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masterwords · 9 months

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out of these shadows comes the light

Summary: Hotch is particular about getting his hair cut. (autistic!Hotch)

Pairing: Hotch/Haley -> Hotch/Morgan

Words: ~5k

Warnings: implied/referenced past child abuse, violence, self-harm/suicide attempt, internalized ableism, ableism, scars, pain, sex (brief at the end, not explicit), food, divorce...if I missed any please let me know.

Notes: Written because of this ask, and I took it to some pretty intense depths but I love squeezing every single drop out of a backstory every time. I probably could have turned this into a 50k word multi-chapter event, all of the simple ending of getting Derek to cut Hotch's hair. Nothing is ever easy with me. In other news, you can expect updates to each of my on-going big stories this week as I should have a few hours each day to devote to writing for once!

Read under the cut or on AO3 here!

Grace Underwood was a young mother. Maybe too young. Twenty-three, fresh out of college, pregnant by the first man who took her to bed. She’d been a good girl, everyone said. All girls private school led her to an all-women’s university. She should have been saved from all of the worldly temptations.

But then there was Edward Hotchner and his roguish charm. His wild blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes told her lies from the moment they met. Lies and temptation that hid all the regret that would come later.

One night. It started out as one wild night, a frat party at Georgetown that she and her friends were invited to. It was a two and a half hour drive so they got a hotel room and decided to stay the weekend in the city. She never saw the hotel room, only Edward’s dorm. After that it became weekends book-ended with long drives for her (he wasn't allowed at her university and she liked the city), and then they were hot and heavy and she was lost in love. He had plans for his future, big plans. She loved him for them.

But those plans didn’t involve a screaming, crying newborn baby while he was studying for the bar. That had been a surprise, and Edward Hotchner hated surprises. Those plans didn’t involve having a toddler digging through his briefcase with high profile case files and sticky peanut butter fingers. And they certainly didn’t involve late nights with a young boy who couldn’t seem to do anything without it being a production.

He pulled his diaper off and shouted “scratchy!” and “owie!”...brand new expensive disposable diapers, thrown away hardly used. Back to the old cloth and safety pins. He would peel his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches apart, fold up the bread with the jelly side and eat it while discarding the peanut butter side. “Ick!” he would shout, because he didn’t have any other words. He wore the peanut butter but he wouldn’t eat it. Cups of milk spilled on the floor. He liked Cheerios but not Chex. If he could speak he would have told them that the Chex hurt his mouth, the corners of the little squares were sharp and he didn’t like it...Cheerios being round were okay. He didn’t have the words to explain all of that yet, so he pushed his bowl away and shook his head no.

“You’re spoiling him,” Grace’s mother would say to her as she cleaned his little hands. “He should eat what you eat.”

“He won’t.”

“He would if he was hungry enough.”

“He won’t.”

She was right, he wouldn’t. He’d gone an alarming number of days refusing to eat, and it had been enough to frighten even his father who finally pulled down the wheat bread and grape jelly from where they’d hidden it in the cupboard above the fridge, somewhere he couldn’t get to, and threw it at her in a huff. The jar of jelly hit the floor with a thud and a pop, deep purple goo oozing around jagged glass at her feet. “Feed the kid for christ sake, Grace! Look at him!”

“I thought you said…”

“I was wrong, dammit. Feed him before we end up in the hospital.”

Aaron ate just the bread greedily until his father got back from the store with a new jar of jelly. A bag of them. All grape. He’d fill the whole damn cupboard with the stuff if he had to.

The arguments over food ceased when his vocabulary grew. He was precocious, learning new words by sitting outside his father’s office door while he met with clients or spoke on the phone. He would play with his little toys, pretend to run his own office, be the one in charge.

“He needs a haircut,” Edward said one day. “Kid looks like a damn hippie.” Aaron was four and his hair was...long. His mother thought it was gorgeous and she was a little overly sentimental about it, her baby’s hair was a special thing. She’d been content just to let it go. There were occasional trims to keep the unruly ends in check but he seemed to like his hair long. He would play with it sometimes, and if he was anxious she would find that he had it in his mouth. He didn’t just suck on it, he seemed to almost chew on it. She was forever walking by and hooking her finger into the lock against his cheek, sliding it out from between his teeth with a gentle smile. Some part of her already knew that cutting it would prove to be a challenge and she wasn’t sure she was up for it. If his aversions to certain fabrics and foods was any indicator, she was going to be in for a fight to get clippers anywhere near him.

She was right. It was a complete disaster that ended up with him in tears, her in tears and the barber telling them not to come back until the kid had learned some damn manners. His haircut happened but not without it becoming a traumatic endeavor for everyone involved.

The long walk home down the old gravel road was fraught with tumultuous thoughts. What was she going to do now? They lived in a small town, there was only one barber...she would have to try to take him to the city or do it herself if Edward thought he needed another cut. But she looked down and Aaron looked so pleased, walking along at a steady clip beside her, rubbing his hand up and down the back of his head against the freshly shaved hair.

“Do you like it hun?”

“Yes!”

They arrived home to a message on the answering machine. It seemed that the barber had second thoughts about his previous stance on the matter and pleaded with her to bring him back when he needed a trim. He had some ideas. “I mighta pulled his hair some, he had some tangles in there and my clippers weren’t in tip top shape.”

Aaron was apprehensive but he was a gentle boy, quiet and forgiving. He didn’t have any friends and people were pretty averse to him in general – that the barber wanted to have him back was enough for Grace. And Aaron was willing to try again because he hated the way the hair felt tickling the back of his neck when it hit that awkward mid-length, and having it short was sweet relief. He also loved the feel of running his hand up his hair against the grain, it was soothing as it brushed his palm.

“I think you should go, ma’am. Let me to it, just the boys.”

She trusted Ernest Brooks. He was a pillar of the community, so she went next door for a cup of coffee and a dozen donuts. She didn’t need a dozen, not in a million years. But if Aaron was good and he got his haircut without all the fuss of the last time, hell, she’d let him eat his way through the whole damn thing as a treat. Well, most of them...she managed to eat three while she sat anxiously waiting for her son to finish.

Mr. Brooks walked Aaron into the donut shop a half hour later crisp and clean and smiling.

“How did you do it?” she asked, flabbergasted. Yeah, she was going to let him eat every single donut left in the box. All eight of them. (She managed to polish off a fourth without even realizing it.)

“A magician never reveals his secrets. Come see me next time, kid.”

She began bringing him in every six months for a trim. It gave her a free morning, and he and Earnest Brooks began a friendship that she couldn’t quite understand. The man was in his sixties, and more than once Edward wondered aloud with a bottle of whiskey open on his desk what the hell a man that age wanted with his son. It wasn’t enough to make him do anything, he had more important things on his plate than policing his odd son’s friends but it was always in the back of his mind. And if it kept Aaron out of his hair, well, all the better.

For both of them.

They played chess and dominoes with some of the other old men who congregated outside of the barber shop. Aaron was little but he was smart, he caught on quick. Ernest called him peculiar, the little intricacies in the way he did things baffled and amused him. No one used the word autistic, not at that time, but they all knew he was operating just a little different than the other kids who hung around and caused trouble. He didn’t seem to take any interest in what they were doing.

Aaron was always different. He wanted to learn everything he could, he wanted to listen to old war stories, to stories about what his little town looked like long before he was born. He wanted to hang out in the barber shop after school and learn how to shave faces and talk like the men talked.

When he would show up with bruises that he couldn’t (or wouldn’t explain), they knew and were furious but there was nothing they could do except give him a soft place to land. His dad was powerful, he had connections that could put anyone in town out of business. “You come work for me,” Ernest had said when Aaron was thirteen and had started to fall in with the wrong crowd. He’d gone from that sweet boy who knew too much and was particular about his haircuts to a sullen teenager who didn’t know how to tell his friends no. He wouldn’t stand up to them, would go along with everything they said because he so desperately wanted to fit in. The overwhelming need to be part of his peer group had finally taken hold.

The problem was, as he got older, the social dynamics at school almost forced it. In a small town like that, if you didn’t fit in, you were ostracized. He was handsome and he was wealthy, he had all the components and what he lacked he learned quickly to fake. He was able to fake his way through a lot of things. Unfortunately, the more things he had to fake in order to fit in, the more he realized how unpalatable he really was on his own and he suffered for it.

The first time he tried to kill himself, he used a straight razor he’d been given by Mr. Brooks when he started developing facial hair. It was a thoughtful gift, the first blade he bought for his shop. Of course, that caused a lot of problems he hadn’t foreseen, being a child still. Mr. Brooks was treated like an accomplice, like he’d encouraged Aaron and while Aaron was hospitalized in an attempt to fix his brain and make him love being alive again, Mr. Brooks was put through the ringer. When Aaron was released, Mr. Brooks wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t let him in the shop anymore. He went from cherished friend to liability.

Aaron, in all his teenage glory, rebelled and began causing more trouble. Where he’d once been tethered, the one place he felt like he’d ever belonged was gone from him now and he was left only with darkness. Despair.

He threw a brick through the barber shop window with some of his friends and ran away before the other kids looted the shop. His dad managed to convince the police that he wasn’t involved in the break in, was there for the broken window but left before anyone went inside. He would be liable for repairing the window, of course, and he’d pay for it himself...right before they sent him to boarding school. It was Mr. Brooks who asked for that, knowing how Aaron was. He still believed the kid had a good heart and he wouldn’t rob his store. The brick was a cry for help, it was a child acting on his anger and abandonment, not an intent to steal from him.

