#morehotchcontent2020

[ssahoodrathotchner]

Warm on a Cold Night

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Summary: you love thunderstorms and Aaron Hotchner

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: brief mention of a nightmare and a whole lot of fluff

A/N: just a little something because we could all use some soft!Hotch in our lives

Tag: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

Masterlist

---

You wake to the sound of thunder. Smiling, you turn your head to the window and wait for another flash of lightning, which follows a few moments after. Listening to the rain pouring down and the way the wind whistles past the window, you can’t help but want to see the storm taking place just outside your apartment. It doesn’t matter that it’s early in the morning or that sleep would definitely benefit you right now—especially because Morgan and Prentiss will make fun of you if you fall asleep at your desk again—you take comfort in storms, and you don’t get the chance to indulge in them too often. Mostly because you spend your time flying around the country with the rest of the BAU hunting serial killers, but still.

A deep breath from your other side catches your attention, and you are drawn to the face of a sleeping Aaron Hotchner. Arm slung over your middle and head on your pillow, he continues to rest, seemingly oblivious to the wonderful thunderstorm that’s going on at 3am. Shifting slightly, you manage to get out from under your boyfriend’s arm without disturbing him too much; his face scrunches a little in his slumber, but his breathing evens out moments later and you let out a small sigh of relief. Quietly, you make your way out of the dark room, but not before first snagging one of his sweatshirts from the foot of the bed.  

Pulling the large hoodie over your pajamas as you walk into the living room, you decide to curl up on the window seat. Tucking your feet under your body as you sit, you pull the blinds aside in order to fully appreciate the storm. Debating for a moment, you pull the window slightly open and let the smell of the rain wash over you. Petrichor, you remember Spencer telling you at some point, the smell of rain after a period of dryness. Inhaling deeply, you lean your elbow on the windowsill and your head in your hand. The rumbling of the thunder and subsequent flashes of lightning have always given you a sense of calm, and tonight is no different. There’s something cathartic about the interplay between the thunder, lightning, rain, and wind. The fury of a storm is captivating; the way the chaos works to create something beautiful, especially in the early morning hours. You allow yourself to be filled with a soft sense of contentment.

The sound of footsteps pulls you out of your reverie and you turn to see a sleepy Aaron Hotchner shuffle his way out of the bedroom, hair ruffled from sleep and sticking up on one side. Adorable. Rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn, he searches the room until he finds you, in one of his sweatshirts, curled up on the window seat. A tired smile appears on his face as he ambles over. Shifting forward, you make space for him to slot in behind you. With one leg propped up on the windowsill and the other on the floor, he pulls your body back into his and wraps you in his arms. Nosing the back of your neck, he lets out a hum as you pull his arms closer to your chest.

“What brings you here?” you ask with a smile, leaning your head against his shoulder to watch his face.

“Bed’s cold,” he grumbles with a pout, “You left.”

“Sorry, love,” you whisper, kissing the back of his hand in apology.

You feel Aaron rest his head against yours and take a deep breath. Snuggling back into him, you return your attention to the storm, and gently stroke your thumb across his hand. Lightning strikes outside, illuminating the living room, if only for a moment.

“Nightmare,” Aaron says, so softly you almost think you imagined it.

“Hmm?” You try to turn in his arms, but he holds you tighter and clears his throat a bit before continuing.

“Had a nightmare and you weren’t there when I woke up. Got worried.” He kisses the top of your head.

“I’m here, love,” you assure him. “What can I do?” You take hold of his hand and kiss his palm, gently tracing the lines you find there.

“Just…” he trails off with a sigh. You let him gather his thoughts, knowing that he’ll tell you when he’s ready.

“Just be here? With me?” he finishes softly, carefully. As if you would ever leave him.

“Always,” you say just as soft, turning your head and leaning up just enough to kiss the underside of his jaw as the sound of thunder joins the rain. He takes another deep breath before kissing the top of your head and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. Settling back in his arms once again, you and Aaron watch as more lightning streaks through the sky and thunder rumbles in the distance.

You don’t know how much time you spend watching the storm relentlessly continue outside. Secure in Aaron’s arms, you allow your mind to wander, and you can’t help but think of him. The strong, stoic, loving man currently watching a thunderstorm with you at 3am. Yeah, you think to yourself, I could spend the rest of my life like this.

With a yawn, Aaron tightens his arms around you.

“C’mon, Sweetheart, back to bed,” he murmurs into your hair. Letting go of his arms, you turn in his embrace, noting the dark circles under his eyes. Moving to your knees, you comb your hand through his hair a few times and watch his face relax.  

“Okay,” you mumble, “back to bed.” Holding his face in your hands, you press a kiss to his lips, and then another before pulling away with a contented hum and stroking your thumbs over his cheekbones.

Turning his face to kiss the palm of each of your hands, Aaron breaks your embrace first and shuts the window before standing slowly and stretching just a bit. He then holds out his hand and proceeds to pull you up off the window seat, and once you’re standing, face first into his chest.

With a huff, you pull yourself back so you can see his face more clearly and your smile matches his own. Rolling your eyes, you grab his hand and tug, leading him back to your bedroom. Once there, Aaron falls—rather ungracefully—into bed, yanking the covers over himself. Shaking your head, you pause to take off the sweatshirt you were wearing before crawling in next to him.

“C’mere,” he whispers, lifting one arm and waiting for you to move closer before pulling the covers over both of you. He kisses your forehead before letting out a deep sigh and closing his eyes, hand rubbing up and down your back.

“Love you,” he mumbles, and from your spot against his chest, you place a kiss directly over his heart before closing your own eyes.

“Love you more,” you whisper back.

You fall asleep to the sounds of thunder and rain, in the arms of the man you love. Perfect.

#morehotchcontent2020 #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #andi writes

[whump-town]

School

Wednesday: Fluff “I love you more” “impossible” 

@ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

Hotch completely forgets to register Jack for Kindergarten.

In the face of the world around them, it’s not a priority. It’s not even on the radar.

He’s struggling to cope with the loss of Haley, finding a happy medium between raising his son and fighting the bad guys, and all while fumbling with still healing wounds Foyet inflicted. Those that litter his body, nine permanent fixture, and the nightmares that plague what little sleep he manages.

“Emily?” JJ comes down the catwalk like a woman on a mission. That’s the first clue that somethings up. However, she doesn’t seem mad and she’s not got a case file in her hands so Morgan doesn’t care. Reid is pretty captivated. Done with his paperwork, despite it being Tuesday and not even lunchtime, he’s happy for a little distraction.

Emily, however, is still in the doghouse for messing up last week’s paperwork. So, she’s actively trying to get hers done. Hotch already breathes down her neck about the stupidest things, she doesn’t need the extra weight. Not that she blames him. He’s going through a tough time and, frankly, she’s glad that it’s her and not Reid. Besides, by Friday he’ll have cooled down and she’ll get him a tipsy with the bourbon Dave keeps in his bottom desk drawer. He’ll apologize and she’ll forgive him.

Emily glances up to find her friend b-lining straight for her. “JJ,” she sighs, running a tired hand down her face. “I--”

JJ cuts her off. “When was Jack born?”

Emily frowns, not exactly what she was expecting. “I--I don’t know,” she admits. “He’s what? Three… four… maybe five?”

Reid clears his throat, raising his hand a little so their attention goes to him. “October seventh,” he says, nodding, “two thousand and five. It was a Friday. Haley called Hotch at 12:37 to tell him her water broke. It was fast delivery, Jack was born three hours later. Actually, more than a quarter of all births--”

JJ is obviously pressed about her point because she shakes her head, cutting Reid off. Even he’s a little surprised. “Jack’s four,” JJ states, and Reid and Emily nod along. Yeah, that seems about right. “What do most five-year-olds do?”

It seems like a silly question. A little… out of the box.

“Fundamentally--,” Ried begins.

JJ shakes her head, “no, Spencer.” She leans forward, making a point. “Where do most five-year-olds go?”

Emily pulls in a little breath of realization. “Hotch hasn’t registered him for school has he?” All their eyes shoot to the man in question. His elbows are rested on the desk, his fingers working into the skin around his temples. He’s stressed enough. No wonder he’s forgotten something so simple.

That’s something Haley would have done.

“No,” JJ admits. “I don’t think he has.”

So… they do it.

Morgan is a little hesitant at first. Hotch is going to feel guilty for not remembering and even worse when he realizes they’ve just done it for him. But Morgan catches the poor man trying to poor coffee the next morning, his hands shaking so bad he spills sugar and horrible bags under his eyes. He joins the effort as soon as he’s done taking over Hotch’s coffee making.

It’s a pretty quick process with all of them going at it.

Garcia narrows schools according to distance. They’re separated into three categories: the best schools within close proximity of Hotch’s apartment, those within close proximity of Jessica’s house, and the ones that fit snuggly in the middle.

Reid visits a few places. Being a prodigy in L.A. gifted him with the ability to take one look at school faculty and deduce rather or not they’re going to be good at their job. He narrows down Garcia’s list significantly.

Morgan and Emily work at figuring which schools can cater to the needs Hotch and Jack are going to produce. As well as trying to find afterschool programs and something to challenge Jack. The kids as smart as a whip and, as Reid keeps reminding them, he needs steady stimulus to flourish and grow with that intelligence.

They bring their final product to Hotch. A PowerPoint that Morgan thanks Garcia for making but helps her rationalize won’t be as helpful as she intends. JJ just gives him a case file. Five schools with their own profile.

He just sits there and looks at the file in his hands. Unreadable.

“Obviously you don’t have to pick from those,” Emily says, tucking her arms around herself. She’s growing concerned and uneasy. He can tell.

He nods, clenching his teeth when he feels the muscles in his jaw shaking. A flood of emotions attempting to spill out. “Thank you,” he manages, chuckling a little. They’ve really put in the time. Garcia’s gone through under the neatly printed text with pastel highlighters and stickers to accent each of the school’s best qualities. There are even color-coded comment sections from each of them.

JJ can’t help herself, she hugs him.

A single tear falls down his eyes as he wraps his arms around her. Completely. She’s tiny, he realizes, and that silly thought is the only reason he can pull the tears back in. “I’ll-- I’ll look this over,” he promises. “Any suggestions.” He gets five different answers. Shaking his head, he just smiles. He’s not sure how he’d get along without them.

He doesn’t tell them which school he chooses.

They don’t ask.

But a week before Jack’s first day, he invites them along on the drop-off.

Jack is the picture of calm. He’s excited.

Hotch looks like he’s been run over by a car… then the car backed up and hit him again.

“Alright buddy,” Hotch crouches down, brushing Jack’s hair from his face and straightening his shirt. “Have-- Have a good day,” his throat is thick with emotion. “I love you.”

Jacks nods, smiling. “I love you more,” he says, poking Hotch’s chest.

Hotch shakes his head, “impossible.” He closes his eyes when Jack throws his arms around his neck, hugging him with as tight of a squeeze as the little boy can manage. Jack breaks free and turns to look up at his school. “Bye buddy,” Hotch rasps.

