#caretaker!hotch

[criminal-mids]

#29 - Cabin Pressure

Prompt: Sick on a Road Trip

Sickie: Reid

Caretaker(s): Hotch ft. Gracia

Word Count: 2,206

Diana Reid was, during her worst days, incredibly suspicious of aeroplanes. She’d always insisted that her precious only son take the train, and he never minded. After all, trains are interesting and the scenery is nice. He’d read about airports, in books, and seen them in movies his friends made him watch, but every piece of media had left one thing out: the sounds.

He’d even been in an airport once before when he flew from Nevada to Virginia after his acceptance to the F.B.I. Academy, but he’d been with a friend then or rather one of his mother’s friends. An old colleague. He’d had business in Washington, so he’d offered to leave a week early to fly with Spencer. He’d done most of the talking, all of the navigating and let Spencer zone out with his noise-cancelling headphones (a graduation gift from when he’d received his first PhD) and a book.

But now, he’s on his own, even with a group of four other people.

The lights keep flickering. It makes Spencer wonder how no one has noticed. But of course, he knows why. He’s just sensitive.

‘And Agent Jareau said this is a small airport. If something like this bothers me, can I even do this job? Should I just go home now, before I make a fool of myself?’

Voices overlap like a grating cacophony. Couples arguing over tickets, parents fussing over and at whining teens, crying babies, toddlers and single young adults with game audio playing at inconsiderate volumes, static heavy P.A.s, and phone calls, all dip in and out. As soon as one sound quiets, another replaces it at what seems like twice the volume. Not to mention the jets just outside beyond the window. And yet, somehow he can still hear the buzzing of the lights.

And no one else seems to mind. 

He’d forgone his headphones, not wanting to risk missing an instruction from his new boss, Supervisory Special Agent Gideon. But now his head pounds and colours dance in his vision.

An announcement for boarding as they pass a gate makes him clap his hands over his ears, a reflex, but he puts them away before his colleagues notice.

‘I will not act like a baby.’

He wants to walk faster, to run, and get away from it all, but it would be rude to pass his boss, and he has no idea where they're going anyway. 

He’d heard Ms. Jareau complaining as they got into the car, that normally they’d be allowed to drive up to the apron, but couldn’t this time due to some reconstruction.

At last, after a walk that can’t have taken more than 10 minutes, but felt like a marathon, they reach the door to the private area of the apron.

It’s at the same time a reprieve and so much worse.

On one hand, there is less quantity of sounds, but on the other hand, the volume blinds Spencer for a moment and he rushes to catch up to his new colleagues.

-

The small jet is an oasis of quiet. Spencer can still hear the noise if he gets too close to a window, and the lights do buzz a bit, but it’s negligible compared to the monstrous collage inside the airport and out on the apron.

He sits down quickly, still feeling less than stable.

Hotch is talking to the rest of the team, but he hasn’t calmed down enough to clearly understand the words. So, as quietly as he can he starts reciting chemical formulas. They come into the forefront of his mind as easy as breathing, like the ABCs or Twinkle Little Star to most children, familiar and comforting. He focuses on the words one at a time until he stops shaking and the buzzing of the lights is less prominent. Eventually, he just lets the formulas run through his mind. It actually helps him focus on SSA Gideon’s voice.

He doesn't realise he closed his eyes until he looks up to the curious, slightly sceptical gaze of his new colleague, Agent Morgan.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I was listing, I just-”

“Anxious about flying?” Agent Morgan says, confident.

Wrong.

“No, not at all. The odds of dying in a plane crash are only one in 11 million. Fractional compared to the odds of being in a car crash, which is approximately one in 5,000. This is probably because between the two industries, safety standards-”

“Right, didn’t mean to assume.” Morgan looks back to SSA Gideon. He looks awed and a bit freaked out like Spencer is some . . . creature.

Reid looks down, “Sorry for interrupting, please continue.”

—

The briefing is done, and they’ve each been given tasks. Agency Morgan with SSA Hotchner, and Spencer with SSA Gideon.

Spencer reads dutifully over his case file, studying the area map.

A voice, the slightest break in the quiet makes him look up. Agent Morgan is whispering to Agent Jareau, and they’re glancing at Spencer.

“Seems like new boy’s got a mean streak.”

Spencer almost looks up at that. ‘Mean streak? What are they- oh- But I wasn’t being . . . Oh. This is going to be like high school all over again, isn’t it?’ He droops at the thoughts, trying to put it out of his mind and focus on the lines of the map.

Agent Jareau is silent, Spencer pretends he can’t feel her judgmental gaze. Then she says, “Yeah, real life of the party, that one.”

Party-pooper. Buzzkill. Baby. Dork. Nerd. Loser. The insults bounce around his mind like the kickballs that always seemed to fly his way on field days.

‘Not insults, just facts.’

“He might be a kid genius, but none of this will work if he can’t be a team player.”

“If he wants to be a loner, I guess it doesn’t matter as long as he can do the job. Hotch never comes drinking with us, after all.”

‘Don’t they understand that’s all I’ve ever wanted, to be on a team with someone! That’s why I came here. I knew it, though, I knew I wouldn’t belong here.’

“Yeah, but he has Jack and the missus.”

Agent Jareau sighs, “Gideon has faith in him, so we should too, right? He’ll get used to flying soon enough.”

These words make the previous ones sting a bit less, but the respite is over quickly.

“Maybe then he won’t feel the need to be such a little prick. This team doesn’t need a moody teenager. He can’t even shoot.”

He catches Agent Morgan’s gaze for an instant, but can’t stand to look, so he ducks back down, hoping the older man didn’t notice.

—

“Attention, everyone.” The intercom startles Spencer out of his map-reading daze.

“We’ve run into some inclement weather, so I’ll be taking us up a bit higher, just to get over these storm clouds.” 

As soon as he ends his sentence the ascension begins. 

The pain stops Spencer’s thoughts in their tracks, it’s sudden and sharp, quickly surrounding his head and ears. A whine slips out of him before he presses his lips together.

He’d expected this. ear barotrauma, it’s called, the so-called “popping” feeling in the eardrum due to sudden dramatic changes in barometric pressure. It can also occur on the ground when climbing mountains or even for some people before big storms. He even brought chewing gum for this very purpose, but he can’t even think of moving now, lest the pain get worse.

‘It’ll go away, it’ll go away. I’ll be fine. I will be fine.’ 

10 minutes later he is not fine. His head feels full like he’d just been shoved in a too-small locker again and hit his head on the door, or shoved down the stairs, or more accurately, like he’s about to spontaneously combust.

He feels stupid and useless.

‘My chewing gum is right there, I just need to’

His thoughts are interrupted by his case file sliding off his lap, spilling papers everywhere. Agent Morgan looks up at the noise, frowning. 

‘All this would be fixed if I could just- Should I ask someone? No, I’d look like a kid. (I am a kid.) SSA Gideon and SSA Hotchner will never take me seriously after this. And I’ve already pissed off Agent Morgan and Agent Jareau.’

Spencer gives what he hopes is a friendly smile, through the pain. It’s kind of hard, remembering the man’s words from earlier. “Little prick.” “Moody teenager.”

‘Why bother when he clearly doesn’t want me here?’

Before he realises it, he’s rocking slightly back and forth. It’s barely noticeable, but SSA Hotchner notices. He’s been watching Spencer for a few minutes now. As an ex-prosecutor, he can tell when people are squirming. 

This isn’t that, not quite anyway, but ‘The poor boy certainly looks uncomfortable. He didn’t seem defensive when Morgan questioned him about flight anxiety earlier, and I’ve talked to him before during his interviews. That truly is just his nature, but something is going on. He’s an adult, but just barely. I’ll be tactful. He’s shy, I wonder if he’ll even tell me. I only hope it’s not anything serious. If it is, somehow I think I’ll have quite a time trying to get the truth out of him.’

“Reid, are you alright?” He shifts into the seat across from Spencer, tone calm, but concerned. It’s the first time he’s seen the man look anything besides stern. He didn’t think he could.

“I . . .”

It’s the first time he’s really talked to SSA Hotchner about anything not relating to work, but at least he’s not frowning.

“You look a bit stressed. We need your head in the game, so if something is bothering you, get it out now, or find a way to deal with it before we land. The things you’re going to see here are, well there's no kind way to say it, gruesome, terrible, and cruel. And if you aren’t in the right headspace in your personal life, then this job won’t end well.”

“No.” The word is a whine.

SSA Hotcner’s expression shifts into a scary calm, ready to deal with the worst. “Are you hurt? Ill?”

Spencer gestures to his ear. 

Agent Hotchner nods and steps away, dialling someone on his mobile.

Spencer tries his best to listen through his aching ears.

“ . . . Good, you can send that to Morgan and Gideon. We’ll get on it right away. However, I have another concern. How does one treat aeroplane ear-aches? . . . No, not me, Reid. I think this may be his first time flying, and Gideon,” Hotch pauses, glancing at Spencer, who pretends not to be paying attention. “Briefed me that he has certain sensitivities . . . alright, yes that would make sense. I don’t have any, but I’ll ask. Thank you, Garcia.”

SSA Hotchner hangs up the phone, calling out to the rest of the cabin, “Does anyone have chewing gum?”

Three confused “No”s fill the cabin.

“I-I do,” Spencer manages.

SSA Hotchner turns back toward Spencer, “You do?”

Spencer nods and points to his bag. “Front pocket.”

“Okay, well Garcia says chewing it should release the pressure.” 

Spencer nods again, mouthing “I know.” 

It takes Agent Hotchner a few long seconds to understand, “Well, then why didn’t you- Ah, I see. Do you need me to get it?”

Spencer nods again, moving his bag into the aisle with his foot. SSA Hotchner unzips it, rifling through the front pocket. He finds the pack of mint gum quickly and hands it to Spencer.

Spencer takes it gratefully, fumbling with the wrapper in his haste.

—

“Thank you, Agent Hotchner.” Spencer tells the man sincerely when the pain has finally passed.”

“You are a part of this team, Reid. Just ���Hotch” is fine. But next time do try to be better prepared.”

“Yes, of course, Ag- Hotch.”

“If it's any consolation, we’ll be flying a lot-”

“After this, that’s not much of a consolation.” 

SSA Hotchner looks at Spencer in surprise. Spencer freezes. 

‘I shouldn’t have said that. My jokes always land wrong. What was I thinking? I’m going to be fired now.’ He can practically hear Morgan’s wince.

“Nice going, kid,” he mutters.

Spencer looks down in shame, “I’m sorry, that- that was a joke, Agent Hotchner. I have problems with tone sometimes and I didn’t mean to”

After a second, the man cracks a small smile. He halts Spencer’s apology with a shake of the head, “Fair enough. But I was going to say that due to the frequency of air travel that accompanies this job, I’m sure your body will adapt quickly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Agent Hotchner looks at him with an expression that uncannily resembles his mother’s when he’d do something right after she told him not to.

“Yes, Hotch.”

With that, A- Hotch suits back in his seat as if nothing ever happened. But everyone notices that he looks relieved.

‘If Hotch approves, maybe there’s something I’m missing.’ Morgan thinks, ‘Maybe I should give this kid a chance. And he did make it all the way here.’‘That wasn’t . . . terrible. Maybe everything will work out after all.’ Spencer takes a deep breath, focusing on the flavour of the gum as he gets back to work.

