#hotch x emily

[cloudlessly-light]

Hi!! Would you consider writing hotchniss thigh riding? There’s so few of them 😔 and maybe coupled with spit kink if you can? Your previous spit kink fics had me WILD. Thank you!!

A/N: Hi Anon! I hope you like this and that you don't mind that I added some other stuff as well, please enjoy!

Title: Gonna make you sweat Summary: Emily usually never disturbs him when he’s working from home, but sometimes she just can’t help herself. Word count: 2,3k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, thigh grinding, spit kink, breath play/choking, verbal humiliation, dom Aaron, sub Emily, filth, absolute filth

It’s quiet when she unlocks the front door to their home. The lights all turned off except one and she smiles at the way Aaron always leaves a light for her when she comes home later than him. She kicks off her shoes and groans happily, the heels she’s worn for a night out with Penelope and JJ, as stunning as they were, are not worth the pain. The stillness of their house is soothing, knowing that Jack was tucked into bed and that Aaron was probably in bed waiting for her making adoration flutter in her chest.

But as she goes up the stairs and sees the light on in his home office she turns towards it instead of their bedroom and sure enough, he’s sitting there, still in his slacks but the tie off and the first couple of buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. Today had been a tiring day for him, she knew that, and even if she wouldn’t tell him as much, it was part of her reason for cutting girl’s night short.

For a few seconds she takes in the way he’s looking sitting there, so effortlessly gorgeous, as he concentrates on putting pen to paper. He’s been at it for hours, she can tell by the slightly strained expression on his face, the way he’s flexing his fingers before grabbing the pen again.

Emily rarely disturbs him when he’s working, and she isn’t sure if it’s the way he looks as he sits there, or the wine she’s had, or the want she always felt toward him, or maybe it’s knowing that he needs to release some tension after the difficult day he’s had, maybe it’s the mix of all of it. But she finds that she can’t help herself as she quietly unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor. She steps out of it and then clears her throat as she takes a couple of steps toward him.

“Hi honey.” She smiles when he looks up at the sound of her voice and watches in amusement as his eyes move over frame slowly.

“You’re home early.” He says and pushes back on his chair to turn fully to face her and motions for her to come closer.

“Henry is sick.” She shrugs just as she comes to stop in front of him. His eyes move over her body slowly once more and she feels the familiar rush from it as his tongue licks over his bottom lip.

“And you thought that you’d come in here and distract me?” His hands graze the outside of her thighs as she nods and when she shivers in response to his touch he raises an eyebrow in amusement. “You know better than that, sweetheart.”

She smirks as he grabs her fully, large hands holding her hips as he pulls her toward him to straddle his lap.

“Can I really be blamed when you’re this sexy?” She muses, her lips brushing against his as she speaks before she kisses him. Her tongue is quick to seek out his, a happy sigh sounding from her when he licks into her mouth as his hands move over her body. The familiar feel of his warm, slightly calloused fingers sends goosebumps across her skin, the heat of his palms quickly making her entire body feel hot even in the slightly cool room.

Aaron groans lowly when he feels her hips start to grind on his lap, the heat of her evident even through her silk panties and his pants. When he breaks their kiss her dark eyes are hazy, her cheeks flushed pink and he swallows down the urge to take her right there. But there was something about Emily, needy and desperate, drunk on him, that was unlike any power rush he’d ever felt before. And tonight, after hours of paperwork and a day consisting of bureaucracy and red tape, he needed that power.

With that thought in mind he unhooks her bra, dark eyes locked on hers as it falls to the floor and before she has the chance to say anything else, he slowly wraps his hand around her throat, making sure he has her attention as he squeezes the tiniest bit. When he feels the way she swallows down a moan he smirks at her.

“You want me that bad, baby? That you can’t even wait until we’re in bed?” He squeezes harder and her hips roll against his lap in response.

“Aaron I-” Her voice is breathy, but it’s not what he wants to hear so he cuts her off with another squeeze, this one hard as he holds her gaze for a couple of seconds before letting go.

“Try again.” He watches in amusement as she fights the internal battle with herself, knows that in the end what they both want is for her to give herself completely to him, but sometimes she would put up a bit of a fight. Tonight however, it looked like her need for him was bigger than her need to be defiant.

“I want you so bad.” She whispered, the flush on her cheeks all but disappearing as her entire body flushes with the admission.

“Aww, you poor thing.” He keeps his hand around her throat as he pushes her off his lap only to tug her underwear off her hips before standing up too. There was something about Emily completely naked when he was still fully clothed that made heat flutter in his belly.

“Open.” He tilts her head back just slightly, a dark groan rumbling in his chest when her mouth opened, already knowing what was coming. When he spit into her mouth and she swallowed with a moan he hummed happily. “Good girl.”

Emily is sure she must be dripping from arousal as she watches how he sits down on his chair again, legs spread and body leaning back against the backrest, his entire being demanding respect. She knows what he wants before he says it, but she doesn’t move until he nods.

“You know you can’t always get what you want.” He pulls her closer but this time lets her straddle one of his thighs instead of his lap. The way she sucks in a breath at the feeling of fabric against her clit causes his fingers to dig into her waist slightly. “You want to act like a desperate little thing, and because I’m so nice I’m going to let you get off on my thigh. Let you prove to me how much you want it.”

His low voice and slightly condescending tone only make her flush harder, her body feeling like it was on fire and he hadn’t even touched her yet. She knew she was already staining his slacks, the wet spot already visible when she rearranged her body slightly and Aaron smirked, something smug and self-assured that she would have been irritated by if they had been in any other situation but this one. Instead it only turns her on and she slowly starts to grind on against his thigh, a soft moan falling from her lips at finally getting some relief.

Her hands move to grip his shoulders, her hips rolling and rocking against the strong muscle of his leg as his hands stay on her waist, letting her set the pace. His intense stare on her only makes her grind harder, something about knowing that he loved to watch her, getting her off. It always did.

“Look at you, it’s barely been two minutes and you’ve already soaked me.” He muses as the wet spot on his slacks get bigger, the feel of her wetness against his skin making his cock jerk in it’s confines. “What do you say to that?”

It takes her a second to find any words at all, but as her eyelids flutter open and she sees the furrowed eyebrows and lips pressed together in a thin line she gasps.

“I’m sorry.” Her grip on his shoulders must be hurting him but he only encourages her by pushing his thigh against her.

“Sorry for what?” Aaron lets go of her waist as he speaks, instead he grabs the back of her neck with one hand, the other moving to toy with her nipples.

“Sorry for ruining your pants.” She moans, the way he’s rolling one of her nipples sending pleasurable sparks to her clit, and her hips buckle slightly.

“That’s okay baby,” He coos before pulling her into a kiss that’s more tongue than anything else. “that’s what happens when desperate girls can’t help themselves.” He squeezes around the back of her neck and then let’s go, knowing from Emily’s slightly frantic movements that she’s getting close.

“Fuck, Aaron…” She whimpered as she rolled her hips against his thigh, dragging her clit against it harder as she felt herself squeeze around nothing. “Feels good.” Her words are mumbled between breathless moans and pants, her orgasm building slowly.

“I know, you’re so wet sweetheart.” He sits up straighter and wraps one arm around the small of her back to keep her steady as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. When he tugs it between his teeth, Emily’s hips buckle in desperation and he presses his leg harder up against her, making sure she gets as much pressure against her clit as possible.

She jerks, her body chasing her release as she rolls her hips harder and faster, nothing but lewd moans and his name falling from her lips as her body starts to strain.

“Good girl, come for me.” His cock was hurting from how badly he wanted to feel her, aching from being hard for so long without getting any relief, but as Emily started to spasm on top of him, he knew that any waiting, or uncomfortableness was worth it. He watched as her eyes rolled back and mouth fell open, felt how her hips jerked and grinded against his leg as she continued to ride out her pleasure with a cry that was almost too loud.

She felt her orgasm in her entire body, the pleasure of it making her eyesight blurry as she continued to grind down on his clothed thigh until only aftershocks rocked her body. Her eyes, heavy lidded and hazy found his and she smiled lazily.

“Thank you.” She mumbled and he chuckled, the sound raspy and low. When he carefully pushed her off his leg, only to quickly move her to his desk, she didn’t fight him, still happily dazed and sated. Her eyes moved to the wet spot on his leg and she blushed at the mess she had made, but she could tell that Aaron loved it, he always loved when she fell apart, it didn’t matter how it happened.

“Now it’s my turn.” He muttered as he made quick work of getting his pants and boxers off. He stepped between her spread legs and groaned at the feeling of her soft skin against his heated shaft, enjoyed the feeling as he shallowly thrust against her thigh while unbuttoning his shirt, knowing that he was smearing precum on her skin.

