#soft hotch whump

[tobias-hankel]

Criminal Minds: 9x3, Final Shot

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #9x3 #gif request #hotch is so soft #hotch gifs #aaron hotchner whump #aaron hotch hotchner #mazesgifs

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Now You're Everything [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@unheartbreakable) Center (@milla984) Right (@poseidonsarmoury)

Prompt: It’s been a long time coming and after an emotion-heavy year, Aaron finally shows the BAU-reader how much he wants them. 

Pairing: Aaron x fem!reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns. 

Category: fluff/comfort/minor whump. 

Word Count: 9.9K

Content Warnings: Light swearing and drinking, mention of kidnapping and torture [Hotch], Hospitals and IVs, Minor unwanted advances [reader]. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi, loves! Happy New Year's Eve! This is for my love @silk-spun. It is the second fic I’ve written based on my December Prompt List (linked) Dialog prompt #6: “Let’s skip the office party and go out on the town instead!” I changed the wording a bit, but this is basically all the times Aaron and the reader don’t have the right words to confess, and the one time they don’t need them to get their message across. There is one short mention of Aaron being tortured on a case, and I plan on turning that into a full fic soon. So look forward to that (?). I hope you have a great evening and stay safe. If you like this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List wil all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_y/l/n_ = your last name 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

_y/f/c/b_ = your favorite caffeinated beverage (i.e. coffee/tea/energy drinks)

_y/l/f/d_ = your least favorite designer 

_y/f/d_ = your favorite drink 

Aaron looked around the room which was shockingly full for it being 9:30 p.m. He scanned the groups of people clustered around tables and sitting in chairs talking. Some had plates of food, others glasses of alcohol or sparkling soda. The person whom the supervisory special agent was looking for wasn’t there. He wondered if she was using the lady's room. The last time he’d seen _y/n_ she was being cornered by Freddy from finance. Aaron hadn’t attempted to listen in on the conversation because it was mostly Fred talking to _y/n_. It seemed the pox-faced man wasn’t letting _y/n_ get a word in edge-wise. That sounded like a personal hell that he would avoid at all costs. He had to do enough wine-ing and small talk at the annual Winter Holiday party as it was. He’d talked to Strauss, the Director of the Pentagon, and all the other heads of teams that had made it to Quantico for the party. He’d heard about so many cases that they started to blend together, but for Aaron, nothing would top his team or the crimes they solved. Hotch listened to Bernard Shaw, head agent for the Tax Fraud department, as the white-haired man droned on about a new loophole for the Cayman Islands and how much of a pain it had been that year. Aaron looked over his team with a soft appreciation for how hard they all worked, how they had gelled to feel more like a family than just profilers doing a difficult, dangerous job. There was Derek, who could always be called on to help with anything. The built agent was talking to Spencer. The genius had been so young when he joined the team. Aaron had taken on a fatherly role with Spencer without even thinking about it. Before Jack had ever been born. Rossi had just taken Aaron’s place with Strauss, and they were talking about some half-shared hobby or new bureau policy. Both of those conversations looked the same. Hotch caught Dave’s eye and the older man gave a small shrug, indicating, “This is what the holiday party is for. Making nice one last time before we get a break.” Aaron gave a small nod of agreement before turning his attention back to Shaw. The man hadn’t noticed as Aaron’s attention had waned and then returned to him. Hotch cleared his throat and said, “I’m going to refresh my drink, but it was good to catch up, Bernard, and good luck in dealing with the fallout of S.B. 103b.” Bernard nodded, and the two men shook hands before Aaron walked back to the table with the alcohol on offer. As Hotch poured himself a glass of white. He guessed at how much the liquor alone for this party cost. His guess was around 2,000 dollars. The FBI didn’t ever recommend frivolous spending, but even they realized that sticking a hundred agents and department heads together required the good stuff. 

As Aaron sipped on the cool chablis, he swirled the liquid in his glass slightly. The rare sound of mirth at this dull and quiet frankly depressing party was coming from his team. It was Emily, JJ, Garcia, and _y/n_.” As he looked at _y/n_ in her semi-formal _y/f/c_ dress that was just long enough to be appropriate, Hotch assumed it was some cocktail dress _y/n_ had pulled from the back of a closet behind all of _y/n_ business formal and work attire. The black tights made the outfit work in a fashion way that Aaron didn’t have the right words for. He had to tear his eyes away because if he kept looking at _y/l/n_ much longer, the butterflies in his stomach would soon unfurl their wings and move into his ribcage in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Aaron moved to Rossi, who was free now for support. Dave grounded him, which he needed right now. His feelings for _y/n_ had been coming to a head for months now and somehow, Aaron didn’t feel the bureau holiday party was the place for a confession. Even if _y/n_ was receptive to his advances, he worried. His role as her superior and the age gap had him wondering if they had enough in common to sustain a relationship. They’d grown up in different decades, and y/n_ seemed to have the youth and energy he lacked as he neared late middle age. The part of Aaron that longed for _y/n_ in unexplored ways knew that Hotch’s concerns were self-imposed. That _y/n_ had been sending him small signs of affection and care that didn’t even think he deserved. But Aaron’s fear was real and steeped in policy and power dynamics that would come with having a committed relationship with _y/n_. Hotch moved next to Rossi and asked his friend about his New Year's plan. If he was currently seeing anyone. The basic life and catching up questions that they rarely had time for during work. As Dave answered, Hotch’s eye kept flicking back to _y/n_, as she laughed at some comment of Penelope’s. Rossi noticed and stopped talking about himself. Instead, he said, “She’s not going to wait forever you know, Aaron. _y/n_’s a patient person, but I think she deserves to know how you feel about her.” This comment had Hotch flush and take a breath in. Aaron had tried very hard to keep any of his feelings for _y/n_ hidden beneath a cloak of professionalism and feigned disinterest in the team's personal life as a whole. After all, he was their boss foremost, but it was hard to tune out when the team spoke of their weekends. It was doubly so when it was _y/n_. He’d overhear her complaints about bad dates and rent, and how her dryer was broken in her unit. Hotch had wanted to offer to fix it himself but stopped himself before the words could slip from his mouth. He’d also heard her when she talked about the good things like a new cafe she had found, or getting tickets for a band she adored. If _y/n_ was talking and Aaron was around, he listened but tried to look very hard to not look like he was listening. He wondered if he had played into that a little too hard. Hotch looked at Rossi and asked, “Is it that obvious? And what if _y/n_ doesn’t feel the same way? Her feelings could just be due to proximity, or that I’m her boss or something.” Rossi scoffed and said, “You’re deflecting, Aaron. This isn’t Fifty Shades of Grey. A young woman is allowed to have feelings for a guy, who in my opinion is a pretty good catch.” Dave’s complement had Aaron scoff, but that didn’t stop Rossi from continuing. “Listen, Hotch. I knew you liked her and that she liked you ever since you were in the hospital after the case in Indianapolis. I think what happened in that hospital room told me that there was more than just a feeling of friendship between you and _y/n_. As for whether her feelings are the same way for you and you do for her, I can’t tell you. I’m no love expert. But you’re never going to know how she feels about you unless you ask. And I think you both deserve to know the answer, Hotch.” 

With those words of advice, Dave gave Aaron a pat on the arm and excused himself for the night. The older profiler had done the rounds with the higher-ups and was excited to head home, nurse a whiskey, and watch an episode of The Suprano’s. Aaron on the other hand still had about five people to speak to before he could excuse himself. The added discussion about _y/n_ wasn’t going to make small talk any easier. So, with wine still in hand, he steeled himself for another hour of conversation. Hotch had almost made it through the last of his people. He needed to “catch up with.” The room had cleared significantly since his talk with Rossi. Derek, Spencer, and Em had all left, waving or saying a quick goodbye to him as they exited. Garcia was talking to a tech friend of hers from the third floor, and JJ was speaking in hushed tones to Will. But _y/n_ was nowhere to be found. Hotch watched as Arnold, the last person he should talk to approached him. Aaron didn’t think he could take any more small talk, and because Arnold was in Legal, he always asked Aaron loads of questions. Although Hotch didn’t mind flexing his JD now and again, he preferred to do it in a courtroom, not at parties, and not with Arnold Shortes nearly taking notes over their conversation. Aaron turned on his heel and walked quickly to the elevator before Arnold could catch him. Even after a few minutes _y/n_ still hadn’t come back into the second-floor conference room which had been cleared and rearranged for the party. He considered that _y/n_ might have dipped out with Emily, but he was sure she would have told him goodbye before she had left. She always told him goodbye unless he was in a meeting or seemed overly absorbed in his paperwork. _y/n_ introducing her comings and goings had become so routine that he used it as an informal clock now. _y/n_ would always enter the bullpen at 7:45 a.m. sharp unless there was something amiss. And then in the evenings at 5:10 p.m., she’d knock on his office door and wave before skipping down the stairs and to a life that Aaron assumed was filled with much more interesting things than his own. In fact, Hotch had become so accustomed to using _y/n_’s timeliness that he had almost missed a meeting with Strauss because of it. 

Hotch had been sitting in his office looking over a case report, waiting to hear _y/n_’s chipper, “Hey guys,” down in the bullpen. He knew once he heard that he’d have just enough time to grab a coffee, wave to the team, and then make it to Strauss’s office. But it seemed to be taking longer than usual. Concerned, Aaron looked at his watch and was startled when he realized it was already 7:55 a.m. Aaron had to run to the elevator and just barely made it to the meeting on time. After the hour with Strauss, he had found JJ and asked, “Where’s _y/l/n_?” A tinge of concern laced his voice. The media liaison had replied, “She caught a bad cold last night. She just called Emily to let her know that she’s taking the day off with PTO.” Aaron nodded, absorbing the information. He was glad to know that _y/n_ wasn’t in any trouble, or stuck in traffic, but being sick didn’t sound great either. Aaron had spent the rest of that day fiddling around anxiously. Hotch knew it was because of _y/n_ but refused to admit it. Finally, when 5:10 came around, he pulled out his cell and called _y/n_. She’d picked up on the third ring and sounded terrible as she said, “Hey, Hotch. What is it?” Aaron let out a breath and said, “Sorry to disturb you, _y/n_. I just wanted to see how you were doing?” There was a muffled cough on the line, and Aaron cringed as _y/n_ hoarsely replied, “I’m still feeling pretty bad, but the fever is down at least. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a day or two.” Hotch nodded and replied a little too quickly, “Take all the time you need, _y/n_. When you feel better, come back.” There was an awkward pause because Aaron didn’t know what else to say, and _y/n_ hadn’t expected to hear such genuine concern coming from her normally very composed superior. At least not over a little cold. Eventually, _y/n_ who was feeling sleepy again said, “Thanks for checking on me, Hotch. I’ll be alright, just need some sleep.” Again, Aaron nodded. He replied, “Okay. Rest well, _y/n_. See you in a few days.” After that, he hung up and put his head in his hands in desperation. He knew he shouldn’t be having the feelings he was for _y/n_ It was inappropriate. His inner voice reminded him, “She’s sick goddamn it. She probably doesn’t want you around right now.” Aaron did justify his line of thinking slightly because he was just picturing making her some tea to smooth her throat and tucking the blankets around her more tightly. It’s not like he was having sex with her… though he’d had those thoughts before too. In his waking mind, he could stop those images with ease, but in his dreams when he made love to her, it was always overpowering. A time or two, he’d even waken mid-dream to find his body aroused and tense. On these occasions, he’d had to go to the bathroom and find release below a steaming shower. The guilt of doing this weighed on him heavily. One of the times he had done this was during a case, and he hadn’t been able to look at _y/n_ most of the day without flushing and internally reprimanding his body and mind like a teenager. But a majority of Aaron’s thoughts about _y/n_ centered around mundane things like waking up beside her, or cooking dinner together. Aaron knew he was boring, and led a boring life, but if it was possible, he’d like to lead it with _y/n_ beside him. Aaron sighed as the elevator reached his team’s floor. He wished he didn’t sound so melancholic, so lovesick. It wasn’t like him. But _y/n_ pulled the emotions from him like the moon pulled the tides. If nothing else, Aaron had learned something valuable tonight; as Rossi had said, _y/n_ wouldn’t wait for him forever, and they both deserved to know how the other felt about the other.

The bullpen was mostly dark with a few lamps on some desks still on, plus the lamps in Aaron’s office burned down on the rest of the space with their soft halogen glow. Hotch didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he wondered where _y/n_ had wandered off to, or if she had just left without telling him. The latter sounded unlikely. Hotch moved to her desk and noticed that _y/n_’s chair was pulled out with her bulky coat draped over the back, and her sneakers and socks sitting underneath the desk. This indicated to Aaron that _y/n_ was still around. Aaron leaned against the desk, much like Morgan did every day when _y/n_ got into the office. Hotch flushed at the idea of _y/n_ sitting in the empty chair. Being so close and causal like Derek or Garcia were with her. Hotch rarely found himself jealous of Morgan for many reasons, but in this case, he was. He couldn’t afford to be too casual with anyone on the team, especially not with _y/n_. If he was, he knew he’d fall head over heels for her. It was hard enough thinking and dreaming about her. He didn’t need more fuel for that fire. Thinking about this sparked a memory from earlier in the year, and suddenly, Aaron had a sense of where _y/n_ was. It had been after a long day in October. The time change had meant that it was dark outside before anyone left the office. The whole team was still around filling out some reports, except _y/n_ seemed to be missing. Hotch approached Emily and asked, “Where’s _y/n_?” Prenitess chuckled at his question and said, “Licking her wounds up on the roof. Freddy Hareld from Finance just made a big deal about “Just how keen _y/n_ looked. And how she must just be dying to get to know the city better now that she’s part of the BAU, and wouldn’t she let him show her around on Sunday.” Hotch’s eyes grew wide at the story. He was rarely privy to office gossip, even though he knew stuff like this happened around him all the time. However, his co-workers kept him out of the loop, which he didn’t mind until now. Aaron cleared his throat and asked, “Did she seem alright?” He wasn’t one to notice or judge men much, he knew he wasn’t perfect either, but Freddy didn’t seem like _y/n_’s type. Hotch was surprised the man had mustered up the courage to ask. Emily nodded and said, “She just looked annoyed. Apparently, Fred talked, loudly, for about five minutes before she had to shut him down and tell him that she wasn’t interested.” Even though Aaron trusted Prentiss, he wanted to make sure that _y/n_ was okay for himself. Office drama could be uncomfortable. Hotch had spent a good bit of time on the roof himself when he was new to the team. It seemed to be one of the only places in the building where you wouldn’t be disturbed, but now that Aaron had his own office, he didn’t need to find an escape from the team or his own thoughts anymore Much like the first time he had found _y/n_ on the roof seeking an escape, _y/n_ was leaning against the railing, looking out onto the canopy of trees that surrounded the Quantico office and the highway beyond them. Hotch cleared his throat, as he stepped closer to _y/n_. She turned around and felt a blush paint across her face when she saw it was him. 

_y/n_ had just been thinking about him, and there he was. _y/n_ had been considering how they had both been dancing around the other's feelings all year. And two things _y/n_ knew for sure, she wasn’t great at dancing, and her feet were fucking tired. _y/n_ had hoped that there would be a way for her to tell him how she felt without it being awkward or jeopardizing her job. She hoped that she’d at least shown Aaron her care with her actions if not her words. Unfortunately, the few times that had seemed perfect had been cut off by Haley and Jack. The first time had happened in June. A terrorist group was planning on poisoning the largest high school in the region. It had all been a test run for a bigger operation that would take place in D.C. The team had caught on the terrorist’s trail first. But not before Hotch had been taken and tortured for information. The few seconds of audio that Aaron’s captors had shared were so sickening to _y/n_ that she crumpled in on herself and almost vomited. She couldn’t hide how much hearing Hotch in pain was hurting her. When the cell had been caught, the other half of the team moved to Aaron’s location. _y/n_ had shot and then subdued three men before she, Rossi, and Spencer found Hotch black and blue and tied to a chair. He was barely conscious with his mouth gagged. The wad of cloth in his mouth was soaked with sweat and blood that had dripped down the side of Aaron’s face from a large gash on his eyebrow. _y/n_ helped free his mouth while Spencer cut off the zip ties around his battered arms and legs. Rossi was on the phone with the paramedics who were already en route. Once Aaron’s limbs had been freed, he slumped heavily into _y/n_, who supported his weight. She and Spencer helped him to the ground, and he groaned in pain at being shifted. _y/n_ quickly took off her outer jacket and covered his waist. His kidnappers had stripped him of everything but his briefs, and _y/n_ was certain he didn’t want to be so exposed. The paramedics came shortly after and took Aaron to the nearest hospital._y/n_ was grateful that she didn’t have much time to see or think about all the cuts and burns littering Hotch’s prone form. Seeing him like this felt so wrong that it twisted her insides. 

