Emily: hey metaphorically, if I was hiding a bear under my desk what would you do
Hotch: probably suspend you.
Emily: cool. No need to worry there’s no bear
Emily: hey metaphorically, if I was hiding a bear under my desk what would you do
Hotch: probably suspend you.
Emily: cool. No need to worry there’s no bear
just realized the last thing i reblogged (before tonight’s spree) was from 5 DAYS AGO
i am not dead, just busy as fuck. hate it here (but i also love it so 😐)
i’ve been writing so much offline that i feel like i have SO MUCH to share with you guys i just haven’t had the time to officially finish any of it
but once i do. prepare for a lot 😌✨
(it’s all aaron hotchner ofc ofc)
anywho! just wanted to do this lil check in. love you guys loads. mwah 🤍
what if there was an aaron hotchner appreciation week?
why do i feel like hotch would secretly have a huge sweet tooth and like constantly munch on like M&M’s or skittles and its a problem
Pair: Step-Dad Hotch x Reader,
Minors DNI, 18+
warnings: masturbations, pet names like little girl, bad words, drinking, teasing, idk what else
word count: 3.6k
A/N: Thank you @thereideffects for all the feedback and thanks @ssahotchswife for all the inspo. Might make a part two, not quite sure yet, let me know if that something that's y'all might like :)
Feedback is always welcomed
Anger, a strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility.
The only word you could use to convey the feeling burning through you.
Coming back home for Spring Break was always the plan, what wasn't part of the plan was meeting your new Step-Dad.
Your mom and your relationship was what other people would call tainted. The single mom life wasn’t what she had in mind, but what she was left with the minute her husband walked out.
She learned to play with the cards she was dealt. She did her best. She took care of you, in her own twisted way.
There was always food and a roof over your head. And there was always an above mediocre babysitter looking after you.
Independence was something you learned as soon as you could walk and talk. You two tried not to step on each other's toes.You both did your own thing but always acknowledged that at the end of the day you were mother and daughter.
You tried not to step on each other's toes and do your own thing but at the end of the day you always acknowledged that you were mother and daughter.
She was all you had and you were all she had.
One would think she had some sentiment to the fact that you were her only daughter, but nope!
She dares call you the day before you are scheduled to fly back home to tell you that she got married. That she wanted it to be a surprise but couldn’t keep it in anymore.
How could she not invite you to her wedding, even if it was a civil court thing? How could she not tell you she was even seeing anyone?
You pestered for more details but she wanted to keep some element of the surprise/mystery. The only thing she would budge on was telling you his name.
Aaron fucking Hotchner.
Looking back at your mom’s track record, you could only imagine what pretentious asshole you were about to meet. “Lucky” for you, you didn’t have to imagine for too long; the cab you took from the airport finally pulled up to your house
You paid the fee and oh so forcefully pulled your luggage out of the trunk. You dragged your luggage, and your feet, to the door. You reluctantly knocked on the door, ready to face your mom.
All of the sudden, as the door swings open, it reveals a man. A man wearing a three piece suit. A man with such a stern face but handsome features. A man with dark short hair, tan skin, and oh so dark eyes.
All anger flows out of you as embarrassment settles in. Could you have knocked on the wrong house? Did your mom move houses? It would be no surprise if she kept this a secret from you too.
Realizing you have been staring for too long, you suddenly shrunk a bit. His stare was burning into you. You opened your mouth to speak, but as you did so you saw his face change from a stern gaze to a small smile appearing on his face. Not a warm smile. Some might say it was a mischievous smile.
“Ah yes, you must be Y/N. Your mom has been waiting for you. Come on in”, he bluntly speaks. gesturing for you to enter.
This man is Aaron Hotchner?!? This man is your step-dad?!?!
Entering the house, it all felt familiar. Nothing has changed. The only thing different was there was a man living in your house.
The two of you were standing in the living room. You couldn’t decide if you should play nice or not. But before any of you could speak. You heard squeals come from the hallway. Next thing you know you were bombarded with a tight hug.
“Sweetheart, you're here!”, your mom exclaimed, squeezing you tighter in the hug. Aaron made eye contact with you and his face was unreadable. Before you know it he was pulling your mom away from you. Wrapping an arm around her waist. She just smiled at him
“Now, now. Let’s let her breathe'', he spoke in an almost condescending tone. Your mom started to babble about how much she missed you. You couldn't help but notice the way he was eyeing you.
You would say it was like a predator who found its prey. But you weren't prey. It was more like two alphas meeting, neither one willing to back down.
The anger that had been building up for the past two day was now gone.
Confusion, the state of being bewildered or unclear in one’s mind about something.
That was the emotion running through you.
How could your mom let a man like this into her life?
From the first impression you could see he was possessive, aggressive and downright serious. The total opposite of your mom’s bubbly personality. What is his end goal here?
Did he think he could just walk into their lives and stake a claim?
An awkward pause has taken place as your mom awaits for you to reply. You realized you and Aaron have been staring each other down for so long that you didn’t hear a single word she said. You think of a safe response.
“I missed you a lot Mom”, you smile.
“I love you sweetie”, she coos, squeezing you into another hug.
You let out a big breath, happy that you gave out a correct response.
She pulls back and caresses your face. Her focus is on you and on Aaron.
“ I know all of this is rushed but I am happy that you two finally get to meet”, she marvelled.