Jack waves, “bye daddy!” And he’s gone. Like it’s nothing. Other kids are sobbing. Clinging to their parents. Jack walks right up to his teacher and starts talking. Like it’s nothing.

When he gets back to the car, Emily’s in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t comment, just slides into the passenger seat.

They sit in silence for a long time.

JJ can’t stand it. She sits up and reaches out to touch his bicep, squeezing lightly. He glances at her through the mirror. “He’s going to be great,” she assures him. “He’s smart and funny. You’re going to come home this afternoon and hear all about his new friends. You raised a great kid.”

Hotch looks back down at his lap but nods.

“He’s nothing like you,” Emily jokes, reaching from the steering wheel to smack his leg. She sighs, she can’t stand the sight of her friend so sad. “Come on, Hotch. We’ll take you for some donuts and a coffee. We’ve got to mourn the fact that none of us are his best friends anymore. We’re going to be replaced by three-foot-tall, booger picking children.”

Rossi makes a noise of protest, “speak for yourself, Emily. I’m Jack’s best friend.”

“No,” Reid says before anyone else can get a word in. “He told me I was.”

Hotch puts his head back on the seat. His baby is growing up and yet he’s still surrounded by a group of babies. All of which are currently arguing over which of them is Jack’s best friend.

“I built him a pillow fort.”

“I put constellations up on the roof of his room!”

“He thinks I make the best macaroni and cheese!”

“He said he wanted to live with me forever!”

“Shut up, Reid! He can’t even say your name right!”

“So? He gave me a nickname. He thinks Morgan is a girl’s name!”

“No--”

He should have just taken the day off.

#criminal minds #morehotchcontent2020 #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #spencer reid #derek morgan #penelope garcia

[ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety]

#MoreHotchContent2020

November 16 - 22

Since November is the month of plenty and giving, I thought that we could give the content consumers of the Criminal Minds fandom more Hotch content!

How it works:

You create whatever it is that you would like for the given day, and on said day, you publish it under the tag #MoreHotchContent2020 and mention me, @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety. By no means do you have to participate, or do you have to do every day. Whatever you want to do/whatever works for you is fine! You do not have to follow the theme of the day or the prompts, those are just guidelines to make it easier for others.

What Can I Submit?:

A drabble

A fic

A headcannon fill

A piece of art

A moodboard

A playlist

Your favorite pic of Hotch

A post about Hotch

A reblogged post of yours with Hotch content

Literally anything else, that's just all I could think of off the top of my head!

Rules:

Please no NSFW content! I just ask that there's no smut. I am a no NSFW content blog, and I was planning on reblogging the works for each day. 

Follow the rules of submission so I can find your works!

Please don't steal/repost the work of others for this. That's a general rule of thumb for any time, but... Yeah.

What Can I Do As A Consumer?:

Spread the word!

Invite your favorite content creators. Ask  them if they would like to join!

Reblog the works to spread the word and the hard work of others!

Like, reblog, comment, and show your appreciation!

Monday: Dad Hotch

A lazy day at home with Jack

A day at the zoo

Father’s day

“Holy sh- what did you do to the kitchen?”

Tuesday: Whump

Hurt on the job

In a hostage situation/someone he loves in one

So tired and fed up, he just breaks

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I just… God, I don’t know.”

Wednesday: Tooth Rotting Fluff

Snuggling and watching a movie

A cooking lesson

Shoulder/back/foot/hand massages

“I love you more.” “Impossible.”

Thursday: Family Drama

Parent teacher conference

Sean needs bailed out of something

Fight with Jack

“I can’t believe that you would do that!”

Friday: Kisses

Soft, sleepy kisses in the morning with the sunlight peeking in through the windows. Not quite awake, eyes still half closed

Counting kisses throughout the day (One party counting each kiss shared throughout the day)

Back of the hand/palm of the hand/finger/wrist kisses

“I think you’ve got a little something there. Let me get it for you.”

Saturday: Rocky Relationship

A big fight

A forgotten anniversary

A very big misunderstanding

“You care more about your job than you do about me anyway.”

Sunday: Sick Fic

Stuffy nosed, tummy ache, headache, fever

Taking care of a sick Jack

Tummy rub/head rub

“I’m fine.” “You have a fever of 102, that isn’t fine.”

#morehotchcontent2020 #mine #criminal minds #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch #the gif is not mine

[boondogglerbean]

Lads and Gents,

do you too have an Aaron Hotchner at home and sometimes he gets sick and you don't know what to do? Now I have just the thing for you: a comprehensible graphic guide on how to take care of a sick Hotch!

undoubtedly my magnum opus

@ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

#morehotchcontent2020 #i suffered one mild breakdown for this #also it's almost 4am in the morning but I feel accomplished #vanilla man #bau fam #criminal minds #handmade

[hotchley]

“i’m not a five foot hundred pound girl”

yes i’m using his most iconic quotes as the titles, in my head it was a smart idea

morehotchcontent2020 day one: dad hotch (a lazy day at home with jack)

tagged: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

“don’t give me that look young man, i told you when i bought them that i was going to hide them. you need a break. and i know that you think you can’t take one, but trust me, if you go and do work now, you’re really not going to learn anything.”

jack opened his mouth to protest.

“cheat day,” hotch said with a grin before jack could even formulate an argument.

when upcoming exams cause jack large amounts of stress and sadness, hotch takes it upon himself to make their saturday a little more hopeful and a lot more relaxed

note: I am on season ten, but am aware of certain events in later seasons which may be poorly referenced because i don’t know the actual context, it’s not very relevant to the plot so just go with it it’s fine.

warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

read on ao3!

“You’re up early,” Hotch commented, when Jack entered the kitchen at nine in the morning on a Saturday. He wasn’t trying to be annoying, or make his son feel angry, but he was curious. And a little concerned. He wasn’t an idiot. And just because he’d retired, did not mean he’d forgotten how to profile. Or hear. Jack had been stressed recently. And last night, he’d been pacing his room.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Jack said by way of explanation.

Hotch made a non-committal sound. It was one of those moments where he just felt so out of his depth. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, putting his book down.

Jack shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal. I mean compared to the things that you must’ve been subjected to as a child, it’s nothing.”

Hotch winced, remembering how he’d wanted to keep certain aspects of his childhood from Jack, which had worked until Jack started high school and wanted to know why there weren’t any photos of him with his family around. Hotch had wanted to lie, but too much had happened and it wasn’t fair of him to do that. Instead, he’d spoken to Jack’s therapist, who said that as long as he kept it appropriate, it would help Jack learn to open up as well.

“Buddy, you know I never want you to feel like that. My childhood was decades ago. If something is bothering you, then it’s bothering you. And you can talk to me about it. But you don’t have to. I just wanted to know, that’s all.”

“I just- it’s the exams. There’s so many of them and there’s so much content and I feel like I don’t any of it and it’s stressing me out because I saw the kind of qualifications you need to get into the FBI and I don’t want to disappoint you but I just feel like I’m going to fail and then everyone will be mad at me because I’m supposed to be smart, and then I won’t be able to do anything in life and I’ll just be a failure,” Jack said, voice cracking on the last words.

“Oh Jack. You could never disappoint me. Ever. I’m your dad. That love isn’t conditional. It never has been and it never will be. All I want is for you to do your best,” Hotch said, setting his mug down and moving closer to his son. He didn’t extend his arms, not yet sure whether or not Jack wanted comfort.

Jack was like his mother: he never learnt to hide his emotions because he never felt he had to. But Aaron was no longer Agent Hotchner, he was Jack’s dad. And that meant no profiling. And whilst he was aware that there was a difference between actively profiling someone and knowing their tells, sometimes the line blurred. He didn’t want it to blur.

“But what if- what if I do my best and it isn’t good enough?” Jack whispered.

Hotch couldn’t take it. He hugged Jack, just about managing to cradle the back of his head. When had he gotten so tall?

“Buddy. Your best when you’re under pressure and in test conditions is never going to be the same as your best when you’re relaxed. But what you do then will be your best in the moment. And that’s enough. I promise,” Hotch soothed.

Jack let out another muffled sob, and the two of them stood there whilst Jack finally let the stress that had been building inside him for weeks now, out. Hotch let his son cry. He needed this. They both did. Jack needed to know he was good enough, and that nothing was going to change that. Hotch needed to know his son still trusted him. Hotch wasn’t an idiot. The anniversary of hard times was coming up.

“I’m sorry for ruining your jumper,” Jack mumbled when he pulled away, wiping at his eyes.

Hotch looked down at it. It was well-worn now, as he had realised that wearing jumpers round the house was so much more comfortable than a button-down, and he no longer had any reason to be parading around in a suit, because all he had to do now was be a dad.

“You haven’t ruined it. You’ve added character,” Hotch joked.

Jack laughed, but it sounded forced.

“I meant what I said,” Hotch said, tone serious.

“I know. I just—I don’t know. Needed to hear that.”

“Do you know what else you need?” Hotch asked.

Jack shook his head. “But I bet you’re about tell me, aren’t you?”

Hotch nodded, walking over to the cupboard full of baking things- yes, he had taken up baking after he retired, and no, he wasn’t proud of himself for googling things to do once you’ve retired from the FBI- and pulling out a packet of chocolate chips.

“Don’t give me that look young man, I told you when I bought them that I was going to hide them. You need a break. And I know that you think you can’t take one, but trust me, if you go and do work now, you’re really not going to learn anything.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest.

“Cheat Day,” Hotch said with a grin before Jack could even formulate an argument.

Every month, Hotch and Jack were entitled to two cheat days each. And on those days, they were exempt from doing any cleaning, cooking, homework, whatever tasks needed doing because they needed a break. All they had to do was remember to take their medication and eat. They also had the power to call one for the other if they deemed it necessary. And sometimes, they would do it together.

Jack rolled his eyes, already feeling a little better now he knew he was getting pancakes. “Fine.”

Hotch smiled. “Why don’t you get out of those jeans and into some pyjamas then?”

Jack ran up the stairs to do just that. In truth, he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d put them on in the first place, but studytubers always said that it was better to study in real clothes so you would actually be productive. That was why he’d woken up early; he could cram more.

When he came back into the kitchen, now dressed in that old worn pair of Captain America pyjamas that still fit him and were the comfiest thing he owned, his dad was already plating up the pancakes. He’d put extra syrup, extra whipped cream and an obscene amount of various candies on the plate he pushed towards Jack.

“We’ll eat, and then we’re going to watch one of those comfort films you love. And then we’re going to do something relaxing, have pizza for lunch because Dave sent me this new recipe, then you’re going to take a bath and have a nap because you clearly need sleep. And then for dinner, I’m thinking mac and cheese. From the box but with the extra cheese, the way you like it,” Aaron said with a grin.

Jack smiled at him, a small lump forming in his throat. Oh.

“Thanks dad,” he whispered, not trusting himself to say any more than that.

After they ate their pancakes- Jack ended up finishing Hotch’s, who had claimed that he finally needed to start listening to the doctor- Jack went to the living room to pick his film, whilst Hotch went upstairs to grab the pillows and duvets from their rooms so they could be as cosy as possible.