[antheaholmesblog]

thinking about Aaron Hotchner and how I would drag him to the doctor's all the time after a case because he doesn't have a sense of self respect and is utterly self conscious! I mean let's talk about his ear and that he dropped dead from internal bleeding and such....poor Baby. I'll take care of you!

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Crazy, What You’ll Do for a Friend

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: After Hotch gets hurt out in the field, you and the other members of the BAU take turns taking care of Hotch at his home. Reader want to make sure she can help Hotch in whatever way she can.

CW: Hotch having an attitude bc of course he does, sex fantasy, needy!Hotch, oral m!receiving, fingering

a/n: Hotch is literally the master of flirting when he isn’t at work I cannot with him, this is more short and sweet than most my stories

This is the other Fanfic from the poll!

READ PART 2

~~~

Reid answered the door. Bright smile on his face greeting you, “Hey.”

“Hey,” you smiled back at him.

“Come on in,” Reid moved out of the doorway allowing you to pass by him. You waited in the entry way for Reid to close the door.

“How is he?”

“Uhm— good. Mad that we’re here,” he laughed awkwardly.

You cocked an eyebrow, silently. A few weeks ago, Hotch had gotten caught up in the line of fire. Getting struck in his thigh and stomach. Lucky to not have bled out on the field. The day was a harsh memory that you refused to let go. Making sure to never let anyone else make the same mistakes as him again. Never feeling weaker than seeing him in the hospital bed. The Team had all agreed to take care of Hotch while he was on home rest. Taking shifts throughout the weeks.

You followed behind Reid into the living room.

“What are you doing here?” Hotch gritted through his teeth. Only wearing some loose fitting sweat pants and a tight white t-shirt. A strong contrast from his usual suit and tie. Straining as he attempted to get off the couch by himself. Reid rushed over to him, lifting him by his shoulder. Hotch swatted at the Doctor, attempting to jerk away.

“We’re all taking turns helping you. Guess I’m on Hotch Duty for tonight,” you shrugged your shoulders, giving him a closed mouth smile.

Hotch’s brows furrowed tightly, vein on his neck popping. “I don’t need help. What I need is to get back to work,” Hotch pushed Reid away as he finally got to his feet. Reid threw his hands up in a defensive position still close behind your boss.

“Yeah, it really looks like it,” you rolled your eyes as you folded your arms over your chest.

Hotch shot a chilling look your way, but you were unwavering. “I’m still your superior—“

“And right now I’m your caretaker. I’m sure Reid has been letting you boss him around, but I’m not going to let that happen. No offense, Spence,” you stated. Spencer waved his hand up to let you know he was not offended.

Hotch’s hand gripped the arm of the couch with a bruising strength. Barely able to hold himself up properly. A slight shake to his body. Angry that you, of all people, were talking to him this way. Fighting the way his heart swelled as soon as his eyes laid upon you in his living room today.

You and Hotch had grown close in the last few years. Growing into a mutual unspoken want for one another. Casually flirting when you were alone or not at work. Keeping each other company on extremely late nights at the office. Getting closer than you realistically should, given the field you worked in.

“Reid, you can go,” Hotch did not break eye contact with you.

“A-Are you sure—“

“We’ll be fine, Spence,” you smiled eyes locked in on Hotch’s.

Reid grabbed his bag and headed for the door, “If you guys need anything I’m only a text away.”

“Thank you,” you said still not breaking with Hotch. His deep brown eyes made your heart skip a beat. The wrinkles on his face as he attempted to intimidate made you blush. Not speaking until the door closed behind Reid.

“Are you gonna have an attitude with me all night?” You teased, cheeks beaming with heat. Hotch blew air out of his nose. Skin tightly pinched between his eyebrows. Refusing to speak to you. “Oh, come on. Your favorite boy is gone, you don’t have to keep up the mean-mug,” you walked over closing the space between you. Extending your arm out to him so that he could brace himself to walk.

His jaw clenched. Stubbornness being a strong suit of his. Hesitantly taking your offer of help. “Where are we heading?”

“I need to use the bathroom,” Hotch grumbled.

Slowly, you assisted him to the bathroom tucked away next to his living room. Standing in the doorway as you allowed him to shimmy himself over to the toilet. Not even thinking of what you were doing, until Hotch gave you a strange look.

“Are you wanting to watch?”

Your face flooded. Stammering as you cupped your own cheek. Shaking your head with closed eyes. Smiling awkwardly, “Sorry—“

Hotch had to fight the smile that dared creep across his face. Enjoying how flustered you were. You reached in to pull the door shut. Leaning against the wall directly next to the bathroom. Hands gripping your hair in embarrassment as you replayed the moment over and over. Trying to cool the heat in your cheeks.

Straightening your posture when you heard the door click open. Greeting him with a soft smile and your arm extended. His brows were still pressed together. Lips in a thin line as he hooked his arm around yours. Leading him back into the living room so that he could get comfortable.

The night slipped away. Preparing dinner for your boss as he sat at the counter. Dying to get up. Hating to be taken care of. Denying the comfort he felt with you nestled in his home.

“Hotch, I can hear you bouncing your leg, cut it out,” you did not even look over your shoulder to give him eye contact. He scoffed, the sound of his leg subsiding.

“I know you hate all this. Really I do,” you softly spoke to him as you plated the food, “But all of us just want to see you get better. We want our leader back in his best shape. I want you to relax and let me take care of you.”

Hotch’s eyes watched every move you made. Stalking you like his prey as you brought the plate over to him. Expression unchanging, “How am I supposed to relax? There’s cases and I’ve been away so long already. I can’t stay cooped up here forever.”

“And you won’t. The sooner you take it easy, the sooner you can come back,” you flattened your hand against his shoulder. Hotch’s expression softened with your gesture. Swiftly directing his attention onto the food in front of him. Something about the interaction caused your cheeks to warm up. Unsure what that was about. Walking over to his fridge.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Just water,” Hotch took a bite of food.

“Aw, you don’t wanna crack open a bottle of wine and reveal our darkest secrets to each other?” You teased, looking over your shoulder at him. Seeing his brows pushed together. Lips in a strong, straight line.

“Okay— tough crowd,” you widened your eyes as you closed the fridge. Going to grab a cup out of the cabinet to fill it for him. Walking over and taking the seat beside him. Silently eating dinner together. Guess you did not have much to talk about. And he was clearly in no mood to chit-chat.

“You’re a good cook,” Hotch broke the silence with a compliment.

“You’re telling me Reid didn’t prepare you a four coarse, perfectly diet-balanced meal while he was here?” You teased. Finally, breaking away Hotch’s hard shell. A soft chuckle coming from him. “I’m sure he would’ve had a slideshow to explain it all too,” you grinned.

“He wouldn’t need the slideshow, he could explain it all to me himself,” Hotch joked as he pulled the food from his fork. Feeling comfortable for the first time together. Allowing both your walls down. Sharing in your laughter.

You both finished your dinner. Taking the plates and putting them in the sink. Allowing Hotch to walk on his own to put his away. Standing beside him the entire time. You interlocked arms with him to lead him into the living room. Grunting as he sat down, eyes closing as he rested his head against the back.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I’ll do whatever you need to relax,” you smiled, standing in front of him.

Something about that seeped into his imagination. Feeling his cock jump when an imagine of you kneeled between his legs popped into his mind. With everyone here, he had not had any alone time. Needing to let out some of the things pent up inside him. Your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock—

“No,” Hotch blurted out. Aggression returning to him. Catching you off guard and causing a bit of frustration to bubble up inside you. You scoffed and headed into the kitchen to do the dishes, “Don’t try anything while I’m in there.”

Once you disappeared around the corner, he relaxed again. Clicking mindlessly through the channels on the TV. Trying to distract himself. Looking down at his half-hard cock. Embarrassed that he was thinking of one of his subordinates in the way he was. Still he allowed himself to fantasize.

Imagining how beautiful you would look sat upon his lap. Straddling his waist as you sunk down onto him. Thinking about how you would sound moaning his name when the head would hit somewhere just right inside you. Dying to know how perfectly he would fill you up. He needed something— anything from you.

Allowing his hand to softly touch his aching member. Only making things worse for him. His face contorted as he squinted his eyes shut. Mouth hanging open slightly.

God, he was such a pervert.

Jumping when he heard the water stop in the sink. Footsteps enclosing on the room. In the time you had done the dishes, you had calmed down from Hotch’s outburst. Knowing and rationalizing that he was going through a lot and sometimes he would be more vulnerable than others. Greeting him with a bright smile. Grabbing your bag off the kitchen chair, “Do you mind if I go change?”

“Of course not,” Hotch breathed out.

“I’ll know if you strain while I’m gone,” you smirked.

Hotch grinned back at you. Watching you until you faded away into the bathroom, door clicking behind you. Thank God he had one of the best poker face’s around. Finally allowing himself to breathe.

His erection pressed against the soft fabric of his sweats. Driving him absolutely insane. He pondered if he would have time to rub it out before you got back from changing. Softly playing with himself as he thought. Groaning at the feeling of his fingers trailing his length. Trying to control his breathing as to not make any overtly sexual sounds.

Oh, God, how he needed it. His cock pulsed with pure desire. Something he did not think his hand alone could fill. He felt pathetic. Preparing to ask you what he was going to.

The door creaked open. You came back to see him still in the same spot as before. He looked over his shoulder, eyes widening when he saw you. Wearing a loose fit t-shirt and some sporty shorts. Hair relaxed and quite a bit of skin showing.

“Hope you don’t mind, your house kinda runs hot,” you smiled, suddenly aware of his eyes on your body. Loving the attention he was giving. Blushing as his jaw hung open softly.

There were not many occasions where members of the BAU saw each other outside of work. Normally dressed in business attire, making sure to look extremely respectable and professional. Used to the button-ups and slacks. Not a shirt that perfectly hugged your chest and some shorts that were barely revealed under the length of your top.

As if he wasn’t hard enough already.

You sat on the other end of the couch beside him. Only a small pillow between your bodies. Legs crossing, causing your shorts to hike further up your thighs. Revealing the extra soft spots closer to your core.

“Anything good on?”

Hotch hesitated, “No.”

You widened your eyes at his short answer. Not sure what had gotten him so irritable in the last bit. Not wanting to push him. Choosing to stay quiet as you leaned against the arm of the couch. Watching some old sci-fi movie he had landed on. They were shooting out with some aliens. No telling what over, the movie was half way over by the time Hotch got to it.

The glow of the TV was all that illuminated the room. Flashes of colors dancing across your skin. Silently staring at the flat screen. Thinking about nonsense, just trying to feed your mind.

“Y/N,” Hotch began, hint of a break in his voice. You looked over at him. He had sweat beaming on his forehead. “You… you said earlier that you would help me in whatever way you could?”

You nodded, “Of course, Hotch. I’m here to please.”

His skin tingled. The innocent look behind your eyes pushing him even more on edge. He was silently opening and closing his mouth. Brows netted together as he breathed heavy. Tension so thick in the room neither of you could catch your breath.

“This is so inappropriate,” he softly chuckled to himself, stretching his neck, voice not above a whisper. Feeling your own heartbeat pound out of your chest. Hotch sighed, “I need to cum.”

Your eyes flew harshly open. Lips parting as you attempting to respond to him. Face immediately flushing with arousal as you clinched around nothing. Eyes shooting down to his crotch. Surprised to see the outline of his cock pressing against his pants. Thin, soft material not hiding his length.

