#hotchniss fics

[em-prentiss]

no proof, not much (but you saw enough)

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The SUV hums beneath the hands of someone new. These ones are softer, more at ease, more than often one casual hand on the wheel rather than two. It’s a blissful break from the perpetual ten and two, and as the Unit Chief grows increasingly drowsy in the passenger seat, the SUV carries them further into the sunset.

Or, how Aaron and Emily fall, through the perspective of multiple settings: the jet, his office, the SUV.

Word count: 3.5k

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It happens slowly.

Harsh exteriors are worn down, distrust morphs into mutual respect. Slowly, yes, excruciatingly so, but it happens. Sir’s and Agent’s lose their pointed edges, mellowing on lips that start out reluctant, end up blazing with warmth.

The office is the first one to note it. It’s a cold place, despite the minimal personal touches littering the Unit Chief’s desk. There are scarcely happy memories here, between the lifeless beige walls and the polished oak carrying pounds upon pounds of bloody files, their contents heavier than the sheets of paper they’re printed on. There is no room for light, though the sun streams through the windows in gossamer curtains—the Unit Chief knows this, he knows it well.

And yet a ray of light walks hesitantly in and hands him a peace offering, though peace has for a while been settled in a still sheet above their heads. She’s no longer new to the disjointed family they call a team, but where she’s starting to loosen with the others, she’s still stiff with him. Even the office knows it, from its omniscient view over the bullpen. Her voice mingles with the others’ in a laugh, the pale shape of her hand curls around the media liaison’s shoulder in a lighthearted squeeze.

Both the office and its occupier are well aware that this is something new. They’re good friends; it sees him more than his family does. He keeps it company on dark nights, the lamp at his elbow the only source of warm light across the whole floor, burning steady amber. The office knows the man at the desk more than the agent tentatively crossing it, and yet they both catch the way his brows tick up in surprise when he spots the sweet treat in her hand.

His mouth curls around her name. The tail end of it sounds like a question; she greets it with a bashful smile the office guesses doesn’t often cross her features.

Emily reaches the edge of his desk, says so and so about a sale at the bakery—and quickly clarifies that she bought for the rest of their coworkers too, don’t worry. She thrusts out her hand, he takes the chocolate croissant, murmurs a quiet but genuine thank you. 

Nodding, she takes her leave, chewing on the corner of her lip as she slips past the open door. Her retreating form is traced by his eyes, curious, lingering, before they drop to the pastry held in his hand. The office watches as he picks it apart, takes a bite—two, three—even though it’s a well known fact (to the office, anyway) that the team leader has no stomach for a sweet tooth.

Still, he eats the croissant. Lets crumbs tumble messily on top of his desk, sweeps them away neatly with a tissue. His eyes travel to the window; both he and the office watch as the rest of his team tear into their own pastries. The generous supplier perches on her desk, satisfaction in her eyes and a small smile on her lips. She looks up, as if sensing his gaze, and he flicks his eyes back to the file in front of him.

That is the tentative start.

From there it’s a smooth, sloping hill—impossible to determine when trust had deepened to a professional relationship between coworkers, when that had formed into camaraderie. When butterflies began to flap their wings and flutter, when eyes started to linger and touches ached to do the same.

___

The jet rarely flows with heat. Its frequent occupants know that, and more than often they’re well prepared with blankets and warm beverages, no matter the weather outside.

For the most part, the newest addition to the team also knows this. She’s bundled in professional blazers and soft cardigans most of the time, but the Florida heat doesn’t allow for anything heavier than the barest of tank tops. Her skin is faintly glistening when she plops into one of the lone chairs, shoulders stiff as she holds herself away from the leather of the seat.

The Unit Chief sits with her, evidence of the sticky heat shown in his loosened tie. Their eyes meet and they share a look, unanimously miserable but unwilling to voice it.

It’s something new, these shared looks between them. The jet notes them with interest, tries to pinpoint when exactly they’d started. The farthest it gets is Milwaukee. 

But looks are all they share. No words are exchanged, no pleasantries swapped as she digs out a book and he opens up a file, his pen in his hand even before they’re in the sky. The jet hums around them, providing white noise that makes some of the team curl up and sleep as it takes them home. It rises above the clouds, stabilizes at over a thousand feet, absorbs the subzero temperature outside and allows it to leak through the walls. 

The woman shuffles back comfortably against the seat, cooled enough to let it touch her bare skin. But it doesn’t take long before she’s shifting again, leaning away, tucking her arms into her body. Covering her elbows with her palms, surreptitiously kneading her skin with her thumbs. She does all this quietly, but being the boss means being ever aware.

Without fuss, the Unit Chief gets up. He walks over to the table next to the couch, pops it open and reaches into the hidden cavity there. Everyone eventually learns about it; it’s stocked with soft, downy blankets that are mostly unused because everyone has learned to carry their own.

Still, every once in a while, the compartment is cracked open. 

Hotch picks up a blanket and carries it back to the shivering agent. She looks up, glances at it, then at him, and immediately refuses, so fast it must be reflex. The jet ponders this, as does the Unit Chief, his brows pinched in a gentler version of his usual frown.

Emily, he says softly, the rumble of his voice running parallel to the hum of the jet. Of all things, it’s what makes her pause.

The sound of her given name seems to take her by surprise, even more so than the offered blanket. Eyes rounded, brows momentarily raised, as if caught off guard. She quickly composes herself, smooths out the surprise in her features as she shakes her head, refusing again. 

One too many take it’s and I’m good, thank you’s later, the blanket is resignedly wrapped around her shoulders. But she stops shivering, her muscles finally easing back into the seat. Her head is turned decidedly away, facing the window, but when her eyes flit to him they catch his gaze.

One more exchanged look, a hidden smile in his eyes that doesn’t show on his lips. She looks away.

___

The SUV doesn’t see much, compared to the other places they’ve been. Its mission is always brief, and yet it’s well acquainted with the man at the wheel. Seldom does someone else steer it, so long as he’s there.

This time is no different.

It’s not that the woman doesn’t try—she does, valiantly, to push him to the passenger seat—but the fact that she’s here is already too much. The SUV knows this from the way the man grips the wheel. He’s never gentle with it, always firm, always alert. Ever aware of the lives in his hands, be it in the face of a Glock or under the wheels of a Suburban. 

But a plate of brownies is placed carefully on the console between them and his grip loosens. She offers him one, around a chocolatey mouthful, and the way the corner of his mouth tilts upward is seen only in the side view mirror, a secret tucked between him and the road.

He declines, she grumbles, and then a warm hand is taken entirely off the wheel. The SUV doesn’t lament the loss. Hotch’s careful eyes no longer pierce the windshield with a heat more acute than the sun overhead; he turns, eyes falling to her, and the SUV finds itself without attention.

This is a first. But the open road ahead of them is forgiving, and so the SUV is, too. It watches, listens above the crunch of gravel, as he protests—it’s all sugar, won’t do any good—and she wraps a tissue around a brownie and places it in his hand.

You haven’t eaten anything all day, she refutes stubbornly, though she’s already won. When she brings up the medication Hotch bites the brownie between his teeth without further complaint. It’s the reason they’re driving past the airstrip and toward the long road, after all.

Slowly, Emily forces another brownie into him. And then his medication. And, when the sun dips lower down the sky, she’s somehow able to kick him out of the driver’s seat altogether.

The SUV hums beneath the hands of someone new. These ones are softer, more at ease, more than often one casual hand on the wheel rather than two. It’s a blissful break from the perpetual ten and two, and as the Unit Chief grows increasingly drowsy in the passenger seat, the SUV carries them further into the sunset.

___

The bullpen witnesses his first laugh—at least, the first one she’s pulled from him. The coffee machine separating them, the handles of their mugs almost touching as they wait for the coffee to brew, she makes an offhand comment about diesel fuel, the government praying for their demise, and a Nespresso machine. Her tone is bone dry, a halfhearted grumble that’s more for her than for him. It’s not even meant to be a joke, but the sleep deprivation is getting to them. 

Hotch laughs, stoicism cracking under the soft curve of his lips, and Emily stares. The bullpen—the kitchenette, rather—watches a light dusting of pink spread across her ivory cheeks. It witnesses her wide eyes in return, before lightly dissolving into the same laughter.

These precious sounds are contained within the kitchenette’s walls. Nobody hears them, save for the two living souls pouring their coffee and the lifeless entity surrounding them. Lifeless, yet still swelling with the same surprise that etches across the woman’s features, long after they’ve both dissolved into silence and her face is downturned to the bitter depths of her coffee.

It’s so very interesting, the brightness in the Unit Chief’s eyes as he similarly looks down at his own coffee, lips thinned back to their original shape. So very interesting how the brown of his irises warms, suffused with light even though he’s yet to take a sip of his coffee.

So very interesting how he lingers after he’s done—because he does nothing to prepare his coffee but pour it, and she dumps boatloads of sugars and creamers until the swirl of her coffee lightens to the color of his eyes—and observes her for a fleeting second.

His mouth parts, then softly joins again, bottom lip slotting against top. Picking up his mug, he turns away and out of the kitchenette, shoulders slackening beneath his jacket. He goes, and her eyes follow.

___

The room is not fully dark. The thin curtains let in street lights; they stream in and carve long golden rectangles on the threadbare rug, illuminate hastily packed bags and files stacked neatly atop a desk.

Rooms like this often get visitors like this—fleeting, temporary. The man and the woman have been here for two days, but they only occupy the room to sleep. It knows they won’t be here for long, though it ponders their business. They carry badges and firearms, heave around files and gory pictures. At night, the two hardly speak to each other, except for unnecessary pleasantries—would you like the bathroom first? No, thank you, you go ahead—that speak to their upbringing.

The inky dark of midnight wraps around the gaps between the street lights. The motel room sits, quiet, observing the two sleeping figures bundled in separate beds, until one starts to thrash. The other one stirs, groggy, while the other still fights demons. 

A ragged cry shatters the silence. Even coated with layers of sleep and terror, the room can tell it’s the woman. Her companion blinks sleep from his eyes and tosses the thin comforter from his body, slipping from his bed and to the edge of hers with surprising speed.

Eyes impossibly alert, brows slipping into concern, he stands some distance away and calls out her name.

Emily. 

It’s a hoarse whisper, then urgent. She still thrashes, so he places a hand on her shoulder and shakes, fingers gripped into the flesh of her shoulder. Louder this time, more insistent, desperation curling around the letters of her name.

She wakes up. Opens her eyes with a gasp, the damp patches on her pillow explained by the tears pooling under her lashes. 

The man lets out a similar sound, only lower. You’re okay, he whispers gently, his hand still on her shoulder. You were dreaming.

They’re typical comforts in a situation like this.

What’s not typical is the way she launches into his arms instead of away. A pained sound tumbles from her lips; she curls into him, folding over herself, and the arm he wraps around her back keeps her secured to his chest.

A whimper of his name, a breath of hers. Whispered shhh’s that the room suspects he’s had plenty of practice at. His hands rove over her back, fingers smoothing the sweaty fabric of her shirt. She clings to him so tightly he has no choice but to perch on the edge of the bed, half holding her, half slipping out.

It’s hard to tell whether she’s crying or breathing. The man encourages her to breathe anyway, the low timbre of his voice carrying a bit of firmness that she bends beneath. Minutes stack up on the other side of midnight, a new day starting as the woman’s chest begins to slow beneath the man’s—Hotch’s—instruction.

His lips nudge against her forehead. It’s not yet a kiss, but the gesture is loving, and well practiced. Soon after it’s his hand on the nape of her neck, his fingers threading through the tangled mess of hair he finds there.

The woman doesn’t relax for a while. Not until he situates her back against the pillow, her arms still clutched around him. Neither of them say anything further; it seems an unspoken deal that he’ll lay back with her, run his palm between her shoulder blades until her breath evens out.

Eventually, it happens. The man’s eyes blink through the semi-dark as the woman sleeps on, still wound around him. He waits—and the room does, too—until a half-circle is traced by the clock’s arm, before carefully untangling their limbs.

He’d been sleeping on the opposite side before he woke. His back to her bed, almost hiding. But now he slides again beneath the sheets and turns to face her, the target of his eyesight clear to the room, even half shrouded in darkness.

___

In the office it starts, and in the office it comes full circle.

Only his shoulders are stiff with tension. The office guesses that it has something to do with the lumpy gauze under her sleeve, the butterfly bandages along her left cheekbone. She’s not as upset as he is, and not for the same reason. Lips pursed, brows furrowed, she still tries to fight back even though she’s in the wrong.

“You would’ve taken ages to come, Anna didn’t have that much—”

“The unsub was armed—”

“And I was, too—”

“That’s not protocol!” He shouts. 

Emily sucks in a breath, the office takes a pause. Not because of his raised voice, no. It happens—rarely, but it happens. What doesn’t happen is his voice cracking, breaking in half. Fading into silence.

The air thickens. Hotch swallows, the solid lines of his body turning to liquid. “Jesus, Emily, you know better.” His voice is weary, wilting. 

She’s silent. Stricken, lips parted, eyes searching. Emily has intelligent eyes, the office thinks. They see practically everything, absorbing the world with a desperate hunger drawn in the circular outline of her pupils. So it makes sense that when the office glimpses a shine in its Unit Chief’s eyes, she does too.

“Why…why are you…?” She steps closer to him, boldly swipes under his eye with her thumb. He jerks away, a shuddered breath heaving his lungs when her finger comes away wet. 

Her mouth still hasn’t snapped shut yet. Emily takes another step, understanding dawning on her features. 

About time. 

“Hotch—”

“I can’t,” he breathes, shaking his head. 

“Can’t what?” She murmurs. There’s hardly distance between them; her hand molds around his cheek, hesitant. The lines of her shoulders are stiff, as if she’s waiting for him to pull away. 

The office knows he won’t. He’ll say he will, but as long as she’s giving in first, he’ll have no choice but to follow.

Fingers twitching at his side, he blows out an exhale. 

“I can’t.” His hand finds her waist; the office swells with satisfaction. She bends into the touch, her grip tightening on his cheek. “We can’t, Emily. It’s not…”

But he’s bowing into her. Their heads almost touch, his bending down, hers looking up. The glossy darkness of their hair glints almost identically beneath the lights, raven on raven.

“Do you want to?”

The office holds its breath. Its owner is good at denying himself of what he wants.

Thick, suffocating silence. A string pulling taut. And then another shake of a weary head. “We can’t.” He repeats; a broken record, a mantra.

Pale fingers curl around his ear. A thumb with bitten nails swipes under his eye, smears the wetness on his skin until it dries. “That’s not a no,” she says quietly. “I’m waiting for a no, Hotch.”

He doesn’t give one.

Silence rings. For a beat, two, three. Then she’s tilting his head further down, rising on her tiptoes even though she’s in boots, and pressing their lips together. His silhouette shakes, shoulders trembling. Three sticky heartbeats later and he skates tentative hands up her sides, squeezing and shakily exhaling into her mouth. She’s slow with him, patient, and when they’ve broken free they haven’t broken free at all, because his forehead is on hers, an inch between their noses.

