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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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OH MY GOD SOBBING😭😭😭😭😭THIS IS SO PERFECT AND THE BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER THANK YOU🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Office Supplies

The only people who don't know Emily and Aaron love each other are Emily and Aaron.

Penelope, and Dave, take decisive action.

-x-

This is a birthday present for @emilyshotchniss! I hope you had a lovely day, and that you enjoy this fic <3

-x-

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You should tell him.”

Emily sighs, briefly stopping herself from stirring her coffee, giving herself a moment before she turns back to look at her friend, “Pen, I’m not going to tell him.”

“But you told me.”

Emily throws the spoon she’d been using into the sink and holds her coffee between both her hands, the heat from the mug easier to feel than her frustration towards her friend.

“Yes, because you plied me with absinthe, which may as well be truth serum,” she grumbles, “The combination of you and alcohol can make me admit shit I literally wouldn’t admit under torture.”

Penelope, unbothered by Emily’s bad mood, carries on, “But peaches, you love Hotch-”

“Be quiet,” Emily says through her teeth, looking around to make sure they were still alone, the kitchen in the bullpen still mercifully empty, “We’re at work.”

She’d known it for years. The initial pull in her belly when he was missing after Foyet attacked him, something she had told herself was just concern at the time, morphing into something all-consuming. She’d feel her cheeks get warm whenever he stood too close to her. The smell of his cologne enough to make her lose her chain of thought, the heat that he seemed to have in excess rolling off of him and making her shiver if he so much as put his hand on her back to move past her on the jet.

If there was any part of her that thought it was just about sex she would have jumped him long ago. Let him fuck her against a door or wall, whatever the nearest surface was, to get it, him, out of her system. But it was more than that, it always had been.

She was in love with him. She loved his smile, its rarity making it all the more precious. She loved his dry sense of humour, how he’d use it to disarm the team to make them laugh when they needed it the most. She loved his presence, how she’d feel safe if he just so happened to be in a room.

And she loved how he loved people. The subtle way he looked after them all, and the not-so-subtle way he had saved her life.

In Paris, the feelings she had been able to push down burst into life. Everything that had once seemed to live in a grey area transformed into technicolour, settling into her very bones. Her love for him becoming such a part of her she knows she would never be able to stop. She told herself in Paris, those long, lonely days and nights stretching into an infinity, that if she made it back she’d tell him. That she’d take a gamble on the few moments she wondered if he loved her too. Hazy memories of him visiting her in the hospital, still in the suit from her funeral, that she’d half convinced herself were a dream, leading the charge. His hand tight around hers and his lips against her forehead as he promised her he’d catch Ian.

She didn’t want to do anything when she first got back home partially because she didn’t want him to think that it was out of some kind of gratitude. That he’d saved her life so she wanted to be with him because of it. But also because he deserved better than how she was when she first got home. A shadow of her former self.

By the time she felt ready for it, different than before but better than she had been, he introduced them to Beth. A woman who looked more like her than his ex-wife, and came without any of the complications than she would bring. So Emily did what she’d always done when she’d had her heart broken. She’d watched all the Star Wars movies in one weekend, cried more than she had in a long time and ate her weight in fries and ice cream. Then the next time she saw everyone she was ok again, content for her happy ending with Aaron to exist nowhere but in her fantasies that had never quite come to fruition.

Until a girl's night when she’d drunkenly admitted she was in love with him. Shocking Penelope but apparently not JJ, who claimed she had always known there was something there. Damage control hadn’t worked, and now Penelope brought it up often, sure that Aaron would feel the same way.

“Sorry,” Pen says, leaning in closer and lowering her voice, “I’m just saying-”

“Enough, Pen,” Emily says, sighing when she snaps a little more than she intended to, “It’s…not going to happen. He’s happy with Beth.”

“But he’s-”

“Please,” she pleads with her friend, her eyes flicking to the door to the bullpen as it opens, Aaron flashing her a smile as he walks in. She hates herself for the way her stomach flips, something that once excited her making her feel nauseous, “Please just leave it.”

Penelope sighs, watching as the sadness Emily clearly tries to fight floods her eyes, but she nods, knowing that for now, this wasn’t an argument she was going to win.

“Ok, fine,” Penelope says, reaching out and putting her hand on Emily’s arm, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Emily says, smiling tightly at her friend, “I guess I just missed my chance.”

Penelope watches as she walks away, leaning against the kitchen counter, blowing out a steady breath as she spots Dave arriving for the day.

“Time to bring in the big guns,” she mutters to herself, an idea already forming in her head.

___

Emily groans as the looks at the clock, the time dragging on in a way that almost made her wish for a case. Her cell phone screen lights up, and Pen’s name along with a text message flashes up at her.

Can you do me a favour?”

Emily raises an eyebrow and types out her response. Favours for Penelope could range from the obscure to the barely legal, so she was hesitant to agree to anything without further detail.

What kind of favour?

The response is immediate as if Penelope had never put her phone down whilst she waited for a reply.

Can you get me some sticky notes from the supply closet? I’m all out.

Pretty please. I’ll owe you forever.

Emily sighs and shakes her head, already standing up as she replies.

You’re lucky I’m bored. The brightly coloured ones?

She smiles as she gets a response, slipping her phone into her back pocket once she’s read it.

You know me so well.

She’s distracted as she walks to the supply closet, not paying attention as she opens the door and then closes it behind her again, almost jumping out of her skin when she realises she’s not alone in the tiny room.

“Shit,” she exclaims, her hand over her heart as Aaron turns to face her, his eyes wide as she clearly surprises him too, “Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat, “I wasn’t expecting to see you in here.”

“It’s ok,” he replies, smiling at her, his dimples carved out into his cheeks as well as her heart, “Dave asked me to get some pens for him,” he says, holding up the box in his hand, “Although why he couldn’t get them himself is beyond me.”

She chuckles, “Well, I guess it’s always good to be kind to the elderly.”

Aaron laughs, the bright sound that made her heart swell in her chest, endless thoughts of what could have been enough to make her cry.

“I won’t tell him you said that,” he replies, “What are you here for?”

“Pen needed some sticky notes,” she says, reaching for a box of them from the shelf in between them, “Apparently we both have side gigs as assistants now.”

Any response is cut off by the lock on the door behind her clicking shut, and her eyes go wide, the trap that she had fallen into suddenly clear. She turns around and tries to pull at the door handle, sighing when it doesn’t open.

“Pen, open the door I know you’re out there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pen’s muffled voice says through the door, “It must be broken we’ll have to call facilities.”

Emily looks over her shoulder to look at Aaron, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion and she looks back at the door, “I heard the lock click.”

“Funny,” Dave says, and she closes her eyes, leaning her forehead against the door as she realises Penelope wasn’t doing this alone, “I didn’t. Must be my age.” He quips, letting her know he’d been stood out there the whole time and heard their conversation so far.

“I swear to god, I will kill-”

“We’ll call facilities and get you out of there as soon as we can,” Penelope says, cutting her off before she can finish her threat, “You guys entertain yourself, talk.”

“Penelope,” She warns, but she can already hear footsteps receding, and she knows she and Aaron are alone. She blows out a breath and turns to look at him.

“What was that all about?” He asks, his eyebrows creasing together, and she sighs, running her hand through her hair.

As soon as she was out of here she was going to kill Penelope and Dave.

___

Aaron was in love with her.

He’d known it for years. The safety of her smile, her kindness, the place where he sought sanctuary more often than not. Using her as a sounding board when he needed it, drawn towards her because of more than her obvious beauty.

When he stood over a grave that he knew was empty, he told himself when he got her back, because he’d never been able to think in a world of ‘ifs’ as far as that was concerned, he’d tell her. He’d take a gamble that Dave had always told him was a sure one. His friend always keen to tell him how Emily looked at him when he wasn’t looking.

At first, he knew the timing wasn’t right. That she wasn’t herself, and he wondered if maybe Emily Prentiss had died that day in Boston. He still loved her and he knew he always would, but as time went on he felt more sure that their time had passed. That the closest he’d ever come to telling her how he felt was the kiss against her forehead in the hospital, apologies muttered against her skin.

Meeting Beth had been an accident. She was nice and pretty. Funny. And everything that any man would be lucky to find in a woman. At first, he’d turned down her obvious attempts at flirting, but then eventually he decided to give it a go. Any hopes of a fairy tale ending with Emily gone as soon as he overheard Penelope and JJ talking about Emily being in love with someone enough to convince him to let what had only been a few dates with Beth turn into something more.

“Aaron?”

He stops walking towards his office and turns back to Dave, his friend's use of his name pulling him out of his thoughts, “Yes?”

Dave smiles at him, something in his eyes glinting, “Would you mind doing me a favour?”

___

Emily swallows thickly as she places the sticky notes back down, her arms tight across her chest.

“I…”

She drifts off, unsure how she can get out of this without telling him what she had kept secret for so long, forced into admittance by well-meaning but interfering friends. She knew Penelope and Dave well enough to know that they wouldn’t let them out of here until they deemed the situation solved, or if there was an emergency of some kind. And whilst Emily wasn’t above wishing for a case, she thought there would be some sort of bad karma involved in actively hoping for a major incident.

Aaron frowns, concerned by her uncharacteristic quietness, all of the levity of their conversation before the door locked gone. He places the box of pens down and steps towards her, his hand on her arm. His concern only deepens when she pulls away like she’s been burned, folding further into herself in an attempt to put some space between them in the tiny closet they were in.

“Emily,” he says, his use of her first name purposeful, “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

She looks up at him from where she’d been staring at the floor and her eyes meet his. There’s nothing but understanding in his eyes, and something she daren’t call love.

“I’m worried it will change things,” she says, the words feeling heavy as they leave her chest. A vulnerability that she hated threatening to choke her.

“Well,” he says, stepping back to give her a tiny bit more space, respecting that it was what she needed, “That’s not possible, unless you’re about to tell me you were a spy for another government organisation,” he jokes, offering her a half smile, “In which case I’ll just be more impressed that you found time to do it all.”

She chokes on a laugh and shakes her head at him, “No it’s not…it’s not that, I promise.”

“Then tell me. You’ll feel better,” he says, wanting nothing more than to pull her into a hug, to offer her comfort he’s not sure she wants. She stares at him and blows out a breath, nodding before she looks back down at the floor, unable to look at him as she finally says it out loud.

“A couple of months ago I got drunk on a girl's night and admitted to Pen and JJ that I…that I have feelings for you,” she says quietly, hoping that by some miracle he won’t hear her, “And ever since then Pen has been trying to convince me that I should tell you. Which is why she’s locked us in here,” she keeps staring at the floor, tears gathering in her eyes at the continued silence, a confirmation she hadn’t needed that this was pointless, “I keep telling her that you’re with Beth-”

“I’m not with Beth,” he says, finally finding his voice.

She looks up so quickly her neck hurts, but she barely registers it, “What?”

Aaron clears his throat, the shock of Emily’s confession wearing off as the pieces fall into place. He realises that he was the guy that he overheard JJ and Penelope talking about weeks ago, and he shakes his head at himself.

“I broke up with her a couple of weeks ago,” he says, his hands in his pockets just to do something with them.

“Why didn’t you say something?” she asks, her heart beating so firmly in her chest that she’s sure he might be able to hear it.

“It’s not like it’s some big secret,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, taking a small step towards her, “Garcia actually found out last night when she asked about my plans, I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

Emily chuckles humourlessly as she thinks about that morning, about her friend's seemingly newly revamped attempts to get her to admit to Aaron how she feels about him, and she shakes her head. She looks at him, her arms still across her chest as she tries to heave in a breath, her lungs seemingly full of nothing but him and his cologne because of how close he now was.

“Wh…why did you break up with her?” She asks, not entirely sure if she wanted to know the answer, sure that the hope that was sparking in her belly was nothing more than yet another thing she’d end up being burned by.

Aaron gathers himself, his chest tight with emotions he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager who was about to ask out Haley, the other great love of his life. He reaches out to touch Emily, tucking some hair behind her ear, and her breath catches in her throat, her eyes wide as they meet his.

“Because it didn’t seem fair on either one of us to stay with her when I was in love with someone else.”

His words hang heavily between them, the air thick with opportunity and what could be about to happen. She stares at him, her mouth open slightly as she licks at her lower lip, wetting it in a way she sees him watch.

“Aaron…”

“I thought…” he shakes his head at himself, “I don’t know what I thought. But I’ve always known you could do better than me.”

She frowns, her shock turning into outrage, “That’s not true,” she says, shaking her head fiercely, furious at him for thinking such a thing, “That’s not true,” she repeats. Everything that had happened in the last few minutes had thrown her for a loop, her entire body practically vibrating with things she didn’t understand, every nerve on edge as she came to terms with the conversation they were having. She grabs the lapels of his jacket, her eyes fixed on his tie, “I…I wanted to be better for you. You’ve been through so much, and I didn’t want to add to that burden.”

“Em,” he says, cupping her cheek, making her look back up at him, “I love you,” he says, and she chokes on a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh as she shakes her head, “You could never be a burden.”

She doesn’t know what to say, isn’t sure that there is anything that could be said, so she leans forward, closing the gap between them as she presses her lips against his. Everything else stops, and all she can feel is him. His hand at her cheek, the other pressing into her lower back as he pulls her closer, both of them lost in something they know they have been walking towards for years.

They only pull away when Oxygen becomes necessary, both of them laughing as they lean their foreheads against each other.

“I love you too,” she says, lifting her hand to cup his cheek, her thumb pressing into his lower lip, “I have for a long time.”

“We have a lot to talk about,” he says, kissing her thumb before she removes it, smiling as he leans in to kiss her again, “If we ever get out of here.” She laughs and presses her head into his shoulder, her body feeling light for the first time in as long as she can remember, “Still want to kill them?”

“Maybe not kill,” she says, tilting her head up to look at him, “But I’m sure I’ll think of some kind of revenge.”

Aaron laughs and leans in to kiss her, both of them once again lost in it, in each other, until the door is pulled open and they break apart at the sound of a squeal.

They elope seven months later.

They break the news to Penelope by leaving a photo taken at the courthouse on her desk, along with a message written on a brightly coloured sticky note.

Thank you.

Love, The Hotchners

-x-

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#this is possibly… the best gift i’ve ever gotten?!?!?#shaking crying throwing up violently banging head againt wall #they are so perfect #thank you. love the hotchners🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfic

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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Emily loves Skittles, but hates the purple ones. Aaron eats all her purple skittles while protesting that he doesn’t like sweets. He actually loves skittles and his favourite is the green ones. But he always eats all the purple ones for Emily.

THIS IS SO CUTEEEE he absolutely does this for her she gets princess treatment from him fr - thank you for sending this!!!💕💕💕

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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IT’S MY BIRTHDAY TODAY🥳🥳🥳🥳therefore it is mandatory for you all to send me your fluffiest hotchniss headcanons xxx

#it’s jessica day!!!!#no not from new girl #hotchniss #emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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this is another “he doesn’t have anyone” “he has tommy - he’s not alone” moment

thinking about Emily defiantly telling Hotch "the team needs you" and, a few scenes later, Hotch telling Haley "the team needs me"

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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how is it that i’m only just discovering this magical little universe?!?!????! just spent 45 minutes binge reading don’t mind me

Passing Through - Chapter 5 - Excalibur

He’d washed the blood off of Elle’s walls in what Emily knew was an attempt to wash away his misplaced guilt. And she could tell just by looking at him that it hadn’t worked, the weight on his shoulders so heavy she could almost see it in his gait.

-x-

It has been a WHILE since I updated this one. Recently people have been asking me about this and then this idea popped into my head and here we are.

You can catch up on the series so far here

If there is anything you'd like to see in this universe let me know, and I promise it won't be 8 months before the next chapter!!

Also, no Elle/Emily interaction in this one, but I will include that in future instalments :)

-x-

Words: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of blood/canon typical injury

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

May 2006

Emily doesn’t think that she has ever been so grateful to hear the front door of their house open. She leaps up from the couch, turning the tv show that she hadn’t paid the slightest bit of attention to off so she can focus on her husband.

It was meant to be their time off together. Two weeks to spend just the two of them that they rarely got, but they were interrupted before they really got started. Aaron was pulled back in by a case and an unsub who was desperate for their attention.

Something he certainly got when he attacked Elle in her own home after, in his view, the team had gone against his rules.

She stops a few paces short of Aaron when she makes it to the foyer, purposely giving him distance and silence as he puts down his briefcase before checking the locks on their front door twice. She lets him speak first, knowing that one of the many ways they were similar was their need to process things by themselves, and that comfort needed to be sought, not something they were forced into. She watches intently as he hangs up his house keys, and then his coat, her arms crossed over her chest as her eyes linger on his hands.

He’d called and told her about his plan to go to Elle’s place and clean up. Ever since it became clear that the unsub his team were chasing had all of their personal information he’d been checking in more than usual. They’d almost argued over him having an agent assigned to watch over her after she’d taken in a fake FedEx delivery in their home. She’d argued with him, said she was an agent too and could look after herself. He’d undone her argument with nothing but a pleading look and a sentence that told her everything she needed to know about how he viewed his part in it all.

Elle is an agent too.

She’d accepted the agent sitting outside their home in an unmarked car, but still took a small amount of joy in how she’d managed to shake him off briefly when she snuck out to go for some fresh air.

