of the trees echoing her scream back to you, meaning she was no longer in the house.

Changing your walk to a faster slink brushing by the barn and further into where the animals were located outside. Keeping low to the ground scanning your surroundings, almost dropping your gun at the sight before you.

All you could see was the sight of the killer with his hands holding a 10 inch dagger. Your eyes frantically looking for the girl, letting out a sigh of relief as you saw her. But that relief was short lived as you noticed the blood coating every inch of her body. Her tear streaked face broke a part of you as you tightened your grip on your gun, rising from your position on the floor.

"I see you, my troubled child."

The sound of his greasy voice made your jaw tighten making yourself known to him. He only cackled at the sight of you turning to you with open arms, his entire body out for you to see. The only thing covering him was a barely white gown that he didn't bother to tie, his chest covered in blood and grime. Tilting his head at you with a bewildered look in his eyes twirling the dagger in his hand.

"Drop your weapon-"

"Silence!"

You clicked your teeth with your tongue eyeing the deranged man, taking a step closer to him in hopes of getting him to take the bait.

"You have no right to speak to me. I am- I am your God."

"You spoke to me first, Messiah. Now- you will do as I say. You will drop your weapon, step away from the child-"

"All you people do is beg. And beg. And beg! What about what I want?! Huh?! I want to be able to sit around on my ass all day and ask the big man to make miracles.”

A beat.

"Stand before me and confess."

"I have no sins to confess to-"

"EVERYBODY. Including you... has sins. Now confess. Or I will not hesitate to smite you with my all mighty power."

Clearly this man was on another level that you had thought. He was actually convinced he was God. Having to try a different approach, clearing your throat removing your finger off the trigger flicking the safety on raising your hands up as a sign of defeat.

"Surrender your heart to God, turn to him in prayer, and give up your sins."

A wicked smile creeped up on his face," Even those you do in secret. Then you won't be ashamed. What will you be my child?"

"You will be confident and fearless."

The man seemed to calm down a bit at the sight taking a couple tentative steps towards you. You tossed your gun to the side never removing your eyes off of him. His greasy hair glistened in the moonlight grabbing a hold of your arm. His shaky fingers reached with the blade to caress your forearm the shiny metal glinting up at you. Before you could process what was happening he had dragged the knife across your bicep.

A hiss left your lips feeling the blade slice at the different layers of skin and muscle, the warmth of your blood trickling down your arm in a rush. Coating his arm in his crimson blood, his fingers pressing into your arm forcing more blood out tugging you towards a replica of what you could assume was a cross. Forcing yourself to ignore the sensation of your arm going numb focusing on helping the girl before you.

It looked like he put a lot of work into it, crafting it to look exactly like the cross Jesus was hung on. Your eyes flickered over to the girl the sight of her broke your heart. Her hands were tied with rope to the cross, thankfully he hadn't gotten to the nailing process yet. But he had gotten to the whipping. Her poor body was covered in what you could assume was a hundred lashings, her poor head hung in defeat. Every lashing looked like it had begun to scab and then reopened over and over. You swore on everything you would ensure this man rotted in hell for all eternity, clenching your hands in fists beside you. 

"Now was that so hard my child... come. Sit. I need you to watch me do God's work. You will see history happen before your very eyes,"

"Sir?"

"Yes, my child-" You did not hesitate to kick the dagger out of his hand,  punching him across the face sending the man tumbling. Reaching to your ankle where you grabbed your smaller hand gun holding it over the man whose face was staring at you with a newfound hatred. Not hesitating to pull on the trigger, the ringing echoing across the barn sending the animals scurrying away.  

Your hands grabbed your handcuffs from behind you latching them onto his free hand and attaching it to fence behind you. Ripping off a piece of your shirt off leaving your torso exposed, tying the fabric over the blood to cut off circulation in hopes to lessen the bleeding.

The groans coming from the man sounded like heaven to your ears, kicking his leg walking over to the girl. Pulling your knife out from your back pocket cutting her free from the rope her body slumping against yours, whispering sweet nothings into her blonde hair.

"It's okay baby. I got you sweet girl... you're safe." By now you had finally taken notice of the blue and red lights peeking out from in front of the barn, holding the girl close to your chest. Not paying any mind to the mud coating you as you laid against the fence opposite the killer, shielding her face with your warm arms. "You're okay, Sam..."

The sound of your friends footsteps approaching brought you an immense relief, resting your head on the fence the cold air finally hitting you. Fluttering your eyes open as you heard footsteps stopping right before you, locking eyes with a familiar pair of dark brown eyes who were relieved to see you were responsive.