Later, when the doctor had methodically detailed Aaron’s injuries, _y/n_ burned with a fit of anger even _y/n_ didn’t know that she possessed. When he was cleared for it, the team had all gone and saw Aaron in his room. He was surrounded and attached to multiple medical devices keeping him medicated and stable. Even though everyone appreciated Aaron and what he had gone through, no one particularly wanted to stay with him long after wishing him a good night’s rest. No one except _y/n._. Aaron knew it was his fault. He hated hospitals. He would gripe and groan and generally be in a foul mood until he was released as quickly as possible, so he was surprised in his pain-induced state to see _y/n_ pull up a chair close to his bed and just plant herself there. Aaron shifted on the bed to look at her better. That was a bad idea as a sharp pain moved up his side. Hotch muttered, “Fuck” under his breath. He moved his left hand which was attached to an IV toward his stomach to apply some pressure where the pain was radiating from. _y/n_ watched as Aaron moved around. He was straining the line of his IV, and _y/n_ jumped up softly saying, “Hey, hey. Take it easy there Hotch. Just stay calm if you can.” Aaron grunted, but acquiesced as _y/n_ took his left arm and rested it back by his side. She looked at him, concern etched on her face as she asked, “Where does it hurt, Hotch?” Aaron swallowed and almost said everywhere. But his stomach was especially tender and he said, “My, my stomach, but you don’t have to do anything _y/n_. You don’t need to stay here. I’m a pain in the ass when I’m like this.” _y/n_ nodded in understanding as she gently applied a bit of pressure to where he had been trying to reach earlier. He closed his eyes as _y/n_ gently rubbed circles over the inflamed flesh of his torso. Any words about protocol or regulations left him as soon as _y/n_’s hands met his clothed skin. He let out a breath and _y/n_ asked, “Is this okay? I can get a nurse for you?” Aaron shook his head no. He was sick of being poked at. Having three IVs was already putting him on edge. The possibility of more medical equipment was too much to bear. And whatever _y/n_ was doing was soothing him. Hotch softly said, “No nurse. Please. This is good.” Even saying those words seemed to exhaust him. _y/n_ just nodded and kept gently running her hand over his stomach. She didn’t want to think about how this was probably breaking ten rules, or how Aaron’s body looked under the flimsy hospital gown. She just kept moving her hands and watched as Hotch seemed to still and then finally sleep. When his breathing had evened out, _y/n_ pulled the covers over him again and took her seat once more. She didn’t care if he was in a mood or snapped at her. _y/n_ just didn’t think he should be alone right now. So she was going to sit with him until either he told her to leave or someone in the hospital kicked her out. It was at that moment that all of her disparate feelings for him coalesced into one of love. Not a fling or a passing fancy, but the kind of love that lasts through illness and grief and every other part of life. _y/n_ sighed and thought, “What a time to have a revelation like this,” as she kept watch over her boss, unable to leave his side. 

Aaron had shown interest in her too. _y/n_ felt a bit better that she wasn’t the only one falling in love. He was more subtle about it, or at least he was trying to be. But that hadn’t stopped her from noticing how he looked at her, how his gaze lingered just a second too long in meetings. He’d pull his eyes away quickly as if he’d been caught doing something improper. Then there was the time he’d called her when she was sick and how he’d seemed a little too excited to have her back after a short four days of illness. And he looked out for her on cases. Not that Aaron didn’t look out for everyone, but he seemed to take her comfort more seriously than he needed to. He held the door for her and let her sit in the passenger seat so they could throw ideas back and forth. At first _y/n_ had thought it was just because she was the newest member of the team. But the behavior from Hotch continued, and just one time on a case, he’d pulled her out of a line of fire and rolled on top of her even though he probably didn’t need to go that far. As Aaron let out a breath of excitement over the case and the woman below him, _y/n_ caught the tells of desire on his face. It didn’t help that they were in what could be an intimate position. His pupils were wide and his breath came in little gasps. _y/n_ didn’t need to see his groin to know that he was excited down there too. After a second, Hotch quickly got up and helped _y/n_ stand too. Aaron nervously straightened his shirt and tie and after quickly asking _y/n_ if she was okay, and her response of “yes,” he moved away from her to gather some semblance of composure. The fact that Aaron was flushed and couldn’t look at her for the rest of the day told _y/n_ all she needed to know about Hotch’s thoughts about her. Or at least the uncontrollable whims of his strong body.  _y/n_ didn’t let herself get carried away. Aaron was still her boss, and she was his agent. And because of this neither had said anything or acted like they were falling in love with the other because it didn’t feel like it could happen. Not to them. But now as _y/n_ sat by his hospital bed, she wondered what it would be like with Aaron. To peek behind his well-kept facade and just be close to him. _y/n_ assumed this was the nearest she’d ever come to that, so she settled in for a long night and decided if this was all she was getting, then she would accept it. Fate had never been so kind to give her something as lovely as Aaron, Hotchner, and she accepted it. 

It was a long night. Hotch woke almost every hour in pain or needing to adjust for his comfort. _y/n_ moved his pillows and blankets for him, helped him drink a glass of water, and called a nurse when he needed to relieve himself. The next morning she was tired, but when Aaron woke, he seemed much improved. He softly said, “_y/n_, thanks for last night. For being here. You made being here, comfortable for me.” _y/n_ took his hand softly and rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. Gently she said, “It was nothing, Aaron. I’m just glad you’re okay.” _y/n_ was so tired that she was about to speak transparently and say, “I’d do this all the time if you needed me to. I don’t mind staying up all night with you whether you’re sick or not.” That was the closest thing to a confession that _y/n_ could think of. But she had been interrupted when a nurse knocked on the door and said, “Mr. Hotchner, your son, and Ms. Brooks are here to see you. Should I let them in?” Hearing this, _y/n_ dropped his hand and her head a tiny bit. She stood and said, “I’ll give ya’ll some space, Hotch.” Aaron nodded yes to the nurse, and watched as _y/n_ left the room. He felt like he’d just missed something big,  but didn’t know what. _y/n_ passed Haley and Jack in the hall. _y/n_ gave the pair a small smile and nod, and she made her way to the hospital lounge to get some much-needed coffee. The Hotchner-Brooks divorce was still very new, and _y/n_ wondered where things had fallen apart between the two of them. She also wondered if there was any chance at all for her and Aaro.  It didn’t feel like it at the moment. 

_y/n_ snapped back to the present when Aaron said her name more loudly. He was holding out his suit jacket for her and saying, “You look a little cold.” Hotch was right, she was cold. _y/n_ had wished she’d brought her coat up to the roof almost as soon as she had stepped outside. However, she was too lazy to want to go back in. She’d escaped Freddy’s boring conversation and looked at Aaron right before she moved to the roof for some fresh air. _y/n_ was pondering if she should just give up her dreams about Hotch. Neither of them seemed to be making any moves out of fear that they might say no to the other or that they might ruin the strong friendship they had now. _y/n_ was getting tired of it though. But then there was Aaron as always being a gentleman and looking out for her. _y/n_ nodded and Aaron slipped behind her, placing the jacket over her shoulders. His hands brushed over her exposed skin, and _y/n_ felt that familiar spark burn through her anytime she felt Aaron’s hands on her. Those times were few and far between. She looked over at Aaron and decided that tonight she was going to give him a line and see if he took it. If she didn’t seem interested, she’d let her infatuation go and move on. She could be happy not loving Aaron. At least she hoped she could. Hotch moved to her side next to the railing and he asked, “Was Fred trying to ask you out again?” _y/n_ flushed because it was so rare for him to ask her about her personal life. She remembered the first time it had happened she’d nearly dropped her _y/f/c/b_. That first time had been Freddy-related too. That time they both seemed embarrassed to be talking about it. Now _y/n_ was much more comfortable being open with Aaron. She looked at him and replied, “No. Not this time thankfully. I think the third time actually did it. No today he was just asking about the cases the team has been on recently, and then, inexplicably, he started talking about his pet lizard.” Hearing this, Aaron couldn’t help but cringe. _y/n_ chuckled and said, “You know he’s not a bad guy, just not the guy for me. But bless him, he needs to learn to read a room.” Aaron hummed and said, “Well I’m glad he’s ended his crusade.” _y/n_ laughed at his commentary and replied, “You know he’s right about one thing. I still don’t know this city at all. The cases keep me tired enough to not want to explore on my days off. What do you say we skip the party and you show me something worth seeing?” And here was _y/n_’s line. All Aaron had to do was give it a tug. Hotch looked at her with some surprise, like he had when he was half-dazed in the hospital bed. He cleared his throat and said, “Are you sure it’s me you want? Garcia, or even JJ could show you a better time. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind…” _y/n_ could sense that he was deflecting, and said, “No. I want you. You’ve lived here longer and you’ve gotta know the places that aren’t tourist traps. Plus, Garcia is flirting up a storm with that tech down there and JJ only has eyes for Will. I wouldn’t dare break up either of those conversations right now.” After a pause, _y/n_ added, “Come on Hotch. You looked miserable in there. You’re honestly telling me that you want to go back?” 

Aaron let out a warm laugh and said, “Alright, I wasn’t particularly enjoying myself. Too much small talk makes me feel like a dog that’s been bred for show. And I never understood why they held this thing after Christmas and between New Year's. That time feels sacred in some unspeakable way.” _y/n_ was grinning and said, “Totally. I know the director said there was some sort of conflict, but that just read like bad code for, ‘Let me take my ski vacation with my family first.’ And don’t mention the playlist in there. Nobody was enjoying that, I swear to god.” Hotch had to stifle a harsh laugh to not sound unbecoming. That was another thing about _y/n_, they synced with each other’s humor. Sometimes he had to look away from her in meetings to avoid bursting out laughing. The fact was a joy and a pain in equal measure. Aaron looked over to her again, and he realized that she was still waiting for an answer. He took a breath to steel himself. Aaron left like it was now or never, and he didn’t want to let _y/n_ go. Not after all they’d been through this year. He did, however, need a moment to think about where exactly to take _y/n_. He hadn’t exactly been on the town himself since the divorce. Hotch slowly said, “I’d be happy to show you around, _y/n_, but would you give me a minute to think about where exactly to take you? I’m, um, particular about places.” _y/n_ nodded and relaxed into the railing. Aaron looked her over again. She looked ravishing in that dress, and it didn’t hurt that she had his jacket on too. He rested his hands on the cool metal and looked out onto the highway. Gently he asked, “What do you think about when you come up here? I used to spend a good deal of time up here too. When I was new to the BAU at least.” _y/n_ looked over him. Pondering the question. Trying to picture him as a green agent under Gideon. Trying to imagine him in his early thirties instead of his late forties. That all felt like a different time. She hadn’t been there then. _y/n_ moved her gaze to the highway and said, “Well most of my time up here is spent far less productively than yours was. I’m sure. In fact, three of the seven times on this roof have been an escape from Freddy. The other four times, I’m sure I was just annoyed, at myself or someone else. It’s a good place to cool off. Shake the cares of the day away.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. Most of his time up here had been spent sitting against the wall and questioning his life choices, but he didn’t verbalize that thought. He didn’t need to as  _y/n_ continued, “But sometimes I like to close my eyes and pretend I can see D.C. from the rooftop. The capital or Washinton Mall. I know it’s silly, and I’ve explored that city even less than this one, but that’s why we’re here, aren’t we? To keep people safe. To keep the dream alive for everyone who doesn’t have to see the dark underbelly of this country. It gives me comfort.” Hearing this, Hotch stepped forward and placed a hand on _y/n_’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why. He replied, “I don’t think that’s silly at all, _y/n_.” Something _y/l/n_ had said had sparked an idea in Hotch. There was a place on the border between D.C. and Virginia that he’d liked a long time ago. Politicians from either side of the aisle would meet there to make deals and broker favors. As a younger man, he had thought it was cool. Aaron looked at _y/n_ and said, “How do you feel about jazz?” _y/n_ nodded yes and said, “I don’t mind it. Improvisation is good for the soul. Gets you out there. Is there dancing?” Aaron tried to remember the intimate club and eventually nodded yes, saying, “I think so. But I wouldn’t trust me with that. I’ve got two left feet.” _y/n_’s laughter cut through the cold night and she said, “It’s alright. Me too most of the time.” Aaron shifted his hand to her lower back as he asked, “This place is too far to walk. Did you drive here?” _y/n_ replied, “No. Em took me. I was planning on taking an Uber back when I was done with my private roof party.” Aaron noticed her eyes slowly blowing out and her breath coming in faster in her chest. Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Well, we’ll take my car if you're comfortable with it. I can drop you off at your place after?” _y/n_ agreed and said, “Sounds like a plan.” 

The pair made a quick stop by Aaron’s office and _y/n_’s desk to grab their things before heading out. Neither made any formal goodbye at the party. Hotch felt oddly free as he stepped out of the field office with _y/n_ by his side. On the drive to the jazz club, he pointed out different areas of the town to _y/n_. He knew he sounded like a dad, but _y/n_ seemed interested in learning more about the area and asked follow-up questions as they cruised down the dark streets. There was no parking in front of the club, so Aaron found some down the road. The club was unassumingly nestled into the facade of a street full of high-end stores. Now it was _y/n_’s turn to point out interesting trends in the window and designers she despised. Aaron got a small tirade about _y/l/f/d_ when they passed that storefront. _y/n_ was sure Hotch had lost interest at that point, but when she looked at him, he seemed engrossed. He looked over at her and said, “Well, I’d have never known that unless you’d told me. Now I’ll have something smart to say when there’s more small talk to be made at parties.” _y/n_ smiled at Aaron. She knew she had her eccentricities, but he took them with such grace and she wondered what she’d done to earn even an hour of this man's time.  _y/n_ spared him any other commentary. When they stepped into the small, dark space of the club, Aaron told the matre de that it was just two, and the man led the two toward the back of the space. The head waiter graciously motioned to a small couch near the live band playing soft jazz in the back corner of the room. Aaron let _y/n_ take a seat first, and he followed after her. Shortly after being seated a waiter came and took their orders. Aaron got an old-fashioned, and _y/n_ ordered _y/f/d_. As they waited for their drinks to arrive, _y/n_ asked Aaron, “So, how did you find this place?” Hotch did his best to summarize his first year in the BAU. How unsure he was about the shift in jobs. How Haley had been the one to get him out of the house and office. As Aaron recounted his story, _y/n_ didn’t pull away or, cringe at the mention of the former Mrs. Hotcher. _y/n_ realized as much as anyone how important Haley was to Aaron. He’d loved her for a long time before things had fallen apart. And she’d loved him too. _y/n_ was far less insecure about this fact now. She was ashamed about how she’d felt about Haley at the hospital that one time. Not only was Haley important, but _y/n_ realized that Jack was the zenith of Aaron’s life. And she respected that. Fatherhood seemed far from easy, and add being head of the BAU on top of that? Hell, Aaron made it look easy. So she listened to him open up in a way that he never had in front of her before, and _y/n_ got her small peak behind his work facade. She realized that he was just a man doing his best. Trying to juggle all of the plates at his feet, and somehow that was the most attractive thing possible about Aaron Hotchner that she hadn’t ever noticed before that instant. 

Hotch looked at _y/n_ after his long-winded story and expected to see boredom there. Or disappointment at how often he’d brought up Haley or Jack. But he didn’t find it. Only a look of admiration that he couldn’t quite place. And suddenly Hotch wanted to say everything that he’d bottled up over the year and wanted to lean down and kiss _y/n_ on the lips like he had in his dreams. And _y/n_ watched as Aaron shifted in his demeanor. How his eyes were wide again and he seemed to be building to something new. Something yet said or explored between them. The sudden and insistent beeping of Hotch’s phone cut off that moment in an instant. Aaron pulled back from _y/n_ a bit and murmured, “Sorry,” as he accepted the call. After a second, Hotch’s mood changed again, as he replied to the other end of the line. “Is he alright? What’s the matter?” _y/n_ pulled back a bit more, realizing this was a private conversation and she was a bit too close to Aaron for it to be happening like one. His frown and worry lines increased, as he listened to the dialog she couldn’t hear. After a minute he replied, “Yes, I’ll head over right away. You said the doctor was on his way too?... Yeah, yeah. I’ll just be twenty minutes or so… Okay. Tell Jack I’m on my way… Yeah. Bye.” Aaron dropped his hand with this cell in it and looked at _y/n_ with sad eyes. She looked back and him and said, “Is it Jack?” Aaron nodded and replied, “Haley said he has a bad fever, and it’s getting worse. She called a doctor and she thinks I should come over. _y/n_, I’m sorry.” _y/n_ gave him a pat on the arm and said, “Go be with your son, Aaron. There are more important things than me in the world. At least in your world.” Hotch nodded with the same sad eyes. He realized how much of a sacrifice _y/n_ was making for him, how life in the BAU was a whole big load of sacrifice. Aaron stood, and just to show a fraction of how grateful he was for _y/n_’s presence in his life, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was chaste, and he pulled away before he could get ahead of himself.

Aaron was gone before _y/n_ could even fully register what had happened. The bell at the door told of Hotch’s departure, and _y/n_ could have screamed out of desire or despair at how the night had come to a quick conclusion. But she didn’t. _y/n_ knew how important Jack was to Hotch. Everything else but his son was at the periphery of Aaron’s life, and Jack was at the center. As _y/n_ settled back into the loveseat, now alone, she contemplated how yet again any plans or revelations of their feelings had been dashed. But _y/n wasn’t mad about it. _y/n_ had to remind herself that for the half hour, they had been together that night, Aaron had allowed her to see more of himself. And he was, as _y/n_ expected, as good a man as they came. _y/n_ thought, “How often does a girl really get to see a good man?” It was a pleasure, even if it was for just an evening. 

The final few days of December passed in a wave of the hand. _y/n_ had asked Aaron if Jack was alright the morning after their night on the town, and he’d said that the fever had broken in the night and that his son was on the mend. Aaron had asked _y/n_ in the same text exchange if she’d gotten home okay after his sudden departure. She had told him that she’d called a Lyft soon after he’d left to get home. And then, before _y/n_ knew it, she was packing her bags for a long weekend at one of Derek’s properties on a lake outside the city limits. She was carpooling with Emily and Garcia. _y/n_ had heard that Morgan’s New Year’s Eve parties were times to remember and she was finally going to experience one for herself. _y/n_ was already excited to be spending time with her friends, but when Emily said, “You know Aaron’s coming too? He apparently called Morgan last minute and asked if there was still an empty bed, _y/n_’s jaw dropped. _y/n_ quickly composed herself and said, “Well the more the merrier.” Em rolled her eyes and said, “The more the merrier my ass, _y/n_. You know he’s just going there for you. When are you going to catch on that he’s in love with you?” Penelope agreed from the backstreet and said, “Honestly. _y/n_. He’s been making googly eyes at you all year. And what was that with him taking you out after the Holiday Party? Do you see Hotchy doing that with anyone else?” _y/n_ sighed exasperated with her friend's encouragement. She half-heartedly said, “Well, he could have been.” this had Garcia and Prentiss cackling and Penelope said, “This is the time, _y/n_. I swear. If it’s not, I’ll pull Hotch aside myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Despite _y/n_’s friends banter, _y/n_ felt reluctant. None of the other times seemed to work out, and she didn’t see how this was going to be any different. 

