#scrabble

Right at you. You looked back down and played your word before you could overthink it.

Reader plays:

GLANCE

Your heart kicked a little. Hotch didn’t respond right away. You could feel it—him noticing, calculating, deciding not to rush.

A minute passed.

Then his tile slid into place.

Hotch plays:

FOCUS

You bit your lip, fighting a smile.

You typed before you could talk yourself out of it.

Reader plays:

DISTRACT

This time the pause was longer.

You felt his eyes on you even without looking. Like he’d leaned back slightly, jaw tight, rereading the board.

Then—

Hotch plays:

DISCIPLINE

Your smile turned soft. Dangerous.

You sent a message with your next move.

Reader: You’re good at this.

The reply came a few seconds later.

Hotch: So are you.

You shook your head, fingers already moving.

Reader plays:

TEST

You didn’t look up, but you knew he saw it. Of course he did.

Hotch plays:

CONTROL

Your chest tightened, heat curling low and slow.

You took your time now.

Reader plays:

WANT

Minutes dragged by. Too long.

You told yourself not to look—but you did. He was still awake. Watching the screen. Watching you.

Hotch plays:

DENY

Your pulse jumped hard enough you felt it in your throat.

You answered immediately.

Reader plays:

TEMPT

This time he responded fast. No hesitation.

Hotch plays:

RESIST

You exhaled through your nose.

Liar.

Reader plays:

CLOSER

The pause stretched. Long enough that you wondered if he was going to let it sit there between you.

Then—

Hotch plays:

ENOUGH

Your fingers hovered. You swallowed.

Reader plays:

STILL

A message popped up right after.

Hotch: I think you’re enjoying this.

You smiled to yourself, typing back.

Reader: I think you’re just letting me win, Mr. Hotchner.

Three dots. Gone. Then—

Hotch: I don’t let people win.

Your last move slid onto the board.

Hotch plays:

MINE

Your breath caught.

The game ended. You sat there for a second longer than necessary, chest warm, head buzzing, then locked your iPad and stood to get a glass of water.

As you passed his seat, your fingers brushed his—soft, accidental, just enough.

His hand stilled.

You took one more step before you heard him unbuckle.

When you turned slightly, he was already standing, close, voice low.

“Still thirsty?” he asked.

And you weren’t sure anymore if he meant the water. “Mr. Hotchner,” you say as you reach for a glass in the cabinet— or try to. You forget it’s higher than you.

Before you can even stretch, he’s there. Close. Too close. He reaches past you, arm brushing yours as he pulls a glass down and places it gently in your hand. His fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

“I meant it,” you say softly, not looking at him.

“I know,” he says.

Your breath catches anyway. “I want you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He doesn’t move away.

You step closer to the fridge, sliding the glass under the water dispenser, the quiet hum filling the space between you. Your hands shake just a little as the glass fills.

“I know,” he says again—lower this time, closer.

So close you can feel him behind you. His presence steady. Controlled. Barely. The water clicks off. Neither of you moves.

He moves the hair from the back of your neck, brushing it aside with each careful step his hand hovers there, close, heat radiating from him.

“Aaron,” you say—his name slipping out for the first time, easy and soft. Just like that, it does something to him.“Don’t,” he says, low, tense. “Don’t say it like that.”

Your chest tightens. Your heart races. You can feel the way he’s holding himself back, how close he is, and it makes every nerve in your body alive, every word between you heavy with something you can’t really name .

He starts to head back to his seat.

“Don’t go,” you say softly, reaching for him. He stops. You turn to face him, eyes locked. “You’re playing with fire,” he says, rough, trying to stay in control. Your hand slides up to his chest. “Isn’t that the fun of it?” you whisper, your heart racing.

He swallows. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but the way he looks at you says otherwise. You smirk a little. “And you like it,” you tease, brushing your fingers over his shoulder. He steps closer, careful, controlled. “Don’t make me lose my mind,” he says quietly. You shake your head, smile soft. “I think you already did.

“Then what are you waiting for?” he says.

You slide your fingers around his tie, smiling as you pull him closer to you. His gaze never leaves yours. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks. You nod, because you don’t think you can say anything else.

“I’ve wanted this with you for a while now,” you say. “I don’t want it with anyone else Aaron you say softly.”

“You are what I want,” you add. “I’ve never felt this before. You make me feel alive.” He swallows hard, and the way he looks at you now… it’s like he wants you more than ever.

“No. Only if you’re sure,” he says. He reaches up and cups your face in his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. Then he kisses you—slow at first, and then deeper, more urgent, like he’s been holding back for far too long. Your lips mold together, his warm, firm, and demanding, and you feel it all—the heat, the pull, the rush of wanting him. Your hands fumble at his shirt, then stop, caught between desire and the world around you.

You both forget where you are. He’s leaning into you, fingers brushing the button of your shirt when Spencer walks up and clears his throat.

“I knew it,” Spencer says, a knowing grin on his face. “I knew there was something going on between you two.”

You freeze, your chest pounding, heart hammering against your ribs. Hotch doesn’t take his eyes off you. Not once. He slides your hand into his, firm and grounding, and leads you to sit down. You lean against his shoulder, still flushed from the kiss, and he holds you close, steady, like he’s never letting go. Your body still tingles where his lips had been, and just being near him makes your chest ache with what just happened, you look up at him , now what you say softly, well take it slow he says well take it day by day first we talk about it when we get back home he says, but for now just rest .

Author notes : I loved writing every single bit of this … and pre relationships seam to be my favorite trope with the age gap .. bold!fem!reader is my favorite … I hope you guys enjoy this one it was really fun in I hope you guys can see this as well if you enjoyed it please consider liking in comment I haven’t written in min had writers blog 😭💔 it’s a real thing ..