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5 - Antithesis

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: angst, slowest burn in history

Summary: The BAU tackles a complex case involving international victims and cryptic messages. Hotch’s growing insecurity intensifies as an agent returns from an undercover operation, revealing his close past with you. At the hotel, you and Hotch have a heated argument, exposing hidden vulnerabilities and unspoken boundaries between you two. Hotch struggles with his feelings of being just a replacement and questions his connection with you. Rossi confronts Hotch, encouraging him to be the partner you truly need.

Warnings: Usual CM case stuff, grooming (it feels to me, at least. To someone wouldn’t but idc), angst

Word Count: 6.1k

Dado's Corner: the dreaded chapter, I've been working on it for a week and still I'm not completely satisfied yet. I had to use another OC character, I'm sorry if you're bothered with that, but even if I hate him with all my heart he will be helpful in the future to narrate Y/N's backstory. If this broke your heart, synthesis might even more

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Hotch’s gaze dropped, the weight of your accusations settling on him. “I thought that’s what was best,” he murmured, the admission almost painful. “I thought… I thought it was enough.”

●

It was yet another early morning at the BAU, and as usual, you walked into the office to find Hotch already at his desk, a cup of black coffee in hand, looking as composed and sharp as ever. No matter how early you tried to get in, Hotch always seemed to be one step ahead and especially today, you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“You know, Hotch, that’s 76 coffees you owe me now,” you said, dropping your bag on your chair and crossing your arms, pretending to be stern. “Maybe it’s time to rethink your strategy. You could try showing up late, just once. Shake things up.”

Hotch glanced up, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I could, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I have to keep beating you just to remind you of your constant failure.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the side of his desk. “Wow, Hotch, who knew you were this petty? I bet you’d stay up all night just to make sure you’d beat me here.”

He chuckled softly, not denying it. “Well, someone has to keep you grounded. Can’t have you thinking you’re invincible, partner.”

In the past couple of months, the term “Partner” had become a running joke between you two. Whether by design or coincidence, Gideon and Rossi kept pairing you together on cases, and even when they didn’t, you’d find yourselves seeking each other’s opinions anyway – you were desk mates after all, it was impossible not to rely on each other’s expertise. Yet the nickname stuck, a testimony that had made working together more natural than either of you could have ever predicted.

Your familiarity with Hotch’s desk arrangement had grown, too. You knew his precise system of organizing case files, the way he stacked them according to urgency, but today, something was different. As you glanced at his desk, your brows furrowed in confusion: the stack of case files was unusually tall, casting an odd shadow that didn’t quite match its usual shape. It looked as if something bulky was hiding underneath.

“Hotch, what’s with the fortress of case files?” you asked, pointing at the strange shadow. “Are you hiding something under there?”

Hotch hesitated for a moment, as if he didn’t expect to be caught in the act. With a slight, amused shrug, he grabbed the files and lifted them off the hidden unknown object – or the unob - revealing a thick book on architecture history.

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “A World History of Architecture?! Didn’t take you for the type, I’m surprised.”

Hotch looked down at the book, his expression a mix of embarrassment and pride. “I picked it up after the Frank Lloyd Wright case,” he admitted, almost shyly. “That night we spent going over his designs at the library, I don’t know why but something about it stuck. I guess I wanted to know more. So I’ve been reading this during my ‘waiting for you to show up’ time.”

You smirked, leaning in to examine the book. “SSA Aaron Hotchner, secretly an architecture buff. Who would’ve thought? Next thing I know, you’ll leave the Bureau and go to architecture school, you would still owe me 76 coffees though.”

He scoffed playfully, closing the book and setting it aside. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to go that far. But it’s been... nice. You know - learning something just because I want to, not because I have to.”

You gave him a teasing nudge. “Hey, don’t underestimate yourself, partner - maybe one day you’ll be the next Frank Lloyd Wright of the FBI. Designing prisons, interrogation rooms, you name it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to profiling, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Just as you were about to tell him your kitchen needed some renovation – so he could start with something easy – an unexpected way-too-familiar voice interrupted from behind.

“Y/N!”

You turned around, and there was SSA Peter Rogers - one of your closest friends you ever had since you were fifteen - standing in the bullpen with his easy smile and that overly confident stance of his, just as you remembered him.

“Pete!” you exclaimed, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you rushed to hug him, the familiar warmth on your body you missed so much made you hold on to him a little longer. “What are you doing back so soon? I thought you were still overseas.”

Peter shrugged with a modest grin. “Operation wrapped up early. Figured I’d come back and see what kind of trouble you’ve been causing around here.”. That smile of his had the ability not to change one bit since the first time you saw each other, causing you to travel six years back in time.

▪︎

It was the first day of your mother’s Italian Literature class at the university. You were just fifteen, juggling between high school and university courses, your hunger for knowledge insatiable as a shield from what was daily happening between the walls of your own house. You always sat in the front row, scribbling notes furiously, letting your brain disconnect from reality in order to lose yourself in the lyrical beauty of Leopardi’s poetry.

Peter had been sitting a few rows back, finishing his degree in linguistics. He’d noticed you immediately, you were quite easy to spot as you were visibly way too young to sit in that room – and if it wasn’t enough, you made sure to ask at least a question to the professor, at least once in the lesson, always being deeply engaged with the material. Hence why after that particular class, he approached you with curiosity.

“Hey, you’re not the typical student, are you?” Peter asked, leaning against the desk beside you. “You’re taking university classes while still in high school? That’s quite impressive.”

You looked up, a little taken aback by his easy confidence but not put off. “Yeah, I’m kind of…double-booked,” you replied with a shy smile. “I just really love literature. My mom’s a professor here, so she lets me sit in when I can.”

Peter nodded, intrigued. “I’m Peter, by the way. Linguistics major. So you must be some kind of prodigy, huh?”

You laughed. “No, not a prodigy. Just…curious. I love philosophy, languages, psychology, all of it.”

The two of you clicked instantly, and since that encounter both of you would always exchange notes, in order to make sure none of you ever lost a word said in the class. Peter became a sort of unofficial mentor, “Have you ever thought about profiling? It’s all about understanding people, their languages, their motives. With your skills, you’d be amazing at it.” He asked one day after class.

That was the very day you learnt what a profiler was.

▪︎

Peter greeted Hotch with the same familiarity. “Hotch! Good to see you again, man. I missed having my desk buddy around.”

Hotch stood up, shaking Peter’s hand with a polite but reserved smile. “Welcome back, Peter. I heard about the undercover operation. You handled it exceptionally well, no one expected for you to come back so soon.”

Peter shrugged, his usual modesty in place. “Thanks, Hotch. It was a tough one, but we got the job done.” He immediately turned his gaze towards you “Y/N, who knew you would have stolen my desk too”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, glancing at the two of you briefly. That “too” echoed in his mind, the sudden realization just hit that there was more history between you and Peter than he’d previously understood, founding himself feeling like an outsider.

Peter, ever observant, caught the flicker of something in Hotch’s expression. “So you know Y/N? She’s one hell of a smart cookie,” he said, looking between you and Hotch with a teasing smile.

You rolled your eyes playfully, brushing off the compliment. “Oh, please Pete let’s not start with this just yet”

Peter laughed, leaning closer to Hotch as if about to reveal a secret. “Did she ever tell you she can sing? Like, really sing. She’s incredible. I’ve heard her at a few college events back in the day.”

Hotch looked at you, surprised, taking in this new piece of your past. “No, she never mentioned that.

You felt your cheeks heat up, flustered by Peter’s unexpected praise – especially because you were both standing in your workplace. “That’s because it’s not important,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory. “Besides, Peter’s just exaggerating. I’ve only been in the field twice with Hotch anyway, so there’s not that much to tell, most of my work has been here at the office.”

▪︎

A year ago, you attended a conference at the FBI Academy, and Peter was there as a speaker, discussing linguistic analysis in criminal profiling. It was the first time you’d seen each other in years, and the connection was immediate, even stronger than your days together at the university.

‘’Y/N is that really you?! You’ve grown so much you’re making me feel kind of old” Little did you knew that you would spend the entire evening catching up, sharing stories of your separate journeys still having in common your mutual love for the complexities of language and behavior.

“You’re exactly where you’re meant to be,” Peter told you as the two of you sat at a table, away from the noise of the main event. “I knew it from the moment I met you. You’ve got the mind for this work.”

You’d been touched by his confidence in you, feeling like the teenage girl he’d mentored all over again. “Thanks, Pete. But you’ve always been the one pushing me forward, I don’t know if I’d have chosen this path without your nudging.”

Peter’s smile was genuine, warm. “You would’ve found your way, Y/N. You always do.”

▪︎

The more Hotch listened to the two of you catching up, the more he felt that gap, as if Peter was pulling you back into a shared history that he hadn’t been part of.

Peter grinned, nudging you playfully. “Always aiming for perfection, huh?

You tried to brush it off, cheeks warming under their combined scrutiny. “Oh, please. That was a long time ago.”

Peter shrugged, turning back to Hotch. “But she hasn’t changed. I can see it in your eyes, you know?! Same drive, same brilliance. So, how’s she been doing? What cases has she solved?”

Hotch took a moment, his expression unreadable as he considered Peter’s question. “She’s been doing great,” Hotch said finally, his voice measured. “We’ve worked on a few tough cases together, a few high-profile cases. She’s brilliant, as you know, we’ve had our hands full. But it’s good to have you back - we can always use the extra help”

Peter nodded, his enthusiasm palpable. “Looking forward to jumping back in”

Before anyone could say more, Rossi approached, cutting through the atmosphere with his usual flair. “Well, looks like we’ve got our team for the day. Gideon’s out, so Peter, you’re coming with us. We’ve got a complicated case ahead, and I’d rather have all hands-on deck, we might be in desperate be of two linguists on this one”

Peter’s eyes flicked to you, then to Hotch, his smile never wavering. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The team’s arrival at the police station was met with a wave of unease that hung heavy in the air. The case they were stepping into was far from simple. Multiple international tourists had been brutally murdered, each crime scene marked by cryptic messages in different languages. This was a killer who thrived on complexity, and with every new clue, the puzzle seemed to grow more intricate.

Rossi led the team inside with his usual calm authority, his eyes scanning the room with the practiced ease of someone who had seen too many crime scenes in his career. Peter and Hotch moved in tandem, flanking him on either side as they entered the station. The moment they stepped inside, the chaos enveloped them like a wave crashing on the shore.

The police station was a flurry of frantic movement and tension. Officers darted between desks, paperwork scattered in their wake, and phones rang incessantly, demanding attention that no one seemed able to fully give. The space, clearly not designed to handle the intensity of a high-profile investigation, felt claustrophobic and stifling, the walls closing in under the pressure of a case spiraling beyond control.

The air was thick, not just with the stress that permeated the station but with the unmistakable grit of dust being churned by the old, neglected air conditioning unit overhead, blowing more dirt than relief, only adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Everyone was on edge, their nerves stretched thin by the weight of a situation they were ill-equipped to handle. Rossi could almost taste the desperation in the room, a palpable sense of urgency that clung to every officer as they hustled to keep up with demands they were never trained to meet.

Rossi exchanged a knowing look with Hotch, both of them wordlessly acknowledging the uphill battle they were about to face - not just against the unsub but against the limitations of a team clearly overwhelmed.

The lead detective, a grizzled man with a permanent scowl, approached Rossi, barely acknowledging the rest of the team. “Agent Rossi, we appreciate the Bureau’s help, but I hope you realize this is a time-sensitive situation. We’ve got international press breathing down our necks, and the mayor’s about ready to pull his hair out.”

Rossi nodded calmly, his authoritative presence immediately establishing control. “We’re here to provide a profile and assist in any way we can. What can you tell us about the latest victim?”

The detective began briefing but his eyes kept darting towards you, flickering with something between doubt and annoyance. Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m sorry, but are you sure you brought the right team? She looks like she should be at a college lecture, not a crime scene.”

The comment hit like a slap, and you felt the familiar burn of frustration flare up. You’d been here before, countless times, actually. You were used to your youthful appearance and academic background drawing skepticism, but that still didn’t make it any easier to swallow, especially in that particular case. Before you could respond, Peter jumped in, his voice carrying a mix of defense and pride.

“Detective, she’s not just some college student. Y/N’s one of the best linguists you’ll ever meet, and she’s cracked more complex cases than most agents twice her age. I’d trust her instincts over anyone else’s, any day.”

There was a quiet confidence in Peter’s words that seemed to force the detective to take a second look, though his skepticism remained stubbornly in place. Hotch, noticing the tension, stepped forward, his expression firm. “Agent Y/L/N’s skills are exactly what we need for this case. If anyone can figure out what the unsub is communicating, it’s her.”

The detective hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, but we don’t have time for trial and error. Every minute we waste is another chance for him to strike again.”

“We’re all already aware of this, Detective. I’m sure you know that making my work any more difficult than it already is isn’t going to benefit any of us.” You finally had the courage to bite back.

As you settled into the briefing room, you felt Peter’s hand gently squeeze your shoulder, a silent but reassuring gesture as he said, “Don’t let it get to you.” You glanced at him, grateful for his unwavering support, and gave a small, determined smile in return. You were here to do a job, and you weren’t going to let some old-school cop’s doubts throw you off your game.

Once inside, the team gathered around the evidence board, covered in photos, maps, and printed copies of the unsub’s cryptic messages. Hotch and Rossi started dissecting the behavioral aspects, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the linguistic patterns.

Peter set up next to you, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, just like old times. “This one’s in German,” Peter pointed out, highlighting one of the messages. “It’s a proverb that loosely translates to ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,’ but it’s the context that’s strange. He’s placing blame close to home.”

You nodded, your mind already racing through the implications. “And this one in French, ‘Nul n’est prophète en son pays’ - ‘No one is a prophet in their own land.’ He’s building a narrative where he’s the misunderstood hero, vilifying his victims in the process.”

Hotch watched from the corner of his eye, noting the seamless back-and-forth between you and Peter. It was clear that you two shared a deep understanding of each other’s thought processes, effortlessly piecing together the unsub’s motives and the cultural implications behind each message.

Rossi leaned over to Hotch, his voice low. “They’ve got something, don’t they?”

Hotch nodded, keeping his expression neutral even as a flicker of something uncomfortably familiar passed through him. “Yeah. They do.”

As you and Peter continued to dissect the messages, the detective returned with another dose of skepticism. “So, what’s the point of all this? We know he’s targeting tourists, but what’s the endgame?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his judgment holding yourself to punch him in the face, but Peter jumped in, his confidence never wavering. “The messages aren’t just random: they’re statements about identity, belonging, and betrayal. He’s targeting people who represent something he feels threatened by, probably linked to his own experiences.”

The detective was confused by the complexity of the message Peter was trying to communicate but at least he seemed less doubtful. Hotch and Rossi exchanged another look, Peter’s ability to not only support but elevate you was undeniable, and it left a lingering question in Hotch’s mind that he couldn’t quite shake, an unresolved history between you and Peter that was palpable to everyone in the room, even if no one dared to say it aloud. As the team continued to piece together the unsub’s twisted narrative, it became increasingly clear that the linguistic clues were the key to unlocking his motive.

“Here’s the first message,” Peter said, pointing at a wall covered in scrawled Italian text. “‘Chi semina vento, raccoglie tempesta.’ He’s quoting an old Italian proverb. It translates to ‘He who sows the wind shall reap the storm.’ Classic justification tactic. He’s blaming his victims for their own deaths.”

You nodded, running your fingers along the paper. “He’s using cultural proverbs to deflect responsibility. It’s not just about justifying his actions; he’s making a statement that he’s in the right, that the victims somehow deserved this.”

Peter smirked, recalling your sharpness from years ago. “You know, you’ve always had this annoying habit of being right. Remember that time back in your mom’s class? You corrected Professor Ricci about Dante’s theological influences.”

You laughed, half-embarrassed. “Oh, God, don’t remind me. I just couldn’t let it go.”

Peter turned to the others, Rossi didn't throw away his shot. "Remind us, Peter. I'm not going to let an opportunity like this slip from my fingers"

Peter jokingly cleared his throat. “Y/N stopped the guest professor right in the middle of the lecture and said,”

He made sure to pitch his tone up in order to mimic yours “While Dante’s work is often linked to the influence of Saint Augustine, we also need to remember that his beliefs were also shaped by the dominant philosophy of his time: Platonism, especially the Neoplatonists and Plotinus.’ The whole room was stunned, and Professor Ricci just stood there.”

Hotch couldn’t help but smile, picturing a younger version of you challenging a university professor with such confidence. Yet there was something more bubbling up in his blood, this was another glimpse into a part of your life he hadn’t seen, hadn’t known. It made him feel strangely out of the loop, like an outsider looking in.

Peter continued, still caught up in the memory. “You finished him when you also provided proof to support your thesis”

“Of course, how else was I supposed to-“

He immediately cut you off. “Early Christian thinkers adapted Greek philosophical ideas, particularly Plato’s concept of eternal forms from which the material world originated. This was quite convenient for the Christian theologians of that time, indeed this philosophical influence is evident in the biblical phrase - and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.' You had everyone in the room, including the professor, rethinking what they knew about Dante.”

You shrugged modestly, glancing at Hotch, who seemed both amused and thoughtful. “I wasn’t trying to show off. It just… bothered me that no one pointed it out – and because of that my mom forbid me to attend her class for two weeks straight. Pete, I’m still thankful for your notes.”

Hotch chuckled softly, meeting your eyes. “Some things never change.”

The team continued working for hours straight, but the frustration began to mount. Despite your and Peter’s best efforts, the linguistic puzzles refused to crack completely. The police officers were growing visibly impatient, and you could feel their skeptical glances as they hovered around the room.

One officer, who had been particularly dismissive, sneered as he walked by. “So, this is the genius team the FBI sent us? Still no answers?”

The comment hit harder than it should have, and for a moment, you felt the sting of self-doubt. Peter, noticing your silence, shot the officer a glare. “We’re not here to waste time, Detective. We’re here to solve this.”

Peter leaned closer to you, his hands grabbing your shoulders, speaking softly so only you could hear. “Don’t listen to them. We’ll get it, like we always do.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the creeping sense of inadequacy. Hotch watched the exchange, noting the way Peter seemed to know exactly how to lift you up when you needed it most. He wanted to say something reassuring himself, but the moment passed, leaving him feeling strangely sidelined.

The hours dragged on, and eventually, the team left the station to get some rest. At the hotel, Rossi and Hotch were assigned to share a room, while you and Peter were given the one next door. As you walked down the hallway, Rossi turned to Hotch with a pointed look.

“You know, Aaron,” Rossi said with a grin, “if I catch you working tonight, we’re gonna have words. You need sleep just as much as the rest of us. I’m serious when I say I’m a light sleeper, so I swear, if you keep me up with that damned desk light, you’re a dead man.”

Hotch gave a tight-lipped smile, appreciating Rossi’s concern – even if he expressed it in his own unique way - although he knew he’d never be able to turn his mind off. “Don’t worry, Dave. I’ll try my best.”

On the other hand, in your room, you and Peter settled in, and immediately surrounded yourselves by case files and coffee cups. You tried to solely focus on the work, but as the night wore on, the conversation drifted, after all it had been over six months since you’d seen each other, and there was a lot to catch up on. Peter leaned back, studying you with an easy smile.

“You’ve changed, Y/N,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “You’re still that perfectionist who can’t let a puzzle go unsolved, but… there’s something different.”

You glanced at him, surprised. “I don’t know about that. I’m just… trying to keep up, I guess.”

Peter reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear in a gesture that was both familiar and affectionate. “You’ve always been better than just keeping up. Don’t forget that.”

You found yourself caught between the comfort of Peter’s presence and the tug of unresolved emotions that you hadn’t quite figured out.

“Let’s go to sleep, shall we? I think we’ve done enough work for today” He winked at you as he placed his hand on the small of your back guiding you towards the bed.

“Oh don’t worry, you should sleep though. I think I might go down the lobby to clear my head for a bit.” You lied to him, but you couldn’t ignore your gut feeling telling you that there was something else you hadn’t considered yet.

Similarly, just across the corridor, the case weighed heavily on Hotch’s mind, and despite Rossi’s threat, he knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d figured out what was missing. Hours passed with Hotch lying in the dark, the puzzle pieces of the case refusing to align, finally, at nearly two in the morning, he couldn’t take it any longer. Careful not to wake Rossi, he grabbed his files and slipped quietly out of the room, making his way to the lobby to continue working.

To his surprise, he found you there too, hunched over a table with notes sprawled out, lost in concentration. You looked up when you heard him approach, unable to hide your surprise.

“Partner,” you said with a grin, noting his rare appearance in his white t-shirt, checkered blue pants pajamas, with the slippers provided by the hotel at his feet. “I’ve got to admit, this is new. Did Rossi finally threaten you into losing the suit?”

Hotch smirked, taking the seat across from you. “He did, actually. But desperate times, right? I didn’t think anyone else would be up.”

You chuckled, enjoying the casualness of the moment despite the late hour. Hotch spread out his files, his brow furrowing as he glanced over them. “I think there’s something we’ve been missing, there’s a pattern in the language choices. It’s not random. He’s escalating with each message.”

You leaned closer, your fingers tracing the messages. “You’re right. It’s chronological. He’s building something: a timeline, like each phrase is a step toward his endgame. It’s not just blame; it’s justification.”

Hotch nodded, grateful for the way your mind seemed to work so fluidly alongside his, especially in the late hours of the night. But as you continued to dissect the sequence, Hotch’s thoughts drifted back to earlier, watching you and Peter work so seamlessly together. The old familiarity, the easy way you bounced ideas off each other, it had been hard to ignore. And now, in the quiet of the night every sensation was amplified, especially the ones he’s been trying to brush off for the entire day, they stung a little more than he wanted to admit.

The ease of the moment was shattered when Hotch suddenly broke the flow of your thoughts with a wry comment. “You know, I’m surprised you’re even here working. I figured you’d be busy... catching up with Peter. He’s been flirting with you nonstop since he came back.”

You froze, your jaw tightening as his words sank in. The casual, almost careless tone hit a nerve, and you could feel a flicker of anger flare up inside you. “What’s that supposed to mean, Hotch?”

Hotch leaned back, crossing his arms, trying to mask the hint of frustration that was seeping through. “Nothing. Just an observation. It’s not like you haven’t been a little distracted since he got back.”

You stared at him, incredulous. The casual arrogance in his words struck a nerve, and before you could stop yourself, the frustration that had been building all day came spilling out. “You really think you know everything about me, don’t you? Just because we work together, you think you’ve got me all figured out.”

Hotch’s expression tightened, caught off guard by the sudden burst of anger. “That’s not—”

“No, let me finish,” you said sharply, your voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity. “You don’t know me, Hotch. You have no idea what I’ve been through or what I’m dealing with. You’ve worked beside me for months, calling me partner, acting like you’ve got me all figured out, but you don’t. You don’t know the first thing about who I am or what’s going on beneath the surface.”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the sting of your words left him speechless. You were relentless, every word cutting through his composure. “You think just because we’ve been working together constantly, you’re entitled to know me? To judge me? But you know what, Hotch? You’re wrong. You don’t know a damn thing.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched, the carefully maintained façade he wore slipping for just a moment. “I’m not judging you,” he said, his voice low but strained. “I’m just trying to figure this out, okay?”

“Figure what out?” you shot back, your frustration boiling over. “The fact that you’ve been constantly analyzing everyone around you while keeping yourself locked away? You think that you’re the only one capable of reading people like an open book? You act like you’re open and honest, but you’re not. You insist on wanting to be called ‘Hotch’ on the job by everyone, and you think I wouldn’t catch onto that? You do that because ‘Aaron’ is too personal and ‘Hotchner’ is too formal. You straddle the line because you’re scared to be either. You’re terrified of being too close to anyone, yet you don’t want to seem too distant. It’s like you don’t even know who you are.”

Hotch stared at you, your words hitting deeper than you knew. You had seen right through him, through the carefully constructed barriers he put up to keep everyone at a manageable distance. He didn’t know how to respond because, for once, someone had called him out on the one thing he feared the most: his own inability to truly connect.

“I keep things professional because it’s easier,” Hotch admitted, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of vulnerability. “Because it’s safe.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Safe? You call this safe? You’re so busy keeping people out that you don’t even realize how much you’re missing. We’ve been partners at work, sure, but that’s all it’s ever been, right? Professional, compartmentalized, no mess, no feelings. That’s how you want it.”

Hotch’s gaze dropped, the weight of your accusations settling on him. “I thought that’s what was best,” he murmured, the admission almost painful. “I thought… I thought it was enough.”

You sighed, your anger waning but the hurt still fresh. “You don’t have to figure out anything, you said that yourself – I thought - It’s not enough for you Hotch, and not even for me.”

There was a long, heavy silence between you, both of you staring at the scattered papers on the table, as if the answers you sought could be found in the scrawled handwriting and cryptic messages. But this wasn’t something that could be solved with profiling or deduction. It was messier, more personal, and neither of you were sure how to navigate it.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “For making you feel like you’re just another piece of the job.”

You nodded, the tension easing but not entirely gone. “I appreciate your apologies but if you really want to change things up all you have to do is to agree to be vulnerable with me, that’s all.”

You turned your attention back to the case, pushing through the lingering discomfort to focus on what you could control. You worked in silence, each of you lost in thought, both aware that this argument had pulled something to the surface that couldn’t be ignored.

By the time you finally cracked the pattern in the unsub’s messages, the sun was beginning to rise.

As Hotch made his way back to the room at nearly 4 a.m., he was trying to be as quiet as possible, mindful not to wake Rossi. But as he slipped inside, he was met with the sight of Rossi already awake, leaning against the edge of his bed, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of amusement and disapproval.

“Couldn’t resist, could you?” Rossi’s voice was low but carried a playful edge, tinged with the knowing tone of someone who had seen this behavior from Hotch too many times before.

Hotch tried to hide his fatigue, rubbing a hand over his face as he set the files down on the desk. “It was important. I found something we missed. Had to double-check.”

Rossi’s smirk didn’t waver. “You found something, huh? Or did you just need an excuse to get out of this room and clear your head?”

Hotch stiffened, but he knew there was no point in denying it. “We figured out the sequence, the messages weren’t just random. They were chronological, like a timeline leading to his next target. We were close, but we couldn’t afford to miss it.”

Rossi nodded, his expression softening just a little. He knew Hotch was right; they were on a tight timeline with no room for errors. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing his friend. “You could have figured that out in the morning, Aaron. You can’t solve every problem by burning the candle at both ends.”

Hotch sat down on his bed, glancing at the clock, Rossi’s words lingered, cutting through the tension Hotch had been carrying all day. “I know. But you said it yourself—we can’t miss anything.

Rossi studied Hotch for a moment, his voice dropping to a softer, more serious tone. “You’ve been different since Peter came back,” Rossi said, watching Hotch’s reaction closely. “It’s like you’re working twice as hard, pushing yourself even more than usual. What’s going on?”

Hotch’s expression tightened, his usual stoic demeanor wavering under Rossi’s probing gaze. He knew exactly Rossi could read from his face what had just happened between the two of you. “I just… wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything,” he repeated, his tone defensive.

Rossi wasn’t buying it. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of his own bed, facing Hotch directly. “You’re not fooling me, Aaron. I’ve seen this before. You’re not just worried about the case. This is about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Hotch looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with the files on his lap. But Rossi’s words hit too close to home, and he couldn’t ignore the knot of emotions that had been building inside him since Peter’s return. “It’s not what you think,” Hotch said quietly, though even to him, it sounded unconvincing.

Rossi leaned back, giving Hotch a knowing look. “Look, it’s natural. You and Y/N have been working closely, you’ve got this rhythm. Peter comes back, and suddenly you’re reminded that you’re not the only one who clicks with her. But it’s not a competition, Aaron. You’re more to this team, and I’m sure you are to her as well, than a stand-in.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened. He had spent the last few months building a partnership with you, appreciating your insights and the way you challenged him. But Peter’s return had stirred up insecurities he hadn’t even realized he had.

“It’s not that,” Hotch said finally, though the weight in his voice suggested otherwise. “I just want to make sure we get this right. Peter’s good at what he does. It’s just… different.”

Rossi gave him a pointed look. “Different isn’t bad, Hotch. And you’re still you. You don’t have to prove anything: to her, to Peter, or to anyone else.”

Hotch nodded, though Rossi’s words did little to ease the knot in his chest. “Thanks, Dave. I know.”

Rossi watched him for another moment before standing up, his tone lightening as he made his way back to his bed. “Just remember, she was never looking for a replacement for him while he was gone. She’s looking for a partner. And you’ve already proven you can be that.”

Hotch lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Rossi’s words echoed in his mind, he knew he needed to get some sleep, but his thoughts were restless. It wasn’t just about the case anymore, it was about finding his place, about understanding what you truly meant to him beyond the walls of the BAU. As he finally drifted off, he promised himself that whatever happened next, he wouldn’t let his insecurities cloud his judgment. He’d be the partner you needed, and maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to fit into your life outside of work, too. If you ever let him after today.

Masterlist

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Losing You, It's Not An Option

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Prompt - 'The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair.’

Notes - This is my first time writing for Hotch so if it’s a little ooc, I do apologise.

