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emberfrostlovesloki · 6 months

Text

Demons [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left and Right (Google) Center (@hotchs-big-hands [my beloved])

Prompt: The team is forced into very close quarters during a case on an offshore oil rig in Alaska. It’s bitterly cold and there’s nowhere to go, and three men have been beaten and stabbed to death. The team must solve the mystery before it’s too late. A mix-up in rooms also has Aaron and the reader closer than ever. It allows him to learn something new about her.

Category: Angst/comfort

Word Count: 15.6K

Content Warnings: Sleep paralysis, canon typical violence, death (of a victim and unsub), beating (with a blunt object), choking (briefly described), mention of death by stabbing, the threat of death by knife/gun, mention of drowning (unsub), mention of abuse (in the past [Hotch]), slight mention of blood, language, hospitals, slight body image issues (Hotch). Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Ahhhh, hi loves. Did anyone ask for something this long? No. Did I expect to write this much? No. But the scenes kept coming, and I kept writing them down. I just love the writing process. It’s so cool. But enough of that. This story’s mostly based on a northern gothic vibe and the age-old, ‘only one bed’ trope. I am very happy with how this turned out and I hope you all like it too. You could read this as a stand-alone or as a prequel to my story, Unwanted Attention (linked). A huge thank you to my top hype woman @sadgirlzluvdilfs (ILY) If you like this story as well, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you all have a great Friday night! - Love Levi.

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_y/n_ = your name

_y/e/c_ = your eye color

Hotch got a call from Strauss in his office. He had hoped that Monday would be a quiet work day for himself and the team. He was currently drowning in paperwork, and as he glanced down at the bullpen. He could see his team trying to do their best to also catch up on the more clerical side of their jobs as FBI agents. Strauss had told him to meet her in her office immediately. He replied, “Yes, Ma’am. I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone, grabbed his shoulder bag, and moved toward the elevator. It was a short ride up to the twentieth floor of their building, and Aaron wondered what he should prepare for when he arrived at Struas’s office. He walked down the long hallway and knocked twice on his boss’s door before opening it. Aaron was not expecting to see The Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, Frank Ridgewell, seated across from Strauss. Both the Commissioner and Strauss stood when he entered her office. Erin gestured to Ridgewell and said, “Agent Hotchner, I’m sure you know Commissioner Ridgewell.” Aaron nodded. He had never met the man in person before, but he was aware of who he was, and how important he was to the United States. Aaron extended a hand and Mr. Ridgewell took it, giving it a firm shake. Once the quick introduction was done, Strauss said, “Let’s all have a seat.” From Erin’s tone, whatever was happening here was important. Strauss indicated to the other man in the room, and Frank turned toward Aaron asking, “Are you aware of the new offshore drilling operation in Alaska?” Hotch furrowed his brow and replied, “Only tangentially. I understand that the rig was built quickly and there was a land dispute. I’m also aware that there were environmental protests over beginning new drilling so close to a naturally preserved site.” Ridgewell nodded and said, “You’re correct. As of three months ago, the oil rig has been fully operational. The rig employs sixty-seven people in total. Fourty-four of those individuals are employed part-time or have shift work on the operation. The other twenty-three are full-time employees that work one month on-site and three weeks off.” Aaron had his legal pad out and was taking a few notes as the Commissioner spoke. He was waiting for the important information with a bit of impatience. This had to be important if it wasn’t coming from JJ. If it was coming from the top, he needed to be meticulous in his work and the various details being thrown at him.

After another minute of the smaller details about the rig and its crew. Ridgewell’s tone changed. The man said, “Well all that preliminary information is building up to say that within the first three months of operation, three men have been killed. Only one of the twenty-five men working full time on shift could be responsible for the deaths. The three victims were found beaten and stabbed to death at various locations on the job site. The first victim was found by one of the security guards and the next two were found by workmen.” Aaron nodded, finally understanding the gravity of the situation, and asked, “And you believe that the BAU can assist you in finding the unsub on this oil rig?” Frank looked confused as Hotch said, “Unsub,” and Aaron clarified, “The Behavioral Analysis Team calls potential murderers Unknown Subjects, or unsubs for short.” At hearing this, Ridgewell nodded and replied, “Yes, yes I do, but there’s more to it than just the killings.” Aaron raised an eyebrow and Strauss chimed in for the first time during the meeting, saying, “Take a look at these Agent Hotchner.” Strauss pushed a file labeled ‘Classified,” in front of the Unit Chief. Hotch opened the folders and inside found a dozen or so copies of transcripts and pictures of messages that had been unencrypted. The jist of all of them was that the three deaths had been an intentional attack on the U.S. oil and gas industry. After Aaron had carefully examined these pictures, he looked over to Strauss and then Ridgewell. He asked, “So you believe there is credibility to these claims?” Ridgewell gave a half-shrug before answering, “We can’t be sure yet, but if this information got and with the new site already having a negative reputation, there would be dire consequences. The current administration is desperate to keep prices on gas and oil low and even a momentary shutdown of operations would affect the bottom line. And heaven forbid those messages leaked to the public. Half of the States would be in a panic, and there'll be a run on fuel.” Hotch nodded. This case was more complicated than he had first expected. Strauss looked at her Senior Agent and stated, “We need you and the team in Alaska as soon as possible. This is a matter of national security. Agent Hotchner. You and the BAU will need to be extremely careful.” Aaron replied, “Yes, Ma’am.” He then turned to Ridgewell and said, “I’ll need to brief my team. We’ll be headed to the site by the afternoon.” Frank looked relieved and replied, “Thank you, Agent Hotchner. I’ll email you the file with the current crew of the rig and their supervisor. I should warn you that it’s going to be close quarters up there.” Aaron nodded. He didn’t ask for elaboration about the space, he was going to be there by the end of the day anyway, and he didn’t have time to think about it right now. Hotch stood and shook hands with Ridgewell and Strauss before straightening his jacket and moving outside to the hallway again.

Back in the bullpen, he moved to his office, He would need to check his email and do a bit of research before calling the team to the briefing room. He moved toward his office and Rossi passed him. Dave looked over his neutral expression. Though Aaron rarely showed his emotions openly, Rossi knew him well enough to know that something was amiss. David flashed him his, ‘New case?” Look, to which he nodded affirmatively. Aaron could see Rossi’s shoulders fall slightly. Hotch understood that his friend had also wanted a break. The caseload had been extra heavy over the last month and a half, and the team was aching for a break. As the two men passed each other on the stairs, the sound of laughter caught Aaron’s attention. He knew the laugh well. Better than he should. Aaron turned and saw _y/n_ sitting at her desk. She had a file slightly covering her face and her _y/e/c_ eyes were bright and wide. Emily and Derek were standing beside her having made some joke that he hadn’t heard. Looking at her like this, as a casual observer made a small flame in his chest flicker slightly, like a lighter being turned on by an unsteady hand. Aaron had begun to recognize that the small attraction that he had for _y/n_ had grown. Now every time he looked at her, he felt the need to stifle a sigh. For now, he was safe. _y/n_ hadn’t shown any particular interest in him, that he could tell. Or maybe he was just pretending to not notice when _y/n_ looked at him for longer than necessary, or how she checked in on him often, just to make sure he was really doing alright. Hotch turned away as another peal of laughter emerged from the group downstairs. In his office, he turned on his lamps and opened his email inbox for the new information Strauss had CC’d him. It was a good 110 pages of personnel files and maps of the site. More important for the team was when the supply boat schedule which went to the rig in the morning and early evening. It took Hotch a full hour to skim all of the new information. He sent Garcia an SOS to get as much dirt of the Northern Oil and Gas Supply LLC as she could. Particularly the new oil site called Farpoint 52, -153. The name was unassuming, and the first thing Penelope told him was that the numbers were latitude and longitude points in Alaska, but not those of the actual site.

When Aaron was ready, he had seven file folders with all the most important information accumulated including pictures of the victims that the local PD in Anchorage had just sent over. The attacks were brutal. The injuries on the three bodies seemed to be caused by blunt force trauma, and as Ridgewell had said, there were multiple stab wounds on the victims as well. Hotch took a long breath as he got up and moved outside his office. He knocked on JJ and Rossi’s doors and gave them their files. JJ said, “I’ll get Garcia to come and set up the screen in the briefing room.” Aaron thanked her, and she and Rossi moved out of his way. Hotch placed his hands on the railing of the stairs and called out for his agents saying, “BAU team, I need you in the conference room.” As all four members of the team looked up to him, the mood of the room changed, dimming from how lively it had just been. Hotch turned toward the meeting room before he could see their faces fall once more. Sometimes he thought that he couldn’t keep doing this to them. To himself. The isolation he felt when he was home alone left him a breathless aching mess. It was rare when he allowed those feelings to overwhelm him, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. When this happened, he often found himself in a steaming hot shower. So hot that it hurt. When he couldn’t control his emotions, he felt like a kid again after his father had gone on either a verbal or physical diatribe about his perceived shortcomings. The reminders of the abuse he endured for years would flare up and make him feel a different kind of shame and hurt than letting his team down. By the end of the shower, he had normally excised these emotions and feelings of weakness and would fall into a fitful sleep afterward.

_y/n_ watched Aaron turn quickly. She let out a long sigh at the announcement about a new case. Everyone on the team was exhausted, and it seemed that Hotch was the most exhausted of them all. She had watched him closely over the last month. Something about his demeanor had shifted. _y/n_ wondered if it was the two-year anniversary of Hailey leaving him that had initiated the change, or if it was something else personal or professional. She wanted to ask him what was wrong. How she could soothe him from the stress she could sense coming off of him. But she assumed that might be stepping over some personal work line, and she was still relatively new to the team. She didn’t want to risk any consequences for being overly personal. For now, all she could do was watch and wait for a time that seemed appropriate. She was fully aware that that time may never come and would have to be okay with just being near someone as commanding and steady as Aaron.

In the briefing room, everyone but Hotch and JJ sat. Aaron moved to the head of the table and said, “This morning I got a call from Director Strauss. When I got to her office, the Federal Energy Regulatory Commissioner was waiting for me. He has a case for us in Alaska that is a top priority. And…” Hotch paused as seven pairs of eyes waited for more details. Realizing that it might be more efficient to have his agents just read the brief in their files, he said, “Actually, why don’t you just turn to page one in your files and read over the case notes so far? I’ll give you a few moments.” The team opened the files in front of them and read the 1,000-ish word briefing on the first page. They were all aware that this case was different than the rest and that the brief hadn’t been written by JJ. Spencer and _y/n_ could tell it was Hotch’s writing almost immediately. The tense use and wording were very direct and blunt, just as Aaron was. Not that JJ added fluff, just that she took a few more words to make a point than their Unit Chief. Once those seated at the table had read over the first page and taken a look at the victim's pictures, Aaron moved forward and said, “Well as you can see, this latest case doesn’t have a lot of victims, but the timeline is progressing quickly and given that the crew is so small, these deaths have caused issues in the operation of the rig. On top of this, it seems that foreign agents are claiming they are playing a part in these deaths. If this is true or not; we can’t be sure until we find the Unsub.” Rossi tossed in the comment, “If it is foreign agents, they are most likely to come from Russia or the Middle East where much of the oil in the U.S. comes from. We should look at the crew and see if there are any potential ties to those countries.” Hotch inclined his head at the suggestion. It was a good one. With the primary details being said and a long flight ahead of them, Aaron concluded the information session by saying, “I recommend bringing the warmest clothes you have in your go bags, and something waterproof if you have it; I’m sure you can guess that it will be cold and wet where we’re headed.” Aaron looked at his team as they started standing, and he added one last thing that stilled the team and drew their attention to him again. He simply said, “I understand that this team has gone through a lot in the last few cases. I know you’re tired. After this case, I’m going to do my best to find some time for us to be off and recuperate for a bit. Please know that your efforts and work don’t go unnoticed by me. That’s all.” With his mini pep-talk finished, the team moved into action again. Aaron had meant what he said of course, but had also said it for himself too.

As everyone filed out of the room, _y/n_ approached Aaron and just barely touched his forearm to get his attention. Hotch looked down at her and asked, “What is it, _y/n_?” Sometimes when _y/n_ looked at him specifically, intentionally, he thought he saw a flicker of something more in her eyes than just attention and respect. He thought he saw it now, but he cleared his head. Now wasn’t the time for those thoughts. _y/n_ didn’t seem to notice how deeply he was looking at her when she said, “When you spoke to Strauss this morning, did she say anything more about the case? Is there anything else we need to know?” She hoped she wasn’t asking for information he couldn’t give. Hotch continued looking down at her for a moment before replying, “She just said that we needed to be safe. There are a lot of unknowns here. More than usual for a case.” _y/n_ acknowledged his statement and said softly, “Got it. See you in the parking lot.” With that, she quickly left to gather her go-bag and race to get some coffee if she could before the jet left for Anchorage. When _y/n_ had gone, Aaron took another moment to minorly compose himself. Then he moved to catch up with Garcia. He was going to ask her to join the team on this case due to the technical aspects that might be involved. He had a sinking suspicion that getting her on wifi all the way out where they would be might be harder than on the mainland. If foreign assets were involved or there was tampering with the equipment of the rig’s systems, Penelope was the most capable of any of them to lend a hand.

Thirty minutes later, the team piled into the jet with their go bags and files. Garcia was a balm to what seemed to be an already dreary case. As everyone sat, the ideas started flowing about motive and the type of unsub that they were dealing with. Spencer and Morgan were thinking about the physical elements of the unsub. Things like the impact of the wounds, the type of weapon being used to inflict them, and the force that would be needed to cause them. Their top ideas for weapons were a baseball bat or some other blunt object that had lots of fulcrum power. Meanwhile, JJ and Emily were looking through the personnel of the twenty-five full-time employees. Garcia was on every possible legal and illegal site that tracked energy and messages that could possibly correlate with countries like Russia, Iran, or Iraq. Rossi and Aaron were looking deeper into the oil company as a whole. To them, it seemed a little sketchy and the fact that Mr. Ridgewell had asked for the team personally belied that there might be some shady business not only from outside but inside the company as well. Rossi was talking about a possible correlation with BP and their recent legal troubles. As all this was happening, _y/n_ sat and listened to the cacophony of sounds bouncing around the plane. She had her notebook out and was taking her usual annotations on the case and jotting down when someone on the team said something she thought was important. She was feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the chatter happening around her, so she took a moment to grab a coffee from the back of the jet. The team had moved out so quickly that she didn’t get a chance to grab a cup in the office break room. She moved past Hotch and noticed he wasn’t holding a cup either. _y/n_ stopped briefly in front of her boss, and he looked up at her. She made a hand motion to indicate ‘drink?’ Aaron gave her a small, grateful look and nodded his head yes.