She grabs your hand and with the other one she grabs Aaron’s, bringing them close to her body,
“I am going to go pick up some food for Stewart’s and we are going to have our first family meal together”, she added before letting go of both your guys hands.
She grabs her purse and gives each of you a quick peck on the cheek before heading towards the door. And before she closes the door she exclaims,” Mingle while I am gone”
There you two were, again. Staring at each other, again.
He’s the one to break the silence first, “You don’t like me do you?’
“No, not really”, you respond.
“You don’t even know”, he concurred.
“I don’t need to know”, you say, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I am going to tell you about myself anyways. I am a scorpio. I like to golf. I am a professor at the local university. I used to work in the FBI. But after seeing one too many things, I needed out”, he spoke.
“Really? Trying to go for the sympathy approach?”, you scoffed.
You walked away into the kitchen, opening the fridge. Not particularly hungry but you needed to get out of there. Out of that conversation.
“Really? You are going to walk away from me? I thought because your mom asked us to mingle, you were going to play nice”, he asked.
“ I am playing nice. I just thought the conversation was over.”, you lied.
“You are really protective of your mom, aren’t you?”, he said.
“So what?”, you shrug.
You turn around to realize he was standing right behind you. In a blink of an eye he has pushed you against the fridge, pinning you to it, arms of his trapping you in. You would have pushed him away, but your body froze. Scared that your body was betraying you, you decided to look at your feet, not wanting to convey any emotion towards him.
“So, I am curious. Who protects you, who takes care of your needs'', he says, lifting your chin up with a finger. You see his mischievous grin as your eyes roam up to meet his. And as your eyes lock with his, you almost want to let your guard down. Almost.
Quickly smack his hand away, “I do.”, you state.
You walk away from him and back to the living room to grab your suitcase. Then you march upstairs to go to your room. Not before shouting out,” Tell my mom I am not hungry. I am calling it a night.”
You can hear a barely audible laugh come from him as you enter your room. You place your luggage next to your door before you flop onto your bed. As you lay in bed, you stare up at the ceiling. Your hand goes to touch the place on your chin where his finger was. His touch left a burning feeling there and his touch made you feel a burning feeling down at your core.
Disappointment, sadness or dispelasure caused by the nonfullliment of one’s hopes or expectations.
That’s the emotion circling your body,
Are you disappointed his touch didn't last longer?
Are you disappointed you didn't continue the conversation?
Are you disappointed that you feel a bit aroused by him?
Are you disappointed he is married to your mom”
Are you disappointed that you are feeling/thinking these things at all?
There’s no use racking your brain around. He doesn't deserve your time and energy. You get up and change from your airport outfit to some pj’s. Hopefully with some sleep your mind will be cleared.
You woke up to the sun hitting your face. You let out a groan wishing the sun didn't exist. You tossed and turned, trying to get more sleep but it was no use. Leaning over, your clock read 10 am. Now is as good a time as ever to start your day.
You waddled your way downstairs, in dire need of coffee. Making your way into the kitchen, you find your mom leaning over the counter sipping on a cup of coffee. You head to the coffee machine and mumble a good morning. Morning Y/N meant grumpy Y/N.
“Morning sweetie”, your mom said in a bittersweet tone.
You knew that she was upset about last night, not having the family dinner she wanted.
“Mom, I am sorry about last night”, you apologized.
“It’s okay, I just really want us to sit down and chat. All three of us”, she emphasized.
You stood next to her, also leaning against the counter sipping your coffee. It’s moments like these where it's very evident you two are mother and daughter.
She turns her face towards you before speaking,”How about we try again tonight? I know how impromptu this all was. But I want to tell you how he and I met. How we fell in love. How we decided to get married. You deserve to know”, she pleads.
You deserve a lot more than that, you think to yourself.
She sees the uncertainty in your eyes. And decided to bring in her secret weapon.
“How about when I come back from work, I stop by the store to pick up the ingredients for your favorite dish?”, she hopefully asks.
It’s safe to say that intrigues you. Oh how you missed her cooking.
“Okay mom, anything for you”, you sigh in defeat.
“Yay! Okay, I am going to go say goodbye to Aaron and then head out.”, she chirped, giving you a kiss on the cheek before heading to her ( and Aaron’s) room.
You put your half finished cup of coffee in the sink and head upstairs. It was very hard to get to sleep last night. You could put the blame on your mind for not shutting up but the blame was on your mom and Aaron’s activities last night. Or lack thereof.
You tried not to laugh at the replay in your head. But it was truly amusing hearing their conversation.
You grab your computer from your suitcase and sit in the middle of the bed, criss cross answering your emails. You were intently focused on your computer that you didn’t notice your bedroom door had opened.
You finally look up to see Aaron leaning against the door frame.
“Don’t you ever knock!’’, you squeal, holding back the urge to throw a pillow at him.
“Bad habit. Just wanted to know if you wanted to eat breakfast with me”, he asked.
“No. You could see yourself out”, you shoo him away.
“It would be in your best interest if you and I were to get along. I am not going anywhere. Your mom and I are a perfect fit”, he said.
You can't help but snicker at that comment.
“What’s so funny?”, he frowns.
“You say you guys are a “perfect fit”, but last night says otherwise”, you smirk.
His brows furrowed in confusion.
“Thin walls. I could hear how much you fit or didn’t fit, to say in better words”, you continued.
Finally having the high ground. Or so you thought.
His confused face slowly morphed into a sly grin.