It had been a rough case, three missing kids turned up dead before the FBI had been called in and another one missing for over ten hours. You had fourteen hours to figure out where this kid was before the chances of her being found alive were gone.

The plane ride over seemed to drag, nobody said anything after being briefed on the case, all too absorbed in reading through the files, thoughts and theories running through everyone’s head a mile a minute.

This was a particularly tough case for you considering the last time you’d had a case involving a kid they had died just as you burst through the door.

If only you’d been faster then that kid would still be alive.

With a sigh, you scrubbed at your face before looking back down at the folder, missing the look of concern Hotch threw your way.

“Y/L/N, Reid, you’re with me at the latest crime scene. Rossi, Prentiss, JJ, you head over to the station, the family of the missing girl should already be there.” Hotch said as everyone got off the jet and into two separate SUV’s.

There wasn’t much at the crime scene at this point, nothing that gave you any clues and everyone was painfully aware of the countdown.

-

Around the fifteen hour mark the team was ready to give a profile. You stood to the side as you watched Hotch describe how you were looking for a male in his early to mid 30’s who would have recently lost a five year old brunette girl. Everyone took turns giving bits of information out but you stayed silent, this time noticing the glances from Hotch.

“Y/L/N can I have a word?” Hotch asked once the briefing was over. You just nodded and followed him into an empty meeting room.

“Is everything ok?” He asked, closing the door.

“Everything’s fine.” You told him and judging by the look he shot you, you weren’t very convincing.

“Y/N,” He began but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“There’s a little girl out there and we need to find her. We don’t have any time to waste.” And with that you brushed past him and back into the bullpen just in time for Spencer to announce that Garcia had found somebody who matched the profile perfectly.

“Noah Williams, aged 33. He, his wife and daughter were involved in a car accident, only he made it out alive. The wife was declared DOA but the daughter didn’t die until…” Here Spencer paused to skim through the details Garcia had sent over, “four days ago.”

“When the kidnappings started.” You said, causing him to nod.

“We know he doesn’t spend long with his victims due to the length of time from the girls being reported missing and then found, it’s usually around the twenty four hour mark. Isabelle has been missing for nearly sixteen hours now giving us an eight hour window to find her.” Spencer informed everybody and Hotch was quick to pull his phone out, Garcia answering on the first ring.

“Garcia, we need an address.” He said into the phone and you could hear typing noises as Garcia desperately tried to find an address.

“I have two.” She announced after a few moments. “One’s a cabin in the woods, pretty secluded, the other is a house not too far from you.”

“Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan you take the house. Y/L/N, Reid you’re with me at the cabin.” Hotch directed and people around you were quickly moving.

“You think he’ll be at the house?” Rossi asked, causing Hotch to sigh.

“Probably not but we can’t rule it out.” Everyone agreed and it wasn’t long before you were all in the SUV’s heading to two separate locations praying that the little girl was still alive.

-

“Reid, you and Y/L/N take the back, I’ll take the front.” Hotch said and everyone nodded before moving into position.

Just as Spencer opened the backdoor and headed inside you noticed a door that must have led down into the cellar. It was concealed pretty well but things looked out of place, like somebody didn’t have enough time to properly cover it up.

You turned around, not seeing Spencer, and lifted your gun higher as you walked over to the door. Thankfully it pulled open without any resistance and you slowly headed down the stairs.

As you came to the bottom of the stairs you heard crying causing you to turn around to see Isabelle, looking scared and bruised but thankfully alive, and the man Garcia had sent you a picture of.

He held a gun to the little girl’s head causing you to pause for a second.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.” He threatened, causing the girl to let out a whimper.

“Hey, it’s ok, nobody needs to get hurt.” You said as you lowered your gun. You knew Hotch would kill you for this but you just needed that girl alive. “Look I’ve put my gun away, I’m not here to hurt you Mr Williams, I promise I just want to help.”

“You can’t help me!” He shouted, the hand holding the gun shaking.

“I can, I promise I’ll do everything I can to help you but don’t let her parent’s go through what you went through when you lost Amelia.” You knew bringing up his daughter could go one of two ways and if it went south…you really needed him pointing that gun at you and not Isabelle.

“Don’t say her name!” He yelled and you couldn’t help but relax as the gun was finally pointed at you.

“It crushed you to lose her, she was your little girl and it’s not fair that she’s gone but you can’t take it out on these girls.” You tried to reason with him but you could see it in his eyes, you could see there was no talking him down.

You looked down at Isabelle and managed to discreetly signal to her to run up the stairs, out of the cellar, from there Hotch and Reid could help her.

You held your palm flat as Williams took a step closer to you, his attention no longer on the girl and with that you closed your fist and Isabelle was darting past you causing Williams to scream.

Before you even had a chance to draw your gun you felt a burning hot pain in your thigh and then another in your upper arm. As you hit the floor you heard the sound of people running down the stairs and more gun shots before your eyes slipped shut and your body went numb.

-

“What was she thinking?” Hotch asked as he paced in the private waiting room the team had been given.

“That last case with the kid really got to her, man. She blamed herself for his death.” Derek said from his seat.

“She’ll be ok, she always is.” Rossi said after a few moments of silence. Spencer really hoped that was true but he couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind.

Blood seemed to be pouring out of both the wounds alarmingly fast, Hotch hadn’t hesitated to shoot Williams before he was knelt on the floor next to you, uncaring about the blood staining his clothes. His hand cupped your cheek as he pleaded for you to wake up, desperately shouting for a medic.

It was safe to say Hotch had always had a soft spot for you though it had never been said it was obvious to everyone on the team, except of course for you. Every time someone teased you about it you just smiled and shook your head.

The image of Hotch so emotional as he held your unconscious body against his chest was one that wouldn’t leave his mind for a long while.

Eventually a doctor came over and told them of your condition. You had lost a lot of blood, nearly flat lined as they operated on you, one of the bullets had shattered so it was a long process but thankfully you’d be fine.

“She’s waking up but she’s on a lot of medication right now so just take it easy with her.” The doctor advised as he led them to your room. Everyone thanked him before he left and Hotch turned to the team.

“I know you all want to see her but could I have a few moments alone?” He asked and nobody had it in them to deny that request, not when Hotch was looking more scared, more worried than they could ever recall.

“How you doing?” Hotch asked softly as he entered the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

“I’m ok.” You whispered, slowly opening your eyes and shooting him a small smile.

“Y/N,” Hotch began still talking softly as he pulled a chair close to your bed, “what you did today-” He started but you cut him off.

“Saved a little girl’s life.” You smiled, “I won’t apologize, if I could go back and do it all again, I wouldn’t change a damn thing.” You told him and were surprised to see him smile. It was a rare sight for you so you couldn’t help but savour the moment.

Ever since you’d started working at the FBI you’d always had a small crush on Hotch, never acting on it because he was your boss but it was always there. The rest of the team teased you about Hotch being soft on you but you knew there was no truth to it - though seeing him here, smiling at you had you hoping they could be right.

When Hotch took your hand in his, brushing his thumb against your knuckles you couldn’t help but stare down at the joined hands.

“I know you wouldn’t.” He said, the small smile still in place. “Y/N, I need you to be more careful though, you could have called for backup. Doing it alone got you hurt, you nearly died and losing you…it’s not an option.” Hotch said, the words surprising him as well as you.

You couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment, your eyebrows knitting together as you took in the words.

“Hotch,” You began, throat suddenly dry and you had no idea what you were going to say. Thankfully he cut you off.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” He admitted and every part of him was screaming to shut up, he was your boss, this wasn’t right but he’d almost lost you today, if the bullet had hit you a little more to the right you would have bled out. He couldn’t lose you. “I know it’s not appropriate, I know I’m your boss but I cannot lose you.” He repeated as he lifted your knuckles to his lips

Your eyes watered, Hotch was here with a confession you’d only dreamed of hearing.

God, you wished you weren’t high on pain meds right now.

“I don’t care that you’re my boss, I don’t care what people will say. I only want you, Aaron.” You whispered, causing him to let out a watery laugh.

“I’ve waited so long for you to say that.” He admitted quietly, making you blush. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmured.

“I just got shot, I look horrible,” you laughed, causing his eyes to brighten.

“You could never.” He said, his tone so painfully honest that all you could do was smile shyly at him, a soft blush covering your cheeks.

The two of you stayed silent for a moment before a knock on the door interrupted you as Derek poked his head around. You watched as his eyes almost immediately darted to your joined hands, a small grin on his face.

“Can we come in?” He asked looking at Hotch and then you, both of you nodded and pretty quickly everyone was settled in your room.

Hotch never let go of your hand.

-

“You can take the jet home, we’ll be fine here.” Hotch told everyone as they got back to the hotel that night. There was a sense of pride as everyone shook their heads no, wanting to wait until you were released so you could all head home together.

His team was truly amazing.

Alone in bed he had plenty of time to think of the conversation that took place between the two of you. There had always been something about you but he never focused on it, when you had first joined the team he was still married but after his divorce he started noticing you more.

It was true he had always been less strict with you but he was always able to brush it off until one day he realised he was falling for you. He didn’t know when it happened just that it did but he was your boss, it wasn’t allowed.

But seeing you in that hospital bed, looking so small attached to various different wires and monitors, watching as you bled out on the dirty floor of the cellar…rules be damned, he wasn’t going to waste any opportunities with you. Even if you told him you didn’t feel the same, at least he tried.

But somehow you did feel the same.

He was still trying to register that. How could someone like you, someone so young, so much potential, so much goodness, like someone like him, he was older, he was divorced, he had a kid.

With a sigh, he rolled over and closed his eyes.

You liked him.

He wouldn’t let a day go by where he wouldn’t show you how much he cared for you.

He couldn’t lose you, it wasn’t an option.

-

“Hey, have you heard from the hospital? How is she?” Reid asked the next morning as everyone met in the lobby.

“She’s trying to bribe nurses to let her leave so I’d say she’s doing much better.” Hotch said, causing everyone to laugh as they piled into the SUV.

The ride over to the hospital was fairly quick, everyone talking amongst themselves. Rossi sat up front with Hotch and after making sure everyone else was distracted he quietly spoke.

“So, you and Y/N,” He began, watching how Hotch tensed.

“It’s a bad idea, isn’t it?” Hotch asked, it was a thought that kept running through his head but he ignored it as best he could.

“I don’t think so.” Rossi said, causing Hotch to look at him for half a second before turning his attention back to the road. “I think the two of you are professional enough to make sure it doesn’t affect your work. You like her, Hotch, you have for a long time and she likes you. You both deserve to be happy.” Rossi said sincerely just as they pulled up to the hospital.

As everyone else got out, Hotch turned to Rossi and just looked at him for a moment.

“Thank you.” He said. He really needed to hear that it was ok and he trusted Rossi to tell him the truth no matter how much it hurt.

-

“How is she?” Emily asked as the doctor walked up to the group.

“She’s tough. Though there was a lot of blood, the wounds themselves aren’t a cause for concern. We’re going to get her some medication and then you can take her with you.” The team all let out a collective sigh of relief at the news.

“Hey baby girl.” Morgan greeted as he walked over to you, placing a kiss on your head. “How you doing today?”

“Hey,” you grinned up at him, “I feel pretty good, all things considered.” You told him honestly. Naturally your wounds hurt but the medication was working great.

Your eyes drifted to Hotch, looking for any signs of regret. You had a feeling that a night alone might make him realise all the ways this could blow up in your faces but thankfully he shot you a small, barely there smile letting you know everything was alright.

-

Being back in your own bed was a blessing you would never take for granted again. Though it was made better by the fact Hotch was here, sitting next to you as he adjusted the covers around you.

“You’ll shout me if you need me, right?” He asked. You hadn’t wanted to be alone tonight and Hotch had been worrying over you since you were discharged from the hospital. Now that the medicine was starting to wear off and the ones prescribed to you weren’t as strong you were starting to feel the pain and Hotch had offered to come home with you just to make sure you were ok. He insisted on sleeping in the guest room of your apartment which made you smile.

“I promise.” You assured him, smiling as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Ok, I’ll let you get some sleep. Goodnight sweetheart.” He whispered, squeezing your hand twice before he headed out of the room. You watched as he paused in the doorway, a smile on his face as he looked back at you.

“Goodnight Aaron.”

I Have Found You

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Prompt - I have for the first time found what I can truly love. I have found you.

—————————————————–

You and Aaron had had a long week at work, each on separate cases but both equally as drained as the other. Your job saw you travelling to and from New York each day, working for one of the states best law firms, it was hard working your way up but you did it and now you were dealing with high profile cases day in and day out.

This case was particularly gruelling but it was finally finished and you had won. It was a small victory for the family but it was a victory nonetheless.

Aaron was working on his own case, he had been in Las Vegas for the past four days dealing with a serial killer who was targeting families. The unsub was organised, too organised, and more families were killed before they finally caught a break. From there it had been a matter of hours before they caught the man and the team was back on the jet.

Aaron finished up on the phone before dropping down into his seat beside Rossi who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Short of an emergency we all have Friday and Monday off, I don’t want to see any of you for four days.” Aaron announced to the jet, smiling as it was filled with cheers and laughter.

“So, big plans?” Rossi asked, smirking at Aaron who just rolled his eyes.

“I plan on doing absolutely nothing.” Aaron replied with a smile, already thinking of how great it would be to spend a long weekend with you and Jack, it had been far too long. He had already spoken to you and upon hearing the good news of your case asked if you could get two days off and thanked god that you could.

“I hear you, man.” Derek spoke up from opposite Rossi. “Four whole days of nothing but me and my girl.”

“What about you, kid?” Rossi asked, looking at Spencer who sat opposite Aaron.

“There’s a film festival I really wanted to go to actually, it's showing a bunch of different films in their original language.” Spencer told him and the grin on his face was enough to stop any teasing.

“Have a good time, pretty boy.” Derek smiled back, ruffling the younger man's hair causing him to pout.

Aaron couldn’t help but smile at the scene but as much as he loved this family, he couldn’t wait to get back home to you and Jack.

-

“How hard can cupcakes be, right?” You asked Jack, who stood on a chair in front of the counter. The two of you were staring at the ingredients that were spread out, not knowing where to start. When you suggested Jack make something for Aaron you were thinking more along the lines of a picture but when the kid suggested cupcakes well…you really wanted cupcakes.

“Right.” Jack agreed, grinning up at you.

Turns out it was harder to make cupcakes than either of you thought.

Aaron walked into the house, smiling immediately as he heard Jack giggling madly. He was quick to follow the noise but stopped abruptly as he stared into the kitchen.

“Daddy!” Jack yelled, quickly scrambling off the chair and throwing himself at Aaron who caught him and lifted him with ease despite the cupcake mixture that stuck to his clothes, face and hair.

“Hey buddy,” He grinned, turning his attention to you. There you stood, cupcake mix splatter on your face, in your hair and on your shirt. You looked dejected as you held an electric mixer, clearly the culprit of the cupcake explosion. “It looks like you and Y/N are having fun.” He said with a laugh, watching how you pouted up at him.

“We were gonna make cupcakes for you, daddy, but Y/N put it on too high.” Jack informed Aaron, giggling madly as he did.

“I didn’t know!” You defended, there was a reason you weren’t trusted in the kitchen.

Aaron’s smile grew and he couldn’t wait any longer to move closer to you, the hand that didn’t hold Jack caressed your cheek and he brought you in for a soft kiss. It didn’t last long, how could it with Jack laughing and making kissing noises, but the two of you pulled away with matching, love struck smiles before you and Jack began laughing together at the cupcake batter that was now perched on Aaron’s nose.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight back the smile.

“Alright, alright,” he said, gaining both of your attention, “how about you two get cleaned up and we can all go out for dinner and then get some cupcakes, hm? That sound good?” He asked Jack who nodded with a grin and squirmed for Aaron to put him down. Once he did, Jack shot off to his bedroom and Aaron turned his attention to you.

“You can’t of thought that was a good idea.” He said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning in to steal another kiss.

“The kid said cupcakes, who was I to say no?” You responded when he pulled away, giggling as he trailed kisses to your jaw and then peppered them down your neck.

Your eyes closed as you tilted your head back, giving the man more access and you couldn’t help but whine as he pulled away. The whine quickly turned into a laugh as he leaned closer and licked a blob of batter that had stuck to your neck.

“Go clean up, baby.” He said before kissing your head and untangling himself from you.

You and Jack were quick to clean yourselves up and soon you were all out the door and heading to a restaurant that you often frequented when you had Jack.

-

It felt like forever since you had been out with the Hotchner boys and you enjoyed every minute of it, no annoying work calls pulling one of you away, no looming threat of Aaron being called to a different state. No, just you, Aaron and Jack going out together, eating good food, catching up with each other properly.

It was wonderful.

“Cupcakes now daddy?” Jack asked as the waitress cleared the plates.

“Yeah, cupcakes now daddy?” You echoed with a smirk watching as Aaron playfully glared at you.

“Sure thing buddy,” He said to Jack, causing you to let out a quiet laugh. “Pick which one you want.”

Aaron couldn’t tell you who smiled wider when dessert was brought out, you or Jack. Both of you tucked in with the same hunger and he just smiled at the scene.

When you and Aaron had first met, it was to do with a case he was working on. He never expected it to blossom into this. The friendship was unexpected but not unwelcome and then before either of you had realised it you had developed feelings for one another.

You were quite a bit younger than him and he was hesitant to bring the feelings up, not understanding what you could possibly see in an older, divorced, single father.

That was the other issue, sure you knew about Jack but there was a difference between knowing about him and wanting to be a part of his life and as much as Aaron had liked you he knew he couldn’t bring somebody into his life who couldn’t accept Jack.

So the pining went on for months as Aaron made the decision for you that you didn’t want to be burdened with a child that wasn’t yours. And when you finally pulled Aaron’s head out of his arse and made him talk about the feelings between you, you could have slapped him silly.

Sure kids weren’t exactly your forte but you’d at least have liked the chance to decide that. From there Aaron had introduced you to Jack after the two of you went on a few dates. The two of you decided the best place would be out in public, a little less daunting and that’s how you ended up at the zoo.

Jack had warmed up to you rather quickly and you surprised yourself with how good you were with him. Eventually it was Jack asking if you could have a sleepover at their house rather than Aaron trying to explain that you might be there in the morning sometimes.

Aaron was so glad you had talked him out of his own head way back when, and as he watched you with Jack, he knew, not that there was any doubt, that he’d made the right choice.

-

“Can we watch a movie?” Jack asked as the three of you entered the house.

“Buddy, it’s nearly bedtime.” Aaron reminded him as he took your coat from you before taking his own off.

“Please daddy,” Jack pleaded, turning on the puppy dog eyes, “I’ll brush my teeth and put my pyjamas on.”

He looked at you but you were looking down at Jack with a soft smile and he couldn’t say no if he wanted to.

“Deal, teeth and pyjamas, we’ll meet back here in five.” Aaron said and grinned as Jack took off running.

“C’mere baby,” He mumbled as he pulled you closer to him, wrapping you up in his arms. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too.” You confessed into his chest before titling your head up. Aaron was quick to turn his head, leaning down and capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss. When he pulled away he didn’t go far, resting his head on your forehead.

“Can’t wait to have you all to myself these next few days.” He told you quietly, fingers brushing against your waist.

“Me neither, it’s going to be heaven.” You replied, matching both his tone and the smile on his face.

“Daddy,” Jack’s voice pulled you away from each other and you turned to see the kid grinning up at Aaron showing his freshly brushed teeth and proudly wearing his Captain America pyjamas. “You and Y/N/N need your pyjamas too.”

“Of course we do!” You exclaimed, taking Aaron’s hand in yours and pulling him towards the bedroom with instructions for Jack to put a movie on.

“Really can’t wait to have you all to myself.” Aaron said again as he watched you pull your shirt over your head.

“Down boy.” You laughed, throwing the shirt at him.

Watching you undress made Aaron long to touch you but seeing you dressed in his clothes, sweatpants that were way too big for you and a college shirt that drooped off your shoulders was somehow infinitely sweeter.

“I love you.” He told you, pulling you close to place a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“I love you too.” You smiled before turning around and kissing him. “Get changed.” You ordered.

“Yes ma’am.” Aaron laughed but did as you said.

Aaron couldn’t help but smile as he held his family in his arms. Jack was half in your lap and half in Aarons and you were sat flushed against him, head resting on his shoulder and your hand holding Jack’s leg.

The movie was still playing but Jack was fast asleep against his chest and you were pretty close to following. Despite that though, Aaron couldn’t bring himself to move and send you both to bed. Instead he tightened his grip on both of you, smiling as you cuddled further into him.

This, this was all he needed, you and Jack by his side. His little family, both of whom had been through so much. All he wanted to do was protect both of you and he would, god would he do anything to protect the pair of you.

You were one of the best things that had happened to him, he had known it since the day he had met you and he had known it two weeks ago when the team finished a case in California and he walked into the jewellers to buy the ring and he knew it now, looking down at you holding onto him and Jack.

He knew you were the best thing to happen to him in a really long time and he would forever be thankful that he had found you.

Some Things Are Worth The Risk

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Prompt - 'But he'd learned long ago that a life lived without risks pretty much wasn't worth living.’

Working for the FBI and hiding secrets, especially when you worked in the BAU surrounded by some of the best profilers in the world, was incredibly difficult but by some miracle you had managed it. The first few months on the job were terrible, you kept to yourself despite the team's attempt to draw you in, you dreaded every time you were called into Hotch’s office, thinking that he knew what you were hiding.

Eventually though, after months on the job you figured if they hadn’t found you out by now then it was unlikely they would. You began to relax, accepting the invitations for drinks at the bar and going to the dinners Rossi hosted. The team didn’t question the change in your behaviour, they just assumed that you were shy and it had taken you a while to adjust to everything.

Though you never forgot the secret, the weight of it constantly felt like it was resting on your shoulders, hell it was the whole reason you had joined the BAU to begin with, but you’d gotten so good at hiding it that some days it was easy to ignore it.

So when Hotch called you at three in the morning with a new case, you had no reason to be worried. Why would you be? It was standard to get called at all hours for a case, there was no rest for the unsubs. It hadn’t taken you too long to get to the air strip but everyone else was already on the jet when you walked in. You took the empty seat next to Hotch, sitting opposite Rossi and Spencer. Everyone looked to be in various states of waking up and you knew you were no better, eyes more shut than they were open, fully intending on falling back asleep once the jet was in the air.

Hotch didn’t start talking until the jet had taken off. He handed out the files to you all and you flicked it open, not paying too much attention to where you were going, your eyes going straight to the pictures. All the women looked similar, all in their mid to late thirties, all with the same skin colour, hair colour and length. Each woman had one slash wound across their neck, which was determined to be the cause of death, each had been stabbed twice, once in the stomach and once the right thigh and each woman had chemical burns on their eyes due to bleach being poured into them.

As you read over the information you found yourself subconsciously sitting up straighter, eyes widening with each bit of information. You knew that MO but there was no way it could be who you thought…it was impossible. A life sentence prevented it from being the person you thought it was.

Hotch noticed your tense form and gently nudged your shoulder with his. As you let yourself get closer with the team, you found yourself getting especially close to Aaron Hotchner, you weren’t even sure how it had happened but before you knew it you found yourself being invited to his house for dinner with him and Jack or going out alone for dinner when Jess offered to watch his son. You found yourself developing feelings for the older man, knowing that it couldn’t go anywhere, he was your supervisor and the director was already breathing down the BAU’s neck. It didn’t mean you would stop spending time with him or savouring the small touches he gave you.

“You ok?” He whispered when you didn’t look away from the file in your hand. Before you could respond Penelope’s voice was sounding through the jet.

“I’d love to be the bearer of good news once in a while but that has yet to happen,” As she spoke you looked up at Aaron and gave him a small nod, forcing a smile on your face. He didn’t look convinced but he let it go for now, you knew the second he got you alone though he would question you again.

“Another victim?” Tara asked.

"Yes, no ID yet but I should have one for you by the time you land. She was found the same way the other victims were, in her home, tied to a chair with the same,” here Penelope paused to grimace before gesturing to the screens in front of her with a pink fluffy pen, “wounds. Local police are waiting for you guys before they move the body.” Penelope informed you all before saying goodbye.

“Reid, Morgan I want the two of you to head straight to the newest crime scene. JJ, go to the station and get a head start on the media. Lewis and Dave, head to the last crime scenes and see if you can see anything. Y/N, you and I will head to the ME and see what they can tell us.” Everyone nodded along and began to strap themselves in for the land.

You had a bad feeling about this case.

-

“So each victim has the same set out ligature marks on each wrist but there are no defensive wounds. All the victims have the same stab wounds but what interested me about them was how precise they were.” The medical examiner said as she gestured for you to look at the pictures displayed.

“They’re in the exact same place each time.” Hotch said as he stepped forward to examine them.

“Yes, whoever did this also knew exactly where to hit so that the victims would be in an excruciating amount of pain but wouldn’t bleed out. There were also chemical wounds in their eyes created using bleach.”

As the medical examiner spoke you continued to examine the bodies whilst Hotch looked at the different images displayed. The MO was too similar to ignore and you knew there was one thing missing, one thing that if you confirmed was there would send you spiralling. You knew where to look but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

The medical examiner and Hotch continued talking and you took a deep breath, glad Hotch’s attention wasn’t on you, if he glanced at you now he would have immediately pulled you from the room and made you tell him what was wrong.

You stepped closer to one of the bodies, it wouldn’t be there, you thought, it couldn’t be there because there was a life sentence in place that meant this couldn’t happen again. You squeezed your eyes shut before opening them again and pulling the sheet of the victim, it took a moment before you let your eyes shift down to the victims left hand.

“Y/N.” Hotch said, turning to face you after hearing a crash. You had pulled away from the victim so fast and ended up crashing into the table full of supplies, sending them toppling down to the floor. “Y/N.” Hotch said again, hurrying over to your side.

Tears fell down your face and you felt the air leave your lungs. You gasped for breath and felt your head felt like it was pounding. This couldn’t be happening but the evidence was right there in front of you, a small cross carved onto the victim’s fourth finger right where a wedding ring would rest.

“Y/N, hey, listen to me.” You heard Hotch say softly, though you could hear the slight panic in his tone. “Copy my breathing.” He instructed and though it took a long while eventually your breathing evened out and the feeling of being light headed started to subside.

Hotch watched you collect yourself as best you could with tears still running down your face before he spoke.

“What is it, Y/N?” He asked softly.

“I know who the killer is.” Was your whispered reply.

-

Hotch drove the two of you to the precinct, neither of you saying a word as you followed him into the conference room. Everyone looked up at his arrival, Derek ready to fill him in on what they gathered but one look at your puffy, red eyes cut him short.

“What’s going on?” He asked instead.

“Get Garcia on the phone now.” Hotch requested, Tara was quick to call the woman who answered cheerily.

“Garcia, I need you to look up a William Parker quickly.” He said and Penelope promptly started typing, the only sound to be heard as they awaited her answer.

“Um, right, here it is, William Parker, aged 53, born in…Charlevoix, Michigan. He had a wife and a daughter.” Garcia read out and Hotch turned to look back at you. You hadn’t told him how you knew Parker, only that you were sure he was the killer. He hadn’t doubted you, not after a reaction like that, he trusted you on this.

“Had?” Derek asked, leaning forward in his seat, "What happened to them, baby girl?”

Hotch was still watching you and saw how you tensed up, what was going on?

“Give me a sec, I’m getting them unsealed right now.” It took a couple of minutes in which the team shot each other looks of confusion and looks of concern in your direction but Penelope let out a small ‘ah ha’ and drew their attention back to the phone. “Wow, ok, are you thinking this guys your unsub because if so I’d say you're absolutely right.”

“How so, Garcia?” Hotch asked. You glanced up and saw him looking at you. It was taking everything in you not to flee the room right now.

“Well, he was arrested years back for killing his wife. Police showed up at the house when their neighbour called the police after hearing crying for hours. They found the wife tied to a chair, two stab wounds in the stomach and right thigh, bleach in the eye and a slash wound to the neck.” Here Penelope gasped, “Oh no.”

“What baby girl?” Derek asked.

“The crying. Parker’s daughter was found covered in a mix of her and her mom’s blood. She was tied against the chair her mom was in, covered in cuts and bruises.” Hotch, who still had yet to take his eyes off you, watched as you rubbed your wrists the realisation hitting him.

“Garcia, what happened to the kid?” Rossi asked and Hotch saw your body shake with silent sobs.

“She got placed in witness protection so it’ll take me a while to find out exactly where she is now but it seemed she was moved out of state after giving evidence at her dad’s trial.” Penelope said as she clicked a link before gasping. You might have been young in that picture but she’d know your face anywhere.

“Oh my god.” Penelope said, tears filling her own eyes. That was the confirmation Hotch needed and he immediately wrapped you in his arms, everyone’s attention turning to you as you let out heart wrenching sobs.

“Garcia,” Derek says, not wanting it to be true.

“It’s Y/N, our Y/N.” She says quietly, the room falling silent except for the sounds of your sobbing.

-

Spencer handed you a cup of water before taking a seat next to you. You looked up at him, shooting him a grateful smile. You had managed to calm down a bit with Hotch’s help and now you were sitting at the table in between Spencer and Hotch. Everyone was shooting you concerned looks but you couldn’t look at them. Penelope was on the phone as the team set to work on finding where Parker was now.

