#foyet is very different

[frankiebirds]

i do Not like the ending of a real rain im sorry this may be controversial.

i get what they're going for with hotch shooting the unsub. i get the foreshadowing of the past case where hotch talked a man down who was then acquitted and went on to kill again. i get the parallel of the unsub killing people who he feels were unfairly acquitted and then hotch killing him out of implied fear that he'll be acquitted by a sympathetic jury. but if you're going to attempt a parallel like that and have a character make a choice like that you need to commit to it i think? there's not even a conversation about it. i dont think it's ever brought up again, hotch doesn't even say anything.

one scene on the jet, if it was well-written enough, could make me accept the ending even if i dont like it, but no. the episode ends with hotch shooting a man who is surrendering and everyone is apparently fine with it?

(i'd like to note that this is a criticism of the writing, not hotch. i think this is an out-of-character choice without justification beyond "one time i talked a guy down and he got acquitted so this time ill shoot the guy as he surrenders. and then keep my job somehow". it just feels lazy and weird.)

[tlou-reid]

Cheese Danishes ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

♡ SUMMARY: aaron is struggling to navigate his feelings, and his fears, as his relationship with his younger graduate student neighbor progress

♡ WARNINGS: smut (piv) mdni, oral (fem recieving), fingering, fluff, angst mentions of criminal minds-esque violence, mentions of haley and george foyet, age gap (mid 20s/mid 40s)

♡ NOTE: the timeline on this is wonky when compared to the show. in my head, aaron and jack did go into witness protection and left for a while, but once foyet was caught aaron returned as unit chief to the BAU. so the team is made up of the people in the later seasons, including prentiss, but aaron is still in charge.

Part one

—♡

Aaron pulled your body tighter against him amidst the start of the season’s first snowfall. “Thank you,” he mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline. It wasn’t very often he allowed himself to stay after you two had been intimate, only after he had been away for a rough case. You basked in the attention every time.

As much as you wanted more, your relationship with Aaron has been primarily physical. You could count on one hand the amount of times you two had a connection outside of sex. It wasn’t necessarily his ideal either, but life gets in the way when you’re pulled away to attend to serial killers every week, in between spending time with your son.

You two lay together for a while, not saying anything. This was the time you used to pretend things had turned out the way you wanted them to. Of course, you lusted over him when you first met. Something about having a sexy, older neighbor fulfilled a fantasy you didn’t know you had. But, over the months you got to spend with him, both before and after your drunken declaration of interest, your feelings for him had evolved.

You’d learned how much more he was than his stoic exterior. He was gentle, like the way his calloused hands caressed your hips as he pulled you into his lap while you made out. He was funny, constantly teasing you for your abnormal habits. He was kind, making sure you were safe and sound before he retreated to his home.

But, most of all, he was distant. Physically distant a good portion of the time, being needed in different parts of the country at any given time. Mostly, he was emotionally distant. It was as if something was tormenting him most of the time, keeping him from truly giving himself to you. Even when he was buried deep inside you, it was as if there was a gap between you, preventing any real connections.

He gave you an even tighter squeeze, warning you he would be leaving soon without using words. You hoped he didn’t notice the way your body tensed back up when he did this, knowing how empty the house would feel in just a few minutes. He let out a familiar sigh, before pressing one more kiss to your forehead. “I should probably head back,” he spoke his usual phrase into the darkness of your bedroom. You nodded against his chest before pulling yourself away from him, allowing him to get up.

He noticed the way you pulled your comforter closer, trying the replace the warmth he had been providing. Aaron’s heart broke, wanting to crawl back next to you and hold you close for the rest of the night. For the rest of his life, if he could.

But, he couldn't. He knew that. If he allowed himself to be honest with you, to tell you all the ways he has fallen for you since you showed up on his doorstep with a container of desserts, he would ruin everything you had. Whether it be from him not being able to handle his own emotions, or something as terrifying as George Foyet, something would ruin the sparse nights he got to spend with you. He came with too much baggage, too many ways you could be hurt, to allow himself to have everything he wants.

So, he slips back on his pressed slacks and buttons up his white shirt. He moves quietly, trying to convince himself you are falling asleep, not worrying about what he is doing. Your soft voice ruins this, “Let me know when you get home,” you say, as you do every night he’s here. He lets out a sound of agreement, even though he knows he won’t do it.

The room falls quiet again as Aaron tries to find his suit jacket. He uses his phone flashlight and sees the arm sticking out from beneath your bed. He quickly bends over to grab it, hoping you don’t hear the way his hips creak as he lowers himself. Throwing his jacket over his arm, he finally makes his way to the door. He’s one step through it when you speak again, “Aaron?”

“Yes?” he replies quietly, ignoring how timid your voice sounds. “Maybe we could get lunch or something soon?” Your heart beats against your chest, reverberating in your temples as you ask. It doesn’t make sense. You have no problem letting him know when you’re soaking through your panties because of the lewd photo he sent you, but you’re on the verge of a panic attack as you ask if he’d like to have a meal with you.

“Yeah,” he nods, actually meaning it. He would love to have lunch or something with you. Of course, no one knows if it will ever actually happen. “Cool,” you let out a sigh of relief, “I’ll text you.”

“Yeah,” is all he says as he closes your bedroom door, making his way back to his house. Your body shivers with both chill and loneliness when you hear your front door close.

Aaron’s shoulders were slumped as he made the trek across the street. He threw his jacket over his shoulders, but not putting his arms through the sleeves, to try and protect him from the cold. This year’s winter had come in full swing this week, with the first snowfall happening tonight. He couldn’t make out where the little hand on his watch was, but he knew it was some time after midnight.

He was carrying a lot of guilt and he had no one to share it with. He couldn’t tell you because the repercussions could result in you losing your life, the same way Haley did. He couldn’t tell the team because they didn’t know about you. And that was all of the adult people in his life, pretty much.

His key turned in the door and he let out a sigh. He’d forgotten to turn his heat on when he left for the last case, so it was freezing inside. He stopped in the hallway to change the thermostat, before making his way to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, letting it properly heat up before he began to remove his clothes.

The cold he was feeling was both literal and metaphorical. The chill air burned his skin, opposite from the way your warm touch soothed it.

Aaron felt like he was on autopilot as he cleaned himself, put on his warmest pajamas, and made his way to his bed. It felt bigger than it did before he left. He fell asleep pretty quickly, both from the strenuous case and the orgasm he had not that long ago.

The next morning, you were woken up by the sun casting through your window. You had forgotten to close the curtains last night. You reached for your phone, seeing two messages from Elise. ‘Meet us for brunch?’ and ‘Bring your old man ;)’. The “us” in question was her and her new girlfriend, Annie. They were a cute couple: they seemed like they were made for each other.

You texted back, asking about the time and place, choosing to ignore her second message. When you got up to get ready, you couldn’t help yourself from peeking to see if Aaron’s car was parked across the street. It wasn’t, so you pretended like you didn’t consider asking him to go to brunch.

“Alvez,” Aaron’s voice cut through the chatter in the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing, focusing on the glare on Aaron’s face as he continued, “Stop.” Luke had been teasing Spencer, making the entire team laugh. Luke didn’t answer, knowing it wasn’t worth messing with him anymore. The entire team had picked up on the attitude Aaron had been carrying around lately. There was no more room for teasing in the BAU, as he always seemed angry nowadays.

As the team finished debriefing their last case, Emily lingered inside the meeting room. “Hey, Hotch?” She questioned, usually being the advocate for the team. Aaron didn’t answer but shifted his attention away from the files in front of him and to her. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Just fine, Prentiss,” he lied, becoming embarrassed under her harsh stare. “Hotch,” she cut through the silence again, “we both know that’s not true.” As much as she was trying to be sympathetic, her prying was just pissing him off. “What is going on in my personal life is none of your concern.” He ended the conversation bluntly, not wanting her to pry anymore.

Like a dog who had just been scolded, Emily made her way out of the room. Hotch lingered for a little longer, hoping the team would disperse before he made his presence known again. He pulled his phone from his pocket, thinking over what Emily was saying to him. Something was wrong, but nobody could fix it. Nobody but you.

Your phone dinged from its spot beside you, and you tried to not let your professor see you reach for it. Sure, you were a grown woman who was allowed to be on your phone, but you didn’t want to seem rude by being distracted from his lesson. You set your pink pen on top of your notebook and lowered your phone into your lap. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you saw the message was from ‘Aaron <3’.

It had been about four days since he left your house and he had not texted since. You refused to text first, not wanting to appear desperate. ‘Hello, I am dropping Jack off at a friend’s at 6:30. Could I come over after? I can order us dinner.’ You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. You quickly typed out a reply, ‘My class ends at 5 and I have to stop by Elise’s to pick something up. Meet at my house at 7?’. He replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

Your leg excitedly bounced throughout the class, willing the clock to move faster. Your notes were messy due to your brain moving faster than your hand could go. When the professor finally wrapped things up and asked for any final questions, you shoved things into your bookbag, knowing you’d regret it the next time you needed something from it. You were the first one out the door.

You tried not to speed as you drove to Elise’s. You were picking up a new dog bed that Anna was getting rid of. Your dog, Jackson, would love it. You left yourself in her house, yelling out to let her know you had arrived.

You had not been completely honest with Elise. You had told her your relationship status with Aaron was complicated, which was half-true. It was very complicated, but also very non-existent. You rushed through your interaction with her and Anna, ignoring the joke she cracked about you having a hot date.

You arrived home close to 6:45 and immediately made your way to your closet to throw on something nicer than the leggings and sweatshirt you wore to class. You used the extra time to clean up around the house.

Aaron knocked on the door at 7:00 on the dot, making you giggle at his punctuality. “Hello,” you smiled at him as you opened the door. He said his greeting and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. You could feel your face warm up at his actions. When he came in, you two settled on the couch, catching up on the things you had missed in each other’s lives.

“Is that new?” Aaron asked, putting at the large dog bed Jackson was resting on. Your heart swooned at him noticing such a small detail. “Yeah! Elise’s girlfriend, Anna, was getting rid of it. She fosters dogs most of the time but she had to stop after the last one got adopted because her dad moved in with her. He’s sick, so she spends a lot of time taking care of him.” Aaron nods in understanding, “You spoil him, huh?” You giggled at his answer, knowing most of your paychecks went to funding Jackson’s expensive lifestyle.

It didn’t take long for you to wind up in his lap, his hands gripping your ass. He was holding you close, pressing his tongue into your mouth. Aaron had a lot of skills, and kissing was probably one of his best. When you pulled away to breathe, he made quick work of moving his lips to your neck, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear. You let out a gentle moan, moving your hands from around his neck to tug on his hair.

Your moment was interrupted when your stomach grumbled, surprising Aaron. He pulled away, looking up at you with wide eyes and puffy lips. You giggled out an, “I’m sorry.” Aaron soon joined you in your laughter. “You said we’d order food! I haven’t eaten since breakfast!” You smiled, enjoying this sweet moment with him.

He tapped your side, signaling you to get off of his lap. He reached for his phone, “What do you want to eat?” You two scrolled through your options, settling on a local pizza place. Your stomach grumbled again after he placed the order.

It didn’t take long for the pizza to arrive, and you two watched silly YouTube videos while you waited. The evening was filled with giggles and greasy pizza. It was everything you wanted with Aaron.

Once your bellies were both full and the paper plates had been thrown away, you two resumed your position on the couch. You were back in his lap and his lips were back on your neck. His hands were tight against your hips as you rocked against his cock, which was growing hard underneath you. The room was filled with languid sighs and deep moans as you made out.

His hands slid up your sides, moving to pull your shirt off. You separated for just a second, just long enough to lift your shirt over your head. Once it was thrown by the brand new dog bed, Aaron’s large hand was reaching up to cup your bra, quickly aggravated by the material blocking your skin. His hands moved to unclasp it, not letting his lips leave yours. The bra joined the shirt, and Aaron brought one of your nipples into his mouth.

The rough skin of his right hand felt like heaven on your right breast, eliciting moans of his name to fall from your lips. He was leaving deep, purple marks around across your tits, fueled by the sounds you were making. The light tugs of his hair had him painfully hard in his dress pants. 

You pulled away to look him in the eye, “Bedroom?” Aaron shook his head no, lifting your body to lay flat on the couch. “Wanna take you right here,” he rushed through. Stoic, well-spoken Aaron Hotchner was reduced to slang like “wanna” in these moments with you.

From his spot between your legs, he kissed down between your chest, down your stomach, to the waistband of your pants. He looked up at you, asking for permission to take them off. You nodded and your pants quickly joined your ever-growing pile of clothes. “Aaron?” He let out a ‘hmm’, entranced by the wet spot in your panties. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” This broke him out of his spell and he stripped himself down to his boxers.

His hands made their way under your thighs and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your clothed sex. “Take ‘em off?” You nodded at his words, lifting your hips so he could pull them off. As soon as your panties were off, he licked a long strip up your slit.

You let out a moan as he began to bury himself into your pussy. His tongue delved into your hole and his nose nudged your clit. Your hands flew to his hair, pulling him closer. You weren’t sure if he could breathe with how he was pressed into your pussy, your juices spreading all over his chin. Once your grip on his hair relaxed a bit, he pulled his face away. As he slid two of his thick fingers into your hole, he said, “Taste so good, honey.”

As soon as he finished his sentence, he moved down to use his tongue to draw little figure eights along your clit. You let out a loud moan, “Aaron, ‘m gonna,” you cut yourself off with another moan, “gonna cum.” Your thighs held him in his spot as you reached your high. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t move from his spot as you came on his fingers.

His fingers didn’t stop as he rode you through your orgasm. Once your thighs relaxed, he brought himself up to you. You could see the way your juices glistened on his chin as moved himself to kiss you, then you could taste them on his lips.

“Taste yourself?” He asked. You felt your pussy clench at his filthy words and gave him a shy nod. He smiled, before resting his head in the crook of your neck, pressing more kisses into it. Your arms came to wrap around him, holding his bare chest against yours. You two stayed like that for a little bit, basking in each other’s aura.