“It seems like you enjoy eavesdropping, little girl”, he said in an authoritative voice.
You can’t help the fact that it sounded sexy as hell. Your heart was racing. You stared at him and he was amused.
As he looked at you, he saw this wide eyed innocence. You act all so mighty but right now you look like a deer caught in headlights.
“You really got to stop being so bratty. Or else I might have to teach a thing or two about manners”, and with that he left.
Leaving you breathless. Did that just happen? What. The. Fuck.
The burning feeling came back. Your breathing was labored. You couldn't believe how turned on you were right now. And you just know that son of a bitch knew what he was doing to you.
To cool off your body’s fiery feeling you decided to take a cold shower. You entered your bathroom. As you undress, you turn the shower dial to cold.
The cold water does nothing to stop your throbbing pussy. Felt like you were left with no other choice. You turned the dial to almost scorching hot before grabbing the shower head and turned it to the pulsing setting. You spread your legs, aiming the shower head to have the water hit you right at your clit.
With one arm occupied holding the shower head your other hand starts to roam your body. Landing on one of your breasts, you began to massage it. Plucking and twisting your nipple. Letting out soft moans. You then turned your attention to your other breast giving it the same treatment.
You began to thrust your hips a bit trying to chase your release but nothing was happening. You started thinking about what got you in this position in the first place.
You thought of his face and how he looked so sexy when he furrowed his brows.
You thought of the way his voice sounded as he called you little girl and brat.
You thought of it being his hands groping your breast.
You thought of his hot breath against your pussy instead of the shower head.
Your hand stops handling your breast and you bring it down to your clit giving it a pinch before finally climaxing.
“Aaron”, you moaned as the orgasm hit you.
After that eventful shower, you change into some shorts and a basic tee and continue to answer your emails. Not wanting to face the fact that you just masturbated to the thought of your step-dad.
You check your phone to see the time, you see that an old friend from high school texted you.
They were throwing a party and wanted to know if you were free. It would be a great chance to catch up. As you were about to respond to say you had plans, when a knock came from your bedroom door. Again.
“Come in”, you loudly say.
And the door opens to reveal Aaron, doesn’t he have a life or something.
“What? You back here for a round two of arguing”, you roll your eyes at him.
“As fun as that sounds, I was asked to come get you. Your mom is home and wants help prepping dinner”, he says.
“Yea okay, I’ll be down in a sec”, you shrug.
“Who knew you could follow orders”, he winks, before leaving the room.
You forgo your phone, as you throw it onto the bed as you get up to go downstairs.
You hop your way down the stairs and the kitchen comes into view. You see Aaron wrap his arms around your mom's waist. She is trying to cook but getting distracted by him.
They are giggling and laughing.
You stop walking at the sound of that. Your heart drops.
You scurry back up the stairs and into your room. Closing the door behind you as you lean against it.
Letting out a deep breath. You could feel your heart racing.
Envious, feeling or showing a desire to have what someone else has
The feeling that explains why you are locked in your room.
But what are you envious of?
The fact that your mom is happy and starting her new life?
Or the fact that Aaron is hers?
You shake your head. No, no, no. You can’t be feeling this way.
You run your hands down your face. How were you going to sit through a dinner with them?
Taking a look around your room as you pull and tug on your hair. Your eyes land on your phone.
You grab your phone and text your old friend. I’m in.
They text you the address and you can't believe you’re doing this. But in retrospect this wasn’t the first time you snuck out of the house.
You quickly change into a dress you packed in your suitcase. It wouldn't be your first choice, but it's what you had. You did some light makeup up and decided against wearing heels knowing that you had to climb out the window.
Let Aaron and your mom have a nice dinner. Without you. It’s not like you have been included in their life’s so far.
You climb out the window and head to the party.
It was great seeing your old friends. You danced the night away, with no shame. You drank one beer but knowing you were taking a cab home you stopped. You didnt want to be drunk and get into a stranger's car, that’s a murder movie waiting to happen.
Your friends brought out shots, and through much convincing you took one. But the image of going home to your mother and Aaron had you feeling some sort of way. That feeling led to another drink, then another. It's safe to say you lost count after 5.
Not completely drunk but tipsy, you look at your phone to see the time. It read 1 am. Fuck!
There was no way of getting a cab, especially being as tipsy as you are. Your friend offered a ride but her Volkswagen was already piled with 3 other people. There was no way of fitting.
You knew your only solution. Call your mom.
Ring. Ring. Nothing
Ring. Ring. Nothing.
It was like that everytime. You always got her voicemail. After the 5th time you gave up.
You wanted to blame your next action on being drunk. But you knew better when you called him.
“Hello?”, his voice rang,
“I hate calling you”, that’s a lie,” But i need a ride home.”
“Send me the address, I'll be there shortly”, he sighed and hung up.
15 minutes later.
“Get in’, his voice shook a core in you. The low timbre pulls you out of your thoughts.
You get in the car,” Thank you for this Aaron”.
No words are spoken for a good 5 minutes. It isn't until you are pulled at a red light where you try to speak again.
“You really aren't going to speak to me”, you asked.
“Come on-”, you were cut off by him.
“Just shut up”, his voice boomed loudly, you were pretty sure the cars around you could hear him.
You stayed quiet, mouth shut. You even made it so that your breathing was quiet. The only sound to be heard was the cars outside.
You finally pulled up to the house.
