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me when there's a hetero ship with tons of interactions: yeah idk I just don't see it. they're kind of boring. there's just no chemistry, you know? it's whatever
me when two women look at each other for 0.5 seconds: oh my GOD they're so in love, did you see how they looked at each other? they want to FUCK and they SHOULD. I'm literally blushing and giggling, they need to kiss right now
tags/ warnings : spanking, fingering, dirty talk, praise (?), older woman x younger woman, inspired by the movie from 2002, JJ is the unit chief of the BAU, idk what else to add (pls tell me what to add in the comments! <3)
extra : i wrote this like last year but i wanted it to be more fleshed out and BOOOM this was born! i hope you like this as much as i loved writing this + english is not my main language so pls be nice!
Emily knocked not once, not twice but thrice on the office door of her new boss, the unit chief of the Behaviour Analysis Unit. It was her first day as the secretary of the highly respected agent Jennifer Jereau, her name on the nameplate shining faintly in the glow of the morning autumn sun that peeked through the curtains of the bullpen. Emily’s mother had recommended and helped her get a job in the FBI, even if it's a seemingly small post, but being a U.S diplomat’s daughter has its advantages. She bit her lower lip anxiously as she retreated her fist from the door and awaited an answer from the woman that was on the other side of the door. There was a small moment of quiet, the faint sound of papers rustling and the buzzing from the fluorescent lights that were above her. As she was contemplating on knocking again, thinking maybe that Jereau hadn't heard her, a voice called out to her, snapping her out of her small trance.
“Yes?” Jennifer’s stern but unmistakably soft voice called out. Emily couldn't see her but she still heard the unmistaken sound of rustling of items being shoved into drawers, or so she thought. “Come in.”
And that's what Emily did.
“Hello ma’am, I am-” Emily spoke until Jennifer interrupted her.
“Emily Prentiss, my new secretary. Right? Sit down.” Jennifer gestured to the chair opposite of her desk with one hand and with the other she closed the case file she was reading and placed it on the stack of other paperwork she had, all of her attention now on Emily but she chose to fidget with a red marker, a sign that maybe she was as nervous as her new secretary.
Emily obeyed and sat down, looking nervously around the office then back at Jennifer and back to her surroundings. The desk was littered with case files and paperwork but one specific thing caught Emily's eye. It was a framed picture of Jennifer and her family. There was her, her husband and two young boys. They were happy. Probably happier than Emily when she was their age. But something else had also drawn her attention, the way Jennifer’s hands looked like fidgeting with the marker, how her slender fingers moved around it but she quickly returned her focus to the woman in front of her, not only her hands.
“I’ve heard good things about you from your mother. I believe that we will get along just fine.” Jennifer said, smiling with softness that never truly faded from her many years of working on the field. “As my secretary, you’ll have to answer phone calls for me whenever I'm out on a case or too busy, help me with paperwork and fetch me coffee whenever I feel like it.” She continued but at the last requirement chuckled lightly as she spoke, making Emily think that she was most likely joking.
“Yes, of course. I understand” Emily nodded, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
Jennifer took note of how calm Emily seemed to be but her hands betrayed her. She also noticed how rough her fingers looked, presumably from years of biting them as a way to cope with stress. She tried not to profile Emily but it was hard not to since she seemed so intriguing. Her bangs perfectly framed her face, she had the same innocence in her doe eyes that Jennifer had when she began working with the BAU decades ago as a media liaison, innocence that will be slowly ripped away from her as she continued working on cases over the years. Her style was professional but still had an edge to it, probably she had a more darker aesthetic when she was younger and it still made its mark to this day. Jennifer was married anyway so what was the point of practically checking Emily out? She probably has a boyfriend her age too. She must have by how beautiful she is or maybe she had many men and possibly women as well wrapped around her finger.
Emily felt how intensely Jennifer was looking at her, she felt like she was being observed under a microscope by her observant gaze. Did she leave too many buttons open and looked too unprofessional? Did the wind mess up her hair? A million thoughts ran through her mind as she continued to look anywhere but at her bosses face.
After a moment of awkward silence Emily was the one to break it.
“Is there anything I can do for you m’am?”