In another life, she would have made a hell of a spy.

“Did you eat?”

She looks up at his face and can’t help but smile and shake her head lovingly at him. He’d had a hard few days at work, his team targeted and his boss no doubt breathing down his neck, and he was worried about her.

“I did,” she replies, taking a step closer to him, “Did you?”

He nods, “Garcia forced food on all of us,” he replies, “Wouldn’t let us leave until we had something.”

“Good,” she says, walking over and closing the gap between them but still not touching him. She looks down at his hands again, and now she’s closer she can see it. Cracked red streaks against his skin and around his nails. Blood which had come off the walls of Elle’s home as he cleaned them for her. “You have blood on your hands,” she says, cursing herself internally when he tenses, her words rolling over in her head as she sets her lips in a firm line, “Sweetheart, no, that’s not…” she clarifies, reaching out for his hand and lifting it to show him, his skin still stained red around his nails and wedding ring, “I mean you literally have blood on your hands.”

He looks down, his eyebrows creasing as he looks at their linked fingers, “Oh, right.”

When he doesn’t move or say anything else, his gaze fixed on the dried stains on his skin, she squeezes his hand before she starts to pull him towards the stairs.

“Come on,” she says softly, “Let’s go have a shower and then go to bed.”

“You’ve already showered,” he replies, following her up the stairs. It was one of the first things he’d noticed when he got home. Her hair was slightly wavy, a sign she’d let it air dry, and the smell of her shampoo and body wash was strong in the air. The scent of her, of home, something he would recognise anywhere.

“You know me,” she says, trying to inject some humour into her voice, “I’m never one to say no to a shower with you.”

She takes off the t-shirt and sleep shorts she’d only put on just before he got home, and she starts the shower, stepping in after the water reaches the desired temperature. She turns and watches him get undressed through the glass door of the shower, his eyes lingering on his hands as he undoes his shirt.

He hisses when he steps into the shower, the water a little hotter than he’d have it if he was alone. She smiles at him as she reaches for his body wash before she carefully rubs it into his skin, paying close attention to his hands as she washes away the dried blood. He lets her take care of him, smiling as she hums to herself whilst she works.

It was one of the many things he loved about her. How she softly sang to herself when she was concentrating on something, her focus razor sharp as she hummed a tune he’d never heard before.

“You do realise I can wash-”

“Shut up,” she says, cutting over him, smiling when he narrows his eyes at her, “Just let me look after you, ok? You helped me when I dislocated my knee a few months ago.”

“You couldn’t stand by yourself, Em,” he replies, thinking back to her most recent injury from work, “I’m fine.”

“Aaron, we both know you aren’t,” she says firmly, sighing as she washes away the final suds of his body wash, “Please just…let me do this.”

He sees the desperation in her eyes, the way she wants to do this for him, and he nods, relenting silently. This is what they did, they looked after each other, and he knew he’d want to do the same for her if their positions were reversed.

She moves on to shampoo, idly thinking that he was due a haircut soon, as she runs his fingers through his hair, bits and pieces he couldn’t tame sticking almost upright. She puts her hands on his shoulders and encourages him to turn, directing him back into the steady stream of water as she runs her fingers through his hair to rinse the shampoo. She watches his face carefully, his eyes closed and his jaw tight. The guilt he felt something she knew that the shower wouldn’t wash away anytime soon.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” She says just loud enough for him to hear over the running water. He tenses even further, “You were just doing your job,” she places her hand on his shoulder again, a silent sign that she is done with the shampoo and he steps towards her, opening his eyes as he does so, “And I’ll yell at anyone who says otherwise.”

He offers her a half smile, one corner of his lips turning upwards, “Even me?”

“Especially you,” she replies, turning off the shower before stepping out of it, reaching for one of the fluffy towels she’d laid out for them.

“Even Elle?”

His words seem somehow louder in the now otherwise silent bathroom. She gives herself a second and wraps the towel around herself before she turns to look at him.

“Well, I’ll wait until she’s out of the hospital,” she says gently, reaching out and grabbing his hand, his skin slipping against hers, “But yes. Even Elle,” she squeezes his hand, “Come on, let's get ready for bed.”

They change into their pyjamas quickly, both keen for the day to end, and she climbs into bed but doesn’t lie down until he joins her, letting him lead now she had looked after him as she had wanted to. He pulls her so she’s practically laying on top of him, curled around him so tightly she’s not sure where he ends and she begins. She doesn’t say anything, wouldn’t even if she wanted to, because she knows he needs this. That he needs her. And she was going to let him take as much as he needed.

“Do you have work tomorrow, or are you guys back on your time off?” She asks, hoping it was the latter, that he’d have a well deserved break.

“Strauss told us to take the time. We’re grounded anyway until we’re the psychologist says we’re all ok after what happened to Elle.”

She hums softly, “We should go somewhere,” she says, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “Just for a few days.”

“You thinking of anywhere in particular?” He asks softly, kissing the top of her head.

She shrugs, “As long as I have you, a comfortable bed and decent food I’m happy.”

He laughs, and it vibrates from his chest into hers, warming her from the inside out as she gets a little bit more of him back. “We have all of that here.”

She tilts her head to look up at him, her eyebrow raised as she does, “Are you really saying you don’t want to go somewhere where I’ll be either in a bikini or naked most of the time?”

He pauses for a second, his eyes briefly glazed over, before he nods, “You’re right, we should go somewhere.”

She smiles at him and leans in to stamp a kiss against his lips, “That’s what I thought,” she kisses him again and settles back down against his chest, not missing how he holds her even tighter.

They lapse into silence, and if it wasn’t for the fact she was laying on top of him, his breathing not slowing down as it usually did as he drifted off, she would have thought he’d fallen asleep.

“Sweetheart?” He whispers, his hand running up and down her back, sneaking under the t-shirt she wore to bed that once belonged to him.

“Yes?” She replies, her hand on his chest as she draws nonsensical patterns with her fingertips as if she could press her love into his skin.

“Thank you.”

She smiles sadly, and turns her head to hide it against him, pressing a kiss to his chest before she settles back down. It had become a mantra of theirs, something that had started all those summers ago when she was sure they were just a fling, something she’d have her heart broken over. If she closed her eyes she could still picture him walking into her room on the day he left her mother’s house, a sad smile on his face as she thanked him for months of sex, affection and something neither of them could call love at the time.

They’d been through so much since then. His almost wedding to the woman she once thought was the love of his life. A job offer she’d turned down for a chance at what she now couldn’t imagine her life without. Careers that had left scars that the other always tended to. Jobs that defined them, but not as much as their love for each other.

Things wouldn’t be easy for a little while. Elle had a long recovery ahead of her, both physical and psychological, and Emily had a feeling she wouldn’t make it easy on Aaron. That the guilt he felt would likely get worse before it got better. She’d be here for all of it, by his side like she always would be.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, closing her eyes as she relaxes into him. They fall asleep curled around each other, grateful that no matter what they had this. They had each other.

-x-

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #not aaron pulling a ross geller #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

Text

not crying i promise🥲🥲🥲

Brush Strokes

She’d always found funerals strange, how they catered so much more to the living than they did the dead. Her mother hated them too, often saying no one ever said what they actually thought at them, the truth shrouded in pointed comments and false niceties. It was ironic, Emily thought, given that was how Elizabeth had lived most of her life.

-x-

Hi friends!

My insomnia is back in full swing, and we all know what that means - I write very sad things in the small hours of the morning and inflict them on all of you.

-x-

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Dementia, loss of a parent

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“The food here is terrible.”

Emily smiles and a wry chuckle escapes her. She looks at her husband next to her for a second before she looks back at Elizabeth.

“It is a hospital,” she says, “It’s not exactly going to be Michelin star quality.”

Elizabeth scoffs, rearranging the sheet of her hospital bed over her lap, eyeing it like she was in a five-star hotel.

“It’s the best hospital in DC, the President would come here if needed,” Elizabeth replies, raising her eyebrow, “You’d think there would be standards to maintain.”

Emily feels Aaron place his hand on her knee, gently squeezing the joint through her pants before she places her hand over his, linking their fingers together.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make your feelings known.”

Elizabeth hums, a disapproving noise Emily was achingly familiar with, something she’d almost found herself missing in recent months. It makes her chest tight, a flash of what used to be filling the room.

“You remind me of my daughter Emily,” Elizabeth says, a smile that could be described as fond spreading over her face. Emily feels Aaron squeeze her hand tightly, his thumb rubbing over her pulse point, and she thinks it’s probably the only thing that keeps her grounded, “She’s a better mother than I ever was,” Elizabeth meets Emily’s eyes, and she finds herself missing the judgement she’d seen there for as long as she could remember, sure it was better than simply not being recognised, “Do you have children?”

It was slow at first. Small signs Emily could now see they had missed, hindsight both a blessing and a curse after Elizabeth’s diagnosis. It was the opposite of how Emily’s father had died when she was in college, a heart attack taking him in the middle of Thanksgiving break. This was slow and gradual as her mother disappeared in front of her. After it became clear that Elizabeth could no longer live alone, and that living with them wasn’t something that would be right for any of them, she moved into a nursing home. She’d signed everything over to Emily, including power of attorney, and declined sharply, as if on some level she’d been waiting for it all to happen.

The nursing home had moved her to the hospital after an issue with her heart. Emily was off work, spending half of her time at the hospital and the other half at home with Jack and Hazel, desperately searching for some normality as they waited for the inevitable end.

Despite how long it had been, how she was now used to seeing her mother like this, it still hurt. It still stung that she didn’t recognise her, that she didn’t remember the kids - the grandchildren she adored.

“Two,” Aaron answers for her, and Emily isn’t sure she’s ever loved him more, “Jack, he’s 12, and Hazel, she’s 4.”

Emily looks around the room, all of the drawings Hazel had done for her grandmother adorning the walls. Splashes of colour and scribbles that were supposedly pictures of them brightening up an otherwise dreary room. She wonders if her mother ever thinks about where they are from, if she wonders what child drew them for her, or if she was simply too far gone to think that way.

She knew there were framed drawings from Hazel, and from Jack from when he was younger, in Elizabeth’s home office. Brightly coloured and crudely drawn and mixed in among photos. Cartoon drawings and paintings of their home right next to a photo of Aaron and Emily from their wedding. It was physical proof of how much Elizabeth had changed since becoming a grandmother, or maybe how she’d always been capable of such care and had simply chosen not to portray it when Emily was young herself. She had no memories of anything she ever made for her parents being out on display. No paintings hung up on the fridge. No poorly made mugs leaking coffee out onto a desk simply to see a wide smile on her face.

She loved that her children would remember Elizabeth as a loving grandmother, as someone who listened to their endless stories, someone who shipped them gifts from anywhere in the world after an offhand comment about something they liked. In her worst moments it made her jealous, made her wish her version of her mother was the same as theirs and she hated herself for it.

“I bet they are beautiful,” Elizabeth replies, smiling at them and Emily swallows thickly before she nods.

“Yeah, they are.”

___

Aaron had never been more frustrated at the DC traffic. His nerves fraying even further as the minutes ticked by, highly aware of the fact his wife was alone at the hospital sitting at her mother’s bedside. When he arrives he barely puts the car into park before he is out of it, just about remembering to lock it as he walks away.

The walk to Elizabeth’s room was familiar now. Hallways they’d walked almost every day for weeks that he was sure he could navigate with his eyes closed. Aaron sighs sadly as he turns the corner, finding his wife sitting out in the hallway, her elbows on her knees as she leans forward.

“Em?”

She looks up at him, her lips set in a grim line, her eyes shining with tears he knows she won’t let herself shed.

“It happened about 10 minutes ago,” she says, looking back at the floor. He walks over to join her, sitting in the seat next to her, “It was a stroke. And she’d signed that DNR so…” she clears her throat, shaking her head at herself, “I held her hand. Not that she knew who I was anyway.”

“She would have known she wasn’t alone, sweetheart,” he says, placing his hand on her back. He’s grateful when she sits up straighter and leans into his side, her head resting against his shoulder, “She would have known she was loved.”

Emily nods, a sound neither of them can place escaping her, “Yeah, I guess she would have.”

Aaron kisses the top of her head and holds her closer, the arm of the chair digging into his side in a way he doesn’t care to stop.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time,” he whispers against her hair, and she shakes her head, pulling back to look at him as she smiles sadly.

“It’s ok, I know you would have been here if you could,” her smile twitches slightly, and she shrugs her shoulders, “Besides, we spend most of our lives just the two of us, I guess it’s fitting it’s how it ended too.”

Aaron doesn’t know what to say to that, how to respond, so he simply kisses her forehead, “Want to go home?”

“Can we just sit here for a little while?” She asks, swallowing thickly, her chest full of grief she doesn’t know how to process even though she’d known it was coming, “As soon as we leave here there will be so much to do and I…can we just stay?”

He nods and tucks her back into his side, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, “We can stay as long as you need to, sweetheart.” ___

As soon as she’s in the house, and Jessica has left, Jack hugs her. His arms tight around her middle and his face against her chest. She hugs him just as fiercely, rubbing circles on his back before he pulls away so they are looking at each other, almost face to face after his last growth spurt. He has a sad look in his eyes that she had seen countless times.

It felt strange to think this was something Emily shared with her son now - the loss of a mother, despite how different the circumstances were. Emily had decades with Elizabeth, albeit most of them tumultuous. Jack had Haley taken from him when he was young. His memories of her were few and far between. Most of the images he had of her had been painted by Aaron and Jessica. Stories that they told him again and again until it seemed as if he remembered them himself, pairing the descriptions of his mother with the hazy memory of how it felt to be loved by her.

“Mommy?”

She looks past Jack and looks at Hazel, the little girl’s wide dark eyes shining, “Hi sweetheart.”

She walks over and leans down so she can pull Hazel into her arms, the weight of her daughter against her comforting as she holds her.

“Aunt Jessie said Grandma died,” she says quietly, and Emily holds her tighter before she walks over to the couch, sitting down and keeping Hazel in her embrace, “Is that why everyone is sad?”

Aaron sits down next to her, Hazel sandwiched between them, “Yes, sweetheart, and it’s ok to be sad.”

Emily flicks her eyes to her husband, knowing his comment wasn’t just aimed at their daughter, before returning her attention to Hazel. Jack joins them, sitting on Emily’s other side, resting his head against her shoulder as she wraps her arm around him.

“Do you understand, sweet girl?” Emily asks, running her hand through her daughter’s hair, tucking a wild curl behind the little girl's ear.

“Grandma has gone to be with Jack’s other mom?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she tries to process what she’s been told, what they’ve been preparing her for weeks, “And that means she can’t come back.”

“That’s right,” Aaron says from her other side, his arm around the two of them, “But it’s important to remember your grandmother loved you very much.”

Hazel nods, her confusion and sadness clearly mixing together as she turns to look back at her mother, “Did she like the picture I drew her?”

The way her little girl’s voice cracks makes Emily’s heart fracture even further, her daughter’s grief something she could latch on to, something she could try and help her through so she didn’t have to process her own yet, her relationship with her mother far more complicated than Hazel’s. She thinks of the neatly folded-up drawing in her purse, the piece of paper that she never got to hand over as she got to the hospital having arrived in the middle of a medical emergency. She’d never lied to her children, never anything beyond the childhood fantasies of Santa and the tooth fairy, but she sees no benefit in the truth here. A small lie something that can bring her daughter a tiny bit of comfort.

“Yes, baby,” Emily says, pulling her daughter closer, her eyes meeting her husband’s over the top of her head, “She loved it.”

___

Emily feels some of the tension in her chest ease as the door to her mother’s home office closes behind her.

It was only once her dementia was more advanced that Elizabeth started to be more outrightly honest. All of the social trappings she’d been part of her whole life, the very same ones she’d raised Emily in, fell away quickly, leaving her as if they had never been there at all. Emily had sat and listened as her mother talked about her daughter, not realising who she was talking to. She listened as her mother sounded proud, told her about her career and her family, how she’d made something of herself.

She hated that this is what it had taken to hear what she hadn’t realised she’d always needed. That her mother had lost everything that had made her her in order to say all the things Emily had spent a lifetime convincing herself Elizabeth didn’t feel or believe.

Emily steps further into the office, the noise from the wake dulled by the heavy wooden door. She sighs as she looks around the room, piles of paper on every surface, the usual regimented tidiness her mother had always lived by nowhere to be found. It was almost like it was a physical manifestation of Elizabeth’s decline, everything left out in the open - waiting for Emily to file it away, to put everything back in its place. She reaches for a photo on the desk, pulling it from amongst the paperwork spread around it, and she smiles. It’s a framed photo of Emily in her hospital bed just after she’d had Hazel. Jack was next to her, cuddled up to her side as he held his newborn sister. Initially, Emily hated the photo, seeing only her dirty hair piled up on her head, the bags under her eyes, and the clear exhaustion that was visible even through the camera. Now she loved it. She could only see the happiness, the tender way she held Jack to her with one hand whilst her other was cupping Hazel’s head, providing additional support as the newborn slept in her brother's arms.

She wondered if this is what Elizabeth had seen all along. If that was why she’d insisted Aaron print a copy after she saw it. If she’d seen the happiness that she knew Emily had been seeking most of her life.

There’s a knock at the door and then it opens, and Emily turns to see her husband walking into the room to join her, followed by a short burst of noise from the wake before he closes the door behind him. She smiles tightly at him, pressing her lips into a firm line to stop them from shaking.

