#Hotchniss sort of

[radiant-reid]

since im a sucker for secret relationships can you please write a blurb on reader getting caught sneaking in/out of spencer's hotel room during a case ? doesn't even have to be for spicy reasons mayb r just wanted some cuddles😔

i was watching a particularly hotchniss episode, sorry not sorry

It's a bad idea to sneak into Spencer's hotel room during a case, especially after Hotch has insisted everyone get some sleep. You could tell he needed some one-on-one time with you after a day filled with seeing some horrifically graphic images, and he'd never ask, so you had to see him.

The problem is getting out of the room and back to your own once he's asleep. Rossi's the lightest sleeper in the world, and he'll wake up if you close the door too loudly.

You slip out of Spencer's door, slowly closing it when someone behind you clears their throat.

It's Hotch, your boss, that you see when you turn around. Your cheeks heat up, and you know you look like a deer caught in front of headlights. There's no platonic explanation for why you're in your secret boyfriend's crewneck as you leave his room late at night.

The question of what he's doing up and in the hallway doesn't cross your mind until Emily pokes her head out of the door that he just closed, holding out her phone.

"You forgot... this." She trails off when she sees you, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth when she realizes she's not just talking to Hotch. That was not what you expected to see tonight. "Goodnight." She's quick to exit the conversation, leaving you and Hotch to awkwardly sort it out.

"I won't tell if you don't?" You offer, figuring there's no better time to take a gamble of him not being in Unit Chief mode. He doesn't look it, blushing bright red.

The decision must be easy for him because he nods within a second. "Deal."

You mimic locking your lips with a key and tossing it away. "Night, Hotch."

He nods, trying to regain some professionalism. "Goodnight, L/n."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid blurb

[sequinsmile-x]

300 - Part 2 - Emily & Aaron

Emily, Aaron and their love as observed by their friends.

AKA - the five times the team see them love each other, and the one time they don't even try to hide it.

My 300th Hotchniss fic

Part 2/2

-x-

Hi friends,

Thank you so much for the love on Part 1 - it genuinely means the world to me. I would write you all 1000 Hotchniss fics (and lets be real i'm 1/3 of the way there).

As ever your support means the world to me, and I hope you like this part 2 of our idiots just being hopelessly, completely in love with each other.

-x-

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron & Emily

She wakes up slowly, her senses kicking in one by one as she blearily blinks and groans, pressing her face into Aaron’s chest as she snuggles deeper into his embrace. He chuckles against her hairline and runs his hand up and down her back, his palm sneaking under her t-shirt, his t-shirt, to press his skin against hers. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says, his voice gravelly, thick with sleep. She loved his voice in the morning, loved that it was somehow deeper than normal, that it was something just for her. She hums and tilts her head to look up at him, her eyes meeting his through heavy eyelids as she places her hand on his cheek and drags him in for a kiss. 

“Morning,” she mutters against his lips, kissing him again, “What time is it?” 

He looks at his watch and fights a yawn as he places his hand on her back again, “Almost 8 am.” 

She groans and presses her face into his neck, untangling her leg from between his to hook it over his hip so she can get closer, “Before you, I used to sleep in,” she grumbles, kissing his jaw, “I just had to fall in love with a morning person.” 

He suppresses a laugh, well aware from experience that even in a half-asleep state she’d be mad at him if she thought he was making fun of her, “It’s worth it though, right?” 

She hums and nods against him, tilting her head back to look at him. She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling to herself when it flops back into position, “Totally worth it.” 

They’d been together for just over a year and she struggled to remember how it felt to live without love like this. It was all-encompassing, the kind of thing she’d only ever read about before him, what she’d once believed only existed in romance novels she’d indulge in when on vacation. He and Jack were everything. Her Hotchner boys filling gaps in her chest she hadn’t known existed, all three of them helping each other heal from the things they had been through. She loved them so much that it scared her at times, her happiness so reliant on them that she worried about them constantly, anything as small as a scratch on either of them enough to make her panic. 

It was a price worth paying, she thought. The love, joy and happiness far outweighing the pain that inevitably came with loving someone. 

“Good to know,” he replies wryly, cupping the back of her head to hold her in place as he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

She smiles softly at him, resting her head on his shoulder as she yawns. He starts to run his hand up and down her back again and she knows if he carries on she’ll fall asleep, “Can we just stay here all day? For someone who has moved as often as I have, I’m exhausted.” 

He’d asked her to move in with him months ago, not too long after they told the team about them, but after a long discussion, they’d decided to find somewhere new. To buy a house for them and Jack and whoever may come along in the future. To create a home that neither of them had been a part of in a long time, or in her case - ever. It had taken a long time to find somewhere that felt perfect for them, somewhere that they could see themselves spending the rest of their lives. 

They’d only just moved in a few weeks ago, the last of the boxes from their old places now in the house. They were slowly unpacking. Their bedroom and Jack’s were sorted, as were the kitchen and the living room, but the dining table still hadn’t been delivered, the home office was just full of boxes. She knew they had to finish unpacking, but she wanted to leave it for a day and spend some time relaxing with her boyfriend. 

He looks down at her, and he blows out a slow breath, making sure to school his features before she looks at him, “Actually, sweetheart, I have to go into the office for a little bit this afternoon.” 

She scoffs and shifts to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh, why?” 

He pushes some of her hair from her forehead, “Strauss.” 

She rolls her eyes and rests her head back on his shoulder, “Well what am I supposed to do?” She asks, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “You’ll be at work, Jack is with Jess. I’ll be here all by myself.” 

She used to treasure her alone time, used to pride herself on the fact she was good at being alone, but she couldn’t be anymore. Even though they’d only just officially moved in together she couldn’t remember the last time she spent a night apart from him. She didn’t like being alone anymore, it was too quiet when Aaron wasn’t next to her, tapping his fingers on her thigh as he read a case file, or when she couldn’t hear Jack’s cartoons from the next room when she was in the kitchen. 

He smiles, pressing his thumb to the slight pout of her lower lip, “Why don’t you call JJ? See if she’s free.” 

She hums and nods, “Yeah, I’ll do that. Will is working today so she’ll be free,” she smiles, kissing his thumb, “I can get in some Henry cuddles,” she kisses his thumb again, “You’ll come home as soon as you can though?”

He nods and leans in to kiss her, his smile pressed against her lips, “I’ll always come straight home to you.” ___

Aaron 

He feels the nerves bubbling in his chest as soon as he steps into the bullpen.

He gives himself a moment to himself, knowing it will be the last one he has all day, before he pushes open the glass door and smiles as his friends look up.

“I’d about time you showed up,” Dave grumbles, raising his eyebrow at him as he places a box of candles down on Emily’s desk, “You’re the one proposing and you’re the last one here.” 

Aaron can’t help but smile, the ring box in his pocket suddenly seeming slightly heavier as he thinks about it. He’d had this planned for weeks, every detail something he’d agonised over, second guessing himself over whether he’d made the right decision in how he was going to ask Emily to marry him. They’d discussed marriage, so she knew it was coming at some point, but he still wanted to surprise her. It’s why he’d got the team involved, his uncharacteristic request for help with something personal had piqued their interest immediately. Penelope had been close to giddy, so excited he’d had to ask her to calm down so Emily didn’t hear her. 

“We were running a little late this morning,” he says, “JJ said she’d keep Emily busy for as long as we needed her to.” 

“How come JJ gets to go shopping as part of this,” Derek says, raising his eyebrow as he tilts his head towards the box of rose petals he had on his desk, “And I’m on rose petal duty?” 

Dave rolls his eyes, “Because it wouldn’t be believable if you asked her to go to the mall with you, Morgan.” 

Derek sticks his tongue out at him and Penelope scoffs, a clipboard in her hand with a to-do list she had printed out herself, “We don’t have time for you to act like children,” she says, shaking her head, “Rossi - candles, Derek - rose petals.” 

“What am I here for?” Spencer asks, putting his hand up, his lips pressed together, his amusement slowly fading as Penelope glares at him. 

“To help where it’s needed, genius,” she replies, looking back and forth between her list and the rest of them, “Well come on. We don’t have forever and I won’t let you ruin this for me.” 

Aaron clears his throat and raises his eyebrow at her, “Garcia, I think you mean you won’t let them ruin this for me and Emily?” 

She waves at him dismissively, “That too,” she says, “Now you just need to go to your office and set it up.”

He suppresses a smile and nods, catching Dave’s eye as he salutes her, “Yes ma’am.” 

He walks up to his office, the din of the team's conversation fading away as he closes the door behind him, taking a breath to centre himself as soon as he is alone. 

This was the place where he’d met Emily, where their paths had crossed and their lives had started to intertwine in a way he never could have anticipated. He’d been attracted to her immediately, her beauty undeniable even then. He never could have known that he’d one day know her as he did, that he’d know she had a patch of freckles on her shoulder that bloomed every summer, or that her skin always smelt faintly of vanilla. That her embrace was one of the few places he’d one day find safety. Home a place he found somewhere between her collarbone and her shoulder. 

He wished he could have been nicer to her when they first met, that he could go back and tell himself he was talking to the woman who would end up being the love of his life, but he knew everything happened as it should have. That they could never trust each other as much as they did now without that initial distrust and what it had led them to, a flight to Milwaukee just the two of them forging a friendship that would one day turn into so much more. 

She always said that he liked to rewrite their history, that he liked to underplay just how little he trusted her at first, but it was true. He’d been attracted to her the moment they met. Her smile and firm handshake, the way her eyes sparkled in a way he now knew covered the trauma she’d just been through in a job that wasn’t on her official record, had drawn him in. Like a moth to a flame as his marriage crumbled around him, the very thought of Emily enough to make him angry at himself. Pouring gasoline on the flame of guilt that climbed up his throat during every disagreement with Haley, something that had only got worse as time went on. 

When he met Emily he never could have known how important she’d come to be to him, how integral to his and his sons’ lives she’d become, and now he couldn’t imagine life without her. She’d helped put him back together, something she seemingly never tired of, picking up the pieces again and again when old demons came out of the shadows. He did the same for her, being the strength she needed when it all seemed too much. It was something he felt privileged to do, to be the person she let past the barriers she had built around herself long before they had ever met. 

He was excited to spend the rest of his life with her, to make the house they’d just moved into a home. To raise Jack and hopefully a couple more kids with her. To kiss her every morning, to let her know that she was loved every day. Even though they’d talked about marriage, and he knew it was something they both wanted, he could still feel nerves rolling through his gut. Excitement at the prospect of forever with her fizzing under his skin. 

He smiles to himself as he approaches his desk and he pulls the ring box out of his pocket and places it down, his fingers lingering on the velvet. 

This is where he met her, and it was where he’d ask her to spend the rest of her life with him.

___

Emily

“Aunt Emily!” 

She turns at the sound of Henry’s voice and she smiles, opening her arms and crouching down as the 5-year-old races towards her, leaving JJ behind. She scoops him up into her arms and rests him on her hip, pressing a kiss to his head as he wraps his arms around her neck.

