unapologetically yours

The first time you meet Aaron Hotchner, you’re ready to hightail it out of the room. Your transfer to the Behavioural Analysis Unit was something done out of necessity—you’d spent a long time in private practice before deciding to branch out and were lucky enough to score an opening with the FBI.

Hotchner was…a lot. Of what? You weren’t entirely sure. You’d been made aware he had a reputation for being a hardass and somehow also one of the best team leaders in the FBI.

He was calm, confident and at times abrasive, but you wouldn’t have gotten to this point if you were unable to work under pressure. He had been strict and clear in his expectations of your role on the team; you were new and had to fight to prove yourself.

“I look forward to working with you Agent.” He had remarked, barely looking up from his pile of papers as he dismissed you from the meeting. If you were any less professional, you would have scoffed but all you did was offer a tight smile and nod.

“I do too, have a good day further Agent Hotchner.”

And that was that.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

The BAU was a learn as you go workplace and you quickly figured out it was also a seemingly do as I say, not as I do environment. If you had a dollar for every time you witnessed one of your coworkers pull some kind of self-sacrificing bullshit—you’re fairly sure you’d never have to work ever again.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t bring some sort of spark back into your life, despite the dead bodies and sadistic murderers—you had found that missing puzzle peace.

The team sat on the plane back from one of their most recent cases, half-asleep on the red eye whilst you had your laptop out, typing away at your report so you’d be able to sleep as soon as you got back.

“You should sleep.” Hotch’s voice startles you despite being barely above a soft murmur. He’s watching you over a case file whilst sitting across from you.

You snort, “Yeah, no chance.”

Hotch frowns, “You having a hard time sleeping?” His tone is concerned and it brings a stiffness to your shoulders. You shouldn’t have said that. You’re completely capable of doing your job and it’s not like you’re the only one on this plane who has a hard time closing their eyes at night and not picturing every other gruesome thing they’ve encountered.

“No,” you smile tightly, shuffling your laptop closer to you as you squint at the screen. “I’m fine.”

Hotch stares at you for a second, as if he’s deciding whether or not to call you out on the blatant lie but instead heaves a sigh, slumping into his own seat.

“You shouldn’t squint like that—it will hurt your eyes.” He reprimands lightly and this time you can’t help the amused raise of your brow as you meet his dark gaze.

“God, you’re old.” You snort, immediately trying to muffle your laugh when his expression turns perplexed.

“Old?” he mutters in disbelief.

“Sorry,” you giggle, slapping a hand over your mouth as you watch him shake his head in fond amusement.

“You’re trouble for a man’s ego.” He points at you with a wry smile on his face as you flush.

You shrug, “Gotta keep em’ humble.”

Hotch flashes his teeth as he grins softly. Silence grows between the two of you as you continue to work on your own respective tasks.

As you continue to write your report, nibbling on your bottom lip you are seemingly unaware of the soft looks Hotch sends you in between his own reading.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

Your relationship with Hotch is complicated. There are times where you’ll catch him staring at you from his office, small smile on his face or there’s times where he inconspicuously accommodates you more than he would someone else.

He’s just being nice is what you tell yourself, because any other option would be ludicrous to even consider. Though there are moments that make you start to question whether those options might be reality.

You’re on a case in Pittsburgh, somewhere near the hospital you used to work at before transferring to the BAU and it’s just your luck that one of your key witnesses is currently being held in the ED.

You’re more than happy to accompany Hotch to the ED to try and get something useful out of the guy and you really struggle at schooling your face of excitement of seeing any of your past colleagues.

It doesn’t slip passed Hotch’s notice who quirks a curious brow at you from the driver’s seat, “You’re quite eager to be meeting a witness.” He remarks dryly but there’s no hiding the humor in his expression.

You grow shy, nibbling on your bottom lip and drawing his attention to your action. “I used to work in the psychology department at PTMC.” You admit softly, wringing your hands in front of you.

Hotch hums interestedly, it’s not often in their line of work that Agents are transferred into the FBI from outside of the academy. He’s willing to take any chance to know the parts of you he’s been yet to discover and visiting your work is what brings him hope that this might just push you both closer together.

You haven’t been outwardly dismissive of his advancements, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t killing him inside that you weren’t as forthcoming. Sure, it had been a while since he’d had to whip out his flirting tactics—his first and last relationship being well his late wife.

But you were so enigmatic that he just couldn’t help but want to be near you, he’d been making every effort to impress. Well, at least he thought he had, if your blatant obliviousness to his affection wasn’t sign enough.

Hotch had found himself gritting his teeth one too many times after he’d been blatantly flirting with you only for you to respond in your sweetest smile yet most professional tone.

He knew it wasn’t right, that he had no business crushing on his subordinate but Lord help him if you weren’t the only woman who had made him feel things he didn’t think himself capable of.

When Hotch parks the car, you practically launch yourself out of the vehicle to speedwalk your way into the entrance. You’re fast enough that Hotch has to jog a little to catch up to you with a breathy chuckle before matching your strides.

“So, you can run in those heels,” he teases softly, his arm coming back to rest on the curve of your back to guide you to the entrance.

You lift your hand to swat at his chest half-heartedly with a playful scowl that diminishes the moment you step into the bustling ER, the both of you adopting your composed manner of professionalism despite your simultaneous twitching lips.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

You’re met by a blonde nurse whose smile is as wide as can be when she catches sight of you, her southern drawl echoing as she crosses the room, “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes sunshine? Who knew we’d be seeing your face again!” she remarks happily, wrapping her arms around you in a motherly hug.

“Dana, I missed you.” You say softly, hugging her back before throwing a sheepish expression to Hotch who shrugs.

“And who’s this with you?” Dana sizes up Hotch, staring him down something fierce and he feels himself paling a little.

“Uh—” you chuckle nervously. “This is Agent Hotchner, he’s um—he’s my boss.” You say.

Dana turns to you, quirking a brow that makes you roll your eyes fondly. “We’re here on a case, Pittsburgh PD should have called ahead, we’re here to interview a James Harlow? He was in—”

“MVA, Yeah Robby’s got him down in South 12, you remember where that is don’t you? He’s gonna be real excited to see you.” Dana drawls teasingly.

Hotch expects you to laugh and wave off the statement, but he’s surprised to see you fluster, your shoulders hiking up towards your ears as you shove Dana softly.

“Stop,” you chastise her through a whine and Hotch feels like a rock had lodged itself in between his heart and ribcage. Who the hell is this guy?

He has no right to be jealous, the two of you aren’t…anything. You’re both colleagues, he’s your superior but Hotch feels his gut clenching and palms sweating all the same.

He coughs, clearing his throat which draws your attention back to him. You have the decency to look embarrassed but without further mention of it you say a hasty goodbye to an amused Dana who looks like she’s sizing him up and drag the both of you to what he assumes is South 12.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

When the curtain is drawn away, you both are met with the sight of your witness and what Hotch assumes is “Robby” explaining his blood test results to.

“Uh,” your witness mutters awkwardly, gaze switching between yourself and the man behind you. You suppose you must look quite intimidating in your formal wear and FBI badged plastered to your lapels, but you school your expression into something that you hope resembles comfort.

“Sunshine.” Robby remarks surprise as you muster a shy smile and an awkward wave while Hotch behinds you clenches his jaw.

Fuck. Granted, Hotch could’ve rationalised his jealousy if the guy were your age (no he couldn’t have) but Robby must be his age if not older. He’s all crows’ feet and greying hair that Hotch can’t help but measure himself up against.

He hates this. Never once has something so personal jeopardised his ability to maintain professionalism yet you have a way to test all of his boundaries. He hates how Robby is looking at you—like you’re some kind of miracle that he never thought he’d have the chance to see again.

It’s how Hotch looks at you. He knows that look, he wears that look every day with a feeling of pride because up until now—he had no reason to doubt that it was a matter of when not if you returned his affection.

Now? Now he feels the urge to drag you out of this ED and make you promise to never look at another man ever again. But he can’t, so he doesn’t.

“I uh—we’re here to interview Mr. Harlow. We’re with the BAU—we just have a couple of questions about what you saw today,” you murmur reassuringly to the wary man whilst glancing back at Robby.

Hotch’s firm voice startles you slightly when he moves from behind you to stand next to you, effectively acting as a barrier between you and Robby, “We need you to go over anything you can remember from this morning.”

Robby’s gaze turns amused when he notices Hotch’s posturing, snorting to himself as he shuffles out of the room, “I’ll leave you to it.”

You nod meekly, opening your mouth to start the cognitive interview before Robby’s voice interrupts you, “Dinner later Sunshine? Would be good to catch up.” He offers, an easy smile in his place.

Your heart warms, as much as you’ve enjoyed your time at the BAU, the day shift were the first people who made you feel like you were part of a community.

“Yeah,” you offer easily. “I’m working a case right now, but I’d like that. Maybe you could invite the rest—”

“Agent, we’re in the middle of something.” Hotch spits out, his eyes ablaze as he stares you down.

You shrink into yourself, not noticing Robby’s frown at your demeanour though he leaves after you give him a reassuring smile. You give your full attention back to your witness and proceed with the interview.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

You somehow feel like you’ve done something wrong despite the interview being a complete success. You walk out of the room with the feeling that Hotch is…mad at you? Frustrated?

You’re not entirely sure, only that he speaks to you in one word responses if he’s not supplied a grunt of some kind. It gets worse when you confirm your plans with Robby as you walk out, offering for Hotch to go on without you when you notice other Pittsburgh PD officers also  in the ED.

“It’ll give me some time to ask him a couple more questions and you can go over what we already know with the rest of the team, I’m sure the officers won’t mind.” You reassure him.

Hotch fights the growl that wants to burst out of his throat. He minds. He minds that Robby’s been waiting not so patiently to get you wrapped around his dirty little fingers, for you to decide that maybe you don’t want Hotch and instead want to trade up to some fucking ER Doctor.

“No, we came together. I’ll drive you back.” His answer is curt and your confusion doubles. What is his problem?

“But I—”

“Sunshine, my truck’s sitting outside if you’d rather drive that. I don’t mind coming and getting’ it from you later before dinner.”  Robby offers, interrupting your conversation Hotch thinks bitterly.

Of course he drives a truck, and of course he’d offer for you to take it. Any excuse in the book to get to see you again huh? Well Hotch can deal with that.

“That won’t be necessary, we have everything that we need to form a working profile and time is really of the essence here. We need to go. Now.” He orders, leaving no room for misinterpretation as he grabs your arm despite the gasp you let out, sparks shooting up your arm as your dragged out the parking lot.

“What? Hotch—” you squeak out, trying to tug your arm from his hold as he pulls you into the car, lifting you by your hips and plopping you into the passenger seat. You squawk in protest squirming as he adjusts your legs slightly and closes the door, jogging to the driver’s seat and getting in with a scowl still planted on his face.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

You’ve been silent and matching Hotch’s scowl the entire drive back to the precinct, “This is kidnapping you know.” You remark sarcastically, folding your arms over your chest..

Hotch blows out a frustrated breath, “We had to leave, we didn’t have time for you be chummy with your friends.” He growls out, hands tightening on the wheel until he’s white knuckling it.

“Yeah sure, blame me when you’re the one with a stick up your ass.” He hears you mutter to yourself, forcing his resolve to break.

“That’s it.” He snarls, pulling off onto the shoulder of the road. There are barely any cars on this stretch of road, but it still brings a gasp to your lips at the jerky movement.

“What is wrong with you!” you hiss out, clutching at your seatbelt and the handle of the door as your eyes grow wide in panic.

“You’re being a brat.” Hotch growls out, his gaze dark and heavy as his chest heaves up and down in frustration. Your gaze drops to his chest, your mouth growing parched as you shake yourself out of your stupor.

“I’m a brat?” You say incredulously, “I’m a brat when you’re the one who nearly got us into an accident because you were too busy having a temper tantrum over what the fuck ever?”

Hotch’s jaw clicks from how hard he’s clenching it, his glare focused on you, “Well I wouldn’t have been so on edge if you weren’t distracted while on the job.”

If it’s even possible, your scowl deepens, as you unbuckle your seatbelt thrusting your pointer finger into Hotch’s chest with vehemence, “Don’t you dare insinuate that I can’t do my job, I told you I could’ve gotten a ride with a different officer. Hell, even Robby offered—”

“Don’t fucking say him name.” Hotch threatens.

You falter, expression turning into bewilderment, “You’ve got a problem with Robby? You just met him how—”

“Because he was hitting on you!” Hotch bursts out, running his hand over his jaw as he blows out a frustrated breath as he chuckles without humor.

“Huh? Robby? He wouldn’t—”

“Oh, trust me,” Hotch taunts, “He would and he did. I had a front row seat to that entire segment.”

You frown looking as puzzled as ever, “That’s why you were angry? Why does it matter what Robby thinks, it doesn’t impact the case—”

“Fuck, you’re irritating.” Hotch grounds out, launching himself over the counsel and swallowing your annoyed sound with his lips. He kisses you fiercely, his chapped lips borderline bruising your own as he prods at your lips with his tongue, seeking entrance.

He muffles your whimpers with his drawn out groan as he licks into your mouth, his hand coming up to cup your face, angling you to deepen the kiss as he threads his fingers through your hair.

Your hands come up shakily to clench around his t-shirt as you whine into his mouth, lazily licking into his mouth like you’re trying to play catch up with him.

When he draws himself away, you follow his lips unconsciously—your own puckered with a whine as he takes in your dazed expression. He licks his lips watching you, already half hard in his pants from the taste of you.

“I was jealous.” He admits, his voice low. He’s still looking at you, watching for any change in your expression.

Your eyes widen, “Why?” you mumble aloud.

Hotch scoffs a laugh, “Because I like you? Because I wished that I had worked up the nerve to ask you out before that hotshot doctor did? Because I was too much of a wuss because I was scared you’d say no? you take your pick.” He says, smiling without humour.

You frown, your hand hesitantly lifting to cup Hotch’s cheek. You nibble on your bottom lip, drawing a groan from Hotch’s chest.

“I—I like you too.” You admit shyly, your expression growing abashed as you avoid eye contact with him.

“Look at me.” He demands firmly, his hand cupping your chin to force you to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry I lashed out at you, that was unfair of me.” He says softly. You shrug, rubbing your thumb up and down his cheek.

“S’okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” You mumble.

Hotch shakes his head, “No.” he states firmly, “I didn’t mean it but that doesn’t make it right, you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry.” He insists.

You smile softly, “Forgiven, you can be so emotional sometimes.” You tease softly.

Hotch can’t help but roll his eyes, “You mean it though? you—you like me?” he asks hoarsely.

You grow shy, nodding softly. “Say it again.” He demands petulantly.

You snort, “What will I get if I do?” you taunt.

Hotch’s expression grows devilish, “Anything you want.” He mutters darkly, gazing at you with heat in his eyes. His dick twitches inside of his pants as he has to fight the urge to thrust up into empty space.

Your pupils dilate, “I like you.” You say breathily and Aaron’s smirk grows wider.

“That right?” He taunts softly, his hand dropping to your thigh and slowly moving upwards.

You shudder softly, your thighs slipping open as you gaze grows heavier. “Is this okay?” Aaron checks in with you.

You nod softly, your own hand coming to rest of his shoulder as you feel him run his index finger over the inseam of your tailored pants.

A sharp gasp escapes you, “Fuck.” Aaron mutters as he watches you squirm.

“Take off your pants.” He orders and you scramble to pull your pants and underwear off in quick succession.

Aaron’s breathing grows heavier as he catches sight of your wet cunt, glistening from its moisture as you spread your legs shyly.

His groan is loud in the car as he runs his thumb over your sticky entrance, pausing to press indecently over your hole softly before running it back up and down through your wetness.

You whimper, grabbing hold of his bicep as you make half-hearted thrusts against his thumb, clenching down emptily on the tip of his thumb each time he teasingly enters your cunt.

“I—oh.” You gasp, feeling Hotch’s thumb start to rub circles on your clit mixed with your wetness. You feel yourself start to leak between your thighs, grinding your hips up into Hotch’s thumb.

“Does that feel good?” he grunts, using his other hand to circle your entrance with his index finger, slipping it in as he rubs your clit and watching in fascination as your pussy swallows his finger whole, clenching down so tightly on him that he can’t help but imagine how tight you’d be on his dick.

“Hotch, I—" you whine as he thrusts his finger in and out, curling it slowly to brush against that soft spongy area inside of you that turns your legs into jelly.

“Aaron,” he orders you. “You call me Aaron while I make you feel good.”

You nod nonsensically, barely even listening as your focus is on the feeling of Hotch’s fingers in you. “Another—want, oh my god, another.” You beg him, leaking all over his fingers as you thrust harder, seeking more friction.

Hotch adds his middle finger easily enough, drawing out a guttural moan from you as you feel yourself climbing closer to the edge. You can feel every callous and groove on Hotch’s fingers and it makes you even wetter.

God you want his fingers inside of you forever, stretching you out and making you cum. “I can’t, close—” you mumble softly, throwing your head back as you clench your hand down on Aaron’s shoulder—you expression scrunching in pleasure.

“Yeah?” Aaron coos, “Cum on my fingers baby—that’s a good girl, cum for me.” He growls, fucking his fingers into your harder as you hurtle towards the finish line.

Your cunt clenching down harshly as you walls spasm around his fingers, your vision whiting out from pure pleasure as Hotch milks you for your orgasm until you’re left twitching and spent on the seat.

“Good girl.” He mumbles softly, laying a soft kiss on your forehead before taking his fingers out of you, bringing them to his own mouth, and sucking as his own eyes roll back into his head.

You’re about to offer to suck him off when you’ve recovered when you notice the wet patch that blooms over his crotch.

the first year - the first week (june 2025)

“I need your number,” Hotch said in lieu of a greeting. He watched as you turned around, a spoon in your mouth, eyes wide. “For work. In case.” 

“Don’t need to justify yourself to me, Hotch,” spitting out your numbers, you watched as he plugged it into his phone with laser point focus. He repeated the words to you, and you confirmed your numbers. “What do you have me in your phone as?” 

“Your name?” He answered, confusion on his face. He turned his phone around and there it was, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) BAU. 

“You got another (Y/N) (Y/L/N) running around?” You tsked, “You mind?” You gestured to his phone and he handed it over to you. 

You smiled as you replaced your name in his phone, “Feel free to change it, but if you do, it has to top this one.” 

Hotch looked down at his phone, your contact name being changed to (y/n) (hottie) >,< 🫶🏼. He couldn’t but chuckle fondly at your boldness. “I’ll message you now so you have my number.” 

unknown number

Hello. This is Hotch. 

you 

hotch u don’t have to be so formal over text, ya know

unknown number 

I don’t think I’m being formal. This is how I normally text. 

you 

i forget that you’re old 

“That isn’t very nice,” Hotch scolded next to you, momentarily forgetting that he was there. 

“I’m kidding, but it is a bonus to you, I like my men older,” you winked, attitude brazen as if you weren’t violating three HR codes right now. 

“Get back to work,” Hotch replied firmly but you grinned as you saw the red creeping up his neck and flushing into his cheeks. 

Naming him in your phone, you screenshotted your screen and sent it to him. You looked up from your desk, catching his gaze, even from this distance you could see the annoyance on his face. Grinning, you winked at him. 

the first year - a month in (july 2025)

It was a month in and you weren’t getting antsy in your position at all - something that you fear would happen. You fit in better than you expected, more than the team expected. Maybe you were the breath of fresh air that they needed. Or the fact that you made them realise that it was okay to not be about work all the time. 

“So what’s Hotch’s deal?” You asked as you looked at Derek and Emily, the three of you outside of the waiting room. 

Emily grinned as she shared a glance with Derek. “What do you mean?” 

“He single?” 

“He’s your superior,” Derek piped in, a knowing look on his face. 

“That won’t stop me,” you shrugged. Popping another piece of chip in your mouth, “So, is he?” 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t told you,” Emily responded as she amusedly watched you from her spot. “Feels like he’s an open book to you.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Derek leaned forward, grabbing your snack, “It means that ever since you started, boss man has tried to make sure that you’re spending every moment with him.” 

“I’m new, probably wants to keep an eye,” you reasoned out, though that didn’t stop the grin on your face. 

“He’s getting a divorce,” Morgan supplied helpfully. “It’s almost finalised.” 

“Oh shit,” with that you sat up. You looked between the two of them, trying to decipher if they were pulling a fast one on you. “Seriously?” 

“What? Not interested in divorcees?” Emily grinned as Derek handed her your snack. 

“Not interested in men that have not had their divorce finalised yet,” you cleared up. 

“So Hotch is off the table then?” Derek asked. 

With a perplexed look on your face, you looked towards Derek, “When did I say that? He’s off the table until his divorce is finalised.” 

“If it’s any consolation, their divorce has been finalised since forever, it’s just the stupid legalities that’s taking forever,” Emily added.

the first year - three months in (september 2025)

It’s a rough case. The toughest you’ve had so far since you started at the BAU and that was saying something. Groaning, you rubbed your head hoping to make the headache go away. 

“You doing okay?” The firm hand of Aaron Hotchner grasped your shoulder. 

As subtly as you could, you leaned into his grasp. You knew that this was probably violating so many HR codes but at this moment you could not care. “Just a bit tough right now.” If you could feel the slight rubbing of his thumb on your shoulder, you won’t say anything.

“You’re doing well, you know that?” Hotch asked as he gave your shoulder another squeeze before letting go. Looking into your eyes, he frowned as he saw the exhaustion on your face. “I’m here for you if you need anything.” 

Looking down at the papers in your lap, you glanced back up at him. “I know, Hotch,” moving aside so he could sit next to you. “Thank you.” 

“You’re going to do your head in,” Hotch said softly as he looked at the same papers you were looking at back in the station. “Looking at the same thing won’t help you.” 

“Says you,” you joked as you could feel his eyes glance at your face (again). “I just feel so useless,” you confessed. “I just, I feel like it’s in front of me and I just can’t see it.” 

Shifting yourself closer to Hotch, as subtle as you possibly could until you could feel his body radiate off him. You could feel your thigh pressed against his, his arm slightly behind yours to allow you room. You couldn’t help but lean into him, basking in the silent and intimate moment. 

Letting your head fall to his shoulder, you looked at Hotch, who was now looking at the same documents you had in your lap. You admired his jawline, the five o’clock shadow and if you leaned in just a little closer, you could tell where he sprayed his cologne. “You missed a spot.” 

Hotch hummed in response. Softly touching his jaw, you ran your hand gently across the tiniest patch. “Right here,” you murmured, your fingers now drifting and tracing his jawline. 

He looked down at you, a small smile on his face already before he even saw you. “I was in a bit of a rush this morning.” 

“I like it,” you complimented. “It makes you human. I like that.” 

If you were less exhausted you probably wouldn’t be doing this. You probably wouldn’t have the soft voice usually left for pillow talk. To be so vulnerable, let alone touching your boss. And if you weren’t exhausted you probably would have felt the little shiver that ran through Hotch. 

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Hotch suggested as he noted you slowly drifting off, your eyelids fighting sleep. He couldn’t help but run his eyes down your face. The soft glow of the light illuminating your features. He manoeuvred the arm you were leaning on, moving his hand to lay on your waist. Rubbing gently, a warm feeling spread across his chest. 

“I’m fine,” you spoke as you yawned. “Okay, maybe I’m a bit knackered, but I’m here. I don’t think I can sleep well if I don’t look,” you took back the papers. Completely melting yourself to Hotch, you removed all semblance of actually looking at the papers. Instead, enjoying the calm moment that you managed to find yourself in. 

“(Y/N)?” You answered him with a soft snore. Gently lowering his back to the couch, slowly as to not wake you, Hotch couldn’t help but look at you. Truly look at you. It was one of the rare moments where he allowed himself to take note of every feature.

It was that moment that Aaron Hotchner realised that you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and that he wouldn’t mind seeing this exact picture for the rest of his life. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice piped up behind him, and before Hotch could stop himself, he gave Spencer a mild annoyed look. “Oh, is she sleeping?” Spencer looked between the two of you. The way you seemingly fit with Hotch, and the unnatural softness Hotch had around him. 

“Please keep it down, Reid,” he briefly moved, allowing you to burrow more into him. “What can we do for you?” 

Spencer took note of how natural it was for Hotch to say ‘we’, “I just needed the blue files from the Sheriff,” he explained, his gaze falling to you. “Is she okay?” 

“I think this case is taking a toll on her,” he answered, passing the notes to the man in front of him. 

“It is a particularly difficult case.” Spencer understood, this case was frustrating even to himself. There was something they were all clearly missing and he hoped it didn’t take another victim for them to figure out. “I like her,” Spencer commented. His gaze still fixed on the two of you. “She’s a good fit for the team.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” 

“You’re fond of her,” Spencer said softly. 

“Reid.” 

“I’m just saying, Hotch. You’re more gentle when she’s around.” 

the first year - four months in (october 2025)

“Your birthday is coming up, right?” 

Grinning, you nodded, “You remembered. I always knew I was your favourite.” 

“It’s in your file.” 

“That’s like, so un-romantic, Hotch,” you pouted. “Are you getting me a gift?” You rounded his desk and perched yourself up. At his sigh and knowing look, you gently knocked his elbow with your foot. 

“Of course. I think you’d light me on fire if I didn’t,” he grinned at you, gently shoving your foot back. “It’s not tangible, though, at least not now.” 

At that you pouted, “But tangible things are nice. I like tangible things.” 

“What’s even nicer is the fact that all your coffees and your breakfast burgers are paid for from your favourite spot for the next six months,” he commented. 

At his words, you grinned at him, an action that he himself mirrored. “You are an amazing man,” you jumped off the table. “And you know my favourite breakfast place. Very romantic.”

“They do have a nice breakfast selection,” he agreed as he watched you roam around his office, eventually landing on bringing a chair next to his. “I haven’t tried it, but it seems delicious.” 

“I got suckered into their marketing from Instagram and it actually paid off.” 

“Instagram?” Hotch asked, as if the app was a foreign thing to him, which was probably correct. 

You gasped and pulled out your phone, “Look,” pulling up their page, you moved closer to him. Scrolling through their photos, you could hear Hotch’s hum of approval but not realising that his gaze was flickering from the photos to your face. 

“I have to take you there some time, I think you’d like it,” you allowed him to continue to scroll. “When we actually have some free time,” you groaned. 

the first year - five months, one week in (november 2025)

“How are you holding up?” 

Hotch glanced up from his paper as he gestured to come in. “I’m fine.” 

“Hotch,” you closed the door and when you turned back, a frown appeared on your face. “Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not lying,” he responded and you tutted. 

“Aaron,” you sat down in your usual chair, you wouldn’t be surprised if the chair had your ass permanently printed on it. “You’re tense, like more tense than usual.” 

At your insistence and knowing that you won’t let this drop, postpone maybe, but never drop. “It’s the first birthday since we initiated the divorce,” Hotch looked at you, then back to his paperwork. 

“Oh.” 

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Hotch spoke but judging from the constant fidgeting of his pen and tell tale sign of him bouncing his leg up and down, you frowned at his lie. 

Shrugging, you leaned forward and picked up the fidget you left yesterday.  “I know this killer Mongolian place,” you said as you moved the toy between your hands. Looking at him, “Want to come? Last time I ordered, I realised that it is not meant for a lone soul.” 

“I don’t need your pity.” 

“Pity, shmitty,” you rolled your eyes. “I like food. I like you. I want to eat food with you and it just happens to be your birthday.” 

“If we don’t have a case, then yes,” he nodded and leaned back in his chair, eyeing you fondly. “That’s the first time you called me Aaron,” he commented. 

“No,” you responded, racking your memory. It couldn’t be. Could it? “Seriously?” 

Hotch nodded, “You’ve called me Hotch, Hotchner, boss man, that guy, the guy with the badge, but never Aaron.” 

“It’s a nice name,” you complimented. “For a nice guy,” you winked, then scrunching your face, “yuck, that’s gonna ruin my cred. Don’t tell Morgan.” 

Chuckling all he could give you was a smile. 

the first year - five months, two weeks in (november 2025)

“Is that Hotch?” Spencer asked, causing you and Derek to pause your movements and stare at the couple in the restaurant. 

“Who’s that?” You asked. 

“His wife,” Spencer replied helpfully, not noticing the clench in your jaw. 

“Ex-wife,” Derek corrected, briefly glancing at you. “But that is Haley. Don’t know why they’re there together though.” 

The three of you watched as Haley smiled at something Hotch said, an uncharacteristic smile on his face. It suits him, you thought. You frowned as you saw him lean in, their bodies close until he lightly kissed her. It was a quick peck, one that you would have given your friends, but the difference was you weren’t married to them. 

“I guess their divorce isn’t happening,” Derek whistled, his eyes flicking to see your reaction. 

“I guess that explains why she was in his office last night.” 

“She was in the office last night?” You asked, eyes still on the couple. It was domestic seeing them. You could see the light in Hotch’s eyes, the ease that you’ve never seen him have around the office. The familiarity between them that only happens when you’ve shared the same bed for years. 

“Kid, what have I told you about keeping information like this away from me?” Derek playfully shoved Spencer. “That’s why we have phones for.” 

Spencer looked at the two of you, “She was,” he confirmed. “She came in after you all left, and then they left together. It seems like he was dropped off by Haley this morning as well.” 

You made a noise, eyes still not moving from the couple. Eventually the three of you moved on, walking down the streets. You were still in your head. If they were back together, you needed to back off. That was the right thing you needed to do. You were not going to be a homewrecker. 

“You alright, mama?” Derek nudged your shoulder, as you both watched Spencer look at the vintage books in front of him. Scanning for something that he hasn’t read yet. 

You shrugged, “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Maybe it isn’t what it looks like.” 

Again, you shrugged. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But I do know that it’s definitely not my business.” 

Derek watched you with a knowing look, watched how you unknowingly closed yourself in. 

He may have not known you for long but it was practically written on your face. The devastation on your face, no matter how much you tried to hide it. 

the first year - five months, three weeks in (november)

There was nothing more holiday-inducing than being in Pittsburgh for a case, finishing said case and then finding out your plane is grounded until the next morning due to the snowstorm, and not being able to drive because of the ice. 