“Are the kids ok?” She asks quietly, not looking as she places the frame back on the desk. She curses as she knocks a pile of paperwork onto the floor, files of paper spreading everywhere. “Fuck.”

Aaron is across the room in a second, kneeling down as she does to help her tidy up what she’d knocked over.

“They are ok,” he assures her, carefully rearranging some of the files, “Jack is showing Reid a game on his phone, Hazel is asleep in JJ’s lap.” Emily nods in acknowledgement, her eyes fixed on the papers she was gathering, “I’m mostly worried about you.”

She freezes for a second, her entire body seizing up before she clears her throat and carries on, her fingers shaking as she reaches for a piece of paper in between them. Aaron stops her, his hand meeting hers halfway, linking their fingers together.

“Aaron-”

“You haven’t given yourself a minute to just…stop since she died.”

“There isn’t time,” she says, gathering the last of the papers as she stands up, “Look at this place,” she exclaims, placing the files back down, “It’s a mess. And then we’ll have to list this place to sell it, and that’s without thinking about her properties abroad…”

She drifts off, her eyes fixed on a colourful piece of paper on the desk, previously covered by the files Aaron was still picking up. She picks it up, her eyes narrowing as she looks closer. The picture, clearly drawn by a young child, was a house with three stick figures standing outside, the smallest one in the middle.

“I don’t remember Hazel drawing that one,” Aaron says, now standing up behind her and looking over her shoulder.

“Me neither,” she says, frowning as she turns it over. She sucks in a breath and it feels like it catches in her chest, sticking on every rib as she reads the messy words on the back clearly written by a child, the letters mismatched and different sizes.

Emily Prentiss, aged 5. 02/23/1976

The laugh that leaves her borders on hysterical, and she shakes her head, gripping the drawing she’d inexplicably found in amongst her mother’s medical insurance papers and the deeds to the house even tighter. The paper creases ever so slightly as she turns it back over and looks at the drawing she had no memory of doing.

Her laughter turns into a sob, and it hurts. Her chest heaving with it as her spare hand covers her eyes, the grief she had held back since her mother died finally breaking free.

Aaron’s arms are around her in an instant, pulling her into his chest. He carefully takes the drawing from her, making sure it doesn’t get damaged, and she settles against him. She places her hands on his back, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, and her face on his chest. He feels her sobs vibrate through him, and he holds her tighter, fiercely kissing the top of her head as he cups the back of it, holding her as close as he possibly can.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her temple again, “I’ve got you.”

He holds her as she finally let's go. As she finally feels everything she’d been keeping in for weeks and months. Years if she was honest for herself. Grief for losing her mother twice - once with her diagnosis, and the other when she died. Grief for a relationship that was never what she needed or wanted, for a version of her mother that had existed nowhere but in her imagination.

“She was my mom, Aaron,” she stutters, her words muffled by his shirt and her emotion.

“I know,” he says soothingly, his fingers buried in her hair, “I know she was,” he encourages her to move back from him just enough so he can look at her. He wipes his thumb under one of her eyes, wiping away a tear and a smudge of mascara, and he doesn’t have to look down to know he’ll have a matching stain on his white shirt, “I’m so sorry, Emily.”

She nods, her chin trembling as she wipes at her cheeks, “I wish things could have been different,” she says, her voice wavering, “I wish we could have actually talked to each other instead of…being polite like we were for years,” she looks at the drawing Aaron had carefully placed on the desk and she points at it, “I shouldn’t have to find out how much she cared because of a piece of paper she kept for 40 years,” she chokes out a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, “I shouldn’t have to find this after she died.”

“You deserved better,” he assures her, cupping her cheek and pressing a kiss to her forehead, “And you are doing better,” he says, smiling softly at her, “Jack and Hazel never doubt for a moment how much you love them.”

She presses her forehead against his and stamps his lips with a kiss, “They know you love them too.”

They lapse into silence for a moment, the only sound the low murmuring from the other side of the door.

“Want to go back out there?” He asks, and she shakes her head, her forehead knocking against his before she presses her cheek against his chest.

“Not yet.”

“Ok, sweetheart,” he says, resting his cheek on top of her head, “Not yet.” He runs his hand up and down her back and looks at the drawing she’d done when she was just a little older than Hazel and it makes him smile. He tries to picture her, tries to think of what she would have been like at the time. If she was as quiet as Hazel could be sometimes, or if she’d always been as outspoken as she was now. “You know what’s crazy?”

“What?” She asks, letting herself relax in the comfort of his embrace, in the safety he always provided. He removes one arm from around her and picks up the drawing, turning it over to look at the words she’d written on the back all those years ago.

“Your penmanship hasn’t improved at all in 40 years.”

She laughs, loud enough that if someone from the wake heard it he’s sure they’d deem it inappropriate, and she pulls away to shake her head at him, a watery smile spreading across her face.

“How is it you always find a way to criticise my paperwork?”

He shrugs one of his shoulders, “Maybe one day it will sink in.”

She shakes her head again and her smile gives way to an adoring look. She leans in and kisses him, the taste of her tears on both of their lips.

“Thank you,” she says, her chest tight as she’s once again overwhelmed by emotion, “For loving me enough to make me laugh on a day like today.”

He kisses her once more before pulling her into a hug again, something she gratefully returns.

“You don’t have to thank me, Em. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world, no matter what day it is.”

Usually, she’d call him ridiculous. She’d roll her eyes and call him out for being cheesy, but she can’t bring herself to. Instead, she lets herself enjoy it.

A week later he frames the drawing for her and puts it in their home office along with drawings that Jack and Hazel had done for them.

When she looks at it, she thinks of her mother, and she smiles.

-x-

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#this one hurts #hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #FUCK DEMENTIA

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

Text

Oche

She feels pleasantly drunk, the alcohol warming her from the inside out, a buzz thrumming under her skin that made her want him even more than usual. She knows he’s drunk too because of the way he’s looking at her, barely concealed desire in his eyes.

-x-

Hi friends!

This is based on two prompts I received from a frequent reader/commenter over on Ao3! The prompts were:

Hugs 34: hugging while grabbing butt/ Touching 19: high fiving

This got smutty and I'm not sorry about it.

-x-

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Discussion of alcohol consumption. Drunk sex, Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

As always, the night out is Penelope’s idea.

Emily is sure it’s a poorly covered plan to get some insight into her and Aaron’s relationship now that the team knew about them. Ever since they’d accidentally let their secret out, too close of a call with an unsub and a knife leading to Emily kissing Aaron in front of everyone just a week ago, she knew they were interested. Their irritation at being kept on the outside for too long slowly turning into intrigue.

She’s grateful for some downtime with her boyfriend, something that was rare and precious to them both, and whilst she would rather they were alone part of her is pleased that she no longer has to hide her love for him in front of the people she considered family. It feels strange at first to allow the part of them that had only existed behind closed doors for months to be something they shared, but after a few drinks it feels easier, and she knows Aaron feels the same if the way his hold on her tightens is anything to go by.

Derek dares her to a game of darts. She rolls her eyes at him, and agrees, but only if they all team up.

Naturally, she picks Aaron as her partner.

“That’s not fair,” Derek says, frowning as Emily walks back over with the darts in hand, “Hotch is great at darts.”

“It’s not the only thing he’s great at, I can assure you,” Emily replies, winking as she earns a delighted laugh from JJ and Penelope, and disgusted groans from Derek, Dave and Spencer.

“Em,” Aaron says, the smile on his face doing nothing to dissuade her, and she simply shrugs as she half-heartedly apologises, pressing her lips to his cheek as she hands him the darts.

They win. If she was sober she’d try to take most of the credit, but she knows it’s down to Aaron. She cheers as he throws the winning dart, and they share a high five as he walks back towards her. He links his fingers through hers before she can pull away, tugging her in for a kiss. She returns it enthusiastically, her free hand cupping the back of his head as she licks through his mouth, tasting the beer he’d been drinking on his tongue.

“Ok, we get it,” Dave says, smirking into his glass of scotch, “You love each other.”

Emily pulls back from Aaron just enough to smile wickedly at Dave, “Any more of that, Rossi, and I’ll tell you what we did in your guest bathroom.”

“Emily.”

___

She goes to the bathroom just before they leave the bar, smiling devilishly at him as she tucks her underwear into the pocket of her jeans, her lips against his neck before she pulls back to wink at him.

By the time they enter her building, she’s on edge. Her boy vibrates with need for him as he walks just behind her, never stopping his assault on her senses as they get closer and closer to her apartment. She can feel the slickness between her legs, and she’s sure in any other circumstances she’d be embarrassed for how turned on she was already even though they’d done little more than make out in the cab.

He presses her up against her front door and pushes his thigh between her legs. She leans forward, her moan muffled against his neck as she feels the rough material of his jeans against her clit.

“Fuck, Aaron,” she says, bucking against him, her groan louder this time, “Fuck, please.”

“Open the door or this is happening right here,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her fiercely, his tongue sweeping through her mouth before he pulls back, smiling as she chases him, “Right here where anyone could see us.”

She hates the thought of it turns her on even more, and a small part of her, that she’s sure has been created by the pure amount of tequila she’s had to drink that evening, wonders if she should take him up on it. But she stops herself, biting her lip as she looks up at him through her lashes.

“You have the key, remember?” She says, her hand on the back of his neck as she pulls him in for another kiss, rolling her hips against his thigh as she swallows the taste of his moan, “It’s in your pocket.”

The memory hits him quickly, Emily complaining before they left that she wanted to wear the dress she had chosen but that she didn’t want to take a bag out with her. He’d offered to carry her phone and keys for her. He digs through his pocket, feeling relief when he finds the key quickly. He barely registers something falling to the ground, the alcohol and desperation for her making him less observant than usual. He crowds her even further into the door, smirking as she bucks against his leg again, the feeling of a damp patch against his skin through the denim enough to make him want to break the damn lock so he could her inside and then get inside her.

He unlocks the door and just about remembers to take the key back out as he pushes her inside, kissing her fiercely as she all but stumbles a few feet into her apartment. He closes the door behind them, taking a moment to check the lock, and then he’s on her again.

She hisses as her back hits the wall, barely a few feet past her front door, and a picture of the two of them that she’d hung up only a few weeks prior shakes slightly. He kisses her fiercely, any room for tenderness long gone and she buries both of her hands in his hair.

He reaches between them and pushes her dress upwards, the material gathering around her hips before he immediately goes for her clit. He groans and pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.

“So wet for me already, baby,” he says, rubbing circles over her in a way that makes her moan, “I’ve barely touched you.”

“Fuck,” she exclaims as he pushes two fingers into her without warning, his other hand firm on her shoulder as he holds her in place, “Fuck, Aaron, please.”

Usually, he’d drag it out, pull pleasure from her until she asked him to stop, but he feels even more desperate for her than usual. He nods, and she smiles at him, reaching for his belt buckle, a silent agreement between the two of them that they weren’t going to make it to the bedroom tonight.

Not this time anyway.

She undoes his belt and his jeans and pushes them down just enough to expose him, her hand wrapping around him. She smirks as he groans, and she leans in to press her lips against his neck, sucking a bruise into his skin.

“Em,” he warns, and she looks up at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.

He grabs one of her thighs, hauling it upwards, and she almost slips over. Drunk on tequila and him in equal measure in a way that has him holding onto her even tighter, his fingerprints tattooed into her skin. He catches her, just like he always did, and smiles as she successfully wraps her leg around his waist.

He slips into her easily, stretching her in a way that makes her groan loudly. She rests her head back against the wall behind her, taking a moment to allow herself to adjust to him.

Aaron rests his forehead against her neck as the tight heat of her is enough to make him lose his mind. She pulls him closer, a silent sign for him to start to move, and he does just that.

She meets him thrust for thrust, her arms tight around his neck as she holds him close, pleasure threatening to drown her as she vaguely registers his teeth sinking into the top of her left breast. The slight pain of it pushes her over the edge, making her clench around him before she can warn him that she’s coming.

“Holy shit, sweetheart,” he groans against her skin, “You feel so fucking good,” he whispers compliments into her skin as he chases his own pleasure, following her over the edge as he comes inside of her.

It takes a moment for their breathing to return to normal, and she laughs as he pulls back from her, her leg falling back to the ground as he slips out of her.

“That was…” she says, chuckling as he steadies her, his hands at her waist, “Fuck.”

He smiles and leans in to kiss her, no less fierce than it had been previously, and she knows they are nowhere near done this evening. She smiles at him as he pulls back for air, stamping another kiss to his lips as she steps away from the wall, her legs slightly shaky. She watches as he pulls his pants back up but doesn’t re-fasten them or his belt.

“Think we can manage a shower?” He asks, answering his own question as they both stumble slightly.

“Absolutely not,” she replies, linking her arm through his, “But, we should definitely go to bed.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, a spark in his eyes that she loves, “To sleep?”

Her smile gets wider, “Absolutely not.”

___

The first thing Emily is aware of when she wakes up is the pounding in her head. She groans, turning to face Aaron, pressing her forehead into his neck.

“There’s someone at the door,” he says, his voice thick and raspy, a gravelly tone that makes her stomach flip for an entirely different reason than the hangover she knows she’s on the cusp of.

“What?” She grumbles, his words not quite registering properly, the pounding in her head only getting worse.

“Your door,” he repeats, “Someone is knocking on it.”

She realises the pounding in her head isn’t just her hangover, but the sound of someone knocking on her front door and she groans. She sits up, grimacing as the room spins a little, as the sheet falls away from her skin she realises she’s naked.

“Fuck,” she comments, standing up, stretching out her muscles that were sore in a deliciously familiar way. Their clothes from the night before were everywhere, and she's fairly sure she sees her dress in two pieces. She bends down to pick up his shirt off the floor. She catches sight of herself in the mirror and smirks when she sees the bruises shaped like fingerprints on her thighs, and the bitemark on her breast that covers the scar where Ian had branded her. Aaron’s love for her covering the violence Ian had left behind, like fresh plaster over a crack in a wall. Aaron was good at that. Good at making her feel whole again, and at healing the wounds she both knew were there and the ones she hadn’t seen until they were already gone.

She wonders what it means that she wishes it was permanent, that the bite mark wouldn’t eventually fade. That the red mark wouldn’t give way to a scar that was as good as it was ever going to get.

She turns back to look at the bed, smiling at the sight of her boyfriend, a hickey on his neck visible even from where she was standing. She buttons up his shirt, the material soft against her skin.

“What the hell did we do last night?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, putting his hand over his eyes, “It’s all very patchy after we won darts.” There’s another knock on the door and he groans, “The door, please Em.”

“You know,” she says, walking towards the bedroom door on slightly wobbly legs, “A gentleman would go and answer the door for me.”

“Come back to me in four or five hours, maybe the side of me that is a gentleman will have kicked in by then.”

She smiles but continues the short journey to the front door. If she wasn’t hungover, and still slightly drunk if she was completely honest with herself, she would have thought about the fact she was wearing nothing except his shirt, and she certainly would have thought to look through the peephole before she opened the door. Her eyes go wide as she pulls the door open to reveal her elderly neighbour, and she’s suddenly incredibly aware of her outfit, half hiding behind the door.

“Mrs Harrison,” she exclaims, plastering on a smile, “Is everything ok?”

“Everything is just fine with me, dear,” she says, a wry smile spreading across her face, “I just wanted to let you know I think you left something in the hallway last night.”

Emily frowns, her eyebrows creasing together, “What do you mean?” She says, watching as Mrs Harrison nods towards the floor between them, her smile never leaving her face. Emily follows her gaze, and her eyes go impossibly wider when she spots the underwear she clearly remembered putting on the night before on her doormat. She covers up a gasp with a cough, and places her foot on them, pushing them into the apartment behind her, well aware if she bent down to pick them up she’d show Mrs Harrison even more than she had already seen, “I am so sorry, Mrs Harrison-”

“No no, no need to apologise dear,” she says waving her off, “If I was younger I’d be fighting you for that young man of yours, and I doubt we’d even make it into my apartment at all.”

Emily isn’t sure how to respond to that and is oddly grateful when she hears Aaron’s footsteps behind her. She turns to see him, now wearing a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, and they exchange a small smile as he reaches her side, his arm looping around her shoulders.

“Aaron, we were just talking about you,” Mrs Harrison says, winking at him.

“Nice to see you, Mrs Harrison.”

“Please, Aaron, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Edith.”

Emily turns her head to hide her smile in Aaron’s shoulder, her face pressed against his t-shirt. He pulls her a little closer, all too aware of how much she took enjoyment out of his discomfort when Mrs Harrison flirted with him.

“Sorry. Edith.”

Mrs Harrison looks delighted before looking Aaron up and down, “Anyway, I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

They exchange goodbyes with her before Emily closes the door, and she groans as she presses her forehead into Aaron’s chest as he wraps her up in his arms. She wraps her arms around him, and lets her hands drift down his back until they land on his ass, making him smile against the top of her head as she purposely gropes at him.

“I feel like shit,” she complains, letting him take most of her weight against him.

“Me too,” he replies, “That breakfast place you like delivers.”

She groans, in something close to pleasure this time, “I love you.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss the top of her head, “I love you too,” he says, running his hand up and down her back. “Em?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Why is your underwear just inside the door?”

