#emily prentiss x aaron hotchner

[spaceyrosie]

for you, i would ruin myself

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader, hints of Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Summary: Hotch is a busy man and he truly tried his best to be there for his children, until one day they got into a serious accident, leaving his daughter to be seriously injured. Warnings: heavy angst, sadness, reader got seriously hurt, descriptive injuries, blood, mentions of death, Haley's death, Hotch really tried his best, cliffhanger Author's note: I've been wanting to write for Aaron Hotchner for a while now and have finally gotten the time and inspiration to do so. I don't know if I should make a second part. Word count: 2.1k

“Dad! Hurry or Jack’s going to eat the cake all by himself!” you hollered from the living room.

Jack giggled “No I’m not,” his hand reaching out for the cookies they baked together that afternoon.

It was a peaceful day, one you have wished for a while now. Your dad’s job made it challenging for him to be home during the weekends, but today is one of the days he has taken the day off to celebrate your birthday.

“I’m coming!” Aaron replied walking to the living room to his children.

He had asked you a few weeks prior if you wanted a party for your birthday but you replied only wanting a small and quiet birthday with him and Jack. “I just want to celebrate the moment with the people I love the most, but I don’t get to do that these days.”

Aaron understands that reference, he has been travelling for work a lot in the past months. This is your first birthday since Haley passed, and it’s hard to celebrate without her.

Pulling Jack to his lap, they both sang Happy Birthday before you blew out the candles. Jack cheered, “We eat the cake and cookies now, Daddy? Please,” Giving his best pout, Aaron laughed.

“At least let y/n cut the cake first,” he chuckled while ruffling his son's hair.

As you are about to slice into the cake, they hear the dreaded ringtone from his work phone. Grimacing slightly, he picked up the call and lifted Jack from his lap before walking to the kitchen, “Hotchner. Yes, JJ?”

You tried not to let your emotions down, you knew this was part of his job. But, your fingers trembled as you sliced the cake before handing a plate to Jack. Your dad is still talking on the phone in the kitchen and judging by how his voice lowered, you know what’s about to come.

You tried to bite back the tears that were threatening to fall - will there be a time when your dad can make more time for his own family?

He walks back into the room, face pulled into a frown. He knelt before you, gaze heavy, “I’m so sorry, honey.” He started. “We got pulled into a case. I got to fly to Arizona.”

His apology lingered in the air. You nod, not really trusting your voice at the moment. You swallowed down your disappointment before forcing out a smile. 

“It’s alright, dad.” Your reply was short. You couldn’t let him see the cracks behind your smile. He carried enough burdens, with the weight of his job and being a single parent of two, you couldn’t add your disappointment to his plate.

He frowns not convinced, “Really, me and Jack will just watch Star Wars after this.” Who you are trying to convince, him or yourself, you are not sure.

He looks into your eyes, “I’ll make it up to you, honey,” he whispers, his hand cupping your cheek. You savour this moment - when was the last time Dad held you?

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” You turned away, breaking the contact, and he took the cue to grab his go-bag. Your eyes are misting up but you quickly wipe the tears away not wanting Jack or your dad to see it.

It was your birthday, after all, you are supposed to feel happy, right? Right?

Standing by the door, he crouched down to hug you before pulling away to speak to you, “Happy birthday, honey. I’ll be back soon.”

You watched him walk out the door, knowing he would not be coming home anytime soon.

The next time Hotch dissapoints you was during the end of school year.

The ticking clock felt like a curse, each second mocking his fading hope. Hotch cursed when he saw the time - 3 hours until 7.00 pm.

Looking at the evidence board, he pinched his eyebrows together, the pins and photos taunting him with a case and the fact that he will be disappointing his daughter, again. 

He felt a buzz from his pocket notifying a text from you.

I’m getting ready for the show. See you there!

He didn’t get to reply to the text as Morgan notified him the tactical team was ready to go to the unsub’s place. Pulling on his vest, it felt tight against his chest, burned with frustration and anxiety about the situation. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as he led the team to the location provided.

Emily sat beside him noticing his tense posture, “You alright, Hotch?”

He doesn’t want his emotions to cloud his judgment while being in the field. Shifting his gaze into a stoic focus, he said, “Yeah, just ready to wrap the case after we catch the unsub.”

Emily was not convinced as her gaze cut through his stoic mask with her head tilted to the side and eyebrow arched. Hotch sighs, “Y/N’s recital… it’s tonight. Her solo. And I won’t be there.”

She winced, the weight of his unspoken pain echoing in the silence of the car.

“I promised to be there but I know even if we get this guy on time, by the time we arrive in Quantico, the show is finished.”

You squinted through the glare of the spotlights where a sea face blurred in your vision. Your eyes, desperate with searching, landed on Aunt Jessica’s sympathetic gaze, followed by the emptiness of the reserved seat beside her. She waved when you both locked eyes and gave you an apologetic look when your eyes lingered on the empty seat next to her.

The audience applauded after your fingers hit the last note, but all you can hear is the deafening silence inside your head. Flashes of should’ve, would’ve echoed in your head, as the seat next to Aunt Jess remained empty even until you took the final bow.

The case dragged on as Hotch and Prentiss interrogate the unsub into a confession. By the time the team puts their reports in, it's almost midnight.

Hotch tiptoed into the living room, the house quiet. Your bedroom door flicked open and you felt your dad’s presence.

“I'm sorry, honey.” His voice rasped, each word carving deeper into your disappointment.

“I-” You started, voice thick with unshed tears “I- I understand, Dad.” The lie tasted bitter in your mouth.

When he remained quiet, you continued, “It's part of the job, right.” You whispered, voice cracking at the end.

Hotch swallowed his guilt, he'll never get to see her perform on stage. “Honey, I-” He puts a hand on your shoulder to offer some sort of comfort. But, the both of you know nothing can take back his action. “I really tried to be there, y/n,” He said instead.

Still looking away from him, you took a shuddered breath before sighing, “I just…” you whispered, “I wished you were there.”

Silence consumed the room as they both weighed their words in.

Somehow, too many disappointments led him to situations he regrets.

Hotch frowned deepened when the traffic slows during the drive back to Quantico. 

“Traffic’s unusual at this hour,” Prentiss muttered on his side.

Hotch grunted not in the mood. The team got called in for a case over the weekend, and they just finished wrapping it up. Despite it being local, he is still pissed to be working on his day off.

Sirens wailed behind their SUV, and he glanced in the rear mirror where an ambulance was passing through the traffic. The traffic moved slowly and they passed by a few police cars parked by the roadside trying to control the traffic where an accident had happened.

Amidst the flashing lights, he saw it - a black sedan crumpled beyond recognition. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw the plates before he pulled to a sudden stop by the roadside.

“Hotch? Why did we stop?”

She followed his gaze to the plate numbers before realisation dawned on her. Not caring to answer her, he jumped out of the SUV before running towards the scene. The smell of gasoline overwhelms his nostrils as his eyes wildly look around the crash site. An officer pulled in front of him, “Sir, please step back.”

“My family!” His roar cut through the atmosphere as he tried to shove past the officer. “Let me through! That’s my family!”

“Aaron!” A familiar voice hollered and he spotted Jessica’s wild curls from a distance. Jessica stumbled toward him, her face smudged with soot and blood stained her shirt. Dread fills his chest as he takes in the condition she is in.

“Jess!” His voice, usually calm and composed, cracked as he pulled her into a crushing embrace. “What’s happened? Where’s Jack?” He threw many questions. “Jess, tell me what happened! Oh my God, where’s y/n?” Aaron could feel the thumping in his chest.

Jess was crying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I’m really sorry,” she choked out and he almost lost his mind when he heard those words from her.