You all gathered to the nearest pub by the hotel, tired and weary from the cold. Hotch and Rossi taking care of everyone’s orders, as you all sat by the biggest table that was offered. 

Glancing around there were less people than you thought for this time of the night. Your eyes landed on a man hunched over the counter, nursing a beer and briefly glancing at the tv. Catching your eye, he raised his glass to you and you raked your eyes down his body. 

He stared at you, waiting for you to finish checking him out, to do the same. Winking at him, he saluted his glass to you again before turning back to the game on the tv. 

The moment Rossi and Hotch came back, the conversations lit up between the team. Noticing the space next to you, Hotch beelined to the spot, handing you the drink in his hand. Thanking him, you tried to subtly move yourself so you weren’t touching him. 

“You did well tonight,” Hotch murmured, striking up a conversation with you. He felt hesitant to talk to you, which was unusual. There was a gap between the two of you, and he didn’t know what happened between his birthday and now that made you lean away from him. You were still you, you still teased him but there was a certain hesitation to it. A touch less personal, more akin to professional teasing. 

You gave him a brief smile and thanked him. “It was mostly Pen, I’m just the guns.” 

“You’re more than that,” Hotch urged, wanting to continue to talk to you.  

Again, you gave him a brief smile but didn’t continue the conversation, and instead flitted in and out of other conversations. Hotch frowned as he looked at his drink, he momentarily looked at you then your hand which was fiddling with the glass. 

Leaning over, you popped another wedge in your mouth, you flickered your eyes back to the man who’s been trying to discreetly stare at you since you got in (and trying to ignore Hotch’s body pushed against yours). He was older than you, that much was obvious and bigger as well. Salt and pepper dusted his beard and hair gracefully.

 “You should go for it,” JJ encouraged, her voice low. “He’s cute.” 

Hotch hearing JJ, looked towards where your eyes were focusing. Across the bar, he saw a man who was probably the same age as he was, carrying the same amount of stress on his face and body. He could see him briefly glance at you, the appreciation in his eyes even all the way from here.

Something dreadful landed on his chest. As discreetly as he could, Hotch glanced between you and the man. It seems like everyone else disappeared except the two of you, and Hotch helplessly had to watch this from the outside. 

“We’re off the clock, aren’t we?” You inquired, eyes not leaving the man. Derek and Emily followed your gaze, grinning at each other. 

“Alright, kiddo!” Derek gave you a wink. 

“Technically, we are,” Rossi smirked, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. 

“We so are,” JJ replied, drinking another glass of beer. 

Nodding and without another word, you finished the last of your drink and stood up. If you felt Hotch’s hand briefly ghost yours, you didn’t think much of it. 

“Where’s (Y/L/N) going?” Hotch asked as his eyes never strayed from your figure. 

“I think (Y/L/N) is about to go get some,” Derek replied helpfully, noticing the way that Hotch’s hand clenched around his drink. “It’s about time.” 

“Do you always stare at women or am I just lucky?” You spoke as you sauntered up to the bar. Leaning forward, you turned to the man and flashed him a smile. 

“I wouldn’t say I was staring.” 

Flagging down the bartender, you asked for another drink. “You’ve had your eyes on me since we’ve walked into the bar.” 

“Are you even old enough to be in a bar, princess?” 

Smiling at him, “Want to see my ID?” You turned towards the man, “I’m going to be very frank with you, I have,” looking at your watch, “probably the whole night and a bit of the morning until I leave Pittsburgh.” 

“That’s a short amount of time, sweetheart.”

You leaned closer to him, “Sweet calling me already and you haven’t even bought me a drink,” you teased. “Men these days.” 

“You’re asking me to leave with you and you haven’t bought me a drink,” he noted. 

“And you haven’t even asked me for my name,” you pouted, sipping on your drink. 

Turning his whole body to you, he leaned in, a small, playful smile on his face. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

You spoke your name, smirking as you watched his eyes drift down to your lips. “And yours?” 

“Robby.” 

“Nice name to be calling out tonight,” you laughed as you watched him choke on his beer. His eyes wide at your audacity. “Or moan, whatever you prefer,” you shrugged nonchalantly. 

Gathering his thoughts, Robby eyed you appreciatively, “You’re something, you know that?” 

“Look at her go,” JJ said fondly. They all watched you as you flirtatiously moved closer to the unknown man, your hand masterfully drifting down to the man’s thigh. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen her in action,” Derek whistled. 

“She almost has you beat, Morgan,” Emily remarked. Watching as the man leaned, whispering something in your ear causing you to drift your hand higher. 

“So my house,” Robby started, inching closer to you. “Has a very nice fridge that contains some of the finest Chinese takeaway leftovers.” 

Dragging your hand up his thigh and once you got close to his hip started circling your fingers, “And your bed? Is it nice?” 

“I’m trying to be polite here, princess,” Robby chuckled. “Want to sweet talk you for a bit before we do anything.” 

“Robby,” pulling what appeared to be scrubs, you yanked him closer to you.“You can sweet talk me after you fuck me tonight.” 

“You have a foul mouth for such a pretty girl,” Robby commented, his thigh now between your legs. 

Grazing your hands from the bottom of his scrubs to the front of his pants, where a bulge was now forming. “Well it seems like you enjoy it.” 

Finishing his beer, Robby leaned forward, his chest pressed against yours. Squeezing your hips with his hand, he whispered into your ear, “Say goodbye to your friends, baby.” 

“Do you guys still need me?” You didn’t wait for their answer as you started putting your jacket on. Your face flushed, not looking at any of them. 

“No, go ahead, bella,” Rossi give you a knowing look, refusing to acknowledge Hotch’s annoyed glare. “We’ll see you in the hotel at 8am.” 

“Great,” without another word, you walked back to Robby, his hand automatically moving to your lower back. Guiding you out of the door and into his car. 

Hotch spent the night nursing his second drink, the final drink that he’d have for that night. He occasionally glanced at the door that you left through, a small part of him hoping that you’d come back. Snow still in your hair, a flush on your face from the cold. But you didn’t. 

Checking his phone under the table, he was expecting a message from you, something he’s become accustomed to. But there was nothing. No little message. No meme - as you call them, or even whatever you were thinking at that time. 

“So, Hotch,” Spencer started, his words a little looser due to the drinks Emily kept passing him. “Are you and Haley back together?” 

Whatever separate conversation the team was having completely stopped. They all turned to him, questions on their faces. 

“Reid. You know,” sweeping his gaze across the table, “and as everyone else does that Haley and I are currently in the middle of a divorce.” 

“Really?” Spencer tilted his head. “Because (Y/N), Derek and I saw the two of you in a restaurant kissing.” 

Hotch snapped his head to Spencer, the latter man unaware of the bombshell that he just dropped. You saw what happened between him and Haley. The brief moment of lapsed judgement from the two of them? 

“And I saw that the two of you leave together the night before, and her dropping you back to the BAU the next day.” 

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” Hotch said tersely. “I would appreciate it if my private life wasn’t discussed between all of you.” 

Not in the spirit to be around company anymore and he hasn’t been since you left with the unnamed man, Hotch excused himself to walk back to the hotel. 

“Holy shit,” you panted, falling on top of Robby. Sitting back up, you winced as you slowly removed yourself from him. “Fuck, maybe I should move to Pittsburgh.” 

Earning a chuckle from the man below you, you flipped yourself over to his side. “I’d love that, I can just keep you in here,” placing another tender kiss to your lips, you couldn’t help but make it deeper by wrapping your arms around his neck. 

Kissing Robby was nice, very nice. He obviously knew what he was doing and he was giving - something that you enjoyed. Deepening the kiss, you slithered your tongue into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“I need a moment, princess,” Robby flushed, his face turned away in embarrassment. 

Turning his head so he was looking at you, “That’s kinda hot.” 

“You’re weird,” he chuckled as his head dipped to your neck. 

“You like it,” pecking his lips again. 

“How long do we have?” He asked as he rolled off the bed. Standing up, you saw him walk to what you assume was his bathroom, as he walked out with a towel in hand. 

Looking over at the clock on his bedside table, “Another eight hours, I think.” 

“Great,” he spoke as he finished cleaning you up. “I can go for one more round and then I can take you to my favourite pierogi place.” 

“Only one?” You arched a brow. “Old man.” 

Throwing the towel into the hamper, Robby moved up the bed, caging you in his arms. “Thought you liked that.” 

It was after ten pm that Hotch had enough of looking at the paperwork when he heard the telltale sign of your keycard ding. He walked to the door, wanting to at least talk to you when he heard your giggles. Opening the door, he was greeted with seeing you pressed up against the door, the man from the bar deeply kissing you. 

He couldn’t help but stare at the two of you for a moment, trying to gather everything that he could see. You weren’t in your usual attire, instead clothed in a pair of well-worn sweats, a sweatshirt and a hoodie that didn’t belong to you. 

Hotch didn’t stop there, he looked at how the man’s hand was on your waist, drifting every so often to the curve of your ass, your leg in between his and if he squinted, he could see you grind against the man’s thigh. Your hands wrapped around the man’s neck, pulling against the small hair there.

A low groan from the man broke Hotch out of his reverie and having had enough of seeing you and the man practically dry hump in front of your door, and refusing to acknowledge the pit in his stomach, he cleared his throat. 

“Hotch,” you greeted, a bit startled. “Why are you still up?” You pulled away from Robby, the man's hand resting on your hip. Your face flushed and lips swollen. 

“I was just finishing up some paperwork,” his hand still on the doorknob. “Are you guys turning in for the night?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “Oh shit, you guys haven’t met. Robby, this is Hotch, my boss. Hotch, this is Robby, he’s a doctor.” You gestured between the two men, and Robby reached around to shake Hotch’s hand. 

If Hotch shook Robby’s hand a little bit too hard, well that was between him and God. 

“We’re actually just grabbing my stuff, then we’re gonna have some dinner,” you gestured to the man behind you, and Hotch really tried to not notice how dishevelled the man looked, or the bite marks he could clearly see. 

“It’s late,” was all Hotch stated. 

You furrowed your brows, “Well, then we’re grabbing some late dinner. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before the jet leaves,” you winked at him. “I’ll even bring some doughnuts.” 

“Otherwise, I can just drive her back up to DC,” Robby piped up, his hand rubbing the small of your back. 

Hotch knew what you were saying. You were staying with Robby for the whole night. And a little bit of the morning. He’d probably be dropping you off at the jet. Without another word, and wanting to finish this excruciating interaction, he nodded. 

“Night, Hotch, I’ll see you in the morning,” with a final smile, you tugged Robby into your room. 

“How was your night?” Emily asked, a saccharine smile on her face as you walked onto the jet. “We didn’t see you back in the hotel.” 

“What I do in my private time is no concern of yours, Emily Prentiss,” you pointed a finger at her. 

“Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Derek whistled as he saw clothes on you, that was definitely too big and definitely not yours. “Nice clothes, mama.” 

“Shut up, Derek,” you pinched him as you walked by. 

Stopping you, Derek peeked curiously at the bag in your hand, “What’s that?” 

“Pierogi and doughnuts,” you jostled the bag, removing it from his reach as Derek tried to get at it. “I would have given you all some, but I only have a few, sorry.” 

“Have a good night?” Hotch asked, his eyes never leaving the papers in front of him. 

Feeling the slight tension, you lowered your things slowly. “Uh, yeah?” 

“Those aren’t your clothes,” he stated simply, eyes flicking once to your body. “I thought you grabbed your bag last night.” 

“Nothing I brought felt comfortable,” you explained, uncomfortable in the detached way he was interacting with you. Sitting down slowly, you winced as your ass touched the chair, you glanced at Hotch who noticed your discomfort. Raising a brow, you shook your head. “I think I pulled a muscle.” 

“A muscle,” he commented under his breath. Making a contemplative noise as your phone buzzed on top of the table. His eyes flicked to it. 

“You good?” 

This time he paused his scratching and looked at you. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re being so clinical,” you gestured. “You’ve never been like that.” Not getting an answer, you shrugged and looked at your phone, causing you to smile softly. 

michael ‘raw’ robinavitch  

If you’re ever in Pittsburgh, let me know. I’d actually like to show you around. 

you 

i mean you showed me a killer pierogi place last night and your house. definitely enjoyed your house and your bed 

michael ‘raw’ robinavitch  

Yeah, I enjoyed you in my bed too, sweetheart. 

“We’re taking off soon,” Hotch piped up, and you nodded, not taking your eyes off your phone. “You need to put that away.”

you 

flying now. i’ll text you when i land <3

michael ‘raw’ robinavitch  

Safe flight. 

Locking your phone, you made a show of it being turned off to Hotch. Pulling your book from your bag, you pointedly ignored Hotch for the rest of the flight. 

In the meantime, Hotch occasionally looked at you. He took notice of the red marks around your wrist, the bite marks and hickeys littering your neck. And not that he would admit it, but if he sniffed the air a little bit harder, he could tell that the body wash you had on you wasn’t yours. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hotch this tense before,” Spencer muttered to JJ, and they both looked at the man. 

“I think it has something to do with a certain someone last night,” JJ replied back, and she nodded towards you. 

Spencer gazed at you. “Do you think he’s jealous?” 

JJ shrugged, “Hard to tell, but fifty bucks say he is.”

After the debrief in the conference room, you heard Hotch call out your name. The team glanced at you, curiosity in their eyes. You turned to Hotch who was still compiling his papers together. 

“I need to talk to you in my office,” Hotch nodded.

“Ooo, someone’s in trouble,” at Emily’s taunting tone, you accidentally swiped her shin with the toe of your boot. “Ow!” 

Walking side by side with Hotch, you walked in first, turning around as you saw him close his door. 

“(Y/N), about what you saw,” he started and when he saw your confused face, he elaborated. “With Haley, when you were with Spencer and Morgan.” 

“Hotch, no offence but that’s really not my problem,” you interrupted, as you started to run your eyes across the back of his office. “What you do with your wife isn’t really my business.” 

“She’s,” he shook his head. “She’s my ex-wife,” 

“Again, Hotch. Not my business,” you reiterated. “That’s your business.” 

“Haley and I have been together for a very long time, we just,” he looked away from you, trying to find the right words. 

“Fell back into something familiar? Hotch, I get it,” you understood. You truly did. “Like I get it, get it.” 

“But we’re done,” Hotch’s words had a finality in them, like he was believing them for the first time. “I’m sorry that you had to see that and that you were dragged into this.” 

You shrugged, “It’s fine.” 

“We’re not getting back together.” 

“Okay.” 

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” 

That stopped whatever you were about to say. You looked at Hotch, your brain not catching up what you wanted to say. “Why don’t you want me to get the wrong idea?” 

Hotch swallowed, “I just want to be clear about everything.” 

Opening your mouth, you were interrupted by your phone buzzing loudly. Hotch’s eyes flicked to it and his jaw clenched. “It’s fine, Hotch, like I said, we’re fine.” Without another word, you gave him a smile and left his office.

the first year - five months, four weeks in (november)

“Excuse me,” Penelope cleared her throat as she looked down at you. Her arms crossed against her chest. “You hooked up with a doctor and you didn’t tell me?” 

“Pen!” You glanced around the bullpen, everyone too busy in their own work to notice. 

“I’m practising celibacy right now, I need to vicariously live through people,” she bent down and grabbed your arm. “Tell me everything. And I mean everything.” 

You laughed and stood up from your desk, entangling your arms together, you walked to the kitchen. “He’s nice. Sweet, actually.” 

“And according to JJ and Emily totally smoking,” Penelope winked. 

“He is,” you agreed immediately. “Good in bed too.” 

“Tell me,” Penelope grasped to your arm. Your laugh caught in your throat as Hotch came into view from behind. 

“Pen, this isn’t really work appropriate,” you coughed into your hand.

She waved her hand around, “We talk about dead bodies, it’s about time we talk about something nicer. Are you going to see him again?”

You made a noncommittal noise, “I mean, maybe? He has a few days off apparently, and he’s coming up here.” 

“That good?” Penelope’s eyes widened.  

You smirked, filling your mug with coffee. “He’s nice,” you repeated. 

“Oh, so he is good,” Penelope gasped. 

the first year - six months, three weeks in (december)

You frowned at your phone, cussing under your breath as you typed out your response. “Fuckin snow.” 

“You okay?” 

“Holy fucking shit, Aaron,” you jumped in your seat, looking at said man who had an unnatural grin on his face. You looked around noticing no one was in the office except the two of you. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“Language.” 

“Language,” you mocked him. Spinning in your chair, you looked at him, noticing the ease of his body, the softness in his eyes. “Getting intel are we?”

“I’m just curious as to why you’re still in the office,” at his statement you looked around and you only saw a couple of agents milling around, everyone in your team gone for the day. 

“You’re still in the office,” you remarked and you saw a small tired smile on his face. 

“I usually am,” Hotch answered. “Why are you still here? You should go home.” 

“Tired of me already?” 

He shook his head, “Never.”

You sat there for a beat just staring at Hotch, there was something soft around him. He looked at you in a way that you’ve never seen. Before you could answer, the soft buzz of your phone made you tear your eyes away from him. 

Groaning softly at the message, you blew out a loud puff of air and placed it back on the table. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m just waiting for someone but there’s a jam on the streets cause of the snow,” tapping your fingers on the table, you wondered if it was better to just go home and meet him there. 

“Robby?” Hotch asked and the pit in his stomach that’s been there since November made itself known. “I didn’t realise that you were still seeing him.” 

“We’re seeing each other,” you said carefully. “And it’s nice.” 

“Nice,” Hotch repeated and you arched your brow. Coughing into his hand as he realised he said it out loud, “Is he treating you well?” 

You smiled softly, “Yeah, he’s kind and good.” 

“That’s good,” he repeated again, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that came out of you. “We’re good though as well, right? I just feel like we’ve been off.” 

You took another moment to answer, “We are, Hotch,” you replied truthfully. “Think I just had a bit of a weird patch a couple weeks back but I promise we’re okay,” you nudged your foot with his, and by the look on his face, he seemed to hesitate to believe you. “We’re fine, Hotchner,” holding out your pinky finger, you urged him to do the same. “I promise.” 

“I’m happy he’s treating you well,” Hotch muttered between still lips. 

“And if he wasn’t?” 

“I have a lot of leeway as Unit Chief,” he smiled. 

You laughed loudly, and the other agents looked at you, ducking your head a bit, you smiled teasingly at Hotch. “You’ve got jokes, Hotchner?” 

“An arsenal full of them,” he looked towards the window. “You should go before we get snowed in.” 

You looked outside, and then looked at your phone. 

michael ‘raw’ robinavitch

I want to say ten minutes out? It’s hard to tell, but I’ll be there soon, baby. 

Gathering your things, you felt Hotch’s eyes watch you. Once you got everything, you turned to him, gentle smile on your face. Leaning up on tip toes, one hand wrapped around him, you brushed your lips against his cheek. 

“Have a happy Christmas, Hotch.” 

Feeling his arm encircle one side of your waist and instinctively you stepped closer into his embrace. Fully hugging him now, it didn’t occur to you until now that it was probably his first Christmas alone since his separation. Letting him have this moment, you tried to separate this moment as a co-worker needing a shoulder for a moment and not anything else. 

For Hotch, he allowed himself to cherish the small affection that he hasn’t been permitted for the last couple of weeks. Tightening his grip on you, Hotch momentarily leaned and pressed his head against yours. Memorising the scent of your shampoo, the way that you felt around his body. 

He wanted to keep you there with him. Wanted to keep the conversation going but he didn’t know how to. Hotch wanted to know your plans but he didn’t think that could bear knowing what the two of you were planning. 

Pulling away, he looked down and all he wanted to do was press his forehead against yours. Feel your breath against his skin but instead he grinded his jaw and let you go. 

“Have a good Christmas, (Y/N).” 

the first year - seven months, two weeks in (january 2026)

“I can’t believe their divorce is finally finalised. Great way to ring in the New Year, I guess,” Morgan said as he handed the drink to you. “Now you can finally make your moves on him.” 

“Moves?!” You feigned as you gratefully took your drink. “I’m not you, Morgan.” 

“Oh, but you are, mamacita, but just a different type of font,” winking at you, you both cheered your glass. 

“Seriously, though,” Derek implored. “Anything?” 

“I’m with Robby,” you stated simply. 

“Sure,” Derek shrugged. “But don’t tell me that you wouldn’t drop everything if Hotch came through that door asking for your hand in marriage.” 

You sighed, “You make me sound like I’m using Robby, Derek.” 

“Sorry, kid,” Derek apologetically nudged your foot. “I didn’t mean it that way.” 

You tilted your head, “I guess. I mean, Robby isn’t a replacement for Hotch or anything but I won’t lie and say that seeing Hotch and Haley didn’t spur me to do something.”

Derek held his hands up, “I’m not blaming you, kid. That’s healthy and all that, instead of stewing in your own feelings.” 

“I like Robby,” you admitted. “I’m also pretty sure that we’re both on the same page that it’s not going to go anywhere serious. I mean I’m here and he’s there,” you took a deep breath, feeling a weird weight of relief off your shoulders. 

“I don’t want to push him,” you mumbled. “Don’t want a once-off thing with him. Kinda in it for the long haul, you know? Wanna wait until he’s ready.” 

Derek said nothing but he watched you intently. “But when he’s ready,” you fiddled with your drink. “Then I’ll be right there for him,” you nodded, finality in your tone.  

“Well, well, well,” Derek said as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. 

“What?” 

“Someone’s in love,” he teased. 

Rolling your eyes, you kicked his shin under the table, “Shut up, Morgan. As if you’re not in love with Garcia.” 

The man shrugged, “You didn’t deny it.” 

“I would be a big idiot if I didn’t fall in love with Hotch,” you reasoned out. 

“He’d be up for it, you know,” Derek voiced out, taking another sip of his beer. “Whenever you’re ready to make your moves on him.” 

“I don’t know, Derek, I mean what happens if I’m just reading into things? Like, that would be so embarrassing,” you scrunched your face at the thought of it actually happening. “And he just got divorced, I don’t want to be the young rebound before he settles down again. I think that may actually kill me.” 

Derek tutted and shook his head, “Listen, kid, you’re getting in your head again. You’re thinking of the worst possibilities for this situation. Think about it, do you think Hotch is the type to have a pretty young thing that he’ll just fuck and dump?” 

At his coarse words, you grimaced. “He’s still a man,” you deadpanned. 

“Hotch isn’t that kind of man, no way,” Derek shook his head again. “He’s been into you ever since he saw you walk in with Strauss, or maybe he’s been pining for Strauss this whole time,” Derek laughed. 

Bumping your shoulder with his, “You do know you’re going to have to make the first move, right? He’s openly fond of you but actually acting on his feelings?” Derek pursed his lips. 

“I’m gonna have to be patient, Derek. I don’t want to spook him.” 

“You’re the most impatient person I know.” 

“You’ve known me for seven months,” you rolled your eyes. “But I can be patient for him.” 

the first year - seven months, one week in (february 2026)

You and Hotch sat outside on the bench, overlooking the forest outside of Quantico. There was a slight chill to the air, but the sun was shining and you were content. There wasn’t a case yet, you were caught up with paperwork and the dish you made last night turned out well. 

“You good?” Passing a bit of your lunch to Hotch, the man took a bite, humming appreciatively. “How are you feeling?”

“I think that it’s been going on for so long that I don’t feel any different,” Hotch confessed. “Is that wrong for me to say?” 

“I don’t know,” you replied. “I’ve never been divorced, Hotch.” 

“Someone would be the biggest idiot to divorce you.” 

You turned to him and smiled, “That’s sweet, Hotchner. But I can be a handful.” You observed him, “Seriously, Aaron. You okay?” 

“To be honest, I’m fine,” taking another bite of your lunch. “I’m fine. I just never thought I’d get divorced but then again I never thought I’d be a Unit Chief.” 

Watching him take another bite, you couldn’t help but blurt out, “Would you do it again?” 

Hotch turned to you, his eyes soft, “Do what?” 

“Get married?” 

He took a while to answer, instead enjoying the winter sun dance across your face. It’s been a while since the two of you were like this, the small intimate moments that the two of you managed to fit in between the real world. He cherished these moments. 

“With the right person.”

“Right person?” 

“Haley and I, we, were high school sweethearts. I grew up thinking that the first person you fell in love with was the love of your life, the one that you married. Everything came so fast, my career as a lawyer, then the BAU, and then Haley’s career. I loved her,” Hotch choked out. “But I think along the way love wasn’t enough, and she loved me more than I could love her.”

You didn’t respond. You’ve never been in a position like Hotch had been in before. Placing your hand on top of his, all you could offer him was the comfort of your touch. 

“I loved Haley, but I don’t think she was the one, no,” he shook his head. “What about you? Do you ever want to get married?” Hotch kept his eyes on your hands, the slow circular movements relaxing him. 

Looking at his side profile, you catalogued the creases by his eyes, the small lines near his mouth, “Yeah, Hotch, I do.” 

“Got anyone in mind?” 

“Do you?” You nudged his shoulder. 

The two of you didn’t reply, the air was calm. He studied you in a quiet way, the way that he would look at all the evidence on a case before coming to the right conclusion. “I think when I do it again, I want -,” he looked at you, in a way that made you breathless. “I’m going to do it right, you know? I’ll fight for her. I don’t want her to think that I could love anything above her.” 

Coughing slightly, hoping whatever you were feeling wasn’t showing on your face. “Do you think she’s going to be the one?” You teased. 

Hotch stared at you, and without another beat, “Yes.” He turned back to your lunch, grabbing another bite, hoping that you didn’t see the heat creeping up his neck. “What about you? Do you have anyone in mind? Like Robby?” 

Chuckling, you shook your head, “I actually broke things off with him a few weeks back. I can’t do distance, even if it is just in a different state.” 

“If it wasn’t for distance, do you think he’d be a candidate?” He knew that he was prodding know, that’s why he kept his eyes from you, something that he hated to do. 

You thought about it, and hummed, “No,” you shook your head. “I only have one candidate in mind.” 

“Jeremy from the cafeteria?” Hotch proposed, smiling as he watched you giggle. 

“My one and only,” you spoke lovingly, a hand to your heart to affirm your words.  

Hotch looked at you, and in the winter sun, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Thank you, sweetheart,” stroking your hand lightly, he allowed you to interlock your fingers together. 

the first year - eight months, two weeks in (february 2026)

Knocking on Hotch’s door, you looked at your phone again. Looking through the information, you waited for his confirmation and when you received it, you wasted no time striding in. 

“Hotch, I need you,” you announced, not bothering to close the door and instead beelining to him. 

“Well, hello to you too, bella,” Rossi grinned as he flickered his gaze between the two of you. 

“Dave,” you nodded and then turned to the man who was looking at you intently. “Look,” you passed over your phone to Hotch who took in and scrolled through the details Seeley sent. You looked with him, bits of information jumping out. 

Too engrossed re-reading through all the details, you didn’t notice Rossi’s eyes studying the two of you. The way it clocked to him how at ease Hotch was with you, how said man moved back so his shoulder was touching your chest. The fact that your hand wasn’t on the back of his chair, but his shoulder instead - giving him the gentle assurance of your touch. He raised his brows as the two of you exchanged knowing glances before Hotch locked and passed you the phone back. 

“We need to head to DC,” Hotch stated, finally looking at Rossi. “Agent Booth and his team needs us.” You leaned back, your hand trailing down his back as he stood up. “We’ll drive out in five.” 

Rossi nodded, knowing that now wasn’t the right time to bring up whatever was going on between the two of you. Nodding his farewells, he walked back to the bullpen. 

“You okay?” Hotch asked as he started gathering up his bag. “I know Agent Booth means a lot to you.” 

“He’s like a brother to me,” you bit your lip and took a deep breath. “He’s looked after me since he’s met me. I know this is killing him and I don’t know how else to help him other than this.” 

“We’ll help him,.” Hotch said firmly, his tone booking no room for any other answer. “We’ll get Dr Brennan and Dr Hodgins back. I promise.” 

“I thought you didn’t make promises when it comes to cases,” you said lightly, trying to take your mind off just how dire this situation is. 

“It’s different for you,” Hotch replied softly, his hand itching to comfort your current tense one. 

“Hey,” Hotch called out softly, he pulled on the sleeve of your blouse. “You okay?” 

“You’ve been asking me that a lot, Hotch,” you sighed. 

“It’s taking a toll on you,” he replied softly, tugging your sleeve again, “come here for a second,” you stood in front of him, wondering what he needed. Hotch moved his hand from your sleeve and gently wrapped his hands around your body. “It’s okay,” he whispered as you instinctively melted into his body. 

Placing one of his hands on the back of your neck, he rubbed softly at the base, “We’ll find them, okay? We have some of the most brilliant minds here, we’ll find them.” Pulling you even closer, he felt your arms around his hips. “It’s okay, honey.” 

“Hotch,” Booth called out. “Wait up!” 

When Hotch turned around, Booth held out his hand, “Thanks. I don’t know if we would have been able to do this without you.” 

“You have a very capable team, I’m sure that you would have figured it out as well,” Hotch replied. 

“You still came though, I didn’t even have to ask.” 

“It wasn’t me,” Hotch spoke. He turned to where you were standing, still conversing with Temperance, he nodded to you. “She asked.” 

“She asked and you came,” Booth finished. Booth looked at Hotch, who was still staring at you, a fondness on his face that he knew all too well. “Look after her.” 

“What a shitty valentine’s day,” you threw your bag on the couch as soon as you stepped into Hotch’s office. 

“It could be worse,” Hotch followed you. Closing the door, he walked over to his small table. Pouring your glass and then his, he sat down next to you. Loosening his tie, he leaned back, allowing you to be more comfortable. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Aaron,” you clinked your glass to his. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, (Y/N).” 

the first year - ten months, two weeks in (april 2026)

“Can you believe that I’ve almost been here a year?” Passing your paperwork to Aaron, you began to start on another one. The unknown joys of working as an agent. 

“2nd of June,” Hotch added. “That’s when you first started.” 

“You remembered?” You briefly glanced at him. 