“Either you can help me, or I need you to leave the room so I can handle it myself,” Hotch quickly said, desperation on his tone.

“Do you… want… me to-to help?” You shyly questioned.

Hotch smiled with an exhale. Perfect teeth on display for the first time tonight as he closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the couch. Blinking open to lock into you, “Yes.”

Such a simple statement. Causing so much confusion inside you. Of course, you had been flirting back and forth for some time now. And yes the idea of seeing Hotch’s cock, especially how it fit in your hand, had your body tingling.

But what about work?

What would your coworkers say? What would your superiors say? What if this was only for tonight?

You threw caution to the wind. Choosing to have some fun with him, even if you never spoke of this again.

You crawled closer to him on the couch, Hotch’s arm wrapping around your back when you sat on your knees. One of his hands coming up to grip at your t-shirt. Pulling the collar down with his finger and looking down it. Smiling at the sight of your lightly covered breasts. Blushing at how natural his hands felt on you. Leaning in to place your lips on his neck. Breath hitching in his throat at the soft feeling.

“Did you do this with all the other girls?” You asked between kisses, genuine curiosity and a bit of shame taking over your senses.

“Of course not,” Hotch exhaled, “You know it’s only you.”

You kissed up his jugular, resting along his jawline. Hotch’s smile never left his face as you feathered your lips along his skin. Hand running strong fingers up and down your back. Your own hand gently ghosting down his front to rest on his hard cock.

Hotch’s body twitched, causing him a small amount of pain. Wincing as he squinted his eyes. “I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t be,” Hotch’s hand came up to cup your cheek. Pulling you into a passionate kiss. Lightning stimulated your nerves at his taste and feeling. Both of you humming together. Tongue slipping past your lips as it grazed your teeth. Hunger apparent by the way he held onto you. Smiling as you became overwhelmed with emotions.

“What?” Hotch asked, unable to stop himself from returning your expression. Cheeks glowing.

“I just… just wanna know what’s got you all worked up?” pressing your lips back to his as your hand outlines his shaft. Hotch’s throat tightened at your touch. Breathy and clingy.

“I’ve been locked up here, not even a second of alone time, for weeks. And when you have nothing else to do, your mind wanders. And mine kept going to the same place time and time again,” toothy grin taking over his expression as he continuing caressing your face.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, not saying anything back.

“You’re going to tell me you don’t masturbate?” Hotch chuckled, an offensive hint on his tone.

Your face flooded red as you remembered the last time you had. Remembering the image of Hotch’s body above yours, strong arms flexing on either side of your head, hips pumping into yours as he held eye contact.

“I… um— yeah, I do. I have a vibrator in my night stand,” you kissed him again. Loving how his shaft hardened against your touch.

“Hmm,” he hummed against your lips, “Wish you’d brought it with you.”

“Hotch,” you giggled, playful embarrassment in your voice.

“I know you look so pretty when you orgasm,” Hotch smiled between kisses. Your heart thumped in your chest. Overwhelmed in the best way possible. Fingers continuing to lightly rub against his length.

“Probably really pretty with your mouth around my cock too,” Hotch’s hand held onto the back of your head. Keeping your mouth against his.

“God- you are needing aren’t you?” You chuckled into his mouth. The two of you shared in making flirtatious noises. Continuing to latch onto one another’s mouths. Slowly sliding into the floor between his legs. Fluttering your lashes up at him as you leaned forward to play with his waistband.

“Please,” Hotch squinted his eyes closed. Jaw tensed and Adam’s apple bobbing.

Slowly, you helped raise his hips so that you could pull his sweatpants down his legs. Taking your time to make sure he did not have to overwork his body. Mouth watering when you saw the tent pitched in his boxer-briefs. Flattening your hands against his thighs, framing his cock.

Hotch’s hand tethered in your hair, lust blown eyes admiring you below him. Moaning when your lips pressed a kiss against his clothed member. Freeing his cock from its confides. Taking in all the details. Thick and swollen, vein running over the top side as his head leaked. Tongue licking a stripe up the underside.

Hotch rutted forward, moaning loudly as he gripped the couch for stability. Head leaned forward to watch you. Your hand gripped him at the base. Stroking upward with a twist of your wrist. Thumb swiping over the slit to collect the precum. Loving how his velvety skin felt in your palm.

Tender lips kissed along his shaft before sucking on the head.

“Oh my God,” Hotch groaned. Trying his hardest to not move. Not wanting to take away from the pleasure by causing himself pain. His brows upturned and jaw hung open as he watched you go lower onto him.

Stopping when your nose met the soft hair at his base. Gagging around him momentarily. Taste of him overwhelming any other sense you had. Your tongue flattened underneath him as you began to bob. Almost completely coming off him before going down again.

“So good,” Hotch praised breathlessly. Causing your own arousal to pool inside you. Wishing you could crawling into his lap and take his cock inside you. Knowing his body was in no shape for that kind of physical activity.

Having him squirm from your mouth would have to do for now.

Hotch looked so beautiful with his face all flushed and shoulders heaving. Chest rapidly rising and falling as he audibly breathed. Your hand came up to wrap around his base once more, allowing your lips to meet your fingers with each movement. Causing you to move much faster than before.

“Y/N,” Hotch moaned.

Feeling his cock twitch between your lips. His end was nearing. Continuing at the pace you had given him. Sloppy sounds coming from your mouth as your tongue swirled around his length.

“I’m close,” Hotch breathed out. His veins on his neck poking out as he strained back. Sounds of him whimpering and grunting was like music to your ears. Salty taste filling your mouth as he approached his finish. Twisting your wrist and going down further on him. Coaxing him to his end.

Hotch’s hand gripped the back of your hand with strong fingers as he came. Breath hitching in his throat as his jaw hung open. Looking down to watch you swallow the ropes of cum he shot into your mouth. Hand traveling down to caress your cheek when he was done. Thumb rubbing circles into your flushed cheeks.

You caught your breath as you doed your eyes up at him. Smiling as you rested your head into his hand. Licking your lips to get any remnants of him off your face.

Hotch patted the seat beside him. Instructing you to come sit with him once more. You rested your head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your lower back. Grateful lips kissing your head.

Finding a position that was comfortable for you both as you rested your eyes. Engulfed by his body heat and musk. His heartbeat thumped against your ear. The day catching up with you as you relaxed.

“We can go lay in bed,” Hotch softly suggested.

You nodded. Standing to your feet to help him up. Shuffling down the hallway as Hotch limped holding onto you. Walking him over to his large mattress. Hotch smiled up at you, fingers holding onto your hand as you stood in front of him. Looking like a lovesick fool before you. Causing you to blush because it was you that had him looking like that. Smiling wider than you had ever seen him.

“Are you sure… that you want me in here? If you’d rest better, I can go—“

“Don’t even try,” Hotch grinned, pulling your hand to his lips and gently kissing. Tugging you into the bed with him. Landing directly beside him. Giggling as you snuggled under the blanket with him. Hotch’s lips kissed every piece of skin he could. Coating you in his love.

“That was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” Hotch’s lips finally found yours. Smiling with a soft chuckle ending his sentence.

“Glad I could help,” you scrunched your nose up with a smile. His hand caressed your cheek again, dark eyes scanning your entire face. Seeing you this close for one of the first times. Finally taking the time to look at every freckle, blemish, scar, or any other beauty mark you had. Never having had someone look at you the way he was now.

Your eyes were growing heavy. Blinking slowly until a yawn came over you. Rolling over to allow Hotch to hold you from behind. Closing your eyes as the plush of his pillows captured you.

His hand snaked around your front. Causing your chest to tighten when you felt him prying at your shorts. His nose trailed the valley of your neck and shoulder. Fingers going down the front of your panties.

“Aaron…?“

“Let me repay you,” Hotch whispered into your ear.

“You don’t owe me anything,” you sighed when his fingertips swiped over your sensitive bud.

“If I can’t fuck you, let me make you cum around my fingers,” Hotch’s deep voice vibrated into your skin. Fingers finding their way into your soaked folds. Circling them before inserting one. Causing you to arch into him and moan. A hum of approval came from him.

Curling his finger inside you as he massaged your insides. Thumb pressing into your clit. Shooting electricity through your veins. Your hand coming up to tangle in his hair. Locks lacing through your fingers. Your jaw hung open at the feeling of him adding an additional digit. Stretching you perfectly.

“Aaron,” you moaned, Hotch held your hand above your head. Fingers gently interlocking with yours while the air from his lips casted across your skin.

“Go ahead, I want to hear you,” Hotch kissed your shoulder.

You moaned at his words.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he cooed.

That familiar knot was tightening in your lower half. Hotch knew how to use his fingers. Causing your thighs to quiver and body to jolt. Sounds of him breathing filling your ears, sounding intoxicated by you. Never wanting you to leave his side.

You felt your pussy clench around his fingers. Insides growing more and more sensitive when he would hit the spongy spots.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

You nodded aggressively. Whining as you rolled your hips against his fingers. Feeling his semi-hard cock press into your ass. Sweat dripped down your skin. Your heartbeat was in your ears as you felt your orgasm washing over you. Walls fluttering around Hotch’s fingers. Moaning his name like a mantra. Grinding down on his hand as your thighs shook.

Hotch smiled against your skin. Loving how you sounded begging and calling out to him. Wishing he could fuck you senseless. Wanting nothing more than to fill you up.

“I knew you’d look pretty orgasming,” lips kissed your cheek. You breathed heavily, grinning at his cocky voice. Rolling over to press your lips into his. Arms wrapping around his neck. Finally finding yourself the most comfortable you had been yet.

Drifting to sleep in his arms.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate all the love I’ve gotten since writing for Hotch and love seeing everyone reply and comment and everything! As always, my requests are open! I have a Rossi x Reader planned in the next few days that was requested so keep an eye out for that! //

{tags}

@bondwithme-murderstyle ~ @mrs-ssa-hotch ~ @cherriready ~ @khxna ~ @justyourusualash ~ @boybandbaby ~ @hoffmanfan13 ~ @megangovier

[irndad]

hii dollface, would u write smtg abt hotch being jealous?

like he's trying to hide it from making the team notices when he saw some officer flirting with r?

no pressure in writing, lovey. change it however u want or ignore it if u dont feel like writing it (i completely understands u 🤍)

my love this has lived in my brain so relentlessly <3 i hope you love it!!!! thank you for requesting!! wc: 1.7k

It is incredibly easy to like her.

She’s charismatic in a way that’s almost universally appealing, and he’s memorized the shape of her wide grin. She smiles with her whole face, and Aaron hasn’t really spent too much time trying to make people smile. He’s had success in some ways, but when she smiles at him there’s something in his chest that burns in achingly lovely way. 

At first, he had assumed her kindness was a way to win him over. In her first week, she had noticed there was a rip in his tie (which he’s not sure how could even happen) and she’d whipped out a pocket sewing kit, repairing it. 

He tries not to think about the fact that she’s beautiful. She is, though, in spirit and in appearance. He’s an expert in controlled presentation, but to some extent she must know that’s he’s fond of her. 

When they’d first met (which he can still picture in his minds’ eye- her oversized sweater tucked into her tailored pants, the purple lipstick adorning her beautiful smile) he’d tried to keep his distance. It’s easy to romanticize her, and being her friend felt a little impossible when seeing her as more felt so inevitable.