Then a small figure emerge from the chaos, “Daddy!” Jack’s familiar voice brought some peace to his racing heart. Running towards the boy, who was being attended by a paramedic, he crouched down to console his son’s terrified sobs, “Hey, buddy. Oh Jack, ohh,” Jack was crying, a deep gash etched across his forehead.

His gaze, frantic and desperate, scoured the scene before he landed on a stretcher with you lying on top. He felt his heart drop when he saw your face, pale with a brutal gash mirroring the one on Jack’s head.

“y/n!” The name ripped from his throat as he nearly scrambled to run towards you.

“y/n! Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Aaron begged as he stood by your side. 

“Sir, please step aside so we can help her,” One of the paramedics told him.

He begged, “P-please, she’s my daughter,” Tears were streaming down his face, “Y/n, I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here,” He sobbed trying to take hold of your hand. It felt cold to his touch, you have lost too much blood, causing your body temperature to drop.

You stirred before your eyes fluttered open, “D- dad?” your voice croaked.

Gripping your hand tightly, “I’m here, honey. Dad’s here,” Aaron assured.

Gaze unfocused as your eyes stared ahead, “D- dad, you’re h-here?” You try to reach out. Aaron tried to smooth out the hair out of your face, his face coming into your view.

“I’m here, y/n.” He assured again.

“Dad… it hurts...” You cried, and Hotch felt like his heart had been stabbed. Your whole body was on fire and your breathing hurt. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, mingling with the blood smearing your face.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But you’re going to be okay. They are going to help you, okay.” His reassurances trembled, knowing he should not make any promises given the condition you are in.

Before you could reply, your eyes fluttered shut before your grip slackened in his. He panicked, calling out your name, “Wake up y/n,” His calloused hand cupped your cheeks, a silent plea etched in his words.

“Don’t do this, honey. Open your eyes, y/n.” His voice, usually strong and steady, cracked as he choked back a sob.

“Step aside, sir.” One of the paramedics immediately rushed.

Right in front of him, he saw another paramedic insert a breathing tube into his daughter’s mouth to help you breathe. Aaron saw his world turned dark when the monitor connecting to your chest beeped rapidly, signalling the heart's struggle to beat rhythmically. 

Hotch felt like he failed you.

He failed to protect you.

He failed to be the father you need.

“We are going to be taking your daughter to Georgetown University Hospital, sir,” The paramedic informed as the stretcher was wheeled into the ambulance. “She’s not stable, you can follow us in your vehicle,” He said sympathetically.

His fingers dug into the cold metal of the stretcher, refusing to let go. "I have to be with her," his voice rough with desperation. "Please, just let me hold her hand."

The paramedic's gaze softened, but his hands stayed firm. "She's losing too much blood, sir. Every minute counts. You'll be with her soon, I promise."

Aaron nodded and released his grip, a sob escaping his throat. Images flickered behind his eyes: empty birthday chairs, unanswered phone calls, a whispered promise to come home. How many times had he failed to be there? How many moments had slipped through his fingers, swallowed by the demands of work?

Haley’s pained voice, etched in his memory, morphed into y/n’s bloodied face.

How many times have you needed him but he wasn’t there?

How many times did he leave his family for work?

His knees buckled as he watched the ambulance drive into the night, flashing sirens blurring into the smoked air. His hands trembled on his side unable to control the weight of guilt inside him.

Emily’s voice cut through the fog, “Hotch,” No amount of words can offer him any comfort in that moment. She tried, nevertheless, “She’s strong, Aaron.” 

He hopes so.

He really hopes that you’ll be okay.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner #bau x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #dad!hotch #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner

[hotchnisslvr]

come home with me

pairing: emily prentiss/aaron hotchner

rating: t

category: angst, hurt/comfort with a happy ending

word count: 7.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hotch never leaves his door unlocked.

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

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

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

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

“Emily,” he whispers weakly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Emily, if I don’t ma—”

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

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

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

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

“Over here!” she calls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hotch?”

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

“It’s Emily, Aaron. I’m here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morgan is waiting for you at the entrance.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Emily.”

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

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

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

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

“ How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hotch smiles in turn. “Come here.”

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

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

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

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

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss #hotchniss fic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner #george foyet #foyet #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[emilyprentiss-ily]

A new shade of red

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

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

wc: 2k

chapter: one | two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A few beats and everything went black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aaron…” Emily cooed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

#criminal minds #emilyprentissily #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner #hothniss #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss x oc daughter #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss imagine #emily x aaron

[blakeprentiss]

Aaron

my gif | read on AO3

Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss

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

wc: 2335

warnings: none (?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#criminal minds #cm #cm fic #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #Aaron Hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss x Aaron hotchner #mine* #fic* #cm* #hotchniss* #spencer reid

[duchessas]

Night feed thoughts 🌙

It’s 4:20am so I may regret this in the cold light of day/when reason kicks in xo

So here’s the idea…

✿ Hotchniss … but make it pride and prejudice

✿ I’m more of a love hotchniss in the modern fbi canon world so would prefer a modern retelling, but you could go full blown hotchniss in the p&p regency au

✿ Now, you are set up for this beautifully with Emily’s intro in season 2 - Hotch judging her because of her mom/background, the way he doesn’t seem to like her or trust her at first like how Mr D is at the beginning and then BAM Hotch turns up at her door for “I want you on that plane with me” which could be like Mr D’s “I love you most ardently” 🥲

✿ So obvs Hotch = Mr Darcy because he’s serious and brooding and never smiles and loves Em but hides it because of ✨ appearances ✨

✿ Em is therefore obviously Lizzie but less bland and more rebellious (sorry not sorry) - super clever and looooves books (a headcanon for Emily but also a hill I will die on)

✿ Erin Strauss is obviously the bitchy great aunt who disapproves

✿ You could include a bingley and a Jane but also you could not (I think they’re boring soz)

✿ Now, I’m not one for writing the characters as actual family - I’m more found family vibes always and too much of the family stuff can feel forced and makes me cringe a little - BUT you could do Dave as Mr Bennett and Em, JJ and Penelope as his daughters if you committed to going full P&P with regency vibes

✿ Or, if you’re rooting the au in the FBI canon world, you could have Elizabeth embarrassing Em at work and Hotch judging to get the cringey family that leads to the prejudice element

Anyway I’m almost defs not going to write this because I NEED to edit and upload chapter 3 of exposure (still in my drafts 🙃) and I’m v tired and babies take up lots of time, especially when they don’t nap!! But someone should!!

Thank you for reading if you made it to the end and yes this is what my brain is like x

#I think anyway check in with me tomorrow #pride and prejudice is my all time favourite classic but it’s also the only classic I like #Hotchniss #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #Ellie speaks #this is v rambly sorry #dare not tag pride and prejudice because I feel like a lot of this is pride and prejudice slander … I do love it tho!!!

[writinghotchner]

Breakfast with a side of mourning

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Emily Prentiss (friendship, mostly?) Rating: E Warnings: Mention of nose bleed

-----

Takes place right after 4x17 'Demonology'.

-----

She eventually makes her way into her apartment, her clothes heavy with melted snow and her mind heavy with Matthew. There's dried blood crusted around her nostrils and upper lip, and her throat burns from the cold air. She knew better than to walk that far in the snow with no real winter wear, but she desperately needed to feel something other than the guilt and sadness that was wreaking havoc in her soul.

She removes her long, soggy coat and hangs it up by the door - she'll wash it later - and tosses her keys on the hallway table. She turns to lock the door behind her and nearly sprints up the stairs to get into a nice warm shower.

Just as she's bolting up the stairs, she hears a solid knock at the door. She flips her left wrist over to catch the time and quirks an eyebrow. Who would be knocking on her door at nearly 10 pm?