“That was the day I learned what a cruffin was, so yes.”

“What a momentous occasion for you,” you teased, passing another piece of paper. “Seriously though, it feels like I’ve been here since forever.”

“I feel the same way.” 

Arching your brow, you relaxed back into your seat, “Oh, really? And why’s that?” 

Hotch glanced at you and shrugged, “It just seems like you’ve always been here. It’s hard to think of what the team was like before you.” 

“Oh, I am so your favourite.” 

Nudging your shoulders with his, “It’s actually Reid.” 

“And here I was going to say that you were my favourite, but I guess that isn’t reciprocated,” you dramatically moved your chair away from him. “Here I am helping you with paperwork but I don’t see Reid doing that.”

“You barged in here and wanted to spend time together,” Hotch reasoned out, pulling your chair back to its original position. 

“Yeah, and I don’t see your so-called favourite coming in here to spend quality time with you.” 

“Maybe that’s why he’s my favourite.”

“Fine,” you fumed. Standing up, you gathered your one pen and made your way to the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m going to spend time with someone that actually wants to be with me,” 

“(Y/N), I’m kidding,” you almost felt bad that you were pulling his chain. “Please come back.” 

You turned around, arms crossed against your chest, “That was mean, Hotch.” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, everything else forgotten except the woman standing in front of him who appeared furious with him. “That’s why I don’t make jokes.” 

“It’s your tone, Hotchner,” you rolled your eyes. Sitting back down, pointedly moving your body from his, something that made Hotch feel uneasy. 

“You know though right?” 

“What?” You hummed, focusing (and failing) on the paper in front of you. 

“That you’re my favourite.” 

Turning your head, you looked at Hotch who looked earnestly at you. Nudging his foot with yours, you pushed your chair closer to his. “Yeah, Hotch, I know.” 

the first year - eleven months, three weeks in (april 2026)

It was humiliating. Here you were laying on the ground, eye thumping in pain. It was almost cartoonish, you running around the corner chasing the unsub then getting hit by a 2x4 by said unsub. 

“Motherfucker,” you groaned in pain. Clutching your eye, you tried to get up. “Of-fucking-course,” you swore as you felt the telltale run of a bloody nose. 

“(Y/L/N), you alright?” Emily asked, coming around the corner. 

“Yeah, Morgan’s after him,” you gestured west where Derek and the unsub ran off too. 

“(Y/N)?” You could hear Hotch ask through the earpiece. “You okay?” 

“She got hit by the unsub, nosebleed and I can see a bump forming. Possible concussion,” Emily answered for you, assessing you as she talked to Hotch. 

“I’m fine,” you gritted out. 

“She’s not,” Emily supplied. 

“(Y/L/N), stay there,” Hotch commanded. 

“No,” shoving Emily’s helpful hand off, you began to jog to Derek. “Morgan’s alone, and I’m not leaving him there.”

“(Y/N), I’m serious,” Hotch bit out. “I’m about two minutes away, just stay there. Prentiss will go.” 

But it was too late and you were too stubborn, knowing that Derek was in trouble. Running as best you could, you caught up to where Derek’s already apprehended the unsub. 

“You good?” You nodded to Derek. 

“Yeah, kid, don’t think you are though,” pointing towards your nose. 

You could hear the rest of the team starting to arrive, Hotch in the front, JJ, Rossi and Emily in tow. 

“What were you thinking?” Hotch snapped as you came into view, gun lowering and heading straight to you. “I told you to stay.” 

“Morgan-,” 

“Morgan had it handled,” Hotch bit out, his eyes running across your body. “An order is an order, (Y/L/N).”

“You didn’t know that,” you snapped back. Moving too quickly, you winced as you held your head. 

Whatever Hotch wanted to say or snap at you died in his mouth as he quickly strided over to you. His hands gently running over the wound, thumb running under your nose to get rid of the blood. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered, annoyance and any anger gone from him. 

“Head hurts,” you complained. 

“Come on, let’s go to the medics,” wrapping his arms around your waist, Hotch guided you. 

“She should be fine, no need for an overnight stay,” the medic stated as she finished looking you over. “No signs of subdural hematoma,” the medic turned to Hotch who was hovering behind her, looking at you with concerned eyes. “But it’s best that someone stays with her. Any signs, bring her in. I’d also recommend that when you go home that you go to your usual doctor, just to make sure everything is okay.” 

“I’ll look after her,” Hotch replied with a definitive tone. Like there was no room for anyone else to look after you. 

“You’ve got a good one,” the medic winked at you. “It’s rare that those come by.” 

“He’s not,” you started but stopped as Hotch walked over to you. 

“Thank you,” Hotch looked at the medic thankfully, a rare smile appearing on his face. “Come on, sweetheart,” guiding you down, you pushed your weight to Hotch, who was all too happy to provide the support you needed. “We’ll go back to the hotel.” 

If the team saw the way Hotch’s hand stayed glued to your lower back as he escorted you to the car, none of them said anything. 

“In the bathroom,” Hotch directed as the two of you went into his hotel room. “I got JJ to grab all your belongings from your room already.” 

Walking to the bathroom, you squinted your eyes as he turned on the light. Whispering apologies, he dialed down the brightness. “I need to clean your wounds,” he murmured, looking at your head.

“I’m not a baby,” you moaned out, removing Hotch’s hand from your face. 

“You,” he started and you could see him clench his jaw. He made a fist and looked away from you, “Do you know how stubborn you are?” 

“I’ve been told that,” you responded cheekily. 

“I need to clean your wounds,” he repeated, this time more firm. He moved you to sit on the bathroom counter. Gathering the first aid kit that he always kept in his bag, Hotch stepped between your legs. 

“Just let me,” Hotch murmured. You looked up at him, the focus in his eyes, getting the dirt, grim and blood off your face. The gentle touch that you could feel on your forehead. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and you knew that he could feel yours. 

“There,” he whispered, as he placed the final bandaid on your head. “All cleaned up.”

“You know, some people believe that kissing the wound will make it heal faster,” you supplied, as you gazed up at him. Your hands finding home on the lapels of his jacket. 

He grinned down at you, “Oh really?” Brushing your hair away from your face, Hotch couldn’t help but stare at you. The emotions in your eyes, the way you clung to him, the subconscious lean into his hands, Hotch wanted you to touch him forever. 

You hummed. Gently grasping your head in both of his hands, Hotch leaned down to flutter a kiss on your wound. Then another, then another, until he was peppering kisses down your cheek. He skimmed his hands to your side and you flinched as his lips touched your head a little harder than he would have wanted. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologised instantly, pulling away from you and looking at the wound. 

Tugging his lapels lightly, you pulled him to you, “Don’t you ever apologise for kissing me, Aaron Hotchner.” 

Laughing he tenderly kissed your forehead, then your cheek, his lips hovering your own, so close that the two of you felt each other’s breath. “You’ve got to sleep,” he whispered against your lips. Craning his neck, he placed another tender but long kiss to your forehead. “Come on, we’ll change you out of your clothes and take your meds.” 

Picking you up from the counter, he placed you down on the ground. Hands on your hips to steady you. “Did you need help getting changed?” He asked, his eyes suddenly not on you. 

You grinned, “Aaron Hotchner, I got hit in the head, a mild injury mind you.” 

“I’m just asking,” he replied, his tone close to a whine. “I’ll get your clothes,” he said but made no move to get them, instead standing in front of you, your back pressed against the counter. He pressed himself to you, his hands on your waist, as he gazed at your wound again. 

“It’s just a little bit of a knock on the head, Hotch,” you placed your chin on his chest, looking up at him. “I’m okay, I promise.” 

“Still,” Hotch stated. “I don’t like seeing you injured.” 

“Alright, you okay?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, Hotch.” 

“Where are you going?” You demanded sleepily as you saw his figure walk away from you. 

“I need to finish these up, and then I’ll sleep on the couch,” he held up the papers and you frowned at him. 

“No, you’re sleeping here,” you replied stubbornly, you patted the spot next to you, and scowled at him until he sighed and came over. 

He laid on the bed next to you, back flushed to the headboard. Hotch opened up the case files, watching you from the corner of his eyes as you tried to get comfortable. Seeing your distress, he pushed the file aside and moved your upper body until you were laying on him. 

He looped his right arm from behind your back, hand splaying across your stomach. “Better?” He heard you hum in response, and the next thing you knew, you were out. 

Gently rubbing his thumb across your stomach, he watched from above as you turned, hands burying under his shirt, hands curling against his chest hair, your face burrowed into his stomach and your leg thrown across his. There was a content look to your face, your body melting into his as if you were one. 

the second year (june 2026)

“Happy Anniversary,” Hotch commented as you came into his office. “It’s officially been a year since you transferred to the BAU.” He nodded to the brown paper bag in front of where you usually sit. “I got you a cronut.” 

Normally you would have beamed at him, hugging him (as professionally as you could within the precinct) and thanked him. But there was tension between the two of you today. Well, more on your part than his. He didn’t know anything about the inner turmoil you had. It wasn’t bad tension, but it was tension that you felt in your stomach. Tension that seeps into your dream, and all you can think of when you wake up is how nice the weight of your boss on top of you would feel really nice. 

You’ve thought about this before, of course you had. You weren’t silent in your attraction and affection for Hotch but this was the first time that your subconscious did anything about it. 

“Are you alright?” Hotch asked, a concerned frown on his face when you didn’t move from where you were standing. Your eyes not even drifting to the bag. “You feeling okay?” 

You looked at him and you groaned. You hated the fact that you couldn’t hide anything from this man. It’s not because he was a good profiler, or anything, it was the fact you didn’t want to lie to him. That you had the urge to tell him the truth no matter what because you never want to keep anything away from him. 

“I had a sex dream about you,” you shyly confessed, your tone laced with something Hotch has never really heard from you. 

“What?” 

“Oh my god, Aaron!” You threw up your hands, “I had a sex dream about you, okay?” 

“Okay,” he responded dumbly. He looked at you then cleared his throat. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We work together an awful lot, so it’s only natural that you find yourself in that kind of position.” 

Rolling your eyes, “I work with a lot of people, I have never had this problem.” You practically stay rooted in your spot. “This is so embarrassing,” you buried your face in your hands. “I sound so childish.” 

You could hear the creak in Hotch’s chair as he stood up and walked over to you. Running his hands down from your shoulders, you mumbled, “This doesn’t help you know.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You balked at his suggestion. “It may help,” he shrugged. Hotch was spouting bullshit, both of you knew it. When has talking about a sex dream, with said person who starred in it was ever a good idea? 

Hotch knew that you were smart. You knew what he implicitly wanted. “I promise I won’t make fun,” but the grin on his face told a different story. “Come on.” Pulling you to his couch, he sat on the table in front. “Tell me.” 

“Uh, it was a sex dream,” you started eloquently and he nodded. 

Coughing into his hand, Hotch asked, “Were we together in this?” 

“Considering you wanted to knock me up, I’d hope so,” you mumbled quietly, shifting in your seat. 

“Knock you up?”

“Are you going to repeat everything that I say? Cause if so, that isn’t helping.” 

“I’m just trying to make sense of everything.” 

Rolling your eyes again, you shuffled yourself further down. “I don’t know, the beginning’s hazy, but I remember you on top of me, there was kissing involved,-” 

“Of course,” at his interruption you glared at him, and all he could do was give you a reassuring smile. 

“As I was saying, there was kissing involved and touching, and you called me-,”  

Hotch watched your breathing become deeper, he looked at your fists which were clenched on top of your thighs. Hotch gritted his teeth as he saw that your thighs were clenched. “Called you what?” 

You turned to him and what he saw on your face made him almost gasp. Your eyes were almost black in this light, your lips flushed and swollen from you biting them. You were ravishing. 

“Good girl,” you replied hoarsely. “Specifically, your good girl.”  

Hotch has never been happier until now that he had the self-restraint of a monk. All he wanted to do was kiss you silly on his couch, the team downstairs and professionality be damned. 

“My good girl,” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement as he looked at you. And the moment those words left his mouth, it was like you were a sleeper agent as your eyes trained on him. “And how did I, how did that make you feel?” 

You glared at him, “Is this fun for you? Is my embarrassment fun for you?” 

Touching your knees, Hotch leaned forward. “Not at all. I’m learning about you, and I want to help you out. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable around me.” 

Looking at his hands, his big hands on your knees, you bit your lip harder. “You could never make me feel uncomfortable.” 

“So it wasn’t uncomfortable for you?” 

Shaking your head, “The opposite,” you confessed thickly. “I liked that you called me that.” 

“Interesting,” Hotch hummed as he looked at you. This was completely different. Usually you would be the take-charge, hard-headed woman that he cared for. Brazen, loud and unabashed but sitting here in front of him was completely different. This was a different side to you. Something he wanted to explore. “So let me get this straight; we were together, I was trying to knock you up and I was calling you my good girl.” 

“That’s basically the gist of it,” you murmured, face flushing at the words being repeated back to you. 

“That sounds normal.” 

You stared blankly at him, “When has that ever been normal? When has having a sex dream about your boss, trying to breed me and calling me a good girl be normal?” 

At the word ‘breed’, you could feel Hotch squeeze your knees. “Don’t tell me you’re getting turned on right now,” you scoffed. 

“I am not,” he denied, having the audacity to have a perplexed look on his face. 

“Then there’s something wrong with you,” you rolled your eyes.

“Excuse me?” 

“There’s something wrong with you,” you repeated, this time slower. “What kind of man wouldn’t be turned on with me saying that.” 

And there she is, he thought. The fire in your words, the self-confidence that he wished he could possess. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Hotch shook his head, fondness in his smile at you. “Do you want me to get turned on?” 

That question took you aback, pouting, you thought it over. “Yes.” 

“I don't think this is work appropriate,” despite his words, Hotch slid closer to you, one of your knees slotting between his legs. 

“You’re the one who wanted me to talk about my sex dream,” you responded, leaning in as well. 

Too lost in each other, you didn’t hear the knock on his door, or JJ walking in. “Am I interrupting something?” JJ looked at the two of you, one of her brows arching. Her eyes went straight to Hotch’s hands still on your knees, the man slowly removing them from your body. 

The two of you cleared your throat, and Hotch answered. “No, what do you need, JJ?” 

“We have a case, we’re setting up the room now,” with one last knowing look she left his office. 

Turning back to him, you glared playfully, “This stays between us, Hotchner.” 

Squeezing your knees, Hotch drifted his hands up your thighs to your hands before pulling you up with him. “Of course, can’t let my good girl down.” 

Hitting him on his chest, you groaned as you began to walk out of his office. 

the second year -  one month in (july 2026)

It was like Hotch’s left hand was now stitched to your lower back. Like the only place that it can ever belong was on your body. Ever since you confessed your sordid dream about him, it was like he was a new man. 

The confession allowed the two of you to be more comfortable with each other. Maybe Hotch was right in the way that it helped the connection between the two of you. He was more open with his touches (when it was just the two of you), open with his compliments and praise in front of the team. 

It started with a small touch. Hotch was just passing by and he placed his hand on your waist as he moved behind you, a whispered excuse falling from his lips as he moved behind. You flinched at first, thinking it was a random man, until you smelt the familiar cologne. Leaning back, you basked in the small but intimate moment. 

Your reaction gave him the courage to be more forward. Well, as forward as Hotch could be. When no one was watching, his touch on your back was longer. More intimate. He never just had his hand on your back. It was a small movement of his thumb, grounding you. Moving his whole hand across the span of your lower back, or from your shoulder and then looping around your hips. 

You didn’t think any of it. In fact, you were probably worse. You liked to touch him on his back and then run your hand up and down, until it landed on his waist, or his belt. You needed to be near him; your arms and thighs touching when you sat next to each other, your fingers twiddling with the fabric that you could reach. 

It didn’t go unnoticed by the team; Derek and Penelope never missing a moment to tease you, JJ and Emily exchanging knowing glances, and Spencer not mentioning anything after you both threw stern glances his way the first time he noted it publicly. 

And Rossi? Well, Rossi was Rossi about the whole thing. Watching the two of you keenly, refusing to say anything except a nod and a small grin thrown at the two of you. 

It was another case, Missouri this time and the team was barely hanging on a thread. Hotch specifically as he kept butting heads with the Sheriff. Another tense exchange between the two left Hotch practically huffing as he exited the small room. 

Knocking on the door that you saw Hotch walk in, he snapped at the door, “What?” 

Raising your hands up in the air as you walked in, Hotch’s once irritated face softened into something that was only reserved for you. “You okay?” 

“Their own personal biases and bigotry are affecting this case, are affecting the victims,” Hotch bit out, his hands clenching by his sides. “They’re believing what they’re being fed by the news they see and won’t look at the actual evidence.” 

Walking closer to him, you allowed him to vent about the past couple of days. “They’re affecting the case and if they won’t get over it, I don’t know how we can help them. They’re going to frame someone because that’s what they believe.” 

Without a thought, Hotch sat down on one of the tables, a hand pinched across the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what else to do.” 

“That’s new,” you stated. “You not knowing what to do,” walking up to him, you stood between his legs, his hands automatically going to your hips despite his annoyed look at you. 

“It’s frustrating,” he confided in you, head falling to your shoulder. You rubbed the sides of his neck. 

“You’re Aaron Hotchner,” you started. “You don’t take no for an answer, especially when it comes to a case.” Leaning closer you pressed your body flushed to his. “You’re going to walk back in there and tell him who’s boss, because you are. You’re going to take charge of this, disregarding whatever he says along the way because you know what’s right.” 

“You’re a good man, Hotch, that’s why this is frustrating for you, because you care about everyone, regardless of who they are.” 

Rubbing your hips, he pulled you closer, his head burrowing into your neck. You leaned your head against him, dotting kisses along his cheek and neck, your hands easing the tension from his shoulders. 

Pressing a kiss to your neck, Hotch pulled back staring up at you. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Don’t know how I can do this without you.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, “You’ve been doing this for almost two decades, Hotch, I’m sure you could have managed.” 

“Maybe, but I don’t want to do this without you,” he confessed. 

“You won’t. I’m here for you, forever.” Kissing his cheek and pulling his belt, you pulled him back to his feet, “Now, come on, cowboy, you got a Sheriff to put in place.” 

The two of you walked back to the conference room, the smug sheriff smiling conceitedly making you already clench your jaw. The team watched the two of you walk in, poised and ready to have Hotch’s back as he stood in front of the Sheriff. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Hotch commanded, feeling renewed with you behind him. “We are going to look at the facts, stick to the facts, and not let our personal opinions colour this case,” with those words he threw a very pointed look to the local police department. “We don’t have any reason to think the person is a suspect, apart from how they carry themselves. We’re going through the case again, we’re going to look at this from a very detached perspective.” 

“How’re you goin’ about that, hotshot?” The Sheriff looped his thumbs over his belt loops. “This is my department, you can’t do nothin’. We got a suspect. We’re chargin’ that thing.” 

“Last I saw, this was a federal case,” Hotch stated, not biting the low hanging fruit. 

The Sheriff laughed and looked at his cronies, “That’s the thing with you city folk, you don’t get how these small towns work. We run this town. We know our people. We know who don’t belong.” 

“Just because they’re different to you doesn’t mean that they don’t belong,” Hotch informed. “Though I don’t think you’d understand that, considering your world view is quite small, being stuck here and all.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean boy?” The Sheriff narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, his hand moving towards the butt of his gun. 

Hotch straightened up, “I’m saying that you’re not educated. In the matters of the real world. You’ve been stuck here since you were born, and will still be here until you die. Everything you have ever known has been within the town's limit. You don’t care for people that break the status quo.” 

You could see his actions before the Sheriff actioned them, swiftly moving to Hotch’s front, you glared at the sheriff, venom in your eyes, “Do not.” The sight was probably laughable, you practically growling at a man a good foot taller than you. 

“What’re you goin’ to about it, princess?” The man leered, craning his neck down and you grimaced at the nickname. 

“Watch your mouth,” Hotch snapped, his patience with the department out of the window. 

“I will gut you,” you gritted out. “But before I do that, I’ll break every single fucking bone in your body if you dare to lay a hand on him, do you understand me?” 

“That’s cute, girlie, but this is a man’s fight,” before he could touch you, you grabbed his arm, spinning his dense body and pinning him to the floor, breaking some of his fingers in the process. 

“You can hit me if you want, but touch any of them or him, I swear you’ll be begging for me to kill you,” you threatened against his ear, too low for anyone to hear you. Unaware of the scrapes of chairs from the local police quickly standing up and the team blocking them. 

Gripping his fingers in your hand, you twisted, the knee on his back digging harder, “What you’re going to do is listen to what Aaron is going to say, agree with whatever he says, and we solve this case. Otherwise, when my team flies home, I’ll stay, and I promise I’ll make you pay. Got it?” The man whimpered in pain and you tightened your grip when you didn’t see or hear confirmation. “Got it?” This time he nodded.  

Letting him go, you stood up back to Hotch’s side who watched you with fascination and fear. You watched as the Sheriff cradled his hands and nodded to Hotch. Everyone dispersed from the room, afraid to say anything more in the charged atmosphere. 

Derek whistled as he looked at you, “Damn, mama. Who knew?” He shook his head and grinned, pointing at you, he said, “You are going to show me how you did that.” 

You rolled your eyes and moved closer to Hotch. “Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “Am I in trouble?” 

“With what, bella?” Rossi asked, an amused smile on his face. “I didn’t see anything,” winking at you, “If you don’t buy that girl a drink, Hotch,” Rossi commented before he left the two of you. 

“I’ll fill out the paperwork when we get home,” you nodded. “And I’ll tell Strauss that I was the one who broke his fingers. You think I’ll get suspension with pay?” 

“Hotch?” He was still looking at you, this time the fear was gone from his eyes. 

“I didn’t know that you could do that,” was all he said. 

“Years of being in the military will teach you things,” you shrugged. “Seriously, you think I’ll get suspension with pay?” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” and you rolled your eyes. 

“He was going to hit you,” you raised your brows at him. “I’m not letting anyone hit you.” 

“Honey, you could have gotten hurt,” this time Hotch moved forward, hands already reaching for yours. Looking at the small red blemishes, he rubbed his thumb over them. 

“I’ve taken bigger targets down, Hotch.” 

“Thank you,” kissing your knuckles, you couldn’t help but graze your knuckles against his cheek. 

Kissing him on the cheek quickly, you ran your hands down his shirt, landing on his belt. “Seriously, suspension with pay? Gonna visit me when I get grounded?” 

Hotch laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “You won’t get in trouble. I won’t say anything and I doubt the team will.” 

Turning around, you feigned a gasp, “You’re breaking the rules? Since when does Aaron Hotchner break the rules?” 

Pinching your waist, he gave you a grin, “You just bring it out of me I guess.” 

the second year - two months, one week in (august 2026)

The soft crooning of Laufey wrapped around your ears as you focused on the form in front of you. You made a face as you realised you didn’t know what the fuck Section 2.15, paragraph 13-14 from the second volume of blah, blah, blah was. 

The soft tap on your shoulder briefly distracting you from the allure of paperwork, you took out one earbud. “Hotch? Everything okay?”

“It’s seven pm.” 

You glanced at the clock on your desk and inwardly groaned, “Fuck, I didn’t realise it was that late.” 

“This can wait,” he tapped on the piece of paper, frowning as he saw your answers. “This isn’t correct.” 

“I’m gonna kill myself,” you groaned, your head falling back dramatically. “I thought I had this down pat.” 

“They changed it a couple of years back,” Hotch explained. “The Unit Chief’s had to review all of the forms to make sure it fits the current legislation.” 

“You made this?” You narrowed your eyes at the man in front of you, any other time you would appreciated the way this colour suited him, but not right now. Not when he was the reason for the bane of your existence. “Hotch.”

“I can help, if you want.” 

“That’s cheating,” you grumbled. “I hate this, but I’m not cheating.” 

“It’s not cheating if I show you the right books to look at,” Hotch explained. “Come on,” gathering your things up for you, Hotch waited until you stood up before going into his office. 

“And why are we going to your office?”

“I’ve noticed that you focus better in here than downstairs,” Hotch opened his door, and placed your items on the table in front of the couch. “I’ve ordered us some food.” 

“Why are you being nice to me?” 

“Am I not always nice to you?” Hotch inquired, as he took off his jacket, placing it on the back of his chair. He rolled up his sleeves, a sight that made your mouth water. 

“You are,” you appeased. Placing down your items, you made yourself comfortable on his couch. “But never outwardly like this.” 

“The team isn’t here.” 

You made a noise in acknowledgement, “Gotcha. Gotta keep your reputation intact. Can’t let people know that you’re soft for me.” All you got was a small smile in return. “Can I play some music?” 

“As long as it isn’t your Slipknot, then yes.” 

You stuck out your tongue at him. “You’re such a stick in the mud, Hotch. Who doesn’t love the soft crooning of Corey Taylor?” 

“It’s barbaric.” 

“How is metal barbaric? You could even argue that it’s the fundamental way to express human emotion.” 

“By screaming?” 

“Yes.” 

“Who’s this?” 

“Laufey,” you responded, closing your eyes at the first sound of her voice. “She’s dope.” 

“Dope.” Opening your eyes, you saw just how close he was now. 

“Never say dope again,” you jested as you hit him softly with your foot. 

“I like her,” Hotch commented, softly nodding along to the melody. “She is dope.” 

Making a disgruntled noise, you nudged him again, “Aaron Hotchner. That was icky.” 

“Icky?” Sitting down next to you, it was him this time that didn’t allow any space between the two of you, polite space completely forgotten. “Am I icky?” 

“When you say dope you are,” you laid your legs on top of his thighs, Hotch’s hands instantly landing on top of your shins. You watched as he rubbed your leg gently, thanking God that you made the decision to wear a skirt today. 

There was a turn in the air, as you looked at Hotch under the light of his lamps. You were in complete violation of every rule that was written about superior and subordinate relationships but you really didn’t care. “But most of the time, you aren’t.” 

Hotch hummed and it was different, it was lower, more intent in it. “And what am I most of the time?” You saw his hands move further up, his body leaning towards you. 

Glancing down, you could feel your heartbeat thumping beneath your chest. “I think you know,” you gulped as you finally felt the heat of his hand on your inner thigh. “You’re the best profiler in the world, I think you know.” It was instinctive for you to lean in, for your eyes to drop down from his gaze to his lips which was just begging to be kissed. 

Hotch followed you, leaning forward, his hand now inside your skirt, engulfing your thigh, fingertips feeling the warmth radiating from your centre. He clenched his jaw as he saw you bite your lip, “Honey.” 

“Honey? Don’t think that’s my name.” 

“It is to me,” taking his hand out of your skirt, he chuckled as he heard you whine. Grabbing one of your thighs, he pulled you, making you sit on his lap. “Fuck,” he groaned as you sat down, squeezing your thighs against his hips. 

Leaning forward you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands drifting to your waist. A soft sigh left our lips as you could feel him harden underneath you. Testing the waters, you moved your hips slightly, earning a small groan from the man underneath. Drifting your hands down the plains of his chest, you eventually landed on placing your hands on his stomach. Grasping his belt in your hands, you pulled once, untucking a piece of his shirt. 

Pulling you closer to his body, Hotch ran his hands down your back, until he landed on your ass. Squeezing and moving you along his length, both of you let out a groan. He could feel just how warm you were, and he knew that if he pulled your skirt up he could see how soaked you were. 

“Hotch,” you whimpered, hands clenching his belt. You could feel the heat in your stomach, and you clenched your thighs tighter, grounding yourself down to his cock. “Please.” 

“Please what?” Dragging you against him, his gaze focused on your glossy lips. It looked so plump and juicy and all he wanted to do was bite it. “Be my good girl and tell me.” 

At those words your hips jolted, hands clenching at his belt. Before your lips could touch a buzz from Hotch’s phone broke whatever reverie the two of you were in. You didn’t pull back quickly, instead allowing yourself to categorise every feature of his face. 

“I think that’s our food,” Hotch groaned, his hands still on your ass. He allowed himself to squeeze once, feeling the shape underneath his hands. He watched your face above his, your pupils dilated and your mouth parted open. 

Another buzz and this time your eyes followed the sound, “We better get that. I don’t want to keep them waiting, it’s rude.” 

He cleared his throat and reluctantly removed his hand from you, “You’re right. I’ll be back soon.” 

With that, you detached yourself from him and if you felt him graze your ass for a bit, well that was between you and the silence. “Hotch,” you stopped him, “might want to, sort that out first,” you gestured to his crotch which now had a damp spot, not to mention his erection. “Unless you want to greet the delivery man like that.” 

Looking down, a flush appeared on his face as he saw just how he liked what you were doing. “Oh.” 

“I can get the food,” you teased, leaning down to grab your phone. 

“Take my card,” he pulled out his wallet and handed it to you. 

Moving forward, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. “What a gentleman.” 

the second year - three months, two weeks in (september 2026)

“You dry humped your boss?” 

“Jesus, Haley,” you scolded your best friend over the phone. “Thanks,” you nodded to the barista who handed you your coffee. 

“And why am I only hearing about this now?” 

“Because I’ve been busy,” and truly you have. Every case you finished, there was another one to jet off to. “It’s not something I can just drop on you.” 

You could hear her squeal over the phone, “And? Did it go any further?” 

You shook your head, “No. It was that and then we had some food, and helped me with paperwork.”

“Boring,” Haley scoffed. “Is it awkward between the two of you?” 

“No, not really,” you said, opening the door to the building. “It’s been the same. I mean we haven’t been in the same situation but he hasn’t treated me differently. In fact it’s the same.”

“And are you sure he isn’t just using you?” Haley inquired. “Cause if so, I’ll string him up by his balls.” 

“I’m sure, Hales,” you affirmed. “He’s a good guy, the best that I’ve known. Aaron would never treat me like that.” 

Looking at the bullpen, you could see Hotch from the top of the stairs. He nodded towards you and then went into his office. “I just got to work, Hales. I’ll have to call you back.” 

“Okay, babes, have fun looking at dead bodies and humping your man.” 

Knocking on his door, you could hear Hotch’s voice from the other side. “We have a case?” 