This plan did not go well, and Aaron had officially tossed it when one day, the babysitter for Jack fell through when he was halfway around the world. She’d picked him up from school and tended to him, and Aaron had come home to a blanket fort on his kitchen floor, and a happy little boy who wanted her to come over every day. 

So it's a little hard to ignore how much he adores her. 

She doesn’t normally want to come out to the scene and they usually don’t require it, but they’re going out to a place she spent most of her twenties, and she knew people in the local PD, so Aaron had asked her to come. 

She’d done so without complaint, although he knows she doesn’t sleep well on the jet. No one knows where the nicer pillows and blankets came from, and Aaron would prefer it that way. 

Anyway. 

The bullpen of this department is chaotic and a certain caretaking is living at the edge of Aaron’s consciousness, a protective desire to keep her from the loudness and violence that she’s typically protected from. 

He’s still thinking this, when he hears her voice over the chaotic hum of the department. 

“Oh my god, Logan!”

Her voice is joyful, and when Aaron turns to see who she’s looking at, it’s an agent. He can tell that he’s not a police officer for many reasons- the fact that he’s got a long, shaggy haircut and a 5 o clock shadow and a leather jacket on his shoulders. The local police would be too strict, and he must be some kind of different authority to be allowed to be here.

He hears the stranger call her name back, and they hug. 

It’s a quick thing, but imbued with deep fondness. Aaron’s not sure he’s ever hugged her for more than a second- just a congratulations when his commendation came in. She’d smelled like roses. 

Now, she’s hugging Logan. 

“Hotch,” she says, a smile still in her voice, “This is Logan! We went to graduate school together. He’s brilliant, I can’t believe he’s down here.”

Her voice is seeped in admiration, and Aaron feels an ugly amount of what can only be described as jealousy. 

“Great to meet you. You’re the unit chief, yeah?”

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he offers the man a curt nod, “Have you met the team?”

He goes through the motions of introducing him to the team- he greets Reid with a warm smile and tells him that he’s read his papers. Logan compliments Emily’s shirt, and Morgan’s watch. 

He’s incredibly charismatic.

Is Aaron charismatic? He doesn’t think so. His team, who probably adore him as much as anyone could, still note that he can be harsh, prickly. He never smiles, he knows. He lacks expressiveness. Logan is all fluid movement and easy conversation, and when he takes the jacket off, Aaron sees a great deal of tattoos on his forearm, his sweater sleeves slid up. 

He’d smile for her. 

What should be a good thing, but hurts- Logan is an excellent consultant profiler. He’s thoughtful and helpful and she has an easy rapport with him. Aaron- he’s so bad at talking to women. 

She makes Aaron feel like he’s good at it though. When they drive together, the conversation is easy and feels nice. It’s like sunbathing, basking in the light of her attention and intention. 

With the help of the man that Aaron has decided he hates, the case is finished up quickly. 

He can’t shake the thought they’ve probably dated. It’s not his business- this crush, although this word feels inadequate for the intensity of the way she makes him feel. It’s a private thing he’s never going to act on- he’s older and her superior, and besides- 9 stab wounds and a lifetime worth of issues is a million times less appealing than someone like Logan. Young, exuberant probably not too afraid to ask for what he wants.

“Drink tonight?” Logan asks the team, and a chorus of yes’s and please’s echo through the emptying bullpen. 

“Raincheck,” she says to Logan, “I’ll see you next time I’m in town, yeah?” She beams at him, hugging him in a quick-but-too-long-for-Aaron’s-taste motion, and the string in Aaron’s chest that feels like it’s been pulled all week threatens to pull him under.

After everyone files out, she offers to help him fill out paperwork in his office. It’s just like her, so kind and sweet. Spending her free time filling out reports to make his workload go easier.

About a half hour of amenable silence passes, before Aaron chooses to speak.

“So, you and Logan.”

“He’s great, right?”

Regrettably, Aaron agrees.

“He seems very kind.”

“Yeah, he and his fiancee are really fun. They travel all over, kite-board and do tons of adventure stuff, he’s pretty awesome.”

A moment passes.

It’s like a balloon losing air, the feeling of relief taking the place of panic.

“I thought you two were romantically involved.” He doesn’t know how to verbalize things casually. If he lets it up, he might do something dangerous like tell her that he wants to be someone who romances her, wants to be the person who kisses her after dates and holds an umbrella over her head when she’s caught in the rain. He wants to be what she comes homes to, and it’s a confession living in the back of his throat, threatening to escape at every moment. 

She sucks in a harsh breath, and he wonders if it’s a misstep to have told her- it’s not a confession, really. It sounds like one though- why would he care? What makes it his business?

“Not that that’s relevant to me,” he stammers, “You’re free to engage with whoever you’d like-“

“I know, Hotch.” She doesn’t grace him with his first name, but her voice is fond and warm, her doe eyes meeting his. He likes it, he decides. 

“I’m not seeing him,” she continues, her body shifting to face him, “I think he’s a little…casual for me.”

He thinks of Logan’s leather jacket and unshaven face, rugged appearance and compares it to how he presents himself- clean cut and sharp lines, his suits tailed to fit him like a glove. 

“You prefer something a little more…dignified?” He hears himself say with more confidence then he feels- her implication is clear, but he wonders if he’s mishearing it. 

She tips her head back and he hears her lovely laugh ring through the air like something sacred, and he waits to hear her response. 

“I don’t know, I just know that I’ve been liking this guy for a while,” she muses, looking down at her fingernails, “But he hasn’t seemed to pick up on any of my hints.”

On one of his braver days, he’d told her that he liked that purple lipstick. He hasn’t seen her without it since. She’d always been so kind to everyone that it was hard to notice when her treatment towards him was special, but he thinks it might be. How quick she offers to help with Jack- gives away a Saturday evening to spend with him, even though she sees too much of his face at work.

Her friend from grad school offered to get drinks, and she’s here, telling him what she looks for in a guy.

He tries to be logical about the whole thing, but it’s a bit hard- she’s funny and warm and Aaron loves being around her- loves her company enough to maybe ask for more of it. 

“If this ‘guy’ did like you,” he murmurs, intentionally not meeting her gaze, the precision of which is boring a hole into the side of his head, “How would he go about that?”

He’s not sure what the point of being coy is now, but he can’t seem to stop. He does look down to her and meet her eyes. 

“I think I’d probably corner him,” she says breathlessly. They’re quite close together, now. He wonders if she likes his aftershave. She tugs a hundred through her hair, a nervous but incredibly attractive gesture, “Y’know, if everyone we worked with went to get drinks, and it was just us. If he was amenable to that.”

“If he was amenable to that.”

A rush of emotion licks up his spine- it’s fun, flirting with her. The creep of warmth on her cheek, how her fingers are brushing hers. 

“I think he might be.”

Purple lipstick, rose perfume mixing with the scent of expensive aftershave- he thinks he might be able to kiss her, now. He’s never been good at knowing when to take the jump, but this is something he can do. He can let her know that he wants it. 

She reads him well enough, it turns out, and she kisses him. It’s a surprise and he is so rusty at this and yet- his hand stand on the small of her back, pulling her in and he can feel her lovely smile against him. She’s warm and joyful and she’d kissed him, and all he could do was lean in-

“I think he might be too.” She says, significantly less color on her lips, and more on his, he imagines.

She doesn’t have to wonder, though. When Aaron kisses her again, he decides- he will make her incredibly certain of his affections. 

[pathologicalreid]

𖤓 margotober masterlist 𖤓

in an act of insurmountable indecisiveness, i couldn't choose between flufftober, angstober, and kinktober. naturally, the only solution was to find a way to participate in all three. previews will be posted a week at a time because my indecisiveness extends to my inability to choose what fics to post.

fluff 𖤓 angst 𖤓 smut

october 1st - caretaker

↳ in which you take care of your fiercely independent boyfriend after he gets shot in the knee

october 2nd - always, i'll wait

↳ in which Spencer dedicates himself to pulling you out of your depressive state

october 3rd - wake me from this dream

↳ in which you've been struggling to come to terms with the kiss between Spencer and Cat, and you've finally reached your breaking point

october 4th - with your hands tied

↳ in which you and Spencer continue your kink education, with a hands off approach

october 6th - the build up

↳ in which you and Spencer spend an entire day just waiting to make it to the hotel room

october 7th - what to expect

↳ in which you find yourself frustrated at the end of your pregnancy, and Spencer talks you off a ledge

october 8th - kryptonite

↳ in which all roads lead to Spencer's apartment, at least they do for jareau!reader

october 9th - don't get dark

↳ in which you disclose an attack to Spencer, and he assures you he's not going anywhere

october 10th - cocoon

↳ in which your life is put in danger during an otherwise routine case, and you haven't even told Spencer about the baby

october 11th - diphenhydramine

↳ in which reader has a hard time getting to sleep at night, leading to Spencer's step by step instruction of which hormones help you fall asleep

october 12th - all we ever do is talk

↳ in which Spencer and wife!reader fear they're getting boring, so the BAU sets them up with a hotel suite for Spencer's birthday

october 14th - sanctuary

↳ in which hotchner!reader reunites with the BAU after her time in WITSEC

october 15th - pyrophoric

↳ in which Spencer seeks the help of a chemist to help with his research into white phosphorous

october 16th - wavelength

↳ in which your son ends up in the hospital on one of the BAUs busiest nights of the year

october 17th - heart to heart

↳ in which hotchner!reader is set to have heart surgery, and Spencer can't help but be concerned for her

october 18th - love song for lady earth

↳ in which reader has her first experience with munch!spencer

october 19th - home run

↳ in which Spencer and jareau!reader finally get the opportunity to take the next step in their relationship

october 21st - ode to a conversation stuck in your throat

↳ in which Spencer tries to talk you out of taking a job across the country

october 22nd - here with me

↳ four times Spencer feels out of place in your house after being released from prison, and one time it's like he never left

october 23rd - burn notice

↳ in which your workplace is targeted by a group of extremists, and Spencer tries everything to keep you safe

october 24th - lock and key

↳ in which an act of violence - and subsequent serious injury - brings the truth to the surface and initiates a change

october 25th - in an arrow heart

↳ in which Spencer finds himself distracted by you during an otherwise routine outing to O'Keefe's

october 26th - come a little closer

↳ in which you and Spencer have sex for the first time since his release from prison, and more importantly, since Cat told him what happened in Mexico

october 28th - little duck

↳ in which Spencer is too excited about his first Halloween as a dad to remember he's supposed to be celebrating his birthday

october 29th - missed calls

↳ in which Spencer answers Hotch's daughter's phone when he calls to check in after a case

october 30th - prisoner

↳ in which you and Spencer conduct a custodial interview with a death row inmate - Spencer's first since he was released

october 31st - hysteria

↳ in which the BAU is called into a case in rural Appalachia when bodies start showing up in an abandoned insane asylum

[ddejavvu]

I don't know if you're taking requests right now so if you aren't just ignore this, BUT if you are...

Imagine Hotch getting a call from babysitter reader where Jack is in the ER cause he sprained his ankle and, obviously Aaron is a little upset and worried. But when he gets to the ER he sees that reader is an absolute wreck of tears and snot and she rambling on and on about how sorry she is and how she never meant to let Jack get hurt. And Aaron's looking at her like 'omg she's so adorable when she's a mess'. So he calms her down and they go to Jack and Aaron sees that Jack isn't even crying he's just sitting in the bed with a lollipop and a wrap on his ankle. And now Hotch is trying not to laugh at reader for so ridiculously overreacting.