Part of the admittance to the school he was sent to was a buzz cut, military style. Aaron panicked beforehand, and when they clipped the plastic gown tight around his neck and began roughly shifting his head forward and back, clipping and buzzing around his ears, he thought he might really have a heart attack. None of his usual calming tricks helped, he was completely beside himself by the time they finished and shoved him back into the line to move on to the next humiliating experience – getting the uniform. Scratchy wool sweater, stiff canvas and khakis, he was in hell.

But he survived it, and when he came home to finish high school at the local public high school and help his mother with his father’s sickness, he was a changed young man. Probably not better, he still suffered from depression and anxiety but he’d become an expert at hiding in plain sight. No one else would get the drop on him.

Meeting Haley had been a blessing...and a curse. When he found out who she was, who her grandfather was, he almost abandoned his pursuit but he couldn’t. He fell in love with her almost instantly. It was infatuation, pure and simple. He woke up thinking about her voice and went to sleep thinking about her smile. His mother told him to ease up, back off, don’t be so intense but Haley didn’t seem to mind. That was the best part. So he did things a little differently and he behaved in a manner that wasn’t exactly congruent with the way other boys his age did...she liked his little quirks.

The other boys his age were assholes. He was...nice. He was kind and thoughtful and he took care of her. She told her mom that he was like a knight in shining armor. Her mother had concerns but didn’t voice them, she trusted her daughter.

It was Haley and Jessica, both interested in psychology, who brought up the notion that he might be autistic one night over a little too much wine. “It makes sense,” Jess said with an authoritative nod, tipping her glass almost far enough to spill it. Somehow her drunkenness didn’t discredit her statement, not in her sister’s eyes. Aaron and his own wine soaked thoughts scoffed. “You check most of the boxes.”

“I do not.”

“No?”

“Jess stop. It’s okay if he doesn’t want to do this right now.”

“He’s never going to want to, sis…”

“That’s up to him. Go get another bottle!”

He eventually looked it up himself and found that he didn't disagree with their assessments as much as he'd originally thought. He didn't care much for the idea that they read him so well, but the fact that they saw all of him and stuck around was enough. He never sought out a diagnosis, and after an initial weekend spent spiraling his way through endless research papers he was content. One more piece of his mind's puzzle clicked into place. They never brought it up again.

Her grandfather sold the shop and gave her his clippers, told her how Aaron likes his hair cut. They hadn’t spoken in years, not since the brick incident, but he still harbored a soft spot for the gangling kid who had grown into a confident young man.

She did it perfectly, and so did Jess. They joked that it was a Brooks family secret, cutting Aaron Hotchner’s hair. Some families passed down recipes, but not them.

He learned how he liked to have his hair cut, and the brand of suits that fit him in a way that felt comfortable and made him feel good. Not just passable but good. Really good. He found a tailor that would cut his suits a little large so the fabric didn’t bunch in his armpits but made him look fashionable enough.

The BAU gave him an outlet he’d never had before. A place where the way his mind processed information was actually helpful, almost like a superpower in some regards. And he loved feeling that way for once in his life, like he was good at something and he didn’t need to pretend so much.

But it pulled him from the safety of his little world with Haley further and further. He developed a deep friendship with Derek Morgan, someone who he never would have imagined in a million years would want to do anything more than punch him in the nose. Steal his lunch money. (And maybe he still did want to do both of those things, friends or not.) He looked at Derek and saw everyone who had ever tried to bully him in that confident way he strode around, but when he got to know him...really know him...he realized that he wasn’t the only person masking. Who pretended to be something they weren’t to make themselves more palatable or to fit people’s perceptions of who they should be. It shifted his perspective about a lot of people, and made him almost cling to Derek.

During his suspension, Haley cut his hair. It had been a while, he’d been playing around with letting it get a little longer, just keeping it trimmed around the nape of his neck but he was tired of that look and something about being able to run his palm over the short fuzzy hair was something he was almost craving. He felt like he’d lose it entirely the longer he went without it. The idea of leaving the BAU, transferring to save his marriage, Gideon going radio silent instead of communicating with him during their joint suspension...he was already on the verge. Barely maintaining so he didn’t frighten Jack with his outbursts. So she shaved his hair short and he smiled more and she was able to believe for a little while longer that their marriage was not a sinking ship.

But he couldn’t manage it. The BAU was pulling him back, and the phone call...the phone call that he’d known was coming...it was too much. He couldn’t cling to her anymore, she’d betrayed him. What else could it be but another man?

Failing to see the irony in the situation, he left her for another man too. Derek called and begged him to come help them, they were drowning and Strauss was killing them all. He couldn’t see another choice. If his transfer hadn’t been put through yet, he was in dereliction of duty. That would be damning to his future...Haley had to see that, right? He wouldn’t get his transfer if he didn’t do his job. That thought spun around like a top in his mind until he felt sick and dizzy. It didn’t matter anyway. In a way, he figured she made the decision for him. Because what was she going to do with this other guy once he transferred? In his experience, once you go down that path you don’t just come back.

And when Haley left him, it was Derek that he confided in. Alone in his big house, neat and tidy, he cried. He didn’t sleep, didn’t eat. For days he existed on nothing but coffee from the office. It wasn’t even that he wasn’t hungry, it was just that he kind of forgot that he needed to stop what he was doing and make time to eat. It seemed unimportant. Fell off his radar entirely.

Derek noticed, though. “Let’s go to lunch. You look like shit.”

“You said you didn’t want to hang out with me. That you just needed me to lead this team.” The sarcasm, which should have been obvious, came laced with a deep sadness that made Derek ache. Did he say that? To Hotch? Who takes everything just a little too literally?

“That’s not how I meant it. Don’t look for reasons to be mad at me, I’m on your side. Now come on, I’m buying.”

Lunch became a standing thing, when they were at Quantico. And when that reached its threshold, it became weekly dinner dates that sort of turned into casual sleepovers. Hotch discovered that he loved to wake up beside Derek, the feel of soft stubble coming in on his usually slick head. On days off he would smile sweetly and ask Derek to put off shaving for a few extra hours so he could enjoy it.

And Derek never called him weird for it. Sometimes he got a little irritated and wanted to shave his head and be on with it, but he was kind. Hotch’s job was stressful, his life had more or less fallen apart, and if he wanted to rub Derek’s head for a little while in bed or on the couch while they watched the morning news and drank their coffee...there were worse things.

Hotch made an appointment with Dave’s barber when he needed his first haircut after Haley left. Dave insisted his guy was the best. A true artist.

It was an unmitigated disaster. The man talked too much and expected responses out of Hotch that were unreasonable in their depth. All Aaron wanted was to sit in silence and have his hair cut. The barber tucked that gown so tight around Aaron’s neck he thought he might choke. Every time he swallowed he could feel it pull tight against his adam’s apple and it made him feel sick.

The worst of it was that though though he brushed the tiny cut hairs off of the back of his neck to clean him up, in the end he only really brushed them down into Aaron’s shirt.

He felt like there were tiny needles in his suit all day. He was miserable and grouchy. He snapped at everyone. It was apparent he was in distress when he even snapped at Garcia.

The next haircut was done begrudgingly by Jessica, just because she couldn’t stand to see him looking so miserable. She came to his apartment, used the clippers Haley had left for him and managed it in exactly the way her grandfather had. He hadn’t felt so good in weeks. He felt confident, felt like himself. And as much as she was certain she was going to find it awkward to be cooped up in his apartment after the divorce...she found it to be the opposite.

So she did it again for him, and again. She was good at it and she did enjoy their short visits. Like old times. She missed him.

But after Foyet, he didn’t want her to see him like that. He couldn’t bear it. And maybe she couldn’t either.

He needed a haircut, he needed it badly. He was maintaining the stubble on his chin with an electric shaver just barely but he knew he’d only mess up his hair so he let it grow. Emily mentioned how long it was getting, told him he was starting to look like a hippie.

Derek liked it, the way it was soft when he was so full of sharp edges now. He was in pain day and night, hardly spoke two words for hours at a time, lost completely in his head or Foyet’s files. The wounds had healed on the outside but the internal damage would take months, and he couldn’t hide it at home.

“Let me cut your hair,” Derek said one night when he noticed Aaron brushing it angrily out of his eyes while he worked through a consult on the dining room table. He didn’t even look up.

“What? No. It’s fine.”

“It is not, and Jessica says you’re particular about it but I think I can handle it.”

“She says I’m particular?” He didn’t like the way that sounded. Maybe he was being overly sensitive but he supposed he was allowed to be a little, in some ways. He was reminded of their joke, that cutting his hair was their family secret. It made him feel like a sideshow suddenly when it never had before.

“She does. You disagree?”

“No. I don’t...it’s just...that’s a little rude don’t you think?”

“She didn’t say it like it was wrong, man, chill out. I just mentioned that you’ve been acting like you wanted a haircut and she said she could show me how you like it done because you’re particular.”

It didn’t sound any different than before but he knew he was prone to being angry now, almost looking for a reason to fight. He didn’t seem to be able to cool down anymore. Every day was a battle against his temper, and his angry inner voice had started to sound an awful lot like his father. But Derek was the last person he wanted to fight with. Derek was the only person he wanted anywhere near him.

