#immortal!Hotch

[sirmatthew1972]

Forever: The Double Edged Sword

Summary To a centuries old immortal man like Lord Hotchner time doesn't hold meaning. Only the sword, and keeping his head. But what about his foolish heart? Why can't he stop it from falling for mortal souls? From breaking? Because here is, counting every agonizing second since Spencer got shot. Desperate for him to wake. Teaser Time. Minutes, hours and days. It's been a long while since Lord Hotchner has contemplated the concept of the clock. How it affects those around him. Mortal souls unaware of what he is. How old he is beyond the facade of a man in his forties. Why he moves on looking the same, defiant of age. Always. Living by a far different schedule than they do… must, since they have no time to waste. No, they live in the now. By the clock. Changing with the years and with age. Living through so many firsts. Adventures. Lovers. Children. Oh, the joy of those!

They are the kind of memories he's long ago left behind in his so extensive past. Some of which he has forgotten, others he will always cherish despite the pain held within. Yeah, his first grey hairs discovered are also his last ones to grow out. His firstborn son lies dead and buried, so his many times down grandchildren can run around in a changed world. In a century when the new land America isn't that anymore to the people around him. When they, unlike him, can but read about the Mayflower or the Civil War or past presidents in books…

Read more on AO3

[waltenfiled]

The wings of the BAU are fruitful, stories told and aged and taken care of, OR, where i get emotional thinking ab their winfs :(((

Morgan's wings are from rocky heritage, there is a bullet wound evident from the carefully filled in spot where marble has taken it's place within the deep shade of rocks. Sometimes there are flowers, and greenery on him, tucked neatly from where his wings meet his anatomy.

He pretends not to hear Penelope as she sneaks up, carefully interweaving christmas lights during december, but it's hard when his hearing is top notch and always cranked up. He pretends that he doesn't want to wrap his wings around Hotch as he comes in more ragged each day. He pretends that he cannot see JJ's hands lifting him through the waters whenever he takes a dive.

And he pretends that Savannah doesn't put silly sticky notes on his wings, just to cheer others up. ‘Hi Reid, sweety!! If you reach in, there's a lollipop in Morgan's pockets ;)’ and he pretends not to hear Spencer's giggles as he reads the notes from his back.

Dispite how heavy it is, he manages to find a way to take flight. He pretends that he does not know that Prentiss persuaded the wind to get him in the air, He pretends that does not know that JJ keeps him afloat, He pretends that he does not know that during nights — Spencer sits, waiting until daylight to know that he is okay and safe.

Penelope's wings are from mythology, in their best days there are colourful beeds strung on her person and on her worst they're pressed against herself to deter predators away from her most vital spots.

Her wings are beautiful — white entangled with pink, faded into rich shades of red, wings long and proud and carefully straightened, and they have never experienced flight. Her wings are known to be the most prettiest, and the most pristine out of anyone's.

She does not tell her secret, except for Spencer who she frequently wing wrestles with, she doesn't remember how they started but all she knows is that it's the most fun he's ever had.

She laughs whenever she gives wing hugs, because what else are they for? extra limbs to share kindness, to share friendship with, to form closer bonds with your family — not her family, she doesn't really know who they are but she's content with not knowing

Because she has hotch, she has rossi, she has strauss, spencer, morgan, JJ, emily, tara, gideon, todd, and everybody she's ever worked with, that is her home —

She wraps the top of her wings with decorations for holidays, she allows the little kids and pups and birdies and alike of the unit to (safely) dangle and play! because as fragile as she claims they are, they are strong and capable of holding them up

Spencer's wings have lived, they always have. Through wars, through sickness, through loss, tragedy, confusion and yet they remain with him — thousands, maybe even millions, he walks among gods as both their equals and as their best friend.

“Spencer's are God's best friends” Clyde once said, when once he was somebody else, and Reid's wings were the same as it looked any other time, any other period, no matter destruction or creation, they're there.

Prentiss had found it a great comfort when they remet, under a once beautiful scene, enveloped in the cold embrace of a storm.

