#and unlike hotch who separates himself from the others.. like he has a life to make up for that the others dont.. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

dead man’s hand.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: our 52 pickup ajf episode! i dunno about yall, but i was so excited to get my hands on viper in this universe. he’s ridiculous, and i think he deserves to be absolutely put to shame by aaron “BDE” hotchner.

a joyful future fic, but requires little context.

words: 5k warnings: canon-typical misogyny, language, improper comm conduct, emily prentiss: lesbian icon™

summary: your first case back to full duties after your injury at the septarian ranch just had to take you undercover, didn’t it?

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You’re happy to be back in your usual plane seat, just to the left of Aaron, with your notes in your lap. With your arm in the sling, you were relegated to the table, in Derek’s usual spot beside Rossi, to discourage you from slouching. It was Hotch who suggested it, of course, but that didn’t help your pride.

Though your sling is gone and you’re back where you belong, your shoulder still twinges a little from time to time.

As it happens, a twinge hits you right as Rossi asks, “How does our unsub go from loser of the year to Don Juan?”

While Spencer answers him, Hotch glances over at you. You wave him off. I’m fine, Hotch.

He sighs and you both tune back in to Spencer. “...Don Juan was an ironic reversal of sex roles and when -” Spencer looks at Hotch, finding something in his face that usually made you laugh, but stops Spencer in his tracks. “Th-That’s about it.”

You suppress your smile as Hotch refocuses the group. “Something must have happened between the last prostitute and Vanessa Holden, making him change his victimology.”

“Could the unsub have known Vanessa?” Jordan’s question almost surprises you. She’s still settling in, but you’re learning she doesn’t hesitate to freely share her opinion.

Hotch hesitates, as if waiting for someone else to answer. You oblige him, leaning around Dave a bit to see her better. “It’s unlikely.”

Derek picks up your thought. “Yeah, sexual sadists attack anonymously”

“They have to sever a personal connection and see their victims as objects to perpetrate this level of torture.” Spencer softens your quick rebukes with a little closed-mouth smile.

You spare a glance for Hotch and he raises his eyebrows for a split second before they drop back down. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and you press into him for a second. Be nice.

He huffs a light breath through his nose as Prentiss and Rossi bounce off each other. I am being nice.

Then, as though your silent sidebar never existed, he jumps back in. “The victimology is so different, we’ll treat them as separate unsubs and see what overlaps.” He makes assignments, finally rounding out by assigning Derek, you, Jordan, and himself to the victim’s family.

+++

Todd’s initiative continues to take you by surprise long after you land. She takes command of the situation at the precinct, and there are a couple of times where you can feel Hotch shift his weight.

He’s uncomfortable.

When Jordan leaves the room, you turn to the side and he leans in. “If you’re going to pull her, do it quietly. Something tells me she’s adverse to public criticism.”

He nods, just a little, and you return to your former posture.

The house is where things get really sticky.

“Mrs. Holden,” she says, “we can’t begin to fathom the loss you’ve suffered.”

You nudge Hotch with your shoulder (ouch) and he uncrosses his arms. Loosen up for a minute, would you?

“No, that’s right. You can’t.” Mrs. Holden’s tone is sharp, and you can’t help but feel for her - the stuff Garcia sent over was awful. A daughter, dead, and forums full of people saying you had it coming. Ugh.

“But, um…” Jordan steps up, and you narrow your eyes a little.

What is she doing?

“I lost my older sister in a car crash.” You can feel Derek’s brow furrow as he checks in with Hotch. Aaron has yet to move and, as usual, his face gives nothing away to anyone except you. Something’s wrong. “And it was really hard on our family because she was the responsible one. She was the one that my mother always counted on to watch over us.”

Your eyes flicker to Hotch’s profile, and you find his mouth a touch tighter, his eyes infinitesimally narrower.

Uh oh.

We know that look.

Again, what is she doing?

“And when she died, my mother wouldn’t let the police in. If she didn’t let them in, then my sister wasn’t really dead.” Jordan leans in closer, as if her next words are a secret. “This man is a monster,” Aaron straightens with an inhale, and you feel yourself wind tighter and tighter as he does. You have no idea what you’re upset about yet, but you’re sure it's something. “...and we can catch him, but we need your daughter’s help.”

The mother turns on Derek in an outburst of pre-emptive anger. He very kindly de-escalates the situation, ever the voice of reason and empathy. Hotch takes another breath as Mrs. Holden turns to invite you further into the house. Jordan checks in with Derek before following her, almost smug.

Aaron’s brows are drawn when you look at him again. Derek asks the question you’ve been waiting for. “Did you know that about Jordan?”

“No,” he says. “And neither did she. According to her file, she’s an only child.” Hotch walks away immediately, letting his implicit accusation hang in the air between you.

You share a look with Derek.

+++

“The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister, where did you get that?”

You try to stay a little ahead of them, but Derek has no qualms about openly eavesdropping, turning over his shoulder.

Her tone is matter-of-fact. “Some of it was online, and some of it was just an educated guess based on birth order.”

Still facing forward, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, as if bracing yourself for impact.

“A guess.” Hotch’s question is flat and hardly a question at all. You almost cringe. Derek hops up beside you, much less interested in snooping now.

Shit. You’re in it now, kid.

‘Kid.’ Gimme a break she’s like...two years younger than you.

Yeah, but on this team, it’s dog years. The divorce alone had to be at least a decade.

“And in the process, you lied.”

There it is.

“That mother was shut down. I needed to salvage some rapport.” The note of defensiveness in Jordan’s tone pulls a sigh from you, and you can almost anticipate Hotch’s response. If pressed, you could recite it verbatim.

“I don’t know how you did things in counter-terrorism, but we don’t make it a habit to lie to get the job done.” They stop walking, but you don’t, pulling Derek by the sleeve of his Henley before he can hesitate.

“Let’s wait by the car,” you tell him. He gives you an expression that only says yikes. You reply with one of your own.

As you approach the back door, you hear, “I got you in the door, didn’t I?” from Jordan.

Oh babe. Put the shovel down. This hole you’re digging for yourself is becoming unmanageable, and we’re all going to have to deal with his grumpy ass for the rest of the afternoon if you don’t quit.

Derek leans against the door of the car, and you follow his lead, leaning against the back bumper.

“Not only do you represent the FBI, you represent this team - ”

Ah, so it's the “representing the team with integrity” speech today.

“ - to the press, the police, and to the families who are struggling with some of the hardest times of their lives. If you get caught in a lie, the trust we depend on to help solve these crimes disappears.” You inhale, sharp. It’s been a minute since you’ve heard that tone. “Do I make myself clear?”

Yikes.

Jordan, looking significantly chastised, answers, “It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.”

Alright, that one pulls a smile from you and you do your best to bite back your laugh. Derek’s in the same boat. You both hope to recover by the time they get back to the car. A fit of giggles will do you absolutely no good at this point.

“When we get back, I want you to prepare a press release about the unsub. Do not release it.” His phone rings, and he reaches for it, adding “From now on, everything goes through me.”

He passes you without meeting your eye, talking to Rossi over the phone. Jordan approaches you, and asks, “So how bad did I just screw up?”

You take a breath before answering. “Well, Derek would tell you on a normal scale of one to ten, probably about a six.”

“I have a feeling that’s not the scale we’re using.”

You shake your head and open the door. “On Hotch’s, that was about an eleven.”

The three of you slide into the car. You take the seat behind Derek, sparing Aaron from having Jordan in his peripheral vision while he’s trying to focus on not crashing the car.

+++

“Hotch,” Emily says, getting your attention and Aaron’s. You both turn. “Of the self-described pickup artist classes in the area, there’s only one guy who encourages his students to dress like, uh..” she searches for a word for a second, “space cowboys.”

A laugh escapes you, but you recover quickly. You glance at Hotch, an apology in your eyes.

Emily’s tone matches your mirth. “Are you ready to meet Viper?”

+++

The four of you lurk at the back of the room, listening to Viper’s sermon while trying not to laugh out loud again.

“...and women, while they won’t admit it, want to be hunted. They need it.”

You look up at Hotch. You’ve got to be kidding me.

He doesn’t look at you, but the twitch of his mouth gives him away.

You turn your attention back to Viper, who’s assertions are so far gone from reality you can’t even believe people paid for this. He goes on and on about the ideal mate, what women want, etc. etc. etc.

This guy has never gotten laid in his life.

Hotch nudges you with his shoulder as if he can hear you thinking, and you drop your eyebrows, setting your mouth in a tight line that could give him a run for his money.

Emily’s losing it beside you, too. She and Derek have shared more than a few glances, and there’s no hiding the incredulous look on her face.

“If you are smarter and more interesting, you will be a better predator -”

You keep your face from screwing up in a wince, but only just. Poor choice of words, there.

“- because this is the jungle, my friends, and your prey wants to be caught.”

Derek doesn’t shift his gaze as he asks, quietly, “Would you listen to that language?”

You lean around Emily, whispering, “He’s training serial killers.”

“Great,” Emily says. “We’re dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman.”

Yeah, that about sums it up.

You both look at Hotch, who’s still watching carefully. “Just one more thing he has in common with our unsub.”

At the end of the lecture you all stay where you are: four dark and intimidating figures irresistible to someone with an ego as big as Viper’s.

When he inevitably advances on you, Aaron introduces the team present and explains the situation in an even, measured tone. He doesn’t have to change a single thing about his presentation for the Viper to size him up and compensate accordingly. He doesn’t even acknowledge you or Emily in his futile effort to make Aaron feel small, counting on his own peacocking to do the job.

That was your first mistake.

“So you think this - what did you call him - unsub took my class?”

With one hand in his pocket and another on his belt, Aaron replies. “He copied your ‘the camera adds ten pounds’ routine verbatim.”

Viper has the audacity to look pleased. “Yeah. That’s a good gag.”

“If you could just give us your attendance lists, it might help us find him,” Emily says.

You nod. “Any information you can provide would be helpful.”

“No.”

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, and Emily beats you to a response, her tone appalled. “No?”

He’s decidedly smug now. You’ve never seen a face so well-suited for a punch. “My clients expect a certain amount of confidentiality. I won’t compromise that.”

“We can come back with a warrant.” Aaron’s quick, flat rebuttal almost makes you smile. Viper ignores him, shifting his slimy attention to you.

You watch Viper take you in from head to toe, resisting the urge to squirm under his gaze. With a deep breath, you straighten your shoulders and ever so slightly put more weight on your right foot, keying you in to Aaron. When Viper meets your gaze again, he looks more than a little annoyed.

“Be my guest, but keep in mind, the money I make doesn’t just pay for my fabulous lifestyle,” he turns to Emily again, “it also keeps very expensive lawyers on retainer.”

You redirect, hoping to catch him off guard. “What club did you go to last night?”

It doesn’t work. He eyes you up and down again. It’s disgusting.

“It’s a legitimate question,” Derek says. “You seem to know a lot about our investigation.”

He turns on Derek, and you settle in for the show. “Two things to learn about me. First, I outwit alpha males like you for fun and sometimes profit.” You snort, but he doesn’t spare a glance at you. “How often do you have to rely on your badge to score, baldy?”

Aaron huffs a laugh, and it’s so quiet you’re almost sure you made it up.

“Second,” he continues, turning to Emily again. “Last night, I was at Club Aqua and I have a stack of tax-deductible drink receipts to back up my story.”

She shrugs, unimpressed.

Emily Prentiss, you are my hero.

You really tune in when his gaze finds Aaron, still standing a good two or three inches taller than Viper in far more expensive shoes. “Now, you might not want to believe that my style works.” You can tell Aaron’s trying to keep from smiling, his head tilted down at a condescending angle. “And here, in this harsh light, you have the advantage.”

He has the advantage in every light.

Shut up.

It’s true, isn't it?

Viper steps up to you, uncomfortably close, and you do what you can to keep the grimace off your face. “But meet me on my turf…” He laughs a little and turns to Emily. It’s revolting. “The things I could make you do.”

The things Aaron could do on any turf, any time, any light -

Quit! Focus!

Aaron steps between you and Viper. You gladly take advantage of the distance, moving just off Aaron’s shoulder. “If you have any questions, give us a call.”

Viper’s eyes don’t move from Emily as he takes Aaron’s card. She sizes him up for a moment before turning around, still completely unimpressed.

Down the hallway, she keeps pace with Hotch. “Please tell me we’re not giving up on that guy.”

“We’re just getting started.”

You can tell he’s irritated and tense, but there’s an air of smug amusement that colors his countenance. The lawyer has tricks up his sleeve, it seems.

When you leave the building, you turn on Derek.

“What the fuck was that?”

To everyone’s surprise, Aaron, putting his sunglasses on, answers. “Compensation.”

You try not to dwell on that implication for too long, barking a laugh with Emily.

+++

“Hey, Hotch.” You turn around, exposing your half-unzipped dress and bare upper back. “Can you zip me up?” He crosses the room and zips your dress, doing his best to avoid savoring the warmth of your skin under his fingers as he links the hook-and-eye closed. “Thanks.” You turn and he’s a little closer than you expected, looking at you with a peculiar, unreadable expression in his eyes.

There’s silence for a moment and neither one of you moves. No matter how often it occurred, close proximity to Aaron always did weird things to your heart rate. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and return to the locker for a set of loud silver bracelets.

“You’d tell me if you were uncomfortable with this, right?”

You clasp two of the bracelets around your wrist and turn back toward him. A little laugh leaves you. “I’m fine, Hotch.” You wordlessly hold your last two bracelets out, unable to secure them with your non-dominant hand. With a fond sigh, he crosses over to you and takes your wrist.

“Emily told me you’d both be alright and she’s handled people like this before, but this guy…” He trails off with a bit of sigh.

“I’ve handled worse than him. Guys like Viper were a dime a dozen in college,” You shrug, watching him deftly handle the tiny clasps in his large hands. “Plus, you’ll be in my ear the whole time.” He reaches past you for your necklace and you turn around so he can put it on. He smells incredible and you can't help but close your eyes for a moment.

“I have a good feeling we’ll be able to get somewhere tonight.”

You turn around again, smiling up at him. “I agree.” Thinking for just a second, you add, “Hotch, did you consider putting Jordan on this?”

“I did,” he says, his fingers reaching for the bridge of his nose. “Emily suggested it as well. I’m just not confident in her ability to complete surveillance in such a high-risk environment.”

“Because of her mistake today?” You pass him and close the door to the room, ensuring the exclusion of prying eyes and ears.

He removes his hand from his face and looks at you, playing at exhaustion. Of course.

You let all your breath out through your nose and you carry on as if you were explaining to a child. “She can’t recover if you don’t give her an opportunity.” You lighten up, adding, “Do you remember how many times I screwed up my first couple of months?” A wry smile crosses your face.

He huffs and crosses his arms. “That’s different.”

“Why? Because I was a NAT?”

“No, you -” He takes a second to collect his thoughts, his brow furrowed. He gestures with a sharp, open hand as he speaks. “You made mistakes, but you never misrepresented yourself. I’m concerned about her conduct in the field.”

“Send her out with us tonight.” Your appeal is casual, easy. “Emily and I will keep an eye on her and make sure she keeps her nose clean.” All things considered, Jordan isn’t much of an issue. She’s just green and (you’re sure) accustomed to a decidedly less-upright unit chief.

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“Of course. Give her a chance, Hotch. We’ll be fine.”

He nods, ready to leave the room, but then looks down at your wrist with a small, almost amused, frown. “Is that…?”

“The Dead Man’s Hand? Yeah.” You turn your wrist, revealing a pair of eights and aces - both clubs and spades, with the queen of hearts between them - inlaid in the silver. “I figured it was appropriate, if not entirely tasteless.”

“Clever.”

+++

You can tell Jordan’s forgotten about the comm in her ear when she leans over and whispers, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You keep your eyes on the crowd, lips barely moving as you keep a demure smile on your face. A guy without a chance in hell catches your eye and you break him with just a quick softening of your eyes and a wider smile. Luckily, he’s so flustered he doesn’t think to approach you.

She takes a fake sip of her drink. “You and Hotch get along really well, and I haven’t managed to get on his good side once since I’ve been here. How do you do it?”

“I have no idea.” There’s a small crackle in your ear, and you know Aaron tuned into your private channel to hear you better and talk to you alone. For his benefit, you add, “I’m not sure he has a good side, if that helps.”

You hear a scoff and have to hide your laugh in your drink.

Jordan shakes her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?”

“He definitely has a good side -”

“Thank you,” Hotch says into your ear. You cough to hide another laugh.

“- and you’re on it.”

You open your mouth to reply, but catch the eye of someone who looks unfortunately familiar. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Hotch’s chuckle in your ear warms you, and you hear a crackle as he switches back to the team channel. “20 on Viper,” he says. “Keep an eye out for our unsub.”

Emily wilts beside you, and you can’t help but laugh. You pull Jordan a little off to the side so you’re able to hear Viper, but he doesn’t feel closed in. “You always want to give guys like this an out - if they’re backed into a corner and feel trapped, they close off and get defensive.”

A crackle in your ear. “Is that so?”

Jordan nods and you can’t reply to Hotch with any degree of subtlety, so you settle for rolling your eyes.

“Well.” You hear Viper from over your shoulder. Jordan cringes, and your brow pulls in a question. “Lucky me.”

She answers, narrating through a squint. “He just put his finger in his mouth and pulled it out a little too slow.”

“Ugh.” You take a fake sip of your drink. “I hate this guy.”

“I thought you said you could handle him?” Aaron’s voice in your ear almost makes you jump, and you almost turn around to smack him before realizing he’s not even there.

Bastard.

Emily sends some sort of wisecrack flying over Viper’s head. She’s so charming, you can’t blame him for immediately falling head-over-dick for her.

“...So, affection, sex, emotional committment, it’s all just for fun?”

