#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.)

[gublernatural]

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

[sequinsmile-x]

You and Me, Forevermore

Three consecutive New Years Eve's that Emily and Aaron spend together.

-x-

Hi besties!

This is very soft, sweet, largely pointless and just a way of me saying thank you for all the love and support from you all this year. This fandom may be small, but it's lovely and wonderful and I adore every single one of you. This is my favourite corner of the internet <3

Writing is my favourite thing to do in the world, and anytime anyone tells me a fic of mine has made them smile, or cry or it's simply provided a distraction in this increasingly horrid world we live in, it makes my day.

Thank you for being here, and I'll continue to be here writing about our favourite idiots for years to come.

For the last time in 2024, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: some alcohol consumption, largely just them being soft idiots in love

Words: 4.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily had never been a fan of New Year's parties. 

Of all the parties she’d grown up going to do they had been her least favourite. Long nights where she’d been nothing but an ornament her mother put on display so her friends could tell Emily how much she’d grown in a year, how much she looked like her mother as they asked questions they didn’t care about the answer to just to pass the time. 

She loved the holidays, she always had, but New Year's itself had always felt like an anticlimax. All the promises of being a better person, of making better choices, were gone before January was over. It only ever seemed to feed into the artificial life she’d grown up in where no one said what they actually thought, and no one spoke about anything that felt genuinely important. 

This year felt different. 

She smiles as she looks around Dave’s house, at the team scattered amongst his other friends and acquaintances, and she thinks this might be the first New Year’s party she’d truly enjoy. 

“Princess,” Derek says, getting her attention as he approaches her and Penelope, his smile wide and posture relaxed, “Where’s your guy? I thought you two were glued at the hip these days.” 

She rolls her eyes but can’t fight her smile, and she looks over her shoulder and smiles as her eyes catch Aaron’s where he’s standing at the bar, and she gives him a small wave, “He’s getting me a drink.” 

Penelope squeals, like she always did when she encountered Emily and Aaron’s relationship outside of work, and she quickly clears her throat, “Sorry, I’m still not used to how cute you two are.” 

“Please don’t call Hotch cute,” Derek replies, faking a shudder as he sips his beer and winks at Emily, “I can’t picture him that way.” 

If Derek had made that comment even a few months ago, Emily would have felt her shackles rise. Out of everyone, he’d been the one to take the news of her and Aaron’s relationship the hardest. It took him several weeks to get used to the idea, for his snide comments to slowly give way, and it had driven her crazy. She’d talked to him about it more than once, and had come away from that conversation upset each time. She’d had to tell Aaron to not get involved, sure that the two men butting heads would only make matters worse, and she knew it had been hard for him to see her upset by one of her closest friends not accepting a relationship that made her happier than she had ever been. 

She still didn’t know what had truly got through to Derek. If he finally saw that both she and Aaron deserved this after everything they’d been through with Ian and Foyet respectively, if he saw that she was a different person when she came back from Paris and Aaron helped her find herself again, or if he’d taken the time to watch them together when they thought no one was looking. If he’d seen the way they cared for each other and understood each other. 

Or if, what Emily thought was the most likely, Penelope had finally called him out on his bullshit and told him to get himself together. 

“But they are cute,” Penelope says, turning to look at Emily, “Right?”

She chuckles and shrugs, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tries to answer in a way she knows won’t embarrass her boyfriend. Because they were cute. Sickeningly in love with each other in a way that would make her turn her nose up if she read about it in a book or saw it in a movie, and the worst part was she loved it. She loved him and knew she always would. 

“Here you go, sweetheart.” 

She smiles and turns as Aaron’s hand skims her lower back and lands on her hip. He hands her a glass of champagne and she kisses him, “Thanks, honey.” 

“Oh god,” Derek says, scrunching his nose up in mock disgust, “I think I preferred it when you were pretending you weren’t in love with each other.” 

“I didn’t,” Penelope quips, her smile wide as she watches them, “I think it’s sweet.” 

Emily feels Aaron tense next to her, any progress that he’d made on relaxing around their friends, with the help of alcohol and her insistence that everything was fine, undone in a matter of seconds. She makes a point of leaning further into him, her arm looping around his waist as she kisses his jaw and then his cheek, smiling against his skin when it’s enough to relax him a little. She pulls back and looks at their friends, her eyebrow raised in a mix of amusement and defiance at the contrasting looks on their faces.

“Derek, it’s New Year's Eve, this is a party,” she holds up her glass of champagne, “This is my…” 

“Fourth,” Aaron offers as she trails off, and she smiles up at him again, the soft smile she gets in return mixed in with the alcohol enough for her to briefly forget the point she was trying to make.

“Right, thanks honey,” she looks back at Derek and Penelope again, “This is my fourth drink. I’m going to get a little drunk and a little handsy with my boyfriend, okay?” She can’t deny that she doesn’t get a kick out of how Aaron briefly tightens his hold on her or how Derek scrunches his nose up, “If you don’t like that, I think thats your problem.” 

“Chill out, princess, I was only joking.” 

She sticks her tongue out at him and smiles, letting him know that she is too, mostly. Then she turns in Aaron’s embrace and smiles at him, cupping his cheek and pulling him in for a kiss. It was almost midnight, almost the start of a year she was looking forward to for once, and she wanted some time alone with the man she loves. 

“Let’s go find the guy with the tray of those mini desserts,” she says, grateful when he immediately nods, his smile soft and loving as he reaches for her hand and links their fingers together. 

He looks at Derek and Penelope, “Happy New Year.” 

“Happy New Year, sir. Hotch.” Penelope replies, her smile sparkling with mischief as she looks at Emily directly “Don’t desecrate Dave’s home office. Again.” 

Emily widens her eyes and ignores Aaron’s gaze burning into her side, “Pen. What happened to what is said on girl's night, stays on girl’s night?” 

Penelope has the decency to look embarrassed and she holds her glass higher, “Sorry, it’s the champagne, it’s like truth serum.” 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Aaron says, his hand on Emily’s hip as he leads her away from their friends, his smile and the spark in his eyes letting her know he isn’t mad at her, “Let’s go before any more details about our sex life come out.” 

She nods and lets him lead her away, leaning into his side as they weave through the pockets of people all scattered around Dave’s house, “Sorry, baby,” she says, stamping a kiss against his jacket, “Pen and her big mouth.” 

He hums, his eyes soft and loving as he comes to a stop and wraps his arms around her, “Do I even want to know how our sex life came up in conversation?” 

“You know what she’s like, she wants to know everything,” she replies, hooking an arm around the back of his neck, “And she knows how to get me to talk,” she says, pressing her lips together when he simply raises an eyebrow at her, “She tried to imply that you’re…,” she looks around them and makes sure no one can overhear them, her cheeks warm with the alcohol thrumming under her skin and embarrassment that Penelope had played her so well, “Vanilla in the bedroom.” 