Within the clouds, and through the screams of thunder, and lightning striking from somewhere in the infinite skies, there was a friend mingling with the birds;

Wings mostly yellow, once bright now muddy and toned down, faded from what they used to be. Blue, but only in the insides, where if the lightning flashed in a right angle, they crackled along in a faint buzz, or maybe it was a trick of the light, there was too much clouds. Orange faintly mixed in, along with brown that he promises were naturally there but Heidi says other wise, she remembers that, how could she? it was memorable, that was their first meeting.

They were always wet, his feathers soaked in salt water. she wasn't sure why, the rain he goes through are anything but, they're holy and something else, a gift from a god that spencer holds dear to his heart. she only got the answer during a case, in an ocean-side town, where settled a creature who danced in the waters; the creature that was JJ, or as spencer called her ‘νερό’, which is the literal translation of water in greek.

Sh had watched the two laugh, their joy molding into a symphony, mesmerized from the get-go of the water creature. He had dived close to the water, his wings unfolding and he swum in the air perfectly—elegantly, and snatched the fish she carried in her palms, which she raised to the skies just for him, when he came close to the shore, his wings dipping happily in the water — she wondered if they had done this before.

The movements were practiced, but they were enjoying it, she had felt jealous in the moment but she wasn't sure who for. Was she jealous that her best friend's attention was stolen, or was she jealous because the water creature was the most beautiful being she has ever seen? she will take that to her grave.

They all have lived for so long, and their wings tell so many tales, so much history and cries and fighting and sorrow, and look at them now.

Prentiss can't understand how they could still smile through the harshness of immortality and outliving, she had tried to ask — but they wouldn't answer, or at least, answer with any explanation.

Morgan's wings fluttered open and closed, Penelope's wings pressed against herself in defense, and Spencer hugged her tight with his, whispering; “Because.” before silence.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Undercover in a Skin Tight Skirt

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: The BAU Chief isn’t fond of sending his scantily clad wife in as bait 

Warnings: Misogyny, mentions of rape and murder, near sexual assault, suggestive language, provocative clothing, description of gore, alcohol, religious allusions

Work Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

“The unsub is hunting within what seems to be a pentagram,” Reid explained. “Each club creates a point on the star while the bars have already formed the circle.”

“What is he sacrificing virgins?” Garcia rhetorically asked over the phone. “I don’t know about you but night clubs and bars isn’t where I’d be hunting virgins.”

“Maybe he’s trying to point to the immortality of these types of places. You know alcohol, sex, drugs,” Emily suggested.

“So he’s kidnapping these girls and then he’s raping and murdering them to what? Punish them for their promiscuity?” Morgan suggested.

“Or he feels entitled to them,” I suggested. “Maybe he’s taking them because he believes in polygamy because he’s a man but isn’t receiving the female attention he feels he deserves?”

“Or he feels he deserves as certain woman. Given that every victim was between the ages of 20 and 30, had H/C hair, E/C eyes, and a S/T (skin tone) complexion,” my husband, Aaron suggested.

“Okay so we’ve got a religious man who feels entitled to women, shouldn’t be too hard to find,” JJ said sarcastically.

“Well we need to find him before he finds another girl tonight. If he follows his pattern we’ll have Phoebe Simpson,” the girl who was currently missing, “show up dead tomorrow.”

~

After some research from Garcia and more talking through the profile we found the unsub, Pastor Daryl Richardson. Now the team was just trying to figure out how to catch him since we knew we’d need to catch him in the act. Unfortunately everyone was dancing around me going undercover since no one wanted to suggest putting the boss’ wife in danger.

Finally I had had enough. “Why don’t I just go undercover? Everyone knows I perfectly match the unsub’s type.”

“Y/N,” my husband’s voice immediately warned, not happy about the suggestion.

“Why not?” the local sheriff asked. “Seems like a good plan to me.”

“Because this is an increasingly unstable and erratic unsub and I won’t put my wife in that kind of danger. We’ll figure out another way to catch him. End of discussion,” Hotch declared before storming off.

