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hotch-stufff · 2 years

Note

Hey girl, I hope your having a good day

I was wondering if you could write a Hotch! fem reader where they're married and have been for like year's but the team doesn't know about it and one day Morgan calls out Hotch and they both answer! I hope that made sense. Love your blog💕

Hotch? Which one?

Gif by hqtchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Wc: 1.7k

Warnings!: fluff, kissing, mentions of a child case, not.al criminal minds things, maybe kinda suggestive, playful and soft Hotch, but seriously super fluffy

Description: You are secretly married to the one and only Aaron Hotchner, what happens when Morgan yells out Hotch, and you both answer?

A/n: awe, thank you 💕 seriously loved this idea, hope you all do too! Sorry it took me so long to get out! Anyways, here is some Hotch fluff for your Saturday night ;)

-Masterlist-

----------

Your eyes flutter open as you feel a warm pair of lips on your neck. You sigh contently, but bury your face in your pillow, not ready to get up yet. A deep chuckle fills your ears and you smile to yourself as his arm wraps itself around your waist.

"Goodmorning sweetheart." He whispers into the morning air.

"G'morning." You murmur sleepily. The kisses start up again and you giggle at the ticklish feeling, turning around in his arms. He pulls back slightly, and he just stares at you.

"God, you're beautiful." He says and leans forward to place his lips on your own. You kiss him passionately as your heart warms at the compliment.

"Dont wanna get up." You mutter against his lips and he chuckles again.

"You have to sweetheart." He sits up on his elbow peering down at you. "We have that conjoined case today."

"Oh, don't remind me." You roll your eyes as Aaron softly tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "We have to pretend, again." You whine and he sighs. "Do you know how hard it is for me to pretend that I'm not in love with you?"

"Probably just as hard as it is for me." He pauses, thinking for a moment. "We could, just tell them." He suggests and you freeze, a little shocked by his words.

"Honey, are you sure? I know we're in different departments, but you said you wanted to be professional. And I mean it keeps us safer. I guess it doesn't matter, up to you. Maybe we should, I mean my team knows, but yours doesn-" He cuts off your rambling with a searing kiss and you freeze for a moment. He pulls back and it takes you a few moments to process words. Your husband's kisses usually have that effect on you.

"So do you want to tell them?" You ask after you catch your breath.

"Yes. As soon as this case is over." You smile and nod.

"Okay. But we aren't ever going to finish the case if we don't get up." Aaron rolls over top of you holding himself up with his arms on either side of your head.

"If you insist." He starts, placing a kiss on your nose. "But maybe… a… few… more… kisses…" He places a kiss on your lips after every word, already forgetting that he was trying to get you up in the first place.

* * *

After several more kisses, you and Aaron finally make your way into the office, just in time for your two teams to meet together in the bullpen. You are eternally grateful that no one finds it suspicious that you both come in at the same time. Probably thinking you just had a meeting together before the case. Your teams head to the conference room after seeing you walk in not noticing Aaron's hand on the small of your back.

Little did they know of the wedding rings resting on your necklace under your blouse and Aaron's on a pin under his tie.

When you think about it, it wasn't really your plan to hide your marriage. You never thought you would be one to hide the love for your husband. But then you had met Aaron Hotchner. Funny enough, it had been a conjoined case similar to the present case. Aaron being the unit chief of the BAU and you the unit chief of the Child Crimes Unit, you clashed. A lot.

Never getting along, your teams dreaded cases where you had to get together. Of course, one case in particular hit a little too hard, and Hotch had found you curled in a chair, crying in one of the break rooms. He had rushed to your side in an instant, comforting you through your tears. That night you had seen a whole different side of Aaron Hotchner.

Of course that one moment turned into a beautiful new friendship. Which had led to dates and kisses and a secret relationship. A marriage was soon to follow, and you both wanted to married so bad, you had just eloped. Only Rossi, Jack, and Jess by your sides. Rossi officiated the small ceremony and that was about six months ago.

You had told your team after a month, fining it too difficult to keep it hidden. They had all agreed to jokingly call you Hotch, after hearing Aaron's own team do it to him.

You had already talked to them about avoiding that in today's case.

Aaron had found it harder to tell his team. They were his family. But he wanted to protect you as much as possible. Especially after Haley.

Your thoughts are dragged away from a small kick under the table. You turn to your left, and spot your husband with a slight smirk on his face. The meeting continues, Garcia presenting the case.

"Alright lovelies, and guest lovelies! We have three murders, all local, all 10 year old boys." She begins and you take a deep breath preparing yourself. As much as you loved your job, it was always hard to hear of all the horrible things people did to these poor kids.