As Morgan’s lake house came into view, _y/n_ tried to let everything go. Whatever happened would happen, and she planned on having fun no matter how the next day and a half went. The trio of women were the second to last to arrive. Spencer joined them a half-hour later. Derek quickly showed everyone to their rooms. It felt like an adult sleepover and an energy charged the air. For the first hour or so the team just relaxed and unpacked. Derek, Rossi, Spencer, and Aaron sat on the leather couches and talked about the year. Their highs and lows. They also debated which case was the most interesting from the year. As the men talked, Emily, _y/n_, JJ, and Garcia all tried on the dresses they had brought for the end of the night. As they were helping with the zippers and hemlines, _y/n_ said, “I’m sorry Will couldn’t come tonight, J.” JJ smiled and said, “Yeah. But I think it’s fine. We’ll be married soon enough and we’ll have the rest of our lives to be together. Tonight feels like the gang is back together in a nostalgic sort of way. You know what I mean?” The other nodded alone and Emily said, “I feel ‘ya JJ. What a year it’s been. But we’re all happy for you know. I think you got the last good guy on the market with Will.” JJ grinned and helped _y/n_ slip into her ‘dress.” The media liaison seemed to glow with a pre-marriage, I’ve-found-the-love-of-my-life aura even four months before her wedding day. And suddenly all the women were dressed, and they all looked at each other and complimented each other. Emily was in a sleek purple pants suit. JJ was in a fitted black dress. Garcia, as always, was wearing a bright orange tulle skirt with a pink top, plus white fingerless gloves. The tech noted, “And I’ve got about ten million little things to put in my hair too!” Lastly, _y/n_ was wearing something far slinkier than her friends. It essentially amounted to a lot of large, shimmery _y/f/v_ sequins held together with tiny metal rings. _y/n_ hadn’t worn it since before turning twenty and she couldn’t remember why she’d bought it. “Maybe for a rave?” She thought. Because the garment was so sheer, she was wearing sensible black underwear and a matching bra underneath, but _y/n_ flushed at the one time she’d gone clubbing without the undergarments beneath. That had been a fun evening.

The compliments made the rounds, and Garcia told _y/n_, “You look drop-dead good in that, _y/n_. The boys won’t know what hit them.” At the mention of “the boys,” _y/n_ looked at the ground and said, “You know I would have picked a different outfit if I’d known Hotch was coming.” The others snickered, and _y/n_ laughed too, saying, “I’m being serious. I’m not trying to look like a slut in front of him. The brief said ‘Fun New Year's attire and this is the funniest, New Years-ist dress I’ve got.” Emily moved forward and gave _y/n_’s shoulder a pat saying, “You’ll be fine, _y/n_. You look glorious. Plus you’re the youngest one here. That means you can get away with wearing something more risque. I’m just shocked you can wear something from that long ago. I’m lucky if I could pull off something from two years ago and it look good, I can’t even think about five or ten.” Prentiss shuddered at the thought, and that got a good laugh out of all of them. 

 A knock at the closed door, had them all look away from each other. It was Derek saying that he, Aaron, and Rossi were going to take a walk along the path that went around the lake nearby. And if any of them wanted to join them? _y/n_and Em jumped at the chance. The pair quickly changed back into their casual clothes and headed out with the guys. The walk was pleasant and they all just took in the fresh air and saw the trees surrounding the water. Aaron was walking a few steps behind _y/n_ and he contemplated his feelings about her once more. Even he was getting annoyed with himself. He blamed it on being indecisive in the worst possible area of his life, partnership. But he’d decided today was going to be the day. He was going to bite the bullet and ask _y/n_ how he felt about her. Even though he couldn’t picture the words leaving his mouth, he swore to himself that it was going to happen. The walk concluded, and then everyone got some drinks which Aaron happily and skillfully mixed. Then Derek and Rossi made dinner and everyone ate outside around the fire. And by that time it was already ten and the first fireworks were dotting the sky. Aaron and _y/n_ were sitting next to each other. Close enough that he could move his arm just an inch and he would be touching hers. Hotch’s eyes stayed on the sky as he asked, “Do you have any plans for the New Year?” It was too cliched to ask about resolutions, but he did wonder what someone like _y/n_ thought about the future. _y/n_ turned her gaze to him, and replied, “I don’t know. I want my apartment to feel more homey. It’s still giving college vibes if I’m being honest. I’d like to buy some better furniture, like the opposite of the stuff from IKEA. And then there’s helping JJ with the wedding, and then just going out more. Seeing the city like we did after the party.” _y/n_ felt like saying, “I’d like doing that with you,” and also, “Does this make me sound boring?” But _y/n_ couldn’t vocalize either of those thoughts as Gacia stepped out onto the patio and proclaimed, “It’s dress-up time, baby girl!” _y/n_ shook her head and chuckled. Aaron gave her a hand up and watched as she disappeared into the house. _y/n_’s list sounded just up his alley, and he wondered why he’d been putting off his feelings for so long. Why he couldn’t just man up and tell her he loved her? That he was mad about _y/n_. Aaron sighed and walked inside after _y/n_.

It was 11:15 when the girls were all dolled up with their outfits, heels, and makeup. Derek had the TV playing with the countdown to the ball drop on as ambient noise. The champagne was ready to be popped, and the new year was rung in with friends and laughter. Garcia and Derek were both oddly big about watching the ball drop. _y/n_ had interrogated Penelope about this on the way up to Morgan’s house. Garcia had just said, “It’s tradition, and you don’t mess with tradition.” Just as the group of women stepped into the light to be seen for the first time, the power went out. There was a moment of silence and then Derek said, “Really house. You do this to me now?’ That got everyone laughing, and Aaron asked, “Where’s the breaker Morgan? I’ll give it a look.” Derek told him and Hotch stood outside for a second. While Aaron was gone, Penelope and Morgan talked about what they would do about a countdown. Nobody wanted to just look at the clock. That, Morgan had said, “Wasn’t festive at all.” Aaron came back and said, “It’s not good news, the main fuse is fried.” That had Derek thinking and he announced, “Alright, change of plans. There’s a dive bar down the road. If we book it, we can make it there before midnight.” There was little complaint from the group as Morgan and Penelope hustled everyone into two cars and down the street. There was so much excitement that nobody got to see the women’s outfits until they were standing outside the bar. The space was a dive and it was packed with partiers. The walkway up wasn’t paved, so Aaron took _y/n_’s hand with his left, and even though he didn’t need to, he placed his right on her lower back. Again he felt that spark shoot through him. The cool sequins juxtaposed to _y/n_’s warm skin were doing things to him that he didn’t want to think about right now. Or maybe it was the dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Either of those was a good option. Inside, the team found a spot to stand and watch as the time ticked down from 11:55 to midnight. Derek joked and said, “Alright, who’s kissing who when it’s time?” Emily raised a hand and teasingly said, “I volunteer for you, Morgan.” The team laughed and then started counting down. Everyone except Hotch, who was standing a bit farther back. _y/n_ sighed, knowing he was never a big fan of crowds. She stepped close to him. Even as Aaron sought a moment of reprieve, both _y/n_ still had to stand almost body to body to avoid bumping into anyone. As “THREE, TWO, ONE” were unanimously chanted in the tight space, _y/n_ was going to try and pick up where their conversation had stopped earlier in the night. To see if Aaron had any plans going into the New Year. But she didn’t get the chance to as the call of “Happy New Year!” Hotch bent down and pressed his lips to hers. 

Aaron had meant for it to be a little peck. Just something to ring in the new year with. But _y/n_ only stood in shock for a moment before she realized what was happening, and she’d waited so god damn long for this very moment that she quickly leaned into it, pressing her body to Aaron’s as her arms wrapped around him. Aaron reciprocated in kind and placed one of his hands on her hip and the other on the crown of _y/n_’s head. Holding them together like he might fall apart if he let her go. Aaron's lips were slightly chapped and his cologne, which _y/n_ knew well, crept over her like a sunray. As soon, as they’d started, they didn’t want to stop. Then it dawned on both of them, like they hadn’t been yearning for the other for over a year, that they didn’t have to stop. So they didn’t. Not until they had to pull away panting for air. And once they’d gotten breath back in them, they came together again. This time it was more cautious.  More subdued as Aaron began to memorize the shape of _y/n_’s soft mouth pressed against his own, _y/n_ made a small contented sound that only he could hear and smiled as she placed her hands on his chest. _y/n_ his body in a way that indicated an intimacy that had always been there between them. The rest of the team watched them with Garcia saying, “About time. My god, I thought I was going to have to lock them in a closet together later tonight.” Rossi joked and said, “Well, there’s still time to do that later,” as he came back with a handful of champagne flutes. Dave handed one to each member of the team and then walked a pace over to _y/n_ and Aaron. Hotch was looking into _y/n_’s eyes but stopped when he noticed his friend. Rossi smiled and said, “Alright you kids. How about you take a moment and join us for a toast?” _y/n_ flushed, but nodded taking a glass from Rossi. Aaron chuckled and got a glass himself. He never let his hand lose contact with _y/n_’s side as all three walked back to the table. Rossi gave Aaron a strong pat on the shoulder as they moved to the group and winked at _y/n_, which only made her flush further. Hotch didn’t even care as the whole team's little “oohs and ahhs” sounded at their return. Aaron realized that scrutiny or affection didn’t feel so bad with _y/n_’s hand in his. He realized with full clarity that she’d been there all along, and he’d just not moved his hand to meet hers. He’d tell her he was sorry for that later. For stringing her on so long. He’d tell her he loved her more times than he could count too. But for now, as everyone lifted their glasses saying “Happy New Year!” The future never looked brighter.

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#aaron hotcher #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #reader insert #cm #cm fanfiction #New Years with hotch #soft hotch fic #hotch drabble #hotch blurb #aaron confesses #criminal minds x reader #bit of a slow burn #last fic of the year #i hope you like it #hotch fluff #criminal minds fluff #happy new year #2024 #fanfiction #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #david rossi #derek morgan

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 7

No. 7 THE WAY YOU SHAKE AND SHIVER

Shaking Hands | Seizures | Silent Panic Attack

Warnings: panic attacks, nerves surrounding coming out, mostly emotional whump

Word count: 524

You couldn’t seem to stop your hands from shaking, it had been hours and still here you were, shaking. You were on the way back, the jet not far from landing. You had tried everything, you had eaten, had something to drink, had a quick nap, you even tried doing some star jumps. Nothing seemed to be helping. You knew what it was. It was the anticipation. You had planned on coming clean, on telling them everything and you were anxious. Scratch that, you were shitting bricks. You had never been more terrified to tell the team something then you were right now. But you had promised yourself that on the way back to Quantico, you would tell them. And you weren’t about to let yourself down, not today. 

Sighing, you shifted in your seat, debating trying to get everyone’s attention. You noticed your heart beating rapidly in your chest, the occasional flutter, and you’re sweating. Standing up as casually as possible, you head to the toilet. You spend maybe two minutes there, splashing water on your face, trying your best to calm down.

It wasn’t even that big of a deal, you didn’t know why you were so anxious over it. You just had to go up to them and say ‘hey, so I wanted to talk to you’ they’d ask what was wrong, and then you’d just say ‘well, I’m transgender and I left like it was time to finally tell you’ and then they’d say ‘hey no worries, thanks for telling us’ and that would be that. You knew that logically, it was all going to be okay. And yet, here you are, having a panic attack in the bathroom of the jet.  

A soft knock on the door drew you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N)? It’s Hotch, is everything okay?” He asked softly, “You’ve been in there a while.”

“I’m fine-” You winced as your voice cracked at the end of the sentence. 

“(Y/N)-”

“I’ll be out in just a moment,” You said, Hotch sighed from the other side of the door, mumbling an okay before he walked away. You sighed. Now you really had to tell them. 

You spent the next minute making sure you didn’t look like you had been having a panic attack. You took a deep breath. Okay, you could do this. You could do this. You unlocked the door, sitting in your seat (ignoring the concerned gazes) before turning to everyone. The whole gang were there for this case, Garcia included. Which meant that you could come out to everyone all at once, which was both a blessing and a curse. “I need to tell you all something.”

“Is something wrong?” You turn to Hotch, noticing his eyebrows furrowed in concern and shake your head. ‘Not unless this goes terribly’ you think to yourself. 

“I’m transgender, a transman,” You say, watching everyone’s expression.

“Is that what you were worried about?” You nod and Penelope walks over, enveloping you in a hug. “Sweetie, we don’t care about that! We love you, no matter what!” You break out in a grin.

“Love you guys too,”

#whumptober 2022 #no. 7 #silent panic attack #shaking hands #criminal minds #panic attacks #nerves #coming out #emotional whump #bau x male reader #bau x trans male reader #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #david rossi #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #trans male reader #transman reader #male reader

[reasonablerodents]

Who even is this guy?

I’m reasonablerodents, hotchreid truther and general purveyor of depravity. You can call me whatever you like as long as it sounds cool.

I basically only write pure pwp because apparently I’m unhinged about these guys. So if you’re under 18 then this is your warning: there is truly nothing for you here, I implore you to leave.

Basic Info

-23

-He/Him

-Writer seems too fancy for the things which spew from my hands but I write shit I guess

-Please talk to me about my favourite fictional fbi men/send ideas and requests/shout at me for corrupting the internet idk <3

-You can find me on Ao3 here!

-Drabble request event post here!

Writing stuff and tags under the cut!

Tags

#he squeaks- posts I’ve made

#asks- unsuprisingly, asks

#puppy my love my life- puppy spencer content

#my fic- what it says on the tin

#my art- you’re never gonna guess what this is

#unreasonablerodents- hard kink/dead dove/etc so you can blacklist it easily. or find it all in one place lmao

Feel free to request mini fics/blurbs if you have a hotchreid idea on your mind! If you’re here I assume you already know the sort of things I like writing, but I’ve put some things I will absolutely write and things I won’t at the bottom if you’d like to check!

Over half my writing is mean Hotch bc it’s fun, so uhhh… always remember to check the tags bc sometimes it gets weird. Sorry Spencer I love you really xxx

I’m working on making a fic masterlist over here but I’m lazy. For now, here are the links to my kinktober weekly roundups:

Week 1

Week 2

Week 3

Week 4 (TBA)

Things You Will See Me Writing: PWP, mean Hotch, A/B/O, dom/sub, most kinks tbh, emotional whump via smut, soft silly established relationship fluff, trans characters (my love my life <3)

Things You Will Not See Me Writing: Pregnancy (including in A/B/O), underage anything, SH, reader x fics, dom/top Spencer, parenting/raising kids, heterosexuality, p much any other ship unless it’s background/past

(If you’re looking at this because of my 100k words request post- I will write other ships for that! Check the post for more detail <3)

(None of these are explicitly triggers for me but I either feel uncomfortable writing them or I have 0 interest in writing them.)

#he squeaks #intro

[volumesofforgottenlore]

Aaron Hotchner fic recs

By Ddejavvu

Purposefully messes up his tie to get y/n close - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

The team uses his soft spot for y/n to their advantage - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Enemies to lovers - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Second chance romance - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Shy reader - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

When fratboy!aaron can't get you to himself because his friends adore you - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

When the room service guy is too flirty - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Morgan tries to prank him - by Ddejavvu (read 14.08.22)

He's an affectionate drunk - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

He helps you paint your nails - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Doctor Hotchner - by Ddejavvu (read 15.08.22)

Bookstore owner!Hotch has a crush on you - by Ddejavvu (read 15.08.22)

He likes watching you read - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

The team is shocked that you made him laugh - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Team Building - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Love Me Right - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Enemies to lovers - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

His girlfriend is a camgirl, and Reid recognizes her when they're introduced - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Goodbye - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Good Company - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Faultless - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Aquarium date - by Ddejavvu (read 08.22)

Biker!Hotch - by Ddejavvu (read 19.08.22)

He comforts you when you have cramps - by Ddejavvu (read 19.08.22)

Goth wife - by Ddejavvu (read 25.08.22)

You get served a food you're allergic to, so he switches your plates - by Ddejavvu (read 14.09.22)

He gets overly protective because of a papercut - by Ddejavvu (read 09.22)

Garcia is concerned about his finances (sugar daddy!hotch) - by Ddejavvu (read 09.22)

By Hotch-stufff

Garcia accidentally discovers that you're dating - by Hotch-stufff (read 08.22)

The team discovers he's secretly married - by Hotch-stufff (read 08.22)

By Honeybrowne

Undeserving - by Honeybrowne (read 08.22)

By Heliotropehotch

He gets shy around you - by Heliotropehotch (read 08.22)

Wholesome stress-relief - by Heliotropehotch (read 08.22)

By Aaronhotchy

He wouldn't be able to resist spoiling you - by Aaronhotchy (read 08.22)

He brings you coffees with cute little notes - by Aaronhotchy (read 08.22)

You steal one of his snacks - by Aaronhotchy (read 24.08.22)

By Stayuplateinthebau

"What's a sir kink?" - by Stayuplateinthebau (read 08.22)

By Kryptonitejelly

Prentiss finds his cologne in your bathroom - by Kryptonitejelly (read 08.22)

The team discovers he's dating a doctor - by Kryptonitejelly (read 08.22)

Forehead kisses - by Kryptonitejelly (read 08.22)

By Olliethedonut

He's concerned about how quiet it is - by Olliethedonut (read 08.22)

By Ssamorganhotchner

Maybe A Little Tired - by Ssamorganhotchner (read 16.08.22)

He refuses your help because he doesn't want to be a burden - by Ssamorganhotchner (read 13.09.22)

By Whump-town

Breathe In - by Whump-town (read 24.08.22)

By Honeypiehotchner

Hard-headed - by Honeypiehotchner (read 29.08.22)

Painfully professional - by Honeypiehotchner (read 29.08.22)

Delicate - by Honeypiehotchner (read 29.08.22)

Recompense - by Honeypiehotchner (read 29.08.22)

By Ssahotchnerr

"Sir, you're not subtle" - by Ssahotchnerr (read 09.22)

#added #date-month-year if anyone's confused #feel free to lmk if i mislabled something #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

[masterwords]

running toward nothing (part eleven)

Summary: Hotch is injured in an explosion while on overseas assignment, putting Derek in a difficult position both with the team and with Spencer who has spent the last few months inadvertently falling in love with him. (Set around 07x01 - It Takes a Village but canon divergent by a lot.)