“Please, fuck me.” She whispered when he continued to tease her, a smirk on his face as he rubbed the tip of his cock through her folds repeatedly. It was enough, his desperation for her finally clear when he pushed inside of her and quickly setting a pace as he groaned against her lips.

“How do you always feel so good?” He grunted, the pleasure of her slick walls making him crazy. His hands gripped her hips tight to keep her in place as he started to move with hard, fast thrusts and when her legs wrapped around his hips, he hissed her name.

“Do it again.” She whispered against his neck and when she pulled back her eyebrow arched and her head tilted back as her lips opened.

“Dirty fucking thing.” He growled and spit in her mouth again, watched with heated eyes as she swallowed dutifully with a filthy smirk on her lips.

It’s rough, fast and desperate as he grabs at her and she claws at him as they chase their release in each other’s skin. When Emily let’s out a sound close to a whine and her pussy starts to clench around him, Aaron groans against her neck, his teeth digging into the soft skin there.

“Come with me.” She pants through blurry pleasure and she feels him nodding. The feeling of his labored breathing against her neck and the feeling of him inside of her as he grips her hard enough to bruise, is sensory overload and she comes only a few minutes later, clinging to his sweaty body.

“Jesus Christ, Em.” He hisses as his orgasm hits him like a freight train, knocking the wind completely out of him as his hips stutter against hers and pleasure makes his knees buckle. The way her center is still trembling around him draws out his pleasure, the feeling of release close to euphoric as he tries to catch his breath.

She isn’t sure how long they stay like that but when Aaron takes a step back she can see the relaxation, can see how much he needed this and she smiles at him.

“I should come in here more often.” She stands on slightly unsteady legs and wraps her arms around his neck.

“I don’t know, I might not be able to focus on work in here ever again.” He nuzzled her nose with his as she laughs before kissing her. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She stamps another kiss to his lips and then sees the knowing look on his face.

“You know exactly what, you brat.” He tickles her waist quickly before pulling her against him. “Come one, lets shower and then I’m having you sit on my face until I’ve had my fill.”

She’s never headed to the shower that quick in her life.

[dcvidsrossi]

Rossi/Emily: You might not know this, Hotch, but I'm a flawed person.

Hotch: I do know that.

[ssaemilyhotchner]

Hey congratulations on the milestone 🥳

Can I request letter A 🫶🏻

hope you enjoy & ty for participating! 🌹

OTHER 1K DRABBLES | Read on AO3 Join the celebration by requesting a letter!

letter: A | prompt: adrenaline | wc: 2.1k | cw: alcohol, mostly just them making out bc Emily doesn't get her way lol | a/n: Post-ep for 7x15, "A Thin Line."

Please do not repost (reblogs welcome) or otherwise claim as your own.

--

“Prentiss.”

Without looking up from her desk, Emily simply made an unintelligible noise in response.

“Come on, Emily.” Hotch’s voice was gentle yet insistent. He’d been watching her stare blankly at her after-action report for nearly an hour, her leg bouncing rapidly all the while. Idly, he wondered if she’d even be able to bear weight on the leg and found himself moving in a little closer in case he needed to steady her. “I’m taking you home.”

Emily finally raised her gaze to meet his. “I don’t want to go home.”

He nodded knowingly. He had expected as much, knew what the weight of silence in an empty apartment felt like, especially after a case like this one. “Then let’s get a drink. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Emily studied him for a long while: the strength in the set of his jaw, the sharp angle of his body, his hand heavy on the back of her chair. What she really wanted was to be reckless, anything to stave off the dread that had weaseled its way under her skin. Running herself ragged at the gym, maybe, or getting into a fight, or fucking a stranger.

But, she conceded, in lieu of those, there were worse ways to cap the evening than at O’Keefe’s with Hotch. 

--

From the moment they set foot in the bar, their eyes were everywhere but on each other. Even with the bass of the unrecognizable song pounding through them like a heartbeat, silence pressed pointedly between them as Hotch’s mind raced. As he thought about how everything had narrowed to the sight of her emerging from Hilary Ross’s home, blood snaking bright red down her fingers. As he thought about the way fear had dried his mouth, tasting bitter on his tongue.

She had been quick to reassure everyone that she was okay, of course, a demonstration of overcompensation that had only made him more apprehensive. He knew she could feel his eyes on her during their flight home, especially as Morgan had moved to sit by her, clutching her good hand in apology. He had watched Emily’s lips twist teasingly as she once again assured the other man that San Bernardino was not an echo of that warehouse in Boston just a year before.

He had watched as Morgan rose and returned to his previous seat, and Emily’s careful mask crumpled ever so slightly around the edges.

He had watched as her gaze found his and held it, a challenge.

“I’m okay.”

Hotch blinked in surprise; he hadn’t expected she would be the one to broach the topic. He took a long pull of his beer. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

That earned him a trademark Prentiss glare. His lips twitched at the sight, glad her fight wasn’t gone entirely. “I know,” she replied testily.

“Do you? Because your thumb is bleeding from where you’re picking and I don’t think you’ve noticed.” He watched as she snapped back into her body and reached across their small booth for a napkin to staunch the small crescent of blood. “Your first injury in the field since Doyle, and with Morgan as your partner nonetheless,” he said carefully. “What you’re feeling is understandable, Emily.”

“Hotch,” she warned, before downing the rest of her negroni. “Your projecting isn’t exactly making me feel better.”

He raised his hands slightly. “I’m not projecting. I’m just looking out for a friend.”

She knew he was right, of course; no amount of overcompensating could make her do Morgan’s healing for him, but when she closed her eyes, she could still see the all too familiar look on his face as he registered her injury. She didn’t want to be thinking about any of that right now, though, and she certainly didn’t want the play-by-play of her boss profiling her in real time. 

Emily grumbled something that sounded a lot like who died and made you my therapist then pushed herself up onto her feet. “I need another drink.”

--

“I want to dance,” Emily said, several shots later. “And I want you to come with me.”

Hotch frowned pointedly at her sling. “Emily, you need to go home and rest.”

“You’re so serious,” she whined. “Come on, Hotch. Loosen up for a night,” she said with a devious smile. She traced a slender finger around the rim of his glass of whiskey, toying with the idea of getting him another drink—anything to get the tension out of his body. “Please? For me?”

Hotch eyed her pretty pout warily—he had always been a sucker for her doe eyes, and he was beginning to think she knew—then stood and extended his hand. “One dance.”

“Excellent.”

They both knew it wouldn’t just be one. 

Emily hummed contently as they moved in tandem to the beat of the music. His touch was light and respectful but warm, and she found herself leaning into it more and more. Inhibitions blissfully lowered, she dropped her fingers to the curve of his arm to trace a vein there, causing his hip to stutter accidentally against hers. Her gaze snapped up to his then, and her heart pounded at the look of obvious want in his eyes. Her resulting smile was beatific.

“What’s making you smile like that?” Hotch murmured, the low thrum of his voice only stoking her need.

“Nothing,” she said sweetly, biting her bottom lip and watching as his eyes flicked down to her mouth, then back up.

He chuckled. “You’re not a very good liar when you’re tipsy.”

“But you have to admit, I’m a pretty good dancer for someone who got shot less than 24 hours ago,” she said brightly, before looping her good arm around his neck and closing the space between them—the space he’d been trying diligently, if not half-heartedly, to keep.

“That you are.”

Fuck, she felt good as she moved against him. He vaguely registered the alarm bells sounding at the back of his mind at the heat building between them, but Hotch couldn’t think beyond the fact that this was Emily and she was in his arms, just like he had wanted for years. Every glance through his blinds at her in the bullpen, every cup of coffee delivered to him with a smile, every swish of her ponytail when they were paired together in the field, all of it building and cooling and culminating here.

“You were right, by the way,” he said eventually. She made a curious noise in response, the sound turning into a giggle at the shiver she pulled from him as her thumb traced mindless little patterns at the very top of his spine. “I was projecting. I didn’t want you to be alone this evening…but I didn’t want to be, either. I needed to see that you were okay.”

Emily looked up at him, besotted, then took his hand in hers and placed it over her chest. He clenched his jaw at the action; he could feel her heart, strong and racing at his touch, and was instantly consumed by the need to find every way he could elevate her heartbeat. To feel her heartbeat at every join of her, every join of them.

“Feel that?” she whispered, cutting through his reverie. “I’m okay.”

--

He hadn’t meant to kiss her back. Really, he hadn’t.