It was halfway through Anastasia- they had already watched the original versions of Beauty and the Beast, as well as part of Cinderella before he’d changed his mind- when Jack couldn’t take it any longer. He stopped the film and turned to face his dad.

“Is everything okay?” Hotch asked, eyes bleary as he’d accidentally started napping.

“Dad, I love you. That’s not conditional,” Jack said.

“I know that buddy,” Hotch said.

“And you also know that I was the only senior that got dropped off by their parent this year, right?”

Hotch nodded. “People weren’t rude about that, were they?”

“No. You know why? Because you’re my dad. And I love you. So you don’t need to call a cheat day just because you want to spend time with me. You can just ask. I won’t ever say no,” Jack said.

Hotch rapidly blinked away tears. “I didn’t want to make you feel guilty. And I’m supposed to be your parent. That means not dumping my problems on you.”

Jack laughed. “Dad, we don’t- we’re not normal. We don’t have the same relationships as the other families and that’s fine. I like that. I like that I can just throw a book at your head and you’ll read it to me. And I like that you let me take the bus home from my therapy sessions, no matter how much it hurts you. I don’t like seeing you upset, but I appreciate you being honest and teaching me it’s okay to cry. You’re not dumping your problems on me, I’m asking.”

Hotch pushed Jack’s fringe off his face. “When did you get so wise?”

Jack grinned. “I had some pretty good role models. There was Uncle Spence telling me about constellations, there was Uncle Der telling me about dating, Aunt Em and Uncle Dave who told me what Megan Kane said to you- which was actually pretty funny- and let’s not forget Aunt JJ and Aunt Penny just being cool.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I’m joking. I got wise because I had you. I know you feel like you failed, but you haven’t. I wouldn’t be here if you had. You know that. So spill, old man, before I call Aunt Penny and tell her that you’re going to make mac and cheese from box.”

Hotch’s mouth turned downwards. Jack was right. It was morbid, but George Foyet would have killed Jack if he’d found him. There was no doubt about that. “I just- I want to give you your space, and let you grow up and become an adult, but I’m scared that when that happens, you’re going to leave and not come back because you’ll stop looking at me like a hero and realise I destroyed everything good in your life. I mean, I’m doing that right now. You’re stressed about exams and I’m making it worse by rambling about my own stupidity.”

Jack’s suspicions had been correct. “Dad, I stopped viewing you as a hero when you had to have surgery for your scars and almost died. That was the moment I realised you were mortal. The moment I realised you were flawed was when Aunt Jess started ranting about how you handled a situation the wrong way. I’m not leaving any time soon. But when I do, I’ll always come back, because this apartment is my home.”

“You’re so much like your mother. She always knew how to calm me down,” Hotch said.

“It’s a gift. Now, that’s enough emotion. Can we please finish the film and make the pizza? I’m getting hungry.”

Hotch smiled, that soft smile, reserved only for his son, and pressed play. Jack shifted so his head was resting in his dad’s lap. Almost subconsciously, Hotch started running his hand through it, mimicking the motions of years ago, when they were running late and there wasn’t enough time to brush it properly.

They ended up burning the pizza because Hotch claimed he didn’t need his reading glasses but then set the temperature to 475F instead of 450F. Jack found it funny, and when he went upstairs to wash his hands as Hotch answered the door for take-out, he texted Uncle Dave, and got a serious of words his dad would give him the Hotchner Glare for in response.

As they sat on the carpet, some old romcom Haley and Aaron had loved as teenagers on in the background, Jack was grateful that his dad was who he was. Yes, there were still nights where Jack woke up screaming and there were mornings where Hotch would have dark circles under his eyes, shaky hands and an aversion to touch, but there were also moments like these where they were just a father-son duo, eating slices of pizza and laughing at some stupid joke they were telling.

Jack’s friends were all out shopping, watching movies, going on dates, falling in and out of love in the blink of an eye, and being teenagers. Hotch had worried for so long that he’d taken Jack’s ability to be normal and do things like that away.

It was that evening, when he saw the way Jack’s eyes light up at the sight of the boxed macaroni and cheese, not burnt but with extra cheese, that he realised he hadn’t. It had been Jack’s decision to stay in that weekend.

Because there was nowhere else he would rather be.

#morehotchcontent2020 #aaron hotchner #hotch #day one: dad hotch #dad hotch #fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #jack hotchner #i just love hotch and jack #and look it's not even that sad #i'm not completely happy with the ending #but it's whatever you know

[hotchgan]

Day 4 for Family Drama (Hotch gets a call from the principle)

Tagging @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety @ellyhotchner @unionjackpillow @eleanorbloom

The car was silent. No one dared to say anything. Jack had gotten in a fight with someone and got suspended. Jack was always a trouble maker but this was way out of hand. Hotch was driving the car back to their house. He had to leave work early because of a phone call from the principle. Jack was staring out from the window and Hotch was looking straight ahead. The principle had asked multiple times on why Jack would start a fight against another kid. But Jack wouldn't say anything. He knew no one would believe him considering the fact that the other kid's dad almost sued Hotch.

"Why", Hotch asked breaking the silence.

"What?" Jack asked quietly.

"Why did you punch the other kid?" Hotch asked showing no emotion in his voice. Jack stayed quiet. The truth is that the kid he punched was making fun of his dead mom. He was saying things like his dad didn't even care about him and that his mom died because of him. Jack punched the kid before he could say anything more. He didn't mean to punch him, he just wanted him to shut up.

"Well?" Hotch asked growing impatient.

"He ... I didn't mean to do it" Jack said quietly with his eyes glued on the window.

"You didn't mean it? I almost got sued because you punched him and now you're saying that you didn't mean it? I had to leave work because if this" Hotch said raising his voice. Tears formed in Jack eyes. Hotch noticed the tears and become quiet.

"He was saying stuff about mom" Jack said trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

"What stuff?" Hotch said queitly, he hoped that they weren't making fun of Jack of not having a mom.

"Stuff about mom being dead" Hotch became quiet. He quickly found a space to park his car and did so. Hotch turned to Jack and hugged him.

"I'm sorry buddy, I had no idea" Jack hugged his father back and mumbled, "It's ok".

They both stayed in that position.

"Do you want to get some ice cream" Hotch asked. Jack's eyes lit up and nodded. Hotch laughed and started the car. They weren't the perfect father and son relationship but they tried and that's all what matters.

#aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #morehotchcontent2020 #ssa hotchner #Ssa Hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds fic

[clarawatson]