“Wait, so this guy should be serving a life sentence, right?” Derek asked Penelope who began typing again.

“He was charged with life in prison but two weeks ago he got transferred and managed to escape.” Penelope told them, “It seems Parker and another man Lewis Miller managed to escape but Miller was caught pretty quickly.”

“Y/N,” Tara starts carefully, “how did you know this was him?”

“The MO was too similar to ignore but I was hoping,” You began but cut yourself off as tears began to fill your eyes. Hotch frowned sympathetically as he placed his hand on one of yours and you let yourself take comfort from the touch. You took a shaky breath before continuing, “I was hoping, maybe it was a copycat, you know? All that information was released to the press but there was one thing he did to my mom,” You choked out. Spencer pushed the water in your direction causing you to smile and take small sips. “He carved a small ‘x’ into her ring finger right where her wedding ring would sit. When Hotch and I were with the ME, I checked and the victims had the same carvings.”

With that you turned into Hotch, despite the chair's arms in between and he wrapped both his arms around you.

“We’ll find him.” He promised, smiling sadly when he felt you nod against his chest.

-

“There’s been a new body but there’s something different.” The chief informed you all as he entered the conference room you’d been given.

“What is it?” Hotch asked, standing up.

“The woman, it was a girl in her mid twenties.” He said and the whole team turned to look at you. You only had eyes for Hotch though, he turned to see you looking at him with fear in your eyes.

“Hey,” he said, making his way over to you and leaning down so that you were eye level. “This is not your fault, you understand me?” He asked.

“Hotch,” you choked out but the older man cut you off.

“No, Y/N, this, none of this is your fault. I promise.” It was like those were the words you needed to hear, you let out a shaky breath and nodded. “You need to stay here, ok?”

“No, Aaron please. I need to be on this case.” You pleaded but you could see the man wasn’t going to budge.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but somehow he knows you’re here, that’s the only reason he’d change victimology. I can’t, I won’t risk you getting hurt. I promise you we’ll catch him but for me to do that, you have to stay here, where I know you’re safe.” Hotch told you and the sincerity of it had you nodding. You didn’t like it but ultimately you knew he was right.

“Okay.” You said, causing him to give you a small smile.

“Thank you.” He said before straightening up and pulling you into his arms. “We’ll get him.” He repeated and you nodded against his chest, fully believing him.

“I’ll stay with her.” Rossi offered as the rest of the team headed for the door. Hotch shot his friend a grateful look before turning to leave himself.

Nobody hurt you and got away with it.

-

On the way to the latest crime scene Penelope called Hotch and informed them that she had combed through security camera footage and found Parker driving away. The two SUV’s turned their sirens on and broke every road law there was, following Penelope’s instructions and taking one too many sharp turns that left them clutching their seats but eventually they caught up with the man.

Parker instantly sped up upon seeing two SUV’s but that didn’t deter them and Hotch pressed his foot even harder to the pedal. When Parker made a sharp right turn down a dirt road, Hotch spoke up.

“Garcia, where does the lead?” He heard her typing as she desperately tried to find something of interest but nothing came up.

“Nowhere, sir.” She replied.

“There has to be something!” Hotch snapped, missing the look of concern Spencer gave him from the passenger seat.

“Sir, there’s nothing ther-wait a second, ok, there’s a cabin. Not too far from where you are now, another two minutes down that road.” Penelope rushed out.

“Thank you, Penelope.” Spencer replied as he watched Hotch’s face harden.

“Go get him.” Penelope commanded.

-

The SUV hadn’t come to a full stop as Hotch jumped out of it, chasing after Parker with his gun drawn. Parker had fled into the house and Hotch didn’t hesitate before he kicked it open and entered, the team following close behind.

They split up, Tara and JJ heading upstairs whilst Derek headed down to the basement and Spencer and Hotch searched the ground floor.

Hotch paused when he heard something scrape and turned to see the back door open. He was quick to run out, spotting Parker instantly. He didn’t have a shot, not from there and chased after him.

“Parker’s on foot, backdoor, into the woods.” Hotch said through the comms.

“Copy.”

Hotch continued to chase Parker through the woods before coming to a halt. The trail split into two different turnings…Hotch had lost him. He lowered his gun as he cursed himself for letting Parker get away before he spun around after hearing a gun click.

“So you’re the bastard who got my daughter.” Parker spat, looking Hotch up and down.

“And you’re the bastard who tied her to her dead mom after torturing her.” Hotch said as he cocked his gun.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Parker says, smirking at Hotch. “You can’t shoot me, I haven’t done anything to prevent you making an arrest.”

“The way I see it,” Hotch began, not taking his finger off the trigger. “There’s no-one here but us.” He said, smirking at the man in an attempt to aggravate him. He watched as Derek and Spencer appeared behind the man but hidden behind trees with their guns drawn.

“You wouldn’t.” Parker said, his face darkening as he took a step back.

“You really want to test that theory?” Hotch asked and with that Parker pulled the trigger. Hotch, having been expecting it, managed to move before the bullet left the gun and both Spencer and Derek fired their own weapons.

He watched as Parker’s body fell to the floor and Derek confirmed he was dead.

-

“He’s really gone?” You asked Hotch, who nodded and smiled softly as you fell against his chest.

“He’s really gone.” He reassured you, wrapping his arms around your waist and letting his head rest against yours after placing a soft kiss against your hair.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“You never had to thank me.” Hotch replied, his tone as soft as yours.

“God,” You groaned when the two of you pulled away from each other as everyone else came out of the police station, “I never wanna come back to this damned town again.” You said, causing everyone to laugh.

“Let’s get you home, mama.” Derek said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him and kissing your temple before leading you over to the SUV.

Hotch watched with a smile as Derek held the door open for you and you got into the car with a soft giggle.

“When are you going to ask her out?” Rossi asked from his spot next to Hotch.

“When we get home.” Hotch replied, shocking both himself and Rossi. He hadn’t actually been considering it but he knew it was right. Screw what people would say, you were right for him and hopefully you felt the same way about him.

“Attaboy.” Rossi smirked before heading over to the SUV.

Hotch stood there for a moment, just smiling to himself before Spencer pulled him out of his thoughts by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You ready to leave?” He asked.

“Yes.” Hotch grimaced causing Spencer to smile and with that the two men made their way over to the SUV’s before leaving the town behind them all.

-

“Wait,” Tara said, causing everyone to look at her. You were sitting next to Hotch, letting your head rest against his shoulder whilst his arm was wrapped around your waist. Spencer and Rossi sat opposite you with JJ and Derek sitting on the sofa and Tara standing in the walkway. “Is your name even really Y/N?” She asked, causing everyone to look at you.

“It is, they wanted to change it, said it was protocol but, well you know me, I’m not one for protocol.” You said, causing everyone to laugh. “I managed to convince them to let me keep my first name and then my last name came from my mom’s side, my nan’s maiden name.”

“Y/F/N /Y/L/N, it suits you much better.” JJ said, making you smile.

“I like to think so.” You laughed.

“So when you said you grew up in New York?” Derek prompted.

“I got relocated there. The family I was placed with, they weren’t the best but they were nothing compared to my dad so I just stuck it out for the next few years and then moved here to start with the FBI program.” You all continued to talk for the entire plane ride about your past and you found it was easier to talk about.

Even though your dad had been in prison, as far as you had known anyway, there was always that lingering anxiety in the back of your head. Clearly it was for good reason, you couldn’t believe he had broken out but Aaron…Aaron made sure he couldn’t hurt you again.

You smiled to yourself as you cuddled further into him, heat spreading across your cheeks when you felt him tighten his grip.

-

“Oh my gosh, you’re ok!” Penelope said as soon as the elevator doors opened. You stepped out and let yourself be pulled into her warm embrace.

No matter how bad things got you could always count on Penelope Garcia to be there with open arms and a shoulder to cry on.

“I’m ok.” You assured her, pulling back to smile at her. “Thank you for helping them get him.” You said, watching her eyes water before she pulled you into another hug.

“I’m just so glad you’re safe.” She said before pulling away.

“Need a ride home?” Hotch asked as everyone headed to their desks.

“If you don’t mind.” You smiled.

“Of course not.” Hotch replied, shaking his head and smiling at you.

He had such a beautiful smile, all the hard lines on his face softened and he looked so much more relaxed this way.

“Thank you.” Hotch promised he’d be fast as he headed to his office to sort some things out, his report could wait until tomorrow. Right now you were his only priority. He told the rest of his team that the reports could wait, it was late and everyone should go home.

You and Hotch said goodbye to everyone before heading off to the elevator, you missing the smirk Rossi was giving Hotch.

On the ride down Hotch pondered just what he was going to say to you, how could he ask you out? Should he even ask you? If you said no it could ruin everything between you but then he thought back to how good it felt to be able to hold you in his arms, despite the awfulness of the case, and came to the conclusion that this was one of the things that was worth risking everything for.

Hotch remained silent for most of the car ride home and it was only when you spoke up he realised it.

“Are you ok?” You asked softly, drawing him from his thoughts. He cleared his throat before nodding.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I was just thinking…” He said before trailing off.

“Nothing bad?” You asked, biting your lip as you waited for an answer. You watched as he smiled before letting out a small chuckle.

“No, nothing bad. At least I hope it’s nothing bad.” He said, causing you to look over at him, your brows knitting together as you tilted your head questioningly. He let out a soft sigh as he pulled up to your apartment complex.

“I was thinking about you.” He confessed, his tone soft as he looked away from you. Dave had assured him multiple times that you felt the same way as he did and as much as he trusted the older profilers skills, he just couldn’t see how someone like you could be interested in him. He was so much older, he had so much baggage…he just couldn’t understand it.

“Me?” You asked, keeping your voice quiet so you didn’t disturb the quietness around you.

“Yes. You’re what I’m thinking about most of the time actually, it’s quite distracting.” He told you with a small chuckle. “I know this probably isn’t appropriate and it’s probably not the best time considering the case we just had but I wondered if maybe I could take you out for dinner some time?” He asked, trying not to fumble over his words.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face or the blush that stained your cheeks.

“Like a date?” You asked, your smiling faltering as Aaron shook his head.

“Not like a date but an actual date.” He clarified, smiling as the smile came back to your face and you let out a laugh.

“I’d like that,” You told him, “I’d really like that.”

“Good, me too.” He said, clearing his throat as he registered the fact that you had said yes. You giggled softly as he sat there silently for a second. “If we don’t have a case this weekend, are you free?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. I’ll pick you up at 6?” He asked and you nodded.

Before either of you could speak, you let out a small yawn, only just noticing how late it had gotten.

“You should get some sleep.” Hotch said softly.

“You too.” You told him, knowing he had slept very little on this case too.

“I will.” He promised. “If you need tomorrow off,” Hotch began but you cut him off.

“No, thanks but I’m good.” You assured him, watching as his eyes searched yours before he nodded.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your cheek, smiling as the blush spread across them again.

“Goodnight Aaron.” You replied, smiling over at him almost shyly before getting out of the car and making your way over to the door.

Once you pushed it open you turned to wave at him before letting the door shut behind you. You couldn’t help but lean against it, in the way that only happens in those cheesy rom-coms you watch with Penelope, smiling widely to yourself before heading up to your apartment.

Hotch was still sitting outside, smiling at the door you had just entered.

If he felt this happy after you agreed to go on a date with him, he couldn’t wait until the weekend came. This definitely was one of the things that was worth this risk and somehow, despite all the bad luck he and his team seemed to attract, he really believed this could be one of the few things that went right.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

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- To Hold You Close (It’s All I Need)

- It’s Going To Be You

- State of Grace

- Half of a Whole

- (20) 22

- I Wish It Was Me

- Losing You, It’s Not An Option

- I Have Found you

- Some Things Are Worth The Risk

- Treacherous

- Only You

- Begin Again

- I Almost Do

- Come Back…Be Here

- Hold You To That

- The Best Day

- Live Like Jack and Sally

- The Lucky One

Treacherous

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Prompt - ‘This slope is treacherous and I, I like it’

Notes - shameless hotch smut

Ever since you’d first joined the BAU there was always something between you and Aaron. It started out a merely a physical attraction, you knew he was married, saw how he had talked about Haley and knew the man wouldn’t be unfaithful to her but that didn’t stop you from taking every chance you could to tease him, be near him and Aaron, though he never initiated anything, wasn’t quick to push you away.

As you got to know the man, however, you found yourself genuinely liking him. He was a good man and you couldn’t stop yourself going down that path no matter how reckless it was. You knew it’d be smart to walk away but Hotch, he was like quicksand, once the feelings were there, you couldn’t escape them.

You knew nothing could ever happen between you and Aaron, not for a lack of trying on your part, but because he was married and you knew he would honour the vows he made. Even if Haley wasn’t a factor, Aaron wouldn’t risk either of your careers by letting himself get involved with one of his subordinates, he knew you were already going to have it rough, a young woman working for the FBI, add onto that a relationship with your boss…it was a recipe for disaster.

Still the day he was served with divorce papers you couldn’t help but fight back a smile. The boss-employee relationship, you knew given the chance you could make Aaron see past that, sure it’d take work but you could convince him that it was worth it but Haley, she had always been the factor you knew you couldn’t touch. Now though the woman was letting Aaron go, a decision you couldn’t understand but one you hoped would work in your favour.

Aaron was struggling, everybody on the team could tell. The diviorce and the workload were getting to him and who would blame you for offering a shoulder to cry on?

You found yourself in front of the door to Aaron’s new apartment and a part of you knew you should feel shameful, using the man's divorce as a way in and if he turned you down you were fully prepared to give him the space he needed but if he acted on the chemistry between the two of you, you were ready to fully down that treacherous slope and into his arms.

Aaron didn’t look surprised to see you at his door and he was quick to invite you in. It was obvious he had been drinking, you couldn’t blame him either with all the stress that had come down on him lately.

“Would you like a drink?” He offered, gesturing towards the opened bottle on the table.

It wasn’t long before the two of you had worked your way through the majority of the bottle, personal space completely out of the window as you leaned into each other.

Aaron leaned forward and placed his glass on the table before he turned to you. He couldn’t help but smile, lifting his hand to brush a strand of hair from your face and you didn’t stop yourself from leaning into the touch. Aaron let his hand rest on your face, cupping your cheek and you didn’t hesitate to turn your face slightly, placing a soft kiss against his palm.

That seemed to be all the permission he needed as he guided your face close to his before pressing his lips to yours. You let your eyes slip shut, the kiss was electric. Aaron’s hand moved from your face, up into your hair, his fingers tangled in the strands as your hands came up to wrap around his neck.

In a quick movement you were climbing onto Aaron’s lap, thighs spread either side of him as you let yourself grind down against him, moaning as you felt the growing bulge beneath you.

Aaron groaned into your mouth before pulling away, letting his lips trail open-mouthed kisses from your jaw and down your neck. It wasn’t long before he was pulling your shirt off, encouraging you to keep moving as he did.

His mouth attached itself to one of your breast, pressing kisses against it and letting his tongue trail over the sensitive bud before he took it into his mouth, sucking harshly causing you to let out a needy moan. As he took the nipple between his teeth you sucked in a breath, your hips speeding up as he continued.

Your head was thrown back and you didn’t try to quiet the noises falling from your lips as Aaron bucked his hips up before he grabbed your neck and dragged down so he could crash his lips to yours.

This kiss was messy, it was uncoordinated, noses brushed together, teeth scraped against each other. But it was hot, there was no denying that and you couldn’t help but moan into it, the feeling of those fingers squeezing your neck, tightening as you quickened your pace, the hardness of his cock against you…it was everything you’d wanted for months.

Aaron pulled away, letting his head fall to the back of the couch, his deep moans doing things to you…having Aaron Hotchner a moaning mess under you had you smirking.

Reluctantly you pushed yourself off him and climbed off the couch. Aaron looked at you through half lidded eyes but before he couldn’t protest the loss of you on his cock, you were positioning yourself between his legs.

“Fuck Y/N,” He moaned as you made quick work of taking his pants off, practically watering at the mouth at the size of the bulge hidden by the fabric of his underwear. You could feel the wetness between your own legs and moaned as you leaned forward to lick a strip up the underside of his cock, and with just one taste of him you knew it was over for you, you were addicted already.

You took his cock into your mouth, relishing the stretch as he bucked his hips up, forcing his cock further into your mouth causing you to whimper needily around the length of him, your hips thrusting against nothing as you felt yourself getting wetter.

Curses left Hotch’s lips, mixed with those low moans. His fingers were tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he continued to thrust his hips up, forcing his cock down your throat until you were choking around him.

And you couldn’t get enough. You eagerly let him take control, gagging around his cock, looking up at him with tear filled eyes, the pleasure you felt written clearly across your face.

You couldn’t take it anymore, letting your hand slip down your underwear, you brushed against your clit, letting out a desperate and filthy moan. Your eyes fell shut as you easily pushed two fingers inside your hole, wetness coating your fingers.

Aaron smirked down at you, seeing you like this, on your knees, a desperate, needy mess as he thrusted into your mouth, watching you choke on his dick. He cursed himself for not giving in earlier.

You whined as your fingers rubbed sloppily against your clit, thighs clenching as Aaron quickened his pace, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. By the time Aaron was cumming down your throat, you were struggling for breath but managed to swallow down every bit of cum before pulling off him.

You were panting for breath but Aaron pulled you in for a hot, messy kiss, giving you not time to recover. You whined into it, breathless and desperate for your own release. When Aaron finally pulled away you gulped down as much air as you could before begging Aaron to let you cum, eyes still glassed over from the blowjob and lips red and swollen.

Aaron groaned at the sight.

He was quick to pull you back onto the couch, laying you down and positioning himself in between your thighs, pressing soft kisses to the insides of them before he turned his attention between your legs, smirking at the wetness leaking through your underwear.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He asked, causing you to buck your hips up with a whine.

“Please, please, Hotch, do something, please.” You begged, desperate for release.

“You beg so nicely.” Aaron said before he licked you through your underwear making you moan as you moved your hips, letting yourself rub against his face.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asked, moving so he could take your underwear off. “Come here.” He said before repositioning himself so he was laying on the sofa.

“You want to cum? Do it yourself.” He said and pulled you down, positioning you so his face was underneath you and when you didn’t move he leaned up, licking up to your clit before taking it into his mouth and suckling greedily on it causing you to let out a noise that sounded more like a sob than a moan, the feeling of his mouth on you was overwhelmingly amazing.

You gasped as a hand connected with your butt, a sharp sting causing you to arch your back and moan in pleasure.

“Make yourself cum.” Aaron commanded again and this time you obeyed him.

You moaned and cried as Aaron sucked your clit, his fingers pressing into your thighs, holding you open and rocking you slightly, encouraging you to move against his face. You began to move, crying out at the pleasure that shot through your body causing him to smirk against you.

He felt the wetness from you all over his face and moaned against your clit sending vibrations through your body that made you gasp and quicken your pace. Aaron let his hand come down on your butt, several times in a quick pace causing you to buck against his face, sobbing as the need to come became too much but Aaron didn’t stop there. He slipped his tongue easily into your hole and pushed it deeper into you every time you thrust against him.

Tears rolled down your face as every sensation became too much. With a shuddering moan you felt yourself cum against Aaron’s face, still riding against him as you rode through the orgasm.

Aaron gently pulled your legs off of him and sat up once you were finished cumming, he licked his lips, drinking in as much of your cum as he could as he turned his attention to you.

“Come here, baby.” He said, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly against his chest, not rushing you as your mind caught back up after becoming overwhelmed.

As you caught your breath, Aaron ran his hands through your hair, gently combing through the knots that had gathered from him gripping it. He saw the slight bruises on your neck, from both his mouth and his fingers, and couldn’t help but smirk as he pressed his lips to one causing you to whine.

“You’re ok, I’ve got you.” Aaron assured and you pulled away slightly to look up at him. He couldn’t help but smile down at you, you looked wrecked, lips swollen and tear stained cheeks…Aaron had done that to you. “Let’s get you to bed.” He said, picking up you knowing full well the second you stood on your own your legs would turn to jelly.

Aaron set you down gently and made quick work of cleaning you up before he helped you slip into a pair of his boxers and one of his old shirts. Once he was sure that you were settled he got himself cleaned up and changed before heading to the kitchen to get two glasses of water, setting his on the nightstand before he turned to you.

“Y/N,” He said softly, smiling as you pried your eyes open tiredly, “drink some of this and then you can sleep.” He promised, before he helped you sit up and held the glass to your lips.

Once he was satisfied with how much you had drank, he let you lay down and it wasn’t long before he was climbing into bed with you and pulling you into his arms.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He said softly, placing a kiss to your forehead before letting himself fall asleep.

-

From that night on you and Aaron continued to sleep with each other. The morning after the first night he had sat you down and explained how this couldn’t be anything more than friends with benefits, how even this was risking a lot but neither of you could only let this be a one night thing.

The two of you had sex multiple times a week, sometimes even in his office, blinds shut and door locked, you biting into his shoulder to keep quiet. It wasn’t even a choice anymore, you couldn’t have put a stop to this if you tried. You were too far gone now and each time the two of you spent time together, you found yourself falling further and further for him. The sex was increible, god was it incredible, but there was also the stuff afterwards, when he would hold you close, whispering soft nothings as he kissed your hair. The nights where he would cook you dinner or pull you aside if a case was getting bad, offering you a shoulder if needed.

Sometimes you found yourself, in the early hours when both of you were spent, contemplating whether you should tell him how you felt but you couldn't, you knew if he knew how you felt he would put a stop to this. He wouldn’t want to feel like he was leading you on and you couldn’t lose this, couldn’t lose him. You’d take him anyway you could get him, it was a treacherous slope but one that you decided to head down, knowing now that there was no way out of this.

So whilst his name echoed through your mind all day, you knew it was your own fault. Aaron had been clear from the get go what this was, what this could only ever be. You were the one who started falling and as much as you wanted him for yourself you knew it wasn’t an option.

Falling for Aaron Hotchner wasn’t a conscious choice but if this was the only way you could have him, a secret to be kept behind closed doors, then it might have hurt but it didn’t mean you didn’t like it, you still got to be with him in some sense and maybe one day you’d be brave enough to ask him to stay with you but until then you’d continue on this reckless path and grasp onto any moment you had with Aaron.

________________________________

Hotch taglist - @canadailluminate, @filmsbyblair, @ready-4-spencie, @mrs-scottmccall, @j-cat, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29, @chickensrule, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @fanf1ctionwrit1n, @cassidymb121,, @grccnaway, @averyhotchner, @chaoticevilbakugo, @sia2raw, @silverose365, @mystic-writings

Only You

Click here for my masterlist.

Febuwhump Prompt - failed rescue attempt

Prompt - ‘I hate to make everything about me but what am I supposed to do without you?’

You were still half asleep as you stumbled onto the jet, flopping down into the seat next to Hotch, letting your head rest upon his shoulder. Hotch looked down at you, face softening as he watched you close your eyes. By the time the rest of the team had trailed onto the jet you were fast asleep against Hotch.

The plane ride was only a short one so by the time you were in the air Hotch was gently shaking you awake, you groaning as you turned your face further into his shoulder before pulling away and rubbing at your eyes.

“Morning princess.” Derek grinned, way too energetically for four in the morning. You glared at him as Hotch nudged you and pressed the tablet into your hands, information already loaded up for you just as Garcia’s voice filled the jet.

“Police just responded to the scene of another body, same markings on the victim.” She told you all, causing you to look down at your notes to see the markings she spoke of.

You raised an eyebrow as you saw each woman had three crosses carved into their skin, one large one on their chests and then small ones on each inner arm. As well as that there was a diagonally cut along their face starting from the temple right down to their jaws.

“The crosses seem to be done post mortem, they’re too clean and haven’t scabbed over whereas the cut to the faces seem to be done whilst the victims are alive if the jaggedness and blood pattern is anything to go by.” Spencer informed everyone as you continued to skim through the information.

So far three bodies had been found, four now including the latest victim, all found spread out in public places. You looked up just in time to see Rossi and Hotch glance at you before sharing a look with each other but when you raised a questioning eyebrow at Hotch he just shook his head.

“Tell them to leave the body as it is, Garcia, we’ll be there soon.” With that Garcia disconnected the video call leaving you all to look through the notes and talk about potential unsubs.

“Y/N I want you with me at the latest crime scene. JJ, Dave head down to the station and see what they have, Reid go with them and see if you can narrow down the geographical profile. Morgan, Prentiss go to the lab and see if they have anything for us yet.” Hotch instructed as the jet landed and you all headed your separate ways.

As you and Hotch walked the crime scene, trying to figure out how somebody could plant and position a body without being caught even considering the early hour, you felt uneasy. Your head whipped around as you surveyed the scene but other than the press and officers nobody was there.

“You ok?” Hotch asked as he watched you look around.

“Huh?” You questioned, turning back to him with a shake of your head, “Yeah, I’m fine.” You told him, forcing a smile on your face as he nodded and turned back to the body.

You glanced around once more before doing the same.

It wasn’t long before you were all at the station, nothing coming up from your walk at the crime scene, Morgan and Prentiss hadn’t found out much from the ME. The only person who had had some luck was Spencer who was gesturing to different places on the map and rambling on about the most likely places the unsub could be.

You felt bad for zoning it out but geographical profiles had never been your forte. Instead you turned your attention to Hotch who was listening to Spencer whilst rubbing his temple, trying to push away an oncoming headache.

You stood up and headed out of the room, Hotch turning to you as you did but you weren’t gone long, heading out to the kitchen area to pour yourself and Hotch a drink. Hotch shot you an appreciative smile as he brought the cup to his lips.

“So all we know is that the unsub is somewhere in that area and is consistent in victimology and that only gets us so far, short of looking the same these girls are as different as you could get.” Derek said as he threw his folder onto the table.

“He’s right, they never went to school together, never shopped at the same stores, hell I doubt these girls had anything connecting them.” Emily said.

“There’s something we’re missing, get Garcia to keep looking into them.” Hotch ordered as he stood up to take a call.

“Reid, are you able to pinpoint anything about where he’s finding these girls?” Rossi asked, leaning back in his chair and fiddling with a pen.

It was only hours later that you were informed of another body. You, Spencer, Derek and Hotch headed to the scene to see if you could find anything useful. It was more than obvious that the unsub was devolving, two bodies in one day. The crosses on the latest victim were clearly done when she was alive, all of them jagged and messy.

As Spencer and Hotch examined the body and Morgan interviewed the woman who had found the body you looked around and noticed an alleyway not too far from the body, it seemed like the only place that an unsub would have half a chance at not being caught from.

You glanced back to the others and saw they were still busy so shrugged and headed over, with the way this case was going it was probably just another deadend. But yet when you headed into the alleyway you got the same feeling you did at the last crime scene, you felt uneasy as the hairs on your neck stood up, a shiver running down your spine as you looked around but nothing was there.

As you turned to leave you came face to face with a man much taller than you and before you had the chance to scream or pull your gun he immediately smothered your face with a rag. You tried not to breathe in but were forced to and it wasn’t long before you slumped against the man who wore a sleazy grin.

“What do you mean she's gone?” Hotch snapped as Derek informed him you were nowhere to be found.

“I don’t know man, she’s not here.” He watched as Hotch stepped away, pulling his phone out and listening for a ringtone to sound from somewhere around him but it never came. The car was still here and there weren’t many places you could go.

“Get Garcia to track her location,” Hotch said to Derek, “Now.”

The tone of Hotch’s voice had Derek obeying the order instantly, no flirting with Garcia as he snapped at her to do what he asked.

“It’s off.” Garcia told him with fear running through her veins.

“What?” Hotch snapped into the phone that was now on speaker.

“It’s not on, I can’t track it.” Garcia repeated, her thoughts spiralling.

Hotch bit back a series of curses as his team and the officers looked to him for guidance and he hated that he didn’t have an answer.

They somehow ended up at the station, each of them trying to create a profile that would lead them to you. Hotch paced up and down an empty interview room, hair messed up as he continued to run his fingers through it cursing himself for letting you come along to the crime scene in the first place.

“You need to calm down.” Rossi told him as he entered the room.

“Calm down?” Hotch questioned with a look of disbelief, “Calm down?! It’s my fault she got taken and you want me to calm down?”

“It’s not your fault.” Rossi told him, voice even despite the worry he felt for you. Somebody had to keep a level head and it clearly wasn’t going to be Hotch.

“Not my fault? Dave, she matched the unsub’s victimology, I knew that and I still let her come to both crime scenes, I never shou-” Here Hotch cut himself off as he remembered something.

“What is it?” Rossi asked, following Hotch out of the room as he stormed over to the one the team had been given.

“Get Garcia on the phone.” He demanded and his order was fulfilled in seconds, Garcia’s worried voice filling the room.

“What can I do?” She asked.

“I need you to pull up video footage from the McAdams crime scene,” He told her, mind racing.

“On it, what am I looking for?” The sound of typing filled the room as Hotch thought back to the look on your face.

“The unsub was at the crime scene. Y/N knew it, she knew he was there.” Hotch told them.

“She knew the unsub was there?” JJ asked.

“She didn’t know who it was but she knew something wasn’t right. The look on her face-” Hotch trailed off as Rossi led him to an empty seat.

Nothing any of them said would stop the man blaming himself, not until he had Y/N back.