-x-

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#LOVE THIS SO MUCH #highlight of my week fr #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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IM… 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 SOBBING THIS IS PERFECT

well hello my love. congratulations on 500. you deserve this, more, and the whole world actually

pls be so kind as to fulfill these prompts for me

i love you very very much 🤍

how often do i have to say DON'T BE NICE TO ME I'LL CRY.

(and actually you deserve the whole world so there.)

This got away from me. Let's not act surprised anyone.

-x-

On the Edge of All This

It was easier to be angry at her than to admit to himself that the reason he’d been so afraid was that he was in love with her.

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Anger had always been the easiest thing for him to feel.

He’d grown up surrounded by it. It permeated everything, flowing through the air as love should have. He knew how to handle anger, how to manage it. How to ensure he never turned into his father. It was familiar to him.

Fear was harder. It threatened to choke him, his body turning inwards on itself as he lost the sense of control that was so important to him.

It’s why he’d lashed out. Why he’d shouted at Emily after he found out it was her who’d had a gun waved in her face by the unsub. Her he’d worried he’d heard being shot as he drove to the scene with the backup she and Derek had insisted they didn't need. He’d called her careless, something he knew she wasn’t, as he pushed past the fear, willfully ignoring how her face fell.

It was easier to be angry at her than to admit to himself that the reason he’d been so afraid was that he was in love with her.

Aaron couldn’t remember when it happened. It was as if he’d fallen in love with her slowly, taken in by her smile, her kindness. The way she could make him laugh when he needed it the most. It was only when she died, when he stood over a grave he knew was empty, that he could put a name to it. That he finally understood the feelings for her that he’d been desperate to ignore since the first time her beauty, both physical and otherwise, had knocked him breathless. He’d allowed himself to naively believe that when, if, she came back he’d do something about it. He’d tell her how he felt, desperately hoping that he hadn’t misunderstood how she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Emily had come back different. A sense of sadness, of discomfort, that followed her around like a perfume. Lingering in the air around her as if she wanted someone to ask if she was ok, not that she’d answer honestly even if they did.

Their agreement, her promise to tell him when she was having a bad day, had brought them closer together again. The friendship they’d had before she went to Paris, forged by how she’d cared for him and Jack in the fallout of Haley’s death, was slowly rebuilt, the foundations of it stronger than ever. She spent weekends with them. Spent cold Saturday mornings in the park watching Jack play soccer before she went for lunch with them. She helped with homework and scraped knees, falling right back into the place in his son’s life that would never be filled by someone else.

She would sit with Aaron after Jack went to bed. They’d talk over wine and food, exchanging stories both good and bad from their childhoods, learning a bit more about each other every time. Questions that had never been asked answered, the full picture slowly coming into focus. They helped each other, understood each other in a way that no one else could, having both fought their monsters and come out the other side alive but forever changed.

Aaron takes his tie off, disposing of it over the back of his couch as he undoes the top button of his shirt. His through still felt tight as if he couldn’t heave in a full breath. The sound of the shot that he now knew was Derek taking down the unsub echoing around his head, making him feel as powerless as he had as he drove towards the scene. He shakes his head at himself, running his hand through his hair before he walks over to his small bar cart. He picks up a, very expensive, bottle of scotch that Dave had bought him and pours himself a glass, hoping the burn of the liquor in his throat would distract him.

Before he can drink any of it, the amber liquid not even touching his lips, there’s a knock at the door. He sighs, shaking his head as he puts the glass back down, walking the short distance to the front door. He looks through the peephole and closes his eyes, clenching his jaw as he tries to remain steady.

He should have known she’d come here.

Emily had tried to speak to him at the scene, but he’d ignored her. Knowing if he’d spoken to her, if he’d allowed her to pull her aside, he’d have yelled at her again or blurted out how he felt, how his love for her had paralysed him. How the hold she had over him made him so irrationally angry he didn’t know what to do.

He gives himself a moment before he opens the door, their eyes meeting immediately.

“Emily?” He says, pleased his voice remains even, his hand tight around the door handle.

“Hi,” she replies, her arms crossed over her chest as she looks him up and down, taking in his slightly dishevelled appearance. His sleeves were rolled up and his tie was gone, his hair rumbled from where he’d run his fingers through it, a tell he had that always let her know when he was stressed. Her fingers twitch to reach out and smooth it out, desperate to feel how soft his hair is, but she stops herself, “Can I come in?”

He knows he can’t say no, that he can’t turn her away or close the door in her face, so he steps back to let her in.

Emily walks past him, hating the tension between them. It was something she hadn’t felt since she first walked into his office all those years ago and he so clearly didn’t want her there. She looks around his apartment, somewhere she felt more comfortable than her own these days, and her eyes linger on the glass of whiskey on the side table.

“Is Jack here?”

He shakes his head, “He’s at Jess’s, it was too late to go get him when we landed. She’s bringing him round in the morning.”

She nods and the room becomes awkward again. She blows out a steady breath before she talks again. “Aaron-”

“What do you want, Emily?”

She turns to look at him, schooling her features in a way she usually didn’t have to around him these days so she doesn’t show how much the way he cuts her off, the tone he uses with her, hurts. She knew as soon as he’d raised his voice at her that he hadn’t meant it. He jumped to anger when he didn’t know how to feel, a side effect of the childhood he had told her about, his eyes fixed on the very carpet they were standing on as they shared a bottle of wine. Once he slept on it or got over whatever had upset him in the first place, she knew he’d be angrier at himself than anyone else. His clipped, angry words thrown her way equating him to his father in his own head, something she knew she couldn’t dissuade him from no matter what she said.

The only thing she couldn’t quite figure out is why he’d been mad at her in the first place. He hadn’t been there when Derek took down the unsub, and he hadn’t seen the gun pointed at her.

She sighs, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she focuses on his face, watching for the micro expressions she knew well.

“I wanted to make sure you’re ok.”

He chuckles bitterly, shaking his head, “And you couldn’t have called to do that?”

She shrugs, smiling sadly at him, “I wasn’t entirely sure you’d answer the phone. But I knew you’d answer the door,” she takes a step towards him, swallowing thickly as she watches him tense, his body tight with everything he was refusing to feel. As if his emotions were tightly stitched around him, threatening to suffocate him if he didn’t let them out, “Please tell me what’s wrong. We both know whatever you’re mad about it isn’t something I did,” she smiles wryly, “Despite your outburst earlier.”

He sighs, guilt flooding his chest as he looks down at the floor, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “Em-”

“I’m not looking for an apology,” she says, cutting him off as she steps towards him again, almost close enough to touch, “I don’t need one. I’m worried about you.”

Aaron looks up at her, only realising how close she was now standing. He could count her lashes if he wanted to, or the small smatter of freckles across her skin you had to be this close to see. He could smell her perfume, a sweet scent that never failed to make him feel a little more at ease. Flowers and citrus and a touch of something that was uniquely her. It’s enough that he wants to reach out for her, wants to bury his face in her neck and smell it from the source. He has to take a step backwards to stop himself from doing just that. He doesn’t miss the hurt that flashes across her face, the way her brow furrows slightly.

“Aaron-”

“You could have died today,” he says, the words escaping before he means them to, spilling out onto the floor between them. Her frown deepens and her mouth falls open, huffing out a breath as she tries to formulate a sentence, but he carries on, unable to stop now he’d started, “I was driving to the scene, and I could hear everything. Morgan had me on the line.”

She sighs the final bit of the puzzle clicking into place. Derek had walked in on the unsub holding her at gunpoint, and in amongst it the minutes that had followed as he tried to talk him down before ultimately having to disarm him, she hadn’t realised the others had been listening in. She finally reaches out for him, placing her hand on his arm and she feels his muscles tense beneath his skin.

“It wasn’t like it was with Haley,” she says, addressing what neither of them needed to say. “Derek was there the whole time, and I’ve been in worse situations. We both know that,” she says, squeezing his arm and smiling at him, a failed attempt to make him laugh.

“When I heard the shot I thought…” he drifts off, shaking his head at himself, his jaw tense, “I’ve already buried you once.”

It feels like a physical blow, and it knocks the breath from her. It was rare for him to be so vulnerable, so open, and she feels breathless at the fact she had caused it. That the mere thought of something happening to her had torn down his well-constructed defences. She knew the feeling. Had felt it herself when he was missing and it turned out he’d been attacked by Foyet. She hadn’t been able to name it then, or at least she hadn’t wanted to. But she knew now what it was.

She was in love with him.

In Paris, she’d convinced herself that it would never happen, that if she did make it home any chance she had with him was as dead as everyone thought she was. That the knowledge of what she’d done, of who she had been, would have rid him of any affection for her beyond friendship. The last few weeks, the way he cared for her, brought her into his precious time with Jack, had given her hope. Painful, beautiful hope that she couldn't bear to rid herself of.

She leans into him and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into the hug she could no longer hold herself back from giving him. It takes him a second to react, but he does the same, holding her close to him.

“I’m right here, Aaron,” she says, her voice slightly muffled by his shirt, “But our jobs are dangerous. You know that as well as I do.”

He tightens his hold on her, his embrace so firm she’s sure that her feet could leave the ground, and he clenches his teeth. The fear from earlier rising back up in his chest. The anger, the familiar feeling of it, is nowhere to be found, as if she was the remedy he’d always been looking for.

“What I know is I can’t lose another woman I-”

He stops himself, cutting himself off before he can say it out loud. Before he rings a bell that cannot be unrung. She tenses, the air around them thick with the words he hadn’t said, the sentence he hadn’t finished. She pulls back to look at him, their faces as close as they had ever been.

She knows that this is a turning point, that this could change everything between them forever. She’d imagined this moment for years, and she’d never pictured it the same way twice. She’d imagined them angry at each other, yelling until one of them kissed the other to shut them up, passion taking over so they could deal with the consequences later. She’d imagined them desperately making sure the other was ok after too close a call and having to navigate around an injury that had been enough to finally push them to what they needed.

She’s never imagined this. That the mere idea of something happening to her would be enough to push him to this, to almost admitting to the very thing neither of them had ever said out loud. She’d never been short on courage. It was almost as if she’d been born with it in abundance. Her mother had always said it like it was a bad thing, like it made her wreckless, but it had always served her well in her life. In her career.

She could use it for this, for him.

She reaches up and cups his cheek, her thumb ghosting just above his bottom lip. Her eyes flick over his face before they meet his.

“Another woman you what?” She asks, even though she knows the answer. For a reason she can’t explain she needs to hear him say it, needs the final confirmation before she jumps head first into something she thinks she’s been waiting for her whole life.

Aaron stares at her, his jaw clenching beneath her palm, and he sighs, the breath shuddering on its way out. The last time he’d felt so vulnerable, so torn open, was when he had woken up in hospital after Foyet had left him there. His chest aching as he was all too aware everything was about to change.

It felt fitting that she had been there for that too.

“Another woman I love,” he says eventually, his voice rough as he chokes the words out. It takes a second, the longest of his life, but her response is a smile he only just catches before she leans in.

Everything except the two of them comes to a stop. He holds her almost impossibly closer, his hands pressing into her back as they settle into the kiss, the tender nature of it a surprise to them both. They both get lost in it, her hands trailing up into his hair as he deepens it, swiping his tongue along the seam of her lips, groaning when she immediately responds.

She pulls back when the need to breathe gets too much, her lungs burning. She rests her forehead against his, not wanting to lose the connection.

“Em-”

“I love you too,” she says, cutting over him, just as breathless as he was, “I fucking love you, so I don’t want to hear you try to talk me out of this,” she chokes out a laugh, her hand tracing down his face to cup his neck, “Because then I’d have to kill you, and that would be a shame.”

Aaron laughs, shaking his head at her, his forehead knocking slightly against hers, “I just want you to be sure. I’m not…my life isn’t simple.”

“Mine isn’t either,” She beams at him and she knows she wouldn’t be able to contain her smile even if she wanted to. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He isn’t sure why that's what does it, why her complete certainty is the final push he needs, but he leans in this time, kissing her with a reverence she doesn’t remember experiencing before. He reaches for her hand, linking their fingers together as he pulls back, gently tugging her towards his bedroom.

It’s slower than she expected it would be. They undress each other, gently taking off clothes she once thought they’d rip. But she knows there’s time for that, that it will come later. Somehow it feels right that it’s like this, that they are taking the time with each other. She lays on the bed as soon as she’s naked, and he joins her shortly after, his eyes fixed on the scar on her breast. He reaches out to touch it, more sure than he looks as he runs his fingers over the crudely drawn brand mark.

He’d read about it. He hadn’t been able to bear going to her wake, choosing to go back to the office instead, not sure he could continue the lie he had come up with to save her life. He was reading through case files when he came across hers. Her name and picture presented to him like she was a victim when she was anything but. He’d read it again and again, memorising it as it if were some after-school punishment. His penance for not being able to save her.

“They’re just scars, Aaron,” she says, bringing him back to her with nothing but her voice and her hand cupping his cheek to encourage him to look at her face. Her other hand traces down his chest, her fingers lingering on one of his scars, the now silver skin standing out as she strokes it, “You have them too.”

He nods, closing his eyes as she traces over the slightly thicker skin, the sensation still different to how it was anywhere else.

“We’ve both survived a lot,” he says, leaning down to kiss her collarbone before moving onto her chest, his lips against the brand mark she’d grown to accept months ago.

“Yes,” she gasps, shifting under his touch as he maps out her skin, committing everything about her to memory, “And we’re both here,” she catches his head and pulls him up for a kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, kissing her firmly, trying to express what the words couldn’t. How much he loved her, that if she let him he’d spend the rest of his life proving it.

He kisses down her body paying close attention to the scar on her abdomen, kissing every inch of it, as if his love was enough to heal her. She gasps when he reaches her thighs, his hand gentle but firm as he pushes them apart, looking at her in a way that she thinks should make her feel embarrassed, but her skin only flushes with desire.

He swipes his fingers through her, twin groans leaving them as he does it again, “So wet, Em,” he rasps, resting his forehead against her stomach, making her twitch with laughter as the kiss he presses there tickles. She opens her mouth to tell him off, to admonish him for the feeling, but she’s cut off, his fingers and tongue working on her together.

“Fuck,” she exclaims, her fingers tight in his hair, even more rumbled now than it had been when she’d arrived. She feels him smile against her, and she can’t bring herself to be mad about it, not when he’s making her feel so good.

He takes her apart like he has spent years studying her, as if he had intimate detail of her and her body. She comes quietly, the pleasure washing over her as he kisses his way back up her body, his face buried in her neck as her vision starts to clear.

“You’re good at that,” she breathes out, chuckling as she looks at him, her hand reaching for his, “Really fucking good.” She rolls over to look at him, “Your turn.”

He sits up against the headboard and pulls her towards his lap as she reaches for him, a curious look on her face as she prepared to settle between his legs.

“Next time,” he says, a punched-out groan leaving him as she wraps her hand around him, a wicked smile on her face, “I just want you.” She climbs into his lap, smiling at him before she kisses him, laughing as he chases her lips. He rests his forehead against hers, “I can’t believe this is real.”

She kisses him again, “It’s very real,” she replies, barely pulling away as she speaks, each word punctuated by another press of her lips to his, “So very real.”

She reaches between them and lines them up. She sinks down onto him, her shuddering breath skipping across his face as she keeps her forehead pressed into his. Her hands are on either side of his face, holding him in place, and his are splayed across her back, his palms hot against her skin in a way she wants to feel forever.

He groans at the feel of her, clenching his jaw as she rolls her hips slightly, adjusting to the stretch of him.

“Aaron,” she gets out, her breath skipping across his face, “Fuck.”

“You feel incredible,” he says, his hands skipping up her back, counting the notches of her spine, groaning as she rolls her hips again, “So good, sweetheart.”

She kisses him, her arms wrapping around his neck as they move together in tandem as if they’ve been doing this for years. If she was a romantic, young and wide-eyed like she’d once been before life took that innocence from her, she’d think they were made for each other.

Time doesn’t seem to exist. It’s just the two of them, building each other up with their foreheads pressed together. She feels her thighs tremble, and she knows he has too. She gasps as he reaches between them, rubbing his finger in soft circles over her, giving her the final push she needs.

She moans as she comes, every nerve ending on fire as she shudders on top of him, her body giving out as she leans forward, his chest taking her weight. He bands his arms tightly around her back, pushing up into her as he follows her over the edge, his face buried in her neck as he breathes her in, his lips against her skin as he mutters his love for her against her pulse. As if there was any room for doubt left.

Emily chuckles, shaking her head as she pulls back to look at him. She pushes his hair off of his forehead, her thumb lingering on his skin.

“We should have done that years ago,” she says, shivering as his hand runs down her back, the warmth of it catching on the cooling sweat on her skin. She smiles as he chuckles, the sound if it vibrating from his chest to hers, “Or maybe the timing was perfect.”

Aaron kisses her cheek and then her nose, “We should talk about this.”

“We love each other,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck, smiling wickedly as she purposely shifts to make him groan, “And we are amazing at sex,” she quips, biting her lower lip, “What’s there to talk about?”

He smiles lovingly at her, tucking her hair behind her ear, “What we want from this, what we do next.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” she promises, “For now I think we should shower. Together, obviously,” she smiles widely at him, “Eat something, and then come back here for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds perfect, sweetheart,” he says, and she moves to shift off of him, but he holds her closer, moving them so they are laying down, still wrapped around each other. “Let's just stay here a minute.”

