Aaron Hotch Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts

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.

Sweet & Sour Motivation

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

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

Category: smut, angst, fluff

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

Word count: 11.7k

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

But I caught you in a mirror staring way too long  

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

I’m gonna have to take you home…”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night,” you whispered, ending the call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, he kissed you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both laughed, the nervous tension easing slightly.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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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.

Aaron Hotchner: First and Last Phone Call

Imagine being followed, so you call your brother (Aaron Hotchner), hoping he might save you:

Y/N's POV:

The walk to my dorm was taking me longer than usual, the recent injury to my leg was definitely not helping me.

The sun had long since set, and the darkness of the night had fully set in, my only light sources being the sparse lamp posts dotting along the sidewalk. The dark has always been a fear of mine, but my fear is reaching a whole new level right now. I'm injured, alone, and in a new environment; anything could happen to me. I keep my head up and on a swivel, turning at anything and everything.

I eventually calm down after a few minutes of excessive paranoia, instead finding comfort in the soft breeze, the leaves russling under the trees, and gazing at the orange glow of the lamps against the dark blue sky, it's actually quite calming.

Rain lightly begins to sprinkle from above, something that I embrace as I love rainy weather. Of course my clothes and bag are getting wet, but I don't care.

I almost miss the quiet scuffle behind me, the sound of light footsteps against the wet sidewalk. I turn around quickly, but I see nothing. Turning back around, I shake my head, thinking I'm being paranoid again. I continue my slow walk, my dorm is still several minutes away.

After another few moments of walking, the light scuffle is heard again, this time I immediately turn around, once again seeing nothing behind me. I glare at my surroundings harshly, I'm about to continue my trek when something catches my attention.

Along the sidewalk is a dirt area with bushes and trees, large oaks that are spread every 7 feet along the sidewalk. Nothing about that is odd, but carefully surveying the tree, I noticed the rubber toe of a shoe, it reminds me of the thick rubber sole of Vans.

My breathing feels harder, an eerie sense of understanding floods through my body. I don't have my pepper spray or any of my knives on me, I made the stupid decision that a philosophy textbooks was more important. I'm wearing my Ariat leather books, good for walking and work, but not so amazing when it comes to having to outrun somebody.

My brain is turning with thoughts of what to do, but the first thing I know I must do is turn back around and start walking as if nothing is wrong; this may seem stupid, but I can't let this person know that I've spotted them. I force my breaths to be even, and I grasp my bag loosely to my side.

Continuing to walk was very hard, especially when you know somebody is following you, and you have no idea what their intentions are.

Grasping my bag, I swiftly undo its buckles, taking care not to look like I'm rushing. Rain drips down my skin as I pull my phone out of my bag, looking closely, I notice the slight tremble in my hands and the burning of my eyes. Clicking on the only contact I can think of, I hold the phone tightly to my ear.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

I hear my phone ringing, it causes the conference room to fall silent, all eyes going to me. Sheepishly reaching into my coat pocket, I glance at the name and know it must be important.

"What is it Aaron?" Rossi questions, clearly seeing the confusion in my eyes.

"It's my sister?" My voice is deep and raspy, I haven't spoken to her since I left home, and she has never reached out to me. I don't know why she's calling, but I know I need to answer it.

"Continue without me, give me the summary on the jet." Is all I say before pushing out of my chair and exiting the room, leaving it full of confused and concerned profilers.

———

"....Y/N?" I listen closely, hearing the slight pattering of rain through the line.

"...Hey Aaron." Her voice is tight, it only increases my concern.

"Why are you calling?" My question can't help but be asked, my personality doesn't allow for the polite bullshitting, instead wanting to get straight to the point.

"I'm doing great, heading to my dorm right now actually, I know you're waiting for me." Her response is confusing, we haven't kept in contact at all, and I didn't even know she was in university. Something starts to scratch in the back of my mind, this conversation feels off.

"What are you talking about? Why did you call me?" My question is overflowing with the need for an answer, my voice lowering so that prying ears can't hear.

"Yah, I did go down to California for spring break. The horse races were crazy!" With this sentence my thoughts still. When Y/N was just a little girl, I taught her certain phrases to say when something is happening to her; and this was one of the scariest scenarios:

She was being actively followed.

My breathing gets heavier, and my heart feels like it's ramming against my rib cage. I grip my phone so tight it feels like I might crush it. Thinking quickly, I stride out of my office and back into the conference room, JJ falls silent as they all look at me.

Motioning for everyone to stay quiet, I pull the phone away from my ear and put it on silent.

"I'm with my team Y/N, tell me where you are."

"...I'm walking to (university name), I was just in town, but I'm currently passing some gas station. I should only be about 10 minutes away, so I'll meet you there." I can hear her straining to keep a normal pitch and her breaths becoming faster, alerting me that she is worried. I point at Garcia, her eyes lighting up with understanding as she begins typing away on her computer.

By now, everyone looks confused and worried, but all are in work mode.

"Y/N, you need to get into a building, I don't care which one, you just need to find other people. NOW." My voice is harsh, and I know it's not helping the situation, but I need her to be safe.