“I could use a fresh perspective on this case we’ve been dealing with.” Jennifer handed Emily a pretty hefty casefile. “And you can call me JJ, no need for such formalities” She smiled gently as their fingers brushed against each other.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Time flew by with Emily on JJs side. She was obedient and efficient. Paperwork was done twice as quickly, JJs coffee somehow tasted better and Emily’s nails slowly grew longer and she started painting them a red wine colour. The two women also grew closer day by day. Emily was invited multiple times to join the team for dinner or drinks and she became one of them slowly as well. Her input on cases were extremely helpful and JJ asked her multiple times to consider becoming a profiler which Emily simply responded with “maybe one day”, teasing her. They shared happy moments but they also shared grief and sadness, especially when Will died. From that day JJ became more dependent on Emily, emotionally and in the workplace. Emily had to handle paperwork on her own for some time, as JJ was grieving she also had to go in the field with the team as her replacement and so on. But JJ also became more snappier, loosing her temper more often than usual.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
One day, Emily made a mistake.
“Prentiss, tell me why did you make an error in the Seattle case file?” JJ firmly asked, crossing her arms across her chest.
“I'm sorry JJ-” Emily quickly went to defend herself but was cut off by JJ.
“Quiet. Put your elbows on the desk. Now” JJ demanded.
And like the good and obedient girl that was Emily, she leaned in on the desk with her elbows pressed to the hard wood surface.
“Yes, ma’am…” She quietly muttered.
JJ locked the door and closed the blinds and slowly walked up to Emily, stopping right behind her. The glint in her eyes was predatory as she approached Emily. She ran her fingers down her back and stopped at her ass, making Emily arch her back. Even though JJ was mad at Emily, her touch was gentle.
“Be a good girl and be quiet” JJ said.
“Yes-” Emily nodded weakly then suddenly…
SMACK
JJ slapped Emily's ass, earning a muffled moan from the other woman. She did it again and again, each spank harder than the last. Emily tried her best to muffle her groans and whimpers, biting down on her lip until it almost drew blood.
“Never. Make. That. Mistake. Again” JJ said, emphasising each word with a slap.
“Yes ma’am” Emily weakly stammered.
“Good girl” JJ softly praised, grabbing a handful of her ass and giving it a tight squeeze, enough to imprint her fingerprints on the other's ass cheek.
JJs comment made Emily weak in the knees, her head falling on the desk as she groaned in pleasure. JJ caught on that Emily was enjoying it so she turned it up a notch.
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? Look at you, I barely did anything to you and you’re already a mess.” She muttered condescendingly, leaning closer to her ear. “You’re always so professional but now? You’re holding yourself back aren’t you? You’re just a needy little slut, getting off at me spanking you.”
“No, m’am, I promise i’ll be better from now on-“ Emily stammered but was interrupted by another slap.
“Let me hear you. Tell me how much you like it.”
“Yes- Yes, I love it when you spank me. I was a bad girl and I deserve every single slap.” Emily babbled, her words coming out more whiny by the minute.
“Tell me how much you want me. Tell me how you want me to fuck you right here right now” JJ continued, her hand slowly moving to the front of Emily’s pants.
“I want you to fuck me. JJ, please. I’ll be good just, please, fuck me” Emily whined desperately.
“Good girl. Was it that hard? Be good and don’t be too loud.” JJ unbuttoned her jeans and then pulled down the zipper of her jeans and slowly dragged her hand down Emily’s panties that were slowly getting more damp.
“Youre already soaked, so, so excited for me, aren't you?”
JJ introduced one finger into Emily's vagina, then two and started to fuck her at a slow pace, taking her time with it. Emily could barely contain her moans anymore, letting out broken whimpers.
“Harder. JJ, please” Emily begged, nails digging into her palms.
JJ complied, going at a faster paste. Her fingers dug deep into Emily, curling inside her to pry more moans from her, making her wet as well. Emily felt her orgasm growing stronger and quickly.
“JJ- Fuck- Im gonna cum” Emily practically sobbed, her hips grinding harder into the heel of the blondes palm.
JJ added another finger, going deeper and deeper until Emily eventually came. JJ retracted her fingers from the others pants and brought them to her mouth, licking all the cum off her fingers and knuckles.
“You taste so sweet, baby” JJ smirked as she took some tissues to clean her hand from spit and cum. “Get yourself tidied up, you can’t go around the bullpen looking like that, can you?”
“Right. Yes, I can’t” Emily panted, still riding high from her orgasm.
“You're dismissed” JJ calmly said, leaning over Emily to kiss her temple.
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content warning - jealous hotch, established secret relationship, i wrote it with age gap in mind but i dont think it actually influenced anything lol, fluff
The concrete walls of the FBI field office observation room were cold, and painted a dull gray. Through the thick one way glass, the interrogation room looked like a stage illuminated by a single harsh overhead panel. You were sitting on the far side of the metal table, adjusting your notepad with a calm, methodical rhythm. Across from you sat Vance, a serial stalker whose charming exterior masked a calculated, deeply arrogant narcissist.