“It’s nice to know you can follow some directions”, he huffs.
You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, “ I didn't give you permission to speak, did I?’’, his voice lowers as he speaks with such authority.
You shake your head. He gets out of the car and turns to your door, helping you get out. Grabbing your hand as you hopped down the car. His hand was still yours. His grip tightened as he led you inside the house.
You could have struggled and asked him to let you go but as they say curiosity killed the cat. He led you to the kitchen and you were both standing by the sink.
In a swift movement, he turned on the sink, grabbed the spray and covered you in water.
‘What the hell”, you yelped.
“Are you sober now”, he asked.
“Yes or no”, he continued to ask.
``Yes or no”, he emphacicied more.
“Yes”, you blurted out not wanting to get sprayed anymore.
“Good cause we need to talk”, Aaron chastised.
Dripping wet, from arousal and sink water. You moved past him to head upstairs to your room to change. But before you can take a step towards the stairs. He grabs your forearm, giving you the “where do you think your going look”, pulling you towards the living room
“I think we are done here”, you scoff, yanking your arm away from his grip.
He towers over you,” No, not yet darling. It’s about time I teach you a lesson.”
Hotch: Jack asked me why he couldn’t just drop out of school so I told him that the cops would come and take me to jail and he looked at me with his sweet sweet face and said “I’ll visit you”
Hotch's problem with Max Ryan(?)
Ryan was supposedly Gideon and Rossi's mentor, and he's an ass. (let's be honest, Gideon and Rossi can be jackasses too sometimes.)
Hotch worked with him for a short period of time, and listen to his words, “He's pretty intense, brusque, not much of bedside manner.”
Not. A. Single. Kind. Word.
during the case Ryan and Hotch didn't say a word to each other. he didn't confront Ryan for his method of working & rude behavior, that's not out of respect or feelings of inadequacy around 'the legend', he just didn't bother.
Ryan was so flagrantly dismissive of the team even Gideon had to step up and defend the team, Elle and Morgan both had seriously problem with him. when Reid asked Hotch what he thought of Ryan, Hotch answered “he hasn't changed much.”
afterwards when others were on the plane listening to Ryan's story about Gideon, a classics cheesy 'the rude guy is actually likable he's just too intense' plot, surrounding him like kids sit around a campfire, Hotch & Elle were just there minding their own business.
have we ever seen Hotch dislike someone this much? why didn't Ryan like Hotch? c'mon, Hotch impressed Dave so much he practically hired the young agent on the spot, Gideon befriended him & made him the unit chief (gideon was never friends with others). you can argue that Ryan hadn't warm up to the team then, but he had spent time with Hotch, Hotch's good at his job, and Hotch doesn't take things personally easily. what did Ryan do to Hotch that's so adverse Hotch could barely look at him without rolling his eyes? It's got to be more than dismissive of his capabilities.
if the father in 'boxed in' (short tempered, god fearing alcoholic who was impossible to impress) was what Hotch's father was like, who wanna bet that Ryan reminded Hotch of his father and Aaron's just so done with men like him. (or, if we stick to the father theory, this reversely can serve as a proof that Aaron's father despised him no matter how good he was.)
Emily: We don't need those, I have a lighter
Emily: We just need some hairspray and make a flamethrower
Emily: Time to fry some bitches
Hotch: Nobody is frying any bitches
Emily: How did none of you hear what I just said?
Spencer: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.
Morgan: I got distracted about halfway through
Hotch: Ignoring you was a conscious decision
Hotch: What's wrong?
Spencer: Emily keeps saying common phrases incorrectly.
Emily: Oh cry me a table Reid.
I Know You - Chapter 1
Relationship: FemCIAReader x Hotch (Hotch x Y/N)
Word Count: ~3k
TW: War themes, Middle East, guns, cannon violence — additional tags will be added as necessary.
A/N: This set beginning between Seasons 6 and 7, and Hotch is sent to Pakistan. Instead of him running the operation, he reports to Reader, who is the CIA case officer/intelligence officer in charge. The operation is run through the clandestine service, not the military as shown on CM. This is her first op as IOC, and she’s a tough bitch. I’m taking some liberties with the time line, vocabulary, and actual operational protocol for the sake of the story. For the sake of the story, that’s all I am divulging now. There will be time jumps later on.
You’re standing on the tarmac at the air force base, awaiting the newest addition to your task force. The wind whips your hair, pulled back in a ponytail, the loose strands stick to your face, getting stuck behind the lenses of your aviator sunglasses. The glasses shield your eyes, the scarf around your neck, that doubles as a head covering, shields you neck from the tiny razors of sand grains. The blades of the descending chopper cut through the air, disturbing everything around you, creating a small wind storm. The pilot sets the skids down expertly, they touch the ground nearly in tandem. The engine cuts and the blades begin to slow. The marine on the passenger side climbs out of the front, and walks around to open the back door for the FBI agent. He steps out, dressed in a well-tailored, Italian suit, save for the jacket which is draped over his arm, his dress shirt barely rumpled, sleeves rolled up, tie still waving in the stirring air, designer sunglasses shielding his eyes, heavy, silver Rolex on his wrist.
For fuck’s sake. You shake your head. The DNI had insisted this be an inter-agency task force, and your only request had been an agent with a military service history, or at least experience in a war zone. You’d been told they were sending the Bureau’s best profiler, whatever that meant. Aside from the Glock at his waist, this guy looked like he was about to head to happy hour with his BigLaw buddies after closing a big deal, not assigned to an intelligence operation in the Middle East. He was in for a rude awakening.