“Okay. You can try.”

“Your confidence in me is encouraging.”

Aaron finally looked up at him, really looked at him. “I’m not particular on purpose, Derek. I try not to be.”

“I know. I shave my head every damn day, and I do a good job. I think I can manage.”

He did ask Jessica for some pointers though, while Aaron went out for a morning run to clear his head and blow off some excess energy before allowing Derek to touch his hair. It seemed like a good start. Running was slow and painful, a humiliating experience at times when he had to stop and lean against a tree or sit down on a park bench to catch his breath. The searing pain in his chest was unbearable and he couldn’t tell if that was panic setting in over the idea of Derek cutting his hair and seeing him that way, or if it was Foyet.

It didn’t matter. The pain was there and he had to embrace it, move with it, live with it. He ran home just as fast as he’d started and found his entire dining room set up like a barber shop. His clippers were sitting out beside a towel and Derek had turned The White Album on at a moderate volume, even though he couldn’t stand it. The sound was just enough to drown out the din of the clippers but not enough to be overwhelming.

“You ready?” Derek asked, watching Aaron slip his shoes off at the door and kick them to the side. He looked more on edge than when he left, and when he walked toward the kitchen for his post-run glass of water, he held his palm flat against his sternum like he was holding it in place. “Aaron?”

“I need a minute.”

“Something happen out there?”

“No. I just need a minute.”

Derek knew him well enough now that he didn’t ask him to explain. I need a minute usually just meant he needed to sort himself out, and with his glass of water he headed toward the bedroom to do exactly that. It only took a few minutes before he was coming back down the hall not looking much better but it seemed to be enough. Derek knew he had ways of mitigating things when he got overwhelmed, some of them were healthier than others but he tried not to be too vocal about the ones that he thought seemed harmful. Aaron was a grown man, he knew what he was doing. The look in his eye was changed from wild to something akin to calm. He ran his thumb over the edges of his fingernails as he approached and forced a smile.

“Sorry about that.”

“All good baby. Have a seat, let’s get this goin’. I’m not sure how much more of this album I can take.”

He started by running his fingers through Aaron’s hair. Up the back, over the top, scratching gently at the scalp until Aaron’s muscles seemed to relax. He liked that. He’d always liked his hair being played with. When he finally began cutting, he was gentle. His hand led the way, dancing through the hair with clippers following in hot pursuit. No tangles would meet the blades that way. By the time it was over, Aaron was nearly in a trance. They hadn’t said one single word.

“Shower,” Derek whispered, kissing him on the tip of the ear first and then down his cheek. “Now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. There was a towel around his neck but it didn’t stop all of the renegade bits of hair from settling against his skin. Derek started there, washing the back of his neck first, taking care to remove every little stray hair he could before running his soapy hands over Aaron’s freshly cut hair. Aaron was not only relaxed for the first time in over a week, he was relaxed enough that he let Derek’s kisses turn him on in a way he couldn’t even imagine enjoying again after being under Foyet.

His chest still ached but it wasn’t so bad with Derek’s lips dusting wet new scars, wasn’t so bad with the shower rinsing away the last of the soap and leaving him feeling fresh and clean. His skin tingled and there seemed to be showers of sparks left behind each one of Derek’s kisses.

“I’ll be gentle,” Derek promised and Aaron could only smile.

“Don’t be,” he purred, gripping Derek’s shoulders tight. “Please.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #autistic aaron hotchner #mind the warnings!#fanfiction

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eldrai · 3 months

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a textbook case

1.5k, autistic!Hotch, mild established hotchgan. post-mayhem.

haven't posted in months because writer's block has been a bitch. but i'm happy to get back into it

#autistic hotch #autistic aaron hotchner #cm fanfic #hotch #cm fanfiction #mine

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queer-whatchamacallit · 2 years

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Thinking about Hotch and how my brain has chosen to smoosh him to fit what I want from his character

Thinking abt how Hotch grew up in a horribly violent home that he did everything in his power to protect his little brother from because Hotch is so incredibly on the side of ‘no one deserves to feel this’ as opposed to ‘I want others to feel how I feel’

Autistic Hotch who hid everything in him as best he could because his home did not treat his differences and needs kindly, who was still considered ‘not quite right’ by those who interacted with him but wouldn’t be diagnosed and able to understand the disconnect he experienced with most people until he was almost 40

Hotch who was always a little lanky and resented how he only really gained weight and muscle well after his father died because he’d been counting down the days until he could fight back from the time he was like 13 but never had the physical strength to

Hotch not knowing how to deal with the myriad of ways this home has effected him and picking up smoking and drinking as a way to make everything feel less

Hotch meeting Haley and knowing he wanted to feel everything if it meant truly experiencing the way she made him feel

Hotch who hated his father and couldn’t understand why he was so devastated by his death. He has two main theories, and the answer is likely a combination of both and some things he hasn’t thought of. 1, that there was a million things he wanted to do and say to him to get some kind of closure after the torture he endured and never got the chance, and 2, that’s one of the biggest changes he’s ever experienced, and he sometimes just needs time to adjust

Hotch smoking on and off since meeting Haley, but after hearing Haley suggest they have kids some day, completely stopping because he would never want to leave Haley and a son behind because he got lung cancer like his father did

Hotchley who love each other to the ends of the Earth and tell each other everything and do their best to show the other the insane amount of love and trust they have for each other

Hotchley who are inseparable and take care of each other and are sweet to each other and always know how to make the other feel safe

Hotch who is completely terrified to have kids because he doesn’t feel like he is good enough to be trusted with a human life but also can’t think of any other life he would rather have with Haley than loving her and raising a kid together

Hotch who grew to have the body type of a brick wall, over six foot and all broad shoulders and stockiness, and is terrified of hurting people and always treats himself as dangerous when he’s in distress because on one or two occasions, his unintended strength has proven to more than anyone expects from Hotch, the gentle giant

Hotch who was nervous about holding Jack because he was so worried he was going to hurt him somehow

Hotch who has autism and obsessive compulsive tendencies and can be debilitatingly paranoid and has only slept well a handful of nights throughout his entire life and thinks he’s a failure at anything other than working and takes years to get therapy for any of this and is so fucking tired and the list goes on

Hotch who learns to take care of Jack after Haley’s death and thinks he’s doing everything wrong but is actually an amazing father

Hotch who finally gets help for how horrible his mental health is and realizes for the first time that there are ways of living that don’t involve him being miserable most of the time

Hotch after Witsec who drives a blue pickup truck to his job as a high school teacher every day and who can’t wait to have Jack in class because his favorite thing is spending time with his son

Hotch who still feels the need to help people, and can find that in teaching kids and looking out for them

Hotch figures out a lifestyle that works for him and a set of medications to help him manage everything better. He develops a special interest in escape rooms to fill his need for problems to solve, and he’s truly content for one of the first times in his life

I’m going to stop at these, but I could literally go on all day

#criminal minds #cm #aaron hotchner #the special interest half: criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #autistic aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #haley hotchner #haley brooks #tw smoking #tw drinking #tw abelism #tw childhood abuse

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dungeons-are-too-cold · 2 years

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When JJ leaves, there is just such a heaviness on my heart with the way my favorite autistic trio reacts to it

Hotch never talks about himself unless it's to blame himself for not stopping the transfer, only saying "we'll miss you" instead of "I'll miss you", and then he shakes her hand and walks away when I know he wanted to hug her but he felt it wasn't his place

Reid, shaky and trying his best not to cry, only repeats the phrase "they can't take you away"

Penelope immediately talks about how she would have fixed it, how she would have made it impossible for them to let her leave, and then talks practical with "its a great opportunity" and future plans and only lets herself cry when JJ has finally left the room

i know that these interactions did not go the way that any of them wanted these interactions to go, because I've been there and I've said these goodbyes and I've cried behind closed doors because my big emotions would be too much for anyone to handle. I have been absolutely devastated by change and disruption especially when it comes to losing a closeness to someone I felt so vulnerable and safe with. Building relationships is so hard, and so losing them in any capacity is even harder. my heart just goes out to JJ and to all of them in this episode and its so upsetting how it happened.

(P.S. its also devastating that it had to happen with that hairstyle, i mean its tragic)

#georgia’s not so critical analysis #criminal minds watch through #criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #autistic spencer reid #autistic aaron hotchner #autistic penelope garcia

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piratesofpenzance4 · 2 years

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Hot take: some of y’all refuse to see Penelope at least is autistic coded (and Hotch could also be autistic coded) bc it goes against the stereotypical autism seen in the media

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #autistic penelope garcia #autistic aaron hotchner

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birdiebats · 1 year

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My Disney Plus expired before I could finish Criminal Minds 🥲

#criminal minds #spencer reid #autistic spencer reid #autistic aaron hotchner #autistic penelope garcia #genuinely though my autistic ass is devastated #what will i do with my time now!?

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melancholyllama · 1 year

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“There is one more thing though,” the doctor says, her hand resting on the door handle, “I’m sure you’re aware autism is genetic, have you ever considered that might be a possibility?”

A difficult journey of learning and acceptance follows the diagnosis of Hotch's three-year-old son.

#aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds #autistic spencer reid #autistic aaron hotchner #my fics

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glowingspence · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 2

Posting Day 2

Theme Day 2: “Nowhere to run”

Prompts Day 2: “Caged”

Summary:Spencer gets an offer to teach in London for a year, Derek and Hotch have strong doubts about if it is safe to let him leave on his own.

Ao3 / whumptober blog

“You always grew up a little bit slower than the other kids” His mother had said to him when he turned 19, he had visited her in the hospital, picked up a cake with dinosaurs on it and his mother had laughed, “Silly you, always will be a child at heart”

And for the rest of his life, it had always been that- His heart on the “Oh look at you, such a young childish man” and his brain on the “You must be a hurting old soul, what did they do to you?” side of the comments.

“I don’t think this is a good idea” Derek tells him, sitting next to him at their kitchen table, the offer to go to lecture in england for a year placed in front of them.

“Why?”

“You would be all alone there for a whole year” With tears in his eyes Spencer shrugs, “Baby I know you want this, and this is great, I am so proud of you for getting this opportunity and wanting to try but-”

“You don’t think I can do it.”

“I think you can do the reason why you are going there just fine, you would outshine everyone there but you, on your own, in a big city all alone, your own apartment, I am not sure it would be good for you”

“I have lived alone” He argues, scratching his arms under the table,

“For half a year before Gideon took you in” Derek tells him, reaching out to him but Spencer pulls away, a tear running down his face, “Pretty boy-”

As he breaks out into a sob, he gets up from the table, rushing out of the room and up the stairs, aiming for his own room. He couldn’t even lock it if he wanted to, he won't be able to lock any room in the house. Only the downstairs bathroom that Derek holds the key for when guests are in the house. And it's his own fault. He was the one being stupid.

Frustrated he hits his thigh with his fist, pressing his teeth into his lips as he tries to suppress a sob. Why can he not react like everybody else? Why does his whole body have to feel an emotion? Why can he not handle it like everyone? When he got the offer he started being so excited, he started hitting his hand against the door frame while flapping it to handle it better until Hotch stopped him, told him to take a deep breath. No one gets so excited about things they end up sobbing on the floor because the happy feeling got so much in his stomach, it started spreading in his whole body and biting his nerves everywhere.

“I know it's not fair” Derek speaks as holds him from behind, pressing Spencer’s hands down on his chest, restricting as much movement as possible, “It’s okay, you will be okay”

“No”

“It doesn't feel like it right now, but I am sure we can work something out” Derek tries reasoning with him even if there is no use until he hasn’t calmed down some and more importantly is willing to listen.

“I want to”

“I know”

“You don’t get to say no” He cries, fighting Derek’s hold, “It's my decision, I go there. I say I go there”

“I am so sorry” Comforting Derek presses his cheek to Spencer’s, holding him close as he keeps fighting him for a bit longer before he goes over to soft cries and eventually sniffles as he sits down with Derek on the floor, sending him out of his room the moment he gets enough words together in his head to do so.

///

“Why can you live alone and not me?” Spencer asks desperately, his head crouched to the side as he looks at Hotch, the offer placed in front of them on the table. He had hoped Hotch would be more enthusiastic about this, would tell Derek that he should let him go there but Hotch had only told him how proud he is for getting this but in the same sentence started hesitantly talking about how this is really far away.

“What do you mean?” The older agent asks sincerely, wanting to listen to Spencer and giving him a chance to understand why they are so worried about this.

“You are autistic, you live in your own apartment, you were in the desert for amilitary mission for weeks, why can I not go to London?” Agitated Spencer taps his fingers onto the table in front of him, acombinated by his other hand gripping the armrest of his chair.

“We both know it shows different for us-”

“It's the same disability” Spencer argues.

“We both know you don’t mean that” Comforting Hotch tries to grab Spencer’s hand as he cries but he pulls it away, rubbing his eyes as he tries to hide his tears, “You are doing brilliantly with so many things and we are not worried about things that are in your hands. We know you would give your best but there are some things we know won't work out. And it's okay as long as you have someone around you to make up for that but all alone in London? For a year? I think this would put you in danger. More than you even know-”

“I am not a danger to myself, I worked so hard, I went to all the meetings and sessions and I- I did what all you guys wanted-”

“It's not about that” Hotch speaks calmly, grabbing Spencer’s arm where the thin scars are exposed as he starts unconsciously going over them with his thumb, “We know you don't do this anymore, it's more about things that you know just as well as we do that you won’t do when no one pushes you to.”

“Like what?” Spencer gives back angrily, wanting to draw back from Hotch’s comfort as he is now sitting on his desk, close to Spencer and still drawing soothing circles on his skin and at the same time wanting him to hold him much tighter and closer, feeling like he is falling apart on this chair all over again, just like he did yesterday.

“For starters we all know you would not clean those teeths of you two times a day” Uncomfortably he squirms in his seat as Hotch reaches for his chin, “Because in the moment it doesn't hurt you and you don’t have to feel the uncomfortable feeling of the toothbrush against your teeth”

“And we know you would try to sleep as less as possible to get as much of the london experience as you can and you would push yourself as long as possible and end up being even more burned out than last time this happened.” Hotch continues, his hand going up to Spencer’s head, letting his hand run through his hair, “Do you understand?”

“Yes” He mumbles, looking down on his lap,

“And you know that there are more things like that, right?” “Yes”

“Alright”

"It's unfair”

“I know, I am sorry” Quickly Hotch gets up from the desk to hold him closer as Spencer leans against him, starting to cry even more as sobs fill Hotch’s office.

“Well, I am sorry pumpkin” Garcia tries comforting him as he shares the news with the team and adds immediately, before another one can say something, that it has already been forbidden, “If you want to, we can go together to London to witness Emily this summer okay?”

“Emily” Spencer mumbles,

“I am sure she would love that” JJ adds with a smile, being relieved when she sees his face light up as well.

“Emily” Spencer exclaims again, confusing the others, Rossi raising an eyebrow at him, sensing that there will be something he will add while Derek already knows what it will be, “I won't be alone in London, Emily is there!”

“Babe-”

“No, no, you said- no this is perfect, I will go call her!” Flapping his free hand, he reaches for his phone, dialing Emily’s number before Derek grabs it from him, “Hey eugh-” Frustrated he tries to keep it, already feeling himself getting angry again.

“Deep breath, we will call her but we will do this in a calm moment when we have talked this through, not like this.”

“No talking this too-”

“Yes, because you first need to understand what it means okay? For both of you to come living with her.” Derek says sternly and for a moment Spencer wants to yell again, wants to have the phone call now, wants Derek to know this is him limiting him again but he follows his wishes, following his breathing and trying to put a little more trust in his promises. “Good job, we will talk about it on the jet and call her when we think we are ready okay?”

“Okay”

“And when it's not midnight for her” Rossi adds with a wink, knowing that if the team isn't starting to cheer up about this, they will ruin this for him as well.

So with forced enthusiasm it's also them who drive him to the airport three months later. HIs suitcase packed, his bag over his shoulder as he beams at them.

“Alright kiddo, remember we will be expecting you to use that laptop and cell phone of yours to reach out” Rossi tells him as he pulls him into a hug, “I will miss you” Quickly he presses a kiss to his forehead before letting the next person say goodbye.

After Spencer got wind that they, after some of them didn't file for vacation in years, filed for at least a week at different times this year, he and Derek had made clear that it's maybe better to let him have this year for himself. No surprise visits, no constant checking in. And even if it hurts them a little bit, they had been filled with pride as they watched him standing up for his own space like this. Only Morgan had used up all his vacation days of the last few years and will fly down five times for a week each. Not to mention that he had reassured at least a hundred times that he can fly down for emergencies at any time.

“Emily will wait for you at the airport” He tells him, cupping his face with his hands, “You will do amazing, I am sorry i doubted that in the beginning”

"It's okay”

“It's not” Gently he places a kiss on his cheek, “Call me when you get there, I love you”

“Love you too” He smiles at him innocently, his eyes blinking repeatedly as he tries to hold eye contact,that he knows Derek will appreciate it later.

“Jerk, stop that, you will make me soft” With a teary laughter he kisses him again, “Be safe, we will see each other in two months”

“Thats so long” Spencer tells him, gripping Derek’s jacket, “But that's okay right?”

“That's more than okay, everything will be fine and if not I am just a phone call away and Emily is there all the way”

There is a pit of anger, tiredness and disappointment in Spencer’s stomach, as he enters his new room. Its right next to hers, the room already having things he likes on the wall, not giving him a chance to decide for himself as Emily brightly smiles at him, “How do you like it?”

“It’s- it's- bigger than I thought”

“Well, do you like it bigger?”

“Of course, thank you” He breathes out, trying to hold back tears as Emily announces again how much she loves having him here, “I will- I will get situated then” “Oh, yes, you do that, you must be exhausted, I will text Derek that everything is okay”

“He texted you?”

“Of course, he couldn’t wait to hear what you thought of your new home”

“Right”

When Derek comes to visit the next month, not being able to wait longer, Spencer knowing he had a couple of fights with Emily over the phone, his heart breaks at the way Spencer is leaning into his demands, avoiding his eyes even more than he did before, hiding away from him agian and most importantly covering his arms again, “Spencer I know when you relapsed, Emily saw the the bandages the other day” He sighs as Spencer tries to scoop away when Derek tries to innicate sex, “Baby you can talk to me about this”

“There is nothing to talk about”

“There isn’t?”