“You can’t do that again.” He rasps. 

Emily hums, lips turning up. She tilts her head, catches his mouth again with unusual slowness. “We’ll talk about it later, boss.”

When they leave the office, there’s hardly space between their bodies.

___

The park is one of many in DC. It’s not anything special—yes, there’s benches and tall trees and a gravel pathway, but nothing that could tempt a restless pair of lovers. Today it’s doubly cold, a frigid crunch to the grass that scares away everyone but the two figures strolling around under the watery sun.

There’s soft murmurs between them, passed occasionally like the steaming paper cup they share. The woman holds it for longer, sometimes to drink, sometimes to squeeze around in her bare, pale hands. The man notices, and brings them to a stop, quietly chiding as he covers both her hands with his. He doesn’t wear any gloves but she sighs, shifting to hide her hands entirely beneath his own. The corners of her mouth tip up, as does her head, her eyes searching for her companion’s.

They meet and the park almost blazes with heat. Her smile, somehow both sly and bashful, curls around an excuse, her shoulders shrugging helplessly. 

The man shakes his head. It seems a practiced move, exasperated and fond. His thumbs are restless on the back of her hands, kneading fervent circles into her skin.

She tolerates it for a minute before dragging her hands from his grip to get him walking again, passing him the cup and instead hooking her free arm through his. They stay for longer than the weather allows, some identical tension melting from their shoulders, a heavy weight in their eyes fading as pink bites their cheeks. Talk isn’t frequent, but touches are—his lips to the top of her head, her fingers sinking into his coat, her chest against his arm.

When the cup is drained—he lets her have the last sip—the woman tosses it and curls her fingers into her palm, the pad of her thumb skimming under her nails as if it’s habit. She nudges him off the path, onto the grass. Their shadows follow: long, starkly black companions that trail after them, turning a party of two into four.

They lean into each other. Hard lines fade, blur. Two silhouettes become one, joint from shoulders to feet. 

A right hand reaches for a left; fingers interlock, forming a weave of soft skin and calluses. The shadow of them is cool above the grass, and when he gently cradles her cheek in his free hand, tilting her face upward until their lips join in a kiss, the silhouette warps. It merges into a single, fluid shape, formless and inelegant. 

Even when they break apart, they’re still joined.

[emilycm]

guys this is so so random but pls tell me someone knows the fics i’m thinking of because i’ve been trying to find them for the longest time!!!

one where emily and hotch (they’re not dating) were godparents to jj’s second kid and then something happens to jj and will and they have to take in both kids

emily was raising declan, declan and jack became friends and it brought em and hotch closer together

both are get together fics and i seriously think abt them all the time but i can’t find the links so pls lmk if you know of them!!!!

[sequinsmile-x]

Young Hotchniss AU - Instagram Posts

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

Mentions of pregnancy throughout.

-x-

[forhappysake]

[thewulf]

Did You Just...? || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - What about a young!Hotch x reader and they’re best friends crushing on each other?? Idk if you remember that TikTok trend where you call your crush or film a video and kiss your best friend and they don’t know what’s going on?... Read Rest Here

A/N: PURE FLUFFFFF. Loved this. Hope you guys enjoy :) This is a Young Hotch set in present day :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.0k

“Okay but you’ve been on the app right?” You asked Aaron after sitting down at his desk filled to the brim with paperwork that needed to be completed but never had the time to do. He peaked his eyes over to you once you sat down with a huff.

Amusement danced in his gaze as a small smiled played on his lips at your overt casualness with him. It was remarkable to witness you go from the scared and timid profiler hired right out of school to chatting his ear off at lunch every day in a matter of mere months. See, he was in his third year at the BAU and thought he had figured it out. That was until you came along and rocked his world.

He used to come to work, get some paperwork done, put his head down and go home after a long day. It worked for him. He was ‘friends’ with his coworkers as best as he could be, but he was the young pup of the group. Then you were onboarded. Gideon hired you the second you graduated after blowing him away in one of the classes he taught at Georgetown. You came in like a hurricane that he wasn’t quite ready for but knew the team needed.

You were so different than Aaron’s other coworkers. You actually talked to him and got to know him. You weren’t afraid of his intimidating gaze but instead found it a fun challenge to try and get him to break his facade. It annoyed him at first. He went to work to work, not socialize. But leave it to you to sway his opinion on the matter. Aaron didn’t want to admit just how much he had grown to love and adore your smiling face greeting him every morning. He really didn’t want to admit how much he looked forward to your early morning coffee chats or daily debriefs when Gideon was being a hard ass. You were the sunshine of the group. The one that brought the optimism while the rest of the team turned terribly pessimistic.

He'll never forget the first time you caught a killer. He almost had a heart attack when you quite literally jumped on top of the man, surprising him and taking him to the floor without a second thought. You smiled right up to him after he was in cuffs and whispered a, “One down. A hundred more to go.” To him. He knew right then and there that you’d be in his life for a long time.

“What app?” He set the pen he was writing with down as he turned his attention to you.

Sighing you opened your phone showing him, “Don’t play dumb with me Hotchner.” Your eyes glowered at the man with a subtle smirk resting right on his face, “Tik-Tok.”

He leaned back watching the videos you’d saved. He assumed they were ones you thought would convince him to download it. He was right of course. You’d saved the funniest ones in hopes he’d download the damn app. You’ve been trying for weeks to get him to do it. But then again, it almost took you three entire months to convince the man he needed to upgrade from his prehistoric iPhone 5.

“You know that’s likely spyware and the government…”

You cut him off with another long-drawn-out sigh, “Okay dad. But it’d not banned. So, download it.”

Aaron could mess with you, and he knew it. And enjoyed it. He didn’t dare want to admit just how happy he got when he got you to blush under his gaze. You’d quite literally waltzed in and rocked his absolute world. He knew he couldn’t catch feelings for you and yet here he was. On the brink of falling in love with the funnier than ever coworker who knew him better than he knew himself. How cliché.

He leaned back in his office chair crossing his arms over his chest, “You know. I don’t think I will.” He watched your face closely. You were far too easy to read. Something he was working on with you. You gave away everything on your face. His smirk only grew when you raised your eyebrows in slight surprise. It wasn’t often he didn’t bend over backwards to make you happy. He would of course download the stupid little app to make you happy. Just like he got the latest iPhone once you saw the horrifying state of his almost 10-year-old phone.

You leaned back in the same manner he had, “No need to be so obstinate Hotch.” Giving him a playful push, you couldn’t help but to giggle at his amused grin. It was easy to forget the two of you were at work of all places. It was just so easy to forget with him. He made you want more with him, so much more. A much easier case to crack than you originally thought. He was an utter softy under the rigid exterior put on for the team.

He knew he should get back to work but he just couldn’t shoo you away. He looked forward to moments like these. Little moments where he got to steal some of your time and attention, “Look at you. Using your big words.” His smirk deepened as he watched you register his words in real time. He was playing around with you. He’d gotten so comfortable with you he was beginning to mess with you right back. You’d grown used to teasing him and only getting an eyeroll or snicker in return. You weren’t used to this. And you had to admit you loved it. A subtle change you’d grown to adore.

“Didn’t go to school for nothing.” You winked at him knowing the double negative would set him off.

He shook his head, “You’re something else, you know that?”

Wiggling your eyebrows at him you nodded your head, “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Relenting, he fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened it up knowing damn well he didn’t download the app but he’d sure as hell let you do it. He’d truly do anything for you, “You’re right.”

Ignoring the flush that rose to your cheeks you grabbed the opened phone from his hands. You knew you shouldn’t be having these thoughts for your dangerously attractive slightly older and much more put together coworker. But damn. You had all the thoughts and feelings.

You sighed, “Just as I suspected.�� Shaking your head in disapproval you handed the phone back to him, “Now, I need you to make an account to night. Let me know when you do! I have so many to share with you.” You grinned knowing he was going to give in one way or another.

He took it back, “That’s a lot of work.” He spoke with a grin that meant he was just teasing you. Two could play that game.

“Yeah, because you’re so anti-technology. But I promise you can do this. Who else am I supposed to send TikTok’s too?” You widened your eyes as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“You’re other friends?”

You shrugged, “I do send them. But these are for you.”

Aaron couldn’t help but to smile at your ever so quick comebacks. One of the many reasons he had fallen for you so quickly, “I’ll do it. But…” He paused letting it linger in the air for a moment.

“But what Hotchner?” You raised your eyebrows, ever so curious as to what his stipulation could be.

His smile widened seeing your impatience for him grow, “Only if you come over and show me how.” He’d never really been so bold before. Sure, you’d been over to his place a few times in passing, once for a team dinner. Gideon’s genius idea to have somebody from the team host once a month. You’d rather come to enjoy the gatherings. Especially when they were at Rossi’s place. The wine and food pairings never ceased to amaze you. You on the other hand always insisted on taking the team out when your month rolled around. It was a little too embarrassing to have the entire team over at your rather small one-bedroom apartment.

“Propositioning me now Hotch?” You challenged back to the man you were head over heels with knowing it’d throw him off his game. The smile that immediately dropped let you know you did exactly that.

This time it was his mouth that dropped as his cheeks turned an adorable violet. Oh, you got him this time. You wished you could take a picture. He was just too cute when he thought too hard. If you were at home you would’ve risked a picture, but you didn’t want to cross the line at work. You’d never dream of putting him in an awkward position here. The both of you worked way too hard to blow it up now.

“You know I would never ever…” He started rambling. It would’ve been adorable had he not been actually freaking out a little bit. Of course, you knew that. You really were just messing with him.

Shaking your head, you stopped him, “I’m teasing you Aaron. I’d love to come over and show you how to make a TikTok account.”

He let out a strangled sigh of relief, “You’re killing me.” He loved it when you called him by his first name. It sounded too good coming out of your mouth.

Biting back a smile you stood from the chair, “I’ll be over at 6?”

You watched as he leaned forward grabbing his pen once more. Turning to you with that smile you’d grown to adore he nodded, “Don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t dare Hotchner.” Shooting him one last wink you walked away briskly letting your heart get far, far away from the man who was causing it to beat right out of your chest.

“You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be Hotchner.” You giggled itching to take the phone away from Aaron.

He shrugged giving you a wicked grin, “We’re not all technologically savvy Y/L/N.” He chided back knowing he might’ve been taking his time so that you didn’t have an excuse to leave. He took his time making dinner, not starting until you made it over. Taking his time cleaning up and getting dessert out. Pretending not to know how his phone worked. He wanted to steal your time away. Not that you minded, not in the slightest.

Rolling your eyes, you finished setting it up for him, “You could say that again.”

A small chuckle rolled off his lips. He put his phone back down before turning his head back to you. You were watching him with all the love in your eyes. You’d tried so hard to hide it, but it was becoming an impossible task. He was so easy to fall in love with. How were you to blame?

Feeling bold you decided to move forward with your plan. Picking up your phone you clicked the video player to record and angled it towards you and Aaron.

With scrunched brows he observed you, “What are you doing?”

“Since you’ve never opened the app you’ll never get it. But we’re doing a video. I’ll post it. It’d trending right now.” You said as nonchalantly as possible trying not to let your voice waver. You had to be confident

Curiously we watched as you scooted closer to him, “Trending?” He asked with a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

You nodded not daring to meet his curious gaze, you’d surely lose the confidence to actually do it, “Mhmm,” You hummed, “If you’ll let me that is.”

He grinned, “Be my guest.”

It felt like your heart was about to leap out of its chest. Now or never, really, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He smirked seeing you finally look him in the eyes, “Do your worst then.”

It was really now or never. You grabbed either side of his face and decided to go for it.

His eyes widened in pleasant shock as you pressed your lips to his. He could’ve sworn his heart stopped then and there. That was bold, even for you. But then again you always had him on his toes. Another one of the many reasons he knew that made him fall for you. It took him a second to long to respond to this kiss. But once he did he wasn’t going to let you go.

Once you needed air though you did have to pull away. Adrenaline was now coursing through you as you realized you really just kissed not only your friend but your coworker as well. There was truly no going back now.

“Did you just…?” His mouth bobbed open and closed like he couldn’t believe what you just did.

You watched as his face went from shock to realization to… satisfaction? A fast and hot blush erupted on your cheeks as you realized he was watching you too, waiting on an answer to his very own question.

“I did.” Biting your lip, a wave of anxiety washed over you as you waited his answer.

You didn’t get one as he leaned in this time. You felt as his hand wrapped around the back of your neck and up through your hair. Carefully he pulled your head towards him as he kissed you with a little more dominance this time. He was in charge. He wanted to kiss you. You didn’t fight the way your body melted right into his. Feeling him smile as you folded into his touches like putty, you didn’t dare break away. You’d dreamed of this moment for far too long. Almost six months too long now.

He pulled away gently, leaning his forehead on yours, “Thank God you did.”

Your heart was hammering so hard in your chest you only could hope he couldn’t hear it being so close, “Yeah?” You asked, a hint of insecurity in your voice.

He moved away from you only so he could look you in the eyes. His hands landed on your shoulders giving them a gentle squeeze, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” His usually unreadable face broke into a light blush, one you probably wouldn’t be able to see if you weren’t so close to him.

“Why didn’t you?” The smile on your face let him know it was all in good fun. You just loved teasing him. And he loved teasing you right on back.

He shook his head with the saddest smile, “Would it be too cowardly to say that I didn’t want to mess it all up? I didn’t want to make a mess of it if you didn’t feel the same.” For the first time you’d seen a side of him you’d really never have seen before. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t have an answer. He looked to you for the next step.

A quick shake of your head brought you back to the present, “I’d never think of you as a coward Aaron.” You reached for his hands that landed back down at his side, “And I’m certainly glad I didn’t make a mess of it.” You giggled feeling relieved that he clearly felt the same way. You didn’t think he’d kiss you like that if he didn’t.

“Go out with me tomorrow? On an actual date? Where I can actually woo you. You weren’t supposed to do that by the way.” He pinched your side lightly loving the way you squirmed under his touch, “But then again. You always seem to take me by surprise.” He clarified leaning back in wanting so desperately to kiss you once more but needing to hear your answer first.

“Do I now?” If your heart could speed up it certainly did as he leaned closer and closer once more.

“All the time.” He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, his thumb gingerly brushing on the apple of your cheek. A shiver you tried to stop erupted from your body at the lightest of contact with him. You were a goner, and you knew it.

“Good to know.” You grinned before leaning in and giving his nose a quick kiss, catching him off guard yet again, “And yes, I’d love to go out with you.” You continued after sending his brain into a tizzy. You truly would be the death of him.

He didn’t waste a second more before bringing you in for a much slower kiss this time. He too was in utter disbelief this was going on. Sure, he’d daydreamed about it on far too many occasions, but it was actually happening. He was kissing you.

When he pulled back for air he gave you a once over again, “I haven’t told you how pretty you look tonight.” He knew that’d draw that pretty blush he loved so much.

You pushed at his chest lightly giving him a soft laugh. You turned your head spotting the phone you’d set up to record about five minutes ago.