Aaron Hotchner stood in his usual position in the observation room, his feet shoulder width apart, hands folded loosely across his chest, his blazer pulled tight around his shoulders. His gaze was fixed entirely on you. You were highly capable, brilliant at your job, out here you were his agent. Behind closed doors in the quiet hours of the night, you were the person he loved. Balancing those two worlds required constant, ironclad discipline.
“Interrogation recorded at 14:02,” your voice came through the desktop speaker, clear and even. “Let’s review your timeline for the night of the fourteenth, Vance.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Vance replied, leaning back in his chair with a slow, deliberate smile.
Beside Aaron, Morgan leaned against the table, a mug of coffee in hand. He wasn’t looking through the glass, he was looking at Hotch. It was subtle, something anyone else in the precinct would have missed, but Morgan had spent years working alongside Hotch. He noticed the tiny shift of weight from his left foot to his right. He noticed the barely perceptible tightening of his jaw, and the way his knuckles were turning white as he held onto his biceps.
Morgan tilted his head, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “You alright, Hotch?”
“I’m fine.” Aaron said instantly, his tone clipped, his eyes never leaving the glass.
“Right…” Morgan nodded slowly, a small, curious smirk touching his lips. “Because you’re standing so still you look like you’re made of stone. She's got the timeline locked down, Hotch. Relax.”
“I am relaxed, Morgan.” Aaron replied smoothly, though his thumb pressed harder against the fabric pulled taught around his arm. “I’m monitoring the interview.”
Inside the room, Vance leaned forward, resting his elbows on the stainless steel table. He wasn’t looking at the evidence file you had opened, his eyes were trailing upward, tracing your face with an unpleasant, lingering familiarity. “You know,” he murmured, his voice softening into a low, cosy register that made the speaker hiss faintly, “it’s a shame.”
“What is?” You asked, not looking up from your page.
“A pretty thing like you, stuck in a room like this with a guy like me,” Vance said, tilting his head. “What’s a girl like you doing with a badge anyway? You look like you should be taken care of, not dealing with scum.”
In the observation room, Aaron’s breathing didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed by a fraction of a millimeter. He’s attempting to establish control, he reasoned internally, running the standard psychological diagnostic to keep his focus grounded. It’s a textbook deflection. Vance feels cornered by her authority, he’s trying to patronise her to regain the upper hand.
Logic told Aaron that you were more than capable of handling it. He knew your training, he had watched you dismantle tougher suspects than Vance. But seeing the man dismiss your authority, watching him attempt to reduce a sharp, brilliant federal agent to a stereotype, stirred a deep, uncomfortable agitation beneath his ribs. It was frustrating the helplessness of having to stand behind a piece of glass and watch someone disrespect you, forced to play the silent observer when every professional instinct told him the dynamic was veering off course.
“We’re discussing your whereabouts between eight pm and midnight, Vance. Not my career.” You said, keeping your face completely neutral.
“Come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that.” Vance purred, sliding his cuffed hands an inch forward on the metal table. “Look at me. Stop looking at those ugly pictures and look at me.”
Morgan shifted his weight, his eyes darting between the scene behind the glass, and Aaron standing beside him. He had unfolded his arms, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a black pen. He began clicking it with his thumb. It was a small, unconscious habit he only slipped into when a case was grinding on his last nerve.
Click. Click. Click.
“Hotch,” Morgan said quietly, his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “He’s just trying to ruffle her. You know how these narcissists operate.”
“He’s wasting time,” Aaron said, his voice flat, low, and laced with a tight, restrained friction.
“He’s been talking for two minutes,” Morgan pointed out, studying his boss’s tense profile with growing suspicion. “She hasn’t even batted an eye. Why are you so keyed up?”
Aaron didn’t answer. He couldn’t without breaking his composure. He just watched as Vance leaned in closer to you.
“If you took off that jacket, let your hair down…” Vance continued, his tone gratingly confident, “I bet you’d be a lot more fun. I bet you’re real sweet when you’re not playing the tough cop.”
The cheap, plastic casing of the pen cracked under the silent, rigid tension in Aaron’s grip, the snap cutting through the air as ink pooled faintly against the tip.
Morgan went still, looking down at the broken pen in Aaron’s hand, then up at his face. The playful curiosity in Morgan’s eyes shifted into confusion. “Whoa. Okay… Hotch, he’s being a sleaze but she’s-"
Before Morgan could finish, Aaron stepped forward and pressed the intercom switch on the console. “That’s enough.” Aaron’s voice echoed through the speaker into the interrogation room, cool, deep and completely authoritative.