“I did it again, I will call my therapist, you will tell me i have to go home, end of story”

“Is that what you think why i am here? To take you home again?”

“I don’t care”

“But you were so excited for this”

“I was excited to do something on my own”

@whumptober-archive 💗

#whumptober2022 #no.2 #caged #criminal minds #fic #self-harm #cutting #meltdown #autistic spencer reid #autistic aaron hotchner

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softhairedhotch · 7 months

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i think hotch is autistic and loves jigsaw puzzles

anon you're so right and you should speak your truth ‼️

he is autistic and finds jigsaw puzzles soothing to do. it takes his mind off things and he loved doing them with jack when he was younger!! it's just a nice way to pass the time and make it easier to think about the better parts of life.

after a paticularly bad case and an annoying bout of restlessness, he finds himself in the living room at 3am with only a lamp on and some classical music (or the beatles) as he does a big puzzle. really just zones him out and gives him some peace, yknow?

i feel like he'd occasionally buy custom jigsaws too, like one of a specific picture or maybe even one of jack lol. omg wouldn't it be cute if gideon got him a bird themed jigsaw? anyways yeah he likes lil puzzles hehe

also this just reminded me once when i was a kid, i got really obsessed with puzzles so my dad bought me a few. one day he left me alone to go to the shop just down the road (like 8 mins away) when i was like,, idk,,, 6,, and gave me a puzzle to do to distract me. it was a big puzzle and i had that shit finished by the time he came back 😭😭 couldn't do that now tho, wouldn't have the focus LMAO i'd get bored after one piece

#thank you anon #autistic aaron hotchner #casks #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #autistic hotch

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masterwords · 1 year

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Would you write Morgan getting Hotch a teddy bear while he's in hospital. Maybe with the line-

"if you're gonna act like a baby I'll treat you like one"

But really Hotch hasn't been given a gift like that in a long time and loves it even though he would never admit it.

Um. So. This happened. I'm not sure where this prompt crossed wires in my head and became this whole huge thing but...here we have autistic Hotch in the hospital after Foyet, and just...it got out of hand. I also brought back an OC I wrote in a different story (Happy Place) because she's a really fun nurse. I hope this isn't too far from what you were going for.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Post-Foyet hospital (stab wounds/bandages), swearing...it's pretty soft and tame, he's mostly just grumpy

** Feel the Heal **

“How is your pain?”

The gown is rubbing his thighs. That's all he can think about. The way the gown rubs against the hair on his legs, the way the blanket is threadbare and wrinkles at his ankles. Pain is the last thing on his mind. He can't tell her that, though.

“It's okay,” he deadpans. She shakes her head and holds up the clipboard with the sad faces on it. He hates that thing. It doesn't make sense to him, they all just look sad and he really can't figure out which one is the sad that he is supposed to say. Which one conveys being sad while also being in pain while also feeling out of control and like you're one fraction of a moment away from total meltdown?

None of them look like that. And the worst part is that those faces are stressing him out because he would normally be able to figure this out but for some reason he just can't clear the swirling fog in his brain.

“Last hour you said you were here, have things changed?”

The blanket. The gown. The lights. He isn't thinking about the pain even though he feels it. “No.”

“Good.” She smiles and nods, initialing beside the little face for the second time and setting the clipboard down. After that its the poking and the prodding, she's adjusting wires and tubes, she's changing out bags of fluid and recording everything. She's untying the gown from behind his neck and pulling it down, letting it pool in his lap so she can peek behind his bandages. The tape pulls at his hairs and he feels his skin crawl, his fists tighten, his fingernails dig into his palms.

“We'll need to change those on the next round,” she says nonchalantly and he suppresses a shudder. In the corner Dave is reading a book, pretending not to watch, pretending to give him privacy. Emily will come next, in twenty two minutes he knows. Because routine has already been established. The nurses come in every hour, the doctors every two to three, and his team changes out every four. Shifts.

This routine makes him more anxious than not knowing, because he has no control over any aspect of it. No one asked him what he thought, they're all operating on righteousness. This is for his safety and well-being. The lights in the room are always on, there is always noise, and when Emily comes she turns on the television. When JJ comes she wants to talk. Dave is content to read a book, but every so often he wants to read some of it to Hotch just to make some attempt at filling the empty space. Penelope brings treats for the nurses and thinks she'll entice him to eat, but she doesn't understand how sick he feels and she gets that teary eyed look when he says no thank you.

Best behavior. He's on his best behavior even though that part is physically painful. But if he isn't, then they get upset and nervous, so he's focused hard on just getting through it without making things worse for them. He's had to answer questions in the hundreds about the attack, he's submitted to a rape kit because the parts of his memory that are nothing but a void come with scary bookends. Maybe this will change the way you profile...

He shivers and holds his breath while she leans in close and ties his gown up again. What happened to him has been turned into a spectacle and he can't be alone, they won't allow it, and it's all he wants. If he just had some time to himself he could refocus, settle himself. Make his head stop spinning.

“There is a new nurse filling in down here tonight. Her name is Norma, she'll round on you at 7. She's normally down in the ER but we're short-staffed.” She paused and put her hand on her hip, smiling at him. “She's a little rough around the edges. ER nurses, you know. They're different down there.”

He frowns, not sure how to take that, but he catalogs it anyway. Under normal circumstances he might have been able to pick out sarcasm or a joke hidden in there, but it all sounded simple and straight forward to his jumbled mind. So he just remembers it, and when Dave leaves and Emily comes in, he's still focused on the nurse change. Rough around the edges. Different. He's more than a little fixated on that, which is kind of nice because suddenly he's not thinking about the damn blanket or the gown or the fucking lights that make his head hurt.

“Hey,” Emily says, approaching the bed cautiously. She's already made him angry enough times to know she needs to tread lightly. Especially at night. He's been here two days and it feels like a lifetime. “How are things tonight?”

He doesn't look at her. “Fine.” He says it with a finality that makes her huff and shake her head. She's given up on trying to coax him out, he'll come around when he's ready. Or never. He knows she was in his apartment, looked through his things, and he's being really fussy about that because the part that really bothers him, that she saw the blood, that she knows...he can't even access that area of his mind yet. She can't relate to this kind of trauma, and she can't relate to how he processes things, so she just goes to her corner quietly and flips the television on. He doesn't make a sound but she knows it irritates him, he makes no attempt to hide it. He won't say anything about it though.

When Norma comes in, Emily is watching The Simpsons and Hotch is sleeping. It isn't a deep sleep, and it's been more than a little restless if the heart monitor is anything to go by, but he's still sleeping. “I haven't seen you before,” Emily says, jumping up to check out the new nurse. Remembering that she's not just here to babysit the patient, she's here to keep him safe and that means vetting each new person who enters his room.

“I'm Norma,” the woman says in her raspy sweet voice and flashes her badge. “I was the Charge Nurse on shift when he was brought in the other day.” Emily's eyes go wide, her lips parting only slightly in shock. Norma just smiles. “I'm glad he pulled through. It didn't look good for a while. We all thought...well, here I am babbling about something you don't want to hear about.”

“I'm glad too,” Emily repeats quietly, turning to look at him, remembering suddenly why he's in that bed. It's so easy to overlook when he's being insufferable, when he's snapping at you or frowning or refusing to acknowledge you entirely. It's easy because he wants you to forget. She knows that. And she lets him do it to her which just pisses her off to no end. Slowly she retreats to her corner and watches Norma work. There is something about the careful way she maneuvers, about the way she avoids getting in his space unlike the other nurses that gives Emily pause.

And when Hotch wakes up and begins watching her work, it gets more perplexing. “Are you comfortable?” she asks, instead of asking how his pain is. She doesn't even hold up the clipboard he hates. Hotch looks confused. “Can I do anything to make you more comfortable? Some patients complain that these gowns are too stiff, we have a bin of older ones that are more worn in down in the ER...they just don't look as sharp so they don't like to keep them up here.”

“It,” he starts, almost ashamed, like he's never spoken up about himself before. He can't seem to finish the sentence. Is he really about to sit here with multiple stab wounds after life-saving surgery and complain about a gown? He knows it sounds absurd and he'd love to be focused on literally anything else, but he also can't shake it. She just nods, like he'd said something she understands even though he said absolutely nothing. Emily is confused and suddenly isn't paying even a little attention to Bart Simpson.

“I get it. They're scratchy and over-starched. You look like a hairy beast, I bet that's miserable. I'll be right back honeypie. Don't you go anywhere.”

He stares after her as she leaves, his brows drawn together confused. Honeypie. Derek calls him honeypie, because they both like that song and Derek can't live without having a handful of pet names to throw around. He's never...it's making his heart beat a little too fast. She comes back to find he's still thinking about honeypie, which is good, because she really did think he was going to try and get up. He just has that look about him.

“Alright Agent, be a dear and turn around to give us a bit of privacy? I'm gonna change him into something a little more comfortable.”

Emily turns but she catches bits of wavy reflection in the window. Norma changes his bandages in silence, only a few words here and there when she decides to explain something or ask if he's comfortable. She never asks anything obtuse, she never asks him to assess his pain on the little face scale, she just asks if he's comfortable. Emily thinks there is some magic in that word she's not understanding, especially when Hotch answers her truthfully (if not a little too quietly) and says no, he's not. He's on the verge of tears. She never gets a chance to ask about the way she's assessing him though, not before Norma is called down to the ER with the code team and they're left alone in the room again.