“Oh crap.” You pulled yourself off of him to grab at the phone quickly ending the video. A soft smile graced your face as you thought about watching that later.

He grinned, “Are you going to post that?”

Shaking your head quickly you saved the video before closing out of the app, “No, I don’t think I will.” Looking back up with all the love in your eyes you scooted closer to him, nearly on top of him now, “Think I’ll keep it just for you and I.”

He pulled you onto his lap, getting the hint, “You’re a sap.” Brushing your now messy hair, thanks to Aaron, out of your face he leaned down to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead, “A cute sap at that.”

You grinned while cuddling into him rather thankful your uncalculated risk paid off in an incredible way, “Only for you Aaron.”

He wrapped his arms all the way around pulling you in close, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade

[sunlightgalaxy]

heating up in here

hotchniss alaska au

warnings: smut, case talk, the usual

a/n: this got looooong oops ! for the sake of the story we’re pretending they weren’t matchy matchy and that she is in fact wearing his sweater

(gifs by @aaronwhorechner )

**

“i’m not sleeping with reid.”

emily stifled a laugh, watching as penelope instantly claimed dibs on sharing with morgan.

“come on, spence, we can share.” jj spoke, placing an arm around the young agent to turn him towards the stairs. and then there were three.

rossi wordlessly looked between emily and aaron before sticking his hand out for a key. 4 rooms, 7 people; the math wasn’t hard, there was one single room. and dave knew he had it to himself.

“guess it’s you and me tonight,” hotch said, picking up his bag and making his way towards the room. emily followed in tow, doing her best to keep up.

“you think they have heat?” she asked as she trailed behind, arms rubbing against herself as best she could to keep warm. emily was a cold woman. not emotionally, well, not anymore, but physically cold almost all of the time. needless to say, she was not doing too well in the alaskan weather.

“let’s hope,” hotch said, stopping at the hotel room door. he unlocked the lock, taking a little longer than emily pleased.

“what, did you forget how to open a door?” she teased.

“it’s an old hotel, prentiss,” hotch sighed, finally pushing the door open. “the lock probably hasn’t been changed in decades.” he walked in, flicking on the light and stopping in his tracks. which, naturally, caused emily to walk straight into his backside.

“ow, hotch!” emily yelped, her hand reaching for his shoulder to steady herself. she was about to ask why the hell he stopped walking two steps into the room when she noticed what caught his attention: the lone, king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

“you can have it,” hotch said, moving in further and digging clothes out of his go-bag. “you get cold.” emily rolled her eyes, grabbing her own pajamas from her bag.

“don’t be stupid, there’s no couch and you’ll kill your back laying on the floor every night.” she reasoned, watching him make his way to the bathroom. “we’re adults, we’ll be fine.”

“yeah,” she heard hotch call as he shut the door. emily dug through her go-bag, grabbing her pajamas and groaning. the case had been called in hours after they returned from their previous one, meaning she hadn’t had time to properly pack her bag. which meant she had no sweatshirt. sighing, she threw on her sweats and t-shirt and waited for hotch to be done in the bathroom.

he walked out moments later, breath catching in his throat when he caught sight of emily. his eyes flitted down to her chest, nipples visible through the fabric of her shirt. clearing his throat, he looked back up at her and spoke. “no sweatshirt?”

“forgot to pack one,” she mumbled, walking into the bathroom and closing the door. splashing water onto her face, emily sighed as she resigned herself to sharing a bed with her boss. her very attractive boss, no less.

stepping out, her eyes landed on hotch, sitting in bed looking over the case file. he looked up, eyes meeting hers momentarily before reaching behind him. “here,” he said, tossing his brown quarter-zip sweater towards her. “it’ll keep you warm tonight.”

emily smiled gratefully, pulling on the warm fabric and watching it pool around her arms. “thank you,” she mumbled softly, climbing into the bed next to him. “goodnight hotch.”

“goodnight prentiss,” hotch replied, taking a moment to look at her before shutting the light off. god, she looked so good in his sweater. he laid there for a moment, the darkness and silence of the room really putting into perspective his situation. he was sharing a bed with his subordinate, arguably his most attractive one, in the middle of alaska. truly not how hotch had expected his day to end.

emily, meanwhile, had the same thought about her boss looming in the back of her mind. however, she couldn’t bear to focus on that, instead channeling all of her energy into not shivering. as warm as hotch’s sweater was - and fuck, it was warm - she was still freezing. arms wrapped around herself, doing her best to not hog the covers, emily tried her hardest to keep warm and still.

it was no use though, hotch could feel her body twitching every so often. plus, her teeth were chattering so frequently that he thought they would chip. he debated for a moment whether he should sacrifice his own warmth and give her the blanket, or cross the line and give her his embrace. and as much as he wanted to just give her the blanket, he didn’t want to be cold either.

she felt the bed dip first, feeling hotch roll to his other side. then, she felt the warmth encapsulate her body as his arm wrapped against her. finally, she felt his body directly against her back as he pulled her flush to him. oh. she was definitely warm now. their close proximity meant that when he whispered to her, his words went straight to her ear, hot breath tickling her skin. “think you can sleep now?”

no. absolutely not. “yeah,” she whispered back, making a feeble attempt to relax her body and find a comfortable position. instead, however, she found her ass pressed directly against him. she was sure her skin was fucking boiling at this point, cursing herself internally for even moving half an inch. she felt hotch breathing heavily against her, and all she could do was pray he was asleep and close her eyes.

he was not asleep, instead focusing everything on trying not to get rock hard against emily’s ass. unfortunately for hotch, no amount of steady breathing could stop his dick from growing harder. feeling the sudden warmth on her ass, emily smirked to herself. “think you’ll be able to sleep now?” she whispered, stifling a giggle.

“emily,” hotch groaned, his tone somewhere between a moan and a warning. keeping her lower body in place, she turned her head around to meet hotch’s eyes. the smirk fell from her face when she was met with nothing but lust from the man in front of her. gasping, she felt hotch’s hand wrap around her waist, snaking its way up bottom of the sweater.

“aaron,” she whispered, a moan catching in her throat. her free arm wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. she could feel his breath on her lips, inches away from making contact with her own.

and that’s when they heard a scream.

***

“his name’s craig ramey. fisherman.”

the team gathered around the latest victim, all clad in their pajamas and jackets. as the discussion about the unsub’s accelerated schedule picked up, emily’s attention only strayed further. she could practically feel hotch’s eyes boring into her cheek, and if she was still enough, she could almost feel his breath on her skin.

aaron was doing all he could to maintain his professional manner in this moment, but all thoughts led him back to emily. he forced his eyes on the victim in front, around the team, at the cops, but they always found their way back to her.

“it’s still late,” hotch spoke suddenly, clearing his voice. “i’m sure none of us got much sleep, why don’t we all take a couple hours to rest and get ready for the morning?” it wasn’t a question, and he knew there wouldn’t be any rest in his room.

the team trickled apart, each making their way back to their respective rooms. emily stopped at hers, waiting for aaron to make his way from back of the group. he opened the door, and when emily stepped inside it was only a matter of seconds before the door was locked and she was pressed against it.

“aaron,” she gasped, arms wrapping around his neck to stabilize herself. he looked into her eyes, pupils blow.

“what, sweetheart?” he asked, voice about a whisper.

“kiss me.”

and kiss her he did. lips against each other, breathy moans traveling from emily’s throat to aaron’s mouth. she could feel his stubble against her face, turning her on more than she already was. his hips pushed towards her, causing emily to gasp when she felt his cock press against her pulsing core. aaron pulled back, lips beginning to nip along her neck. one hand braced her hip against the wall, the other finding its way through her layers of clothing.

“look so fucking good in my sweater, baby,” he muttered, eliciting a moan from emily as he twisted her nipple. “gonna fuck you so good while you wear it.”

“aaron,” she whined, his name apparently being the only word her brain could form. she released one hand from his hair, bringing it down to fumble with his jeans. before she could even get them unbuttoned, however, he was pressing his hips forward, cock straining against her hand. “fuck,” she groaned. “need you so badly.”

“is that so?” he asked, emily practically feeling the smirk radiating off of him. “take me then.”

she didn’t need to be told twice. she had his pants and boxers dropped in seconds. eyes blowing wide at the size of his cock. emily sunk to her knees, taking her time to work him with her hand. “emily,” hotch moaned, almost as if it was a warning. it was then she wrapped her lips around him, moaning at the string of curses he muttered while she swirled her tongue around his tip. inch by inch, she took him in her mouth, jaw aching from the size of him. she bobbed back and forth, increasing speed ever so slowly and wrapping a hand around what couldn’t fit.

hotch looked down, pupils blown at the sight of emily beneath him. he let out a groan, even more turned on when he felt her gag around him. they locked eyes, emily watching his expressions as she moved back and forth. it became too much, then, hotch tapping her cheek twice as a sign to release.

“too good at that,” he murmured, thumb wiping away the stray tears that fell from her eyes. “would’ve cum if you kept going, and i’m saving that for when i’m inside you.”

it was emily’s turn to groan, which no sooner turned into a squeal as hotch swept her off her feet and placed her on the bed. true to his word, he removed all her clothing, save for his sweater. taking of the remnants of his clothes, aaron climbed on top of her and pressed two fingers to her lips. instinctively, she opened her mouth, sucking the digits nicely until he pulled back.

within seconds those same fingers delved into her wet, soaking cunt. emily moaned, to which aaron placed his free hand on top of her mouth. “can’t have you being too loud, can we?” she shook her head, mouth opening and closing against his palm as aaron’s pace picked up.

“aaron, oh my god,” emily whispered, nearly biting his palm to keep from screaming. he smiled, planing a kiss to her head as he added a third finger inside her. she groaned, head pushing away from his hand and dropping to his shoulder. “fuck, aaron, please,” she whined, feeling herself getting closer to the edge.

“come for me, baby,” he muttered in her ear, groaning softly as he felt her tip over the edge. “good girl, so good for me.” he fucked her through her orgasm until it was too much, emily removing his hand and panting into his chest.

“holy fuck,” she breathed, slowly catching her breath. she looked up at hotch, meeting his soft smile with one of her own.

“you okay?” he asked.

“yeah,” she said. “so okay.”

“good.” he didn’t waste a second before pushing her back onto the bed, spreading her legs as he followed and lined up inside her. she gasped, locking eyes with him.

“please,” she whispered, staring at his hard, leaking cock at the edge of her equally soaked cunt.

“oh god, emily,” he moaned, watching his dick disappear under his sweater and into her pussy. “so fucking tight, so fucking good.”

“aaron,” emily whine, relishing in how good the pain was as his dick stretched out her cunt. she didn’t even want time to adjust to his size, she needed him to fuck her. “move.”

he wasted no time, fucking her with a rapid pace. “oh, emily,” he moaned, a string of curses following under his breath. emily groaned at the sensation, his tip hitting her perfectly. aaron looked up and felt himself getting closer as he watched emily, her mouth agape as she bit back a whimper. “so good for me,” he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. “i’m so close.”

“inside,” she responded, no hesitation. “please.”

“of course,” he whispered, picking up the pace and moving impossibly faster. he felt emily’s orgasm before she did, her moans combined with the clenching around his cock pulling his own. he spilt into her, stilling as they came down from their high.

he pulled out, laying down next to emily and turning to look at her. she turned to him, a soft smile on her face that matched his. “what?” she asked.

“you’re beautiful,” he responded, pushing her grown-out bangs out of her face. “pretty girl.” she blushed as he planted a kiss to her cheek, pulling her into his arms.

“you’re not so bad yourself,” she spoke, her voice muffled against his chest. “can i keep the sweater?” she asked a moment later, feeling his chest vibrate with laughter.

“for the rest of the trip, sure.” he said. “i have others i can wear. but i want it back, that’s my favorite one.”

“yeah,” emily sighed. “me too.”

[loomiseater]

Baby?

warnings: smut ofc!, oral f! receiving, talks of baby, Hayley mentioned at some point, and dom Hotch.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

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masterlist

Written: June 9th, 2024

Published: June 10th, 2024

Summary: Aaron gives you your Mother’s Day gift.

wc: 1,992

You wake up to an empty bed, you were shocked because Aaron loves sleeping in on his days off. You wanted to stay in bed but the smell of breakfast hit your nose. It smelt really good.

Just as you were about to get out of bed, Jack comes running into your shared bedroom jumping onto the bed. “Happy Mother’s Day!” He exclaims as he hugs you really tight.

It was so adorable you wanted to cry at his cuteness. You hug him back even tight and place kisses all over his little face as he giggles. “We made breakfast for you!” Jack says as you make a surprised face.

“Really?! What did you two make?” You ask happily as he smiles. “You gotta wait until dad brings the food” he answered. You nod your head and pat the side of the bed for Jack to sit.

“You excited for today, buddy?” You ask as he cheerfully nods his head. “I can’t wait for all the food and to see my all my cousins!” Jack said as you giggled. “I can’t wait either, bud” you respond, placing a kiss to his forehead.

Jack started talking about random stuff that kids talk about as Aaron walked into the room. You almost teared up at the sight. He looked so domestic. His messy morning hair, sweats, and a plain t-shirt.

“Happy Mother’s Day, baby” he says before giving you a kiss. You were both interrupted by Jack’s “ewws” and fake throwing up sounds. Aaron just laughed a his childish behavior. “That’s disgusting!” Jack said before hurrying out of the room.

After he left out the room, Aaron had closed the door so you both could have some privacy. “So what did you make?” You ask as he brings your plate over to the bed. “I made French Toast, topped with whip cream, I also made scrambled eggs, bacon, and freshly squeezed orange juice” he answers with a proud smile on his face.

“This looks amazing, babe” you replied, looking in awe at the food. “You deserve it” he said. “You must really want some tonight” you said as he tried to hide his smirk.

“Please?” He begged as you let out a little chuckle. “I just woke up” you whined as you grabbed some of the whip cream and sprayed it in your mouth. “Mhmm, that is so good” you said as your eyes rolled back some.

“You know exactly what you’re doing” he said as he eyed you. “You want some?” You ask teasingly as his jaw tightened.

You’re pulling your shirt off as your boobs are now free for him to see due to not wearing a bra. You spray the cream all over your chest while moaning. “You test me everyday, woman” he says before leaning and sucking your breasts along with licking the whip cream off.

As he got done licking it all off he placed a kiss on each nipple, then moving on to take off your shorts. He was happy to see that you weren’t wearing any panties.

You lay back with a smile on your face as you preparing for him to eat you out but instead of feeling his tongue, you felt..whip cream? It was a cold yet satisfying feeling on your pussy.

“Aaron? What are you doing?” You ask nervously. “Eating my favorite meal” he replied back nonchalantly as you raised your eyebrow.

He slowly licked the whip cream off of your slit and it sent pleasuring chills through your body. Aaron has never done anything like this before, that’s why you’re so shocked at his actions.

As he licked the whip cream off he began sucking each lip and your hands gripped his scalp really hard. “Yes!” You shout but it was muffled due to Aaron’s hand. His reflex’s were quick, as soon as he’s saw your mouth open his hand flew straight to it. You completely forgot that Jack was still in the house.