You paused, catching the faint, subtle tension beneath his controlled tone. You didn’t break character. You calmly closed your folder, gave Vance a dismissive look and stood up. “Excuse me. We’ll continue this later.”
“Well hey, don’t leave on my account, gorgeous!” He called after you as you unlocked the door.
When you stepped into the observation room, the air was dense with an unspoken strain. Morgan was standing near the back, holding his coffee as his eyes darted between you and Hotch, widening slightly as if to warn you of the sudden break of Hotch’s composure.
Aaron was standing by the console, his hands resting lightly on the edge, his expression carefully restored to a neutral mask.
“Good work in there,” Morgan said smoothly, breaking the silence as he picked up a folder. “Kept him on the defensive.”
“Thanks,” you said, stepping into the room and setting the file on the desk. You looked over at Aaron, keeping your tone professional. “Do we have enough for the search warrant on his vehicle?”
Aaron looked at you, his dark eyes searching your face for a brief second to ensure you were completely unbothered by the interaction, before he gave a single nod. “I’ll sign off on it now.”
Morgan looked between the two of you, hesitantly stepping toward the door. “I’ll take the file down to Garcia so she can run the registration. Give you a second to… go over the interview notes.” He said, before stepping out, letting the door click quietly shut behind him.
The moment the door clicked, the rigid stiffness in Aaron’s shoulders finally melted away. He let out a quiet, tired sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. You stepped closer, dropping the formal boundary between you. “You look annoyed.” You said gently, glancing at the cracked pen resting on the desk console. Aaron looked at the broken plastic, then up at you, a wry, self deprecating shadow of a smile touching his lips.
“It was frustrating to watch him talk to you like that,” he admitted quietly, his voice deep and calm again. “He was deliberately trying to disrespect your authority.”
“He was trying to get a reaction,” you reminded him softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “And he didn’t get one from me.”
“I know,” Aaron murmured, moving his arm to lace his fingers through yours, his thumb lightly brushing your knuckles. “You handled him perfectly. Better than I handled watching it.”
“I had a good teacher,” you offered, taking a small step closer into his space. The tension in the room finally faded completely. The warmth of your presence washed away the last lingering irritation from the interrogation. You tilted your head, your eyes dancing with a sudden, playful spark as you glanced down at the cracked pen sitting on the console, then back up to his sharp, handsome face. “Though I don’t remember you teaching me the ‘break the stationary if the suspect gets too personal’ protocol.”
Aaron’s jaw softened, a faint twitch appearing at the corner of his mouth. “That wasn’t a protocol.”
“No?” You brushed your fingers lightly over his lapel, leaning in just a fraction more. “Because you look awfully bothered. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”
“I was being observant,” he replied smoothly, though the warmth in his dark eyes betrayed him. “He was pushing it.”
“He was an idiot,” you said softly, teasingly tapping his chest. “And you were sulking over a man whose entire pick up line repertoire belongs in a bad rom-com. Admit it. You were jealous.”
Aaron looked down at you as a quiet, breathless huff of laughter escaped him, a sound that crinkled the corners of his eyes and smoothed every line of stress from his forehead. “Maybe a little,” he confessed softly, his voice rich and fond.
“How very charming.” You murmured, smiling softly. He raised his hand, his warm palm gently cupping the side of your neck. His thumb brushed over the skin just beneath your ear. He leaned down, bridging the gap between you slowly, deliberately. His gaze flicked down to your lips before locking back onto your eyes.
“You’re the only person who talks to me like that,” he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek.
“And yet,” you whispered back, tilting your chin up just a fraction, “you love me anyway.”
“I do,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above yours, his nose lightly bumping yours, the quiet hum of the field office humming outside the room.
The door handle turned, and the heavy door swung open. “Hey, Hotch, Garcia said the car registration came back as-” Emily froze mid step, her words dropping instantly.
In a fraction of a second, Aaron pulled back with practiced, fluid grace, picking up the case folder from the console as if he had simply been leaning over to read a line on the page. You smoothly stepped back, crossing your arms and adjusting your posture to look entirely absorbed in the file. Emily stood in the doorway, a stack of papers in her hand, her eyes wide as her gaze darted from Aaron’s slightly flushed jawline to your quiet composure, and back again.
The silence stretched for five excruciating, horribly awkward seconds. Emily slowly brought the file folder up, using it to shield half her face as a look for sheer, panicked realisation settled over her features. “I… am going to go back down the hallway,” she said, taking a slow step backward out the room. “And I am going to pretend that I forgot the registration printout. Which I did. Right now.”