Stars

summary: Jack can’t sleep, Aaron Hotchner decides they need to drive. Words: 699words Warnings: n/a Characters: Hotch, Jack. Author’s note: we’re late because uni papers got a lot. Also, I swear there was an episode where Hotch talked about the best places to see the stars and?? here’s how he knows.

~~~~~~~ Aaron Hotchner would never admit that adjusting to Jack is hard work, because Jack is his son, and it’s not fair to complain because they’re in this mess because of him--Hotch--but, hell, if he doesn’t lock himself in the bathroom just to cry sometimes.

But then there’s the mornings he wakes with Jack stuck between the pillows on his bed, snuggled as far down into the doona as he can. Or when it’s the middle of the night and Jack climbs up on the bed. The mattress is too high for him to pull himself onto, but he can get up from the chair at the base of the bed. Hotch always knows he’s coming because Jack rolls over his feet and he thinks his son might actually break them. Or when Jack decides he can’t sleep without a thumb in his mouth and a death grip on Aaron’s fingers.

Those things, those are the things he can’t believe he ever lived without it.

But then there’s the nightmares, and the crying, and the pretending to be okay. Those are the hard parts. 

Especially tonight’s nightmare.

Neither of them can sleep, and he thinks somewhere in the back of his mind he can hear Haley, shaking her head affectionately, saying ‘like father, like son’. They’ve done everything, from movies to warm milk to breathing exercises Garcia recommends. 

Hotch is on his last straw when he grabs his car keys. 

Hotch--he can survive on no sleep. He can survive on nightmares and coffee and having headaches that eat him from the inside out. 

Jack cannot. He looks like not being able to sleep is going to make him into a black hole. 

Driving always used to put Jack to sleep. There were countless nights Aaron would get off work just to have Haley push him back out the door because Jack couldn’t sleep. He’s not even sure if it’ll work anymore but it can’t hurt.

He thinks maybe he’ll go to Prentiss’s, or Reid’s, they’re far enough away and it’s a good enough goal to turn around at. And maybe Jack will be asleep by then. He overshoots both of their houses, though, and maybe he’d go to Morgan’s but he just keeps going.

And going.

He jumps when Jack slams his hands against the car window, looking back in alarm. 

“Dad, look!” Jack says, fists slapping at the windows. Hotch tries to see what he’s looking at but it’s hard because Jack’s in the back and Aaron’s not about to run them off the road. 

“What is it, bud?” he asks at last, looking for somewhere to pull over.

“Stars,” Jack says breathlessly. 

Immediately, Hotch knows where they’re going. It’s only another forty five minutes before he pulls the car into a lookout he used to always go to. He helps Jack out the car and they both climb on top of the car.

They spend hours looking at the stars, pointing at them and naming them like they know what they’re doing. When Jack finally yawns, Aaron gathers him in his arms and puts him back in the car, pulling one of his discarded suit jackets over him like a blanket. Jack spends the rest of the drive desperately looking out the window until the stars are no longer shining in all their brilliance. 

“Dad?” Jack asks, shuffling in his seat.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think one day there’ll be people living in the stars?”

“Maybe,” Aaron offers, not wanting to destroy his son’s vision. 

“I’m going to live in the stars one day.” 

“We live among the stars right now, Bud.”

“In space,” Jack corrects. “I’ll have adventures.”

Aaron glances back at him. “You can have adventures here too.”

“But Space Travel.”

That’s when Hotch gets the idea. When they’re home they build a blanket fort over the TV and couch, bring out their bedding and pillows and set themselves up on the lounge room floor. Hotch puts on ‘A New Hope’ and they snuggle up on the floor until they both fall asleep. 

In the morning they start the movie again with pancakes in hand. 

Which is how stargazing and Star Wars becomes a Hotchner household tradition.

#morehotchcontent2020 #my precious bb bois

[unholyobsessions]

I do not have the time but I have the will and that shall be enough

#MoreHotchContent2020

[sponsoredbytonystark]

Get you a friend like @kiwi4hawk who spends an hour on the phone with you to plan out #MoreHotchContent2020 ❤️❤️

[whump-town]

The Gift

Here’s my Monday submission for morehotchcontent2020 @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

Monday: Dad Hotch!

Being a single father is full of ups and downs. Of which, are unpredictable.

He has an explicit memory of walking around Walmart at 12:30 at night, Jack clinging to his chest like a koala, and trying desperately not to have a break down right there in the aisle because he couldn’t remember if Jack would drink the red Pedialyte or not.

He has also been woken up to his son carefully crawling into his bed. A gentle hand softly rubbing his cheek to feel the coarse facial hair growing on his cheeks. The little boy humming and sitting there content for two hours, just tucked up under Hotch’s chin.

The predictability doesn’t get easier just because Jack gets older.

They went through a six month period when Jack was eight, where he would only wear a pair of oversized neon green rain boots.

When he was nine he decided he loved green beans and wanted them with every meal. That’s also the year he would only drink cranberry juice. Not grape. Not apple. Just cranberry.

Then came the teenage angst.

Music playing at all hours of the day and night. His wardrobe shifting constantly and not to mention the clothes he always wanted a size too big. From eleven to fourteen, Hotch wasn’t allowed to offer physical comfort. Hugs came with mighty protest and he was given the bare minimum with “I love you”s as they rushed out the door.

But fifteen came and the hormones took a different shift.

Jack clung to hugs. He was unabashed in his love and Hotch felt a little bit of pride in knowing that he’d nurtured that. He’d raised a son capable of asking for help.

And, then, he’d blinked and gone is the never-ending music from down the hall. Jack doesn’t steal shirts or invade every second of Hotch’s privacy. There are no soft knocks of the little boy who had once only stood to his knees. No wobbling lower lips because Hotch won’t let him stay up until 11:30 at night watching some rerun of a Spider-Man cartoon.

The house is… empty.

At least, he sleeps more…

Hotch answers his phone with a yawn. It’s six in the morning and he’s finding that even if his mind acknowledges he’s retired his body has had its alarm system at six for so long he’s virtually incapable of sleeping in. But that’s okay, he’ll catch a nap around lunchtime between History channel specials.

“You’re not actually supposed to be up,” the voice on the other line says.

Hotch frowns but continues on his way down the hall. “Jack,” he admonishes. It’s far too early to play mind games with his son. He loves the boy but six in the morning is no time to play-- “are sleeping enough? When was the last time you left the house? Please, tell me you’re not a decrepit old hermit? I can call Emily. She promised to take you out to get wine drunk.”

Besides, isn’t he supposed to be the one doing the worrying here?

Jack sighs, “right.”

Hotch isn’t sure if he’s relieved he’s been spared from their little game or if he should be worried something else is weighing that heavily on his son. “How are you doing,” he asks. The tension in his tone is dropped almost immediately. Going from a premeditated aggravation to just plain worry.

Jack sighs, “I got you a gift.”

Hotch stops, frowning. “A gift,” he repeats. He tucks his phone under his chin as he sets about making coffee. “What kind of gift?”

Jack laughs, “come find out.”

Hotch frowns, shaking his head, and then he hears a key hit the lock at the front door. “Jack,” he says, his heart thudding in his chest. “I’m too old for this kind of stuff,” he says, trying desperately to sound disapproving but he just sounds broken.

The door opens and right there he is.

He’s been gone for four months but he looks so different already. They’re the same height, have been for the last year, but now Jack’s really grown into it. His clothes are unique, trousers that make him look like a man, not the boy Hotch dropped off at his dorm. He’s got a sweater on, one that Hotch is actually pretty is his own but he’s here. He’s right here.

“Don’t cry,” Jack says, stepping in and dropping his bags at the door. He’s got tears in his own eyes and collides into his father’s chest with a huff. “I didn’t come all this way to make you cry, dad.”

Hotch grunts but there are tears coming down regardless. He holds Jack tight to his chest and squeezes. Thickly he asks, “are you wearing my sweater?”

Jack chuckles, pulling back from the hug to shake his head. “I can’t believe I came here to surprise you and all you care about is the fact that I stole your sweater.”

Hotch sniffles, avoiding the accusation, and the fact that he’s blubbering like a baby. He just… he’d missed having Jack around. Even just simple things. None of Jack’s shoes spread from the hall of his room to the front door. A random pair of boxers on the stairs. No shouting. No requests for pizza nights or Poptarts added to the shopping list. “So you admit you stole my sweater.”

Jack shrugs, “it’s not stealing if you would have given it to me anyway.” Which is true but that’s not what’s important. “Will you make me pancakes?”

Hotch smiles. It’s been months since he made pancakes but he’s certain he still has mix for it in the cabinet. “Of course,” he replies. They head to the kitchen. Jack heading back to the door to kick his shoes off. He wastes no time in joining his father by the stove.

“Do not sit on my--”

And up he goes. Jack sits on the counter with a sly grin and chuckles when Hotch shakes his head. It’s strange. This place used to feel different. Now, sitting here on the counter watching his father cook pancakes in his pajamas… it feels like a memory. He’d missed this place in his bones. And he’d missed his dad.

Hotch flips a pancake and glances at Jack. “You can keep the sweater,” he mumbles.

Jack grins down at his sweater. It’s grey and old, probably older than Jack. There’s a spot worn through the wrist and it’s faded. Well-loved. “Dad?”

Hotch grunts.

“I love you too.”

#morehotchcontent2020 #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #criminal minds

[whump-town]

A Hug

@ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety 

Day Two of MoreHotchContent2020!! Whump

All he sees is the blood. 

It’s caked into her eyebrows and drawn down her sharp cheekbone. 

“Hotch?’ She spots him, wavering by the door. Hesitant to come in even though she can spot that dangerous far off look in his eyes. Wherever he is, it’s not here with them. Calling his name does nothing to break the spell, he just shivers and blinks. “Hotch,” she tries one more time. Extending her hand, she offers it to him. A lifeline. “You can come in.” Honestly, she’s not sure what she’s expecting but it works.

He nods, blinking owlishly before nodding his head again, as he hadn’t even realized he’d done it the first time.

The Unsub was targeting women and she’d been bait. Per routine. She’d known before he’d even asked, she was the one going in. He trusts her and in missions like these, that trust is the most important part of the shakedown. JJ or any other female agent could easily do it but it comes down to who he knows, and he knows her better than he knows anyone else. They’re friends. 

They’re friends and he got her hurt. 

“Why the long face,” she reaches out and touches his cheek, biting her lip when he flinches away. Turning his face away from her, hiding. He ducks his head, looking down at his hands rather than at her. His split knuckles and braced wrist. 

Really, she got pretty lucky. The Unsub had decided to just rough her up, meaning to scare her before attempting to gut her in the alley outside the bar. Hotch had found her before he could even pull his knife out. They’d wrested, about the same size, and she’d been rather useless at that moment. Shaking and shouting rather than actually pulling the Unsub off of Hotch. 

So, in the end, they’d both ended up a little banged up. 

The proof is the bloodied tape across the bridge of his nose and the purpling around his left eye. 

In that regard, she doesn’t see where he gets off blaming himself for her injuries. When she’s just as to blame for his. 

“Aaron.” She’s not as banged up as she looks. They’re both going home today. Concussions and in need of a little fixing up but no one died. That’s a win. She just needs him to realize that too. This time when her hand touches him, he just makes a soft pained sound. She slides her fingers into his hair, brushing through the congealed blood and whatever’s left of his three-day-old gel. He turns into her palm, she catches the smallest glimpse of the tears falling down his cheeks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her statement. He doesn’t turn away from her touch though. 

“Would you just--” Emily is just so tired of acting tough and she knows he must too. He looks up, confused and a little nervous at what’s put that edge in her voice. “Come here,” she finishes. “Just hug me, okay? I almost lost you today too.”

He blinks, turning his scowl back down to his bandaged hands. He doesn’t know what he expected when he came in here. Certainly some anger. He got her hurt. Maybe to be pushed away and discarded-- what kind of leader is he to allow his agents to get hurt? What kind of friend is he? Standing, his knees threaten to buck out from underneath him. His whole body is shaking. His nerves good and properly wrecked and, truthfully, he’s half-convinced she doesn’t really mean it.

“Are-Are…” he swallows nervously, adam’s apple bobbing. “Are you sure?”

She rolls her eyes and hooks her thumb into his ruined dress pants belt loop. With a tug, she pulls his hips to the bed, effectively dragging the rest of him. “Yes, you giant moron.” She holds her arms up, beckoning him in. He hesitates one more moment and just as she’s about to drag him down by his shirt he pulls in a shaky breath and bends down to hug her. 