“Hi buddy,” she says, kissing his head again and chuckling as JJ finally makes it to their side, “You already wearing Mommy out?” 

“He sure is,” JJ says, placing her hand on Henry’s head for a moment, ruffling his hair, “You know not to run away from Mommy.”

He shrugs and leans in further to Emily, “But I saw Aunt Emmy.” 

Emily and JJ exchange a quick smile and she tilts her head to look at the little boy in her arms, “I would have waited, honey. No need to run,” she says, adjusting her hold on him slightly as she looks back at her friend, “So, what stores did you need to go to?” 

Something close to panic flashes through JJ’s eyes only for a second, her smile tight as she shrugs, “Oh, nowhere in particular,” she says, “Did you need to go somewhere?” 

Emily narrows her eyes slightly, and almost reminds her friend that she was the one who said she needed to go to the mall, and that she was only tagging along because she was home alone, but she lets it slide. She clears her throat and shrugs, turning her attention to Henry, bouncing him in her embrace. 

“Well, I promised Jack some new Legos, so do you want to help me pick some out?” 

Henry’s face lights up and he nods enthusiastically, “Legos!” 

JJ laughs and starts leading the way, “The Lego store it is.” 

Henry convinces her that Jack needs two new Lego sets and she can’t help but shake her head at herself as she pays. She was a pushover when it came to Henry and Jack, and she knew she would be for her future children too. It was something Aaron always gently made fun of her for, a loving smile on his face as he said he would have to be the disciplinarian at work and at home, as if he wasn’t also wrapped around Jack’s finger.  It would always warm her from the inside out when she thought about their future, the future she would have once thought was nothing but a fantasy bright and real right in front of her. 

When she was in Paris, dead to almost everyone, a life like this had seemed impossible to consider. A fantasy she’d run through every night to chase her nightmares away as she lay in bed and tried to sleep. She already knew she loved Aaron by that point, feelings she could no longer deny bursting free from where she’d buried them deep in her chest at the thought of never seeing him again. Even when she came home she had thought it would never happen, that she was simply too damaged to be with him. He’d been hurt so much already and she didn’t want to add to that, didn’t want her scars to stick to his, pulling them into each other in a way that was unhealthy. 

The first time they kissed it was like the world had restarted, even though she wasn’t aware it had stopped. Everything shifted in a moment, all the things she had once believed she would never get to experience suddenly within reach. They made each other better, loved every single thing about each other, especially the broken parts, and every day she woke up hoping to make him feel even half as loved as he made her feel. It was a privilege to be loved by him, to love him back, and she would happily go through everything all over again just to make it right to this point. 

“Do you want to go and get something to eat?” JJ asks after they’ve been wandering around for a while, Henry’s hand firmly in Emily’s and she feels her stomach roll at the thought and she shakes her head.

“I’m okay,” she replies, turning her nose up at the mere idea of the smell of the food court, “You two can go get something to eat if you want,” she says, checking her watch, “Aaron will probably be on the way home soon anyway, so I could just head-”

“No,” JJ says, cutting over her as she checks her own watch, “It was just an idea I’m not hungry,” she adds before blowing out a breath, “Why don’t we just do a little more shopping? Surely you need some things for the house?” 

Emily narrows her eyes at her friend but nods, “Okay, sure. We still need some things for the dining room.” 

“Perfect,” JJ says, smiling as she nods in the direction of the home goods store, “Let's go.” 

She looks down at Henry as they follow JJ, “Your Mommy is in a weird mood today, honey.” 

Later, when she looked back on it she’d realise just how many signs she missed, JJ’s slightly odd behaviour suddenly making sense, but she willingly follows her friend around the mall. 

And she doesn’t question when JJ suggests they drop by the office, she simply nods and agrees, excited at the prospect of seeing Aaron. 

___

Aaron & Emily

She can tell something is different the moment she gets into the office. The usual hustle and bustle that she’d feel here, even on a weekend, is missing. It feels almost peaceful, calm in a way that makes her curious. 

She stops on the spot the moment the bullpen is in view. There are no lights on, but there are candles everywhere, leading from the glass doors, past her desk and up the stairs, to Aaron’s office a path laid with rose petals that makes her breath catch in her chest. She knows what is happening, her stomach flipping as she blows out a shaky breath, tears already pressing at the back of her eyes. She looks up at Aaron’s office, the open door a calling card she can’t ignore, and she’s moving before she can think about it, as if her body was pulled towards him. 

She places her hand over her mouth as she steps into his office, a sob catching on every rib as she tries to force it down. There were more candles, more rose petals, and most importantly - him. He was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a suit he hadn’t been wearing when he left home earlier that afternoon, a nervous smile on his face. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, his voice shaking a little. He wasn’t nervous anymore, not now he was looking at her, but he was overwhelmed, almost bowled over by his love for her. 

“Hi,” she gasps, her hand landing on her chest as she looks around, shaking her head slightly, “Now I see why JJ told me to go ahead when we got here.” 

He chuckles and nods, “The others are all here too,” he says, his smile widening when her mouth falls open slightly, “They are in the conference room waiting. I think Dave locked them in so Penelope wouldn’t come rushing out here.” 

She chuckles but it’s wet, catching on to the built-up emotion in her chest, “Well,” she says, wiping a tear from her lashline as it falls, “We better not keep them waiting.” 

He steps towards her and kneels on the ground, his hand reaching out for hers. She sucks in a breath, desperate to stop herself from crying, but she knows it’s useless, that she was a lost cause the moment she stepped into his office. 

“Emily, sweetheart,” he says, clearing his throat to steady his voice, increasing his grip on her hand, “This is the place that we met. And, no matter how much I wish I could say I was polite to you that day,” he says, and both of them chuckle, “I wouldn’t change anything. Because otherwise we might not be here, and that seems like an impossible thought. You’ve changed me for the better, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, happier than I thought I deserved.” 

She shushes him, shaking her head at the self-depreciation, “You deserve everything.” 

He kisses her knuckles before he carries on, pressing his love directly onto her skin, “I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me,” he says, briefly letting go of her hand to pull the ring box out of his pocket. She gasps as he opens it, the ring exactly what she would have chosen for herself, a pear-shaped diamond set back into the band, something she could wear at work without worrying about it catching on something, “Emily, will you marry me?”

She’s nodding before he’s even finished asking the question, her answer coming out as a sob, “Yes. Of course, I will.” 

He slips the ring onto her finger and she doesn’t give him the chance to even try to stand up, already kneeling down in front of him as she presses a fierce kiss to his lips, her arms tight around the back of his neck. She pulls back from the kiss and hugs him tightly, an embrace he returns with just as much love, and she buries her face in his neck. 

“I love you so fucking much,” she says, her words muffled against his skin. He turns his head to kiss her, his lips catching her ear and he runs his hand up and down her back. 

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again, “I love you so much.” 

She chokes on a sob as she pulls back, taking a moment to look at her hand, to get used to the weight of the ring, the feel of the metal against her skin, and then she looks around the room, shaking her head at him, “You did all of this for me?” 

He cups her cheek and makes her look at him, his smile soft and his eyes shining as they meet hers, “I’d do anything for you,” he replies, leaning forward and stamping his lips against hers, “It wasn’t too much was it?”

She shakes her head and runs her fingers through his hair, “It was perfect,” she says, scratching at his scalp, “So perfect,” she kisses him, resting her forehead against his as she pulls away, “Thank you for asking me.”

He smiles and rubs his nose against hers, taking a moment to breathe her in, to enjoy this moment of the two of them alone, kneeling on the floor of his office, before they went to see their friends a few rooms down the hall to celebrate. 

“Thank you for saying yes.” 

She hums and pulls back to look at him, wiping a stray tear from his cheek, “There was never any other answer.” 

They stay kneeling like that for a while, huddled together on the floor as they exchange kisses and ‘I love yous’, lost in their own world. Eventually, he pulls back from her, standing up and purposely ignoring the mischievous tint to her smile when his knees pop. He offers her a hand and helps her up.

“As much as I would love to stay in here all night,” he says, wrapping his arm around her waist, “I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough. Penelope’s excitement is probably outshining Jack’s.”

“Jack is here?” She asks excitedly, looking forward to seeing the little boy.

Aaron nods and places his hand on the small of her back, a space that seemed to have been carved out perfectly to fit his palm, “Who do you think helped me pick out the ring?” 

She presses her lips together in a failed attempt to stop herself from smiling, her cheeks aching with happiness as she shakes her head at him, “Have I mentioned that I love you?” 

He shrugs playfully, “It’s come up,” he stamps a kiss against her lips and links his hand through hers, ready to lead her towards the conference room, “Come on, Dave bought the best champagne money can buy.” 

She bites her lip and stays still, tugging on his arm as he tries to walk away. Nervous excitement bubbles in her chest, and whilst this hadn’t been the way she’d planned to tell him, she knew it was the perfect way. 

“I can’t have any champagne,” she says coyly, her eyes fixed on his as he furrows his brow, “Not for the next several months.” 

His eyes go wide as it clicks into place, and the laugh that escapes him is full of wonder and joy. He scoops her up into his arms, holding her so tightly her feet leave the ground. 

When the rest of the team hears the joyful laughter from a few rooms down the hall, they pop the champagne, all pleased with their involvement in what they assume their friends are celebrating. 

-x-

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#hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hotchniss

[eyesontheskyline]

no such thing as over this (ch 2/16).

Read here on ao3.

Rating: M (probably actually T, but I'm covering my bases in case my outline gets away from me)

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply (but non-graphic mentions of canon violence)

Relationships: Emily Prentiss/Aaron Hotchner

Summary: A S7 fix-it in which Emily's trauma is acknowledged and Hotch doesn't want to take her for granted again. (A friends-to-lovers slow-ish burn that also deals with Emily's relationships with the rest of the team, but is decidedly Hotchniss in nature.)

Chapter Excerpt:

Her impulse to fight against this ridiculously small gesture of support is so vulnerable it makes his chest ache. It’s transparent in a way he knows she would hate, because it’s so deeply familiar – he’s been in this position before, traumatised and desperate to prove how okay he was, and she was the one who showed up for him anyway, with warmth and determination, car keys in hand.

He thinks about what it would take to make this easier on her. He tries to think of a time he’s seen her accept a favour, or any sort of help at all, and he comes up empty. He realises he knows the answer, and he hates it – the shortcut would be to make it about him. I need to do this for you – she would accept that. It compounds the guilt that’s been consuming him for the past seven months, because Emily would’ve never let anyone else feel as alone as she must have felt to go after Doyle the way she did.