She jogs quietly to the front door and peers through the peephole. Aaron Hotchner stands on the other side of the door, not with his usual stoic, expressionless face, but with something Emily can't quite place. She opens the door and his expression immediately changes, something more like concern and panic.

"Hotch? Are you okay?"

He blinks at her, his eyebrows shooting up. "Am I okay? Are you okay? You're bleeding."

She knits her eyebrows together and brings the side of her hand up to her nose to wipe it. Sure enough, another nose bleed. She sighs.

"Yeah," She grins sheepishly at him. "It happens when I'm outside in the cold for too long. Used to happen a lot when I was a kid." She moves to the side to let him inside so she can close the door.

He gets to her kitchen before turning to look at her again. He takes in her wet hair, her dark shirt clinging to her skin, her lips have a very faint tinge of blue and he can see the dried blood that was now being taken over by the new stream of blood dripping over her lips.

She side steps him to get into the kitchen, pinching her nose closed to stop the blood from pouring out. She reaches out for the paper towel roll and struggles to rip it off one handed so Hotch quickly moves to help her. He watches as she quickly puts it to her face, the white immediately blending to red.

"Emily, this is a lot of blood for just a regualr nose bleed." He says quietly, standing closer to her than she realized. She closes her eyes.

With her head still swirling of Matthew, and Hotch's soft concerned voice… she's afraid the final crack in the dam might break, and she refuses to ugly cry in front of her boss.

"You know what's really funny?" She chuckles, removing the paper towel from her nose, and folding it over to the other side. "It started right when I realized I was standing in front of a church." She hopes the humor can distract herself long enough to keep from breaking.

She huffs out a small laugh, he doesn't. He's just boring into her with concerned eyes. She rolls her eyes at him. "I'm okay, Hotch. Really."

She removes the paper towel. "See? It's not even bleeding anymore."

"You used to get them a lot as a kid?" He asks. He takes the bloody paper towel out of her hands and tosses it into the trash can that he's standing next to.

She bites the inside of her cheek. "Yeah. Mostly during winter. Something about the air being dry..." She fades off, and then clears her throat.

"Is there a reason your here?"

He raises his eyebrows at her and shoves his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Something she's sure she's never seen him do. Aaron Hotchner doesn't do anything awkwardly. "I wanted to apologize for earlier." His voice is soft and is eyebrows dip back down into their seemingly natural scowl-ly state.

She waves a hand at him. "All in the past, Hotch."

"No," He starts, shifting on his feet. He battles with himself on stepping closer to her and stepping further away. He eventually decides to just...not move. "I shouldn't have dismissed you like that. I should've fought harder for this case, for you..." He clears his throat.

"Rossi mentioned you walked home in the snow. I also just wanted to make sure you got home okay." He darts his eyes away from her's, hoping she didn't catch the sentiment that accidentally fell out of his mouth.

She squints her eyes, her head falling to the side to look at him. Their relationship, friendship, had gotten better since they first met. She completely understood his hesitation of her joining the team in the beginning. But since then, they've been more friendly. Hotch seemingly remembering small things about her that she would say from previous conversations, sometimes conversations that he wasn't even involved in. She never knew what it meant, if it even meant anything. But the way he's standing like a nervous high schooler talking to his crush in her kitchen at 10 pm makes her wonder even more. Or, stop wondering, really.

"Thank you," She nearly whispers. "And I understand, Hotch. Really. There was a lot of emotions webbed into this case and decisions that weren't always up to you."

They stand quietly for a moment before she straightens herself up. "Not to throw you out or anything, but it's late and I need a hot shower to dethaw myself."

He cracks a smile at her. "Yeah, of course. Sorry for interrupting." He turns to walk back down the hallway, her right behind him.

She reaches for his wrist when they get to the door. "Thanks for coming to check up on me." The smile on her face fading into an appreciative pout.

He smiles back at her. "Of course. If you need anything, I'll be by my phone. I don't have Jack tonight, so I'll probably be up working for a few more hours."

She smiles again and nods, picking at her fingernails awkwardly. "I will. Thank you again. Really."

And with that, he's out the door.

---

The early morning rolls around way too quickly. The bright lights shining in through her window makes her want to kick her feet like a little kid not wanting to get up for school. Instead, she throws her blanket over her eyes and wills her brain to let her get at least one more hour of sleep. After all, she's grounded from the BAU for the next handful of days, just because it's 6 am doesn't mean she has to get up now.

Just as sleep is about to pull her back under, her phone chirps with a text message. She sighs as she blindly reaches out toward her nightstand. She pulls it under the blanket and quirks an eyebrow at Hotch's name.

Hotch: Hey, sorry if this wakes you. Just wanted to make sure you slept. If you need anything, please let me know. You should probably try to rest on your time off. Grief always has a way of sneak attacking you.

Emily: Im kinda already awake and ive never been any good at lazing around - grieving or not

She watches the iMessage bubble pop up and disappear for a good minute before she huffs out a small laugh.

Emily: You writing a novel over there?

Hotch: I was just debating on asking if you wanted to come over for breakfast? I have to go pick up Jack in a few, he'd love to see you. And it gives you an excuse to not "be lazy".

Her grin cracks open into a bright smile. Matthew was still heavy on her mind, so was all of the events of the past 48 hours, but the thought of going to her boss's house to have breakfast with him and his son, who she adores, was enough to momentarily knock the sadness out of her chest.

The wondering she was doing last night still swirling around the midst of her mourning, but she's sure this is a step in the direction she's wanted this...friendship...to go in for a long time now. Unfortunately, it took her best friend dying for it to happen. Another thing Matthew has done for her, she guesses... Emily: Yeah. That sounds really nice actually. Thank you

Hotch: Would you like for me to pick you? I can swing by before or after I get him. Emily: No thats okay, im in the mood to drive, listen to loud music and dodge pedestrians 🙂 Hotch: Ok. As your boss I have to say please don't hit any pedestrians. As your friend I have to remind you that pedestrians are 10 points, cops are 20 and the elderly are 50. That makes her bark out a laugh, flinging her blanket off her head so she can breathe. It takes her a moment for the giggling to subside before she registers that he referred to her as his "friend".

Her eyes stare at the ceiling, picturing Matthew's face once more, silently thanking him again for everything he's done for her. And what he's already doing for her now.

#criminal minds #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner #hotchniss fanfic #breakfast with a side of mourning #*mine #*hotchniss #i havent written in years - this is just a warm up D:

[preciousprentiss]

Emily gets sick and Aaron is there to see her through it.

Read on AO3 or under the cut.

The sound of the office door opening was enough to pull her from the light slumber she had fallen into and, rolling over beneath the blanket on the couch, she gave Aaron a smile as he shut the door behind him with a steaming cup of tea with honey and lemon in his other hand. It only felt as though it had been ten minutes since he left her there, telling her to try to get some sleep with a kiss to her brow, but the fact that it was starting to get dark out and the bullpen was ten times quieter than it was when she fell asleep told her it had probably been a little longer than that. “I totally think I should win the award for best boyfriend.” He teased, making her smile as he approached the couch.

“Well, you do in my book,” She told him when he sat down next to her and handed her the huge mug once she was sitting up, the two of them sharing a look before she took a sip and hummed. Her throat was killing her, but the tea helped to sooth it and so she had been making him run back and forth to the kitchen since she got sick so he could make it for her. He made the best tea. Well, that was what she told him in order to get him to make it for her and it worked like a charm every time. “I wanna thank you for putting up with me for the past couple days,” She said when she leaned against the backrest of the couch and looked at him once again. “I bet I’m horrible to live with, aren’t I?”

“No worse than usual, honey, no.”

“Thanks.”