She nods, leaning in to kiss him, “Ok.”

He gets lost in the feeling of her against him, around him, and breathes her in again, revelling in his ability to do so now.

He loses track of time as they lay together, talking softly as if nothing had changed, this unexpected evening part of the natural progression of them. Something he should have seen coming.

Aaron realises that he was wrong, and that the easiest thing he had ever felt was his love for her. For his son. And the future they would all carve out together.

-x-

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#this is canon actually #the butterflies this gave me hello?????#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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oh this was so perfect i loved it so much🥹🥹🥹🥹

SO MANY PROMPTS THIS IS TOO HARD but if i had to pick, i’d love to see hand holding prompt 37: not realising they’re holding hands till someone points it out! 🤍

I really hope you enjoy this bestie <3

-x-

Words: 1.5k (ok so it's not 1k or less...but for me that's not bad!! haha)

Warnings: none!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He can tell something is wrong the moment he gets home.

He’s rarely home later than Emily, his job lecturing at the academy often meaning he was home long before her. Usually, when she was home first, he’d arrive to find her and Ivy on the couch together, talking about their days with a TV show he hates on in the background, both of them turning to look at him with matching grins as they try to convince him to order in for dinner.

They would, of course, always manage it. He’d never been able to say no to his wife or his 15-year-old daughter.

The house is silent as he enters it. No excited chatter from his teenage daughter, no laughter from his wife. The last time he remembered it being this quiet was shortly after Jack had moved out for college, all of them grieving his absence in silence.

As he gets closer to the kitchen he hears the clamour of plates, of cabinet doors opening and closing with a little more force than necessary. He turns the corner to find his wife emptying the dishwasher with a level of aggression he hadn’t thought was possible. There’s a large glass of wine on the counter, with the bottle still next to it,

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, announcing his arrival, and she barely looks over at him, a tight smile on her face.

“Hi honey,” she replies, continuing her task of putting the dishes away, “How was work?”

Aaron suppresses a sigh, well aware that it wouldn’t help matters, unsurprised at her usual attempt to deflect any questions she knew he would ask.

“It was fine,” he replies, stepping closer to her but still not touching her, “What’s going on?”

Emily freezes, hesitating for a second before she grabs another plate from the dishwasher, “Nothing.”

He closes the gap between them, removing the plate from her hand and setting it down before he pulls her into a hug.

“Em, sweetheart, we’ve been married for nearly 17 years,” he smiles, tucking some of her grey hair behind her ear, “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Emily sighs and then clears her throat, the memory of her argument with her daughter still creating a tightness in her chest.

“You know that party Ivy wanted to go to?” She says, her focus on his tie as she avoids his eye contact, sure that if she looked up at him she’d cry.

“The one with no paternal supervision that we said no to,” he replies, remembering the initial conversation well. Ivy had been annoyed. She’d rolled her eyes at them in a way that was 100% Emily, not that he’d said it at the time, and stormed off to her room.

“Yeah, that one,” Emily says, finally looking up at him, her smile wavering, “She brought it up again. I said no again, and she…she told me that she hates me and that I’m ruining her life.”

He sighs, closing his eyes briefly as her words sink in. Emily’s Achilles heel had always been their children. Her fiercely protective nature was never more clear than when one of them was hurt or upset, meaning he had, more than once, had to stop her from going to the school to confront the parents of bullies. It meant that they had the power to upset her in ways very few other people did, something that had become apparent very early on when a young, and upset Jack, had yelled at her that she wasn’t his mother.

He had called for mom for years now, much longer than the years when he hadn’t, but Aaron knew Emily still thought of it even now whenever they met someone new and introduced their family.

“Sweetheart-”

“And I know she doesn’t mean it,” Emily cuts over him shaking her head at herself as one tear escapes her lashline, “I know that. But it doesn’t make it any less shitty to hear,” she shrugs half-heartedly, “I don’t know, I guess I just miss when she was small and the worst thing we could do was forget to take her stuffed dog on vacation with us, not refuse to let her go to a party we know will end with at least one of her classmates getting arrested.”

She loved being a parent. Raising Ivy and Jack had been the best years of her life. A slice of normality she once thought she’d never get to have. She loved it, but it never got any easier. The difficulties of raising them growing right alongside them. She remembered those early days just after Ivy was born. How exhausted she’d been, in ways she hadn’t known were possible. As much as she loved her daughter, how much they had in common, how Ivy trusted her in ways she had never been able to trust her own mother, she sometimes missed when things were that little bit simpler.

“She loves you, Em,” he says, placing his hand on her cheek, wiping away a tear he won’t mention, “You’ve always been her favourite person on the planet. Being a teenager is hard,” his lips twitch into a smile, “On both the teenagers and the parents,” he adds, and she chuckles, the sound catching in her chest.

“I know,” she replies, reaching out for him, seeking out his comfort as always. “It almost makes me wish I could apologise to my mother. Almost,” she smiles as he shakes his head at her. She blows out a breath, feeling lighter for talking to him about it all, and leans forward, pressing her forehead into his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her and kisses the top of her head. “I’m sorry you came home and walked straight into a warzone,” she mutters, breathing him in, the scent of his cologne as comforting as it always had been. Aaron chuckles softly, kissing the top of her head again.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve come home to,” he quips, and it takes a moment for his words to register, the dry joke about walking into his old apartment close to two decades ago to find Foyet there waiting for him makes her jolt as she pulls back from him. A shocked laugh escapes her as she hits his shoulder lightly.

“Aaron.”

“What? Too soon?” He replies, raising his eyebrow at her, his dimples carved out in his cheeks as he smiles at her.

“You’re an ass,” she says, shaking her head at him as she tries, and fails, to fight off a smile.

“I cheered you up though,” he replies, leaning down to stamp a kiss against her lips. She smiles at him, kissing him once more as he pulls back.

“You always cheer me up.”

“You two are gross.” They both look up to find Ivy looking at them, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. None of the previous fight in her that Emily had seen less than an hour ago. “Look at you,” she says, trying to force some of her usual lightness into her voice, “You’re even holding hands.”

Emily looks down and sees that her daughter is correct, that her husband’s hand is wrapped tightly around her own. She hadn’t even noticed, didn’t remember either of them reaching out for the other. The simple touch was so much a part of their lives, so much a part of her, that she couldn’t remember how it felt to be without it.

“Well,” Emily says, trying to match her daughter’s tone, to pretend the air around them tense, “What can I say, I find your dad irresistible.”

“Ew, gross, Mom,” Ivy replies, grimacing slightly. They fall into silence again and Ivy clears her throat, looking back and forth between her parents, under no allusion that her dad didn’t know what she’d said to her Mom. She looks at Emily, dark eyes meeting dark eyes, and she smiles tightly, “Can I speak to you? Alone?”

Aaron is the first to move, squeezing his wife’s hand before he lets go, stepping away from her as he speaks.

“I’ll go get changed,” he says, pausing to kiss Ivy’s forehead before he walks past her, “Shall we get pizza for dinner?”

Both Ivy and Emily nod, and he turns to leave them alone. He looks back towards the kitchen as he’s about to start climbing the stairs, and smiles as he sees Ivy hugging Emily tightly, her face buried in her shoulder. Emily was holding her back just as fiercely, her hand running up and down their daughter’s back.

He shakes his head to himself as he walks up the stairs, thinking to himself how similar they were to each other. Both stubborn and willful. Empathetic almost to a fault. Ivy was a carbon copy of Emily in looks as well as personality, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not that he’d ever dare say that to either of them.

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhconh, @lex13cm

Join my tag list here!

#them as parents is just so #they’re so disgustingly in love #obsessed with this #hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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ohhhhh i needed this🥰🥰🥰

Reset

Emily gets hurt on a case and Aaron looks after her.

-x-

Just some Sunday night fluff/hurt comfort for you all, with a few tropes thrown in for good measure <3

-x-

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: Mentions of injury/hospitalisation

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It happens quickly.

The unsub was more prepared than they were expecting. The door they were about to head through flies open, and as the person who was standing closest to it, Emily is thrown backwards, losing her footing through the force of it.

She hits the wall hard and feels her shoulder dislocate. Intense pain suddenly spreads through her arm and upper body, leaving her breathless. The sound of it, the loud pop that feels like it vibrates throughout her head, briefly makes her feel nauseous. She curses, her left hand coming up to press into her right shoulder, grimacing when she can feel that it is the wrong shape. For a moment everything else disappears, all of her senses honing in on the pain radiating down her arm and across her chest.

“Fuck,” she chokes out, trying to catch her breath.

“Em, you ok?”

She opens her eyes to see Aaron kneeling right in front of her, concern etched into every part of his face, and she knows she’s not looking at her boss right now but at her boyfriend. Their relationship was still relatively new. It had only been three months since their first date, a tentative kiss shared outside of her apartment as he walked her home that immediately turned into more as she dragged him in through the door. The team still didn’t know about them, something she is as keenly aware of in this moment as she is of the pain ripping through her. She looks at them, all standing behind him before she looks back at him.

Her initial reaction is to nod, to say she’s ok, but the mere movement makes pain travel through her arm again, somehow making the numbness she can already feel in her fingers worse. Fire dancing along her nerve endings.

“No,” she groans, forcing a smile as her eyes meet his, “My shoulder dislocated.”

Aaron’s eyes flick to her shoulder before he looks at her face again, a smile she knows he means to be reassuring forming. “Ok, we’ll get you to the hospital-”

“No, it’s ok,” she says, grunting as shaking her head makes her shoulder hurt even more, “We need to catch-”

“Em,” he cuts over her, something close to affection she knows he wouldn’t usually show her in front of the others shining in his eyes, “We got him,” he explains tilting his head back to where Derek was leading the unsub down the hallway to hand him off to a local cop, “Did you not notice?”

She hadn’t noticed. The arrest and the chaos that must have ensued in the few seconds after she hit the wall clearly completely passed her by.

“I was a little busy having my arm knocked out of its socket,” she replies through her teeth, “It’s ok, you have work to here still. Just pop it back in and I’ll be fine.”

Aaron stares at her for a second, a beat of silence between them as he frowns at her, reaching out to cup the back of her head, his eyes searching hers for something. “Did you hit your head too?”

“No. What?” She asks confused, looking past him briefly to see if the team have noticed their physical closeness, the way he’s touching her.

“Because you must be concussed if you think I’m popping your shoulder back into place.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes at him, “Aaron-”

“I’m taking you to the hospital, and that's final. Dave can manage what’s left to do here.”

She licks her lower lip, her tongue sticking out to moisten it as she tries to think of a way to argue with him, but she knows she won’t win this one. She’s highly aware of the rest of the team in the hallway still, all clearly pretending they weren’t watching them with interest, half listening to local cops as they discuss the next steps and what to do with the crime scene.

“Fine,” she relents, her left hand still pressing tightly into her injured shoulder. She swallows thickly, offering him a half smile as she looks back at him, lowering her voice so only he can hear her, “You’re going to have to help me up.”

Aaron nods, knowing the admittance shows just how much pain she must be in, that she’s not even going to try to get up by herself. He places his hand on her thigh and squeezes tightly, his thumb delicate against the material of her pants.

“It’s going to hurt.”

“I know,” she replies, removing her hand from her shoulder and placing it over his on her leg, “Let’s just get it over with.”

He squeezes her leg once more before standing up and placing himself in front of her. He puts one arm around her good shoulder and the other around her waist.

“Want me to count?”

“Just fucking do it, Aaron.”

He nods again before doing just that, pulling her to an upright position. She yells out in pain, unable to contain it no matter how much she tries. She ends up pressing her face into his shoulder, the sound somewhat muffled by his jacket.

“Fuck,” she gets out between her teeth, gripping him with her good hand.

“I know, baby,” he says, the moniker slipping out despite where they were, her pain overriding the need to pretend they weren’t together in front of the team. He was sure they’d figured it out by now anyway, the way he’d literally dropped everything the second Emily had hit the wall, “I know it hurts. You ready to go? I’ll drive you to the hospital, it will be quicker than waiting for an ambulance.”

She nods against him, her breath shaking slightly as she pulls back, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Aaron smiles encouragingly at her before leading her towards the elevator, careful to ensure he jostles her injured arm as little as possible. As they walk past the team he sees Derek and Dave both open their mouths to say something, and he puts the hand that isn’t on Emily’s lower back up, silencing them before they even speak.

“Not now.”

They are mercifully quiet as they wait for the elevator, simply keeping their eyes on the couple as they wait for it to arrive, their gaze never shifting until Emily and Aaron disappear from view.

“How long has that been going on?” Derek asks the second they are gone, turning back to look at the rest of the team.

“I have no idea,” Dave replies, his eyebrows creasing together as he looks at JJ, “Did you know?”

She shakes her head, “I thought she was seeing someone…but I had no idea it was Hotch.”

“What are we talking about?” Spencer asks, his confusion clear as he looks back and forth between his colleagues.

“Emily and Hotch are together, Spence,” JJ says, exchanging a smirk with Derek, “Did you not pick up on that?”

His confusion becomes deeper his eyebrows furrowed, “I already knew that, I saw them kissing in the parking garage a few weeks ago. Based on that, and an analysis of their recent behaviour I calculate that they’ve been together for around 2 to 3 months. I thought we were talking about something new.”

There’s a moment of silence as they all stare at him, and Derek regains the ability to speak first.

“Wait, what?”

___

“This hurts so much more than I remember,” she grimaces, readjusting on the hospital bed to try and get comfortable, pressing the icepack the nurse had given her on arrival into her still injured shoulder.

“You’ve dislocated your shoulder before?” Aaron asks, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed and wordlessly taking over holding the icepack in place. She smiles gratefully at him as she lets her good arm drop down, her fingers tingling from the cold.

“Yes, when I was 17,” she says, chuckling when he raises his eyebrow at her, clearly wanting the whole story, “We were living in Spain at the time. I was out past my curfew and fell off the trellis as I was trying to climb into my bedroom window,” she blushes slightly when he smiles, adoration flowing off of him like a cologne she could never get enough of, “Mother found me laying on the lawn and had her driver take me to hospital.”

“She didn’t go with you herself?” Aaron asks, placing his spare hand on her leg, “She didn’t hold your hand as you had it reset?”

She laughs, wincing as the movement jolts her shoulder, “You’ve met my mother, does she seem like the hand-holding type?” She quips, a smile he can see straight through spreading over her face.

Aaron squeezes her leg and leans forward to kiss her cheek, then her lips before pulling back to smile at her softly. She liked to act as if she wasn’t affected by her mother’s actions, always smiling or joking when she spoke about moments from her childhood that clearly hurt her, but he knew her better than that. Ever since they’d got together he’d seen so much more of what she kept hidden from everyone, tiny bits of herself that she was letting him see.

“Want me to hold your hand this time?” He offers, and she rolls her eyes at him. She’s unable to stop her smile from widening at his offer, love that neither of them had admitted to yet bubbling up in her belly.

“I think I can manage, honey,” she says, biting her lower lip, “It’s better than a-”

“If you’re about to say it’s better than a table leg to the abdomen, I’m telling Dave you want him to teach you how to cook.”

She glares at him, but clears her throat, the only outward clue that he was correct in his assumption about what she was going to say.

“I’ll be fine,” she says instead, “But you’ll stay here, right?”

Aaron smiles, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He doesn’t say anything when she grabs his hand as the doctor resets her shoulder, her nails digging into his skin.

___

It’s so late it's almost early when they get to his apartment.

The flight had been long, every jolt of the jet sending pain through her right arm. Aaron had boxed her in, sitting on her left side as her right was near the window so no one could bump into her. The team had spent most of the flight back asking them questions, some more invasive than Aaron would like, about their relationship. He knew there was more to come, that the team had gone easy on them because of Emily’s injury, but it had gone better than they’d thought it would.

“I’m exhausted, but I have no idea how I’m going to sleep in this thing,” she complains, pointing to her arm in the sling they’d been told she had to wear for a few days.

Aaron smiles at her and puts down both of their bags on the floor, “One thing at a time sweetheart,” he says as he walks over to her. He leans in to kiss her, something she gladly returns, her good arm wrapping around his back, “Let's get you ready for bed first.”

She smiles at him, mischief sparkling in her eyes, “Usually when you say something like that it means I’m about to have an orgasm or two,” she runs her hand up his back and smirks at him as she cups his cheek, “or three,” she scrunches her nose up, “Why do I feel like that's not the case tonight?”

He laughs and kisses her forehead before leading her toward his bedroom, “As soon as you’re no longer in pain, I promise I’ll make up for any orgasm arrears” he says as he takes her straight past his bed and to the ensuite bathroom. He sits her down on the closed toilet seat and starts to go through his medicine cabinet.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she replies, watching him intently as he continues to look in his medicine cabinet. He pulls a few things out to put them on the counter, clearly looking for something specific, “What are you looking for?”

“Your make-up remover,” he says as if it’s obvious, and it makes her crease her eyebrows, confusion spreading through her.

“I didn’t leave that here. It’s in my bag, I always take it home with me.”

“I know,” he replies, finally getting the bottle he was looking for and grabbing it along with some cotton pads, “But I saw it in the store and thought I’d get you some to keep here,” he groans as he kneels on the ground in front of her, his knees cracking against the tiled floor, “In case you ever forgot it.”