You approach him, two marines, you personal security detail, at your side, like a shadow.“Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner? I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the IOC, the case officer, the intelligence officer in charge, you’ll be reporting directly to me.”
“Nice to meet you. And Hotch is fine,” he extends his hand for a handshake, but you ignore his outstretched hand and turn on your heel towards the awaiting convoy of three identical Humvees. “I hope you packed something other than suits, agent, unless you actually like having a target painted on your back,” you speak over your shoulder as you walk.
He falls into step with you, your security detail just steps behind you, carrying his two duffels. One puts Hotch’s bags in the trunk before getting in the front seat, the other steps around you to open the door for you to your Humvee, the middle one. You climb in, and Hotch gets in after you, once you slide across the seat, the marine shutting the door after him, then hopping into the driver’s seat. The convoy pulls out on your signal, as soon as you hear the engine start, and heads towards the embassy in Islamabad.
Now that he’s seated in close proximity to you, you give him another once over. He’s almost uncomfortably handsome, extremely well groomed, and aside from bags under his eyes and the slight smell of airplane and sweat under the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent, it wouldn’t cross your mind that he just spent close to eighteen hours traveling on military transport.
“Are those two marines always with you?”
“No, they work in shifts,” you offer no additional information.
“Why do you ride in the second car?”
“Because if we hit an IED, the first car takes the brunt,” you’re cold in your delivery of this fact.
“Agent, if you’re going to insist on everything being a game of ‘20 Questions’ this is going to be a very long assignment for both of us.”
“Right, sorry,” he sounds nervous. Something about him tells you he’s almost never nervous.
The convoy enters the militarized gate of the embassy.
“We’ll be based here, out of the embassy, and have an offsite location for operations. Be prepared for very little sleep and making quick decisions. It’s not exactly filing reports about serial killers out here, Agent Hotchner. One wrong move and your fellow task force members die. You’ll have an hour to settle into your room, and then you’ll meet me downstairs in the ops center. We’ll need to go over your cover story, and your assignment. I hope you’re ready, Hotch,” your disdain not even mildly masked.
You hop out of the Humvee, only stopping to clear your firearm before you head into the embassy without looking back, leaving a very overwhelmed Aaron Hotchner alone in that backseat.
It’s been sixty-four minutes since you left Agent Hotchner, Hotch, in the driveway. You’re in your office in the CIA underbelly of the embassy, and he’s now four minutes late. You give him one more minute before you get up from your desk. He’s late for his first assignment briefing. This guy is the best the Bureau had to send you?
The disdain from earlier is now morphing into intense irritation, bordering on anger. You take the elevator upstairs, and keycard your way into the residences. You walk down the hall, to Hotch’s room, well, studio apartment, which is across the hall from yours, at your insistence.
You knock on his door, and then press your ear to it.
“Yeah, it was a long flight! I know. Yes, it was a cool plane. Yes, very big! I know. I know, bud. I miss you too. I know. I promise we’ll talk everyday, if I can,” his voice is muffled, but you can hear he’s on the phone or video chat with someone, the other party inaudible.
You knock again, harder, angrier this time. You’re way past irritation at this point.
This time the door swings open, a freshly showered and dressed Hotch on the other side. You walk into his apartment, uninvited. You survey the space. His gun is unattended on the small breakfast bar, separating the kitchen from the living area. Next to it is an open laptop, a civilian laptop, a non-Agency issued laptop and along with what looks like Hotch’s personal cell phone.
“Are you fucking insane?” you’ve lost all pretense, and the time for niceties has long passed. You slam the laptop shut and pick up it and his cell phone, and place both inside the large faraday box on the coffee table. He’s just watching you, mouth agape.
“I’m sorry? I wasn’t done, that was my son,” his face is flushed, and he’s now facing you, in the tiny sitting area of his new home.
“You’re sure as fuck sorry. You do understand you’re inside a GODDAMN US embassy, right? Here on CIA assignment. You get that, right?” you’ve raised your voice, and it’s dripping in condescension.
“I understand exactly where I am,” his jaw clenches, his voice rises, challenging yours, it’s what you assume to be his unit chief, big boss voice. It doesn’t intimidate you. “I finally got my son on video chat, and I promised him I would call when I landed and I don’t break my promises. I’m also not stupid, I used a VPN and a proxy server, and there are plenty of firewalls on that machine, it was set up by my technical analyst at Quantico.”
“I don’t care if you promised President Barack fucking Obama that you would call him and Edward Snowden himself set up that laptop, everything, and I mean everything goes through me. If you had waited the fucking hour, and, I don’t know, been on time, I would have issued you an Agency laptop and cellphone and you could have made your calls home. You’re not in charge out here, Hotch. You can’t just do what you want, when you want. You don’t make your own schedule, and fucking show up when you feel like it. I don’t know what the FBI is like, but when your direct report, your commanding officer issues an order, you follow it. If you can’t understand that, then you might as well get on the next transport back to Ramstein. If you do understand that, then I expect you downstairs, in my office, in fifteen minutes. Your keycard for your room will also keycard you into CIA offices, but not the ops center,” you storm out, slamming the door behind you.