He laughs, loud and bright and beautiful, and he shakes his head lovingly at her before he kisses her, “Sweetheart, it’s sweet that you want to defend me, but I think I can live with Garcia thinking I’m boring in bed.” 

Her response is cut off as someone yells that the ball in Times Square is dropping, and that the countdown has begun. She smiles as Aaron tugs at her hand and pulls her into the empty hallway, the sound of the crowd counting down from ten following them. She leans against the wall and encourages him closer, her hand on his shoulder as his nose knocks against hers, something that draws a sound she refuses to call a giggle out of her as the countdown continues. 

“Three, two, one. Happy New Year!”

She kisses him, sighing into it as she tastes champagne and her future on his tongue, and she smiles when they break apart, her forehead resting against his as his breath skips across her face. 

“Happy New Year, sweetheart.” 

She cups the back of his neck and tugs him in for another kiss, her reply lost against his lips, “Happy New Year, honey.” 

___

She’s making a cup of tea when the doorbell rings. She walks out of the kitchen and calls up the stairs, smiling when she already hears a door being thrown open. “Jack, that will be your Aunt Jess. Say goodbye to your dad and then come down here.” 

“Coming, Emily!” 

When she answers the door Jess pulls her into a hug, “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year,” she replies, stepping back to let Jess into the house, “Jack is on his way.” 

“How’s the patient?” Jess asks, smiling when Emily groans and rolls her eyes. 

“Hard work, as you’d expect,” Emily replies, shaking her head as she thinks of Aaron, “He was insistent that we go to our friend’s New Year party until about 30 minutes ago when he almost passed out getting out of bed.” 

Aaron had woken up not feeling well a couple of days ago. At first, he’d tried to play it off, say it was just a cold, but it quickly became clear it was the flu. Somehow, they’d managed to make sure Jack hadn’t caught it so he was still able to go and spend New Year’s with Jess and Roy like he always did. Emily was just grateful that the flu had waited until after Christmas to take down her giant, cuddly, whiny man, because it meant that they’d been able to enjoy the day in their new home. They’d moved in back in November, a busy time of year anyway in amongst Aaron’s birthday and Thanksgiving, and she loved it. It was a home, the first one she’d ever truly had, and she knew that had nothing to do with the house that they knew was perfect for them the moment they first saw it. 

“Good luck to you then,” Jessica replies, and Jack runs over, sliding in his socks on the hardwood floor towards them. 

“Hi, Aunt Jess!” He says excitedly, handing his bag to her as he slips on his shoes, “Is Grandpa excited? I want to tell him all about Christmas and what Dad and Emily got me.”

Jess nods and exchanges a look over the top of his head with Emily. Roy’s feelings about Aaron moving on, about him starting a new life when Haley couldn’t, were well known. He wasn’t particularly polite to Emily whenever he spent time with them as a family, something that she knew embarrassed Jess to no end. 

“He’s so excited to see you, buddy,” she replies diplomatically, “Now, say goodbye to Emily.” 

Jack nods and hugs Emily, his arms tight around her as she leans down to hug him back. When he pulls back to look at her, the excitement he’d had moments ago is gone, replaced with concern that makes her ache. 

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” She asks, pushing his hair from his forehead, smiling when it flops right back down. 

“Is Daddy going to be okay?” He asks, his gaze drifting to the stairs, “He looked sick and I don’t have to go.” 

She smiles at him, his endless empathy and kindness, despite everything he’d already been through, one of the many, many things she loved about him, “I’ll look after him, I promise,” she says, kissing his cheek, “You know he wants you to go have fun.” 

Jack nods, still looking unsure, “And you’ll be okay?” 

“I’ll be okay,” she replies, hugging him again, exchanging a smile with Jess over his shoulder when she looks up at her, “I promise.” 

“Okay,” he replies, “I love you, Emmy.” 

She squeezes him tightly for a moment, overwhelmed by a type of love that she never thought she’d get to feel before she pulls back to look at him, “I love you too, Jack.” 

He hugs her one more time before he leaves, and she and Jess exchange one too as they discuss when she’ll bring Jack back home the following day. As soon as she closes the door she locks it behind them and blows out a slow breath. Her phone beeps, letting her know it is time for Aaron to have more meds, and she goes to the kitchen to get them and finish making his cup of tea. 

When she walks into their bedroom her heart feels like it’s in a vice when she sees him. He’s curled around her pillow, the sheets twisted around his legs, and he looks sick. He’s pale and miserable and she knows she’d do anything to make him feel better. 

“Here you go honey,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning on the lamp on his nightstand, wincing when it makes him groan, “Sorry, baby. I brought you some more meds. They’ll make you feel better.” 

He groans again as he sits up and takes the glass of water she offers him and the meds. He takes the medication without question - a true sign of how awful he must be feeling, “You really should go to Dave’s party you know,” he says, sniffing in a futile attempt to clear his nose, “It will be more fun than sitting here with me on my death bed.” 

She chuckles and takes the glass from him before she settles next to him in bed, sitting up against the headboard whilst he lays back down, “That really would earn me the title of fiancée of the year if I left you here by yourself on New Year’s Eve.” 

He laughs, or tries to, the sound dying in his sore throat as he shifts closer to her, his head on her stomach and his arm over her hips as he snuggles against her. He’d always been tactile with her, had always been all over her at any given opportunity, but when he was sick it was another level. It was something he’d passed on to his son, who also insisted on sleeping pressed up against her when he was sick, and she loved it. Loved being the source of their comfort, and she couldn’t help but picture a world where a kid who was half her and half Aaron did the same. They’d started trying for a baby recently, hope pressed into every corner of their home, and the thought of it made her giddy. 

“Well, at least it’s New Year’s Eve,” he says, his skin warm even through the barrier of her t-shirt, “The criteria resets tomorrow.”

She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair, “I’m not going anywhere,” she says, smiling when he looks up at her, “I always want to spend New Year with you.” 

“I always want to spend New Year with you too.” 

He slips in between sleep and being awake for hours whilst pressed up against her side. She only gets out of bed to make dinner for them, the empty places now on her nightstand.  She turns on the TV and keeps the volume low, making sure she doesn’t disturb him whilst he rests. She eventually switches the channel to watch the news at Times Square, smiling at the crowds of people huddled together in the freezing cold to watch the ball drop in person. 

“What time is it?” 

She smiles down at him and pushes his hair away from his forehead, “Almost midnight.” 

He nods and sits up, blinking repeatedly to clear his head before he stands up, “Okay.”

“Honey,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him, “What are you doing?” 

“Going to brush my teeth,” he mutters, leaning against the wall as he walks to the ensuite. She rolls her eyes and gets out of bed to follow him. 

“Why?” 

“So I can kiss you at midnight,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “My breath sucks.”