“Gonna fuck you now,” He informed, lifting his body a little. He looked you in your eyes, making sure you were still okay with it. You nodded, reaching down to align his dick with your entrance. He kept his eyes on you as he pushed in, noticing the way your eyes rolled back when he bottomed out.

Aaron’s cock wasn’t too long, but the thickness of it left a satisfying burn inside you. Aaron wasn’t one for an intense sex life. He was mostly content with missionary, enjoying the closeness and eye contact that came with it. You’d begun to get him out of his shell, testing things like riding him and doggy style throughout your three months hooking up.

His thrusts were deep and slow, drawing out the delightful burn in your pussy. After your previous orgasm, the stretch of his thick cock was almost enough to send you over the edge again. Everything about him was intentional, especially the way he held your legs so he could angle himself to hit the spot inside you that made your toes curl.

“Faster,” you moaned out, needing more. “You take what I give you,” he demanded, letting his rare dominant side come out. He knew you liked that by the way you clenched around his cock, squeezing him just right. It only took a few more strokes for him to start increasing his speed, never wanting to displease you.

He was chasing his own high, bottoming out with every deep thrust. You could feel the way you were leaving a ring of your arousal at the base of his dick. “Aaron,” you sighed out, trying to let him know you were about to cum again. While you couldn’t get the words out, he could tell by the way your muscles were beginning to tense up and you were letting out higher-pitched moans.

The way you clenched his dick had his orgasm following close behind your own, allowing him to ride you through your high. He let out a deep sigh as he came down, burying himself back in the crook of your neck. He placed gentle kisses along your neck as your hand drew loving circles along his shoulder.

You willed him to keep his head buried in your neck so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes began to fill with tears. It’s not that you were sad, or even disappointed. There was a deep longing feeling in your chest. In your heart, you knew this was where you wanted to be, but, in your brain, you knew it wouldn’t last.

Aaron let himself lay there with you for a while. He didn’t move as his dick softened inside of you and as your loving caress left goosebumps in their wake. Despite the chill in the room, he was comfortable.

A few moments pass before he pushes himself off of you, making his way to the bathroom to clean up. When he reappears in the living, he asks “Do you want to take a shower?” You eagerly accept his offer, getting up to guide him to your master bathroom. He smiles behind you as you turn on the water.

You’re very surprised at his actions but scared that if you mention how different he’s acting, he’ll stop. He usually doesn’t stay to clean up with you, besides retreating to the bathroom. You both step into the shower, muscles relaxed by the hot water. Aaron flinches away from it. “Too hot?” You ask, forgetting that not everyone takes scalding hot showers.

“I’ll get used to it,” he compromises. It’s a tight fit, but you both make do. He’s the first one to reach for the wash rag. Soaping it up with your lavender-scented body wash and bringing it to your shoulders. He allows himself to enjoy washing you, taking time to massage and caress your skin. He moves gently and lovingly, as if he would break you if he pushed too hard.

Despite the amount of times you had sex, this shower was the most intimate thing you and Aaron had ever done. It would’ve been easy to convince yourself that you two were a couple, one that is deeply in love and would never hurt each other. However, you could never do that because of the gnawing knowledge of his future departure. You weren’t a couple and he would be retreating to his home any minute now.

Aaron let you stay under the warm water as he washed himself, both of you opting to not worry about washing your hair tonight. You stepped out first, grabbing a towel off of the rack attached to the shower. You wrapped it around yourself, moving to get Aaron one from your towel closet. He enjoyed the warmth of the shower while you were gone. Once you appeared in the steamy bathroom, he turned off the water and wrapped himself in the towel you handed him.

It was quiet for a moment, both of you just enjoying the presence of each other. Aaron was rubbing the towel, trying to dry his hair when he spoke up, “I don’t believe I have any clothes here. Do you have any you think could fit me?” You were gobsmacked at his words. Luckily, you weren’t facing him, so he didn’t see the way your mouth dropped in surprise. You quickly turned around to face him, “Are you staying the night?”

“Is that okay?” He sounded awkward, not really knowing what to do. Sure, he’d left every other time, but he thought it would be okay since you spend so much time together anyway. He was trying to be better than he was before, trying to overcome the fears that had been keeping him from truly being with you. “Of course it is!” Your voice was excitable again, almost as lively as it was the day he met you. “I think I have some sweatpants, I can look.”

Your heart was pounding as you left the bathroom to dig through your dresser, seeing if there was anything you wouldn’t mind Aaron keeping. He followed behind you, settling on the edge of the bed. He was distracted as you looked, admiring you in just a fluffy towel. He wished he saw this side of you more often.

Once you found an old, gray pair at the bottom of your third drawer, you tossed them at him. You got dressed and he slipped them on, choosing to forgo underwear rather than put on the precum-stained ones from earlier. “What do we do now?” You asked sweetly, not really knowing how to go about this sleepover, but excited to have it nonetheless.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He suggested, subtly pointing at the TV hung on your wall. “Sure! What kind of movies do you like?” You asked him as you moved to sit criss-cross on your bed. He chuckled at your cute demeanor, “Me and Jack tend to watch action or comedy, but I love a good romcom now and then.” This sent you into a fit of giggles, picturing Aaron curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, and ‘When Harry Met Sally’ being the only thing illuminating his face in the dark room.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” He said with a fond smile on his face. He laid down, leaving space for you to curl yourself against his side, tucked right into his armpit. You felt like you belonged there. “I just didn’t realize you were such a softie,” You said with a few more giggles. He shifted his head down to look at you the best he could, “I can be.”

You two settled on ‘Do Revenge’, playing into Aaron’s apparent love of chick-flicks. You two got comfortable under the covers. About halfway through, Aaron heard your gentle snores filling the room. He reached across you to grab the remote and turn off the TV. He reached back over you to put the remote on your nightstand, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he settled himself down, falling quickly into a deep slumber.

The next morning, you woke up to an unfamiliarly cold room. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, looking at the messed up bed. Your gaze followed the blanket that had been thrown around to an empty bed.

Your eyebrows crinkled in confusion, remembering that Aaron had spent the night. A part of you hoped when you got up, he’d be making breakfast for you like the husbands always did in the cheesy romcoms you two talked about last night. The other part of you knew he had left.

To confirm your suspicions, you made your way to the living room, trying to ignore the steadily increasing beat of your heart. You made your way to Jackson, who was asleep in his brand-new bed. You sat next to him, tears filling your eyes. His clothes were gone. Even the stupid sweatpants you let him borrow. Jackson snuggled closer to you, almost providing the warmth Aaron took with him when he left.

You let yourself lay there for a while, dwelling on the hurt in your heart. It wasn’t as if this was unexpected, but he could’ve had the decency to not lie to you. You explicitly asked him if he was staying the night and he said he was. How could he just leave? As if your time last night didn’t mean anything? As if any of the nights you two spent together didn’t mean anything?

You were forced to get up when you heard your phone alarm going off in your bedroom, indicating it was time for you to get ready for work. You had a busy day ahead of you that would consist of work and catching up on homework. You didn’t have time to worry about a man who wasn’t worrying about you.

You felt numb throughout your whole shift. You ignored Elise’s texts asking you to go out tomorrow, considering you hadn’t had a Friday night out in a while. You ignored pretty much everything, burying yourself in your tasks. You were on autopilot as you drove home. You quickly took care of Jackson, taking him on a brief walk and feeding him. You went out your back door and followed it until you knew you couldn’t see Aaron’s house. You didn’t want to think about him, and you definitely didn’t want him to see how sad you were.

You did homework for the rest of the night, ignoring the world around you. You didn’t turn on the TV or look at your phone once. You took another scorching shower, basking in the burn it left on your skin.

You went on like this for another day. It wasn’t until you returned home from work late on Friday night that you had to come face-to-face with your feelings.

It was actually your choice. No one forced you to slam your car door as soon as you saw Aaron get out of his in his own driveway. No one forced you to stomp your way across the street. No one forced you to yell his name.

No, you were solely guided by your own anger, your own sadness, to approach him. You didn’t know who was around, and you didn’t really care as you started yelling at him. “Fuck you,” You spit out first, “You said you were staying. I wanted you to stay. But you fucking left. I was going to make you breakfast, you know that? The best fucking baker around was going to make you breakfast. But you left. Without saying goodbye.”

You didn’t normally cuss, or yell, really. The anger you felt became too much and you were talking before you could really think about what you were saying. Your eyes started to fill with tears. “Y/N,” he interrupts. He wasn’t yelling at you, more raising his voice so you’d let him talk. “I didn’t want to leave you.” He confesses, a guilty look spread across his face.

You’re instantly quieter and the tears start falling as you speak. “You didn’t?” You quietly question. You wanted to be angry. You wanted to scream and cry and cuss at him so he could feel just a little bit of the hurt you felt when you woke up yesterday morning. But that wasn’t in your nature. You were good and kind and sweet, not mean and nasty.

“No, honey, of course not,” He speaks softly, taking a few more steps towards you. You let him rest a gentle hand on your shoulder as he continues, “I got a call from Jack’s friend’s mother. They had snuck out and gone skateboarding. Jack fell on his arm and they were on their way to the emergency room. I had to meet him there.”

Guilt started to fill your chest as you listened to his explanation. “Aaron, I’m so sorry,” You breathed out as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he spoke, “There’s no need to be. I should’ve called you but I got distracted with work.” You nodded against his chest. He held you as you calmed down, letting your tears subside. “I’ve got to run, we’re leaving for a case and I forgot my go-bag,” You nod at his words, “Be safe, please.”

“Of course,” He said as he started taking a few steps backward. He turned around and made his way to his door. His hand was reaching out for the knob when you called his name. “What are we?” You asked the dreaded question that had been weighing on your chest. It seemed childish, but there was no other way to phrase it. You hoped he wanted to be in a relationship. You hoped he wanted you the same way you wanted him.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” He said as he made his way back to you. “I owe you a conversation, that’s for sure.” You nod at his words, “When can we have it?” You asked, knowing he needed to leave for work. “I’ll text you as soon as we wrap up the case.” You nod again as he makes his way back to his front door.

He’s the one who turns around this time, calling out your name. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “For everything that happened before. I’m going to make it right as soon as I get home.” You give him a soft smile and a gentle nod before turning around to make your way home. 

It takes a full week for the team to wrap up the case. Reid and JJ ask if they can spend the night in Phoenix, not wanting to be on the jet at three in the morning. However, Aaron vetoes this immediately, knowing he needs to be home as quickly as possible to talk to you.

He texts you while Luke drives the SUV, letting you know he will be boarding shortly and to expect him to be over sometime in the morning tomorrow. You’re fast asleep and do not reply, but Aaron knows you’ll see it in the morning. 

And you do. You check your phone first thing in the morning. Usually, your Saturdays are spent catching up on missed homework throughout the week, but today you immediately made your way to the kitchen. When you are stressed, this is where you usually find yourself. You threw on the “kiss the cook” apron Elise had given you a few Christmases ago, pulling up the recipe for raspberry cheese danishes you had seen online the other day.

You had just put them in the oven when you heard the knocks on your door. Aaron had gotten just a few hours of sleep before he made his way to your house. His heart was beating in his chest as he waited for you to open the door.

All of his nerves quickly dissipated as he saw you in your apron. He smiled at it, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss before either of you could even say hello. You giggled when he let you go, opening the door wider so he could come in. You were glad he greeted you the way he did. It took away some of the awkwardness that was looming over you due to the conversation topic.

“It smells phenomenal in here,” he complimented as he made his way to the dining room table. He sat down at the of the table and you settled into the seat on his left. “I’m sorry I had to run the other day, duty calls.” You nodded in understanding at his words. “Did you think about my question?” You asked timidly, wanting to get the conversation started so it could be over sooner.

“I did,” he said with a thoughtful nod, “I’m not quite sure how I would define us if I’m being honest.” His answer left you speechless. Not in a bad way, and certainly not in a good way, but in a way that signaled that you didn’t know how to reply. “I mean, I don’t know how I would define us back then.” He continues on.

For the first time since he kissed you when you opened the door, he made eye contact with you. “I would like to define us as a couple now if that is alright with you.” He didn’t miss the smile that quickly spread across your face and the way you started to twiddle your fingers. “Aaron Hotchner,” You let out an overdramatic gasp, “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Aaron laughed at your theatrics, “Yes, I am.” You immediately threw yourself in his lap, pressing a kiss to his blushed cheek. “I would love to!” He could feel you smile against his face as you threw your arms around his neck. He let you love on him for a little bit before you made your way back to your seat. “I think there are a few things I have to tell you first, though,” Aaron informed again and you noticed the way his body tensed up. You didn’t say anything, creating a safe space for him to get anything he needed off of his chest.

“Ever since the day I barged in after you left me that voice message, this is what I wanted. I wanted to kiss you when you greeted me at the door. I wanted to watch cheesy films with you. I still really want all of that,” He let out a deep breath, “but I come with a lot, Y/N. Even just being with me puts you in danger. My last relationship ended due to my job, and I lost her. My wife, she, uh,” His eyes began to well up with tears.

You reached your hand out to hold his, understanding what he was trying to tell you. His wife, Jack’s mom, had died because of something related to his job. You weren’t going to force him to continue if it was this painful for him to talk about. “I understand,” You spoke gently, not wanting to upset him more, “And I’m okay with that risk.”

Aaron nodded at your words, not really knowing if you meant them. You did. Even if you wouldn’t admit it quite yet, you were in love with Aaron. You understood his job was scary and he dealt with a lot of evil in his line of work, but not even that could keep you from wanting a relationship with him.

“And, there will be times when I’m not around. My job, it is very demanding and very important to me, and to the world, I think. When they need me, I have to go.” You knew this part, he was away a lot. That’s why you had spent so much time texting before he was aware of the crush you had on him. However, before you could respond, the oven dinged, telling you it was time to take out the danishes.