At the back of the jet across from the small sink and mirror, was the coffee machine. She put in the water and a capsule for the Keurig. _y/n_ placed a cup under the dispenser and pushed run, on the machine. _y/n_ somehow hated the Keurig coffee more than the office coffee. It managed to always taste burned and flavorless no matter which flavor of pod she picked. But the caffeine was a necessity at the start of a case for her. It was half ritual half desire, and she didn’t fight it. When her cup was finished, she started the process again for Aaron, who no matter what coffee he was drinking, seemed unfazed by the quality of the brew. As Hotch’s cup started filling, _y/n_ doctored her own cup with milk and white sugar. Once both drinks were ready, she placed lids on the cups and moved back to the cabin of the plane. As she passed Hotch, she seamlessly handed his cup to him, as she settled back to her own spot further down the row. Garcia watched as this happened. It was like moving a baton between two runners in a relay. ‘They hardly looked at each other while it happened!’ The technical analyst thought. Penelope hadn’t been on a case since _y/n_ had joined, and this behavior was new and exciting for someone like Hotch. Garcia had taken special care with _y/n_. The newest BAU agent was young, and she knew more about _y/n_’s background than most of the team. Because of this, Garcia had done her best to uplift and support _y/n_But it seems that _y/n_ was supporting the team in small ways too. Penelope knew that _y/n_ was attentive and sharp in her mind and actions if she needed to be. But this was generally hidden beneath her gentle warm exterior. But seeing _y/n_ meet even the smallest needs without even being asked to was such her thing; at least, that was what Penelope thought. Now that she was here seeing this, Garcia was going to have to pay more attention to _y/n_ and Hotch. Because she wanted to know if this was just a them thing, or was _y/n_ acting like this with the whole team?

_y/n_ sat and took a sip of the coffee that was a little too hot. The liquid burned her tongue and she made a small face of pain. Thankfully no one was looking at her at the time. _y/n_ set the cup in the cupholder next to her seat and looked at the picture of the rig itself again. This setting was so bizarre for a crime. Even the photos of the outside of the rig made her feel unnerved. _y/n_ tried to think of any prior cases like this. There had to be some. _y/n_ was fiercely thinking about old cases. Old old cases even. This case was going to require thinking outside the box. Finally, with eyes closed and brows pinched, some ideas started coming to her. With some inspiration, she began writing quickly on a new page of her notepad As this was happening, Aaron looked around the cabin. Everyone was still intensely focused, and he walked around each group to see what they had come up with so far. Spencer and Morgan had surmised that the unsub was probably smaller than they might assume. Given that they used blunt objects to kill the victim. If the unsub had a lot of strength, they should be able to kill their victims without the need for an object. Between JJ and Emily, they had pinpointed a few possible workers who might fit certain profile types and those specifically seemed to be linked to odd organizations or firms that could be linked to terrorist organizations. As Aaron moved to ask Garcia how it was going, she shooed him away with a tut-tut indicating that she was too busy for a check-in at the moment.

The last person he needed to see was _y/n_. As he approached her, she seemed deep in thought, and he sat across from her and sat for a minute or two in silence as he let her wrap up whatever she was writing. When _y/n_’s pen stilled, she looked up at him and he asked, “You seem to be having some ideas overhear. Mind sharing them with me?” _y/n_ nodded, looking down to her notes. She resisted the urge to say, ‘I don’t feel good about this case. I can’t pinpoint it, but something feels off here.’ Instead, she said, “I was thinking about the setting; the rig. Looking at the ariel photographs, the maps of the interior, and the security footage from the main hallways made me think about something. It’s so isolated. If you work there then it’s a tight space, and you work a dangerous job, and you see the same twenty or so people day after day for three to four weeks.” Hotch nodded along, getting a feeling for where she was going. When they made eye contact again, he said, “And?” He was encouraging her to finish her thought. _y/n_ gave a soft sigh as if she was doubting herself. Whether there was doubt or not, _y/n_ continued, saying, “Well those working conditions can’t be good for one’s psyche. I was considering some old cases. I know that Cabin Fever isn’t a diagnosable psychological condition, but there’s a history of those symptoms manifesting in groups of isolated people. I’m thinking as far back as the Donner party in 1846. There was the Highcliff’s in 1980, and more recently the Smith and Wess party in 1992. I know these are ancient cases for the team but it seems to fit to me. I know this case could be way more complex given the terrorism element, but just looking at the brief you wrote, I think this might be a case of insanity due to the location. I could be wrong. I could be totally off here, but it’s what I’ve got so far.” Aaron thought about what _y/n_ had said and replied, “I’m not saying that that train of thought is not out there, but given the novelty of this case, I think we need someone who is thinking with a separate mind frame. Once we’re on site, keep what you have here in the back of your mind. If you see anything that relates to this theory let me know immediately.” _y/n_ nodded at him in agreement as he stood and made his way back to Rossi. Sometimes when Hotch or anyone asked her her thoughts early on, she feared that she sounded unhinged, or worse, stupid. _y/n_was still finding solid footing with the team, but Hotch never dismissed her ideas unless they were fully implausible, and she appreciated that about him.

The flight moved quickly after this. Although there were five hours left, the team regrouped and shared what they knew before touchdown in Anchorage. When the jet landed, the sun was already setting in the West although it was only 5:30 p.m. It only took a few minutes before they arrived in the SUVs at the dock with the resupply boat that would take them to the rig thirty minutes offshore. The team turned in all three sets of keys to the cars to the police officer waiting for them at the dock. Aaron promised to call the local LEO when the team was ready for their return to the small airstrip. The team pulled their go bags from the back of the cars. Derek was kind enough to carry Garcia’s pink and sparkly duffle on top of his small carry-on suitcase. The team had bundled up in their jackets and they were buffeted by the harsh northern winds beating them from all sides. As they boarded the gangway, Hotch momentarily steadied _y/n_ who he was walking next to. Though she seemed okay, it seemed to him that she could use a steadying hand for a moment as she battled the wind. When she felt Aaron approach her and then place a steadying hand just barely against her back she looked at him. He wore that expression that just said, ‘I’m here.’ _y/n_ gave him a nod, indicating that she appreciated the gesture. Aaron kept his hand where it was until they got on deck. Once they were on a more sturdy surface, Hotch removed his hand but moved to take the handle of _y/n’s small wheeled case in his open left hand. Their hands brushed briefly as they exchanged the weight of her luggage. Neither Aaron nor _y/n_ said anything at the exchange, but she gave him a soft smile as he moved toward the stairway that led to the passenger area of the ship. This had become a little pattern of theirs over the past few months. There was a kind of shared understanding of care between them. Aaron told himself that this was him taking care of his newest agent, and _y/n_ told herself that this was her trying to prove that she noticed the small needs of the team; both of them were lying to themselves.

Once the team was downstairs _y/n_ took charge of her case again, as Aaron and JJ moved to the control room to introduce themselves to the captain and get some relevant information. While the team waited to start moving, they all settled into the uncomfortable benches either in the center of the boat or those near the sides of the room that had a few windows looking out onto the choppy Alaskan Sea. After a few minutes, the boat motors started roaring to life and the resupply vessel moved toward the open water. Garcia moved to sit next to _y/n_ who had slumped down on a bench next to one of the windows. The waves were a dark green and blue, and the clouds had turned a charcoal grey as the sun started to dip below the horizon. Penelope looked over to _y/n_ and asked, “How are you holding up, friend?” _y/n_ looked over to Garcia and said, “I don’t like this Penelope. This feels off to me. This case.” Garcia nodded along and said, “Trust your gut _y/n_. You know yourself better than anyone else. If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.” _y/n_ nodded and both she and the tech whizz turned to look as Hotch and JJ returned from the bridge. Aaron stepped into the center of the room. The boat listed up and down slightly, but he seemed perfectly stable even as the boat took on a large wave. In his smooth voice, Aaron said, “According to the skipper we should be at the rig in around twenty-five minutes. Apparently, the seas are pretty rough tonight. Once we get there, the boat will take a few minutes to dock. A worker on the rig is going to get our luggage for us, so leave it here by the door when we disembark. Once we’re on the rig the first thing we'll do is meet the foreman. As you saw in the file, his man is Mr. Obermann. Once I’ve introduced us all, we’ll get a tour of the rig. Find rooms and then debrief if that sounds alright?” Everyone agreed and said so in some way or another. _y/n_ always found it interesting that he said things like, ‘If that’s alright with you.’ To the team. It’s not exactly like they had a choice on what happened at the start of a case. _y/n_ hypothesized that he did this to give them an allusion of control. Also, if someone did really have a suggestion that the team do something differently -- like asking to go to a crime scene or the hospital or something like that -- then he would consider it. However, Aaron was usually good at predicting the needs of the team and the case. He was their leader after all.

The resupply boat arrived at the rig and the size of the massive object that was being buffeted by the cold waves was more massive than any of them had imagined. The rig wasn’t the only thing being pushed by the harsh wind. As the team got outside and made it to the short ladder they would need to climb to get to the main platform. Derek helped _y/n_ and Garcia get to the ladder while Aaron helped JJ, and Rossi provided Emily a steadying hand. The whole team pulled their jackets tighter around themselves as they made it to the main door. A worker pulled the heavy metal door open for them. The door led directly to the crew’s rec room. Mr. Obermann was waiting for them and stood as the team entered the room. Aaron moved to the front of the pack and introduced himself and the team quickly. Mr. Obermann looked stressed and worn out which was understandable given the circumstances. The man said, “Well I appreciate you all coming so far. If this doesn’t get fixed it will be hell for the company, but more importantly to me twenty-five good hard-working men. Because you’ve all come I’ve sent all the temp workers home until you find our guy. What did you call him again?” Aaron replied, “The unknown subject, or unsub for short.” Obermann nodded and said, “Yeah. That. The men that are still here are freaked. They all think they’re going to be the next victim. It’s not good for the job as they need to pay full attention to what they are doing. Risk of injury on offshore rigs are thirty three percent more likely than those on land.” Obermann stopped to take a breath before continuing, “Now I’ll give you a tour of the place. I need you all to put on hard hats.

The protective headwear was passed out, and the team put the hats on. JJ, Penelope, and _y/n_ struggled not to laugh at the look of all the men on the team wearing the hats. Particularly Rossi, Morgan, and Aaron. Hotch looked like a midwestern politician trying to get votes from the rustbelt to _y/n_, and she actually had to cough to hide her laugh. She was fully aware that she must also look like a fool, but she just couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. Once they were equipped, the team and Mr. Obermann moved through an internal door that led to a long hallway. The foreman moved through each of the rooms on that floor, including his small office, the mess hall, the laundry room, and some of the sleeping quarters. They moved outside, and the team looked at the helipad, and the derrick that brought the oil up to the surface. The team moved back inside and moved down the steps to the first level of the rig. The lower floor was very dark and close to the water level. The sound of the waves could be heard through the thick steel and concrete which spoke to the power of the water surrounding them. Obermann guided through the more mechanical side of the rigs. The communal showers for the crew were also located on the second level. As they walked through the mechanical room, Obermann said, “This room is generally off limits, but as you know, the first victim was found here. I ask that if you need to be in here, let me know and I’ll send someone to open it for you.” The tour took a long time as the space was cramped and a lot of the rooms required them to be careful. Obermann led them back to the rec room where their luggage was waiting for them. Oberman said, “I’ll give you all a few minutes to pick rooms for yourself. The rooms that are free are downstairs. With all of you here, you’ll have to double up. The keys to the rooms are on the table and are labeled with the number that matches the door. Now I have some paperwork to attend to, but I’ll be in my office for any questions you have.”

As Obermann moved to his office, the team looked at each other. Having to share rooms was never something they enjoyed. Though the team was close, it was an entirely different thing to have to share a room. The team's cases often brought a lot of stress and little sleep, and having the privacy of their own space let them decompress in their own form or fashion was needed. On the rare occasions that the team did share rooms, it was fine, but everyone was far more comfortable alone. But, the work needed to be done, and they needed to start quickly, so no one made a fuss. With that out of the way, the team paired up. Derek, Spencer, and Rossi shared one of the rooms that had three beds, and JJ, Emily, and Garcia took the other room with three beds. Emily offered to share her bed with _y/n_ but _y/n_ said that she was alright being with Hotch in the room with two beds. If it meant having her own bed she would be fine. Aaron overheard _y/n_ and Prentiss’s conversation, and he felt a tug in his chest. He wasn’t sure if the feeling was because _y/n_ seemed so okay with sharing a room with him, or the fact that he was even thinking about it. Hotch had noticed his feelings change toward _y/n_ in the last few months. He wasn’t sure what was pulling him to her, but in some tiny way, things seemed to have shifted in the air for them. And Aaron knew that it wasn’t just him that felt the change. _y/n_ had started to adapt around him. Doing things for him she didn’t need to but that he wanted. He had started reciprocating the gestures and it just kind of clicked in place. Hotch hadn’t given this much thought yet. There hadn’t been time, and he wanted to wait before he did anything more. The fact that he was thinking this now felt like he was breaking some kind of supervisory rule. Even if _y/n_ seemed completely fine with sharing a room with him, he wanted to check in personally. As the rest of the groups moved down the stairs with their suitcases, Hotch stepped toward her.

When Aaron was next to her, he looked down into her eyes and said, “_y/n_, you don’t have to share a room with me. I can make another arraignment or sleep on one of the couches in here if you prefer.” _y/n_ appreciated the gesture, and she looked over what appeared to be the most old, decrepit, and uncomfortable couches she had seen in her life. Not only would Hotch’s sleep be compromised, but he honestly might be unsafe here given that the rec room was open 24/7. With the killings happening, she would never risk him like that. Even if she was uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping in the same room as her boss, she still wouldn’t make him sleep in a space like this. Although _y/n_ didn’t find the idea of sleeping in the same room as Hotch uncomfortable, she did find it a bit awkward. Over the past few months, she had had some less-than-professional thoughts about her Unit Chief. None of them had strayed into the lewd, lurid, or vulgar, but even so, being that close to Aaron made her insides flutter slightly. She told the butterflies just trying to take flight for the first time to slow down. For now, she was just thinking about this situation by internally telling herself, ‘It’s just Hotch.’ _y/n_ didn’t mean this in a demeaning way. Many of her close relationships or intimate moments with men were marred by pain or betrayal. So for her to simply and honestly say, ‘It’s just Hotch,’ meant a great deal. “Alright, but if at any time you feel like you need space during the night, just tell me and I’ll give it to you.” _y/n_ smiled and nodded, saying, “I will, Hotch. Now, maybe we should put our stuff away so we can get to work?” Aaron nodded in agreement and he stood more straight. The pair grabbed the last room key and their cases. The duo moved down the stairs and to the end of the hallway where their room was.