She hums and crosses her arms over her chest, pressing her lips together as she tries to suppress a smile, “Yeah,” she says, looking him up and down, the palour of his skin almost worse in the light of the bathroom, “That’s the problem with kissing right now.” 

He pauses, furrowing his brow as he stops squeezing toothpaste onto his toothbrush as if he’d just remembered he was sick.

“Oh, yeah, sorry sweetheart-” He says, and she leans in and kisses him, stamping her lips against his, smiling when he frowns in confusion when she pulls back. “You’ll get sick.” 

“Worth it,” she presses her thumb against his lower lip, “But you’re right, you should brush your teeth, your breath sucks.” 

He shakes his head at her lovingly and she winks at him and walks back out to their bedroom. She settles back into bed and pulls the covers over her lap, smiling as she takes the chance to look at her engagement ring. She was going to marry him next year, and hopefully expand their family too. The excitement of it all makes her skin tingle, and as Aaron slips back into bed next to her, it feels infinitely better than any evening drinking expensive champagne ever could have. 

They watch the ball drop on the TV and share a kiss at midnight, his skin warm against hers as he settles against her afterwards. 

“Happy New Year, Em.”

She kisses the top of his head, smiling against his hairline as she thinks of all they have to come, “Happy New Year, Aaron.” 

___

She hums a tune she can’t name as she paces back and forth in her bedroom, one hand under the 4-month-old against her chest, and one rubbing soothing circles on his back. Issac gristles against her, grumbling as he rubs his face against her chest. She kisses the top of his head and sighs, suppressing a yawn as she breathes in his sweet scent. 

“You’ll feel so much better if you get some sleep, sweet boy,” she says, falling to suppress her yawn this time as she carries on, “We all need some sleep.” 

Isaac hadn’t been a great sleeper from the start, but in the last couple of weeks, he’d barely slept for more than one hour at a time. She knew it was normal, she knew that he’d grow out of it, but it was hard. She was more exhausted than she’d ever been in her life but she was also the happiest she’d ever been. It was overwhelming sometimes and would spill out of her in the form of what felt like constant tears on her cheeks because somehow this was her life now. She had a husband and two little boys she loved more than she ever thought possible, and it was beautifully, achingly normal. 

It was strange to think how much had changed in the space of a year. Last New Year’s Eve, when Aaron had been sick and she’d stayed home to look after him, this was exactly where she hoped she’d be now. In early January, when she suddenly found herself feeling awful she convinced herself that she’d caught the flu from Aaron. It took almost a week before she let herself even consider that it might be something else, before she dared to take a pregnancy test. She still had it in a drawer in the bathroom, the digital screen that once displayed the word pregnant now faded, because she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. 

She looks up as the bedroom door opens and she smiles at Aaron as he walks in and closes the door behind him, “Jack’s settled in his bed.”

“He’ll be so mad in the morning,” she says, smiling softly as she continues to pace the room, “He was hoping he’d make it to midnight this year.” 

Jack surprised them when he asked to stay home this New Year instead of going to his grandfather’s like he usually did. He explained that he wanted to spend it with them and Issac, and he’d been insistent that he’d stay awake until midnight. He’d fallen asleep in their bed just a few minutes ago and Aaron had taken him back to his room so he’d get a better night’s sleep than he would in the same room as his little brother who woke up several times a night. 

“I know,” Aaron says, walking over to them, “How is the littlest Hotchner doing?”

“He might make it to midnight,” she replies dryly, “I think Zaccy thinks sleep is for the weak,” she says, tilting her head to look at her still wide-awake son, “Huh, kiddo?” 

“Want me to try?” 

She nods and kisses the top of Issac’s head as she passes him over, “Yes please, my arms are starting to ache.” 

“He just loves his mommy so much that he wants to be in your arms all the time.” 

“I think it might be because I smell of milk,” she hums and sits on the bed, her back against the headrest as she rubs her eyes, “But that’s a sweet thought.” 

Aaron smiles at her as he sways side to side, Issac secure against his chest, “You know as well as I do that you are the centre of the world for every Hotchner who lives in this house.” 

She feels her cheeks go warm, still not used to his love and affection even after all this time, and she is distracted by her phone as it vibrates on her nightstand. She smiles as she picks it up, a selfie of the team at Dave’s annual New Year’s Eve party starting up at her, their smiles and slightly dazed eyes letting her know they were all several drinks in. 

“Dave sent a picture of the team,” she says, turning her phone to show him, “With the caption ‘What will be your excuse to miss next year’s party?’” 

Aaron laughs and looks down to see Issac is now sleeping, “He’s asleep.” 

Emily huffs out a breath and watches as he places the baby in the bassinet on her side of the bed and stamps a kiss against his forehead. 

“I’d be pissed you got him off so quickly,” she says, wrapping her arms around one of Aaron’s the moment he’s in bed, “But I am far too tired to care about that right now.” 

He kisses the top of her head and then rests his cheek there, yawning himself as they settle against each other. He looks at the clock on her nightstand and hums, “Only one hour until the new year. I wonder what it will bring us” 

She turns her head to kiss him, “Hopefully more sleep,” she quips, smiling against his lips, “But I’d be happy with more of what we’ve already got.” 

“Me too.” 

She lets herself enjoy the silence that was so rare in their home these days, and she settles into his warmth. She doesn’t remember falling asleep, she isn’t even aware she has until she feels small hands on her face and shoulder. 

“Mom,” Jack whispers, his eyes wide as she opens hers to meet them, “Mom, we all fell asleep.” 

“We fell asleep?” She groans as she blinks a few times and she looks over at the clock to see it is now 12.30 am, “We fell asleep.” She looks over at Issac, panic racing through her until she sees he’s still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. She looks at Aaron and realises they are both still sitting up, that they’d slumped against each other in bed with the light still on and fallen asleep without realising. She looks at Jack and smiles at him, opening her arms up to him and encouraging him in for a hug. He crawls into her arms and she rearranges the covers around them both “I don’t think I’ve fallen asleep before midnight on New Year’s since I was your age, sweet boy.”

“I woke up in my bedroom but I don’t remember going to bed,” he says, resting his head on her shoulder. 

“Dad took you to bed,” she replies, smiling as she looks at her still sleeping husband.

“Should we wake him up?” 

She’s about to say no, to try and figure out how she can get them all lying down without waking him up, but then Issac cries, loud and sharp in the otherwise quiet room and Aaron shocks awake. 

“I’ll get him,” he mutters, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands as he stands up. She watches with amusement as he walks a few paces and then realises she’s sitting up and Jack is with them too, “What time is it?” 

“It’s the new year Dad!” Jack exclaims, and Emily smiles at him, her nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year, buddy!”��

Emily turns to look at Aaron, a familiar swooping in her gut as she watches him lift Issac into his arms. She’d always known he was an amazing father, but watching him with their infant son had taken it to a new level. She wanted more kids with him, a thought that wasn’t even dulled by the bone deep exhaustion of having a baby right now, and part of her wondered if, by the end of the year, she’d once again be missing the opportunity to be drunk at Dave’s party. 