Without thinking about it, you jumped up from the table, exclaiming, “My danishes are done!” Aaron laughed at this, following you with his eyes as you made your way to the oven, pulling out the desserts and sitting them on the counter to cool. You were looking over them are you spoke, “I know that, Aaron. I’m a busy bee, too. I think I’ll be okay when you’re away.”

“These look this delicious,” he complimented, reaching for one. You quickly swatted his hand away, “They need to cool!” He laughed and pressed a kiss to your neck. “What are they?” He asked, not moving his face from the crook of your neck. “Raspberry cheese danishes! It’s a new recipe.” You could feel yourself getting giddy at the thought of Aaron Hotchner, your boyfriend, and personal taste-tester.

“Well, they look and smell amazing. You’ll have to make some for the BAU holiday party.” He said, very casually. You froze in your spot as he unwrapped from your figure. “You want me to go?” You were surprised at his invitation. From getting to know him, you’d realized that the people in the BAU were some of the most important people in his whole life. “Of course,” he smiled, “Everyone brings their significant others.”

♡ TAGS: @himboelover @zaddyhotch @lcvdoll @h0t-as-h3ll @lamentis-10 @cherubswhispers

disclaimer: i will only tag accounts that have an age on their profile that indicates they are not a minor

[14buddy22]

Hey if you're looking for Hotch requests, what about Hotch dealing with a crush on a non-bau sunshine reader when he's still sad after the divorce/Foyet but he's so confused by his feelings because it's been so long that he doesn't know what's going on??

Like if it's case related, maybe he thinks reader is a suspect because why else would he be so on edge around her and it's just so painfully obvious to everyone else. Idk if that makes sense but I just think Hotch being so out of touch with his emotions despite being a profiler would be funny lol

Feel free to adapt and make it your own!! Thanks!!

Thanks for your request! I hope it lives up to your expectation!

You were the best damn bartender in Quantico, Virginia. At least, that's what you thought to yourself. You made work fun. You worked in a club environment so if you wore something scandalous, flirted with the customers a bit, you were sure to bring in a hefty tip at the end of the night.

But, you loved the hustle and bustle of it. You loved the interactions, loved singing along to the bands or the good music. You loved having conversations with the locals, loved celebrating parties for kids turning 21, people getting married, or hell, people getting divorced.

Then you met who you swore is your soulmate. Something in you stilled when you were bartending. You never froze up at your job. You were good at what you do. But seeing him walk through that door, looking all handsome in a suit, he took your breath away. You watched how he interracted with the bouncer.

You watched him show his badge to your best friend. FBI. An average Joe wouldn't just waltz into your bar, you knew he was a sophisticated man.

But when he locked eyes with you, you felt like the bar had heated up 100 degrees. Making his way over to you, you were trying to calm down. What had you feeling like this?

"Hi, I'm Agent Hotchner with the Behavioral Analysis Unit for the FBI. It's my understanding from the gentleman at the front that you are the lead bartender?"

You finished making your drink for one of the locals and asked your partner to manage the bar. Luckily it was early evening and the college kids had about another hour before they started flooding in so you knew you'd be okay leaving her by herself.

"Yes, I'm Y/n Y/L/N. It's nice to meet you. How can I help you?"

You shook his hand, and you swore you both held it for longer than you both intended.

All I could think was that she was beautiful. No, no, I can't think like that. My wife, ex-wife was brutally murdered a little over a year ago. Something's different talking to her, to-Y/n. Something I haven't felt in a while but I don't know what it is.

She's a bartender. I hear she's a damn good one. Maybe that's why she's about to be the suspect in a string of murders. Men have been killed shortly after they leave this bar. Traces of posion have come back on the tox screen. Bartenders have access to the drinks and alcohol before they serve, y/n's the perfect suspect.

But she's beautiful, and I haven't seen her stop smiling at all. She has a gorgeous smile. She'd be the sunshine on the rainiest days for the men that have been murdered. Before I know it, my thoughts and feelings consumed me, I'm still holding her hand. I could feel Dave's eyes burning a hole into me.

"Have you heard about the three men murdered around town?"

"Yeah, I have. It's very unfortunate. They were great men. At least to me. They tipped well and always had friendly conversations. They also stood up for me if some men coming in here for the first time were getting a little handsy with me."

Oh how I wished I could be the one to make sure no one got handsy with her. Wait, what am I saying? She's a suspect, she doesn't know it, but she is.

"How were they killed?"

Agent Hotchner's partner spoke up to answer your question.

"They were poisoned."

Ugh, these poor men. Had to die a slow pain, they didn't deserve it. They deserved justice now.

"We just wanted to come in to see if anything unusual has happened lately."

"I've seen a lot of crime shows with my ex-boyfriends before. You're really trying to see if I did it. Which I didn't. I don't think I have the heart to kill anyone. I broke up with my last ex because he hunted and I couldn't bare the thought of killing animals."

Of course you broke up with your ex because of that. But I have a job to do and I have to investigate further. Plenty of killers have lied straight to my face before.

"We'll be in touch Ms. Y/l/n, thank you for your time."

You smiled and shook their hands one last time before you went back to working your shift. Something about Aaron caught my eye. Maybe it's the way he was blushing like a school boy. You're not sure, but he was handsome.

Just when Aaron walked into the bar, you smiled at him, offering him a drink.

"Agent Hotchner, it's good to see you again."

Your smile never waivered. Maybe you would shoot your shot with him.

I can't believe I have to do this. Arrest someone this pretty. Arrest this girl who Rossi thinks I have feelings for. What? Feelings? That's an intense word, but I have to arrest her.

"Unfortunately I'm here to place you under arrest."

I watched all the color drain from her face. I watched her smile fall so fast. But it had to be her. Rossi and the team wasn't so sure, but I have a gut feeling it's her. Of course with it being my team, they weren't going to stop me. I took her sunshine away.

"Agent Hotchner, I, I didn't do anything."

Your manager saw what was going on, he was like your work dad. He took care of you like his daughter, despite him having sons, he treated you like his princess. You heard him say say, "Y/n, I'm getting you a lawyer, do not speak. I know you didn't do this. But I'll meet you where they're taking you."

You smiled back at him, tears filling your eyes. You wanted to make everyone happy, you never wanted to hurt anyone. How are you being arrested? You didn't do anything wrong.

Your ride back in Aaron's SUV was silent. How could you think he was your soulmate? Your soulmate would never arrest you. But you were still feeling something, you couldn't explain it.

I keep looking in the rearview mirror at her. I had to trust my gut. She poisioned those men. But why do I feel so guilty arresting her. From the time we had met her, been surveillencing her, up until I placed the handcuffs on her, she had smiled. Everyone spoke highly of her. I took away her sunshine. I did that.

As you walked into an interrogation room, Aaron sat you down in the seat, then took off your hand cuffs, handcuffing one hand to the table instead.

"We'll wait for your lawyer, do you need anything?"

"No."

You couldn't even look at him. How could her. You told him you didn't do it.

As I walked out, I was greeted with Penelope. "Sir, she has nothing on her record, not even a speeding ticket. I've looked through her social media posts and everyone spoke so highly of her. Friends were making special post to thank her for being a great friend. She took care of everyone. Sir, I-I know I'm not an agent, but I just can't believe it's her."

Penelope was cut off by my phone ringing, picking it up after viewing the caller I.D.

Morgan said, "Hotch, we got the wrong girl. It's Y/n's bartending partner. I just watcher her slip something into this guy's drink. I'm bringing her in, we can cut Y/n loose. You can be happy now. Y/n's not a killer. What that gut feeling is, is your feelings that you like her Hotch. You haven't felt that since Haley. I know it's been 20 years, but trust me man. Y/n is something special, according to the track record she has. She's the opposite of a killer. She's just the type of sunshine that you and Jack need in your life."

Aaron walked in and said, "I'm sorry, there has been a huge mistake. You are free to go. It was the other bartender you worked with.

"What? There's no way. She's amazing at what she does."

Aaron shook her head and said, "One of my agents was in the bar watching the entire time, he was undercover. He watched her slip something in another man's drink."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you got the right killer. If, if you don't mind, can one of your agents give me a ride home? I don't have my car, obviously."

You didn't know how to feel. You knew you didn't do anything, but was Agent Hotchner always going to have a doubt in his mind that you were a killer?

You got in his car, this time sitting in the front seat. A storm was coming in, you enjoyed the rain and thunder, it calmed you. You two rode in silence, when he dropped you of at your apartment, he walked you up.

When you opened your door, you turned around to thank him, instead that didn't come out.

"I told you I didn't do it, ya know?"

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. I. There's something about you, y/n. I thought you were a suspect, but you should've never been one."

As your eyes were red and filled with tears, you looked at the man who you thought was your soulmate, instead, he had ruined you. Yes, you two didn't date, yes, you didn't hook up, but there was something there.

"Well then why the hell did you do this, Aaron? Why arrest me?"

"My ex-wife passed away a year ago. I haven't had feelings for anyone in nearly 20 years. My feelings for you confused me. I didn't know what I was feeling. I didn't know what these feelings were because I've been so out of touch with them. And it took me a minute to realize that these feelings are because I didn't think you were a killer, I thought you were beautiful. I think you're beautiful. But that gut feeling was that I think. I think I've found my soulmate."

As she stepped closer to me, I watched the sunshine fill her eyes again, her smile creeping up her face. God, was she beautiful and amazing, and from her friend's testimonies who I interviewed, she was a down right amazing person. Just the absolute sunshine to be around.

You were going to kiss Aaron. You were glad he figured out his feelings. This was going to be the start of something new. You didn't know what happened to his ex, you'd find out someday. You took the chance. You placed your hands on Aaron's hips and leaned in to kiss him. You were so happy that Aaron felt the same way. How did you know this? He placed his hands on your face and kissed you back like you were the only sunshine he'd ever see again.

[jqmalikhsgib]

quest

eleven

aaron had been gone for three days. he kept in contact with you through the case. with finally solving the case he was headed home to his family.

aaron sighs as he lays his head back on his seat. david noticed he was less stress. he was happy to see his friend was finally doing better.

david was glad you were home. aaron had been more stress and smiled less and less as the days went on.

seeing this more relaxed and comfortable aaron felt familiar.

“how’s yn and the kids?”

aaron looks at his friend. “they’re fine.”

dave gave him a look.

“they’re great. it’s just—”

“what is it? last we talked about it you said you two were great. going to counseling and everything. what’s wrong?”

“yeah, they are great. fantastic even! but she doesn’t know.”

“know what?”

aaron sighs. “she hasn’t seen the scars, dave. she doesn’t know the full story of foyet.”

dave hums understandably. he knew how insecure hotch was about the scars foyet left on him. all the stab wounds he’d have to see everyday for the rest of his life. aaron couldn’t bare looking at them himself. he feels weak whenever he sees himself.

“im guessing you two haven’t—”

aaron shakes his head. “no.”

“what’s stopping you from showing her?”

“fear,”

dave gives him a questionable look.

“fear of her seeing them and—i don’t know. not looking at me the same.”

“aaron, yn isn’t that kind of woman. she loves hard and loves you, and everyone around her, for who the are. she won’t see you any differently.”

deep down aaron knew this. but he couldn’t help the intrusive thoughts running through his head. he had to tell you, that he knew. it was the how he was confused over.

“you know what i say about scars.”

aaron smiles. “scars remind us where we’ve been,”

“they don’t have to dictate where we’re going.”

the two of them nod at one another before zoning off.

when aaron walked into his house he knew everyone would be sleep. he had hoped you’d be awake but wouldn’t be surprised if you’d fallen asleep yourself.

to his lucky stars you were awake. you smile at your husband as he walks over and kisses your forehead.

“how’s my girl?”

“just missing your lovely husband.”

aaron chuckles quietly.

“you mind if i get ready for bed before you smother me in cuddles?” he half jokes. you giggle before nodding.

“go ahead.”

aaron took a quick shower. he made sure the door was locked. not ready for you to see all the stab wounds. once he was out he stared at his chest in the mirror.

he runs his hands over the permanent scars. he grabs his shirt. putting it on along with his boxers he leaves your shared bathroom.

aaron smiles once more. he climbs into bed and holds you close.

“missed you.” you whisper into his chest. aaron clears his throat.

“there’s something i didn’t tell you.”

you look into his eyes. noticing his nervousness you frown.

“what’s going on?” you sit up.

“before george foyet killed haley, before they went into witness protection, he found me. he was in my apartment. our apartment.”

you listen intensely.

“he was waiting to hurt me. i knew what he craved. fear. i wouldn’t give it to him. i refused. i think—i believe that’s what set him off more. i knew he wasn’t there to kill me. he had a bigger plan for that. but he needed me to hurt. to feel helpless,”

“aaron? what did he do?”

“remember how i told you he stabbed himself repeatedly?”

“god, aaron, he didn’t?”

aaron nods. “over and over and over. i barely made it. he called the police and they got me to the emergency room as soon as possible. they patched me up and everything. im—i was scared to tell you. scared for you to see. i didn’t want you to look at me—”

“no! aaron this isn’t your fault. it wasn’t your fault. he—he’s the one that hurt you. you’re so strong baby. so very strong.” you couldn’t help but cry.

he holds you, shedding a few tears himself. thankful he has such an amazing woman like you.

when you look him in the eyes you smiled at him like he was the only man on this planet. aaron smiles right back at you.

he leans forward before connecting your lips. the first kiss you two had in two years. it felt amazing. it was exciting.

aaron was still the best person you have ever kissed. he kissed you like you were the only girl in the world. and to him, you are.

when he pulls away he smiles once more. “i love you yn. im—im not there yet. i want to, trust me i do. but i just think we need a little more time until we get there.”

you nod understandably. it had been two whole years. you knew you’d wait a life time for aaron. and aaron would wait a lifetime for you.

“i understand. there is no rush. we have forever.”

aaron hums in agreement.

“goodnight, darling.”