And you can finish it. I know it's a long ask but it's been in my head for a while and it would be such a pleasure and honor for you to make the drabble come true. 😘 love YOU and all your work!!!!!

Aaron's been repeating the phrase sprained ankle in his head over and over since he'd gotten the call from the hospital, but now he's wondering if Jack has since been crushed by some wayward hospital machinery when he spots you hunched over in the waiting room, sobbing into your hands. Your shoulders are shaking and Aaron gravitates towards you rather than the door behind you, letting his shoes click audibly against the linoleum flooring to alert you of his presence.

"Y/N," He calls, and your head shoots out of your hands, your legs trembling as you stand to greet him. You're a wreck, eyes puffy and red and nose dripping obscenely despite the tissues in your hands.

"Mr. Hotchner, I'm so sorry," You gush, and he doesn't hesitate to take you into his arms, voice soothing as he shushes you, "I- I swear I was watching him, but he wanted- he wanted me to wait at the other end of the slide, so when he fell I wasn't close enough to catch him, and he- he- I'm so sorry!"

"I know," He hums, "It's alright. It's not your fault, he's a kid. He gets scrapes and bruises all the time. Where is he?"

"In there," You gladly accept his embrace, even if you don't particularly feel deserving of it, and you jerk your thumb towards the door behind you, "I'm not family, so they won't let me in. They need you to sign paperwork."

Aaron's mouth twists down in a displeased frown, and he makes a mental note to ensure you're on file as one of Jack's emergency contact. Jessica is the only person besides himself that he's added, but in case of any future incidents, he wants you to be able to stay with Jack.

"Come with me," He only withdraws one arm from around your shoulders, keeping the other draped across your shivering frame to keep you steady, "Let's go see him, honey. It's okay, I'm not upset with you, okay? It's not your fault."

"But- but I should have-" You press, but Aaron cuts off your babbling before you can whip yourself up into another tearful frenzy.

"Did you push him?"

You rear back, aghast, "No!" and Aaron has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling at the indignation in your eyes. For you to love his son so fiercely as to be offended by such a notion only reinforces his confidence in you as a caretaker.

"Well then, it's not your fault. He almost got a concussion on my watch, you know."

You swallow a sob, composing yourself as he walks through the doorway, pointedly dragging you along with him despite the nurse's suspicious look.

"Really?" You ask, and Aaron nods.

"I was making dinner, and I called him in from the living room. But I'd left my computer charging on the desk, and the cord was on the carpet, and he tripped over it and smacked his head against the wood floor."

You wince at the story, and Aaron internally does the same, remembering the sickening crack of his son's head against the flooring, "It was scary. And that was my fault, I left the cord out."

"But you didn't mean for him to trip over it," You muse, letting Aaron guide you through the hallway towards the room that the nurse had directed him to over the phone, "It wasn't your fault."

"And neither was this," Aaron concludes, stopping in front of door 208, "Ready?"

Your shoulders sag at his artful storytelling skills, and you nod, wiping your hands once more over your eyes. It doesn't do much for your runny nose, and Aaron takes his pocket square from his suit, holding the back of your neck and persisting even when you try to squirm away.

"Aaron- no!" You protest, trying to dodge his grip to no avail. Your words are muffled as he smears the fabric under your nose, "You'll ruin the material!"

"Jack gets macaroni and cheese fingerprints on my suits all the time," Aaron grumbles, his grip firm and tight on the back of your neck, "It's nothing my dry cleaners can't fix."

When he's satisfied that you're as cleaned up as you can manage, he tucks the square back into his pocket, unphased by the grimace you shoot him. The echo of his hand on the back of your neck is still present as he knocks on the door, and he's pleasantly surprised when Jack himself opens the door, his ankle wrapped with a bandage.

"Hi, Daddy!" He grins at Aaron, lips stained red with the remnants of a cherry sucker, "Hi Y/N! You look sad."

"I am sad," You supply feebly, eyeing his ankle warily, "Are you okay, buddy?"

"Mhm!" Jack nods, letting his dad push the door open and guide you inside the room, "The doctor says I can still walk on it, I just hav'ta rest a lot."

The doctor, perched on a stool inside the room, nods with a fond smile at Jack, "That's right. He needs to walk on it for it to recover, but he shouldn't overextend himself. thirty minutes to an hour of exercise each day should do the trick."

"Thank you, doctor." Aaron nods, "Is he free to go?"

"Yes, if you'll just sign these." The doctor pushes forth a modest stack of paperwork, maybe ten pages that Aaron hopes are mainly spots for signatures, "I need to attend to my next patient, so I'll send my nurse in to collect those in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Aaron nods, and you bid the doctor the same thanks as he takes his leave, lingering by the doorway until Jack takes your hand.

"The doctor said to give you this," Jack digs into the pocket of his plaid shorts, pulling out a green lollipop, "He said he saw you crying in the waiting room. Were you crying in the waiting room?"

"I was," You try to smile, but Aaron can tell with only a quick glance at you that you're fighting back tears again, "I was worried about you, Jack. It's okay, you can have the lollipop."

"No, it's for you." Jack insists, and Aaron watches your trembling lips pull into a smile as Jack pushes you over to a chair against the wall, herding you into the seat. You let him direct you into the middle seat, but he bypasses the seats on either side of you to climb right into your lap.

"Here," His tiny fingers pry at the plastic wrapping of the sucker, "I can open it for you."

Aaron doesn't have to look up again from the paperwork he's signing to know there's fondness written all over your face, he can hear it in your shaky, 'Thanks, buddy'. He knows it's there because he can feel the same thing in his own chest, and he doesn't bother trying to keep it off of his face as it flowers equally abundant for both you and his son.

[unlosts]

Late Spring

Summary: In an Italian restaurant somewhere in Nebraska you and the BAU decompress after non stop cases. And like a magic trick SSA Aaron Hotchner goes back to being Aaron

Word count: 1.8k

After a serial arsonist in North Hempstead, New York; a serial killer in Chandler, Arizona and an amber alert taking you to Lincoln, Nebraska back to back the entire team was running on fumes. Actually fumes were what you were running after the second week, right now it was just coffee and the thought of eventually getting to sleep in your own beds.

It’s not easy being in close quarters with the same group of people for so long, especially when you’ve had to share bedrooms for most of it. First a week with JJ, then three days with Emily and even one night with Spence after both Derek and Rossi refused to bunk with him citing intense sleep talking - which was, in fact, confirmed by you.

Eventually all the rooms started to blur together in your head, from the ugly pink explosion that was the bed and breakfast (which by the way had none), to the motel 6 in Nebraska that seemed straight out of a horror story, complete with an extremely creepy caretaker. Or future unsub Mike as Emily dubbed him.

Tonight was the last night before you could get home and you guys were celebrating big time, which at your current combined energy level meant an actual sit down meal where you didn’t have to look at a dismembered torso while trying to keep down some soggy fries and an under cooked burger.

You all ate in relative silence, brains too fried to talk about anything anymore, the rundown “italian” restaurant - yes Italian in air quotes just like Rossi insisted on doing every time he mentioned the place. The buzzing of the fluorescent light and the scraping of cutlery against plates being the only backdrop to your collective exhaustion.

The only good thing to come out of it was the fact that, finally, after close to three weeks Hotch could ditch the BAU Unit Chief SSA Hotchner and for once just be Aaron. And oh how you missed Aaron.

Despite having spent the better part of each day right next to him it felt like the chasm between you was larger than ever. It was what you had both agreed to; at work pretend like he’s just your unit chief and you’re just the media liaison. No room sharing, no public displays of affection.

Sometimes the affection bleed through the contours of professionalism he insisted on keeping well defined. Something as simple as him pressing his big palm in the middle of your back right between your shoulder blades as you spoke to him; heads a smidge closer together than strictly necessary.

Right now, though, he was just Aaron. Your Aaron. Sitting right next to you, chairs pushed together. Shirt sleeves rolled over his forearms, tie discarded in the hotel room along with his jacket and the last vestiges of whatever sense of professionalism he was still clinging to. His arm around the back of your chair as you leaned into it, head tilted back looking at him as he drank a beer.

He looks back at you and gives you a brief smile, the fondness in his eyes lingering, leg nudging yours underneath the table.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” He says. “Me? Are you kidding?” You yawned “Send us off to the next case I’m ready” Although it wasn’t the cold the sleepiness was making the air conditioned room feel ten times colder so you shivered and took the liberty to lean even closer to him. His hand went to rub your arm trying to warm you back up.

“Do not” Derek chimed in “even joke about that, pretty boy said the same thing after Lincoln and look at us now”

“Yeah, look at us now, in Lincoln” Said Emily with a straight face before drowning the remainder of her beer and snatching JJs before she could realize what had happened.

“I’m too tired for this, you know what I meant.”

“mhhh, sooryy” You replied, not looking very sorry as you closed your eyes and rested your head on the crook of Aarons neck. Breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne and him, more present than ever after day three in the Nebraska summer. His hand is still trailing a path up and down your side, wrinkling your already very wrinkled green shirt and lulling you to sleep.

You felt Aarons lips nudge your temple talking to your in low gentle tones, his breath tickling the baby hairs in your forehead “Do no fall asleep on me or I’ll have to carry you back to the hotel”

“And you’re afraid that if people saw I would lose all of my hard earned Lincoln Nebraska street cred?”

He huffed a laugh before planting a whisper of a kiss on your temple “No, I’m afraid I’m going to throw my back and then you’ll be stuck taking care of me for two weeks”

“If it gets you to rest for two entire weeks I might just consider it”

“Jack would probably help”

“It’s good that you know us so well, and besides I saw you yesterday you still got it” You smiled against his neck remembering the brief but very interesting fight against the unsub before he could be apprehended. “Remind me to ask Penny if she has a copy of the surveillance tape, I’m planning on making the showing it at your birthday dinner next year”

“Look forward to it”

Suddenly you felt a small object hit your chest, looking down to see a crumpled napkin on your lap.

“Can you please get a room? This is the first decent meal I’ve had in weeks and I would hate to throw it back up” Said Emily with a mocking smile, her pearly white teeth contrasting with her faded, barely there plum lipstick.

“I’ve been trying to find a room for days now but none of you know how to cooperate” You reply with a huff.

“Saying please repeatedly until I tell you to shut up is not a good persuasion strategy” Said JJ frowning after getting her beer back from Emily and realizing it was almost empty.

“I don’t see why not, it’s never failed before” You said with a smug smile.

“Besides if we suffer, you suffer” Derek interjects.

“Aww just like a real family”

After a couple of minutes Spencer piped up next to Derek “I would have traded rooms with you”

“Don’t encourage her” Said JJ in her patented and perfected disgruntled mom voice

“I’m going to keep this in mind next time you ask us to babysit Henry so you can have alone time, Jareau”

“Okay, okay” Emily interrupted “Let’s all change subjects, the last thing I want is to talk more about Hotch’s sex life; no offense but in order for this to work I have to think of you like a Ken Doll”