Derek comes for his shift to find Emily nearly asleep in her corner. She's not supposed to doze but Hotch has been ignoring her again and there is only so much she can do to keep awake when he won't even talk to her.

“Have fun,” she snaps outside of the room, searching through her bag for her car keys. “He's really on one tonight. And he's got this new nurse...she's different. He seems to like her though.”

“Different how?” Derek asks, craning his neck so he can peek into the room. Hotch looks out of sorts. Emily just shrugs.

“I don't know. She'll be by in about fifteen minutes, you'll see.”

The minute he walks in, Hotch changes. And Derek knows its coming. It always comes. Because he has to control his every move around all of them, he has to mask even when it hurts him, but he doesn't have to do that with Derek. It's never been an expectation, and Derek is glad for it but it does get taxing. Exhausting. Sometimes it downright hurts.

Especially now in this setting. Hotch is so over-stimulated by the constant movement in and out of his room, in the hallway, the intercoms, the carts, the lights, the BAU security detail. He's miserable, Derek can see it in his eyes, and that barely registers over the chaos going on around him that's how bad it is. And there isn't anything Derek can seem to do but show up and hope it's getting better while knowing damn well it isn't. They haven't even had a moment to themselves to talk about what happened. To talk about any of it. Derek heard him profiling it with Emily and Dave, he's heard the statements to the police, but he doesn't want to hear all of that. He just wants Hotch to talk to him about how he feels.

It won't happen, not for a while yet. Not until the rest of this is gone. Which really only poses more problems in Derek's mind...where is he going to go? What sorts of lasting effects will this have? He suspects PTSD is going to play a large role in their lives, and then there's the fact that Foyet has been a sick man since he stabbed himself and it stands to reason Hotch will end up in the same boat. Nothing looks promising, but none of that is on the agenda to be talked about. Not now.

He kisses him. Right on top of the head, his sweaty messy hair. “Hey baby,” he whispers and Hotch hums. “How's it going?”

Hotch sighs and sucks in a deep breath. What comes out is a barrage of complaints that have been bottling up, building pressure, nearly exploding out of his chest. And they're just words, but Derek feels crushed by them. He's crushed for him. That this experience is already, at its root, the most awful thing he can imagine...and then on top of it he has no peace here.

“I got your carpet ripped up,” he says quietly, hoping it might bring him back, help him focus on something more important than the chaos in this room. It is temporary, he needs him to remember that he won't be here forever. “And the hole is patched. Things are looking good. I made it over there on my lunch break.”

“You didn't have to do that.”

“I know,” Derek says, offering a smile. “I wanted to.”

“That's the landlord's job.”

“Aaron,” Derek says, grabbing his hand, his thumb grazing the tape wrinkled and slick covering his skin where they'd placed an IV needle. “I wanted to do it because I don't want any other strangers in your home.”

“You don't have time for that.”

“Dammit Aaron. I just told you I did it on my lunch hour, I have the time. Let me do this one damn thing for you because otherwise I'm completely fucking helpless here...” It's a rare show of his own emotion and he regrets it instantly, the way it hangs over them. “I'm sorry. Just please let me help.”

Hotch hums and closes his eyes, sorting through everything Derek just said. It isn't that it doesn't make sense to him, he just really really hates it. This isn't Derek's problem. It isn't. And he confuses the way Derek loves him with the guilt he feels that Foyet left his credentials in the apartment, which only makes him feel worse and more indignant.

“This isn't your fault.” He knows he shouldn't have said it, but he said it anyway. It's still true. Derek huffs indignantly and turns his face toward the ceiling, counts to ten beneath his breath.

“I know that.” He pauses. Longer and longer he waits, his vision spotty and flared. “I know it isn't my fault. But I love you and I want to help. Can we just drop it?”

Norma comes in before Hotch can answer and approaches the bed cautiously with her clipboard and a pile of blankets in her arms. They don't look anything like the scratchy piece of fabric he's covered in now, and it draws his attention.

“I'm Norma...” she says, extending her hand to Derek. She's taking in the situation, the way Derek sits on the edge of the bed and has his hand on Hotch's leg, nothing like the woman earlier who sat in the corner and avoided all contact with him. “And you are?”

“Derek Morgan,” he says, shaking her hand briskly. Something flashes in her eyes, some vague recognition, and she looks a little stricken. “I'm...”

“I know who you are. I saw your FBI badge covered in his blood when they brought him in. Can we speak in the hallway?”

She's looking up at the heart monitor a little concerned and he realizes that the numbers do look high. A lot higher than they should. He's upsetting Hotch. Under normal circumstances he might not mind, but now he's probably going to kill him. So, without saying anything, he stands and leaves.

“I don't presume to know your relationship with him,” she begins, closing the door to Hotch's room. “But something you two are talking about is upsetting him and its my job to keep an eye on that. His heart cannot take this, not right now.”

“Yeah. I get it. He's just so...I was only trying to help...”

“Is he,” she starts quietly, stepping forward and speaking in a hushed voice. There isn't any shame in the way she talks, she just seems concerned with privacy. “Is he autistic?”

“I uh,” Derek mutters, disbelief painted over his features. It isn't that he's offended by the question or even bothered by it, it's just that people don't usually ask. They either assume or they don't, but they never ask. “Yes. He wasn't diagnosed too long ago, it's been kind of a challenge to get him to understand that he needs to speak up for himself. I mean he's never been good at that, but it seems like now he'd understand that it's more important...after what happened...”

“Yeah, and let me guess...he'll do it with you, but no one else? And you're feeling pretty drained right about now?”

He feels like shit admitting it, but he nods. She's a little too easy to open up to, and she pats him on the arm, squeezes his bicep with a little wink and laughs. “Look, hun. My big brother is autistic. I understand. Little sister isn't supposed to be the care taker, but I grew up in that role because he would talk to me when he wouldn't anyone else and I learned a thing or two. I'm gonna offer you a little unsolicited advice here, tiger.” She smiled at him, wide and bright and poked her head into the room just to make sure Hotch was still okay. His eyes were closed. “It's important to remember that sometimes people like him, people who have a public persona to maintain, spend so much time and energy masking that this incredible pressure builds up...and you're his comfort zone. He can be himself with you. So even if it's hard on you...and I know it is...it's important.”

The sentence runs around in his head, chasing its tail until he feels dizzy. “It's new to both of us.” He admits it quietly, reverently.

“But you've known him a long time, I can tell. He's not new.”

“No...he's not.”

She smiles sweetly and shakes her head. “Go get a coffee or some ice cream. I think they have some tomato bisque left in the caf. Let me have a few minutes with him. Maybe I can make him comfortable so you two can have a nice night.”

Derek nods and watches her walk into the room again, shutting the door behind her. He waits while she dims the lights...the first person who has done that...and approaches the bed with that arm full of blankets and a soft smile. He can see the way Hotch softens with her and feels comfortable enough to walk away, just for a bit. He knows damn well Foyet isn't coming back. And he suspects that if Foyet did decide to walk into this place, Norma would give him a run for his money.

So he walks. He shoves his hands into his pockets and walks and walks and walks. Finds himself in the cafeteria sitting at a table nursing a cup of steaming hot coffee and a headache. His fingers ache from tearing up carpet, scrubbing blood from the sub-floor, they smell like bleach where the skin is burnt and dry. His hands don't just ache, they hurt. His knuckles are stiff. There is drywall under his fingernails that hasn't come out the last four times he's washed his painfully dry hands. Used to having well moisturized and perfectly manicured hands, he's frustrated at this small yet enormous thing.

He loses track of time thinking about his hands and realizes how tired he is. Working through his lunch hour was important, but its catching up to him now. All he wants to do is get a little cup of cranberry juice and take it to Hotch as a peace offering. They can talk about the serious stuff later, he just wants to be close and the fact that he can't just sit in that room all day and all night is twisting his stomach in knots.

Foyet nearly denied him this life they've been working so hard to build and he's probably reacting to it worse than he should. He's angry, he wants Hotch to move in with him and Clooney, he had to say goodbye to Jack and to Haley and deal with Jessica shouting at him at the apartment while she cleaned up and gathered his things into a bag. She was going to bring them to the hospital but she hadn't gathered the nerve to walk in yet...he is pretty sure she'll show up in the morning with tears in her eyes and a bag of every single thing that makes him comfortable. She's good like that.

Even if she's mad as a hornet right now. She hasn't quite figured out what she's mad at and how to deal with it.

He pauses at the gift shop and sees an overly fuzzy teddy bear in the window. It's wearing scrubs, a teal top and scrunchy little hat, and on the top it says FEEL THE HEAL. He laughs and huffs quietly to himself, and try as he might to walk past it, to let it stay in that window, he goes in and buys the damn thing. It's softer even than he imagined, and he knows Hotch is going to hate it. He'll ask how much it cost, tell him to take it back or give it to someone else probably, he'll have a million reasons why buying him a teddy bear was ridiculous.

But it might also make him smile, and they both needed that win. He hadn't smiled in days. Not since before the case in Canada, the fucking pig farm that broke all of them so spectacularly. They both needed to FEEL THE HEAL.

Norma is at the door waiting when he walks up with his Styrofoam cup of cranberry juice from the fountain and the bear. She can't help but smile. “Feel better?”

“I do, thank you.”