“goodnight, aaron.”

if you wanna be added or unadded to any of my stories taglist please let me know

taglist:

@slut4ethan @zaddyhotch @rosiehale23 @whotfskai @shergoretzxx @vodkori @14buddy22 @ivebeenthearchersstuff @madesavage05

[the-guilty-writer]

Headcanons for Hotchner!daughter Service Dog

No one asked for it but here we are.

Inspired by the headcanons done by @ssa-thotchnerr on hotchner!reader emotional support dog

As someone who is a service dog handler, this topic is near and dear to my heart, especially service dogs who do psychiatric work. It's also important to me to address the differences between an ESA (emotional support animal) and PSD (psychiatric service dog) as they are two seprate things.

If you have questions about ESAs or Service Dogs send me an ask or a message! It's something I love to talk about and educate on!

Here we go:

CW: Foyet, Haley's death, counseling, medication, PTSD, PTSD symptoms, meanings to names

The whole thing with Foyet was traumatic. Being pulled away from your dad, being in witness protection, being told your dad was dead only to find out that he wasn't, your mom being killed- it was all too much.

Hotch was very proactive about getting you and Jack into counseling. Jack recovered from the events far faster and easier than you did.

After evaluation from a psychologist, they concluded you had severe PTSD.

You were talking to a therapist multiple times a week, taking medication, being open with your dad, even peer support groups, but after a year you still struggled immensely.

Panic attacks, nightmares, hypervigilance, depressive episodes, and avoidance still ruled your life.

Your medical team brought forward the idea of a service dog as an addition to the rest of your treatment.

You and your dad looked into it and decided it would be a good idea.

Until you looked at the price of training or getting a program dog and it was going to be upwards of $15,000 (really closer to $25,000) or at least two years on a non-profit waitlist. Some options were both.

Thank god for the "anonymous donation" from Uncle Dave.

You and your dad met with the program. They had you meet a few different dogs that were ready for task training, but ultimately you were matched with a solid black female german shepherd.

"She's from our outer space themed litter. Her name is Comet, after Halley's Comet."

That had you and your dad in tears.

It would still be months before she would complete her task training, but you got to see her when you went to do handler training.

She finally finished her training with the program and got to come home to complete it with you!

At first, having Comet almost made things worse.

People would point and stare, little kids would scream, rude people saying things like "you don't look disabled", "I thought only veterans could have PTSD", access issues, even some of your friends who didn't want to bring you along on activities anymore since you'd have Comet with you.

But it forced you to be a bit brave and learn to stand up for yourself and her.

And her tasks made your life so much better and gave you so much more independence.

Comet would "search" the apartment for strangers before you entered, so you could come home alone without Hotch or Jessica having to be there.

If you were home alone, she would bark when someone came into the apartment and go check to see who it was. If it was someone she knew, she would stop barking and come back to you, but if it was a stranger she would continue barking so you could call your dad and ask who was supposed to be coming to the apartment.

When you had nightmares, she would wake you up before they got really bad. This improved the sleep quality of everyone in your family.

Comet would alert you before you had a panic attack so she could perform deep pressure therapy and you could use your coping skills to try to make it less intense.

If your panic attack did get intense, she would do a "take down" to put as much pressure on your body as possible and gently lick you until you calmed down.

In the after-fatuige of an attack she would take you to a quiet place to recover and continue to provide pressure therapy.

If it happened when your dad was home she would get him to help you through it.

She would annoy you at certain times of the day to remind you to take your medications, sometimes even fetching the bottles for you.

When you would cry alone she would just starting bringing you anything she could find - water bottles, papers, pillows, dirty laundry (usually bras because it made you laugh) - so you didn't have to be alone with your feelings.

She would stand behind you and alert to people approaching so you didn't get startled.

Sometimes would provide "checks" around corners if you were having a really bad day with hypervigilance.

Having Comet opened up an entire new world for you, making you feel safe without having to have your dad or your aunt with you.

She wasn't a replacement for your therapy or medication, and the public could still be extremely rude. Sometimes you did leave her at home if you were going somewhere that it would be hard to accommodate her and you had your dad to help you incase anything happened.

But she gave you independence that you didn't have before and made your life so much better.

[hardlyinteresting]

Just some thoughts on Hotch and Foyet because they've been rattling around in my brain for a long time now

I've seen some jokes about the “sexual tension” between Hotch and Foyet. And I have seen jokes about Hotch being Foyet’s gay awakening, or being so hot that Foyet changed his target base.

I don't think these memes or jokes were made with malicious intent, but I do think they miss the point entirely.

George Foyet hates Aaron Hotchner. He's obsessed with him because Aaron doesn't give in to him. Aaron doesn't take the deal Foyet offers. He refuses to stop hunting The Reaper and in doing so he strips power away from Foyet.

The Reaper is a sadist. He kills for power and for pleasure. He intimidates and manipulates to inflict psychological harm and prolong suffering. Like Hotch says, Detective Shaunassy is very much a victim of The Reaper even if he never laid a hand on him.

Hotch is determined to catch The Reaper and it puts a target on his own back. The only way for The Reaper to regain the power he feels is slipping is to show Aaron what he can do. It's why he goes out of his way to change his kill tactic and take out the people on that bus. Hotch blames himself for their deaths (wrongfully so) and in that moment The Reaper wins, even if just briefly.

George Foyet steals Morgan’s credentials and leaves the bullet for him to show the power he has. And it does intimidate Morgan, but it also pisses him off. And it pisses Hotch off.

When Foyet attacks Hotch in his own home he stabs him. Multiple times. And he stabs him in the same places he stabbed himself. Every act is a display of power.

Foyet himself comments on the profile of stabbing as substitute for sexual penetration. He goes out of his way to make a comment about what it must mean if he's stabbing men now.

He tortures Hotch, and mocks him with his own profile. Hotch tells Emily later on that he passed out quickly, that he doesn't remember what happened, but we know that this isn't true. Aaron was awake. He remembers. And he's ashamed that he was violated and he hates that he knows the team knows what it means. He can lie and say he doesn't remember it, so that he doesn't have to talk about it, but the facts are still there.

But Foyet doesn't stab Hotch because he's sexually attracted to him. The same way that r*pe seldom has any correlation to actual sexual desire. It's about power, and power excitation.

George Foyet hates Aaron Hotchner and he's obsessive about it. They stand toe to toe as power equals and George needs to tip the scales. It reminds me in a lot of ways of the grave scene in Saltburn actually. And the intersection of obsession and hatred. And how intimacy is the most powerful way to destroy someone. Stabbing is personal. Stabbing is intimate. It's violating. And in Foyet’s case it's still a substitute for penetration, it's sexually motivated, but it has nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with power.

But Hotch isn't the first man he's stabbed. Foyet himself was. I also think that because of the power balance and subsequent imbalance between Hotch and Foyet, there's a lot to be said about Foyet envisioning Hotch as a different side to the same coin. It's very much the classic hero versus villain set up. Very Batman and the Joker. And I think there's a lot to be said for the fact that Foyet shows Hotch his own scars and intentionally recreates them.

Basically, despite there being no ill intent, and despite the fact that I do understand the intended joke/ humor in the memes and things, they leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Aaron Hotchner is Foyet's victim in so many ways, and it's far deeper than the surface physical harm and the oblivious psychological fall out like losing Haley, or fearing for Jack’s life.

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil’s Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part two

I’ve loved seeing y’all’s comments so far 😈 This is the most evil I’ve ever felt when posting a fic

Warnings: Hotch being a dick (but get used to that bc it’s not stopping); brief non-descriptive smut at the end (the REAL smut comes later dw)

Don’t forget to follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be notified when a new chapter goes up!

Two: Was it obvious to everybody else? — “No Time To Die” by Billie Eilish

Aaron seemed to be doing better after a few more weeks. He settled in more, and got back in the groove of the BAU. You encouraged him to come out for drinks or dinner with the team, and he actually agreed. Probably because you were there, but you didn’t talk about that.

You didn’t talk about how he ended up coming home with you, or vice versa. How most days you woke up next to each other, no clothes separating you. How it really wasn’t appropriate for a boss to date an employee, especially in the FBI.

But you kept things professional in the BAU office. No one knew any different. Even out with the team, you kept your distance. You stood across the table from him most nights at the bars, to exercise restraint when you had alcohol in your system. Never mind the fact that he left first, and you shortly after, but you came in separate cars, so no one suspected a thing.

He was smiling more, laughing just a little. He had his moods, his moments when the grief manifested as irritation that he couldn't hide. His short sentences made their appearances, but they did before.

Hotch really seemed to be doing better, and everyone was relieved, happy for him.

Until the next case.

Everyone saw it. The similarities to what happened with Foyet were downright uncanny. The phone call, the taunting, right down to the husband coming home to find the mother and child murdered before he was murdered as well.

Everyone saw the sudden change in Hotch.

You kept a watchful eye on him as JJ gave the case. You weren’t the only one watching Hotch, but you were definitely the least discreet. And he noticed, locking eyes with you once and returning your concerned gaze with a frustrated glare.

“Wheels up in 15,” Hotch said, standing and scooping up his files. “Y/N, I need to speak with you in my office.”

You followed him, shrugging your shoulders to the rest of the team when they gave you questioning looks. You were sure he was upset that you kept watching him, but considering how things had been going lately for the two of you, you thought he might want…something else. You tried not to let your excitement show.

Hotch stood in his office with his hand on the door, waiting for you. He shut it behind you.

“Do we have a problem?”

You took a step back, blinking in shock. Never mind on the sex, then. “Excuse me?”

“Do we have a problem?” Hotch repeated. He hadn’t raised his voice, but he didn’t need to.

“No, sir,” you answered. It had been a while since you spoke to him this way, where he was very clearly your boss, Agent Hotchner, and not Aaron who you took showers with. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, which you knew was a lie. “We have somewhere to be.”

You nodded. ���Let’s go.”

+++

You sat away from Hotch on the plane, opting for a spot on the couch next to JJ. He was unreasonably angry with you at the moment, and you had no idea why, but you were determined to find out.

When he excused himself to the bathroom, you leaned closer to JJ. “Is it just me, or is he on edge?”

She didn’t need you to specify who he is. She nodded with wide eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on. This case went straight to his desk and he approved it before even showing it to me,” she said. “I don’t even know if we’ve officially been invited in. I’m trying to figure that out before we get there.”

“What?” you hissed. He never did that. “JJ, that’s not good.”

“I know,” she nodded, looking down at her file. Quietly, she mumbled, “It’s so similar.”

You heard the bathroom door open, so all you did was silently nod in reply. The details were too similar, and if he personally approved the case…

He shouldn’t be back at work. You knew in your gut that day that it was too soon. Things were going so well, you thought maybe you were wrong, maybe being back at work was what he needed to stay sane. But this was bad, especially for him.

Garcia said he passed his psych eval, but that means nothing to profilers. All of you know how to answer those questions correctly to get back to work, even if you shouldn’t be back. Everyone has done it at least once after being injured, but the situations have never been as bad as Hotch’s.

He should be retired. You knew it, even though you’d hate to see him gone.

“Y/N, I want you to come with me and Morgan to the crime scene,” Hotch announced, startling you. “It’s a big home, so we’ll need to split up. JJ, set up at the precinct with Reid, we need to know everything we can about this family. Get Garcia to send any and all information over. Emily, go with Rossi to some of the neighbors, maybe they noticed something leading up to this.”

Everyone nodded, knowing their next steps. You kept your eyes purposefully away from Hotch’s, wondering how the crime scene was going to go over with him.

+++

Morgan drove to the crime scene (you were surprised Hotch let him) and you sat in the backseat, able to share glances with Morgan through the rearview mirror.

Out of everyone on the team, Morgan is the most likely to ask the difficult questions, no matter who it is. Hotch wasn’t exempt from Morgan’s curiosity.

So you were not surprised when Morgan voiced the concerns that had been swirling in your head.

“Hotch, listen,” Morgan began, and you knew exactly where it was going. “Are you sure you want to go to the crime scene?”

“Yes,” Hotch replied, quick and sharp. “Why?”

Morgan shrugged, though you both knew the answer. “I noticed some similarities in the case file.”

“To?”

You sighed. His stubbornness was going to make this case unbearable. “To Foyet,” you blurted, ripping the bandaid off. “I know you saw it too.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment. “I did.”

“Okay,” Morgan said. “If it’s too much, Hotch, that’s okay. You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine,” he snapped, his temper already rising. “If it wasn’t, I’d be elsewhere. I don’t need to be micromanaged.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Morgan snapped back, becoming just as irritated. “I’m here for you, man. I know none of us understand what you’ve been through, but we’re looking out for you.”

“Thanks.”

You shared a look with Morgan in the rearview mirror, raising your eyebrows at each other.

+++

Aaron stood idly in the living room. The father, Jonathan, was killed there. Behind the couch, a blood stain soaks into cream carpet.

Family pictures decorated the walls, mostly of the daughter, Elise. Very few had the mother, Georgia, next to the father. Marital problems were brewing just under the surface.

A lamp laid across the back of the couch, the shade ripped and crooked. The struggle lasted longer than the police initially thought. Aaron knew it had. He remembered. The fury that ignites when a father sees his wife and son together, dead, mutilated like animals.

Even if Jonathan was never going to win the fight, he was determined to do damage before he went down. To make the unsub pay. Aaron wouldn’t be surprised if the unsub has bruises and cuts at the very least, a broken rib or two at most.

Upstairs, Aaron could hear your and Morgan’s muffled voices and soft footsteps. He remembered how silent the house was when he arrived, when Foyet was hiding. No one moved, no one breathed. The house braced itself for what was to come.

Aaron turned toward the staircase, heard his body tumbling down on top of Foyet’s. The groaning of pain, he thought one of Foyet’s ribs broke then. Or maybe it finally broke when he kicked him.

The glass coffee table was cracked, surprisingly not shattered, but one more hit would’ve done it.

One more hit. One more. Just one more.