One minute, they were dancing, their bodies moving in sync as they toed the line of propriety with stolen touches, a nose against a cheek; the next, she was silencing his laugh by pressing her lips to his, rejoicing at the groan that rattled in the back of his throat as he felt her tongue coaxing his mouth open.

Hotch’s grip on her hips tightened, but the taste of gin and campari in her sweet mouth made him channel all of his restraint and pull away. “Emily—”

She moved her lips to the corner of his mouth. “If you even try to stop this,” she whispered, “I will break your jaw.”

Hotch barked out a surprised laugh. “Sweet talker,” he said dryly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Emily grinned widely. “I like the sound of that.”

As he piled her into the car, Hotch felt a pang of guilt at the victorious expression that had flickered across Emily’s face. He knew what she was craving; she needed a release, she needed him, but no matter how much he wanted the same, he knew he couldn’t follow through. Not tonight.

Finally reaching Emily’s place after much giggling and wandering fingers at stop lights, Hotch watched amusedly as she threw herself onto her couch. “Can I get you anything?” He eyed the Bialetti on her stovetop before sitting down beside her. “Some espresso to sober you up?”

“I’m not drunk,” she countered unconvincingly.

He snorted. “How about a different method? Dave shared a hangover trick with me when I was still fresh out of the Seattle field office. You’d just need amaro, which feels like something Emily Prentiss would keep around.”

She gave a throaty laugh at that and the sound sent a coil of pleasure through him. “I do have amaro. You are not the only one Dave has ever plied with expensive alcohol and gotten drunk. But,” she said, holding his gaze, “I don’t want to talk about Dave anymore.”

And at that, she straddled him. 

Hotch’s eyes fell shut at the press of Emily’s body against his. There was something about her that triggered the most visceral reactions from him, his throat constricting and chest tightening as her teeth found the shell of his ear, the sensitive spot right below it. Perhaps it was that he had imagined this so many times before: imagined unraveling her carefully constructed exterior and coming undone to her, with her, imagined finding her pulse point with his mouth and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, only now he was actually doing it and she was whining and it was the most exquisite sound he had ever heard. 

Emboldened by the sear of his mouth on her neck, Emily reached for him with renewed determination and urgency, fisting a hand in his shirt and making to tug it upwards over his head. It was the jolt to the present that Hotch needed, and he forced himself away, panting heavily. He wanted her to keep going, wanted to feel her, wanted to press his mouth to more of her, cut through her anxiety and adrenaline right to the core of her and make her fly apart; but instead he dropped his face in the curve of her collarbone and left a kiss there. “Emily, you have no idea how hard it is for me to stop you right now,” he ground out, “but we shouldn’t do this tonight.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea how hard you are,” she purred, rocking her hips against his and rejoicing in his resulting whispered fuck. “I want you, Hotch.”

“And I want you, too. I have for years.” Hotch smiled a little at the pretty blush that colored her already ruddy cheeks at his words. “But regardless of how eloquently you protest, I’m going to feel like I’m taking advantage of you right now,” he said as she opened her mouth to interject, “and I don’t want this to be something you regret tomorrow morning.”

Ghosting her lips against his in a barely-there kiss, Emily slowly shook her head. “I could never regret this,” she whispered. 

“Please, Emily,” Hotch said a final time, stilling her hand as she tried taking her own shirt off this time. He rose to his feet, Emily still wrapped snugly around him. “Not like this. We need to get you to bed.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time,” she said cheekily; but she followed him obediently, flashing him an inviting smile once she had stretched out across her bed. She watched him hungrily as he raked his gaze over her and swallowed thickly. 

Needing the distraction, Hotch slipped away to find ibuprofen and fill her a glass of water. When he returned, she had dressed down and removed her sling, and was staring at him as if he were stupid, but he just shook his head and sat in bed beside her. “You’ve had a really hard day,” he said gently, running a hand through her silky hair. “When the alcohol and adrenaline wear off tomorrow, I’ll be right here, okay?”

“Sometimes I hate that you’re such a good guy,” she said with a concessional sigh; but when she looked at him, all he saw reflected in her gaze was admiration.

Hotch couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. “I’m sorry.”

Emily laughed then, lolling her head to the side to peer at him with tired eyes. “Thanks, Hotch,” she said softly.

“Of course, Emily.”

She was out in a matter of minutes.

[barefoot-inthewildestwinter]

Make your tea and your toast (part 1)

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

Title: Make your tea and your toast

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

Word count: 3.7k

Ratings: Mature, eventually

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

January 2007

Nevada

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Emily.”

[lonelychicagos]

how can the cm writers claim that there was never something between hotch and prentiss when during hotch's trauma arcs, emily is either tending to him or risking her life for him.

(i'm sure the other members of the bau would do the same, but why does it always have to be emily?)

[jjtheresidentbaby]

Little!Jj & Caregiver!Hotchniss living together hcs

tags : autistic!jj, mentions of her mother/childhood being bad, sensory issues

notes: I feel like I haven’t talked about them in agessssss so take this long ramble | tagging @blackbirdsaltzman for their reply <3

Their house is actually a decent size and has a pretty big backyard, they bought something away from the road so they’d have all the privacy they could need

This means Hotch definitely buys a blow up pool for Jj to splash around in and Emily to dip her feet in

Jj loves the water. Baths, pools, ponds, oceans, she’d spend hours upon hours in it all if she could

It leads to a lot of summer days in the backyard where Emily’s reapplying sunblock every fifteen minutes, she sets a timer, and Hotch is making sure that Jj & Em stay hydrated in the sun

But there are times where Jj’s sensory issues kick in and she doesn’t want anything to do with the heat

They keep the Ac pretty high in the house anyways but sometimes Emily will crank it if Jj’s really uncomfortable

When Jj’s home and doesn’t have to worry about being professional she loves to stim

She has quite a few vocal ones — humming, clicking her tongue, echoing things she hears on the Tv, popping her lips

They can get pretty loud at times but Emily and Hotch have become accustomed to it so they don’t mind

She also has some other stims — flapping her hands is a big one, spinning around and bouncing on her feet are also common

The one she does the most is rocking. It could be as they sit on the couch, when she’s standing, really any space that’ll allow her to move side to side or back and forth

When she’s regressed to a younger headspace Emily and Hotch will hold her on their hip and rock in place with her to calm her down

Overall she’s not a very fussy little, but there’s certain things that get tricky

She hates the taste of peppermint so Hotch bought a tube of kids toothpaste and she uses that, Emily is usually the one actually brushing her teeth

Brushing her teeth isn’t really the issue, it’s more the action of doing it. She struggles to get to all her teeth when she’s regressed

And when she’s big she’d rather just have Prentiss do it for her anyways. She also uses a kids toothbrush as the bristles are softer and are less likely to scratch her gums - which is sensory hell for Jj

Most food she eats is also kid food, she has a sensitive stomach anyways so plain food that her caregivers prepare is always preferred to anything bought

Hotch makes little bags of trail mix for Jj, it isnt a traditional trail mix by any means but it has the things Jj likes

Emily does most of the cooking in the house and will make a separate portion without all the seasoning for Jj, she also keeps premade meals in the freezer incase they try something new and Jj doesn’t like it

Both caregivers are very understanding when it comes to Jj’s issues with food and always have snacks on hand to accommodate

They buy kids plates, utensils and cups too

There are nice “adult” plates and silverware but it stays tucked in a cabinet with a child lock unless someone is coming over for dinner

Emily and Hotch get very protective about who comes over to the house, it’s a safe space for all three of them and is very obviously catered to their caregiver & little lifestyle so having someone random in the house is avoided at all costs

Of course the team is welcomed but Jj likes to clean up before they come over

She’ll go around and hide toys, pacifiers, bottles, etc. as she still gets insecure about her regression

Hotch and Emily both do their best to assure Jj that it’s okay and that the team knows but she insists on hiding her more “baby” items in fear of judgement

Jjs mother is not allowed at the house under any circumstances.

