#Hotchniss fanfic

[sequinsmile-x]

Thankful

Aaron invites Emily to Thanksgiving, and things change between them forever.

-x-

Hi besties <3

This years Thanksgiving fic is a little earlier this year because Thanksgiving is the SGW anniversary so I am posting chapter 80 on Thursday to mark it!!

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate, and if you're about to have a really hard couple of days with family I am holding more space for you than queer Twitter is for the lyrics of defying gravity.

Here's a little getting together fic for you all, and as always let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 3.6k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron groans and drops his pen to his desk, his fingers pressed into his temples as he looks back and forth between his completed pile of paperwork and what he has left to do. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the headache he can feel building behind his eyes, and he blows out a breath. 

“Coffee,” he mumbles to himself as he stands up and grabs his mug. He smiles and nods at Derek as he steps out of his office, and he walks past Emily and JJ’s empty desks. He spots them standing in the kitchenette, both of their backs turned to him, and he’s about to call out and make them aware he’s there, but he comes to a stop when he hears their conversation. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to ours for Thanksgiving? Henry would love it, and Will makes enough food to feed the whole street anyway.” 

Emily shakes her head, “It’s okay, I promise,” she replies, “I’m going to my mother’s. Part of my attempt to make good with her again after the whole faking my death thing.”

Aaron doesn’t have to see her face to know it’s a lie. Her relationship with her mother was still tense, at best, and he knew they barely spoke to each other. He’d offered to be a buffer of some sort, to go with her to see her mother - something he saw as his responsibility since her fake death had been his decision - but she’d turned him down. Her smile soft and appreciative as she told him she wouldn’t want to put him through that, her hand on his arm as he sucked in a breath and pretended that a simple touch from her combined with the smell of her perfume didn’t have him under her spell. 

He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with her. It had snuck up on him, his feelings for her shifting from mistrust to friendship to more so slowly that it felt as natural to him as breathing. His love for her so much a part of him he didn’t know what he’d be without it anymore. He couldn’t remember when he fell in love with her, but he remembered when he realised. A familiar pit in his stomach as he stood over her grave that he’d felt at Haley’s funeral, the same suit heavy on his shoulders as he threw a rose on top of her empty coffin - the only flower he’d ever given her. 

He told himself when she was in Paris that he’d do whatever was necessary to bring her home, that one day he’d get a chance to tell her that he loved her. Or at the very least, ask her out on a date. The reality of her return was different. She was a shell of herself, lost in the ruins of who she had once been - a feeling he was all too familiar with - and he knew there was very little she could take on top of the day-to-day of figuring out who she was now. He did his best to be there for her in the way that she’d let him, his support silent at first. Eventually, he knew he had to say something, worried that he’d lose her entirely if he didn’t, and they came to their agreement that she’d tell him when she had a bad day. 

It had restarted whatever closeness they’d had before Doyle. She would spend evenings and her Saturdays with him and Jack. She’d sit on the sidelines of the little boy’s soccer games and cheer for him, her smile as close to hers as Aaron had seen it since just before everything went to hell. Any thought or attempt at telling her how he felt about her had taken a backseat, and he knew that he’d simply be her friend forever if that’s what she needed from him. 

He clears his throat, feeling bad for eavesdropping, and they both turn to look at him, Emily’s smile slightly mischievous, “Sorry, Hotch.” 

He suppresses a smile and reaches behind her to grab the coffee pot, “That’s okay, Prentiss.” 

Outside of work, they only ever called each other by their first name, but they made a point of using surnames at work. They’d exchange a smirk as they did so and it had become a joke of sorts between them. 

JJ scoffs and rolls her eyes at them, “Everyone knows you’re friends, you know,” she says, smiling before she turns to leave, throwing another comment over her shoulder as she walks away, “It’s okay if you guys call each other by your first names in front of the rest of us from time to time.” 

Emily chuckles and shakes her head at JJ as she walks away, “We’ve been rumbled.” 

He hums as he puts the coffee pot back down, “Speaking of being rumbled…” he starts, and she raises her eyebrow at him in response, “You’re spending Thanksgiving at your mother’s?” 

She scrunches her nose up at him, “You heard that?” 

“I did,” he says, hiding his smile behind his mug, “You didn’t want to go to JJ’s?” 

She blows out a breath and looks around, making sure they are still alone, and she shrugs as she looks back at him, “This might sound awful, but I’m not sure I want to spend the day with them being an adorable happy family.”

“That doesn’t sound awful,” he assures her, “Sometimes the holidays just remind us…” 

“Of what we don’t have,” she finishes for him before she sighs and smiles sadly “So I will be perfectly happy eating an entire pan of homemade mac and cheese to myself and hanging out with Sergio.” 

Later, he’d wonder why he says what he says next. He isn’t sure if it’s the sadness she’s trying to hide from him, his love for her, or the thought of her spending a holiday alone, or even a combination of all three, but he finds himself talking before he really thinks about it.

“You could come over and spend the day with us if you’d like.” 

She shakes her head, already ready to argue with him, “Oh, I couldn’t intrude.” 

“It’s not intruding if I invite you,” he says, “Plus, I can promise no happy families. It’s me, Jack, Jess and her and Haley’s dad Roy who does not like me,” he smiles in a way he usually wouldn’t in the office, drawn in by her and the surprised laugh she breathes out, “So if anything, you’d be doing me a favour.”

She presses her lips together and looks at him curiously, and for a moment he’s sure she’s going to turn him down, but instead, she nods, her lips pressed together as she clears her throat, “Okay. That…that sounds nice. I’ll be here.” 

“Good,” he says, trying to tamper down his excitement, “Jack will be so excited - we all know you’re his favourite person.” 

She smiles, “Need me to bring anything?” 

“Maybe that homemade mac and cheese you were talking about?” 

She nods, “Okay,” she smiles at him, her lips pressed together as if she is holding something back, and then she clears her throat again, “I should go do some work.”

He nods, “I hear your boss is a bit of a tyrant.” 

She chuckles and shrugs, throwing him a wink before she walks away, “He’s not all bad.” 

___

She almost turns around and goes home. 

She finds herself standing on his doorstep, a casserole dish full of Mac and Cheese balancing on one of her hands and a bottle of wine tucked up under her arm, wondering why she’d agreed to this. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend the day with Aaron and Jack, it was her favourite thing to do, but spending Thanksgiving with them, a day for families and spending time with those you love, was enough to make her ache. 

She loved them in a way she wasn’t sure she had a right to. 

She’d loved Jack the moment she met him. He was adorable and cranky in Haley’s arms as she walked into the office looking for Aaron, his cries at least in part coming from him picking up on his mother’s bad mood. Emily offered to take Jack for a few minutes when Haley tried to pretend she wasn’t furious as she looked up at Aaron’s office, and she’d been slightly surprised when she took her up on it. She’d sat at her desk for a few minutes with Jack in her lap and it was enough time for her to be completely charmed by him. Her love for him had grown with her relationship with him, and he was without a doubt one of the most important people in her life. Happiness and joy all rolled up into the smile of a 6-year-old boy who had already survived so much more than he should have. 

Her love for Aaron was different. It had come out of nowhere, hit her like a truck as she stepped into his apartment and found him missing and his blood on the carpet. It was something she’d shoved down, something she’d pretended wasn’t there, and she’d been there for him as his world fell apart around him. There were times when she thought he might feel the same way too, fleeting moments when their eyes would meet and maybe felt as close to definitely as it ever had. Then Doyle happened. Tearing her sense of self apart for a second time, and she was glad there was nothing more between her and Aaron that would have put him in danger. 

Since she came home they’d become closer again, any initial awkwardness gone as quickly as it had appeared, and sometimes she’d find him looking at him like he used to again. She wanted more with him, with him and Jack - to be part of an actual family for the first time in her life - but she wasn’t sure she was enough for them anymore. 

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get back to the Emily that Aaron may have once loved. 

She’s drawn out of herself when the door to the apartment is torn open, and she looks up to meet Aaron’s eyes. A smile on his face that only seemed to exist in the confines of his home, a soft side of him that belongs to his son that he would let her see too. 

“Hi,” he says, taking the casserole dish from her, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

She chuckles, “Happy Thanksgiving,” she tilts her head at him curiously, “How did you know I was out here? I didn’t knock.” 

He steps back to let her into the apartment, “I saw you standing out here. I knew if I let you think about it any longer you’d leave.” 

She presses her lips together and nods, “Sometimes I worry you know me a little too well.” 

He laughs and puts the mac and cheese down on the kitchen counter, “I don’t think that’s possible,” he smiles over at Jessica who is standing in the kitchen and cooking, “Jess, you remember Emily.” 

Jessica nods, “Happy Thanksgiving, Emily.” 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she says, “Everything smells amazing.” 

Jack interrupts them before they can say anything else. He runs down the hall from his bedroom, throwing himself into Emily’s arms, “Emmy!”

“Hi Jack,” she says, hugging him close as she kisses his forehead before she pulls back, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You too,” he smiles, “I was just showing Grandpa the train set you got me for my birthday.” 

Emily looks up and smiles at a man she’d only seen briefly once before at his daughter’s funeral. She didn’t have to be good at what she did to see the way Roy looks at her, followed by the way he looks at Aaron. Distrust and a hint of anger in his eyes that feels misplaced. It makes her shackles rise, her grip on Jack in her arms tightening as she slips on a mask she’d had for as long as she could remember. One that had grown with her since she was the same age as the little boy in her arms. 

She paints on a smile and adjusts her hold on Jack, holding one hand out to Roy for him to shake, “Nice to meet you, Mr Brooks.” 

He hums and looks down at her hand before he steps past her to get a drink from the kitchen, “You’re Aaron’s friend.” 

She narrows her eyes as he turns his back and then she catches Aaron’s gaze, sees the I told you he hates me shining in his eyes, and she clears her throat, ready to protect the man she loves from anything, even his ex-father-in-law. 

“Yes,” she says, her smile as polite as it could be, “I am.”

___

Dinner is hard work. 

She has to stop herself from interjecting each time Roy says something passive-aggressive, or occasionally downright aggressive, to Aaron. The only things that stop her are the fact that Jack is in the room and that she’s sure Aaron wouldn’t appreciate her inserting herself into complicated family affairs. 

By the time Jessica and Roy leave, she can’t help but wonder how such a horrid man had raised two such wonderful women. It feels unkind, especially when she acknowledges what he has lost, but it sticks in her mind. How he’s so obviously lost in his own grief that he’s taking it out on those around him, specifically Aaron, without acknowledging what he’d lost too. Or that he was the father of his grandson, the absolute hero of his grandson, and that if he carried on down the path he was taking Jack would only grow to resent him for treating his father that way as he gets older. 

She blows out a breath and sinks further into Aaron’s couch, glass of wine in hand, and she smiles at the sound of chattering coming from Jack’s bedroom down the hall. She closes her eyes and imagines a world where this was her life. Where she sat here every evening listening to her Hotchner boys talk to each other, or snuggled between them on the couch every night. 

She opens her eyes when she hears the bedroom door opening and she smiles at Aaron as he walks towards her, “He okay?” 

Aaron nods as he sits down, “He’s okay. Holidays are hard - he misses Haley.” 

“You both do,” she says, smiling softly at him.“It’s okay to miss her even though you weren't together anymore when she died. You’ve known her most of your life,” she reaches out for him, her hand on his arm before she can think about it, “It’s okay to miss her.”

He nods, blowing out a slow breath, chuckling humourlessly as he reaches for his glass of wine on the coffee table, grateful when her hand doesn’t slip away from his arm, her palm warm against his skin “And you say I know you too well.” 

She hums, “I don’t think that’s possible,” she smiles when he does at her repetition of his words earlier that day, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

There’s something so honest about the way he says it that it surprises her for a moment, stealing the breath from her lungs as she smiles at him, “Has Roy always been like that with you?” 

“Standoffish?” 

“I was going to go for rude,” she mutters, “But yeah. Has he always been like that?” 

He sighs and sinks back against the couch, a lifetime of memories hitting him all at once as he thinks about the man who had never quite liked him, but never used to hate him like he did now. 

“He was never really a fan of mine,” he answers, turning his head to look at her, “But Haley loved me and he loved her so he…put up with me. Then when we got divorced he stopped pretending.” 

She clenches her jaw, desperate to keep her words back long enough so she can make sure they’re measured. She was used to controlling her feelings for him around him but this felt different, the need to protect him so strong she felt it thumping alongside her heart in his chest. 

“Still, you’re Jack’s dad, and his only parent,” she has a sip of wine, “He should show you the respect you deserve.” 

“To him, this is the respect I deserve. After all, I’m the reason his daughter is dead.” 

He only realises he’s said it outloud when she gasps, an intake of breath that she can’t stop as her eyes go wide. He knows he wouldn’t say it in front of anyone else but she had this way of flaying him open, of tearing him apart at the seams where he’d sewn himself back together, and he could never quite figure out if he liked it or not. 

Being entirely known by someone was a privilege, but it was a vulnerability too, and it had been so long since he’d let someone get this close to him. 

“Aaron…” she chokes out, leaning forward to place her glass of wine down on the table, “You…you don’t believe that do you?” 

“I…” he trails off, placing his glass of wine next to hers before he turns, his knee knocking against hers the first indication he gets of how close she is to him now, “Sometimes.” 

She isn’t sure if she wants to yell at him or hug him. Or both. Fierce protectiveness of him rolling through her again, even though it was him that she wanted to protect him from. She reaches out for him, and she hesitates for a second, her hand frozen in the air, before she cups his cheek and makes him look at her. 

“It isn’t your fault,” she says, her eyes searching his, “The man whose fault it is died. He’s dead. You…you’re the reason your son is alive, and thriving and the happiest kid I’ve ever met.” She says, and he chuckles, the sound thick as it catches in his chest, “And you always joke I’m his favourite person but it’s you, Aaron. You’re his favourite person. He loves you so much.” 

“I know,” he chokes out, leaning into the warmth of her palm against his cheek, trying to commit it all to memory for when it would come to an end, “Usually I can rationalise it. I know it’s not my fault. But...It’s just hard to remember sometimes.” 

“I know,” she replies, smiling sadly when their eyes meet, “Better than most.” 

They sit like that, in their half embrace with her hand against his cheek, staring at each other, and for a moment she thinks about leaning in, about pressing her lips against his and kissing him, but she stops herself. Her bravery snuffed out as quickly as it had ignited, not entirely sure she could take the leap unless she knew he wanted to jump with her too. 

She pulls back abruptly, leaving his cheek cold as her hand slips to her lap and she clears her throat. “I should get going. Thanks for having me.” 

Aaron frowns and stands up at the same time she does, “Em-”

“Sergio will be waiting for me,” she says, cutting him off as she walks towards the front door, “He is grumpy when I don’t-”

“Emily,” he says, firmer this time, stopping her from getting any further away by standing in front of her, “What’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, “If I have to say it, I’ve misread a lot over the years and I am really bad at my job.” 

He sucks in a breath, and he knows it’s now or never, that if he lets her leave it would be over before it could even start. They were at a crossroads, two paths laid out in front of them, and he knew there was only one that he wanted to walk.

And it was the one where she’d be right by his side. 

He steps forward, making it so there’s no space between them, and he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. He sucks in a breath at the same time she does, and their eyes meet for a second before he leans in, her lips soft against his. It’s everything and more than they’d both imagined over the years, a moment in time and one that would last forever, drawing out around them like the finest of thread as they moved forward together. Everything they could, and would have, leading back to this one kiss. 

When she pulls back she rests her forehead against his, her lips pressed together before she licks them, chasing the taste of him on her skin, “So,” she says, chuckling breathlessly, “I wasn’t misreading anything.”

He shakes his head and pulls back to look at her, both of his arms wrapped around her to keep her in place, “Em, I…”

She nods and rests her forehead against his again, “I know,” she cups the back of his head, her nails scratching against his scalp, “I know.” 

They stand there, pressed against each other as they breathe each other in, the acknowledgement of everything else there was left to say, and he chuckles and pulls back to look at her, “Would it be cheesy for me to say this is something I’m thankful for?” 

She laughs, the sound wet as it catches on a sob and she nods, making her forehead knock against his, “Yes,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck and dragging him into a kiss, “But I’ll let it slide this once.” 

She doesn’t have to say that she’s thankful too, because he already knows. 

[em-prentiss]

drunk in love

----

Aaron’s lips messily trace her knuckles. “Do you need a ride?” His voice vibrates under her hand.

���Nope,” she shakes her head. “My husband’s pretty drunk so I’ll be driving us home tonight.”

“Husband?” Aaron frowns, letting go of her hand. “Who’s that?”

Oh, this should be good.

Or, Aaron is drunk. And really unable to contain his love for his wife.

Word count: 2k

----

She feels warm inside. It’s hard not to, after a delicious dinner and flowing conversations and good company. Dave’s living room seems to always provide her with all three. Emily feels the heat of a gaze burning her cheek and turns to find Aaron staring at her, a goofy smile on his lips. 

“Hi.”

His dimples are deeper than they usually are given present company, a distinct gleam in his eyes that immediately tells her the reason for it. Emily knows that shine all too well; it doesn’t come very often, but when it does she knows she’s in for a treat.

“Hi.” 

“You’re really pretty.” He informs her, a slur to his words that she never hears in times other than these.

Emily presses her lips together to hide a smile. She’s glad for Aaron’s low voice even while drunk, his flirtations kept just for her in a room of their friends.

“Thank you,” she says, briefly feeling ridiculous for the heat in her cheeks. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Her hand moves to the collar of his button down of its own accord. Emily smooths it down needlessly, and when her fingers dip inside, Aaron holds her hand there.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?”

His slow pulse beats under her fingers. Emily smiles at him and feels it start to quicken; she bites her lip to hold back a laugh. “At home. Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“Anywhere with you.” He mumbles, curling his fingers around her wrist. Emily grins. Aaron’s lips messily trace her knuckles. “Do you need a ride?” His voice vibrates under her hand.

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “My husband’s pretty drunk so I’ll be driving us home tonight.”

“Husband?” Aaron frowns, letting go of her hand. “Who’s that?”

Oh, this should be good.

Emily can’t conceal her grin this time. “You.” She says, twisting her body to properly face him. His usual frown pulls his brows together, only it’s confused rather than displeased.

“Me?”

“Mhm.”

His pupils are blown wide. “Goddamn.”

Emily bursts out laughing. She claps her hand over her mouth too late, the voices of her friends already dwindling down at the sound of her bright—she hates to admit it—giggle.