Against your will, your thoughts wander. You’re still listening, tuned in to his linguistic profile - the pattern, the rhetoric, the cadence, sure - but your heart pulls when you hear Emily list those three things. A sigh leaves you and of course you’re thinking of Aaron.

You’re such a child. Don’t be an idiot.

“You okay?”

Of course he’s asking.

You turn away from Jordan, looking out on the rest of the club so you can answer. “I’m fine.”

“Need a break?”

You are feeling a little boxed-in, and as long as he’s offering… “Yeah, actually. That would be great. I just need some air.” You turn back to Jordan. “I’ll be right back - stay with Emily.”

“But wait,” she says, holding your arm with gentle fingers, “we shouldn’t split up.”

“I just need a minute outside, Jordan, I’ll be alright.” You smile at her, small and warm, and escape her grasp. Slipping out one of the side doors, you prop it with a doorstop and lean against the wall. Your eyes fall closed, and you take a minute to breathe in the cold air.

You hear your name in your ear, and you yank your earwig out. It's still close enough for you to hear the team if anyone needed you, but Aaron’s voice in your ear at this very moment isn’t helping with the whole “take a minute” thing.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

I thought I took that damn thing out - oh.

Aaron rounds the corner and leans on the wall beside you. “You okay?”

You nod. “Fine. My shoulder’s just bugging me a little.”

“Any more lies you want to share before I call you on them?”

“No.” In fairness, your shoulder was bothering you, but it wasn’t the thing bothering you. That thing, in fact, was standing beside you with his kevlar on, waiting patiently for you to continue. “I’m just out of shape, is all.” You tilt your head a little. “And my shoulder really does hurt.”

He guides you off the wall so you’re standing in front of him, your back to him. “What have you been doing in PT?”

“Muscle work, mostly. Keeping things loose so it heals without limiting my mobility.” You roll your shoulder, ignoring the flood of pain that zings down your fingertips.

Warm hands find their way to your shoulder over the fabric of your dress. You picked something long-sleeved and high-necked, figuring the angry scarring from your still-healing gunshot wound would adversely affect your objective. You take deep breaths as he works at the muscle, releasing the little knots that built up through the day. He finds a bit of scar tissue, and a little yelp leaves you before you can stop it.

His hands soften, but don’t stop. “Hang in there. Just a little more and it’ll take some pressure off the nerve.” He trades his thumbs for the tips of his fingers, walking over the knots with a methodical practicality that pulls at your chest.

You nod, knowing he’s right. Lo and behold, a few seconds later, the knot releases, sending a flood of warmth, followed by pins and needles down your arm. You flex and contract your hand in and out of a fist a couple of times, hoping to rid yourself of the sensation.

“It’ll stop in a second.” He rubs his hands together, warming them up with the friction before passing over the back of your shoulder with a firm, steady pressure, all the way down your arm to your fingers. The heat of his hands really does help - your nerves calm almost immediately, and you can feel your pinkie for the first time in days.

A little laugh leaves you. “I dunno why I keep going to PT when you’re right here.” You turn and offer him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Feeling better?”

No.

“Much.”

He offers you a small smile in return. “Good.”

+++

You’re changing back into your work clothes with Emily and Jordan, pleased to find them full of laughter.

“When you asked him if he practices his routine on a sex doll, I almost lost it.” Jordan looks over her shoulder at Emily as she clips her holster back onto her belt.

“I did lose it, are you kidding?” You laugh. “I can’t believe I missed it!”

Emily shakes her head, smiling. “You know, as much as I hate what that guy stands for, I still read ‘five ways to get noticed’ in Cosmo magazine.”

“Because it makes sense.” You look at Jordan, waiting for an explanation. She redeemed herself tonight, and you’re actually looking forward to hearing what she has to say. Though she doesn’t explain what she means, she does thank you both for vouching for her.

“Absolutely.” Emily looks past Jordan, at you, and you nod in agreement.

“Of course.”

A knock sounds, and Aaron’s voice shoots around the corner. “I need you all out here, the unsub’s kidnapped another victim.”

Shit.

+++

You’re on Aaron’s six, waiting for the go. He calls the first team into position and holds up his hand. When he drops it, you fall into step, just off his right shoulder. Derek breaches first, tackling the unsub to the floor.

Aaron kicks down the front door, and you breach from the other side of the house. There’s shouting everywhere, but Aaron’s presence centers you, giving you a mission and a focus.

Keep him safe.

He releases you with a wave, and you drop down next to Spencer on the floor. You cut the tape holding Austin’s hands together. She falls into Spencer, still terrified and sobbing. He looks at you and you nod, spotting her as he helps her to her feet.

Tracking back to Aaron, you shadow Rossi as they finish clearing the rest of the house. You hover by the final door as Dave and Aaron reassure the unsub’s mother that she’ll be taken care of as they clear the room for hidden threats.

In fact, there’s nothing except a sick woman and the machine keeping her alive.

“It’s a dialysis pump...It was issued ten months ago.” Dave looks back at you, and your lips press into a thin line.

You look at Aaron. “Our secondary trigger.”

+++

Jordan climbs the stairs to Aaron’s office, and you attempt to hide your interest as she knocks on the door and steps in. Of course, you can’t hear them, but you watch him call her back after she hands in her report.

You recognize the look on his face - it's an expression you’re rewarded with when you’ve done something right. In fairness, it doesn't look much different from the one you get when you’ve done something wrong, but you’ve learned to pick up on the subtle differences.

Jordan leaves his office with a little smile. When she passes you, you offer her a, “Well done,” as you stand and climb the stairs yourself.

With a knock on Aaron’s door, he beckons you in without looking. You stand a respectable distance away from his desk, waiting for him to finish whatever he’s working on. He knows it’s you, and has no issue keeping you waiting.

The composition of his desk has changed in the months since the divorce. Haley no longer smiles at him from the frame by his pen cup. That frame sits on the low shelf by his law volumes, the white veil over Haley’s face unable to mask her joy even from across the room.

There are more pictures of Jack than before, both old and new.

Eventually, he looks up, and you hand him your report. A smile plays at your lips, and another dances around the corner of his eyes.

“That was kind of you, Hotch.”

He shrugs. “You vouched for her work.”

“Is that all it takes to win your approval, these days? My good word?” Your voice is laden with fond amusement. He rises to it, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he wasn’t smiling. When he answers, his tone is light, almost playful.

“Yes.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @emmasjulixn @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @slickdickwitchbitch @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @garcia-reid-lovechild @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @katiejuliana @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

610 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 16 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader is trying to go back to her old life, which includes the life she led before she met Spencer. Category: Angst. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Drug mention, addiction, jealousy, arguing, death mention Word Count: 9.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Don’t wear that tie, wear the other one.”

Spencer turned to look at me curiously, his little grin the first signal that he saw right through me. “Why?” He asked, taking off the tie he’d only just finished putting on to swap it for the other one hanging in my closet.

It’d been a week since Spencer all but moved into my room, refusing to leave my side for even a second longer than necessary. Aside from the freshly healing bullet wounds, it had been one of the best weeks of my life.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying and failing to hide my smile. “I just wanted to watch you take it off.”

My boyfriend pointed an accusing finger at me as he approached the bed, using it to poke my nose before retreating. “You, my dear, are a troublemaker. I’m going to be late.”

It was hard to believe that life could resume so quickly for everyone else when it felt like I was still on my knees on the cold tile floor of the bank. I tried not to think about it, acutely aware of the terrible things that could happen when PTSD was left unchecked.

I wanted to think about nice things, instead. Like how cute my boyfriend was, acting like it was my fault he’d be late while he took his time tying his tie over and over again. He’d say it was because it wasn’t perfect, but we both knew he didn’t care about that. He just didn’t want to leave yet.

“If you’re going to be late Dr. Reid, it’s because you refused to get out of bed until I gave you a kiss for every hour you’ll be gone today.” I reminded him, joy filling my chest at the small combination of a smile and a pout I received in response.

“You still owe me two.”

“Do I?” I responded, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him back to my place on the bed. “Then please, let me remedy that.”

Not wanting me to move any more than I already had, he quickly came down to place a chaste kiss on my lips. But I didn’t let it end there, holding onto the newly secured tie and tugging him closer.

Now it might be my fault, I thought, but I didn’t care. With one hand on the bed to steady himself and the other carefully caressing my cheek, he put all of his love into one little kiss. I felt like I was going to explode with the pent up desire that had accompanied being with him for so long without being able to show him how much I loved him in a physical way.

He insisted that he didn’t need sex, that it didn’t matter to him, but it mattered to me! I didn’t have a way with words like he did, and while he was content with curling up by my side, it left me wanting more.

The doctor kept telling me it would be soon, that the time will have passed quickly in hindsight. I didn’t understand half of what he said— he was just trying to get me to accept the narcotics in hopes that I wouldn’t end up back in his hospital.

I was doing it again. I was thinking about things I didn’t need to think about instead of the way Spencer bit down on my bottom lip when he paused to let me breathe. The smell of his cologne filled my lungs and I remembered how much I used to miss it. I’d stopped appreciating it when it was around me all the time.

It wasn’t until his phone rang that he left completely, tearing himself away from me like he wouldn’t be able to stop himself any other way.

“Hello?”

There were only a few reasons they would be calling him right now, and I didn’t like any of them.

“Oh… Alright.”

It was that exact tone, that terrified, pitiful grumble that told me what I needed to know. He had to go somewhere, and he wouldn’t be back today. He’d retreated from me, turning his back to me like I wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening just because I couldn’t see his face.

His voice was hushed. “Hotch, are you sure that I…”

The hopelessness hurt. I wanted him to go back to work; I knew he needed to. But it was so hard to let him go.

“Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

“How many more kisses do I owe you now?” I asked with a nervous laugh, fiddling with the sheets between my fingers.

“I don’t know.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like that voice.” I tried to keep my tone playful, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have to travel.”

The fact that he wasn’t looking at me made me more anxious than the fact he was now grabbing all the clothes he had in the closet and dropping them in the suitcase.

“Where to?”

Spencer paused, staring at the floor so that he could see me from his peripherals. He was torturing himself by forcing himself to see my reaction, but he wasn’t strong enough to look directly at me.

“Alaska.”

“Oh... wow.” I didn’t know how to respond, my body freezing as I tried to conceptualize just how far away that was. Far enough away that in maps of the United States, they had a separate area designated for it since it couldn’t fit.

It was too far, that’s all I knew.

“Hey, that’s fine! I can still call you.” My voice sounded foreign and the hopefulness was poorly performed. I wasn’t sure calling would be enough, but it apparently didn’t even matter.

“Not really. They don’t have service out there. Garcia is coming with us.” His packing got angrier, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from me.

“It’ll be fine, Spencer.”

His hands, unable to find any more clothing to grab, found purchase in his hair instead, running through them roughly. “What if something happens?” He asked as he finally turned to face me with a seriousness that was unbecoming.

“Nothing is going to happen. I have tons of friends who can help me. I’m just going to be sitting here on my ass all day watching bad TV.”

I gestured to the television that my friends had been nice enough to set up in my room, sighing as Spencer sulked in the other corner. It took a few waves of the hand, but eventually he dragged himself back to my side. Opening my arms to him, I took him in when his head dropped against my shoulder once more.

“I-I’m not ready to leave you yet.” The vulnerability shook in his voice, and I could feel the insistence in his grip denting my pillow.

“Well, too bad, superman.” I teased, pulling him away enough that I could show him my smile, hoping that it would be enough to calm his mounting fears. “You’ve got lives to save.”

He looked at me, his eyes still welling with tears despite the smile he now wore. He took my hand and heldit against his cheek. He closed his eyes; taking a deep breath, he mumbled, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me fall more in love with you every single day.”

I had to laugh, and I cursed him for it. It hurt so badly to laugh still, but the look on his face was worth it. No matter what, Spencer Reid had to be a romantic, and I loved him for it. It was so very much unlike me.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, old man.” I chastised him lightly, “You’re going to be late.”

He wasn’t done yet, though, that protective glimmer in his eyes returning with a vengeance. He held tighter to my hand and bit his lip.

“Promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything you aren’t supposed to. Please.”

It sounded like a beg, a desperation that I wasn’t used to. Up until now, it always felt like I was the one who was seeking more information and assurance. But now he sat before me, practically broken at the thought of not seeing me for a few days, pleading for me to take my own life seriously.

I hated the attention, but couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand; it would only make him worry more.

“I promise.”

He didn’t believe me, but he accepted my answer, anyway. Lunging forward, his lips crashed into mine without any reservations. I laughed into the kiss, tangling my hands in his hair so that he’d have to fix it again before he could leave me.

It was only funny until I remembered how long it might be until I see him again. I held onto him, deepening the kiss just to drag it out. He was also looking for an excuse, still refusing to part all the way when our lungs had nothing left.

“I love you… so much.” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine for a moment longer.

“I love you, too.”

I’d said it so many times in the past few weeks, but the words still felt new on my tongue. I wanted to say them more, to shower him in my affection, but I didn’t know how. Love was just another language he was fluent in, and I decidedly wasn’t. All I could do was wait for him to translate the thoughts to me whenever I got lost.

“I’m going to try to set up something so I can talk to you, okay? I can’t promise it’ll work but I’m going to try. You remember what I said about the last time I couldn’t reach you.”

Memories of papers scattered on the floor ran through my mind. I could practically feel his hand wrapped around my neck for the first time, holding my life in his hand because I’d trusted him to keep me safe. The vision of waking up in his bed, only to have him lower himself below the sheets, pressing kisses down my stomach.

Things had been so different then. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Those thoughts were suffocating and overwhelming and painful, and I shoved them back into the deepest recesses of my mind. It was too early to be emotional.

I took a deep breath, patting Spencer’s cheek with a soft palm before I summoned all the sarcasm I could in my voice. “I’ll always be with you in your heart,” I joked, smiling as he cringed at the sound.

“I mean it, little girl. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re in for it when I get back.”

Feigning shock and a gasp, I brought my hand to my chest just in time for him to step away from me. The absence of him was colder than it should have been. At least he appeared to be in better spirits, and I wanted to keep it going.

“Dr. Reid, has that ever worked to make me not do something?”

Spencer shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing the rest of his things with more pep in his step. The closer he got to the door, the harder my heart beat. It was deafening and mind numbing in its volume.

Was this how love was supposed to feel? Or had I just grown so spoiled and accustomed to him being here, that I was being entirely selfish? I would no doubt have days to think about it.

He returned to me one more time, running his hand gently through my hair and granting me one more soft, serene kiss in the pale morning light.

“Take care of yourself.” He whispered, the begging bleeding back into his voice. “For me.”

“I will.” I promised before closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him leave. I still heard him hesitate at the door, and I felt his eyes linger on me for a few seconds longer. But then the door clicked shut, and I was alone again.

—————————————————

Nine days. I’d been gone for nine days. It might as well have been a lifetime, because that’s exactly what it felt like. Even worse, I was only able to call (y/n) a whopping three times, each one shorter than the last. We’d only talked for a total of 14 minutes and 29 seconds. And considering that nine days is 12960 minutes, that’s a pretty abysmal fraction.

But it didn’t matter, because as soon as that stupid jet landed in Virginia, I was on my way back to her. Thankfully it was still a normal hour and the sun was still out, albeit quickly setting.

She wasn’t answering my calls, and I tried not to think too much of it. During our last call, she’d told me that she started a new medication that made her sleepy. In fact, our conversation had been so short in part because she fell asleep halfway through the call.

I didn’t mind though, listening to the soft sound of her breathing until the signal went dead again. I’d played the audio over and over again in my head to help me sleep that night, knowing that she was hours away but still dreaming with me.

I was so ready to see her again, that I’d barely knocked on her door before the keys were already in the knob. I didn’t want to wait, I didn’t want to spend another second longer than necessary before I could see her.

But before I could turn the handle, the door swung open and away from my hand.

There were a few people I’d expected to see; (y/n), her roommate, or possibly one of the other female friends the girls had mentioned that I’d yet to see. Unfortunately, it was the one face that hadn’t ever crossed my mind that appeared.

On the other side of the threshold was the man I’d only seen in pictures. To be more specific, one picture, months ago, sent to me from (y/n)’s phone in an attempt to keep her from answering my call.

I recognized him immediately, but realized I’d never actually heard his name.

We stood there for a long time, staring at the other with the utmost hostility in our eyes and postures. I hated the fact that I felt the need to compete with him, but found myself acting out of instinct. I just hoped that he wasn’t as smart or perceptive as her, and wouldn’t notice the insecurity and jealousy that immediately emerged.

“So you must be the cop.” He drawled, leaning against the doorframe to prevent my entry. The action alone pissed me off, but I bit my tongue in the hopes I could deescalate the situation, despite how much I didn’t want to. There were many things I wanted to say to him, but only a few words came out.

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, she said you’d say that.” He chuckled, rubbing his chin as he recalled a memory of her. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That makes sense. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering it’s not my job.” I stated matter-of-factly, trying to remind myself that the two of them were friends. She’d known him for a long time, and he probably felt just as possessive of her as I did.

The only difference was that I had a reason to believe she was mine.

“Let me guess, your sense of humor is her favorite trait.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue. Normally I’d say that was my role, but right now all that I had to spit back was venom.

Retrieving my key from the door, I contemplated barreling past him to get to her quicker, but realized he was probably hoping to provoke that exact kind of reaction.

“You’re funny.” My face steeled and my fists clenched in my pockets, I peered around his head to the empty hallway behind him. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping.” That stupid smirk was back, his eyes trailing after my every movement, waiting for me to snap. When I didn’t, he escalated his antics further.

“I was about to go join her.” He said, licking his lips and standing up in an attempt to match my height.