“We fell asleep.” She says simply, smiling as he hums in response, Issac against his chest as he starts to settle down, clearly just wanting to be part of the fun.

“I’m not surprised. We’ve barely slept in weeks,” he smiles at Emily and leans in to kiss her, his lips quickly stamped against hers, “Happy New Year by the way.” 

She kisses him back, “Happy New Year,” she then smiles at Jack and kisses the top of his head,  “You too, Jack,” she reaches out and runs her knuckles down Issac’s cheek, “You too, sweet boy.” 

“Happy New Year, Mom and Dad,” Jack beams at her before he leans in and kisses Issac’s cheek, “Happy New Year, Zaccy.” 

Issac blows a spit bubble and it makes Jack giggle, and Emily wipes Issac’s mouth with the sleep of her shirt. 

“I think that’s his way of saying it back, kiddo.” 

Aaron smiles at his eldest, “What do you want to happen this year, Jack?” 

He furrows his brow as he thinks about it for a second before a delighted smile spreads across his face, “I’d like a baby sister!” 

[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

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[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

[ftm-hotch]

Some Foyet Thoughts

Comment on fall right into me

tickingclockheart Fri 13 Dec 2024 12:21AM MST: god this was so twisted in the best possible way. so, first off, foyet's voice: clear as hell. you get the menacing and deranged yet almost goofy(?) (that's not the right word but hopefully you understand what i mean) cadence he uses down perfectly. the whole "george junior" thing was funny because i can honestly see him calling it that in canon. his descriptions of hotch, from his outsider pov, were so eerie because hotch has no idea he's being watched and scrutinized like that. and i think hotch *does* realize that they're playing a "game", but the "game" he thinks they're playing is *not* the same one foyet does. foyet's contempt for haley was also super interesting to read, as well as his view of hotch's divorce as being directly related to "the game". you show foyet's intelligence clearly, but also how his obsession and delusion makes him not so different from the serial killers he wants to be considered superior to.

I literally couldn't sleep the other night bc I was thinking so hard about Hotch and Foyet, so let's get into it, "it" being a sort of brain dump for a more coherent analysis of Foyet I've got in the works.

(roughly 700 words)

When it comes to the women he kills, the lust Foyet feels is born of disgust that leads to a need to dominate and destroy them. As Hotch says in 5.09, women are weak, and he feels they're beneath him. At the same time, women have a huge psychic sway on him. He hates them so much it borders on obsession, and even when he stops killing, he can't stop himself from victimizing teenage girls (4.18). It's a need, one he can't let go of.

What's interesting in 5.09 is that Hotch connects Foyet's hatred of women to his mother, who failed to protect him from his abusive father. That gives the whole thing an Oedipal vibe that I'll explore a bit more later or somewhere else.

With Hotch, though, things are different. His lust for Hotch is destructive, but the destruction comes from a different place, an assimilative one. He wants to fuse with Hotch, maybe to trade places with him, to bring Hotch down to his level. That he wants to BE Hotch becomes very clear in 5.09: he takes over Hotch's house, plays with his son, and exerts total and final domination over his wife. For a good chunk of 5.09, he has total control over Hotch (and Haley, who he likely thinks of only in terms of Hotch).

As far as my fic goes, Foyet's assumption that the divorce had something to do with him is because he needs/wants to believe that he is as central to Hotch's life and psyche as Hotch is to his. Whether or not this is true is up for debate, but what Hotch feels for him certainly isn't the same kind of sexual obsession Foyet feels for Hotch.

Like with women, Foyet is deeply ambivalent about Hotch. He desires him sexually and in a way, romantically (coming back to that assimilative thing, which I'll come back to when I talk about 4.18). Hotch is everything to Foyet: love and hate, lust and disgust. He wants to own Hotch and be Hotch, and I think he knew, perhaps unconsciously, that their "game" could only end in his own death. Even if he had managed to kill Hotch and Jack, he was so psychically identified with Hotch by that point that I don't think he could have gone on without him. The game is truly one played until death do them part.

And now "Georgie Junior." If you're reading this and you haven't read "fall right into me," the fic this comment is on, I'll tell you everything you need to know: in the fic, Foyet refers to his penis as "Little Georgie Junior." I was fishing around for a weird euphemism for his dick because like tickingclockheart says, he's a weird guy, and the way he talks is almost goofy and definitely playful (C. Thomas Howell I love you forever). When I chose this particular phrase, I was thinking about how Foyet is totally identified with his sexuality. This is how he comes to identify so closely with Hotch. Unlike some serial killers (and a variety of other violent offenders), there's no separation between George Foyet and The Reaper. As Hotch says, "George Foyet is The Reaper." There is no difference, and while Foyet would like to think that this means he exercises total control over himself (like everything else he interacts with), it's clear that it controls him. As I mentioned before, he can't stop himself from offending even when he's not killing, even when it gets him fired from one of his jobs.

Foyet's identification with Hotch is part of why he stalks him, I think. You know that line in The Red Dragon (or NBC's Hannibal, which is an adaptation) where Will says he feels like he's doing things at the same time as (insert killer here, the reference is different in the show than in the book)? Yeah. Foyet needs to know everything about Hotch. He needs to be Hotch, and if he can't do that, he needs to destroy Hotch.

[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]

all is bright

Summary: After a long series of failed dates, Hotch and Morgan finally come to their senses thanks to some well-placed mistletoe.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: stomach illness mentioned, migraine, foyet mention...99% mutual pining turned first kiss

Read on AO3: all is bright

Notes: Hey there! It's been a hot minute since I posted anything. A long holiday vacation and some major flooding in our town and our house has meant not much writing time. But, I have this for you today. <3 The first of many wintry Christmas themed fics this month, and one of two that are not Secret Santa gifts! This one was written for @imagining-in-the-margins Office Party Challenge using the prompt: Characters end up beneath very suspiciously placed mistletoe at the holiday party. (I have a 2nd story in the works for this challenge as well, different prompt but same pairing of course.)

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

“I saw you last night,” Derek said casually, stepping into Hotch’s office with his bag still slung over one shoulder. To Hotch he looked a little tired but he was dressed up in a black button down and slacks, put together in a way he wasn’t usually and it was a little distracting. “At the bar.”

“And you didn’t say hello?” Hotch barely looked up, just a flick of his eyes, then back at his paperwork. Derek entered like that was an invitation, just a little further. He’d wait another minute before coming in completely, let Hotch warm up or push him on his way. He didn’t have a lot of time anyway.

“You looked...occupied. A date?”

“You could call it that. It was an attempt anyway.”