Warnings: lots of hospital talk, vomit, passing out, addiction talk

Words: 2.6k

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Notes: This is for @tobias-hankel’ s Spencer Whump Challenge. My assigned prompts to do my evil with were Derek Morgan & Betrayal. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck dudes. I'm so sorry. BUT, I have something for you tonight and more tomorrow...and we'll finish this week. With a few more chapters but we're getting there! I know I thought we'd be here sooner but I'm not a planner guys, okay? I go where the story takes me so I should stop trying to predict this stuff. I hope you're still enjoying! Let me know?

CHAPTER LIST

Read on AO3: Running Toward Nothing

**

“Jack?”

The kid was crouched on the floor digging through a drawer in the bottom of the exam table through countless baby toys. Blocks and Sesame Street books and magnets, trying to find something to amuse himself. All baby toys, and while he wasn't exactly too old to play, he was definitely too old and sophisticated for these toys. He'd been playing Risk for the last few weeks, after all, it was a little insulting to be faced with Elmo now. He glanced up at the sound of his name, peering at the door with his one good eye to see who it was. The other eye was fine, too, it was just shrouded in gauze to cover the gnarly gash just above his eyebrow, and he thought it made him look like a pirate or an action movie star. He kind of hoped he'd come away with a scar that would scare people, the kind that all the best villains had, but he knew his dad would hate that.

His dad was going to hate all of this. He'd probably be really mad at Spencer. Jack was vaguely aware that Spencer had been acting strange but not enough to put any of it together.

“Huh?” His dad hated when he said huh. He was on a roll today.

“Your aunt Jessica just called, she's on her way.”

He frowned and fell to his butt, hugging his knees to his chest. He'd been so happy, so easily entertained until now. She figured it might have enough to do with coming down from the adrenaline of the wreck, but it looked like more than that. Crouching, she got close to him and offered him a soft smile. “What's the matter? Can I help?”

He turned away from her, not exactly throwing a fit (he was too old for fits, really) but not being very nice either. His mood had gone sour quickly. “I wanted Derek to come.”

“She didn't say if she was bringing anyone...”

At that, he perked up. He hadn't anticipated that answer. Really, he was so caught up in the ebb and flow of his intense emotions (and that bubblegum flavored medicine they gave him for his head made him feel swimmy and light) that he hadn't anticipated much of today. It was all a blur. He could barely remember the accident, so he avoided it. That part of his day was big and scary. Instead, he shifted gears. “Can I have some juice?”

“Sure, honey. Anything else? I have cheese and crackers, jello, popsicles...”

His face lit up at the promise of food and he realized how hungry he was. He'd asked Derek if he could get breakfast at school today, it was pancake day and he loved pancake day. Derek never made pancakes on weekdays, it was always eggs and the toast he didn't like that had nuts and seeds and yuck things in it. He wanted syrup. The nurse smiled. “How about a little of everything?” He nodded enthusiastically.

(x)

Downstairs, Derek was already pacing the waiting room. He knew he wanted to go upstairs to see Jack, but he had to find out what the hell was happening before he could be around Jack. In his current state, if he saw Jack, he might lose it completely.

The police officer milling around set his nerves on fire. Flashing his credentials, he hoped it would get him somewhere. All it got him were questions about Spencer, not answers. It was Emily who provided him with the first answers.

He rubbed his tired eyes at the sight of her walking down the hallway, confused but not unhappy to see her. He still hadn't gotten used to her being alive again, even weeks later. His arms were around her fast, hers quickly following suit. A squeeze, a little too long.

“Emily? What are you doing here?” His voice was a gravel whisper, choking on emotion.

“Garcia saw Reid's name pop up on...well she can explain it better than me. She keeps an eye on all of us you know. Big Brother Garcia style. Anyway...” she paused, biting her lip and he recognized it as one of her tells so without even thinking about it, he glanced at her hands and saw that her nails were chewed up. Gnawed right to the quick. It made his stomach flop.

“Out with it, Em,” he snapped and she flinched a little at his aggression.

“Walk with me to get coffee.” That was all she could do, knowing she had to get him out of here. Away from the waiting room. “Come on. You can't do anything here.”

In the cafeteria, there wasn't an empty table in sight but they could take their coffees outside. Emily wanted a cigarette. God she'd fucking kill for one. “Was he...did they run a blood test?”

“They said there were opioids in his system. The quick test couldn't determine how much but...there shouldn't be any so it doesn't matter. The kid's been clean for years.”

Emily made a hissing noise and clenched her teeth, tightening her grip on the coffee cup. Exactly the answer she'd been hoping he wouldn't give.

“In Colorado,” she started, staring down at her hands for a moment before sighing. She couldn't hide from this, she needed to look him in the eye. “The morning after...what happened between you guys...I accidentally knocked his bag into the sink in the bathroom. There was a pill bottle in there. He said they were there by accident. That Jack gave them to him because he had a headache and he forgot to put them back in the bathroom but he promised me he wasn't taking them.”

“A pill bottle?” His voice was barely working now. He was going to be sick. First place his mind went was the phone call with Hotch, and Reid sitting right there, right in front of him and...blaming fucking Sean.

“Vicodin. It was Hotch's. There was one pill left in there, but he kept saying 'pills' like there were more. I wanted to believe him, Derek. I promised I wouldn't say anything if he put it back. He told me he did. He swore.” She hadn't been back long enough to cause problems, to know where Spencer's head was at...she should have said something but her instincts were broken. Her ability to read this team was broken.

“I accused Hotch of...” Derek stopped himself for a moment, choking on his tears. She couldn't think of many times she saw him cry, but right now there were hot lava tears burning down his cheeks. “His head, you know? He doesn't think clearly right now, I thought maybe he lost track of doses...I didn't believe him...”

“You had every reason to think what you did. It was the logical answer, Derek. Why would you assume Reid had relapsed? Or was stealing from Hotch? There were other more logical answers.”

More logical answers didn't help him now. Jack's life was in danger because of more logical answers.

(x)

“Aaron?”

Sean was hanging in the doorway, wide-eyed and taking in the scene before him. Hotch was standing at the sink, leaning heavily with one hand, the other trembling with a pill bottle sitting right in the middle of his palm. He blinked owlish and slow, like he was struggling through a flickering movie of memories, a slow motion time lapse. It didn't help that his vision was swimming, that his heart was hammering slow and thick in his chest.

“Aaron?” The last thing he wanted to do was startle his brother. “I'm coming in...” It fell on deaf ears, he knew that much. Hotch didn't hear well anyway but this was something else altogether. With one hand outstretched, he touched his brother's elbow, sliding up beside him slowly. “What's the matter?”

“Where did this come from?” The look on his face was pure bewilderment, and Sean grabbed the bottle and examined it. The Vicodin bottle, empty, a drawer ajar.

“I don't know,” was all Sean could think to say. He and Jessica had torn the bathroom apart, top to bottom. The drawers all pulled and emptied, cabinets contents exploded on every surface, they had taken a complete inventory of the entire small room and this was simply not there when they looked. “You found it in here?”

“Jack's drawer...”

Sean's eyes darted to the drawer and then to Hotch again, confused. “No way. Jess and I both looked there.”

“I know,” Hotch replied, his voice small and fragile. “I don't...it doesn't make sense.”

It occurred to Sean that this was going to point back to him, somehow it would have to. He could see the writing on the wall. He and Jess checked, he had his hands in everything, it would have been so easy to hide it until after Jess was sure nothing was there and then put it back...one damning piece of evidence to another shot through his mind and he dropped the bottle into the sink and took a step backward, hitting the wall with a thud.

“Sean?” The way Hotch looked at him wasn't accusatory though, and it almost shocked him out of his state of panic. He'd never seen his brother look so helpless or so defeated. So completely lost. Sean steadied himself and pushed off of the wall, walking toward his brother cautiously.

“I don't know,” he replied to the impossible silent question. “I don't know how that got there.”

There wasn't anything else to say. It was rare that two Hotchners could be in a room and neither of them would have an answer, but Sean figured there was a first time for everything. “Come on, let's finish getting you ready. Jack is waiting. What did you need in here?”

Hotch shuffled a little, shifting his weight completely off of his sore leg and frowned. He looked so like Jack that it almost made Sean laugh except that the gravity of the situation made that response more than a little inappropriate. “I don't remember.” He couldn't. His mind was white washed and his skin felt hot, prickly. Something wasn't right but he couldn't even seem to voice that, instead he just stood there.

Until he started throwing up, anyway. Right into the sink, down the front of him. Heavy and surprised, his eyes went wide and glassy. Sean tried not to act shocked, instead he just walked cautiously into the hallway to find a towel when things got worse.

“Sean...” it came out slurry and fogged, and before anything else could flutter over his suddenly ashen lips he was collapsing. Folding like a house of cards, landing with a thud against the tiled floor. Sean jumped back into the bathroom a moment too late, catching only the faintest bit of fabric, nothing substantial. Skidding across the floor on his knees he scrambled toward his brother whose eyes were rolled back in his head, he was limp and cold but he was breathing.

“Aaron?” He paused, pressing his ear to Hotch's lips, just to feel that warm breath against his skin. Afraid to touch him. “JESS!”

The panic in his voice made her freeze, dropping the cup of coffee she'd been holding. Cold coffee, from early that morning, all she'd meant to do was empty it into the sink and wash the cup but now it was slamming into the counter and breaking in half. Cold coffee sloshed out everywhere by the time she was moving toward the bathroom.

As she rushed, she thought about how he had them all fleeced. And she knew it but she allowed it anyway. Hotch's limp took all the attention, and he liked it that way. It took all of the worry away from his head injury, away from the fact that speaking took every ounce of energy he had in his reserves, that walking and physical therapy weren't hard because his hip hurt, it was because he couldn't figure out how to do it the right way. Put your foot down and focus on rolling heel to toe, they would say, and he would scrunch up his nose and try and fuck. It never worked. He ended up limping, no heel, no flex, just a limp. A painfully irritating limp.

So, him passing out after a morning of overexerting himself with Derek in bed and then the stress over Jack shouldn't have come as a shock but it did because none of them were prepared. Jess had been ready to lay into Derek for letting Hotch talk him into sex, really. He should have known better but she knew damn well he was thinking about the hip and not the damn head. Of course. Hotch had them all fooled.

Sean was worried about him hitting his hip, it wasn't until Jessica mentioned his head that he even considered that. It wasn't until Hotch didn't immediately wake up that it even occurred to him to call for her. He'd seen Hotch hit the bricks so many times over the last few weeks, it was just usually that he was in bed or on the couch and had nowhere to fall. A cold wash rag or an ice pack for his forehead, an icepack for his hip and he would come to grouchy and indignant about the extra eyes and worry but he'd be fine.

The vomiting was new. And this time he wasn't coming to. Sean's hand on the back of his neck was met with clammy cold skin. “Aaron, wake up!” he shouted. Like that was going to fucking work, like Hotch was going to come around just because his little brother was terrified. He knew better. Now he had to decide if this was a time to move him or leave him. Calling for Jess seemed to be the right thing to do. He knew plenty of first aid, more than most people he'd come across in his life, but he didn't know this.

“Hospital,” she said, jerking Sean up by his collar. Scruffing him like a kitten. “Call 911. Wait with him, I have to go get Jack. Fuck.” She'd never said so many swears in her life, but today was just one of those days. “Now Sean.”

“But he's breathing. We've never called before...”

The distressed look on his face gave her pause. She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to remind herself that this was his brother. That he was not a caretaker, he was not a nurse, he was Hotch's baby brother and she was being unfair. It still came out like venom in her voice. “Nevermind. I'll call from the car, I know what to tell them about his head injury. Just pick him up and carry him to the front room so the EMTs can get in easier okay? Can you do that one thing for me?”

“Don't bite my head off,” Sean muttered, sliding his arms beneath his brother who felt impossibly light. “I don't know as much as you do about this shit. Doesn't mean I'm a moron.”

She sighed, fumbling through her purse for her phone. “I'm sorry. You're right. Just get him out there please and make sure he's still breathing.”

Pausing, she steadied him in her gaze and locked eyes with him. “Okay, it's okay, he's okay...” she sucked air, closing her eyes and blinking long and hard. “Everything will be okay.”

Sean's eyes were wide, sparking blue flame but he nodded and carried his brother behind her, all legs and arms dangling. He angled him through narrow doorways and down the hall, gently tipping him onto the couch and listening again for the sound of him breathing. He didn't realize Jess was gone until he heard the ambulance pull up with sirens blaring and lights flashing.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #sean hotchner #jessica brooks #jack hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #hotchgan #mortch #spencer reid

[baubeautyandthegeek]

I Will Defy You - Elle Greenaway/Erin Strauss

A/N: Part 3/5 for @soheavyaburden​ ‘s A Year of Whump prompts for the week.

 Elle’s sarcastic defiance is quick and firm and rude. Erin can’t help moving closer when Elle considers leaving the BAU. Hotch looks ready to push her into it and Erin speaks quickly, her own defiance just as sharply sarcastic. “Yes Aaron, letting our best worker leave is a great plan…” She’s firm even as she looks the man over, then adds a softer comment. “Don’t worry, she won’t be working with you Hotch, she’ll be leading the team whilst you go back to training and learn how to actually care for your team.” Elle crumbles when Hotch leaves and Erin pulls her closer, stroking soft circles at her back. “You’ll be okay Elle, I promise.”

#elle greenaway #erin strauss #elle/erin #erin/elle #criminal minds #ayearofwhump

[pretty-boys-book-club]

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader, mentions of past Aaron Hotchner x Haley Brooks

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST, character death, angst with happy ending, mentions of child abuse, child neglect, Aaron Hotchner Needs a Hug, Aaron Hotchner Whump, Teen Hotch, alcoholic mother - I think this is pretty much it, but feel free to let me know if there's any more!

Word Count: 12K (this thing is loooong)

Prompt: Person A is too busy working, even going as far as spending Christmas Eve alone at their office. They end up falling asleep and get visited by a series of ghosts who give them a chance to re-evaluate their actions and right the wrongs of their past. (A Christmas Carol)

Author’s note: The person who sent me this request wished to stay anonymous, so I’m posting this as a text instead of an answer. I’m sorry if this a little too sad, but I thought Hotch deserved some type of background and got a bit carried away. The timeline is a bit wobbly and this hasn’t been beta read, but I’ve spent over a week obsessing over this text and something tells me it is ready to be released into the world. Also, per the request,I’m doing this one as a Fem!Reader.

This is part of my 12 Days of Christmas (100 Followers Celebration, which turned into a 250 followers celebration and now a 300 followers celebration!). Requests are now closed and will reopen at 2022.

Haley Hotchner was dead: to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that. The arrangements – which sort of coffin, cremation or burial, where would they have the service – seemed to relate to someone else, some stranger. The register of her burial was signed by the coroner, the forensic pathologist and someone else at the FBI. Aaron Hotchner signed it too.

He’d known nearly immediately, of course. How could it be otherwise? Aaron knew as soon as he walked into their house, his gut telling him the worst possible outcome had come true. As odd as it sounds, part of Aaron was grateful for the pain. Of course, he was absolutely miserable but, in his own way ,he was glad that his ex-wife died first so she didn’t have to feel what he did. As much as it hurt, it was an honor to him to be able to share the best years of their lives together and that she chose him to share them with. And if he thought too hard about what it was like for him in the first couple of years, he was glad that she was spared of that.

On the surface, the man looked and behaved just as usual. Rather, Aaron felt content to find a new sense of resilience. One latches on to any concept that offers hope or comfort. As a trained FBI profiler, Aaron knew that a theory shared by many psychiatric studies of bereavement is that the mind shuts down, so the body will have time to adjust to the new situation.

During her burial and the days that followed, Aaron felt as if he was moving through the rooms like a shadow, and their shared house seemed large and cold and alien. He’d never spent such a long time at the house without Haley. After a couple of weeks, the soft grief, the tears, began to hit. The metaphors – waves, inundation, floods – seemed accurate to him. Grief swallowed him. Whoever he was before her death, was replaced by a melancholic, taciturn, and cautious man. An iron ring was cast around his heart, followed by a heaviness in the chest. It was almost as if his innards had been scooped out – no stomach, heart, or emotions.

Reid once told him that after a year and a half 70 per cent of widows reported significant improvement in their feelings, which offered more hope to Hotch than statements such as “everyone’s grief is different”.

After about a year, Aaron stopped obsessively going over the most horrible week of his life. He once had promised Haley that he’d make sure she and Jack never suffered pain because of his job. And she had suffered great pain, in the end. But after so long of wallowing and going over every moment of that nightmare, in some vain expectation of correcting his mistakes, he had to move on.