But it wasn’t size or age that distinguished the two of us. It was our priorities. Because while he was here, trying to prove himself to me, all I could see was a young boy standing in the way of me seeing her again.

“No need. I’m here now.” I took a step forward, unsurprised to find that he didn’t immediately move out of my way.

He narrowed his eyes, grasping at straws to try and prolong this interaction. I couldn’t understand why, really. He couldn’t honestly believe I’d try to start a fight with him or leave, could he?

“Does she know you were planning on coming by?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I responded with a bored tone, staring him down until I saw his stance falter. It wouldn’t take much longer of this standoff for him to finally recede far enough into the apartment that I could just ignore him.

“Just wondering.” He mumbled, finally taking a step backwards and to the side so that I could enter. He shut the door behind me, but clearly wasn’t done with the conversation.

“Figured she wouldn’t have asked me to come spend the night with her if she knew you were coming. So she must not have expected for you to show up.”

I turned around to face him, knowing that I was playing into his games but unable to resist the temptation.

“She told me you got jealous last time. I would hate for you two to fight again if you found us in bed together. That would be so upsetting for her.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. No miscommunication. No worries at all.” It was times like these that I was grateful for my training, because it was the only thing keeping me from lunging at the boy and slamming him against the wall. I knew he could see it in my eyes.

He clearly had an idea of me in his head, one that was honestly probably pretty accurate. He wanted me to lose control and show that side of me, to prove that he was the better man. But he wasn’t. He’d had several years with her now to prove himself, and she’d still chosen me.

She chose me— that’s all I needed to remember.

“What if I want to stay?” He teased.

“We’ll let her decide.”

That was the first thing I’d said that struck a nerve in him. He resumed his previous stance with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest. “You’re a bit full of yourself for a dude who’s never here.” He spat, puffing his chest. The longer the bravado continued, the less intimidating it became. “You barely even know her.”

I was transported back to when (y/n) and I first started dating, when Morgan had accused me of the very same thing over lunch. My heart wrenched in my chest, because so much of me knew that it was still true.

She’d only just started to share information with me about her past, and still she spoke in vague generalities and half-thoughts. There was so much she hid from me, and I just… let her. I let her hide from me because I was scared that if I pressed her, she would leave.

At least, that’s what I’d thought. But each time someone pointed out how little I knew her, I was forced to consider the possibility that she was keeping me away for a deeper reason.

“I know all the parts of her that she doesn’t want to show you.” He taunted, sensing my anxieties that were clearly written across my face.

“Are you done? I’d like to go see her now.”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head. But I only got a few steps before I heard his voice again, this time louder and angrier.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing that I’m here, in bed with your girlfriend while you’re on the opposite side of the country, not even answering her calls?” He remained rooted in his position at the end of the hall.

I lost the battle of keeping my eyes on her door, ripping them away so that I could turn to face him. My breathing got heavy and my hands finally left my pockets. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” I said, my voice falling quieter instead of growing, “You want to know why?”

The grimace on his face was the only answer I needed. I brought a finger to my own chest, not trusting myself to touch him. I barely knew this guy, and I wasn’t about to start a fight with one of (y/n)’s oldest friends to prove my manhood, especially if that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not worried because I trust her.” I practically whispered to him, “And even if I had some reason not to, I’m not intimidated by you.”

A fire appeared in his eyes, the desire to bite back stifled by the knowledge that there was nothing he could say to make me doubt her. He’d already tried and failed every time so far.

“I don’t care what parts of her you think I haven’t seen. Because I get to have the parts of her you wish you could. And she gave them to me willingly and without regret. Over and over again.”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I was thankfully cut off by the hoarse, familiar voice in the backroom.

“Spencer?” She called, groggy yet excited. There was no way she could hear me from the room, which told me that she’d probably just woken up to my texts and hoped I was here. It told us both that when she woke up, the first person she thought to call was me.

“Yeah.” I said, a soft, genuine smile crossing my cheeks at the thought of her. “Like I said… I’m not worried.”

He didn’t follow me then, staying in the hallway to stew in his anger over the fact that this hadn’t gone at all how he’d planned. But I couldn’t think about him any longer, because as soon as I turned into her room, my heart melted.

She was sprawled out on her bed, hugging a body pillow like her life depended on it. Her hair was a beautiful disaster across her pillow, and the blanket had fallen far enough to see that she was swamped in the same Caltech sweatshirt she wore every time I was gone.

“Hey little girl.”

She slowly shimmied her way up the pillows, clearly surprised at my appearance despite having called me in. With half shut eyes, she spoke through a yawn, “What’re you doing here? You look like you haven’t slept in a week!”

“I missed you.” I admitted quietly, finally bridging the gap between us and climbing onto her bed on top of the covers. I couldn’t even bother taking off my blazer or my shoes; I needed to be close to her now, without any other unnecessary delay.

Despite curling up against me immediately, she still found a way to whine. “You better not have skipped out on anything for me. We know I’m not doing anything worthwhile in here.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, my hands holding her against me so that I could breathe in the familiar scent of her hair and perfume. “I strongly disagree.” I sighed, happy to hear her hum and giggle at the way my breath tickled her face.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but she tilted her head away from me to see her friend. I stayed where I was, not wanting to take my eyes off of her again for as long as I didn’t have to.

“I’m gonna head out. Let me know if you need me again.” He said, his voice full of repressed anger and sadness that I understood but didn’t particularly care about right now.

“Thanks for coming! I’ll probably see you next week; I’ll text you!” She chirped, waving to the man who’d already left.

His absence eased away the last remaining bit of tension in my shoulders, allowing me to bury myself in her neck while she continued to laugh. I heard the soft sounds of the tv for the first time and mumbled into her skin.

“What are you watching?”

“Just a sitcom. You wouldn’t be interested.”

She sounded... defensive, if not a little ashamed for her choice in shows. I had to laugh, realizing that she was still unaware of the shows my mom and I used to watch when I was a kid. The asinine, cheesy soap operas that taught me the dorky, awkward way to love that she constantly mocked me for.

I would save that piece of information for later, though, and instead, I chose to show her my own interest in the things she loved, or in the very least found comforting. “What’s it about?”

Apparently, it was the right question to ask. Over the course of the next thirty minutes she tried to condense the entire nine season series of The Office into one barely coherent rant. Eventually, she realized that I wasn’t following along as closely as she’d hoped, and just decided to start the show over.

I didn’t mind. She chastised me a few times for not paying close enough attention after catching me monitoring her reactions more than the show itself. But eventually she fell asleep on my chest, still murmuring about Jim and Pam until the words were just gibberish.

Without her commentary, I was forced to pay attention so that when she undoubtedly woke up and quizzed me, I wouldn’t just be repeating words I’d heard in the background. Somewhat unsurprisingly, I found myself swept up in the romantic storyline of her two favorite characters. So caught up, in fact, that when she woke up, it took me a moment to notice.

“What did I miss?” She grumbled, trying to force her eyes open while she turned to see the tv that displayed the immediate results of a very poorly timed love confession. “Oh, Casino Night.” Her voice was nostalgic and a bit solemn while she spoke. “This is one of my favorite episodes.”

“Why? It’s so sad.”

Without looking up at me, she pondered the question. It was obvious she’d never really thought to question why she was drawn to it. Her answer didn’t provide any comfort or explanation.

“I guess I relate to it. Loving someone like that.” She shrugged before turning back to rest her head against me. She’d said it so easily, like it wasn’t something jarring for me to hear. I realized then that she’d never told me about her past relationships. In fact, I didn’t even know if any existed.

She sensed the anxieties that were building and brought a hand to my cheek to reroute my gaze to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You… You never really talk to me about your life.” My voice was so pathetic, the pout on my lips so childish in its sadness. Because although I told myself I was only upset she hadn’t told me about it, another part of me was also jealous at the idea that anyone else ever got to hold her.

And what a stupid thought that was, to be jealous of men who didn’t get to keep her. I should have been hoping that she had people who loved her and held her and made her happy, not wishing none had existed.

“What are you talking about? We talk about it all the time.” She chuckled, clearly unaware of my inner debate and turmoil.

“I mean your life before me.” I clarified, taking her hand into mine and watching as she carefully wound our fingers together.

“Oh, well… Who cares? It’s in the past.”

She was using that voice that warned me that she was about to try and change the subject. She hadn’t meant to get this conversation started, and now it was quickly getting away from her. But I wasn’t ready to drop it—especially now that I was aware of a huge, life altering event that she’d managed to keep hidden until now.

“I care. If it’s important to you, it matters to me.” It didn’t seem to reassure her, a lopsided smile covering her cheeks before she tried to maneuver away from the topic again.

“What time is it? Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

I held up the small notepad that rested on her nightstand, displaying the several timestamps that I could tell were meant to signal the last time she’d taken painkillers. “I was waiting so I could offer you medicine.”

“Ugh, yes please.” She groaned, moving herself off me so that I could grab the bottles beside her bed.

But there was something I’d noticed before, which only became more obvious once I picked them up. I looked past the orange plastic, my mind straining to count the number of pills inside. The date didn’t match the amount.

“Did you fill the narcotics?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is that why he was here?”

“No.” She responded swiftly, shaking her head and rubbing her temples.

The mention of him brought out feelings that I’d almost forgotten, and with those feelings came stupid worries and questions. “...Why was he here?” I mumbled, turning the pill bottles in my hand like I didn’t already have them memorized.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, poking her tongue out at me. It worked to turn my pout into an awkward half-smile, but I was still sulking.

“Would he have really stayed in the bed with you?”

“What? No!” She shouted, sitting up fast enough that she winced, her hand grabbing her stomach but still talking through clenched teeth. “Did he say that?!”

Her reaction alone made me laugh, easing the tension and reminding me it was stupid to worry about it in the first place. “He might have implied it.” My hands started to sort through her tangled hair, gently arranging it back to its rightful place.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking dick.” She grumbled, wiping her face to try and get rid of the sudden anger.

Meanwhile, I was once again distracted. It was obvious in the way she struggled to keep her eyes open and preventing her hands from turning to fists. She was in way too much pain for my comfort, and it was partially my fault for getting her riled up over something so silly.

But she hadn’t told me she filled the narcotics, and she didn’t tell me where they were. I needed to respect that, if only because I was scared that it might make her doubt me. When she turned to look me in the eyes, I held her cheek that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me where they are. I understand.”

“No, it’s fine. I trust you, Spencer. It’s…” The troubled look shifted to a shaky smile. “They’re in my bedside table. I don’t think I can get them myself.”

I tried not to look excited by the reveal in case she misinterpreted my happiness. It wasn’t the drugs I cared about – it was the fact she trusted me with the fact that they existed. That was enough to carry me through any cravings that popped up. They were few, but like always, they were there.

I funneled those feelings into my caretaking, grabbing her a water bottle and helping her ease back down onto the pillow after she’d down the pills. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, listening to soft sound of the theme song in the background.

Just as I shifted my focus back to the TV, she brought me back to her with a tiny whisper.

“You have nothing to be jealous of.”

I looked down to see she still had closed eyes, now accompanied with a genuine smile. I laughed at the sight, and her eyelids fluttered open at the sound. She narrowed her eyes into a suspicious glare.

“Yeah, I... may or may not have said that.” I admitted, wiggling my fingers between hers.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Very cocky, Dr. Reid.” She chastised, squeezing my hand tighter and bringing it up to her chest. I could feel her heart beating softly against us, her chest slowly rising and falling as she started to try to drift off again.

“What else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing that matters. Let’s go to sleep.”

It was a suggestion that didn’t need to be made, because she was basically already asleep by the time she replied, “Okay. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”

—————————————————

The best part of the week was waiting for the chance to spend two uninterrupted days with (y/n). But this time it was different; when I left her house this morning, she told me she wanted some time to herself.

I tried to ignore the fifty alarm bells that rang in my head, convincing myself that she just needed a break from entertaining me. We all needed alone time sometimes, right?

No, that was a lie. I didn’t ever need a break from her, and it worried me that she needed one from me. Was I stressing her out? Were there more secrets she was keeping from me? It had to be something heavy if she didn’t want me to know, but that’s exactly the time she would need me most, right?

It was times like this when I wished that I had more experience with relationships; I was panicking and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I didn’t want to. I was scared that they might tell me the wrong thing, or the right thing. I was worried they might talk some sense into me and tell me that waiting outside my girlfriend’s apartment was creepy, stalkerish behavior.

I knew it was. I tried to justify it with a present that I was going to leave on her doorstep and leave. But when I got to her place, a dread filled me. I shouldn’t have come. She deserved her privacy and my trust. She’d earned it, and it wasn’t right for me to doubt her.

So, I turned my car back on and prepared to leave. But before I could, I saw her. Alone.

We’d talked about it before, and she’d promised me she wouldn’t go anywhere alone. The risks were too high – not just that she might fall or get stranded, but that something could go seriously wrong. Her stitches could tear, or she could overexert herself. She could get into a car crash and no one would know about her already existing internal damage.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere alone. She’d promised me. But there she was, climbing into her car after suspiciously glancing around. Her car left so quickly, I barely had time to think about the ethics of following her. After a few seconds of wrestling with myself, I decided to just do it and worry about the consequences later.

I’d admit it to her later, when she was safe and sound. Maybe it would be good, too, to see that she was fine without me. I just wished she’d told me so I could come to her aid if she needed me to.

After nearly twenty minutes of driving, I still had no idea where she was going. I was a little surprised she hadn’t noticed me yet, which just goes to show she probably shouldn’t have been driving.

Actually, was she on narcotics?

My mind was spinning, my hands shaking when she finally pulled into a small, unfamiliar cemetery parking lot off the side of the road.

For all her paranoia leading up to this point, she didn’t check the other cars in the lot when she got out. Instead, she put her hand on her stomach and slowly made her way through the gate, hobbling off into the field.

And then I felt terrible for so many reasons. I selfishly felt awful that she didn’t want to bring me here. It hurt that I was violating her trust like this, but it hurt worse to know she was going through it alone.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm down the emotional disaster of my mind. I didn’t need to follow her, I thought. She would come back in a little while, and I could watch her get back in her car. She would make it home, and I could call her and ask her how her day was. Maybe she’d even tell me herself.

God, I was such an idiot. I shouldn’t have come, but now I was here, and I couldn’t leave, either. This was the time she was most likely to be in danger, since the cemetery was relatively empty.

Just as that thought occurred to me, another car pulled in. it wouldn’t have mattered much to me, but the thing that followed caught my attention.

The woman inside the car climbed out and made a beeline to (y/n)’s car, peering into the windows and taking photos of the license plate. At first, I did nothing, trying to keep track of everything that was happening, noting the unfamiliar woman’s license plate number in turn.

But then she took off in the same direction my girlfriend had left in, and I realized that I couldn’t just wait here. This woman clearly knew her, and from the looks of it, it was not going to be a friendly encounter.

This is why, I thought. This is why I made her promise.

I couldn’t just run out after her yet, so I followed as closely as I could without being clearly visible, relying on sounds, instead. But what I heard was somehow even more distressing than when I could see.

“What are you doing here?! You aren’t allowed to be here!” A scratchy, unfamiliar voice rang through the air. Even if I didn’t already know, her tone alone told me that a fight was about to follow.

I bit down on my tongue, trusting that (y/n) could handle herself. She’d done it before me, and she could do it now. The only thing worse than revealing my presence would be doing it while also discrediting her.

“Mrs. Loughton! I can explain!”

At least I finally had a name for the face, but that was about as far as my thoughts went before they turned to red. Because the only thing I could hear after that was the sound of skin against skin, and the gentle thud of someone hitting the ground.

“Get the hell out of here, you bitch!” The woman screeched, and by the time I came into view, I saw my girlfriend on her hands and knees, holding the very visible red mark on her face. Neither of them saw me, too caught up in each other to notice.

It was the panic on her face, the way she lifted both hands to cover her head when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair that broke my silence.

“Hey! Get away from her!” I shouted, running over to the two women. Mrs. Loughton released (y/n)’s hair, causing her to drop back onto her hands and knees while she looked up at me with an angry, frazzled stare.

“Spencer?!”

“Who the hell are you?” The woman spat, redirecting her anger towards me. I much preferred it this way.

“I’m a law enforcement agent, and you just assaulted someone.”

“Assault? Ha!” She laughed, talking over me as if she’d heard the speech a million times before. I got the impression this wasn’t the first time the two have had a showdown. “That’s funny, considering.”

“Spencer, please leave.” The fear overtook any other emotion, and the tears welled so quickly in her eyes it hurt my chest. I couldn’t leave. There was no way I could leave her on her knees in front of this woman.

“Let me guess, are you one of her dad’s friends?” She sneered, but all I could hear was (y/n) continuing to plead.

“Spencer. Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I couldn’t breathe, my chest heaving with unbridled rage, confusion, and something else I couldn’t even place.

“Oh I bet you are one of his friends. Always protecting her. You’re all a bunch of pathetic, power-hungry lowlifes.”

(Y/n) stood up now, neither of us paying any attention to the raving woman while I tried to help her up. “Please, I want to leave.” She pleaded, grabbing my hand so tightly that it trembled.

“Are you a murderer, too?”

“What are you talking about?!” I snapped, my arms wrapping possessively around (y/n) like I could shield her from everything that was happening. But I couldn’t, and I heard her soft sobs while she pulled on my shirt, now wet with her tears.

“That stupid, selfish little bitch knows exactly what she did, and she knows that she’s not allowed anywhere near here!” Her face was red, her arms waving and tears sprouting in her eyes while she ran out of breath. Then, deathly quiet, she pursed her lips and tried to bite her tongue. But she couldn’t, the words bursting through when she saw the way I held (y/n).

“If you really are a law enforcement agent, then get her the fuck out of here! She’s not allowed on this property!”

“She hasn’t done anything!”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she let me know swiftly and with full force.