#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #aggressively writes fanfiction #no such thing as over this #criminal minds #when am i gonna stop saying i'm scared of writing cm again? #not yet #i'm scared

[apocalyptichearts]

how popular is spencelle as a ship? i feel like i’ve seen soooo many posts/videos/edits etc of them lately but it may just be my algorithm😅

in general i’d say probably more popular than you think, but than again not quite up there with some ships like jemily or even hotchniss. like, there’s a good handful of people who ship it, but we’ve sort of just got our own not so little-little corner of the fandom if that makes any sense? it also really depends on the platform; like it’s vastly more popular on specifically the editing side of tiktok than tumblr or even ao3.

anyway i’m making this response so much more complicated than it has to be so tldr: more popular than you think, but not quite (for lack of a better word) mainstream 🫶🏻

#ask #succinct? #never heard of her #spencelle #elle greenaway #spencer reid #criminal minds

[nicodemuslily]

More Hotchniss! /o/

Because it’s the only Criminal Minds stuff (sort of) I wanted to draw lately. Sorry for those of you who don’t like this pairing. ^^; 

Well, they are good guinea pigs to exercise myself drawing couples interacting together. Because it’s easy to draw people standing alone more or less far from another one, but it’s way more difficult to draw two people holding and touching each other. You have to pay attention to the proportions of each of them (their height, their size, their shapes) and to deal with the distance between the partners (like how can they be that close to each other with all those body parts in-between? (see on those bed scenes all the missing arms... XD)). 

The last drawing is, for example, an epic fail on proportions (Aaron is too small) and perspective. But, hey, I tried. X)

___

I’m sorry, I didn’t draw much these days because I’m currently writing. I still have TCW stuff to do, but it’s in WIP stage right now. Be patient, my dear fellow. ;-)

___

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanart #fanfic illustration #sunday sketch time #sketches #sketchdump #aaron hotchner #hotch #emily prentiss #prentiss #agent prentiss #hotchniss #lovers

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat

She's caught by his eyes, held there by his gaze, and she swallows, unblinking, and swivels on tall heels that are far too expensive to touch this filthy floor, heading straight for his booth. He watches her approach, like he's wary of her, and she sees it all then.

rating: explicit. oral, f/receiving. sex.

pairing: hotchniss. emily is angsty and hotch is still gone.

wordcount: 5.7k 

set between annihilator and last gasp.

read it on ff.net, ao3 or under the cut

She's not supposed to be here.

Here, in this bar. Here, in this country. Here, alive. They're all true in some way or another.

It's a dark and dingy dive bar, but it's pretty busy, and she uses the unsavoury crowd as cover, seating herself in a shadowy corner where the lamp above her head is broken so she has a good view of the rest of the bar, but nobody can really see her. It's not the sort of place she had ever expected to find him before.

Before.

Before they met, before he lost Haley, before Scratch.

He didn't belong here then and she doesn't belong here now. She belonged in cocktail bars on the Upper East Side, she belonged in a beach cabana, on the arm of some 1% CEO. That was where she belonged, according to the way she was written, the life that had been planned for her before she was even considered or conceived of. Unfortunately for her mother, Emily Prentiss had been born with a defect; she always wanted more. She belonged at the shooting range, in interrogation rooms, on the streets, in lecture theatres. That was how her stars had aligned.

Emily had been afforded every opportunity, given every advantage, and she still managed to want more than Elizabeth had ever seen for her. She wanted to live, to change, to leave a mark. She still wants it, she does it everyday. It's become exhausting.

He doesn't know she's here. For someone who worked in Law Enforcement for the best part of three decades, he's not very observant, anymore. He's gotten slack. He's stopped looking over his shoulder, and in some ways that's good, but if he's not that, then who is he? Maybe she doesn't know him anymore. Maybe he's not the person she came looking for. He has a new identity, a new name, probably a whole new persona, perhaps that's who he is now, and he's forgotten the team, the job, her.

It's too hard. Just as she makes the decision to leave, just as she stands up to cross the sticky, dark linoleum to the door with the broken glass window, he stands, too, and she freezes. She knows he's seen her before she even looks up, caught like a rabbit in headlights, and now it's too late to pretend she was never here. When she meets his eyes, there's recognition and relief and fear and so much there that even she can't read it all and then she couldn't have walked out even if she wanted to.

She's caught by his eyes, held there by his gaze, and she swallows, unblinking, and swivels on tall heels that are far too expensive to touch this filthy floor, heading straight for his booth. He watches her approach, like he's wary of her, and she sees it all then. The imprint his career has left on him. You can't bear so much responsibility for so long, and not be marked by it. She stands there a moment, at the edge of the booth. Then he sinks into his seat, and she sits opposite him, and neither of them say anything besides hello until, mercifully, a young, impatient waitress comes to take their order. He orders a scotch and, without missing a beat, a vodka with slimline tonic and lime, and she knows he's still in there, he's still who she needs him to be, because he remembers what she drinks.

He's not her boss anymore, but breaking the habit of a lifetime is hard. It's why she still bites her nails and it's why she hesitates before him. Hesitates like she's still the barely-thirty year old who walked into his office as a lie, or, worse still, the nineteen year old who shamelessly flirted with him in front of her poor, mortified mother. He never brought that up, never teased her for it, and she's as disappointed as she is relieved by that. She almost brings it up now, uses it to break the silence between them, but she doesn't. Instead, she sits, watching him watch her.

He needs to know why, but he doesn't ask, not here. It's dangerous, they both know it. She's put him in danger just by being here, but she can't even bring herself to feel bad about it as she looks at him. Sure, his hair's a little longer than it was the last time she saw him, and there are a few smile lines around his eyes now, which are nice to see. His hair is flecked with silver, around his temples and his eyes, just a dusting, but she likes it. It makes him softer, somehow. How long has it been? Just over two years? They've gone longer without contact. No, they've gone longer without seeing each other in person. There was always contact.

Just checking in. Can I pick your brain? Hope you're well. Happy birthday, Hotch. Merry Christmas. I hope Jack's enjoying the holiday's. Happy New Year, Emily. Look at this video of these idiots doing karaoke.

But they haven't spoken in two years. She knows nothing about his life now. That's how it was supposed to be, but it has been harder than she ever expected, and she wonders if it's the same for him. She knows it is; she once had to cut ties with the team, too, and it nearly killed her.

She wonders if he knows how badly she's fucking it all up.

Wonders how much he's heard from her team, that he really shouldn't have. She knows he's had correspondence with Dave, and wonders if maybe he's heard from Penelope or JJ. Does he stay in touch with Reid? If so, he would have notified the silence. Did Reid explain everything, once he was released from literal fucking prison, where he ended up because of her. Hotch never would have let that happen. She did. She's fucking up and, as she looks at him across the table, she wonders if he can read it in her eyes, and they suddenly fill with tears that she's unable to shed in front of her team. But he's not part of that team anymore.

"Come on," He's on his feet immediately, offering her his hand, and they're gone, disappearing into the night before the waitress can bring their drinks.

They walk hand in hand, and it's strange that it doesn't feel strange, because they've never done that before. Maybe she'll stay here with him. Change her name, too. It wouldn't be the first time. Or even the second.

This city reminds her of New York, but it's not. The buildings are tall, the blocks long. Foliage is few and far between, and she knows without asking that he misses the lush, sprawling parks of DC, and all of the running he used to do there, come rain or shine.

He clings to her hand, and she knows it's because he's lonely here, with only Jack. What does he do here? Has he made friends? Has he met any women? These are the questions she wants to ask, will ask, but not right now. Right now, she just squeezes his hand, reassures him that she's really here, reassures herself that she is. It's been so long.

For every stride he takes, she takes two, and it's just another reminder that she can't do it, she can't do everything he did. She can't keep up, or stand where he stood. Emily stops, and her hand slides out of his as she falls a few paces behind.

"Come back," it's not how she intended to ask, as the words fall desperately, pleadingly from her throat like a cry, but once they're out, there's no pulling them back. Instead, she reinforces. "Come back."

He's a few paces ahead of her, but frozen, and it's the first time she notices what he's wearing. Jeans and a grey t-shirt. And that's so wrong. She actually shakes her head, blinks, as though she's seeing things. Her head hurts.

"Emily," His voice is soft, and he simply holds out his hand to her, "Come on."

She's lost already, and she knows it, but she takes his hand, anyway. Let's him lead her through streets she doesn't know. Trusts him, implicitly, as she always has.

It's not the job; she has always been good at that. It's not the paperwork; she ran Interpol for four years. She just can't run her family like a business, doesn't know how he did it. Doesn't understand how he kept his love for them out of the equation. Everytime she sends JJ into the field, she remembers chains wrapped around her wrists. Everytime she asks Reid to go to a suspect's house, she sees Hankel pounding on his chest. Even Penelope isn't safe, and each time Emily looks at her, she sees the bulletwound she knows is still there. She wonders how he did it for all of those years, sent his family into the lion's jaws.

She lets him lead her to his apartment. Jack's out, he comments as he unlocks the door. Jack, who's (she quickly works it out in her head) thirteen now. A teenager. Wow. Emily briefly wonders when the last time they spoke to Jessica was. She hopes not too long ago.

It's a nice place. Nothing like his old apartment; it's all big windows and high ceilings and, clearly, the FBI pension pays well. Oak floors her mother would approve of. Three bedrooms, he tells her, and they both try to be nonchalant when he tells her she can have the spare. They both know he's said that just for show.

Because they share a secret.

Because they have unfinished business.

It was years ago. An almost. A not quite. A someday. Just before Haley died. Days before Foyet found her, and never since. Guilt, she supposes, on both parts. The Reaper was hunting his son's mother, and Aaron was feeling up Emily. It's distasteful, to say the least. They've never spoken of it since, never revisited it. It was over before it even began, and they've both made their peace with that over the intervening years. They're friends.

But she misses him, and she desperately hopes he misses her, too.

He does.

Not a day has passed where he hasn't thought of her. She's on his mind more than he would ever care to admit, and not in a professional capacity. Well, sometimes in a professional capacity. He wonders how she's handling being Unit Chief, how she dealt Spencer's arrest, which he knew was a farce, even from so far away. Sometimes he likes to imagine her interacting with the beautrecrats he knows she hates dealing with. He sees her waving through red tape like cobwebs, thanks in part to her full lips and endless lashes and, yes, plunging necklines, but mostly because of her ironclad will and relentless stubbornness, which infuriated him so much when she was his subordinate but are some of her most advantageous traits now that she's the one in charge. There was no question, when he put in his request for retirement and the Director asked for his word on who should take up the mantle. Dave had promised to assist her, and Aaron had firmly reminded him, she ran Interpol for four years, Dave. She's perfectly capable. She'll be okay. Better than okay.

He knows he's asked a lot of her.

And what about my team? How many more times will they be able to look into the abyss, how many times before they won't ever recover the pieces of themselves that this job takes?

He put all of it onto her shoulders, asked her to carry it without even being able to ask her himself. Shirked his responsibilities and laden them onto the one person he knew could survive it, because, much as they've both avoided it over the years, they're much more alike than either of them will ever admit. She wasn't even a member of the team when he'd asked it of her, asked her to leave behind her position, her life, London, the boyfriend he'd heard about through Dave, who didn't seem to think much of Mark. It wasn't easy, to put it all onto her; he thought she'd never forgive him for it. But he can't go back.

She knows that. Even before she asks him, she knows.

The kitchen is bespoke, though not to Aaron's taste. To whomever lived here before the Hotchner boys did. It's nice, she supposes. Pristine. She wonders who cooks here, because she can't remember whether or not he does. The most she ever saw him make was a coffee. Oh and she thinks maybe he boiled a pan of pasta in Dave's kitchen one time.