“Good for you!” He meant that, too. Haley had been dead a year, and it seemed to rock him right back to the moment of his divorce, maybe worse. He’d been paralyzed completely, but the loneliness had started to feel crushing. Hopeless. And the longer it went on, the harder it felt to claw his way back out. Derek took his opportunity to drag a chair over and perch himself right in front of Hotch’s desk, to sit and talk with him for a moment. A spot of real connection after a long period of silence. He thought things would be different, but they’d settled back into uncomfortable silence as Hotch retreated into himself.

Hotch couldn’t help looking up at the sudden intrusion.

“It didn’t go well.” He didn’t look too upset by it. He kept his features carefully guarded, but it did sting to admit. He’d met Noel at the gym, not exactly the best place to meet someone but not the worst by a long shot. They’d started going around the same time, Hotch because he needed to supplement his physical therapy as he attempted to regain his fitness after Foyet’s attack and Noel because he was trying to lose ten pounds for a part. Of course he was an actor. He thought Haley would have laughed at that. In any case, they’d managed to talk about theatre while running on the treadmill, avoiding any topics of real import. After a couple of weeks and a successful audition, Noel casually asked Hotch out for a drink. “To celebrate,” he said and Hotch found that he had no real good reason to say no.

He was so damn lonely.

He gave himself a fifty fifty chance at success, having been out of the dating game long enough to be rusty but he still had a pretty firm grasp of the basics. By the end of the night he knew it wasn’t a match. Even when Noel said “I’ll call you,” and tried to kiss him on the cheek, he knew that was it. And that was okay. Like Rossi told him earlier that morning, at least he went out and tried. He got out of the house, he met someone new, he tried an appletini for the first time because his date insisted it was the best drink the bartender made (and hated every second of it, the cloying sweetness making him gag on every sip). He got out of his comfort zone and the loneliness was abated some, overall a success even if the attempt at a match was an abysmal failure.

“How is that even possible? Aaron Hotchner doesn’t fail at anything.”

Hotch sighed and put his pen down, knowing that he was unlikely to get out of this conversation without giving up some details. He put on his bravest face and sucked in a breath, not thrilled about admitting this failure to Derek Morgan of all people. There were layers to that reasoning. “For starters, he was attached to his phone the whole time. His notification sound was Minnie Mouse. He wanted to get all of my social media handles and seemed incredibly concerned when I told him that I had none. He asked me how I could possibly live without having at least one.”

“Yeah, I run into that a lot too.” Derek wouldn’t comment on the Minnie Mouse bit, but the guy sounded like a disaster. He was a little glad it didn’t work out because from his vantage point, that guy was hot as hell and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been a little jealous. From where he sat, it looked like Hotch was smiling and having a good time. He had to fight every instinct in his body not to go break in and ask Hotch to dance when the jukebox kicked up with some old Dwight Yoakam.

“He wanted to take photos of me and I asked him not to. At one point he insisted that SnapChat was safe for me to use because the photos disappeared. I tried to be polite but it’s hard to tell someone you can’t be in their photos without explaining why. They tend to think you’re just a jerk.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Just that my job requires me to operate cautiously.” That was an understatement, of course, and there was a lot more to it than that. He’d been stalked and stabbed in his own home, it wasn’t just his job that made him operate with an abundance of caution. He’d always been reserved even with people he knew well, more since Haley died. He’d practically sealed himself off. This date...he was stepping so far outside of his comfort zone and realizing quickly how very not ready he still was. He might never actually be ready.

Derek just nodded and smiled, leaning back in the chair. He crossed his legs and couldn’t hide the jaw cracking yawn that followed the movement.

“Late night?” Hotch asked, changing the subject abruptly. He’d had enough of talking about Noel, in fact if he never talked about him or saw him again he thought that would be just fine. It might have been a worthwhile experience but it still hurt. There was an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite shake and it didn’t have as much to do with Noel as it did simply being aware that he didn’t know how to do any of this. He wasn’t used to that feeling. And if he didn’t know how to do this, then he couldn’t shake the loneliness of an empty bed. “I saw you too, you know.”

“Yeah? So you saw me get my ass kicked to the curb huh?”

“It looked a little heated, but I figured you had it handled.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that, but I’ll bounce back. Plenty of fish in the sea.” He was so tired that he’d started using his mom’s words now. Every time he told her about a heart break, which was more often than he’d like to admit (and more often than anyone would believe) she told him the same thing. “You’ll be okay, my darling boy. You’re a catch.” He was starting to seriously doubt that statement.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

“Classic BAU problem. I don’t make time for him. He’s been asking me to go on this cruise with him. And okay, yeah, some time off would be nice...but you know how that is. And I love beaches and sand and cocktails...but a cruise? Man, I don’t wanna be on a boat for a week with a bunch of screaming kids and drunk retirees.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Hotch had been on a cruise once with Haley and her family, before Jack. It was worse than Derek could imagine, of that he was certain. It had been a sensory nightmare for a man who enjoys peace and quiet. Even the room was overstimulating, and when he got back on land all he wanted was to hide in his backyard for a week recovering, tinkering, gardening. For a man who loves boats, the novelty wore off fast. He didn’t think Derek could do it.

“Right? That’s what I said. But he got these tickets, all inclusive, and he’s been after me for weeks.”

“I’d approve the time off, if you wanted to give it a shot.”

“Nah. I realized last night that we’ve been trying to force something that wasn’t right anyway. The physical stuff was fun but that’s about it. We’re incompatible. He likes soccer.”

“I like soccer,” Hotch said a little indignantly, his lips ticking up at the corners in a little smirk. Derek laughed.

“Well there’s no accounting for taste, but I can forgive you for it.”

Hotch let out a small laugh and lifted his pen again, just for something to do with his hands. He ran his fingers along the smooth line of it and flipped it over his knuckles. There have been times over the years that he’s wondered about he and Derek, if things were different, if they’d met under different circumstances. Playing in the land of make believe, that’s what his dad would have called it. No what ifs, those didn’t exist and would never exist because the time had passed. They were compatible in nearly every way, sometimes to the point of it being a little ridiculous, but he simply could not indulge himself in that way. He couldn’t ask Derek out, not ever, because it would be so wildly inappropriate of him to cross that line. And Derek would probably not be interested in him anyway, that was a pipe dream. Having things in common didn’t exactly mean romantically compatible, he was smart enough to know that.

Except when he glanced up again and met Derek’s eyes, there was something there that looked dangerous and inviting. Like he was indulging the same thoughts. It was so hard to turn the inner profiler off, especially when you can’t do anything about what’s on your mind. He’d be silly to think Derek hadn’t ever considered it too, really, even if it had only been a passing thought. Another what if. It took them almost no time at all to discover that each of them was bisexual, even if Hotch was married at the time. Haley made it well known to Derek over plenty of late night dinners and too many glasses of wine that Hotch was a theater kid, “if you know what I mean”. And Derek, well he was simply confident. It had taken him a long time to gain that confidence, a lot of years of hiding and shame built up before he decided it didn’t serve him and he was losing precious time to be happy. Plenty of fish. He was a catch. He deserved to be happy, or so his mother said. Fran Morgan said a lot of things, he had come to find out.