“She’s the reason my son is dead!” She shrieked, stepping towards me with an accusing finger in my face. “It was her friends, her drugs, her horrible decisions and now my baby is gone!”

I hated this part. Because as much as I loved (y/n), it was impossible not to hear the absolute devastation in this woman’s voice. And the longer she talked, the more I understood what was happening. Not enough to argue back, but enough to feel sympathy for them both.

More than anything, I wanted to protect (y/n), but I didn’t know how. I held her tighter, trying to show her that she was safe. I’m afraid it had the opposite effect, and she started to fight my embrace.

“It should have been her! She should follow in her father’s footsteps and do the world a favor and...” She cut herself off, knowing the weight of her words and contemplating them a moment longer before making her decision. “And just fucking disappear!”

The shock of it all caused my arms to loosen – just barely. It was enough, though, and before I knew it (y/n) had burst from my arms, taking off at full speed through the headstones.

“(Y/n)!” I choked, going to run after her, but I was stopped one final time.

“Yeah, get the hell out of here.” The woman behind me softly sobbed, trembling as the fight left her. “Go protect her like you always do. They always do.”

I couldn’t stay on the thought; I’d have to come back to it later, because there were more pressing concerns for me than a stranger who’d just hurt the woman I loved. So I turned around and booked it after her just as she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the cover of the woods around the cemetery.

Naturally, she couldn’t stay on the level, manicured grass. My heart was pounding not just at the energy exerted to follow her, but from all the different things that could go wrong. She could fall, she could run into something, she could get lost.

But luckily, even the adrenaline couldn’t stop the pain in her stomach, and she’d barely gotten anywhere before I caught up to her. I loosely caught her wrist, pulling her gently back to me before she nearly collapsed in my arms.

“(Y/n), where do you think you’re going? You can’t be running like this! Especially not here; it’s way too dangerous!” I said through my labored breaths. Then we stopped, and she protested at my touch.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked calmer now, lifting her back onto her feet. “Did she hurt you?” When I went to lift her shirt to inspect her wound, she brought her hand down in a hard slap.

“Stop, Spencer! Just fucking stop! Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”

The venom dripped from her tongue and burned my skin, my hands jumping back away from her as I took a step back. All the negative emotions that I’d just watched her go through were growing and morphing into a painful anger, and it was all aimed at me.

I deserved it.

“Why the fuck are you even here?! I told you I wanted to be alone today, a-and now you’re what, y-you’re following me?!”

I wished I could just shut up, but the words flowed out of me like I had any right to be angry with her over a promise that didn’t even seem to matter anymore. “And it’s a good thing I did. That woman could have seriously hurt you!”

“Who cares!”

“I do!” My voice strained at the volume I used to match hers. Our angry shouting disrupted the wildlife and broke through the sounds of cars traveling on the highway on the other side of the trees. “You might not care about what happens to you, (y/n), but it matters to me!”

“Why the fuck are you yelling at me?!” And then the sniffles turned to outright sobs, her whole body shaking, her hands cradling her face while she struggled under the weight of everything that had happened so quickly.

I shouldn’t have come here, but I was glad I had. I wished none of this had happened. I just wanted to hold her, but she stepped away when I got closer, defensively covering her head. My heart shattered at the thought of her being scared of me.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I said genuinely, my voice still breaking, but now at an acceptable volume. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling, I-I just… I got scared. I thought you were going to get hurt again and I—“

“Sometimes I’m going to get hurt, Spencer. I can’t put my life on hold for your comfort. I’m only twenty years old. I’m not ready to be a housewife waiting at home for you!” She was quick, stumbling over her words and waving her arms between us in the hopes it would force me to keep my distance.

I didn’t want to hurt her, I never wanted that. And right now, it was very obvious that’s exactly what I was doing. “Of course. I want you to have a life, but you…”

Her hand was back on her stomach, and the action caused a sudden panic that overwhelmed the logic and sense. “You were shot!” I cried, “You almost died in my arms! I thought I was going to lose you, forever.”

She couldn’t reply yet, her lungs too busy trying to take in hungry breaths without irritating the hardly healed skin.

I clenched my eyes shut, unable to look at it any longer. “It’s been barely a month, (y/n). A-And you’re already sneaking around behind my back and putting yourself in danger and I don’t know how I’m supposed to just turn a blind eye to that.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She panted; the words hardly audible. Her skin was damp with sweat from the pain that was obviously written all over her.

This time, when I stepped closer, she couldn’t move away. I didn’t hold her yet, opting instead to place one hand on her hip and the other on the side of her face. She sighed, resting her head against my hand. She said she didn’t want to talk to me, but the way she closed her eyes and her heartrate immediately calmed down with the simplest touch told me that she wanted nothing more than for me to pick her up and take her home.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from whatever the hell just happened out there, but you don’t have to do that.” I whispered, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re just going to let it go?” I couldn’t decide what was more simultaneously heartbreaking and adorable, her pauses to sniffle, or the way she pouted as she spoke. “You aren’t going to ask me every night until you get an answer?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again, then yes. I’ll let it go.” I reassured her. She took the answer with an immense amount of relief, leaning forward to rest all of her body weight against me. I tried to stop her from falling too far or too hard, hoping to ease the pain that was already wrecking her.

But she didn’t even seem to notice, rubbing her face against my shirt and further soaking it with tears. I just wanted her to be okay, and I wished I could do it faster. For now, all I could do was pet the back of her head, rocking just a bit to the side in a soothing manner.

We stayed like that for a long time, and I occasionally pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft apologies to her and telling her that I loved her, no matter what. Eventually, she responded, her voice filled with guilt and shame again.

“I was going to tell you eventually.”

“I believe you.” I immediately responded, pulling her back to look at me to know that I was telling her the truth. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She gave the tiniest, saddest nod back.

“I would never try to hurt you.” I promised, earning a slanted smile. I mirrored it back to her, which made her laugh.

The sounds of the highway paired with the rustling of the leaves, and the two of us shared a quiet moment of understanding. Because I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I was glad I was there, and she felt very much the same.

“I’d like to go home, please.”

“Okay.” I agreed, taking her hand and maneuvering the woods that didn’t seem nearly as dangerous when her hand was in mine. “Let’s go home.”

—————————————————

“Hotch, I need to ask you for a favor.”

The man didn’t even look up from his desk, and I could tell from his posture that he wasn’t in the mood for the conversation he expected to follow. I couldn’t blame him; I hadn’t been the easiest employee to have for the past couple of weeks.

“Reid, we’ve talked about this. You either have to come back completely or—“

“No, sorry, this… isn’t about that.” I corrected, trying to ease the tension before it got any worse. Unfortunately, he still seemed combative, although there was now a guilt mixed in the frustration.

“I need to talk to you about (y/n)’s father.” I clarified, my voice breaking mid-sentence. I cleared my throat, trying to make eye contact despite the nerves gnawing at the little self-esteem I had.

But after a brief moment of thought, Hotch waved me forward, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He shoved the papers to the side and I wondered what it was he was working so hard on. I had a feeling it had to do with her, but I wasn’t going to ask.

“Does she know you’re asking me about this?”

It was the first question, and although I fully expected him to ask it, I still choked on an answer. He sighed deeply, his hands folding on his desk. He wasn’t able to look at me, either.

“Reid…”

“I-I’m really worried about her.” I needed him to hear the desperation in my voice, to feel just how scared I really was. I didn’t want to come running to him for every little thing involving her — he’d already done so much for her just fending off the prosecutors.

I knew we were both tired, but I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his tone when he talked about her that she meant something to him, too. Even if it wasn’t nearly as much, he’d known her when she was a kid.

Well, I guess to Hotch, she still was. I hated to exploit that knowledge, but I needed answers now. Before something else went horribly wrong. So I broke into a rant, my hands running through my hair and down my legs as I tried to prevent them from turning to fists at the memory.

“The other day she did something and she got into a physical altercation with another woman a-and she told (y/n) that she should follow her father’s footsteps and…” The word caught in my throat. He narrowed his eyes, and I suspected he already knew what I was about to say.

“Disappear.”

Across from the desk, he tensed, bowing his head to look at the files lining the surface in front of him. Every single one of them contained a plethora of information about someone’s family. Someone’s everything.

“What did she mean, Hotch?”

“Reid, the information in that file is not only classified, it’s extremely personal. I’m sure she doesn’t know all the details herself. I think it’s best for you to hear it from her.” He explained it so robotically, I could tell he didn’t want to be saying it. The way his jaw clenched told me that there was a lot he wished he could discuss about whatever the hell happened.

It must be a lonely way to live, I thought. And then I thought of her, carrying the weight of uncertainty on top of whatever Hotch held. She was strong, but she was young. She had been even younger then, and she wouldn’t have had the one man who’d taught her to survive to teach her how to handle what came next.

I wrung my hands together. I didn’t mean to be manipulative, but tears stung at my eyes. They were real, and they were persuasive.

“I just need to know that she’s safe.” I begged. “But your reaction isn’t telling me that at all. In fact, it’s telling me the exact opposite.”

Now that I’d started, the words wouldn’t stop.

“If my girlfriend is in danger, I need to know. It’s not like I care about the mission or whatever her father was wrapped up in — I-I just want to know what happened to him. This woman knew, so apparently it’s not that classified!”

My voice grew in volume, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I could feel his face morph into a scowl even as I clenched my eyes tightly shut. There was so much I hated about this, but nothing more than knowing that despite everything I’ve done, I still couldn’t reach out to her and help her when she needed me.

I was still failing her, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Reid, stop.”

Hotch must have been able to read my mind, because something inside of him also snapped, the tension releasing from his shoulders and his jaw. I wondered if it was because he trusted me not to give it away, or if it was because he trusted her.

Either way, he spoke, his voice low and hushed.

“I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you has never been confirmed, and should not be shared outside of this room. Even with her.”

Sitting up with a straight back and a heavy swallow, I nodded.

“I understand.”

—————————————————

| Part 17 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #reid series #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid angst #angst #h2m

1K notes · View notes

andromedasstarship · 3 years

Text

in the stars - chapter 1

photo credit: @ssahotchnerr

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, drinking, brief mention of drugs.

summary - You finally meet the BAU, little progress is made in terms of the case.

a/n - early update yay! i take a lot of liberties with movies that reader has starred in, pls dont take irl movie release dates into consideration here lol. more notes at the end

blog rules

masterlist // read it on ao3 here

prologue // next chapter

-----

Chapter 1

Flights to California always took an extra toll on the team. Reid had explained it once, in a too long ramble, how the wind worked against the plane lengthening the flight at least an hour longer than the trip back home.

Hotch was finding it difficult to focus on the files in front of him. The first photo he opened was of victim #3, with her eyes closed and face turned to the side, even Hotch could’ve been fooled that it was you lying there dead. While the rest of the team was mulling over the facts of the case, he was debating whether or not to tell the team about your history. The Unit Chief in him knew this was important information that had the potential to hinder the case; his relationship to you was too personal and his withholding of information could even turn him into a suspect. If the roles had been reversed with another member of the team, he’d have concerns over their ability to even be on the case. For now, Hotch forced himself to tune into the conversation the rest of the team was having; promising himself he’d figure out what to do later.

“Garcia, what do we know about L/N,” Emily asked, turning ever so slightly towards the screen Garcia had just popped up on.

“I’m glad you asked my dear Emily. Y/N L/N is totally Hollywood’s It Girl right now, it’s rumored you can’t even get a meeting with her without forking over at least twenty big ones. She’s never had a bad role in her career. Personally, my favorite movie she starred in was Mamma Mia, but like I said never a bad role,” Garcia paused for a moment, the sound of her typing filling the silence, “is it inappropriate for me to ask one of you to get her signature for-”

“Garcia,” Rossi interjected, “anything else we need to know about her right now?”

“Sorry sir, I promise to be on my best professional behavior. But come on, remember when she swept the Oscars three years-”

Hotch felt himself detach from the conversation yet again, staring out the window as memories of the two of you flooded his brain.

Three Years Ago

The team had just finished a grueling case in Georgia. It was long, taking nearly two weeks to catch the unsub, in which he had managed to murder three additional couples right under their noses. Inclement weather forced them to stay another night until the storm passed, leaving them all stranded by the airport. In a turnaround way, being stuck gave them the rare opportunity to relax and bond as a team. Rather than all disappear to their own rooms for the night, they all packed into one small hotel room. Boxes of Chinese takeout were littered around the room, along with various bottles of alcohol. The Oscars were on that night and Hotch knew you’d be on the screen at some point, not wanting to miss it he proposed watching it to the team and they all happily agreed. While it was difficult with their schedules to be avid movie goers, they all were relatively familiar with the contenders for big awards such as Best Picture and Best Actor.

You were nominated for two separate awards that night, along with starring in a film nominated for Best Picture. It had been a monumental year for you, with three separate feature films hitting theaters and all becoming major successes both financially and socially. You had spent so much time jet setting for press conferences and movie tours that you rivaled Aaron in terms of suitcase living.

“Everyone shut up! They’re about to do Best Supporting Actress, oh I just know it’s going to be Y/N. Emily agree with me! We saw her in Little Women together, I cried. Oh don’t give me that look Emily, you cried too and you know it!” Penelope said enthusiastically, waving her chopsticks around. It was rare that Garcia ever came with on a case, but the location had been in a remote part of the state and they wanted to avoid being unable to reach her and her technical wizardry; a fact she was particularly grateful for, had this watch party been happening without her, she would’ve been so jealous.

To anyone else, the grin on Hotch’s face would have been easily equated to the bickering going on between his friends and the effects of the few drinks he had thrown back. It was all for you though, he had caught glimpses of you on screen throughout the night and had snuck more than one glance at his phone to see the pictures of your outfit you’d sent him yourself. When the presenters walked on stage, Hotch sat up a bit straighter, his body naturally inching closer to the edge of his seat. The screen set up so the faces of all nominees and their reactions could be seen, Hotch’s eyes glued to the box you were in.

“And the winner of Best Supporting Actress goes to…,” the first presenter started, slowly opening the envelope they held, “Y/N L/N!” The crowd roared and the camera focused in on you sitting stunned in your seat, surrounded by coworkers and friends. The team was cheering too, the liquor in their system loosening everyone up. Hotch clapping uncharacteristically loud and long even went unnoticed by the others.

“I was right, I knew it!! I should start betting on this, you know what I bet I could hack into the system-” Garcia’s voice barely even registered in Hotch’s brain as he watched you. With one hand clasped over your mouth and the other holding your dress you made your way up the stairs and to the center of the stage.

“Wow,” you started, eyes wide as you stared down at the award in your hands, slowly you looked back up into the crowd and continued, “I really mean it when I say I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t even prepare a speech, I’m so sorry,” you paused again, the biggest smile plastered on your face as you quickly wiped a few tears threatening to fall, “thank you all so much, for supporting me and letting me do what I love. Thank you to my fellow coworkers who pushed me in this project and thank you so much to the fans who give me the strength to do this every day. Thank you! Thank you so much!” You ended, making your way back towards your seat. Hotch grinned as you flashed a wide smile to the camera following you, throwing a flirty winky that he knew was just for him.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. When you won again for Best Actress, you were barely able to contain yourself on stage, tears flowing freely down your face as you gave your thanks. The joy you felt in that moment was unlike anything you’d ever experienced in your life. At just 24, you had become the first person ever to win both awards in the same night. Hotch had actually jumped out of his seat at your second win, a motion that confused the rest of the team, but the liquor in everyone’s system forced them to ignore it; more glad than anything to see Hotch loosening up for once.

After the team finally retreated into their own rooms for the night, Hotch wasted no time in texting you, asking if you were free to talk on the phone. His excitement palpable when not even a minute later your contact came up on the screen.

“Aaron,” your excited voice came through the phone, just being able to hear you eased tension he wasn’t even aware he had been carrying, “can you believe it!”

“Congratulations, Miss Double Oscar winner.” Even after a year of being together, his voice made you giddy. “Where are you?” He asked, unable to ignore the pounding sound of music and people in the background.

“After party, top secret location Mr. Agent. I’m in the bathroom! Am I allowed to tell you I definitely see some residue of a line on the counter,” your voice was slurred and rushed, the energy of the moment combined with the liquor in your system causing your mouth to move faster than your brain, “probably not, ignore that. Where are you?”

Aaron relayed various info about closing the case and what the team had gotten up to that night. When you began telling him about your night, he couldn’t help but feel insecure. Where he told you about $8 takeout meals and rural Georgia, you were talking about some of the biggest names in Hollywood and the luxury treatment you’d been subject to all night. He forced himself to focus on your voice anyway; not wanting to take this time ‘with’ you for granted. The two of you could’ve talked for hours, had it not been for Hotch pushing you to go enjoy the celebrations.

“I’m so proud of you angel,” he said softly, voice swelling with adoration, “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

“I love you Aaron.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

When he finally hung up, he leaned against the wall with a sigh, running his hands through his hair. Relationship wise, it had been a tough year for the two of you. With your schedule busier than you’d ever expected, it meant seeing each other in person was nearly impossible. In good conscience you refused to take him away from Jack on the rare weekends he had off. Instead you’d fly in whenever possible, the two of you spending low profile nights together in fancy hotels or his house if Jack was away with friends. It was excruciating maintaining a relationship like this, but something about the success of the night made the sacrifices feel worth it.

Present Day

“Look into her dating history, any exes that would want to hurt her?” JJ asked, her question pulling Hotch back into the present. Adjusting to the constant publicity you were subject to had been a learning curve for Hotch, the first time the tabloids ran a story of you photographed with some Hollywood Hunk his bad mood had the entire team walking on eggshells for a week.