A hand finds its way to your thigh and squeezes to ground you. You shake away your wandering thoughts again and focus.

"They were all killed the same way, strangulation. Coroner says it was a pillow over their face, while sleeping." She takes a deep breath before continuing. "Local police have no leads, and are desperate for help." Hotch looks up at his team and yours listening for ideas.

"Could be remorse." Davis, one of your agents speaks up first. Jj and Reid nod along.

"It's almost peaceful. He doesn't want to hurt the kids, but he feels he needs to." Morgan adds.

"I suggest looking into people who have lost a child." You suggest.

"You got it babe. Got more for me?" Garcia asks and the teams continue to go back and forth with ideas, nothing really building up the profile. Idea after idea is passed around. Everyone was beginning to grow frustrated, the tension building in the room.

"What about a sick kid? A kid in pain?" Prentiss starts rattling off. She stands and begins pacing. Wilsom, one of your best agents, stands as well.

"Yes. The remorse, the peaceful killing, it all makes sense." He starts.

"When did the killing start?" Aaron asks.

"Three months sir." Garcia answers.

"Check out parents, male, early 30s, who recently lost a child to disease, an accident, anything." Hotch speaks and Garcia is instantly typing away.

"Two hundred seventy four hits."

"Try limiting it to the victim's profile, men with a ten year old boy." Jj pipes up.

"Thirty seven hits."

"The child would have been in pain, he believes he is stopping the pain. He doesn't want the kids to hurt anymore. He thinks he is helping them." Garcia shakes her head, that doesn't lower her search at all. You think and think.

"There has to be something else. I want everyone to look into the jobs of the suspects. I know it's a lot, but there are a lot of us. The quicker the better." You say and Aaron nods.

"What are we looking for?" Rossi asks.

"He would have needed to blend in. Parents couldn't have been suspicious of anything. Repair men, plumbers, electricians. Anything. Get to work." Hotch announces and everyone stands moving around. You and Hotch begin discussing more of the case, trying to find different angles when Morgan speaks up.

"Hotch?" You and Aaron both turn around at the name, ready to answer.

"Yeah?" Two voices ring out and it takes you a moment to realise you and your husband had both answered. You freeze and so does he. The room is tense and silent. Your team stares at you with smirks on their faces, and Aaron's with shock.

"What?" Spencer is the first one to say anything, case seemingly forgotten for the moment, his brows furrowed, and you giggle at the situation. Aaron looks at you and smiles softly.

"Alright. I guess we have some explaining to do." He says and Rossi chuckles patting him on the back.

"Hi guys, I'm Agent Hotchner, nice to meet you." You say with a smirk and wave slightly. Garcia's mouth falls open and Morgan lets out a loud laugh.

"Im sorry. What?" Emily looks more confused than you have ever seen her and you can't help but begin laughing again. You leave it to your husband to explain. But he himself looks like he is barely keeping it together.

"We may, or may not have gotten married." Hotch says way too casually for anyone to process. Its only silent for a moment more before the room erupts with questions and shouts of congradulations. You catch money being exchanged between Wilson, Rossi, and Davis and they each shoot you a wink. You roll your eyes as Hotch tries to calm his team.

"Alright! That's enough." He says sternly, but you see the twitch in his eyebrow and the smirk threatening to break out on his face. "Yes, we are married, yes we eloped. No, we aren't talking about this now. We can discuss it when the case is over. Please get back to work, I will be in my office if you need me." He finished with an official tone and he swiftly walked out of the room. All eyes fall to you and you take that as your cue to follow your husband. You smile softly at the team and quickly walk out of the room.

As soon as you shut the door to his office, Aaron has you pressed against the door, his face buried in your neck as he laughs.

"Did you see their faces?" You asked, amusement filling your voice. He nods and presses a sloppy kiss to your neck. Pulling back, he gazes at you and shakes his head.

"God. They are going to kill me." Aaron whispers. "Seriously. I think Garcia was planning my murder." You roll your eyes at his dramatics.

"Oh please. You'll be fine." You say and he smacks your ass playfully.

"Yeah, you don't have to deal with the wrath of Penelope, so shut it missy." You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck kissing him gently.

"You are ridiculous."

"But you love me."

"That I do."

"I love you too sweetheart." And he kisses you, or at least tries to through your giggles.

----------

Thanks for reading!! <3

#imagine #reader insert #fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #spencer reid #david rossi #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #original character

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x-reader-theater · 3 years

Note

Hey, could I request a male reader x Hotch where the reader speaks another language or maybe english isn't their first language and Hotch is just enamoured by them?

I’m making the language spanish because my editor knows it loll this was really cute tho. I loved it. Edited by @mystic-writes

Gif by @hqtchner

“Hola, Señora Rodríguez,” you say, waving to your neighbor, who looks up suddenly and grins, waving back.