An enamored smile spreads across Aaron’s lips. 

“What are you laughing at, princess?” Morgan tilts his head, his eyes jumping between her and Aaron.

“Nothing,” Emily clears her throat and stands up hastily, holding her hand out for Aaron to take. “We were just leaving, weren’t we, Aaron?”

Aaron nods solemnly as he takes her hand. “’d go anywhere with you.”

Emily’s cheeks heat as she tugs him up, his voice now carrying in the silence of Dave’s living room. While Aaron is never shy about his love for her, he is quiet; careful to keep it something between them, even in somewhere more casual like Dave’s. Only the walls of their home fully know the extent of his love, and Emily wants to keep it that way.

Tonight, her wish is far from fulfilled.

“Mm, you said that already,” she murmurs, hooking her arm around his waist because he looks like he’s about to topple—she doesn’t remember him drinking that much—and steadfastly ignoring the hot gazes of her friends.

“Is bossman drunk?” Penelope asks.  

Even without turning Emily can sense the giddy in her voice. She makes a face as she reaches for her purse, knowing Aaron wouldn’t like being exposed like this.

“He’s a fair bit intoxicated, yes, so we’re going home now.” Emily gives them a tight smile as she cranes her head to look at them, not really able to twist with Aaron leaning half his body weight against her side. She catches Dave and Morgan’s smug looks, JJ’s stifled amusement, and she squeezes his waist, “C’mon, hon, let’s go.”

“Can’t believe I’m goin’ home with you.” Aaron sighs into her neck. “’Cause you’re my wife. She’s my wife isn’t she?” His head pops up again, his eyes meeting Rossi’s. “Dave, she’s not lying to me is she?”

Dave chuckles and shakes his head, the gleam in his eyes making her irrationally irritated. “Nope.”

Emily’s heart pinches at the insecurity lining his voice. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this,” she says softly. Aaron turns to her and she only barely holds herself back from kissing him breathless, just to prove it to him. “I’ll show you some pictures in the car, hmm? Proof.” She gently pushes away the soft hair hanging over his forehead. 

Aaron smiles. “Y’have pictures?” He asks, looping his arm around her waist.

Before anyone else can say anything, Emily gets her feet to move, channeling all her strength and tugging Aaron with her. “I have lots of pictures. Night, everyone,” she tosses over her shoulder.

“Hey, let me help you with him.” Morgan says, quickly crossing the floor and reaching them.

“My wife’s all strong Morgan, she doesn’t need your help.” Aaron mumbles. 

“Yeah, back off, Morgan.” Emily reiterates, winking at him to soften her words.

“Alright, alright.” He steps back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. When she looks at him his gaze is less unabashedly amused, some genuine concern in his eyes as he hovers over her shit-faced husband.

Emily relaxes a little. “Thanks, though.” She smiles at him over Aaron’s head.

“Anytime.”

By the time they reach the car and Aaron is settled into the passenger seat, the ache in Emily’s shoulder is almost enough to make her regret rejecting Morgan’s offer.

“I just don’t get when you drank this much,” she mutters as she leans over the console and gently swats at Aaron’s unsteady hands, buckling his seatbelt instead. “You were right next to me.”

Aaron isn’t listening. He reaches out to touch a lock of her hair, gently curling it around his finger before he tucks it behind her ear. Even drunk, his movements clumsy, he’s gentle as he pins it back. Emily smiles at him, the heat back in her cheeks.

“Can we kiss?” He whispers.

A small laugh escapes, gentle and secret, trapped in the confines of the car as Emily stretches her body further to reach him. Her hand slides into his hair, gently cradling the back of his neck as she brings his lips to hers. 

He tastes like the multiple glasses of scotch he’d had at some point in time. Emily ignores that, relishing instead in the careful way he touches her; gently cupping her cheek, skimming his thumb over her jaw.

“I missed you.” Aaron says when she leans back.

“Yeah?” Emily murmurs. He nods and she kisses the corner of his mouth, “I did too, my love.”

Even in the dark, she sees his cheeks redden. Emily kisses one of them before settling back into her seat, a dull ache in her lower back. She buckles her seatbelt and drives off as Aaron’s head hits the headrest.

It doesn’t take long before he reaches for her hand.

Butterflies twirl in her stomach as he gently runs his thumb over the back of her hand, then her knuckles, then down the joints of her fingers. “Hey, you stopped biting your nails.” A small smile plays on his lips. He bends his head down, presses a kiss to her healed cuticles. 

“Yeah, a long time ago.” She says softly. “You helped.” Emily turns just in time to catch him beaming at her. 

“I did?”

She squeezes his fingers as they reach a stoplight. “You did. You made me wear nail polish and held my hand whenever I tried to bite them.”

Aaron kisses her fingers again. “Glad I could help, baby.” 

The rare nickname makes her breath hitch. Emily drives off when the light turns green, her heart unsteady as Aaron continues to carefully examine her hand. She feels it when he reaches her engagement ring, his thumb reverently smoothing over the band.

“That’s a pretty ring.” He murmurs, his voice hushed as he traces the diamonds on it.

Emily hums. “Isn’t it? You gave it to me.”

“I have good taste.” He says sagely.

She laughs softly, her heart suddenly feeling fuller than it did seconds ago. Aaron’s breathy laugh joins hers, echoing through the car as he sets their joint hands on the center console. Quietly, Emily hopes he’ll speak up again, but he stays silent, turning his head to look out the window at the passing cars. The sweeping of his thumb over the back of her hand remains continuous, though, and Emily stupidly longs for it in the few seconds she lets go to shift the gear.

He speaks up again when she turns the corner into their neighborhood.

“Mmm, ’mily?”

A surge of warmth rushes through her at the softness of her name on his drunken lips. She tightens her grip on his hand, chewing on her lip to hold back a smile.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Do we have any babies?” He asks.

Emily hums. “We have Jack-Jack. And Sergio.” She smiles wryly.

Aaron scoffs, “Sergio is not a baby.” He quiets then frowns a little, his voice going low. “And Jack isn’t a baby anymore.”

“Not technically, no. But he’ll always be your baby.” 

“He’s growing up.”

Chancing a glance at him, she finds a sad frown etched on his face. Emily grabs his hand off the console, sweeping her lips over his knuckles. “It’s what kids do, baby.”

Aaron huffs as she pulls into their driveway. “Wish they’d stop doing it so damn fast.” He grumbles.

She hums in agreement, letting go of his hand to put the car in park. Emily expects him to forget the topic and move on to something else, but he’s still frowning by the time they walk into their quiet living room.

It makes her sigh to herself, quietly letting go of a promise she’d made to herself a few hours ago. 

“Hey, Aaron,” she wraps her arms around his neck, gently trapping him against the front door. “I have a secret to tell you. I was gonna tell you later, but I don’t think you’ll remember if I told you now anyway.” The tips of her fingers slide into his hair.

“I’d never forget anything you told me.” He says solemnly.

“Cute,” Emily winks, “but I don’t think you’ll remember this one in your state.” She cups his face and gives him a smile, mentally shaking out the jitteriness in her body before she says, “You’re gonna have another baby soon.”

Aaron frowns.

Emily freezes.

“We’re not getting another cat, Emily,” he huffs, his scowl fit for an unsub. “One feline is more than enough, thank you—”

“I’m pregnant,” Emily interrupts, laughing at the way his jaw abruptly drops, “you idiot. Why would I call a cat a baby?” She asks incredulously, a grin spreading over her lips at his dumbfounded expression, the hazel of his eyes swirling with wonder.

“Pregnant?” Aaron whispers. Emily nods and he smiles dorkily, two dimples in his cheeks that she briefly imagines in a smaller, softer face. “My baby,” he breathes, slipping his hand under her shirt and poking her stomach, “in here?”

This time, Emily giggles unabashedly. “In here,” she covers his hand with hers, holding it tighter against her bare stomach. “Our baby.” She says softly, tears misting her eyes at the sound of it out loud.

Aaron’s eyes go glassy, too. “Fuck, I love you.” He pulls her into a bear hug, his arms tight around her back and the nape of her neck. She’s essentially trapped against him, enveloped in the scent of cologne and scotch.

“I love you too.” Emily laughs shakily, stepping on her tiptoes and kissing his jaw. “Now can we please go upstairs? My back is killing me.”

“Anythin’ you want, Emily.” His lips find her hair. Then her forehead, and her left cheekbone, and the tip of her nose. “Anything for you.”

She thinks she’ll be hearing that a lot over the next nine months.

taglist: @kllingdaddy @luhwithah @cheetobreath07 @dontemilyyyyme

[shay-j-scribbles]

A Risk Worth Taking

Part 6: Family Night at Rossi's leads to lots and lots of kissing against his front door

Rating E (very much) | Hotch x Prentiss

Read on Ao3

[barefoot-inthewildestwinter]

Make your tea and your toast (part 1)

A/N: This is my first fic ever and also I am new to Criminal Minds as well! I'll work on this story for awhile and I will update warnings at the beginning of each chapter :) I hope to maybe start writing one-shots based on something like taylor swift songs!

Title: Make your tea and your toast

Summary: If he played his cards close to his chest, she never picked hers up. Emily's past slowly catches up to her and he realizes just how little he knows about her.

Word count: 3.7k

Ratings: Mature, eventually

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, SA, abortion, pregnancy and teen pregnancy, and violence.

January 2007

Nevada

He caught a glimpse of her in the rear-view mirror. Her chin was digging into the pale, bony wrist resting against the car door. She had rolled the window down, allowing rural air to fill the empty space. They were stopped at a light. She was staring straight ahead. Eyes fixed on the skyline and the moon glowing back onto them. Most of her hair was still tucked back in a distressed ponytail. Wild brown strands blew around her face, doing their best to cover her expressions. He spent a breath trying to decipher the faint wrinkles across her face. Her nose slightly scrunched, lips pressed together, brow unfurrowed. She didn’t appear sad, or mad, just… disappointed. A fair position to take, he would concede. They had let Frank go. They had handed him Jane. Maybe they would have found the school children on their own. Their safety had been used to justify his release, it had been the right call. He was sure of it, or at least he was sure enough. They had to let Frank go. He was certain she would challenge this if he brought it up. Not to argue that  it was the wrong call, but to question why it had been the right one, why it had to be the only choice. 

 It had been a silent drive, with Morgan tuned into the radio for updates on basketball games, occasionally commenting on the Bulls- a playful attempt to get a rise out of him. Prentiss had been nonverbal well before she climbed into the back seat. Passively nodding at the suggestion that the team head back to the hotel before venturing out for dinner. Sulking behind him closely and waiting for the side door to unlock, pulling the handle after every beep.  Though she was new to the team, she had always returned to her supportive, outgoing state fairly soon after a case, shelving the unfaltering, driven Agent Prentiss, FBI until the next call. It was unusual for her to not press them to pick a restaurant to meet at, or to not offer to buy them drinks at some bar, or to brush past Morgan and Reid to get into his SUV. He may have paid it more attention if her actions had been inconsistent with the group's energy. He didn’t see himself starting a conversation with either of them, and that was okay.

Morgan looked up from the console to paw at his phone. “Garcia, baby. Please tell me you are up to no good tonight.” On the other end, Garcia’s words were incoherent to him. Given the nature of their conversations in the office, he thinks that maybe he should count his blessings. “No, no. We’re almost back to the motel. We’re getting dinner later. Not my choice.” Staring at the road ahead, he catches snippets of Morgan’s conversation. “...Hotch and Prentiss. Reid went with Gideon in the other car. You know we couldn’t have Reid up in here killing the mood… Babygirl, you should just be glad that we are nowhere near Vegas.” He does hear Garcia comment on how lonely it is to never be there for the team dinners when they are away. “Alright, sugar, get to bed at a reasonable hour. Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell them. Goodnight, princess. I love you too.”

 Jack, he winced. When he got back to his room, he would have to call Jack and Haley. He eyed the clock. 7:48. It was past 9:30 for them. Jack would be asleep, and Haley may very well be too. That was probably for the best. He would leave another voicemail, a preemptive ‘Good morning,’ an apology for missing another ‘Goodnight,’ and a reminder to her to lock the doors before bed.  At least this way, the message would be uninterrupted by his wife’s frustration. Something he couldn’t fault her for, but he didn’t have the energy to apologize for tonight. 

He found trouble justifying his actions to Haley, particularly while trying to keep her and Jack far from this world. He did everything in his power to make sure that they would never have to see a frame of what he saw, and he prayed that they would never be pulled into a case. He hoped to rid the country of as much danger as possible so that they could live freely, without worry of things he could not help but picture any time they left the house. He also understood what his absence meant to Haley. How much she had to do on her own, not just with Jack. He had made sure to pick up the lion’s share of the work when he was home, cooking, cleaning, chores. He knew it wouldn’t always be enough. That’s why when she suggested that they have another baby, he was a little taken aback. He knows that he shouldn’t have been. Jack is over a year old now, Haley is 35, and he has loved her for almost two decades. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel strange about it. They surely couldn’t bring another child into their house and go back to fighting over his work. Her position wouldn’t change if they had two kids, and he’s not sure that he can give her what she needs. Not after this case. Besides, she had only brought it up twice since then, and it hadn’t taken them long to get pregnant with Jack. He tries to push the thought of Frank out of his mind, separating his home life from his current one.  

He finds his gaze drifting back to Prentiss in the mirror again. She’s still stuck on the same thought. This time he notices more of her. Her necklace, her eyelashes, her vest still on. That cannot be comfortable. He lets out a small smile. Her fingers lightly pressed a tune into the leather seat. As their SUV pulled into the hotel, Hotch found himself pleased by the trust that had been forged between Prentiss and himself since she had joined the team a few months ago. It wasn’t unusual, and it certainly wasn’t anything much, but it was progress. For a moment, he feels awful for his treatment of her during her first cases in the unit. He knows she caught tension from almost everyone on the team. Gideon fed off of his distrust, his claim that she had arrived in his office due to anything other than her merits. Morgan, suspicious of anyone joining the BAU, and Reid, following their example. Even JJ had feigned contempt for Prentiss for a week or so. Someone new, so soon after Elle’s departure, they had reason to take pause, but not to completely ice her out.  Really, he is grateful for her staying with the team after that. And she had been useful. More so than he expected her to be. She was fluent in over five languages. She was an excellent shot, a quick thinker, and her dedication to the case was unmatched. It was as if any personal hang ups or feelings were controlled by a switch that she could turn off in a blink. This didn’t stop her from being a constant source of support. She was always ready to  empathize with the team, the families, or the unsubs, like it was second nature to her. She was able to gain trust effortlessly. He’d like to believe that his trust took some effort. 

His amusement quickly shriveled when it met with the heaviness of the warm air. After separate car rides, Reid and Morgan immediately revived their bickering about dinner plans. By the time they finally compromise on a place, with encouragement from Hotch, the last shreds of comradery are taut.  Gideon will just go back to his room, he says, citing exhaustion. Hotch collects his takeout order while walking towards  the fire escape. Prentiss nods, “I’m just going to go back to my room, as well. Long day.” Reid frowns at this, but doesn’t say anything back. “Stay out of trouble boys.” She winks at him. It was at them really, but he feels it burn on his skin. 

He’s back in the driver’s seat when Morgan asks if there is something they can get to bring her back. Hotch catches her head shaking in the rear view mirror once more, watching her stumble off into the distance. He knows that she’s being withholding, but after the day they have had, he knows better than to probe that right now. 

Reid climbs into her empty seat in the back. “It smells weird in here.” He says, loudly taking deep breaths through his nose. Morgan turns to look at him, “It’s called perfume, Reid. If you ever got within six feet of a girl, you might know that, genius.” Morgan slides his thumb across his nose. Reid pouts in response, “Well, now I don’t want to go.” “Too late, you picked the restaurant, you don’t get to bail on us now.” They fight like children for miles. “I can still make both of you get out and walk.” That pacifies them for the rest of the ride.

Dinner was more pleasant than he predicted. It seemed that they all had needed some food in their system to treat hypoglycemic angst. Talking and laughing about nothing, teaching Reid to throw darts. Hotch couldn’t remember feeling so light after a case like this, even though it was momentary. On the way back, Morgan joins Reid in the back, allowing him to rest his head on his shoulder and doze off. Oh, god, he thought. I already have two kids. They brought Gideon’s meal and some extra boxes to offer Prentiss. He parks the car, grabbing the takeout in one arm. Morgan startles awake, distancing himself before hopping out. “Want me to carry you?” He extends his hand to Reid, who takes offense and climbs out of the other side door. “Hey Hotch, are you doing bed checks tonight?” His laugh is sincere. “No, but Gideon will do a head count at 1.” He lets them go on ahead, saying their goodnights before they split off. “Garcia loves you!” He hears Morgan call down the veranda. Gideon takes his food with a brief thank you and a goodnight. Hotch can see the files strewn in the background, all of the lamps giving the room an amber hue.  “For Prentiss?” he points to the remaining boxes. Hotch nods. “Did she say anything to you?” Gideon says no, she had taken the stairs and hadn’t left her room since they got back, to his knowledge, but he wasn’t tracking her. “Everything okay with her?” He just sighs. “Is anything ever okay with us?” Knowing that Gideon would be wanting to get back to his paperwork now, he leaves quickly.

He passes a few doors before stopping at hers. He can hear her on the other side, footsteps pacing the length of the room. Without thinking, he grabs the handle.  He raises his hand to knock, catching the time on his wrist. 11:18. He hears the footsteps stop instantly and she slowly moves closer to the door. Realizing what he has done, he clears his throat. “Prentiss, it’s Hotch.” There’s a deep, shaky breath, and then the chain slides off. 

“You’d think a supervisory federal agent would know how to knock on a door without acting like a creep.” She moves into the doorway. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t … uh, I wasn’t thinking.” He stumbles across his sentence, scanning her appearance. She’d traded the vest and slacks for a pair of black athletic shorts and a well loved Yale sweatshirt. “We brought you back some food. I know you said you weren’t hungry, but it’s been a long day and I don’t recall you joining us for breakfast.” She looks up at him. She’s shorter without heels on, he thinks. “It’s just a salad and some fries. Morgan seemed to think that would be okay.” She beams back at him. Her face is bare, and yet her wide eyes are still decorated with long, thick lashes. She is smiling big, which causes his lips to concede a smirk. “Oh, this is great. Thank you.” The light catches the wet black hair clinging to her neck, revealing wet marks at the top of her sweater. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you be. Goodnight.” He goes to turn when he sees her shiver and fixate her gaze at his feet. He feels all of the concern he’s had for her all day rush to churn in his stomach. “Prentiss? I’m in the next room, if you need anything.” He pauses to make sure she detects the earnestness in his words. She looks back up at him, meeting his stare. “I know. Goodnight Hotch.” She closes the door behind him, leaving him alone in the cold air. When he falls back into his bed, it’s 11:30. This will definitely be a voicemail.