Hotch pulled the door’s key from his pants pocket and fitted it into the lock. There was the pleasant sound of the bolt clicking back. Aaron took the metal handle in his large hand. The door swung outward, and he froze momentarily as he looked into the room. _y/n_ noticed his shift in demeanor and softly asked, “What is it?” She pressed closer to him, and she realized why he had reacted as he had. The room they were supposed to share only had one bed and from the size of it, there was no space for another mattress. Aaron muttered something she couldn’t hear under his breath before he more loudly articulated, “There must be a mistake. I’ll talk to Obermann. Or we can talk to someone on the team. Emily will still let you sleep with her. I’m sure of it.” While he said this, two thoughts were happening simultaneously in _y/n_’s head. The first was that her work phone had vibrated in her pocket about ten times since she and Hotch had been trying to negotiate about the room. _y/n_ took a moment to look through her messages. It seemed the other team members were ready to start building the profile for the unsub and were waiting for her and Hotch. This meant she had little time to think about the second thought running through her head like a fire. Imagining sleeping in the same bed as Aaron, even momentarily pulled a light flush to her face. She pushed the latter thought back for later and said, “Hotch, we can figure it out later. I think the team is waiting for us in the rec room. Em said there’s coffee. Let’s just put our cases inside and you and I can figure this out later.” Aaron turned to _y/n_ with a furrowed brow. For a second he could see the flush on her skin but moved to look away not ready to acknowledge that fact yet. Though he wanted to rectify this situation immediately, _y/n_ was right. He gave a small sigh and said, “You’re right. We can figure it out later." With that Aaron and _y/n_ moved into the small space. Hotch pushed his suitcase under the small space of the bed while _y/n_ placed her smaller case in the only open storage area the room had. When this was done, they both left the room; Aaron switched off the light and locked the door behind him. As they made their way back up to the first floor, Aaron sighed. This wasn’t particularly Obermann’s fault, but it was a unique situation for sure. One that he would resolve to make sure _y/n_ was comfortable. For some reason when he saw her in pain or discomfort, it really ate at him. This had only happened twice, but those were two times he did not want to repeat. And he certainly wasn’t going to be the cause of her discomfort.

The pair moved back to the team and settled into the open spots at one of the tables in the rec room. The darkness outside the windows of the rec room seemed to try and penetrate through and around the lights on the rig, and the howl of the wind crashed with the waves as the team worked late into the night. They bounced ideas off each other and looked at the first three spots where the victims had been found. By 2:40 a.m. the team had a basic profile down. They assumed the unsub was around forty to fifty-five years old, which eliminated a little less than half of the twenty-five workers. They also assumed the man was important and potentially used violence as a substitute for sex and a form of release. _y/n_ kept the idea of cabin fever in the back of her head and suggested acts of hysteria or depression for the profile. She clarified, “We wouldn’t see that behavior here, but while this unsub is not on the rig I think bouts of anger and depression might be a pattern. He might have even lost jobs because of this before.” Rossi agreed and said, “We can ask Mr. Obermann about people with those traits tomorrow morning. We also know the attacks happen at night when most of the crew are asleep and only the night shift workers are awake.” Derek tacked on, “And they happen where there aren’t cameras or the lighting is too dark to see clearly. It’s often near the machinery to drown out any screaming.” Now that the preliminary profile was created, it would give the team a better chance to look over all the workers tomorrow who they were meeting in the morning. They had only met two men officially that night and it was the two security guards. One was a younger man in his thirties named Joe, and the other was in his fifties named Pete. The team had met the two while they changed shifts. Both men had introduced themselves and told the members of the BAU to call them at any time if they needed help. Derek and Aaron both clocked that neither man carried a gun, but did have retractable nightsticks in their belts.

By this point, it was nearly three, and many members of the team decided to call it a night. They needed to wake up at five a.m. to meet the oil workers before their shift started at 6:00 a.m. It was only Rossi, Garcia, Aaron, and _y/n_ left awake. _y/n_ could feel the weight of her exhaustion pulling at her. Her mind was foggy and looking at the files actually hurt her eyes. The lights on the rig at night were a bit dimmed and she longed to get to sleep. She pushed away from the table and Garcia looked up and asked, “Are you going to bed, darling?” _y/n_ nodded. At hearing this, Aaron looked over to her and she approached him. Mr. Obermann had retired hours ago and _y/n_ was sure Emily was out like a light by now. She could see Hotch eyeing the couches again and she just barely touched his shoulder. He looked over to her and she nodded her head toward his phone, which pinged once. Aaron picked up the device and swiped up on _y/n_’s text message. He quickly read it over. The message read: “Hotch. I guarantee that sleeping in the same room, even the same bed as you doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It may be unorthodox by FBI standards, but I’m tired and I don’t to wake JJ or Emily. Please don’t sleep on those couches or stay up all night to try and make tonight better for me. You need rest too. If sleeping with me makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take the couch, just wake me up and let me know.” Hotch turned back to _y/n_ and could see that she was being honest, about all of it. That she wasn’t uncomfortable, and that she would take the couch if he wanted to be alone. Again he had that feeling that he was being cared for by _y/n_. And even though he felt uncertain for some unknown reason, he couldn’t deny he’d rather be on a bed than the couches. Finally, he gave her a small nod letting her know that he would be down at the room later. Silently, _y/n_ mouthed, “Night Aaron.” With that, she slipped into the corridor and out of sight. Garcia had observed whatever that odd interaction was between her two friends and she was sure something was happening. What that was, she couldn’t say yet, but with her snooping and pleading skills, she hoped to find out soon enough.

After another hour, Aaron was the only one still up. He was stalling and he knew it. With a sigh, Hotch put his loose papers in his file. He picked up the manila folder and moved downstairs. The grimy, dim hall lights flickered and the shadows seemed to move as Hotch walked down the small corridor. Hotch stopped outside the showers and considered taking one. Again he was stalling. He didn’t need a shower, he needed sleep. He passed the showers and tried to unlock the door as quietly as he could. It was dark in the room and he felt around the dark space for the edge of the bed. _y/n_’s slow breathing filled the room along with the sound of the wave slapping the sides of the rig. Aaron knelt down and tried to quietly remove his suitcase from under the bed. He stopped once it was out and listened. From her breathing, it seemed that _y/n_ was still asleep. He unzipped the case and at this point, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He found his grey sweatpants and a sleeping shirt. He couldn’t tell what color it was in the dark but it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Once he had the articles of clothing, he pushed his suitcase back under the bed. Once he was standing again, he considered moving back to the showers to change. However, opening the door and letting in the light from the hall might wake _y/n_. He looked over at his agent who was turned away from him facing the wall. She was obviously asleep, and he decided to just quickly change in the room. He placed his pajamas on the empty side of the twin bed. He faced the other direction and quietly undid the buckle of his belt. He slipped it out of his belt loops and when it was free, he silently placed the leather on the bed. With a fast intentional movement, he undid the button and zipper of his pants. He slipped off the fabric and when his legs were free, he grabbed his sweats and slipped them on. Somehow Aaron felt that it would be alright if _y/n_ saw him in his undershirt or even bare-chested, but something about her seeing his legs or worse his groin -- even if it was covered with briefs was too embarrassing to think about.

A tiny voice in his head said mockingly, “And you just thought ‘you weren’t trying to impress someone?’” Hotch grit his teeth, removed his shirt and undershirt, and put on the soft cotton of his sleeping shirt. Aaron folded the clothes that he had put on the bed and set them on top of _y/n_’s case. He would hang them up tomorrow. He slowly sat down on the edge of the mattress and it dipped slightly with his weight. Very slowly he moved his legs onto the bed and it was just long enough to fit his tall frame. He lay on his back. For his sake and _y/n_’s he decided to sleep on top of the covers, while _y/n_ stayed bundled beneath them. This would at least give them a layer of separation between them. Aaron wasn’t sure if it was his was his stirring or even his body heat, but _y/n_ seemed to momentarily wake, and in a sleep-heavy voice asked, “Hotch.” It was hard to tell if she was still asleep or not, but he softly replied, “It’s me.” This answer seemed to soothe her and _y/n_ quickly fell back asleep. The exhaustion Aaron felt nearly made him fall asleep before he turned on his side to face the opposite direction from _y/n_. For once, he was grateful that he was so tired that his mind couldn’t wander to places he shouldn't let it.

An hour or so later Aaron woke when _y/n_ made a small sound in her sleep. It was like a little hum or maybe the softest “yes” he had heard in his life. As he came to a more conscious state he realized that he was warm. Warmer than he had been when he fell asleep. In his sleep, he had managed to get under the covers and he was nestled next to _y/n_. His right arm was around her waist and his face was pressed into the soft smooth skin of her neck. Hotch stilled his body. Apart from the fact that being pressed close to _y/n_ felt good, he realized that he needed to move slowly or he might wake her while he disentangled his body from hers. Hotch pulled his face back first, and in his tired mind, he thought about how he missed _y/n_’s crisp scent. Next, he removed his arm from her waist. _y/n_ made another noise at this retraction but still didn’t wake. Aaron thanked the gods for apparently making _y/n_ a deep sleeper. Finally, Aaron rolled onto his back and then to his original position facing the other wall. He was too drained to try and get out and above the covers again, and anyway the warmth from both the blankets and _y/n_ who was only an inch or so away from him felt good, and he fell back into unconsciousness after a few minutes.

In the morning, neither Aaron nor _y/n_ had the time to reflect that they had ended up in each other's arms again during the night because they were jolted awake by the sound of someone screaming. _y/n_ said, “It’s Garcia.” Both Aaron and _y/n_ quickly put on their shoes and grabbed their guns in case there was any danger. Aaron moved out the door first and _y/n_ followed closely after. The sound had come from the nearby showers. Mr. Obermann had set up for the showers to be open from six to seven a.m. each morning for the BAU women to shower safely and with the guarantee that a man wouldn’t interrupt them. This was something JJ had set up on the flight over to Alaska. JJ had ensured that the same was promised for the men on the team, but their hours were in the evening. As Aaron and _y/n_ arrived outside the showers, Morgan was gently guiding Penelope from outside. The technical analyst was sobbing and Derek sort of passed her over to _y/n_ who put her gun away. Morgan firmly said, “Get her away from here, _y/n_. We have a new victim.” _y/n_ nodded and she tried to comfort Garcia as they moved away from the new scene. Hotch slipped past them and at his point the whole team assembled. Rossi was acting as a guard against the workers who wondered what was going on, and if someone had been killed. As _y/n_ passed JJ, she asked the media liaison to come with her and Garcia to provide another more comforting presence for Penelope. JJ nodded and they moved back to the women’s room.

It was a hectic three hours at the start of the morning as a coroner and the local authorities were called. The oil workers became increasingly restless with all of the authorities and the BAU around. To the men, so far these newcomers hadn’t done anything to protect them yet. Once Penelope had calmed, _y/n_ sat on Emily’s bed and thought to the morning. To Hotch in his sneakers and grey sweatpants and dark blue shirt with his gun drawn. To Rossi in a dressing gown and undershirt, and Morgan in a tank and sweats. In fact, they had all been in sleeping clothes except for Spencer. _y/n_ expected that the young genius had stayed up all night. The sight of all of them with guns in such casual clothing would have been funny if it was in a dream or something. But this wasn’t a dream. They were isolated in the middle of nowhere. So far away from civilization that it took an hour for the coroner to arrive. _y/n_ thought back to her isolation theory. She looked forward to speaking with Obermann when she got the chance to see what he had to say. She could also get JJ to look over the personnel files with her for clues as well. After Emily dropped off a soda for Garcia, _y/n_ asked Garcia if she could describe what had happened in the morning and any clues she might have seen or observed. _y/n_ had her pen and pad ready when her friend began to speak. Finally, the police left, the coroner took the body, and the team changed into their professional clothes and assembled in the rec space. Obermann and all the workers minus the fourth victim were assembled.

Obermann spoke first and said, “Alright, new rule. Teams of three only. No one moves alone, even to piss. No teams of two, teams of three. I’ve called corporate and am waiting for a response. If they tell us to leave today, we will. But until then we can still do our jobs. And if you can’t tell me. Before we get to today’s work, I’ll have Agent Hotchner speak to you. Listen to him and his team without any grumbling or complaints unless you want to be written up.”With that, Oberman stepped aside for Aaron. Hotch tried to make this quick. He could tell the men in front of him were angsty. He cleared his throat and said, “As Mr. Obermann said, I’m Agent Aaron Hotchner. I work for the FBI in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I and my team are here to find the person who is making this an even more dangerous place to work. I am sincerely sorry for your loss this morning. I and my team standing beside me will do everything we can to try and not allow something like that to happen again while we are here. If any of you see something off or suspicious, don’t hesitate to tell me, our Media Liaison, or anyone on the team. I promise we won’t get in your way. For now, that’s all.” Aaron stepped back and motioned for the team to move further back into the room as Obermann started giving the instructions for the day's labor. Aaron had cut out a lot of the formalities, his title, and the science behind the team's work. It wasn’t needed now. He had been speaking to hardened working men, not cops, and sounding fancy or professional wouldn’t make their opinions of him or the team any higher. As Obermann gave orders, Aaron similarly divvied up tasks for the team. Garcia, who had much recovered from her shocking morning would continue looking at the terror element and online leads. He and Morgan would look at the crime scenes. Rossi volunteered to watch the men at work and see if he saw anything that fit the profile. JJ, _y/n_, and Emily volunteered to look at the files of the employees again, as well as rewatching any relevant footage, and Spencer would work on a geographic profile if that was even possible in a space this small. Hotch, like Obermann, told his team that he wanted them in pairs. The events of the morning were a clear reminder that there was significant danger for everyone on the rig.

The team worked tirelessly through the day. They all even missed breakfast and lunch. They reconvened at mid-day and shared what they had. Rossi had suspicions about two men, Baker and Price. Em, JJ, and _y/n_ had thoughts about three men: Slainfield, Parkins, and Jotenson. _y/n_ also had a bad feeling about Pete. However, Pete was standing by them so she didn’t say anything to the whole team. But once the man was gone, she approached Aaron. He was leaning over his and Rossi’s notes on the table, but he acknowledged her presence by turning his head to her for a moment. _y/n_ said, “I think that there’s something off about Pete. He seems to match the profile well and…” She paused momentarily and Hotch looked at her closely, saying, “And?” _y/n_ swallowed and said, “Maybe this is silly but he gives me a bad feeling.” Hotch nodded and said, “It’s not silly. We’ll keep an eye on him.”