“¡Oh! ¡Hola! ¿Y quién es esta guapa cacería de carne que usted tiene con usted? ¿Se está casando finalmente? ¿Va a adoptar a algunos niños? Usted debe antes de que usted consiga demasiado viejo. Adopté a todos mis hijos y todos fueron a la universidad. ¡Los echo de menos terriblemente!” Mrs. Rodríguez rambles on, and you go red as you listen to this.

“¡Oh, no, señora Rodríguez! No nos casaremos pronto. Sin embargo, lo amo... de todos modos, realmente no tenemos planes. Solo tratando de superar los baches en este momento,” you reply.

She nods, and you look over at Aaron, who is looking down at you, frowning. You smile at him and turn back to Mrs. Rodríguez who shouts back, “Bueno, si ustedes dos necesitan algo de privacidad, pero están asustados por recibir una queja por ruido, solo díganme, y subiré mi música y haré que me llamen a la policía, y no a usted.”

She’s smirking widely, and your face goes up in flames, burning up to your ears and down to your chest. “¡Correcto! ¡Gracias! ¡Adiós!” you stutter out, grabbing Aaron’s hand and dragging him toward your car, and all but shoving him in the passenger seat while Mrs. Rodríguez waves goodbye to you.

“What was that about?” Aaron asks as you slip into the driver’s seat.

You shake your head and reply, “Nothing. She’s just nosy.”

Aaron chuckles and nods, and says, seemingly out of nowhere, “I like it. When you speak spanish.”

“Yeah?” you ask, taking your eyes off the road for a moment before looking back. Aaron looks happy, happier than you’ve ever seen him before.

“Yeah. It’s sexy,” he says, and you feel your skin heat up again.

“Aaron Hotchner, don’t start something you can’t finish until tonight!” you exclaim. “But- but I’m glad you like it… maybe we could- I dunno, use it some time?”

Aaron is grinning by the time you look at him, and he replies, “I would love that.”

#aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x male reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #my writing #my work

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whosscruffylooking · 3 years

Text

The Purest Things-Damaged

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape, murder, and cheating. Canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: and so we begin our descent into the world of slow-burn! this piece begins at the end of season 3 episode 13 & carries into seasons 3 episode 14. thank you to everyone who has interacted with my stories, commenting and reposting helps creators so much! enjoy this installment :)

The Purest Things Masterlist

Gif Credit: @hqtchner

january 2008

Bookend: “We are all damaged. We have all been hurt. We have all had to learn painful lessons. We are all recovering from some mistake, loss, betrayal, abuse, injustice or misfortune. All of life is a process of recovery that never ends. We each must find ways to accept and move through the pain and to pick ourselves back up....Each tragedy is an announcement that some good will indeed come in time. Be patient with yourself.” ― Bryant McGill

Another day, another murderer locked away. This case proved that sometimes, the so-called "good guys" can be just as selfish as the "bad guys." The special agent who recruited the BAU's help, Jill Morris, used this case to obtain personal fame and grow her career.

You sit next to Rossi aboard the plane. He had a more personal interaction with Morris throughout the case, and you can tell her actions have left him more than disappointed.

Looking out the window at the sun setting behind the clouds, you mumble to yourself, "What's the difference?"

"Did you say something?" Dave speaks up.

Looking to him, you brush it off, "Oh. Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

He crosses his legs and smiles a warm smile at you, "Penny, for your thoughts then."

"I guess...I just don't understand how Jill Morris's motives can be any different from Jeremy Andrus's. Of course, Jill didn't murder or rape anyone. But, she exploited this case for her own personal benefit. She didn't just use the unsub; she exploited the victims as well. How is that any different than Jeremy using women for his own gratification?"

David sighs, "Aristotle said, 'Every practical pursuit or undertaking seems to aim at some good.' Our brains are wired for love and solidarity. Greed forms to undermine that wiring and trick others into believing that their means to an end is done for "good." People believe that to maintain that myth, any and all costs to others are simply casualties in the long run."

"There is all the difference in the world between helping another soul and exploiting their hardship for your own gain and deceiving yourself that they are the same," he continues, "I tried to show Jill that. But, I think she's already determined that the reason she does this job is not for the same reasons that we do. The rush of catching a suspect comes second to the excitement she gets when being praised for her achievement."

"What happened to her empathy," you wonder, "Empathy is a natural foundation in each of our lives, and our society functions on it! How could that not overpower her desire for recognition? I mean, for Christ's sake, her friend just died!"

"Unfortunately," he solemnly says, "It is harder to understand the motives of our peers than it is to profile a serial killer."