He keeps his message short and sweet. He’ll call them in the morning, before wheels up. It’s more of a pacifier for himself than a promise to them. The pacing continues in the distance, it becomes louder the more he concentrates on it. After a while, he finds it soothing enough to drift off to. 

Hotch is awake again when he hears the door slam. Someone outside scurries along the corridor until they reach his room. He sees her through the hole in the door. Her arms wrapped around herself, she bites a nail and then her lower lip. She’s trying to work up the strength to knock, to ask for him. 3:30. He sighs and  groggily throws his brown pullover on and opens the door to nothing but the chill. Confused, he shuts the door and tries to wander after her. 

“Prentiss. Prentiss?” It comes out as more of a hiss as he creeps along the walkway. “Prentiss?” He finds her sitting on the steps of the fire escape, her bare knees buried into her chest. He calls after her once more, making himself known. “Prentiss, it’s Hotch.” She looks up, nodding her nose to the empty space next to her. He understands and sits down. “Hey,” he offers. She doesn’t turn to face him. “We made the right call today. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we didn’t have a choice.”

 “But how can you know that?” She shoots back, regret pouring in immediately. Her next words sound shaky. “I know we got the children back, I know that.” Her head lifts out of her hands. “But Jane is a person. She’s a victim. She’s his victim, we literally handed her to him and let them ride off into the sunset.” Her voice strained. “I know.” “Anything that happens to her, anything that Frank does to anyone, is on us.” His hand grazes her thigh as he readjusts his leg.

“When I was a prosecutor, one of the worst feelings was when really bad people walked free because they received more compassion and leniency  from the system than their victims. When we fail, we fail victims. We give them no closure, no justice, we tell them that all of their suffering is unimportant. We give them reason to doubt the people that are supposed to help them.” Emily asks how long he practiced as a prosecutor. He replies, a couple of years, after law school. Mostly criminal cases, sexual assault, homicide, child abuse. He never felt like he was doing enough, he was always too late, it nearly destroyed him.

“Why do we fail them though? Sure, sometimes it’s inevitable. But we fail too often.” He is a bit surprised by the raw emotion in her rambling. “We can’t protect everyone, sometimes we fail to uncover the truth until it's too late.” He searches her eyes for hints of what specifically is eating at her. “Do you think it’s a failure due to inability or inconvenience?” He ponders her question for a moment. “What do you mean?” She laughs once. “I mean, if we see the truth and we find it to be inconvenient. We don’t like the way it looks, what stops us from just ignoring it altogether?” He shoots her a look that says, ‘We aren’t the bad guys.’ “Maybe not. But we just as well could be.” She shifts her weight, sitting up straighter.

“Just look at what happened in Chicago. A man was allowed to abuse and murder little boys for decades and no one batted an eye because ‘He was a pillar of the community, an outstanding man.’ And as if that wasn’t enough, they went after Derek with almost no thought. They saw what they wanted to and ignored what they didn’t. It didn’t matter who got hurt.” He places his hand on the middle of her back. Thumb on her spine, his fingers stay just below her shoulder blade. An awkward attempt to comfort her. She exhales deeply but doesn’t jerk away. He thinks back to a few weeks ago, when he had caught her looking out for Morgan on the trip home from Chicago. Giving him space from a calculated distance, bringing him tea and a new book for the plane, offering to buy him a drink when they got home. He didn’t think much of it then. Just Prentiss being Prentiss, offering comfort and exuding resilience to the team after a particularly brutal case. Now, he wonders if there was meaning behind her actions deeper than a desire to be accepted by them.

She’s staring, fixated on his lips now. He spots a paper cup clutched in her left hand. “It’s just water,” she says. “Not that I couldn’t use a drink right about now.” Her wide eyes pout playfully at him, make me a drink. She lifts the cup, tilting it towards him, he declines. Prentiss cracks a smile, turning her head to face the neon motel sign. “It’s past 4:00, did you get any rest?” She bites her lower lip again. “Yeah, some.” It’s a lie, he can hear the exhaustion in her throat. He glares at her. “Fine, no, not really. I usually don’t though.” He frowns, “When do you sleep?” Her answer baffles him. She tells him that if she sleeps, it’s from 2:00 to 5:00 am, but that she naps often on the jet. He lets out a breath but it comes out as a shaky laugh. “If?” He’s looking at her with pity. His hand is resting on the step behind her back now. His words spill out softly, “Oh, Emily. That’s no good.” As soon as he says it, awkwardness fills the air. He rarely says her first name alone, he hasn’t felt close enough to her to use it. He holds his breath waiting for her to say something. Thankfully for him, she brushes right past it, setting her hand on his knee. “Oh, believe me, I’m aware.” He doesn’t move, his focus centered on her face, composed and unfazed. “Prentiss, do you ever get nightmares?” 

“Don’t we all?” She tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear, revealing a pearl earring. “Occupational hazard.” In her periphery, she can see his face teem with concern. Through teeth, she forces her next words out. “All the time, sir. Sometimes even before I fall asleep.”

“Tonight?” he asks, lowering his voice to a whisper, she nods. “It’s okay to have them, you know. There’s nothing wrong with you. We see and think about things that no one should ever have to witness. We put ourselves in danger nearly every day. It would be concerning if it didn’t get to you.” Her grip on his knee tightens. “The important thing to know is that you’re not alone in this. You are safe tonight. I’m here, Morgan is here, Gideon and Reid are here.” She turns her face into her shoulder for a second and he swears he hears her sniffle. “I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, Hotch.” 

“I know that you are. I’m just saying that you don't have to be. Whether or not you believe me, you’re a member of this team, not a supporter.” The breeze splashes their skin. It feels nice, sobering them up. “I bet that you’re a really good dad, Hotch. That was nice. Are you going to read me a bedtime story now?” He fails to fend off the smirk from his face. “No, but I will walk you back to your room, wheels up in 90.” She groans as they rise, pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. “This is a good look on you.” Her cheeks match the rosiness of her nose as she studies the lines on his face. “Well honestly, Hotch, I would have put money on you not owning a pair of sweats.”

She expects him to wait at the door, to make sure she hasn't locked herself out.  But to her surprise he comes in, watches as she slips her boots off and flings them across the room before falling onto the bed. When she's safely under a blanket, he turns out the light. He hears a muffled thank you followed by more tired ramblings as he’s drawn back to the moonlight. “Hotch?” His hand clutches the lock, “Yes?” “It’s okay if you call me Emily, anytime you want.”

Shutting the door, he smiles to himself. Talking to her had felt so easy, even so, he was still intrigued by her. Between his evening with Reid and Morgan and his twilight conversation with Prentiss, he found himself much lighter. Though they would all carry this loss with them until they crossed paths with Frank again, for now, he felt peace. Something he rarely let himself feel while at work. He really needed to go to bed. 

“Goodnight, Emily.”

[galaxysupreme17]

Graduation day

Emily Prentiss X Daughter!Reader

Emily Prentiss X Aaron Hotchner

The morning sun rose above the city, casting a golden hue over everything it touched. Emily stood at the kitchen counter, brewing a pot of coffee, her mind racing with thoughts of the day ahead. It was Y/n's high school graduation day—a milestone she eagerly anticipated and quietly dreaded.

Emily glanced at the clock, noting it was already time to wake Y/n. She made her way upstairs, her heart swelling with pride and nostalgia. Opening Y/n's bedroom door, she found her daughter still nestled under the covers, a peaceful look on her face.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Emily said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently shaking Y/n's shoulder.

Y/n stirred, opening her eyes slowly. "Is it graduation day?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Emily nodded, smiling. "Yes, it is. Time to get up and get ready. We have a big day ahead."

Y/n sat up, stretching and yawning. "I can't believe it's here already. It feels like just yesterday I was starting high school."

"I know," Emily replied, her voice tinged with emotion. "It feels like just yesterday you were starting kindergarten."

At that moment, Aaron Hotchner appeared in the doorway with a proud smile. "Good morning, ladies. Ready for the big day?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Morning, Dad," Y/n said, giving her stepfather a warm smile. "I guess so. It's all a bit surreal."

Aaron kissed Emily on the cheek before ruffling Y/n's hair. "It's going to be a great day. Now, let's get you ready."

The football field stands were filled with excitement. Families and friends filled the seats, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Emily and Aaron found a spot near the front, their cameras ready to capture every moment. Jake, JJ, Penelope, Derek, Spencer, and Rossi sat beside them. Jake saw Y/n and was quick to point her out. They saw Y/n standing with her friends in her cap and gown, chatting and laughing.

The ceremony began, and the superintendent gave a speech, followed by the principal. Soon enough, the principal ended his speech and announced, "Now for our final evening speech from our valedictorian, Y/n Prentiss."

Y/n stands and walks forward, composing herself before she speaks.  "Principal Jones, faculty members, fellow students, family, and friends, welcome. We never thought this day would come. We never thought we'd be standing in these gowns, hoods, and fabulous caps.

When I think about high school, I think about moments, and you all know which moments I'm talking about, such as first kisses, dances, and dates. It was the first time we got our hearts broken and the first time we broke someone else's heart. It was being a part of the speech and debate team here.

I never thought about it much before, but it turns out high school is one long test of our patience, dedication, and perseverance. A test of our ability to handle pressure, to put up with and push through adversity, to see if we can master that old trick of smiling through whatever the world throws at us. And now that we've passed that test, it's time to move on, move up, and move out. Time to take all the lessons we've learned and use them to get through whatever is coming next.

And for me, that's Yale. I'm ready. I think I am. I'm not entirely sure. But I know that if I wasn't ready, I wouldn't be here. 

First, I would like to thank my family. From my aunts and uncles to my cousins. I have learned so much from you over the past couple of years. I want to thank my younger brother Jack for showing me what it was like to have that annoying little brother who threatened your boyfriend. I want to thank my dad, who, even though he hasn't been in my life long, has been the greatest and one of my biggest supporters. If it wasn't for the support of my family, the amazing teachers here, and, of course lastly, my mom.

My mom never told me I couldn't do whatever I wanted or be whomever I wanted. She filled our house with love, fun, books, and music, unflagging in her efforts to give me role models from Jane Austen to Elton John to Princess Diana. As she guided me through these incredible eighteen years, I don't know if she ever realized that the person I most wanted to be was her.

Thank you, Mom. You are my guidepost for everything."

Finally it came time for the graduate to stand and their names to be called one by one. Emily's heart pounded with anticipation as the list of names drew closer to Y/n's. Finally, the moment arrived.

"Y/n Prentiss-Hotchner," the principal announced.

Emily and Aaron stood up, their cameras focused on Y/n as she walked across the stage. They captured the moment Y/n received her diploma, her face beaming with pride. Tears welled up in Emily's eyes as she watched her daughter shake hands with the principal and turn to face the audience.

As Y/n returned to her seat, she caught her parents' eyes and gave them a small, triumphant smile. Emily and Aaron smiled back, feeling overwhelming pride and love.

After the ceremony, the crowd spilled out onto the school lawn. Jack was the first out and found his sister running over to her and being the first to hug her. Emily and Aaron found Y/n and Jack standing with her boyfriend Peter and his aunt amidst a sea of graduates and embraced her tightly.

"I'm so proud of you, Chérie," Emily whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"Thank you, Mommy," Y/n replied, holding onto her mother. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Aaron stepped forward and wrapped his arms around both of them. "We're both incredibly proud of you, Y/n. You've worked so hard for this."

Y/n pulled back, wiping away tears. Emily handed her a small, wrapped box. "I have something for you," she said.

Y/n opened the box to find a delicate silver bracelet engraved with the words "To new beginnings."

"It's beautiful, Mom. Thank you," Y/n said, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist.

"It's to remind you that no matter where life takes you, you're always in our hearts," Aaron said, his voice soft and reassuring.

Y/n hugged her parents again, feeling the weight of the moment. "I love you both so much."

"We love you too, Y/n," Emily and Aaron said in unison, their hearts full.

Later that evening, they returned home for a small family celebration. The living room was decorated with balloons and a "Congratulations" banner. Penelope, Morgan, Rossi, and the rest of the BAU team were there, each offering their own words of wisdom and encouragement.

As the night wore on, Emily, Aaron, Jack, and Y/n sat together on the porch, laughter and conversation drifting from inside.

"Can you believe it's over?" Y/n asked, looking up at the stars.

"It's not over, Chérie. It's just the beginning," Emily replied, taking her daughter's hand.

"And we'll be here, cheering you on every step of the way," Aaron added, squeezing Y/n's other hand.

Y/n smiled, feeling a sense of peace and excitement about the future. "I'm ready for whatever comes next."

Emily and Aaron shared a knowing glance, both feeling the bittersweet mix of emotions from watching their daughter grow up. They sat in comfortable silence, knowing that while one chapter of their lives was closing, another was beginning. And no matter what the future held, they would face it together, their bond unbreakable and their hearts full of love.

[cloudlessly-light]

Hi. I don’t know if it’s your thing but can you consider writing about Emily being Aarons freeuse girl. Like it’s his birthday and her gift for him is unlimited sex for whole day. But we all know that Hotch is too sweet so he uses this access to give her a lot of pleasure. Thanks 😊

Title: No need to take it slow Summary: Aaron hates getting gifts, so each year when his birthday comes around Emily gives him the gift of herself Word Count: 3,6k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, freeuse, power dynamics, oral, anal, multiple orgasms, overstimulation mentions of sex toys, mentions of abuse

Aaron had never really liked celebrating his birthday, disliked receiving gifts even more. It had started when he was still a child. Birthdays and holidays usually overlooked because of his father’s drunken antics or loud fights as his mother placed herself between himself and his father’s fist. When he got older he was the one who took the beatings, protected his mother and Shawn from the anger of his dad.

So Aaron didn’t like celebrating his birthday.

Emily however, loved birthdays, loved to celebrate the people she loved and to shower them in gifts. It was an adjustment when they first got together, Emily taking him out to a fancy restaurant and handing him a wrapped gift with a smile. She could see his unease almost instantly, even though he loved the watch she had bought, wore it every day, there was a tension in his jaw that was rarely there when they were together.

The same thing happens the year after that, but this time Emily can’t keep her mouth shut.

“What’s wrong?” She asked as he stroked over the expensive silk of the tie he had just unwrapped. “You don’t like it?”

“No I do.” He assured her, his hand quickly taking hers and giving it a squeeze. “I’m just… Not used to gifts.” He lies and he can see that she doesn’t believe him, one of her eyebrows arching high on her forehead.

“Honey,” She sits a little closer to him on the couch. “don’t lie to me please.”

He sighs, eyes fitting over her face. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but for some reason he felt like he was letting her down.

“I love the tie, I really do.” He kisses her softly. “But I don’t like getting gifts, I never have.” The way her shoulders slump slightly makes him want to take it back.

“Oh.” She says, her cheeks tinting pink in embarrassment because she didn’t know and she should have known. She thinks back on what he’s told her about his childhood, flashes of him ignoring questions about his birthday at work, how he never really allowed anybody to buy him anything, didn’t really accept any kind of gift except something handmade from Jack. “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He brushes his thumb over her cheek.

“I feel like an idiot.” She chuckles dryly, the sound catching in her throat.

“Stop, no.” This time his voice is a little firmer, his hand squeezing hers again. “I should have told you last year.”

Emily shakes her head and then offers him a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You told me now.” She stood up from the couch and dragged him with her. “But don’t think you’re getting out of birthday sex.” This time the smile on her face is genuine, any awkwardness gone as quickly as it came.

“Now that, I’ll never say no to.” He grins and pulls her into a kiss. “We’re okay right?”

“Honey, it’ll take more than you not liking gifts for you to get rid of me.” She teases against his lips, her arms looping around his neck to keep him close.

*

The year after she doesn’t buy him anything, but instead spends the day screwing him until he literally couldn’t anymore.

“Now that is how I’d like to spend every birthday.” He joked through harsh breaths and she smiled brightly. They were sweaty and exhausted and Emily could see that the tension that had been there previous years, was now nowhere to be found.

And she got an idea.

“Have you ever heard of freeuse?” She asked and she saw his eyebrow arch and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Like… the sexual term?” He asked and she nodded. “Doesn’t that mean that you pretty much get free reign to do whatever you want to your partner even if their partner isn’t up to it?”

“Yeah, within set limits.” She grinned even wider and moved so she straddled him. “What do you say, that every year for your birthday, I’d be your freeuse girl, 24 hours of my sole purpose being there for every sexual need you have?”

Aaron looked up at his fiancé, naked on top of him, and he thought that he should be awarded for even managing to listen to what she was saying. But he couldn’t deny that the idea was intriguing, more than intriguing if he was being completely honest.

“What do you say honey?” She rolled her hips and felt him react against her.

“There will be set rules, boundaries, we need to talk more about it.” His hands fell to her hips and she nodded in agreement. Then she leaned down, let her hair curtain around them as she kissed him.

“Talk later.” She mumbles against his lips. “Right now I want to ride you.”

Really, how was Aaron supposed to argue with that?

*

So they talked, set firm limits of what they refused to do, tried a couple of test days to see if Aaron could be comfortable using Emily in that way and to see that Emily felt comfortable being used. It turned out they both loved it and it became something they both looked forward to every year as his birthday approached.

*

Emily woke up to something nudging at her lips and she stirred.

“Open up.” Aaron’s voice cut through the silence and she opened her eyes to find him kneeling beside her on the bed, cock in hand. Her eyes flittered to the clock behind him on the nightstand, it read 12:00 am, it was officially his birthday.

She rearranged her body on the bed, turned slightly and leaned on one elbow so he could fuck her face easer. Her mouth opened and she stuck her tongue out and he immediately pushed forward. His low groan made her own body feel heated as his shaft moved over her tongue, quickly poking at the back of her throat.

Her hand wrapped around his base, her wrist twisting as she continued to suck him eagerly. His fingers wrapped in her hair, moved her head in time with his thrusting hips as he continued to groan above her. His dark eyes didn’t leave her face, even as they were glazed over with arousal as he watched his wife dutifully do what she was made to do.

“That’s it.” He encouraged her as she swallowed around him, tears starting to fall from her eyes as she gagged repeatedly on him. “That’s it, sweetheart.” When he pulled back she gasped for air, took a couple of breaths before he was back in her mouth, precum leaking from his tip.