“Gotta be quiet, baby” he said lowly as you began pouting. He began thrusting his tongue in out of you, he enjoyed seeing you like this, how you submit to him, and how you crumble beneath him.

“Fuck! Your pussy is so sweet” he said before diving in deeper and spreading your legs further. He always loved how you tasted but the whip cream made it even better.

As he dove deeper into you with his mouth, you felt his nose rub against your clit. “Feels so-good!” You said in a choked out sob. The pleasure was beginning to become too much, but Aaron didn’t care.

He shook his head side to side while still eating you out, you wanted to scream. He’s never acted like this before. “Cum on daddy’s face” he said lowly. It was like your body just did what he said on command.

You came all over his face, eventually squirting due to him rubbing your clit during your orgasm. He let his face get covered in it.

He rode up from in between your legs and up to your face before making out with you. His face was glistening in your juices, you could even taste yourself while kissing. You broke away from the kiss to catch some air.

“You’ve never been like this during sex, Aaron. The sex has always been amazing but this-this was something else” you explained, still out of breath. He laid down next to you with his face buried in between your breasts.

“I want a baby with you” his says with his voice all muffled. “I thought you said you weren’t ready for another kid? You said Jack was enough” you explained as he shook his head. “I changed my mind. I gave Hayley something so special, and that was Jack. I want to be able to give you the same thing” he stated.

Your face softened as tears fell down your face. “Hayley passed away two years ago, there’s no rush into having another one” you replied softly. “I’m not rushing into it Y/n. I think you’d look beautiful with your round stomach full of my child” he said before placing a kiss to your stomach.

“I’ve always wanted to have a child but I didn’t want to rush you, and I wouldn’t want Jack to feel some type of way” you said sincerely.

“Jack has been wanting a sibling since forever, he’ll be fine” Aaron said surely. You thought about it and maybe he was right. Hayley got to have that special thing, why can’t you?

“We can start making that baby right now” Aaron said as he picked you up and placed you on his lap as you giggled. “Right now?” You ask again, just to tease him. “Yes, right now” he replied as he groped your ass. “But first, I really want some head” he says with a smirk across his face.

“Whatever you say goes, my love” you say to him before getting on your knees and taking his dick out. He was already hard with pre cum leaking out his red tip.

You took him whole as he let out a groan.

[ssaemilyhotchner]

Z please? Congratulations! 🎉

tysm for participating, @emilyhotchner! ✨

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

letter: Z | prompt: ZZZs | wc: 0.5k cw: 18+, sexual content a/n: there's no excuse for how dirty this is oops

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

--

Not for the first time, Hotch watches as she sleeps.

In her slumber, Emily stirs and murmurs his name, the lusty sound sending heat through his body to settle at the base of his spine. Hotch wraps his arm around her and presses his lips to her shoulder in instinct, ink black hair tickling his face as he breathes her in deeply.

Her eyes slowly flutter open at the contact. “Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“What are you still doing up?”

Hotch rubs lazy circles on the smooth skin of her stomach with his thumb, the thin streaks of moonlight trickling into the room enough for him to see her muscles quiver and flex at his touch. “Watching you.”

Emily lets her eyes fall closed again, then sighs contentedly when she burrows deeper into his embrace and feels him half-hard against her lower back. “Feels like you want to do more than just watch.”

He chuckles. “No, I want to let you sleep,” he returns, though his twitch at the thought of being buried inside her again gives him away. 

“Mmm. I’d believe you if it weren’t for your track record,” she teases. “You’ve always liked waking me up for sex.”

“You’re just so pliable when you’re sleepy.” He can’t help it: he relishes the way her body moves when they are together, how relaxed she is with him in the dead of night. Hotch trails his fingers up her thighs and groans at his discovery. “Jesus, Em, you’re soaked. Having a good dream?”

Emily rewards him with a pleased shudder, instinctively rocking against his fingers. “Very much so.”

With a murmured is this okay and her resulting eager nod, he presses into her from behind, grinning against the nape of her neck as she chokes out a little gasp in response. “Tell me about it?” 

“You were fucking me after some Bureau event,” she manages eventually, his slow rocking rhythm already taking her apart. “Hiked my dress up over my knees and got me off with that brilliant mouth of yours. You were still fully dressed in your suit when I came.” 

Hotch replies with a rumble of approval, running his fingers through her hair. “Did you take it off of me?” 

“No.” Her hand finds his between her legs, a wordless request for more pressure that he readily obeys.

“No?” he whispers, his breath hot against her ear.

“You wanted to fuck me with it on. So that every time I saw you in it, I’d remember.” His rhythm stutters at her words and her back bows, hips bucking as his thrusts begin to deepen. “God, don't stop—”

“You were right. That was a very good dream.” Hotch crooks his fingers just so then, and buries his face in the juncture of her shoulder as she flies apart. He follows shortly afterward, spilling into her with a groan of her name drawn out like a prayer.

They’ve cleaned up and resettled when Emily lets out a pleased hum, sated and sleepy.

“This was even better, though.”

[ivyflowers13]

Bath time! 🧼 🛁

[hotchscoffeecup]

come home with me

pairing: emily prentiss/aaron hotchner

rating: t

category: angst, hurt/comfort with a happy ending

word count: 7.2k

summary: An alternate version of "Faceless, Nameless," where Foyet leaves Hotch to bleed out in his apartment and Emily finds him clinging to life. Her quick response saves his life but causes her to question her own decisions in the hours leading up to finding him. Hotchniss. Hurt/comfort with sweet ending. Some angst.

Emily yawns and wishes she’d taken that second cup of coffee for the road this morning when she’d left the office. As the elevator dings, she steps out onto the carpeted hallway. If he slept through his alarm while the rest of us are out working this case, I’m going to kill him, she thinks as she stifles another yawn.

She checks her phone and surprise, there’s no new texts, voicemails, or emails from Hotch. She selects his contact and hits dial, bringing the phone to her ear as she scans the identical doors for his apartment number.

You’ve reached SSA Aaron Hotchner— Emily groans out loud and snaps her phone shut, cutting off his voicemail, her irritation starting to border on anger. This wasn’t like Hotch, ignoring his phone. Sure they’d all been exhausted last night, but to the point he sleeps this late into the morning and doesn’t bother to answer his phone? No, something wasn’t right. She could feel it in her gut.

She should’ve gone home with him when he offered, but she knew how they operated when a case was over and they settled in for the night. One glass of wine would lead to another and, well, very little sleep would be had for either of them. She’d been so physically, mentally, and emotionally drained after Canada���just the thought of it now felt like a weight dragging down her shoulders. No, she’d needed to be alone; to shower and wash off the sick and twisted vestiges of the horrors she and the team had discovered on that pig farm.

After turning Hotch down, she’d smiled at him and winked and told him they could go and get a late breakfast once they’d had the opportunity to catch up on sleep. Now, a part of her was glad they’d caught a case. He probably would’ve slept through breakfast, anyway, she thought irritably. Ok, she wasn’t actually glad they’d caught a case. This one was a doozy and they needed every pair of eyes they could get if they were going to keep the doctor and his son safe; and they were running out of time. She hated cases that involved kids, no matter how old. They didn’t deserve the trauma that would result from having their own or their loved ones' lives threatened.

Finally, Hotch’s apartment comes into view. She tucks her phone into her jacket pocket and rapps her knuckles against the door.

“Hotch, it’s Emily,” she calls and knocks again. She pauses, straining her ears for the sound of shuffling footsteps. Her brow furrows when there is only continued silence.

“Hotch?” she repeats, this time there’s a question in the way she says his name. She knocks again, harder. Rolling her eyes, she digs her phone back out of her pocket and redials his number. A phone rings on the other side of the door, but there is no sound that suggests someone was moving toward it.

Emily’s stomach turns as dread begins to pool in her belly. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end as a sinking feeling takes hold. Her hand drifts to her gun instinctively; her thumb hooking over the rotating hood and releasing her sidearm. As she removes the weapon, she uses her other hand to reach for the doorknob. Before she even attempts to turn it, she knows it will open.

Hotch never leaves his door unlocked.

She pushes the door open and readies her weapon, quickly moving side to side as she sweeps the room for an immediate threat. Hotch’s keys, phone, and bag are on the coffee table and sofa as if he’d just arrived home but she didn’t see him in her initial glances over the open concept apartment. As she continues her sweep, her ears pick up on the sound of soft wheezing.

That same sinking feeling grows as she crosses through the living room and it’s then she sees the bullet hole in the wall and the glass shattered on the floor. She pushes through the feeling of dread, effectively burying it knowing she needs to be alert and prepared for whatever lay beyond the sofa. Hoping for an incapacitated unsub, but knowing better, her world still shatters as she takes in the sight of her friend, supervisor, and lover unconscious and bloody on the linoleum tiled floor.

She drops to her knees and feels for his pulse with two fingers. It’s faint, but there. “Hotch,” she calls his name and holsters her gun, determining the assailant is no longer present.

His dark lashes flutter. “That’s it,” she says encouragingly, “Open your eyes, Aaron. It’s me. It’s Emily.”

“Emily,” he whispers weakly.

She pulls out her phone again and dials 911. Placing it on speaker, she sets the phone down next to Hotch and begins unbuttoning his shirt to further assess the damage.

The operator answers and Emily cuts them off. “This is Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI.” She grimaces as she haphazardly untucks the rest of his shirt and pushes the fabric out of her way. “I am at The Langham apartment complex, apartment 121. I’m here with SSA Aaron Hotchner. He’s suffered multiple stab wounds. I need paramedics and a crime scene unit sent here immediately.”

Her eyes rapidly scan the woulds, trying to assess which is the worst. God, there is so much blood. Shrugging out of her blazer, she balls the fabric in her fists and applies pressure to the two wounds that appear deepest, those to his abdomen and chest.

Aaron moans and she apologizes. “I know it hurts, just hold on. Help is coming.”

“Paramedics are seven minutes out,” dispatch states over the receiver.

She wants so desperately to hold his face in her hands, to be comforting him instead of causing more pain, but she needs to get the bleeding under control until help arrives.

Hotch’s lashes flutter again and his head lolls to the side where she is kneeling. “Foyet,” he breathes.

Emily’s eyes widen. “The Reaper is here, in DC?”

“I don’t—” his breath rattles as he wheezes. “He was waiting for me.”

“Did he say anything?” She asks as she adjusts her grip on the jacket she’s using to staunch the bleeding, of which is already seeping through the fabric. She curses under her breath, though the sound of sirens can finally be heard in the distance.

“Emily, if I don’t ma—”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, her voice catching. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Aaron. You’re going to be fine.”

The sirens are deafening now and she knows they’re pulling up outside. She smiles and releases a short laugh. “They’re here,” she says. “Hold on, Hotch. Just a little longer.”

He blinks slowly, trying to focus on her. “He told me I should’ve,” his eyes close momentarily and then open, “that I should’ve made a deal.”

Her brow pinches, but she doesn’t have time to push further as the paramedics come crashing through the door.

“Over here!” she calls.

Immediately they try to take over. “Ma’am, it’s ok,” the female medic says. “You can take your hands off of him.”

It takes a moment for her voice to register, but Emily does as she is told. She releases the pressure she’d been holding to his injuries, and rolls back on to her heels into a standing position to give them space.

“Heart rate is elevated, pressure is dropping.” The medic evaluates. “Start an IV and hang pressors.”

Emily watches them work, her pulse pounding in her ears. While one pushes the IV into his arm, the other fastens a brace around his neck before moving on to snip away what’s left of his shirt and begin packing the knife wounds with gauze. It’s like the world is moving in slow motion. She doesn’t even register when her phone rings until the medic brings her attention to it. She blinks hard and apologizes. She bends down and scoops it into her hand, smearing blood across the screen as she flips it open. She curses as Spencer’s name flashes under the smudge. She turns her wrist to glance at her watch. It’s been forty five minutes and she told Reid that she’d be back in under thirty.

She wastes no time explaining the situation. Reid reports understanding. Before she hangs up she says, “Reid, it’s bad.” For the first time since finding him, tears choke her voice. “I’ll call Penelope at the hospital, but do not tell the others. You all need to focus on the case.”

Emily hastily hangs up and moves to follow the paramedics as they maneuver the gurney through the apartment.

They stop though as Hotch asks them to wait, his voice imperceptible. His hand falls limply off the gurney and Emily steps in, taking it into hers.

“What did he leave?” he asks, though his voice is muddled by the oxygen mask that’s been placed over his mouth and nose. “What did he take?”

“I-I don’t,” she stammers in response. The Reaper’s profile flashes through her mind’s eyes. The glasses, the wedding ring, he always takes and he always gives. “I don’t know, Hotch.”

She nods to the medics, signaling them to keep moving. Emily doesn’t drop his hand. As long as she can feel the warmth of his skin on hers, she knows he’s alive. That he’s still here.

Crime techs and police units are pulling up to the building as they load Hotch into the back of the ambulance. Emily watches on from her seat, anxiety clawing at her insides as she does her best to stay out of the paramedics’ way as they continue to work on stabilizing Hotch.

The blaring sirens echo in her head, rattling around and bouncing off of her skull. It’s not a sound she’s unfamiliar with, but today it’s drone seems more of a death march than a rally cry. The cavalry isn’t coming to save the day, but rather fleeing from death’s grip.

The ambulance comes to a grating stop and the medics waste no time flinging open the doors and pushing Hotch out. Emily follows quickly and as doctors and nurses swarm the gurney, arms reach out to halt her movement.

Emily cranes her neck around the woman that’s stopped her, pushing against her as she tries to follow the team of doctors that have disappeared behind two swinging double doors.

“No, I have to follow him. I’m an FBI agent,” she states, attempting to leverage some form of authority over the situation.

“Ma’am, he’s being rushed to surgery. I need to make sure you’re alright. Where are you injured?”

Emily’s face screws up, her lips turning and brow furrowing. “Injured? I’m not—” It’s then she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the lobby window. Her face is smeared with Hotch’s blood. Like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, her eyes drop to her hands, which are covered front and back with blood. The red substance stains the skin on her arms as well as the entire front of the dressy tank top she’d been wearing under her blazer. “It’s not mine,” she finally says.

The nurse’s face softens and Emily hates the way her eyes fill with sympathy. “Is there anyone I can call?”

Yeah, about 7, but they’re all occupied or on death’s door.

“No,” she says. “I can just,” she rubs her temple and takes a deep breath. “Where’s the closest waiting area?”

The nurse tsks and shakes her head. “No, no, come on,” she says, gesturing for Emily to follow her. “You can shower in the locker room. I’ll get a pair of scrubs for you to wear and a bag to store your clothes in.”

Emily thanks her and follow silently, twisting and turning through the many hallways until she reaches the door labeled “Women’s Locker Room.”

“There’s soaps and hair products in each shower. I’ll be right back. Go on in. I’ll leave everything on the bench for you.”

Emily nods her thanks and ducks inside. As she passes by the long stretch of mirror behind the row of sinks, her stomach lurches. It did look like she’d been on the receiving end of Foyet’s knife with how much blood covered the front of her body.