He chuckled and leaned in to give her a kiss on the forehead, rubbing her leg through the blanket as he drew back. “No, you actually haven’t been that bad,” He shook his head while watching her take another sip of tea. “I mean, it’s not like you get sick all the time either, so I suppose I can put up with your grouchiness for a couple more days if I have to. I’m just hoping we don’t get another case through because I really don’t want to have to leave you behind.”

“Babe, I have a cold, I’m not gonna drop dead if a case comes through and you can’t be here for a couple days,” She laughed before wincing at the pounding in her head. “Remember, I have Pen too. If I need anything, I know she’s at the other end of the phone and she’ll come help me out. I’m a big girl, you know, no need to be worried about me.”

“I like worrying about you though. If you haven’t noticed, I’m quite good at it.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve noticed.”

“You gonna budge over or not? I have limited time until Strauss notices I’m gone.” He pointed out.

Rolling her eyes at him playfully, she moved over to create enough room for him to sit next to her properly and she let her head fall against his shoulder when he slipped an arm around her and buried his lips in her hair with a sigh. “How about we get you home soon, hmm?” He mumbled. “I’ll get takeout for dinner and we can just watch a movie.”

“Yeah, please, that sounds great,” She replied, nodding. “I think I should have stayed home today.”

“Well, maybe you’ll learn from this and actually listen to me the next time I tell you to do that three times.” He said.

She made a face. “Doesn’t sound like me.”

“You are so lucky I love you, Emily Prentiss, or I would have killed you long ago.” He muttered.

“I am lucky,” Her voice softened and she stretched up to brush her lips against his cheek. “The luckiest.”

#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #prentiss #agent prentiss x agent hotchner #agent prentiss and agent hotchner #hotchniss fluff #hotchniss fic #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss au #criminal minds fic #criminal minds au #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #domestic hotchniss #domestic fluff #workplace fluff

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

illicit affairs chapter twenty

Emily Prentiss is what the FBI like to call a rogue. After having her Supervisory status revoked, she’s offered a job with the BAU, her status back, and a clean slate, an offer that’s impossible to refuse. On her first day, though, she finds she’s already fairly well acquainted with her new boss.

Rated M; I don't advise anyone underage read this story.

Read it on: ao3 | fanfiction

Chapter Twenty

Scott was sitting with a few friends, but that didn't deter her. Supreme confidence was earned. Being the new kid at school eleven times will do that to you. It was sort of a baptism of fire, but it gave her the gall she needed to be able to walk over to Scott and his friends, hips swinging, lean her arm against a vacant stool, put her hand on her hip and smile at him.

Scott, whose beer was to his lips, swallowed hard, his eye giving her a quick once over that he just couldn't help, before he grinned and said, "Well, someone's not sort of seeing someone anymore."

"Wanna change that?" She asked, teasingly. Around him, his friends bristled, impressed by her boldness, and there was a very male moment, during which a sort of waheeey noise went around the group, and the friend sitting beside him shoved Scott to his feet.

#criminal minds #criminal minds gone wrong #incorrect criminal minds quotes #emily prentiss #ia #criminal minds illicit affairs #illicit affairs #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #ch 20

[lovelyspooks]

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

#it’s a problem #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #jake sully #jake sully x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Decoy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 6.9k

summary: when you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur.

warnings: +16. Making out, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, insinuation of smut, sexual tension

Do yourself a favor and imagine Spencer in these clothes during the case

You sighed, completely frustrated, while you looked for the thousandth time at the blackboard with some information from the profile that you had made for the criminal in this case.

You believed that the unsub was a Caucasian man between 30 and 35 years old, whose motive was to spy on and photograph university students who were escaping in their cars to make out at night, then force them to have sex in front of him and finally kill them cold-blooded. You imagined that he was a person with a mediocre job, that he felt insufficient, and that his voyeuristic behavior probably came from sexual frustration, something that could be corroborated by the violence that he inflicted on the genital area of the students whom he stalked using a knife, his mark on all homicides. You also believed that perhaps the rejection or abandonment of his last partner (preceded by a bad streak from his youth) due to his impotence had been the triggering event for all his repressed impulses to come to light.

All the psychological analysis was fine, it wasn't something you hadn't seen before, but the hard part of all this? Because he only threatened and killed people, he didn't rape them, at first it was almost impossible to tell who it was. He already had 20 victims in total and you weren't even close to catching him. In the last scene he had made the mistake of leaving a fingerprint and Garcia had been able to trace his true identity: Oliver Davis, a guy who fits the description perfectly. Unfortunately, this turned out to be useless because beyond the accusations of being a pervert, the man didn’t have much information that would give a clue to his whereabouts, you had even called the job that he had registered and all you had obtained was that he had several months without working there, which coincided with the beginning of the murders. After that Rossi suggested that he probably lived in a trailer (old, due to his lack of employment) where he developed the photographs and kept his trophies. That only made more sense when you thought that it would make it easier to transport or escape in case things got messy.

But words on paper and intelligent conclusions were of absolutely no use to you. You needed a plan to catch him.

"Do you have something, Reid?" Hotch had asked. You had already interviewed some students, you had set up guard duty to look for any suspicious behavior and you had even shared the photograph of the suspect in the media, but nothing had worked; The only thing left was to carry out the geographical profile to know the area in which he was attacking and thus be able to search for possible targets.

“I triangulated the locations we have of his previous homicides and I'm guessing he hits in this specific area,” he muttered, pointing to a space on the map he had on his blackboard with his middle finger. “Considering it's an area frequented by the age group due to its proximity to the universities and that it has several parks that the students told us they use to drink or go out as a couple”

"So what?" Morgan said from his spot. "We just wait until he kills someone else and hopefully we're near the scene to hear the screams?"

“Maybe we can ask the cops to patrol the area for the unsub's car,” JJ suggested.

“He's smart, there's a trailer park right here. It wouldn't be strange to find one on the streets as well.” Reid was visibly frustrated like everyone else and he ran a hand through his hair with some despair.

Your options were running out and frankly you couldn't think of anything else.

“And if we give him a target?” Emily murmured. Noticing that none of you said anything, she went on to explain her plan, “We ask police officers to send any young people they see around to home so we force our unsub to get close to who we want”

"And what are we going to do? Hire a couple of college kids to stalk them?”

“We can use our own team”

"Not to offend you, Prentiss, but we are no longer in the prime of youth"

"We don't, but Y/L/N and Reid do" when you heard your last name you were surprised, but when you heard your friend's you practically froze. First you looked at her and then at the doctor, whose gaze reflected the same stupefaction as you "You two are young, you might look like students"

"Are you saying you want to send us straight into the hands of a sexual predator?" you couldn't be offended, after all, those risks were part of the job, but you did feel somewhat reluctant about the idea.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“It doesn't sound so bad” Rossi murmured “It's a smart move”

“Besides, we would be watching around and we would intervene before that madman got close to you. Once we catch him, the photographs and personal items that he probably has in his trailer will be enough evidence, in addition to the fingerprint from the last crime scene” to your surprise, Derek was also pretty convinced of the plan that Emily had just devised.

"Reid, Y/L/N, would you guys be up for it?" Hotch exclaimed with his usual serious tone, looking at you and then at your partner.

Thinking objectively, the suggestion was very good. But thinking about it personally, you felt worried about the danger you two would be running into… oh, God. It wasn't until then that you realized that the plan to catch the suspect involved the two of you making out like a couple of hormonal college kids. 

You knew that the options that remained wouldn’t be as opportune as that and taking into account the temporary nature with which Oliver operated, in addition to the fact that he was already deteriorating as a murderer, it was most likely that he was already looking for new victims, so if you did that same night the chances of success were quite high. You were between a rock and a hard place and all you could do was look at him while the gazes of the rest of the room were divided between the two of you.