“According to my search she hasn’t dated anyone in years, or at least not publicly. I have a theory she’s secretly dating Henry Ca-.” Hotch zoned back out before Garcia could finish, having no interest in hearing or seeing whoever the media was speculating to be involved with you this time. Willing the plane to land faster, he ignored the faint voice in the back of his head that was telling him you were free to be with whoever you wanted.

----

“If you’d follow me Miss L/N, the BAU has set up in the back conference room, they’ve been waiting for you.” Officer Reynolds said, her back to you as you followed her down the hallway. It was nearly 9am and you had spent the better half of the morning hyping yourself up to see Aaron for the first time in nearly two years. You made last second adjustments to your outfit; an outfit you definitely hadn’t spent all of last night picking out because you definitely did not want to look good for Aaron Hotchner. As Officer Reynolds moved to open the door you held your breath, thanking the years of experience in manipulating your outward expressions. When four heads turned in unison to look at you, you let out a sigh of relief. Aaron wasn’t in the room.

“This is Y/N L/N. Miss L/N, meet the BAU,” Officer Reynolds said, extending her arm outwards towards the rest of the room, “I’ll leave you guys to do introductions, if you need anything, find me,” and with that she exited the room. A blonde woman stepped forward first, extending her hand out to you. You knew who she was before she even said her name.

“My name is Jennifer Jareau, I’m the media liaison with the BAU.” She said, she gave you the same smile all the other officers had been giving you, but unlike theirs that reeked of pity, something in Jennifer’s felt authentic to you. After shaking hands with her, the rest of the room took a moment to introduce themselves. You never thought you’d meet Aaron’s team like this. Over the years, he had shown you countless photos of the team, along with hundreds of stories and tidbits concerning their lives. Even though you knew they had probably spent the entire flight to LA looking at your life, it still felt as if you had some creepy advantage over the situation.

“The rest of our team, Agents Hotchner and Morgan, are currently doing some research in the field, but until they return we’d love to brief you and ask you a few questions, is that alright?” JJ asked, stepping backwards and motioning for you to take a seat at the round table.

“Of course,” you quickly replied, moving to take a seat; internally you were laughing at the irony of her asking if it was alright, what would you do, say no? Looking up at the other three members still standing you motioned for them to sit as well, “I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but I’d prefer if you all sat down too,” you paused, before adding, “kinda makes me feel like I’m back at school.” They seemed to smile at that, everyone else moving to find a seat at the table. Before the silence could turn uncomfortable, JJ spoke up again.

“Does anyone else in your life know about the murders?”

You shook your head no before replying, “my agent knows just in case I have to go underground and my security guard is aware, but besides them and the police, I haven’t told anyone.”

“Go underground?”

“Uh yea, a few years ago I had a stalker. I went ‘underground’ for about three months and the guy seemed to give up. The police have already cleared him, he hasn’t been to LA in over a year,” you explained.

“That’s good to know. We want to keep your involvement in the case completely out of the media. I can only imagine you want that too,” JJ started, angling her body towards you, “I know you’re probably more than well versed in dealing with the press, but if anyone comes up to you asking about the murders we want you to completely disengage. And of course, don’t tell anyone else about what’s going on.”

“Alright, now that that’s settled, we just have a couple questions for you,” Emily asked as she stood up, opening up a file from the table, “so what can you tell us about-”

----

The dump site wasn’t showing any promise. Situated near a highway, the field was hidden from the road, yet still accessible by car. The constant stir caused by the speeding cars meant any leftover DNA or footprints were effectively blown away.

“Our guy’s gotta be fit. The drop into the field is just steep enough he would’ve had to carry the body at least fifty feet to get it here from the road. He could’ve rolled it, but the bodies were too pristine to have been dropped on the ground like that.” Derek said, looking over at Hotch. The two of them were standing at the edge of the road, looking down at the now empty field. “Not only that, but this is a nice spot. Normally places like this so close to a highway are filled with trash, do you think he might’ve cleaned up?”

Hotch was silent as he considered this, before slowly nodding, “it’d make sense if he did. Everything we have concerning his treatment to the victims post mortem has been nothing but affectionate.”

“Do you think there could be two unsubs?” Derek asked, when Hotch looked at him with mild confusion he continued, “All the victims were strangled to death, ME report assumes it was by hand. It takes a lot of strength and persistence to kill someone by hand like that, not only that but it’s intimate, he’s staring them in the face as he kills them. The level of care displayed here seems way more than just remorse.”

Hotch took another moment to consider Derek’s proposition before shaking his head, “we’ll keep it in mind, but it’s clear whatever connection he has to L/N is personal, at least to him. These women could be failing to replicate some part of her personality and in his rage he kills them. But when they’re silent and unmoving, their likeness to L/N lets him fall back into the fantasy, hence the care.”

“We should start heading back, Reid just texted me they’re almost done with the initial briefing with L/N, and we should meet her before she takes off for the day.” Derek said, putting his phone back in his pocket before turning on his heel to head back to the car. Hotch’s shoulders tensed at the idea of seeing you, looking back at the field once more. Giving the field one last look, he felt a shiver run up his spine at the idea of finding you in a field like this. Shaking the idea out of his, he turned to join Derek in the car.

Hotch took the driver's seat, glad to be able to use the road as a needed distraction from the impending face to face. The drive was only twenty minutes, but Hotch didn’t think any time would truly be long enough to prepare himself to see you again. He found himself wondering if anything would be different from the last time he saw you. Did you still smell the same? You had always been quite adamant about your preference for scented lotion, rather than perfumes. What if you completely changed your hair? Were you worrying about seeing him as much as he was?

“You think she’s gonna be easy to work with?” Derek asked, breaking Hotch out of his mental spiral.

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, you know, “Hollywood’s It Girl”,” Derek explained, “if she’s as in demand as Garcia said she was-”

“While we work this case Morgan, I expect you to conduct yourself appropriately,” Hotch interjected, his voice tight, “we treat Y/N the way we would anyone else, do I make myself clear?” His eyes not leaving the road at all, knuckles tight around the steering wheel.

“Crystal,” Derek responded, raising his hands up in mock surrender.

As they turned into the parking lot, Hotch scanned the parking lot before finally noticing your car parked in the back of the lot. You used to always park as far as you could, constantly complaining about how people in parking lots stressed you out and you wanted to be able to drive in and out as easy as possible. The corners of his lips turned up, ever so slightly, thinking maybe nothing had really changed for you, at least in that regard.

“You go ahead, I’m just going to send a message to Jack real quick,” Hotch lied, pulling his phone from his pocket. Derek nodded and got out of the car, quickly entering the building. Hotch put his phone down in his lap and gripped the steering wheel once more. You were one of the few people to ever wind him up this way; it had been like that from the first day he met you, as if you managed to make him melt under your gaze. Five minutes, he would give himself five minutes to pull himself together before letting the Unit Chief in him take over.

----

“I’m sorry, I just, can I take a break,” you asked, looking up at the agents who were still grilling you about facets of your life you never would’ve considered relevant, “I just need to get some air.” Without really waiting for permission, you were pushing back on your chair to stand up. Slinging on your thin jacket you exited the room, heading for the entrance of the building. The agents had been kind, but you were starting to feel a bit useless. Each time they had a new theory, you came up short in terms of material for them to actually use. They kept reassuring you that what you were able to come up with was helpful, but you weren't convinced.

You had been in and out of this office so many times, your body went into autopilot as you made your way to the entrance, not even pausing to look up as you started to push open the door. What you missed was the distinct outline of a body pulling the door open at the same time. The added force made you stumble, nearly crashing straight into the man on the other side. Brown eyes met yours and you both froze, uncertain of what to say before speaking at the same time.

“Y/N.”

“Agent.”

-----

a/n - wow wow! things are gonna start moving in the next chapter, i promise. the response to ‘in the stars’ so far has been so heartwarming. ive said it before, but this is my first fic and i cant even fathom that people are actually interested in what im writing. your support means the world! im trying to get stuff written before university starts up again, but i dont want to nix quality for faster updates so if updates slow down im sorry! comments always appreciated. leave a reply or ask if youd like to be added to the taglist! if you requested before but arent added, just ask again i mustve missed it on accident

Taglist: @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong

no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchner #in the stars #'stori writes #in the stars chapter 1

167 notes · View notes

thedumpsterqueen · 4 years

Text

Standards of Performance, Chapter 10: Accommodations

From the Beginning, Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Thank you guys again for being so kind about the new posting schedule (or lack thereof). Your comments and messages and rbs always make me laugh and cry (in a a good way).This is just a lil chapter about them being awkward and cute after The Kiss, and introducing some bigger plot stuff. You'll wanna buckle up for the next one ;)

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Some creep is stalking the team and all you can think about is kissing Hotch.

Words: 2059

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

The BAU had a stalker.

To put it in a way more relevant to your views on the matter: the BAU’s stalker was interfering with the (hopefully) budding spark between you and Hotch.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care that there was potentially unhinged maniac apparently obsessed with the team, it’s just that when you got the slightly panicked phone call from JJ that Morgan, Reid, Garcia, and herself had all found letters on their doorstep professing an alarming fascination with the members of the team, you couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated that the ordeal was bound to put a pause on the progress you two had made.

That is, until you went to leave your apartment in the morning and found an unassuming envelope shoved under the door. You opened it with shaking fingers to a note written on thick cardstock, scrawled in black, seeping ink as if written by an old-fashioned quill.

I’ve been paying attention to your team for some time - quite the impact you’ve made on the world of crime. The heroes of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit! I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK, hm?

Anyways, I had to see for myself. I must admit, finding you was much easier than I would have anticipated given your ‘status.’ I thought I’d drop you this note to say hi and propose a deal. A Game, of sorts.

The Game goes like this: I leave you notes, and you try to catch me! Easy, yes? This is day 1. How many days until you find me?

Xoxo Talk soon,

You put the note in your bag and, after double checking your door was locked (not that the flimsy deadbolt the landlord had installed would have done much to keep an intruder out anyways), you rushed to the office. You dropped your note on the table in the conference room where the team had gathered and pointed at it tremulously.

“I got one too. I touched it, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rossi interrupted. “We dusted the others; there was nothing. I doubt yours was any different.”

Hotch plucked your letter up and scanned it quickly before tossing it back on the table. “It’s exactly the same as the others. Nothing identifiable.”

“Why didn’t we get them?” asked Prentiss.

“Access,” said Garcia, notably less cheery than usual. The team turned to her for clarification.

“You three are hard to get to,” she explained. “Hotch and Prentiss live in secure apartment buildings. Rossi has a gated property with security that can rival the President’s. Those of us who don’t live the high life are just... out in the open.”

“So that’s encouraging, right? That the unsub either couldn’t or wouldn’t go through the extra trouble of getting to all of us?” JJ asked, hopeful.

Morgan shook his head. “I dunno if you can interpret any part of what this creep is doing to intimidate us as ‘encouraging.’”

“Does it read as intimidation, though?” mused Reid.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Morgan responded. “What’s your take on the language?”

Reid took a millisecond to reread the letter and pursed his lips. “Though the language isn’t directly threatening, the concept of a game implies either winning or losing. He - it’s almost certainly a he - doesn’t mention the consequences for either situation, which could imply that there are none, but that seems unlikely. There’s also the matter of separating himself from others in line three - ‘I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK,’ not we. He’s trying to distinguish himself to us in some way, which means he wants to be noticed, and I don’t think there’s anything in this language that excludes the possibility of him doing something drastic in order to be.”

“So not encouraging,” said Prentiss dryly. “The question is, why us? Is this personal; did we put someone close to him away?”

“It could be, but the language in the opening seems sarcastic almost, like he’s mocking us,” noted Rossi.

Morgan nodded in agreement. “It’s a challenge. He’s trying to tell us we’re not all we’re cracked up to be.”

The analysis worried you, because you felt you were the only member of the team for whom that statement might have been true.

“So, what then?” you asked. “Review security footage and see if we can find anything?”

“Already did!” chirped Garcia. “Hotch had me up all night reviewing the tapes.”

For the first time, you noticed the dark circles under her standard coat of heavy makeup. You looked at Hotch, expecting to find some shame in his expression, but found none.

“If there was anyone weird creeping around your dwellings last night, I didn’t see ‘em. I even looked through the street cameras in the area. Granted, none of you have a security camera pointed directly at your door, which might not be a bad idea after this -”

“Hold on,” Morgan interrupted, “you didn’t check her apartment though, right?” referring to you. “Cuz she just found it this morning?”

Garcia perked up, but you shot her down with a shake of your head. “Sorry guys, my place isn’t nearly nice enough to have security cameras.”

The team looked unperturbed by that, except for Hotch, who met your eyes with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“What do we do, then? Wait for another letter?” JJ asked.

“That’s all we can do until we have more evidence,” said Hotch, visibly frustrated. He hated waiting, you knew that. You all hated it. It felt like watching a car without its parking brake on slowly start to roll down a hill.

“If that’s all, sir…”

Hotch nodded at Garcia. “You’re all dismissed. Business as usual for now. If he craves acknowledgement, best not to give it to him unless we have to.”

The team filtered out, and you made to follow them, but before making it through the doorway, Hotch called you back. He shifted feet, cleared his throat, and looked at you.

“About the comment you made earlier,” he started.

What comment? You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d said something rude, or something that hinted at what happened between you two, but came up short.

He noticed the puzzled look on your face and clarified. “When you said your apartment complex wasn’t nice enough to have security cameras. I wanted to say that -” he ran his hand across his jaw, clearly uncomfortable, “- I know the internship salary isn’t impressive, and if you feel you’re unable to afford safe accommodation, I’d be more than happy to talk to Strauss about -”

“Oh, God, no.” You felt as if your face was on fire. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, my apartment is fine - I mean of course there’s things that could be improved - but in no way do I feel unsafe.”

“Well, good. Okay then.”

Before you could make your exit and spare you both from the residual awkwardness of the interaction, he spoke again. “There’s one more thing. Given that whoever wrote this note has displayed his willingness to come to our doorsteps, JJ is staying with Emily for the time being, Reid with Rossi, and Garcia with Morgan.”

You smirked at the last pairing. Leave it to those two to capitalize on a stalker to bunk up together.

“I was going to have the Bureau get you a hotel in the meantime, since he did come to your apartment, but Garcia suggested that since we live so close, you could just… stay with me.”

Holy shit.

There was a pained look on his face as he finished the sentence as if he recognized what an utterly bad idea it was, but hadn’t had the good sense to reject it himself. He looked at you, expecting an answer despite the lack of a question mark at the end of that statement, and you struggled mightily to compose yourself to deliver an acceptance that didn’t appear uncomfortably enthusiastic.

You must have taken too long, because he immediately started to retract his offer. “I already told her it was completely inappropriate; the rest of the team is used to staying together for cases but given you just started, and after the last few days I completely understand -”

“No!” You cut him off. “Sorry, no, that’s not what I was going to say at all. I’d love to. I mean, I think it’s a good idea. I’d feel a lot safer��”

‘With you around?’ Is that too much?

Fuck it.

“... with you around,” you finished, and you swear you saw him push back a smile.

“Alright, then. I’ll let Garcia know.”

You made a mental note to send that woman a thank-you card.

***

As the workday wound down, you were surprised to Hotch turn out his office light and walk out at the same time as you did.

“Early night?” you teased as you walked to your cars in the parking garage, despite it being 7 pm.

He chuckled. “It would have been rude of me to keep you hanging around until I decided to leave.”

Right. You were leaving together. Because you were going back to his apartment. Together. The undeniable domesticity of the moment put a skip in your step, and you couldn’t help but wish this was happening under different circumstances.

“So I’ll just stop by my apartment and grab my things?”

“What? No,” Hotch responded, frowning. “I’m coming with you. The whole point of all of this is to avoid being alone.”

And that’s how you ended up speeding down the highway like a madwoman, leaving Hotch in your dust, taking the stairs two at a time, and frantically scrambling to get your apartment in order. It wasn’t terrible; not as if you had rotting food sitting out or something (probably because you didn’t actually cook enough for that), but the recent caseload and spending so much time with Hotch in the mornings had certainly pushed general organization to the wayside. You shoved the growing pile of dirty laundry into your closet, straightened up the coffee table, and were in the middle of packing your suitcase when you heard a knock at the door.

Giving the apartment a quick once-over to make sure you hadn’t missed something utterly humiliating, you opened the door to an unimpressed Hotch.

“I could have pulled you over for speeding, you know,” he said as he strode into your living room.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly, “I wanted to make sure this place wasn’t a mess the first time you saw it.”

He cocked an eyebrow and you realized how that came out - the first time, as if there were going to be many more - and you coughed and looked away.

“Anyways. I’m almost done packing, just gotta grab a couple more things.”

He nodded and you hurried to it, wanting to get him out of your apartment as quickly as possible. Normally you’d have jumped at the chance to be alone in a quiet place with him, but the way his eyes were scanning the room made you nervous that he was learning more about you in a very short amount of time than you felt entirely comfortable with.

***

You walked into Hotch’s apartment for the second time ever to find it just as clinically neat as before, except for a set of sheets and blankets laid out on the couch. Grinning, you gestured to them.

“Thought you said you were sure I would say no?”

It was his turn to be shamefaced. “Just in case. Besides,” he shot back, grabbing your bags from where you’d deposited them by the couch, “You’re taking the bed.”

“Like hell I am!” you scoffed, forgoing propriety. “I’m not making my boss sleep on the couch in his own apartment.”

“Considering I, as you mentioned, am your boss,” he responded, “I will be making that decision.”

You plopped down on the couch. “Unless I just refuse to move.”

He stood a few paces away and glared, but gave up and dropped your bags all the same.

You could have sworn you heard him mutter “brat” under his breath, but that didn’t sound like something Aaron Hotchner would say, did it?