He nodded, signing something and then looking at you. “Garcia’s putting the case together. Conference room in twenty.” 

“Cool,” you replied. Closing the door and walking over to him, you handed him a brown bag. 

“What’s this?” 

“Food,” placing another cup of coffee down on his desk, “and coffee. You need to eat. I know that you probably didn’t have anything apart from a single piece of toast this morning.” 

“Thank you,” taking a sip of his coffee, he groaned quietly, something your ears picked up on. You watched as he took a bigger sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “You okay?” You looked at Hotch who now had a small smirk on his face, knowing exactly that he’s got you entranced. 

“My birthday’s next month,” you commented. Running your hands across his desk. “I’d like for you to come to my party.” 

“Is it on your birthday?” 

“Since it’s going to a Tuesday, no,” you shook your head and sat down in front of him. “It’s going to be on the Friday after my birthday.” 

Hotch swore under his breath, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” 

“Oh, that’s cool,” you breathed out, a little disappointed in his answer. “Better plans?” 

“We have a meeting for all the departments in the FBI, all Unit Chiefs are expected to attend,” he replied sullenly. “(Y/N), I would prefer to go to your party and be with you, but I think I may actually get reprimanded if I don’t go.” 

“Hotch,” you interrupted. “It’s fine,” and truly you were okay with it. You knew that him being a Unit Chief added extra obligations to the average agent. “But I expect a present, mister!” 

“I’ve already picked it out,” Hotch replied, a knowing smile on his face. 

“Is it continuing to hump me on your couch, cause I didn’t get off last time.”

“Work hours,” Hotch gently scolded. A small flush appearing on his face. “And you already know what it is, you’ve been snooping.” 

You pouted and smiled at him. “Got it. Hump talk after work,” you winked. 

“Agent.”

“SSA Hotchner.” 

In the brief moment that the two allowed yourselves to be just you. Hotch allowed himself to be just Aaron for a small couple of minutes. Eyes softening, he dragged you by your trouser pocket, his hand drifting down to your thigh. 

“You know that it isn’t something I usually do, right?” 

“Humping on the couch? Well, I hope not,” you responded. “I don’t usually do well with jealousy.” 

“I’m serious, (Y/N),” playing with your hands, Hotch looked up at you. “This means something to me.” 

“I know,” with one hand you grasped his hair lightly, another hand on the apple of his cheek. “This means everything to me.” 

Pulling you down, you landed on his thigh. Placing his hands on your ass, he slowly guided you across the length of his muscle. Heat pooled in your tummy, your hand automatically going down to his stomach. 

“We can’t,” you moaned out bitterly. You closed your eyes and in that moment you really hated having a good work ethic. Well as good as it can get with humping your boss twice in his office.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hotch instantly stopped his movements. His hands falling from your ass. 

“Hotch, no,” you interrupted him as you could feel him close up. Taking his face in your hands, you made him look at you. “I want you and as much as I want to ride you into oblivion right here, we have about ten minutes before Garcia comes in here.” 

“You’re right,” Hotch conceded, a laugh bubbling out of his chest. “You just do something to me.” 

“Same here,” placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, you regretfully removed yourself from his thigh. “I’ll see you in the conference room, Agent Hotchner.” 

the second year - four months, one week in (october 2026)

“Garcia,” Hotch scolded as Penelope fumbled with her phone. “I usually don’t mind you being on your phone since we’re not on a case, but we have to finish these forms before the end of day. What are you even looking at?” 

“It’s Instagram, sir,” gingerly she passed her phone, silently praying that the page she left on was innocent.

“Is this (Y/N)’s account?” Flipping her own phone to her, Penelope nodded as she saw your face grinning from the small device. Flickering his eyes from Garcia’s phone to her monitor, Hotch frowned, “Was that Prentiss taking a shot off a waitress?”

Penelope cringed and delicately closed the forgotten browser on her computer. “Uh, if I say yes will she get in trouble?” 

“Not unless she did it during work hours.” 

She let out a sigh of relief, “Good thing it was definitely after work hours.” 

“Have you heard of it, sir?” At Hotch’s quick glare, “Just asking.” 

“(Y/N) showed me it. She showed me her favourite cafe one time, but I’m not on it.” 

Garcia let out a silent breath of relief, “Oh yeah, she’s so active on there. Kids these days and all that.” She watched curiously as Hotch looked through a couple of your photos, a small fond smile appearing on his face as he traced the photo with his eyes, something that she definitely will not tell Derek about later. 

“It’s a good way to keep in touch with people,” Penelope informed. “And if you’re like (Y/N), it’s a different way to use a diary.” 

“What do you do?”

Penelope frowned, “On Insta? Everything, sir. You can post photos and videos, see them as well, as long as everyone’s following each other.” 

“Is it hard to use?” 

She shook her head, “Not really. You kind of just take photos and upload them, if you like. Unless, you’re like (Y/N) again, and you curate it.” Taking her phone back, “You know, I think she would really enjoy it if you joined.” 

Back in the safety of his office, Hotch opened up his phone, and tapping the very unused App Store, he downloadedInstagram. Letting out a sigh, he put in his details and scrolling through the very few photos he had on his phone, he decided that the first picture of himself was good enough to be his display photo. Remembering your username from Garcia’s fumble, he placed it into the search bar and there you were. 

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s_riley YTB.

tagged a.hotchner, sjbooth, kg_garrick, price_john, kon_igs, johnnythelad, seba_doss and n1kt0_00

ilprivyn give me back my boyfriend???

lilprivyn get your own seba_doss he's ours now lilprivyn what the??? lilprivyn you guys hated him like a couple of months ago jfc a.hotchner You guys hated me? kon_igs We thought that you were leading maus on. n1kt0_00 мы собирались тебя убить comment liked by s_riley, kong_igs and seba_doss seba_doss but now we realise you're great! don't know why you're with (y/n), you could do so much better ;) lilprivyn bro stop hitting on my boyfriend lilprivyn aaron, i swear, if you don't come home in the next hour i am banning you from sex lilprivyn on a serious note, why do all of you need to gather multiple times a week??? seba_doss logisitcs and optics lilprivyn stop watching succession

johnnythelad Very good discussions today, lads.

kg_garrick Very productive indeed. lilprivyn you're all freaks but let me in on the secret 🙏🏼 s_riley No. comment liked by price_john lilprivyn 🧍🏻‍♀️ lilprivyn i'll get it out of aaron, don't you worry johnnythelad Nah, lass, don't think ya can. lilprivyn i have my ~ways~ seba_doss ew seba_doss gross lilprivyn pls shut your bitch ass up

lilprivyn and YTB??? what is this 2013????

lilprivyn #chavs lilprivyn you can take the boys adidas but you can't take the adidas out of the boys 😔

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lilprivyn a little bit of this a little bit of that

tagged a.hotchner

song waiting - the cave

sjbooth What could the context be possibly be for the sixth photo?

lilprivyn foreplay sjbooth I'm telling pops lilprivyn i'm telling pops 🤓 lilprivyn get a life nerd comment liked by drtemperancebrennan and camille_saroyan

yourgirlgarcia I LOVE THE TWO OF YOU SO MUCH!!!

lilprivyn and WE love you!!! comment liked by a.hotchner

derek_morgan Rare Hotch smile spotted.

spence_reid To be fair, it hasn't been that rare since he and (Y/N) made it official.

s_riley Do you actually ever go to work?

lilprivyn excuse me yes lilprivyn i just happen to know how to have a life outside of work s_riley 👍🏼 lilprivyn don't thumbs me up, riley s_riley 👍🏼 s_riley Stop calling me lilprivyn stop leaving thumbs up s_riley 👍🏼

lilprivyn also pls appreciate my man in his quarter zip (🤤) and puffer jacket. meeeeoooowww

prentiss.here Do we have to? lilprivyn yes comment liked by a.hotchner a.hotchner You and my quarter-zips. lilprivyn you're hot baby, but quarter-zip hotch??? woooo ahhhh hottie alert. like i'd bear your children if you keep wearing them comment liked by a.hotchner prentiss.here And that's enough internet for the day.

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a.hotchner To the cabin.

tagged lilprivyn

lilprivyn ty crime for stopping so my baby and i can actually have some time off

sjbooth Let's normalise putting pants on.

lilprivyn let's normalise scrolling, old man drtemperancebrennan LOL. sjbooth Bones never say 'lol' again. lilprivyn let her do whatever she wants, seeley comment liked by drtemperancebrennan drtemperancebrennan Thanks for that (Y/N), I would have done so regardless but I appreciate your support. lilprivyn got your back girl

yourgirlgarcia I expect photos, missy!!!! And you to, boss man!!!1

lilprivyn i already have a dedicated album to show you, pen <3 yourgirlgarcia Love you, star girl!!!!!

derek_morgan 'To the cabin'. Sounds like the description a killer would use in their journal.

lilprivyn why so mean :,( derek_morgan I'm just saying! It's so dry. lilprivyn what do you want to the caption to say oh mighty one??? derek_morgan Anything but that. lilprivyn 'On our way to our cabin in Massachusetts so I can have sex with my hot girlfriend for two weeks straight without the neighbours calling the cops.' lilprivyn is that better? sjbooth Dear God, no derek_morgan The caption is fine, Hotch. comment liked by a.hotchner

lilprivyn call us the dua lipa of the bau because we keep holidaying (within reason and mostly because we have tons of annual leave booked up)

david_s_rossi Who is Dua Lipa? lilprivyn #oldman

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lilprivyn just got back from holiday. tan everywhere. sand everywhere. aaron everywhere.

tagged a.hotchner

song making breakfast - samia

prentiss.here Didn't need that last part but I'm happy that the two of you had a good time.

derek_morgan Don't think we needed to see Hotch shirtless either. lilprivyn look it was this or another one but i'm pretty sure instagram would have flagged it lmaoo prentiss.here Dear God. Is this your way of soft launching your pornos? lilprivyn🫦🫦🫦 lilprivyn i have nothing appropriate to say lilprivyn but like we would do so well lilprivyn top 0.1% on OF baby lilprivyn aaron has ~moves~

jj.jareau Are we just glossing over what the third photo says?

prentiss.here I think I just blacked it out. derek_morgan Same here. david_s_rossi Once again terrible day to have eyes. spence_reid Daddy kinks are quite common though and with (Y/N)'s attraction for people in power, it's not that surprising. lilprivyn spence, again, what have i told you about psychoanalysing me??? spence_reid To not to? lilprivyn it was a joke btw lilprivyn aaron doesn't like to be called that lilprivyn but he does like to be called sir a.hotchner HONEY. a.hotchner Only by you though. lilprivyn ;) 🔥

sjbooth For the record, I don't like any of these photos

lilprivyn for the record, i don't really care lmaooo lilprivyn don't you like have to pine for someone somewhere??? comment liked by angietheartist and jackhodgins

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a.hotchner I missed our cats.

tagged lilprivyn

song absolute beginners - david bowie

lilprivn can confirm, aaron was looking at his folder through out the whole holiday

a.hotchner You were also doing the same thing. lilprivyn i know 😔 lilprivyn we can never take a holiday without them ever again lilprivyn when we have our honeymoon we're taking our babies with us >,< comment liked by a.hotchner a.hotchner Don't worry, I've already figured out which airlines have the best reputation for transporting animals. lilprivyn raw 🫵🏼 comment liked by a.hotchner prentiss.here Good God, at this rate you'll be pregnant before the two of you get hitched. lilprivyn 🤞🏼 a.hotchner Honey? lilprivyn shhhh my baby

lilprivyn god i'm so lucky

a.hotchner You? Honey, I've hit the jackpot. You're smart, beautiful, caring, funny and everything and anything in between. lilprivyn love that you said smart first lilprivyn marry me. marry me right now aaron hotchner. lilprivyn like i'll propose on our bed rn lilprivyn and i promise i won't fall off this time jj.jareau This time? How many times have you proposed to him?

prentiss.here Is that a ring??????

lilprivyn it's a gum wrapper lol lilprivyn long story

david_s_rossi A lot of marriage talk here.

lilprivyn can you blame me for wanting to lock him down? comment liked by a.hotchner lilprivyn and can you blame him for wanting to lock ME down? comment liked by a.hotchner, derek_morgan, prentiss.here and s_riley derek_morgan Please, these two are practically married. I wouldn't be surprised if they actually got married already. lilprivyn lol imagine

end!

read the written the companion piece -> everything i know about love (the prologue)

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@kneelforloki | @imtotallylexie | @aaronhotchnerisbae

You nodded before sliding down the wall onto the floor, knees pulled tightly to your chest. Might as well sit if you were going to be here a while. Oh my god. What if you were here a while?

"If Reid were here, he’d probably be rattling off statistics about elevator malfunctions."

"He and Morgan did make it out alive." There was some playfulness to your voice, recognizing his effort to lighten the mood. “Sadly, that doesn’t help."

"Sorry." Aaron offered a small smile before reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

"Call Penelope. Maybe she can work her magic and crack into the building's electronic-communication-port-whatever-it's-called and get us moving."

His thumb moved across his phone, surely texting someone that the two of you were up here. "As resourceful as she is, unfortunately I don't think that's within her capabilities."

You sighed, resting your forehead on your knees a moment, before your head lifted again. "Is this a bad time to mention that I'm claustrophobic?"

Aaron’s expression shifted instantly, all teasing gone. "Hey." His voice softened, "look at me."

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. "I am looking at you."

"No, not like that." He crouched down in front of you in the cramped little space, close enough that your knees almost brushed his. "Focus on me instead, okay?"

The elevator hummed faintly around you, stubbornly unmoving. Somewhere beyond the metal doors, distant voices echoed through the shaft. They were muffled and indistinct, but enough to reassure that help was coming.

But your breathing refused to steady. Only this time, your nerves weren't the culprit.

Aaron hesitated before reaching out carefully, his hand settling against your wrist like he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t. 

"You’re okay," he said quietly.

Your gaze clung onto his, and once again he was too close - close enough that you noticed every tiny thing. The crease between his brows. The warmth of his hand. The way his gaze flicked down to your mouth for the briefest second before snapping back up again.

It had been like this ever since you’d kissed him on the forehead; the ongoing tension that didn't seem to go away. Something unspoken had settled between you after that night. One stupid, fleeting moment, and somehow it had changed everything.

And now you were trapped alone with him in a stalled elevator, nowhere to look except at each other.

Everything in you screamed to close the distance. To grab his shirt, pull him in, and stop pretending this thing between you two didn’t exist.

But another voice, just as loud, told you not to.

Because if you kissed him now, it wouldn’t just be a kiss.

It couldn’t be. Not when he was your boss. Not when it could endanger your jobs and impact the team. It could put everyone at risk - all of them could end up dealing with the consequences of something they had nothing to do with. And for what? One impulsive moment? One kiss you weren’t even sure was built to last forever?

He began, "if things were different-"

Your eyes shot to his, desperate. "Don’t say things you don’t mean."

You wanted the chance to see what this could become if circumstances were different. Wanted to know what it would feel like to stop fighting it for once. To let yourself lean in instead of pulling away. But you couldn’t, you couldn't think about it. 

Because the second you let yourself imagine it - kissing Aaron, the possibility of something real between you, what it might feel like to actually have him - it would be harder to stop.

He opened his mouth to respond, something tight flashing across his face, but before he could say anything, the elevator came back to life. 

You immediately jumped to your feet and out of his reach, adrenaline pumping through you. A nervous laugh escaped before you could stop it, covering for everything else threatening to surface, “that was close."

Because another few seconds of silence, you weren’t entirely sure you would’ve stopped yourself from doing something you’d regret.

"No! She's just a kid! Killing her wont take away what happened to you, just let her go and we can get you the help you need. We already have your mother in custody for the horrific actions she did to you! But you have to let her go and we can work through this!"

You reached your hand out trying to grab hold of the horrified seven year old staring at you with wide, confused, and watery eyes. The man holding her hostage with a gun to her head eased up his grip on her slightly. Just as you felt her finger tips brush against yours-

-Bang-

"Noo!!" You wake up screaming, tears streaming down your face. Any case involving children has always proved to haunt you. It was sickening to see kids learn early in life what true "boogy men" look like. You catch your breath, try to stop your stomach churning, and walk to the bathroom. Where you turn the hot water on in the shower after brushing your teeth. You look in the mirror and let out a small sigh hoping, praying, the case you and your team just closed doesn't stick in your mind for too long. When you finally step into the steamy sanctuary you call your shower, you lean your head back and close your eyes. To no surprise the first thing you see is the same image playing over and over. You knew then that this one was definitely going to fester in your soul for a while.

2 months go by. The team works more cases. One after the other. Successful outcomes keeping everyone else feeling accomplished, like it is worth the nightmares on occasion. Not you. On the plane ride back, after another 'best case scenario' ending, everyone is in their unassigned signed seating. Most everyone is sleeping, best case scenario doesn't mean it was any less exhausting. Hotch is working on paperwork, go figure, and you? You are trying to focus on the sudoku puzzle in front of you, but currently there is a battle between your eyes and eye lids and your eye lids are starting to win. "Do you want to talk about it?" You hear from beside you.

Emily noticed from the start how you were feeling. Yes she's a profiler, but with her also being your best friend. It didn't take a professional to notice you were off. You never tried to necessarily hide it, but you also didn't make it anyone's responsibility to take on. Of course you know everyone cares and they do try to talk to you, but you tend to just give a small smile, nod, and quickly move on in return. Which is exactly what you did when Emily asked.

Any single person on this team would not hesitate to help whether they were sought out for advice, just a listening ear, or a shoulder to cry on. Even still knowing this, for some reason it was an impossible task for you to let someone take care of you in anyway. You always had a bad habit of pushing it all on the back burner until it inevitably boiled over when the busyness of the day quiets down and you were by yourself.

The plane finally landed, everyone getting up and getting into their respective vehicles. As you were about to unlock your SUV a hand came out of no where and snatched your keys. "You are mistaken if you think I'm about to let you drive home knowing you're past the point of exhaustion" Hotch stood with his hand on the door handle on the passenger side. Opening it before you could even begin to protest. He was right to be worried, you knew it. You knew you were dangerously sleepy and shouldn't be behind the wheel, so you crawled into the passenger seat. After buckling up and resting your head on the window you felt the car start up and pull out the parking lot. Your eye lids finally winning the ongoing war you've been waging against yourself.

There she was. A picture of the little girl, Delilah, on the board in the police station. You immediately woke up, guessing it's cause your brain knew what was coming next. "I know, you know I don't have to tell you anyone of us are here for you-" Aaron began speaking, he thought maybe if he got you alone, away from everyone, you'd be more likely to finally let your guard down. "I know, I appreciate y'all Hotch." You cut him off trying to brush by the conversation. He doesn't let you though and keeps talking like you never interrupted him, "But I also know you feel like we have our own issues to worry about and don't want to feel like you're putting more on someone's plate." He didn't take his eyes off the road while he spoke. "Hotch, look, it's okay. I'm going to be fine! Really!!" You try to argue back. Both of y'all knew it was a lie. Hotch finally glanced over at you then, just for a second at a red light. The exhaustion written all over your face made something in his chest tighten. Your eyes were glossy, your shoulders tense even though you were practically falling asleep, and he hated how familiar this looked. He'd seen agents burn themselves into the ground before. He just never expected you to be one of them. "You haven't slept," he said quietly.

"I sleep."

"You pass out from exhaustion. That's not the same thing." You let out a humorless laugh and turned your face back toward the window. Rain droplets from an earlier storm y'all weren't around to see still clung to the glass, blurring the city lights outside. "Look at you profiling me." You say in a weak, almost not there voice. "I'm serious." He says gently, his hands shift for a second, like he almost reached for your hand. "I know." That's the only two words you're able to muster up without losing control of the emotions you've been holding back. The silence that followed wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't hostile either. It was heavy. Thick with all the things neither of you seemed willing to say out loud. Hotch pulled into your apartment complex a few minutes later. You reached for the handle immediately, desperate for escape before the conversation dug any deeper.

"Y/N."

Your hand froze. He had that tone again. Calm. Controlled. The same voice he used during negotiations right before someone talked a suspect off the ledge. You sighed softly, eyes closing for a moment. "Please don't."

"Don't what?"

"Do the concerned dad lecture thing."

One side of his mouth twitched slightly at that. "I'm not lecturing you."

"Could've fooled me."

He turned the car off completely now, the engine falling silent around you both. Without it, the tension somehow became louder. "You know what I think?" he asked. You stared ahead. "I'm sure you're gonna tell me."

"I think you've convinced yourself that if you stop moving for even a second, all of this is going to crush you." That hit too close to home. You swallowed hard but forced out a shrug. "Occupational hazard." "No." His voice softened. "It's fear." You finally looked at him then. Aaron Hotchner wasn't an easy man to read. Everyone on the team knew that. He kept himself composed with almost terrifying precision, every emotion locked neatly behind professionalism and discipline. But right now? You could see it. Concern. Real concern. And somehow that made your chest ache worse. "You think I don't see it?" he continued quietly. "Every time we have a case involving kids, you stop eating. You stop sleeping. You withdraw from the team. You start carrying everything by yourself because you think that's somehow protecting everyone else." Your throat tightened. "I just..." Your voice cracked slightly, embarrassing you instantly. "I couldn't save her." The words finally left your mouth after two whole months. Hotch's expression changed immediately. Delilah. Seven years old. You still heard the gunshot every time you closed your eyes. "I know," he said gently. "No, you don't." You shook your head quickly, tears already threatening again. "I was right there. I almost had her hand, Aaron." The use of his first name made his eyes flicker slightly. "I was supposed to save her."

"You tried."

"She was a child."

His jaw tightened now, the controlled mask slipping just enough for frustration to bleed through. Not at you. At the situation. At the unfairness of it all. "Do you think the rest of us don't carry victims with us too?" he asked carefully. "I know you do."

"Then why are you holding yourself to a different standard?"

You didn't have an answer for that. Because the truth was, you did know everyone on the team carried ghosts. Rossi carried them. Emily hid hers behind sarcasm and confidence. Spencer buried himself in statistics when cases got too close. Morgan got angry. JJ got quieter. And Hotch... Hotch carried his pain so silently it almost scared you. But somehow your grief felt uglier. Weaker. Your breathing started shaking before you even realized you were crying. You immediately turned your face away, wiping furiously at your cheeks. "God, I hate this." Hotch didn't say anything for a moment. Then slowly, carefully, he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. The gesture startled you enough to look at him. His hands were warm. Steady. "You don't have to hide this from me," he said softly. The sincerity in his voice completely shattered whatever wall you had left. A broken sob escaped your throat before you could stop it. And then suddenly Aaron was moving. Unbuckling your seatbelt. Pulling you toward him.

You ended up half collapsed against his chest in the front seat of the SUV, crying harder than you had in weeks. Months, maybe. Hotch held you without hesitation, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed slow calming circles against your back. "It's okay," he murmured quietly above you. "Just let it out." You hated how desperately you clung to him. But he didn't seem to mind. Your forehead pressed against his shoulder while years worth of exhaustion, grief, guilt, and horror poured out of you all at once. The kind of crying that leaves your lungs aching afterward. Through all of it, Hotch stayed steady. Solid. Safe. And when your breathing finally started evening out, his hand still rested gently against the back of your head. "You wanna know something?" he asked quietly. You sniffled miserably. "What?"

"I think you're one of the strongest people I've ever met." You let out a wet laugh. "Clearly not." His fingers tightened slightly against your hair. "No," he said firmly. "Strong doesn't mean unaffected. It means you keep showing up despite it." Your chest tightened painfully. Because no one had ever said it like that before. You pulled back slightly just enough to look at him, suddenly hyperaware of how close the two of you were. The dim parking lot lights cast soft shadows across his face, making him look less like your unit chief and more like just... Aaron. Tired eyes. Gentle expression. A man carrying his own unbearable weight. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes so quickly you almost thought you imagined it. Almost. The air shifted. Neither of you moved. And for the first time since joining the BAU, you realized this thing between you and Aaron Hotchner might not be one-sided after all.

"You ready to go inside?" He asks with an incredible amount of gentleness in his eyes You silently nod your head and open the door. You notice Hotch get out too and you look at him confused. "You didn't think I was going to leave you alone right? Someone needs to make sure you get some sleep. Real sleep." He says sternly, but still with care. "What about Jack?" You didn't want to keep him from his son. "He's with Jess tonight, he's asleep right now and won't be awake until after I get home anyways." You don't argue with him because you thought it'd be nice to have someone around anyways, and you just literally bawled your eyes out on his shoulder, so he's already got his foot in the door right? More like tore down that first layer you worked so hard to put up around your heart. As you walk inside, Aaron follows behind you. You set your bag down and take off your shoes, he does the same and then looks at your tense, exhausted body. "Go take a shower and change. I'll lock the door and get settled on the couch."

"Aaron..." You whisper softly. "Yes?" He asks, there's that flutter in his chest again. "Please come with me...I don't...I don't wanna be alone..." You know you sound broken. Right now you don't care. And Aaron just wants you to feel safe and comfortable. He doesn't answer with words. He walks to your bedroom and opens the door to your on suite bathroom. You follow him this time and go to your closet picking out something comfortable to sleep in. He's turned your shower on and is waiting for you to walk back in his sight. "Is this warm enough?" You feel the water and it's perfect, you shake your head at him, "Can you pick a movie for us? I don't want to use any brain power." Again, no words were needed. he just nods his head, gives you a small smile, and shuts the door enough for you to be out of side and still have privacy, but wide enough where he can hear if you call his name. He sits on the edge of your bed and as he settles on a movie, his eyes drift around the room unintentionally. It was strangely intimate being here. Seeing the books stacked unevenly on your nightstand, the sweater tossed on the of your desk chair, the framed photo of you and Emily laughing at what looked like some terrible attempt at karaoke. Pieces of the real you. Not the agent that sat across from in briefing rooms, just you.

He looked through different streaming services, after seeing you don't own any movies. Then he heard the shower shut off after settling on The Office, it was in your 'Continue Watching' list and it just felt easy to watch after an exhausting day, or in your case. Two months. You slide back the curtain and slowly step onto the soft, memory foam mat under you. After taking a look in the mirror you sigh deeply, your heart still aches, but at least you had company there to keep you from being so indulged in your own thoughts. Might've been your boss, who you always felt a little more for than your other colleagues. And you knew there were some lines you just don't cross. "You okay in there?" You hear Aaron through the crack of the door. "Yeah! Yeah, I'm okay." You reply almost convincing even yourself. You slip into pajamas and walk back into the bedroom. Aaron stares for just a second too long and you feel butterflies in your chest. You lay on the bed, careful not to touch him. He noticed immediately, how you were always careful to keep your distance, the way you kept your hands folded in your lap, you were always trying to make yourself smaller or 'take up less room'. He hated you felt that way. "The couch was a real option, you know," he said softly leaning against your headboard. "No, I want the company, plus you'd pop more than bubble wrap in the morning." You try to let a small chuckle. The theme song to The Office is playing quietly in the background when you glance over at him and notice he's just as tired as you are. "You don't think I already pop more than bubble wrap?"

Finally, you let out a real laugh, it was small, but Aaron noticed it immediately. And what he wouldn't do to hear that laugh more often. You get under the blankets offering him some as you do. "I would've never thought you'd watch The Office." You say, sounding a lot more relaxed than you have in months. His lips twitch up slightly "It was in your continue watching" He says. "That sounds like profiling"

"Is it?" He says with slight confusion in his voice, "I figured that'd just be an observation skill." You start relaxing into your own mattress, still trying to not get cozy with your boss, who you have to see in the office tomorrow. "Same thing." You say back. He just lets out a small chuckled, eyes glued to the screen. Honestly thought, he wasn't paying the show any attention. He was too focused on the warmth radiating off of you next to him, just a few inches away. Your shoulder brushes over his arm has you roll over trying to get comfortable. Both of y'all notice and go still for a second. "Thank you." You say quietly. Aaron immediately looks over at you. "For what?"

"For staying." The sincerity in your voice hits him in his chest, hard. You didn't genuinely believe someone would stay with you. "You never have to thank me for that." He says with a soft expression on his face. Your throat tightens slightly. The room grows loudly quiet again, minus the tv softly playing in the background. "Do you take care of everyone like this?" You finally break the silence. Half teasing, and half genuine curiosity. Aaron lets out a sharp exhale through his nose. "Not everyone." It makes your heart stutter. He says it too calmly, like he accidentally let it slip. Then you fully meet his eyes and suddenly neither of you are pretending to watch the tv anymore. "Sometimes you make it very hard to remember you're my boss," You say quietly before you can even realize what you're saying. There is a look of surprised amusement on his face. "Trust me." He says lowly, "The feeling is mutual." Butterflies explode in your stomach. His eyes are softer than you've ever seen before. That 'unit chief' persona has completely vanished. "You know you looked terrified earlier." He says quietly. "When?" You blinked. "When you asked me to stay"

"Sorry." You can feel the embarrassment turning your cheeks cherry red. "Hey, don't do that." He says with extreme gentleness in his voice. "Don't apologize for needing someone." That sentence almost unraveled you instantly all over again. In a different way this time. You look down and start playing with the fabric of the blanket in your lap. "I'm not good at this." You admit quietly, barely above a whisper. "I noticed." He says with an indescribable look in his eyes. You laugh softly at those two words, and Aaron smiles at you, a genuine one. "You should do that more often." You mumble without even thinking about the words coming out of your mouth. "Do what?" He asks with raised eyebrows, genuinely curious as to what you're talking about. "Smile." You say plainly. The eye contact afterwards lasts a little too long, a little too warm, and a little too dangerous. Then quietly and teasingly Aaron says, "Maybe I would if you stopped glaring at me during briefings." You gasp at his words saying, "I absolutely do not glare at you!"