You let out a startled laugh, properly awake now “oh I can assure you my friend-”

“Okay, that’s enough” Said Hotch trying to invoke his authoritative former prosecutor, current FBI unit chief voice. Which was, of course, completely useless when he was blushing so hard.

You just laughed once more, leaning over to briefly kiss his cheek in apology as your friends heckled you both.

What was meant to be a quick dinner before hitting the hay, although in this case the hay was actually a very thin and lumpy hotel mattress, turned into a couple more beers. And yes there were times this week when going to sleep and waking up to Emily's snoring face made you want to quit and move to the seaside but there was truly no other group of people that could make an “Italian” dinner this fun.

Afterwards you all headed you, the brief rise in energy quickly waning at the prospect of more than five hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Aaron held you back towards the rear of the group, his arm around you possibly the only thing keeping you upright. The dusk settling over the skyline painted the city pink and gold, you looked back at him standing next to each other on the sidewalk. His eyes a syrupy sweet caramel brown in the golden hour.

“Apparently there’s an ice cream place a couple of blocks from here, it’s supposed to be very good actually” He said looking down for a minute. It took you back to your first date, him asking to take you to a jazz bar which was more so Dave's plan than his, only to end up at a taco truck talking until three am. It amazed you then just as it did now how he could go from stern FBI agent, commanding a room without raising his voice to, well, Aaron.

You smiled up at him, the others long gone leaving you two enveloped in the last rays of sunlight.

“I’d love to, you might actually have to carry me back though, I don’t think this second wind is gonna carry me more than an hour”

“That’s alright, I heard that if I throw my back I get a couple of weeks”

“Whoever told you that was so smart”

“And beautiful”

“Can’t forget that part”

“Well I might not be able to swing two whole weeks but I did arrange to have three days off for everyone” Aaron said, hands in his pocket walking by leisurely next to you as passersby carved a path around you both, a hurried businessman bumping into your back made Hotch pull you closer still, once more enveloping your back.

“Are you serious?” At his assenting nod you couldn't help but smile “and you kept that all to yourself?”

“Mhm”

“Anything else up your sleeve Hotchner?”

“Aaron”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve heard the name Hotch so often these last couple of weeks I almost forgot what my actual name sounded like” He said with a small smile, but you also knew by the way he melted when you said it that he was particularly fond of how it sounded coming out of your mouth.

“Okay, anything else up your sleeve, Aaron?” You asked fondly, unable to resist any longer and stealing a quick kiss before resuming your walk.

“No, nothing else”

“Okay”

“Oh I did convince Dave to share a room with Derek tonight which would indicate that I’m on my own tonight”

“No way, did I miss an anniversary or something?” You asked looking up at him

“No, I just missed you lately”

“Me too but no one else would budge on the room thing, how did you do it?”

“It only cost me forty bucks and promising to take over both Morgans and Rossi's reports for the last case”

“Ah bribery, should have done that sooner”

“You can’t blame yourself honey, I was a prosecutor after all”

You laughed once more, giddiness dispersing your exhaustion, making you feel like you could stay up until next morning, without trouble.

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, the ice cream shop just right around the corner, you drew him towards you, leaning up to kiss him slowly and unhurried. Savoring the feeling of coming home after three weeks and not being able to wait a moment more.

[kiwriteswords]

please write about the parentification of aaron hotchner im on my knees begging

HAPPILY. GLADLY. Apologies in ADVANCE for this wild breakdown!!

According to the NIH, Parentification—also known as adultification, spousification, child carers, or role reversal—occurs when youth are forced to assume developmentally inappropriate parent- or adult-like roles and responsibilities.

Background on Hotch that we know or can assume from his very vague explanations of his upbringing: 

His father was abusive (source: “…some grow up to catch them…”)

His father had affairs that everyone knew about, even his Mother, but nobody said anything. Hotch confronted his father about the affairs and followed him. (source: “...lust can be lethal….”)

Hotch’s father died when he was a teenager from lung cancer or a heart attack (source: …s1 vs s2)

Hotch started fighting his father back (source: “...did he start fighting back…”) 

Hotch felt pressured to follow in his father’s footsteps despite clearly not liking the man (source: …s1 convo with Sean)

Hotch felt pressured, even subconsciously, to always guide Sean in the right direction and pushed him more than a sibling should (source: s1 convo with Sean)

Hotch married his high school sweetheart (even though the timeline on this is a little wonky) 

Hotch has a son whom he very much pressures himself to be different from and carries an immense amount of verbalized and insinuated guilt with

Things that, in my mind, point to parentification being the base of Hotch’s caretaking skills and central personality (without trying to come off as too word vomit-y because as someone who has been treated for parentification and studied this deeply…IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME TO SEE HOTCH): 

Despite knowing he can’t catch them all…he still has the mentality going into each case like he will, and we’ve seen him get overwhelmed by that when he fails. Oftentimes, a parentified person will feel the extreme need to be a peacekeeper. In Hotch’s case, we see him get extremely involved, oftentimes emotionally, when children or father/child scenarios are at the basis of a case. He feels the weight of this responsibility without maybe realizing it consciously. 

Parentified children are given responsibilities that are not age-appropriate. Hotch knowing his father, who he probably already had distaste for, was cheating on his mother, is not a weight he should have had to carry. His father was not only careless enough to have an affair and disrespect Hotch’s mother, but to go about it in a way that everyone knew about it and likely caused a young Hotch shame, embarrassment, and the need to figure out the truth--which he did. 

Piecing the puzzle together, Hotch’s father died when he was a teenager. Given that maybe he was away at boarding school when this happened, he likely felt responsibility for not being there or the need to step up. Being his father was sick, and unclear of how long he was sick, Hotch may have also had to step up in different ways for his family, like financial support before or after his death. 

Hotch and Sean did not have much of a relationship growing up, according to Hotch, but I don’t truly trust him as a narrator based on Sean’s interactions with him. It’s likely they never had much of a brotherly relationship from the beginning, given the family dynamics and age-gap, but I could see Hotch feeling the immense need to guide Sean post-his father’s death. 

Despite not caring for his father, he still wanted to be like him. Following in his footsteps to be a lawyer and wanted Sean to as well. He wanted nothing more than to be accepted by his father at the end of the day, something parentified children have to learn will never happen. 

Parentified children often feel like their families will not make it without them, an immense weight on their shoulders. We see this both through his relationship fighting to guide Sean, but somewhat at times with his relationship with Haley/Jack. 

Seeing and experiencing abuse from his father and witnessing it to his mother, when Hotch meets Haley, he likely (not saying love was not there!!) at a young age, saw the opportunity to re-write and have the perfect family. This notion of perfection and wanting things to be perfect with Haley always kind of corners him and sets him up for extreme failure. Parentified children oftentimes become perfectionists and suffer from things like OCD (not saying Hotch does), but we do see his attention to detail and how stressed he can get about these things. 

This is the kicker, too; I think oftentimes, there was a polarizing force of having this “perfect” family he never got and being the “best/better” dad than he had, and his need to still PLEASE his father or live up to those dreams of being a hard worker and following in “justice” footsteps. So much so that it leads to his divorcefromh Haley, which KILLS him. It reads all over his face the failure he feels as a husband and as a father. We even hear him with Rossi get defensive, saying how much he tried. He tried too hard, and unfortunately, you can’t be both--the best agent and the best father. You shouldn’t have to be both!

Most parentified children have trouble taking care of themselves and often neglect their own needs. The man is internally bleeding for who knows how long (which having witnessed first-hand the effects of someone who was internally bleeding…there are SIGNS). He ignored symptoms and likely did not get regular testing to follow up and be sure he was okay. He wasn’t cleared to fly after his ear incident, yet did so anyways. So many things. He puts himself below the last priority on his list. 

And lastly, parentified children are oftentimes chronic people pleasers. He takes on so much at work, absorbing so many other responsibilities to make things happen and not disrupt the peace of his team, that he works himself into the ground day in and day out.

ANYWAYS. This topic, I could go on forever and bring up legit case-by-case where his wounded child comes into play because for all 12 seasons he’s involved in, it comes up. Whether that was conscious or not, I don’t know…but from one parentified child to another--I FEEL SEEN BY THAT MAN.  

[hardlyinteresting]

Warm feelings

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Send Requests

More domestic thoughts about being warm and cozy

"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives" -C.S. Lewis

Jackets

He always reminds you to take a coat with you on the way out the door, and you always insist that you'll be fine without one. He'll tell you it's his biggest pet peeve, you refusing to wear a coat and then shivering in the cold. He never fails to drape his jacket over your shoulders at the first sign of goosebumps.

Hotch is a traditional kind of guy and he's the type of guy who suggests you take a stroll after a fancy dinner. He's just not ready for the night to come to an end. You're all dolled up, and a little tipsy from the wine you had at dinner. You agree easily, holding his hand and tucking yourself close to his side. It's colder than when you left the house, he'll grant you that. “Cold?” He asks as concerned as he is amused. And you just have to bat your lashes at him and he's slipping off his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders. It smells like his cologne and is warm from his body heat. It's an easy way for him to say ‘I love you’.

Sweaters

Hotch absolutely has his old university and FBI academy crewneck sweatshirts. Softened and faded by time; worn and washed to the point of having frayed cuffs and collars. Aaron strikes me as the if it's not broke, don't throw it out kind of guy. He likes those sweaters. They're warm and comfortable. He knows they fit, and are easy to wash; he sees no reason to replace them. More than that Aaron has a definite nostalgic streak. As much as he acts like he's detached and indifferent to anything remotely sentimental, at home he almost overcompensates, holding on to every happy moment and memory he can. Case in point, his high school yearbooks, and the pirate hat. (You cannot convince me that he doesn't keep some kind of memory box with Jack's paintings; tickets from plays; his acceptance letter from college; and birthday and anniversary cards that you've taken such care to write such heartfelt messages in). He has fond memories of his law school and academy days; he wants to keep them close. At first, you think he might be upset that you're wearing them around the house but he would actually be thrilled. It's a collision of some of his favourite things and it's a specific domestic sight to come home to. He's a caretaker by nature and it thrills him that he can manage to keep you warm and cozy every when he has to be away. You can borrow his sweaters anytime.

Body heat

The man radiates heat. Just standing next to him is enough to feel warmer. He has a knack for knowing exactly how many layers he needs to put on to stay warm, while you struggle to decide whether or not you should also put on a scarf. He does everything with such a specific level of confidence, even the way he prepares for the day is borderline awe-inspiring.