Elle and Spencer worked on trying to remove Samantha from you, the blonde girl clinging to Elle using Spencer to help hold her up as they walked her to the ambulance out front. Hotch tried to find the source of your bleeding hoisting you up before he reached down and picked you up bridal style. Your head resting on his chest as you inhaled his soft scent.

Hotch hurried to rush you to the ambulance, knowing you had lost a good amount of blood resting you on a stretcher allowing the professionals to take a look at you. He turned around to try and grab Gideons attention, your hand grasping his eyes snapping over to look at your doe eyes.

"Please... stay."

"I will. I promise." 

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

"She was my first save."

"I remember... you had me scared shitless you know. Hearing that gunshot on the phone, I had never sped so fast before in my life. I was screaming at everyone to hurry up, I couldn't bare the thought of losing you." Hotch confessed, running his thumb over the glass setting the wooden frame down. He looked over at you noting the look on your face, reaching over to cup your face snapping you out of your thoughts.

"How about we get some rest, hmm?"

You nodded at his words, kicking your shoes off by the front door motioning for Hotch to do the same. He chuckled gently setting his shoes besides your heels, following behind you as you led him towards your room. Admiring the decorations you had even decorating your hallway, the door at the end of the hall seeming more scary the closer you got to it.

"I-I haven't cleaned my room in a bit. Please ignore the mess on the floor, I could not find anything good to wear tonight."

Aaron just shook his head at your comment, resting his hand on the small of your back. “I am not one to judge, I promise.”

“You say that now,” You mumbled under your breath as you opened your bedroom door flicking the light on.

Your room was about the cutest thing Hotch had ever seen. There was something so simple yet so intricate about your room. Everything in the room looked so lived in and loved. He could see all of your cozy spots, a ledge by your window covered in pillows. Another was a giant bean bag closest to his left tucked into the corner, another blanket adorning the brown fluffy bag.

“You got a lot of blankets.”

“Stop,” Covering your face as the blood rushed to your cheeks, “you said you wouldn’t make fun.”

“I’m not! I’m just stating an observation,” He chuckled, closing your bedroom door behind you. He eyed all of the warm fairy lights strewn across your bookshelf that was overflowing with books that looked worn.

Your bed was the comfiest looking thing in your entire room. It was covered in the puffiest white comforter he had ever seen, another forest green blanked adorning the bottom half of the bed.

Kicking the clothes you had discarded earlier in the night closer to your closet doors.

“Do you need clothes to change into?”

“Do you have clothes that fit me?” Hotch murmured closing the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your waist eliciting a giggle from you.

“I have a lot of the guys clothes here- don’t ask. But, I’m sure Morgan’s clothes would fit you. You wear a medium- medium large right?”

“How do you know?”

“I have my ways,” You winked pressing a soft kiss on his smiling lips, making your way over to your dresser that held both Morgan and Spencer’s clothes. Tugging out a simple black t-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts, spinning in your heel to face the dark haired man who was messing with a plant you had hanging by your closet.

“Will these do?”

“I would have been fine sleeping in nothing-“

You fake tossed the clothes behind you a cheeky grin gracing your lips. Hotch let a laugh slip handing him the clothes.

“I’m going to change and take my makeup off. I also have an extra toothbrush.”

“Thank god, I did not want to kiss you with this alcohol breath anymore.”

“I couldn’t taste you too much, I was too focused on your tongue in my mouth.” You teased sending a wink his way, closing the bathroom door behind you. You scrambled to remove your dress. Changing into a comfortable pair of panties tugging on an oversized T-shir that you were pretty sure was Spencer’s but you paid no mind. Removing your makeup and brushing your teeth as quickly as you could to make your way back out and finally go to sleep.

You cracked the door open to find Hotch sitting on your desk chair, messing with a fidget toy he found on your desk. You pouted at how good he looked in casual attire, making your way out locking eyes with the man whose eyes trailed down to your exposed legs.

“You could have laid down in my bed, honey.” The nicknamed slipped out before you could register it, a light pink dusting his cheeks as you walked over to him resting in between his legs. He ran his hands over your thighs, peering up at you pressing a soft kiss to your clothed stomach. Running your fingers through his hair, scratching at the skin softly. “You’re so pretty..”

“That’s all you sweet girl.” Hotch mumbled his voice dripping with honey as he tried to take all of you in dressed in such cozy attire. Wanting to be able to come home to you in this state every night. “Come.. let’s get some rest.”

"Will you promise to be here when I wake up?"

"Of course, I will."

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

a/n: i posted this aaron version! im posting another part that could be read as a stand alone but will be a follow up to this. i hope yall enjoy lovelies <3

This is beautiful and wonderfully written 🥺🥺💖💖. I love this fic, it's perfect and awesome!!!!

I need a second part or something about Hotch visiting them at the hospital.