"You absolutely do." You stare at him for a second before dissolving into quiet laughter again, the kind that finally makes your shoulders loosen after a few months. Aaron noticed it, he was watching you carefully, and there was that feeling in his chest again, it wasn't concern or responsibility. It was something far worse. Something that had been building up for a very long time. "Aaron...I think I-" Just as you were about to accidentally let your true feelings slip out. You get a phone call from Emily. Her contact picture flashes across your screen as your picking your phone up from off your nightstand. "You should probably answer that." You quickly clear your throat and nod, trying to forget what you were about to just say. "Hey Em!" You say trying to keep your tone steady and normal. "Well?" She says immediately, like you were supposed to just know what she's calling about. "Well what?" You blinked. "Are you crying in your apartment right now? Or did Hotch actually listen to me for once?" Your eyes widened with horror while Aaron's eye brows slowly raised next you. "Oh my god, Emily!" You whisper aggressively into the phone. "What? Put me on speaker." She says, she's enjoying this way too much. "No!" You start protesting, Aaron is obviously trying to not smile. Emily then dramatically gasps on the other end of the line, "Wait! Is he there?!" You then bury your face in one hand saying, "I hate you."

"No you don't," she says proudly, "now hand the phone over to Mr. Lover Boy." Aaron let out a small laugh at that, the sound warm and quiet right next to you. Your stomach flips instantly. "Emily." You groan out. "What? The entire team has been waiting a year for something like this to happen." Aaron raises his eyebrows next to you, again. "A year?" He repeats back before you can stop him. "Oh my god, he didn't know!" Emily sounds extremely delighted about this. "Know what?" Aaron asks calmly, but you can definitely hear the amusement creeping up in his voice. You try to point the conversation away from your own personal humiliation ritual, "She thrives on chaos." But she's right there to contradict you. "I thrive on being right." Aaron glances over at you then, eyes noticeably softer now, "And what exactly is she right about?" Your entire body heats up and Emily makes a frustrated noise through the phone. "You two are profilers. Figure it out." You immediately hang up the phone. The room goes silent again. Aaron breaks that silence by laughing, and not the polite little breath he normally gives at the office. No. This one is a real laugh. You honestly think it might be your new favorite sound in the world. You stare at him helplessly. "I can not believe she just did that." "Actually," Aaron says still smiling a little bit, "I can." You groan and pull the blanket over your face in embarrassment. "I'm going to transfer departments." His hand gently catches the blanket before you can fully disappear beneath it. "Don't." The single word comes out so much softer than he expected it to. Your eyes meet his again, and suddenly the teasing atmosphere shifts back into something quieter. Aaron's fingers still lightly hold the edge of the blanket near your shoulder, neither of you moving. "What were you about to say before she called?" he asks quietly, and you can feel your heartbeat stumble over itself instantly. "I don't remember." You break the gaze first. "That's interesting." He says after a small huff of amusement. "Why do you say that?" You say with your eye brows raised. "Because I profile liars for a living." You narrow your eyes slightly. "Are you trying to say you're going to profile me in my bed?"

"Maybe." You try to fight the smile tugging at your lips and start failing miserably. Aaron watches it happen with his own expression softening even more. God, he was looking at you like you were something precious and worth treasuring. "You know," he says after a moment, "Emily's not wrong." He says quieter than he's been all night. "Aaron-" Your breath catches slightly. "I think..." he pauses for second, unusually hesitant. "I think I've been trying not to cross that line with you for a very long time." The confession settles over y'all heavily, not in a bad way, just honest. Your chest feels incredibly tight as you look up at him. "Why didn't you?" A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "You're my agent." You smile back softly at him, "And you're my boss" He looks at you in the eyes. "Exactly." The silence stretches out again. Then Aaron quietly adds "That didn't stop me from wanting to." Your stomach does backflips, and before you can overthink it, before either of you can retreat back behind professionalism and caution you slip your hand under the blanket into his hand. Aaron stills immediately. His eyes drop to where your hands are intertwined in his, then back to you. The look on his face alone nearly steals the breath out of your lungs. "I think I suddenly remembered what I was going to say..." You start out slowly and terrified. He looks at you inquisitively "Oh yeah?" You just nod your head and quietly, softly, almost whisper. "I think I might love you Aaron."

His heart does a backflip in his chest now. Before he can talk himself out of it, he pulls his hand from yours, gently cradles your jaw in his hands and pulls you in for a kiss, the kind of kiss both of you have been imagining for a while now. "Normally I would've taken you out to dinner before any of this." He says after pulling away from you. You just let out a breathless chuckle and shake your head. "We always have time for dinner." Aaron's forehead rested quietly on yours for a second. Both of you were smiling in the quietness, almost in a disbelieving way people do when something they wanted to happen for so long finally does. The Office is continuing to play quiet episodes in the background that both of y'all were never watching. "You know," you whisper softly, fingers entangled in his hair. "It's kind of embarrassing how long it took us to figure it out." Aaron huffs out a laugh, his thumb brushing across your cheek. "I've figured it out a little while ago." Your eyebrows lift immediately. "Oh really?" You question him and he lets out a faint "mhm" in response. "And you just...What? Suffered in silence?" His mouth twitched upwards. "Professionally suffered in silence" He corrects you. You burst into laughter after that, the sound making his entire expression soften again. God, he looked at you like you hung the moon. You don't think anyone has ever looked at you like that. "You're smiling again." You mumbled. "That seems to happen around you." The butterflies in your stomach get impossibly worse. Your eyes drift over his face slowly now that you're finally allowing yourself to. The tiredness around his eyes, the faint stubble on his jaw line, the softest side of him that only appears when he's with people he trusts the most. And right now, that was all directed towards you. "You know what's unfair?" You ask quietly. "What?"

With the unsub in the back of a cruiser, you close the door and turn and immediately face Hotch. He towers over you and his eyes reveal his anger. 

“I told you to wait.” 

“If I had waited, he could’ve killed her.” 

“You disobeyed orders.” His hands tightening at his sides. 

“He would’ve escalated seeing the FBI on his front lawn.” You argue. 

“We don’t know that.” 

“He could have. Were you willing to risk her life?”

You gesture to where the victim is sitting in the back of an ambulance being checked for minor injuries. Aaron simply stares at you for a long moment and the team all pretend not to watch. 

“You don’t get to decide which orders matter.” He says eventually. 

Your expression sharpens immediately, “And you don’t get to confuse control with leadership. Do you seriously not think that between us, Rossi, and Morgan we wouldn’t be able to handle him?”

You nod to where the unsub is still waiting in the back of a police car, it pulls away after a few minutes. Morgan winces when he sees Aaron’s jaw tighten. Your expression hasn’t faded, maybe even still a hint of a smile. 

“Now, let's go get a confession.” You nod, your ponytail swinging with you as you get into the passenger seat of Hotch’s SUV. He hesitates for a moment, taking a controlled breath before rounding the front of the car and getting in. 

Back at the precinct the team couldn’t help but watch the two of you interrogate the unsub. It only took twenty minutes for the two of you to completely dismantle him, a perfect balance with Aaron’s controlled pressure and you destabilizing him emotionally. Aaron cornered him and you baited him. It was so seamless, it almost looked choreographed. Rossi was thinking of the masterclass the two of you could teach if you would both survive it. 

By the end of the twenty minutes the unsub was sweating through his shirt and confessed to all of the murders. The local PD began to process the arrest and the team gathered outside under the heavy Miami evening heat. 

Morgan shook his head slowly, “I hate how good that was.” 

“I liked it.” Emily confesses and JJ shoves her lightly with a laugh. 

Reid looks genuinely fascinated, “Their communication style appears almost entirely conflict-based, yet they consistently produce effective outcomes.” 

Rossi claps him on the shoulder, “Congratulations, kid. You should’ve seen them push each other to the top of their class.” 

Aaron exited the precinct at that exact moment, you follow a few seconds later. You’re still carrying leftover adrenaline. You glance toward the team that is watching the two of you walk toward them. 

“Oh, don’t start.” You roll your eyes. 

Morgan raises both hands, “I didn’t say a word!”

“You were thinking several.”

“Definitely.” 

Aaron looks tired next to you, but the team would argue that he looks lighter than he typically does after a case. It wasn’t dramatic, he wasn’t suddenly cheerful. They could see him hiding small smiles at your quick wit all week.

Tiny moments. Dry remarks. Actual banter. 

It was because of you. 

-

The jet ride home was much quieter than the flight out. The case was closed and the adrenaline was fading. The team was pretty spread out to sleep or work quietly with the lights dimmed. Morgan nearly walked into a chair when he saw you and Aaron take the two seats facing each other toward the back of the plane. 

You sit with one leg tucked underneath you, Aaron straight in front of you reviewing paperwork. At least he was pretending to, he hadn’t turned a page in several minutes. 

“You’re staring again.” You murmur, not pulling your gaze from the window. You can see tiny lights far down below glowing, the only thing showing through the dark night sky. The occasional silhouette of a dark cloud.

He doesn’t flinch, “You still say that.”

“Apparently you still do it.” You finally turn to look at him. A faint smile is briefly tugging at the corners of his mouth. You glance down toward Aaron’s left hand resting against the file. No ring. You noticed the first day, of course you did, but this was the first time the two of you had a quiet moment long enough to address it. 

“So, you and Haley...” You simply comment, not needing to continue for him to follow. 

He doesn’t show much of a reaction, “We divorced three years ago.” 

You nod once.

“How’d you know?” He questions so you glance back down to his hand again and he catches it this time. He huffs slightly, flexing his hand out in front of himself, “Right.” 

A quiet moment follows that isn’t awkward, but careful on both ends. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He thinks for a long time before replying. 

“We wanted different things for a long time.” He keeps his voice even, “Eventually that catches up to people.” 

You nod, knowing the truth to that all too well. At one point in time you had voiced that. 

“We have a son together.” He shifts the conversation, “Jack.” 

You smile, “That’s a good name.” 

You always pictured him being a dad, it was something he knew he wanted even back then. 

“He’s seven.” Aaron lights up with the brightest smile you’ve seen since you came back. 

“That’s amazing, Aaron.” 

He looks down briefly, something warmer crossing his face. 

“He’s… everything.” 

You smile back and nod, turning to look back out the window. 

“You’d like him.” He says it before he can stop himself, your head snaps back to look at him surprised. 

“Yeah?” 

He nods, “Yeah.”

The words linger between the two of you, he shifts in his seat and eventually closes the file and simply rests it on his lap. 

“I’ve heard rumors.”

You laugh softly, “That sounds ominous.” 

“They usually are when they involve you.” 

“That’s fair.” 

You can feel his full focus on you, studying every inch of you. You take the time to do the same. He’s older, more worn down but somehow more open in the ways that matter. 

“You once talked down an armed unsub for forty-three minutes without backup.” 

You groan, “Oh god, now you sound like Emily.” 

“It’s a serious accomplishment.” 

He knew it was, he didn’t really need to tell you that. You had received several awards for it, everyone in the bureau had heard about it. 

“It sounds worse than it was.” 

“You talked down two armed suspects without backup and without any of the fifteen hostages being injured.” 

“I had backup eventually.” 

Aaron ignores that, “I also heard Strauss has tried recruiting you to this team twice before this.” 

You are surprised at this, you didn’t realize he was aware you had been offered a spot already. 

“You keepin tabs on me?” You grin. 

“No.” 

A beat. Your brows raise slightly to show you don’t believe him. 

“Not intentionally.” 

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. Aaron continues before you can tease him too much. 

“You have built an impressive career.” 

Simple words, but coming from him after all of these years? They land heavy. 

You lean back in your seat, “I worked for it.” 

“I know.” 

And he did. He knew you in the academy when you were relentless and fearless. Far too smart to stay unnoticed. He knew that you would be exceptional, the bureau just took a little longer to come to that conclusion. 

“I know you were requested by several departments. We’re lucky Strauss convinced you to come here.” He admits. 

You study him carefully. 

“Well,” You say softly, “don’t make me regret it.” 

Aaron’s answer was a small smile. Rare and real before eventually reopening the file, you turn back to the window. 

-

Ten years ago. 

The fight had started over nothing. Aaron would realize after having years to think about it, that it actually started weeks earlier and it was all his own doing. You were standing in the small kitchenette of his bureau housing apartment pouring coffee into your mug. He’s sitting at the counter with field office placement paperwork in front of him. 

“You’re seriously considering staying local with D.C?” You ask, moving to stand next to where he’s sitting. His hand slides up your bare leg and under the hem of his tee shirt. It’s doing a good job of tempting him this morning with where it hits on your thigh. 

“It’s a good office.”

“What happened to Seattle?” You ask, leaning against his side and looking over the paperwork fanning out in front of the two of you. 

“It’s still on the table. I just haven’t closed off my options.” He sighs, a deep frown settling on his face.

“Seattle and Los Angeles aren’t too far. At least it’s the same coast.” You offer a smile and run your fingers through his hair at the back of his head. Los Angeles was where you were sure you would end up. You had gotten several offers, but the LA office was capable of kickstarting your career. 

He watches you for a second too long.

“You’re gonna take it?” 

You turn slowly in his hold so you can focus on him, mug still in hand. 

“I think so." You shrug your shoulders but nod anyway.

He stiffens, his eyes darting to the paperwork and unable to meet yours. 

“Hey,” You reach out carefully, “Are you okay?” 

You know he’s tired, everyone is at this point being so close to graduating from the academy. 

“Fine.” He cooly replies. 

“Aaron.” You warn, letting him know you aren’t just letting this go. 

His jaw tightens almost immediately. 

“Haley called me.” 

He feels you still completely at his words, you fight the urge to step back out of his hold and he can tell. Your feet itching to step back and get a real look at him. He clears his throat, finally meeting your stare.

“We’ve been talking.” 

This time you do step back, his hand slipping from you. 

“Talking?” You repeat, the word tastes as bitter as it sounds. 

He sets down the paper in his hand, “We were together for years.” 

“And?” Your brows pull together, “We’ve been together for eight months.” 

He sighs, “That’s not what I meant.” 

The apartment suddenly feels too warm and too tight. You’ve spent more time here than your own place the past few months, but now you’d rather be anywhere else. He rubs a tired hand across his face. 

“Y/n-”

“What was your plan here?” Your voice is climbing in volume. 

His eyes snap back to you, looking less tired and more concerned. 

“What?”

“You graduate, we go our separate ways, and you go back to her? I was just a placeholder while you were back in school?” 

He shakes his head, “That’s not fair.” 

“Isn’t it? You just want me to disappear to California while you stay here with her."

He exhales sharply through his nose. 

“She was in my life for a long time.”

“And I’m only temporary?” Your voice finding a dangerous calm. 

He hesitates, “No.” 

It’s tiny. Barely noticeable, but both of you catch it. It was enough for you to crack. What you had been feeling for weeks but refusing to admit was coming to an ugly head. You knew that Aaron loved you, but there was a tether pulling him back toward the life he thought he was supposed to have. 

The safe life. The life he planned. 

You finally set down the cup of coffee and spin on your heels for his bedroom. His chair scrapes against the floor when he quickly stands. You race around the room picking up your clothes he had ripped off the night before. He follows, saying your name over and over trying to stop you. 

“You know what your problem is?” You pull your pants on, “You want certainty more than you want happiness.” 

He stops in the doorway, watching your every move. 

“That’s not true.” Pain flashing in his eyes. 

“It is.” You snap, the force behind it surprises both of you, “You love things you can control. Plans. Structure. Rules. Haley fits into the life you mapped out before you even knew who you really were.” 

He swallows, his jaw clenching. 

“That’s not fair to her.” 

“This isn’t about her!” You shout, still picking things up frantically. 

But it was. At least a little. 

Aaron’s voice hardens, “You don’t get to decide what she meant to me.” 

“And you don’t get to act like I’m crazy for noticing she still does.” 

Heavy breathing is the only sound in the room, Aaron looks away first which somehow hurt worse. You laugh once under your breath. 

“There it is.” 

He looks back sharply, “What?”

“You’ve already made your choice.” 

“I didn’t say that-”

“You didn’t have to.” You interrupt, trying to push past him but he doesn’t move from the doorway. His frustration at your accusations is surfacing. 

“You’re acting like this relationship meant less to me because I’m trying to think realistically about the future.” He boldly reaches out for your hand, but you dodge it. 

“No,” You shoot back immediately, “I just won’t beg someone to stay who is already halfway out the door.” 

“That’s not true.” He tries to step closer, you step back. 

He opens his mouth again, but stops. You simply stare at him, waiting. Silently begging for him to just say it. Choose something. Choose anything. But Aaron had never been impulsive with his heart. Even loving you had terrified him. 

You nod to yourself, painfully composed. 

“Enough, Aaron. Move.” 

“Y/n-”

“No, it’s okay.” You force, “I get it now.” 

Aaron’s concern sharpens, “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.” 

“No, Aaron. I think you can’t even admit to yourself exactly what this is.” 

“You think I don’t love you?”

He reaches out a hand, this time you don’t step back from it. You let his hand cup your face because you know it’ll never happen again. Even with all the anger you’re feeling, you want to soak it up one last time. Him loving you wasn’t the problem, that might be the worst part. 

“You do.” You admit softly, your voice turning cold as tears flood your vision, “But someday you’re going to wake up beside her again and wonder why it still feels like something’s missing.” 

His eyebrow twitching, jaw tightening again. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do.” You insist, “Men like you always want what they can’t have.” 

That one hits hard. His expression closes off immediately, you can practically see him putting the walls back up. His hand drops from your face.

“You’re trying to hurt me.” 

“No.” You sigh humorlessly, stepping out of his hold and backing toward the door, “I’m trying to tell you the truth.”

He shakes his head once, “You think you have everything figured out.” 

You make it to the door, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You turn around to face him one last time. 

“You wanna know what the worst part is?” Tears slowly streaming down your face. 

He doesn’t answer, but you can see the pain growing on his face. The longer you stand there, the worse he is at hiding it.

“You’re going to be a really good husband someday.” The words nearly sound cruel coming from your warm voice, “You’re going to love her and build a life, and convince yourself that it’s enough.” 

His face tightens. 

“But part of you will always wonder.” 

“Y/n-”

“I won’t spend my life being someone’s almost.” 

Pure devastation settles between the two of you. He looks like he wants to say something, fight harder and fix it. You pull on the door, and you don’t look back. Aaron doesn’t follow you, proving your point. 

You spent the remaining weeks leading up to graduation dedicating any free time toward training. You managed to secure the top of the class, ensuring you had your pick of any field office. Los Angeles was where you were headed and you had even reached out to your unit leader to see if you could start immediately. You were due to be in California in thirty-six hours. You’ll miss graduation. 

A soft knock on your doorframe has your head snapping up toward it. David Rossi has one hand raised, he leans against it once he has your attention. 

“We’re you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?”

You turn back to the box you had been taping shut before answering him. 

“I haven’t actually left yet.” 

He takes a couple steps inside and sits on the FBI issued couch. 

“You weren’t gonna stop by anyway.” 

He’s right. You were gonna leave without a word to anyone, a clean break. 

“Los Angeles will suit you well.” Rossi continues, “I know a couple people out that way. I’ll pass your them your name to keep an eye on you.” 

“You don’t need to do that.” You finally look up and meet his eyes. They are warm and it brings you a little comfort, but you can see exactly what you were hoping he would hide better. Pity. 

He shrugs, “I’ll do it anyway.” 

You keep packing, not letting him slow you at all.

“You really can’t stick around for graduation? All this work and you won’t even celebrate it?”

“Some celebration.” You mutter. 

The last place you want to be this weekend is graduation with all of the spouses and partners coming to celebrate the accomplishment. You know who else will be coming too and that’s not something you need to see. 

You can feel Rossi’s eyes on you while you continue to pack. He’s waiting patiently for you to give in. You hold off for a few minutes before the thoughts are too loud to stay in your head. 

“Aaron is getting back together with Haley.” Your voice is the softest Rossi has ever heard. It didn’t sound like you if he was honest. 

“How can you be sure?” The surprise is genuine on his face, “and if that's the case, he’s been looking pretty miserable lately.” 

“Trust me, I’m sure.” You scoff, “I could see it in his face, it was over. I could see how bad he felt about it, it was pathetic. So, he is now free to go back to her.” 

An uncomfortable shiver runs up your spine. 

“But you don’t really want that.” He comments and you let out a sigh. 

“I won’t be second pick, Rossi. And from the sound of it I won’t need to.” 

You huff again, finally giving up on packing and taking the other half of the couch. 

“I could always be like you when I grow up.” You finally crack a smile, “What are you on, marriage number three?” 

He rolls his eyes and shoves your shoulder lightly. 

“I came here out of concern and care and you insult me?”

“It’s making me feel better.”

“Fine.” 

By the time graduation day was actually here, you were not. You had already hopped on a flight and sent all of your belongings ahead as well. Aaron looked for you in the sea of people, but instead his eyes only landed on Haley… 

She insisted on coming to see him graduate, he had to bite his tongue to not remind her that this is what broke them up in the first place. She was laying it on thick, and he could tell. Haley was aware of the relationship he had with you, and it was clear that something had brought her back into his orbit. 

The day after graduation Rossi finds Aaron at the academy firing range after hours. It was clear he hadn’t been sleeping well. 

“You look terrible.” Rossi observes. 

“Thanks.” He pulls off his ear protection and reloads his gun. 

Rossi leans against the divider next to them, “Y/LN is in Los Angeles, she left early.” 

Aaron freezes briefly before resuming. He wasn't expecting Rossi to tell him where you were. He knew it was likely where you would end up, he just had no idea you were going to leave before graduation. Part of him was looking forward to seeing you one last time, even if it was likely that you would be shooting him daggers.

“You know for someone so smart, you handled this remarkably poorly.” 

Aaron lets out a humorless laugh. 

“Noted.” 

Rossi leans in closer, “She was giving you such an aggressive cold shoulder the other instructors were talking about it. They’re placing bets on what finally did it. The two of you almost made it to graduation. That would’ve been a bureau record.”

Aaron looks down briefly, shame written on his face. He’s right, you had turned into ice around him. You were still professional, but nothing more. You had cut the emotional wire clean through, and that hurt him more than the break up itself. You channeled all of your energy into your work, and secured the top rank for yourself. He was honestly proud, but he could never tell you that. You wouldn't want to hear it.

“She thinks you’re going back to Haley.” Rossi says eventually. 

Aaron doesn’t answer right away, which was answer enough. 

Rossi sighs softly, “Jesus, Aaron.” 

“I loved Haley for a long time.” Aaron finally speaks. 

“And now?”

Aaron simply swallows, because the truth was awful. He loved you too. Differently than Haley. It was enough that losing you felt like something had been ripped out of him in real time. Rossi watched the realization hit him all over again. 

“You really screwed this one up, huh?” 

Aaron stared ahead toward the target on the opposite wall because, yeah. He really had screwed it up.

AN// Thank you everyone for your patience with this! It took me so long to update because I was doing some rough framework for the entire series! i can't wait for what i have planned, and you can also expect the next part this weekend (if not sooner)! also, please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist :)

TAGLIST:

To be honest, you are not sure why you are here - here, of all places, in a bar thick with low murmurs and the clink of glass.

Tomorrow is your first day with the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI. A fresh start. A career people would kill for. And yet tonight, instead of preparing or sleeping or doing anything remotely sensible, you’re sitting beneath warm amber light with a drink in your hand.

Maybe it’s nerves. Maybe it’s the uncertainty curling in your stomach every time you think about tomorrow. Maybe you just needed one last night of being no one important yet.

At least you chose well.

The bar has the kind of charm that can’t be fabricated. Age settled into the dark wood panels and worn floorboards, into the brass fixtures dulled by time, into every nick and scratch left behind by years of strangers passing through. It feels lived in, familiar, like a place that has seen a thousand stories and kept every one of them.

The lighting is low and golden, casting everything in softness. It catches on framed photographs lining the walls, on polished bottles behind the counter, on the edges of glasses raised in quiet toasts.

And the varied crowd reflects just that. A few play darts with quiet intensity, while others linger at the bar, absorbed in conversation that hums rather than roars.

Behind the counter, the bartender moves, pouring drinks with careful precision. Ice knocks softly against glass, laughter rises and fades, and the room vibrates with the easy comfort of a place suspended somewhere between celebration and escape.

A quiet sigh slips from your lips as you study the depths of your glass, where the scotch rests in a pool of amber fire, gathering and releasing the low light of the room. It was a good choice. It’s something warm, expensive enough to feel indulgent, strong enough to quiet the edges of your thoughts.

The tumbler sits heavy in your hand, its weight oddly reassuring, as though anchoring you in the sea of uncertainty that you’re afloat in.

When you tilt the glass, the liquid clings for a moment to the crystal walls before slipping downwards in thin golden rivulets. You watch them with more attention than they deserve, grateful for the distraction, however brief, from the shape of tomorrow waiting just beyond midnight.

“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be here alone.”

The voice arrives like a stone through still water, disturbing the fragile calm you had so carefully constructed around yourself.

You lift your gaze to find a man standing beside you, perhaps near your own age. His eyes are a washed and uncertain blue, curious in a manner that feels less charming than practised. Angular features are softened by an uneven stubble, and brown hair falls untidily to his ears. 

He is not unattractive…only uninteresting. Too young, too eager, and possessed of that particular energy, you have no patience to entertain tonight.

You offer him the kind of smile civility demands and nothing more.

“Sometimes being alone is rather nice,” you reply evenly. “Besides, I’m not alone.”

Demonstratively, you lift your glass a bit - the whiskey is your company.

He grins, entirely untroubled by your refusal, “Fair enough. Mind if I join you? The night’s still young, and good company is hard to find.”

For a moment, you let the silence linger between you, hoping it might accomplish what politeness had not.

“I appreciate the offer,” you say at last, measured and clear, “but I was rather enjoying some time to myself.”

You hate men who just don’t get it. How broad should the hint be, you ask yourself.

His expression does not so much as flicker. With the confidence of a man long accustomed to mistaking persistence for charm, he draws the empty stool beside you and settles onto it as though invited.

“No harm in a little company, is there? Name’s Sean, by the way.”

You give your own name with a restrained inclination of the head, the sort of courtesy you extend to strangers and endures.

“Nice to meet you, Sean.”

It is, in fact, not.

Jesus, you’re not in the mood to deal with someone like him today. 

Sean continues on, filling the air with the easy, thoughtless chatter of someone entirely content to occupy more space than he has been given. You scarcely hear the words. Your attention has already turned elsewhere, your gaze moving over the room in quiet calculation, searching the dim corners and crowded tables for some means of escape from the tedious siege of unwanted conversation.

And then you see him. Dark, serious, and older.

He takes a seat at the counter with the quiet assurance of a man who never needs to announce himself. One hand settles around a glass of amber liquor, the other resting loose beside it, every movement economical, precise. There is nothing ostentatious about him, and yet the room seems to bend, almost imperceptibly, around his presence. He is magnetic, drawing you in and captivating you. 

Dark eyes, brown, you think, though the light keeps their true colour half-concealed, view the room from beneath a stern, thoughtful brow. There is intelligence there, sharp and watchful, the kind that misses very little and forgives even less. 

His hair is black, neatly kept, touched by the faintest suggestion of silver at the temples. It frames a face cut in decisive lines: strong jaw, straight nose, a mouth made severe by habit rather than nature.

His dress shirt is charcoal, sleeves rolled once at the forearm, collar open just enough to suggest the night has coaxed some small concession from discipline. Broad shoulders strain the fabric in a way almost indecently distracting. Everything about him speaks of control - careful, practised, absolute.

He is all sharp lines and silent strength. 

His gaze rests now on you and Sean with calm, unblinking attention. Not intrusive. Not idle. Merely observant. But there is a flicker in those unreadable eyes. Interest, perhaps, or disapproval, or the private consideration of a man already deciding what to do next.

You decide to use a subtle diversion tactic, seizing the opportunity, offering Sean a polite smile, “I appreciate the conversation, Sean, but I’ve just spotted someone I need to catch up with. Perhaps another time?”

Before Sean can gather himself enough to object, you slip from the stool, leaving him in a brief and well-earned silence.

You cross the short distance to the stranger and offer him a small smile.

“Mind if I join you?” The mysterious stranger glances towards the empty stool beside him and gestures to it with a quiet inclination of his hand.

As you settle onto the chair your initial impression is confirmed: He is, indeed, remarkably handsome. 

The dark dress shirt fits almost too well, stretching lightly across broad shoulders. 

Your gaze lingers on his hands; large, capable hands. The fingers are long and precise, the nails neatly kept, each detail suggesting a man who values order, control, and competence. Yet there is nothing delicate about them. They look built for command.

Your eyes trail upwards, and you can’t help but notice the soft shadow that graces his cheeks and chin. You wonder whether you would feel the gentle prickle of stubble if your fingers were to trace the contours of his face? 

And then there are his eyes.

Exactly as you suspected: dark brown, deep-set and observant. Yet up close, they are warmer than expected, touched by an intelligence that feels almost tangible. They hold yours with calm steadiness, and in their depths a warmth that draws you in.

You’re interrupted when Sean returns a moment later, his expression sharpened by annoyance, as though your leaving had been less a choice than a personal affront. 

“It’s not very nice to just walk away, you know,” he remarks, his tone laced with irritation. A cringe creeps over you at the edge in his voice, but before you can respond, the man beside you speaks first. 

“Walk away, Sean.”

His voice is deep and level, not raised in the slightest, yet it cuts cleanly through the room and through Sean’s indignation with equal ease.

Sean lets out a humourless laugh. “Oh, fuck off, Aaron. Stay out of it. I wasn’t talking to you.” 

Wait, they know each other?  They seem so different: Sean all noise and entitlement, this man all restraint and consequence.

Aaron.

The name suits him. You turn it over once in your mind and find you like the sound of it far too much. 

Sean, determined to prove himself a fool in every possible manner, places a hand upon your shoulder as though to reclaim the conversation. Irritation flares hot and immediate. You knock his hand away without hesitation. 

Before he can speak again, Aaron repeats himself.

“Walk away, Sean.”

This time, the words arrive colder. A warning stripped to its essentials. His expression scarcely changes, yet the faint furrow between his brows deepens, and the air about him seems suddenly sharper, charged by something carefully leashed.

Sean scoffs, though less convincingly than before.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Aaron? She doesn’t need you fighting her battles.”

Aaron turns his gaze fully upon him then, and it is remarkable how much force can exist in stillness.

“She doesn’t need anyone harassing her either.” He pauses only a beat. “Walk away.”