Aaron closed his eyes, his face warm with the memory of blood splattering his skin. Knuckles cracking from punch after punch after punch. Foyet had long gone silent, all that was left was the sound of Aaron’s heartbeat pounding in his ears.

His fists clenched. When he got his hands on this unsub…

“Nothing identifiable upstairs,” you said.

Hotch opened his eyes. He didn’t hear you or Morgan come down. You both insisted on taking the second floor, where the mother and daughter were murdered, and Hotch didn’t argue. He wanted to be left alone.

“It doesn’t look like they struggled,” Morgan added. “They might have known him.”

“Or he used a ruse,” Hotch said, his words clipped.

“Or that,” you nodded, not wanting to argue with him. “It doesn’t look like they suffered. Torture was not part of this.”

Hotch didn’t look at you. He knew what you were trying to do. And he didn’t want to hear it.

“The father struggled with our unsub for a while,” Hotch noted, pointing out his observations. “Our unsub is in shape, as was the father.”

“Garcia said the father had a gym membership,” Morgan supplied. Garcia had called while you were upstairs with some extra details and to check on Hotch.

“Both of you go there next,” Hotch said. “I’ll go back to the precinct.”

“Alright,” you said, glad to get him out of the house.

+++

After dropping Hotch off at the precinct, you and Morgan headed straight to the gym where the father regularly went.

Unfortunately, it turned up empty. The manager gave you and Morgan full access to all of the security footage, and you were able to see Jonathan on it, but nothing suspicious. You sent all of the tapes to Garcia to review more closely, but you didn’t think anything would come out of them. (Nothing did.)

Hotch finally told everyone to get some sleep around ten, but to be back at it by seven the next morning. It took some convincing, but you got him to get in the car with you.

“Even if you don’t sleep,” you said. “You can still shower and relax. Get out of the suit for a few hours.”

He smirked. And nodded.

And ended up in your bed just an hour later.

Not a single hint of alcohol was on his lips. His hair was wet from a shower, and his back was still damp. He barely made it out from under the water before throwing clothes on to come next door to see you. And you barely had enough time to register what he was there for before he was hovering over you on the bed.

“Please,” he whispered, toying with the hem of your t-shirt. “Let me.”

It didn’t take much more than that. You had wanted this for so long.

Clothes flung in every direction; you’d find them tomorrow morning at some point, when it mattered. It didn’t matter at the moment. The only thing that did was feeling Hotch’s skin on yours, feeling his fingertips tighten on your hip bones.

All he wanted was to make you feel good, to apologize for his mood in this one way that he knew you’d understand. He didn’t mean it when he got sharp with you, not really. He never wanted to. It always just happened. He couldn’t ever control it.

Somehow, with no words at all, you understood. “I know,” you murmured over and over, threading your fingers through his hair. With every kiss, every thrust, every breath, you knew. You knew what he wanted to say, but was too afraid to utter. You knew. You knew him.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

100: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: This is your first case back after being released from prison, but are you really ready to come back? Hotch finally catches up with Foyet, and you don't know how much more heartbreak you can take before you break.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

Penelope got the address to Foyet's apartment in Arlington and as much as Hotch wanted to storm the place, he had to be smart about this. You, Derek, Spencer, and JJ wait in the building across the street with SWAT gearing up, and Hotch and Emily are sitting in a car on the same road to watch the apartment, just at a different angle.

The entire street is filled with agents dressed in casual clothing. Some of them pose as construction workers, people working on their cars, mothers using empty strollers, people having a casual conversation, and just about anything else that seems normal.

To anyone walking down the street, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

"How much longer do we wait?" Emily's voice comes over the earpiece.

"I need to leave that call to someone else."

"SWAT's getting antsy," JJ says to Derek.

"I'll tell them when it's time to go. Right now we sit tight. Let them know." JJ nods and heads back over to the SWAT team. "These guys are trained to move, not just sit around. I can't really say that I blame them."

"He may not even be there anymore," Rossi says.

"I know. The longer we sit here, the further away he gets. Y/N, do you sense him? See his energy?" You're staring at the road, completely checked out. Derek walks over to you and places a hand on your shoulder to which you jump. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, no, I can't sense him. I don't know where he is," you mumble.

"Alright, this is what we're gonna do. We're gonna send in an agent posing as the superintendent of the building. Say there's a water leak or something. If he doesn't answer, which I don't think he will, we'll send a small camera underneath the door so we can get a feel of what's waiting for us inside. Then, and only then, do we go in."

An agent is dressed the part before being sent in with a worker's bag as if he is going to be working on something inside. Every agent is connected by an earpiece so you can hear what he says when he gets inside the building. You just can't see him.

"Super." The agent knocks but no one answers. "Super. There's a leak in the apartment above you. I need to check your ceiling." When there isn't an answer, he sets his bag on the ground and pulls out the tiny camera that is going to go underneath the door. "Are you getting the signal?"

Whatever the camera is picking up is broadcasted to the small TV in front of you.

"Copy," Derek says.

There doesn't look to be anyone inside the apartment that is very bare. The only kind of furniture inside is a folded table, two chairs, and a few trinkets scattered.

"No warm bodies. It looks like a kitchen table and two chairs," the agent says.

"Is that a laptop on the table?" Spencer notices. "It could be useful."

"Is that food?" Rossi asks. "Get closer to it."

"Wait, go back," Hotch orders. "What's that on the floor?" The agent moves the camera to show the mess on the floor. "It's mail."

"Go, go, go!" Derek gasps.

The entire team hauls ass to the building and when the agents pretending to be normal civilians see, they drop everything and run inside the building, too. Your team approaches the apartment first but they are hesitant to go inside. Hotch looks at you with desperate eyes.

"Is he in there?"

"No, he's not," you mutter. "I'd feel him if he was."

Hotch and Derek are the first ones inside the empty apartment. Derek and Emily go into the bedroom while the rest of you stay in the living room. On the table is an untouched meal and the mail on the ground means he must have left in a hurry. George was here but he isn't now.

"Dammit. He's not coming back here. He left an untouched meal. You drop your mail like this when you're startled, when you need to get out of dodge quickly."

"Something tipped him off. He knew we were coming here."

"The suitcases are open with some clothes missing. There's a safe with a stash of guns in it," Derek says, emerging from the bedroom.

"He didn't even bother to lock them up again. If he's in a hurry, he'll make a mistake."

"Yeah, but when Foyet gets cornered, he starts killing."

"We're not going to let that happen."

The only thing that might be able to help is the laptop on the table so the only person who can get into it is Penelope. She is still at the office but was able to get into it remotely. She gets to work immediately but the computer begins deleting everything on it until she stops it halfway through.

"He is creepy good," Penelope says when she tries to get into the computer.

"How good?"

"He wiped his hard drive. He might have been in a hurry to leave but whatever was on there, he did not want us to see it."

"Garcia, tell me that you're hacked in and that you can rebuild it," Derek says.

"Watch me work, darling." She does her thing for a total of thirty seconds. "I got something. He had an internet alarm under the name Peter Rhea. It alerted him as soon as we ran a check on it."

"What else did he wipe?"

Penelope goes through all the files and pictures rapidly.

"Garcia, wait a minute. Freeze it right there."

She stops on a set of pictures that show a white-picket fence house and a man you don't recognize. Hotch does.

"That's the US Marshal assigned to my family," he whispers.

"Foyet's been watching him this whole time?"

Hotch takes out his phone and calls Sam, the agent posted to his family. However, all he gets is his voicemail.

"Sam, it's Aaron. We found Foyet's location but he has surveillance photos of you. Call me for a meeting location or we're on our way to you."

"We're gonna need to deploy another swat unit," Derek says.

"That's gonna take another half hour."

Hotch doesn't wait another second and leaves the apartment, hellbent on finding Foyet before he gets to Haley and Jack.

It doesn't take long to get to the safe house that Sam and Hotch's family have been staying in. You don't have to go inside to know something bad happened here. You can feel the energy of Death and Evil. Hotch and Derek break down the door and rush inside only to see Sam lying on the ground with deadly wounds all over his body. Blood is everywhere. 

Foyet got to him before Hotch could.

Hotch kneels down next to Sam while Rossi gets the ambulance on the phone.

"This is Agent Rossi, FBI. We need an ambulance. We have a federal officer down."

"I wouldn't... I couldn't..."

"We're getting an ambulance," Hotch says.

"I tried. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Hotch's panic increases and you suddenly don't feel so good. You have to get out of here. Why did you think you were okay to return? "Are Jack and Haley safe? Sam, tell me what happened."

"I don't know how he got in."

You look around the safe house and try to piece together what happened moments before your team arrived. Foyet walks into the living room behind Sam and shoots him in the leg then the render him useless. He beats him with the handle of the gun before taking out a knife. He uses it to cut off Sam's fingers before leaving him there.

He uses Sam's phone and finds Haley that way.

"Sam, I need to understand. Does he know where Jack and Haley are?" Hotch asks again.

"I didn't..."

"What about her phone number? What's her safe phone number?"

"It won't matter," Sam gasps. "I tried, Hotch. I'm so sorry."

The paramedics finally arrive and assess Sam quickly, forcing Hotch to move from him.

Spencer looks at you standing away from everyone else. He knows you're not ready to come back but he also knows this is what you need right now. A distraction. That's all this job is to you now. You look up and lock eyes with him but he quickly looks away from you.

"There are gun wounds to each leg and one foot, he's missing several fingers, and appears to be badly beaten."

Sam is loaded into the ambulance and Hotch goes in after him presumably to get more answers on Haley and Jack. Your team stays at the house to gather more evidence to see where Foyet might have gone or if he even found Haley and Jack. This crime scene is the only way you're going to get evidence because Sam died on the way to the hospital.

"Foyet called Haley from Sam's phone," Hotch informs when he calls Derek.

"Alright, we'll get Garcia to trace it."

"He told her she was compromised and I was dead."

You can hear the heartbreak in Hotch's voice, and you look down emotionally. How can you ever do this job again? All you can think about is prison and the fear that if you close your eyes to sleep, you'll wake up back in that cell.

"Have you called her?" Emily asks.

"No. He said to throw her phone away and to buy a disposable."

"Hotch, we're gonna come get you right now."

"No, Anderson's bringing me a car. I'm hoping that she's just gonna call me, at least, to check."

"Foyet posed as a marshal and even called from a number that Haley recognized. She's not going to call because he scared her. That's what gets him off. The fear."

"No, he paralyzed her," Emily says. "He overwhelmed her and now she trusts him. Where do you think he would take her?"

"Witness Protection had her living in New Jersey," JJ says.

"He has a head start. He could be there now."

JJ's phone rings and she places Penelope on speakerphone so all can hear, including Hotch.

"I got a trace on Foyet. He's bouncing between a few towers."

"Where?" Hotch asks.

"Fairfax County."

"He's still local?"

"Send the coordinates to my phone."

"Done," Penelope says and sends it to Hotch.

"Why isn't he on his way to New Jersey? Wait, that phone's on?"

"Yes."

"Hotch?" No answer comes from him. "Shit, he hung up." The phone beeps signaling that Hotch is calling someone on his end. "What is that noise?"

"Hotch is calling Foyet," Penelope answers.

"Agent Hotchner," Foyet answers.

Hotch is talking to Foyet but they don't know you're listening in on the conversation. Hotch might but Foyet doesn't.

"If you touch her..."

"Be gentle like I was with you? What the hell took you so long? I was beginning to think this phone was dead or something." Hotch doesn't say anything. "Why so quiet? You usually lash out when you're frustrated."

"I'm not frustrated. You're more predictable than you think."

"Am I?"

"You didn't know where Haley was so you made her come to you."

"You make me sound lazy."

"It's just another way for you to show control. Your mother tried to protect you from your father but she wasn't strong enough. You hated her for that, didn't you? You decided that all women were weak."

"Those are your words, not mine."

"Weren't you nine when you killed them?"

"It was a car accident."

"That you couldn't take credit for. That had to be hard for you. Poor George got another chance. The little orphan was saved by the wealthy, sterile Eastside couple, the Foyets. The story should have ended there."

"I don't believe in fairy tales. Do you?"

"That's the thing, George. This isn't a fairy tale. You don't have to write this story. You don't have to do any of this. I know you're exhausted. You're always looking over your shoulder, always wondering when the other shoe is gonna drop. Haven't you gotten what you wanted? You've set yourself apart from anybody we've ever dealt with. You're not just a famous serial killer, you're the Reaper. We're gonna study you and your methods for years and years."

Hotch is trying to get in his head but you have a feeling he won't.

"You know what I've been thinking? Haley looks pretty good with dark hair. She's lost some weight. Must be all the stress you caused her." He must be right outside of their home and a chilling spark shoots down your spine. "Where's the little man? Oh. There he is. Does he like Captain America because of you?" A cell phone rings. "That's your wife. Hold, please." He puts Hotch on hold to answer Haley. "Mrs. Hotchner."

"I'm here."

"Open the gate and I'll drive in."

"Okay."

You can only assume she does.

"Aaron? I really gotta go."

Foyet hangs up on Hotch and you let your tears spill over your eyes. Hotch is completely heartbroken which you felt over the phone. This isn't going to end well and both you and Hotch know it. You have the profile of Foyet so all you need to figure out is where he told Haley to go. It has to mean something to Hotch otherwise he wouldn't get complete satisfaction of ruining his life completely.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[wereoz]

okay but i get the hotchgan people…. they are so poignantly, surreally similar with tiny differences that just… AGH. both became strict with themselves after realising they wanted to get out of their destructive, bad situations as teenagers - only hotch’s was caused by his father being abusive (its not canon but heavily implied in s1) and dying without atoning and morgan’s was caused by his father being very loving so it hurt all the more when he died. they’re both extremely secretive, hating to be vulnerable. they’re both headstrong, morgan frequently raising issues with hotch - as basically the only one who does this. morgan says he may not like hotch, but he respects him. hotch feels similarly but it seems he wishes morgan liked him anyway, bitterly bringing up the fact morgan called him a ‘drill sergeant.’ but the friction creates trust: the only one that could replace hotch as acting unit chief was morgan. morgan pulled hotch off of foyet’s body….. they’re taking over my body like a parasite

[hotchs-big-hands]

hey my loves, do you have fav Aaron headcanons?