You walk across the hall, and go into your own apartment. You take a series of deep breaths and pace, trying to return your heart rate and blood pressure to normal, letting your body work to naturally dissipate the adrenaline you feel coursing through your system. You hadn’t expected to get so heated, to be so enraged. You were normally so much more in control of your emotions, it wasn’t a choice really. You’d worked for the CIA for nine years, the clandestine services for most of that. Along the way you’d learned how to pick people apart, figure out how to get what you needed from them, become that person, become a different person entirely. You could, and had, fooled some of the smartest people in the world, beat a lie detector test on a regular basis. Self control, that was something at which you were a master.
You take your pulse, count the beats, repeating the process several times. When you’re satisfied, you grab a bottle of sparkling water from your fridge and you leave your room, heading back downstairs to your office.
Hotch is waiting for you when you walk in. Five minutes early.
He stands when you enter your office, and then sits when you motion for him to do so. He’s seated directly across from you. You open your bottle of water and take a sip, then set it down You reach for a file on your desk with the words CLASSIFIED: TOP SECRET and then JTF-0599 on the cover. You flip it open, placing it in front of you, lacing your fingers together and resting your hands and forearms on your desk. You look up to him, and then back down at the file.
“So. Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Born November 2. Native of Manassas, Virginia. Bachelor’s degree, I’m sorry, degrees, summa cum laude, double major in criminology and psychology from George Washington University; juris doctor, magna cum laude, from Georgetown University; law review second and third year; you clerked on the, wow, US Federal Court of Appeals. Admitted to the Maryland, Virginia and DC bars. Went on to spend two years in the federal prosecutors’ office in Washington, DC. Applied to the FBI academy. You were assigned to Ambassador Prentiss’ security detail, which assignment lasted six months, before your transfer to the Seattle field office, where you were assigned to the SWAT and major crimes units. You spent two years there before transferring to the Behavioral Analysis Unit, in Quantico, Virginia. You spent six years working under Jason Gideon. You were appointed interim unit chief during his leave of absence, that appointment then becoming permanent, and have remained in the position ever since. You were placed on administrative leave for failure to follow orders, but were reinstated two weeks later. A couple years ago, you took additional leave, medical leave, due to reasons listed as otherwise unspecified, and then again, personal leave, several months later, again, also due to reasons otherwise unspecified, both instances of leave reference a redacted, excuse me, a classified case file. Your unit has been temporarily downsized, so you are currently on special assignment, on loan, as it were, to me, to the Central Intelligence Agency for JTF-0599. Does that about cover it, Agent?”
“Yes. I think so. What else would you want to know?” he squares his shoulders at you, clasping his hands.
“I need to know, was your personal and medical leave due to physical or psychological reasons?” you cock your head at him.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant to what I am doing here in Pakistan,” he bristles.
“You’re going to be a member of a small task force, and I need to know if you’re going to lose your shit in the field. That, agent, is how it’s relevant. Are you an asset or a liability?” you counter, a tinge of disdain creeping back in to your voice.
“The reasons for my leave, two years ago,” his voice is controlled, but you catch that you’ve hit a nerve, “is not relevant to my assignment here.”
“Agent Hotchner. I am not going to ask you again. Was your leave due to psychological issues? Can you give me a straight answer? Or do I need to have the case file requisitioned? I have the clearance to do so,” you narrow your eyes. You’re not fucking around.
He puffs out a breath, “No, my leave was not due to psychological issues. I was injured in the field, and took medical leave. Then I took leave to take care of my son. Is that good enough?”
You look him over, considering his answer. “Yes, that’s good enough.”
“Now, let’s go over a few things. You are not to tell anyone, and I mean anyone, the nature of your assignment here, unless they are on the list,” you hand him a file, “of people in here. You are not to communicate with anyone on any devices other than the ones I give you, Agency approved devices. You’ll need to wear long sleeves, long pants, boots, similar to what you’re wearing now, that’s great. You are not to leave the embassy grounds without proper permission or proper security. We have a gym here, cafeteria, offices, everything. If you need something, ask me, I’ll let you know if you can, or should leave the grounds, or where to get what you need. If you leave the grounds, your escort will need to be coordinated through me. You’re here under diplomatic cover, so should you be picked up by someone, you should be good until the embassy can get you released, that is unless that someone is the Taliban. Which is why it is essential that concealing the nature of your assignment is paramount. That said, should you, me, we, be picked up while at an offsite location, or even, en route to an offsite location, our cover becomes a little trickier, and the CIA can and will disavow us, should that benefit them, and we become expendable.” You know that this notion is sometimes scary, but it’s just the world you live in.
You look up at him.
He nods and swallows, “I understand.”
“C’mon, let’s go pick up your hardware, and then I’ll show you where the cafeteria is, so you can eat, the gym, in case you want to squeeze a workout in tonight or tomorrow morning,” your tone returns to something close to nonchalant, and you stand and start walking out of the office as you talk.
He rises and follows you down the hall to an operations room. You key card your way in. There’s a young, somewhat disheveled looking young man sitting in front of an array of monitors, not dissimilar to Garcia’s set up at Quantico.
“Hey Dustin, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, Hotch. He’s one of my new assigns, can we get him his phones and laptop? I put in the request last week, they should be here for him. I want to get finished up with him so he can go eat and get the fuck to sleep!” You smile, and cross your arms, half sitting on a credenza across from Dustin’s desk. Hotch looks at you. You were a different person, a one-eighty, from the person with whom Hotch spent his first afternoon on assignment.