Since that fateful night, everything had become about Jack. He had to make their life as normal as possible and see Jack through the hell of their reality with the assurance that he was loved and that both of them would be okay.

After two or three years, he stopped thinking about Haley’s death. Jack was getting better every day, and as he did, Aaron found himself worrying less about his son. He was almost starting to believe that he would be okay. He had a lot of work ahead, but he’d manage.

So, there was no doubt that Haley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come out of this story.

After Haley’s death though, whatever he might have once been, Aaron Hotchner was a different man. He needed to work, not only to survive, but so that he had an identity that he could wear like armor. This new version of himself was working at least 70 hours a week, so much on his plate that early every minute of his day had to be spent in a productive way. He still felt as if he’d lost a limb. But his wound had healed and he’d learned to manage without it.

The old Aaron only had to exist in the precious moments before his head hit the pillow at night or when he was spending time with Jack. It was safer there. At some point, he became hard and sharp as steel, self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold inside him froze his features, brows permanently furrowed, wrinkles adoring his forehead. He carried his own low temperature always about with him, external heat and cold had little influence on Aaron Hotchner. No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him.

Once upon a time—of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve— Aaron Hotchner sat busy in his office. The weather was cold and bleak, and he could hear the people in the bullpen going around their day. Reid was stating all the possible facts about Christmas to Morgan, Prentiss was discussing what type of wine to bring to a party with Rossi, JJ had already left to be with her family, Penelope was merrily distributing gingerbread cookies to all of the office and youyou, well, youyou werewere far too busy actually working.

You see, you you arrived at the team just after Hotch returned from his leave, proving yourselfWith a background on forensic analysis, you’d quickly proved to be a useful asset to the team. Not only that, but your work ethic was impressive, probably the only other person in the team who worked as hard as Hotch did.

There was something different about you. Something that made Hotch feel as if he could relax around you, and he felt, slowly, all the walls he’d put up starting to crumble. Spending so many hours together, it was only natural that the two of you grew closer together.

To be completely honest, Aaron’s not even sure when it started. If he had to guess, it might have been during one of the late nights you shared at the office, enjoying the silence. Or it might have been when you started to compliment him on the tiniest of things - Hotch knew you were a profiler, but he didn’t expect anyone on the team to notice whenever he got a haircut or when he tried a different coffee brand than usual. Or maybe it was because you never gave him a look of pity. Maybe sadness, maybe care, never pity. Maybe, just maybe, his feelings started when you knocked on the door to his office with a bag of takeout, starting a secret routine of sharing dinner, chatting about anything and everything at once. Maybe that’s when the familiar feeling sank in. Or maybe it was any of the other small moments in between.

Of course, having felt this way before, he knew exactly what was happening. Sure, you were attractive, it was hard not to notice the way you swayed your hips or how your curves complimented you, but it was more than that. It wasn't a crush or some type of infatuation. It was too similar to what he’d felt all those years ago with Haley. So he couldn’t possibly allow it. Not if it meant to be plagued with the possibility of you getting hurt too. On top of that, the fact that he was your boss just further complicated things. No, he decided, those feelings won’t do. Best to avoid it all together.

So he started to push you away. Trying his best to ignore what his heart craved so badly. Sitting back and watching as you dated despicable man after despicable man. Even if he wanted to give his heart to you, after years of white-knuckling it, his fingers didn’t know how. Anyway, back to our story.

The clock had barely hit four in the afternoon, but it was quite dark already — it had not been light all day. Snow was pouring down so dense that all the other buildings outside of Quantico were mere phantoms. Aaron had come to despise the winter weather. Haley loved the season and the holidays served him as a painful reminder of memories he didn’t want to revisit.

Hotch was divorced from all the antics of lights and decorations, as soon as the leaves announced the beginning of autumn, his moments of abstraction were frequent, and in them it seemed as if his spirit were wandering the paths of another world. He’d only come back to his senses with the beginning of the next year, when the first flowers blossomed with hope of spring.

During the month of December, the BAU had surprisingly little to do. A few cases here and there, but nothing that required more than a couple of days. So, from where he was sitting in his office, he saw that most of the team had already left. You were still typing away at your desk, the only one left at the bullpen. He saw from the corner of his eye how you held your coat closer to your body, the temperature at Quantico making you slightly tremble. Not matter how many times Hotch had told maintenance to come down and fix the thermostat at their floor, his requests had been ignored.

He was so distracted observing you, a luxury he rarely did ever let himself indulge in. He should have been more insistent, you shouldn’t waste your time working that much lest you become like him. He hated how he could see the transformation taking place in you. How your soft eyes now carried a look of disappointment each time you looked at him. He was so absorbed in his task of admiring you that he was caught by surprise by someone entering his office.

“Merry Christmas, Hotch!” cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Penelope Garcia, who was head to toe dressed in red and green, not hiding her enthusiasm for the season.

“Merry Christmas, Garcia.” he said, not looking up from his report. He watched as Penelope left him one of her cookies on his desk as she walked away, one of the last of the team to leave the office.

“Sir, I’ve closed off the bat cave for the day. Some of us will be going to Rossi’s to have a Christmas dinner, you know. Do you maybe want to join us?”

“There’s no need. It’s fine, thank you for worrying about me, Garcia.” he said shortly, and turned away, his attention back to his report.

“Okay, well, never hurts to ask. The invitation still stands, in case you change your mind. Good night then, sir.”

“Good night, Garcia.” he said as he heard her leave his office.

He looked back at the report in his hands. What was he doing? He knew it the team probably suspected he wasn’t as busy as he was pretending to be. But, for some strange reason, the idea of spending Christmas working was more appealing than the idea of spending it with Jack and Jessica. The idea of seeing his sister-in-law, which meant he’d have to face Roy too, would meant facing a painful and familiar feeling and he didn’t wish to spoil the night for anyone else.

“Please, don’t tell me you’re planning on actually working tonight.”

Hotch raised his eyes from his paper as the subject of his affections walked into his office. You were standing at the doorframe, arms crossed, holding the tiniest of packages, wrapped in some sort of shiny paper. Your face sported a concerned but amused look.

“It’s just another day, crimes don’t stop just because it’s a holiday.” he replied.

You observed him, not believing a word he said: “It’s just one night, Aaron, the office will be here tomorrow morning. But I bet Jack would love to have you with him tonight.” He whimpered at the use of his given name, hating how you could read him so effortlessly.

“He’s with Jessica and his grandfather, he’ll be fine. I get New Year’s with him. If I’m working, no one else has to.”

“Aaron, c’mon, you should go spend Christmas Eve with your family just like the rest of us.”

“I have to finish this report.” he turned back to face the papers on his desk. “Besides, I’ve worked during Christmas for the last few years, I really don’t mind.”

“Still, you really shouldn’t spend tonight by yourself. I can give you a ride to Rossi’s if you want. I heard he’s making thirteen different dishes, something about an Italian tradition. You should come.” He could see the expectation on your face. A look he had come to agree that was only reserved to him. After a moment of silence, you continued, suddenly remembering the package you were holding. “I got you a gift, by the way. I hope you like it.”

He wondered what you’d bought him, but decided against opening the gift, putting it inside one of the drawers instead. Anything to avoid letting you know how happy the little gesture made him. “Thank you. For the gift and the invitation. But I’m fine being here. You should go, I’m sure they are waiting for you.” Hotch gave you a small smile, unsure of what to tell you. He couldn’t admit he was at the office to avoid his feelings.

“Okay, never hurts to ask. The invitation still stands, in case you change your mind. Have a good night then, I…” You started, having trouble finding the right words. “Merry Christmas, Aaron.”

“Merry Christmas.” he uttered the words with a stone cold face, almost as if he’d rehearsed them before. Not hiding his guilt, though, he continued: “I’m sorry for turning down the offer, but I really need to finish this.” You seemed to understand his motives, looking down at your feet. He could see your eyes get a bit teary.

“Don’t worry about it.” You spoke softly, offering a gentle smile. He hated how you always did that, always showed sympathy for him. He didn’t deserve it.

And like that, you were gone, your steps echoing in the empty office as you took the elevator. He was now completely alone. Hotch sat there, unsure of what to think. He tried really hard not to feel bad for letting you go.

He really did.

HALEY’S GHOST

Without him noticing, the clock turned to yet a later hour. And so, Hotch decided to pour himself glass of scotch, the taste rich on his tongue, the familiar burn in his chest warming him up as he swallowed a generous gulp. It was much too late for him to drive home, not to mention the snowy road would be a menace to his safety, so he decided to sleep in his office. It was not the first, second, third or, hell, even fourth time he’d done so. Much too familiar with the action, he found himself laying in the sofa inside his office, putting one of the pillows below his head, sleep almost taking over him instantly.

It was then that Aaron noticed a couple of the computers outside his office turning on, the screens illuminating the empty bullpen. This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it seemed an hour. The computers turned off as they turned on, together and all at once. His office door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the corridor; then coming straight towards his door.

“Who’s there?” He asked, cold gun smoothly drawn from its holster, pointed, and fired up, as if expecting someone to reply. His color changed though, when, without a pause, someone came on through the glass door, and passed into the room before his very eyes.

The same face: the very same. Haley Hotchner stood in front of him.

“I must be delusional…”

“No, you’re not delusional, Aaron.”

“Who are you? Is this some sort of prank? It’s not funny, you know.”

“Ask me who I was.”

“Who were you then?” said Hotch, raising his voice. “You can’t be… I shouldn’t have had so many drinks.”

“In life, I was your ex-wife, Haley.”

“But you’re…”

“I’m dead? That much, Aaron, is, unfortunately true.”

“Can we—can we sit down?” asked Hotch, looking doubtfully at the ghost.

“We can.”

“Do it, then.” Hotch took a moment to observe her more closely. This Haley, staring back at him, looked a bit older. She had more lines on her face, her hair was long enough to tie it up, back to her usual blonde. But, Hotch noticed that, oddly, there was more life in her eyes then than during the last few weeks of her life.

“You don’t believe in me,” observed the Ghost.

“No, I don’t,” said Hotch. He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. He had become insane. Or maybe he was just dreaming. That had to be it. It was the only explanation that made sense. He had to be fast asleep on his office couch, and he would wake up in the morning to see that this whole thing was just some dream. He would wake up, alone on Christmas morning, and go back to work to forget this awful dream.

“After everything you have seen, you still think ghosts are impossible?” Haley’s ghost crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head, a stance that Hotch was very familiar with. The distant memory made the tension leave his body for a bit.

“Okay, let’s say I believe you are actually here for a second and not some vision I’m having…” Curiosity got the better of him.  He sighed, dropping his head in his hands. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to warn you, Aaron, that you have yet a chance of living a long and fulfilling life, if you change the course you’re going. A true chance at love and happiness. You just need… a nudge in the right direction.” she quietly said, stroking Aaron’s face gently like she had done so many times during the years they were married.

“Oh, Haley, it’s really you. I’m so sorry.” Tears sprung to his eyes as he recalled their final moments together. He hugged her, burying his face in her shoulder. “I… I am-” The way he had cradled her, quite like he was doing right now “ I…”

“I know, Aaron. And I forgave you for it all, so you could find happiness again.” She held his face in her hands. “But you’re not happy, are you, Aaron? Look at you.”

“No, I am not! How can you expect me to be happy now you’re gone?” he demanded, in a faltering voice.

“You can be, I am sure. And you might not even see it, but you’re so close. You’ve got so much time to live, so much love left to experience, so many more wonderful years ahead of you. Time is the most precious thing in this world and to have shared my life for so long with you is something I am incredibly grateful for. Please tell Jack stories, so he knows how much I love him and how proud of him I will always be.” She smiled at him. Hotch can’t help but feel the hollowness of sadness combined with choking from grief. The price of love.

“You will be haunted,” she resumed, “by Three Spirits. Look at what they show you. Listen to them, please!”

“Is that what you call a nudge in the right direction, Haley?”

“It is.”

“I—I think I’d rather not,” said Hotch.

“Unfortunately, it’s not up you. Expect the first when the clock strikes one.” said Haley’s ghost, her hand touching his cheek one last time. “I loved you so much, but it’s time for you to let me go.”

Tears ran down Aaron’s face. “I’m not sure I know how.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Haley’s ghost smiled, wiping his tears gently with her thumb.

Then she left. Just as she appeared, dissolving into thin air. Aaron blew out a breath he’d been holding in his lungs without realizing it. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse into the afterlife, or the dull ache he still felt after seeing Haley one more time, Aaron went back to lying on the couch, not even taking off his shoes, and fell asleep upon the instant.

THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS

When Hotch awoke, it was so dark, that from his office he could scarcely distinguish the rest of the bullpen. He was trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes when he glanced upon the watch in his left hand. It was a quarter past midnight.

The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of his office, and groped his way to the door. He rubbed the sleep off his face with the sleeve of his shirt, he could see very little then. Hotch went back to his makeshift bed, and thought, and thought, and thought it over and over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought, the more perplexed he was; and the more he endeavored not to think, the more he thought.

Haley’s ghost had bothered him. Every time he resolved within himself, after much inquiry, that it was all a dream, his mind went back again to its first position, and presented the same evidence to be worked all through, “Was it a dream or not?”

He stayed like that until the clock had hit one in the morning, when he remembered, on a sudden, that Haley’s ghost had warned him of a visit. Light flashed up in the room, and the door to his office opened.

The door to his office was opened, I tell you, by a hand. And Hotch, clutching his gun at its holster, found himself face to face with an unearthly visitor: “Tom?”

“Hello, Hotch.”

“Why are you here?” he inquired, even though he already knew the answer to that question. The old man looked just as he did on the last time they saw each other, with the small change being that he was able to breathe - or whatever it was ghosts did - without needing an oxygen tank.

“I am the ghost of Christmas Past.” his voice was singularly low, as if instead of being so close beside him, it were at a distance.

“Of course, you are. So, Shaunessy, where are you taking me?”

“As it usually goes, we shall start at the beginning.” Before Hotch had time to react, the spirit of the older policeman was holding his hand, they passed through the wall, stood upon the FBI building, facing the road below and then leapt out into the night. After a while, the entire city had vanished below them. Not a vestige of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground.

They landed on an empty field in rural Virginia.  There was a sharp intake of breath from Aaron as he recognized the location. The sky was tinted a purplish gray just as he remembered, the snow falling down the quickest and heaviest it had in a long while.

“It can’t be.” Hotch said. “My old boarding school.”

“Do you remember it?” inquired Shaunessy’s ghost.

“Remember it!” cried Hotch with fervor; “I could walk around here while blindfold.”

They walked along the road, Hotch recognized every post and every tree, until an imposing building appeared in the distance. There was an empty familiarity in the way the school campus was silent during the winter break. Looking forward to the holidays, most of the boys put on their own clothes and packed their bags, shuffling past the school gates to the arms of their waiting parents, vacating the school for the two weeks that separated Christmas from the beginning of the year. Aaron watched all this activity without any obvious sadness or bitterness.

“The school is not quite deserted,” said the Shaunessy’s ghost. “A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left here still.”

Hotch looked to the front of the building, scanning it. Something caught his trained eyes: fresh footsteps in the snow, leading away from the building. And amidst all of it - a young Aaron Hotchner stumbling blindly through the storm, snow over his ankles, head pounding and tears shining in his eyes. The older Hotch remembered exactly how his fingers ached in the winter wind as he clenched and unclenched them, trying to keep the feeling in their tips.

“Do you know why we’re here?” inquired the ghost.

“It’s the year when my father got sick.”

“Were you two ever close?” the ghost prompted.

“My father… He hurt me and not once did he show a single ounce of remorse. Never. My mother… She knew… But she didn’t do anything. Then she had Sean, and we were happy for a while. But when I became a teen, I became more and more difficult because I started to realize that things shouldn’t be like that. That it wasn’t normal for love to hurt the way it did. I rebelled — that's how I coped.” He answered. The image of his poor excuse of a father beating up his mother on the kitchen floor, while his brother cried in his room, played in his mind. Flashes of being beaten, thrown down the stairs, slapped. “So my father decided that I was the problem. I was the screw-up son with an attitude problem. The beatings got more frequent, and the more he tried to correct me the more I lashed out. And mother was… She got me away as soon as she could, I think my mother thought boarding school would give me stability. I just felt as if I must have done something wrong to be sent away. She didn’t stop him, though. Nobody stopped him. He only stopped when he died.”

“Are we here because that’s when he died, then?”

“No, not yet, at least. You see, he’d been having all those symptoms for years but he didn’t do anything because of his pride. No, this, right here, it was the Christmas I spent at school.”

“A happy memory, then?”

“Yes.”

In fact, he remembered being glad to spend the holidays far away from home. Of course, he’d struggled when he first got to the school. The first night away, he sobbed in the small, unfamiliar bed. Aaron had just turned sixteen when his mother sent him away. He thought his mother, at least, loved him, so for her to leave as if Aaron held no importance to her at all. It had hurt. But as she said goodbye he felt a strange sense of relief. The school was the ideal setting for him to hit the “reset” button.

There were paddocks with sheep in them on the actual school grounds. There were woods next to the school pool. The school chapel was quaint, with roses growing up the exterior. It was different from what he was used to, but he quickly settled into the routine. It’s funny how you can adapt when you don’t have much of a choice. The school fostered organization; its surroundings provided a sense of peace; and its people offered engagement and a sense of belonging. Every day at home was unpredictable and ghastly. Rules that were enforced one day, don’t apply on the next day. Promises were neither kept nor remembered. At school, though, things seemed to always remain the same. Aaron finally felt like he had a place to call home. He found a new way to cope: by taking on lots of responsibility and putting up a competent front for others.