Hotch and Emily found out pretty quickly that her mother only ever causes Jj stress and upsets her, just the idea of her at the house is enough to send all three of them spiraling

Jj doesn’t talk much about her childhood in general but when she’s regressed she absolutely refuses

She’ll shutdown at even the mention of it

When she does get upset she gets very quiet and can go non-verbal, she’ll mostly communicate through humming/pointing and occasionally writing things down

Her ears get sensitive at times so there’s pairs of sound proof headphones scattered around the house

Emily and Hotch have bought all the types. From ear plugs to industrial headphones

Jj cycles through them all depending on how bad her sensory issues are

A lot of the time she’ll have ear plugs that block out background noise in, they aren’t noticeable and she’s still able to listen to the Tv or to Hotch & Emily talk

There are rare times where Jj doesn’t want to hear anything at all, that’s where the industrial headphones come in

It had started with Hotch & Emily noticing that Jj would plug her ears with her fingers and eventually grew to their extensive headphone collection

She likes to build forts and curl up in them with Hotch or Em

Most times it’s Hotch pulled down with her while they make Emily guess a password (spoiler alert she never gets it right)

Jj climbs into Emily & Hotchs bed in the morning almost every morning, assuming she didn’t sleep in-between them

She always brings at least one stuffie with her and makes sure Emily & Hotch both say good morning to it

There’s many pictures on Hotchs phone of Emily and Jj in these moments, curled up together, in the midst of laughing, Aaron loves the early morning time they all get together

Emily’s phone is filled with mid-day pictures from the places they go and activities they do, Hotch takes pictures of this too but not nearly as many as Prentiss

Technically Jj takes pictures too but most are blurry or of her and Emily making faces at Hotch while he’s turned around (he always knows)

[hotchnissonly]

Tell me your favourite Hotchniss fics!

I am looking for some longer fics or wips, not really oneshots. I want something to sink my hours into while I drown in nightshifts 😭

[realtime-00]

This is such a damper on my spirits but has anyone noticed Thomas and Paget don’t follow each other on instagram? Like how devastating is that?

[petit97]

Viral

Title: Viral

Summary: Jack is sick, Emily and Hotch take care of him...

Word Count: 1,5 k 

Rating: General 

Read on Ao3 or below...

Hotch woke up to the sound of a whimper. It was distant, but his eyes opened at full force – I guess a father always knows. He got up and noticed the other side of the bed was empty. Not good.

He found Emily sitting on the floor in his son’s bedroom, running her hand through Jack's hair, trying to soothe the little boy, whose eyes were red and puffy, full of tears.

"What happened?" Hotch asked concerned.

"I didn't wanna wake you, but I don't know what's wrong. I'm sorry, Aaron."

Emily sounded disappointed at herself, which made Hotch's insides twist.

"Nothing to apologize for, Em." He said and squeezed her hand before kneeling down. "Hey, buddy. What hurts?"

"Everything, daddy."

"I checked for a fever, but he seems fine and I just can't figure out what's wrong."

"Em, it's fine. Kids get sick."

Jack threw up once. Then twice. By the third time, Emily and Hotch moved to the bathroom, taking pillows with them and settling on the floor. After a couple more throw-ups and coughs Jack pretty much passed out, his forehead starting to feel a little feverish.

"We should move him to bed" Hotch whispered looking down at sleeping Jack, curled up like a ball on Emily's lap.

"Nah, it's fine. Plus it's almost 7 anyways.

It suddenly hit him and he stopped for a moment.

"It's the first time."

"What?"

"It's the first time he's been sick ever since..." Hotch trailed off and Emily's mouth formed an oh of understanding.

"Since Haley passed." She added quietly.

And, at that moment, Hotch realized he had never taken care of sick Jack. At least not by himself. He did have Emily with him, but she was mostly following his lead, which he used to do with Haley.

They forgot to text Jessica and tell her not to come, which they only remembered when she knocked on the door.

"I can stay with him." She offered sincerely.

"We wouldn't do this to you." Emily said worriedly. "I'm just sorry we didn't text you earlier."

"Emily, really, you guys should go to work."

"How can we leave with him being sick like that? Emily asked, her heart broken.

As if on cue, both Hotch and Emily's phones started ringing and that was the answer: they were going to work. They kissed Jack goodbye and got ready to leave, Emily making Jessica promise to call if he got any worse and Hotch making sure she had a list of numbers to try and reach him if necessary.

When they sat in the car, exhaustion finally sunk and made them realize how tired they actually were.

"The whole not sleeping thing doesn't get better with age." Emily said after a big yawn.

"Yeah, wouldn't recommend it."

"How did we do it as teens?"

"We?" Hotch asked intrigued.

"Fine. How did I manage?"

"And with your liver still intact." He said jokingly.

"Hey"

"Sorry."

They went quiet for a while, comfortable silence hanging around when Hotch started glancing in Emily's direction, a frown forming on his face.

"Em, are you sure you're just tired?"

"I'll be better after a cup of coffee, don't worry." Emily answered, half asleep.

Hotch nodded and continued driving, the car going back to silence.

When they arrived in Quantico, Emily had coffee. Three cups actually. But she still wasn't feeling better.

“Do you wanna stay, maybe go back home to say with Jessica and Jack?” Hotch asked worriedly.

“No. It’s just a headache. We stayed up pretty much all night with Jack and had to leave with him sick. I’m worried. When we jump into the case, I’m sure I’ll focus and feel better.” Emily said trying to reassure both her and Hotch.

“Okay. I’m going to my office to grab some files and I’ll meet you back at the presentation with the others.” Hotch said and Emily nodded her agreement.

As he went up to his office, she hovered around the kitchen thinking about getting a fourth cup of coffee but decided against it and just grabbed a bottle of water before reaching her desk.

"You look awful." Reid said when he saw Emily.

"Gee, thanks.” She said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude." He said apologetically.

"I know you didn't.” Emily said sincerely and paused, suddenly the whole room was spinning in front of her. “I'm not feeling so well, actually."

"Hey, Hotch!" Reid called out from the bullpen, quickly catching Emily before she fell to the floor.

Hotch rushed down the stairs and carried Emily back to his couch.

"Do you need something?" Reid asked following behind.

"Ask JJ to start the presentation. I'll join when I can."

He nodded his agreement and repassed the information to JJ, who promptly gathered the team, promising to update everyone on Emily and the case and headed to the conference room – not before peaking in Hotch's office.

"Hotch." The blonde called out gently.

"We were up all night." He started explaining without taking his eyes off Emily. "Jack's sick. I guess she is just tired and stressed out."

"The case is local. We'll head out without you.'

"Thanks, JJ."

"Sure. Just take care of Emily."

Emily woke up just moments later, sweating like a teapot and aching everywhere. Before Hotch could say anything, she motioned for the bin and he handed it to her just in time.

"How romantic." Emily said after throwing up what felt like every single thing she had ever eaten in her entire life.

"Oh definitely. I feel closer to you now because I saw you inside and out."

"Thanks a lot. How long have I been out?

"Not long. The team is still here."

“We should go too. Just grab me my water and we can meet everybody.”

“No way. I’m taking you to the doctor.” Hotch said, incredulous at his girlfriend’s words.

“Aaron, honey, I’m fine. Seriously. It was just a little thing.” Emily peaked outside and saw the team walking out of the bullpen. She immediately got up to follow, but her body wouldn’t agree. She sat back down and threw up one more time. “Okay, maybe I could go to the doctor.”

Before Hotch could answer, JJ was back. “Maybe you’re pregnant, Em.”

“Jayje!” Emily warned, but she wouldn’t really be that upset if that was the case.

“Hotch, I’m guessing you guys aren’t coming.” JJ said.

“Definitely not. I’m going to check on Jack, but I think I have to take both of them to the doctor.”

“Better safe than sorry. I’ll tell Rossi he is in charge. I’m sure he’ll just love it. If you need anything, call me. okay? I mean it.”

“Thanks, JJ.” Hotch said and waved goodbye.

Hotch and Emily texted Jessica and they all met at the doctor’s office. Hotch thanked his sister-in-law one more time for all the trouble and sent her home with a promise of calling as soon as he had a diagnosis.

Jack had stopped throwing up, but he was still feeling weak from the night before and he was reluctant to eat during the morning, afraid of getting sick again. Emily hadn’t had any real food yet, but at least she hadn’t had any fever. The doctor examined both of them and immediately told Hotch and Emily to be calm, the diagnosis wasn’t worrisome.

The doctor ordered IV fluids for Jack and Emily and asked the nurse to put them in beds before explaining what was wrong.

"Gastro what?" Emily asked, her eyes still closed, despite her efforts to seem alert.

"Gastroenterites."

"Is it serious?"

"Not if we treat it, which is easy." The doctor answered calmly, which was a little bit annoying to Emily.

"How come Aaron didn't feel anything?"

"Well, there are many possible causes for the problem. Do you eat the same things?"

"As if" Emily said and scoffed. "He only eats rabbit food."

"Your son takes after you I imagine?" The doctor asked Emily.

"Don't answer with pride." Hotch said and rolled his eyes. "I keep telling her the raw stakes are gonna kill her. And, of course, she is taking Jack as well."

"We'll go down happily. Right, buddy?" Emily said and immediately got a high five from Jack.

"Don't encourage him, Em!" Hotch said exasperated and turned back to the doctor. "I apologize. Is there a prescription?"