The team sat in silence as Garcia flipped through footage after footage desperately looking for anything that would help lead the team to you, trying not to think about what the man was doing to you right now.

It took near on forty minutes of scrolling through video feeds before Garcia found something. It wasn’t the clearest footage but the guy definitely gave her the creeps.

“Sir, I think I found him.” Garcia said, causing Hotch to sit straighter in seat as he stared at the phone waiting for her to continue. “If you’ll direct your attention to your tablets,” she said as she sent the blurry images to all of them. “I’m working on making it clearer and getting a face ID as we speak.”

“Fast as you can, Garcia.” Hotch ordered.

“Yes sir, I’ll let you know when I’ve got something.” Because she would get something, no way was she letting anything bad happen to you.

Hotch was a mess as he paced around the small room, setting everybody's nerves even further on edge, if it were possible. They hadn’t seen Hotch this worried for as long as they could remember. The only thing running through everyone’s mind was that they had to find you.

Everybody’s attention turned to Hotch as his phone pinged.

“Aaron?” Rossi asked, standing up as he watched his friend pale drastically. “Hey, whoa, take a seat.” He said, watching as the man’s legs turned to jelly and pushed him into a chair.

As he took the phone from Hotch he saw exactly what had caused the reaction, there you were, strapped to a chair with a cross carved onto your chest, blood pouring from the wound as tears fell down your cheeks.

“We have to find her.” Hotch said quietly, his own eyes filled with tears as the image of you burnt into his mind.

“We will.” Rossi told him before turning to the team, “Call Garcia, tell her to track the phone.”

With some luck Garcia managed to get a location on you before the phone was switched off again. The unsub was hiding away in an abandoned warehouse thirty minutes away from them.

Hotch drove like a mad man, with the way the unsub was going he wasn’t sure if you had thirty minutes. He pushed that thought out of his head as he blinked back tears and tightened his grip on the wheel.

He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t because then he’d have to think about everything he would regret, the number one thing on that list would be not telling you how he felt about you. How you were one of the few good things in his life and how he never wanted to be without you. He’d regret not taking the risk, not crashing his lips into yours.

He thought back to all the dinners the two of you had together or the times you spent the night at his place, nothing ever happening but sometimes cases got too much for you and you needed somebody safe. You had told him he was your safe place and he still hadn’t bit the bullet and kissed you. He should have told you then and there he was in love with you, how every time he pictured his future you were always there with him, at his side.

He swore to himself he’d tell you now.

He’d tell you now.

They arrived at the warehouse, blue and red lights lighting the place up as everybody stepped out of their cars, guns drawn as they split up and entered. Hotch had done plenty of rescue missions before but this one was different, this one was you.

They weren’t prepared for the size of the place, more rooms than they could count and you could be in any one of them. Hotch felt himself going crazy as they opened door after door only to find nothing.

“Hotch,” Derek’s voice sounded in his ear, “You need to get here quick,” He was told the room number and that was it.

Hotch practically sprinted across the warehouse, fear flooding through him as Derek refused to tell him whether you were ok or not. He pushed through the door, Spencer and JJ right behind him, before freezing, the other two barely stopping themselves from crashing into him.

Because there you were on the floor, medics surrounded you as they performed CPR in a desperate attempt to get any sign of life from you.

Hotch staggered backwards, knees giving out as he fell to the floor. Derek made his way over but what could he do? They all watched on as the medics continued working on you, the blood loss was way too much though.

One medic shook their head causing Hotch to let out a sob as two other medics brushed past the group and it wasn’t long before you were being carried out to the ambulance.

“I’m going with her.” Hotch said as he tried to climb into the ambulance but was pushed away by one of the medics.

“I’m sorry sir but you can’t.” She said with a sympathetic look.

“I’m going with her.” He repeated harshly, Derek placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down but he shook it off.

“Agent, I’m going to be honest with you she might not even survive the ride to the hospital, the only people in that ambulance are going to be her and the people who might be able to save her life, you wanna stand here and continue this conversation or can I go and save your girlfriends life?” She asked bluntly, she felt sorry for the man but there wasn’t time for this argument. “Meet us at the hospital.” Were the last words said before the ambulance doors closed and the sirens sounded.

“She has to be ok.” Hotch said to himself.

“It’s Y/N, she’s gonna be fine.” Derek told him but all that blood had him doubting his own words.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the hospital, forced into a private waiting room and offered no information. Hotch couldn’t sit still and instead opted to pace the length of the waiting room praying to anybody that would listen that you would be ok, you had to be because he didn’t know what he was supposed to do if you weren’t.

Four hours later a nurse finally came out to see the group of anxious agents. Hotch immediately turned towards him begging for some good news but the look on his face had Hotch’s blood turning cold.

“I’m sorry,” he started and Hotch just about felt his world end, “She’s still in surgery. Her heart stopped three times but we managed to get a heartbeat. It’s still weak and unsteady but it’s there. I can’t make any promises to you but for the moment she’s stable and we’re doing all we can to help her pull through.”

Hotch didn’t know how to react and felt himself collapse into a plastic chair, the nurse giving him a sympathetic look before leaving.

“She’s doing well, Aaron.” Rossi said, taking a seat next to him.

“She died, three times. They don’t know if she’s going to make it.” Hotch said, his voice breaking as tears fell down his face because saying it outloud made it real. “I can’t lose her Dave.”

“She’s a strong kid, she’ll pull through.” Was all Rossi said before the waiting room fell silent again.

“Hey baby girl.” Derek said as he stood up to hug Garcia, both of them needing it right now,

“How is she?” She asked anxiously, sniffing slightly.

“No news yet.” Spencer said quietly from his seat.

“How’s he?” She asked just as quietly gesturing over to Hotch who sat alone in the corner of the room.

“He’s not doing so well.” Emily said, smiling sadly at her boss.

Everybody knew how Hotch felt about you, it wasn’t the best kept secret. Hell, even you knew how he felt and they all knew you felt the same. The only reason you hadn’t acted on it was because you didn’t know if he would be willing to start a relationship with you as his subordinate. As far as the rest of the team was concerned the two of you had been dating for years, you had dinners together, you slept at his place more than your own at this point and on rare days off you still spent your time with each other.

Everybody knew both of you were crazy for each other and watching Hotch not know if he was going to have the chance to tell you how he felt himself was breaking their hearts.

Fourteen hours later a tired doctor stepped through the doors of the waiting room. Everybody turned their attention to him as they waited anxiously to hear anything about you.

“She’s stable,” He told them, smiling softly at the collective sigh of relief that spread throughout the room. “You were told she flatlined three times, correct? Unfortunately she crashed once more but we were able to get a heartbeat. I can’t make promises but as of right now she’s looking good. Obviously we’re going to keep her for at least a week, though that could be longer if things go downhill but I’ll make sure you’re all kept up to date.”

“Thank you so much, doc.” Derek said and everybody else echoed the sentiment.

“Can we see her?” Hotch asked and the doctor gave him a sympathetic look, the man looked like he’d been through hell.

“One of you can,” He agreed, really nobody should but the man looked like he needed to see her and hear a heart machine confirm she was alive, “For five minutes.”

The rest of the team nodded at Hotch who mouthed a thank you to them before he followed the doctor out of the room and over to you.

When the doctor pushed the door open Hotch froze as he saw all the different tubes and wires attached to you, helping you stay alive. His eyes filled with tears as he made his way into the room and sat down in the chair next to you, carefully taking your hand in his and bringing his mouth down to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“You’re going to be ok, Y/N/N,” He told you, eyes on the heart monitor that showed a weak but beating heart rate. “You have to be ok because I have so much to tell you but the most important thing you have to know is that I love you,” He told you, tears falling down his cheeks, “I love you so much, baby. You’ve got to get better so I can tell you that.”

He looked up when he heard a knock at the door, the doctor giving him a sympathetic look. Hotch nodded at him before standing and taking one last look at you, gently leaning over and placing a barely there kiss on your forehead.

“I love you.” And with that he made his way back to the waiting room.

It was four days before there was any movement from you and then they wished they never heard anything. Alarms sounded and the team watched as a flock of doctors and nurses made their way into your room but despite the open door they couldn’t see what was happening.

“Chest compression now, she’s going into cardiac arrest!”

Those words sent a sliver of ice down everybody’s spine, Hotch staring wide eyed at the door, not daring to take his eyes off it like that would somehow help you.

“Defibrillator!” Another doctor called and then he was counting before they shocked you, “Nothing, again!” “Clear!” “Again!”

The words merged into each other as Hotch leaned against the wall for support, his own heart beating out of his chest as he heard them continue to shout how there was nothing.

“We have a pulse!” One doctor finally called and Hotch sobbed, Rossi barely catching him as his knees gave out and pulled him into a tight hug.

“She’s being transferred into the ICU,” the doctor informed them after several hours had passed, “we’ve put her into an induced coma to allow the body to heal but she should be awake in the next two days.”

Those two days seemed to drag, there was no news about you but at this point no news was good news. Everybody else left and came back to the hospital but Hotch had yet to leave once, refusing to leave you alone here even if you weren’t aware of where you were or his presence.

He barely slept and was on edge the whole time you were in the coma, dreading every time a nurse or doctor came close to the waiting room.

“Agent Hotchner,” the doctor greeted as he stepped in, it was still early and the others were back at the hotel.

“Doctor Smith, how is she?” He asked, dread filling his stomach but then the doctor smiled and he felt a weight fall of his shoulders at the words -

“She’s awake.”

Hotch just about kept himself upright as he was led to your room, letting out a sob as he saw you awake through the window.

“Before you go in there’s some things I have to tell you,” the doctor said, Hotch nodding as he did, “she’s going to be extremely weak and tired for a while, her body has been through a lot of trauma in a short space of time. Give her time. I can’t promise you she’s out of the woods yet but we’re doing everything we can. The only advice I can give you is spend as much time with her as you can.”

And with those comforting words the doctor patted Hotch’s shoulder and walked away.

Hotch took a deep breath before he stepped forward and entered your room, smiling at you as your eyes flickered over to him. He made his way around to the chair next to your bed, taking your hand gently in his, careful of the needle.

“It’s so good to see you awake.” He said, leaning down to kiss your hand.

He watched as you gave him a weak smile and a barely there squeeze of the hand. It was the best thing he’d seen in his life, he thought as he choked back a sob.

“I’m so proud of you,” He told you, “You’re doing so well.”

You felt your lip quiver as you took in his words, your body was aching despite all the drugs in your system. Everything hurt but Hotch was here, Hotch made everything better.

You slowly managed to squeeze his hand again, watching as he smiled down at your joined hands.

“You’re going to be out of here before you know it, yeah?” He asked, watching as you blinked tiredly at him. “We can go to that new restaurant that just opened and then maybe see if there are any good movies on?”

You tried to smile but you’re pretty sure all that happened was a brief purse of your lips but you watched Hotch’s face light up anyway.

Hotch continued to talk about all the things the two of you could do once you got better and you couldn’t think of a better way to fall asleep.

It was a while before you were finally discharged from the hospital, the rest of the team had been forced back to Quantico but Hotch took every bit of holiday time he had and used it to stay with you. Thankfully since your cardiac arrest you had been doing better though you still felt drained more often than not and had a few problems with dizzy spells but the doctors had explained how that was normal after both the cardiac arrest and blood loss.

You and Hotch had to stay in a hotel for three extra weeks as you weren’t cleared to fly until then. In the meantime Hotch and you shared a room, it was easier that way for him to check on you and honestly you didn’t want to be alone right now and Hotch was the only person you wanted to be with.

The two of you lay on the bed, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you rested your head on his chest. It was only early, around five pm, and despite the nap before you could still barely keep your eyes open.

“I’m so glad you’re ok.” Hotch murmured suddenly into the silence causing you to look up at him. “There were so many times I thought that was it, that you were gone and I just- I couldn’t-” He cut himself off, blinking back tears as he tightened his hold on you slightly.

“I’m ok.” You reminded him softly.

“You’re ok,” He repeated, “I can’t lose you, Y/N and this isn’t exactly how I wanted to tell you but I think we’ve waited long enough,” He told you with a chuckle, causing you to smile up at him softly. “I love you, Y/N, so much. I can’t picture my life with anybody else and honestly, I don’t want to, I just want you.”

Your smile widened as you listened to his words.

“I love you too, Aaron. I don’t want to picture my life with anybody else either.” You told him softly, shifting slightly so you were looking up at him and Aaron took that as all the permission needed to lean down and softly brush your lips together.

It was a kiss long overdue but neither of you rushed it, both content to show how you felt for each other in soft, slow movements, Hotch’s hands cupping your face as you smiled into the kiss.

When Hotch pulled away he didn’t go far, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.” You smiled before leaning up to capture his lips again.

As far as rescue missions go, it wasn’t the greatest but the ending was pretty great.

___________

Hotch Taglist (click the link in my bio to add yourself!) - @canadailluminate, @filmsbyblair, @mrs-scottmccall, @j-cat, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29, @chickensrule, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @fanf1ctionwrit1n, @cassidymb121, , @grccnaway, @averyhotchner, @chaoticevilbakugo, @sia2raw, @cleardetectivechaos, @silverose365, @mystic-writings, @touchdeprivedwh0re, @ellevandeberg, @taecube, @alexxavicry, @battinsonn, @labellapeaky, @parkershoco, @father-violet, @lizamango, @leftmooninfluencer, @varshhyy, @urbestgrrl, @randomwriter1021,

Febuwhump Masterlist

Day One - Head Wound - Matt Murdock x Reader

Day Two - Failed Rescue Attempt - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Day Three - Blood Loss - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Day Four - Nightmares - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Day Five - I Dreamt You Were Alive - Tom!Peter Parker x Reader

Day Six - Hypothermia - Matt Murdock x Reader

Day Seven - Used as an Experiment - Frank Castle x Reader

Day Eight - No Anaesthesia - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Day Nine - Kidnapped - Matt Murdock x Reader

Day Ten - "How Long Has It Been?" - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Day Eleven - Black Eye - Frank Castle x Reader

Day Twelve - Spiked Drink - Andrew!Peter Parker x Reader

Day Thirteen - Won't Regain Consciousness - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Day Fourteen - Can't Go Home - Tom!Peter Parker x Reader

Day Fifteen - Hidden Scars - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Day Sixteen - "Does That Hurt?" - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Day Seventeen - Blindfolded - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Day Eighteen - Forced to Watch - Spencer Reid x Reader

Day Nineteen - Friendly Fire - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Day Twenty - Caged - Remus Lupin x Reader

Day Twenty One - "Help Them" - Frank Castle x Reader

Day Twenty Two- Restrained - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Day Twenty Three - "Don't Leave." - Andrew!Peter Parker x Reader

Day Twenty Four - Too Weak to Move - Frank Castle x Reader

Day Twenty Five - Muffled Screams - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Day Twenty Six - "Please Don't Do This." - Harry Potter x Reader

Day Twenty Seven - Shower Breakdown - Matt Murdock x Reader

Day Twenty Eight - Presumed Dead - Daryl Dixon x Reader

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).

7k words, new-ish established relationship, lots of fluff between angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, reader calls him aaron mostly

༺༻

The security for Aaron's building is weird. Weird as in extensive, intimidating, and extremely intricate. 

You'd really wanted to minimise his stress — the whole reason you're here is to bring him a forgotten sheet of paper that must've slipped out at your kitchen table from one of his case files because you don't want him to have to make up a new copy — but you're too scared to go in. 

You pull your phone out reluctantly and dial in his number, eager to hear his voice even if the security detail a few feet away are freaking you out. 

"Hotchner." 

"Hi, handsome," you say softly. 

There's a small pause. For a split-second a nightmare situation runs through your head, his low voice asking, Who is this?

"Hi, honey." 

You beam so wide it aches, forcing a pleased little breath from your mouth. 

"What do you need?" he asks. 

"I'm outside of your building but I'm too afraid to come in. I'm not sure they'll let me. I need a badge, right?" 

"You're outside." 

You pick at the hem of your sweater, a loose thread marring your otherwise pretty outfit. You'll admit to dressing up unnecessarily to see him. Nice clothes, your most subtle perfume. 

"I found something confidential this morning, a piece of paper. I didn't read it, I promise."

"You really shouldn't be here," he says. 

Your smile abruptly drops. You press the phone closer to your face and wait, hoping he's not talking to you. When it's clear that he is you cringe, the silence pervasive and the most awkward it's ever been with him. 

"Sorry." Your apology is quick, quiet. "I thought it would be easier for you. I didn't mean to… overstep." 

"It's not that. It's busy. Would you hang on to it for me? Maybe I can come and get it tonight, bring dinner." 

You love how he says it. It's not a question, not an assumption. And it's a relief. If he wants to see you on a night where you hadn't planned to get together, he can't be mad at you for being here. 

"Yeah, please. If you want to." 

"I want to. Okay?"

Not for confirmation, it's shorthand. You okay? 

"Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of your day, handsome." 

"Bye." 

You like to think you can hear the sound of his phone clicking shut, imagining him at his desk in one of his neat suits with a case file open in front of him. You're not sure on the specifics of his job but you know he looks good doing it, and you also know he's very, very busy. You don't take his clipped goodbye as anything but efficiency. 

Maybe you should. 

—

The next time Aaron inadvertently hurts your feelings is in person. 

Compared to him, you wouldn't say you're an incredibly exciting character. Your day job is tame, your hobbies are invaried. You like to watch TV, see movies, you enjoy people-watching. When you hold that stuff up to his job, his profiling, and his hobbies (seriously, who likes triathlon?) you feel rather immature. 

You know deep down that hobbies are hobbies and that your job doesn't define how special you are, but when you're with someone like Aaron who lives and breathes his profession it can play with your head. 

"Is there something interesting about my shirt?" he asks, a murmur under the sound of the TV. 

You look up from the hem of his nice button down and smile, a half-smile. You want it to be more genuine than it is. "Don't you already know?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You can tell I'm…" You frown, dropping the starched material of his shirt from between your fingers. "I've given myself up, haven't I?" 

"A little," he concedes sympathetically. 

You huff your defeat and let your cheek fall into his chest. Nice to seek comfort from him, nicer for him to give it to you, his arm rising from behind your shoulders to hook around your neck. 

"I'm not profiling you," he says, voice close to the top of your head, "I'm wondering what you're thinking."

You relax under his touch, his big hand settling in the curve of your neck. A semi-hug. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his front completely, your unhappy thoughts dissolving with any tension and leaving only a want to kiss his stupidly nice neck.

"It doesn't matter," you say. 

"You sure?" 

You lift your head from his chest. He has to lean back to meet your eyes and he does it unflinchingly, a bemused smile playing on his lips. 

"I'm good. Better, if you would…" 

"Yeah?" he asks quietly, leaning down, down. 

You can't withstand his charms. He knows exactly how to get you, his smile and his eyes, his lashes kissing in the corners as they close. 

He's imposing in the best way, a heavy presence that overwhelms you. All you can think about is the way he nudges his nose with yours to encourage your head back and the heat of his lips as they touch your own. His arm tightens behind your head.

You try to rise onto your knees, hands vying for his neck and his pitch dark hair. You're doubly pleased when you feel his mouth turning up into a smile, a mirror of your own. 

"Slow down," he chides gently. 

You're about to say something unlike yourself, something loud and brash. Speed up, Hotchner. You're hopped up on the giddiness that comes with being close to him. You're just about to say it when his phone rings. 

He gives you a short, hard kiss. 

"Hotchner." 

You sit back in his lap, his hand sliding to the small of your back to keep you close as his face clouds with confusion. You attempt to climb off of him because you're not a sack of sugar — you're probably giving him numb thighs — but he won't let you.

"Garcia," he says eventually, "is this an emergency?" His tone makes it clear to you that whatever it is Garcia is saying, it's far from an emergency. 

His hand climbs up, over your shoulder. You shudder as he tugs your earlobe, a mild and thoughtless gesture. You're so busy shivering you almost miss his playful eye roll. 

"I haven't changed my mind. Yeah. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm perfectly happy where I am tonight." 

Whatever Garcia says makes him laugh. If you weren't sitting as close to him as you are you wouldn't have heard it. 

"Have fun. Bye," he says succinctly. He snaps his phone closed in one hand, the other dropping from your ear to your shoulder. It's heavy with a remorse you can't allow. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," you assure, tilting your head toward his hand and pretending to size him up. You don't know how to profile, but you're a good guess. 

"You're not telling me something." 

"No?" He blinks in surprise.

"No. You've been invited somewhere with your work friends, and you usually go. Why not tonight?" 

"I think that's obvious." 

"You don't have to flake on your friends for me, Aaron." 

He smiles as you say his name. "Like I told Garcia, I am perfectly happy where I am." 

You hide your face in his neck lest he see your doped up smile. "You have nice friends," you murmur, working your hands under the hem of his shirt. 

"I think you'd love Garcia after the infinitial terror." 

"I think I would too. She's good to you, after all. Makes me like her… Maybe one day we can all go out for drinks." 

You don't have to be a profiler to feel the way he tenses. 

"Yeah," he says. It sounds very much like Probably not. 

That's a strumming hurt. Aaron is so nice, so so nice, and he treats you like you're gold dust. He does all the movie boyfriend stuff like flowers, silver earrings on your birthday (with tiny diamonds!), dinner reservations at dauntingly fancy restaurants. And he does stuff you didn't know men did, like calling you near every night to make sure you had a good day, and praising even your smallest achievements, and leaving notes in places he knows you'll find them on hard days. You don't know how he knows when days are hard, he just does. 

You'd figured all of this stuff meant he must really like you, might even love you though he's yet to say it, and that's why his lack of enthusiasm stings. 

Why doesn't he want you to meet his friends? He's obviously very proud of what they do at the BAU. They're not the issue. 

It's you. 

You cuddle him as a pit forms in your chest. 

"You're tired?" he asks.

Funny how it's his comfort you crave when he's the one who's hurt your feelings. You're a little lopsided being upset with him, and you know if you tell him how you feel he'll try to make it up to you, but you're too afraid of the other alternative — a fight. Right now his arms are a sanctity you wouldn't trade for anything. You hope he feels the same. 

You're not sure anymore. 

"Yeah," you say roughly. 

Your eyes burn as he pats your back. "Let's go to bed, honey." 

You'll just… have to prove you're someone worth showing off. 

—

Your plan, loosely titled 'Get Aaron Hotchner to Show Me Off,' is going about as well as you'd thought it would. 

If Aaron doesn't want me to meet his friends there must be a reason. You've been thinking about it and it can't be a coincidence that he hadn't wanted you to return his paperwork a few weeks ago. That must've been something significant. 

But what? 

You start with your hair. Aaron has expressed a lovely and heaping handful of times that he thinks you have pretty hair. He plays with it often, usually when he's limp and tired from a long day. You've always taken care of it. Now you're going to the extreme — hair masks, hair appointments you can't afford, anything to make it look perfect. 

It doesn't work toward the plan, though your boyfriend certainly notices. 

"Your hair," is the very first thing he says when he sees you, stopping only in his smiling assessment to kiss your cheek in greeting. 

"Is it okay?" you ask, turning your face to one side. 

"More than okay. Do you want to go in?" 

So it's kind of a bust. But that's okay, you weren't expecting to get a haircut and magically be invited to team dinners. You persevere, and eventually you forget the plan for the night when Aaron promises to show you how much he likes your new look with a hand at the small of your back. 

Phase two, your clothes. 

You dress as nicely as you can but you're no fashion guru and you can't afford an entirely new wardrobe. You get a bunch of magazines and look for fall staples. What's in this year, and how do you style it? You buy a couple of pieces that fit your budget and try to work around them. 

Aaron's favourite are the new corduroy pants. They aren't a great fit. 

"They're too tight," you lament, pulling the fabric from your thighs where they hug snugly. They're a desaturated sort of burgundy, not bright by any means but a good 'pop of colour'. 

"I know," he says. 

You gawp at him, and when he gets his fingers on the buttons afterward, you break. 

"You like them?" you ask worriedly. 

"What makes you think I don't?" 

"Besides how eager you are to get them off of me?" 

He hooks two fingers in your belt loops and holds your gaze as he tugs them down. "I like them." 

A good time, but still no dice. You suppose a new look, besides looking smarter, doesn't actually prove your merit as a girlfriend. Maybe he wants something a little more concrete before he introduces you to people. Maybe things aren't as good for him as they are for you, and he doesn't see the point. 

That particular thought sparks a wave of panicked tears. 

The next time you see him, it's like he can tell. You wonder if he has x-ray vision, some sixth sense for tear stains that he has yet to tell you about. He's been gone for a few days in St. Louis, and when he'd come back he'd spent the weekend with Jack, so it's a whole seven days since the last time you saw him and your worries have festered. Not even his doting phone calls had kept the thought at bay. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You open your door and there he is in a quarter zip with an overnight bag, matte suit cover draped over one arm. 

"Hi," you say, unsure. 

"Did I get uglier while I was away?" he asks seriously. 

You startle. "No, of course not." 

He smiles and meets you in the doorway, your head dipping back to accommodate. "I think I've had it too good," he says lightly, bringing a tentative hand to your cheek. "Are you okay?" 

You're trying to work out what he means, and when you do your heart skips. "Handsome!" you say urgently. "Hi, handsome. No, you didn't get uglier, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and-" 

He kisses you. It's malaligned because of your parted lips, but it's good. You'd really missed him. 

"You're definitely still handsome," you murmur. 

"Doesn't count. I begged for it-" 

"No!" you deny, lifting on tiptoes to give him another kiss and stop his slander. "It does count because you're always handsome, I promise. I think I slept too much and miswired my brain when I woke up." 

"I don't mind that you didn't call me handsome," he says firmly, "now let me in. We have dinner to make." 

"Right, sorry."

Aaron frowns at you, then. It's weird. He frowns at his phone, at the TV, at nothing, but he doesn't frown at you. 

"Is something wrong?" he asks as you traverse down the hall. You hold your hands out for his suit and bag to take to your room and hang up, ignoring his question. He doesn't give them to you. "Is there?" 

"No." You smile as you say it. 

You're an awful liar, especially with him. He makes you more nervous than anyone because he's your boyfriend and because he's a literal human lie detector. 

"You didn't even try." 

You cover your face with both hands and groan dramatically, spinning around and away from him. You don't want him to see how flustered you are. 

"Don't make fun," you beg. 

"You're embarrassed." 

"Teach you that at the Bureau, do they?"  

You stop in the doorway of the kitchen, distracted by your own racing thoughts when suddenly there are two long arms needling around your waist and pulling you backward. You gasp a laugh and squirm uselessly to escape. 

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

You tip your head back, hands falling from your face in surprise. "What for, handsome?" 

His laugh fans out over your face but when he speaks again there's no humour there, only sincerity, "For being gone so long." 

"Well don't be. You can't exactly help it, Agent Hotchner," you hum. 

"Oh, don't." 

"Going out and saving the world takes time. I knew that when I met you, 'n I know it now. You don't have to say sorry." 

"I'm not apologising for my work. I'm apologising that we've," — his nose presses into the highest point of your cheek — "been apart." 

"I did miss you," you relent. 

He presses his lips to your cheek. "I missed you too." 

It's a nice distraction. You'd missed one another, and now you're together. You forget for a while what you'd worried, and only when he leaves again do you remember. 

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend. 

You're not stupid enough to think Hotch is using you for anything, or that he's insincere. You're level-headed, though. His affection for you isn't necessarily permanent no matter how genuine. 

You don't want to be overbearing. The offers start slow. 

I can wash that for you. Of course I'm sure, I'm great with whites. 

Maybe I could make you lunch tomorrow. You can take it in, spare yourself the federal cafeteria. 

Yeah, I got them shined for you. They were looking a little dull at the toes. 

"Do you want me to press these?" you ask. 

Aaron looks up from where he's sitting in bed. You'd been out on a foray to the bathroom and have come to a stop by his bedroom door where a pair of black slacks hang in wait for the morning. 

He pushes a darling pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No." 

"Are you sure? It won't take five minutes." 

"I'll do it in the morning." 

"I can do it for you, then. Just wake me up," you say, pushing back the sheets on the empty side of his bed. Your socked foot bumps his thigh as you pull up your legs. "What are you reading?" 

He puts his book on the nightstand, takes off his glasses. It's too bad. He really suits them.

"I want to talk to you about something." 

You laugh and slide down onto the flat of your back. 

"What?" he asks, confused, the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes. 

"It's unlike you to start that way. You always cut around the fat." You bring his bed sheets up to your nose and squint at him. "'M I in trouble?" 

"Depends." 

"On what?" 

"You know I care about you." 

Your heart somersaults. That feels very much like a break-up opener, and he must see your anxiety on your face. He wrangles your hand from under the sheets and leans over you, his face in your eyeline, his fingers massaging yours until they ache in the good way. 

"Do you know how much?" he asks. 

"Is that a trick?" 

"No." 

You wait in case there's something he's going to add. When there's nothing, you pull the sheets to your chin and tamp down your perplexed pouting. 

"Yeah, I know how much." 

"I'd like to tell you how much." He pulls your joined hands toward his jaw. "I know I'm not always here, but I'm always thinking of you. In roundabout ways." 

"What ways?" you ask. Self-indulgence.

Aaron Hotchner indulges you. 