As Hotch, the older one, that is, reminisced about his childhood, his teenage self was huffing and puffing about, mumbling something to himself, a letter in his hands. Both men walked closer to where the teen was, trying to get a better view of what was going on.

“You don’t seem that happy.” Shaunessy’s ghost teased.

“Well, I mean, of course, I felt lonely and left behind. But when wasn't I lonely? At least I was in peace. Besides, I had nowhere else to go, so the matter was decided.”

“Doesn’t look very peaceful to me.”

It was sad, perhaps, but that was the way it had always been for Hotch by then. Before he could explain anything else, though, the silence of the scene was shortly interrupted by another boy running up to meet them. He was shorter than Aaron, his round face adorned by a pair of similarly rounded glasses and blonde hair. His cheeks were red, partly because of the weather, partly from running.

“Hotchner, where are you going?” exclaimed the younger boy, trying to catch up with him. The older Aaron took a few steps to get closer to unfolding scene, only to confirm he wasn’t seeing things.

“It’s Richard Wilkins!” The older Hotchner exclaimed, a smile on his face like never before. “He was one of my closest friends as a boy.”

“What the hell does it look like I'm doing?” The young Aaron retorted, stopping just for a moment to wipe the dark hair out of his face before continuing to walk.

“It looks like you’re sulking, or something, I don’t know. But you’re not wearing enough layers to go out in this weather. You’ll catch a cold, or pneumonia, or hypothermia. Or worse, you’ll get both of us expelled!” The boy reasoned, earning a scoff from the young Hotch.

“Why do you care anyway, Wilkins?” Aaron asked, like a moody child, without turning, still holding the letter in his hand. He surely carried the weight of the world on his shoulders at that moment. Snow flew in the courtyard and the wind blew it back.

“Didn't you hear? There's going to be a blizzard!”

Hotch did hear, the professors had been grumbling about it all week about it, complaining they might not make it home before the storm hit the town, afraid they might get stuck in the roads during the worst of it. He didn’t care. The cold made him feel alive.

“Listen, you can’t stay out here like that. You’ll freeze to death” Wilkins spoke softly.

“You don’t understand! No one does!” Suddenly young Aaron crumpled up the letter in his hand and threw it into a ball. Wilkins bent down to take it. He glanced down at it, scanning the text quickly.

“Wow, you must be sad about your dad…” Wilkins is giving Hotch a sad look, but he doesn’t say anything more about it.

“What? No! I feel nothing for that man. It’s just… I can’t believe he gets to ruin my Christmas even from afar.” the older teen practically growled. Aaron was tempted to tell Richie how he had wished for his father’s death. He had prayed about it more than a couple times and even wrote a letter to Santa when he was younger.

“I know the feeling, my parents are dead and they seem to have that power too.” Wilkins agreed. And Hotch immediately felt like shit, because at least he had a mother to go home to. Even if she was not the best, at least she was alive. “I’m sorry to hear that.“

“It’s alright. There’s no way you could possibly know. By the way, I came here because I was supposed to tell you that Father Jones and a couple of other kids are decorating the school, we’re having a Christmas party at the dining hall tonight.”

“I didn’t realize there was anyone else here for break.” Aaron looked down at his feet and rubbed his hand through his hair.

“There’s a few of us. You want to come?”

“Fine. But I’m not celebrating anything tonight.”

“Your loss. I heard there’s going to be an actual dinner tonight. Not the usual grub we are served, actual real food. Heard they even went to the city to buy some stuff. If you don’t want it, you’re out of luck. More for me, then.”

“Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me. Maybe I’ll try to enjoy it for a while.”

And with that, the boys walked back into the school, together, talking about their plans for the evening. Hotch felt his heart swell once again in hearing the laughter emitting from his child self and his friend while they joked with each other.

He saw how they entered the school, quickly being called by one of the older kids to help set up the lights. The boys spent the whole afternoon decorating, eating and enjoying each other’s company.

"You had a few Christmases with this guy?” Shaunessy asked, with the authority of someone who had seen every Christmas.

“Not really. For a while, we were best friends. But then my father died and my mother asked me to come back home.”

“You loved each other deeply.”

“I suppose we did. It’s stupid but… That little Christmas dinner, it meant everything to me.”

The scene faded was replaced by another wintry day. Now, instead of the old school building, they were in a nice residential street. The lawns were decorated with lights and reindeer and Santa Clauses. All of them, except one.

"Where are we now?"

“Another Christmas when you're a bit older. Another time and another place but one that had a huge impact on making you who you are now."

The boy that walked around the corner on this day was a few years older, barely turned into a man. He still had the same dark hair as before, but this time, tears ran unchecked down his face.

"No, I don't want to see this." said the real Aaron to the ghost.

“I’m sorry, Hotch, I know how you feel about this whole thing but you need to see it.”

He knew immediately what Christmas this was. It was the year when Aaron came home from college. After being isolated from the outside world for most of his life, he now had exams to study, a loving girlfriend and a future to look up to. Finally, he was normal. He clawed his way to have the life he deserved.

Coming back hadn’t been easy, but Haley had convinced him it was the right thing to do. He knew the old man couldn’t hurt him now. But dealing with his mother was hard. His mother, having come from a broken and somewhat dysfunctional home, was culpable in different ways. She had embraced the view that his father was trying his best to help them and how Hotch was always ruining everything for them. So now, when the old horrible man was already lying six feet under, his mother was already halfway to becoming a functioning alcoholic, minus the 'functioning' part.

As he thought about having to see his family, he started to lose sleep. It was his mind’s way of telling him that this was a bad idea. His body would always tell him when something wasn’t right. He’d ‘feel it’ in his bones. Maybe that’s why he was so good at his job. But he had to go home. Not for his mother, but for Sean.

Thinking of his brother, Aaron made it home for the annual roller-coaster ride of the holidays. But Sean had missed out on having a brother for a while there, and now Aaron had come home after five years to find his little brother wasn't the person he left behind. His brother had witnessed as their father health declined and how their mother’s drinking spiraled out of control. He’d never known his father’s wrath, but Sean had known up close how mentally and physically their mother had become. How mean she’d been to the people who loved her the most. How angry. When he got inside the house from the airport, it was silent, cold and tomb-like. He couldn't wait to leave.

On that Christmas Day, events had unfolded as they often did — just another day of the year when they had to tip toe around on egg shells and do everything in our power not to address the elephant in the room: mother’s drinking. The menu for the day apparently was booze for breakfast, lunch, dinner and scotch all the way to bed.

Sean fled to his room as their mother took her third or fourth drink. Aaron knew the feeling of unease all too well. He’d spent the year at university with a written eulogy in his back pocket, waiting for the moment he’d get the call about his mother being dead and hoping that it wouldn’t happen.

So now, as the past and present Aaron Hotchner stood in the street, Hotch, the older one, was already bracing himself for impact. He knew exactly what scene would unfold.

As the younger version of himself stood there, crying, he could see little nine-year-old Sean Hotchner walk up to him, his pajamas a bit too short, a side effect of not having enough money to spend on such things, his hair a mess as per usual. The two brothers sat by each others side in the sidewalk. Like any good children in a broken home, every year they hoped that Christmas would be different, and every year it was the same, except a little worse.

“Is mom going to be okay?” Sean’s small voice asked. Of all the questions Aaron avoided, that one was the hardest.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” He thought back to his mother passed away on her bedroom, the plans for a family dinner long forgotten. Better than to be at found tomorrow morning at a ditch somewhere, on some strangers' house or in the police station.

“Is- Is Santa real?”

“What? No, of course not.” Aaron didn’t even try to hide the sound (something between a laugh and a scoff) that escaped him. “Why are you even asking me this?”

“I… I asked Santa for a nice Christmas dinner this year.” As his brother confessed, he saw the tears on Sean’s face that he was trying to hide.

“Sean… Listen, this is not gonna happen, but it’s not your fault.” Aaron answered. “This is her problem. It is not your job to fix it. It is your job to get on with your life.”

“You say that but you’re the reason our family is like this in the first place. Mom always says you’ve always been a liar. If…” Sean said between sobs. “If you hadn’t been so ungrateful, dad wouldn’t have sent you to boarding school and he’d still be alive and mom wouldn’t be sick!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aaron hissed. Was his brother angry at him? He was dumbstruck. It simply hadn't occurred to him that Sean would place the blame for all of the family’s problems on him. How could it be that his younger brother’s view of their family was utterly different from his? It was pretty ironic, given the givens. But it made sense, as far as Sean was concerned, if one person could just leave, who was going to disappear next?

“Yes, I do! Why did you leave me? You promised you’d take me with you. Remember?” Sean looked at his older brother, the same look he used to give him when they were younger and fighting. “You didn’t just leave our parents behind. You left me too!”

Aaron cringed - he knew he only had himself to blame for that. It was his fault anyway. Of course it was. But what was he supposed to do? He had no idea how to take care of a child, no financial stability, no place for Sean to sleep. He was just a broke college student.

“I’m sorry, Hotch, I know how you feel about this whole thing.” Shanuessy’s ghost reminded the real Hotch this was just a replay of something he’d already lived through. “It’s not your fault. Sean was just a kid, who was in desperate need of a parental figure. Remind you of anyone?"

“Jack.”

“That’s right.

Overcome with great sadness for the fellow, Tom Shaunessy’s ghost sadly placed a comforting hand on Hotch’s shoulder while he teared up. He stared at the man in pity. “Poor guy. No wonder you’re like that.” Shaunessy’s ghost murmured inaudibly before a final flash from the watch enveloped them and sent Hotch back to the empty office of the BAU…

THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS

Hotch gasped and woke up with a start, madly twisting his head from left to right in trying to see his surroundings. It was his office, just as he’d left it moments ago.

It hurt to remember those events. They had been locked away in his mind for years. He made a pact with himself, there and then, to never let anything like that happen with Jack. Knowing his son was probably sleep by now, he made a mental note of never again leaving him alone during the holidays. Then, his mind rushes to the other person he can think might needed his company during the holidays.

“Sean…”

Hotch quickly grabs hims phone, staring at the light up screen. His tired eyes have no trouble typing the number, something he’s had to do a handful of times during the years.

He waited nervously for Sean to accept his call. He hadn’t seen his brother in almost five months, much less talked to him. The only contact they’d had were a couple of short messages, nothing really relevant. The phone ringed for a couple of minutes, no answer. Realizing the time must mean that his brother was fast asleep, or, more likely, in some random bar drinking the night away, Hotch decided the phone call would have to take place the next morning.

It was an hour later by this point and Aaron didn't need any convincing to know that there would indeed be another visitor at two. Expecting to see the next Spirit, he was surprised when there was no one there.

His mind wandered back to his colleagues. Did they resent him for being so closed off lately? He thought about you and the forgiveness that had come so easily when he turned down the invitation for the party, even though he knew you must have been hurt.

Then there was the look, the one you had reserved just for him, the one you had shared so many nights together at the office. Was it an expression of affection? Maybe it was more than affection. Anyway, that look frightened him. Because if it meant what he thought it did, there were so many things that could go wrong.

At ten past two, Hotch finally realized that there was light slipping into his office through the space beneath the door. He thought that it might have been there for some time, actually.

He stood up and opened the door, finding the bullpen as empty as it was before. But, upon further inspection, he could see that the source of this ghostly light might be in the conference room, from where it seemed to shine. This idea taking full possession of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled to the door.

The moment Hotch’s hand was on the lock, a familiar voice called him by his name, and told him to open the door. He obeyed.

“This can’t be right…” he mumbled, as he turned on the lights in the room. “Jason? What are you doing here?” He blinked a few times to try to focus harder, but that did nothing to clear the situation up. If anything, he was more confused than before.

“I am the spirit of Christmas present." answered the figure of his former colleague, masquerading as a spirit on one of the strangest nights Hotch’s had in recent memory.

“Wait a second, you’re not dead, are you?” He worried.

“Well, if you bothered to call me once in awhile, you’d know the answer to that.” The spirit of Jason Gideon smiled. “But no, I am not dead. I’m only here for Christmas day.”

Hotch crosses his arms, knitting his brows. “So you’re supposed to show me the present, I take it?”

“Exactly. You’re finally catching up, good.”

“Does that mean we’re staying here?”

“No.” Gideon’s laugh reminding Hotch how he’d missed his former colleague. Even if they weren’t too close, he was nice to have around. “We are going somewhere. It’s not far, though. Ready?”

Hotch nodded and allowed Gideon to guide them into the night. Unsurprisingly, they remained in D.C., going straight to David Rossi’s house. The house was, of course, beautifully decorated. Strands of tinsel and garland wrapped around the columns in the entrance, string lights by the windows, casting a warm glow to the whole house.

"Shall we have a look inside? Something smells good." Hotch sniffed the air, the smell made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. The smell was even better once they were inside.

The table, decorated with branches of holly and ivy, indicated the meal had already been served. Knowing David, there here had been a nice starter and plenty of main courses. By then, though, the table was filled with various deserts, so much that Hotch knew for a fact that most of the team had to sit down for a while, too full to move. He started to seriously consider that Rossi should quit the BAU and open up his own restaurant, so delicious the food looked. He was quick at counting, enough that he quickly saw there was a place set for him as there always had been, every year. A place he had yet to fill since Haley’s death.

The living room was filled with laughter, a roaring fire in the fireplace and music playing - he thought for a moment that it sounded like Andrea Bocelli’s voice - in the background.

On the corner, a very large, way bigger than necessary, Christmas tree stood, piles upon piles of gifts at its feet. From across the room, David Rossi, raised his glass with warm eyes casting upon everyone.

"This calls for the yearly toast, you all! For a lovely Christmas this year!"

Emily joined in. “Dave’s right!" She agreed cheerfully. "Plus it's never a proper Christmas without a toast to somebody!"

"Exactly!" Derek agreed.

"That's right!" said JJ.

"Oh that's a great idea, let's do it." Garcia tipped her head. "Now who are we going to toast for tonight's Christmas?" The team looked at each other in wondering for suggestions until Reid piped up excitedly.

"Oh! I know who we should toast!" The six pairs of eyes focused upon the doctor in eagerness. But then nothing prepared Aaron for what next came from the boy's mouth: "Let's give a toast for Hotch!”

Why was a sense of guilt beginning to work its way into his body? He had no reason to feel guilty. Right?

“I agree, he’s done so much for all of us.” you said, walking back from the kitchen. Hotch took a moment to take you all in. The way the red dress you had changed into hugged you in all the right ways. His eyes never left your face, his attention was purely yours.

“Christmas is a time for joy isn't it? Everyone deserves a little cheer for Christmas! Specially Hotch.” you shrugged, giving a practiced fake smile. What was going on with you? He knew you loved Christmas.

Everyone gave out whoops and cheers of agreement and seconds later, all the hands enclosed around their glasses of prosecco. Derek gave Rossi a nod and the latter raised his glass, beginning the toast. "A toast, to our unit chief Aaron Hotchner. May the spirit of Christmas be with him!"

"To Hotch!”

After the impromptu toast, Aaron could see most of the team had begun drifting towards the makeshift dance floor. Derek and Penelope swaying close together, Spencer and Emily having fun doing silly dances with JJ in-between. Since it was Christmas, there was a lot singing as well. All of them except for Dave, who walked to the kitchen, no doubt starting to clean up a bit. And you.

“Hey guys?” You piped up softly, as you slipped away from the rest of the party. “I’ll be right back.”

He could see how you swiped the bottle of champagne off the table and stalked away. Hotch couldn't stop his own feet, feeling compelled to be near you even though he was supposed to be merely an observer in this scene.

You quietly walked out of the house, sitting down in the steps leading out to the patio, even if they were mostly covered in snow. You finished the champagne in your flute, then started drinking straight from the bottle.

You’d left the door open a crack so that, theoretically, anyone could come in if they wanted to, and Hotch wished he was actually there to tell you to come back inside, lest you catch a cold.

After looking back to make sure no one had followed you, you did something he never would expect. At first, some tears started rolling down your face, as you desperately tried to blink them away. But after failing at holding back a sob, you openly burst into tears. Hotch was taken by surprise. Why were you sad?

“Hey kiddo, what are you doing out here?” Aaron’s head snapped in the direction of the voice, and he saw Rossi walking up to you out of the corner of his eye. “It’s freezing out here.” He said, putting a blanket over your shoulders.

“I’m just getting some air.” You answered, giving him a friendly nod, not willing to move despite the company. You tried to wipe your tears away, plastering a small smile on your face.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing.” You said, shaking your head. "I'm really not good company right now…”

“It’s because of Hotch, isn’t it?”

Hotch felt so horrible, so ungrateful. Maybe that’s why all this was happening: the world was trying to punish him for being this way. And he couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it.

“Take me home.” He told the Spirit, feeling awful. “We’re done here.”

“We’re not.” Gideon shook his head. “You need to see this.”

“No, I don’t.” Hotch whispered, on the edge of having a breakdown as he didn’t want this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He really shouldn’t be listening to a private conversation between you and Rossi, but Hotch couldn’t help but wanting to hear more.

You sighed, knowing the look in David’s eyes all too well. The pity. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend to care,” you murmured.

“Please, we all do care about you. Some more than you’d imagine. Just tell me what it’s going on.”

“Sorry, I’m just having a really bad time wrapping my mind around how he’s been acting lately.” You paused, before letting out a heavy sigh and beginning. “I know I have no reason to feel hurt, but I just can’t shake the feeling that I must have done something wrong, to push him away.”

“C’mon, you must know why he’s been acting like that. You’re a profiler, after all.”

“I mean, I know the holidays can be stressful, so I figured that was it. But surely not enough for him to be gutted all day and chose to spend it alone at the office. What do you think is upsetting him?”

“Are you serious?” Rossi sputtered, before seeing the look you gave him. “Well, it’s been like that every December…” Rossi started. “Ever since Haley’s death. You know he doesn’t really like to talk much about it.”