He looks between you and Dustin, “Oh, Dustin, he’s the best, whatever you need, tech wise, he’s your man. Isn’t that right?” you get up and pat the young analyst on the shoulder. Dustin blushes, then walks over to, and into what looks to be some kind of storage closest, again only accessible by keycard entry, like most doors he’s come across in the last couple of hours, and returns with a heavy looking laptop, military grade, Hotch assumes, and two cell phones, setting them on the credenza.
Dustin pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then pulls a piece of paper out of a file from one of the drawers in the credenza, shoving the paper at Hotch, “These are your passwords for all three devices, memorize them, then shred this. The passwords are changed out every seven to fourteen days at random intervals, just a heads up. The phones will also be swapped out also at random intervals, without warning. The phone in the Otterbox is to be used in the field, carried offsite with you. The other is for you to call home with. Your top ten most called contacts have already been added to the phone for calls home, but if we missed someone, let me know. I can add or change them. I think that’s it, right, Y/N?” Dustin looks to you, and you nod.
Hotch tries not to look confused, or think too hard about as to how they would even know or get that information.
“Yeah, for now, thanks! C’mon Agent, I’ll take you to go get dinner, and then you should get some sleep because we’ll hit the ground running tomorrow. The task force reconvenes tomorrow morning, at oh-eight hundred and you’ll meet the everyone then,” you’re already walking and talking again, leaving Hotch to scramble to grab his things and keep up with you.
“You’ll drop your stuff at you’re place, and we’ll go eat, ok?” you turn to look up at him, as he follows you into the elevator, you check your watch, it’s early for dinner, but Hotch has to be exhausted, he’s likely been awake for nearly forty-eight hours straight interrupted by occasional naps.
You wait in the hallway for him while he leaves his laptop and phones in his apartment.
“You ready?” he turns his head to look at you, asking you over his shoulder as he pulls the door shut.
“Yes, you?” he nods, as he starts down the hallway ahead of you.
Tag list: @scuttling @hotforhotchner11 @g-l-pierce @ssahotchnerxx @ssahotchie @arsonhotchner @unicornprancing @wanniiieeee @ssamorganhotchner
AN: This episode is an AU of the season 6 episode 18 episode Lauren. I hope you enjoy it!!
AN2 : Huge SHOUT OUT to the following people who helped brainstorm and edit this chapter @hotforhotchner11 @originalsoulduck @hotchinkevlar
Warnings: None that I can think of
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader
The glass doors slide open and you run through them. You stop running the moment you hit the cheap linoleum floors and slide thanks to being drenched. You gather your balance with the help of waving arms that leaves people staring at you. You ignore them and check your phone for directions to the right floor. You take the elevator up three levels and then hang a left, then a right, and then another left. That’s when you see them. They all look fairly rough, and considering the circumstances you understand that.
Aaron spots you first. You can see the worry and the fright in his eyes. Despite knowing it’s a bad idea you start jogging to him, and he does the same. He catches you in his arms, right before the cheap carpet of the waiting room, and holds you tight. His hand runs over the top of your head, and he huffs, “We really need to buy you an umbrella.”
Another sniff has the two of you breaking apart. You look at Spencer who still has tears streaming down his face. You pull him into your arms and he snuggles in. You’re not sure how he still manages to do that when he’s taller than you. You walk with both of them back to the waiting room. You give a hug to Penelope who kind of clings to you, a hug to Derek and Rossi, and you wave at JJ. Will currently has both of the boys, you had dropped Jack off on your way here.
You take a seat. You hold Aaron’s hand while Spencer lays his head in your lap. He doesn’t seem to care that water drips on him from your hair. You don’t know Emily well, and to be honest you don’t find it weird. You weren’t friends with everyone on Aaron and Spencer’s team. You were friends with Penelope because she had forced her way in, and you were friends with Will because you figured he needed the same support you and Jess did, plus you saw him all the time because of Jack. But the others?
You and Aaron have only been dating for ten months, and while there had been the occasional team hang out, you hadn’t gone. You usually hung with Jess and Will, and then Aaron would bring Penelope, JJ, and Spencer back with him. While Penelope would join the three of you; Aaron, Spencer, and JJ would talk and catch up. You know they both miss having her around. And now? Now they may lose another teammate, and margarita nights won’t fix this one.
An hour into your wait a nurse stops by and offers you some scrubs. Your dripping onto the floor is apparently a potential hazard, which is a fair point. You head to the bathroom, and offer to get coffee. Derek and Rossi are the only ones who take you up on the offer.
You change, and head back to your car, now that the rain has stopped, to drop off your clothes. You grab two cups of coffee from the kiosk and head back up. As you get closer your stomach starts to churn.. As you get closer and closer to the waiting room that feeling intensifies.
You hand over the cups of coffee and JJ comes back. It’s another hour of having that feeling before JJ is called back by the doctors. Aaron and Spencer each grip a hand, and when she comes back out, you can see the news on her face. There are unshed tears in her face, and the swallowing of her throat is pronounced.
You hear a nearly silent, “No.” from Penny.
“She never made it off the table.”
There’s a brief silence before Spencer pulls his hand out of yours while Aaron’s grip tightens. You let your brother go, and watch as JJ stops him. You’re grateful when he allows her to comfort him.
You turn to look at Aaron. He’s stoic, and you know he won’t let himself feel this like he needs to. Not around his team. You don’t push though. Not yet. He’s experienced so much loss in his life, you wonder how he can keep opening himself up to more.