Now, though, it's the wine fridge he heads for. It's not full, just a few bottles. He pulls out a crisp, cold Orvieto and she wonders if he's been waiting for her to come around. Italian wines have always been her favourite. It's stupid to assume he's kept it for her, though. Or maybe it's not.

"It's good," he tells her, as he hands her a glass that's much too full to be polite. "Drink."

And she does, and it is. It's light, dry and uncomplicated. The aftertaste is slightly bitter. Emily runs her tongue over her bottom lip, looks up at him, meets his gaze. He's as unreadable as ever, and there's something so charmingly familiar about that. It makes her smile at him, like a reflex.

He returns the smile, then passes her, wine glass in hand, and gestures to the sofa. It's soft, comfortable, and a colour he never would have chosen, but that's fine. Emily kicks off her shoes and tucks her bare legs beneath her. They talk.

They talk about the team, and Emily fills him in on everything he doesn't know, although she learns quickly how updated Penelope has kept him. She shakes her head, but she can hardly reprimand Penelope; she's not planning for anybody to know she's been here. He doesn't seem too upset, though, by the way he's looking at her. She misses that, misses that look in his eyes. Nobody looks at her like that anymore. They look at her like the boss, and like a friend, she supposes, but she's the boss first and foremost these days, and she hates it. She hates that Penelope occasionally calls her ma'am. She hates that when Penelope made the rota that listed who could visit Spencer in jail, and when, she wrote Prentiss instead of Emily. She hates the distance she feels between her and JJ these days. Hates that she's always the last to hear about evening drinks, because she's in her office signing off on all of their paperwork, when she used to be the one suggesting drinks in the first place.

She misses how easy it was, those early days at the BAU. But she's idealising; things have never really been easy.

"Aaron-" Maybe it's the way she says his name, but he hears everything she can't say. She's questioning, hesitant. Her eyes draw him in, and then he's kissing her. It's a shy kiss, testing the waters. It's been years, but it's the same. She still shouldn't be kissing him, but he's not her boss anymore. He's just a guy from a bar, and she's just a girl who needs to feel something other than the fear that's held her in its vice-like grip for over a year now.

Because she's fucking up, because she's not him. It was wrong of him to expect her to be him, to step into his shoes and run for miles in them. To lead his team. People she knows well and loves even more; the only family she has ever truly known. Those same people now look at her with expectant eyes and try not to judge her for each wrong choice she is making because they're not his choices. She knows it, they know it and, worst of all, she thinks he knows it.

But none of that matters when he kisses her because this is their unfinished business, his and hers, nobody elses, and it's been eight years and he's still never fucked her.

Almost. Eight years and five states away, in her old, tall brownstone. The one she gave up because it was too permanent, too much like commitment, and if she wasn't going to commit to him then she couldn't commit to anyone or anything else, either.

They'd almost had everything, and she's reminded of it all as he kisses her, like it's eight years ago and Haley isn't dead and Ian never came back and he never left her behind with the responsibility of their friends lives on her shoulders. Like she doesn't resent him for all of it.

"Aaron," She's not angry anymore. She's not even sad. She's just desperate to have him close to her. It's what they deserve. They've waited long enough. He can hear it in her voice, and he's growing so hard that it's almost painful as they move so that she's laying beneath him on the sofa, her knees spread for his narrow hips to fit between as she twines their fingers together and drags his hand up to her chest, offering herself to him. He complies, palming at her tits through her thin summer dress. He stops kissing her long enough to breathe, long enough to search her eyes for any hesitation or worry, and finds none. Only determination. She's always been beautiful, but right now, her pupils dilated with desire and her cheeks flushed with heat, she's radiant.

He's imagined her like this so many times, as his hands explore her body and he relearns the taste of her kisses. He's come undone to the fictional version of her in his head, to the flash of her dark eyes across his memory, to the remembrance of her lips and everything they almost had, all of their near misses, more times than he can count or would ever admit. This is better, so much better. This doesn't feel like a betrayal, like passing his own hand over his hard cock, her name on his lips, like he's violating her because she doesn't know she's the figure in all of his fantasies, doesn't know how he loses control to the thought of her on her knees in front of him, taking him apart with just a glance. No, this time she definitely knows. She knows by the way he's rutting against her, even fully clothed, and she's relishing in it, arching her back to push her breasts firmly into his hands, into his mouth.

He's wanted her forever, and denied them both for far too long.

"God, Emily," He says her name like a prayer, his breath hot against her puckered nipple, and Emily closes her eyes at the sensation.

"Please, Aaron," She pulls on his neck, pulls him up so that his face is once again level with hers, and it's almost painful, the way she clings to him, "I need you, Aaron." She kisses him again, breathing heavily, "please don't pull away from me."

Usually she can read him better than anyone else, but this time she has mistaken him, because he's not pulling away, he's not leaving her this time. If the world had stopped turning on its' axis, if a meteor had fallen from the sky, if the oceans had frozen over, he couldn't have stopped himself from shoving her dress up, (she tears it over her head and it's immediately lost and forgotten somewhere on the floor) and finally, finally, he's got her. It's been fucking decades. She's his holy grail, his Ultima Thule. The farthest point, unattainable. Never even an option, not really, but for the briefest moment in their history. And right now.

He's not her boss, anymore, so he feels no guilt as he returns his mouth to her breast, leaving sore little marks behind, making her his with every bite, every gyration of his tongue. He knows she's wet because her legs are wrapped around his torso, and he can feel the dampness of her against his skin, the way her underwear sticks to him, peeling away as she lowers her hips. She's soaked. He can't even remember taking off his shirt. Maybe she did it.

He hooks a finger through her underwear, his knuckle grazing her, and she whimpers, she's so sensitive. It's so hot that he groans, deep in his throat.

She's not supposed to be here, and maybe she's not really. Maybe he's dreaming and this is another of his fantasies, and he'll feel guilty for it when he wakes, but not guilty enough to stop himself from palming himself to completion. Maybe he'll feel guilty afterwards, for using her memory in this way.

But she is here, because Emily doesn't cry in his dreams, but she's crying now. Not hysterically, she hasn't even acknowledged the silent flow of tears, sliding down the sides of her face, into her dark hair. It's not sadness, he can read that much about her. She's overwhelmed, desperately overwhelmed. That's when he realises how much she's wanted this; as much as he has.

She's suddenly cold, as Aaron sits up, sits away from her, but he takes hold of her hands, pulling her onto his lap, so she's straddling him and their chests are pressed together. He pushes the dark hair back from her face, his dark eyes searching her features, studying her. She's ruining his jeans, but he doesn't care. He can feel how hard and fast her heart is beating in her chest, and she gasps for breath, blinking away the last of her tears. He bumps his nose against hers, gently, searches, softly, for her mouth. This kiss is long and, desperate as they are for each other, somehow even more intimate than seeing her naked, than his lips on her breasts. His hands splay across her bare back, pressing her ever closer to him, and her hands are in his hair.

"I've got you," Nobody can read her like he can and it makes her cry harder, makes her shake in his lap. "You're not fucking up, Emily. You never have, you never could," He shakes his head, and her hands drop from his hair to his neck, her thumbs tracing his jaw. He turns his head, kisses the pad of one thumb, and it's so soft it makes her ache. "I've got you, Emily." It's what she needs; to let go, to be reassured, to be safe. She's safe with him. She always has been.

Aaron tucks his hands beneath her thighs, holding her tight, and stands up, holding her tight to him, as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as though she might blink and suddenly wake up, alone, and he'll be gone, again.

"I have you," He repeats, as he sets her down on his bed and she lays back against the pillows, watching as he unbuckles his jeans, shoving them down, along with his boxers. She gets a glimpse of him, hard and thick, before he crawls on to the bed, between her legs. Emily watches as he studies her, dark eyes roaming her pale skin, from her face, to her breasts, settling between her legs. Her cheeks burn; she's never been comfortable with being studied there. Is any woman? Somehow, it's worse because it's Aaron.

"You don't have to-" She starts to say, but he cuts her off with a glance that makes her press her lips together, and she knows she's in trouble. He's laying on his tummy, his head between her thighs, and there's a smirk on his face. "Fuck," Emily breathes out, her head slamming back against the pillows as she feels his mouth, hot and wet, against her centre.

God, she's delicious. His tongue is flat against her core, pressing hard against her little bundle of nerves, alternating between that and fluttering lightly over her. He's so intent on his actions that it takes him a moment to glance up at her. He smiles when he does because what he sees is so un-Emily that it's adorable. She's got an arm thrown over her face, as though she's embarrassed by her own pleasure, and he reaches up with one hand, the other starting to tease at her opening, intent on bringing her more pleasure, and gently grips her forearm. She resists only a moment, then lets him pull her arm away from her face, but her eyes are closed tight as she focuses on the feelings he's bringing her, as his index finger slides easily into her thanks to her slick, and he adds a second, with a little bit of resistance this time, but he knows it's what she needs.

"You're so beautiful, Emily," He growls into her cunt, and she practically mewls, the gush of fluid that coats his tongue evidence of how much she appreciates the praise. "Oh, she likes that," He teases, and even as he messes with her, he's folding his fingers through hers, entwining their hands against the bedsheets, grounding her. She squeezes his hand, her free hand coming up to tweak at her nipples, to tug a little.

He knows she's close when he feels her thigh tense against his head, and quickens the movement of his tongue, shaking his head back and forth, his tongue mimicking the motion.

"H-Hotch," Emily stutters, her chest heaving, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, "Aaron." She practically hisses his name, trying not to close her legs around his head. Her hand isn't on her breast anymore, but on her thigh, blunt nails digging in, as the pressure builds. Her world is narrowed to where his tongue is pushing into her, grazing against the ring of her entrance, making her nerves twitch.

Aaron's hips rut against the mattress, and she's done for. Head thrown back, mouth open, breath caught in her throat, Emily goes rigid beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing over her all at once. He's still going, his tongue working furiously to prolong her orgasm, but as soon as it starts to subside, it's too much and she has to push him away, her hips twitching, her cunt pulsing, contracting, and she's dragging him up the length of her body, her hand reaching between them to guide him inside of her. It's not until then that he realises how ready she has always been for him, in the way her eyes flutter closed, tongue caught between her teeth, at the sensation of him sliding into her body.

"I've got you," She echoes his words, her voice shaking in the aftermath of her pleasure, as he presses his forehead to hers, staring down the length of their bodies, watching intently as he sinks into her, unable to believe that, after all this time, he's finally home.

He slides into her, until he meets resistance, and then he pauses, eyes tracking back up her body to meet hers. They're closed tight in concentration, as she adjusts to the size of him, her breathing shallow and uneven, and he can feel her heartbeat inside of her, against his cock, pulsating. Her chest is flushed and damp, as are her cheeks. There are little lines between her eyes where she's frowning, just a little, and the tell tale signs of greying hair at her roots. She's not nineteen anymore, and he's not twenty-three. He leans down, kissing the tip of her nose, and her eyes flare wide in surprise. The frown lines are gone, replaced instead by smile likes as her face spreads into a grin, her tears, her sadness, her anxieties all forgotten as she leans up to kiss him.