Aaron’s words, a silent warning, hang in the air. 

You feel both discomfort and an undeniable relief, as though someone has finally spoken aloud what should have been obvious from the start.

“I’m not taking orders from you,” Sean says, but the bravado has thinned. Uncertainty frays the edges of his voice.

Aaron’s reply is calm, almost courteous, which somehow makes it more threatening.

“You should. It would be in your best interest.”

Silence stretches between them. Then, with the sulky resentment of a man who knows he has lost but cannot bear to admit it, Sean steps back.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

He casts you one final bitter glance before disappearing into the shifting dimness of the bar.

Aaron’s gaze turns back to you once Sean has vanished into the crowd, and with the shift comes a subtle but unmistakable change. The severity that had sharpened his features moments ago eases; the hard line of his mouth softens, the tension at his brow loosens. It is as though some private switch has been thrown; the man who had stood like a blade now becoming something quieter, steadier.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

The question is simple, but there is nothing careless in it. His attention settles on you fully, deliberate and searching, as though he intends to make certain of the answer rather than merely hear it.

You nod, still feeling the remnants of adrenaline fluttering beneath your ribs.

“Yes,” you say, then with greater sincerity, “Thanks to you.”

For a moment, he only inclines his head, accepting the gratitude without ceremony.

“No problem.” His glance flicks briefly towards the direction Sean disappeared. “Some people require a clearer message.” A pause, almost dryly amused. “My brother especially.”

You blink. “Your brother?”

Something like resignation passes over his face before he sighs, “Unfortunately, yes. Younger brother.”

The revelation rearranges the scene in your mind: The hostility, the familiarity, the confidence with which he had intervened. 

“Well,” you say slowly, “family dynamics can be... complicated.”

A low sound escapes him, half breath, half laugh. He leans back against the counter then, one elbow resting on the polished wood, glass turning idly between long fingers.

“Complicated is one word for it,” he says. “Sean has a talent for finding trouble wherever he goes.” His eyes lift to yours. “And  I have a talent for getting him out of it.”

You laugh despite yourself, the image too fitting not to.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

The answer comes at once, dry and honest enough to surprise another laugh from you. A faint smile touches his mouth in response, brief as light on water.

“But I’d rather not spend the evening discussing my family’s flaws.” He tilts his head slightly, studying you now with that same measured attentiveness. “What brings you here tonight?”

The question turns the light back onto you, and under his gaze, you find yourself answering more openly than you intended. You tell him about tomorrow: Your first day at your new job, the weight of beginnings and expectations pressing against your thoughts. You speak of wanting one quiet evening before life becomes something faster, louder, and more demanding.

Aaron listens without interruption. His eyes remain on you, dark and steady, reflecting understanding without pity, interest without intrusion. 

When you finish, he glances around the room - the clatter of glasses, the murmuring crowd, the dartboard thudding softly in the distance.

“Well,” he says at last, voice touched with dry humour, “you chose an interesting space for peace and quiet.”

You laugh aloud, genuinely this time, and the sound appears to please him more than he lets on.

Then he smiles.

It changes him.

Until now, you had admired the stern architecture. But a smile dismantles all of it in an instant. Warmth spills suddenly through features once guarded. The lines of tension vanish from his brow; his eyes brighten, revealing a softness you would not have thought possible in them.

There are dimples, faint but unmistakable, appearing at the corners of a mouth that seems built more for command than delight. They lend him an almost dangerous charm, because they humanise what was already striking.

You stare a moment longer than politeness allows.

He notices, surely. A man like this notices everything. Yet he says nothing. And somewhere, with startling clarity, a thought forms.

You want to see that smile again.

Even want to be the cause of it. You want to peel back every careful layer of restraint he wears so elegantly and discover what lies beneath the discipline, beneath the severity, beneath the immaculate control.

All in all you want, quite suddenly and quite seriously, to be the making of his undoing.

You chat a little longer, conversation flowing with surprising ease over the slow passage of drinks and borrowed glances. There is something effortless in it now, the earlier reserve worn away until words pass between you as naturally as breath. 

After a while, you excuse yourself to the restroom.

As you slip from the stool, your phone happens to fall from your hand, striking the floor with a sharp little sound. You bend to retrieve it, slowly, deliberately, so that the hem of your skirt rises just enough to flash more of your thigh and ass than appropriate. You linger there longer than necessary, arching your back a touch more. 

From above comes the low, rough sound of a man losing patience with restraint. 

You glance back only briefly, catching the dark heat in Aaron’s eyes, and give your hips the faintest sway as you straighten. Then, with a look of playful innocence that fools neither of you, you turn and make your way towards the corridor. 

Footsteps follow behind you - swift, purposeful, leaving no doubt as to their owner. Then strong hands find your waist, firm and certain, turning you in one smooth motion until your back meets the wall and Aaron stands before you.

He is close enough now to feel rather than simply see. The breadth of him blocks the narrow hall, his body a wall of warmth and solid strength, every line of him commanding space with effortless authority. His chest rises beneath the dark fabric of his shirt, close enough that you feel the heat of it through your own clothes. His thighs, thick and unyielding, bracket yours, making escape impossible even if you wanted it.

His eyes hold yours, dark and intent, searching your face for something deeper than permission.

“I’ll stop,” he says quietly, voice lowered to a gravelled murmur, his breath warm on your lips, “if you don’t want this.”

But you just smile, tilting your head up in invitation. 

It is all he needs.

He crashes his mouth to yours, hard and demanding, his full lips claiming you with a force that steals your breath. His tongue pushes past your teeth, stroking deep, tasting you like he’s starved. 

One massive hand cups the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair to angle you just right, while the other slides down to grip your hip, pulling your body flush against his.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, tracing the broad expanse, and he responds by pressing his hips forward, letting you feel how hard he’s getting. His hand dips lower, cupping your ass and lifting you slightly against the wall, his thigh wedging more between your legs to rub against your aching pussy. 

The friction makes you moan into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, kissing you like he never wants to stop, his stoic mask shattered by the raw need in his eyes.

You tease him by grinding your hips forward, feeling the thick length of his cock strain harder against his jeans, rubbing right along your thigh. He groans low into the kiss, his big hand squeezing your ass tighter, fingers digging in to pull you closer, while his other palm slides up to cup your breast fully, thumb circling your nipple through the thin fabric until it peaks stiff and sensitive.

He breaks the kiss just enough to nip at your jaw, whispering hot against your skin, “You like that, don’t you? Getting all worked up in a hallway where anyone could walk by.” 

You whimper in response when he captures your lips once more. His touch turns bolder, hand slipping under your skirt to trace the edge of your panties, fingertips brushing your damp pussy, making you whine and buck against him.

But then it hits you- the distant hum of voices from the bar, the risk of someone rounding the corner. You’re in public, exposed in this dimly lit hallway of a busy bar, and the thrill mixes with a sharp jolt of reality. You pull back, breathless, your lips swollen and tingling from his assault. 

“Not here,” you murmur, eyes locking on his darkened gaze. You’re almost surprised how strongly you’re reacting to him, but can’t find it in yourself to care, so the next words tumble our breathlessly, “My place.”

For a moment, he says nothing. Then Aaron gives a single nod, sharp and decisive. Desire has coloured the stern planes of his face, though discipline still holds him in check by sheer force of habit. A fleeting smile touches his mouth, rare enough to feel like a private reward, before he reaches to smooth the hem of your skirt back into place with a touch that is both practical and unmistakably possessive.

He grabs your hand, enveloping it completely and leads you back through the crowd. 

When you near the counter to settle your tab, Sean notices at once.

He is leaning against the bar with the sullen posture of a man still nursing his humiliation, and the sight of you beside Aaron sharpens something ugly in his expression.

“Well, look at that,” he drawls. “Guess playing hero worked out for you after all.”

A few nearby heads turn, sensing conflict with the vulgar instinct of crowds everywhere.

Aaron does not so much as glance at him at first. He sets payment on the bar, calm and precise, as though Sean were no more than background noise. Yet the line of his jaw tightens.

Sean mistakes silence for permission once again.

“What was it this time, huh?” he continues, bitterness creeping into each word. “Flash the badge, give the big speech, scare everyone into line?”

Aaron turns then. Slowly.

“You’ve embarrassed yourself enough for one night,” he says, voice low and controlled. “Don’t continue.”

Sean scoffs, but there is uncertainty beneath it now. “You always think you know best.”

“No,” Aaron replies evenly. “I usually just happen to be right.”

You cannot help the small laugh that escapes you. Sean hears it, flushes, and glares.

Aaron merely offers him one final look. Cold, steady, final enough to end the matter without another word. Then he takes your hand again and guides you toward the door.

Outside, the night air cools your heated skin as you hail a cab. It pulls up quickly, and you both slide into the back seat, Aaron’s massive frame taking up half the space, his arm immediately draping around your shoulders to tug you close. 

The driver glances in the rearview, muttering about the address as you rattle it off, but you barely register. The second the cab lurches forward, Aaron’s mouth is on yours again, kissing you fierce and unyielding, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with yours.

You tease him relentlessly, straddling his lap despite the cramped space, your skirt bunching up as you rock against the hard bulge tenting his jeans. His hands grip your hips, guiding your movements, while you suck on his lower lip, then trail bites down his neck, feeling his pulse thunder under your teeth. 

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” he rasps, voice rough, one hand shoving up your top to palm your bare breast, pinching the nipple until you gasp.

You grind down harder, the friction against your soaked pussy making you slicker through your panties, and he thrusts up to meet you, the cab’s motion adding to the rhythm.

The driver clears his throat loudly, eyes flicking to the mirror with clear irritation. “Hey, folks, keep it PG back there! This ain’t a motel on wheels.” 

But you ignore him, moaning softly as Aaron’s fingers dip between your legs, rubbing your clit in firm circles over the fabric. He kisses you deeper, swallowing your sounds, his free hand fisting your hair to tilt your head back for better access. 

The cab swerves a bit, driver’s dismay obvious in his grumbled curses, but neither of you cares, lost in the building heat, Aaron’s cock throbbing insistently against you as the city lights blur past.

It screeches to a halt outside your building, the driver’s final grumble fading as the door swings open. Aaron’s hand is already fumbling for his wallet, tossing bills onto the front seat without breaking eye contact with you. His gaze is dark and predatory, promising everything you’ve been building toward. 

“Keep the change,” he mutters to the driver, who shakes his head in disbelief but doesn’t say anything anymore.

Before you can slide out on your own, Aaron’s grip clamps around your wrist, strong fingers wrapping like a vice as he hauls you from the back seat. He almost drags you across the sidewalk, your heels scraping the pavement, his other arm snaking around your waist to steady you or maybe just to claim you outright. 

The cool night breeze does nothing to temper the fire raging between you; your thighs are slick with arousal, panties soaked from the ride, and his cock presses insistently against your hip as he pulls you close to his side. 

“Inside. Now,” he growls low, voice gravelly with restraint barely holding. You don’t even register the cab driving off with screeching tyres. 

You fumble with your keys at the front door, fingers trembling from the adrenaline and his proximity. His massive frame looming behind you, chest brushing your back, one hand splayed possessively over your stomach while the other cages you against the doorframe. 

He teases you mercilessly, lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “Look at you, shaking already. Bet that pussy’s dripping for me, isn’t it? Been thinking about how tight you’ll feel clenching around my cock since that hallway.” 

His free hand dips lower, thumb pressing just above your cunt through your skirt, circling slow and firm enough to make your knees buckle. You gasp, keys jingling as you finally slot the right one in, twisting the lock with a click that echoes like permission.

The door swings open, and you barely cross the threshold before Aaron kicks it shut behind you, the sound sharp and final. He spins you around in one fluid motion, his shoulders blocking out the dim hallway light as he shoves you back against the door. 

Solid wood meets your spine with a thud. His body crashes into yours, pinning you there, those muscular arms bracketing your head, biceps flexing under his shirt sleeves. Up close, his stoic mask is shattered; sweat beads along his jaw, dimples flashing in a wicked half-smile as his hips grind forward, letting you feel every inch of his thick erection straining against his zipper, right up against your belly

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this since you bent over in that skirt,” he rasps, voice dropping to a dangerous timbre, his breath hot on your neck as he nuzzles in, teeth scraping your pulse point. 

One hand fists your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat, while the other yanks your top up in a rough tug, exposing your tits to the cool air. His mouth descends immediately, latching onto one nipple, sucking hard and wet, tongue flicking the peak until it throbs. 

You arch into him, moaning, but he doesn’t let up. His free hand shoves your skirt higher, fingers hooking into your panties teasingly.

He straightens just enough to meet your eyes, his own burning with raw intent, that captivating smile twisting into something feral. 

“I’m gonna take you apart, piece by fucking piece,” he promises, voice thick and commanding, his thumb tracing your lower lip before pushing inside your mouth for you to suck. 

His hand slides between your thighs now, two fingers plunging into your slick cunt without warning, curling to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. He pumps them slowly and deliberately, thumb grinding your clit, while his mouth claims yours in a bruising kiss, tongue fucking in rhythm.

“You’ll cum on my fingers first, then my mouth, then my dick…over and over until your voice is hoarse and your body’s shaking. I won’t stop until you’re ruined for anyone else, dripping with my cum, marked everywhere.” 

He adds a third finger, stretching you wider, his palm slapping lightly against your pussy with each thrust, the wet sounds filling the entryway. His cock twitches against you, desperate for release, but he holds back, eyes locked on yours, watching every gasp and shudder as he edges you closer. “Say it. Tell me you want it. Want me to fuck you senseless right now…”

Your moans spill out uncontrollably, body arching into his touch as his fingers drive you wild, that relentless rhythm building the pressure inside you until you’re teetering on the edge. But his words hang there, demanding a response, and in the haze of pleasure, you can’t form the words fast enough. Just more whimpers, your lips parting around his thumb earlier, now gasping against his mouth.

He pulls his fingers free with a slick pop, the sudden emptiness making you whine in protest. Before you can catch your breath, his hand comes down in a sharp, light slap against your soaked pussy, the sting sending a jolt straight to your core. 

You yelp, thighs clenching, but it only makes you wetter, heat flooding your cheeks as his eyes darken with approval. “Already speechless, huh?” he growls, voice low and mocking, his free hand gripping your jaw to force your gaze to his. “That’s fine for now, but listen up: When I ask you something, you answer. Clear and quick, or I’ll make you wait even longer for what you need. Understand?”

You nod frantically, biting your lip, the lesson sinking in amid the throbbing ache between your legs. He smirks, satisfied, and without another word, he yanks you away from the door by your wrist, his grip iron-tight as he drags you down the hall. 

He doesn’t hesitate, kicking open the first door he finds. Your bedroom, like he already knows the layout of your life, and hauls you inside, slamming it shut behind him.

The room spins for a second before his mouth crashes back onto yours, rough and demanding, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he backs you towards the bed. His tongue invades, while his hands roam possessively, squeezing your ass, pinning your arms when you reach for him. He’s in complete control, growling into the kiss when you try to touch him too freely, batting your hands away. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs against your lips, voice gravelly. “This is about you learning to take what I give.”

He breaks the kiss just long enough to shove you down onto the mattress, your body bouncing once before he follows, caging you beneath his weight. His hands are everywhere now, rough and impatient as he tears at your clothes. Yanking your top over your head in one swift motion. He doesn’t waste time, palming one roughly while his mouth descends on the other, sucking hard enough to make you cry out. 

“Fuck, these tits are mine now,” he rasps, biting down just enough to leave a faint mark, his tongue soothing the sting before he switches sides. “Gonna suck bruises into them, bite you until everyone knows you belong to me.”

Your skirt gets hiked up and ripped away next, his fingers hooking into the fabric and tearing it with a sharp rip that echoes in the room. He doesn’t bother with finesse, shoving your panties aside before stripping them off completely, leaving you exposed under his hungry stare. 

“Look at you, all spread out and dripping for me,” he says, voice thick with lust as he kneels between your thighs, forcing your legs wider with his knees. His hands grip your hips, thumbs digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. “I’m gonna mark every inch. Hickeys on your neck, handprints on this ass, my cum leaking out of your pussy so you feel me for days.”

He leans down, capturing your mouth again in a bruising kiss, his cock, still confined in his pants, grinding against your thigh, hard and insistent. You buck up instinctively, but he pins you harder, breaking away to trail bites down your neck, sucking dark spots into the sensitive skin. 

“Say it now,” he demands between nips, his hand sliding up to wrap around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a reminder of his dominance. “Tell me you want me to mark you, to fuck you until you’re covered in me.”

“Yes, Aaron, mark me, fuck me…please, make me yours,” you gasp out, your voice trembling with raw need as his hand tightens just enough around your throat, his eyes burning into yours with that feral intensity.

A low growl rumbles from his chest, satisfaction flashing across his face. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, releasing your throat to shove himself up from the bed. 

He stands there for a moment, towering over you, his shirt already half-unbuttoned from the frenzy at the door. With quick, impatient yanks, he strips it off, revealing his body. Lean and powerful, the kind of trained dad bod that’s all honed muscle under a layer of soft give, his arms thick and corded from years of lifting and holding control. His chest rises and falls heavily, a light sheen of sweat already glistening on his skin. 

He kicks off his boots, then shoves his jeans and boxers down in one rough motion, his cock springing free. Hard and thick, veins bulging along its length, the head already slick with pre-cum.

You can’t tear your eyes away, your breath hitching at the sight of him, so ready to claim you. He steps closer, grabbing his discarded belt from the floor with a deliberate snap that makes you flinch in anticipation. 

“Hands up,” he orders, his voice like gravel. You obey instantly, lifting your arms towards the headboard, wrists together. He loops the belt around them, threading it through the sturdy wooden post and pulling it tight. Not enough to cut circulation, but firm, unyielding, pinning you in place. 

The leather bites into your skin just right, a constant reminder that you’re his to use, spread out and helpless on the bed.

“There,” he says, testing the bind with a tug that jerks your arms higher. “Now you take every fucking inch of what I give you. No escaping, no hiding.” 

He climbs back onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs, his strong hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. His cock brushes against your inner thigh, hot and heavy, but he doesn’t enter you yet. Instead, he slides one hand down, his fingers finding your soaked pussy without hesitation.

He pushes two fingers inside you roughly, no teasing warmup, just a deep thrust that stretches your walls and hits that spot that makes your back arch. 

“Fuck, you’re dripping for me,” he grunts, curling his fingers to drag against your inner walls, pumping in and out with a brutal rhythm. His thumb circles your clit, pressing hard, building the pressure fast and relentlessly. 

You moan, your bound hands straining against the belt as pleasure coils tight in you. He watches your face, his expression dark and focused, adding a third finger to scissor inside you, stretching you wider, his pace unyielding.

But just as the edge rushes up, your body tensing and breaths coming in sharp pants, he pulls his fingers out completely, leaving you clenching around nothing. 

“Not yet,” he says, smirking at your whine of protest. 

He slaps your pussy lightly once again, the sting sending a jolt through you, mixing pain with the ache of denial. Then he’s back in, fingers plunging deeper, faster, his free hand pinning your thigh down to keep you from bucking too wildly. He edges you again and again. Thrusting hard until you’re right there, sobbing with need, then withdrawing, spanking your slick cunt to heighten the torment.

“Please, Aaron,” you beg finally, your voice breaking as he works you towards that peak once more, his fingers relentless inside you. “I need to cum…please, let me cum on your fingers. I’ll be good, I swear, just... fuck, please!” The words tumble out desperate and raw, your hips grinding against his hand.

He chuckles darkly, leaning down to bite at your collarbone. “Cum for me, then. Soak my hand like the needy slut you are.”  His fingers slam home one last time, thumb grinding your clit, and the orgasm crashes over you. Your pussy clamps down hard around him, waves of heat pulsing through you as you cry out, body shaking against the restraints

As the aftershocks ripple, he doesn’t let up. 

Instead, he yanks his fingers free and brings his hand down in a sharp spank right on your throbbing cunt. The slap echoes, fresh sting blooming across your sensitive skin, making you yelp and twitch. 

“That’s for making such a mess,” he says, his voice laced with approval, already positioning himself closer, his thick cock nudging at your entrance. “But we’re just getting started.”

He drags the thick head of his dick along your slick pussy, pressing just inside your entrance before pulling back out, repeating the torment a few more times. Each shallow thrust leaves you aching, your hips bucking up desperately to chase the fullness you crave. A pathetic whimper escapes your lips, your bound hands straining against the belt looped around the bedposts.

Aaron tsks, his dark eyes gleaming with wicked amusement as he withdraws completely, his cock bobbing heavy and glistening with your arousal. “Not desperate enough yet, huh? I can see it in those pretty eyes…you need to beg like the filthy little whore you are before I’ll fuck this greedy pussy.”

He shifts up your body, his rough palms cupping your breasts, thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples before pinching them hard enough to make you gasp. He leans in, sucking one into his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive bud while his stubble scrapes against your skin, sending sharp tingles racing down your spine. His other hand kneads your flesh roughly, twisting and tugging until your back arches off the bed.

“Remember what I promised?” he murmurs against your tit, his hot breath fanning over the wet skin. “An orgasm with my mouth. Time to deliver.” 

He releases your nipple with a pop and trails his lips downwards, nipping at your ribs, your stomach, until he settles between your spread thighs. His strong hands grip your hips, pinning you in place as his mouth descends on your soaked pussy. 

His tongue lashes out flat and broad, lapping up your juices in long, firm strokes that make your clit throb. He doesn’t hold back. Sucking it into his mouth, nibbling the swollen lips with just enough edge to sting, his stubble rasping against your inner thighs and the tender skin around your cunt like coarse sandpaper, heightening every sensation.

You moan, the roughness of his face grinding into you as he devours your pussy, his tongue plunging deep to fuck you with wet, insistent thrusts. 

“You taste like sin,” he growls against your flesh, the vibrations humming through your core. “Dripping all over my face…such a perfect, needy hole for me to ruin.” He slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot again, pumping in and out with brutal precision while his mouth seals over your clit, sucking hard.

The pressure builds fast, your body coiling tight as his fingers stretch and stroke your walls. You’re teetering on the edge when he presses his thumb against your asshole, circling the tight ring before pushing in knuckle-deep. 

The sudden intrusion overwhelms you. Fullness in both holes, his stubble scraping, tongue flicking relentlessly. “Come on, cum for me now,” he demands, voice muffled but commanding. “Milk my fingers with that tight ass and pussy. Show me how much you love being my dirty fucktoy.”

It hits you like a freight train, somehow more intense than the first. Your orgasm rips through, pussy clenching around his fingers, ass fluttering against his thumb as waves of ecstasy crash over you. You scream, body convulsing, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity, every nerve alight as you gush against his mouth. He doesn’t stop, lapping up your release greedily, drawing out the shudders until you’re a trembling mess.

Finally, he pulls back, lips shiny with your cum, a smug grin splitting his face. “That’s my girl. So fucking responsive. But don’t think we’re done. Your ass is next, and I’m gonna make you scream even louder.”

Your body is still quaking from the orgasm, every muscle twitching uncontrollably as overstimulation sets in, your nerves raw and firing on edge. 

Aaron’s fingers remain buried deep in your pussy, and he starts scissoring them wide, stretching your slick walls with deliberate, ruthless pulls and twists that make your hips jerk involuntarily. At the same time, his thumb rotates inside your ass, circling the tight ring with firm pressure, grinding against the sensitive inner walls and sending jolts of electric pleasure-pain shooting up your spine.

You thrash against the belt that’s binding your wrists to the bedposts, the leather biting into your skin as you yank desperately, your back arching off the mattress in a futile bid to escape the overwhelming sensations. 

Whimpers spill from your lips. High-pitched, broken sounds that mix with your shaking breaths. Your thighs are trembling around his hand, pussy is fluttering erratically around his invading fingers.

“Look at you, thrashing like a wild thing,” Aaron growls, his voice low and gravelly, eyes locked on your face as he watches every twitch and gasp. “Already overstimulated and shaking like a leaf, but your holes are sucking me in deeper. You love this, don’t you? Having both your pussy and ass filled up, clenching so greedily around my fingers and thumb,” He scissors harder, spreading you open wider, the wet squelch of your arousal filling the room, while his thumb twists deeper into your ass, rotating with unyielding insistence.

You whimper louder, tears streaking down your cheeks from the intensity, your body a live wire of too much, too soon. But he shows no mercy, his free hand pinning your hip down to keep you from bucking away. 

“Oh no, baby, I’m not done with you yet. Not by a long shot. You’re gonna take everything I give until you’re begging for my cock in every hole. See how your body’s betraying you? Fuck, it’s a shame I don’t have two cocks to pound this pussy and ass at the same time…stretch you out proper, make you scream until you can’t think straight. But don’t worry, I’ll fill you up anyway. Gonna wreck you with what I’ve got until you’re ruined for anyone else.”

Aaron’s eyes gleam with wicked intent as he pauses his relentless assault on your holes, his gaze flicking towards the bedside table. On a hunch, he reaches over and yanks open the drawer, rummaging briefly until his fingers close around the smooth length of your vibrator. He pulls it out, holding it up with a slow, predatory smile curling his lips, the toy’s silicone shaft glinting under the dim bedroom light.

He withdraws his fingers from your pussy and thumb from your ass in one slick motion, the sudden emptiness making your holes flutter desperately, clenching around nothing as a fresh wave of need cramps through your core. A soft whimper escapes your throat, your body still trembling from the overstimulation, hips twitching in protest at the loss.

He wraps his hand around the vibrator’s base, stroking it slowly from tip to hilt as if it were his own throbbing cock, the motion deliberate and teasing. His real dick twitches visibly against his thigh, hardening further at the sight, pre-cum beading at the slit as he watches you squirm.

“Open your mouth, slut,” he commands, his voice rough and unyielding, leaning in close enough that his stubble scrapes your cheek. “Get this ready for your greedy little cunt. I want it dripping before I fuck you with it.’

You part your lips obediently, and he pushes the vibrator past them, sliding the thick head over your tongue and deep into your mouth. You whimper around the intrusion, the silicone filling your mouth with its unyielding girth, your saliva coating it as he rocks it gently in and out. 

All the while, his free hand roams your body. Fingers tracing your hardened nipples, pinching them sharply to draw out more muffled cries, then dipping lower to stroke your inner thighs, brushing feather-light over your fluttering pussy lips without giving you the pressure you crave. 

“That’s it, suck on it like you wish it was my cock,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re such a filthy girl, aren’t you? Tied up and whimpering for more, even after I’ve already made you cum so hard. Bet you’ve used this toy thinking about a man like me ruining you.”

After a few teasing thrusts that make your jaw ache, and your whimpers vibrate along the shaft, he pulls the vibrator free with a wet pop, strings of your spit trailing from your lips. He drags the slick toy down your body deliberately. 

Over your chin, between your breasts, circling each nipple until they pebble tighter, then lower across your quivering stomach, teasing the sensitive skin just above your pussy.

Finally, he positions the tip at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your soaked cunt to coat it further in your arousal. “Time to fill that needy pussy,” he growls, and with a firm push, he drives the vibrator deep into your cunt, the vibrations coming to life on a low setting as it stretches you wide, buzzing against your overstimulated walls and sending shockwaves through your bound body.

The vibrator hums steadily inside you, its girth splitting your slick walls as Aaron grips the base and starts thrusting it in and out with deliberate, shallow pumps. 

You’re already so overwhelmed. The orgasms have left your pussy raw and throbbing, every nerve ending screaming from the overload, but he doesn’t stop. He leans over you, his free hand pinning your thigh wide open, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks.

“Fuck, look at how that toy stretches your greedy little cunt,” he rasps, his voice low and gravelly, eyes locked on where the vibrator disappears into you. “Gonna fuck you with it slow, make sure it’s soaked through. Can’t have my second cock going in dry…needs to be dripping with your slutty juices so it glides right in later.” 

He twists the base slightly on one thrust, angling it to grind against that swollen spot deep inside, and a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain shoots up your spine, your back arching off the bed as you gasp and clench around it.

He pulls it back almost all the way out, the tip catching on your entrance before plunging in again, deeper this time, the hum intensifying the stretch as it bottoms out. Your walls flutter helplessly, trying to adjust, but the overstimulation has you trembling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the relentless buzz against your clit indirectly through the pressure.

“That’s it, squeeze it like you mean it,” Aaron growls, pumping it faster now in short, teasing strokes that keep you hovering on the edge without mercy. “Feel how it’s buzzing right up against those overworked nerves? You’re gonna beg for it to stop, but I know you won’t. Not when it’s prepping that tight hole for more.”

Sweat beads on your skin, your breath coming in ragged whimpers as the toy fucks into you rhythmically, coating itself thoroughly in your arousal with each wet slide. He reaches down with his thumb, pressing it firmly against your clit in slow circles that sync with the thrusts, amplifying the vibrations until your thighs quake and your bound hands yank at the belt. The build-up coils tight in your belly, heat flooding your limbs, but just as you’re teetering on the brink, he yanks the vibrator free with a slick sound, leaving your pussy clenching around nothing, aching and denied.

“Nope,” he chuckles darkly, holding the glistening toy up so you can see how it’s drenched, strings of your cream clinging to its length. “We’re just getting started. Your ass is next, and I want it ready to take us both.” He trails the buzzing tip along your inner thigh, teasing the puckered ring of your asshole without entering, watching you squirm and whine from the denied release, your body a quivering mess of need.

Aaron’s cock throbs heavily between his legs, bobbing with each shift of his hips as he kneels between your spread thighs, the thick shaft veined and leaking pre-cum from the tip. 

He circles the tight ring of your asshole with the rounded head again, pressing just enough to make the sensitive pucker twitch and flutter under the teasing pressure. Your body jerks from the overstimulation, pussy clenching emptily after the denial, every nerve fried and begging for relief that he won’t grant.

“Has this virgin ass ever had anything shoved inside it?” he demands, his voice a rough command laced with hunger, eyes flicking up to meet yours while he rubs the vibrating tip insistently against your hole, coating it in the remnants of your pussy juices for lubrication. The vibrations send unwelcome sparks through the untouched entrance, making your hips twitch away instinctively, but his free hand clamps down on your hip, holding you steady.