Except as he sat in that chair across from Hotch, he knew that kind of real happiness was just out of reach. Because he’d come to realize that Hotch was that happiness. And so he became Captain Ahab and there weren’t plenty of fish, there was one white whale. Hotch’s principals were too strong, his code when it came to work was ingrained in him so deeply that he would never ask Derek out, and he couldn’t just ask his boss out. None of it was fair.

“I suppose things could be worse,” Hotch said finally, offering a small ray of hope. “Single isn’t the worst thing in the world. It does get a bit lonely, though.”

“At least you got the kid. He’s great.” Now. He had the kid now. Because Haley died and now he was forced into being a single parent. Derek felt awful for saying it but Hotch didn’t seem to think too hard about it, he just nodded in response.

“You have Clooney.”

“Well then we’re both doing just fine, huh? Anyway, I’ve got a meeting with Strauss in fifteen. I should drop my things off in my office before I have to see her.”

Hotch hummed in response and watched Derek lift his bag, heading for the door. He paused there in the door frame and looked back, only for a moment, offering a small smile.

“Plenty of fish in the sea,” he said, a little sadly and his white whale nodded. “Don’t lose hope.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

(x)

The holidays always seemed to creep up on him. One minute it was summer, he was spending every minute with Jack he could outside of work, soaking up the sunshine and the little adventures that felt huge in the eyes of his young son. They spent a lot of time by the small courtyard pool, Hotch lying in the shade of a huge sun-bleached umbrella with a nostalgic 90s pattern still barely visible while Jack and his multitude of bright floating toys find endless amusement in the pool. Occasionally some of the neighbors would pop down, offer him a beer, let the other kids play a while, but it was always them first, them every day. It was their little sanctuary surrounded by cast iron gates and a bright blue sky. All day, camped out. He couldn’t go far, couldn’t take big long trips, he was tied to his job but they could go to the pool. Every day, sometimes. He’d pack up some hot dogs or take a frozen pizza from the oven and they would eat and enjoy the water well into the evening. It seemed to last forever and be over in the blink of an eye. Suddenly they were back to school, carving pumpkins, trick-or-treating, cooking a little Thanksgiving dinner for two (or three if Jessica didn’t have plans). And then he blinked again and it was Christmas Eve and he hadn’t done anything but work his tail end off and try to squeeze in some shopping when he could. It was Christmas Eve and he hadn’t taken Jack to see Santa, he hadn’t done much of anything.

Part of that this year he could chalk up to illnesses that had stacked up, one after another in their home. School had away of sucker punching them, and just when he thought they were coming out of one they’d be hit with another. The last illness was a brutal stomach virus that terrorized his home for a whole weekend. First Jack, then Jessica, then him, all taken down. None of them felt well enough to do anything more Christmasy than turn on a holiday movie and lay on the couch hoping not to need the bathroom. Hoping to sleep. Dreaming of eating something again, anything at that point. Hotch could have killed for a bite of dry wheat toast, but even that was too much during that awful weekend.

Jack bounced back first, followed by Jessica, and finally his body got the memo and allowed him to start eating and drinking again. “You’ve been through a lot in the last year,” Jessica said when he moaned about taking longer to feel better. He didn’t bounce back, he was crawling. “You have to give yourself time.”

He was still not feeling great, but he was back at work after almost a week. That awful weekend left him drained, and though he’d intended to go to work the following Monday, his body had other plans. He was knocked on his ass by a migraine from hell, no matter what tricks he employed it was completely debilitating. Three full days on his couch unable to do anything but the most basic functions of living. Jessica called it his illness hangover, everyone was feeling better and his body finally ran out of fumes to run on. He’d been taking care of everyone in spite of his own needs and when Jess went back to work and Jack went back to school, he all but collapsed. It wasn’t pretty. He cried more than once out of sheer frustration, a particularly low point he wasn’t proud of. But Jack made him a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and raisins and Jessica picked up his dry cleaning and did his grocery shopping and somehow he saw his way through it to the other side.

Three days was his limit. By the fourth day he was at least able to be upright, he could function. He’d be able to work at his desk and push through a pile of consults and administrative work. His jaw ached down into his neck and shoulders and he was wearing his glasses instead of his contacts out of pure necessity, but otherwise he was doing alright. Just exhausted. So exhausted, he didn’t even care that Christmas was almost over. And neither did Jack, really. They were all sort of ready to be done with it. He thought the hardest part would be dealing with the grief of a full year without Haley, their first real Christmas without her (because he could barely remember the first one, it was all such a blur of pain and work that he wasn’t even sure they did anything at all).

His routine upon entering his office was simple. Flip on the overhead light, do a quick walk through, set his briefcase in a corner within arm’s reach, turn on the space heater beneath his desk. After that first round, he would walk back and turn on the lamp, turning off the overhead light. Headache lighting. Finally, he started a pot of coffee. He could get a cup from the common area, but he had the stuff he liked right here and it would hide the dusty smell of his space heater.

With that done, he sat himself down and reclined in his chair, breathing a few times just to settle himself. Bring him here into the moment, ease the throbbing in his temples. He would make it a few hours at least if he moved slowly, if he was deliberate about how he spent his time.

His eyes caught on a small envelope, bright red and addressed in glitter pen to Sir Hotch. Penelope’s looping scrawl with a heart in place of the o in Hotch. He wondered how long it had been sitting there and he felt a small pang of guilt over it. Ridiculous and misplaced guilt for not being here, for leaving his team in the lurch. With a little hesitation, he grabbed his letter opener and sliced through the top of the envelope, sliding out a small white invitation emblazoned with brightly wrapped gifts and other various Christmas drawings. Hand drawn, he could tell. She made it herself.

A party invitation, at first glance. His eyes scanned the little pictures first, then lit on the actual information and he felt his stomach twist.

That night. 7pm. Bring a white elephant gift.

“Sir!” Penelope exclaimed as he read through the note a second time. “I didn’t realize you’d be back today. I sort of thought you’d be out until after the holiday...how are you feeling?” She didn’t bother to try and mask the way she looked him over with concern in her features. He didn't hold it against her, he knew he looked like death warmed over.

“Better, thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I’m only seeing your invitation now.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to come. I’m sure you still need to rest. I actually just wanted to come up and say not to worry about it...I didn’t know you were sick when I brought it in here.”

He scanned the invitation again and offered her a smile. “You know, we haven’t done a single fun thing this season. I’m hoping to take Jack to the mall to see Santa tonight as a last ditch effort to save the holiday, it’s near your place. We could stop by afterward.”