She tears her gaze away from her sullied figure and turns toward the showers. Slowly, she sinks down onto one of the wooden benches. Resting her elbows on her knees, she drops her head into her hands. Thick, hot tears blur her vision as she takes a shuddering breath.

2 minutes, she thinks. 2 minutes and then you pull yourself together.

No sooner does the thought cross her mind does the dam break and the tears free flow down her cheeks in thick, hot lines. She takes deep gasping breaths as the sobs rattle her body. Her mascara bleeds into her eyes, stinging them. Using the backs of her hands, she presses them to her eyes, wiping the tears away and no doubt smearing blood and makeup across her face in the process.

She blows out a breath and forces herself into a seated position. “He’s going to be alright,” she affirms to no one but herself. She stands on shaky legs and feels the weight of exhaustion slowly creeping into her muscles. She kicks out of her boots and undresses.

She swipes at the faucet inside the shower and doesn’t wait for it to warm up before standing under the icy stream of water. She gasps and sputters but keeps her face under the flow. Once the water begins to heat up, she opens her eyes and glances down at her feet. Blood sleuces down her legs in pink rivulets, swirling and disappearing down the drain.

She pumps the lavender scented shower gel into her hand from the dispenser on the wall and scrubs her skin until it’s red and raw. She works it under her nails and up and down her limbs. It feels like it’s stained her permanently, his blood, inked onto her like a tattoo. After washing her hair, she cuts the water off and squeezes the water from her dark locks. She pulls the shower curtain open and just as the nurse had said, everything had been left for her in a neat pile on the bench. The nurse had even bagged her dirty clothes for her, not like Emily would try to salvage them. She dresses quickly in the pair of blue scrubs. They're a little big on her, but it feels so good to not be wearing clothes soaked with Hotch’s blood.

Slowly, but surely, she retraces her steps back to the waiting room and the charge nurse at the desk tells her Hotch is still in surgery. Of course he is. It had only been twenty five minutes since she’d arrived.

At least if he’s still in surgery, he’s still alive, she thinks, though the thought is still far from comforting.

Reluctantly, Emily crosses the waiting room and sinks into one of the plastic covered chairs settling in for a painfully long afternoon that smelled like antiseptic.

•

It bewilders her to look down at the hard tile floor and not see a path worn down to the cement underneath. How long had she been pacing this same stretch of floor in the waiting room? Her thumb nail aches from where she’d been anxiously gnawing it down to the quick, a bad habit she’d fought for years to quit, but in her most vulnerable moments came back.

She glances down at her watch, of which she’d been ninety eight percent successful at cleaning free of Hotch’s blood. She’d have to send it out to get the bits stuck in between the interlocking pieces of the wrist band cleaned out. It had been three hours. She blows out an exasperated breath.

Surely there would have been some update by now. What if he’s—

She’s unable to finish the thought when a doctor pushes through the double doors where Hotch had disappeared behind earlier.

She perks up and sends up a silent prayer that he’s on his way to see her. He wears a surgeon’s cap, covering his short blonde hair, and as he meets her eyes, she knows it’s the doctor that operated on Hotch.

“Well?” she asks, her voice shaking with the anticipation of news. “How is he?”

The doctor approaches and slows to a stop in front of her. “It was touch and go there for a while. He lost a lot of blood. We were able to stabilize him, but it’ll take some time for him to heal. He’ll be out of commission for a month, maybe longer.”

“Can I see him?” Emily asks, eyes pleading.

A glimmer of sympathy flashes across the surgeon’s eyes. He nods. “He’s unconscious now. When he wakes, he’ll likely be out of it. He’s under the influence of some pretty strong painkillers.”

Emily swallows and nods as she inhales. “I understand.”

The doctor’s eyes shift then and Emily immediately realizes he’s got more to say. “Is there something more I should know?”

“Well,” he begins. “When you brought him, you confirmed with the paramedics and nurses that that is indeed, Aaron Hotchner.”

Emily’s features twist, puzzled by his question. “Yes?”

“We found this when we cut his clothes off of him.” He reaches into his pocket and passes Emily a bifold badge identical to hers. She flips it open, eyes widening as she reads Derek Morgan’s name and her mind flashes to several weeks earlier when he’d lost his credentials. George Foyet had stolen them from him.

“Thank you,” she says and tucks the badge into the scrubs pocket. “Derek is a member of our team. This relates to a case we’re working on. I’m afraid I can’t say more. Please,” she says, her words now a plea, “take me to him.”

The doctor hesitates, like he might say more, but he doesn’t. “Follow me, then.”

•

Her eyelids are so heavy, but she refuses to fall asleep in case he wakes up. She takes another sip from the now lukewarm hospital coffee. It’s bitter on her tongue and her stomach roils as it travels down her esophagus. When was the last time she ate? She glances at the clock and it’s pushing 3:00PM. School would be getting out soon. Her thoughts wander to Reid and the team, and if they’d had any luck with locating the unsub threatening the doctor and his son. How could this be the same day she’d woken up on? It felt like it had been days since she said goodnight and kissed Hotch goodbye after he walked her to her car last night. It was only this morning since they were supposed to go to breakfast and enjoy the rare day off from cases and unsubs and torture and murder.

She holds Hotch’s loose hand in hers, the feel of his skin and its warmth a comfort. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, and rotates his hand gently to hold it against her cheek. Closing her eyes, she leans into his palm and kisses the skin there gently. “I should’ve gone home with you,” she whispers, “Maybe I could’ve done something.”

She ponders the likelihood of that as she sits there watching the rise and fall of his chest, the steady beeping of the heart monitor pulsing rhythmically beside her. Now and then the blood pressure cuff around his arm hisses as it contracts and releases. What were the odds that her being there would’ve changed the outcome? The Reaper had almost exclusively killed couples, but those were in smaller enclosed settings. He took advantage of couples by trapping them in their vehicles, minimizing their ability to escape. Hotch might have still taken off his gun, but would she have? Would Foyet have even had the chance to get the shot off? Or would that bullet have gone into her instead of the wall?

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy, Emily,” she whispers to herself. She knows there is no sense in reviewing the ‘what if’s,’ but it seems impossible when her entire support system is unavailable and she’s keeping this monumental secret from them.

“Just wake up, Hotch,” she quietly pleads before pressing another kiss to his hand. “I just need you to be okay.”

Her eyes flare as she feels the slightest twitch against her ring finger. She sits up straighter and holds his hand in both hers.

“Hotch?”

Her breathing stills. Did she imagine that? She squeezes his hand in hers.

“It’s Emily, Aaron. I’m here.”

Faintly, his fingers press into hers. An excited bubble of laughter escapes her lips as relief floods through her veins. She kisses his knuckles. “Thank God,” she whispers.

“Emi—” his voice is hoarse as he starts, but doesn’t finish her name. His eyes don’t open, but his head tilts in her direction.

“I’m right here, Hotch,” she says, shushing him. “I’m not going anywhere. Just, just rest.”

Hotch hums a response but doesn’t articulate anything further than that.

“Emily!” Garcia’s voice is filled with both pain and relief.

She sits up and gingerly lays Hotch’s hand back down on the bed. “Penelope!” Emily stands up and quickly closes the space between them and pulls her into a tight embrace.

“Oh, honey,” Penelope soothes as she rubs a hand up and down Emily’s back. “I’m so sorry you were dealing with this all by yourself.” She pulls away and looks her up and down from behind the lenses of her purple glasses.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Emily says. Her brow pinches. “But the team, the case—”

Penelope’s pink-painted lips curve into a smile as she holds up a manicured finger, cutting her off. “Not to worry, my sweet girl. The case is closed. The team saved the day. All is good in the world.” Penelope purses her lips as she pauses. “Well, except for the part where Agent Hotchner was treated like mincemeat and Reid was shot.”

Emily’s head snaps up. “Reid was what?” she shouts.

Penelope’s eyes widen and the glittery green eyeshadow she’s applied to her eyelids shines under the fluorescent hospital lighting. She waves her hands in front of her body, the multi-colored bangles on her wrist jingling as she does so. “No, no, no, no, no,” she repeats again and again. “He’s fine, he’s fine. He caught one in the leg, but he’s ok. I think he’s being patched up down the hall.”

Emily is already halfway out the door as she calls over her shoulder, “Maybe lead with that next time!”

Penelope’s high-heeled clad feet click and clack as she teeters after her. “Sorry!” she cries as she catches up to her. “So much has happened today I’m just glad that everyone is ok, well, as ok as one can be given the circumstances of the last 72 hours.”

Emily inclines her head to the side and blows air out through her nose. “You could say that again.” Without pausing to peer inside and be sure she’s in the right room, she enters the only other hospital room with an open door, the sound of voices telling her she’s found the right place.

Morgan, Rossi, and JJ stand around the hospital. They’re faces all bear surprised expressions and confusion. Somehow she finds it in herself to crack a joke, “Guys, I get it. My Prada boots don’t match the scrubs, it’s not that bad.”

Morgan breaks apart from the semi-circle that’s formed around Spencer, who also looks incredibly happy to see her despite his injured leg, and pulls her into a hug. “You could’ve called,” he chastises.

Emily rolls her eyes as she pulls away and transitions into JJ’s open arms. “You would’ve made the same call, Morgan. He grunts in response and she smirks to herself.

“How’s Hotch?” Spencer asks, using his fists to push himself into a sitting position without bending his braced leg.

Emily blows out a breath. “He’s in pretty bad shape, I won’t lie. What do we have on Foyet? Anything?”

Rossi shakes his head. “Nothing yet. Crime techs are still going over the apartment.”

“Someone needs to tell them to look for anything that looks like it might be missing; disturbed dust, signs something was torn from something, anything.”

“What are you getting at, Emily?” Derek asks.

Her gaze locks on his as she reaches into her pocket. Without looking, she passes his credentials to him. His eyes shimmer with concern as he takes his badge from her. “Where did you find this?”

“The surgeon,” she gestures aimlessly toward the day. “It was in his pants pocket. Foyet must have put it there after he,” she pauses, voice wavering.

“Ok,” Morgan says, tucking his badge into his pocket. “Thanks, Emily. Rossi, can you?”

“Already on it,” Rossi answers, phone up to his ear. Someone answers almost immediately and he begins to deliver instructions to them regarding this development.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness and nausea crashes over her. Emily takes a step and stumbles, catching herself on the rail of Spencer’s hospital bed.

“Emily!” Spencer and JJ shout in unison, though JJ is the one to catch her, holding her up with a supportive arm.

Emily blinks twice, hard. The wave passes and she straightens, shrugging out of JJ’s arms though JJ keeps her hand on her back just in case.

“Prentiss, when’s the last time you had something to eat or drink?” Morgan asks, and he sounds more like her father, than her friend.

Her eyes search the room for a clock and quickly land on the digital red numbers blinking up from a small box on the bedside table. 6:04 PM blinks back at her. “What time did we land last night?” she asks.

Morgan releases an exasperated sigh. “That’s it, I’m taking you home.” He reaches for her arm and Emily recoils. “No, Morgan. I’m fine. I need to stay here. Hotch—”

“Will be fine,” he finishes. His brown eyes are hard, but there’s concern in them too. “You’re no good to him, or anyone here if you pass out. Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Emily emerges from her bathroom smelling like her own vanilla-scented shower gel and floral shampoo. She pulls her robe around her and pulls the ties around her waist, securing it at her navel. She smells a combination of aromatic spices and exits the bedroom to find Morgan closing the door to her apartment. In his hand is a white plastic bag, its sides fit to bursting from the number of styrofoam takeout containers stacked inside.

He smiles, flashing a row of white teeth as he does so. He holds up the bag and shakes it, wiggling his hips as he does so. “I got your favorite,” he sing-songs. “We are going to have an Indian feast. We got butter chicken. We got chana masala. We got paneer, and girl, we got enough naan to last us a lifetime.”

Emily smiles, though it feels almost wrong to do so when Hotch and Spence are in the hospital and Foyet is still out there.

As if reading her thoughts, Morgan shakes his head and drops the food on her coffee table. “No,” he says as he shakes his head. “Nope, come on,” he takes her by the hand and guides her to the sofa. “You are allowed to eat and rest. Hotch is stable and Penelope is knitting the world’s longest scarf at his bedside as we speak. JJ just texted me and they’re taking Spencer home now.” He plops on the couch and pulls her down to sit beside him. “You’re only job right now,” he says as digs in his pocket and pulls out a plastic-wrapped set of disposable silverware, “is to eat, drink, and sleep.”

Emily wakes with a start. Very seldom did she fall asleep on the couch. The credits to How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days roll on the flat screen. She pushes herself into a seated position and that’s when she realizes she’d fallen asleep on Morgan’s shoulder. He stirs but doesn’t wake as she stands and picks up the now very empty takeout boxes. She crinkles the aluminum foil linings as quietly as she can as she pushes the trash down into the bin in her kitchen. The headache she’d had when they’d left the hospital is gone, thanks to the many glasses of water Morgan has pushed in front of her. She flips off the kitchen light and crosses back into the living room where she picks up the remote to turn off the TV. Pulling the throw blanket off of the back of the couch, she tosses it over Morgan’s hulking frame and her lips curve into a half smile as he subconsciously snuggles into the plush blanket.

“Goodnight, Derek,” she whispers as she walks to her bedroom and shuts the door behind her. She leans her back against the wood of the door. Light from the streetlights streams in through her partially open blinds, casting strange shadows around the room. She twists them shut, blocking out the light, and climbs into bed. Her muscles ache as she sinks into the mattress, finally allowing them to relax and after making them carry her through the day. She turns onto her side and stares at the empty space beside her. She pictures Hotch resting his head on the pillow next to hers, smiling and telling her goodnight; what they should’ve been doing last night. Instead, he’d been mutilated on the floor of his home, where he was supposed to feel safe after a day of combatting danger.

She blinks back tears and pushes the thought from her mind. “Hotch is fine,” she whispers, reminding herself. As her eyes fall shut and she allows sleep to finally drag her into its cool embrace, she thinks of Hotch squeezing her hand in the hospital. She thinks of its warmth. It’s enough to promise her a dreamless sleep, and that’s far better than being haunted by nightmares.

Emily wakes with the sun. The golden light streams through the blinds in slats across her bed. She glances at the clock and it reads 6:34 AM. A full 7 hours, that was more sleep than she’d had since before the team left for Canada.

After quickly going through the motions of her morning routine: washing her face, brushing her teeth and hair, and dressing in a comfortable pair of leggings and Hotch’s old FBI Academy sweatshirt, she emerges from her bedroom.

Morgan is still right where she left him, though at some point during the night, he’d stretched the length of his body across the whole of the couch. She stifles a laugh. One leg is dangling off of the couch while one arm is stretched straight out overhead. His mouth hangs open as he cuddles the bulk of the throw blanket against his chest. Silently, she pads across the room to where she left her phone on the kitchen counter. Approaching a sleeping Derek with as little sound as she can muster, she flips open her cell phone and snaps a pic. Derek’s eyes snap open and widen as he immediately sees Emily with the phone in hand.