You're too far gone to form words right away. Your mind is a haze of buzzing need, breaths heaving as the toy’s hum echoes in your core, your clit pulsing from the earlier denial. 

The question hangs, unanswered, and Aaron’s jaw tightens. Without warning, his hand cracks down on your soaked pussy with a sharp smack, the wet slap echoing in the room as pain blooms hot and sharp across your swollen folds, jolting you back to focus with a cry, reminding you that you are to answer his questions.

“Speak up, slut,” he growls, rubbing the sting in roughly with his palm before pulling back. “Answer me: Has anyone ever fucked this tight little backdoor?”

“N-no,” you gasp out finally, voice breaking on a whimper, the smack leaving your cunt throbbing anew, heat flooding the abused flesh. “I’ve never... never had anything back there.”

A wicked grin splits his face, dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he notches the vibrator’s tip right at your resistant entrance. 

“Good girl. Means I get to break it in first.” He pushes forward steadily, the buzzing length breaching your asshole with a slow, unyielding pressure that makes the ring stretch and burn around the invading girth. Inch by inch, it sinks in, the vibrations rattling deep into your untouched ass, forcing your walls to yield as they clamp down in protest.

You whine high and desperate, the fullness overwhelming. Your ass is so tight and unaccustomed, every buzz amplifying the stretch until tears spill down your cheeks. Aaron pulls it back out halfway with a slick drag, your hole gaping slightly before he thrusts it in again, deeper this time, twisting to work it around and loosen the clenching muscles. 

“Fuck, feel that? Your poor neglected hole’s gripping it like a vice,” he rasps, pumping the toy in shallow strokes now, in and out, the wet sounds mixing with the hum as he coats your inner walls with the lube from your pussy. “Gotta prepare you right…stretch this virgin ass wide so it can take my cock later. Can’t have you tearing when I split you open.”

His free hand wraps around his bobbing cock, stroking himself lazily as he watches the vibrator fuck into your ass, the sight making his length twitch and harden further. 

The dual sensations, the toy’s relentless buzz stretches you from behind while your overstimulated pussy aches, untouched, have you thrashing against the belt restraints, body a trembling wreck of denied pleasure and building intensity. He doesn’t let up, driving the vibrator deeper with each pass, rotating it slightly to widen you, his dirty words pouring out like gravel. “That’s it, take it deeper for me. Your ass is gonna be ruined for anyone else after tonight…gaping and hungry for cock, just like your sloppy cunt.”

Aaron eases the vibrator out of your ass with a deliberate slowness, the buzzing toy dragging against your clenching walls until it pops free, leaving your hole stretched and gaping slightly in its wake. A raw, puckered ring that twitches and winks open, exposed and vulnerable under his hungry gaze. 

The sudden emptiness makes you whimper, your body shuddering from the lingering vibrations that echo through your core, your ass muscles fluttering helplessly as cool air kisses the abused entrance.

“Fuck, look at that,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust, his eyes locked on the way your hole refuses to close fully, quivering from the preparation. “Can’t wait any longer. Gonna bury my cock in that dripping cunt now. Been teasing you long enough.”

He sets the slick vibrator aside on the bed, the toy still humming faintly, and grips his throbbing shaft at the base, the thick length heavy and flushed, veins pulsing as he lines it up with your soaked folds. The broad head nudges your entrance, parting the swollen lips with a teasing rub, smearing your arousal along the underside before he presses forward.

He doesn’t rush it. Oh no, Aaron savours the stretch, inching his bare cock inside you with controlled pressure that makes your pussy walls yield around the invading girth. You’re so wet from the earlier torment, but the fullness hits like a shock, his thickness splitting you open as he sinks deeper, the bare skin of his shaft gliding against your sensitive inner flesh without any barrier. 

“Feel how you’re sucking me in? This greedy little pussy’s been begging for it,” he growls, hips rolling in a shallow grind to work himself further, the head bumping your cervix with a jolt that has you arching off the bed. 

He teases you, pulling back just enough to let the ridge of his dick catch on your entrance before thrusting in again, stretching you wider with each pass, your body trembling as it adjusts to the raw, unyielding intrusion.

Once he’s fully seated, balls-deep and grinding against your clit, he starts thrusting. Hard, deliberate strokes that punch into you, his hips snapping forward to fill you completely. The rhythm builds quickly, his cock pistoning in and out with wet, obscene slaps, your pussy clenching around him in desperate pulls. 

It doesn’t take long; the overstimulation from before has you teetering on the edge, and after just a few deep, punishing thrusts, the coil snaps. Your orgasm crashes over you without warning, walls spasming wildly around his buried length, milking him as waves of heat rip through your core, a broken cry tearing from your throat.

“Tsk, tsk,” Aaron chides, his voice a low rumble even as he doesn’t stop, pounding through your climax with unrelenting force. “Cumming already? I didn’t give you permission, did I?” 

But there’s a dark thrill in his tone, and as your body convulses around him, mind fracturing into a haze of white-hot bliss, thoughts scattering like ash, he reaches down with one hand, snatching up the abandoned vibrator. You’re still lost in the throes, barely registering the world beyond the pounding in your pussy, when he angles it back toward your ass.

The tip presses against your gaping hole without mercy, and he shoves it in deep in one firm push, the buzzing girth reclaiming the stretched passage while his cock continues to fuck your cunt. 

The dual penetration hits like lightning: the immense stretch overwhelming, your ass walls clamping down on the invading toy even as they burn from the renewed fullness, vibrations rattling through the thin barrier separating it from his thrusting shaft. 

It feels impossible, too much, your body locked in a vice of sensation as he holds the vibrator buried to the hilt, twisting it slightly to amplify the buzz against your most sensitive spots. You gasp incoherently, hips bucking wildly against the restraints, the combined assault dragging out your orgasm into something endless and shattering, every nerve screaming from the intensity while Aaron’s grin widens.

He grips your hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you back onto his shaft with every thrust, the dual invasion making your walls flutter and spasm around both the thick toy and his bare length. 

“That’s it, take it all,” he snarls, voice rough and commanding, leaning over you to pin you down further against the mattress, his weight pressing you into the sheets as he rutted like an animal. The vibrator stays lodged deep, its base flush against your skin, and he twists it occasionally with his free hand, grinding it against your inner walls to heighten the vibrations that rattle your core, making your ass burn and pulse around the intrusion.

He teases you through the haze of your shattered mind, slowing his pace just enough to drag his cock out to the tip before ramming back in, the head battering your cervix with each punishing stroke. 

“Look at you, so fucking wrecked already. Pussy squeezing me like it never wants me to stop, even with your ass stuffed full.” His words drip with dominance, a low chuckle escaping as he feels you tremble beneath him, your bound wrists straining against the belt, body arching involuntarily into the relentless pounding. 

Sweat slicks his chest, dripping onto your skin as he picks up speed again, thrusts turning erratic and savage, balls slapping against your ass with wet smacks that echo the obscene squelch of your soaked cunt gripping him.

The pressure builds unbearably, the vibrator’s merciless hum amplifying every slide of his cock along your sensitive nerves, pushing you toward the edge once more despite the exhaustion ripping through your limbs. 

You’re a mess of gasps and whimpers, mind blank and floating in a sea of sensation, every nerve ending raw from the onslaught. Aaron senses it, growls low in his throat, and redoubles his efforts: fucking you harder, deeper, the friction between the toy and his shaft creating a friction that has you seeing stars. 

“Cum for me again, slut. Milk my cock while I fill you up.” His command shatters the last of your control, and your fifth orgasm rips through you like fire, pussy convulsing violently around him, walls clamping down in rhythmic pulses that drag a guttural moan from his lips.

He doesn’t stop, pounding through your climax with savage grunts, the way your body seizes around him tipping him over. 

His cock swells inside you, thrusts stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt one final time, hips grinding against your clit. Hot spurts of cum flood your pussy, thick ropes painting your inner walls as he roars his release, holding the vibrator steady to prolong the torment. You feel every pulse, the warmth spreading deep as he empties himself, your wrecked body quaking from the aftershocks, ass still clenching around the buzzing toy while his seed leaks out around his softening shaft.

Finally, he stills, breathing ragged, but doesn’t pull out yet, but rather lets you lie there utterly spent, limbs limp and trembling, mind fractured into pieces from the endless pleasure. Your pussy throbs around his cock, ass stretched and vibrating faintly, every inch of you marked and claimed, completely wrecked.

Aaron’s breaths slow from ragged pants to steady draws, his body finally easing off the frantic rhythm as the haze of his orgasm clears. He shifts his weight carefully, one hand still resting on your hip, thumb brushing lightly over the red marks he’s left there. 

“Shh, easy now,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a low, soothing rumble, all traces of the snarling dominance gone, replaced by a gentle tenderness that surprises even in the afterglow.

He reaches back first, fingers wrapping around the base of the vibrator still humming faintly in your ass. With deliberate slowness, he eases it out inch by inch, the toy slick with your arousal, popping free with a wet, obscene squelch that makes your oversensitive nerves twitch. 

Your ass clenches instinctively at the sudden emptiness, the ring of muscle gaping slightly, raw and fluttering from the prolonged stretch, a dull ache throbbing in its wake. You whimper high and broken, body jerking faintly against the restraints, the overstimulation hitting like a wave now that the relentless buzz is gone.

Aaron hushes you softly, “I’ve got you, just breathe,” as he sets the vibrator aside on the nightstand with a quiet click. 

Then, he grips the base of his cock, still half-hard and slick with your combined fluids, and pulls out gradually, dragging along your swollen walls until the head slips free. The withdrawal drags a lewd, sucking sound from your pussy, followed by a thick gush of his cum spilling out, warm and viscous, dripping down your folds and over your ass to pool on the sheets beneath you. 

Your pussy gapes too, stretched wide and pulsing, the inner lips puffy and red from the rough fucking, every tiny movement sending sparks of sharp pleasure-pain through your core.

You’re a trembling mess, whimpers turning to soft whines as the dual emptiness leaves you feeling exposed and achingly hollow, your body too wrecked to do more than quiver under his gaze. Tears prick at your eyes from the intensity, limbs heavy and boneless, mind foggy with the overload of sensations that won’t quite fade.

He unties the belt from your wrists with careful fingers, gently rubbing circulation back into them, then gathers you against his chest, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady. “There you go, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to your temple and forehead, his free hand stroking down your back in slow, reassuring circles. 

He shifts you both slightly, pulling a blanket over your cooling skin, his touch light and protective now, letting you sink into the warmth of his body as the whines quiet to shaky breaths.

Your breaths even out gradually, the whines fading into soft sighs as Aaron’s steady presence anchors you, his hand still tracing lazy patterns along your spine. The overstimulation lingers like a low hum in your veins, every nerve ending raw and tingling, but the exhaustion creeps in heavier now, pulling your eyelids down despite the ache between your thighs. You’re drifting, words too far away to grasp, body limp and heavy in his arms.

After a few quiet minutes, Aaron presses one last kiss to your hair and carefully disentangles himself, easing your head back onto the pillow with a murmured, “Stay right there, I’ll be quick.” The bed dips as he rises, his footsteps soft on the floor as he pads to the bathroom. 

The sound of running water filtering through the door. Moments later, he returns carrying a small ceramic bowl steaming faintly with warm water and a soft white washcloth draped over his arm. His expression is calm, attentive, all sharp edges softened in the dim light.

Kneeling beside the bed, he dips the cloth into the water, wringing it out with careful squeezes until droplets cease falling. Starting at your face, he dabs lightly over your cheeks and forehead, wiping away the streaks of dried tears and sweat with feather-light strokes that make you sigh. “Good girl, just relax,” he says softly, his voice a low anchor. 

You manage a faint hum, too sleepy to form anything more, your eyes fluttering half-closed as the cloth moves down your neck, tracing the curve of your collarbone with feather-light pressure. He avoids the tender spots at first, dipping the cloth back into the water to refresh it, then works lower, cleaning the sweat and spit from your breasts, circling each nipple with careful swipes that make you twitch faintly from the sensitivity.

He works methodically lower, parting your thighs with gentle hands to access the mess between your legs. The cloth presses tenderly against your inner thighs first, cleaning the sticky trails of arousal and cum that have cooled there. 

You flinch slightly at the initial contact, your nerves still raw and buzzing, but he pauses, blowing a cool breath over the area before resuming, the warmth seeping in to ease the hypersensitivity. He folds the cloth to a fresh side and wipes along your swollen folds, careful not to press too hard on your puffy clit, though the mere brush sends a faint echo of pleasure sparking through you.

He dips it just inside to scoop out the thick globs that linger, each pass drawing a soft whimper from your lips. Your pussy twitches under the attention, gaping slightly as he works, but his touch remains patient, thorough, without overwhelming. He shifts to your ass next, lifting your hips with one steady hand while the other guides the cloth over the tender ring, washing away the slickness with slow circles that make your muscles flutter in response.

You squirm a little, too worn out to protest, just a soft whine escaping as sleep tugs harder at you.

Once satisfied, he rinses the cloth in the bowl and repeats the process, ensuring every inch is tended to until your skin feels clean and refreshed.

“All done, sweetheart,” he whispers once you’re fresh and the bowl’s water is murky, setting everything aside and drying you off with a soft towel from the bathroom. He tucks the blanket back around you, pulling it up to your chin, and brushes a strand of hair from your face. You barely register him standing, your mind already slipping into that fuzzy space between wakefulness and dreams.

The shower starts up in the bathroom, a quick rush of water that lasts only a few minutes. Enough for him to rinse off the sweat and scents of your encounter. When it shuts off, he emerges, skin damp and towel slung low around his hips, the air carrying a faint clean scent. 

He dries off swiftly, then slides into bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you back against his warm chest, his breath steady and even against your neck. “Sleep now,” he murmurs, lips brushing your shoulder, and you do, sinking into the safety of his hold as darkness claims you.

You sleep dreamlessly and utterly exhausted when morning comes softly.

At first it’s just light slipping through the curtains and stretching across the bed in quiet lines. It brushes over your closed eyelids, warm and insistent, until you stir.

You’re aware of him before you even open your eyes.

The weight of his arm is still draped over your waist, heavier now in sleep. His chest is solid against your back, rising and falling in a slow rhythm that feels almost grounding. One of his legs is hooked loosely over yours, keeping you there without effort, like even unconscious he hasn’t quite let you go.

You shift the smallest amount.

Behind you, he makes a low sound, half breath, half murmur, still lost to sleep, merely reacting to the disturbance. His arm tightens instinctively, drawing you nearer by an inch.

The movement sends a dull ache through your body.

Right. Last night.

Your muscles protest in tender places. Your skin feels strangely sensitive, as though it remembers every touch with greater clarity than your mind yet does. There is a lingering heaviness low in your body that sends embarrassment and something softer, deeper, curling together through your stomach.

You open your eyes fully and lie still for a moment.

The room is quiet, washed in the pale morning light that slips through the curtains in narrow bands. Dust drifts lazily in it. Somewhere outside, traffic murmurs at a distance, softened by glass and height. Inside the room, there is only the warmth of tangled sheets, the faint scent of sleep and skin, and the steady presence of the man behind you.

It is almost strange how peaceful it feels.

Not awkward. Not hurried. Not like a mistake waiting to be regretted or an encounter from which one ought to make a graceful escape before daylight can expose it. Merely quiet. Merely still.

Carefully, you tilt your head enough to glance back at him.

His face is relaxed in sleep, all sharp edges softened. Hair messy, a little damp at the ends. There’s something unexpectedly gentle about him like this, nothing like the version of him from last night.

Your chest tightens, just a little.

Then you glance toward the bedside table and your eyes lock onto the clock. Your eyes widen at once. Panic strikes so suddenly it feels physical. You jerk upright too fast, a sharp breath catching in your throat as every part of your body objects to the abrupt movement. 

“Fuck,” you whisper to no one in particular, already clawing your way out of sheets that seem determined to hold you hostage.

Behind you, he stirs properly this time.

“…what?” His voice is roughened by sleep, deep and disoriented, dragged reluctantly into consciousness.

“I’m late,” you blurt, pushing hair from your face as you scan the room in mounting horror. “I’m…I have my first day today, I..”

Words abandon you. You reach for your shirt from the floor, snatching it up with frantic hands.

There is a brief pause behind you. Then the mattress shifts with his weight. A hand closes gently around your wrist. Not hard. Not restraining. Simply enough to stop the frantic motion for a moment.

“Hey.”

You turn, breath still uneven. Aaron is sitting up now, sheets low around his waist, eyes half-lidded with sleep yet already focused, already gathering himself into alertness with that unnerving speed some people possess.

“It’s okay,” he says, voice quieter now, steadier. “What time do you start?”

“Nine,” you answer, the word coming out thinner than you intended. 

Aaron shifts slightly beside you, leaning toward the bedside clock with the lingering heaviness of someone only recently dragged from sleep. He narrows his eyes at the display for a moment before speaking, voice still roughened by sleep and entirely too calm for the crisis you had just convinced yourself was unfolding.

“It’s eight ten.”

You stare at him.

For a second, your mind refuses the information outright, as though it has already committed itself so thoroughly to catastrophe that reason can no longer gain entry. Then, slowly, reality catches up. You are not late. You had never been late. You had simply panicked yourself into believing it.

The realisation moves through you all at once. The rigid tension in your shoulders collapses, leaving behind a dizzy mixture of relief, embarrassment, and the near-hysterical urge to laugh at your own foolishness.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, dragging a hand down over your face. “I thought - I genuinely thought it was nearly nine.”

“Clearly,” he murmurs.

There is amusement in his voice now, though it is subtle, restrained by the same natural control that seems stitched into every part of him.

You sink back onto the edge of the bed, your heart still pounding from the rush of alarm, clutching your shirt in one hand as though it were evidence in some private case against your dignity. Morning light spills across the sheets, across the floor scattered with clothing, across the broad line of Aaron’s shoulders where he sits half-turned toward you.

Then you feel it.

His hand, warm and fully awake now, settling lightly at the small of your back. The touch is gentle enough to surprise you.

“You okay?” he asks.

It is such a simple question, asked without teasing, without smugness, without any attempt to make light of your brief unraveling. He is not laughing at you. He is only checking.

You glance at him, momentarily thrown by the sincerity of it.

“Yes,” you say after a pause, softer now. “Just… first day nerves, apparently mixed with temporary insanity.”

He gives a small nod, as though that explanation accounts for everything. Perhaps, to him, it does.

“Come here.”

The words are quiet, lacking any of the command they might have carried the night before. There is no force in them now, only invitation.

You hesitate for scarcely a heartbeat before shifting back toward him.

His arm slips around you once more, slower this time, deliberate in a way that feels almost careful. He draws you against him - not tightly, not with the consuming urgency of last night, but just enough that you settle easily beside him, your shoulder against his chest, your temple brushing the warm line of him.

“You’ve got time,” he murmurs near your hair.

Your body still aches in small, lingering ways, every muscle aware of the night behind you, yet held like this the soreness feels less sharp, less startling. It becomes something softer. Something grounded.

You allow yourself to remain there for longer than you probably should, listening to the measured rhythm of his breathing, feeling the quiet steadiness of him beneath your cheek.

Eventually, reality returns in the practical form of needing to get ready, and the two of you move around one another in that peculiar space shared by strangers who are no longer strangers, but not yet anything clearly defined either. There is a slight awkwardness to it, though not an unpleasant one. Something intimate and uncertain at once.

The bathroom mirror fogs as you wash your face, and when you glance at your reflection, you scarcely recognise the woman looking back. Your hair is unruly, your mouth still faintly swollen, your cheeks touched with leftover colour. There is a softness to you that had not been there yesterday.

When you step back into the bedroom, Aaron is pulling on his shirt. He does so with easy, efficient movements, fastening buttons as though mornings after unexpected nights are either common enough not to trouble him, or rare enough that he has learned not to show it.

“Coffee?” he asks, glancing over.

You nod at once. “Please.”

The kitchen is small, the sort of space that was never meant for two people moving through it, and yet the quiet between you remains strangely comfortable. He moves with competence there too, finding mugs, measuring grounds, setting water to boil with the calm assurance of a man who prefers order wherever he can create it.

A minute later he hands you a mug. Your fingers brush as you take it, and a faint spark passes between skin and skin, something of last night returning in gentler form.

You lean against opposite counters, sipping in companionable silence for a while. It is not awkward. It is merely new.

“So,” you say at last, blowing lightly across the surface of your coffee, “is this how your mornings after usually go?”

He lets out a low breath that might almost be called a laugh and shakes his head.

“No.”

You look up.

He is already looking at you.

“This isn’t really my thing,” he adds after a moment, voice quieter now. Then, as if unwilling to let the confession grow too serious, he reaches into his pocket. “But.”

He steps closer and sets his mug aside. From his pocket, he produces a receipt and a pen, scribbling something quickly before taking your hand and pressing the folded paper into your palm.

You unfold it. His number.

When you look back up, he is wearing the faintest crooked smile. It transforms him again, softening the severe lines of his face into something unexpectedly warm.

“I’d like to take you out properly,” he says. “Somewhere that isn’t your bedroom.”

Your lips curve despite yourself.

“Properly?”

“Yes,” he says, and there is something in the steadiness of the word that makes your chest tighten. “Properly.”

A pause settles between you, though this one feels different from the earlier uncertainties. It is not tense or awkward. It feels open, as though something has quietly begun without either of you naming it.

He glances toward the door, then back to you.

“I should head back. Need to change before work.”

“Okay,” you reply.

Neither of you moves immediately.

Then he steps nearer one final time, lifting a hand to brush an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so small, so ordinary, and yet it lands with surprising force.

“Good luck today,” he says softly.

“Thank you.”

He leans in then, pressing a brief kiss to your lips, gentle, warm, and far more affecting than the fiercer ones that came before it.

And then he is gone.

The door closes with a quiet click, leaving the apartment still once more.

You remain where you are for a moment, coffee warm between your hands, his number folded in your fingers. Outside waits your first day, your new life, the sharp unknown of everything ahead.

After a long breath, you set the mug down and begin to move. The day, after all, is waiting.

You arrive at the building with a curious mixture of anticipation and unease, around ten minutes later. 

The structure itself rises with an austere authority, all clean lines and guarded entrances, as though it were less a place of work and more a vessel for serious, unspoken things.

Inside, the air is cool, almost clinical. Your footsteps echo faintly against polished floors as you are directed forward, deeper into the heart of it.

You find her soon enough.

Erin Strauss stands waiting her posture impeccable, her gaze sharp but not unkind. She greets you briskly, her words precise, and without delay begins to guide you through the corridors. As you walk, she speaks of procedures, of expectations, of names that pass you by too quickly to properly anchor themselves in your mind.

You try to listen. You truly do. But there is something about the place, a quiet tension beneath its order, that unsettles your focus.

At last, she leads you into a wide, open office.

Desks stand arranged with a peculiar neatness, papers stacked, screens dark or idling. Yet the room feels… absent. As though its occupants have only just departed, leaving behind the faint impression of movement and thought.

“There you go,” Strauss says, gesturing with a measured hand. “This is the BAU.”

Her voice carries easily in the stillness.

She turns slightly, indicating a door at the far end of the room - closed, yet not entirely concealed. The blinds are open, and through them, a figure may be glimpsed.

“And this,” she continues, “is where your Unit Chief, SSA Hotchner’s office is. I’ll get him for you.”

Your attention, already drifting, settles fully upon that door. There is something almost involuntary in the way your gaze lingers.

Inside, you see him.

A man, tall even in repose, seated behind his desk, his form bent slightly forward in concentration. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. The quiet intensity of someone wholly absorbed in his work. Papers are spread before him, and though you cannot hear him, you can almost imagine the faint scratch of pen against page, the steady rhythm of thought made visible.

There is something strikingly familiar  about him. In the stillness he seems to command, as though the room itself conforms to his presence.

Strauss moves away from you, her heels marking a deliberate path across the floor. She knocks. The man looks up and rises.

You look away then, perhaps too quickly, your attention shifting across the empty desks, searching for signs of the rest of the team Strauss had mentioned. It is a small, instinctive act, an attempt to steady yourself, though you cannot quite say why.

Fragments of the morning return unbidden: tangled sheets warmed by sunlight, the pressure of an arm around your waist, the low roughness of a sleep-heavy voice, the brush of fingers against yours over a mug of coffee. The softness that had followed the storm of the night before.

You push the memories aside with some effort.Not quickly enough.

You do not hear the office door open. You do not notice footsteps crossing the floor. But you are aware only of a subtle change in the air beside you. A presence close enough to alter the space itself.

You turn.

And in that instant, the world seems to contract violently around a single, impossible fact.

Your breath catches so sharply it almost hurts.

Your mouth goes dry.

Because you know him.

Not as a superior waiting to be introduced. Not as a stranger glimpsed through office glass.

But as the man whose hands had been on you only hours ago. The man who had kissed you goodbye this morning. The man who had fucked you within an inch of your life, who had stood half-dressed in your kitchen making coffee as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The man who had pressed his number into your palm and said, with quiet certainty, that he wished to see you again.

Aaron.

Only now -

Aaron Hotchner.

He stands before you immaculate in a dark suit, every trace of the night before hidden beneath the severe authority of his position. The shirt is crisp, the tie exact, his expression composed to the point of austerity. He looks every inch the unit chief people speak of in lowered voices.

If he feels even a fraction of the shock that you have just gone through, he does not show it.

Only the faintest tightening at the corner of his gaze betrays that he, too, is affected.

He extends his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The words are smooth, measured, impeccably professional.

As though nothing at all has passed between you.

The BAU team has been working a case in California for the last couple of days. Victims were connected through a small club on the outskirts of L.A. Married men taking home women who weren't their wives. Hotch had Spencer and Morgan going to the latest crime scene, Emily and Rossi talking to the victims wives, and you and him were going to the club to see if any bartenders or regulars saw anything suspicious.

After talking to the fifth person of the night, of course, no one noticed anything note worthy. "Okay well if anything comes to mind, please give me a call. Thank you for your time" you say to the blonde bartender as you hand her your business card. You walk over to Aaron who was finishing up with a regular customer. "Did he know anything?" You ask him, hopeful that maybe he would be the piece of the puzzle to click it all together. "No, call Garcia and see if we can't find anything through credit card sales." Hotch is frustrated. This case hasn't made any sense the moment y'all got there. You can tell he's starting to get a little aggravated by the unaligning facts but he keeps his composure extremely well.

Then you hear some familiar music starting to play. "Uh. NextSelection" it starts out and you immediately recognize the song, Me & U by Cassie. It's only been on your playlist for years. A thought to try to get a small smile from him crosses your mind. He's not really paying you any mind. Just in his head for a minute trying to think through the case. As he looks up to say something to you, you're already making eye contact with him. "You've been waiting so long I'm here to answer your call." You point to him, trying to play up the dramatics. He just stares at you for a second, taken aback for no reason other than he wasn't expecting that. "I know that I shouldn't have had you waiting at all." You run your hand down your waist and move your hips side to side, not seductively, but more unserious and you notice a small flash of something in his eyes that you weren't able to deduce. "I've been so busy but I've been thinking 'bout what I wanna do with you." He just shakes his head and gives you a smile that lasts for half a second, "We need to go. You can continue your antics at home after we find this unsub." He says in a flat and strictly professional tone.

On the drive back Hotch is unusually quiet. You brush it off as him still being frustrated. Little do you know, he is frustrated, but it has very little to do with the case. He thought you were the most beautiful, angelic woman he's got the chance to meet. Aaron would never act on it though, being your superior and all. That's a line he knows better than to cross, but damn were you making it hard not to. "If only she knew..." He thought to himself. You also had some not so safe for work thoughts about him, but like him, that's a line you'd never cross. So, you both live your lives pushing those feelings back long enough to blow some steam off in your fantasies late at night by yourselves.

"You didn't like my performance? I thought I was killing it for you." You broke the silence in the SUV, he let out a barely noticeable chuckle that could've been passed off as a sigh. "I'm just more concerned about your performance on this case, not the performance you should save for a girls night." He's starting to grip the steering wheel tighter and hope you don't notice. You do. You think to yourself that maybe you're projecting your own sexual frustration onto him and couldn't wait to get to the motel room.

"Are you implying that I've been a subpar member of the team?" You ask in a teasing way, you wanted to say something along the lines of 'I bet you'd love to see the way I dance to that song on a girls night huh?' but that is definitely not a question you have enough confidence for. "You know that's not the case." He said, never taking his eyes off the road. He's trying so hard not to imagine you in some short cocktail dress swaying your hips, a little more confident than normal due to a small amount of alcohol in your system.

A couple days later, and after you and Spencer pull an all nighter trying to piece together the profile. Everyone is finally on the plane ride back. "I think we deserve a celebratory team night out after this!" Garcia says over the laptop. "I couldn't agree more Pen." You say from behind the laptops camera. After JJ, Emily, Spencer, and Morgan agree. You look toward Hotch with your eye brows raised, inquisitively. "No. No I can't. I have paperwork I have to complete." He says, but really, it's because last time he went on a night out with the team, you wore that one red dress that almost had him slipping up without thought. It was a close call last time and he couldn't afford to have another close call. "Oh come on! That paperwork isn't going anywhere, it'll be on your desk ready for you to do Monday morning." You say. He hesitates but replies with a "We'll see what happens" and leaves it at that.

When the plane lands you follow behind Emily and JJ to hop into JJ's vehicle. Before you do, you turn around to Aaron once more "You coming?" You ask, your voice a little softer than you meant it. That did a number to his chest and he knew it'd be a mistake to say yes, but he does it anyways. After pulling up to the familiar bar JJ and Spencer go to sit at y'all's normal table. You go to the bar and order a dry martini and Hotch is behind you ordering whiskey. "And put hers on my tab." you hear come from his direction. "No! No it's okay! I can take care of my own drinks." you say with an appreciative smile. He insists and you know it's futile to argue because he'll find a way anyways. Then that song comes on again.