Emily moved her hand from his base to gently cup his balls, let one nail softly drag over them and he shivered, hips stuttering.

“Fuck, Em.” His hand tightened in her hair, hips rutting against her face as she choked on him. He pulled back only for her to swirl her tongue around his tip and then took him all the way down her throat again with a low moan. She pulled lightly on his sack, moaned again just because she knew he loved the vibrations against him.

She was proven right when he all but growled her name, hips jerking as his balls tightened. Her wide eyes were trained on him, on how he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching and unclenching, abs tensing, the hand not in her hair gripping the headboard so hard she was amazed that it didn’t break. When he came it was with a sound that made her clit throb, the low groans turning louder as he spurted salty cum on her waiting tongue. She pulled back enough to make sure that she swallowed all he had, her lips wrapped around his tip as she jerked his shaft, her saliva aiding her movements until he let go of her and fell back against the bed with a breathless chuckle.

“Happy birthday, honey.” She whispered against his ear as she pressed against his side.

“Happy birthday to me.” He kissed her, tasted himself on her lips with a sound of contentment. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

*

She wakes up before him, which was rare. Quietly she dresses in the red lingerie he had decided on, the lace and silk soft against her body and then she sneaks downstairs and puts on the coffee and fixes them both some breakfast. She puts on some music, hums along to the songs as she pours coffee into his favorite mug. When she turns Aaron is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed as he watches her.

“Morning.” His voice was raspy, like always in the morning.

“Good morning, breakfast is almost done.” She turned back to the counter, ready to flip the French toast in the pan when she feels him behind her, hands on her waist.

“Good, I’m hungry.” His lips are soft against her skin, tongue licking over her neck as his hands roam over her body. “Don’t burn it.” He mutters as Emily leans into his touch, momentarily forgetting the task at hand.

Her hand was shaking when she flipped one of the French toasts, Aaron’s hand moving from her waist and into her panties. His fingers were rough as he circled her clit with lips tugged into a grin at feeling how wet she was. He kept an eye on her, made sure she didn’t burn herself when she flipped the second toast and then pushed two fingers inside of her, making her moan softly.

His fingers moved through her, flexing and pressing against the spots he knew made her knees weak as she tried to focus on not burning their food. She just barely managed to get the toast onto plates before she completely gave up on everything that wasn’t him. His stubble scratched against her skin, the hand that wasn’t between her legs were on her chest, pulling down her bra enough to tug on her nipples.

When she came she was gripping the counter so hard her knuckles were white, her head falling back against his shoulder as her legs gave out. She knew that if it weren’t for Aaron she would have fallen to the floor, the pleasure making her entire body shake in his hold.

She had barely regained control over her limbs when he pulled his hands away from her and his fingers pressed between her parted lips.

“Clean me up.”

She sucked herself from his fingers, mind hazy when she looked back at him. Once he was satisfied he nodded and stepped back from her. He grabbed the plates and carried them to the table, gave Emily a moment to gather herself before she grabbed the mugs of coffee and placed them on the table too.

They made it through breakfast before Aaron was on her again, simply bending her over the table as she was getting ready to clean it off. His cock was always a stretch, and she gasped in surprise when he pushed inside of her. He rubbed her clit with one hand while the other pressed against the small of her back, keeping her in place as he fucked her hard and deep.

“Such a good plaything for me to use, always so ready.” He groaned behind her and Emily whimpered in response. There was no doubt that she always enjoyed this, probably more than he did to an extent.

“Oh fuck…” She grunted as he picked up his pace, the table jolting with his forceful thrusts. She knew she’d be bruised from the how the edge of the table dug into her, knew that she’d press against them with nothing but a fond smile in the next couple of days. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop until you’re all filled up sweetheart.” He rutted against her, forced her to feel all of him and she hissed. “You take me so well.”

It wasn’t long before she was coming with a loud cry of pleasure, her body spasming as he fucked her through it, fingers turning gentle against her clit. She slumped on the table, loud moans turning into softer whimpers as he continued to move behind her.

She knew that as much as they used this day for Aaron’s pleasure, he would take the day to make her fall apart as many times as possible, her pleasure an ego boost to him. It didn’t surprise her that he made her come one more time, fingers insistent on her swollen clit and hips strong as he thrust against the spot only he had been able to find before he gave in to his own pleasure.

He groaned loudly as he came inside of her, spilling his release as deep inside of her as he could, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise pale skin.

“Fuck, I love filling you up, sweetheart.” He mumbled, lips soft against her spine as he pressed a couple of kisses against her sweaty skin.

“Me too.” She sighed happily, then moaned as he slipped out of her and made sure her panties covered her again.

“I’m going to shower, why don’t you join me?” He took her hand and she nodded into a kiss.

“Let me just put the dishes in the washer, I’ll be quick.”

*

He made her two more times in the shower, his tongue buried inside of her as water cascaded down around them. Once she could stand again he continued to run his hands all over her body, teasing nipples and pressing against bruises, new and old as she washed them both off.

After the shower she put on the new lingerie set that he had laid out, a pink set that he knew she’d never wear unless he told her too. The cups were tiny, her breasts spilling over the fabric and the matching panties were crotchless. It helped with the fantasy for both of them and Emily smiled at her own reflection. He would love it.

Aaron had gone to the store, buying groceries for dinner and she took advantage of having a little while alone. She knew that he’d want her every way he could, so she prepared herself with an anal plug, lubed it up and put it inside of her to be ready for when he inevitably wanted her ass.

She was proven right when he came home and immediately sought her out after putting the food away, finding her in their bedroom reading. He quickly rid himself of his clothes and climbed on top of her, throwing her book onto the floor.

“Spread your legs.” He muttered between kisses and she easily spread her thighs wide apart, the metal end of the plug revealed to him. He grinned and pulled it out and then reached for the lube on the nightstand. When he pushed inside her ass it wasn’t slow or careful and Emily hissed in pain but a look between them let him know that it was okay.

He started to fuck her with long strokes, his eyes fastened on the way she stretched open for him. Emily’s sounds of slight discomfort quickly changed to moans of pleasure, her slick shining on her skin between her legs. Aaron sat back slightly on his heels and pushed two fingers inside of her, making her cry out loudly.

“You love being filled up like this, don’t you?” He whispered as he moved his hips and fingers in tandem.

“Yes!” She arched, eyelids drifting closed as Aaron wrenched pleasure from her body. “Baby, please…”

Aaron chuckled, the sound breathless and low as he watched her fall over the edge in record time. He groaned as she squeezed around his fingers and cock, her body trembling, clearly already exhausted and it wasn’t even noon yet. When she relaxed he pulled out and flipped her around, fucking her harder as she continued to moan and gasp into the bed.

He came with a punched-out groan, his own release hard and heavy as he doubled over her body. When he felt like he could move he fell beside her on the bed and quickly pulled Emily into his arms.

“Guess we’re going to have to shower again.” She mumbled into his neck and he nodded.

“In a minute baby.” He kissed her forehead and then stamped a kiss to her lips.

*

By the time they were having dinner, Emily had lost track of how many orgasms she’d had, her entire body aching in the most delicious way. Her body was littered with bruises, hickeys and bitemarks, so was his, she realized as she looked at him across from her.

“What?” He asked with a teasing grin in between bites of his steak.

“Nothing, just thinking that you’re going to have to be careful tomorrow when Jack is home and on Monday at the office, especially with the scratch marks on your arms.” She smirked right back, eyes lingering on a mark on his arm.

There was something in the darkness of her eyes, something in the flush on her cheeks and Aaron felt the familiar feeling of want stir low in his abdomen.

“On your knees under the table.” He said and Emily immediately put her utensils down and crawled under the table. She helped him out of his slacks and then wrapped her lips around his half hard cock as Aaron continued to eat his dinner. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy her warm mouth around him.

*

“Ride me.” He told her later that night, the movie they had decided to watch had barely started before his hand was between her thighs.

Emily could feel every muscle in her body protesting but she quickly straddled his lap anyway, eager to please him. She sunk down on him with a whimper, her center swollen and aching as she started to move above him.

“Good girl.” He muttered, he could see the discomfort on her face, but they had been through this before and as long as Emily didn’t use her safeword he knew she was good to continue, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to make sure.

“I’m okay.” She said before he even had the chance to ask her and he relaxed. He leaned into the backrest of the couch, his head falling back as he watched her through hooded eyes as she rode him.

He let her set the pace, only pushing up to meet her hips once she found a rhythm. He planted his feet on the floor, fucked up into her as she rocked her hips against his with breathy moans falling from her lips. After a few minutes his hand moved to grip her hips and he started to thrust harder into her, a satisfied grunt sounding in his chest as Emily’s entire body jerked with the motion.

“Take it, that’s right take it.” He mumbled as he chased his release.

Emily let him use her body to get off, felt his movements get more and more uncoordinated as he groaned filth in her face. When he came she whimpered, the heat of him intense in her swollen skin. She stayed still until his hands turned softer on her body and his eyes opened to look at her. Once he nodded she moved back to her original place on the couch beside him, a soft sigh leaving her when his heavy hand found its way to her thigh again.

*

Emily was brushing her teeth when he came up behind her and she was honestly amazed that he could still get hard. He didn’t say anything as he pushed his already lubed cock against her ass, a deep growl sounding in his throat when he popped into her ass for the second time that day. She took him easier this time, her toothbrush falling into the sink as he started to fuck her with lazy pumps of his hips.

His eyes were on hers in the mirror, one hand moving to hold her jaw to keep her eyes on him and the other moved between her legs to rub her clit. She whined at the stimulation, her thighs squeezing shut and he gave her a warning look in the mirror. It was another second before she relaxed, let him drag gentle circled over her sensitive clit.

“Jesus Christ…” She mumbled, toothpaste still at the corner of her mouth as he kept her pinned against the counter.

“Just stand there and take it baby.” He whispered against her ear. He continued to move with slow strokes, the day finally taking its toll on him. It didn’t surprise him that he felt his orgasm build quickly, his body oversensitive too. He smirked when he somehow dragged another orgasm from her, the sound in her throat sounding more pained than pleasured as her eyes closed tightly, the flush on her skin that never really seemed to disappear only enhancing as she trembled.

The additional squeezing of her around him caused him to orgasm too and he grunted quietly against her neck, his teeth digging into soft skin. He didn’t move from her until he was slack, wordlessly turning the shower on again and then helped Emily inside as she stood on unsteady legs.

They showered quickly, sated and tired as they finished getting ready for bed. By the time they were climbing under the covers it was almost midnight, Aaron’s birthday officially coming to an end.

“Happy birthday, honey.” She mumbled, the words the same as they had been 24 hours earlier and he smiled into her neck. He had always hated his birthday, but Emily had most certainly changed that.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

[suallenparker]

RATING: T

SPOILER: Set after season 4, episode 3 "Minimal Loss", where Emily got beat up and everybody else had to stand by.

SUMMARY: When Emily wants nothing more than a slice of pizza, another dose of pain meds, and some sleep, it's not the pizza delivery guy she finds in front of her apartment, but Aaron Hotchner, pacing down her hallway.

NOTES: It's angsty. Well, it's an add on to Minimal Loss, so … anyway. Happy Ending guaranteed. Hope you guys enjoy this.

Thank you to Just_a_Girl (purplejellosg1), Clem125, and Seybrielle for cheering me on when this fic was in it's very early stages.

[clem-125]

“Jack? I can't really hear you, buddy." Emily replies, instantly tense as she hears the panic in his voice.

"Emily, I was at the mall and there was a shooting. Everyone started screaming. I tried to call Dad but ..."

Emily hears a crash and screams, then the call is cut off.

Jack is being held hostage and calls Emily for help.

[writinghotchner]

Breakfast with a side of mourning

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Emily Prentiss (friendship, mostly?) Rating: E Warnings: Mention of nose bleed

-----

Takes place right after 4x17 'Demonology'.

-----

She eventually makes her way into her apartment, her clothes heavy with melted snow and her mind heavy with Matthew. There's dried blood crusted around her nostrils and upper lip, and her throat burns from the cold air. She knew better than to walk that far in the snow with no real winter wear, but she desperately needed to feel something other than the guilt and sadness that was wreaking havoc in her soul.

She removes her long, soggy coat and hangs it up by the door - she'll wash it later - and tosses her keys on the hallway table. She turns to lock the door behind her and nearly sprints up the stairs to get into a nice warm shower.

Just as she's bolting up the stairs, she hears a solid knock at the door. She flips her left wrist over to catch the time and quirks an eyebrow. Who would be knocking on her door at nearly 10 pm?

She jogs quietly to the front door and peers through the peephole. Aaron Hotchner stands on the other side of the door, not with his usual stoic, expressionless face, but with something Emily can't quite place. She opens the door and his expression immediately changes, something more like concern and panic.

"Hotch? Are you okay?"

He blinks at her, his eyebrows shooting up. "Am I okay? Are you okay? You're bleeding."

She knits her eyebrows together and brings the side of her hand up to her nose to wipe it. Sure enough, another nose bleed. She sighs.

"Yeah," She grins sheepishly at him. "It happens when I'm outside in the cold for too long. Used to happen a lot when I was a kid." She moves to the side to let him inside so she can close the door.

He gets to her kitchen before turning to look at her again. He takes in her wet hair, her dark shirt clinging to her skin, her lips have a very faint tinge of blue and he can see the dried blood that was now being taken over by the new stream of blood dripping over her lips.

She side steps him to get into the kitchen, pinching her nose closed to stop the blood from pouring out. She reaches out for the paper towel roll and struggles to rip it off one handed so Hotch quickly moves to help her. He watches as she quickly puts it to her face, the white immediately blending to red.

"Emily, this is a lot of blood for just a regualr nose bleed." He says quietly, standing closer to her than she realized. She closes her eyes.

With her head still swirling of Matthew, and Hotch's soft concerned voice… she's afraid the final crack in the dam might break, and she refuses to ugly cry in front of her boss.

"You know what's really funny?" She chuckles, removing the paper towel from her nose, and folding it over to the other side. "It started right when I realized I was standing in front of a church." She hopes the humor can distract herself long enough to keep from breaking.

She huffs out a small laugh, he doesn't. He's just boring into her with concerned eyes. She rolls her eyes at him. "I'm okay, Hotch. Really."

She removes the paper towel. "See? It's not even bleeding anymore."

"You used to get them a lot as a kid?" He asks. He takes the bloody paper towel out of her hands and tosses it into the trash can that he's standing next to.

She bites the inside of her cheek. "Yeah. Mostly during winter. Something about the air being dry..." She fades off, and then clears her throat.

"Is there a reason your here?"

He raises his eyebrows at her and shoves his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Something she's sure she's never seen him do. Aaron Hotchner doesn't do anything awkwardly. "I wanted to apologize for earlier." His voice is soft and is eyebrows dip back down into their seemingly natural scowl-ly state.

She waves a hand at him. "All in the past, Hotch."

"No," He starts, shifting on his feet. He battles with himself on stepping closer to her and stepping further away. He eventually decides to just...not move. "I shouldn't have dismissed you like that. I should've fought harder for this case, for you..." He clears his throat.

"Rossi mentioned you walked home in the snow. I also just wanted to make sure you got home okay." He darts his eyes away from her's, hoping she didn't catch the sentiment that accidentally fell out of his mouth.

She squints her eyes, her head falling to the side to look at him. Their relationship, friendship, had gotten better since they first met. She completely understood his hesitation of her joining the team in the beginning. But since then, they've been more friendly. Hotch seemingly remembering small things about her that she would say from previous conversations, sometimes conversations that he wasn't even involved in. She never knew what it meant, if it even meant anything. But the way he's standing like a nervous high schooler talking to his crush in her kitchen at 10 pm makes her wonder even more. Or, stop wondering, really.

"Thank you," She nearly whispers. "And I understand, Hotch. Really. There was a lot of emotions webbed into this case and decisions that weren't always up to you."

They stand quietly for a moment before she straightens herself up. "Not to throw you out or anything, but it's late and I need a hot shower to dethaw myself."

He cracks a smile at her. "Yeah, of course. Sorry for interrupting." He turns to walk back down the hallway, her right behind him.

She reaches for his wrist when they get to the door. "Thanks for coming to check up on me." The smile on her face fading into an appreciative pout.

He smiles back at her. "Of course. If you need anything, I'll be by my phone. I don't have Jack tonight, so I'll probably be up working for a few more hours."

She smiles again and nods, picking at her fingernails awkwardly. "I will. Thank you again. Really."

And with that, he's out the door.

---

The early morning rolls around way too quickly. The bright lights shining in through her window makes her want to kick her feet like a little kid not wanting to get up for school. Instead, she throws her blanket over her eyes and wills her brain to let her get at least one more hour of sleep. After all, she's grounded from the BAU for the next handful of days, just because it's 6 am doesn't mean she has to get up now.

Just as sleep is about to pull her back under, her phone chirps with a text message. She sighs as she blindly reaches out toward her nightstand. She pulls it under the blanket and quirks an eyebrow at Hotch's name.

Hotch: Hey, sorry if this wakes you. Just wanted to make sure you slept. If you need anything, please let me know. You should probably try to rest on your time off. Grief always has a way of sneak attacking you.

Emily: Im kinda already awake and ive never been any good at lazing around - grieving or not

She watches the iMessage bubble pop up and disappear for a good minute before she huffs out a small laugh.

Emily: You writing a novel over there?

Hotch: I was just debating on asking if you wanted to come over for breakfast? I have to go pick up Jack in a few, he'd love to see you. And it gives you an excuse to not "be lazy".

Her grin cracks open into a bright smile. Matthew was still heavy on her mind, so was all of the events of the past 48 hours, but the thought of going to her boss's house to have breakfast with him and his son, who she adores, was enough to momentarily knock the sadness out of her chest.

The wondering she was doing last night still swirling around the midst of her mourning, but she's sure this is a step in the direction she's wanted this...friendship...to go in for a long time now. Unfortunately, it took her best friend dying for it to happen. Another thing Matthew has done for her, she guesses... Emily: Yeah. That sounds really nice actually. Thank you

Hotch: Would you like for me to pick you? I can swing by before or after I get him. Emily: No thats okay, im in the mood to drive, listen to loud music and dodge pedestrians 🙂 Hotch: Ok. As your boss I have to say please don't hit any pedestrians. As your friend I have to remind you that pedestrians are 10 points, cops are 20 and the elderly are 50. That makes her bark out a laugh, flinging her blanket off her head so she can breathe. It takes her a moment for the giggling to subside before she registers that he referred to her as his "friend".