“Oh hell, no!” he jumps up from the couch but before he can take one step, the throw blanket twists around his ankles effectively tripping him. Those three seconds are enough for Emily to text the photo to Garcia.

“Gimme that phone!” Derek orders as he finally makes it to his feet and tries to wrangle it from her. As he wraps his arms around her from behind, Prentiss can’t help but laugh. “Too late, Morgan. I already sent her the photo of Sleeping Beauty. You know that’s going in the archive.”

Morgan releases her and points a finger at her. “As long as it doesn’t make it into the slideshow at the Christmas party.”

Emily arches an eyebrow and tilts her head back and forth, weighing the likelihood of that. “We’ll have to see about that.”

Morgan laughs and his features soften into a gentle smile. He inclines his head toward her. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

She feels heat rise to her cheeks, and a small wave of guilt crashes over her. She allows it to do so and then envisions it cresting before rolling gently over a sandy beach. She takes a deep breath and smiles knowing that Hotch would want her to be laughing and joking despite what he’s been through. He’d remind her that Foyet would’ve been there regardless of if she’d come home with him. And she knew that he’d be telling her that he was glad she wasn’t there, because he couldn’t bear to see anything happen to her.

“Thanks for last night,” she says. “I really needed it.”

Morgan waves her off. “Nah, it’s nothing. We’re family, Prentiss.”

“I know,” she says with a smile. “Do you want to grab breakfast or a coffee? I’m going to head back to the hospital and relieve Garcia.”

Morgan claps his hands together, “That shitty diner on 8th?”

Emily moans at the thought of a sausage, egg, and cheese bagel crammed into a plastic red basket overrun by a mountain of red potatoes. “Oh my God, yes. You know, I don’t know what they put in their food, and I don’t think I want to, but damn, a big pile of grease is exactly what I need right now.

Morgan grabs the car keys off the counter and pockets them. “I’m driving.”

•

Derek drops her off at the hospital’s front entrance. He rolls down the window as she circles the car. “Tell Garcia I’m waiting for her.”

Emily’s lips quirk into a half smile. “I’ll be sure to tell her her chariot awaits.” She raises her cup of coffee to him, “Thank you, Derek. For last night.”

He winks, “That’s what family’s for, right?”

She nods and turns toward the hospital. She navigates the twists and turns of the hallways, keeping out of the way of doctors and nurses as they go about their duties. After signing in at the nurses station, she shoulders her purse, picks up both cups of coffee and heads toward Hotch’s room.

“Knock, knock,” she vocalizes, unable to physically knock on the half open door. Using her shoulder, she pushes it open and steps inside.

“Emily!” Garcia greets cheerfully. She sits in a chair near the hospital bed. Her chunky ring-adorned fingers hold knitting needles paused in mid-air, a lengthy scarf made up of maroon fibers hanging down to her ankles.

Her eyebrows knit together as she eyes the scarf. She smiles at her friend. “Been busy?”

“I think I fell asleep to the sound of those needles clacking together,” Hotch says. Emily’s attention shifts to him and her smile widens. The bed is angled, allowing him to rest in a half-seated position. There seems to be more color on his face today and that floods her chest with warmth. Just barely, he inclines his head toward her. “Is one of those for me?”

Emily sucks air through her teeth. “Ooo, sorry. This is for Penelope.”

Garcia perks up. “Yes, please!” she says. “Give that caffeine to mama.” She lays her knitting needles in her lap and holds out her hands, thanking Emily when she passes her the cup.

“Morgan is waiting for you at the entrance.”

A flirtatious grin crosses Penelope’s lips. “My knight in shining armor, come to get me from this extra sanitary antiseptic-rich tower. Someone catch me as I swoon.” She tucks the mass of yarn into her bag and stands. “It’s been a pleasure, sir. I’ll have this scarf waiting for you on your desk when you return.”

As she passes Emily, she gives her a peck on the cheek. “He’s all yours, kitten.” She sashays out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her on the way out.

The room is small and she crosses the short space in a matter of steps. She exhales as she takes the seat previously occupied by Penelope. Hotch flexes his hand as he inches it closer to the bedside and Emily takes it in hers.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, squeezing her hand.

Emily breathes out a short laugh. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Well, I feel like I’ve been stabbed nine times, but that’s to be expected. I understand that you almost fainted yesterday.”

“I—” Emily’s mouth clamps shut as she feels the weight of his hard stare on her. “Did Garcia say that? I wouldn’t say I fain—”

“Emily.”

She hates that tone of voice. His supervisory voice. The one he uses to give orders. The one he uses when they’re acting as colleagues, not partners.

She rolls her eyes. “Hotch, don’t give me that look.” She then aims a pointed look of her own towards him. “And you’re not my boss right now. In fact, you’re not even allowed to think about work for the next four to six weeks as far as I’m concerned, so lose the ‘I’m-your-boss’ tone.”

Aaron’s brow arches slightly at her challenge. “Fair enough,” he relents. “You didn’t answer my question though. How are you feeling?”

Emily relaxes as his tone does and gently taps his fingers with her own. “Better than I was yesterday. Morgan took me home. He ordered takeout, I made him watch my favorite chick flick—”

“ How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days?”

Emily’s jaw drops, her open mouth smiling. “You remembered that?”

“I heard you and JJ talking about it on the plane,” he answers, smiling. “I do my best to remember little things like that about everyone,” he inclines his head towards her, “you especially.”

Emily can’t fight the pinkening of her cheeks. “Why do you do that?”

“It reminds me that we’re all individuals beyond the case files; that we’re not just behavior analysts, that we don’t just spend time studying and watching the why’s, what’s, and how’s that make up other people’s lives, but that we have those same qualities about ourselves. That we have hobbies and interests and beliefs outside of the bureau. If I don’t do that, well, I wouldn’t be a very good boss, now would I?”

A small sound of disbelief passes her lips. She’d had the pleasure of scaling the walls that he’d erected to distance himself from others allows him to lead his team from a place free of bias, but hearing him dictate that despite all of that and the image he projects, he is still internalizing all the bits and pieces that make each of them human. That that’s what makes him human.

“Ya know, if the team finds out you’re actually a big softie, you’ll never hear the end of it.” She says.

“Yes,” his lips twitch into a soft smile. “Well, I think they know that and just choose not to say anything about it.” He squeezes her hand again. “I’ll have to thank Morgan. I’m sorry for what you must have gone through.”

Her face falls. “Oh, Aaron don’t. You don’t need to—”

His eyes are hard again as he speaks. “I do. To find me like that after what we’d all gone through together in Canada. It couldn’t have been easy. Your response time was critical. I know you, Emily. I know you immediately had to force yourself into action. I know you had to bury your emotions to see past me; to see past your colleague and partner. And I know that wasn’t easy. I also know you couldn’t tell anyone else because you didn’t want to distract them from the case at hand. I also know that you were willing to sit in the waiting room covered in my blood until you knew I was alright. You did all of this on little food and drink, and even less sleep.”

Emily stares at his hand around hers, unmoving, as he speaks. In her mind’s eyes, the images of yesterday flash in rapid succession: finding him, his face twisted in pain as she applied pressure to the stab wounds, stumbling out of the ambulance as he was whisked out of reach, his blood spiraling down the drain in the hospital’s locker room…

“Emily.” Her name is lighter on his tongue this time; not an order, but a light guiding her back to the present moment. Her eyes focus on him and relief floods throughout her entire body. His hand is warm in hers.

Suddenly, pressure builds in her eyes, the heavy heat that comes before tears. She swallows and when she finds her voice, it wavers, “I was so scared, Aaron.”

“I know.”

“If I hadn’t found you, if you’d di—” Her voice breaks and she swallows the growing lump in her throat. She breathes deeply in a poor attempt to compose herself.

“But I didn’t,” Aaron states firmly. “Emily, I’m alive because you found me. Don’t sit here and torture yourself with ‘what-ifs.’ You know better than that.”

Emily nods and tucks the strands of hair that have fallen from her ponytail behind her ears. “You’re right, I’m just,” she sighs, “I wish there was more that I could do.”

“What you’re doing is already enough,” he says. “And,” he adds, “if the idea of moving my body didn’t make me think I’d physically pass out from the pain, I’d be putting my arms around you so you’d feel comforted and trust that I am so utterly grateful that you chose to go home that night.”

His fingers twitch, but he winces as he tries to lift them off the mattress. Emily reacts immediately and slips her cool slender fingers back into his hand. His are longer, rougher, and curl around hers.

When Emily speaks, her voice is soft. If she speaks any louder she’ll fear it’ll crack and she doesn’t want to cry again. “When they say you can leave here,” she starts and allows her lips to twitch into a whisper of a smile, “Can I come home with you?”

Hotch smiles in turn. “Come here.”

Emily stands and leans down, her bound hair falling just so over her shoulder as she does.

“Closer,” he says and she acquiesces, lowering herself so that her lips are hovering just over his and she can feel his breath on her skin.

His lips are as light as air as he brushes a feather-light kiss against her mouth. It’s all that he can do in his current condition, but the feel of it is enough to melt the icy grief that had been clinging to her these last thirty-six hours, and now it felt as though the sun was shining on her bare skin in this small sterile hospital room.

“My home is your home, Emily. And you’ll always be welcome.”

[em-prentiss]

baby, it's cold outside

----

Aaron reaches behind him for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. “Are you dressed well enough?” He murmurs, his voice mellowing to the same tone he uses with the kids—loving, faintly chiding—as he folds the blanket around her shoulders, tucking it so that it curves around the lines of her body.

Emily rolls her eyes. “Uh, yeah—”

“Mommy, Daddy, look!”

“It’s snowing!”

Or, the Hotchners greet the first snow of the season.

Word count: 1.8k

Thank you to @/redasroses for the prompt! ;)

----

Emily closes her eyes and leans into Aaron, her frigid fingers curling around his elbow as she tries to leech warmth from him. It usually flows from him in superfluous waves, but the biting chill is smothering it, snuffing out the excess and leaving just enough to keep him warm. She’s more upset about that than she has any right to be. 

Fingers of ice press along the back of her neck; Emily shudders.

“Supposed t’be the coldest day of the year today,” she mumbles into his neck, shoving her cold nose further into it. “Think that’s true?”

“Feels like it.” His voice is in her hair, his hand kneading warmth down her thigh. “Where’d you hear?”

“Reid. And the forecast,” Emily shivers again, the cold still somehow finding her under the thick wool of her sweater. Giving up, she swings a knee over Aaron’s hip and slides into his lap, briefly astonished at the silence around them. 

She hasn’t seen the kids in over ten minutes. Emily is almost ashamed to admit she doesn’t care what it is they’re doing—almost—as long as it allows her this rare slice of quiet with her husband.

“Didn’t mess with the heating, did you?” She asks, his hand on her waist steadying her until their chests are flush. Emily knows he didn’t—it’s December, and Theo has inherited her perpetual state of cold—but the exchange of words is nice. She almost can’t remember the last time she idly talked to him, shared useless words that do nothing but provide her with the low rumble of his voice in return.

“No, honey. It’s December.” His brow quirks. Emily has to hide a smile, stopping its spread with a bite of her teeth as Aaron reaches behind him for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. “Are you dressed well enough?” He murmurs, his voice mellowing to the same tone he uses with the kids—loving, faintly chiding—as he folds the blanket around her shoulders, tucking it so that it curves around the lines of her body.

Emily rolls her eyes. “Uh, yeah—”

“Mommy, Daddy, look!”

“It’s snowing!”

At the thundering of feet on the floor, Emily extracts herself from Aaron’s arms, slipping out of his lap and onto the couch just as the kids burst into the living room, eyes bright and color high in their cheeks.

“It’s snowing!” Jack and Theo say in unison, grinning excitedly—Theo with a missing bottom tooth. They crowd around the couch, pleading hands on their parents’ knees.

“Can we go outside?” Jack directs the question to Aaron, old enough to know that his will is easier to bend.

“Please?” Theo follows, beaming past the lisp in his tongue. 

“Even Janie wants to.”

Emily’s brows quirk, a smile curving her lips as she smooths Jack’s hair back. “Where is Janie anyway? You guys didn’t leave her—”

“’owing!” Jane announces breathlessly, tiny legs a blur as they carry her across the living room. Her soft socks slip on the floor before she reaches them. She teeters, arms flailing, and Aaron shoves himself from the couch, lightning quick as he picks her up and steadies her in his arms.

“Is it, honey?” He presses her to his chest, the low exhale he blows out merging with the kiss he presses to her hair. Jane’s head thuds against his shoulder when she nods, her fingers going to her mouth as Aaron pulls open the curtains and peers outside. His lips curve.

“It is snowing,” he confirms softly.

Emily smiles. 

“C’mon, Mom!” 

She’s suddenly being pulled off the couch, two persistent hands wrapping around hers. Emily laughs as they tug, ice digging into her skin as they force her up with—surprising—combined strength. Her blanket slips off her shoulders, pooling on the couch in a crumpled heap that steals warmth from her body. 

Jack and Theo drag her to the door. Emily lets out a disapproving sound, steering them instead to their bedroom.

“Coats first.” She says, looking over her shoulder to find Aaron and Jane following. Their toddler is contentedly wrapped around his neck, watching with wide eyes from her preferred perch up against his chest. Ever since she was born she favored his embrace, crying a little harder and taking longer to settle when he wasn’t there to put her down for the night. It used to make Emily’s chest twinge painfully—hell, it still does sometimes, when Jane makes a beeline for him the moment they step through the door—but in times like this, seeing the contrast of her colorful reindeer pajamas against his black sweater that she has clutched in her fist, soothes the sting.

The smile he gives her is soft, the heat spilling from her chest almost enough to chase the cold entirely from her bones. Emily gets tugged into the boys’ room; she cranes her neck back at Aaron, heels digging into the floor to stop them from pulling her further in.

“And a snowsuit,” she murmurs, meeting Jane’s eyes—her own—and giving her a wink, grinning when she giggles into Aaron’s chest, “a cute one. It’s her first snowfall.”

“C’mon, Mommy,” Theo whines into her leg. Emily places a consolatory hand on his hair, her fingers sifting through the threads.

“All of her snowsuits are cute,” Aaron smiles as he takes Jane into her nursery. “You made sure of that.”

Damn right she did.

“Mom.” A hard tug pulls her in.

“Woah!” Emily stumbles into their bedroom, only half exaggerated. “What are we feeding you guys?” She wrinkles her nose, raking a hand through Jack’s hair on the way to the wardrobe. Matching giggles follow her as she takes out snow gear and gloves (“Gloves are lame” “Well then I guess we’re staying in” “No! They’re cool” ) and precautionary hats, probably too thick for the light dusting outside. In the boys’ excitement, it hardly takes two minutes for them to bundle up—gloves and hats included, with no complaints. 

When she meets Aaron at the door, Emily immediately melts at the sight of Jane in her snowsuit.

“Oh my god, look at this cute little princess.” She croons, holding her hands out. Jane accepts, and Emily smothers the side of her face with kisses; she’s more of a clingy girl than a daddy’s girl most of the time, so affection is often accepted, even from Emily.