The team worked through the afternoon and into the evening. Every now and then they would update the group as they discovered new things. Morgan and Hotch had looked at the crime scene and the pictures of the victim. It was clear that this murder was faster and more reckless. It had happened in a more public place unlike the last three and there was less bruising which meant the death had been rushed. Hotch and Rossi made two hypotheses: one was that the killer was trying to show dominance to the team. To demonstrate that he could kill even with them watching. The second was that he was getting sloppy. He might be trying to show strength, but it was evident in the victim’s body that he was slipping. In the evening the team met for dinner with the rest of the workers. The BAU members all sat together at a table on the far side of the room. Clear cliques could be seen in the oil men as the group sat and chattered softly. None of the men looked at the team and they clearly didn’t want to be overheard. It was clear that the team's presence and the fact that a killer was among them was altering their behavior. As _y/n_ looked over the group and then to her friends it all suddenly felt like high school. And in a moment that felt like a bad teen romance, _y/n_ thought of the morning, before Garcia had shifted the course of events for the day with her discovery. _y/n_ had woken early. She wanted a shower even if she didn’t really need it. She had not expected to wake up warm and cozily tucked in Aaron’s arms with his face pressed into her hair. The comfort she found in his embrace knocked the senses out of her for a moment before she realized he was her boss and any feeling that might or might not been growing in her would be rejected. Not that she’d ever have the nerve to say or do anything. She liked her job too much to do something stupid. She liked Aaron too. As a colleague and friend, she wouldn’t want to make things awkward between them. _y/n_ came back to herself and wondered how she could navigate out of the small bed and his warm, strong arms to get to the showers. Just then Penelope had screamed and saved her from having to think about it. _y/n_ snapped back to reality as Emily said something to her. _y/n_ looked over at Prentiss and said, “Sorry, come again?” As she picked up her pizza for another bite.

To call the food good would be hyperbole, but the team was so famished the cafeteria-grade food tasted amazing. The workmen moved to finish their tasks for the night before turning in. The team continued working for an hour or so before many members also turned in for the night. Perhaps it was the cramped space or the fact that the daylight faded quickly leaving the rig in darkness much of the time, or just the sounds of the waves that made them all a little more sleepy than usual. Emily, Garcia, _y/n_, and JJ were one of the groups to turn in early. _y/n_ could tell that Garcia was going to start asking her questions about what the night with Aaron had been like. To avoid having that personal conversation right now, _y/n_ faked a yawn to indicate that she was really sleepy, which she was. Her strategy worked and Garcia, who was actively going to ask _y/n_ about her night yesterday stopped herself realizing that her friend was tired. Each of the women moved to their rooms and got ready for bed. When the lights were off and _y/n_ was under the blanket and her breathing was the only sound in the room, she thought she heard a creaking from the corner of the small space. _y/n_ sat up, but there was obviously no one there. She lay back down and pulled the covers over her head like a little girl. The place unnerved her. It was like an isolated haunted British mansion with a vengeful ghost roaming the corridors. Except this ghost was real and would do more than scare you to death. _y/n_ let out a sigh at her silly thoughts. She cleared her head and actually focused on getting some rest.

Aaron was not the last one up this time. That honor went to Derek who was chatting with Garcia about something technical that he wasn’t sure he fully understood. Hotch stood and excused himself. Aaron was smarter the second night, and he had set out a clean pair of pajamas and his toiletries for his shower night. Aaron grabbed the items and moved back to the shower room. Hotch stripped and moved into one of the communal showers. He pulled the frosted plastic curtain back for privacy. He turned on the water and flinched as the ice-cold water hit his skin. It took a moment before the warm water replaced the frigid. When the hot water did come, he let out a little sigh. He didn’t know where it had come from. He assumed it was from being so tired. From the real and present danger his team was in, and also that there had been a dead body in this very space many hours earlier. As he reflected, he thought, ‘These cases certainly make strange bedfellows of places.’ And it was true. Where hadn’t he seen a crime? Churches, dressing rooms, parks, campgrounds, strip clubs, showers, houses, houses, houses… Aaron tried to not focus on the morbidity of his job. He was actually thinking about the ‘bedfellows’ part of his thought. Because this case was making him have a strange bedfellow in _y/n_. In what world would something like this happen? In what twisted world was he so comfortable with it happening? He thought back to when he woke up holding _y/n_. Now Aaron actually stopped himself from groaning. ‘You’re tired,’ Aaron reassured himself. He more quickly worked through his routine of thoroughly cleaning his skin and washing his hair. After drying off with a towel and changing. He moved back into the room and settled into the bed. As he lay down, he looked at the metal ceiling painted an unimaginative hospital beige. He silently said, ‘You won’t hold _y/n_ tonight._’ He repeated it a few times. It was a technique he used with Jack when he had bad dreams. Aaron told his son that if you say something while you’re awake, like, “I won’t have a nightmare tonight,” that it will happen in your sleep too. Hotch softly chuckled at the fact that he was using a comforting technique for his son on himself. As his thoughts shifted to Jack, he slipped into sleep.

It was the middle of the night, Aaron woke when he felt like all the air had been sucked from the room and a heavy weight seemed to press down on him. He shifted up and looked at _y/n_. He was surprised when he saw her eyes wide open apparently looking at the foot of the bed. He could tell something was off. Her body was stiff like a board. Aaron tried to get her to relax by gently shaking her shoulder and calling her name, but this had no response. Hotch swallowed and placed his fingers over her pulse. It was a bit elevated, but he could see her breathing normally. Her condition scared him, and he called her name again. After a moment _y/n_’s eyes shifted from the edge of the bed and up to the ceiling. Aaron knew there was nothing there, but he looked up at the flat surface anyway. He tried shaking her again. He was wondering if she was having a stroke, but the odd symptoms didn’t look like those of a stroke, and _y/n_ was far too young and healthy to have a stroke. He would have seen it in her medical history and not let her on the team. For another agonizing minute, _y/n lay still. _y/n_ seemed to snap out of whatever this episode was. She quite literally collapsed into the mattress, and she took large unsteady breaths like she was panicking or had been unable to breathe over the last few minutes. Aaron’s voice was filled with concern and worry, as he brushed his hand over her arm and said, _y/n_. What was that?” In a strained voice, _y/n_ said, “Lights. Give me a minute.” Hotch nodded, and he felt relieved hearing her voice, even if it did sound distressed. He leaned over to his side of the wall and flipped the light switch on. The low-level fluorescent glow of the overhead made Hotch blink a few times. When his eyes had adjusted, he watched _y/n_. Her eyes were closed and she was clearly doing some breathing techniques to calm herself and her nervous system down. Aaron’s hand briefly ghosted over her upright palm. For a moment he wanted the take it in his own hand, but he stopped himself. He grabbed at the sheets of the bed and made a fist with the fabric instead. After a few minutes, _y/n_ sat up. One of her legs was bent to her chest, and she placed her forehead in her right hand. Aaron cleared his throat and as if she just now remembered he was there, she turned her head to look at him with her forehead still in her hand. She looked so scared. Her eyes shone with it. After a final beat of silence, _y/n_ said, “Do you know what sleep paralysis is?” Her voice was slightly hoarse, lower than its normal register. Hotch thought about what he knew about the condition. He’d heard of it before, but never experienced it himself. Softly, he replied, “I have. Though I don’t know a lot about it.” _y/n_ nodded and then said, “Well now you’ve seen it.” Seeing _y/n_ like this pulled at his insides, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He moved his hand to the small of her back to provide some comfort.

_y/n_ seemed to settle with his touch, and she took her head out of her hand. Aaron wanted, needed some answers. So as kindly as he could, he asked, “What is that like exactly? You were so stiff for about three minutes.” _y/n_’s brow pinched for a moment and she replied, “It’s like locked-in syndrome a bit. You’re aware, awake but there's no moving or being able to snap out of it. You’re trapped until the episode is over. People see, hear, or feel things. One or all of those things can happen.” Hotch’s mind went back to while the episode was happening. She had clearly been looking at something at the foot of the bed and then at the ceiling. He asked, “Do you see things?” _y/n_ nodded and said, “Yeah.” Aaron could see the discomfort as she thought about it. Aaron wasn’t going to press, but he did wonder what she had seen. His unspoken question was answered by _y/n_, who said, “For me, I… I see a man. He’s large and cloaked in a kind of shadow. Like his body is there but not there. He smiles at me but other than his mouth there’s no face.” _y/n_ swallowed thickly and said, “Normally he’s at the foot of my bed, but sometimes he’s near my face. Tonight he crawled up the wall and looked down at me from the ceiling.” While she spoke about the figure, her voice hitched and Aaron noticed the small sob she was trying to hide. Her description of sleep paralysis sounded horrible. His bouts of insomnia felt like nothing compared to what she described. It was an actual living nightmare. Hotch took a breath and started running a gentle circle on her back with his thumb. He wanted to know more. Like how often does this happen? Or if there’s something that causes these events. But right now he was more concerned about making sure _y/n_ was comfortable and felt safe.

Aaron removed his hand from her back, and this made her look at him more intently. He first acknowledged how frightening that sounded, and he said, “I’m sorry you’ve gone through this. It sounds, scary. Is there anything you do that helps you calm down? Is there anything I can do to help? I could grab you a coffee, or give you space if you need.” _y/n_ gave Hotch one of those small half smiles that she flashed him when he was doing something for her that he didn’t need to exactly. She replied, with a more stable voice, “I, um actually think that coffee might make it worse. Trying to stay up and outlast the feelings doesn’t normally help with anything. But maybe some water would be nice.” Hotch nodded and turned toward the small nightstand on his side of the bed. He grabbed the water bottle that he had taken from dinner. He had only taken a sip or two, and he offered it over to _y/n_ saying, “Is this okay? I just had a sip, but I can get you a new one if you prefer.” _y/n_ chuckled lightly as she unscrewed the cap and took a drink. She really wasn’t worried about germs from Aaron. After a few sips, she put the cap back on and Aaron placed it back on the table. Aaron then asked, “Is there anything else?” _y/n_ continued looking at him and said, “Normally I just grab a weighted blanket and and try and get back to sleep and pray it doesn’t happen again.” The idea that something like this would happen more than once in a night was abhorrent to Hotch. He looked around the room for anything that might act like a weighted blanket even though there wasn’t anything of the kind around. Aaron’s brain came up with an idea and his mouth voiced the thought before he could stop himself. He said, “Maybe I can hold you? It’s not a weighted blanket, but maybe it could help?” There was a silence after the offer was out there. Both Aaron and _y/n_ were a bit surprised. Aaron bit the inside of his mouth at what he had said. He feared that he had crossed a line, and _y/n_ looked at him like she was surprised that he had offered. However, much to Hotch’s relief, she said, “I’d like that, actually.” Aaron nodded and softly replied, “Okay. Do you want me to turn off the lights?” _y/n_ nodded and laid back on the mattress.

Aaron switched off the light and lay flush with the mattress as well. He wasn’t exactly sure how to start what he had offered without it being awkward or uncomfortable. So he started by just taking _y/n_’s hand in the darkness. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and she let out a breath at his touch. His hand trailed up her arm to her bicep where he ran his pointer and middle fingers up and down the area gently. He wanted to ensure that she was okay with this. After a minute of this, _y/n_ softly said, “Aaron, please.” Maybe it was the way he said his first name or the fact that he wanted to provide the comfort that gave him the courage to move his body close to hers. He placed a hand on her hip and asked, “Do you want to face my chest or face the wall?” Her comfort was most important to him. _y/n_ thought for a moment and said, “I’d like the face the wall.” Aaron hummed and positioned himself so his chest was against her back as she turned on her side. With his left arm, he wrapped his arm over her. It rested on her waistline. He didn’t add any pressure, but let the weight of his arm rest on the side of her body. _y/n_ could feel that he was tense; he might even be flexing. She didn’t mention this and after a few minutes, he relaxed like her. When he did this she could fully feel him pressed against her. The soft area of this stomach pressed against her lower back. Before she fell asleep she said, “Thanks Hotch.” With that, she slipped into oblivion.

In the morning it wasn’t odd as they got up. Aaron checked in to see how she was, and _y/n_ said, “I’m alright. I rested pretty well thanks to you. I really appreciate it, Hotch.” Aaron nodded and more nonchalantly than he really felt he said, “I’m just happy that I could help.” _y/n_moved to grab her towel, her work clothes, and her toiletries bag. She stepped into the shower and told JJ good morning. The media liaison was humming some county song behind her privacy curtain and told _y/n_ “Good morning,” as well. _y/n_ and JJ moved to the rec room together. The rest of the team was grabbing breakfast. As soon as Garcia saw _y/n_, she knew something had happened the previous night. The technical analyst and Emily approached _y/n_, and Penelope asked her, “Baby, did something happen? You don’t look well.” _y/n_ shook her head and quietly told her friends, “I had another episode last night. It was a lot worse than the recent ones.” Garcia looked at _y/n_ sympathetically and pulled her into a hug saying, “I’m so sorry, _y/n_. It’s gotta be this place. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies too.” Aaron watched on as Em, Garcia, and _y/n_ had a quiet conversation near the serving table. He could just hear some of their conversation, and for a moment, he felt left out because _y/n_ hadn’t told him about her sleep paralysis but had clearly let Penelope and Prentiss in on the secret. Aaron realized that immediately that was stupid because the conversation about her sleeping habits didn’t normally just pop up around him. What would she possibly say, “Oh yeah, every now and then a literal sleep demon shows up by my bed, and he doesn’t have a face. Also, I can’t move when it happens. And it could happen anytime I sleep.” Aaron chastised himself and stabbed another bite of eggs onto his fork. At least now he knew about one of the challenges that seemed to haunt _y/n_ outside the job, and he now would do what he could to make her life easier while they were on cases.