Goodbye - Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

WC: 5.8K / navi / preview

Summary: You're a new agent with the BAU, and on your first case, you make the unfortunate mistake of riling up the unsubs. Your boss isn't too happy with you for doing so, and barely waits until you're alone in your shared hotel room to let you know that. But when he steps out for a moment, his fears are realized, and you're revealed to be the unsub's next target. Can he get back to you in time to save you?

Contents/Warnings: typical cm violence, angry hotch, yelling, reader gets attacked, mentions of guns, reader gets stabbed in the stomach and bleeds a lot, copious mentions of blood, sad hotch

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Your stomach had been burning with shame for hours now, your head spinning as you replayed the incident over and over and over again. You’d slipped up at the press conference you were a part of, accidentally revealing that your unsub was two people instead of one, breaking the cover that you’d needed to maintain for the hunt to go smoothly. Now they knew you were onto them, and would most likely begin a panicked spree. People were going to die because of you.

You were so lost in thought, in fact, that you didn’t realize everyone stopping in the hallway of the hotel, bumping gently into Rossi’s back. He steadied you, turning to set a hand comfortingly on your shoulder. He’d been nothing but understanding since it happened, assuring you that everyone made a mistake or two in high-pressure situations like press conferences, and that no one was going to be angry with you. You weren’t so sure about that last point, though, because the second you’d slipped up, Hotch had seemed possessed with the most terrifying, unadulterated rage that you’d ever seen on him. 

Speaking of your Unit Chief, he stood at the front of the group, passing out room keys. Rossi was given one, Prentiss was given one, Morgan was given one, and you stuck beside Rossi, watching as JJ paired with Prentiss, and Reid stayed by Morgan.

You were fully intent on isolating yourself as much as possible away from Hotch, at least until you were able to look at his face without nearly wetting yourself. But it seems he had other plans, his dark eyes glancing at you for the first time since it had happened, pure disdain lingering in them.

“Y/L/N,” Hotch’s voice sent chills down your spine, far too icy cold for your liking, “This is our key. You’ll be rooming with me tonight, we need to have a word..”

There was a palpable onset of tension at Hotch’s words, and you watched the rest of the team slowly disperse, sending you sympathetic smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. Rossi even patted you on the back before he stepped away, leaving you stranded in the hallway with Hotch.

He didn’t say another word until he stepped through the door, and somehow his glare got even more intense when he saw the layout of the room.

One bed. No couch. No floor space.

He had stopped so abruptly at the sight that you rammed into his back, the slip-up becoming a habit within the past five minutes. However, Hotch reacted very differently than Rossi had, stiffening at the contact and stepping away.

He set his bag down on one side of the bed, turning back to face you with an unimpressed glare.

“A- About today,” You started, “Sir, I’m so sorry-”

He held up a hand, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath before answering. You felt like a scolded child, shifting lightly on your feet as you waited for him to speak.

“Do you understand what you did?” He finally asked, peering at you through a frown.

“I do.” You started, quickly realizing that the question had been rhetorical and snapping your mouth shut when he silenced you again.

“People’s lives are at stake here. Real people, real, probably defenseless people, that you’ve just condemned to die.” 

You didn’t dare speak, but you felt the shame in your belly grow at his scolding.

“Because you didn’t think about what you said before you said it, they’re going to die. Those murderers are going to break into another couples; house, shoot them before they know what’s going on, and leave them to bleed out on the floor. Is that what you wanted?”

“No, sir.” You cautiously interjected, “Of course not.”

“Well then I’m not sure what possessed you to say that.”

“I-It was an accident,” You meekly supplied, internally cringing when anger flared in his eyes.

“Oh, an accident? Another dead couple, just an accident? These are people, Y/L/N! Living, breathing people! Not for long, though! Not as long as you have a say in the matter, isn’t that right?”

“Hotch,” You gritted your teeth, annoyance now joining the shame that was stinging at your chest, “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? Not fair?! You know what’s not fair, Y/L/N?” He huffed, stepping forwards to tower over you, “You ruined our investigation. We had them! Garcia was seconds away from tracing them, we knew that they’d call in to correct us about how many of them there were! But you did it for them, and they’re spiraling right now at that loss of power. What isn’t fair is that you single-handedly undid all of our progress, and sent us back to square one after three days of work. That’s what’s not fair.”

You took a deep breath, your frustration manifesting itself in an onslaught of tears that you struggled to keep at bay. They burned hot and stinging at your eyes, but you muscled them down, blinking rapidly, “I understand that I’ve negatively impacted the course of the investigation, and set us back with my mistake. Nothing I could say will ever come close to conveying how sorry I am that I misspoke, but there’s nothing that I can do to reverse that. I will work twice as hard tomorrow, sir, to help regain any traction that we lost tonight. I know I messed up, but I have to focus on channeling all of my energy into fixing it, not spiraling because it happened.”