Her eyes stare at the ceiling, picturing Matthew's face once more, silently thanking him again for everything he's done for her. And what he's already doing for her now.

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

coming soon.

[sequinsmile-x]

Young Hotchniss AU - Instagram Posts

This exists purely because I saw a picture and thought "huh that looks like young Aaron" and now here we are. Now I'll wrestle with the desire to write a fic based on this too.

Mentions of pregnancy throughout.

-x-

[em-prentiss]

got the music in you, baby (tell me why)

----

5 times Aaron wants to dance with Emily, and one time he does.

Music alone had never sparked in him the urge to dance. He’s seen it in many, the spark that would light up their eyes at a good beat, and he’d be envious of the way their bodies moved seemingly naturally to the music. Aware of his own awkwardness, Aaron never joined in, preferring instead to watch from a distance, an imperceptible sway to his shoulders that matched the tune of pounding music.

All this considered, when Aaron spots the ambassador’s daughter—Emily—in a sea of elegantly dressed politicians, her red dress calling out to him like a siren’s song, all he wants to do is twirl her away in time with the smooth jazz.

(Or, 5 times he doesn’t dance with Emily, and one time he does.)

Word count: 7.8k

----

1) a ballroom dance

Aaron has never been much of a dancer.

There were the occasions where he had to, of course; he’d danced with Haley at prom, but then it wasn’t really serious. They were laughing and exchanging kisses during the slow dances, doing nothing but rocking occasionally to the music, their arms wrapped around each other as if they were hugging. She’d tried to make him join her for the more upbeat songs but Aaron persisted, the blush on his cheeks concealed by the low lights of the gym as he dug his heels in the floor and convinced her to dance with her friends instead. She’s gone, now—left him with a sheepish smile and the echo of ‘wanting to see what’s out there.’

With her, she took any minimal urges of dancing he’d had nestled deep down.

There were times—when heavily intoxicated, that is—mostly in his college days, when he’d give in and let go, allowing himself to move to the beat of pounding music, too buzzed to be embarrassed at the way his body twisted and turned. He doesn’t like feeling stiff as he moves, awkwardly trying to find a rhythm from the beat, but alcohol more often than not turned his body to liquid, pliant and liable to follow the bass of whatever song was playing.

Music alone had never sparked in him the urge to dance. He’s seen it in many, the spark that would light up their eyes at a good beat, and he’d be envious of the way their bodies moved seemingly naturally to the music. Aware of his own awkwardness, Aaron never joined in, preferring instead to watch from a distance, an imperceptible sway to his shoulders that matched the tune of pounding music.

All this considered, when Aaron spots the ambassador’s daughter—Emily—in a sea of elegantly dressed politicians, her red dress calling out to him like a siren’s song, all he wants to do is twirl her away in time with the smooth jazz.

Her pale hand in his, the darkness of his ill-fitting suit against the perfectly tailored red of her dress. He wants to hear the click of her heels against the marble and her low voice above the music, shimmering with the same amusement that always lingers in her eyes. She’d be more graceful than him, he knows—infinitely so—but Aaron still wants to try twirling her around and bringing her back into his chest with steady fingers on her lower back, her expensive perfume dissolving in a cloud on his tongue.

It’s irrational, the twitch in his hand; he wants to fit it to the curve of her waist, lightly smooth his palm up and down her side to catch the silken material of her dress. It drapes elegantly over her form, cupping her curves with gentle reverence, and amongst the absurdity of his thoughts, it’s not out of place for Aaron to feel jealous of the silk.

Her hair is gathered in an artful twist, exposing the pale skin of her shoulders. She tilts her head and the curve of her throat is strangely enchanting as her eyes skip over the mingling guests, searching, searching, until they find him in the corner. 

Dark irises trap him in place and she’s heading in his direction, gliding across the marble with a newfound set to her jaw. Aaron can’t even look away, his coworkers’ chatter in his comms fading to a low buzz as people part to make way for her.

“Agent Hotchner.” Emily smiles when she reaches him. 

She’d discovered him about a week ago. A fling was being bothersome and Aaron threw him out while she stood on the staircase, bare feet curling around the ledge of the marble steps as she stared after them. Since then he’s been more or less the center of her attention, seemingly always posted wherever she’s lingering.

She’s certainly…entertaining.

“Miss Prentiss.” He replies with a nod. Up close it’s even harder to look away, his eyes drawn to the subtle shimmer kissing her skin. She glows, in a room of dull people, more brightly than she had before.

“Care to dance?” She asks, blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his head. 

You have no idea. 

Still, Aaron arches a brow.

Emily smiles ruefully. “Everyone here is either over the age of fifty or is going to leave me with desperately sore toes.” Her nose scrunches up and Aaron bites back a smile at the sulk on her lips, exaggerated but traced with some shred of genuity. It’s not uncommon for her to be complaining about something or the other, but as his eyes skip over the well-dressed guests—half of them indeed looking to be her father’s age—he thinks she can’t be faulted for griping about this.

Aaron clears his throat. “I’m afraid I’m no better than any of them,” he says, suddenly wishing his suit was more tailored, more formal, less visibly shabby. The gun on his hip is heavy and he wants it gone along with the wire curling around his neck. It’s laughable; his dancing skills have hardly evolved since his high school prom, but Aaron thinks he can learn to follow the curve of her body, let her lead him through a waltz with her fingers pressing into his arm. “Your toes wouldn’t thank me, and that’s me being generous.”

Emily’s eyes sparkle. “Ah, but at least you’re pretty to look at.”

Before the blush can spread to his ears, her mother is there, a tight smile on her lips as she grips Emily’s elbow.

“Emily.” The low hiss of her voice is audible in the small distance between them. Emily’s smile fades instantly; the ambassador doesn’t spare Aaron a second glance. He straightens and shuffles back further against the wall as Emily rolls her eyes, the pinch returning to her mouth as her mother continues whispering in her ear. Aaron feels her eyes slide to him, her gaze hot, but he fixes his on the crowd as Elizabeth lets go of her elbow and walks past them, apparently done with her reprimanding. 

Emily clears her throat. “I’ll save you a dance.” She smiles; polite, infinitely dimmer than her bright grin seconds ago.

It’s an empty promise, one he knows she can’t fulfill—at least not between these people, in this ballroom—and yet Aaron still holds out hope, despite all the rationings in his head.

“I look forward to it.”

2) a dance he shouldn’t want 

The Super bowl weekend comes and he’s nestled in a dark bar under strobing lights, his wife on one side and the still-puzzling enigma that is Emily on the other.

He’d been more than surprised to see her in his office with a box on her hip and a professionally painted smile on her lips, stiff and frozen as if he was one of the politicians at her mother’s parties. In hindsight, Aaron supposes it’s fair—they’d known each other for less than two weeks, with nothing but meaningless flirting weaving its way through their brief conversations. Maybe she hadn’t thought of him like he thought of her, in the dead of night and the mind numbing silence of a stakeout and the brief times his mind would wander to the increasingly distant past.

And now she’s here, with her arms bare and her hair tumbling in soft, obsidian curls that just brush her shoulders. 

And it doesn’t matter that she’s here, because he’s married. Because she’s no longer the same young woman who easily flirted at him whenever they spoke, and he’s no longer the freshly green security guard who’d flirt back when boredom was eating its way through his brain. 

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Dimples curve in her cheeks as she hands him and Haley their drinks, the vibrant lights of the bar reflecting in her eyes when she looks at him with an easy smile. It’s enchanting, the way pinks and purples swirl into a backdrop of brown so dark it’s almost black, pupils entirely indistinguishable from irises. 

Aaron has to remind himself that he likes blue.

There’s a second where their fingers touch—a brush there and gone between one blink and the other. Aaron doesn’t get to linger on it before Emily pulls away, her pale hand wrapping around her own drink. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t react as she turns to Penelope and says something to her, the waves of her hair contrasting with the pink-tinted skin of her arm.

His skin burns with something hot, the condensation on his glass doing nothing to cool it. A similar, uncomfortable heat flares in his stomach and Aaron swallows, nudging his thigh against Haley’s in an attempt to distinguish it. Haley nudges his thigh back and asks Emily something, but he isn’t listening as he brings his beer to his lips. 

Her perfume lingers on the rim of the glass. 

It tips into his mouth, threading through the beer in small, bitter traces, and Emily’s answer is static in his ears. Aaron swallows just quickly enough to narrowly avoid choking, a burn in his throat as he sets his glass down. He ducks his head and coughs into his elbow, stifling his curse in the wool of his quarter zip. The itch in his trachea makes his eyes water and he inhales, trying to soothe it with the cold air.

“Hey, are you okay?” Haley rubs between his shoulder blades.

“Fine.” Aaron rasps.

His eyes lift to the opposite end of the table, searching for Emily, but he doesn’t find her there.

She’s in Morgan’s arms. Her beer is discarded on the table; between one second and the next, he’s abandoned the crowd of women around him and pulled Emily into their midst.

Emily easily accommodates Morgan’s lecherous dancing. She rolls her hips, her mouth moving as she says something over the music. He’s bold, his hands reaching for her waist, and she’s eager, looping her arms around his neck. Emily tosses her head back, silken hair catching the lights, and her shirt rises up as she moves to the beat. Delicate skin is exposed, pale beneath startlingly dark ink that cups her hip in a way his hand itches to. 

Heat gathers above the collar of his fleece.

Between flashes of pearly teeth and grabbing hands and rolling hips, Aaron’s stomach starts to churn. This is a far cry from the elegant waltzes he’s seen her dance before, and he inexplicably wants to shove Morgan away and take his place, rest his own hand on her waist and dip his fingers in the back pocket of her jeans. He wants to dance with her like that even though it’s been years—a decade—since he’s been to a rave, but he’s sufficiently buzzed now, wants to feel the outline of her body between his arms.

Instead he grabs Haley’s hand, tangles his fingers with hers and speaks through the treacherous rasp in his throat. “They don’t seriously call that dancing, do they? C’mon Hales, let’s show them how it’s done.”

She’s delighted, of course, only too well remembering the times she’d had to drag him to the dance floor. The churning in Aaron’s stomach intensifies at Haley’s soft hand in his, their wedding bands clinking together just before she lets go and starts to dance, as easily as she always does whenever the music hits her.

He tries to move with her, he does—holding her closer than normal and feeling the heat of her body though her clothes—but then he tilts his chin above the blonde head right in front of him and he sees her, a complete opposite of the woman in his arms. Two of Morgan’s fingers are under her shirt now, hiding the ink, and he’s grateful when another couple comes into view and blocks them from his sight.

As Aaron catches Haley’s beaming smile between twirls, he feels in the pit of his stomach that he’s fucked. 

3) a dance in the rain

Sweeping his gaze over the bullpen is habitual whenever he leaves his office. The lights are on despite it only being noon; charcoal gray clouds have gathered thickly in the sky, hiding the sun behind them, and it doesn’t look like it’ll surface anytime soon. Morgan is diligently bent over his stack of paperwork and Reid is visible near the coffee machine—pouring a mountain of sugar in his mug—but a certain blonde-brunette pair is missing. 

They’re probably in Garcia’s office, Aaron tells himself as he heads to Dave’s door, trying to stop his eyes from wandering to the glass doors. He’s not nosy; at least he doesn’t think he is. 

Keeping tabs on his team at all times is habit, really.

Just as his hand wraps around Dave’s door handle, he spots a blonde crossing the conference room. JJ’s voice carries over the chaos of the storm and Aaron lets go of the handle, finding himself continuing forward instead. 

The file in his hand rustles with his pace, distantly reminding him that his destination was a few steps back. Thunder cracks, and as he gets closer, he hears her murmur to JJ, “I’d love to dance.”

Emily’s voice is wistful. 

Frowning, Aaron peeks into the conference room. She almost presses her nose against the glass, the soft puffs of her breath forming clouds on the window. The rain falls in thick sheets, turning Quantico into a gray blur outside; the way Emily looks at it makes it seem beautiful.

“In that?” JJ’s tone is incredulous, but it’s still soft as she leans next to her, peering into the downpour.

Aaron doesn’t judge her skepticism; he hardly sees the appeal of getting soaked to the bone and having to deal with the uncomfortable aftermath. But then he looks at Emily and he sees the shimmer to her eyes, a light that had been diminished these past few days courtesy of a brutal case in Texas, and while he still doesn’t get it he thinks if she went out in the storm he’d follow her. Offer his hand, let the rain soak it in the time she takes it and maybe links her fingers with his.

Thunder rumbles and it’s easy to imagine; feeling the water slip through their intertwined palms, hearing her laugh, joyful and free—because he’s heard that one before, he knows what it sounds like—drowned out by the downpour. She would undoubtedly slip on the pavement as she tried to spin, and he would catch her with hardly steadier hands. Maybe they would crash, backward on the floor, or maybe his oxfords would provide just enough grip and he’d hold them both upright.

Even through the walls, the rain is loud as it slams against the pavement. 

It’s not so harsh a soundtrack. More forgiving than the tune of a song, a gentle thumping that won’t judge his graceless movements. Aaron thinks he could easily move with her to the rhythmless patter of rain on the sidewalk, the roiling of thunder above. Flashes of lighting would reflect in her eyes and he’d feel the same electricity in his heart when she’d look at him with rain soaked lashes, water beading on the tips of them and falling to her cheeks when she blinks.

The wind screeches, Emily sticks herself closer to the window, and Aaron thinks he’s ready to go out into the downpour, let it soak his suit and drench her hair and make her bangs stick to her brows, let it swallow up the sound of his voice as he asked her to dance. It would hide the tremor in it, he thinks; the uncertainty that comes with trying to be casual with her outside of work.

There’s nothing stopping him now. Nothing except the fact that he’s her superior and the tan line around his ring finger that has just started to even out.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” Emily murmurs, snapping Aaron out of his rain-blurred fantasy. “It can be…” She trails off, draws her lip between her teeth, and he’s sure the file in his hand crumples, “Grounding. Oddly enough.” 

Emily crosses her arms as she thoughtfully looks out the window, her eyes tracing the droplets of rain. He should tell them to get back to work, but their forms are weary from the case they came back from last night, and if they can’t find respite in the brief minutes of their lunch break, Aaron thinks they won’t find it anywhere else.

“You still have thirty minutes,” he finds himself saying. 

Emily and JJ jump. 

Aaron bites his tongue too late.

They turn to him, startled, their eyes narrowing at him almost synchronously in confusion. Emily’s brow arches in question; before she can ask what the hell he’s doing here—spying on them—Aaron rattles off, “It’s your lunch break and your go bag’s here—I mean, it should be, seeing as we just came back from a case—” That’s besides the point, “Uh, anyway, as long as you’re back here by 1 to hand in your consults and you’re not dripping rainwater where you stand,” he shrugs, “I don’t see a problem with it.”

JJ is looking at him like he’s grown a second head. Emily’s shock is more subdued, but she still sounds skeptical as she hooks a finger through her necklace and asks, “You don’t think it’s unprofessional?”

It’s what you need.

Aaron fights the urge to shrug again. “I think it’s human.” He says.

It’s subtle, the way her expression shifts to surprise. Dark eyes just about swallow him whole; Aaron wonders if he’s just given himself away, wholly and undeniably. 

He needs to get out of there.

“Just don’t be late.” He can only pray his voice doesn’t sound as soft to their ears as it sounds to his.

He doesn’t think it’s the right answer, but he doesn’t linger enough to know. Aaron turns on his heel and steadfastly makes his way to Dave’s office—where he should’ve been in the first place. There’s the sharp clicks of heels on the floor behind him as JJ and Emily walk out of the conference room.

Their eyes are hot on the nape of his neck. Aaron fights the urge to walk faster, and when he reaches Dave’s door, he pushes it open without pausing to knock.

Twenty three minutes later he’s back in his office and Emily knocks on his open door, wearing a different shirt but the same blazer, her makeup flawless and her hair damp. Aaron very deliberately chooses not to notice the way this one hugs her body more tightly than her button down had, sliding his gaze away from the pale v of skin down her chest. He meets her eyes instead; they’re bright beneath her wavy bangs, the light he’d been waiting for turned on again. Something in him loosens.

Emily offers him a smile as she hands him her neatly written consult.

“You had seven more minutes.” Aaron says as he takes it.

She raises her shoulder in a delicate shrug. “Didn’t want to push it.”

Aaron has a sinking suspicion that even if she did, he’d have let it slide. He nods, grateful that she didn’t, and instead of simply leaving, Emily perches on the arm of the chair across from his desk. 

“You could’ve come with.” She says casually. Her tone is genuine and she’s smiling at him and he doesn’t know what it means, if she’s meaning it the way she does with everyone else or if it’s special, just for him. Because no one else does this—offers to dance with him in the rain, touches him as frequently as she does, cracks jokes to him even though she knows he won’t laugh.

Is it casual or not, normal or not, platonic or not. Is he too desperate for company—her company—or does she really see him as more than a friend, more than a boss.

He’s losing his mind trying to figure her out.

“I don’t like getting wet.” Is what he manages in the end, the dryness in the back of his throat forcing the words to come out clipped.

Emily doesn’t seem too bothered by it. She presses her lips together, dimples gathering in her cheeks. “That’s a shame.”

When she stands, she stirs up a soft whoosh of air smelling of summer rain. “Anything else you need?” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. It shifts from its place; Aaron spots the damp patch it left behind on her shirt.

“Just the case reports.”

Emily nods. She turns and walks away, and the words tumble from his mouth just as she reaches the door.

“If you catch a cold don’t come whining about it.”

She doesn’t pause, but her voice is distinctly indignant. “I never whine.” 

Aaron finds himself smiling at her retreating figure.

4) a dance to her own music

She’s kicked off her heels a long time ago, now sitting cross legged on the piano bench—because of course David Rossi owns a fucking grand piano. She’s been toying with the keys for a while now, a far away look in her eyes as she thumbs at the smooth ivory.

The strap of her satin blouse slips off one shoulder, and if Aaron didn’t already have confirmation that he’s falling, the gallop in his heart when she fixes it with one absent finger is all the answer he needs.

“Are you just gonna look pretty there all night or will you play us something, Prentiss?”

Her lips curl up as Morgan brings her back to the present.

“Aw, Morgan, you think I’m pretty?” Her voice lilts teasingly, the same wine-dark silk of her blouse.