The day moved quickly as some leads dropped cold and the pressure was on to get results. There hadn’t been a new attack which indicated that either the unsub was getting scared, or the fact that the team and the workmen being in teams of two and three had stopped them from being able to act. If the pattern of the last two killings heald, the unsub was likely to attack again today. During the afternoon, Spencer and _y/n_ were discussing her theory and the idea that the unsub was impotent. Spencer said, “What if he’s not important at all, but has a pain fetish or something?” _y/n_ looked at Spencer with apprehension, and she replied, “But the impotence matches with the profile. The bat or blunt object is clearly a replacement for the phallus. If the unsub has a pain fetish I think he would take much more time with the victim. Granted in a place like this, there can’t be a lot of time spent on each victim. I’m not sure, now it feels off.” Spencer leaned against the wall and said, “Let’s re-examine that part of the profile in a bit. I have some thoughts about your cabin fever theory.” _y/n_ gave the genius a small smile and said, “Shot. I’m all ears.” What both agents were missing about the first subject of discussion was that it was possible that more than one person was influencing the way the victims were being killed.

It was late, again and Em and _y/n_ were calling it a night. _y/n_ had tried to get to bed before Hotch while they shared the bed. She hoped that if she was asleep when he got back, he would be more comfortable because they wouldn’t have to have any potential awkward ‘good nights’ or shifting around in the bed to try and get comfortable. _y/n_ for one, took what felt like half an hour to find a comfy position and actually get to sleep. The hallway to their room was cloaked in oddly long shadows. For a second Emily thought she heard a dripping sound and looked around for the source of the noise, but she couldn’t see anything from the darkened hall. Emily looked over to _y/n_ and said, “I don’t know about you, but I want to get the fuck off this rig.” _y/n_ nodded in agreement and said, “That gets an Amen from me.” As Prentiss approached her door, she fished for her keys and muttered, “Shit,” under her breath. _y/n_ looked over to Emily and asked, “What is it?” Emily said, “I left my keys on the table.” _y/n_ looked to her friend and then to her own door. It was only ten or so feet away and Em said, “You go to bed. I’ll be fine by myself getting my keys. JJ was planning on heading to bed soon too, so I’ll just walk back with her.” _y/n_ said, “You’re sure?” Prentiss nodded and both women headed their separate ways. Emily moved with determination, wanting to get to bed as quickly as possible.

_y/n_ moved down the hallway and passed the showers. Once she was past the site of the latest victim, a figure emerged from the entrance behind her. _y/n_ wasn’t aware of the man’s presence until he spoke, saying, “Ma’am, you shouldn’t be walking alone.” _y/n_ whipped around and saw the security guard, Joe. _y/n_ suddenly felt a dread build in her stomach, and Joe stepped toward her saying, “Let me walk you to your room at least.” Just as _y/n_ was about to say something, the man lunged at her. His strong hands found their grip on her neck and she choked as he restricted her airway and pushed her harshly against the metal wall. _y/n_ tried to fight the unsub, but her lack of air was making it hard. In an act of desperation, she used her right hand to find the man’s groin and she took his manhood in her hand squeezing the area tightly. Joe removed his hands from her body and said, “Bitch,” as he moved back covering his groin with his hands. _y/n_ tried to catch her breath. She pulled for the gun in her holster with shaking fingers, but Joe was quicker with his nightstick. As he extended the weapon it gave a little swishing sound. Before _y/n_ could fully protect her face with her hands the nightstick made painful contact on the side of her head. _y/n_ reeled, and she saw stars for a second. _y/n_ tried to stay upright, but the pain and confusion had her collapse against the wall. As she crumpled, she could hear Joe say, “How fucking dare you say I’m impotent. You’re going to regret that comment you little bitch.” _y/n_ closed her eyes as she saw the man’s hand holding the weapon raise and lower with considerable force.

Hotch moved down the hallway and stairs that led to the first level of the rig. He was in desperate need of a shower and a distraction. The day had been rough on him. He had had to speak to Obermann about the men suddenly acting different, even with hostility toward the team. They were obviously all on edge, but that didn’t give them a right to badmouth his team. He had also had a very choppy call with Strauss and Mr. Ridgewell. Both were disappointed that he hadn’t found anything yet. Aaron had to explain to Ridgewell specifically how unique a case this was. Aaron wondered why Erin hadn’t told the Commissioner this information before. Was his boss angry with him as well? Making him do this sort of soft groveling as a sort of punishment? To prove that he and the team were valuable? Aaron had also had a long conversation with Garcia about more messages that had been shared from the alleged foreign agents. Hotch was beginning to think that this part of the case was all a ruse by the unsub to distract the team’s time and energy. As Hotch got lower on the stairs, he heard a snapping sound and the small moan of pain that came after a particularly loud cracking sound had his hand on his gun in an instant. Aaron quietly moved down the final steps and he saw the younger security guard leaning over a prone figure that he recognized as _y/n_. Aaron authoritatively said, “I have a gun pointed at the back of your skull. Unless you want your brains decorating these walls, I’d put your hands behind your head and slowly stand.” Unfortunately for Aaron, Joe had heard Hotch’s footsteps and had grabbed his knife, which he kept hidden in his back pocket, and pressed it close to _y/n_’s neck. Joe called back, “I wouldn’t if I were you, Agent Hotchner. I have my knife pressed to your agent's neck. So unless you want her bleeding out from her carotid artery, I’d put down your gun, and kick it toward me.” Aaron clenched his jaw but replied, “Alright. I’m doing it now.” Hotch would never jeopardize a member of his team. The fact that he couldn’t see how hurt _y/n_ was and the fact that she wasn’t moving almost made him sick. He slowly moved his center of gravity down and set his handgun on the cold smooth floor. Aaron pushed the weapon toward Joe. The unsub felt behind himself until his hands found the gun. Joe moved to face Aaron, dropped the knife, and grabbed his nightstick instead. Joe commanded Aaron to raise his hands and put them behind his head. Hotch did as told and when the unsub was a foot away from Aaron, Joe quickly raised his nightstick and hit Aaron on the side of the face. The blow wasn’t well aimed, and it didn’t have as much power as he had used with _y/n_, but it was still enough to incapacitate the FBI agent for a moment. As Hotch slumped against the wall, Joe pushed past him and ran to an external door at the end of the hallway.

After a second, Aaron came back to himself and he clicked on his open communication channel with the team and he said, “The unsub is Joe Pabst. He just attacked _y/n_. He exited the southwest door. The channel came to life as Aaron moved toward _y/n_ on unsteady feet. He collapsed next to _y/n_ and checked her breathing and pulse. It was clear that she was unconscious and battered, but her pulse seemed alright. She seemed to be struggling to breathe due to the trauma on her nose. Aaron couldn’t tell if it was broken or not, but the blood leaking from it and the bruising already there told him that it was hard for her to breathe through it. Thankfully Rossi and Garcia came to his side in a second. Rossi motioned that he would stay with _y/n_ and at seeing this, Aaron got to his feet to pursue the unsub. He listened as Derek, Spencer, and Emily approached the man who had harmed _y/n_. Outside on the slick side of the rig, Aaron fought the wind. He moved up to the top platform and saw Derek and Spencer in a stand-off with the unsub who was on the rigging of the derrick itself. A light shone out, highlighting the unsubs form standing high above the waves. Hotch lined up a shot with the second gun he wore on his left ankle. Just as he was preparing to fire an incapacitating shot, Joe moved to the edge of the small platform, and by some twist of fate, or a simple design flaw, the chain railing slipped from one of its posts, and because Joe was leaning his weight on the barrier, he flailed wildly before plummeting into the choppy sea below. Aaron called Morgan on the secure channel and said, “Go see if you can find Joe. I’ll wake Obermann and let him know what’s just happened.” Derek confirmed Hotch’s directions. As much as Aaron would like the unsub to drown, it was still his job to make sure monsters like Joe faced the full weight of justice if possible.

A half-hour later Aaron was back by _y/n_’s side. Rossi had moved _y/n_ to the rec room and the travel medical evacuation team was en route. _y/n_ hadn’t woken yet and Aaron feared a bad concussion or worse, something like a brain bleed from the head trauma she had received. Aaron also couldn’t deny that he was feeling unwell. The lights were a bit bright for him, but he ignored his own pain to be seated next to _y/n_. When the helicopter came, Rossi insisted that Aaron ride with _y/n_ to the nearest hospital because he might also need medical care. Hotch acquiesced and boarded the helicopter with the paramedics and pilot. The sun was just rising above the horizon line as the chopper moved up and over where the Alaskan sea met the cold, hard land. At the hospital Aaron reluctantly submitted himself to an exam, but he only had thoughts for _y/n_ who was seen a few rooms down.

When _y/n_ woke a few hours later, her head pounded in pain. Even though she was hurting, she could sense that she was somewhere new. Her last memories were of Joe approaching her. As someone near her shifted, she opened her eyes and tried to see through the glare of her blurry vision. Aaron sat up as _y/n_ stirred. His head was lightly bandaged to stop the bleeding from his temple. _y/n_ struggled to say, “It was Joe.” Aaron nodded and said, “Yeah. Joe and Pete, but we can talk about that later. I’m going to call the doctor for you.” As Aaron waited for Dr. Ramirez to come and check in on _y/n_ he looked her over again. Her face was deeply bruised. There were other sites of trauma on her body including a fractured wrist and some bruised ribs. The doctors assumed that she had a grade III concussion due to the fact that she had been unconscious for as long as she had. Hotch could see the pain in her eyes, but even so, she said, “It’s nice to have someone one I really like be beside my bad instead of shadow man.” _y/n_ cringed slightly from the pain and how stupid ‘shadow man,’ sounded to her. She had never named her sleep paralysis demon. She refused to give it an identity. She looked at Aaron who was also a bit damaged. She wanted him to hold her again, but due to the fact that they were in a hospital, and he was her boss, that seemed a bit implausable. So she extended her hand out to him. Aaron took it in both of his hands, and his calloused fingers moved gently over her knuckles and palm. Before she closed her eyes against the brightness of the room, she saw a ghost of a smile on Hotch’s face. It always showed up in the crow's feet by his eyes.

A day and a half later, the team was headed back home. Joe’s body still hadn’t been found in the rough sea. It was possible that it may never be recovered. Aaron was fine with this. Pete, who had influenced Joe had been taken into custody and was awaiting a hearing. The doctors had recommended a three-day leave of absence for Aaron and a week-long recovery period for _y/n_ for both of their healing. Aaron was going to insist on a longer break for _y/n_. And if he was medically forced from the office, that should give the team a bit of a reprieve as well. As the team settled on the jet, Aaron found himself seated next to _y/n_. Discretely, his left hand found its place close to her thigh. The tips of his fingers softly touching _y/n_’s upper leg. _y/n_ seemed to be asleep, and Aaron looked over her face which was bandaging on her nose, crown, and temple. At his touch, _y/n_ shifted her body towards his in her sleep. The part of Aaron that was growing fonder and fonder for _y/n_ contentedly filled his chest. He would have to do some self-reflection once he was home about these feelings. Once his hand was a bit more firmly planted on _y/n_’s leg, Hotch thought about how demons really were real. Either those who showed up unwanted in horrifying waking nightmares, or people like Joe, who had been influenced by the older, isolated, and impotent Pete, who had told his protege to enact violence for him. But as Aaron looked over the dimmed jet cabin at his team --all of whom were asleep except for Garcia and Rossi. Aaron thought of them as his gaze returned to _y/n_. Yes, demons were real, but he was there to take care of them, whatever form they took. And that gave him the strength to keep going.

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lizzyk137 · 1 year

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Full Masterlist

Guide: (S)=smut, (A)=angst, (F)=fluff, (SM)=sensitive material, (SB)=slow burn

TV Shows:

Criminal Minds:

-Spencer Reid

Series:

-You Were My Happily Ever After (Part One) -You Were My Happily Ever After (Part Two) -You Were My Happily Ever After (Part Three) -I'll Be There For You (Part One) (SB, A) -I'll Be There For You (Part Two) (SM, A, F) -Genius Vs. Genius (Part One) (A, F, SM) -Figuring Out Parenthood (Part One) (F) -The Technical Analyst and the Boy Genius (Part One) (A, F, SM)

One Shots:

-Picture Perfect (F,A)

-Aaron Hotchner

-Just The Three of Us (F)

NCIS:

-Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Series:

-Baby's First UnderCover Op (Part One) (SM, A, S) -Baby's Secret (Part Two) (SM, A) -We're Having A Baby! (Part One) (F, A) -We're Finally Having Our Baby! (Part Two) (F, A)

One Shots:

-Annoyance (F, A) -The Wrong ID (F, A) -Drunken Calls (F, A) -Flirting With the Boss's Wife (F) -A Night of Brownies and Wine (F,A)

Doctor Who:

-Coming Soon!

Books:

Percy Jackson:

-Claiming You (A, F, SB)

KPOP:

SF9:

-Inseong

-Inseong Admits His Feelings For You (F, A, SB)

-Youngbin

-Youngbin Comforts You After You Lose Zuho (F)

-Jaeyoon

-Helping Jaeyoon Get To Sleep After A Tiring Day (F, SB)

-Dawon

Nothing Yet

-Zuho

-A New Form of Payment (S, F)

-Taeyang

-Nothing Yet

-Hwiyoung

-Hwiyoung's Secret (S, A, F)

-Chani

-I'm All Yours (SB, A, F)

Series:

My Roommate is a Vampire

-Part One (F)

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masterwords · 1 year

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"Issues?" | 7x01 - It Takes a Village

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotch #morgan #criminal minds #screencaps #EXCUSE ME WHILE I LOSE MY MIND HERE #hotchgan #mortch #this scene is my villain origin story you guys #morgan's puppy eyes and hotch's guilt #i have no way to adequately sum up what this does to my brain

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akiraiscute · 6 months

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(I jst realized I made a whole BOOK, and didn’t finish it the way i wanted to on wattpad. Shall we do that shit??? [im doing it…])

{ A Slow BURN, of Aaron Hotchner & Fem! Reader. As of right now, you jst look like you!! Not any race color. }

New Episode, Criminal Minds. Which comes with,

Tw ; Gore, Description of Dead Bodies, Slow Burn, 2022 writing (that im fixing rn!), use of You(s) instead of I(s) and her!!

New Case.

As the sun hits your eyes, you could only rub your eyes while you are waiting up. Groggily as well.. You turned over to your side, grabbing your phone that was playing (F/M) {favorite music} which was your alarm clock for today. It reads ;

6:07 AM.

Sunday - October 10

You let out a soft groan. Realizing the time before you got out of bed, the lost of the warmness from the blankets shook you right up. You walked to the bathroom, checking yourself out a bit before starting to do your daily routine and as you start to get done, you hear another song playing. You jump immediately, getting scared out of your whits from the music blasting on full volume.. you let out a overdramatized sigh before pausing whatever you were doing and walked to your phone, which was still on your nightstand.

7:23 AM.

Sunday - October 10

Second Alarm.