+++++

You wake as if there is an emergency, like sleeping had become a deadly thing, your heart pounds, and thoughts jumble throughout your brain. Shooting up from your seat, you crawl over a sleeping Rossi and stumble your way to the bathroom.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the edge of the sink. Looking cautiously into the mirror, as if you are uncertain of what you'll see, you take in your ghostly appearance. Sweat beads drip down your forehead. Unable to comprehend the blurry remnants of your dream, you turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you notice everyone is sound asleep. Thank goodness no one noticed your state of panic. You notice that one overhead reading light is on and look to see Hotch awake and blankly staring out the window.

"Can't sleep either?" You ask, sitting across from him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, trying to deflect your attention.

You squint at him, unwilling to back down, "Are you?"

He looks at you intently, taking the sight of you in inch-by-inch. No one has asked him that over the past few weeks. In fact, everyone has seemingly been avoiding him since he was served his divorce papers. Perhaps they are doing it because they are unsure how to support him or genuinely feel that what he needs right now is space.

However, you know that being alone is the last thing he needs right now. "Hotch, I know it isn't my place, and I--I'm sorry if this is overstepping. But that expression on your face that you've worn for the past few weeks isn't foreign to me. Perhaps to everyone else, it is. They don't know what to do or say. You're their unit chief, and they are used to you being strong and keeping it together for the sake of everyone else."

He straightens his posture, his attention centered on you.

"I witnessed firsthand the ways that divorce can torment people. My parents got a sudden divorce when I was 14. It was unexpected to all of us. My father was unfaithful, and although my mom was willing to forgive him, he didn't want to put in the work anymore. He found a new outlet for his frustrations. I watched my mother and father waste away for years," you lament.

Hotch sits on the edge of his seat, his eyes trained keenly on you. It was odd for him to make a connection so quick, to give his trust so easily. In fact, he hardly trusts at all. Dave and Haley are the only ones who have really been given an insider's peek into the mind and heart of Aaron Hotchner. There was something in the way he listens so actively to what you are saying. You would be lying if you said you didn't notice his gaze aimed at your lips.

There is a sympathetic and heartfelt concern he shows for you, one second only to your own regard for him. He listens like he is absorbing your words. The longer you spend in each other's presence, the more you both realize that this is the kind of friendship you both have needed for far too long. Even if the words go unspoken, you share an empathetic understanding of one another, and you are sure it has been there since the day you met. Hotch has been fascinated by you since he watched your interview with Strauss over and over again, though he would never let it be known.

+++++

February 2008

Today is the day that you get to accompany Hotch and Reid on the Criminal Personality Research Project to interview Chester Hardwick before his execution. Hardwick's case is one you know inside and out. You wrote a research report on it that was awarded the Graduate Student Ethics Writing Competition winner for the American Psychological Association and was published in their Ethics and Behavior journal. Agent Hotchner suggested that you tag along, considering you know just as much about the case as Spencer does.

You and Spencer absentmindedly fiddle with the knickknacks that rest upon the desk as you wait to be escorted to see Chester Hardwick.

Hotch's phone begins to ring, and he answers it, "Yeah, J.J... Um, no, it's--It's a personal matter. Yes, thank you. I will take care of it when I get back."

"Everything okay?" You ask softly.

"Yeah, fine." He says abruptly.

"We can do this interview another time," Reid offers.

Aaron huffs, "Well, he is scheduled to be executed next week."

"I can take the lead on the interview if you w-" Reid unintentionally pushes.

You cut him off, "Reid."

Hotch shoots you an appreciative look.

Anytime sir.

"Agent Hotchner?" A relatively short man wearing freakishly petite glasses comes to the door.

The Unit Chief shakes the man's hand and introduces you and Spencer.

"You're here to see our infamous inmate Hardwick," the warden exclaims.

"Yes," you say, "He agreed to meet with us as part of our Criminal Personality Research Project before his execution."

The man smiles widely, "I've read your research on Hardwick many times. I must say, seeing your perspective on the mind of such a prolific killer was very enlightening."

You beam with pride at his commendation. Instinctively you look to Hotch, who appears to have the slight trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You wonder, how can he go from scowling and frustrated one minute to fighting back the urge to smile at the mention of your achievements? You bite your lip to suppress any further needless excitement.

The warden continues to ramble, "Serial killers are kind of a hobby of mine. Chester is the only one I've ever met in person, though. I bet you've met quite a few."

"Sir," Hotch interjects, "We'd very much like to get started as soon as we can."

Time to put our serious pants back on.

You can visibly see your superior's annoyance, and you stifle a chuckle.