“It’s probably just a tummy bug, so I’m giving you guys a prescription for some fluids. Drink lots of water and go easy on heavy foods for the next few days.” The doctor handed Hotch the prescription and chuckled. “Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.”

They waited around until the fluids were over and finally left the hospital. Emily and Jack were already feeling better, especially Jack, who asked what they were gonna eat for dinner. The three of them drove home and, after a very light meal prepared by Hotch, they all finally went to bed.

"Aaron?" Emily asked when he snuggled closer to her.

"Yeah?"

"You're a great dad."

"You think so?"

"I know so. Also, I'm sure Haley would agree."

Hotch smiled tenderly at Emily and pulled her into his arms, where he wished she would stay forever.

Ao3

Fanfiction

[cloudlessly-light]

Could you write a story where Emily has self image problems and doesn't like looking in mirrors. When Aaron finds out gets her to sit against him facing a mirror, with her legs hooked over his. And then fingers her, but won't let her come till she looks at herself. And then after fucks her while making her look at them. The whole time he calls her his pretty girl, and tells her everything thing she does, and every part of her is pretty, with very dirty language.

The whole time Aaron his clothed and Emily is naked, Dom Aaron and Sub Emily.

Title: Right now you’re all that I need Summary:He never would have thought that she’d be insecure about her looks, she radiated confidence on any given day, demanded respect as she walked into a room. She was beautiful, stunning to the point of injustice in his eyes. And he often wondered how she couldn’t see herself that way. Word count: 4,1k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, fingering, dirty talk, praise, praise kink, orgasm control, choking/breathplay, insecurities, self-esteem issues, mirror sex, Aaron is a talker in the bedroom, I don’t make the rules I just follow them

He notices it the first time only a few months into her joining the team, the slightly narrowed eyebrows and pursing of her lips as they stand in an elevator that has a mirrored wall. He doesn’t think much of it, after all it’s only there for a split second. But then he notices it again a couple of weeks later. She comes back with drinks and instead of sitting down at her original seat, she takes Derek’s empty one, he only notices when her shiny hair caught his attention in the mirror behind the bar and he realizes that she’s now sitting with her back to it, instead of facing it. He wonders if anybody else notices.  

But it’s subtle, how she manages to always stand facing away from her own reflection, a skill she must have practiced for years. And he still doesn’t give it much thought.

But then they start dating and he watches the way she scrutinized her face in the mirror as she’s getting ready for work, sees how she sometimes changes clothes four or five times before she’s ready to go out for date night. She tries to hide it, but he’s Aaron and he notices everything.

He never would have thought that she’d be insecure about her looks, she radiated confidence on any given day, demanded respect as she walked into a room. She was beautiful, stunning to the point of injustice in his eyes. And he often wondered how she couldn’t see herself that way.

They fall in love, and he makes sure to tell her she’s beautiful every day, but she would always brush it off, something that irritated him to no end. He couldn’t understand how she couldn’t see what he saw. He tried talking to her about it, and she would gently shut him down with a sad smile and soft eyes.

“I never liked looking at myself, I’m not sure why.”

It was a lie and they both knew it.

Things get a little clearer whenever her mother was around, which wasn’t often. But her subtle digs at her daughter didn’t go unnoticed and it is only Emily’s hand on his thigh, fingers digging into the muscle, that keeps him in control of his anger.

He spends hours trying to show her just how gorgeous she is, how unfairly perfect she is.

It doesn’t really work, so after trying to talk to her multiple times and trying to show her how beautiful she is, he comes up with something else instead. 

“Good morning, gorgeous.” He greets her as he sips coffee in the kitchen as he had waited for Emily to wake up.

“Morning.” She wasn’t a morning person but he still managed to put a smile on her face. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before making a b-line towards the coffee.

Aaron took a moment to just look at her, hair slightly messy from sleep, one of his old shirts on her body, eyes still sleepy, she was stunning. Even on her worst days she was beaituful and he hated that she didn’t think the same.

“Did you sleep okay?” He comes to stand behind her, lets himself inhale the scent of her and smiles when she shivers at the way his stubble tickles her skin.

“Like a log.” She leans back against his chest, a lazy sigh leaving her as he noses at her hairline.

“Good.” He turns her head enough to be able to look into her eyes. “You’ll need your strength today, sweet thing.”

She catches on in an instant, the knowing smirk and dark eyes familiar and her breathing hitches.

They had fallen into exploration of kink easily, something Emily had always dabbled in and something Aaron had always wanted to try. Now, almost a year later it’s easy to fall into their roles when alone at home.

“Yes, sir.” Her voice is just above a whisper, already breathy and low and he smiles against her lips.

“Good girl.” He claims her lips in a kiss and his hands make their way under the hem of her shirt, fingers gentle against the skin of her hips.

The sound of his phone going off, breaks their bubble and forces them apart.

“It’s Sunday.” She sighs as she peers over his shoulder at his phone, a 911 from JJ.

“I know sweetheart, but we have to go.”

His plans would just have to wait until later.

Later turns into almost a week later, the case taking longer than any of them would have thought. But they fly home from New York and Aaron decides that the paperwork could wait until the morning. It was already late afternoon, and they’d all had a tough week. So he sends them all home, more than happy to get into his car with Emily and drive to their apartment instead of heading to the office.

“You’re planning something.” She says, her tone although teasing, still laced with curiosity.

“That’s not for you to worry about, pretty thing.” His hand falls to her thigh and squeezes. “You just need to be good for me.”

“Yes sir.” She catches the way he grins at her obedience and she feels herself shiver in excitement.

When they get home, Aaron is quick to start on dinner while she goes to shower, a habit she’s had for as long as she remembers. When she comes back wearing a pair of tights and one of his shirts, Aaron is just about to set the table. They eat together, talking about the week and office drama and Jack until their plates are empty and she gets up to load the dishwasher.

“When you’re done, come to the bedroom.” He husks and she feels goosebumps erupt on her skin in response to his dark look and his firm hold on the back of her neck.

“Okay.” She breathes and accepts the kiss he stamps to her lips before disappearing down the hall.

He makes quick work once he’s in the bedroom, grabs the large mirror that hangs on the wall next to their walk in and leans it against the wall facing the foot of the bed. When he sits down on the bed he can see himself perfectly and he smirks to himself.

Emily walks in only a couple of minutes later but stops when he lifts his hand.

“Strip, I want you naked.” He orders, eyes steady on hers. “Then you’re going to sit right here.” He pats the space between his spread legs as he leans against the headboard.

The flush on her cheeks creep down to her chest as she does what he says, eyes obediently on the floor. She leaves the clothes in a pile on the floor, something he knows she does just to irritate him, and if it weren’t for what he was already planning he would have given her a warning for that. By the time she’s crawling between his legs, he can already feel the uncomfortable confide of his pants against his hard cock, but this wasn’t about him so he would wait.

“Sit between my legs, pretty girl.” He helps her turn until she’s seated comfortably, her back flush to his chest. It’s only a second later that she notices the mirror and she tenses and he’s quick to wrap one arm around her, his thumb rubbing soothingly over her ribs as she twists around to look at him.

“Aaron…” She looks at him with wide eyes and parted lips. “What is this? What are you doing?”

“I think it’s about time you start to learn to see what I see.” He feels the tension in her body, can see the apprehension on her face and for a second he wonders if this might be pushing for too much too fast.

“I-I don’t think this is a good idea.” She feels anxiety knotting in her stomach as she gnaws her bottom lip. Her body is still twisted uncomfortably, hiding away from her own reflection to seek the safety of his body.

“Why not?” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes so soft and gentle, something he rarely was when they were doing a scene, but something she needed right then.

“I just, I don’t think I can.” She leans into his warm hand when he cups her cheek and she offers a small smile in return to let him know that she was okay, even through her uncomfortableness she was okay.

“How about this, you can close your eyes, but I want to be able to watch you? And if you still want to stop, we will at any point.”

The seconds it takes for her to think about it seems like an eternity.

“Okay.” She finally breathes and as she relaxes slightly, he does too.

“Good girl.” He kisses her softly and when she falls into him he lets his hands start to wander across her body, caressing soft skin and trailing over the familiar dips and valleys until her breathing is getting ragged and she willingly turns back so she’s seated against him.

Her eyes stay closed as he pulls her legs apart to rest over his own, spreading her wide for his searching hands and greedy eyes. When his breathing hitches at the sight she feels her cheeks burn from the exposure. Logically she knows he’s seen her in every position possible, but something about knowing he’s watching her reflection somehow feels more intimate than anything they’ve done before. But she forces those thoughts away and instead focuses on the way his hands feel on her body.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart.” He breathes against her ear as he cups her breast in each hand, trapping her nipples and twisting slightly. “Perfect.”