Hotch grasps for her hip, as her lips meet his, levering himself against her as he starts to move, dragging his cock out of her agonisingly slowly, driving back into her at the same teasing pace, and she doesn't rush him, because she can feel everything, all of him, every ridge and vein, and he's relishing in her wet heat, his breath deep and heavy at the tightness of her.

"Finally," He doesn't even realise he's said it outloud, but as his lips move over hers, the noise Emily makes is somewhere between a laugh and a sob because yes, finally.

His need is growing, the slow pace becoming almost unbearable. Emily can feel it in the way his grip on her hip is no longer gentle, but tighter, harder, his other hand tensed against the headboard, gripping it so hard his knuckles are white.

"Aaron," The whine that escapes her throat makes his head snap down to look at her, his eyes taking the whole scene in, from her flushed face to her puckered nipples, the pane of her stomach that is softer than it was all those years ago, to the slit between her legs where his cock is disappearing inside of her, and back to those eyes, full of dark, carnal desire. "Aaron, please," Her voice is little more than a whisper, little more than a whine, and it's full of need as she begs him, her words almost tipping him over the edge, "I need you, Aaron. God, please, fuck me."

Her hands are on his ass, blunt nails pressing into his skin, forcing him deeper inside of her, and it's all the encouragement he needs to start up a rapid pace, because how could he ever deny her when she asks like that, and he hears the satisfied, sinful moan that comes from the back of her throat, praising him, urging him on. She raises her leg to wrap it around him, opening herself up to him even more. He buries his face in her neck, sucking at the delicate, sensitive skin there, and one of her hands lifts immediately to slide into his hair, the other splayed across his back, his hips pistoning into her, both of them coiled like springs.

Their foreplay has gone on for years. Every glance across the bullpen, every pass of her tongue over full, red lips. Every low cut top, and every not-so-subtle glance from him towards her neckline. Every drink he ever bought her, and every time she stayed late at the office. This. It was all leading to this.

He can feel that she's close, doubling his efforts, desperate to let her fall first. "Come on, Em," He growls, encouraging, and she's so responsive to his words, moaning her appreciation, that it makes his hips stutter, and she cries out. "Fuck. That's right, baby," He kisses her, wet and hard and deep, his tongue pressing, tasting, curling around hers, and then she comes undone, his rapid pace bringing her quickly to her second climax. Cries out in sudden, anguished pleasure, drowning, losing her breath.

She's prone beneath him, rigid, her overstimulated cunt contracting around his cock, and Aaron's mouth falls open at the sensation, his face pressed against hers, teeth grazing her chin, his vision blurred, and he knows how much mess there already is between her legs, even as he adds to it, his stomach muscles tightening, his core burning, and he's hers. He knows it, from now until the end of times, he's hers. And fuck why haven't they been doing this all these years.

His arms give out, finally, and he collapses on top of her, spent and not as young as he once was. Heavy as he is, she wraps her arms around him, stroking his back and his hair, soothingly, as they both try to catch their breath. She loves it, the closeness, the weight of him, she's longed for it always. The smell of him all over her skin, the way he's still inside of her, even as he softens, slipping, wet, against her leg, leaving part of himself behind. For a blinding, insane moment, the image of a dark haired little girl flashes through Emily's mind, and she knows it's not her, it's not a memory. It's someone else, entirely. Maybe she exists in another universe, their daughter, but she doesn't exist here, and the thought is fleeting, and likely impossible now, given her age. They're not young, anymore, like they once were. But they're not dead, either. They've just proven that. There is still life left to live.

He's not coming back, but she just might leave it all behind for him yet.

#criminal minds #criminal minds gone wrong #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss smut #fanfiction #smut #i cant sleep so here have this #smut shot

[reidsaurora]

Make. Me. Write!!!

i was tagged by: @writer-in-theory

Rules and Regulations:

Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count)

Tag anyone you think might also enjoy this game (No pressure of course)

Whichever WIP title gets the most votes write 1 sentence for every vote. If it gets more votes than your comfortable with, feel free to swap to words.

If somehow that completes the fic or reaches the end of the chapter, move to the WIP with the second highest votes and continue where you left off on your sentence/word count. Repeat until you reach your goal.

(Optional) Share what you wrote in a new Tumblr post with a link to your original poll or attached it to a reblog

idk why but i feel the need to give a lil backstory or explanation of some sort for each one so you know what you're getting into 🫡

backstories and np tags under the cut 🫶🏻🧡

Cowboy!Steve Harrington wip

this one's self explanatory, you can go read the first three fics in this series over on my nsfw blog, @hornyhornyhimbos 🖤✨️

JBU (Reidaway)

so, i teased this series a little bit when SYGB ended but i never really fully committed to writing it because i have a set beginning but i have no clue what to do for the ending 😬

i'm not gonna spoil it because y'all know me, i'm a writer and i have to tease everything but let's just say it involves forced proximity, sorta work rivals to maybe lovers, and black cat!elle greenaway x golden retriever!spencer reid <3

Eat Your Young (Spencer Reid)

i can't explain this much other than that i was extremely h word when i came up with the plot for this and i was playing "Eat Your Young" by Hozier on repeat when it happened

I'm Too Pretty For This (Warren Rojas)

this was a request i got like two months ago when i first announced i was gonna be writing for DJATS characters and i got like two paragraphs in and i hated it so i never finished it 😂

basically something happens between the band members of the group that are opening for DJATS on the Aurora tour and it somehow makes their lead singer realize she might have a thing for Warren 😏

AFTR (Steve Harrington)

this will be my first serious Steve series. i know that the Loriverse exists and the Cowboyverse exists but this one is actually a serious series that i wanted to write for the summer and i just never did

a brief summary without giving too much away is that Stancy happens but doesn't last and somehow Reader/FMC (haven't decided which yet) ends up spending the summer as Steve's rebound of sorts?

LMLAF rewrite (Hotchniss)

so, a few of you may remember this series i posted back in February of 2022. i was extremely depressed and lonely so i did what any normal human would... i wrote a story about Hotchniss being friends with benefits.

however, that story was posted on this account, where I do not post smut. well, other than that one chapter of SYGB but we don't need to go there rn akshksjsjsj

anyway, basically this would be the spicier rewritten version of that where i don't leave readers in the dark about what went on between Hotchniss after Haley died ;)

All Your Being, pt 2 (Spencer Reid)

another fic i wrote where i tried desperately to keep things closed door until now when i decided i don't care about that anymore 😂

in case you guys don't remember this fic, i'll link it here but basically Spencer and midsized!reader have been together for six months but have yet to do the nasty because she's afraid of what he'll think about her body. this part two would basically just be him saying f!ck it and showing her that every body is a beautiful body 🫶🏻

Tolerate It (Spencer Reid)

just go listen to "tolerate it" by Taylor Swift. it would be easier for you to do that than for me to tell you about the dark sh!t that ensued in this fic... i was at my lowest low when i wrote this and you'll see that if i ever post it 🥲

well now that that's over with, how bout some no pressure tags!! 🥳🎉

@reidsbookclub @dungeons-are-too-cold @nomajdetective @bejeweledmunson @rupsmorge @reidselle @lukeclvez @lcvingprentjss @serenity-lattes @writingquillsandpainpills

#writing #writing challenge #tag #tag game #tag games #writing tag #wip #wips #my wips #wip game #grecy 🌻 #georgia 🌈 #ali ⚡️ #mads ❣️ #rups 🍇 #aj 🦭 #marie 💥 #cj 🌙 #reni ☕️ #zahra 🎃 #my auroras 🪩✨️ #emmy writes

[cloudlessly-light]

may so please write something about hotchniss in a whirlpool? very much smut? thank you :) I absolutely love your stories <3

So, I wasn’t sure what a whirlpool was so I googled it, and I really hope it’s a washing machine, because if it’s not… this is awkward lol

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut

She doesn’t hear him as he walks through the door as she sorts through the dirty laundry, sighing at the sheer amount. It was always a lot, two kids and parents that travelled a lot would do that. She’s just put on the second load of whites in the washer when she feels him behind her, his hands snug around her waist.

“That was fast.” She smiles as she turns in his arms.

“Jack didn’t want me to stay.” Aaron shrugged and leaned down to kiss her, enjoyed the feeling of his wife in his arms. “Is Ally asleep?” He mumbled against her lips as he slowly pushed her back until she was pressed between him and the washer that was rumbling behind them.

“Put her down about ten minutes ago.” She sighed happily as she felt his strong body against hers, his hands moving from her waist and under her shirt. “Aaron, it’s the middle of the day.”

“So?” His voice had already dropped, his eyes heated as he kissed her with more urgency. “The kids aren’t around and we aren’t in some seedy hotel.” His fingers pinched one of her nipples through her bra and she gasped. “Let’s take advantage.”

She nodded before he was even done speaking, her own hands falling to the button on his jeans, eager to get them off him. Emily could feel him straining through the rough fabric already, felt his low groan against her neck as she pushed his jeans down his hips. When her hand wrapped around his heated skin, she felt his teeth against her neck, his tongue soon soothing what she knew would be a mark on her skin.

“Fuck, Em.” He growled as she swiped her thumb over the tip, spreading his precum over his shaft as she did. His hands moved to her hips, quickly pushed her tights down her legs and dragging her underwear with them as he went. He kneeled in front of her as he tugged the tight fabric down her legs, kissed the smooth skin of her thighs as he stood again.

She let out a sound of surprise when he suddenly hoisted her up on the washing machine. The thumbling from the washer vibrated through her body, making her moan slightly and she saw his smirk.

“Don’t look so smug.” She warned with an arched eyebrow as he came to stand between her legs. He kissed her, pushed his tongue into her mouth as his fingers moved between them. He swallowed down her moan when his fingers pushed inside of her, her wetness coating them as he curled them. Her head fell back once she broke away from him, her mouth falling open as her eyes fluttered close at the sensations he was causing.

“I can look smug, when you’re making faces like that.” He told her lowly and she chuckled breathlessly.

“Honey, fuck me. Let me feel you.” She grabbed the shirt he was wearing, pulled hard enough to rib the fabric in her haste.

“Emily.” He chastised her with a smile but didn’t give it another thought, not when she was spreading her legs wider and grabbing his cock in her warm hand. He pulled his fingers away from her, tasted her from his fingers with a groan as she rubbed the tip of him through her wet heat. She was coating him with her slickness and he couldn’t wait to feel her for another second. He pushed inside of her with a hold on her hips, slowly sheathing himself inside of her with a low rumble from his throat.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathed as he filled her, the feeling of him stretching her and the vibrations from underneath her making her feel delirious. She found his heated stare as he started to pull out, his eyes almost black as he took in the way she felt around him, the way she felt squeezing him.

“Baby,” He pulled her closer as he moved harder against her. His lips once again finding her neck and muffling his own groans against her as her legs wrapped around him. “you feel so good.”