"I see," — he kisses your hand — "trees. I've seen a thousand trees, but when I see the bigger ones I wish you could see them too." 

It's a dropping sensation, near uncomfortable, that's how gutted his confession makes you feel. "You do?" 

"Sometimes women walk past me and I swear that it's you because they smell like your perfume. Flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Lights through the jet window." It's the kind of stuff you like to point out to him when you're together. 

He stares at you, a long, reassuring look. 

He deserves a better reply, but all you can say is, "I think of you all the time, too." 

"I love that you want to take care of me, but you don't need to wear yourself out." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. So that's what this is about. Aaron has profiled you, and now he's being the gentleman that he is and assuaging your fears. 

"I'm not," you say quickly. 

He understands that you're saying I'm not wearing myself out rather than I'm not taking care of you. You are taking care of him, the best that you can, the best that he'll allow. 

"I can press my own pants," he says, leaning down for a kiss. "I can shine my own shoes." He kisses you again. You screw your eyes closed as the warmth of his breath heats your cupid's bow. "I can do my own laundry." He pulls back, dropping your hand in favour of your neck. His thumb pushes against your windpipe gently, palm hot over your skin. "I'll accept the lunches, if you're sure you don't mind making them." 

You feel as excited as you did the very first time he touched you, chest full of a dizzying pleasure, heart bump-bump-bumping a racing rhythm. His thumb strokes a lazy quarter circle into your neck. He can probably feel your pulse, see the way your eyes have blown. 

"I love making them," you say, breathless in earnest.

"The team think I'm spoiled." 

"You aren't spoiled." You're adored, you want to say. You cup his cheek instead. "You'd be spoiled if I brought them by everyday." 

Aaron doesn't stay with you and you don't stay with him enough to make him lunch everyday. He might get one or two a week, and that's when he's home. 

"Wouldn't that be nice," he mutters, his fingers pushing between your neck and the pillow underneath. 

You hike up on to your elbows slowly to avoid headbutting him. "Well, I could." 

His easy, loving smile flattens. "No." 

"I wouldn't mind. My lunch break is super long and it only takes me ten minutes to get there. We could have lunch together." 

"That's not going to work." 

"Okay." You wish you could take it as calmly as he says it. You sound choked up. You are choked up. 

"Sweetheart, the office is a war zone. Half the time I'm not there." 

"I get it," you say, dropping flat onto your back again. 

"Sweetheart." 

"Handsome," you mirror, putting on your best unaffected smile. 

You can't hold it very long, his concerned brows too much to deal with. You turn your head to the left and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, throwing at least half of your expression into darkness. 

Aaron doesn't give up. Does he ever? He cups your cheek and pulls you back to face him. 

"I can't promise any lunch dates. But I was thinking we'd go out for dinner next week, Friday," he begins hopefully, "somewhere nice." 

It feels like an apology and you're desperate to take it. 

"I don't need somewhere nice, s'long as you're there 'n not in Kansas, or Colorado, or Idaho, or New Jersey-" 

He hums and drops his head until his nose lies against your own. "Gonna go through all fifty?" 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hotchner?" 

"I love your voice," he says agreeably. 

Disarmed, you let him charm you, and you let him push it all out of your mind. Plan foiled, your fears fall on the backburner for a third time. 

—

His fourth rejection is the first that feels entirely intentional, though you won't know until later. 

Mostly because Aaron pushes you. 

Far from cruel, the two of you are actually out walking in the city when he forces you into an alleyway, your fancy drink sloshing down the front of your sweater. 

You laugh in surprise and almost roll your ankle, hands clinging to his coat to stop an unfortunate fall. 

"Holy shit, Hotchner, learn to be a gentleman," you say as he presses up against you. "What are you doing? I'm soaked, you're gonna ruin your sleeves." 

He kisses you hard. It's a surprise, your head jumping back against the wall to find his hand already there to protect it. 

It's worth noting that Aaron is a sweetheart in practically every aspect of life. He once apologised after having walked in on you changing, which is ridiculous because most of the nights where you're together he insists on getting you some sort of undressed (even if it's just to help you into your pyjamas).

Needless to say, he's never kissed you like this. Your emotions spike so suddenly you laugh into his mouth, a girlish peel of giggles that you'll regret afterward but can't stop for the life of you. 

He shushes you. "Sorry," he whispers, as ill-composed as you've ever heard him. "Sorry, just-" He cuts you both off with another bruising kiss. 

Your laughter fades into sighs and little gasps for air. Somewhere near the alleyway opening a group of people pass by, a jovial series of cheers and friendly laughter trailing behind them. Aaron presses you further into the wall behind, and slowly, slowly winds down. Weirdly, you think his last couple of pecks feel sorry, softer and sweeter. 

Your lips buzz. 

"Why'd you buy me that fancy drink if you were gonna tip it all over me?" you ask good-naturedly when he finally pulls back. 

"You looked too nice today." His deadpan voice wars with the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. We'll go find you something to change into." 

"Was it really that important that you kiss me right then?" you ask, feigning disdain. 

He looks out toward the main street again. "Yes. Where do you want to go? There's a Nordstrom." 

You take a sip of your drink, unsurprised when he takes your hand and starts to lead you toward the department stores. "Have you ever been inside of a Nordstrom?" 

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

— 

The fifth time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or the brick. It feels heavier than a strand of straw. It's technically already come to pass, so it's an invisible brick. 

You're out for coffee by yourself which really means you're out for something sweet, bundled up in a coat and scarf to fight the night-time chill. 

"Thank you," you tell the barista, accepting your drink and receipt with a smile. 

You turn around and almost walk straight into a pretty dark-haired woman with really nice hair. You make a note to tell Aaron about it when you see him next, not because he'll care but because he likes to hear what you've been thinking about. And right now, all you can think about is her feathered bangs. 

I want nice bangs, you think offhandedly. 

"I'm sorry," you say, trying to move around her. 

She steps into your path. 

"Sorry," you say again. 

She's squinting at you, thin eyebrows peeking out from behind her hair. "Sorry, have we met?" she asks. 

You try not to be too hasty, but you're not sure you've ever seen her. You stare at her as she stares at you, and you get a tiny inkling of familiarity, but it's gone as quick as it comes. 

"I'm really sorry, I don't think so," you murmur, tilting your head to one side. 

She bites her lip, let's it go. "Oh!" she says excitedly, voice bright with triumph. "Oh oh oh! I know who you are, you're Hotch's mysterious girlfriend!" 

Your smile turns quizzical. You know nearly everybody calls Aaron 'Hotch'. Whenever you try it he either gives you the silent treatment or covers your mouth with his hand. 

"I'm Emily Prentiss, I work in the BAU," she explains rapidly, shoving her purse under her hand to offer it for a handshake. 

You do the same and shake her hand. Introducing yourself feels awkward. She knows you. You don't have a clue who she is. Only- 

"Oh, I know who you are now, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" you say contritely. "I've seen photos of you and the team together. It's really nice to meet you." 

She nods. "It's nice to meet you too. I have to say, we've been dying to meet you. We even have a betting pool on what you're like, because Hotch barely says a thing about you." 

You try not to look as devastated as you feel, re-wrapping your fingers around your cup. "No?" 

"We didn't even know what you looked like until we saw you the other day. We came looking to say hi and you'd disappeared." 

You lick your dry lips. "The other day?" 

"Yeah, last Friday. We were out for impromptu drinks, celebrating a case. You know, you should come with sometime. It would be fun." 

Emily talks each word with an undertone of good humour. She's stunning, bubbly, and her hair flows around her face with every movement. 

"He really doesn't talk about me?" 

Emily drops into girl code niceties, backtracking. "I mean, not too often. We catch him smiling at his phone and hear your voice sometimes when you call. He seems happy. Well, happy as Hotch can seem." She swallows. "He's a private creature."

He doesn't talk about me. 

You pretend to check your watch. 

"It was really good to meet you," you say, voice airy with a feigned nonchalance. 

"Yeah, of course. Super nice," Emily says. 

You smile at her. It's more like a grimace. By the time you're outside of the coffee shop you're too upset to care, a humiliated shock of tears brewing behind your achy eyes. 

You hold your cup to your chest and unzip your purse to tuck the receipt inside, trying to maintain some control. There's a folded note inside, thick cardstock quartered. 

You take it out. Your fingers tremble with offended adrenaline. 

You're beautiful. 

Short, sweet, extremely Aaron Hotchner. Too bad you can't believe it. 

Emily Prentiss being out and about means the BAU are done for the night, though whether your workaholic boyfriend got the memo is anyone's best guess. You're not sure if it's better or worse if he's in work when you call. You're so upset that you can't help yourself. 

"Hi, honey." 

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" you ask, staving off tears with all your willpower. 

"I wouldn't write it if I didn't mean it. That one took you a while to find, I was-" 

"Are you sure?" 

"...Are you okay?" 

You glare up at the dark sky rather than answer, blinking hard to force down your tears. You really don't wanna cry, but it's been a bad day and meeting Emily has made it worse. No matter how hard you try to think otherwise, all signs point to Aaron being ashamed of you. Embarrassed to be with you. He's hiding your relationship from everybody. 

"Am I- Is it my clothes? My job?" 

"What's wrong with your clothes?" 

"You tell me, detective." 

You're getting angry. He's- he's lying, or he's messing with you. He's making fun of you. At least that's how it feels. 

"Where are you right now?" he asks. You can picture him shrugging on his suit jacket, putting his files in order to come and meet you. 

You don't want to see him. "I'm at the coffee shop by your apartment. I actually ran into somebody, and I'm feeling very well-informed." A first tear bumps down your cheek. You ignore it. 

"I don't understand." 

"I don't understand! What am I doing wrong?" You bite your tongue in last ditch efforts to remain intact, but the tears won't hold off any longer. You swallow a sob. "What's wrong with me?" 

"Nothing. Nothing, honey, nothing is wrong with you." 

You wipe your wet face with mean hands. 

"Stay where you are. I'll come and meet you." 

"No. I don't wanna see you." 

"Honey-" 

"Leave me alone, Aaron." 

You hang up. You walk for a while, feeling as though steam is rising off of your flushed skin with every clumsy step. It had been a short phone call and already you can't remember what you said, all you can feel is angry, and then that runs out and all you can do is cry. 

You've never felt incredibly attractive. Aaron makes you feel better than that — he has the uncanny ability to inspire self-confidence with a loaded look alone. He can smile at you and your skin feels like it's glowing. 

So why doesn't that translate? If he thinks you're so pretty, why does he insist on hiding you away?

Because that day, he'd seen his friends. He could've introduced you but he took you down the alley and kissed you so you wouldn't be seen. That's not too busy: That's secretive. 

That kiss. You fooled yourself into thinking you must've looked irresistible. Fuck. You went home that night thinking you were the best thing since sliced bread. 

"I'm so stupid," you mutter, sniffling. 

Your self deprecation is muffled by the sound of a slowing car. You don't look up. There are two possibilities for who it is, and you don't want to deal with either. 

The car parks and then you do look up. Despite how mad you are you're not suicidal, and Aaron's given you extensive coaching on sex trafficking. 

It's him. Shocker. 

You're half-expecting him to reprimand you. You didn't look up until I parked. You know it takes five seconds to snatch and incapacitate someone? 

He looks haphazardly put together. Suit jacket on but tie loosened, he rounds the hood of his car and joins you on the sidewalk. You don't want to play games with him. He really doesn't need it, he didn't sign up for it, and drama isn't your style, but you're sick of this. 

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, standing an amicable two feet away, hands at his hips.

"I'm really mad." 

"What else?" 

"I'm thinking," you say, looking down at your cold hands, "that you… That you're…" You rub your cheek into your shoulder to hide a fresh tear. "I don't know, Aaron. I'm thinking lots of things." 

"Do you want to think about them in the car?" he asks. 

Do you want to talk about it?

You don't want to talk about it. You don't like crying in front of him on a good day. 

You're pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he knows you're walking home alone in the dark and distracted. 

You get in the car. He has the good sense not to touch your shoulders like he normally would. 

You buckle as soon as you've closed the passenger side door. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at your knees. 

"Let's forget that, for now." He turns the key but doesn't pull out. "Tell me what's upset you and I'll explain." 

"I met Emily Prentiss." 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"She told me that you don't talk about me. Ever. That they didn't even know what I looked like." 

You know he's listening but he keeps his eyes on the road, and you chance a look at the side of his face. He doesn't seem mad. 

"I don't talk about you often," he says. "But that doesn't mean never… It's true that they didn't know what you look like." 

"Until last week, when they saw us together and you pulled me into an alley so they couldn't see me." 

"Yes." 

Your lower lip trembles. "Do you see why that would upset me?" You're asking genuinely. 

"Yeah, honey." 

Your head jolts up. He's diverting his gaze from the road to you intermittently, offering up a regretful grimace. The oncoming headlights splash over his work worn face. 

"Then why are you doing this? What's so wrong with me that you won't even admit we're together?" 

"Nothing is wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you," he says firmly, volume rising. 

"Then why?" 

His eyebrows pull together. "You're the best person I've ever met that isn't my son, and I selfishly don't want to share you yet. I also don't want to scare you off." 

You pull your sleeves over your hands and turn in your seat, wiping your damp cheeks as he continues. 

"My job is hard, and it's dangerous. It has jeopardised the safety and wellbeing of people I love before. So no, I'm not eager to introduce you to my world. The more intertwined with my life that you become, the more danger I put you in, and…" The car slows down again. He turns to look at you. "And I like that I'm the only one who knows you like this.

"I have been hiding you. I have. But it was a," — his tone turns wry — "misguided attempt at keeping you all to myself. Safe, and to myself." 

You're finding it difficult to be mad with him. 

He's finding it difficult to maintain his poker face. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you're not sure what it's made of, fatigue or relief or plain hurt, whatever it is he doesn't like it. He pulls over. 

You hold still as he pinches the tear off of your chin. 

"How long have you felt like this?" 

"Like what?" you ask wetly. 

"Like this." He opens his hand against your cheek. It encompasses your face; you lean in, hungry for reassurance. 

"I don't know." 

"This is why you changed your hair. Your clothes. And started making my lunch." 

You cover his hand with your own. "I actually really like making your lunches." 

You stare at each other until suddenly you're laughing, sniffly, short of breath. Aaron joins in soon after. He always sounds so surprised to be laughing.

"I'm glad," he says when your laughter has abated, pinky and ring finger caressing down the slope of your cheek. "I really like having them. Rossi can't hide how jealous he is." 

"They know about the lunches?" 

His mindless petting pauses. "They know about the lunches. You're not a secret. I'm… selfish with the details. I'm selfish." Aaron takes back his hand. "I'm sorry." 

You take as deep a breath as you can. "Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm. Can we go home?" 

His eyebrows jump and swiftly smooth again. "Yeah, we can go home." He chucks your chin and gets the car moving again. 

You watch him drive. 

When you get home, he doesn't mind reassuring you some more. Actually, it's like he needs to do it. You'd love to say that it's overkill and that his low murmurings of praise are unnecessary, but you can't. 

"You're lovely," he says seriously across two plates of pasta. Again through the mirror when you're brushing your teeth, and again when you've curled into his chest for the night. You're lovely. Nothing that needs hiding. 

You hear him on the phone early in the morning, half asleep. 

"Hey, Dave. Yeah. Okay. Uh… No, that's fine." He laughs under his breath. "Yeah, if she was awake I'd ask her to make you one. I think she would… Okay. See you in forty." 

You bury your tired face into his pillows and beam. 

—

+1 

Aaron's office is terrifyingly hectic. You can see already that the bullpen is full to bursting with agents, including but not limited to his special team of profilers. There's the distinct smell of coffee, sharp and burning, and then the underlay of printer ink, new paper. 

You can't believe you're here. 

You're not brave enough to introduce yourself to his team, and half aren't at their desks anyways. You hover in the doorway until somebody needs to get past you, taking a reluctant step inside.

You shouldn't wait for Aaron. You should be brave. You're a grown up, and you're bringing your grown up partner his very grown up lunch. You'd wanted desperately to do this. The least that you can do is do it by yourself. 

You've scrapped most of the fall staples but kept the burgundy pants Aaron likes so much at his request. They feel insanely tight on your thighs, as does your collar. In fact, the room has definitely shrunk since you got here. 

Like an idiot, Aaron says your name loud and clear, standing with a hand on the railings at the top of the instep. You hadn't even noticed him emerging from his office.

His voice demands — commands — attention. People turn in their seats, first toward him, and then toward you. 

All eyes on me. 

You don't run but you don't walk either, weaving through desk chairs and people looking a mix of busy and curious.

"You're being cruel," you say as you approach him, a brown paper bag held close to your abdomen. 

"Hi, honey," he says. He wears a knowing smile, all dark and tall and handsome as he starts down the stairs to meet you. 

"Don't punish me." 

"Is that what you'd call this?" he asks, hand quick to clasp your shoulder, glueing you in place so he can kiss your forehead.

And yes, this is what you'd wanted. The doting boyfriend not just at home but at work, too.

That doesn't mean it isn't really, really embarrassing. 

"Is everyone looking at me?" you murmur. 

He slips his arm behind your shoulders to walk you up the stairs. "Yes." His voice drops lower. "At one place specifically, I imagine." 

"What part is that, Agent?" 

He laughs and opens his office door to beckon you inside. "Don't start." 

༺༻

my first hotch fic omg. i did a big character study beforehand but i doubt it's entirely in character, hotch is a difficult character to write for! (and im only at season 4). but this was so fun and he's hot so it's worth it. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a difference to me (and also i love seeing what people thought). thank you for reading!! ♥

↬ Child’s Play: Part 3 ↫

Aaron Hotchner x gender neutral reader

Summary: Jack helps bring you and Aaron back together

Warnings: angst and fluff, brief mention of anxiety

WC: 2.6K

Pic credit: @masterwords​

A/N: text in italics indicates a flashback

Keep reading

what if it was just a thursday?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1059

The plates are in the dishwasher, the oven is cooling down, and a fire is crackling away in the fireplace, radiating heat throughout the house. Your bare feet sink into the plush Oushak rug, and you relish the soft feeling of it. There are two mugs on the coffee table; your favourite and Hotch's favourite. Yours is a vintage one, something from the 70s with an orange floral pattern, kitsch but cute. Aaron's is utilitarian, a handmade brown mug with a little bit of texture. You vaguely remembered buying it at a farmer's market a few years ago, with a matching ashtray and spice canister.

You'd spent the afternoon gardening: sowing some poppy seeds along the treeline, planting broccoli and potatoes in the hopes that you could harvest them in the spring. Asparagus was Aaron's favourite, but someone at the plant barn had told you it might take two or three years to mature. You were sure that you'd forget about it if it was in the ground for that long.

"What's on your mind?" Aaron said softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Asparagus," You said dreamily. "I was thinking of growing some, but it takes forever."

"How was your day?" He asked. "Aside from the gardening."

"It was okay. I wish the weather was nicer," You sighed. "But no complaints. Things aren't too busy at work, which is good."

You reach slightly to intertwine your fingers with his, resting your hands over your shoulder. A contented smile comes over your face and you close your eyes to soak in the moment.

"How was yours?" You look over at him, and his heart sinks. There's an innocence in your eyes that's long since left his own. It's one of the things he loves about you, but it's something he's terrified might disappear.

"Do you really want to know?"

You nod. "I can take it."

He rests the side of his head against your own.

"JJ has been swamped, so we all pitched in for a few hours to sort through the cases. There were something like two hundred cases that have come over her desk in the past week-" Hotch pauses to sigh, running his fingers over his eyebrows.

"Whatever the Bureau is paying her, it's not enough. A lot of the time they'll include details, autopsy reports, photos. I can't imagine how much of it gets stuck in her head. So many of them are kids, or wives, or someone's father, someone's best friend."

"I'm sorry," You said quietly. "That's really hard."

You feel him shrug, rather than seeing it.

"Makes me really appreciate coming home to you," He murmured. "Makes me wish I could sit here and tell you about selling insurance."

You huff a laugh, and lean further into him. "I love you as you are."

"Yeah," He breathes. "I love you too. I wish it could just be a Thursday. No blood and guts, just a Thursday."

There's a comfortable silence for a few moments, both of you staring at the fireplace, the spontaneous patterns of the flames, occasional puffs of smoke.

You swing a leg over his lap, facing him, and tuck your head into his neck, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. He rests one large hand in the back pocket of your jeans, and wraps his other arm around your back, his hand landing between your shoulderblades, stroking back and forth. Even exhausted, he's protective

"Might fall asleep," He whispers.

"Me too," You reply, your warm exhale momentarily lifting the collar of his t-shirt.

"So warm," he mumbles. "I love you."

"We could get a dog," You say quietly. "People who celebrate Thursdays tend to have dogs."

"You think so?"

You press a chaste kiss to his neck. "Yeah."

"How about we start with a cat?"

"Really?" Your voice picks up slightly, and you raise your head to look at Aaron. He smoothes a hand over the back of your head, gently encouraging your face back into the crook of his neck.

"We could go to the shelter this weekend."

You flip through your mental rolodex of the different types of cat, picturing each one in the space you shared with your partner.

Maybe an older cat, already house trained, who liked a quieter house. Someone to keep you company while Aaron was away.

____

Sure enough, you and Aaron fell asleep on the couch, Aaron waking up a few hours later and walking you to bed. The fire had burnt itself out, and the tea had gone cold, but you could leave it until morning.

The weekend rolled around and you walked hand in hand through the animal shelter.

"This one's named Home Depot," He pointed out, a small smile on his face. "Do we want a lady cat or a gentleman cat?"

"I don't mind," You mused, peeking into each enclosure.

"Aaron," You said slowly, pulling gently at his elbow. "This one's named Jude, like Hey Jude."

"Jude's been here a while, since she's one of our older cats. She's a sweetheart," The volunteer offered.

"How old is she?"

"She's seven."

"Can I pick her up?"

The volunteer nodded enthusiastically. "She loves cuddles."

You picked up the cat, happy to find that she seemed to be in good health. A nice weight, plenty of fluff, good teeth.

"Does she have any health conditions?" You asked.

The volunteer shook their head. "Not that we know of. As she gets older, she might get a bit stiff in her joints, but for now she seems well."

"Hi sweetheart," Aaron said softly, thumbing the scruff under her chin. "Do you like the look of us?"

She keened, pressing her head up into his hands to meet his touch.

"She's just like me," You smiled.

"Yeah?" Aaron said, smiling at you. You knew what he was asking, and you nodded.

Aaron looked over at the volunteer. "Can we bring her home?"

They smiled. "Absolutely. You'll just need to sign a few things, pay the adoption fee. Then we can give you a bag of food, her bed, her collar... I think that's it. Oh! We could send you home with a toy, if you like, but she hasn't been super playful while she's been here."

"Thank you," You said tenderly. "So much. For keeping her safe until we could meet her."

✨criminal minds headcanons✨

just thought i’d just put these out there

disclaimer: these are all 100% facts, not opinions. if you disagree ur wrong❤️

will and emily got really close and bonded over jj. As much as i love jemily if will didn’t exist but since he does, emily definitely gave him the dad talk. probably intimidated him a lot. “if you hurt her i’ll turn ur balls into meatballs” type deal. but now they’re sort of step siblings.

rossi tried to host his own cooking show but he kept yelling at the producers so it got canceled. rossi had one of the show tapes in his house and the team found it. they never let him live it down.

hotch volunteers at the animal shelter w jack and everyone who works there ADORES them.

reid has an affinity for red bull. we’ve already established he a. doesn’t sleep, b. needs a lot of sugar in his coffee so he’s definitely had an energy drink addiction. he’s also tried to mix coffee and red bull together when he was particularly desperate. he basically poisoned himself and got sick for a week.

garcia will hack into the team members phones just to leave cute lil messages in their notes or reminders. (“5:41 reminder: reid ur perfect in every way”)

hotch picks team members purely based on how bad at emotions they are.

rossi definitely got married drunk in vegas.

one time hotch and jj started panicking cause they couldn’t find jack or henry. five minutes later they get a text from spencer and emily of a picture with them and their kids at disney land.

sometimes the team (minus rossi) will call hotch aaron just to fuck with him and then deny they ever called him aaron. the rest of the team in on it will back them up. (“ok thanks aaron” “what did you just call me?” “i didn’t call you anything. u ok? ur hearing things hotch”)

morgan is a cat person. everyone on the team assumes he’s a dog person, but he loves cats. he’s allergic to dogs.

elle will text or call every so often to let the team know she’s alright.

garcia platonically cuddles whoever had the toughest time on a case whenever she’s on the jet.

emily is really good with knives. especially throwing knives.

there has been a rubber band war in the office. they got a very disappointed lecture from hotch after. but reid swears he saw hotch fling one. hotch neither confirms nor denies.

rossi was this close to becoming a crazy cat lady

reid doesn’t know how to swim.

derek and emily sometimes text eachother pictures of trashcans with the caption “you”

sometimes when morgan wants reid to shut up he’ll just pick him up and throw him over his shoulder.

feel free to add onto any of these

I can’t remember if you’ve done one yet of Jack being jealous of the new baby not because of his dad’s attention but because of readers!

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Aaron says, hands on Jack’s shoulders where his son sits at the kitchen table, “I forgot to tell you, I got you a present.” 

“What kind?” Jack asks, used to presents by now. There’s been books, crayons, and enough toy cars to fill his parking garage to the brim. 

“What kind do you think?” 

He likes when his dad speaks like that. Aaron’s a peppy dad, he says everything in an altered bubbly tone that makes Jack smile, but his best voice is the soft one. Lightly teasing. He hugs Jack with one arm from behind, pressing his nose to Jack’s hair momentarily. 

“A big one?” Jack asks. 

“Sort of…” Aaron smiles. “Do you want me to go get it?” 

Jack’s about to say yes with a laugh, his excitement like a warm flame just below an outheld hand, but he stops when he hears a familiar gurgly sound and your loving laughter. 

“I know, baby.” That’s your voice, tired and soft as his father’s. “You’re exhausted. Let me give you a little squeeze before you sleep, hm? You’ll cry yourself awake if I don’t, you get all those trapped burps.” You laugh to yourself.

Jack sighs and turns back to his drawing. “Okay, dad,” he says, clearly monotonous. 

Aaron frowns behind his head. “Okay, buddy. It’s in the den.” 

“Okie dokie.” 

“Jack,” he says, and not a lot else. 

Aaron can’t wrap his head around it. Jack was so, so excited for Noah. He bragged to everyone at school that his step-mom was having a baby, that he’d have a little brother, and that they were all moving into a big house with a nice yard to play soccer. Jack and Noah Hotchner, best friends since the minute Noah was born. Or, that’s what you and Aaron hoped for.

It started well. Jack is gentle, and he’s understanding; he realised the baby would need extra care, and he’s done nothing but kiss and cuddle his new brother whenever they’re together. You got him a sound machine and some custom fitted earplugs for the long nights of crying, you never put Noah before him if you could help it. Aaron even pencilled in an hour of Jack time each day, but it isn’t working anymore. Jack’s just sad. 

The present is a jigsaw puzzle. A thousand pieces of guaranteed time spent together, but Aaron doesn’t have high hopes. 

He takes the two short steps down into the den to meet your eyes, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he mouths. 

You pat the baby’s back. “Well, I might have a suggestion.”

He couldn’t want to hear it more. “Tell me.” 

You hold his baby (your baby but his more urgently, the feeling an ache in his chest and hands) still as small and curled as a rabbit against your chest. Noah’s legs twitch in his onesie, his dark hair short where it brushes your lips. “I think maybe Jack misses me. I miss him, and I’m the grown up. I feel like I barely see him even though we’re living in the same house.” 

Aaron pauses, resting the jigsaw puzzle on the sideboard.

There’s no point in underselling the importance of you in Jack's life. You’re integral to Jack’s happiness, and Aaron can’t believe he hadn’t thought of your suggestion before now; he’s amazed by his own ego. Of course Jack misses you. You spend half your life nursing, which is half a life away from you he didn’t feel before.

“That’s what it is,” Aaron says. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

He takes Noah from your arms, settling him on the slope of his chest. “If it isn’t, we might be out of answers.” Aaron rubs Noah’s back with delight. It’s nice to see a solution to Jack’s upset in sight, and nice to hold the baby while he’s in a good mood. “Seriously, honey. I think you’re right.” 

“What are we gonna do if it isn’t me?” 

“Give this one back?” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“Sorry, I’m kidding!” He gives Noah a little soft kiss. “Just kidding, beautiful. You’re all mine.” 

You take the jigsaw and give him a smile that borders shy. If his arms weren’t full he’d take your wrist in his hand and hold it for a while, but there’s stuff to do. You emerge from the den to the kitchen and Aaron follows. 

“Jack.” 

Jack immediately spins in his seat. Aaron doesn’t need to be a profiler to know your theory is correct. The change in Jack is unmissable. 

“Y/N,” he says, hiding his hope poorly. 

You show him the jigsaw. “I know it’s supposed to be your time with dad, but maybe it can be time with me instead? What do you think?” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah!” You pop the jigsaw in front of him without crushing his drawings. “Can we? I miss you.” 

“I miss you!” he says. 

“Yeah?” You brush his hair back. “You do?” 

“I do, I want to do the puzzle with you! Can we do it?” 