Her back arches, pushing her chest further into his hands, a low gasp leaving her parted lips when he bites down on her earlobe. His hands are warm, the familiarity of his gun-calloused fingers soothing as he slowly moves them down her sides, then further down to ghost over her center. When he grabs the inside of her thigh hard she doesn’t expect it and a sound of surprise leaves her and she hears his snicker against her ear.

Everything felt heightened without her eyesight and soon enough she had forgotten about the mirror, her hips buckling slightly in search of his touch, his hands moving everywhere he could reach, except where she needed him.

“Fuck, pretty thing.” His voice is rough, a vibration against her back as he speaks. “That’s my girl, so needy.” His eyes are glued to her reflection, taking in her flushed skin and body that seemed to tremble with need, need for him. It’s a power rush unlike any other and when he licks the sweat of the skin of her neck she mewls his name, the sound is breathy and low.

“Please touch me.” She whispers when she feels one of his hands travelling up her thigh, up, up, up until his fingers are met by her slick.

“I am touching you.” He smirks at her exasperated huff, can see her scrunched eyebrows in the reflection, her eyes still closed, but more relaxed than they had been in the beginning. Her tongue peeks out to lick her lips and if he could he would have taken a picture of her like this.

It’s not until her hips jerk into his hand again that he takes pity on her. He lets one finger drag from her clit and through her folds slowly and Emily moans in response, her head falling against his shoulder. One of his hands move to her chest, pinching and tweaking one of her nipples again as he pushes his finger inside of her, giving her little relief.

“Fuck Emily, you’re so pretty like this.” He growls and she whimpers at the rasp of it. He pinches her nipple hard and she cries out, the pain of it making her clit ache with need. “My perfect thing.”

“Please, please I need more.” She feels his lips curl into a smirk against her neck, knew the slightly sadistic look in his eyes even without looking.

“Can you feel me sweetheart?” He asks and pushes another finger inside of her, hooking them inside of her and making her hips buckle and a moan to fall from her lips. “Can you feel how hard you make me?” He grinds the palm of his hand against her clit and her hand comes to grab his wrist tightly, her nails digging into his skin. “Looking at you like this, fuck you’re driving me crazy.” His hips rut up against her back, impossibly hard inside of his slacks.  

She tries to reach behind her to touch him, but he’s quick to grab her hand and hold it down against her stomach as his arm wraps around her middle to keep her still, his other hand starting to move faster between her thighs.

“Fuck, Sir I’m close.” She’s panting, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he rubs his hand against her clit and his fingers scissors inside of her.

“I know.” He gasps at the way her walls are tightening around his fingers, her nails close to breaking the skin of his wrist as he brings her closer. “Open your eyes.”

She can barely hear him through the pleasure, her body searching for release as he keeps her tight against him.

“What?” She tries twisting in his grasp but he easily pins her.

“If you want to come, open your eyes.” He slows his movements, feeling her tense against him. When she lets out a sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper, he withdraws his fingers completely and instead starts to rub her clit in circles. “Or do you want to stop?”

“No.” She says quickly, her mind reeling from the orgasm he’s keeping just out of reach. But she can’t bring herself to open her eyes.

“You’re missing out, sweet girl.” He keeps the pressure on her clit light, the rubbing slow but steady, knowing that it would keep her on edge. “You look gorgeous, moaning so prettily for me.” His eyes are trained of her face, looking for any sign that they needed to quit, that he was pushing her too far, but couldn’t find any.

“Aaron,” She breathes, her tongue once again licking over her bottom lip. “Please don’t stop.” Like she knew his hesitation, her words keep him going, his fingers resuming to rub over her clit and his arm tightening around her middle to keep her pinned against him.

“Such a good girl, even when you disobey my order.” He hums against her ear, the sound amused and laced with satisfaction, because he knew she’d break, that she’d do what he asked of her. He thinks she knows it too.

Without warning he thrusts his fingers back inside of her, immediately drawing a high pitched moan as he sets a quicker, rougher pace. The arm wrapped around her loosens and he wraps his hand around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp.

“If I could, I would take a picture of you like this, use it as my phone background so show everyone just how fucking perfect you are. I’d use those pretty moans of yours as my ringtone, I’d display you for everyone to see, because you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” The slick sound of his fingers against her mixes with his words in her ears, pushing her toward the edge again in record time.

“Fuck, please Aaron please let me come.” She begged, swallowing desperately against his hand around her throat, her body slowly starting to shake against his.

“I’m the luckiest man in this world, getting to have you, to see you like this, wake up next to you every morning. You should be worshiped.” He keeps his eyes on their reflection, catches his own wild look of want as she squirms and gasps and moans as her pussy starts to clench around his fingers again. “If you only saw what I saw, if you knew how unbelievable you look right now, pretty thing. Come on, open your eyes, look at you, a fucking goddess who’s blessed my life.”

She can’t think, she can barely breathe, she had completely forgotten about the mirror in front of them. So she opens her eyes, and what she sees staring back at her is someone she doesn’t quite recognize, dark eyes and wild hair, cheeks tinted pink and puffy lips, she looks sexy, bare and exposed against his clothed body, his eyes just as wild and dark as hers, a look of want and desperation on his face.

“Good girl, fuck aren’t you so pretty?” His eyes stay on hers in the mirror and when she nods, he smiles. “Tell me you’re my pretty girl.”

“I-I’m your pretty girl.” She gets out through strangled breaths and he ruts against her back again. But she can barely focus on it, because his hand his tightening around her neck and his hand is moving faster between her legs, rubbing against her clit and adding a third finger, stretching her. And then she comes with a deep groan, back arching and hips grinding into his hand as her eyes stay on their reflection. Through the pleasurable bliss he’s creating she can’t look away, the vision of herself somehow making her come harder, making the power of her release even stronger.

“Good girl, my gorgeous thing, you did so good for me.” He mumbles against her ear as she calms, her body still twitching and eyelids heavy as she smiles lazily. It isn’t until she’s slumped against him, trying to catch her breath that he lets go of her neck and wraps both arms around her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m perfect.” She twists enough to kiss him. “Thank you.” She mumbles against his lips and he smiles against hers.

“We’re not done yet.” He kisses her again, deeper this time, his tongue delving into her mouth and she moans into it. “On your hands on and knees.” He mutters once they’ve pulled apart. “Facing the mirror.”

She does what he says, even though it feels a bit strange now, when the veil of arousal is lifted. Her eyes stay on the sheets, head down as she avoids looking up. She hears the sound of his zipper, feels one of his hands on her hip and then hears the low sound of relief from him.

“Eyes up.” He orders as he strokes himself, the tip of his cock nudging against her slick cunt. When she doesn’t do what he says he grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her head back, the pained gasp from her like music to his ears. He searches her face for a moment, his eyes on hers in the mirror as he rubs his cock through her folds. “Should we stop?”

She knows that they would in a heartbeat if she asked him to, but as she looked at him she found that she didn’t want to, that whatever mental blockage that had existed for so long, suddenly seemed gone.

“No, don’t.” She whispered and she saw her body flushing with the request. He gives her another few seconds to change her mind, his hand loosening in her hair and eyes locked on hers. But she nods and it’s enough for him.

He’s still dressed in his suit, having only gotten his cock out through the fly of his pants and then having Emily completely naked while he was still fully clothed setting something off in him. He thrust inside of her roughly and a loud grunt left him at the sudden heat of her around him.

“Fuck yes, perfect thing.” He growls as his hands settle on her waist to pull her back against him, pushing so deep inside of her that he’s sure it must be uncomfortable for her. But she only moans, eyes rolling back at the sudden stretch of him. “Look at yourself when I fuck you, I want you to see what I get to see every time I’m taking you, to see why you drive me fucking insane.”

“Jesus Christ, Aaron!” She cries out at the rough pace he sets, her body quickly falling into her forearms to be able to take him. But her eyes stay locked on them, on herself. It’s hard to believe it’s her, she thinks, because the woman in the mirror was sexy, beautiful even. Her fingers twists in the sheets and her eyes move from her own flushed face to Aaron’s.

His jaw is clenched, a bead of sweat is rolling down his neck and disappearing under his collar, a steady stream of filthy words and low grunts leaving him. He looks powerful, she thinks, beautiful in his own way. Her train of thought is cut of by his large hand landing a hard spank to her behind and she moans.

“Fuck yourself on me.” He gets out through heavy breaths and stops his movements. He rests his hands on her hips and when she starts to push back and forth on him he smiles. “Just like that, gorgeous thing.”