You watched Hotch’s face harden even further, a sight you’d deemed impossible only moments earlier. His brows were low on his face, his expression the disdainful glare that he usually reserved for uncooperative suspects. He scoffed, “I sincerely hope that you work twice as hard tomorrow, because none of us deserve to. You’ve undone three days of our work! Morgan was up until two in the morning last night. Reid has been questioning people nonstop. Garcia was finally about to track his phone service. That’s not fair to any of us, for you to walk in and destroy our work. New agents prove themselves, Y/L/N, and tonight, you have proven yourself incapable of working with this team.”

Your stomach dropped. You felt your throat ache, frantic words clawing their way up into your mouth where they died on your tongue. None of them would fix this, they’d only make it worse. Your eyes widened and your tears finally showed themselves, a single one slipping down the apple of your cheek before you frantically wiped it away, not keen on having a meltdown in front of the man who’d just called you incapable.

“Sir,” You finally spoke, your voice shaking, “I- I can’t give up this job. I know I made a mistake this time, and it was made worse by the fact that this is my first case, so you think it’s all I’m capable of. But if you just give me another chance-”

“Do you think you deserve another chance?”

Yes was on the tip of your tongue. You truly believed it, too, but all words were lost at the sight of Hotch’s venomous glare. You found yourself intimidated into speechlessness, and it gave your boss the hesitance he wanted to see in you.

“That’s what I thought.” Was all he left you with, striding away to rifle through his bag. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, your front teeth digging into the soft, pillowy flesh to hold back your sobs. You rushed past him, narrowly avoiding bumping into him to cross the room into the bathroom.

“I’m taking a shower,” You weakly explained, and you almost slammed the door in your haste to leave him, “I won’t take long.”

As soon as the door was shut, you let your tears fall. You had to sob silently until you turned the water on, but the second you twisted the knobs and effectively drowned out your cries, you let loose.

Shame, humiliation, frustration, and despair all mingled in your stomach, a stormy mess of emotions that sent you spiraling. You couldn’t physically keep yourself upright, hunching over the toilet as visions of the couple’s next victims flashed through your mind. Would they be a newlywed couple? Or an elderly one? Would they have a pet? Would they have a child? Would they have multiple children? Scenario after scenario raced through your head, each one more catastrophic than the last in terms of heartbreak. But the common thread in all of them was their deaths, the deaths that you had caused. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, the device pressed tight to your body in your constricting work pants. You tore it out of your pocket, praying that it would be good news from Garcia, or an icebreaking anecdote about the crappy rooms from Prentiss.

It was from Prentiss, but it wasn’t soothing. 

‘We can hear him yelling at you, Y/N.’

Another buzz, ‘We’re not angry with you. Everyone makes mistakes. And those people were probably gonna die anyways, as terrible as that sounds.’

‘Please don’t give up, he’s angry and he always takes things out harder on newer agents. If you’re able to muscle through it, I guarantee you he’ll come around, the work that you’ve done so far has been incredibly helpful, save for the one little accident.’

‘It’s normal for us to make mistakes every once in a while. We’ve all slipped up like that before, even Hotch. He just doesn’t want to admit it, because he’s stressed out right now.’

You blinked rapidly, trying to chase your tears away. You’d heard scary stories about your boss, told around the break room tables instead of around a campfire, but he seemed to be more of a monster than they’d let on. You couldn’t see through your tears, and the sound of the water drowned out any other noise in the room. You set your phone down, grabbing a towel that was draped over the shower and burying your face in it. Now you really couldn’t see, which gave the couple slowly sliding the window open beside you all the advantage they needed.

--

‘Can I speak with you for a moment?’ 

Aaron glanced down at his phone, anger still creasing his brows. He bit back a scoff at Dave’s text on the screen, knowing that he was going to be scolded for shouting. 

‘I can’t leave right now, Y/L/N is in the shower.’

‘What, are you in there together? Why can’t you come out into the hallway?’

Aaron finally let out his frustration, a sickened groan leaving his lips, ‘I would never take advantage of my position over any of my subordinates. Don’t be crass.’

‘Your little speech just now proved that they’re not just one of your subordinates.’

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. You’re making less and less sense by the minute, and I’m not going to sit here and play games with you. Sleep, if you really need to talk to me you can wait until tomorrow morning when we’re back on the case.’

‘I’m not waiting until then.’ Aaron felt annoyance well in his chest at Dave’s persistence, ‘Hallway, now.’

‘Don’t order me around.’

‘You’re coming though, aren’t you?’