He’s warm. Big. It’s strange how easy it is to forget what a big man he really is. His arms completely swallow her and she gets lost in the fabric of his shirt. There’s a mix of distinctly Hotch smells. His cologne and deodorant and sweat and-- “You smell like the floor of an alley.”

He laughs but it’s wet and forced. He’s crying. 

She wraps her arms around his back, pulling him in closer. Her hand works up the back of his hair, scratching at his scalp as his shoulder shake and cries very, very softly into her shoulder. She leans her head against his, tears stinging her eyes. “It’s okay to need a hug everyone once in a while,” she assures him. 

He scoffs, it’s in the back of his throat and deepened by the raging emotions he’s feeling right now. “I don’t need a hug,” he grumbles but he doesn’t pull away. 

She rolls her eyes but chooses not to comment on that. Everyone needs the occasional hug even Mr. Badass. “I love you,” she whispers, knocking her concussed head against his. “You know that, right? I love you regardless of how much you piss me off.” She lays her head against his shoulder, pushing her face in his shirt.

He doesn’t say he loves her back or that he knows but he does squeeze her a little tighter and knock his head against hers right back. And that’s close enough.

#morehotchcontent2020 #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss

[whump-town]

Drive-By

Day Five: Kisses (even though it’s day six) @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

He’s grimacing at the sting of too-hot coffee sliding down the back of his throat. It’s painful, there’s a good chance he’s got a cold or something. Not that it matters, whatever it is he’s just going to ignore it until it goes away. With that thought, he’s already pulling his lips back as he swallows another mouthful. 

That’s when Garcia comes by and clips him. He doesn’t even see it coming. It’s a drive-by, or rather a walk-by. 

She has to stand on her tiptoes with the aide of her heels to manage it but he’s slumped into himself, shaking his head in disgust of the sludge sitting in his mug. “Morning, Hotch!” It only makes her smile when he grunts back, scowling down at his mug. 

He’s a man of few words. 

She grabs what she came for-- the banana Reid left her when he’d had his own breakfast this morning. For a moment, the state of her boss confuses her. There’s something slightly off about him and it has nothing to do with her kissing his head. He’s fairly compliant with that particular affectionate gesture. She just… can’t put her finger on it. 

As she passes him the second time, his red-rimmed eyes still transfixed on the dark coffee, she pats his hip. “You need to sleep more, sir.” She’ll add eating more, relaxing, drinking less coffee, and getting a healthy hobby to that list later when he looks more awake. 

He grunts again. 

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #morehotchcontent2020

[hotchley]

“sometimes you do everything right, everything exactly right, and still you feel like you failed”

morehotchcontent day two: whump (in a hostage situation/hurt on the job)

tagged: @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

why should the team look for him? he was nothing. he would die for them, because they were his team and they deserved the world. but he was not the world. he was just one broken, old man and they could do better. they could do so, so much better than a drill sergeant, sexist, narcissistic bully.

an unsub kidnaps hotch. in his mind, he isn’t worth saving.

warnings: torture (choking, forced to choke on water, caning, punching, stabbing), depictions of violence, implied/referenced child abuse, non-consensual removal of clothing, references to the events of george foyet, references to tobias hankel and reid's torture, references to ian doyle and what he did to emily

read on ao3!

Hotch had taken one look at the case-file and immediately known it was going to be a bad case. The victims had all been kidnapped and tortured, before being dumped in the local park, stripped down to their underwear as a form of humiliation. A word- always a personality trait- had been carved into their back.

For the BAU, it was pretty standard.

For Hotch, it was like looking at a mirror. All the victims fit the same criteria, which on the one hand he was grateful for because maybe it would mean they would find the damn unsub without any more bodies appearing, but on the other hand made him want to be sick.

The victims had all been the leaders of their respective teams. The first was the manager of a supermarket, the second a senior partner in a law firm, the third a headteacher. He had no idea what the fourth was. He’d read it, but without ever really processing the words.

But their subordinates hated them. Deemed them bullies, narcissists, dickheads, evil bastards. When they’d been informed of the deaths, not a single one had cried. One had laughed. They had all been relieved enough to be considered suspects.

He looked out at the bullpen. JJ was sat with them, sat on the edge of Reid’s desk as she laughed at something Emily- Agent Prentiss, he corrected mentally- was saying. The case had come directly to him, the file lying on his desk as though it was mocking him because the previous day he’d told the team it was likely they’d be spending the weekend at home.

Morgan was watching the scene unfold with a wide smile, yet his eyes darted round the area, always watching over the other members of his team like it was his duty. Not for the first time, Hotch wondered if he should have stepped down permanently. Morgan had done well as Unit Chief. And he wasn’t hated by the team. They didn’t look at Morgan and think of a boring, misogynistic, horrid narcissist. They looked at Morgan and thought of a protector.

He sighed. Part of him wanted to ask Rossi to inform the team they had a case but that was just being unfair. It was his stupid comment about getting to spend time at home that had undoubtedly landed them in this situation. The least he could do was own it. At the last moment, he decided to read through the casefile one more time. It would give JJ enough time to finish showing them the pictures of Henry at the beach.

When JJ tucked her phone back into her pocket, he stood up. Took a deep breath and exited. Almost immediately, the laughter stopped and they all turned back to their reports. JJ slid off the table and started to head back to her office. Hotch tried to disguise his hurt as indifference and he knew he’d succeeded when Reid swallowed and Morgan looked disappointed.

It had been five years since Tobias Hankel, and yet nothing had changed. The team still hated him. Cases still ruined their everyday life.

“We have a case. Roundtable in ten,” he said. The rest of the words wouldn’t come. Because if he said more than the bare minimum, he would reveal too much and they would hate him even more than they already did. It was bad enough that he was everything they’d called him, but it would be even worse if they realised just how weak he was.

He went back up to his office to pack things away and send a quick text to Jess and Jack, before he realised that they’d benefit from having Garcia with him. He had always wondered what Garcia really thought of him, but he’d always been too afraid to ask. A part of him liked to think she liked him, but that was impossible.

JJ thought he was a bully, and when he thought of the number of times he’d snapped at Garcia for not being fast enough, he understood. Morgan considered him a drill sergeant, said they weren’t friends, and he was always breaking up their fun, teasing comments. It didn’t matter he was doing it for professionality, that was one of their only reprieves and he was constantly taking it from them. Prentiss accused him of not trusting women as much as men, and there had definitely been times when he’d looked at Garcia and felt the urge to ask where she’d got the information from. Reid told Hankel he deserved to die because he was a narcissist. How many times had he asked Garcia to look at the worst of humanity, knowing she was too good for that?

Garcia never told him what his worst quality was. He’d heard enough by the time it would’ve got to her. Jason had opened his mouth, probably to tell him to stop, but he’d had enough. He wished he hadn’t stopped him. Maybe if he’d known, he could’ve changed and then Gideon would still be with them and Reid would have someone who was actually competent as a father figure.

It was with a heavy heart that he took the elevator down to Garcia’s lair. As he’d passed through the bullpen, he saw the haggard faces of his team, and he wondered, not for the first time, how many more crime scenes they could suffer through before their hands stopped going cold and they lost their humanity.

He knocked on the door, once, slightly hesitant.

“You don’t need to knock Kevin!” Garcia called out.

Hotch swallowed the lump in his throat. Yet another relationship he was ruining. He coughed once before saying it was actually him.

Almost immediately Garcia flung the door open. “Sir! I didn’t realise it was you. What is it?”

“We have a case. And, well, I’d like you to come with us. It’ll be easier,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course! Just give me sixteen minutes to pack my stuff and then I’ll be up, okay?”

He nodded, then the Southern manners kicked in. “Would you like any help?” he asked, slightly hopeful that she’d say yes.

“Oh no, of course not. It’s much simpler if I just do it myself. I know where everything goes and it’s just easier.”

“Right. I’ll err, I’ll see you in a bit then,” he said, trying to not take it personally. Garcia probably wouldn’t let anyone touch her computers or equipment. It wasn’t just him. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t sure he’d survive it. He was about to exit when she called out his name and he turned.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed distant recently. And normally I wouldn’t comment, but I’m worried about you. You know you can talk to us? Any of us. I know the others weren’t particularly fond of Haley, but you didn’t have to be a profiler to realise you loved her.”

He started fidgeting, stuffing his hand in his pocket as he brushed his thumb over his fingers.

If Garcia noticed his discomfort, she didn’t comment. “It doesn’t matter that you got a divorce, you still loved each other. Recovering from that is hard. Add in the fact that you’re going back to the same job, and it’s a recipe for disaster. What I’m trying to say is: are you okay, and do you want to talk about it?”

He wanted to say yes. He so desperately wanted to hug Garcia, fall apart in her arms and confess all his fears to her. He wanted to tell her how ever since Hankel, he’d hardly been able to look at the team, or how the list of people he’d failed to save- Elle, Jason, Kate Joyner, countless innocent victims, Megan Kane, Haley- seemed to be growing with every breath. He longed to finally tell someone who horrifying it was when Foyet was in his apartment, how he could hardly look in the mirror without gagging, how he had blinked because he was human. He wanted to say that there were nights where he couldn’t comfort Jack because how dare he touch his son with the same hands that had killed a man?

But he couldn’t. The only value he held as a member of the team was being stoic. Unshaken. The one that dealt with the politics, played bad cop, spoke to Strauss and the higher-ups, dealt with unruly lead detectives without flinching. If any of them knew just how choked up he got every time Strauss asked to see a report, how every case that involved him playing the role ended with him sat in the shower, water numbing his body as tears rolled down his cheeks, they’d cast him out.

And he would have nothing.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just a little tired. Jack was keeping me up. He’s excited about starting school soon.”

Jack had kept him up, but not because he was excited about starting school. Because he was scared he was going to come home and daddy wouldn’t be there.

“Wow. I remember when he was just a little baby coming in to visit. Back when the Reid effect was still a thing.”

Hotch faked a laugh, ignoring the bile that was rising in his throat. He didn’t want to think about that. How the team had done nothing more than be polite, all stood a respectful distance away, as though he was poison. Or how just minutes after he said goodbye to Jack and Haley- who was still happy and in love- they were called out on a family annihilator case.

“Yeah. The time has gone by so fast. I’ll let you pack up,” he said, needing to get away from the lights and brightness.

“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry,” Garcia said, as though she had only just remembered why he’d come down.

“You have nothing to apologise for Penelope,” he said, before closing the door behind him.

Forty minutes later and they were in the air.

JJ was on the phone to the local P.D, convincing them that releasing any sort of information to the public, especially the name of a suspect, would not be beneficial to the investigation. Hotch wanted to intervene because it wasn’t fair that she had to be fielding their phone calls when she should be resting, but he didn’t want to overstep so he settled for keeping one eye on her and the other on the casefiles.

When they landed, JJ said that the local PD had wanted them all to head straight to the precinct, so they piled into the government SUVs. Hotch tried to not let it sting when Morgan sighed before getting into the passenger seat. Once upon a time, he would’ve said they were friends. But now he knew better. Morgan had only wanted him around because he could lead the team. But after Foyet, he’d proven that he couldn’t even do that, and that Morgan was clearly the better leader.

Why he was still on the team was a mystery to him.

“Miss Jareau, hello. I’m Sheriff Finkelstein, we spoke on the phone?” the sheriff greeted.

“It’s Agent Jareau, Detective,” Hotch corrected, voice betrayed his tiredness.