Things after that are a blur. Aaron heads back to work, he insists on being a part of the notification detail. You imagine he feels as though he owes that to Emily. You decide to drive JJ and Spencer home. Derek is going to take care of Penelope, you triple check on that, and he gives you a small smile.
And then there’s Rossi. Dave is the only person in the world who knows you still talk with Gideon, and you imagine, right now, he could use a friend. You send a text to Jason. You’re all walking out when you get a response, “Bring him by.”
You catch Dave’s eyes and the two of you let the rest of the group walk ahead, “You know, when someone dies it’s a good reminder to catch up with old friends.”
There’s genuine surprise in his face, “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean there are rules, but yeah.”
“I made them up. But they help. No talking about the team or the BAU or current or past cases. Talk about love, life, bucket lists. Cigars?” You get a small smile, “Ride in the car with us, and I’ll take you over.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
Spencer decides to stay at JJ’s place. And Will offers to keep Jack as well, but you decline. You hug Spencer, who drops down to play with Henry, and then pick up a half asleep Jack. By the time he’s in his carseat he’s fully asleep. The drive to Gideon’s cabin is silent with the exception of Jack’s little snores; snores that are identical to his father's.
The lights are on in the cabin. You park and Dave just stares at the doorway. “Do you need me to walk you in?”
He glances at you, “I’m good. I’m just . . . reminiscing.” The door to the cabin opens, and Gideon steps out. A breath leaves Dave, “I always forget how old I am until I see him or one of the old guards again.”
You lay a hand on his arm, “He can’t come back, Dave. He’s happier now. He has a relationship with Stephen . . . and. . .”
“I know. I won’t tempt him back. Did you know Stephen is named after me?”
You smile, “I do. It’s your middle name.”
“He told you? He likes to deny it.”
“He told me.”
You watch as Gideon strides off his front porch, obviously tired of waiting. You roll down the window as he reaches the car, “Are you two going to just sit here all night?”
“Shh, Jack is asleep in the back.”
He glances back and smiles, “He’s gotten big.”
You roll your eyes, “He would have been a baby the last time you saw him. And Dave was just getting out.”
You watch as the two of them lock eyes. Gideon smiles, “You got old, Dave.”
Dave scoffs, “You got older.” They both grin. Dave unbuckles his seatbelt, and climbs out. You watch him walk through the light of your headlights, and then he and Jason embrace in a hug, complete with the always manly back thump.
You just barely resist going awwww. You catch Jason’s eye and he rolls them. He knows exactly what you’re thinking. He always does. When they pull apart, he leans in and asks, “Are you too tired to drive? Driving tired is just as dangerous as driving drunk. I read that somewhere.”
“Text when you get home please. With the doors locked and the alarm set.”
“Will do. You two have fun.” you look at Dave, “And remember the rules.”
Jason rolls his eyes, “You and your rules. Ignore her. We’re grown men. We don’t need the rules.”
“The rules keep you from rushing back to the BAU.”
“Nah. Having a life does that.”
You smile and watch them head inside already talking up a storm. At least one good thing has come from this day.
You drive home and carry Jack upstairs. How he stays asleep through you changing him into his pajamas and tucking him in you’ll never know. You wonder if he inherited that skill from Haley. You know he didn’t get it from Aaron. You’ll ask Jess about it.
You shower and change into your night clothes. You come back out, ready for some tea when you find Aaron waiting for you. He’s staring at the rows of pictures on the wall. You go up behind him and wrap your arms around him. You lean your head against his back, and his hands cover yours. They’re big, and warm. You place a kiss against his dress shirt, and then withdraw just enough to turn him around. He loosened his tie, and the top few buttons are undone. You drag him down for a kiss and you pray it helps to anchor him.
He gathers you into his arms, and takes over until he fills all of your senses. And when he pulls back you’re both out of breath, but you’re both smiling. He leans his head down so his forehead rests against yours and then he says, “Will you marry me?” And your whole world stops.
Hi everyone!! With Kinktober right around the corner, I thought I’d release my list for the month. This is actually my first time ever writing for Kinktober, so I’m really excited and nervous ✨
Below you’ll find the characters, kinks, and dates for my Kinktober posts!! (p.s. - I’ll be writing for some new characters;))
Kylo Ren + Sex Toys | Oct. 1st
Charlie Barber + Nipple Play | Oct. 4th
Loki Laufeyson + Mirror Sex | Oct. 8th
Severus Snape + Praise Kink | Oct. 13th
Bucky Barnes + Edging | Oct. 15th
Poe Dameron + Breathplay | Oct. 17th
Din Djarin + Cumplay | Oct. 20th
Draco Malfoy + Humiliation | Oct. 22
Aaron Hotchner + Daddy Kink | Oct. 24th
Andy Barber + Innocence Kink | Oct. 27th
Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes + Threesome | Oct. 29th
Spencer Reid + Cockwarming | Oct. 31st
Just a little soft dad bod Hotch inspo on this Tuesday evening?? 🥰
hey please like or rb this if youre in the criminal minds fandom! if you like ill dm you, if you rb ill check out your blog!
i recently got into the show (recently means a little less than a month and im on s3) and im hyperfixating big time
so uh, yeah!
that's it. that's the post.
What if Hotch actually has naturally curly/wavy hair but he straightens it because he thinks it’s more professional