———————

Y/N's POV:

He's almost shouting at me, but I know he's just worried, I can hear the almost inaudible waver in his voice. The tears are freely falling now, I've already passed the last building between town and my university.

The footsteps behind me speed up, it seems they noticed my predicament as well, they are going to do something to me, and there is nothing I can do. I speed up as well, wanting to be able to explain everything to Aaron.

"Aar.. A-Aaron...I-I'm sorry." I can't stop my voice from stuttering, sobs now mixing with my talking.

"I'm sorry I said I hated you. I was angry at myself, not you" My words drip with emotion, the guilt that flows through me is almost as painful as knowing I'm about to die.

"Y/N-" He tries to speak, but I interrupt him as I know I have little time.

"I'm sorry that your last memory of me will be over the phone, please forgive m-" My apologies are cut short, my phone being smacked to the ground. I try to face my attacker, but a punch to the face causes me to take a detour to the floor.

The rough asphalt rips into the flesh of my hands, it burns, but not as much as the kick I receive to the gut. I scream in pain, hoping someone will hear, but knowing deep down that no one will.

The person jumps on top of me, their weight forcing my already empty lungs to collapse even further, I feel like I'm gasping, but no air enters. Everything is blurry, and wet, it's all so disorienting.

Two large hands wrap around my throat, the pressure quickly increasing; I try to fight, feebly punching him with my weakening limbs.

I feel heavy, my head foggy, I kind of just want to close my eyes and sleep. As my eyelids droop closed, the last memory I have is of a blurry warm light from a lamp post a little ways away.

———————

Aaron Hotchner's POV:

After the screams and scuffle end, all we hear through the phone is silence, someone(I assume the attacker) picks up the phone, and ends the call after another few seconds. Sadness is surging through my body, I already know tears are dripping down my cheeks, but even through all my sorrow, I remain silent.

Everyone looks uncomfortable, looks of fear, anger, shock, and concern mingling in all of their expressions. JJ is about to say something when Garcia comes bustling through the door, she looks just as depressed as I feel.

"Sir, I know where she is."

You had a crush on Hotch during high school, but gave up your pursuit when Hailey and him became a couple out of respect.

You've gotten transferred to the BAU, having been an FBI Agent for ten years now, and you meet your new boss.

"(Y/N), uhm, h-hi . .excuse my stuttering, it's just been too long"

i always see Hotch fic writers have hotch suddenly confess to the reader, but I lowkey want an X Reader where hotch is just straight up seducing the reader

Season 1 Episode 2 of CM

The “Try to look less official” of Aaron Hotchner is walking with his eyes off the phone.

Hey! I’d love a one-shot where Hotch is really protective over the reader, who’s been getting some unwanted attention from someone at work. Maybe she’s a bit younger and new to the team, and she’s always been close with Hotch, but lately, he’s noticed that someone’s been making her uncomfortable. I’d love to see how Hotch handles it, especially since he’s been realizing he has feelings for her. Lots of protective Hotch vibes, maybe a little angst, but definitely some fluff and maybe a confession at the end. Thanks so much!

Of course lovely!!

Title: “Shield of Silence”

Pt2

You weren’t sure when it started, but the pit in your stomach had been growing for weeks now. At first, it had just been lingering looks—nothing overtly inappropriate but just enough to make your skin crawl. You’d brush it off, thinking you were imagining things, but the feeling only intensified as time passed. It was like being watched constantly, a gaze that clung to you when you least expected it.

It was your third month with the BAU, and although you were still adjusting, you felt like you’d finally found your place among the team. Spencer had been a wealth of knowledge, always eager to share some obscure fact or statistics. JJ had quickly become like an older sister, guiding you through the maze of FBI procedures and office politics. And then there was Aaron Hotchner—your unit chief, your mentor, and more recently, the person you found yourself gravitating towards the most.

Hotch had been nothing but professional with you, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. You admired his leadership, the way he commanded respect without demanding it, and his quiet but unwavering sense of justice. More than once, you’d caught yourself staring at him, wondering what it would be like to cross that line between professional and personal. But you always pushed those thoughts aside—he was your boss, after all.

Lately, however, you found yourself needing his presence more than usual. There was someone on the team who was making you uncomfortable, someone who lingered a little too close, who spoke a little too softly when he was near you. It was subtle—nothing you could report without feeling like you were making a mountain out of a molehill. But you knew it wasn’t just in your head.

The elevator ride that morning had been the final straw. You were alone, checking your phone, when you felt the presence beside you. Your stomach twisted as he moved closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath on your neck. You stepped away, mumbling an excuse about needing to review a case file, and practically fled to your desk.

It wasn’t until you were safely seated that you noticed Hotch watching you, his brows furrowed with concern. He’d always been perceptive, but this time, his gaze felt like it was peeling back the layers you’d tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Y/N,” his voice was low as he approached you, leaning on the edge of your desk. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a smile, trying to mask the anxiety churning in your gut. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Hotch didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If anything’s bothering you, you can always come to me. You know that, right?”

You nodded, grateful for his concern but unwilling to drag him into something that might just be a product of your overactive imagination. “I know, Hotch. Thank you.”