“Pren-” Aaron started, his authoritative voice suddenly sounding remarkably strained.
She slammed the door shut with a loud, hasty thud before he could even finish her name, her muffled, rapid footsteps hurrying away down the hall.
Inside the room, complete silence fell again. You slowly turned your head to look at Aaron. He was holding the case file upside down. A quiet, breathless laugh escaped your lips, and you covered your mouth to muffle it. Aaron looked down at the file, then over at you, letting out a long, heavy sigh as he rubbed his temples, though the faint trace of that rare smile still lingered on his face.
“I knew you’d get me into trouble,” he grumbled affectionately, pressing a soft, quick kiss to your hair before snapping the file shut.
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Summary: You've meet Aaron as your gym crush. Not talking to him till he helped you with a creep guy. Now and then, for months he lied to keep you safe, telling you he was a lawyer. Little does he nows that an emergency would make the truth come to your eyes.
After an exhausting cycle of dead-end dates with self-absorbed men who couldn't look past their own reflections, you had officially placed your romantic life on an indefinite hiatus. You were tired, guarded, and completely done wasting your energy.
Then came the gym.
You had noticed him a few times before, a broad-shouldered, impossibly built man in his late thirties with dark hair, sharp features, and an aura of absolute, quiet discipline.
He never talked to anyone, never looked at his phone, and moved through his workouts with the cold precision of a military operation.
You’d catch yourself glancing at him, thinking hot, but you were far too burned out by men to actually do anything about it.
Today, however, your quiet workout routine was turning into an absolute nightmare.
You were standing near a machine, trying to change the music on your phone, when a guy in invaded your personal space.
He leaned his arm heavily against the frame of your bench, towering over you with a smug grin.
"Hey, beautiful" his eyes scanning you up and down "You look like you could use a real trainer. I could show you how to hit those glutes properly"
"I'm fine, thanks" you said, keeping your voice completely flat as you popped your headphones back in.
He didn't take the hint.
Instead, he reached out and casually plucked one earbud right out of your ear.
"Come on, don't be like that" he got closer "Just give me your number. I'll make it worth your time"
"I said, I'm not interested"
You back away. But he shifted his body, stepping into your path and blocking you against the equipment.
"Just one drink, babe. Don't play hard to get"
Your heart hammering against your ribs.
"Is there a problem here?"
You looked up. It was him. The quiet man from He was wearing a dark gray shirt damp with sweat, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, his dark, almost black eyes locked onto the guy with a gaze so fierce it could wither steel.
The creepy guy blinked, trying to puff out his chest.
"Mind your own business, man. We were having a conversation"
"She told you she wasn't interested. Twice" Aaron said coldly. He didn't raise his voice, but the terrifyingly calm, dangerous edge in his tone made the entire air in the room shift.
Before the guy could utter another word, Aaron stepped right past him, effortlessly closing the distance between the two of you.
His dark eyes softened just a fraction as he looked down at you.
Without breaking eye contact, Aaron reached out, his large, warm hand settling possessively against the small of your back.
"Sorry I took so long with my set, sweetheart"
He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping into a intimate, low register "Are you ready to head home?"
Your heart executed stoped in your chest.
The sudden heat of his hand against your back sent a electric shiver straight up your spine.
Your gym crush was holding you, just like that, but not only that, helping you to get away from that creep.
"Uh...yes" you managed, catching on immediately and leaning subtly into his broad, solid frame. It took you a little to get his plan.
"Yes, babe. I'm ready"
Aaron turned back to the guy, his hand remaining firmly anchored on your waist.
He didn't say a single word. He simply glared down at the guy with a look that screamed move before I make you.
"Uh... my bad, bro. Didn't know she was taken" He practically tripped over his own feet as he scrambled away.
Once the creep was out of sight, Aaron immediately retracted his hand, giving you your space back.
The sudden loss of his warmth made you feel strangely cold.
"Are you okay?" Aaron asked, his tone instantly shifting back to a polite tone. "He wasn't touching you before I came over, was he?"
"No, no. I'm fine" You looked up at him, taking in his immaculate jawline and those intense dark eyes.
"Thank you. Seriously. He was really crossing a line."
"People like that usually do until someone forces them not to" A tiny, almost invisible twitch appeared at the corner of his jaw.
"I'm Aaron, by the way"
"Y/N" you smiled, genuine warmth breaking through your guarded exterior for the first time in months. "Can I buy a protein shake?"
You shoot your shot.
"As an thank you for that"
Aaron paused. The ghost of a smile lingered at the edge of his lips as he looked down at you, his dark eyes assessing your proud, confident posture.