--

You had barely dried the tears off of your cheek when your airflow was cut off, a strong, muscled arm winding around your throat. Your immediate instinct was to scream, your eyes blown wide in panic, but another hand stuffed the towel hanging in your face into your mouth, muffling any sound you could have made through a layer of fluffy fabric and the added noise of the shower.

You tried fighting, kicking when you couldn’t scream, but two hands grabbed your ankles, nearly snapping one in an attempt to hold you still.

All at once, the towel was no longer in your mouth, but a knife was to your stomach.

“Make a sound, and we’ll gut you.” A voice hissed in your ear, raspy and rotten. You felt a tear roll down your cheek, this time out of fear and not sadness, but it was ignored in favor of the pair hauling you out the window.

Luckily for you, the window was tiny. One of your captors had to crawl out first, still gripping your ankles like a vice. But then you had to be transported out, and you made it as difficult as possible, twisting yourself this way and that.

They quickly tired of your insolence, pushing the knife so far into your belly that you were surprised it didn’t break skin. The sharp point in your abdomen instilled a sense of panic in you that you’d never felt before, unparalleled to any precautionary training drill you’d suffered through.

Your boot hit the window frame as you were carefully guided out of it, and made a dull thunk. Neither of your captors thought too hard about it, but you knew it was the sound of your taser hitting the wood, the weapon strapped to your ankle in case of emergency situations where you weren’t able to reach your gun.

Like now.

You moved quickly, taking the opportunity that presented itself while your captors were struggling to move you. The second their hands loosened around your ankle, you thrashed in their hold, spinning yourself around so that your chin was tucked safely to your chest while the first person’s arm slid along the back of your head instead of locking into your throat. You swung your legs towards the window, breaking the glass with the rubber soles and screaming as loud as you could.

--

Aaron cast one glance to the bathroom before stepping out, hearing the water hitting the tiles of the shower and starting for the door.

He shut it behind him with a soft click, the key still in his pocket. Dave was already waiting for him, but the usually-comforting presence of his long time friend only made him crankier.

“Hurry up, Y/L/N shouldn’t be in there alone for too long. That’s the whole reason we teamed up.”

“They’ll be fine, as long as you don’t shout at them anymore.” Dave leaned against the wall beside him casually, an unimpressed glare leveled at Aaron.

“They needed to be reprimanded-”

“They’re not a child, Aaron. You don’t need to be their angry parent.”

“Dave, do you realize what they’ve done?”

“Yes, and if I hadn’t before, you yelled it for the entire hotel to hear. I’m pretty sure the people on floor two now know the intimate details of this case.”

“I’m angry, and rightfully so.”

“No, you’re scared.” Dave persisted, never intimidated by Aaron for a second, “You’re scared because you know they’re coming after someone, and you’re worried that it’ll be Y/L/N.”

Aaron let his eyes slip shut after a long, tense silence, pinching his temple between his thumb and pointer finger. He could tell Dave whatever he wanted, but he’d never be able to lie to the man.

“I understand that you don’t want to stir up unnecessary panic. What if the couple doesn’t come after Y/L/N? You’d have freaked them out for no reason with the promise of an attack. But you can’t disguise your fear as anger, especially not if it's directed at them. That’s not fair.” Dave’s parroting of the phrase your argument had been overly saturated by only reinforced the fact that everyone had heard everything, and Aaron felt a pinprick of something he’d never admit was shame poking at his heart.

“Agent Y/L/N is not prepared for high-pressure situations like that.”

“Yeah, I agree, they need some more practice. Why did we let them headline on their very first case? Anyone would have slipped up,” Dave insisted, ever the devil’s advocate to Aaron’s stubborn hotheadedness.

“Their mistake will cost us-”

“No, their mistake will cost you, if you don’t apologize. If you react to a miniscule slip up with unbridled rage, they’re never going to feel comfortable around you. They’ll constantly feel like they’re walking on eggshells, that you’re waiting to scream at them for every little thing.”

“What do you want me to do, Dave? Tell them I’m sorry I hurt their feelings? These are real people getting killed, and-”

A blood-curdling, eerie, sickening scream ripped through the previously cozy silence of the hotel, and Aaron’s hand flew instinctively to his gun. But it wasn’t there, and he scrambled to jam the key back into the lock to retrieve it from where he’d left it on the bed.

Dave looked equally panicked, his own gun in his room with Spencer. Thankfully, the young doctor was already responding to the disturbance, their door flying open and revealing him, guns in both hands.

Dave was quickly passed his, and the pair stuck behind Aaron as he struggled. Finally, he got fed up with the key, his hands too shaky to aim properly, spitting an angry, “Come on!” and rammed his shoulder into the rickety door, sending it flying open and slamming into the wall. He sprinted in, barely remembering to snatch his gun off of the bed before he stopped in front of the bathroom door. His shoulder ached from knocking open the main door, but he didn’t hesitate to bare it once more and snap the lock.