But Hotch wasn’t the kind of man to let things go easily, especially when it came to his team. Later that day, as the team gathered in the conference room for a briefing, you noticed that Hotch had positioned himself closer to you than usual. It was subtle—just a shift in his usual place—but it felt like a protective barrier, a silent assurance that he was there if you needed him.

The meeting went smoothly, but as it wrapped up, the same coworker who’d been making you uncomfortable sidled up beside you, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that made your skin crawl. Before you could step away, Hotch was there, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Y/N, I need you to stay back for a moment. We need to go over the details of the Montgomery case.”

The man beside you stiffened, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch, but he said nothing as he backed away. You watched him leave, your heart pounding in your chest.

When the room was finally empty, Hotch turned to you, his dark eyes filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “This has been going on for a while, hasn’t it?”

You swallowed, nodding reluctantly. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I thought maybe I was overreacting.”

Hotch shook his head, his jaw clenched. “You’re not overreacting. If someone’s making you uncomfortable, it’s my job to protect you. I don’t take that lightly.”

There was something in his tone that made your heart ache, a protective edge that spoke of more than just professional duty. “Hotch, I—”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush your arm where the other man had touched you. The gesture was tender, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not when I care about you as much as I do.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your mind racing to process what he’d just said. “You… care about me?”

Hotch’s eyes softened, the usual hardness melting away to reveal something far more vulnerable. “I care about you more than I should, given our positions. But I can’t help it. I need you to be safe, Y/N.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a truth you hadn’t been ready to face. But as you looked into Hotch’s eyes, saw the sincerity there, you felt the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crumble.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hand resting on his chest. “I feel the same way,” you admitted softly. “I’ve tried to ignore it, but… I can’t anymore.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with the tension of words left unsaid. But then, Hotch’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

“Let me take care of this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “Thank you, Hotch.”

He smiled—a rare, genuine smile that lit up his usually stoic features. “You can call me Aaron, you know.”

Your own smile mirrored his as you felt a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the lingering tension. “Okay… Aaron.”

The moment was perfect, the beginning of something new and fragile, but full of promise. As he pulled you into a comforting embrace, you knew that whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt safe.

Love “Shield of Silence” ❤️❤️ What about this time around Hotch need the rescue and they're in a relationship? Add anything you want. Tag me later. Thanks!! :)))

Title: "Tables Turned"

Part two for "shield of Silence"

(Aaron hotchnerr x fem!reader)

It had been a long case, the kind that seemed to stretch on forever with no clear answers. You and the team had been in Denver for almost a week now, chasing leads that seemed to go nowhere. Exhaustion clung to every agent like a second skin, and tempers were fraying at the edges. Still, you had a job to do, and as always, Aaron Hotchner was at the helm, holding everything together with his calm authority.

The only problem? Chief Jenny Montgomery.

From the moment you and Hotch had arrived at the local precinct, you could feel the Chief’s eyes lingering on him. At first, it was subtle—a little too much eye contact, a smile that lasted just a fraction longer than necessary. You didn’t think much of it, chalking it up to her trying to be friendly. But as the days wore on, her attention became impossible to ignore. She was practically hovering over Hotch at every opportunity, leaning in too close, her hand grazing his arm under the guise of handing him files. It was infuriating.

What made it worse was that Hotch, ever the professional, remained oblivious—or at least, he pretended to be. It was one of the things you loved most about him: his ability to keep his cool under pressure, always staying focused on the case. But this? This was testing your limits.

You’d been dating Aaron for nearly six months now. It had started slow, after that moment in the conference room when he confessed his feelings for you. But what you had was real, and it was strong. You’d been through a lot together, and the rest of the team knew about the relationship. They’d accepted it, even supported it—after all, they knew better than anyone how much Aaron needed someone to lean on after everything he’d been through.

But Jenny Montgomery didn’t seem to care. And you were not in the mood to play nice.

It was the third time that day that she’d sidled up to Hotch during a meeting, her body language screaming interest. You were across the room with Spencer and Rossi, trying to keep your attention on the case file in front of you, but your eyes kept drifting back to the two of them. Every time she laughed—loudly, unnecessarily—you felt your grip on your pen tighten.

Spencer glanced up at you, clearly noticing your growing tension. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, not taking your eyes off the pair. Hotch was standing there, arms crossed, looking as stoic as ever while Chief Montgomery laughed at something he’d said. But you knew him too well. You saw the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered with discomfort. He wasn’t enjoying this any more than you were.

You stood abruptly, unable to take it any longer. “Excuse me.”

You didn’t storm over—that wasn’t your style. But your footsteps were firm, your body language making it clear that you were not to be trifled with.

“—and I was just telling Agent Hotchner that we have this great little spot in town if he wanted to join me for—”

“That won’t be necessary,” you interrupted, your voice calm but laced with a steel edge. “Agent Hotchner already has plans.”

Montgomery’s eyes flickered with surprise, but she quickly recovered, giving you a tight smile. “Oh? I wasn’t aware.”

You smiled back, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “You are now.”

The tension in the room thickened, but you didn’t care. You weren’t going to stand by and let this woman flirt with your boyfriend right in front of you. Hotch shifted beside you, his lips twitching as if he was trying to suppress a smile. He hadn’t said a word, but you could tell he was enjoying this—probably far more than he should.