JJ looked over in surprise. She could have sworn she saw him drift off.

Hotch wouldn’t meet her eyes. He corrected people when they called Dr Reid agent. Of course he would do the same for the rest of them, regardless of what their opinions on him were.

“Of course, my apologies, Agent Jareau. We’re very grateful to have you here, we’re completely in over our heads. Our lead detective just took early retirement as his wife had a baby and he wants to be at home with the two of them- an admirable decision- but it just means that we’re now overwhelmed and still looking for a new lead,” Finklestein explained, leading them to one of the conference rooms. He held the door open for the ladies, who all gave him small smiles.

Hotch tried to nod. Yet another person who’d managed to do the one thing he had failed at. If he had taken the transfer, or left when Jack was born, then Haley would still be alive. There would be a tan line on his ring finger from where his wedding ring sat.

“Do you have any clues who it could be? It’s a very specific MO and victimology, which should help us narrow things down,” Morgan asked, always eager to get straight into things.

Sheriff Finkelstein sighed. “Unfortunately not. There’s no DNA anywhere. All of the team members have been questioned, and although they all hated their respective bosses, there’s no indication that any of them would’ve done it.”

“We’d like to see the recordings of their interviews,” Rossi said.

“And if I could have a map of the area to start creating the geographical profile, that’d be great,” Reid added.

“Whatever you need,” Finkelstein said, leaving.

Hotch left with him to gather some of the extra information they needed. The team- bar Morgan and Rossi, who had left to go to M.E’s office, were skimming through the files created on each of the members and their victims.

“I’m not saying they deserved it, but these men were disgusting,” Emily commented.

“Prentiss,” Hotch warned, but he knew she was right.

She stared at him, daring him to go further. He dropped his gaze and walked over to Reid. “How’s that geographical profile coming along?”

“Well it’s interesting. See, their workplaces are all the ones in red. The places in blue are the last locations they were seen in- which is another common factor actually because they were all in restaurants, cafes and takeaways which is actually similar to a previous case we solved so I may look into that to see if there are any links- and I’m doing that rambling thing again aren’t I?”

“You’re okay,” Hotch said, not wanting to cut Reid off when they didn’t really have a time crunch.

“No I’ll just get to the point, we all have more important things to be doing. Look at the area where the victims work and then where the unsub takes them. They’re all within five minutes of each other. Our unsub probably work somewhere where they can watch their targets from, otherwise how else would they be able to find them?”

“We need to deliver the profile,” Hotch said.

Two days after they delivered the profile, and the unsub still hadn’t been found. Garcia’s tech skills had given them a suspect, but he’d been out of the country during the last murder. Since the development with the geographical profile, they hadn’t been able to find anything. Hotch had felt like someone was watching him since they landed, but he hadn’t said anything, not wanting to distract the team.

Morale was low. Patience was running out and tempers were going to be lost if there wasn’t a break in the case. Officers had started joking with each other in the macabre way only people that dealt with these things on a regular basis could that they were lucky none of them were evil as the station was extremely close to the other workplaces, bur Finkelstein had shut them down almost immediately.

Hotch had cried in the shower that night. Reid had wanted to say something, but ultimately refrained because it was Hotch and Hotch didn’t blink; he’d be okay.

So things weren’t going great, and the team were exhausted. They needed a pick-me-up.

Hotch picked up his jacket. “I’m going to get us food. Does anyone have any specific requests, or is donuts and coffee okay?”

“You’re going to go?” Prentiss asked, a little confused. Hotch had gone yesterday. It was supposed to be Reid’s turn.

“Yeah. I am. Reid’s busy, and it’s not fair to ask him to go and it’s unfair to get someone else to go because they’ve all be running themselves into the ground. And before you say it, I’m not saying that you haven’t, because you have,” Hotch said, his own temper also fading. He was trying so hard to be good, to not treat anyone the way his father had but the lack of progress, combined with the way Emily seemed to get off on undermining him, even now, after everything that had happened, was beginning to wear on him.

“Hotch? Are you okay?” JJ asked, entering with another stack of files. As it turned out, the town was full of white males in their mid-to-late 20s that worked jobs where the person in charge had a bit of a dodgy history, and they were still trying to narrow it down.

“I’m fine. Any requests for dinner? I’m probably going to go to that café because Reid will want coffee as soon as he gets back from the workplace with Morgan, and Rossi likes their croissants but I don’t mind making another stop if you want me to,” he said.

JJ smiled at how well her boss- well, family member- knew their team, and also at how willing he was to go out of his way for all of them. But her smile faded when she took in his appearance. The circles under his eyes were getting worse and his suit seemed to be looser. She knew Reid was having trouble sleeping as the fifth anniversary of his abduction approached, and she knew Emily was still struggling with her place on the team in a world without Doyle, but their trauma was not Hotch’s responsibility. She just wished he would stop blaming himself.

“Surprise me with something from the café. But are you sure you should be the one going?” She didn’t tell him it was because he looked exhausted; she liked her job.

But she had her back turned to him. She didn’t see him clench his fist, rubbing his thumb over the nail of his index finger in a self-soothing motion. She didn’t see the tears form in his eyes.

“I’ll be fine JJ. Tell the others I should be back in thirty minutes,” he said, voice cracking slightly as he fled.

“Is something going on with him?” Prentiss asked.

JJ shrugged. “Jack mentioned him being unwell right after you came back, but I thought he was doing better now.”

Emily watched the space where he’d been previously stood. “I just wish he would talk to us. He has to know we love him and wouldn’t think any less of him for struggling.”

JJ nodded in agreement.

Hotch was driving, unable to focus on the road properly. He knew his team thought they were being subtle with the way they hated him, but he was a profiler. He knew JJ was only questioning whether or not he should go because he was just like all the other victims and it had been a week since the last body was found, meaning there was bound to be another abduction soon.

It wasn’t going to be him. He wasn’t deserving of even that attention.

“Oh hello again. I was wondering if I was going to see you again,” the barista said when he entered.

Hotch noted that there was nobody else there. “I’m so sorry, is it really close to closing time? I saw that the light was on and I just assumed it was okay.”

He laughed. Hotch shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

“We’re still open, don’t worry about it. What can I get for you?”

“It’s another long order,” Hotch warned. The barista just shrugged, used to it. When Hotch was done, he took a brownie out and warmed it up.

“This is on the house because you look like you need it and your order will take a bit of time,” he said, sliding it across the counter.

Hotch stopped observing the artwork. “I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes you can,” the barista said, his tone so much like JJ’s when she was mother-henning them all that Hotch silently took a bite. It was a good brownie. He took a few more bites, wincing when his head started to feel fuzzy.

“Do you like it?” the barista asked.

“It’s really good. But my head- I have- my head feels, not right,” he whispered, vision starting to blur as well.

“It’s not supposed to,” the barista responded, jovial tone gone.

The world went black.

The first thing he noticed when he came round was that he couldn’t move his arms. Or his legs. He struggled, unable to see what had happened to him as his eyes were taking forever to adjust to the darkness, but there was no movement to be had.

He was tied to a chair. He struggled even more, but his bonds held.

“You’re awake.”

“You,” Hotch whispered. “It was you the whole time.”

“Yep. And my name is Jonathan. You would know that if you had just bothered to read my nametag,” he said.

Hotch scanned the room, searching for anything that would act as a weapon. There was nothing. He tried to calm his racing heart and think logically but he couldn’t. The last time he’d been this vulnerable was under George Foyet. George Foyet who had destroyed all feeling in the lower part of his stomach, who had killed Haley, who had made damn well sure Aaron would never be able to look at himself without seeing the victory on Foyet’s face right before his eyes fluttered shut from the blood loss.

“I’m sorry for forgetting,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even.

Jonathan slapped him across the face. Hotch recoiled as much as he could, not making a sound. It was always worse when you made a sound.

“Stop lying to me. I know who you are. I know how you people work. You think that if you convince me that it was all just an honest mistake, then I’ll forgive you and let you go running back to your team. Well I won’t and nothing you say will make me change my mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Hotch whispered. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Jonathan scoffed, slapping Hotch again. Both his cheeks were red now. “You’re all the same. You do one small thing for your team, and you think it will make up for the lifetime of pain you caused them. Well it won’t.”

He turned. Hotch tried to see what he was picking up, but he couldn’t. Before he even realised what was happening, pain blossomed in his stomach. Above him, Jonathan bought the cane down again, and again, and again.

Tears were streaming down his face now. “Please, stop. Please, I’ll do anything, just stop with the cane.” He hated begging. He hadn’t begged since he was a child. He hadn’t flinched when George Foyet fired a gun at him. But he wasn’t that man anymore. He was tired now. More tired and more broken that he’d ever been before.

Jonathan laughed. “Okay. I’ll stop. But I’m going to release you from the chair, and you’re going to raise your arms high enough for your hands to touch that chain on the ceiling. If you fail, I’ll cane you till you’re curled into a ball, begging for mercy.”

Aaron was half-delirious now, but he managed to follow the instructions given.

When Jonathan ran the cold metal of his knife, the same knife he’d used with all the other victims, down his cheek and across his chest, Aaron flinched. Minutely, but he flinched.

Jonathan smirked. “Normally I killed them quickly. I made them die quickly because they didn’t deserve to live. But you, you I want to have fun with.” He cut down the centre of Hotch’s shirt with one clean cut. Aaron closed his eyes, unable to look at the scars.

“My, my, someone must really have hated you,” Jonathan laughed.

Hotch didn’t respond. Jonathan pressed the metal to the scar over his chest. Hotch jerked at the coldness, straining his arms even more.

“You’re a bad man Aaron Hotchner. I’ve been watching you since you landed. You’re very bad. Do you want to know why you’re bad? You’re a bully. I saw the way you shouted at your technical analyst over the phone because she wasn’t fast enough.”

Hotch hadn’t meant to shout. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to remember it.

“Oh are you ashamed now? You don’t get to be ashamed. Open your eyes.”

Hotch shook his head.

Jonathan wrapped one hand around Hotch’s throat and pushed down. Hotch opened his eyes, panicked as he tried to inhale. He relaxed his hold then.

“Good boy. You shouted at her. And then you undermined the blonde one by taking over her interrogation. And the other one by interrupting her conversation with the officer. Sexist pig.”

The plan had always been for him to take over. The officer had been making Prentiss uncomfortable with his flirting. Hotch tried to say that, but Jonathan just laughed, then punched him in the stomach. Claimed those were just lies they told him to protect themselves so they kept their jobs.

“You tried to control their every move. You wouldn’t let Mr Strong do the right thing and come look for me. Drill sergeant. You cut off the baby because you needed to speak, acted like you were better than him. Like you were better than all of them.”

“I’m not a narcissist,” Hotch protested.

Jonathan dropped the knife, opting to punch him in the stomach again. Hotch let out a groan. “That’s what they all say. It’s been half an hour. They’ll be expecting you back now. I wonder what will happen when you don’t come back. Will they look for you? I think they will. Not because they love you, but because they’ll be afraid. What if you’re the one to survive? What if you escape?”

“They won’t come,” Hotch said.

Jonathan, who had gone back over to the table, turned. “What did you say?”

“They won’t come,” Hotch repeated.

Jonathan stormed over, holding a bat. Before Hotch could prepare himself, he was hitting him with it. In the knees, across the back of his thighs, everywhere that would cause the most pain. Hotch didn’t want to know what the crack he’d heard when that bat had hit his ribs was.

Jonathan liked the bat. When he heard the crack, he grinned. And then he Hotch over the head. For the second time that day, the world went black.