She nodded in response, words lost in her throat as he fucked into her with even strokes and the washing machine shaking, making her clit ache. She untangled one hand from his shirt to rub the little nub, moaned louder as she circled it with sure fingers. She could feel her body trembling, the orgasm building quickly in the pit of her stomach as he continued to move inside of her.

“Already honey?” His chuckled breathlessly, the teasing filled with adoration as she squeezed around him harder.

“Mhm.” She grunted the pleasure spreading so quickly she felt lightheaded. She could feel his hold on her hips tightening, his hips moving harder against her and then she was coming. She muffled her cries of pleasure into his chest, her body spasming against his as he fucked her through it, only making prolonging her moments of bliss.

Aaron groaned at the added tightness around him, his body moving harder against hers in the chase of his own release. He could feel her body slowly relaxing in his hold, felt her lips move from his chest to kiss along his throat, her panting breaths tickling his skin.

“Come inside me baby.” She whispered and his knees buckled in response. “Fill me up.”

He came with her name on his lips, the sound low and rumbling from his chest as his hips stuttered against hers. His orgasm rushed through him, his vision blurring as he spurted as deep inside of her as he could, the pleasure making him lightheaded.

Emily continued to kiss along his neck, whispered words of encouragement into his skin as he came down, his hold loosening on her hips once he caught his breath.

“That was amazing.” He said and pulled her into a kiss, let himself enjoy her for a few more moments.

“It was.” She agreed, her arms looping around his neck to keep him close. That was the moment they heard their daughter through the monitor, her cries alerting them to the fact that she was awake.

“I’ll go.” He told her gently as he detangled himself from her. He pulled up his jeans and threw the broken shirt at her with a wink. “Love you.”

“Love you too, silly man.” She laughed, already wanting him again.  

#hotchniss smut #criminal minds smut #smut prompts #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner

[emilyshotchniss]

new hotchniss headcanon just dropped …

in 5x02 when emily walks hotch up to his apartment, she tells him he’s not alone. he has her. when he doesn’t invite her to stay for a little while, she knows his mindset hasn’t changed. she closes his apartment door behind her and in an instant her defence crumbles, placing her hand on the wall to steady herself as she silently sobs into the quiet of his apartment complex. it physically hurt her to see him like this. wiping her face, she takes a breath, and makes her way back to her car.

an hour later hotch hears a knock at his door, and is surprised to find emily back at his apartment, takeout in hand. she’s in his kitchen before he even knows what’s happening, and watched her, stunned, as she plates up their food and makes herself at home on his couch.

“you have me.” she reiterates.

“you’re not alone.”

and they sit and talk as the movie she picked plays in the background and she tells him all sorts of things about her usually so guarded private life and he smiles for the first time in months and then she falls asleep on his couch and he gets a blanket for her and lays it over her as if she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen🤭🤭🤭

#started rewatching cm yesterday #they are just so #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss headcanon

[blackbird-brewster]

For the ship bingo: Emily/Doyle, Hotchniss and Jemily

I actually have AN LOT of conflicting feelings about Doyle/Emily. Or rather, I struggle with feelings about Doyle/Lauren. Not in a 'I ship it' way but in a, that relationship happened and it gives me a lot of emotions about it because I have done deep dives into Emily's character development in regards to why that arc was so fucking important to her characterisation.

I DO NOT understand this ship (I know it's your main ship, I'm not shitting on it), I just don't see it. Mostly because for me, shipping Emily with any man feels homophobic? I dunno if that makes sense. But to me, Hotch was always like a brother figure to Emily and I can't see them as being anything other than platonic. I just don't ship Emily with men, period.

WOW! I (sort of) got a bingo! I starred the 'The exact opposite of relationship goals', because I LOVE messy, angsty unrequited Jemily. For me, that's what works best for them. So in that regard, I guess it's not really relationship goals, if that makes sense? Idk how to explain it.

Thanks for playing! [SEND ME ANY CM SHIP AND I'LL SEE IF I CAN GET A BINGO!]

#carasynthiart #cm bingo #reply post #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jemily

[maschotch]

This isn't about the bingo but I was looking at your post from like two days ago about Hotch being paternal with the team and I would kill to hear your opinions about the different way he's protective of all of them. I think a lot of the reason hotchniss is so popular in this fandom is because she's really the one person on this team that doesn't interact with him like a father djdj but even still the way he goes about caring for Reid and Penelope as opposed to jj and Derek is sooo interesting and I hadn't really thought about it before. I'm not sure about Rossi, but he was even super protective of Gideon, who he saw as more of a father figure

the WAYYY that he’s protective of all of them… im gonna cry writing this out i just know it 

his protectiveness of reid is the easiest to describe i think. he understands reid’s struggles and the things he deals with that not everyone thinks about, so i think that kinship helps directly with that paternal relationship. sees him a little bit as himself, a little bit as a son, but mostly for who he is. 

it’s very very similar with penelope, but instead of seeing himself in her, he sees an optimism, a joy, a vitality that he never had. he doesnt want to extinguish that, but he knows she’s stronger than she thinks. not to put this in the cringiest way possible aksjldhg but he’s protective of her like a flower? protects her from external threats but knows that he doesnt have to handle her delicately—he can be a little rough w her to help her thrive. he sees what she’s capable of even when she can’t and that scares her a little

with jj it’s a little different. i think he recognizes that jj is strong in certain ways… i think he also recognizes that jj wants to be seen as strong in certain ways. unlike reid (who i think hotch really views as emotionally young), he’s willing to be protective from a distance. he’s still attentive and ready to swoop in when something becomes too intense, but he has a little more faith and a little more respect for her independence than reid or penelope

morgan’s a little harder bc he has to be sneakier with it asjkdlhga morgan himself is so protective that accepting the same kind of care is difficult for him. it’s just easier for everyone if they both pretend hotch is completely hands off. but i think hotch realizes that if anything he needs to be more defensive of morgan—particularly his emotions/state of mind. hotch knows morgan will push himself beyond his limits and while he doesn’t want to stop him (morgan’s independence is also something hotch encourages), he wants to make sure morgan will come out in one piece lmao 

ur right in that he has a really distinct dynamic w emily. they spend so much time protecting the team that by now he trusts her ability to take care of herself. he doesnt really need to do much askjdhl she’s got it handled. i think bc more often than not she’s the one protecting him that when she suddenly is in a precarious situation, it’s harder for hotch to maintain composure. like… morgan has his back: he’ll keep him safe. but emily supports him: she’ll hold him up. so when emily ever is in danger… hotch gets a little more desperate bc he knows the situation is serious. he's more likely to go a little too far

im soooooo fucking glad you brought up gideon because hotch is more protective of gideon than anyone else. it’s a fierce, unwavering commitment. bc hotch really does see gideon as a sort of father figure (he’s also aware that there are limitations on the reciprocation of that type of relationship) but he’s also aware that while gideon is an expert in certain areas, there are also other things that he’s not so good at. hotch is more than happy to supplement when needed, and he's studied him long enough to know the man better than anyone. so that’s the “care” aspect of the protectiveness, but what makes it soo different from the others is the fervid, fiery defense that’s uncharacteristically hotheaded for hotch. like the “watch your mouth” thing… how many times do we see hotch snap like this when he’s not dealing with unsubs (or abusive fathers)?? he’s so passionate with his loyalty.. a dedication that brings that aggression right up to the surface in a way thats just so fun <3

#i was really just thinkin ab this w gideon the other day aksjdhlaksjdg #asks #aaron hotchner #oh yeah i didnt even talk ab rossi aksdjhlaskjdag #i dont think hotch gives a shit about rossi. if rossi wants protection he can hire someone w his millions of dollars ajksdlhag #ok fr tho aksjdlhs like hotch really doesnt need to be that protective of emily #but when he IS??? he goes crazy askjdhlgaskj #call the vatican #nearly storm in the building jeopardizing dozens of lives #fake her death

[aubreyprc]

hiii do you know of the best "it would've been you" sort of hotchniss fics? like any fic that has to do with right person wrong time

hiiii yes of course i do😃 below

shameless plug , however , most of my sour series is right person wrong time lol

this hurt my soul, it hurt my heart and it made me throw up. it’s very good (by @sequinsmile-x)

this one??? it haunts my dreams. i will never be ok. (by @ssa-m-187)

i think about this a lot. like a lot. it’s very good. it’s very upsetting. (by @reidsacademia)

i’m sure there are many more but these are the ones that i can remember lol

#this was made weeks ago LMFAO i was just trying to see if would remember anymore but alas : many were written by kirby and she’s gone rip #sooo yes lol #enjoy ig but they’re very sad babe #r’s inbox #asks #anon

[sequinsmile-x]

Waiting Room - Chapter 1

Everything had changed so quickly, her life torn out from under her in a matter of seconds, the trajectory of what it would look like going forward permanently altered. 

Emily's life changes forever when her parents are killed. Aaron just needs a job after his marriage breaks down and he answers an ad for a private security guard. If only the young woman he'd been hired to look after wasn't entirely resistant to his presence.

A Young Hotchniss AU

-x-

Hi friends!!

This weekend makes it 3 years since I started writing for Hotchniss!! In that time I've written just shy of 1.8 million words and over 270 fics for our favourite idiots.

I love this little community and I am endlessly grateful for all of you. I write because it's an escape for me and because it is a hobby I treasure. Feedback and interaction on my fics mean the absolute world to me and never fail to make me smile, so I am endlessly grateful every time you all do that.

This fic is for you and a celebration of the last few years. A little Young Hotchniss AU to mark the occasion! All four chapters will be posted over the next week.

Love you all very much <3

-x-

Warnings: Full list of warnings on the Master List

Words: 3.6k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Tick.

The clock on the wall was loud, the only sound she would allow herself to hear, the repetitive noise drowning out everything else around her. The bustle of the police station outside of the room she’d been herded into by a kind but overworked detective fading out into nothing. 

Tock. 

She picks at the cuticles on her thumb, a habit her mother had always chastised her for, and every time her gaze drifts down to her hands she immediately looks back up, her eyes fixed on the wall ahead of her so she doesn’t have to see blood that isn’t even hers staining her skin. She’d washed her hands as soon as she was brought here, rubbed her skin almost raw, but it hadn’t been enough. Dried blood in the cracks of her knuckles and embedded around her nails almost tattooed to her skin. 

Tick. 

Everything had changed so quickly, her life torn out from under her in a matter of seconds, the trajectory of what it would look like going forward permanently altered. 

They were only supposed to be going to a concert, a performance of her favourite sci-fi movie with a live orchestra, an event her father had his assistant buy tickets for as a 21st birthday present for her. 

Tock

The door opens and she jumps, her shoulders tense as she looks up, the same detective who had brought her here and her kind smile in the doorway.

“Miss Prentiss, your ride home is here.” 

She chuckles internally, the idea of home never something she’d been able to settle into, but she feels some semblance of relief when Dave walks through the door, his face serious, as he steps towards her. He was her father’s best friend, his confidant. An uncle of sorts to her who also happened to manage her parent's estate. He’d always been kind to her, more of a parent than either of hers had ever truly been.