Montgomery’s smile faltered. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought—”

“You’ve been ‘just thinking’ all week,” you said, your voice still deceptively calm. “But let me make something clear: Aaron is taken. He’s with me. So, whatever little lunch date you had planned? Cancel it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel eyes on you—from your team, from the officers nearby. You didn’t care. Chief Montgomery stood frozen for a moment, clearly not used to being spoken to like that. She stammered something under her breath and walked away, her face flushed with embarrassment.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a long breath, the adrenaline coursing through you. You half expected Hotch to give you a stern look, to remind you about professionalism and keeping your cool.

But instead, he laughed.

It started as a small chuckle, then grew into full-blown laughter—the kind that had him clutching his stomach, gasping for air as he tried and failed to compose himself. His face turned red, and the sound echoed through the precinct, drawing even more eyes in your direction.

You stared at him in disbelief. “Aaron, are you—”

He shook his head, still laughing too hard to speak. His laughter was so out of character that the entire team was gaping at him like he’d lost his mind. Even Spencer looked confused, his brows furrowed as if he were trying to solve a puzzle.

“Hotch?” Morgan ventured, his voice laced with amusement. “You good, man?”

Hotch wiped tears from his eyes, finally managing to catch his breath. “I’m fine,” he gasped, his voice still thick with laughter. “I just—oh, God—I’ve never seen you like that, Y/N. You—” He dissolved into laughter again, leaning against the nearest desk for support.

You couldn’t help but smile, even as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Hotch looked at you, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Y/N, that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen anyone shut someone down like that.”

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let her flirt with you.”

“Clearly,” he said, still grinning. “And for the record, I would’ve turned her down myself if you hadn’t beaten me to it.”

You folded your arms, trying to hide your own amusement. “You didn’t exactly seem in a hurry to stop her.”

Hotch stepped closer, his smile softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t need to. I knew you’d handle it.”

His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, and suddenly, the tension you’d been carrying all week melted away. “Next time, maybe I’ll let you handle it.”

He chuckled, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Deal.”

As he leaned in to kiss you, you heard Morgan’s voice in the background. “Okay, seriously, Hotch, what the hell just happened?”

You pulled back from the kiss, glancing over at the team. They were all staring, clearly still in shock at what had just transpired. Rossi had an amused smile on his face, and even JJ was shaking her head in disbelief.

“Long story,” you said with a grin. “But trust me, it was worth it.”

As you turned back to Hotch, you saw the love in his eyes—so much deeper than words could ever express. And you knew, without a doubt, that whatever challenges came your way, you and Aaron would face them together.

And if anyone ever crossed the line again, well… they’d better be ready for round two.

@pear-1206

Emily: I’ve accidentally indulged in to much ‘me time’

Emily: Turns out, I’ve been reported missing for six months and presumed dead by most local and national authorities.

Emily: .......

Emily: I hope they make a Buzz Feed about me.

Cat: You're in Spencer's DM's, I'm in his police report

Cat: We are not the same

Spencer: I've been struggling with drug use after being kidnapped and nearly dying.

The team:

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

Emily: i'm the knife

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

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

Y/n: no.

Emily: stand up.

Y/n: i don't want to.

Emily: why?

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

Where have I seen this?

Ah yes! His twin

a b o u t y o u

Includes : Aaron Hotchner

Genre : Fluff

Warnings : Slight age gap, mentions of drinking, slight mentions of injuries and hospitals

Based on : About you by The 1975

A/N : I got this idea from @hotchscvm all credits go to them, and before reading this one, go read theirs, it’s incredible!!

Apple Music - Web Player

About You by The 1975 on Apple Music

Song · 2022 · Duration 5:26

She’s not his girlfriend, but as soon as she was hired, he took her under his wing. He couldn’t explain it; there was something about her that made him feel like he owed her, like he wanted to care for her and make sure she knew the ropes before jumping into big cases.

She’s not his girlfriend, but she is the only one who can make Hotch smile. Although she denies any claim the team makes when teasing her about it, she constantly aims to pull a smile out of him, even in rough situations.

She’s not his girlfriend, but he constantly pairs her with him whenever working on cases. He chalks it up to wanting to keep an eye on her because she’s new to the BAU, but he knows in reality it’s because he wants to be close to her.

She’s not his girlfriend, but he pushes her behind him whenever they encounter a dangerous situation or unsub. He likes keeping her close to make sure she is safe, and while she constantly tells him not to worry, he does it anyway.

She’s not his girlfriend, but her designated seat in the jet is wherever he is. The team quickly figured this fact out after Morgan attempted to sit on the empty sit next to Hotch, and if looks could kill, he would be dead within the second.

She’s not his girlfriend, but she keeps him company when he works late. He will be filing out reports and she will sit on the couch in his office, reading. She refuses to go home and sleep, even if he threatens to fire her, because she knows that this is the only way he will take care of himself.

She’s not his girlfriend, but they go out to eat every week. They talk about anything and everything, and whilst the team insists that these so called “outings” are dates, they both deny the idea, thinking the other doesn’t see them that way.

She’s not his girlfriend, but after she gets hurt during a mission, he never leaves her side. Her sleeping form in the hospital bed prompts him to confess his feelings for her. Little does he know, she heard every word.