The warden quickly composes himself and apologizes for his enthusiasm, touching his hand to Hotch's shoulder in the process. Hotch's mouth falls agape, and his sights shoot to you. A small snort escapes you, and you cover your mouth, attempting to conceal it as a cough. He squints at you as if he is mentally murdering you. You crinkle your nose at him.

Don't mentally murder me when we are about to interview one of the most prolific killers of our time.

The warden leads you into the small cell that you will convert into a makeshift interrogation room. Soon enough, you hear the clanking of chains echoing in the hallway. Everyone's eyesight is fixed on the door.

A silver-haired man dressed in a yellow jumpsuit walks in with an air of arrogance and determination. He glares at Agent Hotchner, who mirrors the prisoner's actions exactly. Hotch states that keeping the prisoner chained will not be necessary, a call that both you and Spencer are unsure of.

Hardwick sits across from you and leans into the table, "I know you."

"And I know you. Too well, I think," you respond.

A menacing grin sweeps across his face, "Oh, I like you already. How about you send these two away so the grown-ups can talk."

You can hear your boss scoff from behind you.

"Chester, it's time to get serious."

"You were born April 4, 1950?" Spencer asks.

"Does my birthday really matter?"

"It's customary for us to start at the beginning. We want to know as much as we can about your childhood," Reid continues.

"There's nothing to know. It was average. I lived in a nice house on a quiet street. I ate cereal, went to school, watched cartoons."

"I don't have time for this," Hotch raises his voice, causing you to jump slightly, "You grew up in a series of projects, each one worse than the last. You spent your teenage years peeping into your female neighbors' windows and burglarizing their underwear drawers when you got the chance. You set 100 small fires for which you spent 2 years in juvenile detention."

You glance at Reid from the corner of your eye; you are both uncomfortable with the direction Hotch is taking this.

"We've done extensive research, Mr. Hardwick," you say, gently trying to soften the blow and appeal to the man's ego. If Hotch is taking the bad cop role, you need to be this psychopath's ally.

"We've talked to almost everyone you've ever known," you continue, "including your mother."

Chester swivels on the balls of his feet, "Good ol' Jean? I'll bet she was a real treat."

"At this point, lying to us isn't really possible or helpful," Spencer offers a slight smirk to the man.

"Y/N, right?" the prisoner turns his attention to you, "They're wrong. They're all wrong."

"About what, Chester?" You implore him.

"I started a lot more than one hundred fires," he peers out the window.

You look up at Hotch, and he sighs in surrender.

Chester antagonizes you three, stating that no one care's whether or not they hear the truth. In between his jabs, he strays to various different series of thoughts. Most are meaningless, but it is his way of trying to get under your skin. For you and Spencer, it is relatively easy to maintain your composure. For Hotch, however, Hardwick's digs do nothing but add fuel to the already lit flame under the special agent.

"Let's talk about the specifics of this case, Chester," you interrupt his rant, "Why did you choose Sheila O'Neal?"

He shakes his head, "You gotta show me a picture. I don't know their names."

As if you can feel Hotch's anger radiating off of his body, you brace yourself for the oncoming strike.

"Is that what this is all about," he says disgustedly, "Some chance for you to relive all of this?"

"I have an excellent memory," Chester brags.

You tune his impassionate speech out and focus your observance on your boss. His scalding stare at Hardwick can only translate one way, 'I have initiated my emotional indifference. I could kill you and not care one bit. So proceed with caution.'

"They were toys, a diversion," you hear Hardwick chant as you tune back into the present. Hotch looks anywhere but at the killer in front of him, his gaze eventually landing you. You are some kind of shelter to him that neither of you has yet acknowledged or come to understand.

Your stomach churns at Chester's descriptions of his victims. He describes them as useless objects that, once their purpose was served, were discarded like garbage.

"Why did you ask us here?" Hotch charges.

The wicked man looks at you, his eyes void of a soul and his stare sending a chill down your veins.

"I wanted to speak to her."

Your breath catches at the back of your throat.

With that, Hotch straightens up and fervently positions himself between Chester and you. "Reid, pack it up," he commands.

Reid looks to you, "Are you sure?"

"No, now." Your superior repeats himself with even more fervor. He presses the buzzer to signal the guards to release us and says, "Have a nice trip. You're going where you belong." Hotch makes sure to put as much distance between you and Hardwick as possible. He buzzes the ringer again. No response.

"It's 5:17," Hardwick chuckles.

You close your eyes, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Reaching out for Hotch's arm, you lower his hand from the buzzer. "The evening yard begins at 5 o'clock. No one is going to come open that door for-"

"At least thirteen minutes," Chester disrupts. He waltzes over the table and takes one of the images of his victims into his hand. Holding it up as if to brag to us about it, he says, "And it took me less than five minutes to do this."