The way Penelope’s face lit up set his heart on fire. She never expected him to come, that much was clear. Even if he hadn’t been sick, she had already prepared herself for him to politely decline. And he almost did, too. He knew he wasn’t likely to feel up for a party that night, he didn’t feel up for one right then either, but something told him he had to go for it. Even if it was just a quick pop in.

“That sounds...so great. Thank you sir. You don’t have to bring a white elephant gift...just...you guys just come. That’s the gift. Having you and Jack in my home.”

“I’ll bring something. I don’t want to throw off the count.” He smiled at that, hiding the fact that while he’d always been good at gift giving, white elephant exchanges had always eluded him. He was better at sincere than silly or broad. He’d have to ask Jessica, she would know what to buy. “Is there anything else you need? Food or drinks, utensils?”

She was beaming now, hardly able to contain herself. He could scarcely believe that him coming to her party was such a good thing. “Nope. Nothing. Just come.”

(x)

From the street, they could already see Penelope’s apartment. Jack had been there a few times for gatherings and once or twice when Hotch was in a pickle and needed someone to watch him for a few hours. She had really come through for him more than once. Her apartment window was lit up with bright twinkling lights from the inside, a gaudy Christmas tree drenched in decadent decorations right in the middle of the display. Shadows moved at the periphery, everyone was already inside. He knew he’d be late but he hadn’t realized just how late. The line to see Santa was shockingly long this late in the season, he really thought he’d be one of very few failures standing in line waiting for the last glimpse of the man in red. He had to leave early to begin delivering gifts, of course, so they were on a pretty strict clock. He made it just in time.

“Are we late, dad?” Jack asked as they entered the building, the air inside warming their cold noses and fingers. He was parked a few blocks away, somewhere with easy access to the mall and her place.

“A little,” he replied, nudging Jack past the elevator. They took the stairs up, Hotch insisting they’d warm up faster if they get their blood pumping. Jack didn’t think that was true, he just guessed his dad was afraid of elevators. He never took them if he didn’t have to.

They could hear Christmas music coming from Penelope’s apartment when they entered the hallway, and as they got closer they could begin to make out the song. Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, the good version Hotch thought. The classic. He enjoyed all Christmas music, but he had a special affection for the oldies, the stuff his mom used to play on crackling vinyl when he was a kid.

“The Home Alone song!” Jack squealed, rushing toward the door and knocking excitedly. They had just watched that movie over the weekend and he’d been cleaning up all sorts of Jack’s little traps ever since. No wet bandits would be getting into their apartment on Jack’s watch. Penelope answered the door in a dress that almost hurt Hotch’s eyes, twinkling lights all over that reflected off of his glasses matched the biggest smile he’d ever seen.

“You made it! Did you see Santa?” She crouched to talk directly to Jack right away, leaving him standing there watching. He scanned the party and noticed that the entire team was packed inside of that little apartment.

“Yeah! I did!”

“What was he like? Did he smell like cookies? I always remember him smelling like sugar cookies.”

“He smelled like...candy canes!” Jack wrapped his arms around her neck when she extended her arms to him without hesitation. His hug was full and tight.

“What did you ask him for?”

“It’s a secret!”

“Oh, oh yeah...I guess I forgot that part. Come inside you two! It’s cold out here!” As Hotch entered, he extended his hand with a small wrapped gift inside. It was a little box, the smallest thing on the table and he was a little concerned he chose the wrong thing. He’d had plenty of ideas, all of which Jessica said were wrong or boring – she made the choice in the end, insisting that he would bring the one thing everyone in this crowd would need and no one would ever think of. No one would ever see it coming, especially from him. He wasn’t sure that was such a great thing, but it was done now. He’d committed.

They dove into the gift exchange almost immediately. He barely had time to get a mug of coffee in his hand before they were choosing numbers and stealing gifts from one another. His little box stayed put for a long time, almost insultingly long really. The big gifts were pulled first, followed by the more obvious secondary gifts. By the time his number was called there weren’t many left, and his options were slim so he decided just to take the box he’d brought and slink back into his little corner. Worried the gift was wrong, or might be interpreted incorrectly, he hoped he could just go back home with it and maybe return it after Christmas.

Once everyone was holding a gift from the pile, the real fun began – Penelope announced that one at a time, in their original order first, everyone could begin stealing gifts. One exceptionally large box made the rounds the longest, not because anyone thought the gift would be particularly good so much as they were curious what was hiding inside. Reid had brought the gift, Hotch knew it just by the look on his face as people passed it around and around curiously and he imagined it probably had a sock or something of equally little value but high amusement inside. For someone from Las Vegas, Reid's poker face left a lot to be desired.

Out of nowhere, Derek appeared in front of him with a grin. “I want that,” he said, indicating Hotch’s little gift. Reluctantly Hotch handed it to him and accepted what he had in his hand in return. They couldn’t trade back. That was it. Derek was the final trade and everyone was stuck with what they had.

His heart sank at the thought of Derek opening what he brought, of all people.

“Okay, on the count of three...everyone open your gift! Good luck!”

Hotch let Jack open his gift, even though Jack had a pile of gifts beneath the tree of his own to open when it was time. The little boy scrunched his nose once he got a peek and handed the gift to his dad to finish opening – it was a pair of mittens, nothing interesting to him. Nothing fun at all. He rushed back to where Henry sat beside the tree, eager to get into the really good stuff. Hotch examined the mittens, pulling them gingerly from the rest of the wrapping and holding them up to his hands – they would fit. Penelope made them, he could tell her handiwork (and he’d seen her in her office toiling over them during her lunch hour more than once in the last month). Mittens weren’t exactly his style but his hands did get cold easily and they were a deep, rich gray flecked with blue. He could wear them when the arctic chill in his office got unbearable. His circulation wasn’t what it used to be, if it ever was good in the first place. He tried not to watch Derek too closely when he opened his gift – pulling the little velvet bag out of the box and examining the contents with an amused smile on his face. There were three oversized wooden dice inside with words and little pictures burned into the sides. Date night dice, Jessica insisted they all needed this gift. She’d been hoping JJ would get it, probably, but each of them could use the help in that department. Date nights were spontaneous at best in their line of work, and you didn’t have time to sit and talk it out or make long term plans...it had to be quick and it had to be fun. Make the most of whatever time you get. She’d picked out the appropriate dice, simple food & activities, though she did try to push the sexy ones at him more than once. He drew the line at sexual gifts for his subordinates. Well, he drew the line quite a ways before that even, but that was definitely not going to happen.