Taglist (I got a bunch of new ones so message me if I forgot to add you!): @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 @klinenovakwinchester @honeyshores @violentvulgarvolatile @masumiyetimziyanoldu @violetclifford @pipersaccomplice @itsmytimetoodream @groovygoob @captainhyenafan @thebadassbitchqueen

253 notes · View notes

angelofthebau · 3 years

Note

I have a somewhat angsty request for Hotch if that’s okay. Essentially the two of you were together for a while after he and Haley separated but then he left you to try and make things work with her even though he did really like you. Now it’s years later and you have to work together and you both have to confront those lingering feelings and the hurt you feel. Preferably a happy ending but if a sad one feels more fitting that works too!

Dear My Truest Self

Aaron Hotchner x GN Reader

Word Count: 1748 Content: language, fluff, angst

I finally got around to writing this.

Dear my truest self, I dreamt about him again last night. The gentle kind of dream. The one that I’ve told you about so many times - the one where he comes back, where I open the door and find him stood on the porch; the rain pouring around him with small droplets glinting in his hair, gliding down his cheeks with a melancholy grace. The one where he says that he shouldn’t have left me, the one where just before he takes a step forward, into my home, back into my heart - I wake up. I hope that he is happy, you know? I understand why he left me. He loves her, he’s always loved her. He couldn’t bring himself to give up on her. But I still wish that he didn’t give up on me.

New York was so cold today. A city that never sleeps and, as true as that may be, you really wished that you weren’t part of that equation. Lately, you were running on expensive coffee and a drive that only a detective would have to keep you going until the case was closed.

It wasn’t the worst case you’d seen, but it was the most difficult one that you’d worked on since moving to New York, and you devoted every moment that you physically could on trying to piece it all together. You didn’t really have anything else - only an apartment that, as cosy as it may be, never felt truly lived in. All the walls had seen was you eat, or drink, or sleep. Maybe the occasional journal entry. No memories, no moments, nothing that felt like home. Just a place where you existed, rather than lived.

You arrived into the precinct, armed with two hot cups of coffee, purely for yourself. You gave a small wave to your captain, before settling yourself down at your desk, taking a huge gulp of the coffee before pouring yourself over the case file again.

“L/N,” The Captain’s voice brought you away from the case file. You glanced up, watching him as he leant against your desk. “The FBI are arriving soon,”

“I know,” You sighed, leaning back into your chair. You’d discussed inviting the `FBI’s assistance when victim number three turned up, but you felt so close to figuring out the case. Then, the fourth victim crossed state lines. It was now a federal case, but you’d been assured by the captain that the precinct was still working on the case, even though the FBI had been called. That’s what the Captain assumed you were worried about yesterday, when your face turned white at the realisation that the case was now federal, but he had no idea that your face turned white when you realised the odds of a specific unit being invited onto the case.

The sound of authoritative footsteps filtered into the precinct. You kept your head down as the Captain raised his posture from your desk, introducing himself to the agents. You almost held your breath, waiting for the agents to introduce themselves, but you could already smell that scent.

Please don’t. Please don’t speak. Please don’t be your voice.

“SSA Aaron Hotchner,”

Your stomach felt heavy, as the cruel twist of fate rotated it’s knife in your chest, eyes hot with tears as you felt his presence behind you. You couldn’t do this, not right now, not today, maybe not ever. But definitely not at this moment, when all you had that seemed meaningful in your life was this job - this case - and now he was here, crossing over into the one thing that he didn’t leave his print on three years ago.

You stood up quickly, just as the Captain was about to introduce you, taking off towards the other end of the precinct, files in hand and your bag over your shoulder. Your professional reputation would take a nose-dive if you just left right now, without saying a word, in front of the feds. You stopped just before the hallway turning out of the precinct. Slowly turning your head, your eyes locked onto the Captain. No matter how much you focused on the Captain, you could see him. The small surprise in his features as he saw your face, swiftly followed by the guilty look in his eyes, almost sympathetic to put you in this position.

“I can’t remember locking my apartment door this morning, I’m just going to check,” Luckily, the words came out steady and even. You finally glanced at him, with the blonde agent by his side. “It’s nice to meet you, agents,”

Unlike this morning, the cold of New York was eagerly welcomed as you rushed onto the busy street, taking breaths of air and gulping them down until you spluttered and coughed, hastily fighting your way through the strings of people to get back home.

Dear my truest self, He’s at the precinct. When the case is wrapped and everyone goes home, he’ll linger there. How do I move on from this? I’ve tried, you know that I’ve really tried, but everyone I’ve ever considered is always compared to him subconsciously and that’s the problem. No one can ever be him. I should treat him as a stranger. I hope that one day, I’ll forget the face in the rain.

An hour later, you arrived back into the precinct. The Captain perked up immediately at the sight of you, walking over.

“Is everything okay?” “The door wasn’t locked, it’s locked now,”

You were always a shit liar.

The Captain said nothing, but nodded and ushered you over to the conference room at the end of the precinct, where you could see the agents sat around a table. He was standing, his back towards you, in front of the cork board.

You entered the room softly and smiled as the agents swung their heads to look at you. He was the last to turn, this time without emotion. “F/N L/N, I’m the lead detective on this case,” You introduced yourself, shaking hands with every agent as they introduced themselves, smiling and muttering the pleasantries. You shook his hand last. He introduced himself, too.

Almost like strangers again. But the wedding ring that made you feel hollow every time the cold metal slid onto your skin years ago was now gone, the paler line of skin almost catching up with the rest of his finger. He’d taken his wedding ring off a long time ago.

You stood with the agents as they developed ideas and theories, with their tech analyst on the other side of a phone in Quantico, before they uncovered a potential lead and took off out of the door. Everyone except him.

“F/N,”

You wanted to keep walking, but you found yourself stop and close the door in front of you. Neither of you knew what to say, only that you needed to say something, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him for a few minutes.

“I know you’re mad at me,” He finally spoke. Your shoulders dropped as the tension left your body, a few tears welling up in your eyes.

“I get it, Aaron. Why you left. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you,”

“She couldn’t cope with a husband who was married to the job,”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“F/N, will you turn around?”

“But why didn’t you call?” Your voice jumped an octave, breaking at the end of your question, still keeping your eyes on the door and your back to him.

“It had been two years,”

You finally turned around. His face showed you emotion again, now that there was no one else around, his eyes a little glazed at the sight of your tears.

“It was the way you left, Aaron. I mean, for fuck’s sake, you’re a profiler. You knew that was the worst way that you could have ended it,”

“I know,”

“You never did anything about it!”

All the anger started to seep out of your mind, into your mouth, attacking him with spitting words and a sharp tongue.

“So what, you used me to get over her? I knew that. I was okay with that. But you...you let me tell you that I loved you, then less than an hour later I’m begging beside the front door for you to stay? For what, Aaron? What did that fucking give you, exactly?”

“A lot of guilt and regret,”

“We’re talking about you here, not me,”

“F/N, that’s how I feel,”

You sniffled. Both of you went quiet, staring at each other. Slowly, you walked closer to him. With each step, another memory flashed back. By the time you were stood in front of him, only a few feet in between your bodies, you were almost in the same place that you were four years ago, before anything had even happened.

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t think that you deserved to deal with me crawling back,” He said, breaking eye contact to glance at the floor. `The truth.

“I don’t think I deserved anything that came from us,”

And with that, you turned on your heel, leaving him in the conference room as you walked away, slyly wiping away your tears, to catch up with the other agents.

Dear my truest self, He’s a stranger now. Everything has been said, and maybe I can learn to slowly forget about him. The case has been wrapped, and the gentle dream hasn’t come back since I saw him. I’m back in Virginia. Sometimes when it rains, I sit in the porch, occasionally letting my arm outstretch from the shelter, watching the droplets twinkle on my skin, taking in the new memory of being alone here, no-one turning up to apologise or try and fix something that was too

A knock at the door disrupted your writing. You sighed as you got up, shutting the journal and leaving it on the table. You opened the door.

He was stood there, with the rain pouring around him with small droplets glinting in his hair, gliding down his cheeks with a melancholy grace. You opened the door further, allowing him to come in, knowing what would happen next.

But you were still awake when his foot finally crossed the threshold and you couldn’t hold back anymore, crashing into his chest, laughing at the cold feeling of the rain soaking your skin as his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Angel List:

@avengersbau

@psych0crybaby

@mortallythoughtfulgurl

@arganfics

@rachelxwayne

@ellvswriting

@pumpkin-goob

@xessx

@fuxking-insxne

@ptrs-prkrs

@passionatelyacademic

@averyhotchner

@mrshadeelgibson

@rousethemouse

@whoreforhotch

@baumarvel

@iconicc

@davidrossiismydad

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #thomas gibson #criminal minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #imagine #marley hotchner

59 notes · View notes

whump-town · 3 years

Text

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Warning: talking about child abuse

Fluorescent white is harsh.

The ones in the police station when his mother tried to run away the first time had irritated his eyes. Laying on his back, head cushioned by a deputy’s winter jacket, he’d gotten the idea to save himself from this mess. He spent the night on that station floor, while his mother pleaded for something to be done, staring long and hard at the lights. Waiting until he couldn’t stand the pain from his eyes being open for so long before blinking. He’d hoped to blind himself, aimed for it in the hopes that he would earn a fraction of goodwill from his father.

He didn’t need to be told that he and his mother would be going back to that house tonight.

Three months later, his father put him in the hospital for the first time. Despite the pressure across his chest, the pain of each breathe, he’d shivered harshly. Those blinding lights and white walls sucking the warmth from the room-- but maybe it had nothing to do with the hospital and the realization, at eight, that his father would rather see him dead than deal with him.

But for two hours, Aaron remembered what it was like to have a father. More crisp than the pain stabbing through his body, the chest tube wedged into his thin chest was his father’s commanding figure. The way his mother had moved to place herself between them until she saw his true motive.

He remembers his father soothing his out-of-mind whimpers, brushing his bangs from his face with a gentle knuckle. Gently, a nurse moving wires and keeping them from being tangled, his father had cradled him to his chest. “Easy. You’re okay now, baby.” It had been so hard to breathe, despite the oxygen canal under his nose. But he’d fallen asleep there with his father’s large flannel pulled over him like a blanket.

At least that hospital stay earned him a month of reprieve-- he’d been on blood thinners, inhalers, and way too much medicine for a child. His father couldn’t beat him, though, because he might not have been any use to the man but a funeral is more expensive than just leaving him be.

In his ninth-grade year, his father hit him so hard that a blood vessel burst in his eye. The light had been red. The nurse who put three stitches into his chin whispered a soft chide at him for fighting boys at school but there was something about her that still makes him think she knew. She let him sleep for four hours, fed him as many sandwiches as he could stand, and sent him home with jello stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

There were fluorescent lights in the coroner’s office. The first time he’d ever seen a dead body-- his own father.

From there the lights lose meaning.

Getting mugged in college and cracking two ribs getting the shit kicked out of him when they realized he had no money. Breaking the metacarpals in his right hand punching somebody’s too drunk boyfriend-- he only remembers the blinding pain and a boy and Haley dragging him to the hospital a day later. Breaking more ribs in the academy falling off an obstacle, they called him brittle bones for the rest of training and they were right. Getting shot, too many times to count there. Being knocked unconscious, strangled, and beaten. Being blown up not once, not twice, but now three times. And… Foyet.

It seems as if he’ll never get a reprieve from their harsh downpour. Maybe he never will.

“I can’t let you all back there.” A doctor and a nurse meet them at the doors of the intensive care unit, the only thing separating them sitting numbly in the waiting room from Hotch. He’s already so close, they can feel it stirring something foreign in them. Maybe it’s the sort of raw thing that Hotch normally abates in them, soothes and calms long before they can truly feel it.

Dave leads them into the hospital.

Garcia clutches Morgan’s hand, following close on his heels, and trying to keep her eyes on the floor. Afraid that if she looks up she might start sobbing and she knows if she does start crying, she will not stop. Morgan lets her, he needs something else to focus on. Her cold hand squeezing his painfully tight works numbers.

JJ tries to speak with Reid and Emily but neither even attempts to try with a response.

“The best I can do is… five minutes, in pairs.”

Emily looks up from the floor, showing her own first signs of life. “I’ll go.” She goes alone.

JJ with go with Reid. Morgan with Garcia. Privileged with power of attorney, Rossi will get to stay. She tries not to think too hard about how that was once her. Before she ruined everything with Doyle, she was his power of attorney. Now Dave has to decide if he’s got enough fight left in him to keep going.

There’s blood all over his face. It’s caked under his nose and left to coagulate along his hairline. There’s so much it makes her stomach twist and she feels tears slip down her face despite the control she wishes to exude.

Emily sniffles, wiping the back of her hand under her nose hard. Unable to forgive herself for this blatant demonstration of emotion and unwilling to stop for just a moment and really think about what is happening. About the things that have happened today while she was fucking off at her desk. “Can we--” she clears her throat harshly. Forcing her shoulder’s back and stealing her voice she tries again. “Do you have a rag? I’d like to get the blood off his face.”

A nurse, standing right at the door in case Emily does get overwhelmed, nods. She’d expected to have to hold the women or offer some sort of false promise in a hopeful prognosis but the brunette agent just turns her back and regards her friend a little closer.

She’d seen him after Foyet. Seen him. Drugged out of his mind and numbly, nearly dissociated, from the nurses changing his bandages. It had hurt to see him so… he couldn’t even be there, mentally, to stand it.

“Here you go,” the nurse comes back. “Don’t touch the stitches and be careful--”

“I know.” She does, really, know what the nurse is going to say. She’s cleaned her own wounds and some of the others. She knows what to do. The important thing, right now, is cleaning him up so that the others don’t see it. The blood up and down him, he’s covered in it. It’s safer, better if they see him like he’s Hotch.

She’s hesitant to actually touch him but her time is dwindling down. Wiping at his eyebrow, she tries to think of something to say. Mindless. “Reid swears that there is some proven bullshit study--” the washcloth trembles in her hand. “I don’t know, I--I didn’t listen to him, to be honest.” An admission that would earn her a stern frown if… if he were here. But he’s not. “I think he’s just bluffing,” she admits. “I also don’t think if you had a choice, you’d want to listen to any of the sappy crap any of those nuts have to say.”

She didn’t want to, she didn’t even want to see him, but no one was moving and no one was speaking. So, she’d taken the doctor’s bait and agreed to go back first. Someone has to, it’s not a big deal. They look after one another-- she and Hotch hate each other’s guts most of the time but she always has his back. She always looks after him. Now is no exception.

The blood comes off and her time runs out.

“W--Wait!” She forces herself to take his hand, cold and rough, in her own. “Aaron,” his name feels wrong in her mouth but she’d been Emily for ages and it’s desperate but she’s terrified she’ll never have another chance. “Don’t you die, you son of a bitch. Please don’t die.”

Her legs carry her out of the building, only half-aware of the words Dave is communicating. They can come back in the morning (but she remembers what the doctor said about him surviving the night) and that Jack is staying overnight just to be sure.

Right. “Okay.” She’ll be back in the morning.

On a night not quite unlike this one, JJ had taken Emily home. To the home that she and Will were still renovating and whose walls were never truly silenced no matter the hours-- night or day. It had been exactly what Emily needed to get the hell away from all that overwhelming silence.

Will made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and tipsy from her wine Emily commended his skill. Obviously, JJ was doing something here, picking him, and Henry really lucked out. That was the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich she’s ever had (he sent her home the next morning with three more and even refrigerated they were amazing).

That night, JJ took Emily back to her closet and showed her the secret wardrobe-- full of clothes she’s stealthily stolen from their friends over the years. A soft green sweater that still smelled like Gideon, JJ informs her he pulled it over her head one chilly morning when they were in DC. They laughed sadly together, remembering Gideon’s very unique approach to affection. He never really hit his mark, did he? He was an odd one alright.

The real stash is in the back. Not the outrageous amounts of sweaters Garcia sends her home with-- always an excuse to go get new ones. It’s for the Morgan and Hotch memorabilia. It’s no secret the two of them will fork over anything you ask for-- fries, a pickle, an extra shirt, mittens, their coats. No, the hard part is giving those material items back.

“Jesus,” Emily hisses, looking at her friend with wide eyes. “And those are all from Hotch?” JJ had opened a shoebox full of gloves ranging in color and thickness.

JJ looks nearly ashamed as she nods. “He’s always leaving them everywhere!” she defends. Most do come from her finding them in random places he’s set them down and just walked away. One pair did come directly from his jacket pockets. He’d draped his peacoat over her like a blanket and she’d dug around for a piece of the hard candy he always keeps on his person and found them.

He used to lose so many pairs JJ used to wonder if Haley even bothered to get angry with him. She was frustrated and she didn’t have to go buy his big dumb butt a new pair.

“What’s your excuse for the shirts?”

The rule of shirts is you ask Morgan. Reid is a size small in t-shirts and when they already steal Hotch’s candy, scarves, and gloves they leave him his shirts… unless he offers first. Morgan always has one large, at least, in his bag. He is a medium but sometimes he just has to style a slightly larger shirt.

And JJ has an impressive amount of men’s mediums shirts-- the black, blues and one green shirt are all Morgan. The white ones are Hotch.

Emily had borrowed one of JJ’s Morgan shirts and slept on the couch. She’d laid awake just a little after they’d all gone their separate ways thinking about the impossibility that she’ll ever have JJ’s problem. They just don’t like her like that.

Tonight, Emily is dipping into her own reserve.

When she was ready to go into Witsec, Hotch gave her his button-down. Her own wouldn’t fit because of all the layers of gauze. She’d been the point of tears with aggravation over this and startled when he gently closed his hands over her own. She can loosely remember crying into his shoulder, shaking with fear. She was afraid, not mad at her stupid t-shirt.

She was terrified she’d never seen any of them again and he’d felt the same.