“You’re easy on the eyes,” he jibes back, and as soft laughter rises around them, Aaron feels suddenly envious of their easy banter. He unlocks his jaw by bringing his glass to his lips and forcing himself to swallow, though he hardly needs to be more intoxicated with her in the room, looking like that.

It’s dangerous, the casualness of her posture and the softness of her hair. Her wine glass resting precariously on the glossy piano, his soft button down tracing his skin, the base of his throat exposed to the same air she’s breathing in and out. Lines blur, more than they have already, and Aaron’s not sure he can keep his composure for much longer.

“Have any sheet music?” Emily turns to Dave, her fingers absently trailing over the piano keys.

Dave gestures vaguely with his hand. “Make something up.”

A soft scoff escapes past her lips. “Of course you’d have a piano but not music. Show off. You don’t know how to play this thing at all, do you?” 

By some accident, her eyes meet Aaron’s. They’re dark as ever, glinting in the low lights with all too familiar amusement. Emily’s lips curve and something happens, too quick for him to fully catch—the flutter of her lashes against her cheek, wrinkled lines around her right eye.

It leaves him with a similar flutter in his chest.

Aaron catches her dimple as she turns away. Her teeth bite down on her bottom lip; Emily stares through the piano and Aaron doesn’t understand what just happened, only that something did.

He raises the glass to his lips again.

“It’s popular with the ladies.” Dave protests, but his voice is drowned out by the notes of the piano as Emily tests them out. 

She toys with it for a while, a small crease between her brows that Aaron wants to smooth out with his thumb. He grips his glass tighter and Emily’s frown clears, determination taking over as her fingers press down on the keys with surety.

He doesn’t know what she plays, if it’s a legitimate piece or something of her own. It’s slow and entirely unfit for dancing, he’s sure, and yet he still wants to take her hand and lift her up from the bench, thread his fingers through hers and dance to the melody of her own music. Aaron imagines her bare feet slipping on the plush threads of Dave’s Persian carpet, the richness of her surprised laugh as she tumbles into his chest. He would steady her with a confident hand on her waist and her arm would loop around his neck; maybe she’d slip the tips of her fingers into his hair, maybe their chests would press together and he’d feel her inhale.

He’s learned since he’d wanted to slow dance with her last. He’d danced at his wedding, gone to a few classes Haley had signed them up for on his free weekends. Aaron knows he’d wrap his hands around her waist with certainty, hold her fingers between his own and know when to twirl her, when to dip, even though the tune she’s playing is hardly fit for anything more than swaying.

If his calculations are right, her forehead would just brush his jaw. She’s shorter now that her heels are tossed away; it’s an unexpected difference but one that feels scarily intimate, like the knowledge that if they both surged forward and met in the middle, his lips would press against her temple.

It’s ridiculous how much he wants to do that.

Maybe he wants to press a kiss to her lips, too. They’re a faded red, lipstick softly smudged from repeatedly pressing her lips to the rim of her wine glass. Plush and inviting and—

“Beethoven,” Reid exclaims, his eyes lighting up. Aaron is firmly back on the couch, rooted to the cushions despite the urge in his gut to get up and move to the piano. 

“Moonlight sonata, first movement.” He says confidently. His voice pitches higher like it always does when he’s excited.

Emily nods. “Very good, handsome,” she drawls, briefly looking up to flash him a smile. Though Reid undoubtedly knew he was correct, her praise brightens his smile.

“I didn’t know you could play.” He says.

“I didn’t know you could identify classical pieces from just a few notes.” She replies, a proud glint in her eyes. “That’s impressive.”

“He listens to them before bed,” Morgan playfully knuckles his hair. Reid shoves him away as Garcia and JJ laugh. Aaron can’t get himself to join in, still hung up on the soft tenderness of handsome.

“They help me sleep,” he grumbles, fixing his hair before tucking it behind his ear. “Can you play Claire de Lune?” The words are clumsy as they fall from his lips, but Emily nods again.

“Yep,” she pops the p. “Only if you get me the sheet music, though. I’m more rusty on that one.”

“Do you know it also means—”

“Moonlight, yeah, so actually—”

“—there’s two moonlight sonatas.” They say in unison. Emily’s hands pause on the keys and her music fades as she laughs, one sweet melody falling down and the other picking up where it left off. Aaron’s lips twitch at the familiar sound.

“Even though technically Claire de Lune isn’t even a sonata, really, it’s the third movement of the Debussy’s Suite Bergamasque which has four—”

The words become static in his ears as Emily’s smile widens, her eyes bright as she nods along even though he’s sure Reid’s lost her. Something tightens in his chest and Aaron wonders if he’ll slowly grow to envy every person to ever make her smile. He closes his eyes and tips back what’s rest of his scotch, shoving down the urge to get up and ask her that one simple question that’s haunted him for years now.

He’s losing his goddamn mind.

5) a dance in the midst of the chaos

Jack’s birthday party is livelier than he would have dreamed of a year ago, when he was drowning in grief and trying to claw his way out. His head is still barely above the water, but things like this make it easier.

Since four o’clock his apartment has been turned upside down, and for the first time that Aaron can remember, he welcomes the chaos. Garcia comes with goodie bags and a merry playlist and face paints, Reid with magic tricks up his sleeves and down his pockets. Rossi and JJ show up with food, Emily and Morgan grace his doorstep with light jokes and easy banter.

And his boy is laughing. He’s laughing and running around with Henry and they’re almost tripping over the toys littering the living room, palpable love from his team crowding the already small space. JJ calls for them to slow down and Aaron smiles at the echo of voices and giggles, precious sounds he never held out hope for hearing in a place like this.

He thought he’d feel some lingering awkwardness at brining them into his house, but if it exists it’s quick to dissipate with the kids’ delight, with the adults’ desire to make it last. JJ and Emily crowd his kitchen, Garcia adds to his sparse and—in comparison—pathetic decorations, and as Rossi serenades the kids with some story he’s sure he doesn’t want to know the contents of, the apartment properly feels like home.

Throughout it all, Aaron feels overwhelmed with love. 

Nobody here has ever said it—at least not to him—but it spills from them and their actions and their laughter. The careful way Emily counts out six candles and the precision with which JJ pokes them into the cake. The way Garcia plops a paper crown on Jack’s head, the way they all sing happy birthday at the top of their lungs and cheer when Jack blows out the candles, his grin wide and toothy and everything Aaron thought he’d never be able to give him.

Maybe this counts as fulfilling his promise.

In the living room, Emily cuts Jack’s chocolate cake and hands thick slices to everyone on flimsy paper plates; Jack gets the first slice, the biggest and most chocolatey piece of cake that he immediately sinks his face into.

When the turn comes to him, Aaron tries to decline.

“I’m not a huge fan of chocolate,” he says quietly.

Emily presses the plate more insistently into his hand, the edges of it curling up against his chest. “Do it for the birthday boy,” she whispers. “One slice won’t kill you, Hotch.” Her free hand cups his around the edge of the plate, fingers curling around his wrist with a squeeze.

His skin burns, even though her hand is cold. 

“Okay.” Aaron manages with a croak, hoping she’d let go of him before she feels his racing pulse through his wrist. Emily smiles, small but triumphant as she lets him go. “Only if you take one, too.” He rasps, wondering if he’s imagining the cold that sinks into his hand.

“Oh, are you kidding?” She says as she turns back to the cake and grabs the chocolate covered knife. “I’m taking two.”

Seeing her with a plate of—two—cake slices balanced on her crossed legs, sitting on the threadbare rug in his living room and surrounded by the bright energy of his son, Aaron thinks she looks sickeningly in place. 

He’s in the kitchen, trying to clear the image from his mind when Jack’s laughter flows in. It’s been a common sound these past few hours, but Aaron still peers through the open plan kitchen and into the living room, his heart briefly stumbling at the scene in front of him.

Jack is in Emily’s arms, both of them laughing as she spins them around. Gift wrapping paper litters the floor, confetti is dug deep into the rug between Emily’s socked feet, and Jack’s paper crown slips down his forehead as she bounces him around, attempting a graceless dance. They hardly move at all, one single lump attached from hip to shoulder, but they’re a mess of giggles and pink cheeks.

An inelegant dance. A dance for the joy of closeness rather than moving to the beat of a song. It makes his breath catch, his hands pause on the counter.

They twirl to the melody of their own laugher and Aaron’s heart aches with the desire to join them. To wrap his arms around them both, share Jack’s weight across his shoulder and free Emily’s hip from his son’s heft. His arm would encircle each waist and the world would be held between his fingertips for a fleeting moment.

It would hardly be a dance—no more than a mess of elbows and two left feet aimlessly moving about—but the comfort of having them both close would be more than enough. Maybe he would catch Emily’s grin and feel her own arm slide around his waist, bringing him and Jack so close their bodies bump together; soft arches against his sharpened edges.

He can almost taste it, just across the kitchen counter.

“It’s not wrong,” Dave says, suddenly appearing next to his elbow and breaking him out of his wishful fantasy, “for you to want this.”

Aaron swallows down the hard lump in his throat. He looks down and focuses on wiping the chocolate from the countertop, ignoring the heat of Dave’s eyes on him. Emily’s laugh carries; his heart both aches and swells at the sound.

It’s not wrong. Could it be, when it’s something as pure as this?

By the time he actually realizes that, it’s much too late.

+1 (finally; a slow dance)

The opportunity presents itself. 

JJ’s wedding is the last thing he could’ve possibly expected after a fiasco like yesterday’s, but it’s here and Emily is here and it’s finally an acceptable setting in which it’d be weirder for him not to ask her to dance than if he did.

Aaron’s hands start to dampen with sweat; he wipes them on his slacks before approaching Emily. She’s standing quietly next to one of the buffet tables, toying with the stem of her champagne glass as she looks through the dancing couples. Only when she’s close enough to touch does she look up and give him a small smile, fairy lights reflecting in her eyes.

Now or never.

“Would you like to dance?” Aaron—finally—asks, his voice quiet as he holds out his hand. His eyes trace over her face, closely looking for signs of rejection, but she doesn’t give any.

Emily sets down her glass and wordlessly takes his hand. It’s soft, just like he’d imagined it would be, but he didn’t account for the rougher calluses on her fingertips. That alone cements the fact that this is real, not yet another one of his many daydreams.

They find their way to the dance floor and Aaron’s hand goes to her waist. His palm flattens around the soft curve hidden beneath her dress, the satin slipping under his skin with a low whisper.

Emily sways easily with him, following the lines of his body wherever he takes her. She’s quiet, withdrawn in that unusual way she’s been since she got back, and for the first time in ever, Aaron hates her silence. 

He promised himself. After the chaos of Jack’s party and the whirlwind that tore through Emily’s life, he promised himself that if he ever got to see her again he’d somehow ask her to dance. He wanted to promise himself to tell her something else, too. Something consisting of three tiny words and a buildup simmering for years.

But he could hardly make himself that promise knowing he’ll never keep it.

“You know…” Aaron begins, swallowing when Emily cocks her head to show she’s listening, “I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

The confession is soft; it echoes in the warm space between their bodies. Aaron wonders if she knows there’s a piece of his heart in these few words.

“Go to a wedding?” Emily murmurs.

He thinks she must be joking, but the absent look in her eyes says she’s not here with him. Panic sparks in his chest, ice cold water running through his veins. 

He’s losing her.

Aaron subconsciously tightens his grip on her hand. “Dance with you.” He says, the words tumbling out too quick and desperate.

That snaps her out of it.

“…Years?” Emily echoes. Her brows furrow, the fog in her eyes clearing. “How many years?” She whispers.

Heat travels up his collar. Aaron clears his throat, making a point of not shying away from her eyes when he says, “Embarrassingly many.” 

Emily tilts her head. “Care to give me a number?”

He laughs, soft and tasting bitter in the back of his throat. Emily’s hand twitches in his and he rubs his thumb over her knuckles, almost absently. 

She’s been in his life, some way or another, for over a decade. Always just out of reach, some persistent, invisible barrier keeping him from her. Or maybe it’s just his own cowardice.

“Mm, 15 years,” he murmurs, and her eyes widen. “Give or take.”

Suddenly she’s here with him, more present than she’s been in a long time. Aaron feels the heat of her attention, heavy and demanding.

“Why—” Her voice croaks and she falters, both her words and her steps. Her feet halt; Aaron gently nudges her lower back, the tips of his fingers reaching the pearls of her spine. Emily starts moving again. “Why didn’t you?”

His hand slides down her waist to wrap around her right hip. There’s ink here, he knows. Aaron rubs his thumb over it absently, almost trying to feel it through her dress.

“I was a coward.” He breathes out, looking away from Emily and focusing instead on the warmth of her body against his. She’s perfect, nothing less than what he’d imagined, and Aaron files away the feeling for later. A twist in his gut tells him he won’t get to do this again. “I still am. I mean…why would you ever want to dance with me?” Aaron shrugs; Emily’s fingers curl into his jacket. “At least here you were less likely to say no.”

Her nails dig into the back of his hand. The sting almost loosens something in his shoulders—at least this could last longer than she does. 

“I never would’ve said no,” Emily says, “if you would’ve asked.” 

Her eyes are hot, so hot on his skin. Piercing and sharp; he’s missed that intensity, spent seven months praying for it back, and not in vain. But maybe he’ll relive that cycle all over again, and this time she won’t be as quick to come back.

A lump forms in the back of his throat. Distantly, he’s aware of the song ending, but neither he nor Emily pay attention to it as they glide across the floor. He tries to focus on that—on the places where their bodies touch, the way her perfume floods his mouth when he spins her and it carries in the air—but all he’s thinking of is time lost, and chances taken too late.

Emily’s fingers slot between his. The hand on his back slips under his jacket and fuck, he’s always thought of touching her but never of her touching him. The weight of her gaze is almost a touch in itself, the way fire trails across his cheeks in the form of obsidian-dark eyes. 

Aaron clears his throat, his voice low when he says, “The last time I wanted to ask you to dance was just before I lost you. And…I feel like I’m about to lose you again.” He rasps, his tone pleading even to his ears as he squeezes her hand. “Am I, Emily?”

Panic flares in her eyes.

Emily tugs her hands away and Aaron’s heart sinks. The skin of his back is left cold, the inside of his palm achingly empty. “Please,” he whispers, but he doesn’t even know what he’s pleading for.

“I need some water,” she says shakily, the excuse more for their friends around them than for him—an explanation for why he’s suddenly standing alone as Emily walks back into the house, wrapping her shawl tighter around her body.

Aaron watches her go and his heart drops to the floor. Instantly his brain supplies him with memories he never wants to relive; Emily’s empty chair on the jet and her cleared out desk and her badge in his drawer, the laminated shine of her smile the only thing he had left of her. His heart remembers the ache, his eyes remember the burn of tears.

He’s moving after her before he can stop himself.

Aaron doesn’t feel Dave and Morgan’s stares as he disappears inside, long strides taking him to the kitchen. His thumb traces over his index finger in quick intervals, his heart picking up as if he’s afraid he’ll find empty space in the kitchen instead of the woman he’s been in love with for years.

But she’s there, leaning against the counter with her head in her hands.

“Emily.”

Her name escapes in a rush; quick and breathless. She looks up and he sees the rapid movement of her chest, fluttering like a bird’s.

His heart twists painfully.

“Would you still want to dance with me?” She asks, her lip trembling, her eyes shiny with more than the glint of the lights above. It takes his breath away, how everything she’s been hiding so quickly rises to the surface. “After everything?” Her voice shakes almost imperceptibly.

Aaron walks closer to her. When he’s close enough to see the frantic pulse in her throat, he tentatively cups her cheek. 

Emily doesn’t back away; he lets out a quiet breath. 

“Wake up, sweetheart.” He says softly, his thumb skimming her jaw. “I always want to dance with you. I would say I’ve been waiting for you for to say yes, but we both know—”

Her lips are on his.

Aaron inhales sharply and there it is, that plush bottom lip finally in between his own. He tastes lingering traces of champagne and desperation, the ash from yesterday still clinging to her mouth. It’s been building up for a while now, but that look in her eyes started taking form last night, when she was staring down at her desk with her clothes still stained in soot.

The hand that slides into his hair breaks him from his frozen state. Emily grips the strands and his arm wraps around her waist, holding her to his chest as he kisses her back. Her lips are shaky, her hands unsteady, but Aaron thinks his might be just the same.

“Emily,” he murmurs when the breath is sucked from their lungs. He’s just far enough away to know that her eyes are closed, her trembling breaths skipping over his mouth as she twirls his hair around her finger. Aaron squeezes her waist and her eyes flutter open, endless brown briefly stealing his breath away again.

“Hey. Don’t go.” He breathes. One of the hands on her waist travels up, between their bodies, to cup her cheek again. “Please.” God, how many times is he going to beg tonight?

Emily sucks in a breath. 

“How did you know I wanted to?” She asks, tugging on his hair. Aaron is too close to imagine the shine on her lashes.

“I know you, Emily.” He whispers. “You think no one does, but we do. I do. Some parts of you are hidden, yes, but for the most part…we know you.” His thumb roves over her soft cheek, feeling it when she inhales shakily. It travels to the corner of her mouth and he gives her a small smile. “And I think I know this particular habit of yours especially well.”

A sniffled laugh escapes past her lips. A thrill goes through him at the accomplishment, even when Emily hides her small smile in the crook of his neck. “You know I didn’t want to last time,” she croaks, her hand leaving his hair to loop around his shoulders.

“I know, sweetheart.” Aaron’s hand travels up her back, slowly rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. None of them acknowledge the nickname that slipped out twice in the span of five minutes. They just stay there, listening to the faint music trickling in as Aaron presses his lips to her hair, smelling honeysuckle at her temples.

“Will you stay?”

Emily doesn’t answer. She’s slow to disentangle herself from his arms, straightening and adjusting her shawl before she reaches for him again. “Dance with me.” She whispers as she takes his hand and guides it to her waist.

Aaron follows her lead. Emily leans forward and wraps her own arms around his waist, her fingers hooking through his belt loops as Aaron’s palm finds its home on her back. She fits her head under his chin and they start to sway with slow aimlessness.

The music doesn’t quite reach them here, but the symphony of their intertwined breaths is enough. 

“You know, I thought about it once.” Emily says. Her voice travels through his skin, a little muffled against his throat. “At mother’s gala.”

Aaron hums, his thumb skimming her hipbone. “That was the first time for me,” he says. He closes his eyes and it’s so far away now, an age since he first wanted to dance with a girl clad in a red dress.

Cold air hits his neck and Emily tilts her head back, a different shine to her eyes as she asks, “Care to tell me about all the other times?”