“Where’s your coat?” Aaron frowns. She’s still in her sweatshirt and sweatpants, not a stitch of other clothing on her.

“I’m good,” Emily grins. “I’m fine. Perfect, I’m all warm, trust me.” Liquid warmth is in her veins, getting hotter when Jane’s soft hair tickles the underside of her jaw. She hoists her higher on her hip, nudges Jack to the door, “Let’s go.”

“Mommy you gotta wear somethin’.” Theo scolds, frowning as he impatiently twists the doorknob.

“Exactly right, Mommy’s gotta wear something.” Aaron nods. The smile on his face is proud, if distinctly smug. 

Emily rolls her eyes, half amused, half touched. She’s just about to acquiesce when Jack moves, grabbing a scarf from the coat hanger. He wraps it around her neck, a concentrated furrow between his brows as he tucks it around Jane, careful not to wrap it around her. The wool settles at her throat as Aaron stalks away quietly, Jane’s head thudding on Emily’s shoulder as she looks after him.

Jack steps back when he’s done, his eyes assessing his handiwork. Emily smiles as she cups his cheek, bending to kiss his forehead.

“That’s perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You still need a coat,” he frowns.

“Daddy got a coat!” Theo announces as Aaron comes back, fitting the coat around Emily’s shoulders. She smiles when he helps her fit her arms through the sleeves, shifting Jane from one side to the other as she babbles quietly in her ear.

Even without the coat, she was boiling a hundred degrees. 

“Now we’re all set, aren’t we?” Aaron asks the boys. They nod enthusiastically and he smiles, reaching for the doorknob. “We’re not gonna stay out there too long, though, you have school tomorrow.”

“School’s gonna be canceled,” Theo says confidently. 

Emily laughs, exchanging an amused glance with Aaron. “I wouldn’t be so sure, handsome.”

A sulk draws itself between Theo’s brows. A perfect mix of Aaron’s frown and Emily’s pout, his lips purse, curving to wrap around what’s no doubt is why. 

“Wh—”

“We can cancel school.” Jack pipes up.

“We can?” Theo gapes.

“We cannot.” Aaron intervenes. “Jack just means that you guys can stay home. Which is”—he glances at Emily—“unlikely, so don’t get your hopes up. Listen, we’ll be out there for 15 minutes tops, okay? Janie can’t stay out for too long and you guys have to get ready for bed.”

The disgruntled protests that rise are quickly drowned out when Aaron opens the door, letting in the cold air. Snow flutters down in a flurry, sinking onto the plush canvas that already coats the street in white. The boys immediately shoot off, running down the porch as Aaron calls out for them to be careful, the smile obvious in his voice even though Emily’s not looking. She’s lifting the hood of the snowsuit over Jane’s head, protecting the fluffy ends of her pigtails from the snow before stepping off the porch.

“Look at that, Janie,” she whispers, tracking her daughter’s eyes as they swallow up the soft flakes of snow drifting down. “It’s snow. Not enough to make you a snow angel,” Emily smiles, watching a snowflake catch on the tip of her nose and melt seconds later, “but we can do that tomorrow, yeah?”

“I think someone’s already attempting it,” Aaron chuckles, drawing Emily’s gaze away to Theo, on the ground with his arms and legs spread on the thin layer of snow. Jack is crouched down next to him, trying to gather the fallen snow into a ball.

Emily laughs, warmth bursting in her chest like fireworks. She looks up at Aaron, with snow catching in his hair and hanging on his lashes, and she thinks the cold isn’t as much of a bother as it was before. The chapped skin of her lips stretches over her teeth.

“Pwetty,” Jane mumbles, neck craned skyward.

“Pretty,” Aaron agrees. Emily catches the edge of his grin as he bends to kiss Jane’s forehead, his hands ghosting around hers on her snowsuit. She lets go and he lifts her up in his arms, a fond gleam in his eyes that makes her flush. “How about we try building a snowman, huh? A Janie sized snowman for Jane.”

Jane giggles, enchanted by the snow and her father’s attention, and as Emily follows them to where the boys are, she feels just as equally enchanted, her cheeks aching from the sting of the wind and her smile.

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

someone to watch me die.

chapter four: December 1993

You are cordially invited to the Prentiss' annual Christmas party. There may be fireworks.

Read on AO3

warnings: domestic violence (against women and children), substance abuse, addiction.

[sequinsmile-x]

….i should write this shouldn’t i 👀👀

[forhappysake]

hotch: has anyone seen reid? *heads shake, room falls silent* jj: wait, I hear something! *quiet sobs coming from a nearby closet* jj: found him!

[emilyprentiss-ily]

A new shade of red

tw: severe self harm, implied suicide, so much crying (be careful reading this<3)

summary: the team find emily and aaron’s daughter at her worst

wc: 2k

chapter: one | two

Emily couldn’t stop thinking about all the teams’ voices overlapping, their tones absolutely terrified as they panicked. In just a few short minutes, all their lives would be changed forever. Emily’s life as a mom would change, Aaron’s life as a dad would change. Their usual worries would be something else entirely.

“Hey, has anyone seen Lola?” Emily asked, her heart slightly racing as she looked at her team and her husband at the table, the volume in the room fading as they looked at Emily.

“I think she said she was going to the bathroom.” JJ answered, noticing Emily’s slightly wide eyes as she stood in front of them. The dark haired woman turned around, rushing down the hall to the bathroom, leaving the team looking at each other with frowns, confusion making it hard to resume talking about what they were just seconds ago.

JJ stood up, giving the team a small smile as she, too, walked down the hall, seeing Emily knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

“Lola?” Four more knocks. Nothing. “Honey, you’ve been in there for a long time now.” JJ just watched as Emily breathed heavily, not being able to stand completely still. “Lola?” Two more knocks. Nothing.

Emily turned around, looking at JJ with a frown, her hands on her waist as she bit her lower lip. JJ looked at her with soft, slightly wide eyes. Emily exhaled. “JJ, I…” It sounded like she swallowed a cry. “I need you to get Aaron here.” JJ heard the desperation in her friend’s voice and she nodded, hurrying to get him.

Emily stayed there, continuing to knock, telling herself that her thoughts were wrong. That this wasn’t really happening.

After moments, that felt far too long, her husband was by her side, asking if she was okay.

“I’m fine, I just… you need to get in there.” Emily tried to open the door, mentally telling herself that maybe it would magically open. Aaron looked at his wife, seeing her eyes shining with slight tears. Her voice was laced with concern and her breaths were short. “Aaron, right now. Open the door. I don’t care how you do it, just get it open.” Her words were hurried and she got a glance of JJ fidgeting with her fingers, her eyes unsure.

Aaron grabbed the handle, crashing the side of his body to the door over and over again. It felt like forever until the door finally opened and Aaron was not at all nearly prepared for the sight he was exposed to. There she was, his 15 year old daughter, blood covering her whole arm, her clothes and the floor. He opened his mouth in a silent gasp as he rushed to her side, horrified by how pale she was.

Emily and JJ caught sight of the situation and their hearts hurt as they saw Aaron try to talk Lola back to consciousness. Emily covered her mouth, tears burning in her eyes the second her palm touched her skin. JJ was right behind her, tears watering in her eyes too as she fumbled to get her phone from her pocket. The seconds felt too many as her shaky hands failed her.

“One of you has to call an ambulance, right now.” Aaron called out, cupping his hands over Lola’s arm, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

“I am. I am.” JJ’s voice trembled and she let out a relieved breath when she finally grabbed her phone, dialing 911. She grabbed Emily who had began depending on the wall as to not fall. Emily’s knees were weak and her body felt heavy as she felt an arm around her waist, pulling her away from the scene. Away from the image that was going to haunt her for years to come.

“How long, JJ?” The blonde heard Aaron ask.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to find out.” She inhaled, trying her best to comfort Emily who was seconds away from collapsing.

“Get me a first aid kit.” JJ didn’t know what to do. Her arm was beginning to hurt from trying to hold up Emily and her heart hurt as she couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening just a wall away. She couldn’t hear what the woman on the phone way saying, not clearly. She felt her lips move but she didn’t hear herself. She heard something that sounded like they were going to be there as fast as they could. JJ heard herself mutter a ‘thank you’ as she looked around for a first aid kit. She searched high up, seeing the green box she was looking for on a shelf. She reached up, her breaths uneven.

As soon as Aaron got a hold of the box, he immediately got to work, bandaging up his daughter’s arm, his chest hurting as he looked at his little girl, her face pale and head heavy.

“Lola, honey. I need you to look at me.” He said, slightly panicking as the blood seeped through the bandage. “Lola. Look at me.” His brown eyes met Lola’s dark ones. “Good. Keep looking at me.” He nodded, glancing at JJ who was barely visible behind the doorway. “JJ, get Rossi in here. You need to take care of Emily right now.” Aaron shouted, not sure if JJ even heard him through Emily’s sobs. There was no answer, but moments later, he heard hurrying footsteps and then David talking to the operator on JJ’s phone. Aaron exhaled, keeping light pressure on the bandage.

Without the phone in hand, JJ could finally keep her focus on Emily who was completely destroyed. In the corner of her eye, she saw Spencer rush in.

When Emily tried to go into the bathroom, JJ gripped her even tighter, keeping her away from the nightmare that was happening.

“No, no, no. Emily. Emily.” JJ softly spoke, her voice trembling as she lead the brunette out to the hall.

Emily leaned against the wall, hyperventilating as she slid down to the ground. JJ was right beside her, usually comforting words coming from her lips as her throat began to close up. They didn’t help much now. “Emily.” Her sobs were too loud. JJ placed her hands on Emily’s cheeks, caressing as she tried to initiate eye contact. “Emily, breathe. Emily. Emily. Look at me.” Emily looked up, her eyes carrying a certain heartbreak JJ had never seen before. Her feelings were overwhelming. “It’s going to be okay.” JJ nodded, Emily looked down, taking a short breath. “Look at me. Breathe.” Emily looked up again, her brown eyes staying on JJ’s blue ones.

“She looked like she was dead, JJ.” Emily was hysterical. The sentence made the blonde’s heart hurt.

“No, no, no. She’s not. She’s not dead. She’s not.” Emily just continued sobbing, placing her own hands over JJ’s.

“I can’t lose her. I ca—“ A sharp breath. “I can’t lose her, JJ. She’s my Lola. She’s my—“

“You won’t. They’re all helping her right now and an ambulance is coming. You will not lose her.” JJ heard her name being shouted and she panicked, not knowing what to focus on.

She quickly ran to the bathroom again, seeing Spencer in the doorway, looking at the scene with wide eyes. Quickly, she took a hold of his arms, looking into his eyes as she told him to go to Emily. He nodded, running out to the hall.

JJ exhaled as she rushed into the bathroom, seeing Lola’ scared eyes. JJ knew what the teenager needed.

Kneeling down, JJ placed her hands on Lola’s cheeks, looking into her misty eyes. The blonde tried her best to ignore just how much blood Lola was losing.

“Stay awake, Lola.” JJ chanted when she saw how Lola’s eyes began to slowly flutter closed. “Look at me. Stay awake.” JJ felt Lola grip her arm, blood smearing on her pale skin. There wasn’t much more they could do than internally pray that Lola was going to be okay.

Aaron had bandaged her arm and was keeping pressure on it. David had finished talking to the operator and now all they had to wait. It was the longest 10 minutes of her life. The longest 10 minutes of all their lives.

JJ’s eyes widened when Lola’s eyes closed completely. She lightly slapped her cheeks, chanting over and over again that she had to stay awake.

“No, no, no.” Her heart picked up speed for the thousandth time that night. “Lola. Lola. Lola. Open your eyes. Lola.” JJ teared up, she had never felt so hopeless and useless in her life. “Look at me.” The teenager suddenly opened her eyes, and JJ nodded in encouragement, never stopped looking into her eyes.

Lola’s vision was blurry when she opened her eyes. Her head was pounding and her ears were ringing. It took a while for her to realize who was in front of her. Her eyes finally focused after a while, seeing JJ looking at her with tears in her eyes. She felt the blonde’s hands on her cheeks, caressing lovingly, but Lola also felt how much they were trembling. Using all the little strength she had left, Lola weakly grabbed JJ’s hand, wanting her soft skin to be the last thing she felt, instead of her own blood, before she died.

A few beats and everything went black.

Now, as Emily sat in the hospital with the entire team there, no one speaking, she could not shake the thoughts of having to prepare to come home without her daughter. Having to tell Jack that his little sister had killed herself. She wouldn’t ever survive that. None of them would.

Emily closed her eyes, trying to get the thoughts to go away. She exhaled, gently squeezing JJ’s hand. The blonde hadn’t left Emily’s side since they arrived at the hospital.

Sitting in the waiting room was almost, selfishly, as bad as seeing her daughter on the floor. All the quiet, all the time to think about how long her daughter had been doing this. Emily didn’t miss the faint scars on her arms from what seemed like months prior to this. She didn’t know how they had missed it. Didn’t understand how Lola was in so much pain and they hadn’t seen it.

Emily felt a gentle squeeze back, but this time, it meant something more than comfort. Emily looked up, seeing a doctor walking towards her. She held her breath, putting her free hand where JJ and her were already holding hands, looking at the doctor with expectant eyes.

“Emily, is it?” Emily nodded, seeing Aaron come back from the bathroom. He hurried to Emily’s side when he saw the doctor. “We’ve moved your daughter to a ward.” The woman started. Aaron sat down next to his wife, Emily placing her head on his shoulder as they listened to the doctor, her hands still holding JJ’s tightly. “She’s just come out of surgery. She’ll need to be reviewed by psychiatry tomorrow morning.”

“Is she going to be okay, then?” Aaron asked, his voice hoarse and exhausted. Emily felt the way he sounded.

“We’ll know more tomorrow.” The doctor gave a comforting smile. “Do you want to see her?” Emily and Aaron both immediately nodded. Emily turned to JJ, giving her a small smile before she let go of her hand, feeling a small bit of emptiness at the loss of contact. Aaron placed his arm around Emily’s waist, both of them slightly shaking with nervousness as they followed the doctor down door after door.

Tears burned in Emily’s time again when she saw her daughter on the hospital bed. Seeing Lola so small and vulnerable, with a bandage covering her arm, made Emily quietly gasp. She was afraid she would never stop crying.

Aaron didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know what to do. He was mad at himself for not noticing just how much his own daughter was suffering. He was sad for not noticing how much his own daughter was suffering. At the same time, he felt numb. The feeling of his daughter’s blood in his hands made him feel so many overwhelming feelings, but he felt numb at the same time.

Two chairs were placed next to the bed and the parents hesitantly sat down, looking at their daughter who was asleep. Emily grabbed her hand, caressing it and saw how many scars Lola had on her arms. Emily quietly whimpered and felt Aaron take Lola’s hand as well. She looked at him. The love of her life, and saw how much he was hurting too. She placed her free hand on his cheek, caressing it as a tear rolled down his cheek. Her thumb delicately brushed it away. She wanted to say something. But she didn’t know what. What are you supposed to say when your daughter slits her wrists?

