"look at me" - hotch x gn!bau!reader - 985 words
cw: injuries and depictions of violence, general angst, anxiety, hotch literally just being a hero as per freakin usual
why hello my love! thank you sm for this request <3
i don't write a lot of angst, it's certainly something i need practice with! but i really enjoyed writing this and i smooch ur lil forehead
People always say that in a near-death experience, your whole life flashes before your eyes.Â
You didnât see your whole life, no. You saw bits and pieces - learning to ride a bike, walking at your high school graduation, pinning your FBI badge to your blazer. And then you just saw Aaron.Â
The first time you met, shaking hands as a brazen formality in the middle of a case, feeling his deep, brown eyes scrutinize your every move, watching him watch you. He was testing you back then, seeing if youâd be a good fit for the team.
The first real conversation you shared with him - The Beatles, which song was his favorite? Laughing at him when he said Yellow Submarine.Â
When he held your hand for the first and only time on a particularly rough case, about four months ago, and promised you that things would get better.Â
When you comforted him for the first time, about three months ago, after Haley left him. You promised him that everything happens for a reason.Â
Five minutes ago, when you told him you felt certain the unsubs were going to strike again. You felt it in the pits of your stomach, you told Aaron. And he just nodded and said he trusted your intuition. Then he held the door open for you, and led you out of the police station, into the dead-quiet night of the street. Â
He clicked the key fob in his hand, and the SUV burst into red-hot flames and sent you both flying. You were immediately knocked unconscious, your body thrust out into the street flippantly, like someone had simply thrown a baseball.Â
You come to on the concrete, your head pounding. All sound is muffled, but you see Aaron on his knees, hovering over you. His face is covered in dirt and soot and blood, and he keeps cupping his hand over his ear.Â
â - hear me?â Sound is restored in the middle of Aaronâs question. Itâs abrupt, like someone changing the channel on the TV, but you can hear again. You feel dizzy and disoriented as you prop yourself up on your elbows.Â
âStay down,â Aaron instructs, guiding you gently to lay flat on your back once again. Your entire body is throbbing.Â
âAaron,â you feel a panicked, whispered sob escape you. He grabs your hand and you feel him squeeze it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. You feel dizzy, like you might pass out again and Aaronâs grip tightens around your hand. âIt hurts.âÂ
âKeep your eyes open for me, sweetheart. Please?â The endearment rolls off of Aaronâs tongue like heâs said it a million times before. He hasnât. Your relationship with him has been professional-ish up until this point. Youâre not sure how he feels about you, exactly, but at this moment, it doesnât matter.Â
 He doesnât even acknowledge that he said it. âWhat hurts?â Aaronâs speaking loudly, like someone who has headphones in. His hand is still pressed against his ear.Â
âAll of it,â you murmur. âEverything.âÂ
You feel tears in your eyes. Your stomach is in knots and you feel like someone is sitting on your chest. You blink a few times, feeling the tears drip down your face and onto your lips, salty and full of dread.Â
Aaronâs checking you over, you realize, lifting your head gently and quickly to make sure youâre not bleeding. Heâs talking to you, telling you what heâs doing so you donât panic even more. He uses feather-light touches to lift your arm, and pain shocks you, coursing through your wrist. âShh, hey, Iâm sorry,â he says, laying your arm by your side. âIâm sorry. Iâm so sorry. Your wrist is broken.âÂ
You blink a few tears away.Â
âIâm going to pick you up, Y/N,â he tells you. He never calls you by your first name, but youâre in so much pain that you canât even be jarred by it. âCan you move your other arm?âÂ
It feels laden, but you can. You nod and whimper in confirmation.Â
âCan you hook it around my neck?â He asks as he slides his hands under you. The crooks of your knees and your back are cradled by Aaronâs arms and you wrap your arm around his neck. Once he determines youâre stable in his arms, he lifts you up. You hear sirens blaring as they get closer, and you see Aaron grimace. You feel his body tense up, his fingers curl around the fabric of your shirt.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â You ask him in an unfiltered mumble, sniffling as he carries you towards the nearest ambulance.Â
âItâs just my ear. Iâm fine, Y/N. Iâll be fine,â he promises, but you feel how labored his gait is. Itâs taking everything in him to carry you to the ambulance. You want to tell him to stop, to remind him that the paramedics can bring the gurney to you. But youâre so tired, so dizzy. You think maybe if you just rest your eyes a little bit, you might feel better. Your head tilts to rest in the crook of Aaronâs neck. Your eyes flutter shut.Â
âY/N, you might have a concussion. You have to stay awake, okay?â Aaronâs voice draws you back. Your eyes are shaky when they open, and you see him looking at you with weighted concern as he sets you onto the gurney.Â
The paramedics load you shakily up into the ambulance, and you reach your uninjured arm out. âYouâre going to the hospital with me, right?â You ask.Â
Aaron nods, climbing in after the paramedics and sitting beside you. His eyes are piercing and full of consternation as he takes your uninjured hand in both of his. He runs his fingertips over your knuckles, nodding assuredly, though you are certain he is feeling exactly the opposite. âYeah. Of course. Iâm not going to leave you.â