“Aaron,” I called after him, getting out of my seat to follow. “Aaron what the hell?” I asked once I caught up with him. “Even before I even got into the BAU we both agreed we wouldn’t let our personal lives interfere with a case. Now you’re letting our marriage get in the way of catching this unsub.”

“I am not making this personal,” Aaron insisted.

“Then why’d you say you wouldn’t let your wife do this?” I challenged. “Why didn’t you say my agent or team member?” Aaron was at a loss for words. He knew the ‘that’s not what I meant’ argument wouldn’t work on a profiler. “Look me in the eyes and honestly say you wouldn’t let JJ or Emily do this if they fit the unsub’s type.”

Aaron couldn’t lie to his wife. Truthfully he would be hesitant to allow this with any of his other agents but he wouldn’t forbid it the same way he did with his wife. “I can’t,” he admitted. “Fine you can go undercover but there will be cameras on you at all times, you’ll have a weapon, an agent or officer within ten feet of you, and your outfit won’t be too revealing,” he listed. I rolled my eyes at the final command but agreed nonetheless. Seeing my eye roll, Aaron switched to my lighthearted husband that I rarely saw at work. “What? I have to keep some things just for me.” I let out a laugh at that, heading back into our workspace as Aaron returned to the stoic BAU Chief.

“Agent L/N will be going undercover to be picked up by the unsub. Officers and agents will be stationed throughout the club keeping an eye out for Richardson and my agent. Agent L/N will also have a weapon on her in case of emergencies but there will be cameras on her at all times. When Agents Prentiss and Reid tell us to move over the comms we all move to apprehend the suspect. Is that clear?” Aaron command the room. He wasn’t going to allow any slip ups while his wife was the most vulnerable person in the room. “We’ll reconvene in an hour to give everyone their positions.” The officers all agreed, splitting off to get ready while the sheriff and the rest of your team began looking at the layout of the club.

“Y/N, do you have something you can wear that would attract the unsub’s attention?” Derek asked.

I thought for a second, considering what was usually in my go bag. “No it’s all t-shirts and business casual outfits.”

“There’s a mall just a mile up the road,” the sheriff offered.

“Reid, JJ, go with her to find something for tonight,” Hotch ordered.

“Why am I going shopping?” he protested.

“Because you have sense and will make sure whatever she wears isn’t too bad,” he explained, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

So Spencer begrudgingly followed JJ and I to the Suburban, with me in the drivers seat. “Do you need something too?” I asked her.

“Probably, I don’t travel with a lot of mini skirts,” she joked.

“Can you believe Aaron actually said my outfit can’t be too revealing?” I asked with a scoff.

“Oh I believe it,” JJ laughed. “He sends death glares to every officer who looks at you a little too long.”

“He does not,” I dismissed.

“He does,” she insisted. “You seriously haven’t noticed?”

“No, have you Spence?” I asked, glancing at him through the rear view mirror.

“He does sometimes,” he agreed.

“Oh my god how did I never notice?” I wondered as I pulled into the mall parking lot.

~

After a few minutes I found a leather skirt and a bustier top. An outfit similar to the ones many of the girls were last seen wearing.

“What do you think?” I asked JJ, stepping out of the dressing room.

“You look great! Hotch is going to lose his mind when he sees you in this.”

“Yeah he definitely will. I’ll make it up to him,” I shrugged. Walking out into the public area I found Spencer in a seat, tapping away on his phone. “What do you think, Spence?”

He glanced up, his jaw dropping open. He had never seen me dress like this, usually I stuck to business casual or field gear. “Wow, you look…” he couldn’t even stutter out the words.

~

Later that night I was doing my makeup in my hotel room, having already gotten changed and done my hair. I heard the door unlock, alerting me to Aaron’s presence. “The cab is here,” he announced walking into the bathroom. Through the mirror I could see him freeze as he caught sight of me. “This is what you’re wearing?” he asked carefully. What he really wanted to say was that there was no way in hell he was ever letting another man lay his eyes on his wife like this.