She’s not his girlfriend, but he introduces her to his son. Jack loves the girl, he constantly asks to see her. When he brings the little boy into the office, he runs onto her lap, and the agent’s heart skips a beat at the sight.

She’s not his girlfriend, but when she gets drunk during a party at Rossi’s, she attaches herself to his side. She does anything she can to have some sort of physical contact with him, whether it be holding his hand whilst dancing to Rossi’s music records, playing with his finger whilst listening to Spencer’s rant on biomedicine, or falling asleep on his shoulder.

She’s not his girlfriend, until she is.

c r i m i n a l m i n d s

key

❃ - fluff ❀ - angst ❁ - mature

Aaron Hotchner

about you ❃

so long, london ❃ ❀ ❁ 2 3

Spencer Reid

enchanted ❃

about you ❃

s o l o n g , l o n d o n

Includes : Aaron Hotchner

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Mentions of break downs, drinking, mentions of depression symptoms, not proof-read

Based On : So Long, London by Taylor Swift

Part two : All My Ghosts

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waiting for the proof

You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

“Haley wants us to get back together.” Upon hearing those words, her heart dropped. She realized why Hotch asked her to come on this ‘date’. She thought he was finally going to ask her to make whatever they were official, but she now knew he just wanted to let her down easy.

“What?” She asked. She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes, her view of Hotch blurry and distorted. Though she couldn’t see very well, she could see the pity and regret written on his face.

“She wants us to try to be a family again.” She took a second to process his words.

“And, what did you say?” She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from him.

“I said yes.” He watched the tears fall from her eyes. “I had to, for Jack. For my family. We both knew this wasn’t a sure thing, Y/N. I’m your boss, and our jobs are dangerous enough, this wasn’t going to work.” He was right. Since she started at the BAU, she developed a crush on her slightly older, and incredibly intimidating boss. She would’ve never thought he felt the same towards her, and she was constantly teased by her fellow profilers about it, until he asked her out on the way home from a case. She was elated. They went on a couple dates, and she was sure they were going great. Until now.

“And Haley gave you the out. Instead of telling me, you led me on,” she choked on her sobs. She reached for her purse, preparing herself to leave Aaron Hotchner and her heart along with him. “Go back to your family, Hotch. And don’t worry, I’ll pretend like nothing ever happened.”

And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

The team was shocked and confused when Y/N took a two-week leave of absence. She left without telling anyone or saying where she was going, she didn’t even tell Hotch, going straight to Strauss and asking for her leave, using the ‘family emergency’ excuse. They were even more surprised when she returned, acting as if she hadn’t just left without a word.

She could feel their eyes on her the minute she entered the briefing room. She sat down, chin high, eyes forward, not daring to look any of them in the eye for fear they would see through her facade.

Hotch’s eyes burnt a whole in her head. They hadn’t talked, interacted even, since that night. And while she was going to be profesional, she didn’t want him thinking he broke her heart, even if he did.

“Y/N, good to see you back.” JJ was the first to address her, the first to break the silence. She gave JJ a smile, and turned to look at the file sitting in front of her, keeping to herself throughout the briefing.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The team had moved the briefing onto the jet, the case being of a serial killer who was quickly devolving. The profilers all noticed their fellow coworker and friend’s strange behavior, her demeanor entirely different to the one she wore before her leave. She wouldn’t indulge conversation with the others, always directing the topic onto the case. The agents had also picked up on Hotch’s behavior; how his eyes would linger on Y/N for a little too long, and how he avoided referencing the woman.

Emily was growing even more concerned for her friend as the minutes passed, and when she saw her heading to the front of the jet for coffee, she quickly followed. “Hey,” she alerted Y/N of her presence, turning and closing the curtains to give them some privacy.

“Hi,” she gave a tight-lipped smile, moving to go back to her seat before Prentiss grabbed her arm.

“What’s going on?” She saw her friend’s face harden, her eyes moving to her feet.

“Nothing,” she knew better than to try and pretend like nothing was wrong around a bunch of profilers, but she couldn’t admit to herself that hers and Hotch’s break up was taking a toll on her. She was skinnier and paler, and was clearly struggling with something. But she couldn’t even call whatever happened between them a break up; they were only going out for a month and they hadn’t even told the rest of the team. So, sticking to her word, she would continue to act as though nothing happened.

“Oh, come on, you know I don’t believe that.” Emily dropped her grip on the girl’s shoulder, moving to fiddle with the coffee cups on the table. “Something’s going on. We all see it. You don’t have to talk about it, but, I want you to know we’re all here for you.” She saw tears pooling in the younger girl’s eyes, and her concern grew and her heart broke and all she wanted was for her to be okay. “You can talk to us. You can talk to me, or JJ, or even Hotch.” At the mention of his name, she broke. Her tears ran down her face, and sobs racked her body.

Emily hurried to hug her friend, shocked at her sudden breakdown. She heard the curtain being pulled, and turned to the sight of the team’s concerned eyes on the pair. But, she made sure to watch Hotch, noticing his own eyes becoming glossy at the sight of the crying agent.