“He should be here by now,” Reid said, pacing up and down the conference room. “It’s been fifty-seven minutes. The journey should have taken an average of thirty minutes, forty with traffic, but it’s now after eleven when there’s virtually no traffic on the road.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Reid. There was probably some cute barista he got stuck talking to. You know how Hotch is. Never knows when people are flirting with him, and then when he does realise, he gets stuck in an awkward conversation,” Morgan said, but it was all an act. He knew there wouldn’t be a cute barista. But for the sake of Reid, he had to stay strong.

“Look Aaron wouldn’t want us to worry. In twenty minutes, we’ll go back to the hotel. And if he’s not here tomorrow, then we’ll start to investigate okay?” Dave said.

The others nodded, all feeling uneasy, but having the utmost faith in their leader.

Their leader that was still unconscious, Jonathan having moved him to the floor. The back of his head was coated with blood. He almost looked like Haley. But Haley had looked peaceful in her coffin, face void of any expression. Aaron was in pain, despite not being awake.

Jonathan didn’t try and force him to wake up. Aaron Hotchner was going to be his masterpiece.

“Is Agent Hotchner not with you?” Finkelstein asked once they got to the precinct.

They all turned to each other. Dave immediately dialled his cell.

“Voicemail,” he said.

Emily turned away, not wanting to think about the last time his phone had gone to voicemail. She still couldn’t get the image of him, so weak that he couldn’t even sit up without assistance, his face so defeated as he said goodbye to the one good thing in his life, out of her mind. It haunted her nightmares more than Ian Doyle did.

“We need to find him,” Morgan said.

“I’ll have Garcia track his phone,” JJ said.

She tracked his phone to the coffee shop. There was nobody there. No signs of a struggle. Nobody outside had seen anything strange or suspicious.

When Morgan and Rossi returned, faces grave, Reid excused himself. When he returned, his eyes were red. JJ hugged him, words not enough to convey how sorry she was for everything that had happened between them. Emily watched, biting her nails. Hotch had put everything on the line for her multiple times. He didn’t get to go missing like this.

Jonathan was bored of watching Aaron sleep. He kicked him in the stomach, grinning when he let out a soft groan of pain, but managed to open his eyes.

“Morning sunshine,” he greeted.

Aaron tried to flinch away, but found his legs and arms were bound. His head was pounding, his ribs ached, his stomach was bruising from where Jonathan had kicked him and there were angry welts from where the cane had struck.

“You’re a bastard,” Hotch spat, trying not to panic when blood splattered onto his clothes.

“You give me the sweetest compliments, I’m starting to wonder if you really are like the rest of my victims.”

Hotch tried to glare up at him.

Jonathan laughed. “And then you do things like that, and I remember that you’re all the same. You know, I wanted to have a conversation about what you said earlier, but now I think I’ll save that for tomorrow. There’s a few things I want to do before then.”

Hotch had choked on water before. It wasn’t pleasant. But having it forced down his throat was worse. He couldn’t keep swallowing it, and most of it ended up on his shirt. That angered Jonathan. It led to more pain. More torture. Hotch couldn’t feel anything though. He didn’t think that was a good thing. A part of him was holding out hope that the team would find him, but with every passing moment, it seemed to fade slightly.

Why should the team look for him? He’s nothing. He would die for them, because they were his team and they deserved the world. But he was not the world. He was just one broken, old man and they could do better. They could do so, so much better than a drill sergeant, sexist, narcissistic bully.

There were no windows where he was being held. But at some point, Jonathan forced him to eat. And at some point later than that, he told Hotch to get some rest as the next day was going to be big.

Hotch closed his eyes, but he did not sleep.

Nor did any member of the BAU. A whole day of searching and there were still no clues that would lead them to Hotch. Nobody had been reported missing either, which meant either nobody cared enough about the person that had been kidnapped or the unsub was developing a new pattern. Either way, it wasn’t looking good.

Rossi forced them all to get some sleep. He told himself that if they got Aaron back safely, he would make sure that man knew just how much he was loved by all of them. He would finally tell Aaron how he had always viewed him as the son he’d lost, and how he had never once regretted returning.

Morgan knew his relationship with Hotch would never be perfect, but at the end of the day, they were a family. He would spend the rest of his life convincing Hotch that he deserved all the happiness in the world if he needed to, as soon as he’d lectured him about being an idiot.

Garcia was already planning what she was going to make for him. She remembered when she had first started in the BAU, and Hotch had been the only person to treat her like an actual employee. They would eat lunch together because neither of them really had any friends within the unit. Morgan and Reid were still trying to adjust to her, and Gideon had always loved Reid more than he loved Hotch, which had made her sad.

Reid couldn’t lose another father. He lay awake, thinking of stories that he could recommend for Jack. He wanted to be in his own bed, where he could look at the constellations on his ceiling. Hotch had somehow found out about his fear of the dark, but instead of mocking him, he said he’d understood. A day later, he found glow in the dark stars in his bag with a note from Hotch saying he wanted to see a picture of the constellations he made.

Reid had returned the favour after Foyet.

JJ held Emily and they both hoped that he- the man that had already lost so much and struggled through it all for the sake of their band of misfit profilers- would come home safely.

“Rise and shine Aaron,” Jonathan said, throwing a bucket of water over Hotch, who immediately jerked awake as he started to shiver.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

“You’ll see. But first, I need to make you a little bit more… presentable, shall we say?”

Hotch knew better than to hope that would mean a change of clothes. Jonathan removed the rope around his hands, but only to slide Aaron’s shirt off his shoulders. He pushed down on the bruises, only stopping when Hotch gasped.

“They’re going to be distraught,” he commented, punching Hotch in the face.

His eyes immediately started watering. Jonathan punched him again. Hotch recoiled, feeling the blood drip from his nose. He was dead weight now, but they had been right in assuming that their unsub was incredibly strong. He pulled Aaron into the chair before tying him up, bloodied and beaten and bruised and broken.

Hotch saw the camera.

And he suddenly understood what Jonathan meant.

“No,” he shouted, voice hoarse.

But it was too late.

“Hello Agent Hotchner’s team. I apologise for not knowing your first names, but Aaron only ever used your surnames. Maybe he wanted to detach himself from you all. Let’s see. Ah, the whole team is there! I don’t actually know who you all are, but that’s no worry. I bet you’re trying to work out where he is. It’s not going to work. You should watch the show instead. I bet you really want to see your fearless leader.”

Jonathan stepped back to reveal Hotch.

Morgan had to put his hand on the screen to stop Garcia from closing it. Reid whimpered, JJ shouted, Rossi cursed loudly. Finkelstein grabbed a whole bunch of officers and told them to do whatever it took to find that man.

“Now, Agent Hotchner talks in his sleep. Did you know that? And he’s said some quite interesting things. But first, we’re going to unpack something he said to me on our first day together. Do you remember what that thing was, Aaron?”

Aaron looked up at him, dazed. “No,” he whispered.

“You told me, they weren’t going to come and get you. I killed four people. All of them laughed and told me their colleagues, or their friends, or their families would find them. You didn’t. Why? Tell me. Tell them. They’re all watching.”

Hotch closed his eyes, needing to ground himself. When he opened them, tears were pooling in them, threatening to spill. “They already failed once. They didn’t- we had a case. But they never found me. I didn’t answer my phone, but they didn’t come looking until it was too late to save anyone. They failed to save me once. Why would they try now?”

Garcia was crying. She was trying to find him, but the unsub was right. It was impossible. They’d already dispatched officers to the man’s work and home addresses, but they all knew it was just a formality. They weren’t going to find anything.

“He’s right. We didn’t find him. We should have gone the moment his phone went to voicemail,” Emily said.

“That’s in the past,” Rossi said. “We need to focus on now. Where is he, now? How are we going to save him this time?”

“He’ll send us a message. Some sort of code. He has to,” Reid said, intently watching the screen.

Jonathan looked at Hotch for a few long moments. And then he took the knife he was holding and he cut one deep line from Hotch’s knee to his ankle. Hotch begged for mercy the whole time, but it never came.

“How tragic. Did you ever wonder why they didn’t try?”

“I’m not worth saving,” Hotch whispered.

That caused Jonathan to pause. “What?”

“I’m not worth saving. I’m a narcissist. A bully. Drill sergeant. I have trust issues, I don’t trust women as much as men and they don’t want to be my friend,” Hotch said.

Rossi frowned. “Kid, what’s the message? I don’t get it.”

Reid was shaking. “I don’t- I called him a narcissist when Hankel told me to choose someone to die but I didn’t mean it. I didn’t, I said it because I knew he would understand. He never puts himself above the team. But when I said that it gave away my location. There’s nothing with what he just said. Nothing. I don’t even know where the other things came from.”

Prentiss pressed her hand to her mouth. “He genuinely believes that. He’s not lying. I know his tell. He’s not doing it. He’s telling his version of the truth.”

Rossi turned. “What do you mean he genuinely believes that?”

All three of them swallowed, unable to form a response.

“When Reid called Hotch a narcissist and then quoted the Bible, Hotch went off. He told everyone to say what his worst quality was. And in the moment Morgan called him a drill sergeant. JJ said he was a bully. Em said he didn’t trust women as much as men. He cut them off after that and it was never addressed. I told- when we got back to Quantico, I told him he didn’t wear casual clothes enough and he- he smiled,” Garcia explained.

Rossi had never been so angry at his family. “Why would you say that? You know what he’s like. You know how personally he takes things. It doesn’t matter that it was just in the moment, he needed to hear it from all of you that you didn’t mean it.”

Prentiss lunged forward. “Aaron,” she shouted. When Hotch turned slightly to face the camera, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Aaron, it’s Emily. I know you’re not sexist. I know that you trust me just as much as anyone else on the team. I promise. And Morgan loves you too. JJ doesn’t think you’re a bully. We love you, but we need you to help us. Please.”

Jonathan turned to face the camera too. “Stop ruining all the fun, Emily.”

Emily flinched. Jonathan said her name like it was something dirty, but Aaron had only ever said it like it was something to be cherished.

When Jonathan slapped Hotch, Reid closed his eyes.

“What do you think Aaron? Do you think she’s correct? Are you worthy of their love? Or are you exactly like the other victims, maybe even worse?”

Hotch shook his head. “I don’t know. Please, I just, I don’t know.”

Jonathan picked up the cane. Hotch curled in on himself as much as he could. For everyone else, it was like watching Hankel torture Reid all over again. When the cane made contact with Hotch’s stomach, the sound he let out made the tears in Rossi’s eyes fall.

“I think I’ll let you all struggle for a few hours before the grand finale. But, I am nothing if not generous. Aaron, is there anything you want to say to them?”

He looked directly at the camera. Not even Morgan could look into his eyes, so full of pain and anguish. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry for everything. I’m- I never meant for any of you to become so damaged and I am so- I will spend every last minute making up for the pain I caused you, but please, just, please forgive me. Forgive me. Please.”

Jonathan ended it all. There was no way of tracing them.

Reid repeated the words to himself. He needed to find the clue. He needed to work out what the message was. He refused to believe there wasn’t one. Morgan and Rossi slipped into their respective leadership roles, commanding everyone and barking orders. Garcia’s fingers were like lightning, she was finding everything she could on Jonathan. JJ dealt with the media, who wanted to know exactly what was going on. Prentiss flitted between the various groups, offering support. It was weird. Coming back had felt like coming home, but then there were moments like these where she wasn’t sure she’d ever been part of the team.

Hotch was confused. He knew Emily’s tell. She couldn’t hide it from him. He’d been searching for it as she spoke, but it wasn’t there. Which would imply she was telling the truth. But that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t let himself believe it was possible. Only, there was no other logical discussion. Maybe they loved him. Maybe they cared.

“What are you?” Jonathan hissed.

“Their friend,” Aaron whispered, momentarily forgetting where he was.

Jonathan kicked his bare foot. Aaron winced.

“No, you aren’t,” Jonathan said. “You’re a narcissist. You’re a bully. And a drill sergeant, and a sexist prick. I’m assuming- by the looks on their faces- the blonde with glasses and the old man never said anything against you. But I think I know what they would say. You’re rude. And you’re a failure. So what are you?”

“A narcissist,” Hotch replied. But he knew that wasn’t the truth. They were going to find him. They were going to save him, somehow, because that was what their family did.