“Oh, God, I’m an idiot.” You sobbed, feeling like the most selfish fool on the planet. “I’ve been making this up to be about me when Hotch is out there dealing with his grief over his ex-wife.”

“When were you going to tell him?” Rossi asked, obviously trying not to smirk.

"I'm... I'm sorry?"

“I might not have been successful with my marriages, but I know love when I see it. So, when were you going to tell Hotch how you felt about him?”

“I wasn’t planning on telling him. He’s dealing with so much, the last thing he needs is a coworker with a stupid unrequited crush on him.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s unrequited.” Of course, David Rossi would know all about Hotch’s feelings before even himself did. “Let me guess: something about him being you boss, something about you being afraid to ruin things, yada yada.” Rossi said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Guilty as charged.” You held up your hands in surrender. “But I can’t, Rossi. I’m too much of a coward to tell him how I feel. Honestly, I think it would be best if I could put my feelings aside… Why can’t I stop?”

Hotch practically collapsed as you said this. His knees gave in and he had to make an effort to keep standing. He couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open. He wasn’t sure what knocked the wind out of him more - your confession of love or the deep anguish in your voice. It was so obvious to him now.

“The heart wants what it wants, kiddo.” Rossi stated. As simple as that.

“The funny thing is I know Hotch would handle it gracefully. He’d reject me with kindness. He has such a good heart and he can be so thoughtful. I don’t know why he tries to hide it.” You said, sounding wistful and sad. “I don’t know what to do, Dave.”

“Did you not hear anything I said? You should tell him how you feel, that’s what you should do.” David stood up, brushing the snow off his pants. “You take all the time you need, okay? I’ll get everything to make up the couch. You shouldn’t drive in such state.”

“I’m fine, Dave.”

“Nonsense.” Rossi spoke as gently as possible.

You gave a faint smile, wrapping the blanket tightly around you. “Thank you, Dave. For the blanket and for caring enough to listen…”

“You're welcome" Rossi smiled. “Alright I gotta circulate, catch you later.”

As you stood there catching your breath, Hotch looked to Gideon, who smiled, the same face he used to have whenever the team reached a conclusion long after him.

“What is this, pity? You feel sorry for me, so you’re showing me what I want to hear?”

“No. Of course not. I have no control over what you’re seeing. Everything is true.”

“Why did you show me this, then?” Hotch’s voice trembled.

“Because you deserve to know the truth. Maybe knowing she returns your affection will help you act on your feelings.”

“She never told me she felt like that.” Hotch tried to defend himself, as Gideon’s spirit began to walk away. He caught up quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I had no idea, I swear.”

“Why are you so scared of being happy?” Gideon asked him. Hotch’s breath quickened and he looked away, not sure if he had an actual answer.

“Because I… I don’t deserve to be.” Maybe, it was because, deep inside, he was convinced that admitting how he was in love with you would be a crime. An act so selfish, preventing you from meeting whatever better man you might have found if he hadn’t stepped in. Forget that - it would be the most narcissistic thing he had ever done. Because if he had you, he’d never let you go.

“Oh, Hotch, you always were so harsh on yourself. You deny so much of yourself, hoping it will cure things faster. But it doesn’t work, does it? No. The only way that we can find happiness and peace is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself. Do not attempt to feel nothing so as not to feel anything.”

The shorter man looked up at the him, trying to read the expression and thoughts of the man before him. Hotch felt like the answers to a thousand questions had been answered yet more had appeared in their place. Was he really wasting the opportunity of being happy with you just because he was afraid?

“I’m afraid our time is up. I hope for your sake you’ve truly paid attention. The next ghost won’t be so kind. If you listen to any of us tonight, listen to him.”

Suddenly, everything went black and Hotch was back at Quantico, sitting in his couch. Gideon had left him with a warning. What was the last ghost going to show him?

He remembered the gift you’d given him. What was it? He supposed he might as well open it and see. He opened the box, only to find a pair of tickets for an live orchestral presentation of The Beatles White Album. He flipped them over, then back again. Of course you’ve bought them. The perfect gift. There was two tickets, though. Had you intended for the two of you to go together? He quickly saw that the box also had a note, written in your calligraphy.

Dear Hotch,

John Lennon wrote that we need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. I hope this holiday season you find the strength and healing we all need in our line of work. Without you, this team would not be called a family. You complete our lives. Thanks for your support, guidance, and care.

Merry Christmas xx

THE LAST OF THE THREE SPIRITS

Before he had time to react, the clock struck three in the morning.

Hotch looked about for the ghost, but he didn’t see it. He then decided to lift his eyes, and there it were the ghost, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.

Approaching the figure, his gait began to falter as he saw that a deep black garment concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one outstretched hand. No. No no no. This couldn’t be the third spirit. He felt a chill course through his spine.

“Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?”

The ghost didn’t reply, but it simply nodded.

“You are here to show me my future, I presume.” The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an instant in its folds, as if the spirit had inclined its head. That was the only answer he received.

The Phantom moved away as it had come towards him. Scrooge followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he thought, and carried him along.

The ghost walked up to the mural at the entrance of the BAU, right next to the elevators, where the wall of honor where there was pictures of all the fallen agents. He saw Anderson and an intern he didn’t recognize, probably from another floor. Anderson was putting a new photo in the wall, but Hotch couldn’t see it from where he was standing.

“No,” said Anderson, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know much about it, either way. I only know he’s dead.”

“When did he die?” inquired the intern.

“Last night, I believe.” He replied as he wiped beneath his eye with his knuckles.

“Why, what was the matter with him?” asked Gina Sharp, stopping by the two of them. “I thought he’d never die.”

“God knows,” said Anderson.

“What about the Behavioral Analysis Unit?” asked the intern.

“I haven’t heard yet, but they will find someone to replace him.” said Anderson again. “Maybe Rossi will take over, perhaps. Or maybe Prentiss. No one has notified me. That’s all I know.”

“It’ll likely be a very cheap funeral,” said Gina. “I heard he didn’t leave any family behind.”

“Just his son, Jack, and a brother, I think.” answered Anderson.

The group quickly dispersed, going back to their jobs. Hotch knew them, and looked towards the ghost for an explanation.

The ghost glided on into the bullpen. Its finger pointed to Hotch’s office. Hotch walked up to his door, listening again, thinking that the explanation might lie here.

He looked around to find Emily sitting in his chair, and though the clock pointed to his usual time of day for being there, he saw no likeness of himself among the multitudes that poured in through the office. It didn’t surprise him, he supposed one day he’d eventually retire, opting for going back to practicing law or only sticking to teaching negotiation techniques at the Academy.  Emily looked tired, purpling bags forming under her eyes and at least a handful of grey hairs on her head.

She quickly stood up, walking past Aaron and the ghost and going up to David’s office. “We’ve got a new case, a child abduction. So far, only one victim, but seeing as we are short two pair of hands now I really need you to go. Are you okay with that?” Emily started and David looked up, and she returned his gaze with a gentle calmness.

“Sure. It’s what he’d have wanted.” Rossi replied, hiding a few stray tears. “One last rodeo, then. Next week will be my last with the team.”

Emily turned to face the rest of the team: “Conference room in five.” she called to the bullpen, a hush falling over the office as everyone paused to listen.

And like that, all of the familiar faces were moving slowly, Prentiss, Morgan and JJ found their way to the conference room.

Garcia was wearing all black, a sight never seen before at the office, not masking the pain in her eyes. Reid followed soon behind her, hunching as he walked, as if folding in on himself. Hotch noticed there was no sign of you. He looked over to the ghost, who stood still. He supposed he still needed to hear whatever was about to happen.

In the conference room, two chairs remained empty. “I just can’t believe it.” said JJ.

“I know, to think if I had stopped by his office, if I had insisted that he should join us for the party, and now…” Garcia said, breaking off in another round of sobs, and Hotch could feel his heart tearing to pieces. What happened to his team?

“You don’t have to tell me, baby girl.” Derek said, sounding sympathetic. “None of us saw it coming until it was too late to stop it.”

“So, have all of you given some thought to what we discussed? Sabbaticals, transfers, reassignments. All of you have options if you chose to no longer be part of the unit.”

A chorus of yes was heard around the room.

Rossi stood up: “I have told you all, I’m choosing to go back into retirement. After… after all that happened, I’m not ready to go back into the field.”

“Of course.” JJ said. “I’ll be taking a sabbatical to be with my family, I think it’s something important for me.”

As she said, this, you appeared at the room. Hotch had never seen you like this, wearing an old t-shirt from the FBI Academy and sweatpants. “I’m sorry for being so late.”

“It’s okay, we all understand.” Emily said.

As the photos of the next case were being shown, Hotch turned to the ghost. “I don’t understand. What has happened?” he demanded. “Why are you showing me this? Who is the person they’re talking about? Am I in danger of sharing his fate? Of losing everything? Is that it?”

Nothing. Instead, the spirit turned back toward the doorway, Hotch falling into step behind it, and followed it through to the unknown. The scene around them changed and  Hotch found himself standing in an open field.

The spirit was as silent as ever. Hotch followed it as they reached an iron gate. He paused to look round before entering. A graveyard. The ground was covered in snow, but he could see it was overrun by grass and weeds, the growth of vegetation’s death, not life.

His mind quickly jumped to conclusions. Oh, no. He looked at the ghost for an explanation. The spirit was standing among the graves, and pointed down to one in particular. Hotch felt the blood in his veins turn into ice.

Aaron sank to his knees, one hand coming up to brush away the layer of snow that had blown up against it. “Aaron Joseph Hotchner. Father, brother, and friend. 1970-2018. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity.”

“No…” he moaned. “No… it can’t be. It’s not supposed to be like this, it can’t be like this!” Choking back a second sob, he rested his head against the marble.

“Who are you?!” he demanded, anger and panic and anguish bubbling up in his chest and threatening to drown him. “Only cowards hide their faces, so remove your helmet and show me your face!”

The ghost watched him silently. Taking off its hood, Aaron Hotchner felt all the air leave out his lungs as he looked at his very own face.

“No, it can’t be. How can you be me?!”

“I’m not you.” the ghost said in a voice that sounded too much like his. “I’m the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come. I’m here to show you the future consequences of your actions.” The face before Hotch was a blank mask as he delivered his prophecy. No emotion, no inflection, the effect reminding him too much of the day where George Foyet appeared in his apartment.

“Wait!” he yelled, “ Wait! This is not how my life it’s supposed to end! Let me put things right!” but the fog was growing thicker, obscuring the spirit from view. He was running, lungs burning in the cold air as he rushed through the cemetery.

He faltered, falling into his knees, sobs overtaking him. He collapsed, as his surroundings changed once again. Instantly, he was back at the office.

THE END OF IT

Yes! He was back at his makeshift bed, in his empty office and he was the happiest he’d ever been. Not knowing what hour it was, he walked into the bullpen and was now standing there: perfectly winded.

"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Hotch. "I don't know how long I have been among the Spirits. I don't know"

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. The sun shined bright outside, the air was clear and cold, he could fill the blood pumping through his veins. Best and happiest of all, the time before him was his own, to make amends in!

He walked into the corridor, bumping with Anderson, who carried a pile of files. “What’s today?” Hotch asked.

"Eh?" returned Anderson, very confused. If there was one person he could always count on to know the day, it was Agent Anderson.

"What's today?" repeated Hotch, with such a happy mood he could not remember the last time he had felt this happy.

“Well, it’s Christmas Day."

"Christmas Day! Thank you, Anderson. You can have the full holiday off, spend however you want.” Hotch smiled.

"Are you serious?"

“Yes! Go, go, I’ll take care of things around here.” he ushered the younger man out the door. "I haven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course, they can. Of course, they can." said Hotch to himself. Turning back and rushing back to his office, he slammed the door behind him. He threw himself into his couch and starred at the clock. It was just past 8 in the morning. He felt too wired to try and sleep, even though he was sure he hadn’t slept at all that night.

“My brother.” he exclaimed, frantically looking for his phone. The device light up, and he saw there were a couple of missed calls.

After talking to his brother, which was “fine, thank you very much, are you sure you’re okay, Aaron?” and making sure Jack was having a great time with his grandfather and aunt - even asking if he could stay there another day, he stood at his desk, not sure what else to do.

Apologies didn’t seem fitting to be said over the phone. You needed to know how much you meant to him, in person.

Rossi wasn’t sure what surprised him most: that it was Hotch knocking at his door just as brunch began, or that he had a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Now that he was face to face with the older agent, he wasn’t sure what to do, looking slightly abashed.

“Good morning, Dave. Does the invite still stand? I thought about it, and I…” he took a deep breath. “I’d really like to celebrate with you guys for a while, if that’s okay.”

“I see no reason why not. You’re part of the team, after all.” Rossi said, pulling Aaron into a backslapping hug. “Just keep it quiet, okay? Things got a bit carried away in the alcohol department last night.”

“Sure, you won’t even hear my presence.”

“Don’t overdo it, Aaron.” Rossi said, beckoning him into the house.

You suddenly appeared, hair a complete mess and mascara blurred. You looked perfect in Hotch’s opinion. He eyed you in your red dress, smiling to himself as if were part of an inside joke.

“Hotch? Is everything alright? Have we got a case?” you asked, stifling a yawn. He couldn’t help but giggle. Aaron Hotchner actually giggled.

He drew the bouquet from behind his back, holding them up as one did in a romantic comedy. “Hi,” he exhaled, giving you a boyish smile. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you returned automatically, then looked up at him in confusion. “Is that for… me?”

“Yes, I didn’t know what kind of flower you wanted, so I just got a bunch of them.” He looked up at you with wonder in his eyes, and you felt like the air had been knocked out of you.

You laughed and thanked him, but something still plagued you. “Hotch?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you here?” His eyes softened a bit, and he looked at you once more. Then, something new flickered across his face. Determination. He met your eyes.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable but I have to be completely honest with you. I can’t keep denying what I’m feeling.”

“And what is that?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“That I’m in love with you.” he said.

“You love me?” You asked.

“I do. And I know it’s wrong, I’m your boss, we work together. But I can’t help how I feel. And I know I have the worst possible timing in the world but-“ You shut him up with your lips. Hotch was caught by surprise but you felt him relax as you brought your hands up to his neck.

He pulled away to catch his breath, looking deep into your eyes. “You’re beautiful in the morning, you know that?”

“You’re a tease, Aaron Hotchner.” you laughed. “And I’m in love with you too.”

“So, what do you say about going to that concert with me?”

“I’d like that. I’ve…wanted that from you for a while. Took you long enough.”

“I know. But you mean so much to me, I’m hoping to make up for it.”

“You better.” you smiled again, that same little smile that was reserved for him, and he felt a pleased flush of warmth this time, spreading from his middle outward to his extremities, “but what brought all this on?”

Aaron huffed and pressed his forehead to yours. “Let’s just say I had some… interesting visitors last night.”

The two pressed together in a kiss, full of promises and potential. In the background, the BAU team cheered, for once in his life, Aaron Hotchner had a real shot at long-lasting happiness.

THE END

#cat writes #12 days of christmas #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #tw: childhood trauma #tw: alcohol #cw: mentions of violence #cw: child neglect #aaron hotchner needs a hug #angst with happy ending #inspired by a christmas carol #past haley brooks x aaron hotchner

[spencers-renaissance]

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn��t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

#my writing #moreid #derek #spencer #derek morgan #criminal minds #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #userpenemily

[eldrai]

100 followers celebration

There’s 100 of you lovely people (well, technically 107 by the time I got around to arranging this) which is crazy to think about - in a good way. To say thank you I’ve decided to hold a small celebration!

Things to send!

🎵 - send me a song and I’ll tell you what CM character I associate with it. Alternatively, send this + “shuffle” and I will shuffle my spotify playlist and tell you what character the first random song makes me think of!

Mutuals 🎹 - send this and an album and I’ll tell you a song from it I associate with the S3+ era team. May take me a little while if I’ve never listened to it before!

📝 - send me this and a character and I will tell you a headcanon I have about them

✍️ - send me this and I’ll give you a line from the WIP I am or most recently worked on

📓 - send me a headcanon or idea of yours and I’ll give you my thoughts on it

Mutuals 📚 - send this and I’ll tell you what I associate you with / what you remind me of

Mutuals 📖 - ask me anything (within reason)

✒️ - send me a prompt from the list below!

Rules

To request a prompt, please send in the number and section it is from and at least one character

E.G: 5 from angst with Hotch and Morgan?

One character or two is fine!

If you’d like a specific character out of a pair to be the one saying the line, feel free to specify - if you don’t, you don’t have to.

If you’d like to request multiple prompts, please send them in separate asks

If you send in a prompt from the misc. list and have a particular ‘direction’ in mind, feel free to specify (e.g. angst, fluff, etc.); if you don’t, you don’t have to.

As much as I love writing, I (unfortunately) have real responsibilities and so requests aren’t likely to be answered immediately. I don’t think anyone here needs to hear this but please be patient.

No NSFW

Angst Prompts

Want to hurt one of our favourite characters? Let’s be real, if you’re here, the answer is probably yes.

It’s three in the morning.

Trust me on this

Don’t touch me.

If you die, I’m gonna kill you.

Let me do this. Please.

You need some sleep.

I didn’t know where else to go.

I said I’m fine.

Stay with me!

Just shut up

I just wanted to hear your voice.

I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.

Fluff Prompts

For the nicer moments.

You did all of this for me?

I’m not going anywhere.

Your hair is really soft.

You stayed?

Do you know you talk in your sleep?

You’re a terrible liar.

Aww, you were adorable as a kid!

Be careful, it’s hot.

If you cry, I’ll cry, and that’s not gonna be good for either of us

Why’d you stop?