Your smile is part relief, part love. You hook a chair with your ankle and pull it under you as you sit, fingernail already scratching at the plastic wrap on the puzzle to pull it open. “We’re gonna do it right now.” 

The puzzle is a lot of pieces, you’ve barely completed the frame when it’s time for everyone to head to bed, but, reluctant, you and Jack sit at the table where Jack’s climbed into your lap for a ‘better view’, and you’ve wrapped your arms around him, occasionally loosing an arm to direct him to a right piece. The baby put to bed, Aaron pretends to pay more attention to cleaning the kitchen than he’s truly doing, finding himself leaning against the counter with a sterilised bottle in hand as you stroke Jack’s hair. 

“You know I love you?” you ask quietly. 

“Duh. You tell me all the time.” 

“I don’t want you to forget.” 

“I don’t.” 

Jack snaps a puzzle piece in to place and preens at your murmured, “Good job. Maybe we can try to do some of this every night you’re home?” 

Jack doesn’t cry, but it ties Aaron’s heart into a knot anyways when he turns into your chest to hug you tightly. “Okay,” Jack says, voice muffled by your t-shirt. 

You pat his back. His hands scrunch up like he’s worried you’re gonna pull away. 

“Can I get in on this?” Aaron asks. 

“No,” you both say. 

“Please?” 

Jack rubs his cheek into your collar. He doesn’t want to share. “No, dad. It’s not your time.” 

He supposes he does get you every night. “Fine. I love you, though.” 

“Love you too.” 

Hotch request w Jack and new baby!!! Coming back from the hospital and reader is in bed with new baby and Jack while Aaron is in another part of the house (maybe making food in the kitchen) and reader starts crying because she’s in pain and jack is all concerned and sweet and goes to get Aaron??

thank you for requesting, sorry I messed up where everyone was! fem, 1.3k

“He’s gonna stab him!” 

You blink from the spot you’d been staring at, pain momentarily forgotten. “What! Where’d you learn that word?” you ask in surprise. 

Jack leans back against his big velvet pillow, blue with silver stars, looking as though he’s in the lap of luxury. “At school.” 

The cartoon mouse on the TV raises his fencing sword high in the air. 

“He’s not stabbing anyone, they’re fencing,” you say, reaching for his hand to hold. “Stabbing… that’s pretty scary. How did that make you feel?” 

“Well, I’m not gonna stab anyone,” Jack says. 

He’s confused that you’re making a fuss, just old enough to realise you’re poking around for his feelings. You worry lately that you aren’t paying him enough attention because of his new brother, and the word stab isn’t exactly age appropriate. 

But maybe that’s what the boys his age are talking about? You frown more, your hand slipping along his arm to curl behind him. You pull him toward you. “Come on, handsome. Cuddle me.” 

You’re too sore to move, so Jack has to come to you. He crawls across the couch until his arms can wrap around you and his cheek can rest against your chest. Stab is an apt word for the feeling in your stomach. Jack’s arm squeezes at you and the pain worsens, so you move it up your front and curl your arm around him. 

“Is it a bad word?” he asks. 

“No, it’s just like hit or slap, I guess. And I know you’re not gonna do any of that to anyone. You’re too gentle.” 

“Gentle is a good word.” 

“Yeah.” You kiss his forehead, a moment of self indulgence. You love your stepson, and he is oh so kissable. “Oh no, look at the mouse.” 

Charlie sleeps in his swing seat, the soft whirring of its constant motion almost as comforting as the sound of his soft breaths. You watch him for a while, Jack climbing up at your side to press his face to your neck, leg on your thigh, slowly pressing against the tenderness that is your abdomen. “Uh, Jack,” you breathe, trying to pick him up, “you’re gonna have to climb off of me, my tummy hurts too much.” 

“Sorry,” he says quickly, slipping off of you and onto the couch cushion. His foot kicks out as he rights himself, a jamming of his toes against the pain like a spike. 

You take a deep breath. Ouch. 

“It’s okay,” you say, groaning softly as the pain thrums, hand on your stomach as though your touch can make it stop, “just a tummy ache. I– I’m okay.” 

“You got little tears?” he says, his voice going wobbly. You try to blink away tears and end up with a straggler curving down the slope of your cheek. “I’ll go get dad!” 

“Jack, I’m okay,” you say. 

Too late. Jack scrambles from the couch and away from you, up the stairs to find his father. You’re not sure what Aaron’s up to, he’d only said, “I’ll be right back,” twenty minutes ago. You’d guessed laundry. 

You’re glad Jack’s run upstairs when you realise the pain isn’t going away. It’s not bad, not half as bad as your contractions had been, but the whole labour process has sapped you, and you feel weak as a willow branch in bad weather. You shift heavily onto one leg and cross them, uncross them when the pain spikes again, letting out a weird and breathless whine as it turns to a full blown cramp. 

Jack returns with Aaron in tow. His hair is dripping wet, soap suds on his neck and his shirt stuck to his chest. He’s rushed out of the shower to see you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he rounds the couch. “Jack told me you’re not feeling well.” 

You hold your arms out for a hug. He doesn’t falter, simply does as you want, his hair wringing wet and dripping onto your shoulder as he gathers you in his arms. 

You hold onto him like a lifeline. The cramp curls, and tightens, has you seizing up against him. 

“What is it?” he asks softly. “Stomach pains again?” 

The nurse said it’s your uterus shrinking. Whatever it is, it’s sudden agony. You shudder into Aaron’s shoulder until the pain pangs and fades, leaving your stomach a tense mess. It hurts to move, so you stay clinging to your husband and let him hover over you. 

“Are you okay?” Jack asks.

You sniff. 

Aaron pulls away to take your face into his hands. He holds you with care, his thumbs under your jaw, index fingers running diagonally under each eye, tips at your brows. Just a stolen few seconds for him to check you over. No tears to be wiped away. 

“Still hurting?” 

You shake your head, eyebrows pulled down in a bad frown. 

“Okay. Alright. Motrin?” he asks. 

“No,” you whisper, “can you just stay here?” 

Jack says your name. 

You peek past Aaron’s body. “Jack, sorry.” 

“Are you okay now?” 

You grimace, “I’m gonna be fine, it just hurts sometimes and I didn’t have any medicine today. That’s all. Sorry, I scared you.” 

“You didn’t scare me,” he denies. 

You can’t help smiling, then. “Okay, I didn’t. Thanks for getting dad for me.” 

“He’s our hero,” Aaron says. He sits down beside you carefully, his voice quiet and his hand gentle as he holds your thigh. “I’m glad he did.” 

Jack climbs into his dad’s lap. Aaron wraps an arm around him, the other at your side, fingers tapping at you. 

You rub your forehead. Tip your head back and take a deep breath. 

“Jack,” you whisper, breathing out, “I’m sorry if I startled you. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

“It wasn’t scary, I said that already.” 

“Oh, you did?” Aaron teases. 

“It was okay, I just don’t want you to hurt.” 

“Only baby pains,” you say. 

For a few minutes, you and your small family sit there in silence. Aaron works a hand behind your back to hug you, Jack snuggles into his chest, and Charlie stirs in his swing seat. The quiet calms him, and he goes back to his soft snoring seconds later. 

“I’m sorry about your shower,” you whisper. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry about my baby,” Aaron whispers back, drawing circles into your lower back, “he didn’t mean to chew you up.” 

“Ugh, I know.” 

Jack raises his nose. “What? Chew? Do babies bite?” 

“It’s an expression, babe.” 

“Oh.” He looks at his baby brother with suspicion anyways. “He doesn’t even have teeth?” 

“Buddy, it’s just a joke,” Aaron says, laughing as Jack slips out of his lap to go and look at Charlie in the seat. 

“Maybe he did have teeth,” you say. 

Aaron ushers you toward him, rests his cheek on your forehead. “It’ll feel better soon. You need to rest, that’s all.” 

“Your hair is so wet.” 

“I was in the shower.” 

“Sorry…” 

“Don’t be,” he says. “Don’t be.” 

You reach up to tousle his wet hair. “Miss showering with you.” 

“We showered last night.” 

“No, I stood there and you helped me wash my back, that’s not the same.” 

“Well, I enjoyed it.” 

“I bet you did.” 

Your fondness attracts many, many kisses, his nose nuzzling your cheek. You settle under the weight of him and watch Jack where he frowns at Charlie, big brown eyes squinted, waiting for a show of teeth that won’t happen. Aaron brings a hand to your tense stomach, waiting for you to lean back before he begins massaging the tensed muscle there with a slowness that borders unmoving. 

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he says. 

“You can go finish your shower.” 

“I was finished. M’gonna start pressing in, okay?” 

You wince as Aaron begins, but slowly, slowly, the tenseness from your cramp softens. It still hurts, but he makes it manageable. Jack delivered your rescuer, and your rescuer loves a soft touch.

hello 😘 aaron hotchner drabble request!

anything with jealousy and possessiveness but in a natural normal way not a joe goldberg way haha

and also - aaron sees you wearing his hoodie/shirt drabble!

thank you and your work is amazing!

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader genre: established relationship, aaron is a little (a lot) upset warnings: misogynistic moron >:( reader wears a skirt, if you get the reference ily a/n: i wrote it and the more i wrote the more i realised that it... really isn't the same at all :( if you want me to redo it, please send me an ask !! thank you lovely <3 wc: 631

“You would think that he would know by now,” Emily hums, her tone disapproving and mostly disappointed as she watches from a distance as Captain Pembroke attempts to chat you up. 

“He’s a captain?” Spencer asks in genuine amazement. 

“For NYPD’s major crime unit,” JJ confirms, her arms crossed over her chest. “He tried to hit on Emily a couple days ago, and on Amy from the fourth floor. I wouldn’t be surprised it he has some sort of sealed file on him.”

Emily scoffs a little, rolling her eyes. “Sounds like a charmer.”

“The bigger question is, does Hotch know?” Derek pipes up as he glances in your direction.

“Well…” JJ lets out a nervous laugh. “I kind of hope he doesn’t.”

You offer a curt smile in Pembroke’s direction, doing everything in your power to subtly signal that you really should be leaving. Fiddling with the loose threads of your shirt, averting eye contact, taking tiny steps away in hopes that he’ll somehow get the message. It isn’t surprising that he doesn’t. 

“I beat my PR yesterday, you know,” he brags, flexing his muscles. You think you’re about to throw up as he continues, “129. Impressive, right, hun?”

“The average amount of pounds an untrained man can lift is 135,” you respond dismissively in an attempt to lean into Spencer’s way of getting people to leave him alone, but Pembroke doesn’t seem to hear you. 

“You know, sweets, I don’t think you should even be in this job. You’re far too foxy,” he says with a wink, “You’d be better in a different job. I mean, women aren’t fit for these types of roles. They get too emotional.”

You refrain from punching his face as it will only prove his point. “Listen, Ken–”

“It’s Keith–”

“Kyle,” you amend with a sickly smile. “I do need to get these files to Agent Rossi, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Aw, come on, it was only a joke,” Pembroke says with a laugh. “It’ll be fine–”

“There you are.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt more relieved in your life. Aaron’s hand rests flat against your back, dangerously close to the waistband of your skirt and he stands behind you. Aaron is a good couple of inches taller than Pembroke, especially when he stands at his full height, his dark eyed narrowed and his jaw clenched. 

“Did you need something from my agent, Captain?” He asks lowly. 

“Just pleasant conversation,” Pembroke responds dismissively.

Aaron raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from your uncomfortable frown to the captain’s smug face. “We have three missing women and you are disturbing an investigation by disrupting my agents. I suggest you get your act together before I report you to your superiors for harassment.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, guiding you by the small of your back towards his makeshift office in the New York Police Office. He doesn’t say a word until the door is firmly closed and the blinds are drawn. 

“Are you alright?” He asks softly, taking a step towards you and curling his fingers by your cheekbone. “I heard what he said. Do you want me to report it?”

“I’ve dealt with worse.” You don’t mean to sound so honest when you say it and his frown deepens.

“That’s not okay, honey.” Aaron presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll report it. You know how it is with cases like these; someone just has to put the first step forward.”

You smile at that, poking at his cheeks. “I thought you were going to hit him.”

“I thought you would’ve beat me to it,” he admits through a quiet laugh, giving you a proper kiss. “We shouldn’t make this into a habit.”

“Tell that to Kimberly.”

“That isn’t even close.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

events page

Aaron Hotchner: Found Out

Imagine your boyfriend(Aaron Hotchner) realizes you're the unsub:

-Lil warning: includes descriptions of blood/gore, also a little hint of past domestic abuse, PTSD, murder, hint of child abuse/molestation(barely even there)-

My life wasn't always this complicated, I would find my target, learn their schedule, then attack. I didn't kill innocent people, only scumbags like pedophiles, rapists, and abusers who got off easy or didn't get prosecuted at all; I had easy access as I worked as a courtroom reporter.

Sadly, this simple life couldn't last.

———————

Everything changed when I met a certain prosecutor, he had short black hair and a serious expression on his face, one which I immediately found attractive. We were never on the same case, only seeing each other in passing. I only really got to know him when we bumped into each other during a coffee break and finally started talking. He had invited me to go out for lunch later that day, and we scheduled another meeting from there.

We quickly started dating, I supported him and his rampant schedule as mine was equally rampant, and my support never faltered when he took on the daunting task of joining the FBI. I had held off on killing when I started dating Aaron, but I really only managed for a few months.

I was honestly surprised when no connection or larger investigation was ever created, I think I have made it quite obvious that these crimes were done by the same killer. I had actually studied criminology in university, but I had a certain interest in serial killers that dated all the way back to childhood. I loved the idea of having a signature to distinguish yourself by, to have a certain way that you kill.

My preferred way was to poison them, unnecessary violence is something I don't indulge in unless they truly deserve it. Certain crimes such as rape/sodomy, and crimes against children or the elderly usually make me feel the need to be malicious and cruel; I always torture pedophiles though, there is absolutely nothing good or redeeming about them. The way I would kill them is through slow torture, possibly cutting off their fingers or toes, sometimes even removing every single tooth in their mouth before I allow them to die.

After their deaths, I drain their blood, usually into a bucket, then I will take an amount into a cup and move to a wall, usually the one nearest to them. I take down any pictures and move away anything cluttering the space before I start. This part is always my favorite, making beautiful artwork out of their filthy, dirtied blood.

I make my art take up the whole wall, usually drawing a vicious beast, such as a dragon, or possibly a snarling dog, but sometimes I draw beautiful things, such as a landscape or a galloping horse. I try not to draw beautiful things, but I can't stop it when the brush speaks.

This process naturally takes a lot of time. I used to not have to worry, but now I have to make sure I spend enough of my personal time with Aaron that I don't seem distant or suspicious. The last thing I want is for him to think I'm cheating or that I don't love him.

———————

Today... Was an off day. I had spent the last week on surveillance of this man, Kade Wilkins, he was a child predator who was arrested for lewd and lascivious acts with a child under the age of 14. I was in the courtroom during his case and had to hear all the gruesome details, the kid even went up to testify. Sadly, this man somehow landed a phenomenal lawyer who got him off with only having to register as a sex offender and five years community service.

I was immensely enraged, the kid actually walked up to me afterwards and asked what happened because no one else would tell him the truth. I had to explain that the man who had been molesting and abusing him for a year was just set free with practically no punishment.

Kade Wilkins was disgusting, he would walk over to the elementary schools and watch them during recess, then he would just wander around aimlessly, usually near parks before stopping at a liquor store to buy beer and ask if someone would let him borrow a cigarette. Today, I was gonna be that person.

He had walked into the store as per usual, I waited outside, pulling the laced cigarette pack out of my purse as planned, but all he did was walk right past, paying no attention to the expensive cigarettes being held in my hand. I let out an aggravated sigh after he was out of hearing range, I guess I will have to do this the hard way.

I wait until night falls, he already lives in a shady neighborhood, the last thing I want is for one of his neighbors to see my face. I quickly scale the tattered wood fence, landing quietly in the dying grass of his backyard. Walking over to the back door I quickly slide it open, this idiot never locks his doors.

I hear the shower running, meaning he's probably in his room already, so I will just have to wait because I do not want to see this creep in the shower.

Looking around his home I immediately feel filthy, there's trash on the tables from weeks of takeout, and dirty laundry is littered on the floor, empty beer cans scattered on the tattered smelly couch. Dirty dishes are stacked sky high along the sink, and the fridge reeks of old food and cheap alcohol.

I avert my eyes to look at the watch on my left wrist, the time was 1950(7:50pm), Aaron and I had a dinner reservation at 2200(10:00pm), so I will have to sadly make his death quick.

I must've been in my mind longer than I thought, because the next thing I know I feel arms wrapped around my neck, I did not come here looking for a fight so I am unhappily caught off guard. I fight back, stomping my boots on his sock covered toes, throwing my head back into his nose.

Kade backs up, now sporting a nose bleed with a crooked smile. My arms are up defensively, he always made me uneasy, even from afar, but now I felt straight up disgusted and sick. Wanting to end this quickly I snatch my mace from my belt and spray his face excessively.

He lets out shouts of agony, but I quickly silence him with a pistol-whip to the face. He seems knocked out, so I quickly get to work draining his blood. I usually do this by hanging them up by their arms and just cutting off their feet, letting gravity do the rest for me. This isn't exact or professional, but I don't care, I just want enough blood to paint with.

Normally this process can take up to 20 minutes, but I usually just take blood as it drains. I've also found that blood consistency really matters, use thinner blood for an outline, and thicker when you want more distinguishing features, warming the blood will make it a runnier consistency.

With Kade I had him hanging from some hooks on his ceiling (presumably for a bike), I was already wearing protective gear, the last thing I want is to contract some sort of disease from this sicko.

Normally when I cut off their feet they remain unconscious, but today was simply not my day. Not only did he regain consciousness, he also tried to fight back, I really didn't want to endure this so I slid my knife from its sheath and stabbed it through his neck into his oral cavity.

The look in his eyes was fearful and pleading, but that only made me grin knowing that I made this predator feel nothing but fear in his last moments.

When he is finally dead I pull out a small purple stone from my pocket and delicately place it on top of his head. Call me crazy, but Amethyst is a healing stone, and in some weird way I hope it heals his broken mind in whatever afterlife he is in.

I quickly get to work with painting, his old yellow wallpaper isn't ideal, but I make it work. Today felt different, it felt like his blood didn't want to be paint, but ink; used for writing instead of drawing, and I am not one to go against what the brush wants.

I begin writing, in dripping cursive as well as sharp print. Some words were light whilst others were carved, the blood against the wall reminding me of the orange sunsets against the cold, blue ocean.

It was a while before I stepped back to admire my work, and it was only then I realized that the words were things he had said, things people had said when defending him, but the real thing that stood out was directly in the middle of the wall. It was something that the boy had said to me, and just looking at it written in this man's blood gave me a high that I knew should disgust me.

It said "Why is he free?" Nothing else could sum up how I felt during the court's decision, and knowing that I had taken away his freedom for eternity made me smile with glee.

I immediately began cleaning up, finally glancing at the clock to see it was already 2130(9:30pm), which gave me only 30 minutes to get home and get ready before meeting Aaron for dinner. My heart felt like it was throbbing within my chest, I had made up an excuse of working late today even though Aaron only gets a few days off, at some level I am glad I rid the world of the POS known as Kade Wilkins, but on another I am disgusted that I would rather kill this man than spend time with the one who loves me.

I shove away those thoughts, almost leaving before quickly turning around and approaching the wall, I completely forgot to sign it seeing as this wasn't a drawing. Too lazy to get a brush and start painting again with blood I simply pulled a pen from my purse and signed it before turning off the lights and heading back to my car.

———————

I arrive home in 10 minutes, thankfully(or unluckily?) Kade lived only a short drive away from our shared house. I rush in, tossing my purse on the table as I lock the front door, immediately setting off upstairs and stripping myself of my clothes, tossing them into the washer before hopping into the shower, the last thing I need is for Aaron to see blood on my clothes.

As I get dressed I feel arms wrap around my waist softly, I tense up rigidly before smelling Aaron's cologne and feeling at ease again. He had already felt me tense up though, releasing my waist as he walked in front of me.

"What's wrong?" He asks in his calm tone, I can't help but avoid his eyes, still looking away even when he lifts my face up to look at him. He releases a quiet sigh, I finally shift my eyes to him, taking in his fitting black suit and his soft looking hair. I can't help but reach my hand out to run my fingers through it, him closing his eyes and leaning into my touch as he releases my chin.

"Where's Jackie boy gone?" I question, nonchalantly trying to change the topic of conversation, I don't know if he noticed that or not.

"I dropped him off at Jessica's, she said she wouldn't mind watching him for the night." He speaks, his voice deeper than it was a few moments ago, I can't help the smile that crosses my face as he grabs my hand from his hair, placing a gentle kiss upon it as he looks into my eyes.

"We should get going if we want to make our reservation, last time they almost gave our table away." I state a laugh bubbling in my throat as Aaron chuckles, nodding his head at the memory of me quickly running to our table and telling the waiter off for trying to sit another couple there.

We quickly walked out of our house, Aaron opening the door for me before getting in and driving off. The ride there is quiet and comfortable, the hum of music playing throughout the car with our voices occasionally joining the tune. We are a little late when we finally arrive, but to be honest, 10 minutes is early for us when it comes to dinner reservations.

The restaurant is fancier than I remember. I glance down at my plain black dress and feel slightly uncomfortable, Aaron seems to sense this because as soon as we sit down he reaches out and grasps my hand.

"Honey, what is it?"

"I just feel really under-dressed. You fit right in with your handsome self in a suit, but I'm just in a bland black dress." I quickly respond, feeling my cheeks warm up as I realize how I complimented him during my self-deprecating response. His cheeks are now dusted with a faint sheen of pink, and even though he is slightly flustered, I only pay attention to the warm look in his gaze.

"I'll have you know, that 'bland black dress' is possibly my favorite dress, and you look incredibly gorgeous whenever you wear it." His response causes me to be even more flustered, my eyes dropping to the ground at his compliments. He lets out a quiet string of laughs at my flustered state, squeezing my hand in comfort before sliding my menu over to me.

The rest of the night went quite similar, him making me flustered and myself complimenting him unintentionally, the night felt carefree and I found myself paying no mind to how I brutally murdered a pedophile not even 3 hours ago. The only time it even barely crossed my mind was when Aaron asked how my day was, but I quickly made up an excuse that satisfied his curiosity.

When we finally got home it was nearing 2350(11:50pm), I was much too tired to do anything other than change into a loose shirt before getting in bed, Aaron quickly checked the windows and doors of the house before changing and getting in bed as well. We shared a few slow, lingering kisses before snuggling into each other to fall asleep.

———————

When I woke up, Aaron was already trying to slide out of bed without waking me up, but I quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him back under the covers, releasing a groan of disapproval that he was trying to leave.

We lay like that for a few more minutes before he tries to leave again, which results in me hugging his arm and entangling my legs with his to stop his escape.

I hear him huff in amusement at my antics, the next thing I know he's kissing along my neck, something that I definitely do not attempt to deny. Slowly his kisses move to my clavicle, his arms grasping me and turning me onto my back as he hovers over me, his kisses moving back to my neck before meeting my lips. This kiss is gentle, reminding me of all the reasons that I love this man, causing me to smile slightly.

As he pulls away I finally open my eyes, greeting his dark ones with warmth. I must look so sleepy right now because a grin etches upon his face before he kisses me once more. This kiss is more passionate and leaves me in a daze, which he takes advantage of and slides out of bed. I whine slightly as his warmth leaves me, pulling more covers over for me to snuggle into.

"Honey, you know I have work, I'll try and be back at a reasonable hour, and Jessica will be dropping Jack off after school." He speaks softly as he starts buttoning up his shirt. I gaze at him and smile, he always looks so handsome in the crisp morning air with the pale sunrise shining through the window.

"I know Aar, I just miss you." I smile constantly, something he quickly returns before he starts searching for a tie to wear, holding out a purple or a blue one for me to choose from, I obviously choose the purple one. He grins at my cheekiness as I swat the blue one away and hand him the purple one, he says a 'thank you' before giving me a peck and then returning to getting dressed.

I must've dozed off because I felt Aaron kissing my forehead goodbye. I try to open my eyes, but can only manage a mumbled 'goodbye' before falling back into dreamland.

———————

As I get up, I start a cup of coffee up and walk to the washroom, my stomach turns uncomfortably as I realize that my dirty clothes from last night have just been sitting in the washer, not getting washed. I look through them, not seeing anything missing, and immediately turn on the washing machine, letting out a breath as I head back to the kitchen.

I add some half-and-half and some sugar before throwing on some pants and sitting on the porch. Call me country, but I like to sit out on the porch in the morning to drink coffee and read.

I wave and say 'good morning' to neighbors as they head out for work, everyone around the neighborhood is at least my acquaintance.

I head back inside after finishing my coffee, glancing at the clock to see it is 09:00am, I have to be at work at 10:00am. I quickly set about getting dressed, throwing on a dark gray blouse with some black dress pants, lacing up my work shoes and grabbing my purse as I head out the door. Hopping into my old little car I begin the drive to work, turning on the radio and tuning into the 70s station.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

This morning had been great, y/n was always incredibly cute, but even today she seemed to be surpassing her normal standard. I always try to sneak out of bed because I don't want to annoy her, but I've found that her waking up leads to a very enjoyable morning, and it always makes me feel better about going to work.

Everything was going great until I went into the washroom, y/n already had some clothes but they weren't washed yet, I pulled some out to see what settings I should set the machine to, but my mind quickly went blank when I saw splatters of red on her jeans. Y/n loves to paint, but she has specific clothes to paint in, and she would never wear her favorite pair of jeans.

This paint also looks weird, like really thin, almost like it was watercolor, but it seems to be flaking, and y/n only buys quality paint and absolutely detests watercolor.

All of this is making me feel uncomfortable, in any other circumstance I would immediately think this was blood, but y/n couldn't hurt anyone, she wouldn't even hurt a fly. The thing that finally makes me ask questions is when I notice the strong smell of iron, something that I've smelled many times before when walking into a crime scene.

I feel uncomfortable, grabbing the over-shirt from the clump of clothes, placing it in a Ziploc bag before heading over to work. I don't know why my stomach was in twists, she probably just cut her finger or something.

———————

Arriving at work I quickly stuff the clothing into my bag, the team doesn't even know I have a girlfriend, the last thing I want is for them to think she is a murderer. I rub my temples as I await the elevator's arrival, luckily it is empty, I really don't feel like being profiled right now.

I neutralize my expression when I reach my floor, striding out of the elevator and through the glass doors, barely sparing any glances to my team. I just want to smooth this whole thing out already, I need to get this clothing tested so that I can feel at ease.

I sit at my desk for a few minutes, mulling over files that still need to be finished, but I immediately stand up, making my way out of my office and through the bullpen, JJ walks by and stops me.

"Sir, we have a case."

"Okay, start without me, I'll join you in a few minutes." I don't give her time to respond, I just begin walking away and to the elevator.

———————

I have just dropped off the clothes, making sure they knew this was incredibly under-wraps and not to be spoken of unless it is directly to me. I think they were kind of scared, but that is the least of my worries.

Walking back into the conference room everyone immediately looks to me, JJ pausing as I take my seat, nodding for her to continue. She does, everyone slowly giving her their attention again, I can tell they want an explanation or an excuse, but I really just want to get past this day.

I glanced at the screen, seeing several gruesome murders, most were men, and they all looked like sleazes. JJ finishes up her presentation, and after a quick chat I decide that this case needs our attention.

"Wheels up in 20."

———————

"What do we know about victimology?" I question, the team quickly starts chattering away.

"Every victim seems to be some sort of criminal, most of them are pedophiles, but there are also some rapists as well as abusers." Reid spouts as he leans back in his chair.

"Alright, so we have a mission-oriented killer, someone who is cleaning up the world, and he is organized and in control." Morgan states. I nod, looking down at the files on my device.

"Why do you say he's organized? These scenes look manic to me." JJ questions

"I actually believe the houses already looked like that, these people were low lifes, they were trashy and disorganized, not to mention criminals. I don't think our unsub did any of that to the house. Also, look at each scene, they are all hanging somehow, they have their feet cut off, and each scene has a painting. These crimes look planned, they were carefully organized and each decision was planned out." Prentiss responds, zooming in to show JJ small details that support her, everyone nodding their heads in agreement.

"This killer also seems to want power and control, look at the way these men are restricted and hanging, he even cut off their feet to possibly stop them from running." I voice, shuffling through the images. Everyone continues bouncing ideas and theories off each other.

"What's with the stone on top of their heads?" Prentiss questions, zooming in on each crime scene photo to show a purple rock of some kind placed on their heads. Everyone looks interested, it would seem we all missed that detail.

"That is actually a crystal, commonly known as an amethyst, but is also known as amethystus in Latin writings. It is considered a powerful and protective crystal, in spiritual religions they claim it opens up a person's third eye and is considered a source of power and wisdom. It is said to have healing properties, such as relieving stress, dispelling anger, and dissolving negativity. People claim it activates spiritual awareness, opens intuitions, and heightens psychic abilities." Reid rambles, looking slightly interested, but also slightly confused, squinting his eyes as he mulls over his explanation and tries to connect it to the crimes.

"Why do you think he is putting an amethyst on each of them? It is obviously deliberate. What is he trying to do?" Rossi asks, that question stumped us for a few moments.