He gets so few days off that he is unwilling to let the late autumn cold interrupt his time with Jack. When the three of you head to the park, Jack insists on shedding layers, his hat and mitten coming off first, he’s warm enough running around (Aaron doesn’t let the boy take his coat off completely but they compromise and he’s allowed to keep playing with his jacket unzipped). Despite checking the forecast several times, and bundling up, the cold still gets to you. And Aaron looks so cozy in his sweater and his coat. He’s the picture of a cozy winter boyfriend with his leather gloves, and scarf. Like his son his coat hangs unzipped on his frame, and it's the perfect opportunity for you to snuggle in, arms wrapping around his torso under the warm layer of his jacket, your cold nose pressed against his chest. “Cold?” he asks with a hint of a smile. You can only tilt your head up at him to pout back. He slips his gloves off to cup your face, his hands toasty warm against your ice-cold skin. Your face warms and your heart melts when he lays a kiss on your forehead. “Hey Jack,” Aaron calls, “What would you say to getting some hot chocolate?” Jack comes running.

[mcondance]

hotch does not have a daddy kink god bless

dominant or character who is in charge ≠ daddy kink. it’s surface level character analysis honestly. if you factor in hotch’s feelings about his job vs his personal life and the separation he seeks to keep between them, then it only makes sense that he would actually not want a title used in place of his name.

all day, every day, he is ssa hotchner, agent hotchner, agent, hotch. thinking about that, and his want to keep the BAU and his personal life as two separate entities, why would he want to come home and be greeted with authority? would he not want to be seen as aaron, the boyfriend or husband, the lover?

he does have an inclination to be a caretaker and he does love a power exchange but it does not exceed the bounds of him, as aaron, being the one in the higher position of power. he wants to hear his name when he’s making you feel good. not anything else.

[syscultureis]

Plural Culture is thinking "if I just dump my clothes onto the floor, I can just pick from the pile any time I need new clothes and then I never have to actually put them away"

And hearing your external caretaker literally scream from the innerworld

I'm so sorry Hotch, the pile is still there and I still need to put my clothes away

[criminal-mids]

#23 - The Magician

Prompt: Under a Spell

Sickie: Prentiss

Caretaker: Reid

Word Count: 2,373

(A/N: Disclaimer: I have no knowledge of planes, farming, or magic.)

The previous day’s incursion had been successful, but not everyone had come out unscathed. Emily's wrist and fingers ache, numb from the painkillers, but somehow stinging all the same. The unsub, Roger Morrow’s, chosen weapons were chains. The monster of a man grew up in a travelling circus, one of those outdated freak shows, and he worked the long metal links like extensions of his body, and he’d pulled them tight around her. If she hadn't thrown her arms out, the metal would’ve found a place around her neck. Thankfully she was only the diversion, the soft entry. Hotch, Morgan and the local policemen had quickly subdued Morrow. He may have been huge, but with so many, she and the victims were safe again.

Now all that’s left is the huge bruise, beginning to bloom purple across her forearm. She tugs her sleeve down groaning, but it won’t go completely over the thick brace. Not a break, just a sprain. A miracle, the paramedic had told her. She had to agree as she watched forensics lift the heavy accoutrements of torture into what had to be the biggest evidence bad she’d ever seen in her few years at the B.A.U. But sprains take longer to heal than breaks.

She sighs. With her shooting hand out of commission, she was assigned to stay at the station and work the geographical profile with Reid. It isn’t that she dislikes him, the opposite actually. His sense of humour may be what some consider odd, but after doing this job long enough one’s humour gets warped enough to where some of his jokes are actually rather funny. 

But he’s a genius. Geographical profiles are his thing. And sitting here, watching him flip between case files, sketching red and blue lines on the provided map, muttering so quickly to himself that Emily can barely catch a word, she feels useless. 

What is she doing here? She isn’t helping? Couldn’t she at least be doing something out in the field? Staking out the crime scene in case the unsub returns?

But, she laments, that wouldn’t be much help either. With her hand, she could hardly arrest him. Hotch would never let her out into the field alone with an impairment like this, temporary as it may be.

“ -to Emily”

“Huh?” She looks up, startled.

“I said: Earth to Emily.” Reid waves a sweater-pawed hand gently in front of her face, but she’s still too distracted to smile.

“Oh, uh, yes.”

“You spaced out. And you keep looking at your arm. Is it hurting? You mentioned you took medication right before we left and it’s been almost nine hours. I can grab your medication from your bag if you need it.” Spencer starts to reach across the desk to where Emily’s small cross body sits, but she puts her uninjured hand out to stop him.

“Ah, sorry. I’m fine. Let’s just finish this.”

She shakes her head as she says “Let’s.” 

‘Why’d I say that? It isn’t like I’m doing much or anything.’

Spencer cocks his head, eyes like a curious animal. He looks a little hurt. “Emily, what’s- did I do something to you that I’m unaware of? I can be quiet if you want. But according to several scientific studies and my personal observations, talking things over helps people to arrive at conclusions faster.”

“What?” Now Emily is confused. “Of course, you can talk. I don’t mind at all. Why would I?”

“Oh. You were staring at me, kind of glaring actually.” He looks back down at the map in front of him, embarrassed at the thought that he’s made something out of nothing. He knows he should be used to the glares by now. He knows he’s different. Negative reactions are only natural.

But Emily understands now. “No, I wasn’t mad, not at you anyway. I-” She hesitates. 

‘Should I really be talking about this? We have a case to solve. It’s no big deal . . . but I don’t want Spencer to think I’m mad at him.’ Is how she justifies it, even though she doesn’t need to justify it at all.

“I- I just feel . . . useless. I’m not doing anything. And I heard you tell Morgan that you focus better alone, anyway.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything, but his expression speaks volumes. His brows pull together in confusion, head tilted again as if even with B.A.s in Psychology and Sociology, he can’t comprehend how she could feel that way. The looks make Emily feel warm, and forgiven for a non-existent wrong.

“I mean, I know I’m not useless, but that's my point. I feel like I’m being wasted, by not being in the field. I know why Hotch did it, of course, but I can't help feeling like I should be doing more. I know I could be. I owe it to the Taylors who are probably sitting at home right now, feeling just like me, only they can’t do anything and I can. I signed up for this and it’s frustrating to not be able to do it.”

Reid’s face shifts into understanding. He nods thoughtfully, and says, after a moment, “You’re not useless. I only told Morgan that so he’d stop pacing. It’s like he can never stop moving, not completely anyway, like a giant atom, kind of funny. And most of the time, I function better with some background stimuli, uh, but what I mean is you are doing something. In fact I was just about to ask you what you thought about the unsub being an agricultural pilot.”

“Like a crop duster?”

“Yeah. All the dump sites are fields, which does make sense since there’s nothing much else around, but the sites are so far apart almost any other vehicle would be impractical, so far apart, and with so little vehicle traffic he’s bound to be noticed. Forensics found no tyre tracks at any of the scenes. Think about it, a crop duster could land and take off without too much suspicion.”

“But aren’t most one-seaters?” Emily asks, having to grit her teeth by the end of the sentence. 

‘I think Spencer was right about the medication wearing off.’

“Yes, but not all of them. But I don’t think our unsub is using the seats anyway. He wouldn’t have to. Though the term “crop duster” would suggest, well, dust, many fertilisers today are liquids. Planes designed for aerial fertiliser application have hoppers with a capacity of up to 800 gallons to 4,000 pounds. That’s more than enough for a body, several in fact if the hopper is empty. He simply loads his victims into it, flies to the dump site, lands dumps the body and takes off again.”

“Reid, you are a genius. I’ll have Garcia check registrations and licences in the area, and hangers too.” In her excitement, she forgets her pain, until she fumbles for her phone.

“I’ll do it.” Reid offers, pulling out his own mobile.

“Yeah.” Emily tries to remember his earlier encouragement, but it doesn’t help much. So she just watches Reid instead.

“ . . . If he’s been transporting bodies, he won’t have been able to carry a full load of fertiliser, so look for agricultural pilots who’ve been missing quotas. There will most likely be a history of complaints for other things as well. . . . Yeah, thanks, Garcia.”

—

The team is assembled, giving the refined profile and setting up the bust . . . while Emily sits in the corner.

She watches them gear up to leave when suddenly Reid pulls Hotch aside.

“Hey, um, Hotch. You have more than enough men, and I don’t think I’d be of too much help for this, could I stay behind and get a head start on paperwork? I’ll be right by the phone if you need me, of course, but, you know. Trying to fix my sleep schedule a little. Mom always nags me about the coffee.” His laugh is a little forced.

Hotch glances over at Emily, pressing her eyes closed in discomfort. He’s a prosecutor turned profiler, Reid’s lies are transparent, but it's true. They don’t exactly need him.

“Alright. Set a good example for Morgan, will you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Reid watches rhythm go then gets to work.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. He does want a jump start on paperwork, but first: Emily.

“Does anyone have a deck of cards?”

—

It’s easy to procure what he needs, a standard deck, a sharpie and sticky notes. It’s not much, but he can work a few simple tricks. Last he grabs crips from the vending machine, a paper cut of water, and the bottle of pills from Emily’s bag.

Making his voice as soft as possible he rouses her, “Hey, Emily.”

She isn’t asleep (how could she be with her arm stinging?), but she’s pretty dazed, so she wakes with surprise.

“Oh, Spencer. Hey.”

“I brought you your pills.” He gestures to the extra chair he dragged over.

She sits up at the thought of relief and smiles when she sees what sits on the chair. Her stomach grumbles.

“Here, so you don’t have to take them on an empty stomach.” He hands her the packet of jalapeño crisps.

“Mmm, my favourite. You’re an angel, Spencer.”

He blushes, “Hardly. I’m just observant.”

Emily gives an exhausted eyebrow wiggle. “I’ve noticed.”

They laugh. It’s way too funny for some reason. Maybe it’s the shoddy flickering fluorescent lights of this tiny police station in the middle of East Bumble-fuck that must have been passed over for every budget increase in the last decade. Or maybe it’s the night air coming in through the cracked windows. (The aircon broke months ago, they were told). Or maybe they’re both just loopy from lack of sleep.

When they stop laughing, Emily starts in on her snack or tries to. 

“Argh, stupid wrist.”

“Ah, sorry, Allow me, ma’am,” Spencer says with a sort of half bow because he’s sitting, all dramatically debonair. 

Emily lets him, mostly because she’s tired and hungry and in pain, but also because his charm isn’t false at all. He might not always be put together, but there’s something adorably nerdy about him impossible to ignore.

“Why thank you, sir.”

“Of course.” He bows again, handing it back.

They fall once again into laughter, better this time because Emily is starving and her mouth waters at the smell of the crisps.

-

Emily eats quickly. Securing the packet between her lap and her brace and stuffing crisps in her mouth faster than she would have thought possible with her non-dominant hand.

She swallows the pill easily. Now all she has to do is wait for it to kick in. She lays her head back against the cool wall, closing her eyes. 

‘Ugh, now I’m just in pain and can’t see.’ Sighing, she reopens them. When she does, Spencer is closer than before.

“Wanna see a magic trick?” He offers.

She nods.

“But first, I need this.” 

With a flourish, he unties Emily’s silk scarf from her neck.

Her skin tingles with the sudden absence, feeling the breeze from the open window (or maybe the feeling is just from where his hand had brushed her collar).

The vanishing trick is simple, but no less magical. She giggles. 

‘Oh, that must be the pills kicking in. I haven’t had coffee in a while, they must be making me drowsy.’

For his next trick, he shuffles the deck and fans ten cards face down. “Pick a card, any card!”