You have a really nice smile

Is that my shirt?

Misc prompts

These could go either way - tell me if you know the direction you want them, let me decide if you don’t! 

How are you feeling?

I told you this was a terrible idea.

I could get used to this

Why are your feet so cold?

You’re staring again

So that’s the celebration! 

I want to say thank you to all of you. Especially @hotchley​ for all her support and generally being a great friend and to @jaspxr for making the gorgeous banner and dividers for this!

Tagging some of the people who have made this such a great community to be in: @anastasiahotchner @criminalmindsvibez @olivinesea @masterwords @will-on-the-internet @louisaland @pretty-boys-book-club @ssa-atlas-alvez @ssa-sarahsunshine @whump-town @piratesofpenzance4 @infinite-tides @ropoto @arsonhotchner @gravygremlin @sarcvstiel @unionjackpillow / @84hotpockets

Appreciate you all :)))

#eldrai100 #long post

[tobias-hankel]

Fic Rec Friday! 🎉

These are some of my fic recs from May 7th, 2022 to May 14th, 2022! I forgot to post on Friday but shhhh. 

🖤 Everyday Angel by @fortheloveofwonderland - E, 4.7k, Spencer Reid/Luke Alvez, minors DNI, heavy drug use, mentions of drug fueled anonymous sex with multiple partners, brief mention of prison, swearing, Spencer is just a slutty mess, Luke is his unwitting guardian angel.

In the midst of his drug addiction Spencer bumps into a handsome jogger who helps Spencer in more ways than he’ll ever know. Ten years later when he’s introduced to new agent Luke Alvez, there is something so hauntingly familiar about him…

❤️ Welcome to the Jungle by @imaginationtherapy, @lizzielovegood-blog - E, 70k, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Most tags are triggering – go to the fic for a full list, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deadest of doves, Non-con, Knives, Beating, Canon-Typical Violence, Waterboarding, Alcohol, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Burning, Violence, Violence to minors, Self-harm

It's terrifying how life can go from blissfully normal to terrifying in the blink of an eye. One moment, Spencer and Jack are cooking in the kitchen of Aaron's home, and the next minute, Spencer is on the floor, begging for Jack's life.

What follows are several hours of unimaginable horror, for all of them -- Aaron, Spencer and Jack. When the gun finally goes off, whose body will hit the floor?

🖤 burnt out, torn down (from the inside out) by @dr-charlie-eppes - T, 8.2k, Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, But Mostly Hurt, Spencer Reid Whump, Manipulation, Abuse of Authority, Workplace Abuse, Overworked, Exhaustion, Pre-Canon, Not Canon Compliant, Hotch Derek and Spencer are an established relationship, Caffeine Addiction, Disordered Eating, Sleep Deprivation, Miscommunication

One of the unfortunate realities of Spencer Reid’s life is the fact that he has to prove himself wherever he goes.

That’s probably how he ended up in this mess.

❤️ Sizing by LoadsOfRandomness - G, 1k, Emily Prentiss & Derek Morgan, Humor, Friendship, Shopping, Silly

Emily tries to explain women's clothing sizes to a bewildered Morgan. Just a bit of silliness.

🖤 World of Flesh and Pleasure by house_of_lantis - E, WIP, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hellraiser (Movies 1987-2018), Pinhead (Hellraiser), Cenobites (Hellraiser), Supernatural - Freeform, Thriller, Graphic Violence, Gore, Torture, Trauma, Sex

Aaron Hotchner is the heir of the infamous LeMarchand fortune and dark legacy, which also includes a connection to the Leviathan of Hell. So when a LeMarchand puzzle box – the Lament Configuration – is found at the latest crime scene of a number of gruesome deaths, Hotch is forced to reveal a family secret that he has desperately kept hidden and track down the UnSub who opened the portal, as the BAU races against time to save a team member from becoming the next victim.

❤️ Baby boy genius by Werewolf_Origins - T, 3k, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid, Age Regression/De-Aging, Non-Sexual Age Play, The BAU Team as Family, Protective BAU Team, Soft Spencer Reid, Autistic Spencer Reid, Autistic Penelope Garcia, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Spencer regresses on the jet ride home after the Nathan Harris case.

Chaos ensues.

Tags below cut. Click this link to send a fic rec or to be added to Fic Rec Friday Taglist.

Taglist: @ssa-sarahsunshine, @justiceforralvez, @brillianthijinx, @morelikehoetchner, @lizzielovegood-blog, @merpancake, @sparklinspence, @spencersfunkysocks, @spencer-reids-adventures @castielryan

#Maze's Fic Rec Friday #but on Saturday almost Sunday #fic recs #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #spencer reid #mostly #hotchreid #horreid #ralvez #team as family #demily friendship #ship tags for the fics

[whump-town]

Hotchniss

Emily Whump

Angst: **domestic abuse warning** Emily is in a bad relationship but she knows who she can always come home to

Don’t leave me: He’s afraid something bad is going to happen, she think he’s just anxious... something bad happens

Hospital: Emily is hurt and a very worried, retired Hotch rushes in

“It’s A Date”: Hotch takes Emily on a vacation post-JJ’s wedding and it goes surprisingly well (less whump and more comfort)

The Bridges Between You and Me: Maybe he really did kill Emily Prentiss

Nation of Two: She’s waiting for his soft snore but now she wraps him up in her arms. Enjoying his proximity. He may be a stupid man but that’s what she signed up for

Fluff

Nation of Two: She’s waiting for his soft snore but now she wraps him up in her arms. Enjoying his proximity. He may be a stupid man but that’s what she signed up for.

Fluff ask

Slow dancing: Hotch and Emily dance to Taylor Swift

Forehead/Cheek kisses: Hotch and Emily fluff

Hotch wakes up high after surgery 

Mini-fics

Hotch with a Daughter: Hotch and Emily have a daughter

Maybe Time Running Out Is A Gift: domestic bliss

Hotch Whump

Too Close: Hotch has a heart attack and Emily worries… mostly soft Hotch and even softer Hotchniss

High School AU: Emily tossing a rope out her window for Hotch to climb up so she can clean him up after his father’s been drinking

Man Flu: sick Hotch

“I love you,” said the dead man to the dead girl: Emily has to fake Hotch’s death

Come Down: Hotch isn’t told that Emily is alive and goes to serve his own justice

The Perfect Match: Hotch is a disaster

He’s Not Taking His Medicine

Never Enough: they keep coming back here but they deserve better than each other

See, How The Most Dangerous Thing Is Love: She can’t stop running and, like an idiot, he keeps chasing.

The Kiss: She’s not sure if she wants to deck him or make sure he never leaves her sight again

Close: Emily attacks Hotch in his sleep

Faking Sleep To Count Your Breath: A life-altering car accident changes the course of everything Hotch and Emily had known before

Multi-Chapter

Shattered Hearts, Fractured Lungs: Emily Prentiss just wants to do her job but a messy case sends her sprawling into the arms of a dying man with a toddler and his weird, broken family.

A Causality of the Job: Infected with an unknown pathogen, Hotch and Emily are quarantined with fevers

Going Through the Motions: Post-Foyet timeline of getting Hotch back on his feet with caretaker!Emily

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction

[olivinesea]

Please elaborate on Hotch's old man gardening obsession i love this

Ha! It is one of my favorite thoughts. In an ideal world where Hotch gets to be old and retired he just spends his days puttering around the garden. It’s all soft and warm and he’s got a silly hat and dirt on the knees of his pants and probably some on his face. He grows vegetables that he makes other (younger) people pick for him and really lovely flowers. It can be a solitary activity or friends sometimes join him. He experiments with which flowers make the bees happiest. It smells like green things and water. It’s just nice, you know?

It’s something I discuss with @whump-town fairly often and she’s written into a couple fics. I haven’t found the right time to be that nice to him yet but it’s a dream.

#hi!

[hotchley]

when death finally comes

Surprise lovelies!!

I had the sudden urge to kill Hotch, so here we are. I killed him. It’s not happy at all and there is no comfort and I kinda hate it and I’m not sure most of it makes sense, but I wrote it and I am proud of it, so now I’m subjecting all of you to it :)

A special thank you to @whump-town for encouraging my writing and saying that killing Hotch kinda cleans your palate. I will hold onto that information.

Trigger Warnings: major character death, blood, child abuse, implied suicidal thoughts

read on ao3!

In the end, it is not merciful. 

It is not expected or beautiful. 

It is not poetic. Nor is it peaceful. 

It is not what he deserved.

Because what he deserved was old age. 

A hospital, where the lights would convince him of a better future. Where he knew what was coming and could prepare his final words and one last smile, if only to comfort the family that would definitely be stood until the last possible moment.

He deserved a care home, so Jack would not ever have to associate the apartment with the feeling of death. He deserved a care home, because it would imply that Jack was older and had his own family. It would mean that Haley's life could be celebrated with a smile that was more accepting than sad.

He deserved Virginia, the only home he had ever known. Because when Haley exploded into his life in a flurry of costumes and dances that he could never quite master, that place became his home. Her embrace felt like the love he had never received.

And even when her embrace morphed into avoidance and hesitance, she had been home. The only person that could see him human. When she died at the hands of a serial killer, he thought that was it. He thought he would never recover. But he did, and Virginia started to warm again as the team started to find reasons to see him and Jack.

He deserved love, safety. He deserved a long life that he would be proud of. He deserved to see Jack's college graduation, Henry's highschool graduation, Penelope's daughter, Spencer's wedding. He deserved to witness everything that just wouldn't be the same without him before he was laid down to rest one final time. 

He deserved to be held.

He deserved so much more. He always had. But happy endings were not made for people like him. 

They were not made for heroes that could save everyone but themselves because nobody ever taught them how to. They were not made for men that could look everyone but themselves in the eye. They were not made for fathers that wished for their son to be better, without ever realising that they themselves had been better.

They were not made for the terrified little boy that had grown into the scared man. Because that little boy had never been taught what it meant to be happy. That scared man had never understood the difference between safety and joy. 

Mercy did not come for those that had scars that would never quite heal, no matter how much surgery was carried out. It did not come for those that believed the blood of so many innocent people still stained their hands. 

It did not come for people that had been forgiven by everyone but themselves.

What Aaron Michael Hotchner- and god, he still hated his middle name, forever tainted by the memory of his father and all the pain he inflicted on those he was supposed to protect- deserved was peace.

What he got was as far away from that as the universe could manage.

He was still a few years shy of his sixtieth birthday when it happened.

It was a basement in Seattle. Seattle, which he had always loved, with everything he was, until David Rossi came to find a serial killer that would get away and only cause more and more pain after he was found.

It was a basement in Seattle because even after all these years, he was a hero. He had never learnt how to walk away from anyone or anything. He had never stopped believing that good would trump bad, even when the villains and the unsubs just kept winning.

It was dark. Because he hadn't seen the mans' face before he was taken, and they certainly would not risk him seeing it now. Not now they had worked out who it was. The former Agent Aaron Hotchner, who had beaten a man to death with his bare hands. Who had come back from everything the killers he fought had thrown at him. 

Who had stared into the abyss and not even flinched.

It is slow. And painful. And he is aware the whole time that the life is leaving his body, and no matter how hard he tries to fight it, he can't. He is frozen in place, terrified as the scars he tried so hard to never look at are reopened. The blood drips onto the floor beneath him and he feels his eyes flutter shut behind the blindfold.

He was so tired. It would be so easy to give in. But it would've been easy to give in as Foyet plunged the knife in. Too easy to stop fighting as he fell down the stairs after finding Haley. Even easier to resign after Peter Lewis made him watch the family he had always vowed he would die for be murdered right before his eyes.

So he tries not to give in, but eventually, it becomes too difficult and he is forced to let go.

When Aaron Hotchner dies- is brutally murdered for trying to protect a young woman from being mugged- he is alone. He is alone and he's not old enough to get his state pension. The EMTs can't even try and attempt to revive him. His son is unreachable because his phone died whilst out at a party, even though he told his dad he was studying.

Jack never recovers from the guilt that the last thing he said to his dad had been a lie. The team had been on a case. Jack couldn't make the phone call. He hadn't processed it himself. He kept expecting his dad to walk into the apartment and offer to make pancakes or complain about his knees, even though he refused to use the cane.

Jessica lost her brother, and wondered when it would finally be her turn. The only family she had left was her nephew. Everyone else- her mother, her father, her baby sister and her little brother- was gone.

The team couldn't even pretend that his death had been swift and painless. They had seen enough murders and studied enough signatures to know what caused immediate death and what dragged things out. Derek identified the body. It had taken him longer than he cared to admit. Because the body on the ground was not the Aaron he had known.

And they never caught the culprits. Even with their sloppiness and poor skills, the team never managed to find them. It was like they had just vanished into thin air. But none of them ever stopped searching. Their newest profiler- a woman already hardened by life and its horrors- worried that they would all eventually become Jason Gideon. 

Haunted by the one person they should have been there for but failed to save until every victim with soft brown eyes, or messy black hair, or a broken son, or so many different things, started to look like him.

Dave's eulogy was beautiful. Derek's was a testament to the Aaron that had existed before everything fell apart. Jennifer's reminded everyone that he had always been a father, even before Jack was born. Penelope spoke of the side he was so careful with- the one that held onto her presents like they meant everything to him, and in some ways they did. Emily's poked fun at him the way only she could, even though tears were falling onto the paper. Spencer spoke of the trust Aaron had placed in him, and the man he had taught him to be.

Jack couldn't read his. He was so angry. At his father for always needing to be a hero, instead of being a father. At the team for not finding the killers. At the world for leaving him an orphan, even if he was close to college graduation. At George Foyet for not killing them all that fateful day, if only so he would not have to live without his parents.

Aaron Hotchner died, a hero, a father and a friend, without ever realising just how much he was cherished and adored.

It is not what he deserved.

It is nonsense. It is chaos.

It is unexpected and destructive.

In the end, it is cruel.

It always is.

#major character death #tw blood #tw child abuse #tw suicidal thoughts #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #hurt aaron hotchner #hotch whump #sumayyah writes cm

[masterwords]

M, N and U from the ask game!

Hi there! Thank you for indulging me!

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share? // I have a few I'm slowly working on. A Hotch/Morgan on vacation, a super soft Mayhem-timed thing, and another teenage Hotch & Jess story all come to mind.

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you? // I have wished it SO MANY TIMES over Running Toward Nothing. It got so out of control and had so many moving parts that it broke my whole brain for a while. I only have to finish the epilogue at this point, but if there is anyone who wants to do that for me I would very much appreciate it.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much. // Okay, I love SO MANY writers but picking 3 right now I'd say @whump-town, @olivinesea and @hogwartstoalexandria come immediately to mind. They have written some of my absolute comfort fics, I frequently raid their masterlists/ao3 when I am in need of something to read and I don't know what I want. They always provide me with the Hotch pain that I need. This fandom is SO full of great authors, though. (I feel terrible choosing only 3 so if this question gets asked again I have more names to share!)

Thank you again!

Wanna know some fanfic things?

#ask game

[baubeautyandthegeek]

Missing In Inaction – JJ Jareau/Elle Greenaway, Emily Prentiss/Elle Greenaway.

A/N: Elle goes dark. Written for the final prompt for the week from @soheavyaburden​ ‘s A Year of Whump.

“Missed me yet?” “Elle? Elle… oh thank god…” JJ sounds almost eager and Elle can’t help her slight, dark, laugh. She hadn’t worked it out yet, but she would. In time. “Help me…” Ah, there it was. The plea. The same plea she had used over and over. Asking for help. From JJ, from Penelope, from Erin, from Hotch and Gideon and Morgan and Reid. None had helped. Penelope had been the easiest to fool, trap, leave to die, freed only by a sudden overwhelming urge to submit to Elle’s will, then Morgan, always always loyal and her first real kill, then Reid who followed people like a puppy. Hotch had watched them all fade, fading quicker when he saw Gideon fail. Now all that she had left was JJ. Erin had bent to her will all too easily, guilt had crippled the older woman and when Elle told her what she wanted she had given herself to Elle’s guidance freely. JJ may well be harder to bring to heel, even if she knew JJ would believe her if she lied. “Elle?” “Oh JJ… you always were so trusting.” JJ shivers then and Elle smirks again, moving to remove JJ’s blindfold, waiting, watching and smirking when JJ’s eyes find hers after searching the room. “Why… Elle?” “You left me… for some pretty little princess. All those promises JJ, a girl could get jealous.” “What did you do to her…?” “Ask her yourself.” Emily emerges from shadows, curls into her side and Elle smirks as Emily settles at her feet. “So… JJ… Make your choice. Join the boys… or Emily.” There’s a flicker of the old fire, then JJ leans closer and finally, finally makes her choice. She knows her choices, and she knows she’s lost, they all lost. “I want you.” Emily whimpers at Elle’s feet and Elle strokes her hair gently, hushing her almost gently. “You always did, didn’t you?” Emily’s words are soft, sad and Elle’s grip tightens where she’d gripped JJ’s throat. “Answer her.” “Yes.” Emily’s sob is rewarded with a soft tut of disapproval from Elle, a soft hand stroking through Emily’s hair again before Elle claims JJ’s lips, rough, hard, not as loving as she had been, then leaves her hanging, tucking soft fingers under Emily’s chin to guide her up, stroking hair from Emily’s eyes and kissing her with all her old tenderness. “Never mind Princess, Daddy loves you and Mommy will learn her place…” JJ’s wrists rattle in her chains and Elle smirks at her. “Not yet Jayje… you have to prove yourself.” Later, much later, JJ would earn her freedom from her chains, but for now, for now she was stuck watching Elle steal away the one bit of light she’d had since losing Elle the first time.

#elle greenaway #jj jareau #emily prentiss #elle/emily #elle/jj #criminal minds #ayearofwhump