"Lots of people believe that pedophiles have broken minds, this is due to the fact that pedophilia isn't something you can cure, many people believe death is the only thing you can do to protect others." Reid responds.

"Are you saying that our unsub is trying to heal them?" Morgan questions. We all glance at each other.

"Possibly, but I'm not completely sure since people think an amethyst crystal can do so many things. This could be a form of remorse or it could be a way of asking forgiveness for themselves since they killed them." Reid responds again, seeming to only be forming more questions with each answer he reaches.

"How long until we arrive?" Prentiss questions after we had settled down.

"Not long for some of us, I'm sending Derek and Rossi to Ohio, it was where the first 4 victims were murdered. You, Reid, JJ and I will be heading to the 6 more recent crime scenes, which are here in Virginia, we only have another 10 minutes, you guys have about an hour." I say, seeing people nod their heads at the plan.

I feel myself beginning to doze off. I didn't get to sleep a lot, having gotten home around 11:30 and having to wake up around 5:00. Usually I try to stay awake, but today has already been so stressful I allow myself the few moments of rest I have before we have to land.

———————

Y/N's POV:

Today in the courtroom I had to endure a murder trial, sometimes I really hate my life.

A man had killed his wife, and was claiming that she abused him, but he has no evidence to support his claims. Apparently his wife was trying to leave him and take their kids, she wanted to live separately whilst they were finalizing their divorce. He stated that she said she was 'never going to let him see his kids again' and that 'her boyfriend will be a better father than he ever was', and all he could remember from there was seeing red.

I hate these days, lots of people claimed crimes of passion, and though it didn't mean no punishment, it was always a lighter sentence. The person always throws in that their spouse was cheating or abusive.

The moment I arrived home I went to work researching the woman and man, Irene and Arnold Daniels. She had social media, which she rarely used. I quickly hacked my way into her account, though she barely posted anything, she seems to have messaged a few people quite a lot. Mainly two friends, Sheryl Walters and Tanner Singer. I start my programs and it begins scanning through all of her messages, immediately showing the results I wanted.

"He keeps hitting me, and threatening to leave with his girlfriend.." That message alone stopped me in my tracks, I should've known Arnold would be the cheating one. I scan through the message, searching for a name when I find one, a 'Rachel Moors'. Irene goes into detail about how Arnold has been dating Rachel on the side for about a year now, and how that was when he started hitting her and yelling at their children.

I stop myself from continuing, I have all the evidence I need now to know that Arnold Daniels murdered his wife, anymore looking and I would feel gross because I'm snooping through a dead woman's private messages. I quickly exit and shut down my computer,feeling relieved that I can do this without worrying about Aaron seeing.

Don't get me wrong, I would die for Aaron, and I love him to death, but having my own space is nice every once and awhile. I gave up a lot when I started dating him. I was planning on killing at least once a week, which I had been achieving, but that had to slow down because I now need to be careful in my own home.

Back in Ohio I had started on accident, the first kill was done impulsively and in a complete rage, I didn't paint with their blood, instead I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and started drawing, it was something I did when I felt nervous or uncomfortable. Next thing I know I'm killing again, but this time I planned it, and experimented with using their blood to draw.

The third murder was when I had really created my style, I would knock them unconscious, hang them up, and then kill them by draining their blood, using it to paint on their walls. The 4th murder was the cleanest, the man, Gray Daws, was a man with multiple petty crimes, but he was currently being tried for the rapes of 3 women. Each woman refused to go into the box, so with little evidence and no one talking, he was released.

I was about to move to Virginia, and I wasn't planning on killing again, but this case just stuck with me. I spent about a week stalking him, he frequented night clubs and bars, and picked up a prostitute at least once every day. I learned his schedule and dressed to his preference, wanting to know how he talked to these girls.

It was a lively night, I think some game was on and a carnival was being held just down the road, the streets full of people. I was leaning over the bar, slowly sipping a cold coke when a drink was placed in front of me, not by a bartender, but by Gray Daws himself. I obviously didn't drink it, it was bubbling with something that reminded me of when my friend placed a capsule of ecstasy into her water. I simply looked at him and smiled.

He was dressed in a suit that screamed expensive, but looking closely I could see it was a knock off meant to fool me. Glancing to his wrist I saw a fake Rolex, I acted impressed though, raking my eyes over his sleazy figure. His hair was black but was graying on the sides, and it looked oily, slicked back with some of it falling to the side. His face was clean but it just looked dirty, the stubble on his jaw repulsing me.

Heslid the glass closer to me, placing his other hand on my lower back. I wanted to smack his hand away and pour the drink down his shirt, but I held back, instead mustering up an attractive smile that seemed to work.

"What are you doing here all alone, doll face?" The nickname alone made me want to growl, but instead I took one of my hands and grabbed the offered drink, swirling it around in the glass.

"I could ask you the same, a handsome man like you surely can't be single." I state, placing my hand on his chest to push him back slightly, both to play hard to get as well as to feel less repulsed. He pays no mind and lowers his hand even further, making me shift in my seat

"How would you like to get to know me in private then, I know a place." He continues, his voice lowering as he pushes into my personal space. He tries to grab my wrist, but I quickly twirl my seat around and glide out of it quickly; I don't really feel like letting a rapist touch me.

That night I left my home at around 2300(11:00) since Daws goes to sleep around 2400(12:00). I snuck into his house and tied him down, pouring the drink he gave me down his throat. He woke up immediately, choking as he swallowed the liquid. He tried to get up, but I could already see the drug working, for him I wanted him to be awake. I went to his kitchen, pulling out a big knife from a drawer before returning back to his room. He tried to resist even pleading for me to stop, but I couldn't and I wouldn't.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

We arrived at the local PD, Prentiss and Reid quickly heading to the room after greeting Detective Calder. JJ waits with me as I talk with him.

"Detective, what have you and your team come up with so far?" I question as we walk to the setup room.

"So far we see no sexual element at all, he leaves no evidence and each murder seems to be getting more and more organized." He states in frustration, something I can understand, I can't believe they are only just now calling us in.

"I'm going to send a member of my team to look at some of the crime scenes, would you please have an officer escort her." I ask, but it's more of a statement. I need to get to the bottom of this case quickly, an organized killer that just gets more organized is not exactly great. I'm about to send Prentiss when an officer from the other room shouts over to us.

"There's been another murder!" We have to drive practically back to Quantico, but I don't mind, it gives me some time to go over the case; I'm about to turn on some music when my phone rings. I answered calmly.

"Hotchner."

"Yes, sir, this is about the forensics you requested."

"Yes, what is it?"

"Sir, we can confirm these are blood spatters." My heart speeds up in trepidation at all the thoughts crossing my mind.

"Save all information on it and hold it, it might come in handy with this case." I respond, barely letting the person respond before ending the call. I'm frustrated and scared, the fact that my sweet girlfriend might be a murderer makes me grip the steering wheel a bit tighter.

"Hotch, who was that?" Emily questions, looking over at me, though I refuse to look at her, I know she'll see the uncertainty and fear in my eyes.

"It was no one." I respond shortly, my voice quiet.

"You said it might help our case, why won't you tell me what it is?" She asks. Sometimes I hate her for being so nosy, but I know that she should be made aware.

"Prentiss, I have a girlfriend."

"....Okay." She responds, clearly confused.

"This morning... Just before I left, I found some of her clothes from last night, and it looked like they had blood on them. I sent them to the lab and it was confirmed it was blood."

"Hotch, I think you might be jumping to conclusion, there's a lot of reasons there could be blood on her shirt."

"I know I know, I shouldn't be so nervous and suspicious, but I just can't help it."

The rest of the ride is silent until we arrive at the house. It is surrounded by police, neighbors crowding around and having to be held back by the police. Thankfully the news hasn't caught wind of these cases yet, when they did it would only feed the killers need for control, it might make him speed up his schedule.

———————

Entering the house I am greeted with the strong scent of iron, one that sadly reminds me of Y/n's clothes that reeked of the same scent. Looking around I immediately see things that are different about this crime scene. For one, it looks like there was a struggle, and the victim is a lot more beat up than the others.

"Are we sure this is the same killer, this was done sooner than their schedule, and it looks like he actually fought this victim." Prentiss voices, walking around the crime scene before settling near the dead man.

I look around, slightly confused at the change in MO, but I think it is still the same killer, I am only supported when I glance into the other room. It makes me even more confused, I have so many questions forming

"I think it's the same killer."

"Why?" Prentiss questions, walking towards me before poking her head around me to see what I'm looking at. Her jaw drops open, the wall is covered in dried blood, but instead of a drawing we find writing. It covers the whole surface and looks like the ramblings of a mad man, the message in the middle being the most prominent.

"Why is he free?" I read, my voice full of confusion. Prentiss is about to respond when my phone goes off.

"Hotchner."

"Office of Supreme Genius coming at you with some knowledge." Garcia responds, I want to smirk at her playful responses, but this case makes me want to frown.

"What have you found so far?"

"Nothing good, sadly. A lot of these people are obviously sickos, but it seems they are all sickos that get off with little to no punishments. The man you are visiting right now molested and abused a young boy for a year, and he only has to register as a sex offender and do community service.

The others include people such as a Gray Daws, who was accused of raping three women, all of which refused to testify and the case fell through. There are others, but they are all similar in that the person obviously did horrible things, and they either got a light punishment or no punishment at all." Garcia finishes.

"Are there any similarities in where each case was held? Are any names repeated in any of the trials or investigations?" I quickly responded, wanting to know if anyone was present during all of these trials.

"That will take me a couple of minutes sir, I will call you back when I have results." Garcia quickly ends the phone call, and I slide my phone back into my pocket.

"You think we're looking for a guy in criminal justice?" Prentiss asks, and I simply nod before I turn around to face her.

"Look at this crime scene and tell me what you see."

"...I see a serious need for control, it seems like it is a requirement to instill fear in his victims. He never shots his victims even though he obviously carries, preferring to use knives as well as preferring to torture his victims beforehand, but this victim was killed rather suddenly for some reason." She responds slowly and confidently, glancing around the house before focusing on the dead man.

"Good, now tell me what is missing." She takes a moment to think about my question before looking around.

"There is no sexual element, and no humiliation, the victims are left clothed, and the unsub for some reason seems to be exhibiting remorse. He doesn't fit into the standard profile perimeters." I listen closely to what she says, and almost feel a smirk slide upon my face.

"I think I know what we're missing about our unsub." I state, feeling Prentiss stare at me in confusion.

"What about him would explain this." She questions exasperatedly.

"For one, I don't think this is a he."

———————

I get a call from Dave, he explains the first few crime scenes and victims.

The very first was a man named Cain Smith, he was a young man who was a lawyer and known to be incredibly obnoxious, he was also said to be quite misogynistic. It was messy and impulsive, and there was practically no resemblance to our current killer apart from a drawing and signature left on a piece of paper.

The second murder was getting more organized, she was starting to experiment with blood, the third murder had her painting on the walls and hanging the men up, and the last murder was similar, but more vengeful than the others, it actually reminded me a lot about the first murder.

"Dave, I think our unsub is a female."

"Well... that makes more sense, especially when it comes to the lack of sexual gratification."

"Yah, but look at the other clues as well. She uses an amethyst, something many believe to be a healing crystal, most guys don't really buy into that sort of stuff. Also, look at the crimes these people are committing, rape, spousal abuse, molestation, these are all things that women will pay the most attention too, sure, battery and robbery are bad, but these crimes tend to really catch a girls attention."

"I think you might be on to something Aaron-" Dave was cut off as an incoming call interrupted him.

"Hold on, Garcia is joining our call." I state, quickly accepting.

"Hello sirs. So Hotch I did that research you asked and it turns out every case was held in the same place, well, the cases in Ohio were held in the same courthouse, and the cases in Virginia were held in the same courthouse."

"That's great Garcia, did you find any names in common?"I asked, hoping that I wouldn't be arresting my girlfriend anytime soon.

"Only one, the courtroom reporter is the same in each of these cases, her name is Y/n L/n, and she was living in Ohio before going off the grid. There is no paper trail, but we can assume she moved to Virginia since this is where the murders have picked up. I can send her old address over, but it seems like the house was demolished."

"Anything of interest on her?" Dave questions, but I can barely pay attention to the conversation. The only person in common with every murder is my girlfriend, the sweetest and kindest person I know. I trust her with everything, I trust her with Jack, how on earth could she be capable of murdering all these people?

"Sir, SIR!" I quickly snap back to reality.

"Sorry, my phone cut out, what did you say Garcia?" I quickly say, not wanting to be questioned on why I was so quiet.

"Well, sir, she basically has no criminal record at all, she actually won quite a few awards back in her hometown, and you guessed it, they were for art. Her drawings are actually pretty cool, like I would totally buy a book of her art... Sorry I'm getting off topic.

She was academically above average, and had quite the talent with computers. She got a lot of job offers when graduating high school but decided to go to university, which landed her even more job offers. She could've gone pretty much anywhere, but decided on being a courtroom reporter. I called some of her contacts, they say that she stays in contact with them but that they don't know where she is, they also only have good things to say.

Many people all say she is really kind, that she was the one to protect kids from getting bullied, she was the emotional support person for everyone, and she also apparently had a stubborn streak, she got into a few fights during high school, none of which she initiated, but all of which she most definitely finished." Garcia states.

I feel like I've been listening to the exact description of Y/n, and I can't help but want to run to her and cry over what is going on. I suck it up, I can't say anything, we're not even sure she is the murderer.

"That's great, thank you Garcia." She immediately ends her call and that leaves just me and Dave.

"Dave, I want you to go around to the courthouse she worked at, meet and talk to everyone who knew her, friends, family, colleagues, I don't care, I want to know everyone she has contacted and exactly what she's said." I state, I need to keep them busy, at least until I can talk to Y/n.

"Alright." I hung up the call and looked at Emily. I don't know how I can lie to her, she was here and probably saw my response to hearing my girlfriend being labeled as the suspect.

"Emily I--"

"No, go. I don't know what is going on, and I don't want to know what is going on. I'll come up with an excuse, you clearly have some things you need to sort out." She states, not allowing me the chance to respond before she leaves the house.

I need to get home, Y/n needs to explain exactly what the hell is going on.

Luckily Prentiss left with an officer back to the department, I quickly jumped in the car and drove to our home. Jack shouldn't be home for another hour, I think I'll just call Jessica again, hopefully she won't mind.

"Hey Jess."

"Hey Aaron, what do you need?" I release a sigh at her response, she doesn't sound annoyed, just like she expected this call.

"I'm really sorry, but Y/n and I really need to have a serious talk and I don't want Jack to be home when it happens."

"Alright, but I thought you were working a case?" Jess replies in a confused voice.

"This has to do with the case." I can practically sense her clenching the phone tighter in confusion and worry.

"Aaron, what's going on, is Y/n in danger?"

"I--I can't tell you, I'm sorry Jess." I can't tell Jess, I can't tell her that Y/n may be the unsub and that I am contemplating letting her escape.

"...Okay, just call me when I should drop Jack off at home. Y/n better be fine after all this, she's become like a sister to me and a mother to Jack, and it seems she has become everything to you." I feel my eyes water knowing that as soon as I get home I need to make a decision.

"Thank you Jess, I'll call you when you should drop off Jack." I hang up the phone, I'm in my neighborhood now, and I can see our house quickly approaching. Her little Lotus Sprint parked in the driveway, the lights in the house on. I swallow harshly as I park in our driveway, I've made my decision.

———————

Y/n's POV:

I'm getting things out of the cabinet to make for dinner. Jess should be dropping Jack off in about an hour, so that should give me enough time, I'll have to wait a little while until I can go after my latest target. My thoughts get cut off as I hear the front door being unlocked and pushed open, I grab a knife from the drawer before glancing around the kitchen corner and into the hallway.

I am pleasantly surprised to see Aaron home early, tossing the knife onto the counter as I walk up and hug him.

"You didn't tell me you were coming home early, I would've made dinner sooner." I say happily as I look up at him, but my smile quickly falters when I see the expression on his face. Mine turns into worry as I see the faintest sign of tears in his eyes. Not sure what caused this, I immediately think he had a really tough case.

"What is it Aar, was it a tough case?" I ask, holding both of his arms, but he backs up away from my embrace. I'm really confused now, I don't know what to do, he's never been like this, even after some really tough cases.

"Why did you do it?" He finally asks, his voice gruff with emotion

"..." I don't know how to respond, I don't even know what he's asking.

"WHY DID YOU DO IT!" He shouts, I feel myself jump in surprise and fear, I hate being yelled at, especially after my first relationship.

"What are you talking about?" My voice is quiet, I'm scared, but I try not to be, Aaron would never hurt me. I back up subconsciously, but he reaches out and grabs my wrists tightly, yanking me forward. I stumble and nearly fall, but he drags me up and back onto my feet.

Tears are clouding my vision, does he think I cheated on him, did I do something wrong? I'm so confused, and the way he's treating me is giving me some serious flashbacks.

"Why did you kill all those people?" His tone is calm, almost deceivingly calm, I keep my head turned away and my eyes to the ground, my stomach drops as I hear those words. My body is now cowering away, the only way I know to respond is to shy away and that is kind of hard to do right now.

My hands are shaking, and my breathing is becoming excessively shallow. I feel like I'm gasping for air, but I can never get enough.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

She looked like she was trying to lower her body to the ground, like her body was trying to shrink into the background. I remember when I came into our house I was only sad and confused, but it suddenly turned into anger, rage at what she had done and how she could throw away the life she had with me.

I wasn't able to control it all, I had never hurt her before, and seeing her cowering form being held up only by my tight grip on her wrists snapped me out of my angry haze.

I almost let go of her, but she would've fallen straight to the ground, instead I loosen my hold on her wrists, and gently lower us both to the ground, from the looks of it she's hyperventilating. I gently let go of her wrists, which she quickly pulls into her, like she is trying to disappear, she lowers her torso over her bent legs, trying to back away from me.

"Y/n, I-I'm sorry." I was already broken over what she had done, the last thing I wanted to do was make her scared that I would hurt her. I try to reach out to her, but she just tries to back up even more. I don't know what else to do, I can't leave her here alone, but I don't know how to comfort her, hesitantly I slide my hand gently over the floor.

She lifts her face up to look at my hand, I catch a glimpse of her tear stained cheeks, her eyes are flooded with tears, and they hold a glint of fear when she looks at my hand.

———————

Y/n's POV:

I never expected to feel betrayed by Aaron, but then again, I guess I am the one who betrayed him. His hand looks so annoyingly welcoming, but I don't know anymore, my wrists still sting from where he grabbed them.

I slowly look up from his hand to meet his eyes, they hold regret and fear, they still maintain a warmth that never fails to make me feel loved.

Hesitantly, I place my shaking hand into his, feeling a sudden burst of fear that he'll hurt me again, but that thought is quickly forgotten when he gently squeezes my hand to comfort me. My breathing is still uneven, but this gesture is really helping calm me down.

I simply stare at our hands, this is probably the last semblance of normalcy I'll ever have, Aaron will have to turn me in, it's his job, and I would never ask him to let me escape, that could ruin his career. Thinking about the life I have here, more tears resurface, I try to hold in my cries, but the thought of leaving Aaron and Jack alone is physically and mentally tearing me apart.

"I-I'm sorry." Is all I can manage to say through my tears, I look away, feeling disgusted with myself. I try to pull away, but instead feel myself being pulled toward him; I don't struggle, I fully expect him to cuff me while he has the chance, but I am pleasantly met with a warm embrace, one that speaks a million words.

I am forgiven.

I choose you.

Sneak peek: After a one-night stand, you find yourself pregnant. You choose to take some time off to get your life in order (aka ready for a baby), when Hotch stops by to make sure you’re okay. You confide in him and after a late night of talking, and months of mutual pining, Hotch offers to help you raise the baby. With this newfound dynamic, how will Hotch handle you working in the field? How will your lives change?

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Fluff/Angst

Word count: 7599 (OMFG sorry)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited I've been working on this for so long...I did my best- please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied age gap (kinda?), secret relationship, mention of period and menstrual cycle, mention of doctors and hospitals, mention of typical pregnancy related care, secret pregnancy, mention of pregnancy, Hotch being a little smothering lol, mentions of canon typical violence, some language, team members meddling, mention of Jack, no mention of Hailey (she just doesn’t exist in this – Hotch  has always been a single dad), no use of y/n. I think that’s all, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Hey, you’re looking a little green there sugar.” Morgan said, gently nudging your elbow.

“Yeah girl, keep it to your side!” Emily laughed, pushing your file further onto your desk.

“Alright, if I was contagious, don’t you think you’d all be sick by now? It has to be from something I ate…I guess it’s time to clean out the fridge.” Shaking your head you got back to work.

“You know the most common causes of nausea and vomiting are infections (like the stomach flu), food poisoning, motion sickness, pregnancy, and migraines. We can rule out the stomach flu given that none of us have gotten sick, and motion sickness since we haven’t travelled in a few days. I’d say food poisoning seems most likely, and it should pass soon given that it typically lasts anywhere from 12-48 hours.” Spencer rattled off.

“Thanks Spence.” You smiled.

Your mind began spiraling, this little bout of vomiting had been going on for far longer than 48 hours. Was it possible something at home was contaminated and you’d had “never-ending” food poisoning? You thought about the other conditions Spencer had mentioned, no to the stomach flu, no to motion sickness, probably not food poisoning. You had migraines, but definitely weren’t currently suffering from a spell…so that left. Nope. No way.

Could it be possible? When was your last period? Shit. You pulled out your phone and opened the Flo app and your last charted period was…EIGHT WEEKS AGO. What the fuck? How had you missed that?  After pondering for a few minutes, you realized that around that time, the team had a particularly tough case where children were being kidnapped from malls in Alabama. The case had a happy ending, but it had taken seven days for you to catch the guy.  You had chalked up the missed cycle to stress – it happened sometimes.

After excusing yourself, you made your way to the bathroom. While in the bathroom, you made two calls, one to your primary care physician, and then one to the OBGYN that they referred you to. Thankfully (pure luck truly) they had an opening tomorrow morning.

You quickly made your way to Hotch’s office to see if he would allow you to come in late tomorrow. He was usually understanding about these things since you guys really have to take any doctor’s appointments you can get with your ridiculous schedule.

You knocked on the door frame softly, taking note of his nod, granting permission to enter. You walked cautiously to his desk, trying to work out the phrasing of this request in your head.

“I can hear the gears turning in your head, what’s going on?” Hotch questioned.

“Sorry Hotch, I uh, I just have a quick question for you.” You began. “You see, I haven’t been feeling great the last few days, so I called my doctor, and they can squeeze me in tomorrow first thing. Would it be possible for me to come in late so I can make that appointment?”

“Is that all? Of course, just come in when you can.” He finally met your gaze, offering a subtle smile.

**8 weeks pregnant**

You sat, bare legs causing the sterile paper beneath you to crinkle, the noise seemed to echo in the otherwise silent room. You had left a urine sample when you first arrived at the office, and they had just taken a blood sample. The nurse had asked you a million questions and you had to fill out nearly 20 different forms.

“Alright, so the urine test came back as positive for pregnancy.” The doctor informed you.

“Wow, um okay. So, what are the next steps?”

“Well, we are going to send your blood in to check your HCG levels amongst other things, that will give us a pretty good estimate as to how far along you are. We will give you a call when those results come in. I am going to send you home with some literature on what foods, medication, drinks, over all activities to avoid as well as some recommendations for prenatal vitamins and a prescription for some anti-nausea medication. There is also a card in there with the triage number in case of an emergency. So, what questions do you have for me?” The doctor concluded.

“I uh, when will I need to come back in? Also, I am a field agent with the FBI, I guess I’ll probably need a doctor’s note as proof of pregnancy, and then one later down the line I suppose, excusing me from duty.” You inquired.

“Once we get your HCG levels and can get a better idea of how far along you are, we will give you that call and then we will schedule your next appointment. Based on your last cycle, we will probably have you come back pretty soon for a transvaginal ultrasound and then your following appointment would be around your 12-week mark. As for work, I can get you that document now and then yes, as your pregnancy progresses we will discuss changes that will have to be made at work. Did you need a note for today?” She answered.

“Okay, that sounds good. And yeah, a note for today would be great. Thank you.”

Thoughts were racing through your head, the things you’d have to buy, getting your apartment prepared, telling the father (what was his name again…Michael? Brady? You’d have to figure that one out), telling your boss and the team, the changes to your body? Oh god, what have you gotten yourself into?

The second you stepped off the elevator your stomach twisted, and you darted to the bathroom. After emptying the contents of your stomach, you rinsed your mouth out and made your leave. What you weren’t expecting was Hotch on the other side of the door.

“Oh, sorry Hotch.”

“No need to apologize, I just wanted to see that you were alright. JJ let me know she saw you running in here.” He explained.

“I-I’m not feeling too great honestly. Do you think, maybe, I could head home for the day?” you queried.

“I think that is a good idea, you should get some rest. You know, you have a bunch of time off saved up – I’m not telling you to use it, but if you wanted to, it’s there. Do you need a ride home?” He asked.

“No, I think I’m okay. And I also think I am going to take you up on that suggestion. Do you think I could take like the next four days?”

“Absolutely, I’ll submit your time. You head home and get some rest. I’ll let Garcia know, that way she won’t call you if a case comes in.” He said.

“Thanks Hotch.”

“You’re welcome. Do me a favor, let me know when you get home safe.” He requested.

**9 weeks pregnant**

The next four days passed by in a blur, you had read through all the information the OBGYN sent you home with, you’d gone and picked up your medications from the pharmacy, cleaned your house, went grocery shopping, and you gotten your results back from the doctor. You had gotten the call yesterday that your HCG levels had placed you between 8 and 9 weeks pregnant and you had scheduled your ultrasound for the following Wednesday. You’d have to tell Hotch everything when you’re back at work tomorrow.

You also made a very awkward phone call to Jensen (damn, you were wayyy off) and he had been very pleased when you informed him that you didn’t want anything from him, he agreed that it would probably be best that way. You didn’t need to be tied to some one-off forever anyway, this was for the best. You just hoped your child wouldn’t resent you for not having a present father.

A knock at your door shook you from your thoughts. You checked your phone, 7:32 p.m. and a notification from Uber Eats that your tacos had been delivered! You paused your movie and shuffled to the door, checking the peephole once, then twice to confirm the identity of this visitor. You made quick work of unlocking and opening the door.

“Aaron? What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you were feeling. I also ran into your delivery guy.” He explained.

“Come in, I ordered enough for two if you’re hungry?” You posed.

“I wouldn’t want to impose.” He shook his head.

“Not at all, come on in.”

You quickly realized that you were in sweats, a t-shirt, and slippers. You looked to Aaron taking note of his jeans and t-shirt. Casual looks good on him; you’d always thought so. You offered him a drink and invited him over to the couch, making yourselves comfortable and digging in. To the others, this may seem odd, a late-night taco date with your boss and your couch, but this was your normal.

You and Aaron had quickly realized your similarities when you first joined the team. You both had a stone exterior with a warm and fuzzy interior, you were closed off, but loyal and caring. These are the similarities that made your fast friendship so easy. The two of you hung out often, you had regular dinners together, went to movies or had movie nights, you went to the park with him and Jack, and sometimes…you even slept over. You didn’t share a bed or anything – except once when you first moved to your current apartment – your guest room hadn’t been set up yet. He was easily the person you were closest to, which is why it was terrifying to love him. You couldn’t lose him. So, you bottled up your feelings and enjoyed these moments with him.

“So, you’re feeling better then?”

You opened your mouth to reply when you felt it. That tightening lurch in your stomach. You brought your hand to cover your mouth and jumped up, desperate to get to your bathroom. You had barely made it before you were expelling your dinner into the porcelain bowl. You heaved until there was nothing left. It was only then that you felt the warmth of his hands brushing your hair back and rubbing circles over your spine. You slowly sat up and rested back against the bathtub, Aaron leaned against the counter.

“I guess it’s a good time to mention we have a mandated weekend off. I figured you were feeling better if you had ordered tacos.” Aaron teased.

“I was feeling better. And thank God. I could use the extra two days to get my shit together.” You laughed.

“What did the doctor say?” He questioned.

“Well, she uh…” You started.

“I shouldn’t have asked that, I’m sorry.” He apologized.

“No, Aaron it’s okay. I just – I found out that I’m pregnant.” You blurted.

“Oh, that’s – wow congrats. I didn’t realize you’d started seeing someone.” He muttered.

“Thanks, and I’m not. It was just some guy I met while we were in Alabama.” You grumbled.

With Aaron’s assistance, you made your way back to the couch, not before quickly brushing your teeth. After he saw that you were settled, he went to the kitchen and grabbed your anti-nausea pills, some crackers and a ginger ale for you.

The two of you sat and talked for hours, you told him about your doctor’s appointment and the phone call with Jensen. You expressed your excitement and nervousness, both of which he met with reassurance. Aaron was quick to tell you he thought you’d make a great mother and that he, along with the rest of the BAU, would be there for you every step of the way.

The night continued on with the two of you curled up on the couch watching movies, Aaron refilling your ginger ale as needed throughout the evening. Your position had shifted slightly the longer you sat there, you had laid down, your head resting on a pillow against Aaron’s thigh, his hand delicately running through your hair. You turned your head to look up at him, the movement drawing his gaze to you.