Her lips are inches away from his, and though Aaron isn’t entirely convinced she won’t bolt, he’s more at ease with her like this in his arms. “Bold of you to assume I remember all of them.” He arches a brow.

“Don’t you?”

He absolutely does.

Aaron smiles. Emily’s hand travels up his side, gently cupping the lines of his body. “I’ll tell you,” he murmurs, a slight hitch to his breath, “if you’ll go out with me.”

Emily smiles, too. “I’ll have you know, I only dine in Michelin Stars.” She says softly, shallow dimples forming in her cheeks.

“Well it’s a good thing I happen to know a few.”

She hides in his neck again and he feels the slight imprint of her smile against his skin. A ghost of curved lips, a small whisper of forever. 

They continue to rock to the faint music, Aaron’s cheek pressed to Emily’s hair. The movement of their bodies is slow and unhurried, nothing like he’d imagined and somehow infinitely better.

It’s their first dance. 

It’s not their last. 

taglist: @kllingdaddy @luhwithah @cheetobreath07 @dontemilyyyyme

[shay-j-scribbles]

Should I?

okay but would anyone read a multi-chapter, slow burn fic about Emily starting at the BAU only to find out that her new boss is the summer fling she once had and the father of her now 15 year old daughter that he knows nothing about?

Or should I pack that up and bury it? Because I kinda want to write it.

[barefoot-inthewildestwinter]

Make your tea and your toast (part 3)

A/N: Sorry for the shorter/weaker chapter this time. I hope to post more this week! Thank you for the support and comments!! They mean so much:) Any feedback is much appreciated!

Title: Make your tea and your toast

Summary: If he played his cards close to his chest, she never picked hers up. Emily's past slowly catches up to her and he realizes just how little he knows about her.

Word count: 2.4k

Ratings: Mature, eventually

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, SA, abortion, pregnancy and teen pregnancy, and violence.

Read below or on AO3

February, 2007

Quantico, VA

He’s in the office just minutes before her. It’s barely 7:00, both of them running later than usual. He’d lost track of time doing Jack's morning routine while Haley showered, he wondered what her excuse was. He brushes the thought aside knowing that they’re still in well before the others. 

From his desk, he watches as Emily moves about the bullpen, hanging her parka on a peg at the entrance, setting her purse in her desk chair before rifling through it. She’s in a beige sweater, her hair straightened, just barely falling over her shoulders. They drop, allowing her face to hide behind a wall of hair. It glows brown under the fluorescent lights and he can tell that she didn’t find what she was looking for. He catches her biting a fingernail and letting out a small breath between her lips before tidying her workspace. 

He looks on as she combs through a file for one of the consults he’d assigned to her on Friday. From the scowl, he guesses it’s the one from Kansas City. Her fingertips softly slide across and between the papers. Occasionally, she pauses to tuck a lock of loose hair behind her ears. He notes that she doesn’t lift her eyes from the page, even to take a sip of coffee. He savors a smile to himself and gets to work on his own stack. 

At 7:40, she rushes over to the kitchen. Finding the pot empty, she curses Anderson out in whispers and starts a fresh one. She looks stressed, he thinks. He can’t be sure that it’s manifesting any different than typical work-related frustrations.  

Morgan and Reid arrive as the bubbling in the water reservoir loudens. Morgan immediately saunters over towards Emily, who had overfilled the pot causing the first drops of coffee to burn her hand. His attention shifts to Reid. He’d been trying to keep a watchful eye on him since they’d come back from Georgia. Although Gideon and Reid himself had made attempts to assuage his worries, they were largely unsuccessful. 

After setting his bag gently under his desk, he heads back over to the kitchen. Reid dodges the others, closing himself off while pouring a cup of coffee. His eyes drift down to the pair in front of him, deep in conversation.  Morgan is wearing an amused smirk but Prentiss looks like she’s on the verge of confiding in him. 

Things had really changed from her first cases on the team when Morgan would barely look at her with anything but disdain. They’ve become friendly over the past month. Ever since the team had gone to Chicago to reopen and expose all of his old wounds. Prentiss had been the only one of them that he’d permitted to help. Now she’s the one on edge and Morgan’s words seem to do the trick. 

His focus on them is interrupted by JJ in his doorway with her ‘We’ve got a case’ look. He doesn’t know why he bothers to ask. “It isn’t good.”

He nods. “I’ll get the others.”

Between the kitchen and the bullpen, Emily has thawed. Her eyes now beaming as she hangs on to every word falling out of Morgan. He gathers that they’re talking about an author’s catalog, though he’s unsure why that would be the thing to lift her mood. After a minute, he catches himself forgetting why he had walked over to them in the first place. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you're a Vonnegut fan. You just made my day.” He finds it strange that her radiance reminds him of the fact that they have a case, but it does. He approaches them brushing Morgan’s shoulder, interrupting the moment. “Conference room in five minutes, please?”

Teenagers in New York City, suspicions of hate crimes, fuel for political fire. It’s enough to throw them all for a loop. They’re in the air within the hour. 

He’s first on the jet. Not always, but he is today, opting to bring his files rather than work to a stopping point  and leave them behind. It gives him time to evaluate the team before heading into a case. Aside from the expected sensitivities of JJ and Reid, they had remained relatively unfazed. Prentiss had been a little apprehensive about JJ carrying her weapon without an evaluation and worried about Reid coming back to work so soon, but he couldn’t honestly fault her for either thought. 

She walks down the aisle, shooting him a manufactured smile as she passes him. His eyes follow her frame to the coffee cart in the back. He barely notices Morgan hitting the seat across from him. “Is there something going on with Prentiss?” He’s still staring at her, watching as she makes a fourth cup of coffee as if a scrunch of her nose or the slightest flick of her wrist will reveal something to him.     

Derek follows his gaze back to her for a second before chuckling to himself. “She’s fine. It seems that Little Miss Perfect over there had a bad date last weekend.” He lets out an involuntary ‘Hmm’ which encourages Morgan to comment further. “Sounds like he wasn’t a good match for her.” He raises a brow. “Just the wrong guy.” He feels an unfriendly smirk creep across his face. 

 And you would be the right one for her? He has to bite his tongue to keep his thoughts at bay. He nods once, knowing he shouldn’t be dissecting the dating life of one of his agents for this long. 

“Hey, how was your Valentine’s with Haley?”

It’s not that he isn’t grateful to Morgan for shifting the conversation as the others joined them, he was, but Haley was a tricky subject right now. “It was good,” he tells them. And it had been for the most part. They had a lovely dinner, downed a bottle of wine, spent time with their son, and avoided the passive aggressive small talk. “After twenty, I think we have it down to a science.” 

However, his job was still a stressor neither of them wanted to address and Haley had brought up trying again, which made him uneasy. “I remember how difficult it was for you and Sean being so far apart,” she’d said. “I don’t want that for Jack.” He almost feels sick looking at them as they comment on the purity of his relationship. 

Thankfully, their fawning is cut short by Reid behind an open file ready to go.   

She doesn’t make any attempts to hide her disdain when they learn that the mayor wants to bury the case, politicizing the lives and bodies of teenage girls. Favoring points in the polls over justice. He pairs her with Morgan to interview the author of Sandra’s threat, a teenage girl herself. 

By the time they regroup, he knows something is wrong. She’s still there, contributing relevant details for the profile. But she’s hanging in the background, quietly, fingernails digging into her palms. He sneaks glances at her while they wait for Reid and Gideon. 

It’s unfair to profile her which is why he isn’t totally. He can’t help but try, though. 

“I got the coroner's report.” Reid hastily enters the room, handing him the file without looking directly at any of them.

“There you are.” He immediately combs through the documents, reading the findings aloud, "Victim had been beaten so extensively that the cause of death was indeterminate. Post-mortem stab wounds were also discovered."

Morgan winces, “Post-mortem stabs, huh?”

They explain the significance to Detective Ware. “Post-mortem stab wounds almost always indicate sexual homicide.”

Reid chimes in, “This is also a fairly extreme overkill, which is markedly different from the other two girls.”

“So you're saying this was a different killer?” He asks, still unsure of what they’re telling him. 

He shakes his head. “No, we're saying if it was the same killer, the overkill indicates he didn't get what he wanted from Sandra.”

“What he wanted?”

“Sexual offenders kill for sexual release.” Morgan informs the local team. “Now, in this case, there's no sign of sexual assault on his victims. That tells us that he probably fetishises, takes some souvenir from his victims that he uses to get off.”

Ware speaks up again, “Correct me if I'm wrong, but this doesn't sound like the MO of a hate crime?”

“No. We're pretty certain that hate wasn't the primary motive at all.”

When he hears her voice he looks to her holding a hint of surprise. “He has a specific physical type and he tries to cover his tracks.”

The next day, he sends her with Gideon to talk to another family. Hoping her empathetic conversational skills will overpower his abrasiveness and they will be able to gain the family’s trust. They reconvene later to deliver a profile. He doesn’t see her again until after they’ve arrested Wakeland. 

She finds him in the lobby,  one hand gripping a cup of weak hotel coffee the other jotting down case notes as his brow twitches. “Wheels up?”

He looks up at her, a lagging smile on his face. He shakes his head and presses the styrofoam cup into the napkin in front of him. “Morgan asked if we’d stay another night. Detective Ware’s services are tomorrow.”

She doesn’t keep eye contact for long. “Oh, right.” She falls into the chair next to him, her mood off putting like the lights above them. He knows she’s expecting him to ask if she’s alright, but he doesn’t. He just sits there staring at the crease in her nose.

After a few minutes of silence, she looks up from her lap. “It’s funny,” she says. He almost laughs because he can tell that she doesn’t find any of it funny. “When Gideon and I went to talk with that last family, her sister said that she was a ‘good girl,’ that ‘she didn’t deserve this.’” She takes a deep breath. “Like there’s someone out there that does.” She can see him start to form a defensive response and cuts him off before he can offer it. “I know, I know.” She shifts her weight in the chair. “I just think that it reflects so poorly on the world that we think being ‘good’ adds more value to a teenage girl’s life.”

“I guess I’ve never thought of it like that.” He rests his pen across the rim of the cup. “Families, friends, neighbors, they don’t want to see their loved one as anything but good. It’s easier to grieve when the water is less murky. People are either entirely good or bad. When someone purely good dies, the emotions involved are less complex. It’s sad, wrong, unjust.” Prentiss nods along. “It’s rare that that’s the case. Perfect victims are rare, but they’re easier to prosecute.”

“Perfect victims?” She scoffs and it’s clear that she’s not asking for a definition. 

He savors another sip of his coffee. “It’s awful. I know.” Her eyes match the deep color of the drink in his hand. 

“Would you ever go back?” 

Her question catches him off guard, and he considers it for a moment, wanting to give her a genuine answer. “If things were different, maybe. I can’t be sure.” Things aren’t different though. She understands. “I like where I’m at. We have a good thing going, with the unit. It’s good.” 

She laughs into her shoulder, hair tucked behind her ear exposes her dimple. He finds it embarrassing that the slightest sign of joy in her features can pull a grin from him effortlessly. He thinks it’s funny that Haley had sized Prentiss up with a twinge of jealousy the moment she met her. “At least she’s far from being your type, or we’d have a real problem.” she had told him over a glass of wine once he’d forgotten all about it, half-jokingly. 

“You know, I told Morgan the other day that I was a nerd, but I cannot imagine going to law school just for the hell of it.” 

“It wasn’t that bad. Besides, it wasn’t entirely my decision.”

She nods once with her lips pressing together. “Right. It’s in your DNA. I’m familiar.”

He feels the last remains of dread for returning to Quantico wash down his throat. “Did you ever consider going into politics?”

“I’m considering dinner… Is there a plan?” 

“Wow. You don’t hesitate to change the topic when you don’t like it.”

She smirks, “It’s in my DNA.”

He starts to tidy up his area, closing the open file and downing the last of his coffee. “Well, Morgan and JJ dragged Reid out of here about an hour ago. We can go join them if you’d like. Or we can grab something nearby?”

“Oh. I should probably turn in.” She abruptly stands up, grabbing his trash from the table and stuffing it into the empty cup. He glances at his watch. 8:20. 

“Are you sure?” It hadn’t occurred to him that she’d disappeared during breakfast and they’d skipped lunch. “Prentiss, you haven’t eaten today and I know you’re not going to bed right now. There’s a bar around the corner?” She’s trying to convince herself to feel okay declining his offer. “Drinks? I’m buying.” 

“Well, when you put it like that.” He smiles up at her and they head out the front doors. Her skin pales against the cold, glowing even more in the neon city lights. He pays for their beers, and somehow manages to sell her on a slice of pizza, carrying it back over to their table. 

Her eyes go wide as she looks from the paper plates to him. “Hotch, this thing is larger than my face.” 

“I think that’s the point.”

They end up taking a cab deeper into the city. Crossing paths with JJ and Reid, clad in “I Heart NY” gear. They stop at another bar and walk around Times Square until they ultimately end up back at their individual rooms. Neither of them say much that they’ll remember the next day. Small talk and stories about their previous trips to the city, their words blow away with the crisp air.

[galaxysupreme17]

First Break UP

Hotchniss

Y/n Hotchner sat on her bed, staring blankly at the wall. Her room, once a sanctuary filled with memories of laughter and shared secrets, now felt hollow and cold. The past few days' events replayed in her mind like a cruel loop she couldn't escape.

Jake, her boyfriend of two years, had cheated on her. Not just with anyone but with her best friend, Sarah. The betrayal cut deep, shattering her trust in the two people she thought she could rely on the most.

Her phone buzzed beside her, but Y/n ignored it. She had been avoiding everyone lately—her friends, her dad, even Emily Prentiss, her dad's fiancée, whom she had grown close to over the past year. The pain of betrayal was too raw, too consuming.

Emily and Aaron were standing down the hallway, talking in hushed voices. They discussed what to do when Aaron suggested that Emily try talking to Y/n.

Footsteps approached her door, and a gentle knock echoed through the room. Y/n didn't respond, hoping whoever it was would take the hint and leave her alone. The door creaked open anyway, and Emily stepped inside, expressing concern and empathy.

"Y/n," Emily began softly, her voice filled with compassion. "Can we talk?"

Y/n looked up, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. She didn't say anything, but the look on her face spoke volumes.

Emily approached slowly, sitting down beside Y/n on the bed. "I know you're hurting, sweetheart. And I can't pretend to understand what you're going through, but I want to be here for you."

Y/n's resolve crumbled at Emily's words. She had been pushing everyone away, but Emily's sincerity touched her heart. "He cheated on me, Em," Y/n finally whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "With Sarah."

Emily's heart broke for Y/n. She reached out and pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting Y/n bury her face in her shoulder as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. You deserve so much better."

For a long time, they sat there in silence, the only sound the quiet sobs of a broken heart slowly trying to mend.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/n slowly began to heal. Emily was there every step of the way, offering a listening ear, words of wisdom, and sometimes just silent companionship. They spent evenings curled up on the couch, watching movies or reading books.

One evening, after Emily had returned home from a horrific case and exhaustion finally caught up with Y/n, she nestled closer to Emily on the couch, her eyes drooping with weariness. Emily gently stroked her hair, the gesture soothing and maternal.

"You should get some rest, sweetheart," Emily murmured as Aaron walked in and smiled at them.

Y/n nodded faintly, feeling safe and cared for in Emily's presence. "Mom," she whispered sleepily, the word slipping out almost unconsciously.

Emily's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected endearment. She looked down at Y/n, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. "Yes, honey?"

Y/n stirred slightly, her voice barely audible as sleep claimed her. "Love you, Mom," she murmured before drifting into a peaceful slumber.

Emily held Y/n close, tears of happiness trailing down her cheeks. It was a moment she had dreamed of but never dared to expect. As Y/n slept peacefully, Emily whispered back, "I love you too, sweetheart," knowing that their bond had deepened beautifully and healingly.

In the quiet of the evening, Emily Prentiss and Y/n Hotchner found solace in each other's presence, their hearts entwined in a journey of healing, forgiveness, and the unbreakable bond of family.

[cloudlessly-light]

heyy could i request something jotchniss

sub jj , sub emily and dom hotch ?? thank you love ur writing :))

A/N: Hey Anon! I know you asked for sub JJ, but I can’t for the life of me picture JJ as a sub, so I hope switch/sub JJ is okay! This one also is a little more Jemily than I usually write, but I wanted to switch things up.

Title: Don’t lose your focus  Summary: After JJ and Will split up, JJ feels lost for a long time, luckily for her, she finds exactly what she needs with Aaron and Emily. Word Count: 4,4k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, oral, threesome, restraints, sex toys, anal, double penetration, Dom Aaron, Switch JJ, sub JJ, sub Emily   

When Will and JJ decided to split up, she was lost for a long time. Her life became Henry and the BAU, splitting time between trying to be the best mother she could be while also balancing her work that she had no intention of leaving. They decided to split their time with Henry, shifting days and weeks to make it work for both Will and JJ but it was hard, it was harder than she’d wanted to admit.   

For a long time after, JJ felt like half a person, like something was missing. She felt guilty because she wasn’t spending enough time with her son, felt a longing for something besides being a single mother. She loved Henry with everything she had, and the guilt for feeling like it wasn’t enough was an everlasting presence.    

But JJ and Will make it work. A year passes, then another one and Henry is turning 4 and JJ has almost been able to ignore the itch that something was missing.    

And then that night happens.    

She’s spending an evening at Aaron and Emily’s house. They had been together for almost two years now, happy in a way that makes something ache in JJ’s chest. The jealousy was bitter on her tongue, the feeling of possibly never having the kind of happiness that her friends had a realization she’d rather not have. She pretends that she doesn��t feel something warm in her belly when Emily looks at her a certain way, or that Aaron’s heavy, warm hand on her shoulder doesn’t give her goosebumps. She didn’t want to admit that she felt something more than friendship towards them, she had ignored those feelings for so long that it felt like second nature by now.   

But then Emily kisses her. It’s soft and so sudden that JJ steps back with wide eyes searching brown ones.   

“What are you doing?” She asked just as Aaron came to wrap an arm around Emily’s waist.   

“I think she kissed you.” He answers before Emily has the chance to, an unfamiliar look in his eye that made her gulp. “Did you like it?”    

She looked between them, from the amused smirk on Aaron’s face to Emily’s dark stare, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and JJ couldn’t lie to them.   

“Yes.” She breathed and she swore she saw them both relax slightly. Aaron took her hand, tugged her closer and Emily’s soft hands landed on her hips. For a moment she was lost in them, confused and excited as Aaron leaned a little closer to her.   