You push aside your worry. Instead, you choose to focus on all of the information you have accumulated over the years about Chester Hardwick. There has to be something you can use to your advantage to diffuse this situation.

"Perhaps in all of your research, you should have familiarized yourselves with the guard tones," Hardwick jeers.

"I heard the tones," Hotch counters in a monotone voice.

"So you planned to be locked inside with me, with no guns or weapons."

Hotch shakes his head, his voice more natural than before, "I won't need a gun."

Spencer places his hand on your arm and begins to guide you to the other side of the room.

"There's no way I am going to be executed next week," Chester taunts, kneading his hands together. "Not after I kill three FBI agents. You saved my life by coming here." His venomous words ring in your ears.

Hotch's tone deepens, "Unfortunately for you, I am not a five-foot-one-hundred-pound girl."

Your pulse quickens at Hotch's threat, and your attention is rapt by his display of dominance. He begins to shed his jacket. You feel yourself flushing; attraction suddenly entangles you as if it were an invisible rope.

Now is the worst possible time to be feeling this. Calm down.

"All of your life, you've gone after victims who couldn't fight back," he fiercely says, "and the rest of the time you spent looking over your shoulder." You understand the intensity in his tone and sense a great deal of emotion behind his words.

He rips his tie from his collar, and your breathing hitches in the back of your throat. Hopefully, Spencer doesn't notice, and if he does, he chalks it up to the deadly situation you find yourself in.

"You were always worried about the knock on the door," Hotch doesn't back down, "Scared that somebody like me would be on the other side waiting to put you away."

Well, if you keep ripping your tie off like th--no. Not gonna go there right now. Focus on the pyshco-killer threatening to kill you.

Now, Hotch intimidatingly points his finger directly at Hardwick.

If only I were on the receiving end of tha--no! Now. Is. Not. The. Time.

"At your core, you are a coward," Hotch fires.

You have to do something. Hardwick is enraged, and Hotch has nothing left to lose.

Without even giving it a second thought, you blurt out, "Chester, do you want to know why you killed those women?"

"What?" The prisoner hisses.

Spencer speaks up, "Earlier, you said you wished you were different. We can tell you why you are...what you are."

He begins moving towards you, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice your boss carefully making equal strides. You motion for him to stop.

"You can tell me why I did what I did?"

"I think so," you nod, "Don't you, Dr. Reid?"

"I do. Your mother is bipolar. And almost certainly an undifferentiated schizophrenic. Your father suffered severe shell shock in the war, what we now refer to as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. As far as I can tell, he remained clinically depressed the rest of his life."

"Exactly," you say, giving Spencer a chance to gather his thoughts after having thrown him under the bus.

"53% of all serial killers have some form of mental illness inherent to their families. Chester, in your case, both of your parents suffered from psychological disorders, which they essentially took out on each other as much as they beat you. So, violence sort of became a normal expression of love in your household," you say, eager to have some kind of breakthrough with him while subliminally directing Spencer's string of thoughts to follow yours.

Allowing Reid to pick up where you leave off, he takes charge of the conversation and explains how a portion of one's brain wants what it wants without conscience or judgment. A part of the brain that no doubt took over Hotch's reasoning powers moments ago, though you do not blame him.

"Earlier, you said your victims never had a chance. I think you know deep down that it was you that never really had a chance," he concludes. And with that victorious resolution, the guards unlock the door. Hotch storms out, and Reid follows behind.

"Is that true that I never had the chance?" Hardwick calls out after you both.

You stop in your tracks, "I don't know."

"Maybe," Spencer nudges you out the door.

++++

In the car, Hotch looks at you in the rearview mirror, "That was smart to get Hardwick to focus on himself long enough for the guards to come back."

You pat Spencer's shoulder, "I give all the credit to boy wonder and his beautiful statistic-filled brain. I'm sorry for all of the times I said you were running out of storage with all of that useless data."

"I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror," he declares, "Wait. Useless data? When did you say that?"

You pinch him softly and chuckle, "I'm kidding."

"I'm sorry," Hotch sighs.

You meet his gaze in the mirror once again, "For what?"

His chestnut eyes reveal pangs of remorse and guilt, but something tells you there's more to those feelings than what occurred at the prison.

"I antagonized the situation."

"No, you didn't," Spencer states.

"I certainly didn't help."

"Well, I can't argue with you there," you kid.

His piercing eyes suddenly twinkle, causing you to blush slightly. You quickly look down at your feet until your cheeks cool down.

Hotch sighs in defeat, "So Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested so that nobody wastes money on lawyers."

That statement is all too familiar to you. Yet again, your heart shatters for the Hotchners.