"You don't need to thank me" he said, his baritone smooth and steady. "And I certainly wouldn't let you pay for it"
"I insist. The least I can do is cover a $7 shake. Plus... I kind of want to see if we can talk more"
Play the game or lose the chances.
Aaron let out a low, raspy huff of amusement, a sound so rare and quiet it felt like an exclusive privilege.
"Alright. Lead the way"
Five minutes later, the two of you were leaning against the high counter near the front windows, sipping your shakes.
Up close, without the heavy gym noise around you, Aaron’s presence was even more magnetic. He was impeccably put together, even in sweat-dampened gym clothes.
There was a quiet, hyper-observant stillness to him that made you feel like the only person in the room, and strangely, completely safe.
"So, Aaron" you began, tracing the edge of your cup "You come here every day, you work out like you're preparing for a military drop, and you handle creepy guys with zero effort. What's the story? Are you a bodyguard? Secret service?"
Aaron took a slow sip of his drink, a faint, unreadable look passing through those dark eyes.
"Nothing quite that cinematic. I work for the Department of Justice. Desk job, mostly"
You raised an eyebrow, scanning his broad
"A desk job? Right. And those shoulders are just from typing really fast?"
Aaron actually smirked a genuine, microscopic curve of his lips that made your pulse do a traitorous flutter.
"It involves a lot of reading" he murmured, his voice dropping "And occasionally dealing with unpredictable people"
"Well, 'desk guy', I'm impressed" you smiled softly, leaning your elbow on the counter.
And that’s how you and Aaron meet. Months after that you two ended togheter, he didn't talk much about his job, when he was with you he wanted to left all that world behind.
Aaron tried to keep you away from that world that, so far that you thought he was a lawyer. You never meet his coworkers, sometimes he didn't even know how the lie got so big, lies after him going to another city for a case for weeks, lies about leaving in the middle of the nigth.
He lied to himself about feeling gulty for that. The only thing that mattered was your safety, the less you knew the better.
But that didn't last long.
A brutal case shattered the wall he had built between his two lives.
It was 2:15 AM on a when your phone broke the quiet of your apartment.
You scrambled out of bed, your heart dropping into your stomach. Aaron had been gone for five days on a "corporate emergency" You reached for your phone, expecting his call saying he was delayed.
Instead, it was an unknown landline number.
"Hello?"
"Is this _____?" a woman’s sharp, urgent voice echoed through the speaker.
"Yes... who is this?"
"This is George University Hospital Emergency. You are listed as the primary emergency contact for Aaron Hotchner. He’s just been brought in by ambulance..."
The world stoped. Your phone nearly slipped from your hand.
"What? Is he okay? What happened?"
"He has defensive wounds, severe blunt force trauma, and a gunshot wound to his left shoulder. He is currently in surgery. You need to come down right now."
You threw yourself into your car, your hands shaking violently against the steering wheel as you sped.
When you slammed through the automatic doors of the Hospital ER, your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it would break your ribs.
"Aaron Hotchner" you gasped to the nurse, clutching the high counter. "I'm his partner. Where is he?"
"Surgical ICU waiting room, third floor"
You sprinted to the elevator, your mind spiraling into absolute panic. When the doors opened on the third floor, you burst into the waiting area, expecting to see a quiet room.
Instead, you walked into a total tactical team.
The waiting room was crawling with armed men and women.
Plainclothes individuals wearing dark tactical vests with FBI blazoned in bold white across their backs.
Local police officers stood guard by the doors.
You froze in the doorway, your brain completely short-circuiting. What the hell is going on here?
Standing near there was a tall handsome men. Next to him was a tall, slender man with messy brown hair, rapidly pacing back and forth. A beautiful blonde woman was on her phone, her voice shaking as she spoke, while a another pretty blonde woman with colorful glasses sat in a chair, quietly wiping away tears.
what the absolute fuck.
"Excuse me. I... I'm looking for Aaron"
Every single person in the room stopped cold.
One of the stepped forward with an expression of immediate, genuine warmth and deep empathy.
"Hey" he said, his deep voice carrying a remarkably soft, comforting tone. He pulled a chair out slightly for you, looking at you with open kindness. "Are you _____?"
You blinked, taken aback by his gentle manner despite the dried blood on his knuckles.
"Yes... how do you know my name?"
"Because it’s the only thing Hotch was repeating in the back of the ambulance" he answered.
"I'm Derek Morgan. We work with him"
You looked at Derek’s chest, the tactical gear, and then at the rest of the team who were watching you with quiet, curious sympathy.
"At the law firm?"