She moves her body as quickly as she can, the heat of another orgasm slowly building by each deep fill of him.

“God, every part of you is perfect.” He almost marvels as he watches her body in the mirror, from the soft curves and pale skin to her face, her dark eyes wide and full of want and trust. “You’re getting close again, you’re getting so tight sweetheart.”

“Y-yes, fuck you feel so good.” She breathes and his fingers twitch against her hips.

“Go on, make yourself come.” He encourages her and she whimpers, her body stuttering slightly. He watches as she moves one hand from the bed to rub her clit and when she clenches around him his hips jerk forward, forcing a moan from her.

It’s not long until she’s right at the edge, and she can tell from the way Aaron is starting to thrust against her that he’s close as well. So she doubles her efforts, moves her body back against his as hard as she can and keeps her eyes on them in the mirror. When his hold on her turns bruising and he growls her name she comes again with a cry that she’s pretty sure the neighbors can hear. He starts to move, drawing out her pleasure until he comes deep inside of her, the heat of his release making her gasp.

He's jerking and twitching behind her through his own pleasure, her clinging walls massaging his shaft even until he’s softening and oversensitive. When he finally feels like he can breathe again he falls forward, almost crushing her between his body and the mattrass, but she doesn’t complain, only savors the feeling of his warm body and ragged breath against her.

When he rolls off her and onto his back, he’s quick to pull her with him until she’s laying on top of him.

“Your suit will be ruined.” She jokes dryly when she feels his release start to drip out of her and onto his thigh.

“It’s already ruined.” He smiles when she chuckles, his lips against the top of her head. “Besides, it was worth it. That was incredible.” He presses a kiss against her forehead.

“It was.” She agrees and she lifts her head enough to look at him. “So all the work you’ve been doing since we started dating finally paid off huh?” When he only gives her a blank look she rolls her eyes. “You aren’t subtle honey. But you should have known that they way to get through to me was by denying me orgasms.”

“Don’t be a brat.” He grabs one of her arms and pins it behind her back. “Or I’ll tie you down in front of that mirror with a toy between your legs and you’ll get to see just how pretty you are when you cry for me.” She doesn’t reply, but the way she’s biting back a smile and her eyes gleam with interest is more than enough for him to know, that it’s not a threat, it’s a promise.

[hancydrewfan]

pairing: hotchniss (hotch x emily); vaguely spread across seasons 4-7 warnings: annnnnngst and loooooooooove, my favourite things; smoking and alcohol and canon-typical violence (mentioned) word count: 2.2K Phoebe Bridgers, Patty Griffin, and Norah Jones have all written a Moon Song. Each Moon Song tells its own story of love, and together they form the inspiration of this fic. As per usual: our two favourite idiots in love, how they fell apart, and ultimately how they find their way.

read on ao3 or below the cut!

- phoebe -

The moon was so bright. It was so much brighter lately than it ever had been. Or maybe she just noticed it more now because it was shining down on her like a spotlight. As if she ever wanted to be the star of anything, and now she felt like she was supposed to monologue about something. But she just took another drag from her cigarette instead—a habit she mostly broke, but sometimes fell back to when her world felt tilted in the wrong direction. 

Fear and adrenaline brought them together in the first place, the sound of Cyrus’ fists on her skin still echoing between his ears when Aaron knocked on her apartment door barely an hour after landing back in DC, unable to rest without seeing for certain that she was okay. He wept at the sight of her bruised eye, even darker than it had been earlier, and she let him inspect her wounds, his fingers trailing lightly over her split lip and cracked ribs until a spark stole the air from the room and they could only breathe through the other’s lungs.

He didn’t stay the night, she would never have let him, but she let him in again a week later, and again and again after that. For months she tiptoed around the conversation about them because she didn’t want to break their bubble of solace, until the depravity of the Turner brothers in Southern Ontario lit a fire under her skin, and she told him they needed to figure it out and suggested dinner that weekend. A date that passed forgotten after Foyet desecrated his home and split his family. The beginning of their end. 

Her birthday fell on a Monday that year, and it was the last time Emily remembered his real smile lighting his face. Penelope had begged her to come out with the team that night, a rare start to the week that didn’t have them flying to another part of the country for a case. All she really wanted to do was spend a quiet night at home with a bottle of wine trying to divert Aaron’s attention for an evening, but it was becoming clearer every day that she couldn’t do that alone anymore. She spied Rossi and Aaron out of the corner of her eye, no doubt the one convincing the other to come out just for a night, for the good of the team, so she relented, a small part of her awed that these people thought she was worth celebrating.

She should’ve expected the birthday cake at the bar, it was Penelope after all, but it still caught her off guard, a touching gesture from the people she relied on more than family. They sang Happy Birthday, voices off-key and out-of-sync from the buzz of too much liquor, and she blew out the candles. “Speech!” Derek shouted, but she looked up at Aaron and saw that his smile had reached his eyes for the first time in weeks, and she stuttered, forgetting how to speak, before lamely thanking everyone for the fun evening.

He knocked at her door again that night, and she could feel him trying so hard to be present as he revered her body with soft lips and gentle hands. Holding her close after, he traced his fingers through her hair as he asked, “What was your wish?”

She yawned and blinked lazily. “Hmm?”

“When you blew out your candles,” he added. “What did you wish for?”

“Oh,” she murmured, settling into his chest. “Just the moon.” 

In her haze of near-sleep she could’ve sworn she heard him whisper, I’m trying, but she drifted into a dreamless night in his arms. He was long gone by the time she woke to the smell of fresh coffee, her favourite mug on the counter beside the machine that he’d programmed to her usual morning routine.

She’d realised the truth of her feelings while sitting at his bedside in the hospital, at the middle of the end — she’d give Aaron the moon if he asked for it. But he forgot to ask for anything, so consumed he was with keeping his promise to Haley that trying to hold onto the last good thing in his life became like trying to hold water in his hands, feeling it spill through his fingers. He didn’t knock at her door again after her birthday, and that was the end. Emily let him let her go, resigned to the life of not-quites and almosts that seemed to follow her wherever she went. Days later it was Haley’s bloodstained hair spilling through his fingers as he wept over her broken body.

And now she was here, after the end of them, like a postscript. Smoking in the moonlight on a balcony in Wyoming. The night was brisk and bright, the chill in the air a tonic after a long day of teenage suicide. Aaron’s room was a floor below hers, just to the left. She could see the lamplight from his room spilling out of his window, no doubt as he hunched over his desk with a mountain of paperwork and a bitter coffee to keep him awake, how she knew he was spending most nights lately. A quick burst of wind whistled by, and she felt acutely alone. After a final drag from her cigarette, she stubbed it out and glanced down to Aaron’s room once more, willing him to step outside and feel the night for a moment’s reprieve. Exhaling once more in the cold, she slipped back into her room, locking the sliding door behind her before curling under the covers.

The window rattled with the wind and Aaron looked up from file before him. The moon was so bright, brighter than he’d ever seen before. The night sky was clear in this sleepy town, and he got up from the desk to gaze at stars he hadn’t seen in months, years maybe. After a day of delving into the darkness of humanity, the moonlight felt like a gift. There is still light, fragments of hope scattered like the stars in the night, and the moon… the moon is always there.

- patty -

Aaron was leaving for Pakistan in just a few hours. Penelope had arranged a little goodbye party (“Not a goodbye party, Sir, that means you’re not coming back. It’s a see-you-when-you-come-back-from-Pakistan party, which is hopefully soon…”), but he begged off, saying he wanted to spend the evening with Jack before he left. In truth, he’d already said his goodbyes to Jack that morning, choosing to treat the secondment as if he were leaving for any other case to make it easier for the little boy to understand. He just needed to be alone.

Alone took him to a canteen not far from the military base he’d checked into earlier; he was on his third vodka tonic, the clean burn of the alcohol thrumming to his heartbeat. He felt stupid and hollow.

He’d known something was up. They may not have been sleeping together anymore, but Aaron still knew every one of Emily’s tells, and she was not okay. Late three times in a week, a tiredness to her eyes that concealer couldn’t hide, she was jittery but she wasn’t drinking more coffee. She ate TicTacs like M&Ms and she changed the little scented tree in her car more frequently, telltale signs of someone masking a smoking habit. But he didn’t push her, he couldn’t. He waited for her to come to him, but she never came around at all. 

Knowing now her history with the CIA, it was no wonder she was so skilled at keeping secrets. It didn’t stop him from hating how long it took him to figure it out, just minutes too late. He followed her to that warehouse in Boston where her lifeblood oozed onto the concrete floor. He followed her into the ambulance, blind to the rest of his team. He followed her into the hospital, as far as the surgical staff would let him. He followed her until someone higher up pulled the plug on Emily Prentiss, until she was nothing more than a faked death lost in a sea of bureaucracy and paperwork. 