“Haley hand-made Jack this bear out of some of my old shirts,” he tells her. It feels like he’s taken a hot serrated blade and drug it from hip-to-hip, barring himself for her to see. “He sleeps with it every night.” He leaves out the obvious-- that she’d been afraid he’d die and Jack would forget him and that he now he wishes he’d done the same with her old shirts.

Emily startles when he moves to undo the buttons on her shirt but she lets him. Watching as he tugs his own off his shoulders. The two making eye-contact as he hesitantly guides her arms into his larger shirt. It’s stupidly large but doesn’t hurt to sit across her stomach.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He shakes his head, lowers his gaze, and moves back.

For the months she was away, she could understand why Jack would cling to that bear. When that old shirt stopped smelling like him she locked herself in the tiny bathroom of her apartment, sat in her bathtub with her knees drawn to her chest. Was that her last tie to them? They’re slipping out of her grip, gone. Is that what she felt like to them too? A ghost.

That old shirt made it through a lot and two weeks after she came home she brought it back to him. The worn fabric clutched in both her hands.

“I can give you another if you’d like.”

He gave her three more and, as it turns out, he has so many. It’s a problem. After so many washes the fabric is too thin or Jack stained it with some food or dirt or any number of things.

Now she has an obscene amount and, if she leaves them long enough, they make the back of her closet smell like Hotch. So, despite how ridiculous it must make her, she sits in the back of her closet and buries her face in one of those old shirts.

Why can’t just one year go by with no life-or-death experiences?

“-- I heard David Bowe,” Garcia says to seemingly no one but he knows she’s speaking to him. Of course, she’d hold on when everyone else knows it’s time to give up. “Heroes,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I hope you can hear us, Hotch. Please come home.” Her thumb worries with the back of his hand, rubbing his knuckles. “I really miss you and--” her voice cracks.

That’s a stupid thing to say, she realizes. She saw him yesterday! They talked about the cafeteria running out of blueberry muffins and she’d apologized because she hadn’t thought to grab him one. But today she brought him one to the office. Thought it would make his Wednesday even better.

Guess not.

“It’s okay.” Morgan pulls her to his side, rubbing her back. He just looks at Hotch. Bruised up and down, exposed to them from the waist up. Morgan could fill in what he assumed Hotch’s scars looked like but now he knows. He doesn’t even know what to say.

Garcia presses a kiss to his forehead, a hot tear sliding down her face as she regards him for one more moment. A bitter smile twisted onto his lips as she spots his elusive white eyelash. Emily hates that thing. “I love you, Hotch.”

Morgan… takes his hand. Rubbing his thumb up Hotch’s knuckles. “Don’t leave,” he whispers, glancing at Garcia. Glad that she at least pretends not to hear. “I don’t want your job, Aaron. I don’t want to learn it. I don’t want the fucking paperwork or the--” his cracks and he pulls in a shuddering breath. Laughing at the tears that sting his eyes. “I won’t do it, do you hear me? So… come back, okay? Get better because you have to.”

There aren’t any other options.

Despite the childhood he endured, Aaron has only ever met one caseworker. He did go to college with a few who would eventually get there but, for the most part, he stayed the hell away from everyone in the psych department. The very last thing he needed was getting near those trigger-happy morons less he walks away slapped with a new label. And with them, it’s impossible to tell what that might be.

He does know one thing-- if profilers ride the line then caseworkers are like g-strings right up the asscrack. No offense, both annoy him. He works with profilers, they’re the worst. Most days he wavers into hating those bastards. Caseworkers… another example of people whose entire job it is to get into people’s lives and see the dirty stuff.

His entire life, all he’s learned to do is hide the dirty stuff.

It’s hard to be exposed.

So, maybe he should have befriended a caseworker or two. All that dirt, all that shit piles up until it’s hard to tell any of it apart. He can’t tell if he’s even real anymore-- sometimes he spends so much time trying to be normal that he can’t remember how to be Aaron. Old favorites feel like nothing. Books with words that once held him together at the broken, singed pieces of himself now are numb. Meaningless.

Just like him.

Leaving behind him, in his nothingness. Covered in scars and ugly.

Ruined.

“Agent Hotchner! I need you to calm down.”

Those fucking lights. He hates fluorescent lightbulbs.

“We have a machine breathing for you,” the doctor explains calmly. He flashes a penlight in both of his patient’s eyes. “Your lungs are healing. We’re going to put you back under, okay? Your team, Agent Rossi, is right outside. Your son Jack is safe. Get some rest Agent Hotchner, you’ve got a hard night ahead of you.”

Fuck. He’d just wanted them to turn the lights off. His vision hazes over and he fights once more against the obstruction in his throat before the world sinks into the inky black once again.

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

42 notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Text

Reckless

A/N: This was requested by @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 . Hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings: angsty, fluffy,

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: After making a stupid and reckless decision in the field, you decide you don’t want to keep your relationship with your boss from your teammates anymore.

Your fingers curled into the marble counter top, your head hung as you tried to push the pulsating pain in your head away. Your eyes were closed tightly. You tried to open them a while ago but the dizziness returned. You figured it would be best just to stand there and wait for the dizzy spell to go away.

Your brain seemed to be thumping against your skull, reminding you of your reckless decisions earlier in the day. You wished Aaron was there to hold you. He always had this insanely weird way of making you feel better from holding you. But with the choices you made in the field, you had been sent back to your hotel room for the night.

You and the rest of the team had been sent to Arizona to investigate a string of missing prostitutes. After finding a potential suspect-who turned out to actually be the unsub-he fled in his truck. Unwilling to let him get away, you threw yourself on to the hood of his truck. Luckily, before you could get too far, Morgan put a bullet in the two back tires of the truck. You were thrown off as it hit a large dirt mound and was thrown into the air. You hit the ground, your head meeting a rock.

Your unit chief and boyfriend of nearly a year was furious. Furious was probably the wrong word for it. His anger and displeasure with your actions were silent. He tensed up and his gaze darkened as he held in his emotions. He couldn’t lose it in front of the team. He couldn’t lose his composure in front of the local police.

So instead, he approached you at the back of the ambulance you sat in. You waved the EMT off, thanking them for having checked out the gash on your forehead. You’d need to go to the hospital for concussion testing. He didn’t say much. He was short and quick with you, which was very unlike him.

“Go back to the hotel. You’re done for the night.”

“What? Hotch-,”

“I said you’re done, Agent Y/L/N.” He cut you off before turning to go back to the rest of the team. His tone was sharp and critical. You’d never been on the receiving end of cold Aaron Hotchner, but you had witnessed it. You didn’t like being on either side, to be frank.

You were jolted from your thoughts when you heard someone firmly knocking on the door to your room. You moved towards the door, taking slow and careful steps. You weren’t dizzy anymore but your head was still pounding. The second you pulled it open, Hotch was moving into the room.

“What the hell was that, Y/N?” He nearly raised his voice. He very, very rarely yelled. When you argued, his tone would get firm but he’d never jump to yelling. He only really yelled at you the one time you took a bullet for him.

“I was doing my job, sir.” You answered flatly, in no mood to be chastised like a child. You crossed your arms firmly over your chest as you looked at him. “I have a killer headache right now and we’ve got a shit flight in the morning. So why don’t you just wait to scold me until we get back home?”

“I’m not scolding you, Y/N. But quit acting so impulsively and I wouldn’t have to get this way.”

“I wasn’t going to just let him get away, Aaron-,”

“You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, Y/N!”

“I know that, Aaron!” You shout back, letting your hands fall to your sides. “I know that! I know every day that I put my life on the line because that’s what we do. That’s what you do, right? You’re allowed to do that, Mr. FBI-Macho-Man. But me? No, I can’t, because I’m small as shit and I’m not strong like you and I’m a woman and-,”

“None of that has anything to do with you making risky choices like you did today, Y/N.” He cut you off, shaking his head firmly. He brought one hand up to brush over his face. “If you lost your grip, you could’ve ended up underneath that truck.”

You locked your jaw, diverting your eyes to the ground.

��You don’t realize that the risks you take half the time aren’t calculated, Y/N.” His tone softened up and the man you loved replaced your unit chief. He shook his head. “You don’t know how many times I’ve seen myself lose you.”

“Oh, I think I do.” You murmured gently, nodding your head as you realized your mistake. Maybe jumping on the front of the truck was a stupid idea.... You just wanted to find those girls and get them home safe. “I know you, Aaron Hotchner. You’ve told me dozens of times about the dreams you have.”

He was silent, gazing down at you with soft blue eyes.

“And I’ve told you at least a dozen times that I’m staying for good.”

He stubbornly shook his head, rubbing his eyes and then raking his fingers through his hair. His eyes left yours for a few moments to flicker around the room.

“I think we both need some sleep.” He turned and started moving for the door.

“You aren’t staying?” Your voice lowered as you watched him leave.

“It wouldn’t be smart.” He shook his head. “Good night, Y/N.”

As the door closed behind him, you sat down on the edge of your bed. Your hand brushed over your arm absentmindedly. He really wasn’t happy.

***

You stayed upstairs in your room for nearly an hour, pacing around and trying to think of what you should do. His room was just down the hall, separating yours from his was JJ’s room.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep without talking to him and making some sort of attempt to make things better.

You left your room, closing it quietly behind you. You turned to go down to his room when Reid stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N? Where are you going?”

You turned to face the youngest member of the team. You followed close behind him in age, which was just another reason you and Hotch had been hesitant to share your relationship with anyone.

“Um, hey, Reid. I was just gonna go see Hotch. He was, um, he was pretty mad earlier.” You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“He’s not in his room. He’s down at the bar with everyone else. I was actually just coming up to get you and see if you wanted to come down with us.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, silently debating your choices.

“Is he still mad?” You started to walk with him to the elevator.

“I don’t think so.” Reid shook his head. “But then again, he’s Hotch. He kind of always looks like he’s brooding. I’ve worked with him for years and it still takes forever for me to actually figure out what’s going through his head.”

You got into the elevator and pressed the ground level button.

“Sometimes I still don’t know what’s going on in his head.” He laughed just a little.

“Me too.” You agreed.

The rest of the ride down was relatively quiet. You discussed the case just a little but once the doors opened, work was forgotten. You followed Reid across the hotel lobby to the bar. Your team sat at a table in the far corner of the quiet room. Reid took his seat between JJ and Morgan. Rossi waved you over, motioning for you to sit beside him and Prentiss. This would put you directly across from Hotch.

“We were beginning to think you were calling it quits early, Y/L/N.” Morgan teased.

“Me missing out on a drinks?” You raised your eyebrows. “Never.”

“I think Rossi was just about to go buy us another round of drinks.” JJ grinned before she finished off the last bit of her drink.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Prentiss agreed. Rossi let out a sigh as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Y/N gets next rounds!” He called over his shoulder.

“I wish I was there with you guys!” Garcia spoke from the phone screen she was on. You hadn’t even noticed the phone propped up against a glass until she spoke up.

“Oh, Penelope! We wish you were here too.” You waved at her.

“Next time, we will have to get together for drinks! And Y/N can’t bail like she always does.” JJ pointed to you. You said nothing. You had turned down the last time the whole team went out for drinks together because you and Hotch were spending an evening together with Jack. Hotch used Jack as his excuse while you just said you had a headache.

“You should’ve seen her out in the field today, Garcia.” Morgan spoke with a grin on his face. “She was bad ass. She looked like something straight out of a movie.”

As he started to retell the story of what happened early that day, your knee began to bounce up and down. You had survived your dangerous decision and now it was making for a great story, one you would’ve been proud of had your boyfriend not been so angry.

His fingers curled around his beer bottle tightly as he listened to the story, his eyes closing. You watched through your lashes as he took in a deep breath. Suddenly, he stood to his feet.

“Excuse me.” He muttered under his breath. He was leaving.

Your heart started to race and adrenaline began to pump through your veins. You sound yourself moving towards him quickly, your shorter legs working faster and harder to catch up to him.

“Aaron, wait!”

He immediately turned to face you, knowing you never called him that in front of others-especially your team. His eyes flickered back to the team of profilers, who were carefully watching the scene unfold.

“Y/N, not here. This isn’t happening now-,”

You cut him off, your fingers grabbing his black tie. Using the fabric around his neck as leverage to pull him down to your level, your lips crashed together with almost bruising force. His hand found your cheeks, cupping your face as he accepted your kiss.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured against his lips, pulling away just enough to get the words out. Your eyebrows drew together as you opened your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He was quiet as he gazed down at you, his eyes staying on yours.

“I promise to get better at thinking before I do.” I assured him, leaning into one of his hands. Your hand let his tie go, your palm pressing flat against his chest. “I just can’t stand you ignoring me.”

He nodded his head, his eyes flickering down to your hand on his chest briefly.

“I just need you safe.” He whispered, his voice a little raspy.

“I know.” You smiled softly.

He leaned down for one more kiss before looking back to where your team sat. None of them tried to hide what they had just witnessed. Morgan clapped his hands and whistled while everyone else smiled in awe. Reid looked absolutely confused, his brows furrowed together and his head turned to the side just a little.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You sighed out, looking back to Hotch.

“Yeah.” He nodded his head, chuckling just a little. “But it needed to be done. Eleven months is long enough.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, biting your bottom lip for a moment as you stepped away from him. He laced your fingers together and side by side, you started to walk back to the table of BAU profilers.

#aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminalminds #thomas gibson #oneshot #queenxxxsupreme

192 notes · View notes

waitingfortheendtocome · 4 years

Text

Notes on my re-watch of CM Season 7 Episode 23 Hit

So because I was re-watching episodes of Criminal Minds I saw a post @emilyprentissisababe made on a few things she spotted that I never noticed and it hit me that there was quite a bit that I missed and most of that was due to the fact that I only saw both episodes once since I knew those where the ones that Emily ultimately leaves the team so I never re-watched them because of how heartbreaking it is to see her leave (Top favorite member and to this day crushing on her lol Who isn’t).

Now my thoughts on that episode and mind you I watched two times in a row back to back after I finished the first watch I played it back and watched it again completely a second time. Even after seeing them my thoughts on them are literally everywhere I was going to do a post on both Hit and Run (watched them both twice) but it would be too long so I will do them separately I just finished somewhat organizing the notes for Hit so I will post that one first. Hopefully they make sense since again my thoughts where back and forth and all over the place I couldn’t help it there is a lot going on in those episodes especially the episode Hit with the bank robbery and a few things I noticed that I didn’t before.

My notes were written as I watched the episodes so they’ll be in order based on scenes of the show unless I make references to other episodes and comparisons to other parings that they remind me off. Heads up I wrote these notes as I was watching them and paused to quick rant so there might be a lot of errors grammatically so I apologize in advanced lol.

Here are my notes on Hit is long but I got into mini rants that will continue on Run: (Had to do a read-more link because I didn’t realize how long it was).

Okay! So, I re-watched the episodes Hit and Run from Criminal Minds to get some notes and actually see some of the subtle things I might of missed and boy did I miss quite a lot. The episode Hit I had to watch two times in a row because there was quite a lot going on all at once and I felt like they where some things I missed.

Since I have no idea how to even remotely start I'm going to start in order but probably will go back and comment on several particular characters and go from there.

First thing is first I adore JJ's son he is so adorable and lovable and the way he jumps his mom to wake her up is cute af granted I think it was Will who put him there as a way to wake her up.

Speaking of Will and I had to re-watch this SEVERAL TIMES to see if it's just me but I kept seeing it so I'm putting it on here maybe I'm too romantic but if I see JJ asleep and I need to go to work and so does she I would think of more creative romantic ways to wake her up tugging her on her feet with little to no expression is......well..........lets just say had me frowning. Now on THAT note when he kisses her it didn't scream love at least on his end maybe is the expressions he makes but I did not see it where as on JJ's end at least I can see she at least cares about him and loves him (NOTE: Love's him and being IN LOVE with him are two different things. Carol loved Harge loved him enough to bare his child but she was not and never was IN LOVE with him and yes I will be making Carol references occasionally).

Speaking of Will, Why does he look bored, tired, and he lacks emotions when he does or says anything; it's a never ending monotone expression with him at least when he is with JJ I seen him on other seen that he does express himself and usually when he is working or being a cop or during action scenes so I do not know what is it about him being around JJ or in general being a normal situation that he gives off that 'I don't give af vibe) When he is with Henry I see him expressing himself a bit as well.

Hotch and his girlfriend Beth are actually cute together you can see how happy he is with her and happy she makes him. She is also really good with Jack which is an added bonus, Jack deserves someone a female in his life that can be maternal and care for him the way his own mother would have by all means is no replacement for his birth-mother but all the love Beth is showering him with every time she is with him is something he will appreciate especially with how young he is.

Penelope and Spencer having a day out is gold and we should have had more of this having them nerd out more often but Kevin HAD TO RUIN IT.

Kevin OMFG KEVIN. He is and will always be a class A asshole I never liked him from day one he was just there I felt Garcia could do better but this...THISSSSSS.....I am MAD He ruined Garcia's day by bringing his new girlfriend knowing comic cons is something Garcia and him did. With that said if they broke up badly mind you given wanted to push marriage on Garcia when One they have not been dating that long Two she wanted to take her time Three you were rushing it and pushing it (This mirrors Will and JJ I will get back on that later).

If you where his new girlfriend picture yourself in that scenario You're dating him have been dating him not long at all (You and him started dating not even that long after things ended with Garcia but lets ignore that part). He invites you to a date and he takes you to the same comic con or take you out to the same places he took your ex-girlfriend Garcia too. would you as a girl appreciate having your new bf Kevin take you out to the same places do the sames things he did with his ex-girlfriend. Maybe I'm overthinking it but if I were her I would be increasingly uncomfortable with it (not that I would even look his way let along say yes to him to begin with Now if Emily asked me I'll say yes...Sorry offtrack where was I ranting.)