And now he was the only one she had left

“Emily,” he says, kneeling down so he’s in her eye line, the kindness in his eyes almost too much for her to bear, “What happened?”

“They’re dead,” she replies, her voice ragged, torn open by grief and shock and a thousand other things they can’t name, “Both of them…they’re dead.” 

___

Four Years Later 

Sometimes it felt like she was still in the waiting room. 

She could still feel the blood on her hands, could see it drying around her nails, dark red and cracked against her pale skin as the clock ticked on the wall. 

She could see the look on Dave’s face as she told him her parents were dead, a sadness in his eyes that she thinks had never quite faded in the years since. He did his best to hide it from her, he still did now, but she could see it when he thought she wasn’t looking or when she did something that reminded him of either of her parents. 

Of all the many people who had been in her parent's lives, all the people who had been at their funeral and offered her help in whatever way she needed, Dave was the only one who had stuck around. He’d always genuinely cared about her, always been a pseudo uncle of sorts, his initial job as her father’s lawyer a gateway to a friendship that had lasted until that fateful day, and she was grateful she had him, even if she sometimes felt like she was nothing but a reminder of the friends he had lost. 

Her life felt like it had stopped that day. The sudden loss of her parents, her grief about losing them as complicated as her relationship with them had been, had sent her in a direction she’d never expected. 

She’d never known what she wanted to do with her life, her directionlessness as vicious and overwhelming as her desire to defy expectations, to be more than what her mother had wanted from her. Any vague ideas she may have had about going into law enforcement, the idea of a Prentiss in the FBI something that had always made her father chuckle and her mother roll her eyes, thrown away in a matter of seconds. 

She still heard the gunshots if she thought about it for too long, still heard the blood in her mother’s lungs as she tried to suck in her final breaths. 

The men who’d killed her parents, for nothing more than disagreeing with their political alignments, had killed her future too. Leaving her living in a house, days passed by as she waited for her life to start again, to feel like she could live her life again, so she could live as a 25-year-old woman should be able to live. 

She was still in danger. A thought that felt absurd to her, but something that Dave took seriously. She’d seen the shooter, had memories of icy blue eyes when she dreamt about that night, but he’d never been caught. He’d disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared, taking her sense of safety with him. At first, the police had taken it seriously, had provided protection she’d resisted, but as time went on it all went away, assurances that she would be fine passed on as if she still didn’t remember the cold November ground beneath her as she kneeled next to her parents, staring down the barrel of a gun. 

She believed them for a while. Allowed herself to try to move forward, to piece her life back together.

Then the flowers started to appear. Seemingly random at first, almost accidental in the way they were left on her doorstep. It soon became clear it was purposeful, that it was a message of some kind. A reminder that while she might as well still be in that alley, she was still in as much danger as she had been then. 

She rolls her neck as she parks her car on the driveway, yawning as she steps out onto the gravel. It had been a long day, her bag heavy as she hung it over her shoulder, weighed down by books and her laptop. She’d gone to the library to study for once, needing to get out of the house, away from the ghosts that always seemed just around the corner. 

She pauses as she gets to the porch, frozen in place as her eyes drift to the doormat and the familiar purple flower lying on it, bright and taunting as it stands out against the dark woven material of the mat. She purses her lips together as she sighs, blowing out a steady breath as she briefly closes her eyes. She steps forward and leans down to pick it up and then she stands back up, unlocking the door and heading inside quickly, she slams the door shut behind her.

She holds the flower tightly in her palm. She looks down at her fist and uncurls it, her eyes fixed on the now crumbled petals, the flower’s beauty not diminished by its damage. 

“Damn it,” she breathes out, shaking her head as she places the flower down on the side table. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and dials a familiar number, her thumbnail in between her teeth as she waits for the call to go through.

“Hi Bella,” Dave says as he answers, his voice relaxed. She can picture him sitting at his desk, ignoring the paperwork he never enjoyed. She sometimes wondered why he didn’t retire, why he insisted on working even though he didn’t need to, but she knew it was because it gave him something to do. It filled his days with the ability to think about anything other than the fact he was lonely. 

It was something she’d never quite been able to find herself. The empty house that she’d always resented was now her prison of sorts, cold rooms and hallways that she felt trapped in, haunted by everything that had happened there and everything that never had. 

“Hi,” she replies, breathing out a slow breath before she carries on, “It happened again.”

She doesn’t need to explain any further, doesn’t need to say what has happened. This is something they’d spoken about several times throughout the years. A pattern they couldn’t escape, doomed to repeat itself until the people who were doing this, the man who was after her, would finally leave her alone. 

She can hear him moving on the phone, his voice already tighter, more tense as he replies. 

“I’m on my way.”

___

Aaron exhales slowly as he pulls up to the house, his eyebrows furrowing as he double-checks the address he’d been given to make sure he is in the right place. The house is huge, closer to what he’d call a mansion than anything else. He stops his car and gets out of it, his hands on his hips as he looks at the house again, the place he’d be living and working for the foreseeable future. 

He’d taken the job out of necessity. The breakdown in his marriage the year before, the official signing of divorce papers a few months ago ending his relationship with Haley, the person he once thought he’d spend his life with, leaving him without direction, and without somewhere to live. It was something he never thought he’d have to deal with, let alone when he had only just turned 30, but life had rarely been kind to him.

He looks down at the blank spot on his ring finger, the band of skin that is still slightly paler than the rest of his hand, and he sighs, shaking his head at himself as he steps towards the house, ready to meet his new employer. 

He gives himself a moment before he rings the bell, straightening his back and shoulders as the door opens, opening to reveal a man on the other side, a smile on his face as he reaches out his hand.

“Aaron Hotchner?” He asks, his smile widening slightly as Aaron nods and shakes his hand, “I’m David Rossi, thank you for agreeing to start so quickly,” he says, and Aaron nods as he’s led into the house, looking around, the grandness of the house taking him aback as he steps in, “So, what has an ex-FBI agent doing private security?” 

Aaron turns to look at him, “My ex-wife wanted me home more, I left the FBI to try to save our marriage. Clearly, it didn’t work.” 

Dave nods knowingly, “I have 3 ex-wives, so I understand that better than most,” he says, patting Aaron on his shoulder as he leads him into the house, “I’ll show you to your room in a little while but I’ll introduce you to Emily first,” he squeezes Aaron’s shoulder once before he lets go, his hand falling to his side, “Brace yourself.” 

Before Aaron has a chance to realise what that means, Dave pushes the door to what turns out to be the home library open. He pauses as he walks into the room, struck by the beauty of the woman sitting in a large chair in the corner. She had her dark hair piled on top of her head, effortlessly beautiful in a way he knew was rare. She looks up at them, her dark brown eyes pulled away from her book as she frowns at the two men who had disturbed her, mistrust flashing through them as she puts her book down, her arms crossed as she stands up. 

“Dave,” she says, looking back and forth between him and Aaron, “Who is this?” 

Dave sighs as if preparing himself for something, “Aaron, this is Emily,” he says before turning to her, “Emily, this is Aaron Hotchner. He’s your new security guard.” 

There’s a beat of silence, heavy and thick as it hangs in the air, and Aaron watches as Emily tries to hide her irritation but fails, the tightness in her sharp jaw immediately giving her away. 

“I don’t need a security guard,” she seethes, stepping closer to Dave with her arms across her chest. She pointedly ignores that Aaron is still in the room just a few paces away from them, “I’m fine.” 

“Emily, we got a threat on your life.” 

“It was a freesia, it’s hardly a ransom note,” she says, sounding more sure than she felt.

It had been a battle between them for years. Dave would hire the security via her parent's estate, and as the sole heir and beneficiary, she’d have control over it. She’d either be purposefully unreasonable until the guards quit, or would straight out just fire them, her insistence that she was fine, that she could look after herself, something she would repeat each time. 

“We both know it isn’t just a flower,” Dave replies, his eyebrow raised at her in defiance. She rolls her eyes, her hands tight around her arms. 

“I don’t need a security guard,” she repeats, her words pushed out through her teeth. This time she does turn to look at Aaron, “You’re fired.”

“You can’t fire him,” Dave replies, raising his eyebrow, a smug smirk on his face that tells her she has, for once, outsmarted her, “I’m paying him, so he works for me, not you,” he looks at Aaron and, despite the circumstances, gets a bit of a kick out of the expression on his face. Emily always had a way of making an impression on everyone she met, and this seemed to be no different. “You’re not fired.” 

They fall into a silent stand-off, the air thick with awkwardness and Emily’s anger. She finally rolls her eyes and turns around stalking out of the room and not saying anything else. Dave smiles as he watches her leave and turns to Aaron, his smile turning into a smirk as he looks at the frown on the other man's face, the edge of concern sneaking into its edges. 

“You’ll grow on her,” Dave says, turning serious as Aaron looks at him, “She’s been through a lot,” he says, a flash of protectiveness for Emily burning him from the inside out, “She’s very guarded.” 

“That’s understandable,” Aaron replies, swallowing thickly as he looks at the door Emily had stormed out of. He was wary about being here to protect someone who clearly didn’t want him around, but he needed the job. It came with a place to live and a level of financial stability he thought was impossible after his divorce. He’d let Haley have the house, his guilt about the breakdown of their relationship leading him not to fight for it. He had no choice but to make this work. “It will be fine.”

Dave smiles, his gaze flicking between Aaron’s face and the door Emily had left through, “I have a feeling it will.” ___

It’s awkward. 

She purposely avoids him, using tactics she’d learnt at a young age when she would evade her parents at parties she was forced to go to. She’d sneak around, always a few steps ahead of them. Sometimes she missed it. There were days when she would give anything to go to a party she’d hate every second of, a part of her life she never thought she’d find herself yearning for. 

It works for a day or two until she bumps into him in the kitchen, both of them seeking out a late-night drink before they head to bed.

“Agent Hotchner,” she says, smiling tightly at him before she goes back to getting out the scotch, averting her gaze to look anywhere but at him. 

“Miss Prentiss,” he replies, watching her like she was a caged animal, not wanting to spook her. It feels tense as she actively ignores him, “You can call me Aaron you know, since I’m not an agent anymore. I just wanted to apologise.” 

She still doesn’t look up as she replies, “About what?” She asks, purposely ignoring everything else he’d said. 

“I…had no idea you didn’t know I’d be coming here,” he says, stepping further into the kitchen, “I didn’t mean to blind-sight you.” 

She looks up at him and her eyes meet his. She’d been raised in an environment where everyone lied to each other all the time. Insults dressed as pleasantries as people went about their days, never saying what they really meant to say. It meant she was excellent at spotting a lie, a human polygraph machine of sorts. She sees nothing but honesty on his face and she immediately feels herself feel a little less irritated at him. 

“Well,” she says, smiling tightly at him as she looks down at her hands, “That’s pretty typical of Dave. You’re here because of a flower, so I hope you’re not expecting too much action.” 

He smiles, something about her sense of humour getting to him, sneaking under his skin and making him feel relaxed for the first time in days. 