She simply stares at him, her good hand reaching out and stopping him from putting any remover on the pad, her eyes flicking down to the bottle.

“You got the right one.”

Aaron smiles and leans in to kiss her cheek, “I see you use it almost every day, it’s not difficult.”

After weeks of holding it back, she isn’t sure why that does it, why the simple admission that he’d paid attention to something so small was enough to make her say it. Enough to make the words she’d held back for weeks as he loved her so thoroughly finally breaking free, feeling heavy and light at the same time.

“I love you.”

His smile widens and he kisses her forehead and then her cheek before stamping a quick one to her lips.

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her quickly again. He rests his forehead against hers and they sit there for a moment before he pulls back, still smiling at her as he restarts putting some make-up remover on the pad in his hand, “Let's take your make-up off, then we can figure out how to get you into some pyjamas.”

She chuckles, “Aaron, I still have one working hand, I’m pretty sure I can take my own make-up off.”

“Just let me look after the woman I love, ok?”

She’s sure it should annoy her, and it had in the past when ex-partners attempted to look after her. She hadn’t grown up with that kind of affection so wasn’t used to it, mistaking it for coddling or control. But she can’t bring herself to be annoyed, feeling nothing but affection for him as he accidentally puts too much product on the pad in his hand, so she doesn’t brush him off, or say she can do it even though she knows she can. She simply nods, biting her lip in a failed attempt to contain her smile.

“Ok.”

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #criminal minds

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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just realised i hit 200 followers wtf omg???!?? forever grateful to have found this little corner of the internet filled with so many people who love hotchniss as much as i do🥹🥹🥹

maybe now i’ll start making more of an effort to write😭

#hotchniss #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #guys wtf ily all #200????!!!???!

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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NO WORDS…

PHENOMENAL 🫶🏼✨👏🏼

a little like gold dust

Summary:

She remains completely unfazed, reminding Hotch that Emily Prentiss is a formidable woman to reckon with.

Five times Aaron Hotchner realised he was falling for Emily Prentiss and one time that he acted upon it.

Did anyone ask for a 21k + Hotchniss fic? No. Did I do it anyway? Yes.

It ran away with me, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 🤍

Read on Ao3 HERE

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #THIS WAS SOOOOOOO #I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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When You’re Feeling Alone, I’ll Remind You of Home

deciding to write this was a very, very last minute decision - i had intended to try and finish it on Christmas Day, so I apologise that technically it’s being posted on Boxing Day :/

i hope you all enjoy nonetheless! i hope you everyone had a lovely christmas, consider this a belated gift - i’m so thankful to have stumbled across this many people who love these two as much as i do❤️

word count- 2k

warnings - none, just pure fluff with a pinch of angst if you squint :)

-x-

She was having a bad day.

Emily knew Christmas time was going to be difficult, but she failed to anticipate just how isolated she was going to feel. Ever since she returned from Paris, it had felt like she was trying to squeeze herself back into a life that no longer had room for her. She should've known the holidays would only heighten the imposter syndrome that followed her around like a shadow.

Last Christmas, life was so different that on days like this she found it difficult to fathom. From team nights out to spending Christmas Day all together at Rossi’s, Emily had never felt more at home. Only two months later, a phone call from Sean McAllister tore through her life - she wondered now if she’d ever find that feeling of home again.

Aaron could see her struggling. He saw her struggling to find her footing again, saw how she was overcompensating in both her work and personal life, desperate for things just to go back to how they were. However, he didn't want to force her into a conversation she wasn’t ready to have, and risk spooking her. He knew from experience that this was something she needed to come to him with, on her own terms.

In the end he’d had to prompt her. A gentle reminder that bad days were something he was all too familiar with, that he was always there for her should she need him. When he found her not even three days later, curled in on herself alone on the jet, he knew he’d made the right call.

“Have dinner with Jack and I tonight,” he proposed.

He didn’t miss the way her face faltered, the ramblings of imposing on them forming in her head, so he spoke again before she could get the words out of her mouth.

“I’m serious, Em. Jack would love to see you and I may or may not have left all my Christmas wrapping to the last minute. I could really use another pair of hands,”

She thought about it for a minute, before shooting him a mischievous smirk. Something he hadn't seen in far too long, something so distinctly Emily that had his stomach doing flips.

“You’re playing dirty Hotch, you know I can never say no to that angel of a son you’ve got,” she grinned.

“It’s true! He’s been asking for weeks when he can next have a playdate ‘Emmy’,” he smiled.

“He really does love you,”.

The sincerity in his tone alleviated any anxiety that had previously been looming over her, and she felt her cheeks warm as she turned her head to meet his soft gaze.

“Does six-thirty work?”

As promised, a knock on the front door rang through the Hotchner Household at six-thirty on the dot. Emily stood outside the door, grinning to herself as she heard a screech from the other side, followed by the thundering of footsteps running down the hall.

“DAD!”

Suddenly the door swung open, and to her surprise, she found Jack staring up at her from inside the apartment.

“EMMY!” he screamed, a whole millisecond before launching himself against her, hugging her legs so tight she had to grab the door frame for balance.

“Hey little guy!” she giggled, crouching down to his eye level. “Oh, I’ve missed you!” She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a proper hug, blinking away the tears that had welled in her eyes as she heard Aaron’s footsteps round the corner.

“At least let Emily get in the door Jack,” He chastised, but she could hear the humour in his tone. “Sorry about that, come on in Emily.” He offered her his hand to help her up, and ignored the shiver that ran through his body as her hand slid so perfectly into his.

“Never apologise for that sweet boy - if I’m going to get a welcome like that everytime I come over, you’ll never get rid of me,” Emily laughed.

“Don’t give Jack any ideas, that’s his idea of heaven,” He smiled at her.

Wordlessly, he appeared behind her and gently slipped her coat off her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered shut for a fleeting moment as she relished the feel of his breath on the back of her neck. Something about the way he skimmed her shoulders ever so gently she could only just feel it, had her heart beating that little bit faster.

Emily knew she couldn’t feel this way about him. But if she was truly honest with herself, she had done for years now.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she fell in love with him, instead she felt it had crept up on her, getting stronger and stronger until it consumed her. She loved everything about him - from his dedication to his work to the dimple in his left cheek. Most of all, she loved the way he put his son before anything else in his life. Despite everything they’d both been through, Aaron had still raised the kindest, politest, most perfect little boy - a carbon copy of his father through and through.

“I hope you don’t mind, but Jack has decided the only thing he was willing to eat tonight was a Happy Meal, so I ordered in McDonalds. Chicken nuggets are still your favourite, right?” He said, grinning.

She narrowed her eyes at him as she tried to deflect attention from the blush forming across her cheeks. It was something he used to tease her mercilessly for, how she’d grown up immersed in so many different cuisines around the world, yet her favourite dish was a six chicken nugget meal from McDonalds.

“Try all you want to embarrass me, but I can assure you it won’t work - I have no shame.” She replied, following him into the kitchen.

“Look Emily, I put your plate next to mine so we can sit next to each other at the table!” Jack exclaimed, as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the table.

“Wow, Jack, thank you!” She chuckled, throwing a reassuring smile to Aaron over her shoulder before following Jack to the table, leaving Aaron to plate their food.

“So tell me something,” She began as she folded the sides of the paper up and onto the gift she was currently wrapping. “Did you really invite me over to check in on me, or did you just need someone to wrap all your gifts?”

He laughed, shaking his head as he passed her a piece of tape.

“Busted,” He replied, a grin on his face.

“Knew it!” She laughed, swatting his arm playfully as she accepted the tape gratefully, securing the paper against the box.

“Okay, this one is good to join the rest under the tree,” She stated, handing him the present as he made his way to the large Christmas tree.

She began to unwind more paper from the roll, cutting a new piece ready for the next gift. When she reached around to take said next gift from Aaron, he was suddenly much closer than she remembered him being before. He sat the present on the floor next to him, before reaching out and gently squeezing her arm.

“All jokes aside Emily, I’m worried about you.” He said, a sincerity to his tone that made her feel exposed - she should’ve known she could never hide anything from him. She took a deep breath, and gently blew it out, before turning to face him.

She was met with eyes swimming with concern. “That bad?” He asked her.

“What?” She asked, genuinely confused.

“That’s your tell,” He told her, eyebrows furrowing.

“It is? For how long?” She stuttered.

“Uh, ever since I’ve known you?” He deadpanned, as she rolled her eyes.

“Well, you have one too.” She huffed in response.

“I do?” He smiled.

“Yeah, only I’m not going to tell you what it is or you’ll stop doing it.” She giggled.

“I see,” He replied, a genuine smile on his face. They sat for a moment, simply looking at one another, comfortable silence engulfing them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He began tentatively.

“I guess…“ She started shakily. “The holidays are just hard, I guess.” She tried to shrug it off, desperate to convince him she was fine so she could leave this state of sheer vulnerability. The moment she faced him she knew that it was pointless, that he would see right through her.

“It's more the thought of the fact that I finally felt like…”

“Like you had a home?” He prompted.

“Yeah…” She replied, her voice tight, sharply inhaling as tears she refused to let fall brimmed in her eyes as she met his. “He took my home, Aaron,” She breathed out, her vision clouding over as she felt a stray tear fall from her lash line.

Aaron reached his hand up to carefully wipe it away, cradling her face in his hands like she was made of glass. The reverence in his touch only caused more tears to fall. She leant into his touch as he skimmed her cheekbone with this thumb.

“Emily, listen to me when I say this - you are home.” He told her, with so much sincerity behind his words.

“This is your home - we are your home. I need you to know that,” His voice suddenly sounding thick.

She was sure she heard something in her neck crack as she snapped her head back up to find him so close their noses were close to touching.

“Do you mean that?” She all but whispered.

“You’ve always had a home with me.” He choked out, his thumb still tracing her skin.

They stared at one another for a moment, eyes fleeting down to one another's lips and back to each other, as a feeling of understanding settled between the two - both acutely aware of the shift about to occur between them.

The moment their lips met, she knew he was right. He was always right.

This was her home. All her fears, all her anxieties melted away the second he pulled her into his embrace.

He cupped the back of her head, fingers trailing through her dark hair as her hands ran across his shoulders, and up to the short hair at the base of his neck. What began as something delicate and tentative quickly progressed, the second he gave her hair a light tug.

He swallowed up her moan, pulling back quickly before diving back in, chasing her lips. Before they even knew what was happening, he had manoeuvred her onto the floor as he hovered above her, her hands stroking the strong muscles in his back as he snuck his under the soft material of her sweater, groaning at the feel of the soft skin that lay beneath.

However, their bubble burst suddenly as Emily cried out, quickly pushing him off of her.

“Oh god, Emily, I don’t- I’m so sorry, I completely overstepped-“ He began.

“Aaron,” She smiled, cutting him off from his rambling. Why was she smiling? Hadn’t he just completely taken advantage of her?

“Relax - I just rolled onto the scissors,” She giggled.

“Oh. Oh,” He replied as relief washed over him.

She crawled off the floor and up towards him, pushing him back against the edge of the couch as she settled in his lap. She mimicked his earlier movements, running her thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’m home.” She whispered, tears brimming in her eyes again.

“You’re home,” He choked out in reply, as he brought his hand to the back of her head again, holding her in place. He kissed the tip of her nose, and slowly pulled back to look her in the eyes again.

“You have tape in your hair,” He said barely above a whisper, and she barked out a laugh as her face flushed red, resting her forehead against his.

“Way to ruin the moment you asshole,” She laughed, removing the rogue piece of tape from her hair.

They had so much to discuss, a lot to work though, but all of it could wait.

This was her forever home after all. They had all the time in the world.

#hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss christmas fluff #christmas fic #ish

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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the second i see “sequinsmile-x tagged you in a post” my day is MADE. i absolutely adore each and every version of our fav idiots you create, each story brings me so much comfort🥰the hotchniss fandom would be lost without you, here’s to a million more!!!❤️

Painite

Painite: an incredibly rare gemstone of exceptional value. It symbolises spiritual, emotional, and physical healing

It was a close call. Too close.

-x-

I can't quite believe I am writing this, but this fic offically makes my word count on Ao3 over 1 million words. 1 million words of Hotchniss!!

It's actually my 2 year writing anniversary next week, so I'll do the soppy "you guys have changed my life and I love you all" post then, but I just wanted to say THANK YOU. For every comment, reblog, kudos, like. It means so so much, and I am forever grateful I found this little corner of the internet <3

So this is kind of like a thank you present for all of you. I hope you enjoy this, I think it's...pretty classic me!

-x-

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: brief mentions of hospitalisation/injury

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was a close call. Too close.

It’s all she can think as she sits on a hospital gurney, waiting for her discharge papers, an ache in her arm where her skin had been stitched back together, the stark white bandage itching at her wrist.

The explosion had torn through the abandoned factory before they could predict it, and the unsub, who had been killed in the blast, was far more devolved than they had anticipated. Aaron had partnered them together for this case, something that hadn’t phased her until they were both trapped in a burning building, injured, with the rest of the team outside.

They were lucky that their injuries were minimal. A gash on her arm that had required a visit to the hospital, the EMTs unable to fix it themselves, a slight concussion and a twisted ankle. Aaron had a cut to his forehead that a simple bandage had been enough for and a blow to the chest that had left behind a bruise but, by some miracle, hadn’t cracked any ribs.

He’d already been discharged and was trying to find a nurse to rush the process through for her, able to pick up on her nervous energy as effortlessly as he always had. All she wanted was to get home, hug her kids and sleep in her own bed, something that hadn’t happened in a few days due to the urgency of the case, even though it was a local one.

The feeling in her chest she’d had since they got themselves out of the factory tightens, her lungs constricted as something she refused to call panic fills them. She’d always prided herself on her ability to compartmentalize, especially after a close call. She’d always been the first between her and Aaron to try to make light of a situation, to comment they’d both survived worse as she got the Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet to deal with a minor injury. Something that was often a by-product of their jobs. But she can’t bring herself to joke about it this time, the mere thought of it enough to make her stomach turn, bitter nausea climbing up her throat that she had to swallow down.

It was close. They both could have died. And where would that have left their children?

“Good news sweetheart,” Aaron says as he approaches the gurney she’s sitting on, a reassuring smile she can see right through on his face, “I can break you out of here.” She flashes him a tight smile and stands up, unable to cover her wince as her weight settles through her sore ankle. She’d switched to her sneakers at the behest of her husband, her usual heeled boots snuck away in her go-bag that he’d already taken from her. He clearly spots it, never one to miss anything about her since she came back from Paris, and he steps towards her, his hands twitching as he hesitates to reach out for her. “Do you need help?”

She hated being coddled, something he knew well. It was a fine line walked well, like a high-wire artist who was the best in his field. It always reminded her of when she was in labour with their daughter. Isla took her sweet time coming into the world, and Emily had struggled, the long labour tearing down all of her barriers, leaving her defenceless. Aaron had become them for her. He was the only person she’d ever trust to do it, and she still smiled even now, 18 months later, when she thought of him fighting off the team and her mother who had all tried to visit when she was still in the hospital, vulnerable and in pain, asking them to leave for her because she didn’t have the energy to do it herself.

She doesn’t miss the tight way he was holding himself, the tension in his shoulders as he stood before her, so she nods, knowing he needed this, to look after her, probably more than she needed it herself.

Aaron wraps his arm around her, his hand at her waist, and she leans into his side, returning the favour as her hand lands on his hip. They walk together towards the waiting area where she knew the team were. She smiles at them as they come into view, their relief palpable as they come into view.

They all stand up, asking questions over each other, and Aaron holds up a hand, his ability to control a space unparalleled, even with a white bandage on his forehead.

“We’re ok,” he says, his hand squeezing at her waist in silent support, a sign that he knew he wasn’t entirely telling the truth, “We’re just going to head home.”

“Why don’t we go for a drink?” Penelope suggests, a hopeful smile on her face, “I think we all deserve it after this one.”

The idea makes Emily’s chest tighter again, every minute she spent away from home threatening to choke her at this point, but she smiles instead, shaking her head slightly at her friend.

“Not this time, Pen,” she replies, grateful that her voice remains even, that it doesn’t shake, “I kind of just want to get home.”

“But,” Pen is cut off by an elbow to her ribs, JJ standing next to her and giving her a sharp look as their eyes meet, “Fair enough,” Penelope says, correcting herself as she smiles at the couple in front of her, “Give my gorgeous niece and nephew a hug from their Aunt Penny.”

Emily smiles genuinely this time, exchanging a brief, but grateful, smile with JJ too, before they say goodbye to the team, promising to check in the following day as they walk past them.

She sighs as she settles into their car, and Aaron does the same, his head briefly resting on the headrest as he looks over at his wife. She was purposely looking out of the window, her thumbnail in between her teeth. He reaches over and squeezes her knee, and she looks at him, smiles at him in a way that she can no longer hide the shake from, and he returns it.

“Come on sweetheart,” he says, squeezing her knee again before withdrawing his hand and starting the engine of the car, “Let's go home.”

It was a close call, and he wondered how many of them they had left.

___

Aaron is grateful that Isla is too young to understand, that she doesn’t think much of the bandages both of her parents have on them. Her reaction a quick frown that Emily always said was all him, and a kiss to each of their foreheads to fix their injuries, something Emily always did for her and for Jack.