For so long, London

Had a good run

A moment of warm sun

But I'm not the one

She sat on her couch, drowning her sorrows with a bottle of wine. Emily, JJ, and Penelope had just left her apartment after a night spent of crying and laughing, the women comforting her after she had confided in them about all that happened with Hotch.

She felt better, but not great. Her heart still hurt every time Haley and Jack came to visit Hotch during his lunch break, and she kept having to excuse herself to the bathroom whenever she was around him for too long. The team pretended not to notice the tension between her and Hotch, and they both refused to acknowledge each other unless it referenced their work or a case they worked.

Everyone knew something happened between them, and they knew their friend was not okay, so they pushed past it in hopes of nursing their friend back to happiness. She was incredibly grateful for all their friends were doing for her, but it wasn’t enough.

Nobody knew that she had just given Strauss a request for a transfer from the Bureau; none of the others knew, all but one person. The same person who’s name lit up on her phone, his calls going unanswered as she sipped on her glass of wine.

a l l m y g h o s t s

Includes : Aaron Hotchner

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Crying, sadness, mentions of bombs and terrorists, typical Criminal Minds topics, Morgan’s kind of a dick, curse words

Based on : All My Ghosts by Lizzy McAlpine

Part one Part three

A/N : This is a part two to So Long, London. I’m trying something different with my writing style, and I don’t really know how I feel about this fic overall, so, let me know your thoughts. And, yes, there will be a part three.

The headquarters of the International Operation Division of the FBI was alive with the chatter of agents and the ringing of phones. The IOD had been investigating a major threat against the United States from a major terrorist group in Iraq. There had been two bombings connected to this group, and there were more to be expected. The case is so dire, the IOD decided to call in the Behavioral Analysis Unit to aid in catching the attackers, a fact Y/N wasn’t thrilled about.

It had been two years since Y/N had left the BAU. She hadn’t told anyone of her transfer, leaving without saying a word to the team. She had gone as far as ignoring their calls and texts, and, as time passed, she eventually stopped receiving them. It had pained her to leave her friends, no, her family in that way, but she couldn’t stand having to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. She couldn’t be around the source of her heartbreak any longer, or she would explode. So, she took matters into her own hands.

Y/N knew her and the BAU’s paths would eventually cross again, she just hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon.

As she walked through the bullpen, she felt her heart racing. She wasn’t nervous about seeing Hotch, well, she was, but, she was more nervous about seeing her old friends. She knew they would be angry at her for the way she up and left. She would’ve been too if it was someone else on the team who did what she had.

She finally reached the doors that would lead her to the moment she most dreaded; the Behavior Analysis team would be sitting there, going over details of their profile. And, since she used to be a part of said team, her boss thought it best for her to be the one assisting them.

As she walked through the doors into the room the team had set up, she heard them grow quiet. They stared at her in disbelief, each one of them, and she couldn’t help but take each one in. Morgan looked stronger than when she had last seen him, Emily looked even more beautiful, JJ had grown her hair out, Penelope had dyed her hair cherry red, Rossi had more gray hairs than before, Spencer got rid of his glasses, and Hotch, well, Hotch looked exactly as she remembered him. Tall, handsome, and utterly exhausted. She didn’t fail to notice the missing ring on his left hand.

“Hi,” she spoke after minutes of silence. When she received no answer, she continued, “I was sent by my boss to assist you with building the profile on these terrorists.” She could feel her heart racing as the minutes wore on, and the disbelief in their eyes turned into confusion and anger. “I know we haven’t spoke in a while, but-”

Morgan was quick with his anger in cutting her off, “and who’s fault is that?”

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Please, Morgan. I hate how I left things with you guys, but, right now, my priority is this case. So, if you could all put your feelings about me aside for the sake of our jobs, that would be great.” Morgan let out a scoff at her words, rolling his eyes and turning back to the whiteboard at the end of the room.

She made eye contact with Hotch, her eyes becoming watery at Morgan’s reaction to her presence. He didn’t seem all too different in his sentiment towards her, making her feel even worse.

“Alright, here’s what we have so far,” Hotch said. It was going to be a long night.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

As the days wore on, the tension between her and the rest of the team grew. They kept things professional, and Penelope and Emily were nicer than the rest in accepting her back, but it was still a challenge. She understood why they felt how they felt, but, still, it broke her heart. Even worse, she tried being friendly with Hotch but he wouldn’t even acknowledge her outside of discussing the profile.

It was late at night, most of the team had gone back to their hotels, leaving Hotch and Y/N working by themselves. Her eyes kept wandering to him, her thoughts consumed by having him so close to her again. Yet, he continued to ignore her.

“How’s Jack?” She asked, attempting to make conversation whilst they went over old case files.

“He’s fine.”

“How’s the rest of the team? I’ve missed them a lot. And you, of course. But-”

“They’re doing alright.” The finality in his tone was making her hopes fall like the petals of a rose fall over time.

“That’s good. What about Haley? How’s she doing?”

“Haley’s dead. She was killed by an unsub.” At that, her head snapped up.

“Oh my God, Hotch, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He still didn’t look up at her from the papers scattered on the table. “How could you have? You left.”

His words cut deep. Her eyes grew teary for what felt like the fifth time that day. “Hotch, I had to.”