As you stare at the time, it changes slowly but you start to get out of your haze and run to your closet. Picking out the most business class looking outfit you have ever seen really, you don’t care as of right now though..

You immediately grab your coffee cups, well. Five for, Garcia, Morgan, Spencer, JJ, and.. Hotchner. You kept speed walking to the HQ, groaning at the feeling of your feet hurting already from your heels. The moment you got in and reached the elevator was a blessing itself, now with your good luck.. you should not spill the drinks nor will you. As you finally reached the doors of your department… You start to put the coffee on each desk and not caring until you get to hotcner’s drink, you let out a soft and quiet

“Fuck..”

As no one but you and a few more people have came in, maybe Spencer came in.. You look around before smiling at the area where the coffee marker is, you walk to it, getting out your marker and writing down.. “Hotchner’s drink.” in thick and bold (H/W) {ur handwriting} trying to make sure no one would take his drink really. You didn’t know why you cared.. Maybe you don’t want him angry! Yea.. that’s- it and the coffee here is sorta horrible, you’re not crushing on your boss.. no! You are not crushing on him, he has a wife- well.. does he? You question that alot sometimes- but!

Morgan comes walking in, which is always nice and perfect!

I swear, idk how i haven’t gotten writer block, im not usually so excited to write smth again- its so weird!! Anyways, the way im reading back on what i did in 2022… buttt~ do y’all want me to do more of thisss…? Or! Start another book, that i did on wattpad? Let me know!!!!!

- Akira… Akira. Logging, Logging.. Off.

#first story #eek #criminal minds x reader #barking #for reid #akiraiscute #i like older men #x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #fem reader #new case

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matchaskiiess · 6 days

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CRIMINAL MINDS. agent list

welcome to my criminal minds masterlist. this is specifically going to be the characters from the show and no one else.

GODSPEED (prompts) NAVIGATION (main info centre)

────────────────────────────

- spencer reid

STORIES

in the process of writing

BLURBS

in the process of writing

- aaron hotchner

STORIES

in the process of writing

BLURBS

in the process of writing

- luke alvez

STORIES

in the process of writing

BLURBS

in the process of writing

- emily prentiss

STORIES

in the process of writing

BLURBS

in the process of writing

────────────────────────────

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ssamorganhotchner · 1 year

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y'all. we are 2.7k words into this stepdad!hotch fic and i haven't even gotten to the smut yet ahahahahahhahaha sos

#i cannot write a normal story #at all #EVERYTHING HAS TO HAVE A PLOT #AND FOR WHAT REASON #stepdad!hotch #stepdad!hotch x reader #aaron hotchner

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evilkennedy · 1 year

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Kinda wanna write a oneshot of Hotch protecting reader like Morgan does after Penelope was shot… hmmm.

I already have entirely too many ideas written down and I have no idea which to do first, someone help.

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #raaaaa #there’s one where reader playfully calls Hotch daddy and he likes it #another where they have phone sex bc hot #also reader taking Kate’s place in the explosion #anddddd reader having arachnophobia #based on a true story #bc I am severely terrified of spiders #yuck

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vahineri · 10 months

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It’s investigation time. Technically he should wear his mask because he’s still a well-known lawyer but it’s an “artistic” choice.

(I already regroup all the layer when I though about the mask lmao sorry I’m lazy sometimes)

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds art #criminal minds fanart #ASTV x CM #SpiderHotch #now i need to do Derek version #and some of their domestic life #Vahineri’s_art #remind me to work more on this AU because all the team and Jess are here #Jessica Brooks and Haley are ultra important in this story too #Hotchgan forever but they met earlier in their life hehe #I mean Hotch is one of the Spider-Man since his 16/17 #Why create complicated background when I could just do some rectangle and play with the perspective and the colour #and if you’re wondering #he’s the horizontal one

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inkandpaperqwerty · 2 months

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List: The Sequel

So, I mentioned this in my weekly post, and I actually managed to get it done this week! Below is a list of stories I haven’t posted yet but am currently working on, which is something I've done before and really enjoyed handing out to people.

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Criminal Minds – Through the Gate – Edward has no idea what world he just woke up in, but there was a murderer, and there was blood everywhere, and he got the distinct feeling he wasn’t in Amestris anymore. Meanwhile, the BAU team is trying to figure out who this blonde boy is and how he got such advanced prosthetics. And what is this alchemy he keeps talking about? It’s like nothing they’ve ever heard before. ((This one is at 12,299 words, so it’s not that long, and I’m not entirely sure where I want to take it. Definitely going to try and get some work done on it in the coming weeks, as this is the only story from my previous list that has not been posted yet.))

Supernatural – Untitled – Xal has no idea how long he’s been enduring Heaven’s Persuasion, but it’s been a long time. He has no idea why Heaven is telling him to do what they’re telling him to do, but he knows he doesn’t trust it. He has no idea where the Winchesters are, but he knows he has to get to them. There’s a lot he doesn’t know, but at the same time, there’s a lot he does know, and maybe… if he plays his cards right… he can do a little persuading of his own. ((Part 3 of the Building Bridges series. I’ve started this one, but I haven’t gotten very far.))

Avengers – A Song by Any Other Name – Just a little oneshot set in the Restitution universe wherein Tony gives Steve, Loki, and Thor a list of songs that have some pretty nonsensical lyrics. They listen to them, and immense confusion ensues. (This one I would say is about halfway done, and it will be posted as Chapter 8 of Restitution Bonus Features.))

Supernatural & Criminal Minds – Friendship is Magic – “Now that you’re all awake, it’s time to get down to business.” The BAU team and both Winchester brothers wake up in captivity, but they don’t stay there long. Their captor releases them, gives them some resources, and reveals that the cases they’ve been working are perpetrated by both a normal human and a witch. They’ll have to work together to catch their targets, but… that’s much easier said than done. ((I don’t like this summary, but it gets the point across. I think it might be a while until you see this one because it’s turning into a very complicated, in-depth case.))

Supernatural – Untitled – Dean knows that hunter’s markets put monsters down. It happens all the time. He knows this. But when it’s about to happen right in front of him, it doesn’t seem to matter how unruly and violent this angel is. He has to do something to stop it. So he offers half a grand, and suddenly, he owns an angel. Only the angel isn’t grateful. Instead, it wants to kill both him and Sam—desperately—and they have to find some way to change its mind. ((I know I’ve done a lot of Slavery!Supernatural stories, but it’s a favorite of mine, and I can’t help myself. I don’t intend to make this one very long, but honestly, I have no idea where it’s going to go. We’ll have to wait and see!))

So, this is what you can expect to see in the coming days! I would love some feedback letting me know what you’re looking forward to or something you would like to see depicted in these stories I’m working on. Let me know what you think!

Also, please keep in mind that, even though I am working diligently on these stories, I am also working on getting my first book published! Cataclysm is finished and fully edited, and now we've moved on to the formatting phase. There's a lot going on, and it's bound to take away from my fanfiction exploits. Thank you so much for your patience, and thanks for reading this!

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whump-town · 2 years

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Finger Painting

this is my pre-season one haley and hotch fic. they're cute I think. it's v sweet (okay not entirely). hotch is painting haley a house <3

word count: 5,000

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“I don’t really care what color it is but I’ve just never seen a green–”

“Sage green.”

“Sage green,” Hotch repeats, raising his hands up to show Haley he means nothing by the slip-up. Yesterday she’d cried after showing him the green she’d chosen to paint the house and he’d said, simply, huh, that’s a funny color. She’d cried for what felt like hours and Hotch had no idea what was the right or wrong thing to say. It seemed every time he opened his mouth, no matter what he said, she’d begin to cry. Hotch had no idea why she was showing him the paint strip sample before but he should have known better and he's been paying for it since.

Today he thinks rage has replaced tears, he’s not sure he prefers either option. Hotch isn’t sure, either, that you can have pregnancy hormones before the pregnancy but trying to get pregnant had seemed to fill Haley with a hormonal range he didn’t think he’d encounter yet. And she’d definitely hit him if he suggested taking a pregnancy test right now so he bites his tongue for now. “If you want a gree– sage green house, I’ll paint you a sage green house.”

Haley narrows her eyes at him, arms crossed tight on her chest. Hotch had never considered himself someone easily frightened but he’d never been so afraid of someone with blonde pigtails. He’s over a half a foot taller than her and she seems rather harmless in her sundress but looks can be so, so deceiving. Physically he could take her, toss her over his shoulder or pin her, but as Aaron, the man she lawfully married despite disapproval from her family, he’d pay severely.

Hotch approaches Haley slowly, smiling when she lets him get close enough to hug. He tests the waters with a kiss to her cheek and when she doesn’t turn away Hotch wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in against him. “I love you,” he reminds her with a squeeze, glancing down at her from the corner of his eye. “If you want a sage green house then so do I.” It takes Haley a moment, she gives a sniffle and finally her arms slide across his back. Hotch smiles when Haley leans her head against his shoulder. “And, you know, green is my favorite color. You could have picked grass green and I’d be happy.”

Haley huffs but he can hear that it’s just a stifled laugh. She looks up at him, eyes red and teary, “green isn’t your favorite color.”

“You’re right,” Hotch agrees with a small sigh, he’s aiming for dramatic but he’s the town’s worst pirate #3 in history for a reason. Haley laughs anyways, he’s an accidently funny man. An acquired taste. “I would’ve preferred pink but if you want sage green, I’ll paint the whole house sage green. The cabinets. The door. Do you want green windows? They got this plastic film you can stick to the glass–” Hotch looks down, cutting himself off as Haley starts to laugh. He smiles hard, lips moving to their own accord, tugged up tight. He can’t speak around it, can hardly maintain the point he’d been making at the sound of her muffled laughter. “A whole house,” he gets out, shrugging. “Whatever you want.”

She wants a sage green house, so Hotch does as he’s told. He disappears to the backyard, fumbling and crashing around for three hours, and gets exceptionally little done. Haley watches him from the kitchen, rubbing a dish towel over dry dishes so she has an excuse to keep an eye on him. She ignores the avalanche that comes down in the garage, she could hear him shouting and kicking in frustration at the mess – alive and moving. He tripped over the paint tray on the porch and got paint everywhere, so she brought him something to clean it up and some sweet tea.

Haley has found real dishes to wash when a streak of silver falls from the sky and something large slams into the ground with a metallic clatter.

Hotch lays on the ground, eyes pinched tight as his body cramps. His lungs feel like bruised weights inside his chest, every muscle in his body tight as he fails to convince his body to bring air into itself. He doesn’t hear Haley come running out of the house – for a moment, Hotch is convinced he’s managed to kill himself. The sun throws a dark shadow over Haley’s face when she leans over him, peaking through her hair. She looks like she’s glowing.

Oh fuck, he’s killed himself on a ladder.

“Aaron?” Haley.

That makes so much more sense.

Hotch pushes himself upright with one hand, pulling the other to his chest, pressing his other palm into the weight pressing up under the side of his ribs. “I’ll–” Hotch gasps at his words, still fighting air into his body, “I’ll have to– to get you a new – more paint.”

The tray lays on it’s side in a pile of green goopy paint. Haley had followed his green footsteps through the yard and she can see on the ladder where his wet shoe had slipped on the metal rung of the ladder.

Haley gets Hotch up into a lawn chair – which surprises him, as she supports a great deal more of his weight than he thought she could. Moving makes his head throb and he doesn’t realize how wrong time is moving until Haley presses cold tea into his hand and an icepack up against his side.

Haley knows the name of a company to call to do the painting, she knows her father would know plenty more and maybe cheaper options. But Hotch is just stubborn, simply put. And also a trouble magnet. Haley had seen Hotch masterfully work through an unexpected pinch with astonishing flexibility and ease. Trouble just seems to hunt Hotch down, little accidents here and there. Socks on the hardwood floor. Bruises on his shins. Scratches on his hands. He seemed to never know where they came from and Haley believes him. She’d watched him once just walk right into the counter. A counter Haley felt she could navigate in the dark. Blind she would that counter was there. And yet Hotch run his hip right into it’s corner.

Hotch goes back to painting the next day, walking a little hunched but painting. He paints for four hours until they start phoning. It’s Derek, so Haley feels a little more inclined to relay his messages. He’s nice and she tells him that Aaron is painting the house right now but he’ll be in when he can, he’ll need a shower. Derek promises to come help paint when they get back, apologizing for nabbing her husband once again on such short notice.

Hotch cannot shower away all the paint he’s managed to get on himself in the last two days. Morgan picks on Hotch for the sage green dried into his nail beds, in the little creases on the inside of his wrists, and stuck in his hair. He’s measures cleaner than he had been when Haley went to get him. Hotch had managed to smear it across his nose, likely wiping at sweat with his hand. His hands also covered in paint – as if he’d abandoned using a brush at all and thought he’d turn his task into a finger painting project.

Haley hears nothing from anyone on Wednesday and she starts to get scared. Aaron phones everyday, all the time. Thursday, Haley is out in the front yard when Derek Morgan’s car turns onto the road. The only thing that stops her legs from giving out beneath her is Aaron in the front seat. The sun hits the windshield just right, lighting up the inside of the car so that Haley can see that he’s fallen asleep. He’s alive.

Haley drops the things in her hand, forgotten before they even hit the ground, as she jogs across the yard. She runs over the little flowers spread through the grass, not worried about where her barefeet might land amongst the bees pollinating.

“Is he okay?” Haley watches Derek crouch down by the side of the car and wake Hotch up, twisting her fingers against one another as Derek goes largely unheard. She breathes for the first time when Hotch opens his eyes, it takes him a moment. Glassy eyes focus on Derek as he speaks but he says her name and Hotch looks up at Haley with a loopy smile.

Once he’s standing, Haley can see the damage done a little better. Derek props him up on crutches, messing with his clothes so his sweatshirt isn’t bunched up and the bottom of his sweatpants are back down at his ankles.

“Sorry,” Derek says, once his mission is complete. He gives Hotch’s back a pat and smiles when Hotch takes his cue – a slow, experimental step forward. Haley steps up to Hotch’s side, closer as he tries to walk. Derek leaves them, shutting the passenger door and going back around the side of the car. “Going to the hardware stores really wiped him out but we couldn’t find that green you wanted in the first one. So we had to go to two.”

The rage Haley had felt for all the missed calls, no up-dates from anyone, abaits just a little. One intense emotion washed out by the confrontation of a newer, harder one. Tears spring to Haley’s eyes as Hotch glances over at her. “You went to get me more paint?” she asks Hotch, she wants to take his hand, to hold him or kiss him or maybe shake him really hard.