“She’ll be okay.” Emily ended up saying. She wanted to take it back the second she began the sentence. Aaron said nothing, he just looked down at their hands. “Aaron, honey? Are you listening to me?” Her voice was gentle. “She’s going to be okay.” She didn’t know why she said it again. Aaron nodded, a slight, obviously unsure nod. “Honey… look at me.” He did and when he raised his head, Emily saw how much Aaron wanted to cry. Let it out. Emily prayed that he wouldn’t keep this in until he eventually broke.

Aaron stared at what could’ve been Emily’s face, but she was too good of a profiler to see that his eyes were resting at a spot just past her ear. Silence for a moment and Emily was afraid that she was going to have to beg him to talk.

“…I should have noticed.” The words came so unexpectedly that Emily barely registered what he said. She blinked.

“Aaron…” Emily cooed

“We’re profilers.” He scoffed, his shiny gaze slipping back to their hands. “We’re parents. I missed it.”

“We all did.” Emily spoke. It was true. It was most likely hopeful ignorance, denial. They had all noticed that something was off but they hadn’t given her more than invitations to talk. Aaron, at least, didn’t want to believe that it was anything too serious. He didn’t like to think of his children in pain, and he’d prefer to manipulate himself than to try and fix it. The guilt made him feel nauseous.

“I thought that after Reid, I would notice things like this. Notice if people weren’t okay and be able to keep a close eye on things.”

“She hid it well.” Emily spoke, voice unsure. The words were for her own benefit as well.

“Did she?” Aaron asked, his voice cracking in the slightest way as he looked up at his wife, seeing her hesitant facial expression. Emily didn’t know what to say, so she swallowed the thick feeling in her throat, looking at her daughter again.

Hours went by and the parents fell asleep. Emily was still holding her daughter’s hand, leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. Aaron kept a hand around her as he leaned his head on hers.

Lola heard soft snores coming from somewhere. It took a moment for her eyes to relax at the harsh light that shone from the ceiling. She swallowed, her throat dry and sore. As soon as she noticed her parents, she felt claustrophobic in her body. She couldn’t quite move. She could wiggle her toes slightly and after a beat, she recognized her mother’s hand in her own. Mustering up strength, she squeezed slightly. The way her mother immediately woke up made Lola feel guilty.

“…Hi, baby.” Emily smiled, leaning closer to kiss Lola’s hand. Aaron also woke up when he heard Emily’s voice, looking at his daughter with so much sadness.

Lola looked at her parents for a moment before she turned her head as much as she could the other way, her feelings and memories catching up to her and she began to cry. Her face contorted into the most heartbreaking frown that made Emily’s heart hurt. She leaned closer, cooing.

“Hey…” She whispered, squeezing Lola’s hand tighter. “Hey, honey.” When Lola began quietly sobbing, Emily hushed her. Aaron placed his hand over Emily’s.

“I’m so sorry.” Lola whimpered, her chest hurting at all her family’s faces. The way JJ looked at her before she had passed out made its way to her mind.

“No, Lola. Don’t apologize.” Aaron spoke, voice gentle as he too, leaned closer.

“I’m so sorry.” Lola continued, feeling so utterly humiliated and embarrassed. She felt guilty for scaring everyone, and she did it all for nothing. It didn’t even work. She was still here. Still alive and with even more feelings of sadness.

“Sweetheart, listen to me.” Emily spoke. Lola turned her head, looking at her parents who seemed to do everything not to break down. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It is not your fault that you’re hurting, okay?” Lola still felt guilty, but she nodded, not wanting her parents to worry anymore. Although, she doubted they would ever stop worrying. They would never trust her to be alone again. She closed her eyes, wanting the ground to just swallow her whole. “We are here for you. Me, your dad, the entire team too. We love you so much, baby.” Lola swallowed her sobs, wanting to ask a question.

“Are you mad at me?” She whispered, her voice trembling. “Is the team mad at me?”

“No, no, no.” Emily shook her head, the concerned frown on her face that she so often had.

“No one is mad at you.” Aaron spoke. “No one. We’re worried, honey. We all love you and we care about you.”

“I’m sorry.” Lola spoke, she couldn’t ever apologize enough for hurting everyone like she did. Emily shook her head, her eyes soft.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

[sunlightgalaxy]

Aaron

my gif | read on AO3

Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss

summary: following a surprisingly emotional case for the usually well-tempered boss, hotch seeks out comfort in his favorite dark-haired agent, which obviously leads to a confession or two.

wc: 2335

warnings: none (?)

a/n: alternate ending to 7x10 the bittersweet science (the bloodlusting boxer). first fic i have written in two years pls be nice feedback is so appreciated xox enjoy!!

Any case involving kids is tough on the team, especially those who have one of their own. Factor in a young boy dying, however, and that’s enough to make move the usually stoic Aaron Hotchner to tears.

Which is exactly what was happening in that hospital room, Hotch having brought unsub Jimmy Hall to spend his last moments with his son. Standing far back enough to give the family some privacy, but still keeping an eye on the suspect of course, Hotch did his best to ignore the heartbreaking scene in front of him.

“You fought a hell of a fight, Ryan,” Hall spoke through sobs, his ex-wife a mess on the opposite side of the bed. Hotch felt it then, a salty droplet staining his face, and another one trickling to the floor. His expression never changed, however, doing as much as he could to maintain his professional look.

Emily and Rossi had met Hotch and Spencer at the hospital after learning of the outcome of Hall’s match, citing their presence as a second duo to help escort the unsub back to the precinct. In reality, Emily’s brain had gone on autopilot, creating such an excuse to mask her real reason for coming. She knew what Hotch would be feeling in those moments in that room, and she couldn’t bear for him to deal with it alone, if he even did at all.

Rossi didn’t mind this, of course. He always sensed the romantic tension between the two since his first day back in the unit, him and the other 5 team members having a bet going on how long it would take for the spark to finally be ignited. So, when he and Emily reached Spencer in the hallway outside of the Hall room, the three agents lined up against the wall.

Spencer made a bit of small talk about the case that had now begun the closing process, but in all honesty, Emily didn’t hear a word that was said. Her eyes were fixated on the man opposite the small pane of glass, his emotionless expression unwavering.

The three of them heard the unwelcome tone of the monitor flatlining, looking amongst each other solemnly. Minutes later, the door was opening as Hotch wheeled the unsub out of the room. Wordlessly, Rossi took the chair from the other man and begun leading him towards his own room, while Spencer brought his ex-wife in the opposite direction to console here. Aaron replaced Spencer’s position next to Emily on the wall, his eyes fixating on a painting across from the two of them.

“Rossi said he would take care of all the paperwork at the precinct and close up,” Emily spoke, turning to look at the man next to her. If she looked close enough, she could see the faint tear stain on his left cheek. “Let’s go back to the hotel, I’ll drive.”

Aaron nodded, wordlessly beginning to walk with Emily towards where she had left the car just hours before. Their hands found each other as soon as the hospital door closed, making both of their heart rates jump ever so slightly, though both would just chalk it up to the events of the night.

Aaron, ever the gentleman, opened the driver’s side door for Emily before slipping into the seat beside her. He wasn’t surprised by the blush creeping up her cheeks, he noticed it the first time he made the same gesture all those years ago. She turned on the car and begun the short drive back to their hotel. Classical music quietly played through the car radio, and Emily often turned to look at Hotch. She would see him staring out the window each time, but that’s because she was focused on the road each time he would steal a glance.

Soon enough, the pair arrived at the hotel, making their way to the elevator. The ride to the 12th floor was short, but felt like eternity for the two of them. Both lost in their own thoughts about love and life and death, neither noticed how close the other was until their arms brushed against each other. Aaron turned to Emily and looked down at her, a ghost of a smile on his face. A sad smile, but one nonetheless. She looked up, and he could sense the concern in her eyes.

“Thank you for the ride back, Prentiss,” he said softly, his brain itching to brush the fallen piece of hair behind her ear.

“You don’t have to thank me, Hotch,” Emily laughed quietly. “That’s what teammates are for.” She immediately had to hold back a wince at her word choice, knowing damn well she just friendzoned her boss. Then again, she didn’t feel as if this was the time or place to confess to feelings she’d been harboring for nearly five years. “Will you be alright tonight?” She asked to change the subject, out of concern for both her dignity and her boss’ mental state.

“I always am, Prentiss,” Hotch spoke as the elevator came to a stop. The two walked down the same hallway, Emily stopping at her door first. “Goodnight, Emily. Get some rest,” Aaron said softly, his hand brushing against Emily’s back in a way that toed the line of professionalism.

Emily did her best to not freeze at the touch of her boss in what some would consider to be quite a sensual spot. “Thank you, you too,” she managed to get out in a relatively normal tone. “Goodnight, Aaron.” Hotch gave Emily a nod before retreating to his own room, just a few doors down.

The first thing Emily did when entering her room for the night was turn the shower on and dig through her go-bag for the most comfortable clothing she could find. Hopping into the shower, she let the near-boiling water run over her skin as if she was trying to cook away the details of this case. After standing in the shower for what very well could’ve been over an hour, she stepped out and put on her clothes. She was just about to get into bed when there was a knock at her door. Assuming it would be JJ, she didn’t bother throwing on a hoodie before opening the door.

That felt like a mistake to her when she found Aaron opposite the door frame. It felt even worse when she became painfully aware that his eyes were briefly on her low cut, extremely cropped red tank top, which left hardly anything to imagination. And then she watched his eyes make their way to her low-rise sweatpants. Truly she could never feel more embarrassed than in that moment.

“Is everything alright?” Emily asked as she brought her arms up to her chest, itching to draw attention away from her. “Do we have another case?”

“No, no new case,” Hotch spoke quietly, meeting Emily’s gaze. “Do you mind if I just come in for a bit?” He looked away, almost embarrassed to be seeking out company from his subordinate at such an hour. Emily didn’t see it that way, of course, mainly because she could feel the emotions radiating off of Aaron.

“Of course you can,” she smiled and moved out of the way to let the older man in. Shutting the door, they both moved to sit on the edge of the king-sized bed. The pair sat in silence, but it was comfortable - neither felt any pressure to speak like they would if they were in the presence of anyone else. After a while, however, Emily wanted to say something, she just didn’t know what. She turned to look at the man next to her, who she found staring at the wall as tears slowly fell. “Oh, Aaron,” she sighed, putting her hand to his face and turning him to look at her. Her heart damn near broke at seeing him in such pain, the feeling reminiscent of when she had been there for him after he had lost Haley. She pulled him into a hug instinctively, his head seeking solace on her chest as she rubbed soothing circles into his skin. Neither were aware of the eroticism behind the position in that moment, both focused on the hurt and comforting in the present.

“I have no idea why this is affecting me so deeply,” Aaron laughed. “It’s not funny,” he added after seeing the woman’s puzzled look at his chuckle. “I usually have no true emotional reaction when cases involve kids, or the kids of unsubs, but this time I did and I can’t figure out why.”

His hands felt around until it found hers once again, the two of them grasping at each other like it was a lifeline.

“I think it’s because you saw that boy dying and it triggered you to think about what could’ve happened that day,” Emily said, looking at Aaron as he wiped a tear from his face. She didn’t have to specify what day or who could’ve died, they both knew what she meant.

“Doesn’t help that Dave’s been up my ass about dating too,” Aaron added, grabbing Emily’s attention even more. She couldn’t possibly figure out how that had to do with the idea of Jack dying. “He’s been pushing me to date since it’s been almost two years since Haley died, and I think you’re right, the details of this case must have triggered something in me.”

”Grief hits us in the least expecting places,” Emily commented.

“That it does,” Aaron agreed, turning his gaze back to the way. Emily did the same, and the two were silent again for a while.

“Rossi’s right though,” Emily said after a while, eyes staring at the same spot on the wall as the man next to her. “You probably should start dating again.”

“I’ve already had my eye on someone for a while,” Aaron said softly. This time it was him turning to look at the younger woman, using his hand to bring her head towards him before she even had a chance to react to his words. “And I know she’s been doing the same.”

“Really?” Emily asked, feigning innocence. “How do you know she’s into you?”

”There’s a reason they made me the leader of this team,” Aaron said, the insinuation that Emily doubted his ever so present profiling skills making her blush. “But in all honesty, she’s always there when I need her most, even if I don’t realize it myself at the time.” Emily smiled softly at that moment, her cheeks nearly burning as she used her free hand to fiddle with the waistband of her pants. “Plus, she loves to wear a certain red tank top on days when I have a perfect view,” Aaron added, making Emily laugh. His face moved closer to hers, as if asking for permission. Emily nodded and not a moment later, his lips were on hers, encapsulating them in a soft yet passionate kiss.

They broke apart after a while, when it got to the point when air became necessary. “Thank you,” Aaron smiled at her, wrapping his arms around Emily.

“For kissing you?” Emily joked softly. “I’m kidding, I know what you meant,” she added, pulling him into a hug. “I will always be there for you, no matter what.” Her hands ran through his hair, his making their way to the small of her back. “Would you like to stay the night?” She asked. Realizing how suggestive that sounded, especially after the past few minutes, she added quickly, “That way you don’t have to be alone tonight.”

“I’d like that, thank you, Em,” Aaron smiled. The two broke away, climbing under the covers. Their bodies drew to each other like magnets do to metals, reaching for each other until it was impossible to move any further.

“Is that really what gave it away?” Emily asked, moving her head into his chest as the two settled down for the night. “The red tank top?”

”Sort of, but it’s not what really confirmed my thoughts.”

“Well, what was it then?” Emily asked, wanting to know her tell.

”You called me Aaron today,” he said, planting a kiss to her temple. “Twice actually. You hadn’t done that since you found me in the hospital after Foyet got to me, and then again after Haley. And it slips out sometimes when we’re in private.”

”Oh,” Emily said sheepishly, a smile creeping up her face. “I guess I didn’t really try too hard to keep it professional.”

”Oh I didn’t mind one bit,” Aaron laughed, putting his arm around his girl, feeling her breathing even out as they both drifted to sleep.

***

”So, have you taken my advice?” Rossi asked, sitting across from Hotch on the jet. With the case closed and nothing but paperwork to look forward to at the office, the team resorted to their favorite pastime of gossiping. Today’s topic of conversation seemed to have focused itself on the boss man’s dating life, as it so happened to be recently.

“You’ll be happy to know I have a date on Friday,” Aaron said simply, his attention not leaving his paperwork. Emily’s attention was piqued, however, her eyes raising up from her book.

“Atta boy Hotch!” Morgan said excitedly, clapping Aaron’s back from the next seat over. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“You hardly know her,” Aaron commented, eliciting a scoff from a certain blonde across the table.

“I saw what room you went into last night,” JJ said, causing eyes to fall on the only other woman on the jet.

“That was for work business only!” Emily exclaimed. It technically wasn’t a lie, he had come in to discuss the feelings regarding the case.

“Em, I saw him leave your room late this morning when I came back from the gym,” JJ said, eliciting a blush from the raven haired woman as she nudged her.

“Aw man!” Morgan yelled, drawing the attention to himself. “Penelope owes me 50 bucks!”