He was definitely going to need a brace after this.

“FBI, don’t- Y/N..” 

--

Of course, they stuck to their promise. The knife was immediately jammed into your stomach, the pain blinding as it slowly spread throughout every inch of your body. You heard immediate commotion from the bedroom, scrambling away from the unsubs as best you could to ram your back against the door. You hunched over, ripping your taser from your ankle and pointing it threateningly at them, but they were now more concerned with getting away than they were with you. Any energy you had possessed before being stabbed was oozing out of you in your blood, a puddle of crimson on the floor as you hunched over it. Your knees gave out and you fell onto your side, barely able to crane your neck up enough to watch them get away. 

You laid slumped against the wall for mere seconds, but they felt like hours ticking by as your life slowly left you. You felt something warm trickling down the side of your face, and without even seeing it you knew that it was blood seeping from your mouth.

You heard the commotion and shouting from just outside the bathroom door, then the lock gave way with a loud snap and the door flung open, slamming into your legs. You weren’t able to move them, though, and you looked up blearily as Hotch stormed into the bathroom, his gun held expectantly before him as he looked around wildly for your attackers.

“FBI, don’t- Y/N..” His gaze finally fell to the floor, following a trail of blood from where your ankles had been cut by the window. His eyes widened, and a panicked expression that you had never seen on him before took over his face.

“They’re gone,” You rasped, your voice strained from the amount of effort it took to speak, “I couldn’t stop them.”

“We’ll go around the back and call an ambulance,” Rossi mumbled, patting Hotch’s back before dragging Spencer away, “You take Y/L/N.”

Hotch didn’t need to be told twice. He kneeled beside you, prying gently at your side to turn you over. You let out a cracked, pained whimper at the pain that blossomed from his touch, and you saw his chin wobble slightly at the sight of your stab wound and your red-rimmed eyes, not ready to say goodbye to you.

“I- I knew I shouldn’t have left,” His voice shook just as his hands did, where they pressed tentatively against your injury. When you winced in pain, he knew he’d found the right spot, and increased the pressure tenfold.

Your eyes widened and you tried protesting, instead only capable of wheezing out a weak cough. More blood pooled in your throat and you choked on it, alerting Hotch to the fact that you needed to be somewhat upright.

“Okay, okay, you’re- you’re okay, let me just-” He rambled as he slipped a hand behind your head, the one on your wound now having to press twice as hard. He lifted your head slightly, shifting so that you were laying in his lap. Your head was elevated now, and your throat cleared, dark red blood now able to flow freely from between your lips..

“Hotch,” You started, and his frantic gaze flitted to your face.

“Don’t speak,” He shushed you, “Conserve your energy.”

“No, no,” You pressed on, shaking your head jerkily, “I need to apologize.”

“You don’t, please just keep quiet and don’t overexert yourself.” There were tears in his eyes now, his breathing shaky as he continued pressing into your wound.

“It’s my fault,” Your words had him shaking his head vehemently, but you pressed on, “You- you were right. If I hadn’t said-”

“Please,” He cried, a sob clinging to his words as his face crumpled, “Stop talking!”

--

“Fourth floor, room thirteen!” Rossi commanded the paramedics waiting outside with your stretcher, “Hurry, they’re losing a lot of blood!”

“Rossi,” Reid stepped towards the man, looking back at the one unsub they’d managed to apprehend, ‘Do you think he’ll give up his partner?”

“It’s not likely,” Rossi mused, frowning at the sight of your blood on the man’s hands, “But I think Hotch would beat it out of him if he had to.”

“Why was he so harsh on Y/L/N?” Reid’s brows furrowed as he recalled the aggressive lecture they’d all overheard from your room.

Rossi kept a straight face while staring at Reid, but one side of his mouth shifted as he sucked his cheek into his mouth to gnaw on it.

“You know something,” Reid realized, his eyes narrowing as he stared Rossi down, “What do you know?”

“He’s scared.” Rossi finally blurted, offering no other explanation.

“I’ve never seen Hotch scared.” Reid frowned, “I’ve seen him resigned; he knows something bad is about to happen but he knows he can’t stop it, or he knows we’ll get there in time to stop it. But he’s never afraid of what’s coming.”

“Yeah, well tonight, he was.” Then a long pause, “And I made him leave the room.” It finally dawned on Rossi, “He knew something was going to happen to Y/L/N, and I forced him out anyways.”

“Rossi-” Reid started, but the older man waved a hand at him.

“No, don’t start. I’m not gonna spiral like Hotch will, It just- it made me think.”