“I think he does too. He's all cleaned up and gift wrapped for the night. Did say he was thirsty...”

“I figured,” he replied quietly, waving the cup. “Handled.”

“He sure does love you.” She doesn't say another word, just leaves him with that and walks down the hall toward the next room she has to round on. Derek feels a little sick for the way he'd behaved earlier and he grips the bear tighter when he walks in. He's almost strangling the damn fuzzy thing.

Everything feels calmer in there with the lights down, the television off, the curtains drawn. He closes the door behind him, doesn't let it latch but cuts them off from the outside and he's pleasantly surprised to find that the deep wrinkle between Hotch's brow is all but gone. Norma switched out his blankets while Derek was gone, he was now beneath a pile of heavy soft things she'd stolen from the Maternity floor, the uncomfortable one he'd hated now folded in the corner probably waiting for guests. Norma was the person who could get you things, Derek realized

“Here,” Derek says with a smile, tossing the bear right at him. “Figured if you were gonna act like a baby I might as well treat you like one.” He seats himself right on the edge of the bed again, nestling his hip against Hotch's thigh, and watches the way he reads the top on the bear curiously then smiles in spite of himself. And then the bear is tucked neatly against his side, comforting in its hilarity.

“Thank you,” he whispers, a little too serious. Derek can see the shine of tears in his eyes. No one has ever given him a gift in the hospital, let alone an overpriced gaudy teddy bear. It shouldn't, but it means the world to him. His head has cleared enough now to start really letting things settle into their places. “I'm sorry Derek.”

“Nah, don't worry about it. You didn't do anything wrong. We've got some things to work through but I'm not going anywhere even if you act like a shithead. You know that right?”

“I do.” There is a short pause, and then Hotch's hands are covering the little bear's ears. His lips have twitched up into an unmistakable smirk. He's about to be a shithead again. “Watch your language, please.”

“You're really pushin' it buddy.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #david rossi #emily prentiss #post-foyet #fanfiction #hotch #morgan #hotch x morgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #autistic hotch #autistic aaron hotchner

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eldrai · 2 years

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you know I think the reason I like autistic!Jack so much as a concept – it's not really a headcanon to me because we don't see too much of Jack, more like a what if type thing – is because it's all about healing from and breaking the cycle of generational trauma and decades of ableism, whether internal or external.

because you have hotch, who navigates through life easily enough most of the time, it just took him a couple of years (decades) to figure out what exactly it is he needs for that. and he's happy! he's fine as he is. and sure sometimes it bothers him a little that there seems to be this... ease that he's lacking when it comes to trivial things but really, it's a minor thing.

and autism isn't mentioned, because why would it be? he knows what it is, in that vague sense of outlines from what he's read and heard over the years, but it isn't particularly relevant to him. it's other people and other people's children. and there's nothing wrong with that. he just isn't like that.

except then he has a son.

and then his son has signs.

hotch is back to looking and this time it's with fresh eyes. this time he knows what he's trying to find out, because jack isn't autistic (and there's nothing wrong with that if he was, but he isn't). right? and jack gets a little older, the signs stay, and hotch isn't too concerned. so what if he walks on his toes and lines up his toys? he'd done that as a kid and he's fine.

after haley, jack's school counsellor suggests that some signs she thought were results of grief might actually be something else. hotch disagrees because jack is just a kid, he doesn't need some label slapped on him. he agrees to let them do it though, because they say the assessment will give them a better understanding of his needs regardless.

see, if jack was autistic, that would be bad. not jack himself but the condition. it's shameful. it's the kind of word hurled around as an insult. talked about in hushed tones. the kind that got his father to storm out of a paediatrician's office that time he was ten. and it's flapping hands and obvious signs that might as well be a crosshair on his back and hotch can't let him go through that, that isn't who jack is, and he'll outgrow it in a year or two anyway.

then jack is autistic.

hotch researches like he's never done before. even the uncomfortably familiar parts. even the stuff he thought was pathologizing normal behaviour. the habits he grew (was forced) out of. the tendency to run in families.

and...

that's him, too.

it's still a shameful word when he searches online for providers who assess adults. still when he hears them say it. and the letter he receives at the end of all of it, well, that's a strange mix of relief and shame.

mainly relief.

so you have hotch and jack. a loving father and his son. and hotch is beginning to see the effects it had on him when he was treated as diseased, broken, bizarre for who he was. they didn't know it by name but it was there all right. he knows what it's like growing up inside those rigid boxes.

he can change jack's path though. he can research more, he can talk to reid and garcia about jack, then the team, he can understand the difference between jack's actual needs and what everything, everyone says he should let him have. and he can watch jack's face light up because his uncle spencer and aunt penelope are like him!!! for all of five minutes until he goes to show them the new toy he got the other day. the companionship sticks with him though. gets him through the handful of kids who try and tease him sometimes. he can listen as jack tells him this, and his heart hurts and swells with pride both at once.

autistic doesn't remind him of shame. it makes him think of his little boy.

and it's harder to implement what he's learnt into his own life, breaking the patterns far far older than jack, to lend himself the same compassion and understanding. hotch tells jessica first, and she isn't really surprised. neither are reid or garcia but he'd seen that coming. jj, prentiss and morgan are just relieved that what he said he had to tell them (accidentally quite ominously) was nothing bad. dave is legitimately confused not at his being autistic, but his sudden decision to let him know 'now' because dave had twigged it within about a year of meeting hotch and just assumed he was keeping it to himself.

they're compassionate when he can't find it in himself to be.

and jack never knows any different. sure, there are the kids out there and their snide parents but what does that matter when his family are there, their love unconditional? when three of the coolest people he knows in the entire world are like him, why would he be upset?

it's a hard journey for hotch. it's worth it all when he can sit back and watch his son absentmindedly stimming watching tv and knows jack will never think of himself as lesser.

#autistic hotch #autistic cm #autistic aaron hotchner #autistic headcanon #jack #just me rambling #and totally not projecting here at all nope

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lust444men · 2 months

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Do u see spencer reid as

1. Talkative towards u and shuts up during sex

2. Quiet towards u and babbles during sex

3. Talkative towards u always, including sex

4. Quiet towards u always, including sex

I saw u were wanting requests, and this isn’t necessarily one, but it’s been on my mind all day.

hi, thank you so much for this! I can talk about stuff like this for ages. I don't just do requests babe! I do thoughts and inquiries all day long. now, to Spencer.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

I personally think a mixture of 1 and 3. at first, it'll be one. all throughout the show he trying to tell the team fun lil facts, cool lil statistics, and they all shut him down!!!

"reid."

"im sorry." "for what?" "for asking."

like!! leave him alone!! so when it comes to you, the person who will always listen and care for his silly little babbles, he never shuts up!

always talking to you on the plane if u work w him, during coffee runs, late nights, everywhere! but, in the earlier times of your relationship, I feel like he'd be quiet during sex.

first you thought he was nervous, but you actually just quieted pretty boys' head!! no facts, no statistics, just a lot of soft huffs and quiet whimpers.

but, as time progresses in your relationship, he'd definitely get more vocal, with your encouragement!! praise, louder grunts, moans, groans, whines, pleas, you name it, he's expressing it. babbling about how good you feel, begging for you to keep going!

n if it's unserious sex with him (which it often is les be real), he'll attempt a lil bit of small talk, as if ur mouth isn't full of his dick rn. he just doesn't know what to do!! he doesn't wanna grab ur hair, that's too mean :((.

God, how I love yapper spence.

#christi's posts #anon₊˚⊹#‧₊🫧꒷꒦‧₊˚⋆lust444men #spencer reid smut #autistic spencer reid #spencer reid #yapper spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid thot thoughts #aaron hotchner smut #derek morgan smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader

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dungeons-are-too-cold · 2 years

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How about a little fic or blurb about the team‘s thoughts about Haley after having met her for the first time?

I really loved writing this one. I kinda made it an autistic Hotch and autistic Reid fic only in some slight mentions of things and descriptions so I hope thats okay. Its a little fluffy and a little angsty (Like angst light lol) but it was def a fun one to write! Made it the first season team with Gideon, Morgan, Elle, Reid, Garcia, JJ and Hotch. Warnings: mentions of food, allsuion to sensory issues. Word count: 999

“It was lovely to see you again Hayley, and congratulations on the pregnancy”, Gideon said as he walked with her and Aaron to the elevator. “You and Aaron will be wonderful parents, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Jason. It’s always lovely to see you,” she said as she waved goodbye from the elevator with Aaron escorting her back to her car. Hayley had come in to have lunch with Hotch to surprise him with their pregnancy test results. She couldn’t wait to see his face since they had been trying for months. Overjoyed with the news, Aaron Immediately rushed, and told his team who were gathered in the conference room.

It was the first time that many of them had met their unit chief’s wife, and they were all eager to make good impressions, shaking her hand and offering their own congratulations. They all ate in the conference room that afternoon. It was nice, something they had never dine as a team. With Hotch gone for a moment, the team began to talk about their little afternoon.

“Well, she seems so sweet! And I seriously can’t get enough of her and Hotch,” Garcia gushed. “I mean, come on, high school sweethearts? Ugh so cute!”

“I think this was the first time I’ve actually seen Hotch smile,” JJ chimed in. “She must be something special.”

“Hayley is wonderful, and their relationship does bring Aaron a great deal of joy,” said Gideon. He had met her before when Aaron first started and they had a beautiful friendship, spending many dinners together over the years.