OOOOOOO well lemme share some of mine!!

Outside of work stuff he's a bit shy actually and closed off, partially cuz he doesn't have the best self esteem (cuz of everything that happened with Haley/Foyet etc)

I don't think after Beth he would be actively trying to be with anyone again bc he doesn't think he's made for it yknow? Feels down on his luck.

His go bag has usually got a trinket or a shirt of Jack's in it so when the worst of cases happen he can retreat to his hotel room and just pull it out, remember why he's doing what he's doing.

He calls Jack every night if he's able to. Even if they in different time zones, he'll call when it's Jack's bedtime.

Doesn't think he's a very good dad at all. Doesn't believe in himself even a lil bit.

Has nightmares almost every night abt Foyet, Haley, of the possibility of if he was to lose Jack as well. On those nights where Jack appears in his nightmares and he's home he'll check on his son, sometimes he'll sit at the side of his bed. Often falls asleep there (his poor back) and Jack wakes him up. If it's still the middle of the night then Jack has him join him 🥺

(now if we talking AH x reader)

Going on with the closed off-ness, he would rly try to steer clear of you because he thinks he's bad luck and you'll leave him or you'll die bc of him. This can often come across as him being cold towards you unfortunately.

He genuinely doesn't know what to do if you approach him with your feelings for him, like he's scared. Will take him time to open up to you and let himself be vulnerable. Be gentle with him.

Actually a rly funny guy, he lives for making you and Jack laugh. Like, it's better than a silent and depressing apartment.

Actually think he would make you laugh during sex sometimes! Depending on the mood ofc but he's not afraid to make you giggle :)

He's got a lot of hurt but just be gentle and take your time with him and he'll open up to you eventually 💖💖💖💖

[masterwords]

something worth fighting for

Summary: Emily's ready to call it quits, Hotch and Morgan already have, and then a party at Rossi's changes everything.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: ~7k

Warnings: hotch's ear injury (canon - 7x24 explosion), gunshot, vomiting, pain medication

Read on AO3: something worth fighting for

Notes: I humbly submit my work to the CM Holiday Gift Exchange (@cmgiftexchange), a gift for @hosseinis. I wrote almost 30k words for this exchange scattered between 4 different stories before this one became the keeper. I was incredibly fortunate to be matched to you, to be able to create a gift for you, but as happy as I was...it became almost impossible to decide among all the things I wanted to make for you! The other 3 stories were a lot darker, didn't feel much like holiday gifts, but they'll still be posted at some point probably soon because they were all solid stories. You inspired me to write a LOT of words this month my friend. Thank you for loving hotchgan and for being fun to talk to! Merry Crimbus! (Read under the cut or on AO3)

~~***~~~***~~***~~~***~~***~~~***~~***~~~***~~***~~~***~~

“Do you ever think about what might have happened if we had done for you what you and JJ did for me?”

Hotch frowned and laced his fingers together in his lap. His hands were cold in spite of them currently being in Georgia. The heat outside was well matched by the air conditioning blowing into the cabin of the jet. He would have preferred not to have it on but the team liked it chilly. They still had an hour before anyone would begin trickling onto the jet, but he’d been surprised to find Emily boarding early. Only about fifteen minutes behind him. She was normally one of the last, stretching the time to the very last moment. He’d been anticipating a nice long period of quiet, a head start on the pile of paperwork he had to complete to shut the door on this case. Not today.

It was his own fault. He’d invited her to come to him when she had a bad day, and those seemed to be coming harder and faster lately. He found her in his office, texting, even once at his door with an apologetic bottle of wine. That night ended up with her drinking the whole thing and him calling her a cab because she refused to sleep on his couch. She wouldn’t look him in the eye for two full days after that because she was worried they’d done something they shouldn’t have while he repeatedly assured her that he hadn’t had a drop of the wine and they’d remained respectable distances from one another the whole night.

“How so?” he asked, his voice a little breathless. She didn’t often bring his situation into the mix. No one ever really dared to talk about Haley, about Foyet, it was like a field full of buried unmarked landmines. They’d all more or less decided to pretend it never happened, everyone but Dave and Derek anyway. JJ had offered support once or twice but she didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry. It was easier for all of them to ignore it.

“If we had decided to fake your death, put you into WITSEC with Haley and Jack. Send you off to some boring old place where you could be a teacher or something. Do you ever wonder how that would have played out?”

“Why would I be a teacher?” he asked, a little offended by the implication that he was dull. She smiled warily.

“Fine, you could be something more exciting. A lion tamer in the circus. Anything you want. Do you ever wonder?”

“No,” he replied truthfully. Painfully. He couldn’t allow himself to wander down the path of what if, it hurt too much. Knowing that there were paths he could have taken that would have kept Haley alive was enough to bring him to his knees, the weight of it too much to bear. It wasn’t that he didn’t know it anyway, there were plenty of choices he had at one time that would have led to Jack not losing his mother. There were better outcomes, maybe, but there were also worse.

Emily hummed, a noise he was sure she had picked up right from him, spending too much time together. Especially lately, because she couldn’t talk to the team about any of this. Sure, she had JJ, but when she looked at JJ she only saw the pain she’d gone through and how hard it has been for her to mend what was broken...the rest of them were still grappling with it. How could she tell them she wasn’t happy? That she might want out? Hotch was the only one she thought could take it, or even worse, understand.

“Why?” He knew why, he’d known it for a while now, but it was still his job to ask. To get her to do the talking. She needed to open up and get something off of her chest. He hated to do this, to slip into his negotiator role, but it worked. It was for her benefit.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she started quietly. “I guess I’m having a hard time being myself again. I spent enough time being someone else so completely, coming to terms with Emily Prentiss dying...this is harder than I thought it would be. Living this life again. And I guess I wondered if you thought you would too. If we’d gotten Foyet and Haley lived, if you got your family back. Could you go from being Joe Schmo in the middle of nowhere...Utah or Wyoming or something...could you be Aaron Hotchner again? Could you just forget dying and pretend it never happened?”

“I would have to try,” he said rather matter-of-factly, but he knew it wasn’t so simple. “It would have been a very different circumstance, though. My situation and yours were not the same.”

“No, yeah, I know...I know…good people, innocent people still died because of me though. I can’t help thinking that I should have stayed dead to honor their sacrifices.”

“Emily.”

“No, don’t Emily me. Look, I tried to buy a house and put down roots. I called my mom and had dinner with her...but I can’t...I can’t fix this. Look at the trouble I’ve caused. I see Spencer still not sure he can trust you guys. I see what happened to you and Derek. I did that, Hotch. I did that.”

“No,” he replied sadly. His voice cracked before he finished his thought and he shook his head, waiting for it to come back. “I did that.”

“Not without my help,” she added timidly. “You two would probably have gotten married, adopted some babies, maybe. White picket fence, two car garage...you guys had it all and what you did for me…I guess I’m not sure it was worth it, in the end. Because look at me now. Look at me thriving.” That last part, as emotionally wrecked as she was, dripped in sarcasm. His chest ached.

“How can I help?”

She scoffed at him and rolled her eyes dramatically. She hadn’t let go of the sarcasm, it was her last line of defense, but her voice was shockingly vulnerable and sincere. It broke his heart. “Tell me it was worth it?”

“It was worth it.”

“You’re going to have to do better...come on. Don’t insult me. You were a Federal Prosecutor, you can lie better than that if you’re not going to tell me the truth.”

“You want the truth?” He glanced down at his watch to make sure they still had time. That he wouldn’t be in the middle of a vulnerable monologue when the team started boarding the jet. That was the last thing he needed. He had a few minutes to safely get it off of his chest. “There are aspects of what happened that I would go back and change if I could. Hindsight is a gift and a curse. But I wouldn’t take it all back. I would do it for you again in a heartbeat, even if it went exactly the same again. No matter the blow-back on me, protecting you was worth it.”

She blinked rapidly, tears clinging to the mascara she’d just put on. That wasn’t what she’d expected and she hated him a little for it. For the cruelty in his honesty. She couldn’t reciprocate that kind of shredded, gaping wound of vulnerability for him no matter how she wanted to. “You jerk.”

“I’m sorry,” he spoke quietly, reaching into his pocket and procuring a small square of silk with his initials stitched in delicate thread along the hem. He offered her the handkerchief without hesitation, waiting for her to make fun of him for it. For being so old fashioned that he carried an old hanky around with him. She didn’t, though, she just looked at him, blinked the tears from her lashes and dabbed at her under eyes with his pale silk gift. He was such a relic, she’d always thought, but a beautiful one. He wasn’t meant for this time. He wasn’t meant for many of the things he did. Everyone thought he was so tough, unbreakable, harsh and ruthless but she knew the truth: he was none of those things. He was certainly good at putting up his shields and playing the game, but he was one of the gentlest, softest most broken men she’d ever met in her life. She wanted to protect him with every last breath in her body, he was such a fool sometimes. But she couldn’t protect him, not from himself or anyone else.

“No,” she whispered finally, sniffling. “I’m sorry. I don’t...I need to suck it up, huh? Get on with it. Shit or get off the pot.”

“You don’t need to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“Says the guy that came back to work a month after getting stabbed nine times.”

He frowned and shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know what else to do with myself. In retrospect, coming back so soon did more harm than good. I can’t go back, and I can’t wonder what might have been different had I...waited.” The way he said that last word made her squirm. Years later and he was still living with the crushing guilt, the lasting pain both physical and emotional. It struck her that this thing that had been burying her alive for a couple of months had been doing the same to him for years and it made her feel sick. He hadn’t healed he’d just hidden it beneath layers of life. It was mean of her, she knew it, but as she looked at him she knew...she didn’t want to become him, and that was exactly where she was headed if she didn’t get out now.

He’d given her all the answer she needed just by allowing her to see the truth of his existence. It was a cautionary tale.

“Thanks Hotch,” she said finally, knowing they had to wrap it up. He’d checked his watch twice since he opened up. The team were going to board soon and the last thing she wanted to do was be crying when they walked on. She wasn’t ready to tell them yet that she was thinking about leaving. She could see it in Hotch’s eyes, he knew. She didn’t have to say those words. The fact that she was thinking so hard about this was enough for both of them. “This is gross, by the way. There’s a reason Kleenex exists.”

“My grandmother made them for me.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“It’s clean,” he added a little defensively. “I do wash them.”

“Yeah. Sure. It’s all fine then.” She handed him back the wet silk and watched as he stuffed it into the pocket of his pants without thinking twice. “God. Do you have more of those on hand?”

“The clean ones are in my breast pocket, the soiled ones are in the pants pocket. I told you, I do wash them Emily.”

She scrunched up her nose in disgust. “You look good for ninety, you know that?”

He considered a reply, but decided it wasn’t worth it and settled for a long suffering sigh instead before turning back to his paperwork. His mind wasn’t in it anymore, now he could think only of one thing – Emily was going to leave. And probably soon. How would they survive that a second time?

(x)

The explosion that blew out the bank, crumbling concrete and shattering glass was unexpected. It rocked the ground beneath his feet as he dove behind the police car door, heart hammering in his chest so hard and so loud he thought it might actually break his ribs. Derek was in there. JJ was in there. Emily was in there. Dammit. He felt his ear pop, the sudden high-pitched screaming sound piercing his skull even after he covered his ears with shaking hands and squeezed his eyes shut. The pain was instant, the pressure behind his eyes building to a crescendo and for a whole ten seconds that felt like eternity he thought for sure his head was going to explode. There were tears in his eyes when he opened them again and he swiped at them with ash caked fingers, failing to notice for a moment the blood on his palm. His ear was bleeding.

Again.

He’d been on top of the PTSD, for the most part. Once the Bureau appointed therapist pointed it out to him and gave him some exercises to maintain his composure in situations he knew were going to be troubling to him, he’d been on top of it. “Mild,” she called it. When his palms got sweaty and his heart dropped into his stomach, when he felt sick and angry and vulnerable...it didn’t feel mild, but who was he to argue with her? She saw this kind of thing all the time. And he’d been close enough to explosions since that night in New York, had managed to work his way through them without incident, but now seeing the blood...being in the middle of the street...hearing sirens wailing and watching flames flicker...he wasn’t exactly right there again, it wasn’t a flashback, it was just that same sick feeling. Different but the same.

Except this time he had his whole team, and half a city’s worth of cops to look out for. He had civilians and hostages to worry about. The safety of hundreds of people rested on his shoulders and his fucking ear was bleeding down the side of his jaw. Will had been inside that building with the unsubs. He didn’t have time to walk himself through all of the steps as his stomach twisted in painful knots, as the bile rose in his throat. Not now, so he just stood up and shouldered his way through the reeling cops with one hand over his bleeding ear to keep the offending noise out of his head, at least a little. God it hurt.

“Dave!” He called, rushing toward his colleague. He was breathing through his nose, deep harsh breaths to stave off the nausea that was increasing in intensity. “Have you seen any of them?” He didn’t need to use names, Dave knew exactly who he meant.

“There,” Dave pointed at Derek and JJ on the ground with various members of the SWAT team they’d been charging in with. Emily had been ahead of them, she wasn’t in the group but she couldn’t have gotten far. He watched as Derek began to sit up, followed by JJ and then some of SWAT. They were all confused, coming to, but seemed okay. He turned to Dave, refusing to allow personal feelings to get their claws in. Not only did they have no place here right now, but he wasn’t welcome to them any longer. Derek was not his to care for in any way more significant than as colleagues, and as colleagues, what Derek really needed was for Hotch to take complete control of the chaos. Get them all out of this mess.

“Dave,” he began, setting his jaw and trying to regain his composure. His head was a grenade and the pin was barely holding on. Dave raised his hand and shook his head before Hotch had a chance to continue.