Derek paused, his brow furrowing in genuine surprise. He exchanged a quick, confused look with the blonde woman, JJ. and Spencer. None of them had any idea who you were until ten minutes ago.
"No, sweetie... Aaron doesn't work at a law firm. He's the supervisor agent of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit"
The room went dead silent.
"The... the what?"
"We profile serial killers and high-priority violent offenders for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Aaron leads our team" Spencer said.
Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. The world spun around you. Serial killers? Federal Bureau of Investigation?
Every single memory of the last eight months rushed back to you in a dizzying wave of betrayal and shock.
The late-night phone calls.
The unexpected trips to random small towns.
The way he kept his personal life locked behind an iron vault.
The way he lied to your face every single time he kissed your forehead and told you he was just heading to a "deposition"
"He... he told me he was a corporate defense attorney"
Derek stepped closer, placing a warm, steady hand gently on your shoulder.
"Hey, breathe. It's okay. Hotch keeps his personal life completely out of his work. He didn't tell any of us about you, either"
"He was keeping you a secret... to keep you safe" Garcia added.
"We were hunting a serial strangler in Baltimore tonight. The Unsub ambushed him. But Hotch is tough, alright? He fought him off"
"Oh my God" you whispered, pressing a shaking hand over your mouth.
Before you could process the wave of anger, fear, and utter confusion crashing over you, the double doors of the surgical unit swung open.
A doctor in blue scrubs walked out, pulling off his mask.
"Family of Aaron Hotchner?"
The entire team turned, but Derek stayed right by your side, placing a protective hand on your back.
"He's out of surgery. The bullet missed the main artery in his shoulder, and we repaired the internal damage. He's stable, but he's waking up. Only one of you can go in for now"
Derek immediately turned to you, offering a warm, encouraging nod.
The rest of the team politely stepped back, granting you full priority without question.
"Go on. He’s been waiting for you"
The room was dimly lit, the sharp, rhythmic beep... beep... beep... of the heart monitor filling the quiet space.
Aaron was lying in the hospital bed with heavy white bandages wrapped tightly around his chest and left shoulder. He looked pale, exhausted.
As the door clicked shut, Aaron’s dark eyes slowly fluttered open.
He looked weak, but the second his gaze found you standing at the foot of his bed, his heart monitor spiked, the rhythm accelerating instantly.
"My Love" Aaron rasped, his voice painfully rough and dry.
Looking at him, so pale, bound in thick white bandages, your anger completely evaporated, replaced by a wave of relief.
You closed the distance between you in two quiet strides.
"Don't" you whispered softly, your voice trembling as you reached over the bed rail. "Don't try to talk right now, babe"
Instead of pulling away, you gently took his uninjured hand.
His fingers, warm despite his pale skin, immediately squeezed yours with a weak, desperate grip.
He swallowed hard, his dark eyes fixed on your face, searching every inch of your expression with a heavy, guilt-ridden intensity. "You're... you're here" he rasped out, each breath taking a visible effort. "They called you?"
"They called me" you murmured, stepping closer and using your free hand to gently push a stray lock of dark hair back from his sweaty forehead. "Derek and the team are outside. They brought you in"
Aaron’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of his team, his heart monitor giving another small flutter. He knew what that meant. He knew the illusion was completely shattered.
"I..." Aaron started, his brow furrowing as he tried to force his raspy voice to work. "I can explain everything‐"
"Aaron, stop" you interrupted gently, your thumb soothingly rubbing the back of his hand "Look at yourself. You just took a bullet to the shoulder" "You must be furious."
"I'm terrified you almost died"
A tear finally slipped down your cheek.
You leaned over the bed rail, carefully keeping your weight off his injuries, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cold temple.
"We will talk about it later. Right now, you just need to rest"
"Stay"
"I'm not going anywhere" you whispered back, pulling a chair right up to the side of his bed and refusing to let go of his hand. "Get some sleep, Aaron"
Aaron slept for quiet hours, his hand never fully releasing its grip on yours.
Every time his fingers twitched or his brow furrowed in a fitful dream, you softly stroked the back of his hand until his breathing evened out again.
By 6:00 AM, the pale light of dawn was beginning to peek through the thin blinds.
The door opened with a quiet. Derek stepped into the room carrying two paper cups of cafeteria coffee.
He had changed out of his blood-stained shirt into a dark grey hoodie, looking exhausted, but his warm eyes immediately softened when he saw you.
"Hey" Derek whispered. He walked over and offered you one of the cups. "Thought you might need some fuel. It's terrible hospital coffee, but it's warm"
"Thank you"
Derek pulled up a small stool on the opposite side of the bed, setting his own coffee down. He looked at Aaron, then back up at you.