“Should she do it again?” He asked and JJ is nodding before she can think about it. Emily’s lips are more insistent that time, soft and careful but an urgency behind her kiss. When they break apart and JJ looks between the pair she feels like the part of her that she’s been missing, finally fell into place.     

*   

That night she ends up spending hours in their bed, watches the way Emily submits to Aaron, how Aaron worships her, studies the different ways they bring pleasure to each other. And to her. It’s a new world, until them she had never been one to explore. But they come along and it’s like a buffet of pleasure that they lay at her feet.   

In hindsight it shouldn’t have surprised her that Aaron had a thing about control even in bed, it shouldn’t have made her pause that Emily gave herself utterly and completely to him. That their trust led to exploration of pain and pleasure.    

Aaron teaches her how and where to hit the whip across pale skin, Emily watches with hazy eyes as JJ gives herself to Aaron. She never knew she had a thing about control as well, not until she got to experience it herself.    

With Aaron, she was never in control. With Emily, she always was.   

“I’m giving you my permission to use her.” Aaron had whispered against the shell of her ear. “Poor thing needs two people to tell her what to do.” His hand wraps in her blonde hair and pulls harshly, causing a breathy moan to fall from her lips. “But at the end of the day you know who owns you, don’t you?”   

“You do.” She gasped and she felt his grin, feral and dark against her neck.    

It’s new, it’s exciting, it’s exactly what she needs.   

She lets herself fall in love with them, explores what it means to be in a relationship with not one person, but two. And she’s never been happier.    

*   

It’s another year and they all live together, not caring what people might think because they were happy, they were working.   

JJ is sifting through files in her office when the door closes and she looks up to find her girlfriend leaning against the dark wood, a familiar look on her face.   

“Do you need something?” She arches an amused eyebrow when Emily shakes her head and pushes off from the door.   

“I’m bored.” She says as she sits on the edge of JJ’s desk.    

“We’re at work. Why can’t you enjoy a slow day?” JJ muses as she stands from her chair and fits herself between her spread legs. “Does Aaron know you’re in here?”    

“Nope.” Emily grins as JJ grabs her hips and squeezed. She pulled her closer by wrapping her legs around her slim waist. “He’s in a mood.”   

“Is he now?” JJ smirked when Emily nodded, her dark eyes already focused on her lips. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been acting like a brat since this morning?” One hand moves from her hip to tangle in dark hair and she tugs hard enough for Emily to hiss. JJ places soft kisses up the column of her throat. “He’s already texted me everything you’ve been doing, and what we’re going to do with you when we get home.”    

Emily whimpers at her words, fear and excitement in equal measure spreading through her.    

“And he also told me that if you came in here trying to distract me, to tell him.” JJ keeps one hand tangled in her hair while picking up her phone with the other, quickly sending a message to Aaron. “And we both know that I’m his good girl.” JJ nips at her throat before stepping away from the brunette, leaving her dazed and aroused.   

“JJ-” Emily tries reaching for her but she barely has time to stand from the desk before Aaron is walking through the door with an angered expression on his face.     

“What did I tell you about leaving your desk?” He walks towards Emily and easily pushes her to her knees on the floor. Then he reaches for JJ and kisses her. “I knew I could count on you, sweet girl.” He whispers against her lips and she feels her cheeks heating and lips tug upwards at the praise. When Aaron looks down at Emily any trace of softness is gone and he scowls. “Pathetic, aren’t you?”    

Emily looks up at them with wide eyes, a flush creeping from her cheeks and down her chest. She licked over her bottom lip as she nodded, wordlessly agreeing to his harsh words. But JJ knew how much she loved it, how much she craved it.    

“Please Aaron-”   

“Quiet.” He ordered and stepped back from her, urging JJ to follow him. He looked at Emily kneeling on the dirty floor of JJ’s office, still sometimes not believing his luck, that both Emily and JJ both gave him this, that they trusted him enough to do so. “JJ will think of a suitable punishment once we get home.”    

She can’t ignore the tingle down her spine when she hears the way Emily tries to muffle a moan.    

*   

JJ and Emily get home earlier than Aaron that day and JJ plans to take full advantage of that fact. She hasn’t stopped touching Emily since they got in the car, let her hand linger on her thigh or tangled in her hair, drew her nails up and down her arm. Emily was always so receptive, breathy sighs and low moans, pale skin flushed as her eyes pleaded for more. 

“Get the strap.” JJ orders and she sees the way Emily tries to hide her excitement and she smirks. She gets undressed while waiting for her girlfriend to find the harness and dildo and watches in amusement as Emily tries handing them to her. 

“Get naked and put it on.” She almost chuckles at the way Emily’s eyebrows rise high on her forehead. Emily almost never wore the strap, but JJ had plans.  

“Why?” She asked and JJ grabbed her jaw with just enough pressure for it to hurt. 

“Because I’m telling you to. Because you clearly think that misbehaving is the way to get you what you want.” She tightens her grip and Emily hisses at the pain. “And because I fucking said so.” She all but spat the words in her girlfriends’ face, she didn’t let go until she was nodding in her hold and JJ pressed a kiss to her lips. When they broke apart Emily’s eyes were hooded, her tongue sneaking out to lick her bottom lip and taste JJ.

She watched as Emily undressed, a look of uncertainness on her face and JJ couldn’t help the low hum of amusement. She let her gaze follow the harness up smooth thighs, lingered on the fake cock bouncing between Emily’s legs as she walked slowly towards the bed.

“Lay down.” JJ instructed while pulling out the leather cuffs and then straddled her girlfriend’s waist. She smiled when her center pressed against Emily’s stomach, the brunette clearly feeling the wetness on her skin and she whimpered. She fastened her wrists in each cuff, spreading them wide apart before moving off the bed again to take in the vision of Emily tied down with a look close to desperate on her face.

“Baby-” She started as she watched the blonde at the end of the bed. “I need you.”

JJ scoffed, the sound sarcastic as it fell from her lips.

“This isn’t about you.” She said and Emily slumped slightly. “You’ve been greedy, we have treated you too good.” She moved around the room, grabbed lube and then climbed back on the bed. “So until Aaron comes home, you will lie here and you will let me use that gorgeous body of yours until I’ve had my fill. You will be quiet, you won’t touch, you’ll be good, for once in your life.” JJ gently caressed a flushed cheek, then leaned down to let her lips graze Emily’s. “Is that clear?”

“Yes.” She breathed, her entire body already hot, arousal pulsing between her legs but she resisted pushing her legs together to relieve some of the ache. She moaned quietly when JJ kissed her, opened her lips to an insistent tongue and when she pulled away, Emily almost whimpered at the loss. She watched as JJ smeared the lube on the fake cock, her eyes zeroed in on the way it looked huge as the blonde straddled it.

JJ slowly sunk down on the toy, let her body get used to the delicious stretch. She moaned, her eyes closing as she settled over her girlfriend, a lazy smile on her face as she did.

“Fuck, that feels good.” She whispered and Emily bit her bottom lip in response. She started to roll her hips, then lifted herself up and down and when she moaned louder Emily’s hands balled into fists. JJ knew that this was torture for her, that Emily loved to touch, loved to bring her pleasure. She was watching JJ with pleading eyes, the brown orbs so dark, pupils blown wide and it only made her move her hips faster.

Emily couldn’t keep her eyes off JJ, from the way blue eyes rolled back, to the parted lips, watched how her thighs tensed with each movement, how her abs clenched as she rode her faster. She could feel the need to touch only grow, wanted to wrap her lips around pink nipples and grab onto blonde hair and feel the way she would clench around her fingers.

She was moving faster, hips twitching as the pleasure built inside of her. She rubbed her clit and shuddered as her head fell back.

“You’re such a good toy for me to use.” She panted and Emily buckled up in return, clearly trying to get some relief on her clit. “So good for me.” She rubbed her clit faster as her hips grinded onto the toy.

“Fuck!” Emily moaned before she could stop, the base of the dildo pressed right against her clit with each movement of JJ’s hips.

If she hadn’t been so close she would have stopped, would have stuffed something in Emily’s mouth as a reminder to keep quiet, but she could feel her orgasm building and her need for release was bigger than her need to punish. She leaned over her girlfriend, steadying herself with one hand next to Emily’s head as she continued to ride the dildo, blue eyes locked on brown.

“Fuck you’re so pretty.” She gasped as Emily whimpered. “You look so pretty when you’re this desperate.” The cuffs rattled against the headboard and JJ felt Emily push up against her again and it was the last push she needed to crash into an intense blur of pleasure. Her body trembled as her hips jerked desperately against Emily. She gasped, her forehead landing on Emily’s shoulder as she let her orgasm wash through her until all that was left was the subtle quivers. She let herself relax for a little bit and only sat up when Emily squirmed slightly.

“JJ, please.” Her voice was thick with want and JJ lifted her head with a grin on her face.

“I’m going to sit on your face and you’re going to make me come again.” She chuckled when Emily nodded quickly and then carefully sat up again, then moved off the toy. The silicone was covered in her slick and Emily’s eyes widened at the sight. JJ unclasped the cuffs, a small reward for her and then removed the harness before settling above Emily’s face.

She was quick to wrap her arms around JJ’s strong thighs, let her hands trail up and down smooth skin and sighed happily at finally getting to touch her. When she tasted JJ’s arousal she moaned, the sound muffled as she settled above her. Her tongue moved through slick folds, dipped inside of her and JJ gasped, her hips slowly rocking against her tongue.

She sucked her clit, kept JJ against her with a firm hold around her thighs. She wanted her to come on her tongue and she didn’t let up until JJ was grinding onto her face.

Sometimes it amazed JJ how quickly Emily could make her come, but only a few minutes later she was moaning and gasping. She fell forward as she came, Emily’s tongue insistent on her clit, drawing out the pleasure for as long as possible.

Emily didn’t stop licking and sucking on her clit until JJ had relaxed, only then she dipped her tongue inside of her, still feeling the way her pussy was clenching.

“Good girl.” JJ moaned and sat up again. She could see Emily slick on her thighs and she smirked to herself. “Again.”

Emily whimpered, her brain hazy from arousal, her clit aching and pulsing. JJ still hadn’t touched her and she was going insane. But she loved bringing both her lovers pleasure, so she happily pushed her tongue deeper inside of JJ, a low whimper escaping at the heat of her. She alternated licking over her clit and dipping her tongue inside of her and JJ’s moans slowly got breather and louder.

“Just like that.” JJ whispered, her eyes closing at the pleasure her girlfriend was causing as she built her up again. When she opened them only a few moments later, Aaron was standing in the doorway, watching them with a smirk.

“Somone’s been having fun I see.” He said, eyes moving from the harness on the floor to JJ’s flushed face. He walked across the room and JJ leaned forward, supporting herself on Emily’s hips as Aaron leaned down to kiss her. His hands were warm as he trailed them down her body, fingers rough when he tweaked her nipples, earning a gasp from her.

“Is she making you feel good?” Aaron could see the pleasure on her body, could tell that she was close to coming and JJ nodded.

“She’s so good with her mouth.” JJ’s eyes rolled back when Emily sucked her clit hard.

“I know she is.” Aaron cooed as he started to undress. “How many times has she made you come?”

“Twice.”

“But almost three times now.” He smirked as JJ’s body started to tense. “How many times has Emily come?”

“None.” JJ forced out, barely able to listen to his dark voice as she got closer. “She hasn’t earned it.”

Aaron chuckled as he pulled off his boxers. He was already hard just from watching them, his hand fisting his cock and slowly rubbing it.

“She must be desperate by now.” He kneeled on the bed and JJ forced herself not to come just at the sight of him in front of her. “Show me how we she is.”

She pulled Emily’s thighs wide apart and she felt the moan vibrate against her clit. Emily hated when they talked about her like she wasn’t there and they knew it, they also knew that it only made her wetter.

“My my…” Aaron’s smirk was dark when he saw just how wet she was. He climbed closer to them, settled between Emily’s thighs and let his cock fall onto her clit. “What are we going to do to you?”

“Fuck, fuck-” JJ’s desperate moans caused him to look up and he grabbed her blonde hair in a tight fist.

“Come on, let go and come on her tongue.” He kept his hold on her hair as JJ came with a strangled groan. Her eyes closed tight as her hips buckled and then Aaron kissed her, swallowing up her moan.

“That’s my girl.” He mumbled against her lips, only letting her fall to the side of Emily’s body after she had stopped trembling. He watched fondly as JJ laid down beside Emily, her breathing still heavy and eyes glazed over. Then he looked at Emily, who was licking her lips, obviously still tasting JJ on them. She was panting too, her body covered in sweat.

“Gorgeous, both of you.” He mumbled and grabbed the base of his cock. He slapped the tip of it against Emily clit and she jerked with a breathy whine.

“Please, please touch me.” She pleaded and he chuckled.

“Look at you, even begging for it. Looks like JJ has done a good job putting you in your place.” He slapped his cock against her swollen clit again, the sound obscene. “Put on the harness, baby.”

JJ smiled widened and she moved from the bed, quickly adjusting the harness and getting back on the bed. She was tired, her body sated from the orgasms she’d already had, she knew that Aaron could tell as he kept slapping his cock against Emily who’s whimpers only got louder and breathier.

“Lay back, you deserve the rest.” He winked at her and bit back a smile as she laid back beside Emily who was fisting the bedding to keep from reaching out or taking matters into her own hands.

“Aaron, ah-” Whatever Emily was going to say died on her lips when Aaron suddenly slapped his hand on her clit and her thighs closed automatically.

“While I do think it would be fun watching you come just like this, I want your ass tonight.” Aaron mused casually, ignoring that Emily was grinding into his hand until he slapped it again, the sound loud as Emily let out a sound somewhere stuck between pain and pleasure. “Ride her, show us how much you need it.” With those words, he moved back enough for Emily to scramble to her hands and knees, and easily straddled JJ’s slim hips.

JJ’s hand rested on Emily’s thighs as she sat down fully, taking the entire dildo in one smooth thrust.

“You didn’t even need lube.” She smirked at the gasp that fell from Emily’s lips as she started to move. She pushed her hips up, earning a loud moan from her girlfriend as she found a pace. But she didn’t get to enjoy the sight for long, soon enough Aaron was behind them, pushing Emily down until she was laying down flat against JJ.

JJ kept her eyes on Emily’s face as Aaron slowly pushed inside her ass, she loved the look of somewhat pained pleasure on her face, loved when Emily took both of them and she knew that they did too.

“Oh my God…” Emily sucked in a breath and burrowed her face in JJ’s neck as she adjusted. Aaron was stroking calming hands over her ribs and back, JJ was holding her thighs as they gave her a few moments. “Move, please move.” She panted and Aaron was the first to pull out, setting the pace as he fucked into her with a growl.

“Perfect, my perfect girls.” He caught JJ’s eye over Emily’s shoulder and smirked at the way her mouth had fallen open. He thrusted harder and both women moaned as Emily was pushed down on the dildo that pressed against JJ’s clit.

They found a rhythm, Aaron fucking into Emily and JJ weakly pushing up against her, too tired to do much else, but it was more than enough. Emily was moaning and groaning, her senses overwhelmed from being denied for so long to feeling everything. She bit down on JJ’s shoulder, knew that she was bruising her skin but didn’t care. She was already close to the edge, getting there quickly to no one’s surprise.

“You can come.” Aaron grunted behind her before she even had the chance to ask. His lips were hot against her ear, his stubble rough against her and it was perfect. She tried moving between them, her hips jerking as she got closer and closer, until finally she came with a scream.

JJ gasped when Emily tensed above her, felt her body tremble as she came with her and Aaron’s name on her tongue. She caught Aaron’s satisfied grin as he peppered kisses along Emily’s shoulder and neck, not stopping his heavy thrusting until Emily was coming down with heavy breaths.

“JJ,” He said as he moved higher on his knees and she looked up at him with wide eyes. “Do you want to watch for a bit, rest?”

“Yes, please.” She loved watching her lovers together, loved that Aaron knew that.

Emily whined when Aaron slipped out of her, his hands warm as he helped her off JJ’s lap and onto her back again. She reached out to hold JJ’s hand just as Aaron pushed back inside her ass and her eyes closed in pleasure.

“Look at me.” Aaron mumbled and two sets of eyes looked up at him. “You can touch her freely.” He said to JJ who rolled onto her side, pressing against Emily’s body and letting go of her hand. “And you can come as much as you want to.” He looked to Emily who smiled gratefully at him. He loved to bring them both over the edge as many times as possible, but giving either of them free range like this was unusual.

Emily’s train of thought came to and end when JJ’s fingers pressed inside of her, the palm of her hand grinding against her clit just as Aaron started to thrust harder inside of her, making her bite her lip to keep from screaming out too loudly.

“She’s already clenching.” JJ said in awe, she loved that Emily always came so easily for them.

“You wound her up good, baby.” Aaron told her through slightly labored breathing. He moved to grab Emily’s hips in a tight grip, leaving new bruises over old ones as he thrust as hard as he could. He had been longing for them for hours so he knew he wouldn’t last long.

“Fuck I love watching you.” JJ whimpered as she looked between Aaron’s strong body and Emily’s trembling one. “You’re so close, again.”

“Yes, yes fuck yes.” Emily pulled JJ down for a rough kiss, her soft lips muffling the needy moans. When they broke apart she looked up at Aaron. “Kiss me?”

Aaron smiled at the simple request, that in a moment that was anything but tender, Emily would crave something so simple as a kiss. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, a low groan rumbling in his chest when JJ’s nails scratched through his hair and keeping him against Emily.

“Come again, sweetheart.” He mumbled when they broke apart and he was back to kneeling between her legs. Her ass clenched around him hard and JJ’s hand moved faster and Emily wouldn’t have been able to hold back even if she tried to. She came again with a cry of pleasure, her back arching and eyes closed tight as she gave in to the pleasure.

“That’s it, that’s it honey.” JJ mumbled against her ear, her hand slowing but not stopping as Aaron continued to fuck into her. She could feel his cock, could feel Emily’s clamping walls and she felt a rush of arousal settle between her legs.

They didn’t stop, Emily coming two more times until Aaron was grunting his pleasure against JJ’s lips as he spurted inside Emily. They were a mess of sweaty limbs and harsh breaths and pleasured daze as they laid tangled on the bed after.

“How about we shower, and then we’re doing that again?” Aaron smiled as JJ nodded on his left and Emily hummed happily on his right.

It was strange, how time could change everything but JJ had never been happier that it had.