“Why freesias?” He asks, looking at her curiously. She sighs as she momentarily pauses, placing her glass of scotch down on the counter. 

“They were my mother’s favourite flower,” she says, clearing her throat. Her chest feels hollowed out as it always did when she thought about her parents, her grief as complex as her relationship with them had been, “My dad always bought them for her birthday,” she chuckles as she shakes her head, picking up the bottle of scotch and pouring herself some more. She hesitates for a second before she grabs another glass from the bar and pours him some too, “Well he always had his assistant to buy them for her. We had purple freesias at the funeral,” she presses her lips together tightly as she sits down, shrugging nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t talking about something that had permanently shifted the trajectory of her life, “The first one was delivered here a few days later. It’s happened every few months ever since. The police think it’s the killer's way of reminding me they are out there.” 

He watches as she sits down and joins her, reaching for the scotch she’d poured for him. “Did you never think about going somewhere else?”

She shrugs, “It happened in Paris too,” she says, shaking her head, “I went to my parent's house there…my house there,” she corrects herself, “The flowers were left there too.” 

“Paris?”

She nods, “Yeah I like it there. We spent a lot of time there when I was young, French was the first language I learnt.” 

“The first?” 

“Can you do anything other than ask questions?” She asks, smiling at him, “I speak six languages,” she chuckles when he almost chokes on his scotch, “Seven if you count English.” 

“The doctorate in linguistics is starting to make more sense,” he says, clearing his throat to clear the last bit of scotch stitch in the back of it, “So you speak all those languages fluently?” 

She nods, “I do,” she smirks at him, looking him up and down, the scotch thrumming under her skin allowing her to let herself appreciate him, the way his muscles shift under his skin, “Tu as de la chance d'être séduisante, sinon je te jetterais dehors.” 

He smiles at her, “Impressive.” 

She smiles, her cheeks turning pink in a way she doesn’t understand as she sips her scotch, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s important you trust me,” he says, “Since I’m here to protect you.” 

She nods and laughs bitterly, “I wish I could protect myself,” she mutters, sipping more of her scotch, “It would make me feel a hell of a lot safer.” She feels like she’s said too much, the revelation feeling like more than anything she’d told him about her mother, “I’m going to take this to bed,” she says as she stands, her drink grasped in her hand.

He smiles kindly at her. He knew from the very limited time they spent together that she was guarded, that any perceived rudeness was an attempt to protect herself in any way she could. 

“Of course,” he says, “Goodnight, Miss Prentiss.” 

She pauses in the doorway and looks back at him, “You may as well call me Emily,” she says, a smile flicking across her face, “Since we’re essentially roommates. 

He nods, “Okay, goodnight, Emily.” 

She smiles, “Goodnight, Aaron.” 

He watches as she turns to leave and feels emboldened, warmed by the scotch he was drinking and unable to help himself as he admires the curve of her neck, the contrast of her dark hair against her pale skin. Something about her was drawing him in, briefly making him forget that he was here to do a job.

“Emily?” 

She turns to look at him, her smile a mix of curiosity and irritation as she raises an eyebrow at him, “Yes?” 

“J'ai étudié le français à l'université. C'était ma matière secondaire.”

Her eyes go wide for a moment before she can stop herself from reacting, and she clears her throat, “Oh, well, that’s good to know,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him, “I’ll have to make sure I pick another language to talk about you when you’re around,” she presses her lips together to stop herself  from smiling, “Goodnight.” 

He watches her leave, letting her go this time, the sound of her receding footsteps the only other sound in the house. 

“Goodnight, Emily.” 

-x-

Tag List:

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

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss fan fic #young hotchniss #Hotchniss AU

[eyesontheskyline]

🧸🐝 🧩

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

Ohh there's very little logic to who I follow back honestly, it depends more on what I'm doing when I open the notification than anything else. I'll nearly always follow back unless I miss the notification or the person obviously hates one of my ships, or posts only stuff I don't recognise. So I think the answer is. . . follow me. . . then if I don't follow you back, there's probably no reason for that so spam me with notifications or just ask and I'll follow back lol. Obviously I'm Hotchniss trash and Emily trash in general.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

Forever faves @heartbash and @pictureofsoph1sticatedgrace and @justwanted2dance, who made me feel welcome when I made my first jump back into writing, and who don't even go here but continue putting up with my nonsense anyway. I love you guys.

@sayornissaya who wants to dissect characters and what-ifs in the exact same depth I do and wrote super thoughtful comments on my fic that made my entire week and will likely continue providing serotonin boosts for years to come if my past behaviour is anything to judge by.

@roseekara who wants to talk in ask form.

@archersmidnight who reblogs my fic with commentary in the tags, and is therefore a personal hero.

And then I suspect the kind anon might usually be the same kind anon? I appreciate the support of the kind anon a whole lot. There are also ao3 usernames I recognise as always commenting but they either have different usernames on tumblr or they're not here or they're always anonymous. . .

God I'm definitely forgetting people I really should be tagging, these things make me so anxious.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Paragraph-less wall of text.

No new paragraphs for new speaker - I just find this suuuper hard to follow.

Characterisation that feels too off to me. Honestly, too much swearing for some reason? (I swear all the time irl, and there will be some amount of somebody saying 'fuck' in every sex scene I write probably, but I find it really distracting when characters are very sweary in the sort of situation we see them not-sweary in canon.)

And then things that are like. . . trigger-y for me, which are just specific things that happen in smut that are very Not For Me and I need to nope out for my sanity.

#ask me #very sorry if i forgot u #blame the toddler who derailed this answer about 8 times with snack personalisation requests

[sasarahsunshine]

I can’t stand Hotchniss but I make exceptions to follow some of you Hotchniss stans. Cause I can understand it. like, I get it. I see it. I get why y’all are into it. I love the stories you come up with and the headcanons. It’s all fun. (I just can’t see Emily not being a lesbian lol).

Jeid tho? Don’t even look at me.

#sarah rambles #anti Jeid #Hotchniss sort of #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fandom #hotch #emily prentiss #spencer reid #jennifer jj jareau

[happiest-hotch]

Aaron Hotchner NSFW Alphabet

18+ only please, friends 🤍

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

the sweetest. checks in with you multiple times, insists on carrying you to the bath or cleaning you up in bed, brings you water and chocolate, and cuddles with you all night.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite is his thighs because of how you look sitting on his lap or riding his thigh.

To be honest, i think he's an ass guy so that's his favorite of yours and he likes to grab your ass whenever he can. subtly at work and obviously at home. it drives him wild to see you in tight pants or a tight dress

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

loves when he can watch his cum drip out of you, loves pushing it back in and making you squirm at the overstimulation because he's got a major breeding kink but he also likes that it marks you as his. definitely into the rare occasion where he cums on your face/tongue

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

had a threesome with you and Emily and i will not elaborate further (i love hotchniss okay? leave me alone)

also he loves to keep a pair of your panties in his suit jacket pocket, but only on paperwork days

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

canonically (i think ?) he is a simp for Haley since high school, but i like to believe he was the og fuck boy in college so he is very, very experienced. he can definitely make you cum almost effortlessly.

still, sex between the two of you starts off vanilla until you get into exploring the kinky side to your relationship

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

if we're talking soft sex, just plain old missionary for when you wake up in the morning or when he finally gets home from work

for the rough kinky stuff, bending you over any available surface or literally fucking you against a wall

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

absolutely has the best sense of humor if it's more relaxed sex. like he'll crack jokes and his sarcasm is unmatched

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

not completely shaved but he likes to keep it neat

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

very very sweet. he loves to run you a bath or a good old fashion rose petal trail. it's often because he feels guilty about not being home, but he's a chivalrous guy and he liked to make you feel special.

if it's less planned, like some sweet morning sex, he loves kissing you and he's a big fan of makeout sessions

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i don't think he does it that much, since you're around to do it for him. but i could see him being a fan of mutual masturbation

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Daddy kink. if that's not your thing then Sir, just something that means he's in charge because it's what he's comfortable with

Brat tamer there are, like, a million scenes of him putting people in their place and it's really fun to push his buttons to see how far you can make him go

Impact play going along with the above, he'll spank you when you act out. mostly on your ass (because he's obsessed with it) but also on the cheek if that's something your comfortable with

Breeding kink crazy, and i mean crazy, about the thought of getting you pregnant, even if you're on birth control and the two of you are just pretending

innocent kink i don't know why i think this, i just do. maybe because he's probably older than his partner and while you were both worried about the judgment to start with, it becomes insanely hot

orgasm denial sort of going along with the brat tamer thing, he's into punishing you. he'll pretend he's going to get you off with his fingers or tongue and the pleasure builds until...nothing. then he just smirks at your disappointed face

overstimulation another way he can punish you, and also something he incidentally because he loves fingerfucking his cum back into you

Size kink i mean...just look at how big and strong he is, of course, he's going to adore how big his hands look on your body and the fact he can give you a belly bulge at the right angle when he's inside you

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

probably just in bed because it's intimate and comfortable. still, the couch and the kitchen counter, for those occasions when he kist has to have you right then, are frequently used. occasionally in his office, but only if no one else is on the whole floor. ohh, and the shower or anywhere he can hold you up

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he's sort of a perv, so sometimes it's just watching you. whenever you notice, you pretend to be so unaware of what he wants just to tease him

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

most exhibitionist things. maybe you've fucked in his office a couple of times or you've given him a blow job in there a few times, but he's incredibly professional and he wouldn't do anything that could get you two caught in case it jeopardizes your careers

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he's very skilled at receiving, even tells you it's what he was known for in college, and he's very good at sensing what things make you squirm the most.

although, he'd never turn down a blow job or seeing you down on your knees

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

a mix of both, depending on the vibe, but there's more slow, sensual sex than there is rough sex

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

sometimes, but not in the traditional way. he's not going to bang you in his office while the team is out for lunch, but he'll get some action in early in the morning before you two have to get ready for work or at night when you need something to destress

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

not so much with different public places, but i think he'd be open to trying out different things with you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can last a while, but there isn't round after round. i see it as morning sex, then shower sex. something like that where he has time in between rounds. and, time permitting, he always gets you off at least once before any penetrative sex

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

yeah, i could see him owning a vibrator or something like that which he uses for some bittersweet orgasm denial and then overstimulation. but he likes to be the one fucking you. maybe some anal toys too, if that's something you're into, and some ropes too if that's the mood

and he loves to hear you getting off on the phone while using a vibrator

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

more of a tease when you've been a brat but sometimes it's just fun for him to see how far he can tease you before you're begging him to fuck you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

kind of loud, and his voice gets really deep, but he loves making you as loud as possible

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

would have another threesome with Emily lmao. and maybe he owns a camera to 'capture the moment' because he knows garcia could hack his phone and he's not about to risk that

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

let's be honest, it's big

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

close to average, maybe less than average if it's a busy time at the bau but definitely above when he has time off and it's just the two of you

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

not that quickly. he loves a good late-night talk, and he likes watching you sleep

share your thoughts about this

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds hc #criminal minds headcanons