“I… I'll only do it if you say yes” you exclaimed in his direction, with a cautious voice and a fearful look. You knew your friend and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, even though you knew that both you and he knew that your personal interests would take precedence against the possibility that another couple of victims would lose their lives if you refused. It was your job, you had to do it. 

"Are you sure you guys are going to catch him before something happens?" Spencer asked your boss. You thought that with his background the last thing he wanted was to end up kidnapped or seriously injured again, even though the truth was that he was caring just as much about himself as he was about you. He had seen the photographs and knew that women were the most affected by the murder weapon… he didn't even want to imagine something like this happening to you.

"Of course. You will have communication with us and if something goes wrong we will get you out of there immediately" Aaron answered and your friend sighed nervously and then looked for your approval. You nodded slightly and he delivered the verdict, to which everyone agreed.

He was still standing, but after that he slumped into the nearest chair as he listened to everyone brainstorming ideas for setting up the scene, distributing the crew, and what they would tell the local police to do to make the decoy effective.

At some point you lost the whole point of the conversation, to start thinking about what was implied by what you were about to do.

The feeling of attraction for your co-worker had been latent in you for a couple of years, but you had never confessed it to anyone to avoid creating tension in the team or suffering the humiliation of certain rejection. Also, you knew that a crush meant distractions from what was truly important and you had tried, in vain, to eliminate it completely. But even if it hadn't completely gone, you had known how to control it, only allowing yourself to look at him with loving eyes from time to time and avoiding being too confident with him during group drinking outings. You even limited physical contact, not because you didn't like it but because you knew your greed would demand more and more of you until it became inevitable to beg for his touch. But now all that good work holding you back was screwed because in a few hours you would have to be passionately making out with him.

Still with the internal crisis, you raised your head to look at him and realized that he too had been submerged in his own tide of thoughts, which you hoped would be more positive than yours. At some point Spencer felt you watching him and when his eyes met yours he gave you that tight-lipped smile that was strangely comforting, to which you responded with the same gesture. After that it didn't take long for everyone to leave the room to fulfill their respective tasks, but you stayed seated because you honestly didn't feel enough energy to move. Besides, you had nothing entrusted to you, you were the bait.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this?" Spencer asked you, once everyone else had left. He looked so tired of everything, but at the same time there was a kind tone in his voice about him that made you smile.

“It's just kissing, Spence. I think we'll be fine" you assured him, trying to swallow all your embarrassment and nerves "And you?"

"I agree. I just hope we get lucky today or we'll just have to keep trying” 

"Reid, I need you to tell the cops what area we'll be in," Hotch interrupted you from the door. "You still have time to regret it," he added, looking at the two of you.

You immediately denied and after that Spencer withdrew from there in the company of Aaron. When you were about to drop you exhaled, completely concerned about the last thing your partner had said.

We will just have to keep trying. You didn't know if the idea excited you, or terrified you.

As night fell, Spencer drove the old pickup truck the unit had managed to rent for the two of you to drive into the park, with you in the passenger seat and a six-pack of beer in the backseat.

Although you were sure that it would be cold, you had decided to wear shorts and a button-down shirt that you normally wore for work, but that you had adjusted to make it look more youthful. Spencer was wearing an outfit that Morgan had gotten for him from a department store, simple jeans with a rather baggy cotton shirt and some nice boots that you didn't know where he got from, since in Quantico you had never seen him wear anything like that.

Both of you had showered at the hotel (separately of course) and you had made sure to brush your teeth and put on a good amount of deodorant and perfume before getting in the car. You had paid special attention to your appearance, not because it was necessary, but because you wanted to look perfect for him. Even with all this, you were a nervous wreck next to him, not saying a word along the way and only soft music from the radio filling the air.

When you stopped, the two of you put your headphones on to the channel the team was supposed to be on, and Morgan answered in the affirmative.

"Remember, he doesn't have to see the communicator or your weapon," Rossi spoke, who was also in the van, along with Prentiss and Hotch. "García will be watching with the security cameras and he will warn us if the trailer is coming"

"And meanwhile what do we do?"

"Pretend to be a couple, sit on the tailgate and drink beer, laugh, I don't know"

“Did you ever run away like that in college?” you asked, directly at Reid.

“Do you remember that I was like 16 when I studied at the university, right? I wasn't even old enough to drive, much less a car" he muttered and you gave a short laugh "I guess you did"

“I was too busy being the best in the institution to even think about going out and making out with idiots,” you replied, proud of yourself for that. “I mean, it's not like you're an idiot, but they were. You're very smart," you rambled, still twiddling your fingers, "Hotch, you guys will tell us when we're going to start kissing, will you?"

“When the suspect approaches, yes”

"Okay, well... then we have to go out, huh?" you muttered to him as you reached for the beers and tried to open the door to get out. You turned, expecting to see Spencer do the same as you, but noticed that he had lingered in the car for a moment, checking himself in the mirror and applying his lips with chapstick.

My God, could that man make you more nervous?

When he finally caught up with you, you went to the back of the pickup, where you opened the tailgate to sit down with a little hop. Spencer was tall enough to keep up with you just by leaning over the edge, where you watched him cross his arms. You were silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of crickets and cars in the distance.

"Do you think it's a good idea to drink?"

"Only a little. I'm having a hard time thinking while sober, I don't want to ruin the little reasoning I have left” you exclaimed as a joke. Or maybe you weren't joking so much "Just empty a couple of cans and leave them on the floor so he'll think we're really drunk." Spencer was about to do what you said when you noticed an important detail and called him over to look at you "Come here, let me fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You're very well combed, it's not the image we expect" you carefully took his hand until it was close enough to pass the other through all his golden locks, messing them up enough to give him that relaxed touch that he should have. He looked so handsome, but not in the style of a fancy FBI agent but just like a young intellectual who went to parties and smoked weed “Like this. Perfect"

“Do you think we have to think of some backstory?” he asked and you looked at him with a frown. “You know, something about us. What degree are we studying, what are our names…”

"This is not a play"

"It's rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Prentiss," you said visibly annoyed, although looking at your partner that expression softened "As you wish, Spencer. Although being honest, I would say that you study… literature”

"Really?" he exclaimed with slight enthusiasm. You knew that his mother had been a teacher in the subject and you wondered if he had ever considered it.

“Morgan wasn’t wrong to choose those clothes for you. It suits you” you complimented him and Morgan whistled from the other end of the line. You felt like you were having too much fun for the situation you were in, but you needed to talk about something else to put off the reminder of what you had come to do for as long as possible. “I think you would have that hopeless philosopher/romantic vibe who flirts by whispering memorized poetry in your ear.”

“I actually know some good ones”

"Sure you do" you smiled gently, suppressing the thought of him sighing close to your neck at Bécquer "I'd probably study science or something."

"The unattainable scientist with whom the captain of the soccer team has a secret crush, but she is completely unaware"

"Where did you get that? From a 90s movie?

Spencer's laugh was one of your favorite sounds and today that was precisely not helping your situation. You felt intoxicated by how handsome he looked, like you'd discovered a side to him that no one else had, and the thought of kissing him made you tremble a little with anticipation.

“Do you want to share a beer?” he murmured, carefully opening the can and offering it to you first. You knew your partner wasn't the most enthusiastic about doing anything that involved germs, so it made you feel good that he took the lead. You took a big gulp of the drink to gather something of value and when it was his turn to drink he kept looking at you intently, you would even say that he seemed entranced.

You had made sure you were in a strategic position, with enough light for the unsub to see you and quite lonely, except for the patrol cars and the van that had been positioned at a safe distance.

“How does voyeurism develop?” you asked quietly, with genuine interest, as you shifted a bit to get closer to him.