“Hotch is spiraling?”

“You should have seen him when Y/L/N screamed,” Rossi let out a breathless, dry laugh, devoid completely of humor, “He’s gonna blame himself for a long time.”

--

“There, there you go. You’re gonna be okay,” Hotch babbled, comforting himself more than he was comforting you as you were situated on the stretcher. You blinked hazily up at him as he clambered into the back of the ambulance they’d put you in, his tie brushing gently over your nose as it dangled in your face. He finally got settled, the blue strip of fabric now laying over your chest before he brushed it away, letting it fall over the buttons of his shirt.

“You’re riding with me?” You rasped, your hand hanging limply over the side of the stretcher where it had fallen.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m riding with you,” Hotch’s voice was still trembling, and he grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers and resting your joined hands on your stomach. You glanced down at the embrace briefly, then back at him.

“I’m sorry they got away.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” You winced lightly after your insistence left your stomach stinging, “I agitated them, and I couldn’t even fix my mistake when I had the chance.”

“You didn’t have the chance,” Hotch urged, his voice hardening slightly before he reined himself in, “You- they attacked you, Y/N. You didn’t have the chance to fight back.”

“Did the others catch them?”

“Um,” Hotch fumbled for his phone with one hand, keeping the other firmly locked with your own as he squinted at the screen, “One. They want me to interrogate him, find out who his partner is and where they’re going.’

“Do you think the partner will become less effective in killing now that they’re not together?”

“Definitely,” Hotch soothed you, tucking his phone back into his jacket, “Don’t worry about it, just rest.”

“Don’t- How could I not worry?!” Your brows furrowed, and one of the EMT’s by your side sent you a warning glance.

“You need to relax,” Hotch murmured, keeping his voice low so that yours would follow suit, “You lost a lot of blood and you need to stay awake until they get some more in you.”

You settled back into the stretcher with a resigned sigh, despair seeping through your frame. Not only had you ruined the chase, you hadn’t even remedied it by catching them when they were in the same room as you. 

“You.. You were right, Hotch.” You spoke after a prolonged bout of silence, “I don’t think I’m capable of doing this job.”

“Don’t-” Hotch’s face screwed up in a grimace, his breathing haggard, “Don’t say that. I didn’t mean that, I was- I was worried.”

“You didn’t mean that? Hotch,” You sighed, “You meant every word you said to me tonight, and they were true. I’m not cut out for this, I’m sorry that I messed things up.”

“I didn’t mean it! I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” He composed himself, squeezing your limp hand in his, “It was unfair of me to berate you like that. You didn’t do it on purpose, and it was a mistake anyone could have made. I was just- I was so scared, Y/N.”

“You.. You were scared?” You noted that, for the second time that night, Hotch had used your first name instead of your last, and you filed them both away to think about more critically later.

“I knew they were going to strike again. The problem was, I didn’t know where. It sounds awful, but when we know another victim is condemned to die, we can’t do anything about it. We.. we use them as a means to collect more evidence, sometimes we can’t advance in an investigation unless another person dies. We wait for people to get killed, Y/N, and the more we do it, the less terrible it seems. But I knew he’d come after you.”

“You did?” Something tightened in your chest, a sense of sickening dread that you wished you’d felt before the attack, because it might have saved your life.

“Think about it. You were the face of the press conference, your face and position were broadcasted to anyone watching. We knew they were watching, we wanted them to. When you misspoke, and exposed them to the community before they could, they spiraled. There’s only one hotel in the area, and you mentioned staying as close to the investigation as possible.” Hotch shifted uncomfortably on the rickety plastic bench that he was sitting on, “They knew where you were, they knew who you were, and they knew exactly how to get you. That’s why I teamed us all up tonight, Y/N, because I knew they were coming. I figured there was still a possibility that they’d be too cowardly to attack a government agent in a hotel full of them, but we knew they didn’t shy away from high-risk situations. It- It was you, Y/N, I knew it was you, and- I still left.”

“I.. I don’t understand,” Your mind was reeling, spiraling out of control with the new information you’d been given, “Why didn’t you tell me this before? And- and where did you go?”

“Dave- Rossi wanted to talk to me,” His eyes left your face for the first time in minutes, downcast to the floor, “He was upset that I’d shouted at you.”

“And.. why didn’t you tell me this before?” You repeated.

“I.. Y/N, I tried to.”

Your eyes narrowed and you felt your stomach start to burn again, “No you didn’t! Not one single word that came out of your mouth when you were blaming me for the deaths of innocent civilians had anything to do with the fact that I was about to be stabbed in the crappy hotel bathroom.”

“I- I know,” Hotch squeezed his eyes shut, sighing deeply. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For?” “For blaming you. For yelling at you. For leaving.”