She obliges, choosing the one right in the middle. Wondering if she’s playing right into the trick but not caring all that much.

Even though she knew what was coming, she’s no less surprised when the exact card she picked and hadn’t shown him appeared in Spencer’s hand.

—

Several tricks later, Emily is about ready to pass out. 

Spencer glances at the clock. He hadn’t meant to lie to Hotch. He did intend on starting his paperwork, but more time had passed than he realised.

He smiles at Emily’s near-sleeping form. He hates to wake her but . . .

“Hey, Em, I’ve got to at least do a little paperwork and you shouldn’t sleep here, you’ll hurt your neck.”

Emily mumbles something that sounds like “Let me be useless in peace.”

“No, come one. I can’t carry you.”

“Fine.”

Without opening her eyes, she stands, trusting Spencer to guide her. They walk to the bench in the miserable precinct’s waiting area. She’s out nearly as soon as she lays down, barely feeling Spencer place his cardigan under her head.

“‘Night, Emily.”

But he waits until he’s sure she’s comfortable before putting away the cards and sitting down at the small table with his files.

—

Reid is just finishing the write-up of his geographical profile.

“Oh, you’re back. How did it go?” He asks Morgan. 

“We got him without too much resistance.”

“Good.”

“Where’s Emily?”

“Sleeping.” 

Morgan nods, staring in Emily’s direction, but Reid stops him, “Don’t wake her, please.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow but decides not to question it. “We leave as soon as we’re packed.” He informs Reid.

“Yeah.”

-

“Reid, get over here.”

Reid hurries over to Morgan.

“What do you need?”

“Can you wake the bear?” Morgan asks, tone mostly teasing but also slightly wary.

Reid frowns. “She’s not going to attack you, you know. She’s in no condition.”

Morgan shrugs, already walking off. “I gotta help Rossi.”

Reid shakes his head. He walks off as well. But only to gather Emily’s bag.

He kneels to Emily’s level, tucking a stray strand of hair back into place. The motion sends Emily’s eyes fluttering open. She shifts quickly but clumsily up, trying to grab his hand.

 “Hey, easy. It’s just me.” He reassures her, placing her scarf back around her neck.

She rubs it between her fingers, blinking as she calms down, “Oh, Spencer.”

“We’re about to leave. Hotch and JJ are finishing things here and Morgan and Rossi are picking up our stuff. I got your bag.”

“Thanks. I am so ready to be home.”

“Me too.”

“Hey, you two, come on,” Morgan calls.

“Coming,” Spencer shouts back, then turns to Emily, helping her up and hooking an arm around her waist. “Come on, let’s go home.”

(A/N: This turned out way less platonic than I intended, but hey, why not? Also, what is Emily and Spencer’s ship name? I’ve searched but can’t find it. So far I’ve thought of Remily, or Prencer. Lol Also, for anyone wondering, the switches from surname to given name were intentional.)

---

Based on some of the meanings of the Magician tarot card

Manifesting: The ability to make dreams come true 

Healing: The ability to fix or improve something that's broken or not going well 

Tapping into potential: Using one's talents, capabilities, and resources to succeed, especially when there's a need to transform something 

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

I have a caretaker personality so am I attracted to hotch bc I’m a narcissist or bc I want someone to take care of me

also I’m definitely attracted to Spencer because I want to take care of him 💀

[cult-of-the-eye]

Tell me your Criminal Minds thoughts! (please if your still gripped by it) <3

oh boy being gripped by it is an understatement

get ready folks

ok so when i first started it i was hesitant cause like i was coming out of a bad time and i was like i need something new to focus on but i'm not sure if this'll make me feel worse or better but i'd heard good things about it and some stuff about people thirsting over a skinny autistic white guy and then i started it and i was GRIPPED ok i should've known it would join my list of hyperfixations cause i'm such a sucker for found family going through horrific things partly cause they're trying to solve things in their own past and this is pretty much exactly that but more on the angst than fluff side

anyway on to the characters my beloved <33333

Gideon

i am SUCH a slut for this kinda character like renowned kinda eccentric genius forced away from his field after a traumatic event then coming back to that field

and gideon oh man he was so fucking cool i loved that guy

he was literally everyone's dad i just-

the whole elle calling gideon dad storyline made me giggle

i was so sad that he retired but you know what i'm glad cause the poor guy deserved a fucking BREAK

he's just so iconic, like him being spencer's father figure, him screaming bloody murder in that one house to show it was sound proofed or whatever, him telling elle not to call him dad, him sharing the orange with his coworkers, him going beserk over the one child that got kidnapped and literally BUSTING into the kidnapper's house and he's always so gentle with the kids and it's so fucking sweet, him and his little cabin this man deserves so much rest i love him

in my head he is happily fishing in a cabin somewhere

Elle!!!!

I LOVE HER I LOVE HER I FUCKING LOVE HER

she is so fucking underrated man

she's just so COOL and like she's introduced as like this ambitious smart badass FBI agent but she's also so insanely caring about the female victims

like she acknowledges how difficult it is to be a female in that position and also keep sane having seen all that shit happen to the female victims

i really fell i love with her during one of the earlier episodes where she's talking to a rape victim and she sees that she's uncomfortable and takes her away from the men to give her some space and the opportunity to talk to a woman i just

she's so fucking fierce and loving and i would do ANYTHING for her

my girl did NOTHING wrong

all the shit that went down in the fisher king i will never get over that, like she could've been furious at any of the team and blamed them for what happened to her but she didn't

it's wild to me that the best criminal profilers in the US couldn't see that elle desperately needed help

i will always remember the time she opens up to reid about how she can still feel the guy's fingers inside her bullet wound and i just AH she needed the compassion that she usually provided but she didn't get that and so she broke

i am a fierce defender of elle greenaway i love that woman and i was DEVASTATED when she left i cannot believe we only got 3 seasons of her

(she's also hot)

Hotch

oh man i have so many thoughts about this man but i can't properly articulate any of them

first of all, smash.

now we've gotten past that, i'm such a sucker for grumpy caretaker characters who barely smiles but when he does it's wonderful and meaningful

he knows his team and it fucking shows i just love this guy so much

i was so sad when hailey divorced him, i thought he was gonna be the one guy with the semi healthy family life but guess not

although i understand why she did, they needed different things than each other

the part that really made me go feral was when he was talking to that one serial killer and he was like some people who were horrifically abused grow up to kill and torture others but others grow up to catch them

i was like OH FUCK that resonates, vowing to never do what was done to you and stop others from ever feeling the same way you did

but then they did nothing with that storyline which was a little disappointing but i did like it

also he's a father

Spencer

i went into this only knowing about the hype for this guy and boy do i understand it

i am not into men but i would make an exception for this man right here

something about his autistic transmasc puppy dog swag has captivated me

the fact that he is autistic and comfortable letting the mask up a little around these people and!! they still!!! love him!!! it just makes me so fucking happy

like if he can do a job where his skills are seen as insanely useful and it's a part of him that's loveable then maybe i can too!!

he's so cute this skrunkly little white guy i don't really have the words to explain i want to throw him against a wall and then feed him soup

they always put these ones through the most trauma i feel

but we do love to see it

like break pretty boy break!

JJ

gorgeous gorgeous girly i love her

she's so funny and confident and sweet and smart and like what even else is there to say she's literally just everything

Morgan

i LOVE morgan with all my heart

like he's the older brother of the team, his friendship with literally everyone is everything to me

the way he calls reid pretty boy and teases him and his whole platonic soulmate ship with garcia (i don't ship them personally i see them as absolute besties) and his general just charming, funny, likeable demeanour

and then we get hit by the episode where he reveals that he was molested as a kid

i didn't cry but i got extremely close

it's always those ones who have the most devastating backstories

his whole speech about how he was the one who got himself out of chicago, not his abuser, he did that all by himself oh man

that was a punch in the gut.

i love him <3

Garcia

she is an ICON she is The MOMENT she is EVERYTHING

i fucking love her i would kill for her

her personality seeps into EVERYTHING man she is just so unabashedly herself and it's so fucking wonderful to see

she's quirky and upbeat amongst all the horror and its so fucking refreshing i am so in love with her confidence especially as a mid size person myself

she's so sweet she's literally everyone's best friend her energy is so infectious ahhhhhh love her <3

Prentiss

i saved my fave for last :)

at first i was like she will never replace elle i don't trust her but then she didn't replace elle, she was awesome in her own way

first of all. SMASH. she's so insanely hot i would die for her

her voice, her eyes, her hair, her personality oh my god

she's just so fucking driven and compassionate and has her dry humour that makes me so insane about her

i have no words

she's just everything to me

yeah ok. thanks for asking!!! writing this absolutely cheered me up after a bad day :)

[themetaphorgirl]

if number 1 for whumptober prompts is still unclaimed, maybe Hotch and swooning for PSOLC with Alex as caretaker? I can just imagine a very overworked and stressed Hotch suddenly being very dizzy and passing out and Alex being like “why don’t you take care of yourself” - we love the disaster twins!

oh yes we DO love the disaster twins!! it’s claimed!!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Hello jordan my dear,

I try to be brave today (how brave one can be hiding in the anon twilight zone :D) and send you my very first Criminal minds request. I don't want to annoy you with my rambling just that you know: I absolutely adore your work. 🤍 So let's go :

Hotch x fem reader, angst, drama, fluff, hurt and comfort, sick fic, Hotch from grumpy asshole to caretaking protector =)

Reader is new at the BAU team (no real agent, some kind of IT specialist or something like that =)) and got picked by Strauss. Strauss doesn't inform Hotch bevor reader was hired for the team, so Hotch is royally pissed, with his trust issues he hates new people at his team. So he's distant, pissed unfair and unfriendly to the new coworker. What gets him more pissed is that the new young woman instantly catched his eyes with her overly beautiful, friendly and shy appearance. Reader is deaf on one ear and so she sometimes misunderstood things and stares at the people who talk to her to not miss a word, like a bit of reading their lips. But Hotch doesn't know that she's deaf on one ear and is pissed when she misunderstood something or stares with intensity when he talks to her. Also only Strauss knows her background: she was an agent in another state until a undercover operation goes terribly wrong, leaving her captured with her partner. Unfortunately her partner dies and she has long-lasting problems (lost a kidney and one deaf ear and migraine, when she has too much stress). Her colleagues made her responsible for the death of her partner and severely harassed her. Nowadays she hopes she can leave that all behind her (well as good as she can with the permanent damage and the nightmares plaguing her). I like this story as some kind of development from Hotch as an absolute ass to a protective caretaker. The team at first taking care of her when they notice that she has a sad past and is chronically ill. Also defend her when Hotch is unfair to her. With a fluffy ending, when Hotch knows her whole truth....

I hope you like it. It's in my head for soooo long. I have much more specific scenes for this story in my head. Like they're on the jet to a crime scene and she has a very bad day and a migraine coming and tries to hide her pain and falls asleep and jumping awake from a nightmare. Hotch pissed--> someone from the team defending her. Well I don't want to annoy you anymore.

Love and hugs for you =)

you are brave every day <3 thank you for sending this in! i will add this to my list <3