“Voyeurism usually begins in adolescence and since during that age it is usually seen with greater tolerance, there are people who continue with these behaviors until adulthood. When voyeurism is pathological, they spend considerable time looking for opportunities to watch, often at the expense of not fulfilling important responsibilities in their lives, and people reach orgasm by masturbating during or after watching. Although if you think about it a bit, everyone is a bit of a voyeur."

"Why you said so?"

“Many men and women enjoy viewing pornography, which can be classified as voyeuristic behavior. It's not a worrying thing, but it's interesting to think about it” he explained, with those expressions on his face that he had every time he shared knowledge with you. He liked that about you, that you were always willing to listen to his data and statistics even at the most inopportune moments.

"I'm still a little scared that Oliver is trying to do something to us."

“I have my gun. If he tries to do something to you, I'll use it" you knew that killing the unsub was always the last option Reid considered, so you widened your eyes a little to show your surprise "All lives are worth, but when that life has already taken so many and it puts you at risk, I would not doubt it. You have nothing to worry about” he assured you and your heart warmed a little at feeling so protected.

"Do you know if Oliver attacks at a specific time?"

"No, he doesn’t. Just as we can be here for ten minutes, we can also be here all night."

You exhaled loudly, before taking another gulp of beer.

“Drink some, boy. I feel kind of selfish around here."

"I am nervous"

"And why do you think I'm drinking?" you exclaimed wryly, still holding out the can to him, and when he finally agreed he drank a little more than you expected “Have you ever…” you started to say, but suddenly remembered that literally the whole team was listening to you. If the answer was embarrassing, you didn't want to hear Morgan and Emily taunting you all week, so you covered your microphone for a moment and spoke again, but so quietly that only he could hear you. "I suppose you kissed someone, did you?"

"Yes," he said quickly and you sighed with relief. It comforted you a little to know that it wasn't his first kiss, because you didn't want him to have such a bad memory “Do I look so inexperienced?"

"No, that's not what I meant" you smiled "You're handsome, I know you've probably kissed a couple of girls"

"You don't need to tell lies, you know I'll kiss you anyway"

"But it's not a lie. I really think you're handsome" you confessed, gathering all the courage in you, while you smiled at him in the most serene way possible "And if we weren't literally waiting for a murderer, you know I'd be happy to do this with you"

"Smooch me?"

"Having this bad date attempt, Reid," you hissed, flushing red, as you slammed your palm into his forehead with just a little bit of force. Spencer seemed quite pleased that he made you nervous, rather than the other way around, so he grinned, “Though I think we should have brought food. I'm starving,” you pouted, swinging your dangling legs back and forth.

"That's not a picnic, Y/N"

You hated for a second that everyone was so intent on the conversation. A part of you wanted a moment alone with the brunette, even if it was in the midst of such a strange situation.

You began to talk pleasantly about things completely unrelated to the case for a couple of minutes, staying where you were, until Hotch's interruption made you jump a bit in place.

"Garcia intercepted an approaching trailer, get ready” your heart immediately sped up and you noticed him tense beside you, too, probably with the same thought flooding his head.

"Okay, come closer," you exclaimed, trying not to panic, as you spread your legs a little to allow the man to step into the space between. He wasted no time and just as you wrapped your hands around his shoulders you heard the sound of another car pulling up.

"Is that our unsub?"

"It is"

You were about to turn your head to peek when Reid grabbed your cheek and stopped you.

"He's smart. If you look at him, he'll realize it” he reminded you with a serious voice. You were so worried about everything that you were forgetting about your training “Okay, so I… Is it okay if I put my hands here?” he asked with a different tone, nervously placing both hands on your waist. You had always admired the size and anatomy of those hands, but until now you had not had the pleasure of feeling them on your body in this way.

“Tonight everything you do is fine. I promise"

"It would be a good time to start, he'll see you" Emily reminded you and you could only sigh shakily.

You two were adults, why were you so scared about kissing?

"Close your eyes" Spencer whispered to you, masking his nerves better than you "I'll kiss you, just close them," he asked you and you did.

You felt his body lean against you a little until his chest almost touched yours and then his lips shakily pressed against yours. You would always remember your first kiss, which in essence was such a brief caress that you didn't even know if it could be counted as one, the one where he wordlessly asked your permission to explore your mouth. Still with your eyes closed, you pulled him by the neck towards you and started a new kiss, a little more confident and deep this time, allowing you to savor the beer mixed with strawberries and that strange flavor that each person has.

“We…” you started to say, once you separated “you have to do it slowly, what he wants is a show” you exclaimed. Spencer felt unable to say any words and your hands caressing him so deliciously wasn't helping at all “Slow,” you repeated.

You arched your back a little to get even closer and when you finally looked up you met his caramel eyes. You needed a moment to recover and you unconsciously licked your lips, as if you needed to pick up and savor his presence in your mouth again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his attentive look at your movements. 

It didn't take long for you to give up, as beginning the third kiss you felt that you no longer had any control over your body, your heart, or your mind. And while it was true that neither of you were experts on the subject, you guys managed pretty well as the seconds ticked by. Spencer gasped as he simultaneously felt you pull the hair from his neck and caress his lips with the tip of your tongue, while you were taken by surprise when his hands left your waist and lowered to the height of your hip, where his thumbs gripped firmly on the clip of your shorts.

There was a kiss, then another and another; they became too many to count. You didn't want to touch him anywhere and at the same time you wanted to touch him completely, in the grip of the fantasy that this was real and not just a performance. And even if you were aware that it was all fake, that would probably only have encouraged you to enjoy something to the fullest that you knew would never come back. Amid everything you didn’t know which of the two situations would be worse.

The sound of your lips colliding became so obscene that you were embarrassed, but you had no plan to stop. Your hands slid gently down the length of his neck until you reached his chest and cupped the soft cotton of his garment in your fists to make sure he didn't move away from you. The heat of the moment just went up and up, but a voice on the intercom brought you back with a jolt.

“He started the trailer. He's going to go"

Spencer closed his eyes in frustration, and you sighed. From the position he was in it wasn’t possible to get around him without being seen, so keeping all his attention was on you and him.

Maybe you weren't doing it right? You wondered what the hell this man wanted to see if you were practically eating each other, but suddenly you remembered that his motivation was even more sexual than a couple of wet kisses. Maybe he was getting bored because he needed to see that you were about to… well, do it.

"Take off my shirt," you said immediately, still too close to his swollen lips and looking right into eyes that seemed to be pitch black.

"Take... what?"

"Take off my shirt" you repeated, with a tone that made the man shudder completely. With the hands that were still holding his shirt you pulled him to you and he held his breath “And kiss me better. Like you really want me"

But Spencer didn't need to pretend that he wanted you. 

He made you completely dizzy when he began to kiss you so hungrily and you managed to keep enough composure when you felt one of his warm hands travel under your blouse, limiting yourself to letting out sighs that were drowned against his lips. But what finally caused you to let out an indiscreet and unwelcome moan was when he pulled you by the hip until you were on the edge of the tailgate and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against you. Spencer had almost managed to suppress his, but in the end, you having your own situation down there didn't help one bit. 

His trembling fingers fussed with the buttons on your shirt until it ended up somewhere on the floor at incredible speed, leaving you half-naked before him and the collection of FBI agents standing around. You might have been embarrassed if your brain could connect two coherent thoughts, but you'd lost that from the moment Dr. Reid first dared to kiss you.

You carefully guided his hands to the beginning of the curve of your breasts and now you both sighed in unison, feeling goosebumps on every inch of your skin. You pushed yourself forward just for the satisfaction of hearing that guttural sound again and your prayers were immediately answered, for it was enough for him to feel the slightest friction and he would go crazy. It was inappropriate to need him like that, but you couldn't help it.