"How's he doing?"
"He woke up briefly" you said, your voice quiet as your fingers lightly brushed Aaron's knuckles. "Tried to apologize immediately, but I told him to shut up and sleep"
Derek let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking his head "Yeah, sounds like him. Man's getting shot in the shoulder and his first thought is still damage control"
Silence settled over the room for a moment, save for the rhythmic humming of the monitors. You took a slow sip of the coffee, looking over at Derek.
"He really never mentioned me? Not once?"
"Not a single word, sweetie. And in our line of work, that’s saying something. We practically live in each other's pockets on the jet. But Hotch... Hotch keeps a vault around his personal life. After everything he's been through in the past..." Derek paused, picking his words carefully "...he doesn't take chances with the people he loves"
You absorbed his words, feeling a strange mixture of warmth and sorrow settling in your chest.
"I thought he was a lawyer. Sitting at a desk reading contracts"
Derek snorted softly, covering his mouth to suppress a louder laugh. "Hotch? Sitting behind a desk full time would drive him out of his mind"
Derek leaned forward, his expression turning serious, deeply sincere.
"Look" Derek said quietly, holding your gaze. "I know this is a massive shock. Finding out the guy you love has been hiding a whole dark, dangerous universe from you... it’s a lot to swallow. But I need you to know something. I've known Aaron a long time. And I know he loves you"
He stopped for a moment
"He was bleeding out, barely conscious" Derek continued softly, his voice thick with emotion. "And he kept fighting the medics because he was terrified nobody was going to call you. He was scared of leaving you behind"
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes again. You looked down at Aaron's face.
Before you could reply, a low, raspy groan echoed from the bed.
Aaron’s head shifted against the pillow. His dark eyes slowly fluttered open, heavy and unfocused from the drugs, but within seconds, they locked straight onto you.
"Hey..." Aaron croaked out, his deep voice gravelly and weak.
"Welcome back" you said immediately, leaning in closer and wrapping both of your hands around his.
Aaron swallowed with effort, his gaze slowly shifting past you to spot Derek sitting on the other side. A microscopic shift of authority returned to his features as he tried to clear his throat.
"Morgan" Aaron rasped out, his brow furrowing.
"The Unsub?"
Derek rolled his eyes with affection, letting out a low chuckle as he stood up.
"Unsub's in custody, boss. Reid and Prentiss wrapped up the evidence half an hour ago. You can stop being the boss now"
Derek walked around the bed, clapping gentle hand on Aaron's good shoulder, then looking at you with a warm nod.
"I'll give you two some privacy" Derek said softly. "The rest of the team is downstairs in the lobby whenever you're ready. Take care of him."
"I will. Thanks, Derek" you replied softly.
As the door clicked shut behind Derek.
"You talked to Morgan" Aaron murmured softly, his thumb tracing the inside of your wrist.
"I did" you said gently, sitting back down in the vinyl chair. "He told me you're a terrible patient"
A faint, microscopic twitch appeared at the corner of Aaron’s jaw his version of a smile. "He's exaggerating"
"He also told me" you continued, your voice softening as you leaned your chin on your hand, staring right into his dark eyes "what you were saying in the ambulance"
He squeezed your hand, his breath catching in his throat.
"I lied to you" Aaron whispered, his rough and heavy with an agonizing guilt. "Every day for eight months. I hated every single lie. But every time I looked at you... I couldn't bear the thought of bringing the monsters I chase anywhere near our world"
"Aaron..."
"I was selfish" he cut in softly, his eyes burning into yours with a desperate truth "I wanted a place where I wasn't agent Hotchner. Where I was just a man who got to hold you at the end of the day. But I should have trusted you"
You looked at him.
You stood up, leaning over the bed rail, and cupped his cheek with your warm hand.
"We are going to have a very long, very detailed conversation about it once you are discharged" you murmured softly against his skin. "You are going to tell me everything. No more corporate lawyer bullshit"
Aaron closed his eyes, leaning his face into your palm with a deep, shaky exhale. "Okay"
"And until then" you whispered, leaning down to press a soft, sweet kiss right to his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath against yours "you are going to lay still, take your medicine, and let me take care of you"
Aaron opened his dark eyes, a quiet, possessive warmth gleaming deep within them as he rasped out his response against your lips:
Me after liking the fic, and after reading all the way up until the smut scene in which I realize tags would have probably realize this fic was not for me and save me a lot of time. Now I have to decide whether or not I wanna leave this fanfiction or continue reading because I liked in the beginning.
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