At that, he finally looked up at her. His eyes were hard as stone as he said, “no, you didn’t. And even if you felt that way, you could have told us. I had to explain to everyone else that you left and weren’t coming back, Y/N. You were a part of this family and wouldn’t even answer our texts and calls.” No, his words didn’t just cut deep, they burned. Upon seeing her tears fall, he seemingly decided that was a conversation not worth having. “Let’s just focus on the case.” But, like that night in the restaurant, she stood up and left him at the table.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The next day was no different. Spencer and Morgan refused to talk to her, Hotch was cold as ice when addressing her, JJ was hesitant anytime she had to speak with her, and Emily and Penelope were trying their best to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

It all seemed to boil over when she suggested that her and Morgan go over to the last bombing site and see what they could find.

“No,” he said.

The room was so quiet, you could hear a hairpin drop. “What?” she asked, mostly because she couldn’t believe that he shut her down like that.

“No,” he repeated. At that point, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, Morgan, I get you’re upset with me. But we’re here to do our jobs. And, you have zero right to treat me like I don’t matter just because you’re upset.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N. You left us! You were a crucial part of this team and you left us. Without even an explanation. Nothing! So, don’t come in here expecting everything to be the same as it was because it’s not.”

“I had to leave!” She exclaimed. “I couldn’t take being around you guys after everything that happened!” Tears were streaming down her face. Her throat burned from the lump in it. Her heart sank with the weight of Morgan’s hatred for her.

“Nothing happened, Y/N!” He yelled as he stepped closer to her. “You just up and left!”

“Damn it, Morgan, I was in love! What was I supposed to do?” That grabbed the attention of the others. “You might not have known it, but… but, me and Hotch had just broken up, and I couldn’t be around him anymore. I just couldn’t.” Her sobs racked her body as she finally admitted what she couldn’t those two years ago. Morgan seemed to finally understand. And Hotch? Hotch just stood there, staring at her with the usual expression which occupies his face.

She hated it. She hated the pitiful stares from the team. She hated the way she cracked under the pressure. She hated the way she cried in front of them. But, most of all, she hated how all those feelings she had buried deep down in a dungeon of sadness had broken out and swam up to the surface.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

After everything blew over, Y/N decided enough is enough. She was done trying to work with the BAU, so, she went to investigate some tips on her own.

Her interest was piqued at an anonymous tip that claimed that the terrorist group’s leader was living in a house a few blocks over. She knew she shouldn’t go over there alone, but she it wasn’t like she could ask the team to go with her, they practically hated her for everything that went down.

The house was dark when she arrived. She knocked on the front door multiple times, and, after no answer, she found it to be unlocked. Drawing her gun, she went in. It was clear. As she suspected, it was a dummy tip. She let out a frustrated sigh as she stepped out of the house. They were no closer to catching the bombers than they were when they started. Walking down the front porch steps, she heard a loud boom, and everything went black.

i m i s s y o u , i ’ m s o r r y

Includes : Aaron Hotchner

Genre : Angst?

Warnings : Mentions of hospitals, stitches, bombs, injuries, naked people, cursing, not proof read

Based on : I Miss You, I’m Sorry by Gracie Abrams

Part one Part two

Her head was pounding as though she had woken up with a nasty hangover -wait, no, that’s not it. Her head was pounding as if she was hit by a truck, curb stomped, and then beat repeatedly with a bat. Yes, that’s a better description.

Hushed voices come into focus. Her eyes are closed shut. Her throat is parched. Her body hurts all over. Why does her body hurt? Why can’t she remember anything that happened the day before?

She tries to remember. She remembers arguing with Spencer, no, Morgan. She argued with Morgan. She left. She got to the house, then… Nothing. Everything goes black after that.

Her ears try to make out what the voices are saying and who they belong to. Has she been kidnapped by one of the unsubs? No, that’s not possible. She attempts to ground herself. She’s on a bed, she hears beeping, and it is freezing cold. She must be in a hospital.

She pries her eyes open, her vision clearing after a few seconds. Sure enough, she’s in a hospital. She sees Hotch and Emily standing at the door of her bed, speaking in hushed tones with the doctor. She tried to make out the words coming out of Hotch’s mouth, “how… doctor… concussion… bomb…” Bomb.

Upon hearing that word, panic struck her. She began hyperventilating, rushing to pull the needles out of her hand, alerting the doctor and Hotch and Emily of her state of consciousness. They rushed to her, spoke to her, tried to calm her down, but she couldn’t hear them. All she could think of was the bomb she now remembered.

Suddenly, two hands grabbed her face, two brown eyes coming into view. His soft voice calmed her. His gentle touch soothed her shaking body. Her hearing came back, “it’s okay. You’re safe now.” He repeated those words over and over until her breathing regulated.

Exhaustion hit her like a ton of flying bricks, the doctor telling Hotch to give her some space so she could rest. Her eyes closed again.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The next time she awoke, nobody was in the room with her. It was dark out, and the lights were off, so, she assumed it was well past midnight. Her head hurt less than before, but her body was still sore. She took the time to examine the bruises and stitches and gashes that littered her body under her hospital gown. How she survived, she didn’t know.