Holding your lower back, he leaned over you and at the same time pulled you towards him until your breasts collided with his chest. In that position, your neck was exposed and your partner’s hot lips didn't hesitate to go down there, while you sighed agitated just at the height of his ear. Spencer asked you, between each kiss, to look in the direction of the trailer to see if he was still there and as you could you answered yes, which was victory enough for both of you.

As he could, he maneuvered to lay you down carefully on the cold metal of the truck without stopping kissing your neck, and by inertia you wrapped both legs over his hip. When you were hidden by the panels of the pickup he finally looked at you.

"I hope it's enough to get his attention," he said, sounding as agitated as expected, and although the circumstances meant that you two would be taking a break you flatly refused, pulling him back to kiss him.

That kiss did take Spencer by surprise and it was perhaps the sincerest of the night. It wasn’t as passionate as the previous ones, but rather it was loaded with softness and you would even say that a hint of supplication. You were begging for him not to stop, for the night to get stuck in an infinite loop where the two of you could kiss for eternity. And suddenly you felt how he, who had been so tense the whole time, completely relaxed against you, as if he understood exactly what you wanted to say. His hands came to rest on the sides of your head to be able to kiss you more comfortably and you dared to take him by the waist with the same care that you were kissing him, feeling even above the cloth the softness of his skin. 

And then he broke up with you. You feared you had done something wrong due to the suddenness of the movement and your frightened eyes searched his gaze for a sign of the reason, without finding anything. He just looked at you with something you couldn't describe, but that made you feel butterflies fluttering all over your stomach... and he stayed like that for a few seconds: just looking at you, as if he wanted to memorize all your features.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were drowned in a new kiss, totally different from the previous ones. Spencer was taking time with him, trapping your lower lip between his and sucking on it gently, pressing himself a little more against your body, sighing heavily into your mouth.

Your hand was already running up his side to make its way to his cheek just as screams filled the silence and you hugged him reflexively. The screams had come from Morgan, who had already moved across the park to take down the unsub and was now wrestling with him to get the knife out of his hand. Spencer hesitated for a moment if he should come over to help, but he preferred to hold you better against his body to protect you and wait for Emily to place the handcuffs on the man under her partner's knee.

From a distance you saw that he only brought with him, in addition to the knife, his camera, and a small backpack with some other murderous instruments that they managed to confiscate without any problem.

"All clear, we've got him," Hotch spoke over the radio. As you exhaled in relief too many emotions washed over you, combined with the adrenaline coursing through your body and the arousal still flowing into your crotch.

"Are you okay?" Reid's gentle voice called to you, as he pulled away to check with his eyes that everything was in order. His hair was messy and his lips were so swollen that it was almost painful to look at the image without launching yourself to kiss him again "My God, your shirt..." he said, completely embarrassed, as he bent down to pick up the garment. You looked him up and down and blushed when you noticed how tight his pants were, feeling your stomach turn a little. When he got up, he took the opportunity to look at your chest covered only by the black lace bra and a big gulp of saliva went down his throat.

You thanked him quietly and put your shirt back on, feeling the sneaky glances Spencer was giving you, just before Hotch walked up to you.

"How are you?"

"Very good, excellent" you stammered.

You could perfectly feel your swollen lips, the light sheen of sweat on your face, the heat flowing from all the places Reid's fingers had been, and the abundant moisture between your crossed legs.

After Hotch congratulated you on your performance, the two of you walked as best you could toward the rest of the agents, who were already placing Oliver on patrol. Another group was analyzing the trailer and they managed to pull out enough evidence about the murders that would be very useful in prosecuting the man.

"All good?" Emily asked in your direction, once things had settled down and the rest of the team had gathered in a circle by the van. You and Spencer just nodded at the question.

“I honestly think I'm going to need therapy after what I heard,” Dave murmured, so serious that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Don't you even dare make fun of this"

“No, we won't. I'm just saying you guys seemed to be enjoying it there."

"That's supposed to be the plan, right?" Spencer said nervously, finally daring to look at you and looking away almost immediately as he smoothed his hair back.

Once your boss said you could retire you escaped in a patrol car as fast as you could, wanting to get home so you could take a cold shower and soothe what wasn’t satisfied by the man. You could hardly sleep that night, still haunted by the ghost of the kisses you received from your gorgeous coworker, and the next morning you hoped that double coffee would do the trick. But apparently you weren't the only one who thought so, because at the same time that you arrived Spencer Reid crossed your path.

"Hey," he said, in that high-pitched voice that came out when someone caught him off guard, "How are you?" 

"Fine, and you?"

"Fine too"

You knew that the two of you wanted to talk about what happened, but it only took one of you to have the courage to speak first. At the same time your phones rang indicating a message and you mistakenly assumed that it was JJ contacting you to announce a case. What was your surprise when you opened the file and found a collection of photos from the night before. You knew from Spencer's face that he had received the same thing.

"Garcia did you… did she send you the same evidence?"

"That's right," he said nervously. You had to admit that if Oliver had one quality it was that of a photographer: you were sensual and perfectly captured the desire that had existed between you. Well, the one you had pretended to feel… right?

Spencer held his breath as he came to a picture of you topless in which his hand was practically on your breast, immediately remembering how that had felt. He just hoped his memories didn't affect him too much or it would be embarrassing enough to walk into the boardroom with a boner.

"They're good," you said to the air and he suppressed a laugh "But I can delete them if that makes you feel uncomfortable"

“No, no, I… I think I want to keep them too. After all, the bureau will have them in the files as evidence of the case, I prefer to have access too”

"I just hope she doesn't send them to anyone else, I wouldn't want to see my bra photos going around."

“I'll tell Garcia, don't worry,” Spencer murmured, rushing to type something on his phone.

While you waited for him to type you took another look, feeling your whole body heating up again at the memories. A part of you was grateful to have such material in your custody.

"I never thought of being the protagonist of an erotic photo session and here we are," you said ironically.

“Speaking of which…” Spencer started to say, “Not the erotic sessions by any means, don't think I'm planning on inviting you to one or that, because it would be super weird and inappropriate, but I was thinking if… huh…”

“Sell them online? I thought so too, but it depends on how much profit there is. Garcia can help us find the highest bidder and not get charged for tampering with evidence."

"What? No!" he said, completely shocked, and you laughed because you got the reaction you expected with your joke "Why would we do that?"

“Just kidding, Reid. Those photos are something I prefer to keep to myself" you clarified and your smile made him feel shy "Seriously, sorry for interrupting you. What did you want to tell me?"

"What…? huh, yes, right. It's just that this morning I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how under normal circumstances you would have liked to have a bad date with me, right? and it just kept spinning in my head, so I was asking if you wanted to go for a drink sometime. Not like a date, of course, I'm not saying it is if you don't want to. I can just be like… well, go get a drink. As friends"

Yesterday Spencer had practically eaten your mouth and now he was nervous about asking you out. So adorable.

“You're not doing this just as compensation, are you? because you know that it is not necessary…”

“I do it because I want to. And I want to believe that… that I didn't misunderstand what happened yesterday."

You no longer even cared that it was unethical to date team members, or that if things went wrong, you would probably go into the worst of depressions. What mattered to you was that Spencer was interested in you, even if he had implied it, and that he was asking you out alone with him. Just the two of you, with fun and alcohol involved, without gossipy colleagues or mortal danger.

"Then I'd love to, Reid."

“Wow, excellent then” he smiled, feeling lucky that you agreed “I know a great bar near here, the atmosphere is generally calm, I like it because they don't play loud music. What day is right for you?"

“I'm available any day you want” you responded genuinely, grinning from ear to ear just being around him. That was the effect Reid had on you.