"You don't want to?" Spencer asks innocently.

He means well, but you know from experience that such a question only unleashes a tidal wave of painful emotions for the one fighting for his family.

"What I want, I'm not going to get," Hotch laments.

His eyes, once filled with depth, now distant and empty.

++++

Glancing up from your paperwork and into your supervisor's office, you take note of his gravity-drawn shoulders that carry the weight of the world on them. He repeatedly picks up a stack of papers and then drops them back down atop his desk, covering his face with his hands.

"What do you think is going on up there?" Derek asks, pointing his pen in the direction of the office.

"I might have an idea. I'm going to go take my report; anyone else's done?" They all hand you their paperwork for you to deliver to the boss.

You hesitate to knock on his door but apprehensively do so anyways.

He invites you in. Your heart sinks as you approach his desk, able to get a closer look at his beaten expression. You always knew he was hiding pain behind his tough exterior, but now he wears it on the surface, most likely unintentionally.

Placing the paperwork on his desk, you notice the heading on the papers he was gripping tightly.

SUPREME COURT STATE OF VIRGINIA: MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT

Hotch's eyes move slowly, laboriously, to look at you as if it takes a concentrated effort to do so.

"Heartache is a real thing," you sympathize with him, "In fact, Reid even told me that a broken heart can show up on medical scans. When a heart breaks, your body and brain need time to recuperate. There's no set amount of time or remedy that will heal you. Don't set your expectations of yourself too high, and surround yourself with the people who love you."

His chin trembles, and his eyes flutter as he blinks back tears.

You turn to leave the room but look over your shoulder one last time, "We are all here for you, Hotch."

Just as you are about to shut the door, you hear him call out to you, "Y/L/N!"

His stare reveals a vulnerability you have had yet to see in him.

"Call me Aaron."

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libraryofloveletters · 3 years

Text

Spilt Wine & Last Minute Cases

Emily Prentiss x Penelope Garica x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, alcohol and the consumption of

Prompts: #60:“Let’s get drunk” “It’s 9am?” “It’s 5 somewhere darling”

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: this one’s for the lovely @saprentiss <3 and my darling grace @temily because I know how much you love them

----

Since Emily returned to the BAU, Penelope's been asking for an assistant - more of a little helper to keep track of files and whatnot. Truthfully, Penelope’s been asking since Hotch was unit chief and although Hotch had a soft spot for her, Emily had a bigger one and gave in.

You started last week, you had no idea how to use all of Penelope’s tech or what they did, you understood the basis but if she asked you to find something, it felt like she was speaking a whole other language.

Penelope being Penelope, invited you over so she could teach you how to use it. She didn’t specify what time, she only said Saturday and gave you the address. She suggested Saturday because they usually didn’t have cases on the weekend and you would be able to learn without the pressure of having a case- so here you were at quarter to 9 on Saturday morning knocking on Penelope’s door.

She shouted that she's coming and the door opened, Penelope stood there in her nightgown, her hair wrapped up in a bun.

“Sweets,” she yawned, “why are you here so early ?” she asks, leaning against her door.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, you didn’t say what time” you ramble out into a sentence. She waved her hand, motioning for you to come in as she made her way further into her apartment. You looked around after you shut the door, the place screamed Penelope, from the colours, the furniture, the figurines and beads.

Another set of footsteps caught your attention, a black haired woman stepping out of the bathroom, “who was it babe- oh y/n, hi” Emily smiled at you.

Your eyes widen - Emily was in her pjs too, you realized that she had slept over or perhaps even lived there? Sergio rubbed up against your leg, you leant down to run your fingers through the cat’s fur before standing again.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize- I can come back another time if you’re busy or-” “Oh don't be ridiculous. You’re welcomed here anytime, isn't she?” Emily says, walking towards Penelope, her arm over the blonde’s shoulder now. Penelope hums taking a sip of her coffee.

Taking a seat at the counter, you watch as Emily and Penelope move around the kitchen, perfectly in-sync like it was something they had done regularly.

“Can I ask something?” looking towards the two woman, they both smile, waiting for your question.

“Are you two- y’know.. together ?” you wonder out loud.

“Yeah” Penelope says, Emily pulling her towards herself before pressing a kiss to Penelope’s temple.

A squeal of excitement slips out, “oh my god! that's so cute, you guys are perfect together- like I totally see it. You balance each other out if that makes sense and- oh wait! I have something for you” you reach into your bag, the couple watching you, smiling at your excitement.

A bottle of wine was set on the counter- it was brought as a gift for Penelope as it was your first time by her place and it would have been rude to show up empty handed.

Emily picks up the bottle, inspecting the label. She hums in approval, “you have good taste” you give her a smile.