Jack, however, does understand. Withdrawing into himself throughout the evening as he watches his parents wince at certain movements until he asks to go to bed. They let him go without comment, knowing he was exactly like his father, that he needed to work over things in his head by himself before he discussed them.

Emily groans as she stands from the couch, Isla babbling at her in sentences only they really understood, her fists tight in her mother’s shirt. Emily had barely let Isla go since they’d got home, even eating a couple of slices of the pizza they’d ordered for dinner with the toddler in her lap. Jack had stayed close to Emily too until he’d gone up to his room, something about her presence as comforting to Aaron’s children as it was to him.

“I’m going to try and get her down,” Emily says, her eyes tired as they meet his. Isla rests her head on her shoulder, rubbing her eyes as she always did when she was tired. “Would you go check on Jack?” She asks, casting a glance up the stairs, “And then maybe we could go to bed.”

Aaron nods, closing the gap between them as he leans forward to kiss her cheek, “Meet you in our room?” he asks, and she nods in response. He turns his attention to Isla, cupping the back of his daughter's head as he kisses her forehead, “Goodnight, princess.”

“Come on sweet girl,” Emily says as she walks past him, her lips against their daughter’s skin, “Let’s get you to sleep.”

“Mama’s bed?” Isla asks when she’s halfway up the stairs, and Emily holds her closer, pulling the toddler further up her hip, ignoring the ache in her arm.

“Ok, baby, Mama’s bed.”

Aaron takes a moment to himself before he heads upstairs, the weight of the day settling on his shoulders, making them heavy. He sees the light under his son’s door, indicating he was still awake, and he knocks, waiting before Jack speaks before walking in.

“Hey buddy,” Aaron says, smiling at his son as he walks across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, “How are you doing?”

Jack looks at him, placing his handheld game down on the bed, the 9-year-old looking down at the covers over his lap.

“I’m fine,” he answers too quickly, in a way that was so Emily it makes Aaron smile.

“Jack-”

“You both got hurt,” he says, cutting over Aaron’s follow-up question, “And Mom is sad.”

Even though it had been close to a year since Jack started calling Emily ‘Mom,’ it still warmed something inside Aaron’s chest, making love spread through him in a way he would have once thought was impossible. He knew it was the same for Emily. She’d always been careful to not overstep, to not make it seem like she was taking Haley’s place, but she was Jack’s mother. She loved him, cared for him, in the exact same way she did for Isla, and Aaron still remembered the awed look on her face when Jack nervously asked her if he could start calling her mom.

Aaron wasn’t sure what he believed in, his catholic upbringing leaving him with a complicated opinion on life after death, but he knew if there was something, whatever it was, Haley was happy for them. His promise to raise Jack in a loving home fulfilled beyond what he thought would be possible as he listened to the first woman he had loved say her last words.

“She’s just tired, Jack, she’s ok,” Aaron says, purposely playing down the emotions he had seen thrumming through his wife all evening, her body practically vibrating with it. Jack might be mature for his age, an unfortunate side effect of what he’d experienced so young, but they still tried to protect him where they could, “We’re both ok.”

Jack still frowns, “Are you sure?”

“I promise,” Aaron says, opening his arms up for a hug that he gratefully returns, “Now try and get some sleep, ok buddy?” he says, kissing the top of his son’s head as he pulls back, smiling at him as their eyes meet, “I’m sure I can talk Mom into going out for breakfast tomorrow.”

Jack rolls his eyes at her, another thing he’d picked up from Emily, and lays down in his bed, “Dad, she’ll talk you into it.”

Aaron laughs, the sound pulling at his sore ribs, and he knows he can’t argue with that, and he nods at his son. He says goodnight, kissing Jack’s forehead again, and gently closes the door behind him.

Aaron walks past the nursery, knowing he won’t find either his wife or his daughter in there, and straight into the master bedroom. He finds Emily pacing the room with Isla fast asleep in her arms. Usually, the sight of it would make him smile. How Isla had her head on her mother’s shoulder, her wild hair blending into Emily’s. The little girl had been born with a head full of it, enough that the midwife had jokingly said it explained Emily’s heartburn. It was the exact same shade that had always somehow amplified his wife’s beauty, one of the many things she had passed on to their daughter.

On a normal day, or as normal as things got in the Hotchner household, he’d stand back and watch as his wife would walk around with their little girl with ease. The feeling of love, and home flowing off of them as Emily spoke to Isla in English and French, determined their daughter would be bi-lingual from the start, her lips against the toddler's forehead as she drifted to sleep. But there's a tension this time that he cannot ignore. A stiffness to Emily’s posture that he knows is only partially to do with her injury to her ankle, desperation to how she rubs circles on their already sleeping daughter’s back, something that was more about soothing her now than Isla.

His eyes drift to the bandage on Emily’s arm, and he knows it must be hurting her to hold Isla like this, so he walks towards them, his arms already outstretched.

“I can take her, sweetheart,” he says, not missing how Emily holds the little girl even tighter, “You get ready for bed.”

“It’s fine,” Emily says, her voice tight, “I’ve got her.”

“Em-”

“I said I’ve got her,” Emily snaps, immediately closing her eyes and breathing out deeply through her nose, shaking her head at herself before she reopens her eyes to look at him, “Please, Aaron. I…”

She drifts off, unsure of what to say, how to explain the turmoil she was feeling. Aaron simply nods at her, endlessly understanding in a way she hates in this moment, wanting nothing more than for him to take the bait, to argue with her so she can feel something other than the grief her lungs were stuffed full with.

“Ok,” he says, his hand on Emily’s lower back, guiding her towards the bed, “At least sit down for me though.”

Emily nods, following his lead and walks the short distance to the bed. She sits down, grateful when Isla stays asleep and simply cuddles in further to her. She can’t help but kiss her daughter’s head, taking in the scent of her hair, breathing her in to try and stop herself from playing the day over and over in her head again.

Aaron waits her out, his hand still on his wife’s back, running his hand up and down her spine, his palm warm through her thin shirt. He isn’t sure how much time has passed when she speaks, the only sound in the room is their daughter’s soft breathing, a sound close to a snore Emily refused to admit Isla had picked up from her.

“We both could have died today,” Emily says softly, her voice almost emotionless, she looks at him, her eyes shining as she stops him from trying to comfort her, “And don’t say we couldn’t have, we both know how close it was.”

Aaron nods at her, pulling her even closer, careful not to disturb the toddler still fast asleep in her mother’s arms.

“It wasn’t the first time, sweetheart,” He says, knowing it wasn’t helpful, or comforting, but simply the truth. They’d had more close calls than most people had, and he knew he wasn’t alone in wondering when that luck would run out.

“I…think it should be the last time,” she replies, and he freezes, shifting to put some space between them so he can look at her properly.

“Em-”

“All I could think about when we got out was that if we’d died…” her voice cracks and she shakes her head at herself, “If we had the kids wouldn’t have any parents anymore,” her lower lip trembles, and he thinks she’s never been more herself. Thinking about her own mortality through the lens of someone else, the impact on their children her biggest concern, “They’d be loved, I know that,” she says, looking down at Isla, kissing her dark hair, “The team and Jess and, fuck, even my mother would make sure that they were loved. But they wouldn’t have us. And I don’t think we can continue to put that at risk.”

“You think one of us should quit?” He asks, not surprised by her suggestion. It was something they’d talked about when she was pregnant, and when Isla was a newborn, but only ever in hypotheticals. Something they would do one day when the time was right.

Aaron agreed with his wife, that the time may have come.

Emily nods, “Or just find something else. I don’t think either of us is capable of just…sitting around,” she says, a small smile forming on her face, “But maybe something with a team that doesn’t go out in the field, or teaching at the academy,” her smile turns sad, “Maybe I could finally get that desk job my official files say I had before the BAU.”

“You’d be bored,” he says, reaching out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “I could move on from the BAU, I don’t think anyone could say I haven’t done my time.”

She turns her head to kiss his palm, “Maybe,” she says, biting her lower lip, “Whatever we decide will be difficult, the team won’t like it,” she laughs humourlessly, “But we have to do what’s right for us, for our family,” her smile slips away, “Jack barely remembers Haley, Aaron, and he was four when she died-”

“Em-”

“And I’m not saying that to be cruel, baby,” she says quickly, her eyes searching his, “But it’s true. He remembers tiny bits and pieces, but most of what he knows is what you’ve told him. He didn’t deserve to lose her, and he wouldn’t deserve to lose us,” a tear finally escapes her lashline, and he wipes it away, “And Isla is so much younger, she wouldn’t remember us at all.”

Aaron closes his eyes and nods. She was right, and he didn’t want to argue with her, there was no need to when they were on the same page about this.

“We’ll figure it out, sweetheart,” he promises, leaning his forehead briefly against hers, “But not now,” he pulls back and smiles reassuringly at her, “Right now we’ll get this one to bed,” he says, his hand over Emily’s on Isla’s back, “Then go to bed ourselves, and we’ll revisit the rest in the morning. Figure out where we go from here.”

Emily nods, “Ok,” she says, the tightness in her chest easing for the first time since they’d stepped out of the factory, “Let's do that,” she looks down at Isla before looking back at her husband, “Can she stay in here tonight?”

Aaron smiles at the pair of them and playfully rolls his eyes. They’d been almost inseparable since Isla’s birth, and it meant getting the toddler to sleep in her own room was tricky at times. He knew the moment they transitioned her to a normal bed they’d wake up to find her in their bed with them, the bars of her crib no longer keeping her in place. He can’t deny Emily anything, he never had been able to.

“Just tonight,” he says, and he knows he’s made the right call when Emily beams at him.

___

Emily groans as she wakes up, a hand at her shoulder shaking her awake the only light in the room filtering in from the slightly open bedroom door. She barely has the chance to think about how she was sure she’d closed it, when she hears her son, his voice shaking as he gets her attention.

“Mom?”

“Jack?” She says, flicking on the lamp on her nightstand, her heart clenching as she looks at him. His pyjamas were askew, and his hair a mess, tears in his eyes and on his cheeks, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

He sniffs, wiping at his cheek with the sleeve of his pyjama shirt, “I had a nightmare.”

Emily sighs sadly, knowing it wasn’t a coincidence that he’d had a nightmare tonight, that it was likely fueled by what he understood of their jobs, what the injuries they had come home with meant.

“Oh Jack,” she says, sitting up a little and reaching out for him, “Want to sleep in here with us?”

He nods enthusiastically, and she casts a glance behind her, the sight of Isla fast asleep on Aaron’s chest, his hand securing her in place even in his slumber, enough to make her smile. She shifts back to them, her back pressing up against Aaron’s side, leaving enough room for Jack to slide in under the covers. He curls into her embrace, his fists tight in the back of her t-shirt, and she kisses his forehead. She wonders what he’s seen, what his subconscious had taunted him with, mixing the reality of what he had experienced when he was smaller with what he now understood.

“You’re ok, sweet boy,” she says, rubbing her hand up and down his back, “I’m right here.”

She feels as he relaxes in her arms, sleep slowly overtaking him again as the safety of her embrace washes over him.

“Love you, Momma,” he mutters, his words slurring together as he gives into the pull of sleep, and it makes tears press at the back of her eyes.

“I love you too, Jack,” she replies, even though he’s asleep.

Emily closes her eyes and lets herself feel the warmth of her family around her. Her son in her arms, her husband pressed up against her back. Her little girl's soft snores filling the room.

Things were about to change, they had to, and she knew she and Aaron had some difficult conversations ahead. But it was worth it, to protect this - the most precious thing she’d ever had.

-x-

Heres to the next million <3

-x-

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotch x prentiss

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

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oh my god i am sobbing this was so sweet🥹🥹🥹

Can I request a fix where Jack has to do a family tree and asks Emily why he doesn’t know hotchs parents(if this makes any sense😂)

Hi anon!! I LOVE this idea

This got really fluffy.

Happy Friday!

-x-

As We Grow

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or under the cut

If there was one upside to not being able to go away on cases it was spending more time with Jack.

Emily had sprained her ankle a few prior, and whilst she was now mostly back to normal, Aaron had insisted she sat one last case out so she didn’t cause herself further injury. She’d rolled her eyes at him, but agreed, knowing it wasn’t worth the argument.

Whilst she missed him, their bed far too big and empty without him, she was enjoying one on one time with the little boy she loved more than life itself.

“Emily, I need help!”

She sighs and closes her eyes briefly.

She loved him, even though he’d often pick the exact moment she was sitting comfortably on the couch to ask for help with homework he’d previously claimed he could do alone.

“Coming honey, just one second.”

She stands, wincing slightly as her weight goes through her still tender ankle and she walks towards the dining room. She smiles at him as she walks in, and walks over to see what he is working on.

She looks at the paper on the dining room table, a brightly decorated tree that Jack had clearly created himself. A mix of colourful leaves and places to write names that had been pre-made by the teacher, each with a title of mom, dad or other relatives up to grandparents on each side. Emily suppresses a sigh and makes a mental note to talk to Jack’s teacher, again, about family projects like this. It wasn’t that she and Aaron wanted Jack to be left out, or for more work created so he had his own project to do, they simply wanted a heads-up. Time to prepare him that he’d have to think about something like this, about the mother he’d now spent time more time without than he’d ever had with her.

She smiles at Jack and pulls out the seat next to him, joining him at the dining table. He’d already filled out Haley and Aaron’s names along with his own.

“What do you need help with, sweetheart?” She asks, slinging her arm around the back of his chair to lean in closer.

“I realised I don’t know what grandpa’s name is,” he says, looking at her with his brows furrowed, a serious look on his face that was 100% Aaron, “Aunt Jessie calls him Dad and you and Daddy don’t really spend time with him.”

Emily hums in her throat, making sure she doesn’t react physically at the mention of Haley’s father. If she had her way, she’d have told him exactly what she thought of him years ago, but out of respect for Aaron, and for Jessica and Jack, she never had.

“That’s ok,” she assures him, encouraging him to pick his pen back up, “His name is Roy,” she explains, and watches as he fills in the box above Haley’s name, and she smiles to herself when he hesitates over the space for his grandmother’s name, “And your grandma’s name was Pamela.”

Jack writes it out, pausing as he spells it out in his head, “I’ve never met her.”

“You did, sweetie,” she says, kissing the side of his head, “But she passed away when you were very small.”

Jack had only been a few months old when Haley’s mom died, something that Aaron had told Emily about after they got together. How he regretted that he didn’t take more time off work back then to support his wife as she navigated losing her mother after just becoming one herself.

Jack hums in interest before looking at the other side, frowning again at the blank spaces above Aaron’s name.

“I’ve never met Dad’s parent’s either,” he comments, looking up at her, “Why? Are they dead too?”

Emily smiles sadly at him, and she moves her hand to run through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead.

“Yes, they are.”

Jack’s frown deepens as he thinks about it, his mind wondering. “Dad never talks about them.”

She takes a moment to think about her answer. Even if Aaron’s parents were alive, they would be in Jack’s life. Whilst his father had died when he was in college, Aaron hadn’t seen his mother for years before she died, making a decision for himself to take a step away from the memories of a childhood that he had deserved better from.

It wasn’t her place to explain it all, and Jack was too young to understand everything his father had gone through at his age and even younger. Whilst Jack had been through a lot at his age, he had always known love.

Something that Aaron couldn’t say he had.

“Well, sometimes remembering hard things makes people sad, doesn’t it?” She says gently, smiling encouragingly when he nods.

“Sometimes I get sad when I think about Mommy.”

“Of course you do,” Emily says, running her fingers through his hair again, “But then you remember the good times right? All the fun you had with her? And it makes you happy even though she’s not here?” Jack nods again, more enthusiastically this time, “Well…your dad doesn’t have those happy memories.”

“Oh,” Jack says, frowning as he looks back down at the tree, “Do you know their names?”

Emily can’t help but smile at the change in topic, the conversation over, for now, in a way that only a child could manage.

“Yes,” she confirms, “Your grandpa was called Charles,” she waits for him to write it out, “and your grandma was called Rose.”

Jack writes it out and sighs, “Everyone on here is dead apart from me and Daddy,” he comments, but then he frowns, cutting her off before she can offer some comfort, “There isn’t space for you! Or Aunt Jessie,” he exclaims, “Or even Grandma Liz.”

She smiles at the thought of it, of her mother’s name written on a family tree that would be hung up in Jack’s classroom, and she knows Elizabeth would get a kick out of it too, and she leans in to kiss his cheek.

“That’s ok, honey,” she says, “Our family doesn’t look like a lot of families do,” he still looks sad, and she cups his cheek, knowing she’d do anything to cheer him up, “Your dad will be home tonight, so how about we go get some chicken nuggets before he comes back and tries to make us eat all healthy?”

He smiles so widely, she thinks she somehow loves him a little bit more than she had only seconds before.

___

Aaron yawns as he walks down the stairs, stretching his arms above his head as he reaches the ground floor of the house. He’d got home late last night, and he felt like he’d barely slept. Emily had been in bed when he got home, greeting him with a kiss and a sleepy smile.

He’d missed her when he was away, and he was hopeful her ankle would heal soon so she could go back to working on cases.

He hears a noise coming from the tv in the living room, the familiar sound of morning cartoons, and he smiles before he makes his way there.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, smiling at his son as he turns to look at him.