A bureau-mandated inquiry into the “Prentiss-Doyle situation” as they called it resulted in a two-week paid leave and a month in Quantico spent on consultations rather than on scene. He’d slogged through that time, endless meetings and infinite paperwork dulling his mind. He jumped at the opportunity to leave the country, incapable of feeling much guilt about leaving Jack behind for weeks, maybe months, while he was drowning in his own shame for failing Emily again and again.

He could’ve told her that he regretted breaking up. He almost did, when a shortage of rooms in Alaska put them together. She’d insisted it wasn’t a big deal, they could share the bed, she was always cold anyways. He nearly fell asleep, but then she curled right into him, clutching his shirt like she used to, and it took all of his willpower to not tuck the hair brushing her cheek behind her ear. 

He swallowed the last of his drink, unaffected by the bitter burn in his throat, and dropped a few bills on the bar, grabbing his duffel as he left the canteen to catch what little sleep he could before boarding the long flight. It was a clear May night, and the moon shone brightly behind him as he walked towards the bunkhouse. It surprised him, seeing how much light there was, and he paused for a minute at the door, turning to gaze into the moonlit night. The moon glowed down on him, the same as it ever was. How could something be so far away and yet make the midnight radiate with light? Perhaps the same way she was across an ocean and still in his thoughts every second. Tonight, before the long journey ahead of him, it felt like the moon followed him home.

On a balcony in Paris, a wisp of smoke curls into the early morning air. The last of the stars are winking out but the moon clings to the periwinkle sky, dawn only moments from breaking. Another day feeling stupid and hollow as she numbly goes through the motions of her cover. Her only reprieve is watching the moon disappear into the early morning light, finding comfort in knowing that when it leaves her sky, it follows its path around the Earth to his. She keeps her eyes on the moon until the very end, until the sun’s rays spraying out from behind the old city block in front of her erase it from the sky, hidden again until the evening’s twilight. She takes one last drag before stubbing out her cigarette, sparing one more glance toward the sun as it rises.

- norah -

On a Saturday morning, they counted the marshmallows in his Lucky Charms. The rule was she could have four of any of them except for the rainbows, his favourite. She always took three hearts and a moon. “A heart for you, a heart for Daddy, and a heart for Sergio,” she says.

“And a moon for you!” Jack chimes in, having indulged in this ritual with her nearly every weekend for several months now.

“And a moon for me.” She watches him fondly as he sorts his marshmallows by type, arrayed in as close to a rainbow shape as he could, another part of the ritual. Six months ago she had a bad day and Aaron invited her over for breakfast the next morning. She hasn’t missed a week of marshmallow sorting since. 

“Where does the moon go?” Jack asks, popping a red balloon into his mouth.

“What do you mean?” 

“Where does the moon go?” he asks again, sorting horseshoes into their pile. “I know it comes out at night and goes away in the morning, but where does it go?”

She scours her memory for grade school science. “Well, it keeps orbiting the Earth…” she trails off, remembering a sunrise in Paris. “You know, I’ve seen the moon disappear before.”

Jack looks up. “Really?” he grins. “I want to see! How can we see it, Emily?”

“Well, I’ll have to ask your dad, but we could have a sleepover in the backyard—oof” Jack flies into her arms, and she grunts.

“Oh please Emily, please! I know Daddy’ll say yes if you ask him! He always says yes to everything you ask.”

Emily hugs the little boy close to her, stunned as always over the love he gave so freely. “I’ll ask him, don’t worry!”

- 

And so it came to be that they were in a tent in the Hotchners’ backyard, a house in the suburbs he’d promised for Jack when he’d returned from Pakistan. Jack fell asleep between them, curled into Emily’s side like a little bug. He’d been adamant he’d make it, that he’d stay up the whole night to watch the moon disappear in the morning, but she was under strict orders to wake him, just in case. And she would, she would give that boy the sun, the stars, the moon if he asked for it. Anything to make sure this moment, this life she found herself in, was real. Was hers. 

She turns toward Aaron, sleepy but alive, and sees him looking at her, a soft smile on his face as he rubs his thumb along the hand he holds. Maybe it’s just the way the light catches, but she swears she sees the moon reflected in his eyes. And he was hers.

[ssaemilyhotchner]

Congrats on 1k! Can I request N?🩷

for you, @em-prentiss! I hope you love it! 🩷

OTHER 1K DRABBLES | Read on AO3 Join the celebration by requesting a letter!

letter: N | prompt: nerves | wc: 0.5k a/n: Inspired by this exchange in episode 1x16 (“Young at Heart”) of The X-Files: “Mulder, I know what you did wasn't by the book.” “Tells you a lot about the book, doesn't it?”

Please do not repost (reblogs welcome) or otherwise claim as your own.

--

“Take the shot, Emily.”

“I can’t.” The unsub is perfectly framed in her scope but she is still adamant, clenching her jaw as a bead of sweat from the back of her neck travels down the length of her spine. “It’s too close. I’ll hit Hotch.”

But just as readily as she knows their protocol—knows that it is against Bureau regulations to unnecessarily endanger the life of a hostage—she also knows their profile. That if their unsub feels boxed in, he’ll go down shooting. And with Hotch in his grasp, that simply isn’t an option.

Undoubtedly thinking the same, Dave does not yield. “It’s the only chance we have,” his gentle yet insistent voice sounds in her earpiece. Even from miles away, she can feel the stress radiating off of him in waves. “You’ve got this. You know it.”

“It’s not by the book, Dave,” she warns, but she’s already shifting her weight forward, her finger brushing lightly against the trigger guard.

“Screw the book.”

With no time left to catastrophize, Emily plants her feet and squares her shoulders, her body becoming an extension of her rifle. Every inch of her posture is perfect, a debutante primed for this over cotillion. 

There’s a click of concentration in her mind, the perfect moment, and on a thin exhale, she pulls the trigger—

—and watches in terror as their unsub and Hotch fall in a grand arc to the hard, unforgiving ground.

“No,” she whispers, her vision tunneling and her blood running cold. Not even a second passes before she is on her feet and running, her heart pounding so hard that she can hear its mocking beat in her ears as the distance between them diminishes, then diminishes some more.

And then she sees Hotch rise on wobbling legs, completely unharmed.

Unable to prevent it, Emily falls as her knees buckle beneath her, just as Hotch stumbles over to her and draws her into a tight hug. “It’s okay,” he pants, as if he, too, needs to hear the words aloud to believe them. “I’m okay.”

“I thought I had hit you,” she says, shivering into his side as he unconsciously pulls her in even closer. “Jesus, Hotch, I don’t know what I would have done if I...”

“I never doubted you for a second,” he reveals. “Not once.” 

With shaky fingers, Emily reaches out and wipes away the spray of the unsub’s blood from his temple and cheek. When their gazes meet, the look in his eyes at her ministration is so tender that she cups his face fully and kisses him on instinct, chaste and sweet.

She pulls back with an embarrassed smile tugging at her parted lips. “Sorry,” she whispers. “Adrenaline.”

Hotch can’t remember ever seeing her—the unbelievable, unflappable Emily Prentiss—look as sheepish as she does before him now, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks. The sight is so endearing that he can’t help but bring his hand to the back of her neck and utter a confession years in the making.

“It’s not just adrenaline for me,” he replies softly, before leaning back in and returning her kiss.

[lovelyspooks]

Me at 3am clicking “keep reading” on the most jaw dropping, earth shattering, pantie dropping, smutty fic when I have to be up in 3 hours

[lonelychicagos]

i swear to god the biggest hotchniss fans are paget brewster and thomas gibson themselves

[patrickispinky]

Derek: are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Emily: i'm the knife

Jj: *from across the room* she's the little spoon

[hotchnissonly]

Stolen Glances Chapter 24 - out now!

Snippet:

He was stunned, words failing him as his brain tried and failed to understand where this had come from. She wasn’t requesting a transfer; she was quitting the Bureau, terminating her career within the FBI. He knew the last few cases had been hard on her, but never in a million years did he expect those words to come out of her mouth.

He told her he didn’t understand, that he thought she was making a mistake, but her face said otherwise. When she announced that she would be taking the Foreign Service exam, he was shocked, but not as shocked as when she said she would lean on her connections to get a position within the State Department.

He recalled her first week on the team, how offended she had been when he insinuated she had used those same connections to get into the BAU. By now, he definitely knew her well enough to know that she would never use those connections unless backed into a corner and forced to do so. She prided herself on her self-attained career.