"NextSelection." This time, Aaron notices the song immediately and heads over to everyone else. You're right on his heel, and by the time you sit down you're grabbing Penelope's hands and playing the theatrics up again "I know them other guys they've been talking 'bout the way i do what I do." Both of y'all, and JJ have joined in and are just having fun. Spencer looks at a chuckling Derrick a little confused. Rossi? Rossi is staring Hotch down. He knows. He is an excellent profiler, even if no one else notices. He saw the way your personality bubbled the tiniest bit more around Aaron, and the way Aaron would pay the tiniest bit more to you when you did. Which is exactly what he was doing right now.

"They heard I was good they wanna see if it's true." Aaron felt a small sting in his chest as he imagined other men talking about you sexually. He excused himself from the table and went to the bathroom. Splashing some water on his face and trying to get himself together, he knew his attempts were weak. Rossi told everyone he was going to get another drink, but was actually waiting outside the door when Hotch walked out the restroom. "You know..." Rossi started off, vague acknowledgment in his voice. "Both of y'all are very talented at keeping personal and work lives separate. I'm sure you can think of a way to do that with...different relations." He said as he wiggled his eyebrows at him. "I don't know what you're referring to." Aaron replied calmly on the outside, but on the inside he was freaking. Was he being that obvious? "Just something to think about." He left it at that as he walked to the bar, he couldn't come back empty handed.

Hotch sat back down, and you were still singing along. This time pointing towards him, trying to get him involved, even though you knew 'involved' just meant a smile. "Think I wanna make that move now, baby, tell me if you like it." You made direct eye contact with Hotch. His eyes darkened, and you swear it looked like lust. "No. I'm two martinis deep, that's what it is." You thought to yourself. You coughed and started laughing, trying to hide the way his eyes sent an electric shock straight to your core. "Let's go dance!" You grab Penelope's hand and move towards the dance floor. You needed to get him out of your eyesight before slipping up.

"I was waitin' for you to tell me you were ready." You are dancing behind Penelope, swaying your hips side to side, hands on your shoulders, and looking like you had no cares in the world. Aaron couldn't keep up with the conversations at the table, his eyes and thoughts were glued to you. Watching the way your skirt rode up your legs just a little bit. You caught him, he couldn't look away. It all finally clicked in your head, all at once. The look in his eyes gave it away almost immediately. So full of lust there was absolutely no way to mistake it for the alcohol in your system.

"I know what to do if only you would let me." You mouth the lyrics directly to him. "Fuck" he thinks to himself one last time before getting up from the table without saying a word. Everyone there looked at him confused, but they are non existent in his world right now. He beelines it towards you, grabs your hand, and pulls you outside. "Do you have any idea how much attention you call to yourself?" He asks, Standing next to you with his back on the brick wall. He doesn't look at you, he's scared if he does logic will fly out the window.

"From other people? Or...from you?" You ask him, you have anxiety boiling in your chest, and sparks shooting down your stomach and in between your legs. "This is out of line. You've been drinking. I'm your boss. This is highly inappropr-" He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of his own words more than he was reprimanding you. You cut him off with a kiss. Shocked by your actions, "I guess they don't call it liquid courage for nothing." You say with a not so convincing laugh. He just stares at you in disbelief for half a second before pulling you back in for another kiss, this time sloppier, needier. A small gasp leaves your mouth and you can feel him smile against you.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." He tells you “I think I do.” You whisper back, breathless from the kiss alone. Aaron’s hand slides around your waist, fingers pressing into your hip hard enough to make your pulse jump. The parking lot suddenly feels too open, too public, too dangerous for the way he’s looking at you. That look. Controlled restraint hanging by a thread.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice is low, rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “Right now.” Instead, you grab the front of his button up and pull him back down to your mouth. That’s all it takes. His restraint snaps clean in half. Aaron’s hand tangles into your hair immediately, tilting your head back while he kisses you harder this time it's deep, consuming, absolutely filthy in the way he swallows every little sound you make. Your back hits the brick wall with a soft gasp.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters against your lips. “You have any idea what you’ve been doing to me all week?” You shake your head slightly, already dizzy from him. His thumb drags along your jaw. “Walking around in those skirts. Looking at me like that. Singing to me in that damn club.” He kisses you once, sharp and demanding. “You’re lucky I have self control.” Your thighs press together instinctively and he notices immediately. Of course he does. Profiler.

“Cute.” His eyes flick downward. “You’re already affected and I’ve barely touched you." Heat rushes straight to your face. Aaron notices that too. “You like when I talk to you like this?” he asks quietly. You nod before you can stop yourself. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes.”

His expression darkens at the name sweetheart, like he enjoys the way it sounds coming out around you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thought so.” A car passes somewhere down the street and reality crashes back for half a second. “We can’t do this here,” you whisper. “No,” he agrees immediately. “We can’t.” But he still kisses you again. Slower this time. Meaner somehow. Like he’s savoring it.

When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathing hard. Aaron rests his forehead against yours for a moment before stepping back just enough to regain composure. Then he says, calm as ever, “Come with me." The ride to his apartment is silent except for your heartbeat trying to claw out of your chest. Aaron’s jaw stays tight the entire drive, one hand on the wheel, the other flexing occasionally like he’s trying not to touch you. You swear the tension is making the air heavy.

The second the door shuts behind you, he’s on you again. One hand grips your waist while the other locks the door without looking. “Come here.” The command sends heat straight between your legs. Aaron backs you toward the bed slowly, eyes taking in every reaction on your face like he’s memorizing them. You’ve seen him intense before, interrogations, profiles, unsub confrontations. But this is different. This intensity is entirely focused on you. “You nervous?” he asks.

“A little.”

His hand slides up your throat gently, not enough pressure to scare you, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Don’t be.” His voice softens slightly. “I’ve got you.” The reassurance nearly destroys you more than the dominance does. He kisses you again while his hands start roaming your waist, your thighs, and your back, like he’s been imagining this for years and finally gets to touch. Every movement is confident. Certain.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he mutters against your mouth. “You know that?” You whimper softly when he pulls your lower lip between his teeth. “There it is,” he says immediately. “That sound.” Your stomach flips.

Aaron guides you onto the bed and stands between your knees, looking down at you with barely contained hunger. “I need you to tell me something.”

“Okay…”

“If I tell you what to do,” he says carefully, “are you going to listen?” You nod quickly. His hand slides along your thigh, pushing your skirt higher. “Use your words.”

“Yes, sir.”

The effect those two words have on him is instant. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes shutting briefly. Then he looks at you again with something dangerously close to possessiveness. “Good girl.” His voice drops lower. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Aaron’s praise goes straight to your head. You can practically feel it unraveling you already. “Look at you,” he murmurs, thumbs tracing the inside of your thighs while he stands between them. “So responsive. All because I called you a good girl?”

Your face burns and he notices immediately. “Don’t hide from me now.” He hooks two fingers under your chin, making you look up at him. “You started this, remember?” You let out a shaky laugh. “I didn’t think you’d actually—" “What?” His mouth curves slightly. “Lose control?” The honesty in his expression steals your breath.

“Neither did I.” Then he kisses you again, slower this time, but somehow even more intense. Like now that he’s finally allowing himself this, he wants to savor every second. His hands slide under your shirt, palms warm against your skin, and the little gasp you make has him smirking against your mouth. “So sensitive.”

“Aaron…”

His expression darkens immediately at the sound of his first name falling from your lips like that. “Again.”

“Aaron,” you whisper softer this time.

“Jesus.” His forehead drops briefly against yours before he straightens again, composure hanging by threads. “You keep saying my name like that and I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

Your thighs press together again instinctively. He notices. Again. “You really can’t help it, can you?” His voice is rough with amusement. “Needy already.” You bite your lip and his eyes lock onto the movement instantly. “Don’t tease me unless you’re prepared for the consequences.” The warning sends a thrill straight through you.

Aaron’s hands slide down your thighs before he slowly lowers himself to his knees in front of you. The sight alone nearly kills you. “Aaron—”

“Relax.” His hands spread your knees apart gently but firmly. “Let me take care of you.” The dominant edge in his tone leaves absolutely no room to argue. He presses a slow kiss against the inside of your thigh, eyes never leaving yours, and the deliberate patience of it makes your pulse race harder than if he’d rushed.

“You know how many times I’ve thought about this?” he asks quietly. Your fingers tighten in the motel comforter beneath you. “At work,” he continues, another kiss against your skin, “in meetings,” another, “watching you walk around acting completely oblivious.”

“Aaron…” Your voice sounds embarrassingly wrecked already. His eyes flick upward. “That’s right. Say my name.” Then he moves your panties to the side and his mouth finally meets you properly and the breath leaves your body all at once. The sound you make earns a low hum of approval from him.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, “you taste so fucking good.” Your hand flies into his hair instinctively and he groans softly at the pressure. “That’s it,” he says. “Use me.”

The praise combined with the control in his voice is overwhelming. Every movement he makes is deliberate, confident and practiced, like he’s learning exactly what pulls reactions out of you fastest and fully intends to use that knowledge against you. “You’re doing so well for me,” he says when your hips twitch toward him. “Such a good girl.”

The words hit like a spark to gasoline. He notices immediately. “Oh, you really like that.” There’s the profiler again. Calmly dismantling you piece by piece. “You like being praised while I make you fall apart?” “Yes,” you admit breathlessly. “Good.” His grip tightens slightly on your thigh. “Then let me hear every sound.”

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks lightly, as he works his tongue around it in small circles. Moans fly from your mouth "Fuck fuck fuck."

Aaron pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips swollen, hair slightly messed up from your fingers tugging at it. The sight alone is enough to make your head spin. “There she is,” he murmurs when another shaky sound leaves your mouth. “That’s the reaction I wanted.”

You’re breathing hard, completely flushed beneath him, and the confidence in his expression grows every time he realizes how affected you are. “You’re beautiful like this.” His thumb traces along your thigh soothingly. “Completely falling apart and still trying to stay quiet.”

Another kiss against your skin. “You don’t have to do that with me.” The gentleness in that sentence mixed with the dominance in everything else nearly undoes you completely.“Aaron…” you whimper softly.

His eyes lift immediately. Focused. Attentive. “What do you need?” The question catches you off guard. Even now, even while he looks at you like he wants to ruin you, he’s still making sure you’re okay. “You,” you admit weakly.

Something possessive flashes across his face at that. “Careful,” he says quietly, standing back up slowly until he’s hovering over you again. “You keep saying things like that and I’m going to start thinking you belong to me.” The words send heat rushing through you instantly.

Aaron notices the reaction and gives a low chuckle. “Thought so.” He kisses you deeply, one hand sliding into your hair while the other grips your waist firmly enough to keep you exactly where he wants you. Every movement from him feels controlled, deliberate, but underneath it you can feel how close he is to losing composure completely.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he admits against your lips. “Do you know how hard it’s been sitting across from you every day pretending I don’t think about this?” His forehead rests briefly against yours. “Pretending I don’t think about you.” The confession makes your chest ache in the best possible way.

You reach up instinctively, fingers brushing along his jaw, softer this time. “You hide it well.” Aaron gives you a look at that. Half amusement, half disbelief. “Apparently not well enough.” A laugh escapes you and he kisses it right out of your mouth.

“God,” he mutters, eyes dragging over your face like he can’t get enough of looking at you. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Then his expression shifts again this time calmer, more controlled, but somehow more dangerous because of it.

“Sit up for me.” You obey immediately. The approval in his eyes is instant. “Good girl.” Your breath catches again and he smirks slightly. “I could get addicted to that reaction.” His hands slide along your waist slowly, grounding, possessive without being harsh. “You trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Completely?”

The certainty in your answer surprises even you. “Yes.” Aaron’s expression softens for one brief second before the intensity returns full force. He flips you over on the bed and pulls your panties off completely before latching back onto your sensitive bud. This time he inserts two thick fingers in you. Slowly pumping, you can feel yourself stretching over them. "Aaron...it feels so-" You get cut off by a nip to your thigh, immediately followed with his soft, wet tongue on that same spot. "Good girl, Let me hear you sweetheart" Your head falls back at his words and can feel your tight walls fluttering as the familiar feeling coils in your stomach "I'm about to- Aaron-" He cuts you off again "Come for me, pretty girl. Come around my fingers" And with that your vision goes white and your screaming his name.

He finger fucks you through your orgasm and when you finally come down from the euphoric release. "I've been thinking about how your face would look when you came for a long time. Now that I've seen it, I don't think I can go a single night without seeing it." He says behind you. Your pussy throbs at his words.

"Aaron...Please..." You whimper out. and you can hear him unbuckle his belt and his thick member is pressing against your opening. "Use your words sweetheart. Please what?" Your pussy throbs again. Fuck his words did something to you.

"Fuck me Aaron. I can't wait anymore" And with that he bottoms out in you and you can't control the loud moan coming from your mouth. "Do you know how beautiful you sound?" He groans out an octave lower than you've ever heard from him. His pace is hard, deep, and relentless. You know you're not gonna last long like this. "You're doing so good. Such a good girl" He says before giving you a smack on the ass. The way it jiggled back in his face almost made him come right there. "I can't- I'm gonna-" You were cut off by Aaron wrapping his hands in your hair and pulling you up towards him. "I am too sweetheart. Let it go for me. Be a good girl and come on my dick." And with that. Your vision is blurring out again, harder this time. As you're riding your orgasm out. Aaron is right behind you, his moans getting louder and louder before he finally releases inside you.

Aaron stays against your back for a second after both of you come down, his chest rising hard against your skin while he presses slow kisses along your shoulder. The room is quiet except for the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath. Then his grip on your waist softens. Not less possessive. Just gentler. “You okay?” he asks quietly. You nod into the pillow, still completely wrecked. “More than okay.” A low chuckle leaves him and he brushes your hair away from your face before carefully pulling out of you. The loss makes you whine softly and he smirks. “Don’t start.”

“You say that like this wasn’t your fault.”

“It absolutely was my fault,” he replies calmly, completely unashamed. “And I’d do it again.” Heat rushes straight to your face. Aaron notices immediately, of course he does, and leans down beside you on the bed. For the first time all night, the intensity in his eyes eases into something softer. Something that honestly scares you more than the sex did. His fingers trace absentminded patterns against your bare hip while silence settles between you comfortably. No awkwardness. No regret. Just…warmth. You turn onto your side to look at him properly and the sight nearly steals your breath all over again. Aaron Hotchner, usually perfectly composed, has messy hair, a loosened tie hanging around his neck, and swollen lips from kissing you. And somehow he’s looking at you like you’re the one ruining him.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs.

“You’re very distracting.”

That earns you a real smile this time. Small, but genuine enough to make your chest ache. Then reality slowly creeps back in. Work. The team. Rules. Consequences. Your expression must shift because Aaron notices instantly. “Hey.” His hand moves to your jaw gently. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Start overthinking.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Profiler.”

“Occupational hazard.” His thumb brushes along your cheekbone. “We’ll figure it out.” The certainty in his voice settles something anxious inside you. Aaron had always sounded sure of himself during cases, during negotiations, during impossible situations. But hearing that same certainty directed at you feels entirely different. Your fingers curl lightly against his wrist. “This is probably a horrible idea.”

“It definitely is.”

You laugh again and he smiles against your mouth when he kisses you softly this time. No desperation. No frantic need. Just Aaron. And somehow that feels even more intimate. “I don’t think I care,” you admit quietly against his lips. His eyes search yours for a long moment like he’s trying to decide something. Then he exhales softly through his nose and rests his forehead against yours. “You make it very hard for me to care about consequences,” he says. Your heart stutters painfully in your chest at the honesty in his voice.

“Aaron…”

“I mean it.” His hand tightens slightly at your waist. “I spent months trying not to cross this line because I knew exactly what would happen if I did.” He gives a small shake of his head. “And then you looked at me tonight like that and suddenly I couldn’t remember why I was trying so hard.” Emotion swells so suddenly in your chest it catches you off guard. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” You admit quietly to him. His eyes soften instantly. “Yeah?” You nod. “I think part of me always knew it was you.” Something vulnerable flashes across his face then. Brief, but real. You don’t think many people ever get to see Aaron Hotchner look genuinely unguarded. But you do now.

“I love you.”

The words slip out before you can stop them. The second they leave your mouth your eyes widen slightly in horror. “Oh my God—” Aaron cuts you off immediately by kissing you. Slow. Firm. Certain. When he pulls back, his forehead stays against yours.

“Good,” he murmurs quietly. “Because I love you too.”

Your chest feels so full it almost hurts. “Really?” A soft huff of amusement leaves him. “You think I lose my mind over just anyone?” You laugh breathlessly and hide your face against his neck while his arms wrap around you immediately, pulling you close against him. He presses a kiss into your hair and stays there for a long moment, neither of you saying anything else. Eventually Aaron glances toward the digital clock beside the bed and sighs. “As much as I’d like to stay here with you all weekend…”

“We have work in five hours.”

“We have work in five hours,” he confirms. You groan dramatically into his shoulder. “Can’t Garcia hack the FBI system and fake our deaths?”

“She probably could.”

“And?”

“And Rossi would still call asking where the paperwork is.” That gets a laugh out of both of you.

By the time the two of you walk into Quantico Monday morning, everything appears completely normal. Aaron is back in his suit with that calm, unreadable expression. You’re carrying coffee and trying very hard not to think about the fact that less than two hours ago he kissed you breathless against his kitchen counter before work.

No one seems suspicious.

Morgan is arguing with Reid about statistics. JJ is catching Emily up on something Henry did. Garcia bursts through the bullpen doors wearing bright pink and immediately starts complaining about printer issues.

Completely normal.

Aaron walks past your desk and pauses just long enough to set a fresh coffee beside your files without looking at you. Your stomach flips anyway. “Hotch bringing you coffee now?” Morgan asks suspiciously. You recover instantly. “He lost a bet.”

“I absolutely did not,” Aaron says flatly from his office doorway before disappearing inside. Morgan snorts. “Damn, baby girl. You got the boss buying you coffee for free?” You shrug casually while trying not to smile too hard. “Maybe I’m just charming.” Across the bullpen, Rossi watches the entire interaction over the rim of his coffee mug. Smug bastard.

Later that afternoon everyone gathers in the round table room for a case briefing. Aaron is all business at the front of the room, focused and composed like always, and honestly it’s impressive considering the fact that his hand was around your throat twelve hours ago. You avoid eye contact for the sake of survival. Rossi, unfortunately, notices that too. Near the end of the meeting he leans back in his chair casually. “You know,” he says, “I always find it interesting when two people are very good at keeping secrets.” Emily looks up. “What does that even mean?”

“Experience talking.” Rossi takes a sip of coffee innocently. “Sometimes you can tell when people finally stop ignoring what’s right in front of them.” Your heart nearly stops. Aaron doesn’t react outwardly at all, but you know him well enough now to notice the tiny tightening in his jaw. Morgan points at Rossi. “See, this is why nobody understands you when you get philosophical.”

“Thank you,” Reid says seriously. “I thought I was having a stroke.” Rossi just smirks into his coffee. “Don’t worry about it.” His eyes flick briefly toward you and Aaron. “The people I’m talking about already understand me.” You choke on your coffee. Aaron slides a box of tissues toward you without looking up from the file in front of him. And somehow that only makes Rossi grin wider.

The meeting finally ends and everyone starts filing out of the room, still talking over each other about the new case. Morgan and Emily are arguing about who makes the better coffee, Reid is correcting both of them, and Garcia is already halfway out the door dramatically announcing that she refuses to look at crime scene photos without “emotional support snacks.” Normal. Completely normal. You’re gathering your files when Aaron steps beside you quietly. “A word?” he asks in that same calm unit-chief voice he always uses. Nobody bats an eye. “Uh oh,” Morgan says while walking past. “Somebody’s in trouble.”

“If I disappear,” you deadpan, “tell my mother I died brave.”

Aaron gives you the faintest unimpressed look while Rossi outright laughs from across the room. The second the office door shuts behind you, the tension snaps instantly. Aaron’s hand settles against your waist, pulling you into him before you can even speak. “You almost choked to death because Rossi can’t mind his business.”

“He absolutely knows.”

“He absolutely does.”

You laugh softly, arms sliding around his neck. “Do you think anyone else suspects anything?”

“No.” Aaron brushes his thumb along your hip absentmindedly. “And I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

“That serious FBI tone shouldn’t be attractive.”

“And yet.” You grin and lean up to kiss him quickly. Soft. Familiar already somehow. When you pull away, Aaron rests his forehead against yours with a quiet exhale. The stress lines that usually sit permanently between his brows are softer now. Lighter. “You know,” you murmur, “for someone who spent months avoiding this, you seem pretty comfortable now.” His mouth twitches slightly. “That’s because the hard part was pretending I didn’t love you.” Your heart does that embarrassing fluttering thing all over again. “You keep saying stuff like that and I’m never getting work done again.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” You laugh and hide briefly against his chest while his arms wrap around you automatically. A knock suddenly sounds against the office door. Both of you jump apart like guilty teenagers. “Come in,” Aaron says immediately, voice perfectly composed. Rossi opens the door just enough to lean against the frame with far too much amusement on his face. “You two done discussing paperwork?”

“Yes,” Aaron answers instantly. “Mm.” Rossi nods slowly like he absolutely does not believe him for a second. “Well, whenever you’re finished with your…paperwork, we have a briefing in twenty.” You refuse to look at him. Rossi’s grin widens. “Oh, and Hotch?” Aaron sighs already. “What.”

“Next time you decide to fall in love with someone on the team,” Rossi says casually, “try not to stare at her like she hung the moon during meetings. Makes it very obvious.” Then he walks away before either of you can respond. Silence. You slowly turn toward Aaron. “You stared at me like I hung the moon?” Aaron looks genuinely offended. “I did not.”

It should be noted that you did not plan this.

Your original plan was to bring Aaron his lunch bag that he’d managed the leave behind this morning, nothing more.

However, you’d happened to forget to take into consideration that you were dating an animal, fondly labelled.

You’d walked through the bullpen with a warm smile and rushed hugs as the team was swamped with files upon files of work before knocking on your boyfriend’s door.

“Delivery,” you called sweetly, peeking your head in through the door.

Hotch’s slightly perturbed expression melted away all at once, his ever adoring grin spreading across his face as he catches sight of you.

Peeking through the door in one of his favourite dresses, you’re a sight for sore eyes.

“Hey sweetheart,” Hotch replied, grinning. He’d stood up from his office chair, basically rushing towards you and pulling you into his office.

With a saccharine smile, you close the door behind you and huddle into his arms with a gleeful laugh.

“Missed you,” you huff at him, looking up into his eyes as he smirks down at you.

“Yeah?” he asks, a shit-eating grin on his face.

You roll your eyes in response to his smugness. Your nose wrinkles slightly when Aaron leans down to press a sloppy kiss on your nose and you grumble half-heartedly as you detach from him.

“I brought you lunch!” you say, taking the seat in front of his desk as you place down the bag, motioning for him to sit.

He looks between his own seat and where you’re sitting with a frown.

“No,” he says decidedly.

 “No? Aaron—”

“Come sit in my lap, you’re too far away.”

“Aaron!” you chastise with a laugh, but you’re already standing up from your seat. “You’re not going to eat with me in your lap.”

Your protests fall on deaf ears as Aaron tugs you towards his side of the office, pulling out his chair and sitting down.

With little resistance from you, he tugs you onto his lap, helping you settle and placing his hands on your waist to hold you.

You tug the lunch bag towards the two of you on the table, and make Aaron shuffle you both closer to pick through the meal.

“This is better,” Aaron hums happily, snacking on a grape with a hum as he pulls you into his chest.

You snort, “Yeah, absolutely lovely that we’re about to break your office chair.”

Aaron tsks, holding up a grape in invitation before popping it in his own mouth when you shake your head.

“Now, don’t be rude. I’m having a lovely time sharing lunch with my girl.”

Your giggle is purely at the absurdity of the circumstance, it’s not often Aaron Hotchner, FBI Unit Chief of the BAU has lunch with his girlfriend on his lap.

“These chairs are really sturdy too, they’ve held me up through a nap or too,” Aaron points out and you shake your head.

“Let’s not test that theory out while I’m here.”

Aaron smirks, leaning up to nose at your cheek as he murmurs, “Why not? Aren’t you curious what we could get away with?”

You give Aaron a disapproving look, “You hunt serial killers for a living, those words should never exit your mouth,”

Hotch barks a laugh and you startle slightly as it jostles the both of you.

You shift slightly only to freeze when you feel Hotch’s clothed erection press against your ass.

“Is that—”

“Yup.”

You nod slowly, blowing out a breath. You hesitate for a moment, weighing out your options before you move.

You grind slowly, but deliberately over Hotch’s cock.

You hear him inhale sharply, his grip on your hips tightening as he turns his face into your neck.

“Don’t start something you have no plans on finishing,”

You bite back a smirk, grinding more deliberately in lieu of an answer.

“Minx,” Aaron accuses you fondly.

Those were the subsequent actions that lead to you being splayed over Aaron’s desk, papers scattered over the floor and legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into you with wild abandon.

“This what you wanted huh? Wanted me to fuck you silly over my desk honey?” Aaron grunts, hands still grasping your hips as he pushes and pulls you over his cock.

Your mind is a garbled mess of unintelligible sounds, but you manage to draw out a warbled ‘yes’ as Aaron drives into you.

“Feel so fuckin’ good baby—like y’r pussy was made f’r my cock,”

You nod, “made for you,” you echo, heaving as gasping breath as you feel Aaron’s spongy tip press sweetly against your sweet spot and causing black dots to blind your vision temporarily.

“Harder,” you plead, tightening your aching limbs around Aaron as you grasp at his strained biceps.

It’s times like these you really hope one of you had remembered to lock the door.

“Yeah Honey?” Aarons croons condescendingly, a wicked smirk on his face as he takes pleasure in taking you apart torturously slow.

“You need me to ruin this pussy? Make it ache all good?”

“Please—uhng yeah, like that like that like that,” you whine out, your pussy clenching down as you feel Aaron start to pummel into your cunt.

His balls slap against your cunt in a lewd squelch as you feel the mix of your liquids seep out around the both of you and add to the pure debauchery.

Aaron groans as your cunt tightens around him, like you’re trying to cut off all blood circulation around him.

He bites his bottom lip hard enough to turn the skin white as he wills himself not to lose his rhythm.

One thing Aaron Hotchner takes pure ego pride in, is the fact that he will make you cum first.

He changes tactics, removing one hand from your waist to tug and play with your clit in pure concentration, tracking every hitch in your breath and strained whine as he brings you to your peak.

“Fuck-close. M’close Aaron—gotta, m’gonna cum,” you squeal, your hips lifting from the desk to thrust back onto him.

Your tits bounce as you chase your peak and Aaron watches as your expression moves from slack jawed pleasure to desperation as you feel you orgasm hurtling towards you.

“Nng, fuck s’good—so good feels so good,” you babble, eyes rolling back into your head as you cum around his dick.

You pussy tightens in pleasure as you feel your orgasm wrack through your body, causing shivers to wrack through your spine and Aaron to growl as he thrusts through your spasming cunt.

“Fuck, good girl-yeah that’s it honey cum all over this cock,” he groans, eyes closed as he lets you milk him.

You’re barely catching your breath when Aaron gains his steam back, thrusting into you and causing you to squirm in pleasure overridden overstimulation.

“You did so good baby, but I want one more okay? Just one more, I’m gonna fill you up so good but you’re gonna have to give me one more.”

You feel barely lucid, you’re almost half sure you’re drooling as your eyes stay half-lidded and your mouth open in an ‘o’ as you let Aaron fuck you.

“Words for me, need to hear you say it or I’m gonna stop.” Hotch orders and you hear yourself mumble out in complaint, arms swinging to clench onto Aaron in protest as if he’s already gone.

“No, nuh—no, please, want you to fill me. Please cum inside me—need, need it so bad. Want you to breed me,” you huff out, eyes still barely focused.

Though you’re aware enough that you can make out the blurry vision of Aaron’s downright manic grin as the words escape your lips.

He hikes you legs over his shoulders without any further contributions and pushes into your cunt again, this time purely knocking the breath out of you as you feel his cock…everywhere.

You almost feel peaceful, locked up in Aaron’s arms with his hips pistoning in and out of you.

“Whatever my girl wants, she gets,” Aaron pants, huffing as he rolls out his neck. His muscles strain from the effort of fucking you as you get the great view of watching his abdomen clench in pleasure as sweat trickles down his happy trail in rivulets of divine pleasure.

“Y’r gonna tell people I knocked you up honey? Gonna tell them I dicked you down so good you had no other option than to get knocked up?” Aaron mocks, smirking down at your cock drunk expression.

He watches you lick your lips in awe as you watch his form thrust in and out of you, barely aware that you’re squeezing him tight enough to make a grown man cry out of pleasure.

He knows he treats you real good, it’s just nice to watch the effort pay off. It’s all worth it if he gets to keep you cumming on his cock like this.

“Close,” you murmur, eyes closed and head tilted back on the desk, you’re not even pretending to put in the effort anymore.

You’re just letting Aaron use you, fuck into you and breeding you like you want but you know your orgasm is a promised thing all the same.

“Yeah baby, me too—gonna fill you all good sweetheart, pr’mise I’ll put a fat ol’ rock on that finger just as soon as those two lines pop up sweetheart. Gonna do right by you and give you a white picket fence and everything,” Hotch rambles.

His thighs start to strain from the effort but he maintains his pacing, thrusting into you nice and sweet and grinding his cock the second he fills you balls deep.

The coarse grind of Hotch’s pubic hair is more than enough stimulation for your clit, and you feel the tell tale sign of rising pressure as long drawn out moans are dragged out of you.

“Inside me—now, now cum now please Hotch y’gotta breed me now,”

“Cumming baby, I’m right there sweetheart, cum for me.”

Your voice turns into some unintelligible babbles as you squirt around Hotch’s cock, milking him wetly as you feel spurt after spurt of hot semen fill you deeply.

Hotch’s groan is loud enough that you’re praying the walls of this office are thick enough for there even to be some semblance of dignity left for the both of you when you walk out of here later.

You feel satiated and content as the hot cum pools around where you and Hotch are intertwined and somewhat mournful at the idea that he’ll have to leave you empty.