“You seem awfully quiet, kid. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours? Never seen a pretty girl before?” Morgan prompted.

“Oh, shut up, Derek.” Elle playfully slapped his arm with her case file.

“I don’t know if I like the way she talks to him,” said Spencer quietly. He wasn’t sure if he should even be saying anything at all, let alone something negative. It was his boss’s wife after all. The team seemed a little surprised, but no one responded, so Spencer elaborated on his own. “She just, I don’t know. She seemed short with him, especially when he didn’t seem to understand something. She was annoyed when he didn’t want dressing on his salad because it would feel too wet. Maybe I noticed just because I was next to him, but she just didn’t seem like she understood him at all. That’s just what I saw.”

“I don’t really know if that’s your place to judge, Reid. What do you know about relationships?” Morgan finally responded.

“In practice? Not much. But-,”

“Then what could you know?”

“She talks to him like people talk to me, and I don’t like it. So, I don’t know, I just assumed he doesn’t like it either. It’s just my opinion, Morgan. I don’t have to like her. She’s not my wife.”

“That’s for damn sure, you couldn’t even get a date with a girl like that.”

“Okay, Morgan, that’s enough,” Gideon interrupted before anything could get too heated. He could see Hotch excitedly walking back towards the conference room and didn’t want to kill his joy. So rarely in their line of work did they get to relish in those moments before disaster struck. He didn’t want anything to ruin the unbridled happiness that the news of his child had brought Aaron.

“So? What did you think of Hayley? Isn’t she just the best?” Hotch said as he reentered the conference room. He could hardly keep his hands and feet still, almost rocking back and forth before catching himself and sitting down with the team.

“She’s perfect Hotch. And she seems to make you really happy,” Elle said gesturing to his movements loosely, slightly embarrassing him as he turned away from her acknowledgment. “It’s nice to know you’re not all scary.”

“Yeah, we should have her come in more often,” Morgan joked. “Like when I break protocol and Hotch wants to chew my ass out.”

“She may make him happy, but that doesn’t negate his dedication to procedure, Morgan, so don’t get any ideas.” Gideon had known Aaron longer than anyone, so he knew that nothing could shake this man’s attention to detail and by the book attitude.

Reid remained quite through the team’s conversation. He wasn’t quite sure if he could muster a fake reaction to the situation, so invested in his own thoughts and feelings about what was going on between Aaron and Hayley. He didn’t want to make any assumptions, but Spencer’s habit of giving people the benefit of the doubt usually disappointed him, so he tended to come to a negative conclusion. However, his negative assumptions should not be Hotch’s responsibility to bear. It was hard to find the right words to say when Aaron asked for his opinion.

“Oh, I don’t know anything about relationships, so I don’t think my opinion is necessarily required in this particular situation,” Spencer said, hoping to redirect the conversation.

“But she’s still just a person, Reid. What did you think?”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then so am I. I’m happy she makes you happy, sir. I think I need to be excused if that’s alright.” Hotch nodded, slightly confused by what just happened, and Spencer quickly exited the conference room.

“Is Spencer, okay? Did someone say anything? Did I do something wrong?”

“I don’t know, the kid’s just in a mood today.” Morgan retorted as he returned to looking through the most recent case file.

“Oh, okay.” Aaron felt slightly dejected. A little bit of that joy deflated when he saw Spencer storm out of the room. Even though the young agent was just one of his subordinates, it hurt to think he might have done something wrong or that the boy might not like Hayley. Trying not to let his disappointment show in his body, he hardened his brow as he stared back at the case file. “I guess we should get back to work.”

I really hope you like it!!! Thank you again for the request!!! Your comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!! Send your requests here! Check out my masterlist here!

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hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds · 5 months

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Aaron Hotchner X Derek Morgan X ADHD Autistic teen reader

Summary: Aaron Hotchner and Derek Morgan interrogate a 14 year old daughter of Unsub who has ADHD and is autistic, she was abused by her father her whole life. A bomb gets set off and she protects them

Third person pov...

14 year old Y/N had been in a small interrogation room for the last hour alone, your probably wondering how she knows that because she's been keeping count in her head.

Early on that day the police came looking for her farther but he wasn't there, instead she got taken to the police station and handcuffed (after she accidentally lashed out when they touched her) she's autistic and doesn't like touch- the police didn't listen when she tried to explain to them.

So here she sits, for the last 5 minutes she has been tapping her foot repeatedly on the floor, she has ADHD and couldn't sit still for long, but she was handcuffed to the table so she couldn't stand up and stim.

She then started humming the same tune over and over and over until a man shouts at her to shut up over the com. "Someone's grumpy" she mutters, deciding to go back to tapping her foot repeatedly.

She was beginning to get overwhelmed with everything. "Can I go now please?" She asks into the room but obviously towards the two way mirror.

She got no response. "Please, I don't like it here" she whispers shouting not going to work she realised, suddenly the door is opened two men walk in.

Y/N tenses, with her dad she doesn't like being around men, angling her body away from them she waits until they speak.

Eyebrows slams a files down on the table making her flinch at the loud sound, the Grumpy looking man just stares. "What- Do you know what these are?" He demands, Y/N shakes her head not looking at the man.

She looks down then shuts her eyes. "N-no I don't please" she cries squeezing her eyes shut not wanting to look at the pictures, they where of the victims died in the bombings that happened.

"I don't like it here" she cries pulling on the cuffs trying desperately to yank them off, eyebrows tries to grab her to stop but she kicks out. "No don't touch" she cries almost in hysterics.

Eyebrows holds up his hands and moved out of reach. "Okay I won't touch you, we won't touch you Y/N" he says teying desperately to calm her down.

Grumpy pants- as Y/N dubbed, walked out of the room putting his phone tk his ear, Hotch calls Penelope. "Yello" "Garica, Y/N L/Ns file does it have anything about mental disorders or anything like that?" He asks confused with the girls strong reactions.

After a few seconds Penelope gets back. "It says here that she is Autistic and has ADHD sir" Hotch thinks "that makes sense, thanks Garica" "your welcome Bossman" Hotch then walks back into the room.

Derek is far away from the girl. "Morgan" Derek walks over. "We forgot one thing that all the victims have in common, they are all neurodivergent in some way" he explains to the man.

They then both look over at the girl, she was back to tapping her foot repeatedly

"Y/N, are you autistic?" Asks Hotch, the girl nods her head. "Yes I am, I tried to explain to the idiots in blue but they wouldn't listen" she says it was the most they heard her say.

"Can I have these off now please?" She asks, her voice quiet like she expected to be shouted at. Derek looks ar Hotch the man nods his head. "Sure" he says and unlocks Y/N hands.

The 14 year old instantly jumps up from the desk, absently rubbing her red wrists, she begins pacing back and forth flapping her hands. The men watch her as she stims.

"We just want to talk to you about your father." Says Hotch, Y/N stops stimming and looked up at them with wide, frightened eyes.

She was small in stature, but her piercing gaze held a hint of strength that took the two seasoned agents by surprise. "My father is a monster" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hotchner and Morgan exchanged a knowing glance. They had seen this before – the child of an Unsub who had been subjected to unimaginable abuse and trauma.

"Y/N does you father treat you well?" Asks Derek carefully, Y/N looks down she nervously rings her fingers as she thinks.

"He doesn't" she confesses. "He hates that I'm different, he thinks it's wrong and tries to beat the 'retardness' out of me" she confesses crying as she paces back and forth in the little space.

Hotch and Morgan eye each other from the corner of their eyes then look at Y/N.

"We know, hes a monster which is why we need to find him" Morgan replied gently. 'But we need your help to find him. We believe he may be planning to harm more people.'

Y/N hesitated for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It was a map, with a clearly marked location circled in red.

'That's where he's keeping his bombs" she said, sliding the paper across the table. Hotchner and Morgan looked at each other in shock.

They had been searching for those bombs for weeks, and here it was, handed to them by a scared teenage girl.

They immediately sprang into action, calling for backup and racing to the location. But as they arrived, they realized that Y/N had also been telling the truth about another thing – her father had taught her how to make bombs.

Before they could even process the situation, a loud explosion ripped through the air. Hotchner and Morgan were thrown back by the blast, but they were quickly pulled to safety by Y/N who had shielded them with her own body.

She lay unconscious, her small frame protecting them from the debris, Y/N was rushed to the hospital, and after a few days, she regained consciousness.

Hotchner and Morgan were there, by her bedside, along with a team of doctors and nurses who were amazed by her bravery.

"We couldn't have stopped him without you,' Hotchner said, his voice filled with sincerity, the girl looked up at them and smiled weakly. "Can I be part of your team now?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Hotchner and Morgan shared a smile, knowing that Y/N had found a new family in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Despite the darkness of her past, she had shown courage and strength that they had rarely seen before.

And as they welcomed her into their team, they knew that together, they could take on anything that came their way.

The end!

Hope you liked this one shot sorry for the late update been a busy week but I am now on Christmas break and will update regularly.

As usual sorry for any spelling and grammar mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1204

#criminal minds #fanfic #behavioural analysis unit #x child reader #fluff and comfort #oneshot #light angst #x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #aaron hotchner x teen reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #unsub is readers dad #x autistic teen reader #x adhd teen reader #autism #adhd #bombs

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