The look on Derek’s face as he read the sides of the die made him smile in spite of himself. He seemed pleased with them, or amused maybe, and carefully slipped them into his pocket before heading back to the kitchen for a new drink. Hotch thought about following for a topper on his coffee but Jack’s voice called him to the tree where Penelope wanted the kids to start tearing into their pile of gifts before they went rabid and did tore apart her whole apartment. He made his way through the crowd and stood beside JJ and Will, the feeling of joy at seeing their kids happy and the dread of having to take all of this mess home and find places for it almost palpable between them. JJ was holding a small disposable camera in her hand that looked like it had been pulled right out of someone’s attic. “That from Reid?” he asked and she nodded, smiling. A little yellow Kodak disposable camera inside that enormous box. Reid outdid himself.

“I haven’t seen one of these since college. You think it still works?”

“Only one way to find out,” he replied, hoping she might test it out. The film was probably long since ruined, but the thought of having some of these memories preserved in that way was enticing. He’d always loved the look of real film. Or maybe he was just a nostalgic, sentimental old man now.

“They really went all out,” JJ said, shaking her head as her son ripped wrapping paper to shreds like a wolverine. “I don’t think Henry’s room is big enough.”

Hotch smiled and nodded in agreement, watching as Jack made it into the first of his many gifts. The whole team brought something for the kids, it was too much. Superheroes, books, legos, everything he loved. “Dad, look!” It was squealed over and over as Jack held up gift after gift and Hotch rubbed at the bridge of his nose where his glasses suddenly felt heavy and tried not to let on just how anxious all of that stuff made him feel. Knowing it would have to be in his home, exploding out of Jack's room. The boys finished and rushed around the room, hugging everyone before returning to their spoils and ripping into the boxes, comparing, relishing, delighting in the bright shiny new. Hotch’s head was starting to throb again, the heat and sound of the room was too much. The coffee wasn't helping as much as he'd hoped, but alcohol would have only made things worse. He began thinking about leaving, before it got bad enough that he didn’t think he should be driving Jack around on icy roads. This was the most time he’d spent off of his couch just about all month and he was feeling it now.

“Hotch?” Derek asked, touching his elbow from behind. He turned and took a few steps away from the crowd, getting close to where Derek was so he could hear him over the conversation and Bing Crosby crooning. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” he replied a little too quietly. The room was spinning in a way that made him feel intoxicated, a side effect he often felt being a little too close to Derek. Smelling his cologne, sandalwood and spice, something deep and woodsy and warm. It momentarily distracted him from the pain in his head. “I hope my being out hasn’t been too much strain on you.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Everyone pitched in.”

“Good,” he said, unable to pull the words he really wanted. He’d like to say thank you, say how much it meant to him knowing that Derek could step into his role and let him have time off when he needed it, he’d like to say a lot of things right then but his mind was a blank pulsing throb. He could feel every nerve ending in his body when Derek closed the distance between them and, with one lithe finger, pointed casually to the ceiling above them. Hotch let his eyes follow the line Derek’s finger drew, up up up to a plant hook with a big mangled bunch of leaves hanging from it. A fist sized ball of green and white, and suddenly his mouth was going dry.

Mistletoe.

Right above them. He was no expert on the rules, didn’t have a lot of experience in this arena, but he knew what you were supposed to do. Did that apply now? At an office party? Who did Penelope hang it for, anyway?

“Right.” He said it and regretted it immediately. He wasn’t even sure what he meant by it. Derek laughed and nodded in agreement for some reason. Maybe he understood. Maybe he just thought it was funny.

“Right.”

On bated breath, Derek hooked his hand on the back of Hotch’s neck like right was an invitation, and maybe it was. His warm palm rested against Hotch’s skin, rough finger pads pulling him close until their lips met. Gently at first, a little timid, just a brush and a pause, searching eyes and held breath before pressing harder. Hotch wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, whether he should fall into the kiss or wait it out. What he wanted and what he should do were battling it out in his mind until he found himself nipping helplessly at Derek’s lower lip, smiling into the kiss, into his rich wine breath, and then his hands were settling on Derek’s hips and squeezing. His thumbs were hooked in Derek’s belt loops, and he had become acutely aware that the noise and chatter in the room had died out, left with nothing but the skin tingling intoxication of Otis Redding singing White Christmas.

It was Hotch's favorite Christmas song, and he knew he was helpless to do anything more than enjoy this moment. Derek began to sway along with the music, one hand still hooking the back of Hotch’s neck, the other cradling his jaw. He traced Hotch’s jawline, to his lips and back with one thumb, fingers splayed over his face a little possessively. He broke the kiss, coming up for air only briefly, smiling against Hotch’s lips. “Been thinking about doing that for a really long time…”

Their foreheads touched and rested against one another, each of them coming to terms with this moment. The first time, the first kiss. A long-awaited, fat chance, when pigs fly kind of kiss that hardly seemed real. Hotch closed his eyes and breathed out. “Me too.”

“Think maybe we could give those date night dice a spin sometime?” Derek asked and Hotch felt a flush rise in his neck, his cheeks burning. He’d forgotten all about them, honestly. He’d sort of forgotten everything in the moment. He nodded, just a slight movement.

“Sure,” he said before he couldn’t think about words anymore and found himself going in for another kiss. Derek’s lips, cherry chapstick and wine, were intoxicating. “Merry Christmas Derek,” he whispered between breaths, between kisses that made him forget where he was and how many people were watching. Who was watching. How many rules they were violating.

And if that realization weren't damning enough, Hotch heard a small clicking sound followed by a quick blinding flash and a shout of joy. JJ had used her little Kodak disposable camera on them. She wound the film excitedly and began wandering around the room clicking photos as quickly as she could, distracting everyone momentarily.

“Merry Christmas Hotch,” Derek replied, anchoring him in place, blinking the flash from his eyes. Holding him there in the moment a while longer. He could feel it starting to slip away.

Everyone in the room was trying not to watch and failing miserably in their pursuit. JJ and Will were helping Henry clean up the mess of boxes and toys he’d created while Emily and Rossi argued over the names of Santa’s reindeer. Reid was frowning as he looked through a rather pornographic tarot card deck he found in one of Penelope’s kitchen drawers, simultaneously repulsed and intrigued.

Jack tapped on Penelope’s arm, pulling her attention from her kissing friends. She wasn’t even pretending not to watch. Quickly she crouched beside the little boy, never taking her eyes off of Derek and Hotch. “Yes hun?” she asked and Jack began whispering in her ear.

“I can tell you now,” he started with a huge grin, his lips tickling her ear as he cupped it with his little hands. Kid whispers were always a little wet and hot and she could feel a shiver at the base of her spine when he talked again. When he divulged his secret. “I asked Santa to give my dad something that would make him happy.”

“Oh,” she gasped, tears in her eyes. Of course he did. He would know that his dad would take care of any presents he wanted, and it was silly to think he hadn’t noticed how sad and lonely his dad was now that he lived with him full time. Surrounded by photographs of the life he’d lost. “Oh Jack. You did good. You did so good.”

“No...Santa did good. I only asked.”

Hotch hoped that little camera still had some life in it.

He'd like to see that photo.

[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

[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!

[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-

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