Dave saved him by offering him the spot. He saved Penelope from a life of crime. Penelope saved Emily from doubting herself too much. Emily saved Jennifer from carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Jennifer saved Spencer from thinking he wasn’t worth loving. Spencer saved Derek from getting too cynical. Derek saved Dave from getting too cocky. And the cycle continued.

Reid was pacing, wringing his hands, still mouthing the words to him. Everyone else had stopped because there was nothing left to do.

Without warning, Reid turned and punched the wall.

“Spence!” JJ shouted.

Reid stared at his hand, where blood was now covering his knuckles. Shaking, he fell to his knees, sobbing. Hotch would know what to do. Hotch would take his hand and gently wrap it before talking to him about whatever it was that was going on. He would help him sort through the information overwhelming him.

But Hotch wasn’t there. And it was all his fault.

JJ and Morgan ran over to him. Reid wanted to push them away but found himself powerless to resist their coddling.

“Guys,” Garcia said, answering the call.

She let out a gasp. Hotch’s stomach was worse. There were more cuts on his leg. His face was covered in bruises. But there was something else that hadn’t been there before. A defiant, hopeful glint in his eyes. Like he knew something else now.

“Hello again,” Jonathan greeted.

Garcia immediately started trying to trace the call, not even hesitating to try thousands of other methods when it failed.

Reid pushed Morgan and JJ away, taking the seat next to Garcia to try and find the hidden message.

“I’ve trained Aaron very well,” Jonathan commented. He was holding a gun. Hotch’s gun. Hotch’s back-up gun he’d kept holstered against his ankle ever since Adrian Bale had left him defenceless.

Under the table, Reid fiddled.

“What are you?” Jonathan asked Hotch.

“A narcissist,” Hotch replied, but there was something different about the way he said it when compared to earlier. Reid leant forward, determined to work it out.

“What are you?” he asked again, now pointing the gun at his head. Reid felt bile rise in his throat. It must have been like that for everyone else, watching him with Hankel.

“A bully.”

“And?”

“A drill sergeant.”

“He doesn’t believe what he’s saying,” Reid shouted, then covered his mouth, just in case Jonathan heard. But he was too busy taunting Hotch with the negative things that had been said about him.

“What?” Rossi asked.

“Look at his body language. He doesn’t believe it anymore. Emily convinced him. We just need to work out where he is. If he knows we love him, he won’t do anything stupid.”

Garcia started typing even more furiously.

“Tell them again what you are. Let them savour the moment. Let them always remember this as the moment where Aaron Hotchner finally admitted how dreadful he was.”

“I’ve got a location!” Garcia whispered. Everyone looked at each other, then nodded. Finkelstein and his team would arrest Jonathan and get Hotch out. They would follow as soon as the call had ended.

“I’m a narcissist. A bully. A drill sergeant. A sexist prick. A failure. And I’m rude.”

“I suppose you get the smallest amount of credit for admitting it. But it’s not enough to say it. I want you to prove it. Choose one of them to die.”

Reid dug his nails into the fabric of his trousers.

Hotch’s eyes widened, and for the first time his confidence wavered. “What?”

“You heard me. If you’re truly all of these things, choose one to die. Choose one of those team members that hate you so much to die by your own gun.”

“Come on Hotch. Give us that message that tells us how to get you out safely,” Reid muttered to himself.

Hotch wasn’t answering.

“Wasn’t Agent Reid in a similar situation to this? And didn’t he say that he chose Aaron Hotchner? That must have hurt.”

“It’s Doctor,” Hotch responded, voice weak, the adrenaline waring off as he lost more blood and as his previous injuries went untreated.

“Oh god,” JJ said, the first to realise his mistake.

Hotch’s eyes widened.

Jonathan smirked. “Oh dear. Have you been lying to me? Are you not actually these things?”

“Finkelstein is three minutes away,” Rossi updated.

“I am!” Hotch exclaimed. His voice was hoarse, his eyes glazed over and unfocused.

“Then choose.”

“No.”

“My patience grows thin Aaron. Choose.”

“Two minutes,” Rossi said.

“Hotch please,” Reid pleaded. JJ rubbed his shoulder, just as tense.

“I can’t,” Hotch said, pain starting to overwhelm him as he tried too hard to think of a solution.

“Do it,” Jonathan said, fingers fiddling with the trigger.

“I choose myself,” Hotch said.

“No,” Reid whispered. “There has to be a message somewhere in there. He said: it’s doctor, but before that he said what and after that he said no and- there’s no message. Rossi there’s no message. What are we supposed to do?”

“Finkelstein is a minute away. Hotch will keep him talking. And then we’ll get him back. I promise.”

“Why? Why do you choose yourself, when your team hate you?” Jonathan was angry and holding a gun. A dangerous combination at the best of times. But Hotch had no weapon. No vest.

Restrained and already weakened by his injuries.

“Because they don’t,” Hotch said.

“Yes they do,” Jonathan said through gritted teeth.

“They just need our signal to go in,” Rossi said.

“I can’t make that call,” Morgan confessed.

Rossi looked at him. “We can’t afford to wait.”

“No, they don’t. Your team did though, didn’t they? And then you lost your job for all the bad things you did and ended up being the victim of a person that was exactly the same as you had been. Aren’t I right? You’re not exactly hard to profile, I’ve just been waiting for the right moment.”

“How fucking dare you-” Jonathan started, then sighed. “I want you to tell me. Tell me why it should be you and not one of them.”

Rossi turned away. “Now.”

“Because they are my family. I love them unconditionally. And they love me back. And when you love your family, you do everything you can to keep them safe.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“They’re your family? Who love you?”

Aaron used the last of his strength to look up into his captor’s eyes. “And I love them.”

Jonathan hmmed.

The gunshot that rang out was nothing compared to Reid’s cry of horror.

#morehotchcontent2020 #day two: whump #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch #hurt hotch #hotch angst #hotch whump #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss #prentiss #penelope garcia #garcia #david rossi #rossi #spencer reid #reid #derek morgan #morgan #jennifer jareau #jj

[hotchgan]

Forehead kisses

Day 5

Tagging: @ellyhotchner @unionjackpillow @eleanorbloom @ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety

Warning: Implied/referenced child abuse

Hotch always kisses Jack forehead before leaving to school. It was a way to show that I love you. At first, Jack I thought it was embarrassing but noe he looks forward to it. Forehead kisses means a lot to Hotch. He never got them as a child due to his past but he did had this one teacher, Ms. Potts.

Ms. Potts was Hotch's English and lunch teacher. She would always make sure that Hotch was eating. She knew what ay his father was doing but what could she do? Jonathan Hotchner is one of the best criminal defense attorneys. He is cold, mean but has a soft part for him family... well not so much for Hotch. He was, dare I say, likeable but he was very manipulative. He didn't care what others said and he would do things and get away with it. And Hotch mother wasn't big on trying to stop her husband. Instead, she favored Sean. That's when Ms. Potts steps in. As the only mother figure who hasn't failed Hotch, she did everything in her power to take care and nurture Hotch. Soon Aaron Hotchner was graduating from school and moving forward to college. That's when Ms. Potts shed some tears and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm so proud of you son", she whispered before saying goodbye to the skinny teenage kid with long dark hair.

That's when forehead kisses became a big deal to him. He only did it for those he loved. Before leaving for work, Hotch would always kiss Jack on his forehead. It reminded him that what he was doing made Ms. Potts proud.

One day on a case, Hotch and his team had to go in his hometown. He had to go meet the mayor who happened to be Ms. Potts. As his team reached the police station, the stepped inside. There was Ms. Potts who once had soft red hair which turned into grey with a hint of strawberry red. Ms. Potts turned to see Aaron Hotchner. Others in the police station also turned around to see the skinny boy who was bullied and was neglected turn into a tall, strong Unit Chief. Ms. Potts walked towards Hotch and looked at him.

“Son I- since when did you became a FBI agent?”

Hotch bents down enough for Ms. Potts to give him a kiss on his forehead.

#ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #morehotchcontent2020 #Hotch #ssa hotch #ssa hotchner #implied/reference child abuse #tw abuse #tw child abuse

[ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety]

Day One: Dad Hotch

Father’s Day

--

Aaron had never really celebrated father’s day. Or, at least, father’s day had never been celebrated the way that most people did. Father’s day had been spent focusing on nobody but his father. Getting him a beer before he asked for it, making him his meals and delivering it. Staying silent and doing each and every thing that he asked. There was no way to stay away from him. You had to be around to kiss his boots, worship the ground that he walked on.

That was not how he wanted it to be for Jack. That was never how he wanted anything to be for Jack. Father’s day was supposed to be a special day to congratulate parents and appreciate your father and all of that stuff. He wanted it to be a special sort of father-son thing. He wanted the cheesy arts and crafts and the poor attempt at breakfast and bed and the movie watching and snuggles.

And now that Jack was actually old enough for all of that, well… he had to say that for the first time in his life, he was actually excited about celebrating father’s day. 

Last year, Jack had painted him a picture in school, and it was still framed and hanging up on the wall. He was excited to see what he would make for him this year.

When he walked out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, he was met by the sight of somewhat messy looking peanut butter and jelly toast and a glass of orange juice. He only had a few moments to look at it before he was being tackled into a hug.

“Happy father’s day, daddy! I made breakfast, see?”

He grinned and scooped Jack up so that he could give him a proper hug. “Oh, thank you buddy. It looks very yummy.”

Jack was practically beaming at him as he pressed a somewhat sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Come on, come on. We can eat it. I didn’t know how to make coffee, so… so I made orange juice instead.”

Aaron smiled. “I don’t mind. Orange juice is yummy. And I don’t think you’re old enough to use the coffee maker anyways.” He ruffled his hair before they both sat down at the table.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Jack sprung up from the table and ran off to his room before coming back with something behind his back.

“What’ve you got there, buddy?”

He presented a small box tied with a neat ribbon that he was almost certain he had help with. “Open it, open it!”

He carefully took the box and untied the ribbon. Inside, was a handmade bracelet. It was braided with green, blue, and yellow and there was a bead with the letter A on it.

“I made it! We were doing friendship bracelets in class and you’re my bestest friend, so I made one for you!”

Aaron felt like he could cry.

“Thank you buddy. You’re my best friend too. I love it. I love you.”

Jack was practically vibrating with energy. “I love you too!”

Yeah, fathers day wasn’t always a good day, but now it might as well have been his favorite day of the year.

#mine #My writing #morehotchcontent2020 #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #day one #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #jack hotchner

[ablogofthecriminalmindsvariety]

Day Five: Kisses

Soft, sleepy kisses in the morning with the sunlight peeking in through the windows. Not quite awake, eyes still half closed | Back of the hand/palm of the hand/finger/wrist kisses

--

Early mornings together were some of Aaron’s favorite times to spend with Spencer. It was before they had to be Hotch and Reid. It was before they had to act as parental figures. It was before they had to get ready for the day. They could just spend their time together and exist.

They laid there, Aaron barely awake and Spencer was still asleep, snoring softly and clutching onto his stuffed giraffe with one hand and Aaron’s shirt with the other. Aaron was gently carding his fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling of his soft curls, though being gentle enough that it wouldn’t wake him up.

It seemed, though, that the sun shining across his face and into his eyes somewhat was enough to stir him, his eyes fluttering open as he nuzzled his cheek against the palm of his hand, pressing a kiss there. “Morning.” He murmured.

“Morning.” Aaron leaned in to gently press a kiss to his lips and then leaned their foreheads together. “Sleep well?”

Spencer made a noise in the affirmative and pressed another kiss to his hand, to the back of it this time, and then to the tips of each of his fingers.

“Affectionate this morning, hm?

“Get to sleep in with you.” He shuffled so that he was lying pressed against him, side to side. “Want to enjoy our time.”

“Not often we get to do that, hm?” Aaron made a mental note that they should try to take more days to just… be around each other when they got the opportunity to.

“Uh-uh.” He leaned in to kiss him on the lips again. “Love you.”

Aaron smiled. “Love you too, bug.”

#mine #my writing #criminal minds #spencer reid #reid #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #hotchreid #hotch/reid #reid/hotch #heid #rotch #spotch #criminal minds fic #morehotchcontent2020