A knock at the door startled her. Hotch stood leaning against the doorframe, coffee cup in hand. “Hi,” he gave her a smile. He sat on the chair next to her bed, facing her directly.

Her throat was dry and scratchy, and he seemingly knew this, offering her a glass of cold water. A few minutes went by before she spoke, “what happened?”

She watched as Hotch took a sharp breath. “We got a call that a federal agent had been injured in a bombing. When we got there, the house was practically gone, and you were lying a couple feet away from it. You’re lucky you left the house when you did, but, you still got pretty hurt. You have a concussion, one broken rib, and a bruised lung.” He examined her as she took in all this information.

“How long has it been?”

“What do you mean?”

“How long was I out for?”

“It’s been three days,” his words made the situation start to sink in. Tears sprung to her eyes as she thought about how she almost died. She should’ve been more careful. “God, Y/N, what were you thinking?” It was as if a switch was flipped in him, his usual calm demeanor being replaced by one of sadness and despair. “Why would you go over there by yourself? You should’ve told one of us, or one of your teammates.”

She became angry upon hearing him scold her. “I didn’t have much choice, Hotch. It’s not like I could’ve gone to any of you guys. You hate me, all of you hate me.” He shook his head.

“The team doesn’t hate you.”

“Really? Cause it sure feels like you do. I know I made some mistakes, damn it, but, I’ve tried to apologize, I’ve tried to fix it and you won’t let me!” Her head pounded as she yelled at Hotch, but the emotions took over her.

“They don’t hate you, they are just hurt because of you leaving. They all sat outside in that waiting room while you were in surgery begging God for you to be okay. Morgan and Spencer refused to leave until I ordered them to go get some rest. They have been beating themselves up for everything that’s happened. Morgan blames himself. That’s not hatred, that’s love. And yes, they were wrong for how they treated you, Y/N, but you left a whole in the team after you left that we haven’t been able to fill. They loved you, still love you.” She was speechless. For a while she didn’t know what to say, it was all too much for her.

“What about you?” She whispered, “do you hate me?”

His voice broke as he said, “no. I don’t hate you.”

They spent the rest of the night in silence.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

She was released from the hospital after a week. The team had come by to see her, apologies on hand and relationships mending. Hotch didn’t want her to be alone, insisting on taking her home and making sure she was alright.

So, now she is stuck in her apartment with Hotch. Not awkward at all.

“Alright, make yourself comfortable if you’d like. I’m going to go shower,” she began walking towards her bathroom, limping throughout most of it until Hotch’s words stopped her in her tracks.

“I’ll help you.”

She thought he must be joking. “What?”

“You can barely walk, I don’t see how you’d be able to get into the shower.” So, he’s serious. When they dated, they never got to the point of seeing each other naked, and the image of him helping her take her clothes off made her blush.

“Where are you going?” She asked as he shook off his suit jacket and walked towards her room.

“To draw you a bath.” He came back a few minutes later, and basically manhandled her, lifting her arm onto his shoulders and allowing her to use him as a crutch. They made it to her bathroom, where she was shocked to find the bath running, epsom salt in the water, and a lit candle. She knew he was drawing her a bath, she just didn’t know he would put in the extra effort to make it more comfortable for her.

He slowly turned her around, silently signaling for her to lift up her arms. At her hesitance, he assured her, “I’m not going to look. I just want to help you.” She silently lifted her arms as much as she could without pulling her stitches, and he made work of taking her shirt off. His touch was gentle as he took off her clothes, as though he was afraid of her breaking from the mere pressure of his fingers. He stuck to his promise, his eyes never drifting anywhere she didn’t want them drifting to. She had to admit, she felt something during that moment. She couldn’t put a name onto what she felt, but the concern in his eyes and the strain in his brow did something to her.

Once he was done, he helped her into the bath. She expected him to leave after that, but he leaned against the counter facing the door, letting her take her time.

After a while, she couldn’t help herself but ask, “why are you doing this, Aaron?” She never used his first name, however, it felt right at that moment.

He didn’t answer at first. In fact, she thought he was going to ignore her or pretend he didn’t know what she meant, but, she knows better than that; she knows Hotch better than that.

“I’m doing this because I care about you.” He finally met her eye. “And because I feel guilty.” This confused her.

“Why? Guilty about what?”

“About everything. About how I ended things with you, and how I was the one who drove you to leave the team.” She was about to speak, but he cut her off, “I don’t regret going back to Haley.” His statement made her break eye contact, the mention of how he left her for someone else bringing the hurt back up. “I don’t regret it because I was able to live with Jack, and see him often. I didn’t have to share him. But, I will admit, what me and Haley once had, died. Even when we got back together, it wasn’t the same. We loved each other, but we weren’t in love. She knew it, and she also knew I was in love with someone else.” Oh my God, she thought. She didn’t know what to say, what to feel, what to think, she didn’t know anything. Her heart was racing, her lungs constricting, her throat bobbing, her hands shaking, and it’s all too much, everything is too much, he is too much. “I was in love with you, Y/N. And I need you to know that.”

All her feelings came rushing back, all her emotions breaking out of their cage and rushing to take over. All she could say was, “You were in love with me?” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“I still am.” And it was as though a bomb went off all over again.