“Dad!” Jack exclaims, throwing his arms around him as he joins him on the couch, “I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” Aaron replies, kissing his son’s temple as he pulls back, “Did you have fun with Emily?”

Jack nods enthusiastically, but something flashes across his face, and for once Aaron isn’t sure he can place it.

“We had so much fun,” Jack says, resting his head on his father’s shoulder as he returns his attention to the tv, “She let me eat nuggets.”

Aaron shakes his head, aware that his wife would also have partaken in whatever take-out fest had taken place in his absence.

“Of course she did,” he says, wrapping his arm around his, “You ok? You don’t quite seem yourself.”

Jack shifts so he’s looking at him, a thoughtful look on his face that never failed to remind Aaron of Haley.

“I did a family tree for school.”

“I know, Emily told me last night.”

She’d let him know that Jack asked about his parents and that she’d given him the best answer she could. Aaron had seen the concern in her eyes, her exhaustion and the naked honesty she always had around him now making her even easier to read for him. The way she loved him, and his son, was something that always blew him away, a type of love he hadn’t had an abundance of in his life.

“At school, the teacher talked about all the different family members, and what they do,” Jack explains, looking down at his lap and picking at his thumb in a way he’d picked up from Emily, “And I realised that everything she said a mom does, Emily does for me,” he pauses, and Aaron gives him a half smile, encouraging him to carry on, “she looks after me when I’m sick, and she helps me clean my room. She went to school when Brayden was being mean last year,” Aaron has to suppress a smirk at that, memories of having to talk his wife down from yelling at a stranger's child flooding his brain, “And last night she helped with my homework.”

“Emily loves you, buddy,” Aaron says, “She loves you more than she loves anyone else.”

“I know,” Jack replies, returning his attention to his thumbnail, “I love her too, I love her just as much as I love you and Mommy.”

Aaron nods, pulling his son closer to him, “I know, and so does she.”

“I…I was thinking I might start calling her Mom.” Jack says, quietly enough that Aaron almost misses it.

He feels a rush of love run through him, affection for his son, and the woman he loved still asleep upstairs, thrumming just under the surface of his skin. Emily had thrown herself into looking after Jack the moment she and Aaron had started dating, having no qualms at all about the realities of dating a single father. She’d made sure Jack was involved in every step they took as a family. He helped them look at houses, and was involved in planning their wedding.

He’d even helped Emily pick out her dress, the two of them teasing Aaron mercilessly for weeks in the lead-up to the big day.

Emily loved Jack as her own and never had any expectations of her ever being more to Jack than his friend, and then his stepmother.

This, Aaron knew, would mean everything to her.

“I think she’d love that, buddy,” Aaron says, his smile wide as he looks at his son, and he’s relieved as some of the tension seeps out of Jack’s shoulders. But some still remains, and Aaron reaches out, tilts Jack’s head up to look at him, “What is it?”

“Do you think it would make Mommy sad?”

Aaron sighs sadly, and immediately shakes his head at his son, “No, Jack. She would have been happy for you, for us, that we found someone who loves us enough for you to want to do this.”

Jack looks like he considers it for a second before he nods, beaming at his father, “Ok.” Aaron gathers his son against his side and they both focus on the tv for a few seconds, before Jack speaks again, “Daddy?”

“Yes?” Aaron says, looking down at his son to find the wide smile still on his face.

“Can you help me with something?”

___

“Jack, Aunt Jessie is here, hurry up!” Aaron calls up the stairs before shaking his head at his son as he walks back towards the kitchen, “I don’t know where he gets his timekeeping from,” he says, dropping a kiss to the top of Emily’s head as he walks past her, “It certainly isn’t me or Haley.”

Emily looks up from her cereal, and narrows her eyes at her husband as he stands next to where is sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Why do I feel like that's a not-so-subtle dig at me?” She asks, unable to stop her smile when he leans in to kiss her.

“Not a dig. It’s just one of the many wonderful things he’s picked up from you.”

She hums, “Nice save.”

They hear the thundering of Jack’s feet against the stairs, and then the hardwood of the hallway before he appears in the kitchen. His backpack is haphazardly over one shoulder, and his hair is a mess from where he’d pulled his sweater on over his head.

“Where’s Aunt Jessie?” He asks, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“In the car waiting for you,” Aaron says, his hand on his son’s shoulder, “Because you’re late.”

“Come here, honey,” Emily says, tugging Jack towards her and fixing his hair for him before leaning in to kiss his forehead, “Have fun.”

“Ok, Mom,” he says as if he’d said it a thousand times before, as he turns around and runs out of the kitchen, “Love you, see you tomorrow. You too, Dad.”

Aaron casts a look at his wife, who was sat frozen, her arm falling to her side as she stares at where Jack had just been standing. He follows his son to the front door, waves at Jessica in her car, and then closes the door. He walks back to the kitchen to find Emily still exactly as he had left her.

“Sweetheart,” he says, approaching her, “Are you ok?” He places a hand on her shoulder and it makes her jump slightly, her eyes shining as she looks up at him.

“Did he just…”

She drifts off and he smiles, tucking some hair behind her ear, “Yes he did.”

“And you…”

“Knew, yes,” he finishes for her, wiping away a tear he knew neither of them would address from her cheek, “Although, admittedly I did think he’d talk to you about it first.”

Emily lightly slaps his chest with the back of her hand before she pulls him towards her, her face pressing into his t-shirt.

“You jerk, you could have warned me,” she says, her voice muffled, but he can feel her smile, the happiness flowing through her.

“He only spoke to me about it this morning,” Aaron says, pulling back from her to kiss her, stamping another one against her lips before he carries on, “There wasn’t exactly time.”

“He wants to call me mom?” She asks, a crack to her voice that he expected, but that still makes him ache, his chest so full of love for her he thinks he might burst.

“Em,” he says, cupping her face in both his hands and leaning down to kiss her forehead, “You are his mom,” she turns her head to kiss his palm, another tear from her cheek warm against his skin as she moves. “Jack and I finished the family tree this morning, it’s still in the dining room if you want to see it.”

She pulls back, sniffing as she wipes her cheek, “We finished it last night,” she replies, confusion colouring her tone, and he simply smiles at her as he steps away, taking her abandoned breakfast bowl with him, and he shrugs.

Emily narrows her eyes at him and stands up from the stool she’d been sitting on, walking towards the dining room without further comment. She rounds the table to where Jack had been sitting last night, and chokes out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob as she looks at it, her hand over her mouth to try and capture the sound.

On Haley’s side of the tree, a line had been drawn out of her parent's to lay next to hers, the word ‘Aunt’ in handwriting that was clearly her husband’s below Jack’s that said ‘Jessica.’

On Aaron’s side, was a new column entirely. A box that said ‘Grandmother’ in his scrawl, with Jack’s messy writing spelling out ‘Elizabeth’ above it.

What makes Emily’s breath catch in her throat, and makes her wonder if she could ask the teacher to give this project back to them when it’s complete, is the box that is directly connected to Aaron’s and her mother’s. Both words written out by her son.

Emily.

Mom.

-x-

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emilyshotchniss · 2 years ago

Text

amazing as always❤️

The Aftermath

She loved her life, she really did, but there were times when the 'what-ifs' were heavier than usual.

-x-

This is sad. Hopeful I guess, but sad. Basically an exploration into how I think Emily's grief and trauma were incredibly overlooked, despite her going through so much.

(It's also a touch of me…putting into words something I've felt with some things I've been through. So…yeah. This one feels a little personal <;3)

-x-

Words 2.3k

Warnings: grief, trauma, brief reference to infertility

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It was just a day.

She knew that. A date that happened every year, rushing towards her with more fanfare than she’d like. Something she wishes she could ignore but can’t. The memory of it all clawing at the back of her mind, burrowing into her day-to-day thoughts until it was all she could think about.

It had been a long day at work, and she was grateful that they didn’t have a case, and that she could come home at the end of it. Find comfort in her house, her husband.

She sighs as she sinks into the couch, looking over at the photo from their wedding day on the side table. It usually made her smile, how Aaron was looking at her like she had hung the stars herself, and how she was looking at him in just the same way. Her smile wide, lines at the corners of her eyes as she couldn’t hold back her joy.

She’d been so mad when he first came back, a story he embellished whenever he told it. He’d managed to talk her down, the offer of dinner and as much wine as she wanted whilst she yelled at him calming her. One dinner turned into two, and then it became a weekly thing. It took almost 3 months for them to admit they were dates, and she still remembered the smile on his face just before he kissed her for the first time.

Things had gone quickly from there, neither of them wanting to waste any more time, both aware that they had missed so many chances over the years.

She hears the front door open, Aaron calling out for her as he lets himself into the house.

“Hi sweetheart,” he calls out, and she blows out a breath, trying to steady herself before he sets eyes on her, knowing he never missed a thing.

“Hi honey,” she replies, “I’m in the living room.”

She hears him drop his bag in the hallway, and his familiar footsteps as he walks through their house to find her. He leans down over the back of the couch and drops a kiss on the top of her head and it makes her close her eyes, a flash of comfort spreading through her from his touch.

“How was your day?” He asks, stepping away, leaving a chill in his wake.

“I was ok,” she replies, clearing her throat when she hears the crack in her voice, and she sighs, knowing he won’t have missed it. “Long.”

She’s looking at her hands in her lap, gently picking at the skin of her thumb, when she feels the couch dip next to her. His thigh presses into hers, the familiar warmth of him settling next to her.

“Are you ok?” He asks, and she turns her head to look at him and flashes him a smile she knows is weak.

“I’m fine, honey,” she replies, leaning in to kiss his cheek, taking the opportunity to breathe in the scent of him, wanting to have every part of him he was willing to offer.

“Em,” he says carefully as she pulls away and looks back down at her hands. He reaches for her hand, tucking it in between both of his, bringing it to his knee. “I know what today is.”

She huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. She’s briefly angry at him in a way she knows isn’t fair, frustrated that he’s as good as he is. As thoughtful and kind. That he knows her this well. It passes as quickly as it blooms in her chest, gone as quickly as the tiny flowers that show up in spring, only showing their faces before they disappear again.

There were times that she still couldn’t believe that they were here. That after everything, they’d found each other again. Finally getting the happy ending they both deserved. She loved him completely, and he loved her the same, they had done for longer than either of them would ever admit. So of course he knew what day it was.

It had once been etched into a stone over a grave that bore her name.

“It’s stupid really,” Emily says, looking at him, her smile tight.

“It isn’t,” he replies, squeezing her hand, “You’re never stupid,” he releases one hand from around hers and puts his arm around her, pulling her into his side by her shoulder, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She did. She wanted to talk about it so badly it almost spills out of her there and then, all of her thoughts and feelings pouring out onto the rug she hated. But she chokes on it, the words stuck in her throat in a way she can’t explain.

Emily sighs, her head against his shoulder, “I’m not sure how to say it.”

“That's ok,” he replies, kissing her temple, “Just say what feels right.”

She nods against him, squeezing the hand that is still wrapped around hers. She takes a deep breath, and blows it out steadily. She’s briefly reminded of a moment between them years ago, when he’d called her out on it, told her he knew she was struggling because of something as simple as the way she breathed.

It was ridiculous, looking back on it, that neither of them acknowledged that they loved each other then.

“It’s not even really that it’s the anniversary of Ian…of him stabbing me,” she says, the scar on her abdomen aching as she mentions it, years old now but still sore at times. A sign of the extent of the damage she’d endured. “It’s not even fully about the fact I had to fake my death,” she feels him tense next to her and she smiles at him, running her thumb over the heel of his hand, “It’s not your fault love, you did what you had to do.”

Aaron smiles at her, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. “I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” she says softly, closing out the abridged version of the conversation they’d had again and again since he’d come back to her. “Sometimes, I think about who I could have been without all of this. Without what happened in Rome. Without Ian - both times. The direction my life could have gone in if I hadn’t had to fake my death.”

She chokes out a noise, not sure even herself if it was a laugh or a sob, overwhelmed by finally putting into words something she had felt for years. She looks up at the ceiling in an attempt to stop herself from crying.

“Em-” he starts, clearly wanting to comfort her, but she carries on, unable to stop now she’d started. Words she’d kept caged in her chest for over a decade escaping.

“It’s not that I don’t love my life, our life. I do.” She says quickly, not wanting him to think otherwise, and she looks at him, relief easing some of the tightness in her chest when he nods in understanding. “I treasure you. What we’ve built together. I love my job. I just…” she swallows thickly, shaking her head at herself. “Sometimes I feel like I’m grieving someone I never got to meet, and that never existed. And it’s almost as if I’m the only one that thinks about her.”

He cups the back of her head and kisses her forehead, holding her close as he tangles his fingers in her hair.

“It’s understandable that you feel that way,” he assures her, encouraging her to look at him, “It was traumatic, and sent your life in a different direction. We’re all changed by what happens to us, sweetheart.”

She nods, knowing he’s right, and that if anyone understood it was him. It was another thing that made them work, that they understood the very darkest parts of each other. Had experienced similar things themselves.

“When…when Scratch had me I saw my grave,” she says, and she feels his hand tighten around hers, his guilt for putting her in that situation almost seeping into her skin, “And it had today down as the day I died, and then another set of dates starting when I came back in September,” she chuckles, the sound wet as it catches on a sob in her throat, “It’s almost as if the months in between didn’t happen. Like I just…ceased to exist for a few months. But they did happen, Aaron.”

She often felt like she wasn’t allowed to think of those months, the time she spent alone on the other side of the ocean. When she’d come back it was almost as if it all had to be buried just like her loved ones thought she had been. Their trauma, their shock, more important than hers. It was easier to deal with. To deal with Derek’s mistrust, Spencer’s anger. It was easier to take than it was to deal with the thought of what she had lost, what she knew from the start she would never truly get back.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost as if he was worried if he was too loud he’d snap her out of sharing, as if the slightest thing would make her walls go back up, “I know they happened.”

He wants to tell her that he remembers every second of it. The guilt eating him alive the whole time, the fear that he’d somehow made the wrong call even though it had been to save her life. But this wasn’t about him, it was about her and the feelings she’d kept to herself for far too long.

“That was when I had to learn to walk again,” she looks at him, her eyes shining, “You never realise how much you use your core to walk, or sit, or even lay down comfortably until you have that kind of injury,” he nods, because he remembers too, the discomfort he’d felt after Foyet, that he knew was nothing in comparison to what Emily had experienced, still fresh in his mind even after all these years, “It’s when I found out I’d never be able to have kids of my own, not that I even knew I wanted them but…not even having the option anymore was awful.”

A tear finally trails down her cheek, and he wipes it away, “I wish I could have been there.”

She smiles at him, “We weren’t even together then.”

“I know,” he says, tucking some hair behind her ear, “But it doesn’t mean that I didn’t love you then.”

She closes her eyes and looks down at their joint hands, “We wasted a lot of time, didn’t we?”

“Maybe,” he replies, “But we have each other now, and that’s what matters.”

She smiles, the first real one all evening, “It’s a shame no one believes me when I tell them you’re such a romantic,” she wipes at her cheek, pushing away another tear that had escaped, “I’m sorry you came home to this. I didn’t even ask how your day was.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I love you, this is what I’m here for,” he tucks her against his side, wrapping her up in his embrace, “Can I help at all?”

“You already have,” she replies, kissing his throat, “You always do,” she settles further into his side, “I’m ok, I promise. It’s just something I think about from time to time. Today more than usual.”

“Anniversaries are hard,” Aaron says, “They never get any easier either. We just…get more used to them coming around.”

She hums in agreement, her fingers idly playing with his tie, he was no stranger to this himself. She always knew when Haley’s anniversary was coming around, his mood shifting in a way he had no control over and that she understood.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” she says without really meaning to, and he holds her a little tighter.

“I’ll never forget,” he says simply, kissing the top of her head, he laughs humourlessly, “I used to visit your grave. Even though I knew you weren’t there.”

It makes her heart skip a beat, something he’d never admitted to her before weighing heavily over them both.

“When you were gone,” she offers, staring at their linked hands, “I’d talk to you in my office,” she laughs at herself, embarrassment tinging her cheeks as she buries her face in his chest, “I still have your name plate from when it was your office, and I’d get it out and just…talk like you were there. It’s where I felt closest to you.”

“It’s where we met.”

She chuckles and looks up at him, cupping his cheek, “Thankfully I’m a little more fond of you now than I was back then.”

Aaron smirks, “Just a little?”

Her smile widens as she lifts her hand from his face, holding her thumb and index finger only slightly apart. She laughs when he grabs her hand, his eyes narrowed in jest as he kisses her knuckles.

“I love you,” she says before she kisses him, “So much that it feels like it can’t be real sometimes.”

“I love you so much, Em,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her, “And I’m so glad we have this now.”

She nods, her forehead against his.

Life could be different, she knows that. They could have figured out what they meant to each other years ago and not wasted as much time. She could have never met him at all, her switch from Interpol to the FBI a natural one, one that wouldn’t have taken place if she had never been assigned to her job with Ian.

It could be different, but it wouldn’t be this. And she knows no matter what she wouldn’t change it. Everything had led her to this, and whilst she would always be haunted by the what-ifs. Inconvenient ghosts that showed up on occasion, lingering just out of sight but making their presence known, she was grateful for what she had.

For this. For him.

She nods, her forehead gently knocking against his, “Me too.”

-x-

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