“You go get that ear looked at,” he said adamantly. “I’ll go find Erin and we’ll be waiting for you.”

Hotch wanted to argue that he was fine, but his the pressure in his head must have been visible to Dave because he wasn’t having any of it. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’m not sitting this one out, but I’ll go get cleaned up.”

“I’ll take it.”

(x)

Finding Derek in the alley, pinned against a dumpster with a man’s hands around his throat, Hotch didn’t even think. He wasn’t going to bother announcing himself, he wasn’t going to bother negotiating. This was one of those times where he simply couldn’t abide the protocols and procedures – this man allowed Will to be hurt, used him, put Henry in danger and was now trying to kill Derek. He had no trouble at all justifying the shot he was about to take.

And when Matthew Downs dropped at Derek’s feet, when the blood sprayed against Derek’s cheek and the dumpster and pooled on the ground, he felt no remorse. He simply stood with his gun still aimed, breathing heavily, his ear screaming louder than ever. He was going to be sick. That knowledge rumbled through him with the force of a freight train as his stomach twisted with the pain of the gun shot, but the look on Derek’s face, the look of pure gratitude and relief and maybe something else…it made him feel better as he dropped to his knees and dry heaved a few times. Derek hurried over to him and placed a hand between his shoulders, instinctively rubbing up and down over the vest. Even if Hotch couldn’t feel it, he knew Derek was there.

“Hotch?”

“I’m okay,” he gasped, glad that nothing was actually coming up. You have to eat in order to have anything to expel and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything but coffee. Dinner the night before? Maybe? “Go. Find Will. I’ll be right behind you.”

Derek did as he was told without arguing, but took one last moment to glance back as he stepped out of the alley. He knew better than to go back, knew better than to ask what was wrong. He could do that later.

(x)

How Dave managed to put together a wedding on such short notice was beyond any of them, but Hotch knew better than most what money could do to trump time. Enough zeroes on a check and you could get anything (and anyone) you wanted. So, mere days after being shot and chained to a bomb, Will was ready to take JJ's hand in marriage and Hotch...well he was just trying to gather the courage to show up.

Jessica was smoothing his sweater over his shoulders and smiling at how soft he looked in it while he grumbled about every minute detail.

“You’re still not sure you should go,” she said, turning him toward her. He shrugged.

“I think everyone would have more fun if I didn’t go.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Considering what I put everyone through this past year…”

“Stop it. Right now, stop it.”

His shoulders slumped pitifully and she almost felt bad for snapping at him, but not quite. He deserved it. He could be so stupid sometimes she just couldn’t stand it.

“You didn’t do anything maliciously. You were trying to help, and sometimes that means getting it wrong...it isn’t as if you had all the time in the world to consider repercussions. You had to make a split second decision. Maybe it was right, maybe it was wrong, but Emily is alive and your team is intact and isn’t that what you were going for?”

“Not everyone is intact.”

“Derek’s going to come back. He loves you so much. He still does. You don’t wake up at the crack of dawn and show up to babysit a kid so his dad can go do some stupid triathlon if you don’t still care.”

“I didn’t tell him I’d asked Dave.”

“Of course. You assumed that breaking up meant that you had to find someone new to watch him, that’s reasonable. And he assumed that he’d made the commitment and he had to honor it. Also reasonable. Of course, if you two were better at communicating…”

“I know.”

“My point being, he still loves you. And Jack. I think he just needs time. You have plenty of time.”

He slumped down on the couch and put his head in his hands, breathing in deep. Once, twice. Filling his lungs, pausing, exhaling. His head hurt, hadn’t stopped hurting since the explosion. He had an MRI in the morning, an MRI he should have scheduled sooner but he thought it would go away. He hadn’t been as close to this explosion this time, it shouldn’t have been so bad, but then there was the gunshot and the noise from the scene and the pain in his head had been like a hot knife slicing through his brain like a Thanksgiving turkey ever since.

“How about you take one of your nuclear pills and I’ll be your designated driver?” Jess offered, crouching before him with her hands on his knees. “Come on. Take one and you might actually enjoy the wedding. You know I love crashing weddings.”

“You have a date tonight,” he countered miserably before lying back and throwing his arm over his eyes, resting his head against the cushion to try and take some of the pressure off. She huffed at him, that irritated little puffing noise she made that meant she thought he was a complete idiot without actually saying the words.

“I can reschedule. Anita will understand.”

“Anita? The nurse?”

Not just any nurse. The nurse who had cared for him when he was in the Urgent Care sick as a dog a few months back. The nurse whose sarcasm was biting and her smile was enchanting. The nurse with a head full of silver hair she claimed was due entirely to the stress of her job.

“That’s the one.”

“You got a date while I was sick? That’s low, even for you.”

“She’s pretty. And she said I was a saint for dealing with you. How can I resist such compliments?”

He groaned miserably. “I was sick.”

“You were. Very sick, really. But her point still stands. You’re a pain in the ass and I’ve been putting up with it for decades. I deserve to get a little something for my trouble once in a while.”

“Is she nice?”

“Very,” Jessica replied with a smile, her fingers scratching at his scalp mindlessly as she settled in on the couch beside him. He’d always liked his head being scratched but even more when it hurt. “She’s smart and charming and sweet, too. She has great taste in restaurants, but she drinks sweet white wine so I guess she’s not perfect.”

“Not many are.” His shoulders relaxed as she scraped her nails over his scalp. It didn’t exactly do anything to the pain itself but he found it easier to ignore, at least marginally. “You could bring her,” he offered quietly. “To the wedding. If you want.”

“I don’t think she’s ready to meet the whole family,” Jessica said with a smile.

“She’s already met me. Everyone else is easy.”

“Good point. I’ll ask her. Does that mean you’re going to take the meds like a good boy?”

“I don’t think I can go if I don’t.”

“Look at you, making good choices.” He didn’t want to take the pill; it made him goofy. It made him feel lightheaded and dizzy, made him say things without thinking first. Made him cry over silly things, like Disney movies and finding crayons crunched in the couch cushions. The pill really didn’t do much except make him forget how bad his head hurt. Which he knew was ultimately the goal, but the tradeoff didn’t always seem worth it. He didn’t like the way it made him feel like a different person.

“Here,” Jess said, extending the pill and a glass of water to him after rummaging around through the medicine cabinet for a moment. He was always pushing it to the back like he was ashamed of it. “Anita said she’d love to come as long as there’s an open bar. I told her that David Rossi never skimps on the booze and do you know what she said?”

“She’s a big fan of his books,” he deadpanned and she let out a barking laugh that hurt his head.

“Exactly. Said she couldn’t believe I was just casually inviting her to David Rossi’s mansion for a wedding hours before the wedding and what was she going to wear.”

“She doesn’t need to worry,” he said quietly, sipping at the water. “She could come in scrubs if she wanted. No one would hold it against her.”

“Did you learn nothing from being married to Haley all those years?”

He hummed, admitting defeat. “I think the answer to that should be obvious.”

“Point taken. I’m going to go home and find a dress, you lay here and rest. Let that pill do it’s thing. We’ll be by to pick you guys up in an hour.”

(x)

The party was bigger than Hotch had imagined it would be on such short notice. More people milling around, many faces he recognized and some he didn’t. They were a little late, maybe it was fashionable, maybe it was rude, he couldn’t be trusted to tell the difference in his fuzzy state.

“Aaron,” Dave said, pulling him in for a hug. “How are you?”

Hotch never know how to answer that question truthfully, so he rarely did. “Good,” he replied, smiling. The smile wasn’t even forced, at least. But Dave knew anyway.

“Liar.”

“I’m okay, Dave.”

“You get that ear looked at?”

“I have an appointment in the morning for an MRI. It’s giving me some trouble but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You keep me posted. In the meantime, why don’t you introduce me to your guests?”

Hotch smiled a little sheepishly and stepped out of the way to let Jessica and Anita be greeted by their host. Jack was standing beside Hotch, still in his shy phase even if he did know everyone here. “You know Haley’s sister Jessica,” Hotch said, waiting a moment before continuing. “And this is her date Anita.”

“Anita,” Dave said, kissing her hand with all of that charm he had at his disposal, holding nothing back. Hotch watched, blinking slowly, doing everything a little slowly. “How did the two of you meet?”

“She brought him to the Urgent Care with a pretty bad case of strep throat,” Anita replied casually. “By the time they left he had antibiotics and a doctor’s note to stay home from work and I had a pretty girl’s phone number.”

“I remember that, it’s hard to get him to miss any work,” Dave said, eyeing Hotch. “It’s been a couple of months now.”

Emily approached Hotch as Dave took Jessica and Anita by the arm, one on each side, to show them around the house and the party. To get them drinks and push them out on to the dance floor. He insisted that his live band not go to waste, and they still had some time to kill before the bride was ready to walk down the aisle. The look on her face was sad, unbearably so, and he knew he wasn’t up for the conversation she looked ready to have. Ready or not, he had to try.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked when she sighed more than spoke her hello. She looked distressed, sad, heartbroken really.

“No, not here,” she said quietly. “But soon. Tomorrow maybe. Okay?”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “I have an appointment early in the morning, we can meet for coffee afterward.”

“It’s a date,” she replied, forcing a smile. Derek watched the interaction from across the room, his drink in hand. He knew she was leaving, and he missed her already. It was crushing him, and he knew it would crush Hotch too. After everything they’d done, he felt for the man. His world had come crashing down when Emily died, but he knew Hotch’s hadn’t ever stopped. Everything just kept stacking up – from Emily’s death to her new life, Pakistan and Emily coming back and the Senate Hearing Committee, his team being scrutinized, the trip to Chicago for Derek’s cousin that was made more awkward by his family’s knowledge that the two of them had broken up. His aunt Yvonne had tried to push them back together and only made it worse for them in the end. And his mother...his mother was angry at him. “He didn’t lie to hurt you,” she’d scolded first by phone and then later in person, in Desiree’s hospital room of all places. “He lied to protect you. I seem to recall you pulling the same stunt on us, your family and we still love you.” But he still lied, and it was hard to put that trust back in place. It just wasn’t that easy. He was trying so damn hard.

Showing up and watching Jack for him so he could go do his race, showing up at 4am only to find Dave already there...it had been an olive branch opportunity, but he couldn’t do it when he saw Dave. Because that meant Hotch didn’t believe he would still honor his commitment, it meant Hotch really believed it was over. At least that’s what he told himself when he entered the apartment anyway, because how could he leave when Jack’s eyes lit up? When Jack hugged him and said he missed him? “I miss you too, kiddo,” he’d said and Dave asked him to stay, invited him to have some of the scrambled eggs he was cooking up while Hotch thanked them both and rushed out the door. It wouldn’t take both of them to watch Jack but he couldn’t leave the kid. It gave him an excuse to throw Jack up on his shoulders, to cheer Hotch on, and it surprised him when he called him baby as he approached the finish line. He detected amusement from Dave beside him but the rest of the team were so wrapped up in their own morning drama that they didn’t say a word.

He watched Hotch make his way through the party as he danced with Penelope, as he danced with Emily and even Reid. The music was upbeat and fun, easy for dancing and forgetting the weight of the last few days. The last few months. When he saw Will talking to Rossi, waiting for his bride, he couldn’t help being a little jealous even if he was happy for them. He thought it would be him next. He really thought he and Hotch had it all, too. Did Will care that JJ lied to him about Emily? Of course it wasn’t exactly the same, Will didn’t know Emily like that, he didn’t stick his hands in her blood, hold her while she waited for the ambulance, look into her eyes and watch the light fade. But he still didn’t know she’d lived. JJ kept it from him, too.

Finally Hotch, in his customary rounds, came to Derek near the drinks. “Hey,” Derek said, reaching out to catch him by the elbow like he was just going to walk by. He probably was. He’d almost gone out of his way to respect Derek’s request for space, gone so far overboard that it felt like he’d been the one dumped and not the other way around. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Hotch replied quietly, barely audible over the DJ’s dance music. He was blaring something by ABBA that had Jessica and Anita out on the floor having a blast. “You?”

“Same.”

The conversation stalled predictably. They couldn’t talk to one another anymore. “Where are you sitting?” Derek asked casually. Hotch shrugged.

“Wherever Jack tells me we’re sitting I suppose.”

At that Derek smiled. “Well, we’d better find some seats huh? Looks like things are getting serious.”

As it ended up, the seats Jack chose put them right beside Derek and Penelope. Hotch’s knee bumped Derek’s as he took his seat and tried to make himself smaller so he didn’t block anyone’s view, so he didn’t take up too much space. Nothing ever had the kind of leg room he needed.

The wedding was fast, short and sweet, to the point. JJ looked beautiful and Will looked so happy Hotch could hardly stand it. He cried, not at all surprised by the display of emotion. He knew it was going to happen the minute he swallowed that damn pill. At least he wasn’t alone, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when he glance around. Not even Derek beside him could contain the tears in his eyes.

What he hadn’t expected was to find Derek’s hand circling his, dragging it into his lap and letting it rest there against his thigh. They didn’t look at each other, but that connection made Hotch’s heart nearly burst in his chest. He froze, staring straight ahead a little too intently, breath painfully tight and burning in his lungs. Derek squeezed his hand and his vision narrowed to pinpricks, splotches of color flashing over the scene.

When JJ and Will kissed, Derek squeezed his hand again and then let it go. They didn’t talk, Derek just got up and took Penelope to the dance floor at the invitation of the DJ, swaying along with her. Hotch watched from beside Jack and Henry as everyone made their way back out there.

“Hotch?” Emily asked, coming up beside him quietly. He hadn’t realized she wasn’t out there, but now her hand was extended to him with a sheepish smile. “You can’t sit this one out. It’s the law I think.”

“Sure I can,” he replied, but he took her hand and led her to the dance floor anyway, holding her gently as they settled into the foxy. She looked up at him with wide eyes and a grin.