Reid's reaction to Garcia's "Yeah, I brought someone who I possibly couldn't be sexually attracted too" is comical and very Reid like also very true.

Also what Garcia said is true, she brought a friend over to the comic-con where as Kevin brought in not only a new girlfriend but someone he is possibly already sleeping with. She had every right to be angry bringing a new lover/gf to something you did with your ex HELLOOOOOOOO.

Now this next part HOW IN THE FLYING ELEPHANTS DID I NOT NOTICE THIS UNTIL I RE-WATCHED THIS FOR THE SECOND TIME IN A ROW. Rossi bumping into Reid and Garcia I always though of it as funny and just there because he happen to be waiting for his car but I DID NOT NOTICE THIS.

There is a hotel next to the convention Garcia and Reid where going too Rossi obviously was coming out of the hotel hint why he was waiting for the ballet to fetch him his car and he pointed out on wanting to take a nap but although a funny comment to him not wanting to be seen on his day off with his team (said it affectionately and playful) Garcia looks to her right and sees Sector Chief Strauss walk out of the same hotel Rossi was in a moment later looking like she was fixing her hair she was looking slightly dishevel looking around making sure no one saw her or recognize her call me crazy but WTF okay there have been hints that those too rolled the hay and did the tango but did he just got out of a night off dirty playtime. I mean Reid and Garcia thought so given their shocked expressions. If true those two where up all night *insert lions sleeps tonight theme from ace ventura)

Emily and Morgan's friendship is gold she confided in him and took him to help her pick out a house wanting his input although she looks completely unsure, she doesn't look happy or like she is ready to settle down. She was sure and positive about it at first, ready to set roots she felt at home and was happy but now that it's hers she is taking a step back and is not sure. My take as been mentioned this has to be more than just Ian Doyle and her near death experience that she isn't and cannot tell the team let along Morgan. He is an amazing friend they are things that even she can't tell him. She is use to compartmentalizing as well as keeping everything bottled up and not telling anyone what's troubling her. She hadn't been sure of buying it since she started looking for it on the episode Divided Rod.

I been watching several clips from all over the seasons between two and seven. From what I saw Emily is is at a point (and Doyle made her feel like this, so yes Ian has play in this a heavy play but her leave is so much more than just Doyle).... she is at a breaking point, she feels empty and from what I saw watching the show is wholly obvious from here to the moon that Emily has has a crush on JJ that friendship they felt evolved into a crush and eventually love (And I am not going to tackle all the evidence that points in these women falling for each other because I'll be here for hours on end maybe on another post) JJ means Will on the episode Jones season 2 episode eighteen by then Emily was already crushing on her and JJ on Emily but unlike Emily who was aware of her crush (granted small a the time) JJ might have not been aware of it at first hint why she felt and got in a relationship with Will also JJ might not have wanted to crush their friendship and not aware Emily felt the same.

Neither women voiced it neither where aware Emily might of seen the signs but Emily is respectful she woul never make the first more especially when their friendship is on the line she would wait for JJ to make the first more to see what she sees to feel the same when Emily saw JJ going after Will Emily would assume JJ didn't feel the same way or at least feels the same way but would never go through with it by then Emily would decide to hide her crush or at least try but she would decide the moment (and this is by the fact that the team along with her knew about JJ and Will before they even came out as official for the team) she resigned the fact that she lost her so instead in the episode In Heat she helps JJ admit her feelings for Will and Help JJ realize her feelings for him which is why Emily says "You make a cute couple" JJ runs after him and Emily goes from surprised to this :\ with her head tilt that split moment she realized she officially lost her chances yet is happy for her friend thus why she says though she was never going to admit it.

With that mini rant said and out of the way. in Hit (and I’ll get to her thoughts or what I interpreted them by on Run most of this she doesn’t realize until the episode Run she doesn’t know why by the episode Hit hint why she asks Morgan ‘Am I crazy to turn this opportunity away’) at Emily's moment of emptiness during her time away yes she played scrabbles with JJ but from her end by then Emily deep down had feels for she'll probably try to work over it "is too late" when she came back she thought she got over them but over the course of the season they resurface and Emily by then do to the problem with Doyle she can't handle what happened to her and by then she can't handle what hr own feelings for JJ. She begins to realize this when she starts buying the house but it's not until JJ says yes to Will about marriage that she makes her decision to not go through with the house.

When she is with Morgan she is making excuses to not buy the house and at the time she doesn't know why she doesn't have her heart for it and why she doesn't feel for it in terms on getting the house at least not until after the case is over that she realizes exactly why (I'm hopping around I'm sorry it'll make somewhat sense hopefully it does my thoughts are jumbled).

The next scene with Will and his partner get a call about the bank heist and my thoughts if they are bank robbers two exists they might come out though the side door. Bank heist + dangerous bank robbers + never getting caught = three people with guns coming out of a door you're parked near than is obvious (or just me) that you shouldn't get out of the car THAN MAKE PLANS do that inside the car and proceed with caution she never did she got out and stood in the middle of the sidewalk giving orders looking away from the three people who shot her when she was least expecting it. I don't know just me but she wasn't smart on that aspect. She should have gotten out crouched down just in case they began shooting at random.

I never fully trusted Clyde Easter Just me? there's just something about him the way he acted on the Doyle arc and how he just pops up with ideas out of the blue to Emily that seem random at least to me.

Clyde randomly offering Emily to run Interpol at the most inconvenient of times out of the blue and he seems to do it often judging by Emily offhanded comment. I should probably re-watch Ian Doyle's arc but until then I don't trust him never did.

The look on JJ when she heard Emily's "Work for Interpol again" her heart dropped you can see the moment it does she looks terrified of loosing Emily (she never had the courage to face her feelings for Emily and at this point despite never admitting them never going through with her feelings and facing them she never had her romantically but wanted her close by "at least she is near" having her leave will be facing what could have had). JJ when Clyde asks Emily not work Run Interpol and Emily looks physically surprise JJ's heart drops further and looks more terrified and unlike JJ, Reid isn't jumping the gun just yet instead he looks curious. When Emily hangs up JJ quickly starts to plea at Emily to tell her about something Emily brushes off quickly letting her know is nothing. The moment you see JJ's fear increasing is when Emily says "That's a hell of a time to bring that up" and when she says something along the lines of "You help me with this we'll talk after" You can see JJ's world crumbling she is struggling with what she is hearing and somewhat afraid if not very.

Okay now Will gets shot as soon as he enters the bank and it hit me when I saw this that if Paget had staid Will would have never lived. He wasn't suppose to have survived the episode Run they where going to kill him off completely. On that note you can tell they where building up for it thought both episodes all they had to do is write in that Emily never got to him in time and the bomb went off with him in it instead we got Emily finding him and saving him.

I always felt Will to be a bit of a controlling boyfriend despite him being understanding it does not change the fact that he forced JJ to be open about it to the team when she wasn't ready and in the end what he said it came off as guilt tripping her and if it wasn't for the fact that Emily WAS THE ONE that helped JJ work through her feelings and help JJ see she loved him (despite her own feelings for JJ) JJ would never have taken him back and possibly would have let him go, The entire episode of In Heat Emily in her own was helping JJ finally comes to terms with her feelings for Will. Besides trying to force JJ into telling the team about them he also practically forced her to tell them about the pregnancy when again she was not ready too and at the worse time as well. He also tried a few times to ask her to marry him and he refused not ready. The only time she said yes was after he almost died. He almost died father of her son she almost died as well high of adrenaline and near death experience she quickly told him ask me and he did she said yes there's a reason you shouldn't make big decisions when you nearly died.

HOLY HELL CLYDE'S ACCENT I don't trust you at all but your accent I mean is the only good thing you had so far don't get use to it I love Emily more (Cate's is better just saying random sorry XD)

I noticed while everyone was on the federal computerized bus Emily was sitting on the table (can't sit straight to save her life) she was biting her nails in nervousness while she saw JJ in distress than when JJ stopped she stopped biting her nails and when JJ got worked up again she went right back in biting her nails half way though this she tried to comfort her and to help her be more positive but it wasn't working and thus way Emily went back to biting her nails a show of nervousness and distress.

When Morgan, Hotch, JJ, and Emily ran to go inside the bank to try and bring back Will only to have the building blow up (Reid wasn't able to warn them on time) that entire scene was heart wrenching and had me nearly shout NOOOO at the computer scene even though I know they are okay but it's still hard to watch especially since I paused it right there and couldn't see Emily is like she pulled a Houdini (that how you spell that magicians name?) I saw JJ and Morgan couldn't see her.

8 notes · View notes

jeichanhaka · 7 years

Text

Time's Sublimest Target 6

A/N: Since I've decided on including Cam Fitzgerald in My Life Had Stood (which takes place after this), I'm going to work on continuing/finishing this fic to lend more back story to her character. Whether I finish this fic before starting to post part two of My Life Had Stood is undecided at this point.

Chapter 6:

'Shit.' Morgan thought, kneeling beside Cam as he applied pressure to her wounded leg. The amount of blood seeping from both gashes and the fact that Cam had loss consciousness both hindered him from chasing the man who'd assaulted the younger agent. Though he was certain that his bullet managed to hit the stranger, he didn't know if it'd be enough to stop the man from escaping. If the stairs behind him were the only way out, besides the elevator, then it was good since the stranger was cornered.

But if there was another exit from the basement...

He grimaced, trying his phone and hoping to get a signal.

0A few hours later:

"Calm down. Calm down." He elucidated into the phone, adding emphasis to the second calm. The voice on the other end was hurried, nearly wild from emotion. Fear? Desire? Did it matter? He licked his thin lips, his own eyes obscured by the shadow cast by the hoodie he wore.

He looked out at the snow. The storm from the previous night had ended, the streets below being cleared efficiently by the plowmen.

-"They saw my face. That odd-eyed vixen and the cop, or whatever he was." The man on the other end spoke, his voice gruff. He hissed a second in pain. "A bullet nipped me in the shoulder. I barely managed to get away through the old, unused service entrance."-

Barely paying attention to the other man, the first man fiddled with a broken charm bracelet. His eyes widened a sliver as the other's words penetrated his ears. "...'odd-eyed'?"

-"Yeah, one blue, one green." The man paused, the sound of him licking his lips in arousal could almost be heard over the phone. "...I wanted those eyes of hers. If only that cop or whatever he was hadn't shown up..."-

The first man glowered as he listened, his eyes growing more narrow with each word the second spoke. "This was at the hotel where I told you to leave those ID cards?"

-"Yes, the snowstorm kept me from leaving last night, so I stood an extra night." The second man continued, oblivious to the first's growing anger. He closed his eyes, his thoughts and voice brewing with arousal. "I wonder if you could collect her eyes for me. There was such blood from the gashes I gave her, I doubt she'd survive. Even if she did, it'll be easy for you to get access to her."-

The first man tightened his grip around the charm bracelet, his knuckles white from the pressure. His lips twisted in scorn, and he nearly growled but then stopped himself.

"Arthur, if your face was seen, you do realize the plan to frame Mitchell Hayes could very well end up being useless?" He crooned, his voice the antithesis of his expression. He smiled - a cold twisting of his lips at the other man's responding curse. "...don't worry. Just lay low for a few days while I gauge the situation as it stands."

Not waiting for a reply, he pressed the end button. His fist still squeezed around the charm bracelet, which bit into his palm. Not that he noticed it, his eyes narrowed under his hoodie. He scowled out the window at the snow covered city.

0"Fitzgerald's going to be fine, Morgan." Rossi said to a furious looking Morgan. Cam, having been taken to the hospital, was still unconscious but would live according to the medical personnel. It had been close though, and had Morgan not provided first aid as he had...

Morgan glowered, too frustrated to be relieved. Despite Cam being a new and only temporary agent on the team, and despite what he thought about her personality, he had been partnered with her.

"...What happened?" Rossi asked after a moment, curious. Though Morgan had explained the gist of what had happened while the doctors worked on Cam's wounds, he hadn't specified why the younger agent had been on the elevator alone. At least until her attacker got on.

Before Morgan could answer, Hotch entered the area and approached. He had been talking to the doctors concerning Cam, and also making a few calls. At least one of which hadn't been pleasant, going by the deeper than normal frown on the unit chief's face. "We need to talk."

Hotch gestured toward an unused room, and waiting for both of the other men to enter.

"Hotch? What...?"

"I need to know what happened. How did you and agent Fitzgerald end up on separate elevators?" Hotch asked, barely waiting a second after the door clicked shut behind him.

"Hotch, what..." Morgan stared at the other man, eyebrows raised at the way the unit chief asked the question.

At first he thought the other man seemed to be blaming him for what happened, but a glance at Hotch's face told him otherwise. There was anger under the unit chief's stoic glare, but Morgan also noticed a hint of what seemed like worry with the anger.

"...we had a disagreement and Fitzgerald stormed off." Morgan replied, deciding not to lay all the blame on the younger agent.

"A disagreement? Was it about the case?" Hotch asked, studying Morgan as the other man shook his head but didn't elaborate. He took in a breath and crossed his arms. "If it wasn't about the case, then what was it about?"

Morgan stared at the other man, thrown off by the question. Or rather how Hotch seemed adamant to get an answer. It wasn't something he'd expected; He'd expected that he'd be questioned about what had happened and what he saw. Not something that had little relevance to Cam being attacked.

"Morgan, I need to know if Fitzgerald actually stormed off because of this disagreement you had or if she used it as an excuse to do so." Hotch elaborated.

"Why would she..."

"You don't seriously think Cam was expecting to be attacked." Rossi interrupted, shaking his head at the thought. "That kid's a fighter. Her testimony helped put away a number of drug and human traffickers, as well as their customers. She wouldn't just walk into danger knowingly."

"I understand, but..." Hotch paused. "I just got done talking to Strauss and the director. Apparently one of the men Fitzgerald testified against hired a hitman to find and kill her."

"What?!"

"Strauss couldn't have mentioned any of this before?"

"There's no evidence that the hitman hired is even in the country. Or that he even figured out who she is or where she is." Hotch explained, though what the higher ups had told him didn't reassure him. Cam had been attacked, and until they knew by who and why, she was in danger. Not just her - he, Morgan and Rossi were also potentially in danger.

"It's unlikely the suspect that attacked Cam was a hitman, since a professional would scope out his victim ahead of time and plan accordingly. Unless he was a amateur, the man who stabbed her was someone else." Rossi mulled over a few ideas, rubbing his chin as he thought.

"...it could've been our unsub." Morgan piped up. "Think about it, all those ID cards were left in Hayes' hotel room by someone. Though we don't know exactly when they were left, it could have been as recent as the night before we searched the room."

"If it was last night, or anytime yesterday evening, the snowstorm would've made it dangerous or even impossible for the unsub to leave the hotel until today. Which means there's a chance he may have noticed you and Fitzgerald entering Hayes' room, and guessed you were investigating." Hotch replied, his face stoic. He crossed his arms, thinking about the younger agent. "Or Fitzgerald may have noticed something off about the man in the elevator, and he attacked her. In either case, the unsub will likely be anxious on knowing if Fitzgerald survived or not."

"You think he'll come to the hospital?"

"...He'll have to, to make sure Fitzgerald can't recognize him. He also was likely wounded by Morgan's shot. Not to mention the possibility that he cut a piece of his own skin off to make us see him as a victim if we found him."

"...It doesn't fit." Rossi mumbled, brow furrowed. "The unsub has enough planning foresight to injure himself as a potential backup plan to throw us off, and enough smarts to keep leaving tip money for the hotel housekeeper so no one is suspicious about not seeing McMahan. And it's unlikely he'll simply leave all those ID cards in a room that could be traced back to himself." The other two agents nodded their heads in agreement with Rossi, but didn't interrupt. It was clear to both that the elder agent wasn't finished. "...would such an unsub be so rash to attack a Federal agent on an elevator, while knowing there's another agent nearby?"

"You're right, that doesn't fit. The unsub is a planner, and wouldn't have attacked Fitzgerald. He'd have been assured of his plan enough that he wouldn't have needed to risk attacking her." Hotch replied, pausing a moment. "Yet he did."

"Or his partner did." Morgan grimaced. "We could be dealing with a team. One unsub makes the plans and the other carries them out."

"Which means two things, a) the unsub who attacked Cam is the doer of the team, and likely attacked her on impulse. And b) the partner is not going to be happy when he finds out." Rossi replied. "The partner is going to want to fix the blunder."

"The question is whether the planner will send the doer to take care of things, or if he'll come to the hospital himself rather than risk his partner screwing up again."

0The hospital ER was bustling for a cold, snowy mid-January evening. Most of the patients injuries were weather related, and ranged from severe frostbite, ice-caused falls, and burn injuries from mishaps with space heaters. Nothing life-threatening.

His cold eyes scanned the scene quickly before he headed towards one of the nurses.

"Good evening, Michelle." He spoke, the timbre of his voice warm.

"Oh, Dr. Kettlewell, I didn't know you were working today." The nurse replied, surprised by the presence of the caramel-brown haired doctor.

"I wasn't but...Dr. Reynolds phoned me and asked if I could take an extra shift." He paused and smiled, his eyes still scanning the room. "So here I am."

"All right. We are slightly busier than usual." The nurse nodded, smiling faintly as she shifted her attention to a patient who approached.

Kettlewell's lips twitched, his eyes cold though his tone seemed warm as he inquired if there'd been any more-urgent emergency patients brought in earlier.

"Pretty much the same. We did get a stabbing victim brought in earlier though."

"Oh?" His eyes lit with interest, prodding the nurse for more information. Licking his thin lips as she answered, he absorbed the information.

#Criminal Minds #fanfiction #david rossi #derek morgan #OC #aaron hotchner #crime drama

7 notes · View notes