Hotch’s left ankle is wrapped in a brace boot, grey from his toes to just below his knee. When he smiles at her the scab on his lip splits, “gotta paint your house.”

Haley shakes her head.

Morgan clears his throat and Haley sniffles, pulling her hands away from Hotch and wiping at her eyes. “Derek,” she says, dabbing at the bottoms of her eyes. “You can put those down anywhere.” Haley waves to the porch, motions for him follow her.

Morgan shurgs, “nah if you just point me in the direction, I can just get to painting.”

Haley glances at Hotch and then back to Morgan. “No,” she says, “no, no, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Morgan repositions the weight of the paint cans in his hands with a shrug of his shoulders, flexing his fingers around the handles. He comes up beside Hotch, slipping past them both as he heads up the stairs. “Straight back, Hotch?”

It’s a nice warm day so Haley leaves Hotch out in the yard with Morgan. He’s alright up on the ladder by the time Haley gets Hotch to back yard. Hotch had left most of the paint things together, finding the ladder wasn’t that hard – it’d been abandoned against the side of the house.

“You need some time in the sun,” Haley says. “Natural medicine and you’re starting to get startingly pale again.” Haley would have Aaron however he came, no matter what happened to him. But… at a certain point every few months, he stops going outside as much. The cold seeps in everywhere and it’s just comfortable tucked up by the fire in the living room, reading. Haley loves finding him sleeping out on the couch – it both annoys her within the depth of her soul to see him so at peace but also, it’s nice to find him sleeping, resting. That being said, without the sun, his skin begins to pale an alarming sheet white. She’d watch him undress and be shocked to silence watching his black dress pants peel back and reveal the translucent white flesh underneath. That… she would fix.

Hotch pouts, stumbling a little in the grass, “but I’m not sick.”

Haley leaves Hotch with two iced teas, one for Morgan, and he naps out on a lawn chair. She comes out frequently to check on them, bringing Morgan snacks as she does. He eats more fruit and sandwiches than he has in a long time. Morgan takes his snacks down in the shade, sharing slices of apple or orange as Hotch cracks his eyes open to find the source of noise. Hotch doesn’t stir much but Morgan uses his vague awareness to talk. Hotch is easy to talk to like this. His sore leg is propped up on a stool and pillow, a blanket pulled to the top of his chin. The words he says are mumbled and nonsense but Morgan doesn’t mind the company.

Derek reaches over and taps Hotch’s knee, waiting for Hotch to start blinking himself away and make that sleep frown off to the side until he’s present enough to move his head and find Derek. “Another orange,” Derek tells him, putting half of a slice in the palm of the hand Hotch has left out of the blanket, resting on his lap. Derek hadn’t seen Hotch eat anything while they were in Wisconsin and he and Haley had the same goal of pressing the snacks on him.

Hotch focuses on Morgan for a long second, blinking once slowly as he processes what’s been said. Orange. He likes oranges better than apples. The first piece Derek handed him was just a whole slice – a top corner of the apple Derek had cut the skin mostly off of. Hotch had held that slice in his hand for nearly an hour, taken nearly three bites of it. Stealthy, Haley had taken the hot, mushy apple from Hotch’s hand – he hadn’t realized he didn’t finish it yet. After that Derek has controlled the size of what he hands to Hotch a little more. Pieces only the size of one bite.

After this orange, Hotch has two-fourths of an apple waiting for him.

“What time is it?” Derek is a little surprised by the coherence of Hotch’s suddenly found voice. He’s been getting grunts for hours as yes and no but Haley had gotten the softest whispers – clearly, there was a very unfair hierarchy happening.

Derek glances down at his watch, “five-thirty.”

Hotch grunts.

Every twenty minutes Haley comes out to tuck ice or a heating pad against Hotch’s back, and Morgan excuses himself so she can have privacy to worry over Hotch freely. It’s a good schedule, plenty of breaks for all involved. Morgan feeds Hotch two or three pieces of whatever snack Haley brought him and Haley comes out and makes him drink something, a few sips.

At six, Haley calls them in for dinner. Hotch falls asleep again at the table but he fights a hard fight for five minutes. Haley and Derek whisper and joke, careful not to startle the sleeping bomb starting to drool on the hand propping his head up.

Morgan stays to help Hotch up the stairs and sees himself out, leaving them to do as they need.

Showering is first. Haley thinks her best bet is keeping Hotch standing, it’s hard to fall asleep standing. He does it, though.

Semi-delirious on his night-meds, Hotch whispers as coherent a version of the accident as he can remember. Which isn’t much. It happened quickly, nothing that predictable. He and Derek had just come up a staircase when Hotch took a round to the chest, tripping, he’d stumbled down the stairs. After that, he knows only what Gideon told him – that Derek had carried him out the house over his shoulder to medical attention. He woke up in the hospital.

Haley explores the bruise across his chest carefully with just the tips of her fingers. Touching the hot, swollen purple skin. “I don’t like it when you get hurt.”

“I don’t like it either”

Haley lays her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes so that she doesn’t speak. Refraining from asking him something she knows he can’t do.

He could be killed doing this job.

Haley didn’t just want a child. She would raise a child. She would love a child. Haley wanted partnership, raising a child with him. A teenager with Hotch’s awkward height. A baby that babbles mama at him regardless of his repetition of dada. A child that thinks he hung the moon in the sky, that thinks there’s nothing she and Aaron can’t do. And they could not have any of that if his job killed him. It could happen at any moment and she’s certain she wouldn't find out immediately.

Haley can’t stand the thought that Hotch might take his last breath in a state he didn’t think to tell her the name of in one of his rushes out the front door. He could leave this world in a city she’d never heard of and Haley wouldn’t know for hours after.

She couldn’t imagine the idea of it. Couldn’t part from the horror of it.

Hotch had become an extension of her. He walked around with her whole life in his head, tucked into his memories and actions. He was an entire part of her and Haley could not imagine the possibility of his death being so far from her, so separate from her own.

Hotch takes a week to recover – Gideon doesn’t call once but Derek shows up early from the office to meet Hotch wherever he’s found himself trying or failing to paint. Adjusting to the world through the strain of a concussion and on crutches, Hotch works slow and Derek is covering the most ground. Hotch masters balancing on one crush and using the paint roller, working in short intervals – he’s doing his best.

Despite hours of work, Hotch got only the side of the house done. That’s half of a house, but none of Haley’s sage green managed to come around to the front. Anyone seeing the house would only see the white paint.

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Haley has never been to Boston Massachusetts. She knows where it is on the map, every state Aaron has ever marched off to – she knows where it is, how to get there. When this had all first started, Dave would buy her a ticket anytime Aaron got hurt. No matter how bad, if Dave knew she could be on a plane to there before they would be released from the hospital, Haley would have the plane ticket out there. Aaron didn’t get smarter about running into danger but Gideon got better at knowing when and how Aaron would do it.

Haley has never been to Massachusetts.

The year they moved from Seattle to Washington D.C., Haley and Hotch spent Christmas as Dave’s. Gideon showed late with a pie and the four of them made nice small talk. Haley didn’t mind Gideon, he was sweet, but David Rossi… no, that one she didn’t trust. Because she liked him, she didn’t trust him. But by the end of the night Hotch, exhausted from moving their entire lives across the country on such short notice, fell asleep early. Sleeping or not, Hotch provided a comfortable barrier between her and them. By the end of the night she was laughing along with them, agreeing that Hotch’s doorknob confessions always had a way of being catastrophic.

Haley gasps with Hotch pulls her around to kiss her goodbye. It’s hard, quick.

“Going to Boston!” he says, stumbling over the strap of his go-bag as he walks. “You should–” he turns back around before he runs into the door. “I love you,” Hotch stops, looks around himself to make sure his keys are in his hands and his wallet and badge in his pockets. “Okay,” he nods at her, smiling. “I love you! If you have any tests left, you just check. If you don’t have anymore call me and I’ll bring some home!”

Just like that.

The front door shut behind him.

Hotch boards last on the jet, hobbling a little awkwardly still with the rounded bottom of the boot he hasn’t yet managed to convince his doctors he doesn’t need anymore. It’s slowing him down. He’s got things to do.

Bombs are going off. People are dying. Hotch calls Haley every few hours and she entertains them with local news. She knows they’re all listening in so she reads the article about the little league baseball team winning their game. Gideon’s voice comes in every one in a while to ask about something specific and she reads Hotch and Reid a few of the crossword prompts.

Haley’s good morning call doesn’t come and then there’s nothing at lunch either.

Haley promised Aaron to stay away from reports on news about cases. It would be the worse way to find out something has happened. Derek calls at three, as Haley’s patience has been thoroughly plucked. She’s sitting on the couch when he calls, the remote in her hand.

Two identical critical patients.

Haley’s never been to Boston before but it’s cold, freezing like she knew it’d be.

“Gideon couldn’t tell,” Derek speaks softly, tears drying on his face. “He– He–” Derke doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He knows what he should be saying but the words just aren’t coming. He just can't say them. He can’t say them.

“I’ll be able to tell.”

She would never mistake him. She’d know by the hitch in his breaths at night, the way his hands hold her face. She’d know him if he couldn’t make a sound at all, just by the wind that carries him in. The hair that’s fallen from his head. The shape of his back. By a patch of skin.

All she needs is his hand. The left is mess, wrapped tight and thick with white gauze. His fingers stained with iodine and swollen. Haley isn’t sure until she holds his hand, turning herself slightly and pushing his stiff fingers back from his palm. She runs her finger up his palm, the same lines she’d traced at fifteen with a giggle and a crush. She finds the M palm line, the depth she’s always imagine carved into the bark of a tree to be preserved for a lifetime.

Picking up his broken hand to hold it in her own, she needs to make sure her eyes weren’t betraying her. But it's her sage green on his nails, her sage green still in his hair, and dried to his skin. Through broken bones and burns, but here was her sage green. She’d never loved that silly color so much.

Haley laughs a little and Derek steps closer to the bed, concerned by the tears pouring down Haley’s face.

“What?” he asks.

“He’s still covered in paint.”

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#anyway and that's the story of how haley died before hotch could paint her a green house #peace homies #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #derek morgan #david rossi #criminal minds fanfiction #haley hotchner #spencer reid #jason gideon

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andreafmn · 3 months

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Hellooo!! :) I was wondering if you are still writing your criminal minds fic “Running in Circles”

I absolutely am. Currently halfway done with the next chapter... after more than a year 🫣🫣

#andreafmn #story update #update #updates #running in circles #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine

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sirmatthew1972 · 1 year

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Lady Trouble II

Summary Sequel to Lady Trouble. In which the Hotchner men and their ginger cat Lady Trouble spend the day in the snow and the evening in front of the fireplace. Warnings/tags Shameless fluff, dad Hotch feels, no plot, original cat character Prompt Written for the Quan Tea Co Daily Prompts. January 2023, prompt #17: Settling in front of the fireplace at night. LADY TROUBLE: A WINTER’S TALE 🐾

The family cabin in rural Virginia offers Hotch a rare retreat. One he's inherited and always kept to himself since. Hidden within the forest valley, at the end of the long and winding road to lead to his door. No neighbours other than the two tall pine trees to frame the cabin as if bookends and the many creatures whose natural habitat he's surrounded by. Many of their paw prints now visible in the thick blanket of snow that's fallen during the night and the early hours of the day. Winter. Crisp and white. Once untouched by humans… … But no more when Jack slips outside all excited by this morning's delight. Barely contained for long enough to eat breakfast. Followed on the heels by a ginger ball of fur. She flashes past Hotch before he can warn his son not to let the cat out. Oh hell! Boyish laughter… then an indignant yelp. Hers. An escape cut short, or so Hotch realises as soon as he reaches the open door. For there she is. Their Lady Trouble sunk legs deep into the thick snow. A flake melting on her pink nose. She huffs at it. Startled by the absence of solid ground. Paws at the cold, white blanket tucked in around her as if wary of it. Decides then it poses no threat to her. Not this year when she knows where to find warmth. Stalks instead over to Hotch to rub her head against his legs, meowing, purring a little. Pleading too with eyes of olive-green innocence feigned. That look to always melt his heart. "Fine…", he rolls his eyes. Fools no one over his gruff reaction. Not even Jack, who is already running onwards, sure in his knowledge that his dad and Lady will follow. "… You can come too." Bending down, Hotch scoops their furred ball of trouble up into his arms to tuck her in under his coat, warm and safe. Barely able to close the zip up to her head, he grumbles even as he keeps her ginger hairs from getting caught in its teeth. "You're getting too big for this." But is she? Maybe he ought to buy a bigger coat? Shaking his head at himself for even considering it, Hotch heads into the forest after his son, following the footprints in the snow. The wish uttered over breakfast too. "Can we go on an adventure?" So, here they are… with no one left behind for the hike around the lake. Licks, purrs and endless chatter as his reward while they walk; his family of three. All of it worth it that his cheeks are getting colder and that his fingers are slowly freezing over even in his gloves. More so as the hours pass and more snow falls. Daylight then fading on them as the sun sets behind the trees. The moon coming out as they return to the cabin feeling like icicles. Each one of them happy, for inside awaits them the comfort of the sofa and the fire in the hearth, lit again by Hotch, to warm them up inside and out. The treat too of hot chocolate… and cream for their Lady. Of marshmallows roasted on the fire. Of snuggles and stories read too. No more cookies left to eat. Dinner spoilt, but for once Hotch can't find it in him to care. Not when Jack is sleeping safe. Exhausted, rosy cheeks, and a smile on his face. Not when Lady is lying curled up in his lap. Purring as he pets her. As he sips from his whisky, content to be Aaron, father to both. Nothing more.

#my writing #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #dad Hotch #cat daddy Aaron #prompt response #quan tea co #tumblr blurb only #VERY fluffy fic #winter feels #fluff rather than plot #the return of Lady Trouble #from panther!hotch whump to fluffy cat story in twenty four hours #how??

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masterwords · 7 months

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adding it all up

Summary: Hotch follows Reid and Jack into a haunted house. Inside he meets a ghost and stumbles right into some unexpected arms.

Pairing: Hotch/Will

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: nightmares, ptsd, minor injuries, panic attack

Notes: I formally submit to you my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute/Ugly Challenge with the prompt: Character accidentally gets hurt in a spooky attraction and a scare actor breaks character to help. To the surprise of no one at this point, I took some creative liberties with the prompt. There isn't much to the plot, it's pretty simple and we mostly just have an excuse for kissing. As with everything I've written so far about this pairing, we live in a universe where Will is a DC Metro Detective but he is not nor has he ever been with JJ because we don't have time for that kind of backstory in these little one-shots. Thanks for reading yo! Let's show this incredibly rare pairing some love. (And now I return to writing about hotchgan...I can only stray for so long.)