“You actually know how to dance,” she said. “Of course you do. Why am I surprised that the guy who carries silk hankies can ballroom dance?”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Emily.”

“Yeah...well...there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, too, y'know…”

That made him laugh, a light lead in to giving her a gentle twirl and a dip. Derek glanced at them as he swayed with Penelope.

“He’s really good,” Penelope whispered in Derek’s ear. “Did he ever take you dancing?”

Derek nodded, closing his eyes. “Yeah. He did.”

“You should go cut in. I saw what you did back there…”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“What is it going to take?”

“I don’t know mama. I don’t know. I never broke up with someone I was still in love with before.”

“Is Emily leaving us?” The way she changed course made him stiffen up and she could hardly contain her emotion at that. She knew just by that alone. “She is. Why?”

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

And all at once she was dragging them across the dance floor, cutting in on Hotch and Emily’s dance. He wasn’t sure if it was calculated or not, but he thought it probably was. She was like that. She didn’t even ask before peeling Emily away from Hotch, before taking her hand and moving them away. Emily glanced at Hotch apologetically and shrugged, not bothering to fight back.

“Well,” Derek said quietly, extending his hand to Hotch. “You want to take me for a spin? It’s been a while, I’m a little rusty. I’ll try to keep up.”

“I’m sure you still have it,” Hotch said, taking Derek’s hand and pressing in close. Derek smelled good, sweet like cigar smoke and cinnamon and bourbon. He began leading, stepping in time with the music and wasn’t surprised when Derek fell into step easily. “If I stumble, I’m sorry,” he added quietly, his mouth unbearably close to Derek’s ear. “I had to take some medication and it makes me a little loopy.”

“What for?” Derek asked, hardly caring whether Hotch stumbled over his feet.

“The explosion at the bank re-injured my ear. I’m sure it’s fine but it does hurt quite a lot.”

“You get it looked at?”

“I have an MRI in the morning.”

Derek smiled and nodded, realizing that they had fallen into perfect sync with one another almost effortlessly. Like no time had passed. Talking felt forced but it was getting easier the further in they went.

“Do you need me to take Jack to school?”

“Jessica said she could,” Hotch replied. Derek nodded.

“I know she will, but she’s getting herself pretty good and liquored up…”

“She was supposed to be my designated driver.”

“Yeah. I’ll drive you guys home, I’m not in the mood to drink tonight anyway. Had a bourbon with Rossi and Will to take the taste out of those nasty cigars he gave us, but otherwise I’ve been sipping soda water with lime.”

“You don’t need to do that. I think Anita has been drinking Sprite. She works in the morning.”

“Hotch…” Derek said, leaning back just far enough that they could lock eyes. “I’m not just offering to drive you home because I think you need a ride. I’m really trying here…”

“Oh.”

“Oh? I mean if you don’t want me to...if you’ve moved on…”

“No. I...no. That isn’t it.”

“Okay, so what is it?”

Hotch let out a small sigh and pursed his lips. “You asked for space, and I gave it to you. But in Chicago...it felt like you were finished. The way you behaved led me to believe your need for space had become something more. That you had come to a decision and that we had no future.”

“You really think I’d do that and not talk to you?”

“I don’t know, Derek. I have no right to expect anything of you anymore.”

“So you’re good just letting it die? You’re not gonna fight for it?”

“Derek, what do you want from me? You said you couldn’t trust me, that you needed space...when you ask me for space, I am going to give it to you. Did you really want me to fight?”

“No, but I didn’t think it would be so damn easy to let go of either.”

“It hasn’t been easy. Has it looked easy? Is that really what you think?”

“Well it hasn’t exactly looked hard.”

Hotch was on the verge of tears, maybe angry tears at this point, he didn’t know. He had almost no control over that and wasn’t going to expend any energy trying to. “I think you’re the only one who can’t see it.”

Derek didn’t like the sound of that, mostly because it hurt. It was probably true. He’d been doing his best not to pay any attention to Hotch, because paying attention hurt and made him want to go back to him and he knew he wasn’t ready for it. Because he felt like he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t just be okay with Hotch lying to him, should he? Even if he’d done the same damn thing to his family over his cousin? And they forgave him because she was back in their lives, they forgave him because his motivation was for good. Wasn’t Hotch’s too? It wasn’t like he did it for his own gain. Every time he got close, something pulled him away.

“Maybe I am,” he admitted finally. “Hotch. I love you. I never stopped, I hope you know that. But I just don’t know how to forget what happened.”

“I would never ask you to forget.”

Of course Hotch would say that. Just be willing to keep a relationship up when he’s at an automatic deficit. Spend forever trying to make up for his failures.

“I hope for your forgiveness,” Hotch added quietly, almost too quietly for Derek to hear. “But I wouldn’t expect you to forget.”

“It can’t happen again.”

“I can’t make that kind of promise, Derek. I think you know that. There was no way I could have predicted being in that situation before and I can’t know something won’t arise again, but if there is any way around it, I will take it. I can do better than I have done at including you and sharing the burden. I can do better at including you in the hard decisions. I can do better.”

“You can, or you will?”

Hotch smirked at that, at the wording only they would pick apart. “I will.”

“Good enough,” Derek said, finally, taking the lead from Hotch for a moment. Remembering his own feet, his own rhythm. He’d missed this feeling, their bodies moving like one, the smell of Hotch. It was soft and clean, cotton and sunshine, he never wore more than deodorant and maybe some aftershave that lingered. He swayed his hips, stepping back and then forward, upping the tempo with the music. Hotch never missed a step even if he did look a little pale, a little light on his feet. Derek wanted to spin him, to twirl and dip him but he thought that might be pressing his luck. Instead he leaned in and kissed him, stealing his breath. “I don’t want space anymore. I want this.”

“Me too.”

From the bar, while she waited for her new drink, Emily smiled and watched Hotch and Derek. She couldn’t help it. “All it took was me leaving,” she said quietly and Penelope let out the wet sob she’d been holding back for two songs now.

“No,” she wailed, pulling Emily into a teary hug. “No no no.”

“It’s okay Pen. It’s for the best. We all need it. A fresh start for everyone. We can’t go back to the way it was before and it only hurt everyone to try...this is good. I promise.”

“Why doesn’t it feel good?”

“Because goodbyes are hard, even if they’re necessary. But look at that...look at them…look at Hotch and Derek...and JJ and Will...don’t cry over me.”

“Can I come visit you?”

“Of course.”

“Right away. I’ll help you move in. We can shop for furniture and explore your new neighborhood and find the best place for um…fish and chips...you eat the fish I’ll eat the chips…”

“Yes,” Emily smiled, holding Penelope’s hand tight. “To all of it. Yes. I’d love that.”

“Good! Now, come dance with me. Because I need to soak up as much Emily Prentiss as I possibly can tonight…”

“Anything for you, Penelope.”

"Ahhh," Penelope gushed, squeezing Emily's hand. "You are so right."

[prpfz]

Back again!!! I’m rewatching Criminal Minds and naturally need to start writing Spencer again. I’m looking for someone who wants to play Hotch.

I’m 21+. I’m experienced and lit and comfortable with multi-para to Novella style seeking the same. I’m VERY angst friendly which is more than fair for this pairing. I don’t have any triggers but would always respect yours! I am fine with dark themes, which is also pretty standard for a show like this. I’m pretty active and can usually do daily replies and would ideally appreciate the same, but real life comes first.

I love writing side characters and would adore someone who feels the same - happy bringing in other CM characters. I’m OOC friendly and enjoy sharing memes, playlists, headcanons, etcetera. Everything you want to include in the plot will be fine with me! Share all your character thoughts.

I don’t have an exact plot in mind, but if we figure out the general season we want to write in then I’d enjoy going through the motions. A sort of colleagues with benefits thing starting up, keeping it a secret from profilers who see everything. That forming into love…

A few specific moments I’ve thought of are around the LDSK episode, following the hostage situation. The anthrax episode, after Spencer is released from hospital. Maybe something starts if Hotch learns about Diana. Also the Foyet era, around the episode Haunted in Season 5 where we see how foolish Hotch is being with his own life - he could certainly use a different outlet. I’m up for all the angst. We can go post Haley in the later seasons. We can do an infidelity arc. Let’s do anything!

If you have a plot you’ve been keen to use for these two then let me know!

Like and I’ll reach out! I’d love for you to tell me a bit about yourself (age, writing style, thoughts on the pairing etc) so we can get started! Please be actively involved in plotting! 💼

give a like and anon will get back to you

[sequinsmile-x]

Office Supplies

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

Penelope, and Dave, take decisive action.

-x-

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

-x-

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You should tell him.” 

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

“But you told me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But he’s-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

___

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

Can you do me a favour?”

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

What kind of favour?

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

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

Pretty please. I’ll owe you forever. 

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

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

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

You know me so well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I swear to god, I will kill-”

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

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

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

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

___

Aaron was in love with her.

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

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

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

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

“Aaron?” 

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

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

___

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

“I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aaron…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They elope seven months later. 

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

Thank you.

Love, The Hotchners 

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh,

Join my tag list here!

Note: there are now enough people on my tag list that it needs to be done in two parts, so if you aren't tagged straight away you will be tagged as quickly as I can in a reblog :)

[roosunday]

Back again!!! I’m rewatching Criminal Minds and naturally need to start writing Spencer again. I’m looking for someone who wants to play Hotch.

Please only like this advert if you’re interested! Read the full advert please.

I’m 21+. I’m experienced and lit and comfortable with multi-para to Novella style seeking the same. I’m VERY angst friendly which is more than fair for this pairing. I don’t have any triggers but would always respect yours! I am fine with dark themes, which is also pretty standard for a show like this. I’m pretty active and can usually do daily replies and would ideally appreciate the same, but real life comes first.

I love writing side characters and would adore someone who feels the same - happy bringing in other CM characters. I’m OOC friendly and enjoy sharing memes, playlists, headcanons, etcetera. Everything you want to include in the plot will be fine with me! Share all your character thoughts.

I don’t have an exact plot in mind, but if we figure out the general season we want to write in then I’d enjoy going through the motions. A sort of colleagues with benefits thing starting up, keeping it a secret from profilers who see everything. That forming into love…

A few specific moments I’ve thought of are around the LDSK episode, following the hostage situation. The anthrax episode, after Spencer is released from hospital. Maybe something starts if Hotch learns about Diana. Also the Foyet era, around the episode Haunted in Season 5 where we see how foolish Hotch is being with his own life - he could certainly use a different outlet. I’m up for all the angst. We can go post Haley in the later seasons. We can do an infidelity arc. Let’s do anything!

If you have a plot you’ve been keen to use for these two then let me know!

Like and I’ll reach out or, even better, DM me! I’d love for you to tell me a bit about yourself (age, writing style, thoughts on the pairing etc) so we can get started! Please be actively involved in plotting!

[eyesontheskyline]

god you are so right, im so glad you are writing for hotchniss bc this is the first time i’ve seen someone get into all the details about them and i am thrilled!!!! I cant believe i forgot about Minimal Loss… To me that is a situation where as a team of profilers they have to be on top of their game, and season wise, its the 2nd time a character gets tortured or hurt and the others witness it (reid first, then emily, 3rd time if u also count elle) So hotch’s reaction when emily gets beat up is just insanity to me. The man who never loses composure, who always keeps a stone cold face even when he is in the middle of a divorce, with tears in his eyes and feeling helpless- Like that happens then and we never see hotch losing composure like that during a case involving the team (ofc the foyet arc doesnt count) so yeah i totally see your point and i agree!!!

With them its like they are always toeing the line of something more, its a tension that i can always feel with them and while i respect people whose cup of tea isnt hotchniss, I dont get how they dont see the insane ass chemistry

Ahhh thank you, I'm having the best time getting back to them. I don't think it had ever occurred to me to ship at all until Minimal Loss, like I just wasn't around fandom at all, so I didn't watch things with that kind of eye? But that just sent me down a rabbithole and I'm still wandering around in the warren now lol.

I definitely think a lot of writing / directing / acting choices were made that point to Something More, and there's also just the twin-flame-ness of their characters. Like they're very similar in a lot of ways that I think would make them understand the parts of each other that would be hard to share with someone else, but also different enough (like, Emily is naturally tactile, and different things get under their skin) that it wouldn't be an inevitable disaster the way too-similar pairings sometimes are.

I think they have a lot to offer each other at any point in the timeline and that is VERY FUN FOR WRITING.

[frankiebirds]

i didnt have any moments throughout north mammon where i was like "oh i need to stop and yell about this", which surprised me, because it's a very good episode. granted, i only got to 5x01 in my furthest watch (i didnt lose interest i just didnt have time for a while) and i likely would have had a lot more to say if i was familiar with profiler!jj or some of her backstory. i might go back to this episode after i get to those and talk about some of the jj stuff in hindsight. that being said, there were a lot of moments that i stopped and grabbed in preparation for making a big yelly post.

im not surprised that i like north mammon. it's written by andrew s. wilder, who just does not miss. i wish he'd continued past season four, but writing the episode that introduced foyet is quite the way to end your run as a writer.

north mammon differs from a lot of the episodes that precedes it in two major ways:

we get a lot of time with the victims. didnt count the minutes, which i regret, but it's probably the most we've gotten up to this point. it gives the episode a very different feel from the ones preceding it and i think makes it a really uncomfortable watch (that's a positive. pretty sure thats how im supposed to feel)

and, well. i would argue that the team loses. they don't really get anywhere in the case before kelly is killed and shelly and brooke are released, aside from eliminating all their prime suspects. when the kidnapper is identified, it's because one of the girls picks him out of a photo lineup. we've had bittersweet endings before—most of the episode endings are, just by the nature of the show, but this one feels particularly bitter to me. the case isn't solved because the bau succeeded, the case is solved because one of the teenage girls murdered one of the other teenage girls and then a third teenage girl pointed at a photo of the man who made her do it. they go home with no sense of accomplishment, just loss.

i dont know. its a very different tone and i really like it.