It was stupid to try to deny that you were still attracted to him, especially since now you had a taste of what he could do with you. You wanted to kiss him again, of course, but you were also anxious to earn that completely adoring look you'd received the night before.

“Today?”

"Yeah, why wait?" you responded, more excited than you wanted.

“Hey, I didn't ask you, but I wanted to know if I didn't go overboard with you last night. I mean… did something bother you?”

It was a smart move, you could see it clearly. It was obvious that Spencer cared about you, but you also picked up on his intentions to find out if you were interested in him too. Well, that's how it was from your perspective, because that probably would have been your motivation being in his place.

Even if it wasn't the case, you weren't going to miss the opportunity to take a little advantage of the situation.

"The kisses on the neck were something he definitely didn't expect, but they weren't unpleasant at all," you assured him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Did it feel good to you?"

"It did"

"So everything's perfect," you murmured, shrugging off the matter. But you both knew you couldn't see each other in the office and acted as if nothing had happened.

Something had happened. Those kisses had only fueled the tension that had always existed between you but that you wanted to ignore.

"Do you want to go after work, then?"

“Sounds good to me”

Spencer gave you one last smile and then went to prepare his usual cup of sugar with a dash of coffee. All day you were thinking about him and more than once he caught you looking at him, but you didn't even care.

So, at nightfall, with a few drinks on you and more courage in your body, you finally confessed that kissing was something you had wanted to do for a long time. You almost didn't believe it at first, coming from him, but when you finally accepted it, it wasn't hard at all to rush at him and kiss him feverishly. And this time there did not impede for you to give free rein to your desires, which led you to the soft mattress in your friend's house and kept you awake until a few hours before dawn.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

[merz-8]

"that character is dead" "that character is married to someone else" "that character wouldn't even look at you" well not according to my google docs

#joel miller #aaron hotchner #john wick #lalo salamanca #spencer reid #emily prentiss #joel miller x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #tommy miller

[pathologicalreid]

nicknames | S.R.

in which you meet the team for the first time, and receive your first nickname

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: reader is referred to as a girl. i have this headcanon where when reid's IQ gets slashed to 60, he'd get so distracted that he'd run on autopilot, hence the willingness to handshake.

word count: 591

a/n: happy finals szn! this fic has been rotting in my brain for weeks and i finally decided to flesh it out. and maybe you should like and reblog this if you enjoy it (no pressure tho)

You were still filtering through your entry paperwork when the rest of the team filtered into the bullpen. David Rossi, who had helped you land this job in the first place, nodded in your direction before disappearing into his office. “Hey!” Someone called from across the bullpen, “Y/N, right?” Emily asked, setting her go bag in the chair at her desk before making her way over to your desk.

Smiling in response, “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you responded, reaching your hand out for her to shake. It was nice to be in the BAU, complete with a promotion from Special Agent to Supervisory Special Agent.

JJ walked over next, waving, and introducing herself as the communications liaison. “I’ve heard a lot of great things from your old CARD team,” she said, “I’m sure your skillset will come in handy here.”

You nodded in affirmation, “That’s the hope!” You answered, smiling at the prospect of your old team singing your praises.

Next, Derek approached, reaching out his hand for you to shake. Of course, you obliged and grinned at him. Part of you felt like you were meeting celebrities, the BAU was a big deal in the bureau. “Derek Morgan,” he introduced himself, “How long were you with CARD?”

“Five years,” you responded, it was a long time for anyone to deal solely with child abduction, but your team had the best rate in the bureau. Besides, you found the work rewarding.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “that’s impressive.”

You nodded, “Thank you. I’m really looking forward to working with you all.”

JJ looked behind her, “Oh, have you met Garcia?” She asked, peeking around the corner to where the technical analyst's office was.

Glancing down at the cat-shaped stress toy that she had given you when you arrived this morning, you smiled, “Yes, she was the first to greet me this morning. I think I’m just missing Dr. Reid.”

As if on cue, the young doctor walked into the bullpen, he had a worn leather satchel over his shoulder and looked like he might be talking to himself, “Reid!” Emily called over, getting his attention, and causing him to change course, approaching your desk. “Come meet, Y/N.”

He adjusted the strap of his satchel over his sweater before you reached out your hand for him to shake. “Oh, he doesn’t…” JJ began, but her voice trailed off when Dr. Reid shook your hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Reid,” you said, smiling at him. It felt good to know you had finally met the entire team.

He gave a close-lipped smile in return, “Reid is fine, or Spencer.” He said as you each dropped your hands to your sides.

Noticing everyone looking back and forth between the two of you as if you had already managed to do something wrong, you gathered all of your paperwork in your hands, “I should get this to Hotch.”

The rest of the team got the message and started to disperse to their respective desks, Reid’s being adjacent to yours. “Welcome to the team, pretty girl,” Morgan said to you before turning to his own paperwork.

You hugged your paperwork to your chest as if you were protecting it. Quietly, you muttered, “I really hope that nickname doesn’t stick.”

Across from you, there was a short laugh, almost a scoff. “It will,” Spencer responded in the same reverent tone. For a second, you thought it might be a joke, but you could tell by his facial expression that he was serious.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #david rossi #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #written by margot #spencer reid x fem!reader

[hotchnisslvr]

intro <3

hiiii my name is ash! basic things to know: i’m 26, queer, use she/her pronouns and love all things criminal minds. this is primarily going to be a fic account dedicated to the cm fandom and my beloved hotchniss, jemily, and reader fics! my requests are always open so feel free to drop an idea in my inbox! i love bringing people’s visions to life! see my master list below for all of my fics <333

master list

hotch x fem!reader

power struggle

banana pancakes

drunk dial

through love and loss

after hours

how do we carry on?

emily x fem!reader

for her, i’d endure

hotch x emily

come home with me

emily x jj

lavender bath salts

other

a bau found family easter

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds drabbles #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau

[emilyprentiss-ily]

hi, guys!!

i’m finally getting motivation to write and this is a little sneak peek of a fic that’ll probably be posted very soon <3 snippet below the cut

When Aaron and Emily begin dating it’s all about sneaking around in each other’s offices and kissing in the car. There’s something so very satisfying and special about them being a secret. About the secret glances they send to each other at work, both of them knowing something no one else did.

What Aaron loves most about their relationship, though, is that he’s realized he can read Emily even better now. He used to think he understood her every movement; every glance at the ground, every mental sigh, every lip bite.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x aaron hotchner #hotchniss #hotchniss fic #aaron hotchner #aaron x emily #criminal minds fic #hotchniss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #emily x aaron fanfiction #emilyprentissily #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #emily prentiss fic #paget brewster #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fan fic

[patrickispinky]

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

Emily: i'm the knife

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

#criminal minds #cm incorrect quotes #inccorect quotes #yn #pov #emily prentiss #derek morgan #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fluff #derek morgan fanfiction

[duchessas]

when the future’s architectured

Summary:

So, finally admitting defeat, they establish rules. Both of them like rules and setting parameters; they are mutually agreed in the positivity that comes with a framework they can cling to, a cornerstone so to speak. Careful delineation makes this whole thing between them seem much more reasonable, as if being able to say oh no, it’s nothing serious. Oh, we never cross boundaries. There are restrictions in place, lines we do not cross makes the lies that they are trying to tell themselves more believable.

This thing between them, they agree, is just sex.

Or: Emily and Aaron very unsuccessfully try to hide their relationship.

Remember when I thought I’d write one Hotchniss fic and get it out of my system? Yep, me too. Is this one also very long? Yes, because I am incapable of restraint.

Read on AO3 HERE - enjoy 🤍

#hotchniss #Emily Prentiss x Aaron Hotchner #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x prentiss #Ellie writes #this is ultimate procrastination I cannot lie #pls be kind lol