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease dad!”

“I’d rather not,” Hotch said, as if it was going to change the mind of his six year old son. And maybe he didn’t really want to because his argument was pretty flimsy. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go in, or that he didn’t like Halloween. “I don’t like to be scared.” That was a lie and Reid saw the opening, poking a huge hole in it immediately.

“You get scared for a living,” Reid pointed out from behind him and Hotch groaned. He’d been hoping Reid would take his side. “Come on Jack. If your dad is too chicken I’ll take you in. I’m kind of an expert.”

“You are?!”

Reid crouched beside Jack as best he could, favoring his still sore (always sore) knee and leaned as close as he could to the child. His whisper smelled like kettle corn and candied apples and cotton candy, that’s what Jack thought anyway. Reid smelled like a carnival. “I’ve already been through it three times. I bet you could find some people in there you know. Like playing a really big game of Where’s Waldo…”

“Who’s in there?!”

“You’ll have to come in with me and see.”

“Can I dad?!”

Hotch sighed and nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“You don’t have to if you’re too scared! You can stay out here! I’ll be tough.”

“I know you will buddy.”

Hotch looked at Reid and then at the doorway. He wasn’t scared, it wasn’t that. He simply didn’t care for jump scares or people being that close to him, close quarters, being vulnerable. Not in control. In the dark. Worse than that, he didn’t want any of that to be witnessed by a man he’d just begun seeing just a couple of weeks prior. Because that would be embarrassing. Big strong FBI Agent can’t handle a clown yelling boo in his face.

He always knew this was a possibility. Jack had never wanted to go into the house of mirrors or the haunted house before, he preferred to stick to roller coasters and prize games when they came to the carnival. He thought he’d be safe, especially this year. They were coming up on one year since Haley died and he thought for sure Jack wouldn’t want a thing to do with fake blood and jump scares but here he was practically dragging Reid through the entrance. Dutifully he followed them in, staying a few steps behind. “See you at the end dad!” At the entrance he was asked to wait. Reid and Jack got shoved in with another group and he was about to be sorted with the next when he asked if he could go through on his own.

“I don’t have a guide for a solo trip,” the young man at the door said. “You good at following directions? There are little green glow in the dark arrows along the ceiling that point you the direction you’re supposed to go. Keep an eye on them and you’ll find your way. Don’t go too fast or too slow. There are little red lights on the walls where there are emergency exits if you get hurt or lost or too scared to finish.” The young man flushed a little as he said the last part, Hotch didn’t look much like the type to get scared of anything but he still had to say it. There was a script and he followed it. He liked his job.

“Got it. Follow the green. Red means emergency exit. Thank you.”

Great. Alone. Jack didn’t even care to walk with him, too enthralled with whatever whispers and promises of adventure Reid was feeding him. He didn’t even turn around to see where Hotch ended up. He moved at a relatively quick clip, barely looking in the direction of the sets or the mini scares. Up ahead he was sure Reid was peeking at all the details, getting the most out of everything and helping Jack do the same. He was barely paying attention to any of it. Occasionally he found himself jumping when a clown popped out with a hatchet. That was natural, his heart thumped a little harder, but he smiled and thanked the volunteer in costume before stepping around the corner into a room that was filled with spider webs and hissing sounds. He’d never been afraid of spiders, in fact as a child he’d found himself collecting them in little mason jars and feeding them for a week or two before releasing them back out into the woods. He batted at a piece of cotton webbing that tickled his ear and frowned, not caring much for that feeling. It was worse than the room full of animated spiders.

The haunted house wasn’t huge but it felt like it lasted forever, twisting and angling and collapsing in on itself until he really did feel dizzy. His senses had been warped by the strange dark shafts and violent twists and hanging bloody sheets behind which shadows lurked.

Was he lost or could it really be this long? He glanced up as if to assure himself that he was going the right direction, and squinting into the dark he was able to make out one small green arrow.

There was only one way to go, really. He could hear Jack’s chirpy little voice up ahead and Reid’s surprise, maybe real or maybe an act, and there were voices not too far behind him but he was otherwise completely alone in the maze. The ceiling ahead dropped until he was hunched over in a sort of soft, undulating tunnel. It was pitch black, with only a foggy red light to guide him from what looked like miles away. Hunching like this hurt his back. Up ahead was a pinprick widening to an opening he had to step through into what looked like a torture chamber with bodies hanging from the walls. He’d seen this in real life, this wasn’t entertainment. This was work. Well researched, too. He recognized bits that had been pulled from crime scene photos, small elements not many would recognize but they made his breath catch in his throat more than once. People’s fascination with serial killers would never cease to worry him.

“I’ll gut you like a fish!” growled a man in a grisly voice from the shadows beside him. Hoarse from saying his line so many times, Hotch knew, but something about it still made him flinch away. There was a strangely familiar quality to it, something ghostly and pale, dry leaves rustling in the chilly October wind. “You should have taken the deal…” the voice whispered in his ear and he froze. His legs wouldn’t move. A flash of muzzle and the smell of gun smoke, steel bright in the dark and then pitch black.

“What?” he asked, ashamed of the fear that welled up in his chest. There was a vague pain where his heart should be noisily thumping but was making not a sound. “What did you say?” (He knew, somewhere deep inside, that the man hadn’t said that. There was some still quiet voice of reason in there, it was just disappearing second by second as fear seeped in.)

No reply. He had to be hearing things. There was no way. (Someone could have read the book. He told Colson what Foyet had said to him. He'd been on pain medication, heavy stuff, when he talked to Roy...he should have said less. He knew it but Roy had been so good to him, he found it hard to hold back.) He squinted into the dark where he stood motionless, breathless and saw a black mask coming toward him, outlined by a sickly white fog. Hovering there, not attached to a body for the longest time, and then around him materialized a hooded sweatshirt. Foyet’s mask. He knew it wasn’t Foyet, he’d seen the autopsy report, Foyet was dead. But the mask still startled him, and when it came closer (the person now muttering their actual lines and not something his frightened mind invented on his behalf) he found that his legs did work. They just didn’t obey his commands. He stepped backward, his heel catching on the curtain separating the two rooms and he managed to pull part of it down on top of himself. The feel of the fabric against his neck sent him into a tailspin and he lunged forward past the man in the Reaper mask (now reaching for him and asking if he was alright) until he stumbled into the next corridor where he narrowly missed stepping on a body on the floor. One of his victims, presumably. Hotch glanced down at her, stabbed repeatedly (do you have any idea how long it takes to stab someone 67 times?, he thought) and felt his blood run cold.

Was this some kind of a sick joke? Did someone know he was coming today? (Someone aside from Will? Will would never…he’d been there that day, that was how they met.) As he stepped around the woman on the ground with her guts strewn all around her, he slipped in the gore and took a header down the small flight of black and white checkered stairs. The sound his body made as it hit the wall was horrifying – he wouldn’t doubt if the people outside waiting in line had heard. He groaned and tried to push up to standing but he knew right away that he was hurt. Or just about ready to pass out. His head swam and he collapsed in a heap. “Dammit,” he mumbled. His chest was tight and there was a pain, a burning and squeezing that ran through his left arm. He couldn’t catch his breath.

“You okay mister?”

He recognized that voice, that molasses drawl he’d been hoping to hear in any way but this. Never this. Slowly he looked up, taking the hand of a werewolf who helped him stand. He was dizzy after hitting his head and his ears were ringing. Most of the time his tinnitus was manageable, background noise, but when he was around loud noises or when he hit his head it made sure he remembered it was with him forever. Now it was screaming so loud he felt like his head might burst.

“Will?”

“Hotch?”

“Yeah,” Hotch replied, slipping back against the wall when the group of people who had been a few turns behind him made their way curiously down the stairs. They looked perplexed, probably wondering at all the commotion a few turns ahead of them. Waiting to see a body on the ground. Will quickly maneuvered them until they were part of the exhibit, pretending to eat Hotch and to his credit, Hotch moaned because...well he really felt like it, his head hurt that bad. Once that group passed, Will lifted his mask and eyed Hotch in the dark. There was only a dim foggy glow from the previous room but even in then he could see that something was wrong.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” Hotch swayed where he stood and watched as an ominous gray cloud crept in at the edge of his vision. He felt foggy and wrong, his heart had slowed to a syrupy thump in his chest. He thought he might pass out. There had been such an immediate feeling of panic and now his heart felt like it might give out entirely. “Maybe.”

“What happened?”

Before he could answer, another group came around the corner and they slipped back into their role of werewolf devouring a poor innocent man. It wasn’t exactly what Will’s job was supposed to be, he was supposed to jump out from around the next corner howling and chase the passersby to the next room but it beat not doing it all or having undue attention paid to him.

Hotch swallowed hard. Was he really about to admit he’d been frightened in a haunted house? Really truly scared? And now he probably had a concussion to take home as a souvenir once this panic attack left him alone? “I don’t know,” Hotch said quietly, incapable of finding the right words. He couldn’t admit what he saw. Was it real? Had his mind played tricks on him? “The last room got to me.”

“The torture chamber?” Will asked, his hands gripping Hotch’s waist to steady him. “You seen stuff like that a hundred times…I guess the mad scientist was kinda creepy, I just thought he looked like Doc from Back to the Future.”

“Mad Scientist?” Hotch asked, gripping Will’s forearms. “I didn’t see a Mad Scientist.”

“Huh. I coulda sworn today was Mark’s day. He loves that damn wig. Who was in there?”

Hotch swallowed hard. His throat was dry and clicked painfully, and for a split second he questioned not only his hearing but his eyes...had he just made it all up? Before he could answer another group came around the corner and Will pulled his mask back down and once again set to devouring Hotch’s jugular. Hotch was happy just to stand there pretending to be eaten, it beat the hell out of exploring the caverns of his mind. Of wondering what happened. Did he invent it all? It was possible. He’d been having nightmares again as the anniversary crept closer but he thought he had a pretty good handle on them.

“You want me to get you outta here?” Will asked when they had a brief break. “You’re still shakin’ and you're breathing all funny. My shift is over in fifteen minutes, I can meet you out front when I’m done. We can talk then.”

“Jack is with Reid,” Hotch whispered. “Can I stay?” He didn’t think he could walk. One step and he had the distinct impression he’d be face planting. Maybe if he stayed until this silent panic attack passed – this panic attack he was so far not admitting to – it would be okay.

“Yeah. Sure. But I gotta do my job so you think you can help me out?”

“I’ll try.”

Will smiled from beneath the mask and let it fall back over his face, taking Hotch’s hand and leading carefully, slowly down into the hallway. He kept his arm around Hotch’s waist, walking with purpose. “Right here, lay down.”

“Lay down?” He liked the sound of that. His head was swimming and his legs felt like they’d been poured with concrete.

“Down.”

Hotch eased himself down until he was on the oddly soft fake grass, and Will nudged him until his body was flush with the wall painted with a glowing full moon and pitch black trees. It looked like something painted by children. “When people come, I’m gonna pretend to be eating you. Then I get up and chase ‘em down the hallway and come back. You just lay here. Close your eyes. Play dead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hotch had no complaints about closing his eyes, it instantly made the pounding in his head quiet to a dull throb. Will shifted above him, and he heard the distinct sound of a howl. It was low, gutteral, almost sexy. Hotch shifted where he lay when he felt a heat growing in his belly. This was not the time, but it did settle the racing of his heart, and the ache in his chest. There were footsteps beside him and Will was panting, chasing a family who giggled and squealed at him, and then he was dropping to his knees over Hotch.

He expected the fur from the mask against his neck again, but instead in the blind darkness he felt the soft flush of Will’s lips against his own. The mask bobbed against his nose, obscuring both of their faces as Will drew him into a kiss. He was breathless from running, Hotch’s chest was constricting like his heart was going to give out, and suddenly the world around him erupted in kaleidoscope colors behind the black of his eyelids. He sucked in a deep breath, a wanting breath as Will stood and chased a couple past them. And then a group of teenagers, one of whom kicked the bottom of Hotch’s shoe before Will returned.

Another kiss. And another. Hotch had rolled over enough that he could press his thighs together to stop his body from responding in ways that would be wholly inappropriate in a haunted house. Every kiss brought him back to the surface for air, and slowly the panic in him drained to quiet nothing. He forgot, briefly, about Foyet’s mask. He’d been caught up in the moment, that was all. Just his mind taking the haunted house a little too seriously. The nightmares seeping into reality. The handle he thought he had on them was weaker than he thought.

Fifteen minutes later they emerged into the glaring daylight. Hotch had almost forgotten it was just barely afternoon, the sun was still overhead bathing everything in its warm glow. Will held his mask beneath his arm, the sweat on his brow making the strange mix of facepaint he’d had on beneath clump and smear. His eyes were blackened, his lips gray and lifeless. Reid smiled and nudged Hotch, handing him a paisley print silk handkerchief from his pocket.

“You uh...you’ve got something right….there…” he said, indicating his lips. Hotch glanced at Will’s smudged gray mouth and frowned, realizing what he must look like too. “Did you need CPR?”

“Something like that.”

“See ya LaMontagne!” an officer yelled as he exited the haunted house, his black hoodie tied around his waist and a mask dangling from his arm. Will glanced at the mask, and then at Hotch, and then back at the mask. He doubted it was intentional, at least not aimed at Hotch. How could it be? Probably just a practical joke, trying to get the best out of a local legend. Still, he was angry and embarrassed. This was one of his guys. Not a great look.

He didn’t even need to say it and Hotch wouldn't want to hear it. Likely he would argue on behalf of the officer, make an excuse for his poor judgment and lack of taste, and maybe he'd be right too but Will didn't want to listen. Roy Colson's new book about the Reaper's last stand was studded with Hotch's own memories, a gift to his friend for keeping his promise during the initial investigation, and the entire squad was in the process of reading it. They knew, they all knew. He couldn't believe one of them would think this was appropriate. Hotch turned away and wiped the grease paint off of his lips while Reid followed Will’s gaze at the officer and the mask. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Will grunted. “I’ll handle it.” The guy was going to be seeing a lot of paperwork and grunt security jobs in the near future.

“Who wants a funnel cake?” Will asked, changing the subject abruptly.

“I do!” Jack had never turned down an offer of sweets in his life, and even Hotch could hardly say no to an offer of deep fried batter covered in powdered sugar.

“Well lets go find some grub then!”

#aaron hotchner #will lamontagne #hotmontagne #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x will #reid is in the story too but he's not a main character so i'm not actually tagging him

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