“Why did you blame me? If you didn’t really mean it, why did you?”

Hotch deliberated that for a moment, the fingers of his free hand brushing gently together, “It was easier for me to be angry than it was for me to be scared.”

You stayed silent, but you kept your eyes on him, watching his expression shift.

“I’m never scared.” Hotch insisted, “Or- or I’m scared all the time. I don’t know anymore, really. But this fear was new, this kind of fear was new, this intensity of fear was new. I don’t usually have to worry about us,” He gestured vaguely to his jacket pocket, where you knew he kept his badge, “I mean, not really. We go into high-pressure situations, but we always come back out again. Even- even if we get a few scrapes here and there, we’re okay. There’s only been a few times where something this bad has happened to one of us, and I don’t know how to deal with it yet, I’m not used to it. So I resorted to anger, which I deal with a lot more often than fear. I dealt with it the wrong way, and I got angry with you. I needed to get angry with someone instead of being afraid, and you were easy to blame.”

He took a deep breath, and you took the liberty of being the one to squeeze his hand this time, his eyes flitting to where they laid together on your stomach, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, I should have just been honest with you. I.. I would promise to do better next time, but I’m counting on there not being a next time, so instead I’ll promise to make it up to you.”

He finished his speech with a soft huff, his eyes worriedly scanning your face for a reaction. You weren’t sure you had it in you to give him one, though, so you let your eyes fall shut, taking one deep breath before blinking them open again.

“You can’t be afraid of being afraid, Hotch.”

His shoulders slumped minisculely at your words, his eyebrows raising as he nodded, “I know. I-”

“Just.. let me finish.” You cut him off, “Everyone gets scared sometimes. You don’t have to forgo emotions just because you’re leading a team of FBI agents. You’re allowed to get scared too, and you’re allowed to tell people that you’re scared. No one would judge you, you know that, don’t you? Prentiss isn’t gonna laugh at you, Reid wouldn’t call you a loser.”

He let the ghost of a smile flit over his face at your examples, and you considered it a personal win.

“You almost lost me today.” You reminded him, watching his face fall, “But not because you stepped out. But because you did deal with it the wrong way. Because you wouldn’t let yourself be afraid of losing me. And I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty, Hotch, because I don’t want you to blame yourself. I’m telling you this so that you can grow as a person, and relearn feelings that you’ve suppressed. Use this as an example, as a reason to be scared. Be afraid, Hotch, psych yourself out about this, or it’ll happen again. But don’t blame yourself.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Y/N, and I won’t forget this anytime soon. But I am blaming myself, it is my fault.”

“Hotch, they would have come regardless of whether or not you yelled at me. You’re not responsible for their attack. You can regret that you didn’t warn me, and promise to do better in the future, but warning me would have only given me time, not safety. You couldn’t have stopped them from coming for me by telling me that they were.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” One of the EMTs by your feet spoke up, the intimacy of the moment shattered, “But we’re here, and we need to unload you, Y/N.”

You nodded, looking away from where you’d been staring into Hotch’s eyes and reluctantly letting him let go of your hand. You were jostled slightly by the paramedics pulling you out of the stretcher, but their hastily-wrapped gauze around your stomach did its job, and your stomach wasn’t bleeding profusely anymore. 

Hotch stepped out of the ambulance behind you, standing by the truck instead of following after you. You glanced back at him questioningly as you were being led away, “Aren’t you coming?”

“I.. I can’t, Y/N.” He held out his phone, “They want me to interrogate the man they caught.”

“Right.” You nodded,  disappointment stewing in your stomach alongside the constant pain, “Thank you for riding with me.”

He nodded once, opening his mouth to say something but stalling before he did, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” The EMTs carrying your stretcher stalled at the door, waiting patiently for him to speak just as you did.

“Thank you for.. for helping me.” He tilted his head towards the ambulance, referencing the rather eye-opening conversation you’d just had, “I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too.” You smiled weakly, “Now go find his partner.”

He finally let a real smile flit over his face, no longer restraining himself as he knew you’d be safe, “I will. And I’ll come visit you as soon as I’m done. I’m sure the others will beat me here.”

Your smile grew at the promise of seeing him again, though your brain refused to acknowledge why. You supposed you were scared to admit it, but you used denial to mask your fear instead of anger, like Hotch. You’d have to work on that, but for now, you needed a stationary bed.

“Goodbye, Hotch.” You looked at him for one last moment, then relaxed into the stretcher, letting the EMTs escort you inside.

“Goodbye Y/N,” Hotch supplied weakly, letting relief blossom in his chest that the words he’d just spoken to you weren’t his last, but in the grand scheme of what was to come, a few of the first.

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