“Let’s get drunk” Emily looks at Penelope and then over at you.

“Honey, it’s 9am?” Penelope takes the bottle of her, setting it on the counter behind her.

“It’s 5pm somewhere darling” Emily was already reaching for the wine glasses in the cupboard.

Emily now settled in the living room on the couch, Sergio cuddled into her side. “y/n, can you get the bottle please?” she calls, turning on the tv. “Yeah!” you shout back, walking towards the counter.

Penelope’s hand grabs yours, “don’t” she warns you.

“She’s the boss” you whisper, Penelope rolls her eyes.

“I’m your boss!” she half whispers, half shouts.

“But she’s the boss boss” Penelope sighs, giving in and letting you take the bottle. She follows you to the couch, the 2 of you sitting on either side of Emily. The 3 glasses being filled and refilled for the next hour and a half when the last of it is poured into your glass.

“I think we have another bottle somewhere” Penelope gets off the couch, making her way to the kitchen. The cupboard doors hitting each other as she pulls them open, looking for the bottle.

“Check the fridge!” Emily shouts to her girlfriend before turning to you. “So, y/n, is there anyone special in your life?” she smiled but you on the other hand, almost choked on your wine, a little bit spilling onto your shirt. “Wha- no, no. There’s no one” clearing your throat before taking another sip- blaming your blush on the alcohol.

Penelope returned just as Emily suggested something completely bizarre, “Luke, Luke’s single and he’s a nice guy. Wait- are you into guys?”

“Uh I don't have a set preference per se” you take another sip- this time to wash down the embarrassment of your boss trying to set you up. Penelope sitting on the arm rest of the chair, Emily’s arm wrapped around her waist when she looks down at her girlfriend.

“Newbie ? You want to set up sweet, precious y/n with newbie ? Emily Prentiss are you insane ?”

“What ?” she laughed, “Luke is a nice guy!”

“Maybe if y/n were someone else! I won’t let you set her up with him”

Before Emily could protest, her phone rang. Her face and the drop in her tone let you both know that there was a case. She tossed the phone somewhere on the couch, her hand patting Penelope’s side. “Sorry girls, fun’s over. We have a case” sighing as she stands. Penelope groans and falls back into the couch while you begin picking up the empty glasses.

“Oh sweetie, don't worry about those.” she calls from the couch, “it’s alright” you smile, stepping back into the living room.

“I can't let you go to work like that” she sits up, she grabs your hand and pulls you into the room. You barely get a moment to register what’s happening before Penelope is tossing a shirt your way. Catching it, you look at her, brows furrowed and a confused look on your face.

“Wine on your shirt” she says, going through the closet for something to wear. changing your shirt, you shove it into your purse before stepping back into the kitchen. Emily’s halfway dressed with half a bagel in her mouth and a cup of coffee in one hand. Buttoning up her shirt the rest of the way, she smiles at you and heads to the room where Penelope was.

The coffee pot was almost empty so you poured what was left into a mug and put on another pot. Penelope comes hopping out of her bedroom, Emily following behind her holding both of their purses. Penelope has one heel on and is trying to put the other one as she makes her way to her door.

“Forget the coffee, we’ll get some on the way to work” she finally gets the other heel on and opens the door, ushering you and Emily out the door.

---

The three of you had just stepped off the elevator, coffee in hand when you called for the two women that were a few steps ahead of you.

“Gum” you pop a piece into your mouth, screwing your face at the way it mixed with the leftover wine and coffee taste in your mouth. Emily and Penelope both took a piece each and mirrored the same expression, needless to say- the taste wasn’t great.

Everyone was in the briefing room when the 3 of you arrived. Everyone’s eyes on you, Emily and Penelope.

Penelope took the remote from Luke who was fidgeting with the buttons, he smiled at her and she rolled her eyes in response. Emily settled into her chair and you were sitting before Matt who was now looking at your shirt.

Emily was going over the briefing, a case in New Orleans- a missing group of children.

“What ?” you mumbled quietly to Matt, not wanting to interrupt Emily.

“Cute shirt” he chuckled, glancing at you before looking back towards the screen. Looking down at your shirt, you hum. “It’s Emily’s right ?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

“Stop that” you warn, his brows furrowed with a smile on his face. “Stop what?” he teased.

“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t be weird” you poke his side with your pen, he mirrors your action. Emily notices the two of you playing around, she calls for both of you.

“Something you wanna share ?”

“Just telling y/n how much like her shirt.” he smiles at Emily.

----

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#penelope garcia #emily prentiss #penemily #penelope x emily #cm #criminal minds #penelope garcia x reader #emily prentiss x reader #ssa penelope garica #ssa emily prentiss

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