“Can I tell you something?” You asked.

“Anything.” He whispered.

“I’m scared to do this alone. I don’t want the kid to grow up and hate me because they don’t have a dad. Plus, I always thought when I had kids, I’d be settled…ya know?” You spoke softly.

“You’re not alone in this.” He replied.

“I know Aaron, that’s not what I meant.” you sighed.

“I could do it.”

“What?” You sat up abruptly, turning to look him in the eyes.

“I could raise the baby with you, I mean if you want. I just, I always wanted a big family, and Jack has asked about having a sibling on more than one occasion, plus we’re close already…” He rambled.

“You would do that for me?” You gasped.

“Of course I would, I’d do anything for you.” He smiled softly.

“So how would this work?” You questioned.

“It’s late, why don’t we head to bed, and we can talk logistics in the morning.” He said, patting your knee.

“Okay.” You smiled.

You woke up the next morning and had to remind yourself that last night was real, Aaron had in fact offered to raise your baby with you. You got out of bed and padded your way to the kitchen. Upon entering you were met with the sight of Aaron in his sweats and a T-shirt, gliding around your kitchen, making breakfast. This felt so domestic, and you couldn’t help the pain in your chest at the fact that this isn’t.

“Good morning!” You greeted.

“Good morning! How did you sleep?” He replied.

“I slept well thanks. You?”

“Pretty good actually. So, how are you feeling about my offer?” He queried.

“I’d like to take you up on it, as long as it’s still on the table. But I think we need to lay out some ground rules, or at least figure out how we would do this.” You explained.

“We’re doing this then! And I agree, we need to sort out all the details.” Aaron suggested.

Aaron and you talked about it a lot over the next few hours and had come to an agreement on nearly all subjects. Aaron would attend doctor’s appointments with you, the child would be raised by you and Aaron and for all intents and purposes, Aaron would be known as dad, when the kid is old enough, you agreed that honesty is crucial, and you’d explain that Aaron isn’t their biological dad. You had agreed on bringing the child up in a loving home and allowing your child to find their own way in religion and politics, neither of you fond of pushing either of those things on a kid. You had also agreed on the importance of education, family time, immunizations, etc.. There were a few things though, that you still weren’t sure of.

“So, Aaron, I guess I am just curious on how we would address a few things. Like with the team or anyone that asks – you’re the father? Or do we tell them there was a sperm donor? Are we honest about the situation? And what about us? Everyone is going to think we’re together. Also, the living situation, you mentioned you want to be around to help but going back and forth from my place to yours, it’s not fair to us or to Jack, what do we do?” You rattled on.

“Okay, slow down. I think with the team and family, we can tell them the truth…to anyone else, I’m the father. If that’s okay with you? For the living situation, I ugh well I was thinking, maybe we find a house? I know how crazy that sounds, but I would be closer to you to help out and Jack could be close to his sibling, at least for a while. It wouldn’t have to be permanent.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “As for us, I don’t want to complicate things sweetheart. I can’t say I’ve never thought about us…maybe we just take it day by day.” Aaron was trying to gauge your reaction.

“That all sounds perfect. We will take it day by day, see where this journey takes us.” You say, reaching to hold Aaron’s hand.

Aaron brings your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to the back of it. You can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks. His admission of thinking of the two of you as more than friends, lingers in your mind. You wondered how long he’d been thinking like that but figured you could ask him another time. The bubble you were currently in was far too precious to burst.

“So, should we start house hunting?”

Aaron chucked at your excitement and nodded happily.

**15 weeks pregnant**

The two of you agreed to wait to tell the team, at least until you had settled into your roles as co-parents. You also wanted to wait until you had progressed further in your pregnancy before you shared the news with not only the team, but also Jack. You had expressed to Aaron that you were worried Jack wouldn’t take the news well and he had assured you that Jack would be thrilled with the prospect of having a sibling. Aaron had also informed you that Jack had asked if you could be his new mom once your friendship had grown.

Things had been going well, it had been almost two months since you guys had agreed to do this together and you couldn’t be happier. Aaron had gone to your appointments with you, and that’s where you were currently headed. You had your 15-week appointment today, you’d also be doing some tests to ensure the baby is healthy.

“Alright, did you guys want to find out the baby’s sex today?”

You looked over at Aaron, and he met you with a subtle nod of confirmation. You had discussed this on the way over today.

“Yes we would!”

“You are having a girl, congratulations!” The doctor smiled and made her leave.

Aaron was quick to lean down and embrace you. You were shedding tears of joy, beaming with excitement. He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple and pulled away.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, I scheduled a showing with our realtor. I think you’re really going to like this one!” Aaron gushed.

Aaron drove you over to the most adorable home, judging from the curb appeal, you were thinking his assumption was correct. He helped you out of the vehicle and led you into the home, your realtor was waiting for you just inside the foyer.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner, welcome! Please take your time to look around, I will be in the kitchen if you need anything. Aaron, I am going to make a few calls and see what we’re looking at for this one.” Bradley informed.

The two of you agreed to act as a married couple when looking into homes, Aaron had suggested that newlyweds with a baby on the way might be more appealing to a seller. Though things between you definitely felt more like that was becoming your truth as opposed to this fantasy you’d act out when in the presence of Bradley.

Looking around, Aaron led you around the house, showing you each of the rooms on the first floor, then the second. You ended up in the master bedroom, making your way out on the balcony that overlooks the backyard.

“So, I was thinking, the two rooms downstairs, one would be my office, and the other could be a sort of den or library. Up here, Jack could have that first room, the second could be a nursery, and then the other two well they’d be ours, or one could be a guest room.” Aaron offered.

“If we made one a guest room, that would mean that we…we’d share this room? Aaron Hotchner are you suggesting that we share a room?” You teased.

“Maybe I am.” He declared.

You had been playing this game of cat and mouse for the last three weeks. It had started after you had kissed. It happened in the heat of the moment, the two of you were fighting over him subtly benching you from work, you had explained you were fine to which he admitted how important you were to him and that he couldn’t afford to lose you. Upon this revelation, you’d shared a passionate kiss. An action that you hadn’t discussed or repeated since then.

“Well, I think that could work.” You nudged him gently. “This house is perfect honey.”

“Should we go talk to Bradley?” He posed.

“I think so.”

**17 weeks pregnant**

“Can you come to my office please?” Aaron asked.

Naturally this caught the attention of the team. You could tell they were growing suspicious of you and Aaron. They used to make jokes about you guys dating all the time with how close you were, but now, taking time off together to go to doctor’s appointments and hushed conversations in his office. You were sure the team thought you two were together. And now, you guessed they weren’t exactly wrong.

“They are totally dating.” Emily insisted.

“No doubt about it. Last week they left early together on Thursday. I guess Hotch called Rossi and told him they wouldn’t be back, and Rossi said he could hear them giggling. He used those exact words.” Morgan explained.

“Hotch, giggling? No way!” JJ chimed in.

“When do you think they’ll finally come clean?” Emily wondered.

“Whenever they are ready, and none of you are going to push the issue.” Rossi declared.

The others grumbled in defeat as they returned to their tasks. Meanwhile, Aaron was informing you that Bradley had left him a voicemail, asking that the two of you return the call when you could.

“Hey Aaron, thanks for getting back to me. Listen I have good news, your offer went through. You guys got the house! I’ll email over some paperwork, and we will talk next steps soon.” Bradley rushed.

“Thank you Bradley, we appreciate it.” Aaron replied before hanging up the phone.

You shared a look before a cheerful squeal escaped your lips. You jumped into Aaron’s arms, hugging him tightly. He was quick to return it, rocking you back and forth gently.

“We got the house! I can’t believe it!”

“We did sweetheart! Do you want to come for dinner tonight, we can talk to Jack?” Aaron offered.

“That sounds great.”

You made your way back to your desk and caught the tail end of your team’s conversation. They had clearly been speculating about the nature of your relationship with Aaron, and after that little display in his office, you couldn’t blame them. You’d have to bring that up tonight, maybe it was time to come clean.

You were currently cooking dinner while Aaron helped Jack with his homework at the dining table. If this is the life you had to look forward to, you’d be a happy girl. You never felt more at home than when in the presence of the Hotchner boys. You finished up dinner and sent the boys to wash up while you set the table, they returned swiftly and the three of you began eating.

“Jack, bud, we have something we want to talk to you about.” Aaron began. “It’s pretty important and I’d really like you to let me tell you everything before you respond okay?”

“Okay.” Jack nodded, mouth full.

“You know how I’m having a baby right?” You gave him a moment to nod in reply.

“Well, that baby is going to be your little sister.” Aaron explained. “We are going to have this baby, and we’re all going to live together, in a new house. You’ll still go to the same school, but we will live in a house, all together instead of in the apartment.” Aaron concluded.

Jack’s eyes grew wide at the mass of information he’d just received. He glanced from you to Aaron and back to you once more. His mouth fell open, and he took a deep breath before speaking.

“So, does that mean you’re going to be my mom finally? Are you guys getting married? What does the house look like? Will I have to share a room with the baby? And where did the baby come from?” Jack rattled off.

“Oh, well sweetie this doesn’t necessarily mean…”

“Bud, go put your dish in the sink and change into your pjs. When you come back we will answer all of your questions.” Aaron instructed.

Jack shrugged and went first to the kitchen, then shuffled down the hall to change. Aaron knew it would take him a little bit, and he’d likely get distracted before returning, which meant he could talk to you about the first two of Jack’s questions.

“Sweetheart, if I am going to be the father of this baby, would you maybe consider being a mother to Jack? I know it is a lot, but with us living together and raising the baby together, it might make sense for me to formally adopt the baby and you to adopt Jack. That way we really could be a family. If anything happened to me, I would at least know that he’d have someone. He loves you so much and I love you, it just feels right, him wanting to call you mom.” Aaron blurted.

“Y – you love me?” You gasped.

Aaron blushed, having realized his slip up. “I do.”

“I love you too Aaron. And I would love for Jack to consider me his mom, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about us all being a real family like that. As for the adoption, that sounds perfect, I’d have to call Jensen and judging how our first conversation went, it should be a non-issue.” You noted.

“We would just have to get the papers drawn up for you to adopt Jack, his mother signed away her rights when she left us.” Aaron stated.

You looked at him with a saddened expression. The thought of leaving Aaron and Jack breaks your heart, you can’t imagine how she did it so effortlessly. Aaron could see the hurt behind your gaze, and he brought his hand up to caress your cheek, drawing a heat with it.

“Can we go back to a few minutes ago when we both said “I love you” for the first time” Aaron chuckled.

You let out a giggle and nodded, leaning in to meet him halfway for a passionate kiss. The two of you have kissed before, but never like this. Kissing someone who you love and that loves you in return, well that is pure bliss.

“Eww!” Jack shrieks, covering his eyes.

The two of you share a laugh and pull away. Aaron begins clearing the table while you go to get Jack.

“Eww? Eww? Come here buddy! Let me give you a big smooch!” You laughed reaching for Jack.

His laughs rang through the apartment as you jokingly chased him around the living room. When you finally caught up to him, you wrapped your arms around him a pressed a dramatically loud kiss to his cheek. Jack feigned disgust and wiped his cheek off as Aaron entered the room, joining the two of you on the couch with a big smile on his face.

“Alright buddy, I want to answer some of your questions okay?”

“Okay dad.”

“So, let’s start with the house, you are going to have your own room. The house is big with a yard that we can practice soccer in and a pool for us to swim! You will get to see the house soon; we are going to move in just a few weeks.” Aaron explained.

“As for me bud, if you want to call me mom you absolutely can. We aren’t getting married just yet, but we are a family sweetie.” You gently ruffle his hair.

“Okay mom, but you didn’t answer my last question! Where do babies come from?”

Your heart soared at the name, but both you and Aaron choked at his question.

“Uh, we will talk about that when you’re a little older. Go get ready for bed.”

**26 weeks pregnant**

You were nearing week 26 of your pregnancy and you knew, beyond a doubt, that the entire team knew you were pregnant, you hadn’t really been hiding it other than some loose-fitting tops. None of them said anything, but they were all doing everything in their power to make sure you were comfortable, safe, and feeling well in the office and even more so in the field. 

On your last case, the whole team worked to keep you stuck in the local precinct as to avoid any potential harm. You knew they were just being protective, but your doctor said you were fine to continue field work for at least a few more weeks. You wanted to work while you still could, and you decided to talk to Aaron about finally coming clean to the team.

“Hey, can I talk to you really quick?” You asked, entering his office.

“Am I talking to you as your boss or as your significant other?” He questions.

“Both I guess? Aaron, I think we need to tell the team. They already know I’m pregnant, that I am sure of. But they are acting like I am made of glass, and I would really like to keep working while I still can.” You declared.

“Sweetheart I can’t say I am particularly upset about everyone being extra cautious for you. I want you safe, and they do too. But if you’re ready to tell them, then let’s tell them.” He admitted.

Aaron called the team to the round table so the two of you could come clean about everything. In the last 18 weeks, your lives had drastically changed for the better, and they’d only continue to do so, so it was only right that you have your BAU family involved and around for the joy to come.

“I called you all in here because we have some news we’d like to share with you all.” Aaron said, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You smiled up at him before continuing. “I am pregnant, as you all already seem to know…but that’s not all.” You and Aaron told the team about your relationship, the pregnancy and how it came to be, Aaron stepping in and being the father, the new house and how you moved in together, you told them everything.

The team met you with shocked expressions, before they bombarded you with congratulations, embraces, and some questions. They asked about Jack and his reaction, they asked about the baby’s biological father, and they asked if an engagement was coming soon.

You had explained that the adoption process had already begun for Aaron and the baby, that Jensen was more than willing to waive his parental rights. You’d also told them how Jack started calling you mom and you were planning to ask him if you could adopt him officially in a few weeks and Aaron said an engagement would occur soon enough as long as you’d have him.

To close out your family meeting, you’d politely asked everyone to remember that you were pregnant, not incompetent, and you would appreciate it if they would let you work like normal (mostly) for the last few weeks you’d be able to. They agreed with some apprehension as long as you’d be careful and let the others lead.

**33 weeks pregnant**

The team had travelled to Colorado for a case, you knew that this would be one of the last times you’d get to travel with the team, so you were going to give this case your all.

For the last month, Aaron had definitely broken his promise and was keeping you on a tight leash. You knew he was only protecting you, but you wanted to do your job. You were damn good at it, and you weren’t going to let anyone tell you otherwise.

“Alright, you are going to stay here and work on the geographical profile with Reid, and I am, going to the latest crime scene with Morgan.” Aaron stated.

“I’d like to go with Morgan actually. I think that my skills would be better suited that way.” You disputed, sending a glare Aaron’s way.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” Aaron started.

“Hotch. Let me do my job.”

“Okay go. Be careful, please.” Aaron pleaded.

Morgan drove you to the latest crime scene and you both looked around observing all of the evidence markers and trying to gather as much information as you could. The two of you were bouncing ideas off of one another when glass breaking sounded downstairs.

Morgan brought a finger to his lips signaling to be silent. You both raised your weapons and made your way to the landing. Morgan leaned around the corner to see if he could catch a glimpse of the intruder from the top of the stairs. When it came up empty, he motioned that he was going downstairs, silently telling you he’d let you know when it was safe to follow.

You didn’t move until Morgan signaled for you to do so. When he did, you carefully made your way downstairs. He went left and you went right, making your way through the first level of the home you noticed a broken lamp next to an open window in the living room.  Before you had a chance to react, a man grabbed you from behind, his arm wrapping around your throat and his gun pressed to your temple.

“Call out to your partner.” He hissed, pressing the gun further into your skin.

“Morgan, in the living room!” You called.

“Did you find someth-” Morgan trailed off, seeing the unsub holding you. “Woah, okay. We don’t want any trouble okay. You can let her go. We can get you whatever you want man.” Morgan offered.

“DON’T TRY TO PLAY GAMES WITH ME!” The unsub bellowed.

“We’re not – trying to play games with you. We just want everyone to leave here unharmed.” You tried to console the unsub.

“NO! LOOK AT HIM! HE’S GONNA TRY AND SHOOT ME THE SECOND I LET YOU GO! I’M NOT FUCKING STUPID!” The unsub cried.

You could tell he was devolving; he was young, intimidated and sick of being pushed around by men in positions of power. Most notably, his father.

“You’re right. He probably will try and shoot. He’s cocky like that. Always walking around like he’s a gift from God himself. Barking orders at his subordinates and making passes at any female employee. It makes me sick.” You played into his delusions.

“He treats you like that?” The unsub wavered.

“He does. And I can’t stand it! I am sick of being treated like I’m less than. Like I’m not good enough to be here! I deserve more, you deserve more. We are strong and capable, and we should be treated as such.” You continued to work this unsub while Morgan slowly moved into position.

“You’re right! If you can see that, why couldn’t he? Why couldn’t he see that I am enough!” The unsub sobbed, his hands dropping to his sides.

Morgan swooped in and handcuffed him after gently grabbing his gun from his hand. The unsub sobbed quietly, realizing the error of his ways. You moved to sit in a nearby chair and Morgan pulled out his phone to call for backup.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked, rushing to your side. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you coming with Morgan.”

“Aaron, honey, I’m okay!” You reassured him.

“Hotch, your girl single handedly talked the guy off the ledge. She’s the reason we’re all safe.” Morgan explained.

Aaron looked at you once again. Taking in every part of your body to ensure you had no injuries. He gently takes your chin between his index finger and thumb to glance at your right temple, making a note of the slight bruise that’s developing there.

“I want you to get checked out before we go home.” Aaron informed.

“Okay.” You said, knowing arguing wouldn’t get you anywhere.

After spending far too long at the hospital, you were headed back to the hotel with a clean bill of health for both you and your baby girl. Aaron’s hands hadn’t left you since he’d rushed to your side at the crime scene. They were either holding your own, pressed to the small of your back, or resting on your leg. You knew he was just trying to ground himself in the fact that you were safe.

That night you and Aaron shared a conversation about you going on desk duty for the next few weeks, before your maternity leave started. He was a bit shocked that you didn’t fight him on it…not even a little bit.

**39 weeks pregnant**

You had been on maternity leave for all of five days and you were already out of your mind. The only thing you were grateful for was the fact that you got to spend so much time with Jack.

Your adoption of him had been finalized two weeks ago and everything was done regarding Aaron adopting the baby. Now, you were just awaiting the arrival of your daughter. You were more than ready for her to be here and out of your body, and while the pregnancy hadn’t been particularly difficult, you were exhausted and bloated and just ready to be done.

You were in the kitchen making lunch for Jack and you while he played in the living room. He’d requested a grilled cheese sandwich with some tomato soup. You had just flipped the sandwich when a contraction hit. The pain washed over you, radiating down your spine and through your pelvis. You took a deep breath and check the time, they were about fifteen minutes apart right now, the contractions kept you up all night and had been consistent all day.

“Okay bud, lunch is served!” You set his food down in front of him on the coffee table.

“Thanks mom!” He smiled, taking a big bite of grilled cheese.

“You’re welco-” a sharp hiss escaped your mouth.

Checking the clock again you realize it’s only been about five minutes since the last one. You take a few deep breaths and look around for your phone, it might be time to text Aaron.

“Mom, are you okay?” Jack asked.

“Yeah bub I’m okay. I think your sister is getting ready to come.” You explained.

“Really? I can’t wait to meet her!” Jack cheered, resting one of his hands on your swollen belly.

“I can’t wait either. Jack, could you uh – could you go grab my phone hon?” You requested.

“Okay!” He wandered over to the kitchen to grab your phone.

You felt another contraction coming on and realized that they were coming one after another in shorter bursts of times. You needed to get to the hospital.

Jack returned from the kitchen with your phone and handed it to you. You were quick to dial Aaron’s number.  It rang three times before he picked up.

“Hey sweetheart. Is everything okay?” He questioned.

“Yeah honey, it – it’s time. She’s coming.”

“Now? How far apart are your contractions? Did your water break? Are you in pain? Should I call an ambulance to come and take you to the hospital?” Aaron rattled off question after question.

“Aaron, baby, contractions are three minutes apart now, my water hasn’t broken, I’m not in too much pain, and please don’t call an ambulance. I will drive myself and Jack to the hospital. Meet us there.”

“I will sweetheart. The go bag is on the floor of the closet, on the right side. And the car seat has already been installed. I am leaving right now.” Aaron promised.

“Okay! See you soon.”

**36 weeks pregnant**

“Mrs. Hotchner, can we go swimming?” Henry asked.

“Of course, bud, you boys go get your swim trunks on and I will get Nora changed. Okay?” You looked at the three boys for confirmation.

After they all shouted okay, they ran to Jack’s room and the bathroom to change, you walked with Nora upstairs to help her change into her swimsuit.

“Alright bug, pink or green?” You asked her.

“No. Blue momma, blue!” Nora demanded.

“Okay bug, blue suit.” You agreed.

You got Nora changed and brought her into your room, before you changed into your own bathing suit in the on-suite bathroom. When you exited, you grabbed Nora and then made sure the boys were all ready and that they had put on sunscreen. The five of you made your way outside, the boys were quick to jump straight into the pool, and you made sure to put on Nora’s swimming vest.

Aaron stepped away from the grill and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed a sweet kiss on your shoulder before leaning down and kissing Nora’s head. He went back to the grill and got it cleaned and ready for the burgers you were making tonight.

“JJ texted and said her and Will were on their way. She said to thank you again for picking the boys up from school.” Aaron let you know.

“She doesn’t need to thank me.” You scoffed. “The boys all go to the same school and with me on maternity leave, I have nothing better to do.” You laughed.

“I’m excited to see the team, it’s been so long since we’ve all been together.” Aaron sighed, slipping into the pool with you.

“I know honey. We’ve all just been so busy…that’s why it’s taken this long for us to do this reveal” You hugged him. “Do you regret taking the promotion?”

“Not for even a second. It has allowed me more time with you and the kids. I got to see almost all of Nora’s milestones, and I am so excited for this little one to join us here soon.” Aaron said caressing your belly once more.

“I can’t wait either.” You smiled.

One by one the team began filing in through the back gate. Derek and Savanah had come in with Hank. JJ and Will had come in and were quick to greet their sons. Emily, Spencer and Penelope arrived all at once saying their hellos and quickly getting into the pool. And Rossi arrived last, he set the cake and wine in the kitchen and made himself comfortable in the lounge chairs on the deck.

Time passed in slow motion, you made conversation with those around you and ate dinner (Aaron and Derek standing over the grill drinking beer…they were arguing over how long to cook the burgers). Everyone got out of the pool and as the adults sat on the lounge chairs, the kids ran around in the yard, playing soccer.

“Are you guys ready?” Dave asked

After you and Aaron nodded, Dave went to grab the cake. You called everyone over to the table and let them know that you chose to reveal the gender this way because you didn’t want some big flashy party, but rather to be surrounded by loved ones.

“So, there’s one other announcement I’d like to make before we do the gender reveal.” You began. “I will not be returning to the BAU after the birth.”

A chorus of “what do you mean” and “why” and “that’s not funny” rang out around you. This was something that you’d been at war with yourself over for the entirety of this pregnancy. Aaron taking the promotion to a director position, it had shockingly allowed him more time with your family, and it provided a safety that his previous position had hindered. It was a culmination of those facts that led you to your decision.

“What does this mean though? What are you going to do?” Spencer was the one to ask.

“I’m going to teach.” You smiled. “I was offered a position, within the FBI, to teach. You guys will still get to see me, and we will still host everyone, but the hours are better, and they’ll allow me more time at home.”

The team exchanged solemn expressions, but ultimately wished you well. They let you know that they’d miss you and the team wouldn’t be the same without you, but they understood.

“Okay! Sorry. Onto a much happier topic – the gender reveal of our baby!” You exclaimed.

Aaron and you each took a wine glass and held them upside down over opposite edges of the cake. The team counted down 3…2…1…and you and Aaron plunged the glasses into the cake. You each brought the glasses up and held them out in front of you, confusion etched on the faces of those standing before you.

“OH MY GOD! It’s twins! It’s twins isn’t it!” Penelope shouted with glee.

In front of you, enclosed in the wine glass were layers of chocolate cake intermixed with blue frosting. And in front of Aaron was a glass housing chocolate cake with pink frosting. The two of you shared a look, one that held nothing but love and adoration for one another and the beautiful life you’ve built with one another. You loved each other more than anything and your growing family was proof of that, Jack and Nora had been thrilled that they’d be getting both a little brother and sister, and in just a few short weeks, they’d make their debut.

[ 8:56 am ] — AARON HOTCHNER

there's a lot of words that can describe aaron hotchner. he's intimidating, scary, strong minded, stern. but most importantly, aaron hotchner is very very pretty.

with his floppy brown bedhair on top of his head, to the way his chest raise and fall with each breath he took. with his lips parted, and his nose, so perfectly sculpted on his face.

you concluded that yes, he is indeed very pretty.

you can't help yourself as your hand softly gravitate to his face. his stubble is growing out and it feels nice on your skin. his cheeks are soft, and his lips were chapped when it meets the tips of your fingers.

you softly land a chaste kiss on his forehead, and then his cheeks, his nose and lastly his lips.

“it’s rude to stare, honey.”

his deep voice brought you out of your daze as a small smile formed on his face. Giving your waist a teasing squeeze as he caught you red handed.

“was just admiring.” you shrugged, finger still softly tracing the details of his face. “not my fault your so pretty.”

aaron’s whole body went stiff as his eyes opened in shock, sitting his body up a little to look at you. did he heard that right? did you just- did you just called him pretty? a pink blush across his cheeks. he’s sure his brain shut down.

you looked at his reaction, his brown eyes blinking slowly, “what?” you chuckled, “you’ve never been called pretty before?”

he dumbly shook his head and it was your turn to tease. “well, good cause you’re my pretty boy.”

aaron groaned in frustration, feeling his whole body go warm. he rolled over to hover on top of you, hiding his flushed cheeks in the crook of your neck. “you can’t just say things like that.”

you giggled and tangled your fingers in his hair making the tall man nuzzle into your embrace. at the sound of your laughter, a lovesick grin appear on his face as he turned to stare at you.

“you are also very pretty.” he absentmindedly mumbled and you felt your stomach doing flips.

you pecked his lips once, and then twice, and then a third time, and then peppering his whole face with small kisses and aaron felt like for every kiss a part of him healed. aaron knows he never would give his heart to anyone, but when he met you, he landed you his whole heart without hesitation and you have been holding it like it was a piece of priceless art. he thinks giving you his heart is one of the best things he has ever done.

as the alarm rings 9am it is safe to say that aaron hotchner will finally ask you the question so that he could wake up next to you forever.

reblog for a kiss <3 || check out my masterlist!

Resting in Love's Embrace: An Aaron Hotchner Imagine

(No use of Y/N although it is implied.)

The night was calm, the only sound breaking the silence being the rhythmic hum of the air conditioning unit. Aaron Hotchner lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the stress of the day slowly drain away. He had just returned from a particularly grueling case, one that had taken a toll on his body and mind. But now, in the sanctuary of his home, he could finally let his guard down.

His girlfriend, who had been waiting for him, watched him quietly from the doorway of their bedroom. She had seen the weariness in his eyes the moment he walked through the door, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. She knew what he needed—what they both needed—was time to reconnect, to find solace in each other's presence.

She approached the bed slowly, not wanting to disturb his rare moment of peace, but also knowing that her touch would bring him the comfort he so desperately needed. She slipped under the covers and moved closer to him, her body fitting perfectly against his side. Aaron turned his head, a soft smile breaking across his tired face as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

"Hey yourself," she replied, her hand gently tracing patterns on his chest. "Rough day?"

He sighed, a deep, weary sound that seemed to echo the exhaustion he felt. "You could say that. But it's better now."

She smiled, knowing that she was his anchor, the one constant in his tumultuous life. They lay there in comfortable silence, the world outside their window fading away as they focused on each other. Aaron's hand slowly moved up and down her back, a soothing gesture that calmed both their racing hearts.

"Tell me about it," she said softly, knowing that sometimes he needed to talk about his cases, to share the burden that he carried.

He hesitated for a moment, then began to speak, his voice a quiet whisper in the dark room. He told her about the case, about the victims and the criminals, the moments of terror and the flashes of hope. She listened intently, her heart aching for him and the people he tried so hard to save.

When he finished, she leaned up and kissed him gently, her lips a soft balm against his. "You're doing so much good, Aaron. Don't forget that."

He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. "I couldn't do it without you," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

They held each other tighter, finding strength in their connection. She moved closer, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His arms wrapped around her, holding her as if she was his lifeline, the one thing keeping him grounded in a world that often threatened to pull him under.

They stayed like that for a long time, neither wanting to break the spell that had woven around them. The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle light on their entwined forms. Aaron pressed a kiss to her forehead, a silent promise of love and protection.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with a depth of feeling that words could barely convey.

"I love you too," she replied, her hand resting over his heart. "Always."

As the night deepened, they drifted into a peaceful sleep, their breaths syncing in a harmonious rhythm. In each other's arms, they found the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that together, they could overcome anything. And for Aaron Hotchner, in that moment, there was no place he would rather be than right there, holding the woman he loved, feeling the steady beat of her heart against his.