“It’s similar to what most of the other girls were wearing,” I explained nonchalantly, standing to face him. His gaze immediately slipped down to my chest before settling on my face again. “I’ll make it worth your while tonight,” I promised, sliding my arms around the back of his neck.

Aaron pursed his lips, considering your prospect. “Fine,” he agreed. “C’mon, we need to get you and JJ in the cab.”

Once I got downstairs the team was waiting for me. Derek immediately wolf whistled. “Damn.”

“Wow, you’re really gonna let this happen, Hotch?” Rossi asked.

Aaron shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it now.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay in the field? We’re gonna have to let this get fairly far before we can give the order to grab him.”

“I’ll be okay,” he insisted. “I’m not letting her go into that club without me. We made vows to not let our personal lives interfere with our professional ones.”

~

JJ and I rode in the cab together acting like already tipsy friends. She almost immediately split off with one of the officers, leaving me at the bar alone. Everyone had a comm except for me, leaving me in the dark about where Richardson could be. The only protection I had as a tiny gun strapped to the inside of my thigh, just barely hidden by the skirt. It was the only place I could conceal it given the tight and revealing nature of my outfit.

It wasn’t long before the pastor slid into the seat next to me. “Can I top off your drink?” he asked, a southern accent detectable in his voice.

“Um sure,” I agreed shyly. “Thanks.”

“I’ve never seen you around here. And I’m sure I’d remember you,” he flirted, his hand already on my knee.

If I didn’t know what I knew about this man I’d honestly be charmed. He didn’t seem to hate women like we profiled but given his level of violence and dominance towards his victims I knew he was picturing all kinds of fucked up ways to torture me. “Oh I’m visiting a friend but she seems to have found a new friend for the night,” I nodded over to JJ who was still dancing with that officer.

“Well maybe I can be your new friend?” he suggested, his fingertips now grazing the hem of my skirt.

“I’d like that,” I smiled brightly, downing my drink before slipping off the stool, leading him to the dance floor.

We danced for a little while, letting him put his hands almost anywhere he wanted. I caught glimpses of my teammates but they were always gone in the blink of an eye and I was a little disappointed to not see Aaron. But nevertheless I let this guy grind on me for a few songs before he pulled me close to his body. “How about we go somewhere quieter? So we can get to know each other,” he suggested in my ear. I nodded eagerly, whirling around to take his hand.

He led me through a series of back doors and hallways. We went so far into the building I began to fear that the team would lose sight of me on the cameras.

Eventually we ended up in a back room. He held the door open for me, forcing me to enter first. “Finally, we can talk,” he said through a creepy smile, locking the door behind him.

My alarms were going off. I knew I was in serious danger now as I tried to back up a little. But he advanced quicker than I anticipated, dragging me onto the floor with him already straddling me. Surely this was enough evidence and my team would come to the rescue. “Get off of me,” I insisted, trying to push him away.

“Girls like you dressing like fucking sluts, just asking for it. You need a Man of God to show you how you should behave,” he said, pulling out duct tape which he began putting over my mouth. He began placing the tape on my arm when he froze. I was still struggling against his weight, all of my FBI training useless against this beast of a man as he put his full weight on me. He reached his hand underneath my skirt when his fingers met the metal of the gun. “What the hell is this?” he yelled angrily, ripping the gun out. He immediately pressed it to my temple. “What are you? A cop?”

“It’s just for protection!” I insisted. “Please I’ll do anything you want.” That was a genuine plea for my life. I had no clue if the team knew where I was or if they had even seen me leave.

“Take off your top,” he ordered angrily, pulling the gun away from my head but still pointing it at me.

“Okay, okay,” I agreed, my trembling hands immediately going to the fasteners of the top. Based on what we profiled this was a major deviation from his routine. But before the man got too frustrated by my genuine inability to undo the top I hear Derek’s scary voice.

“FBI!” he yelled before the door burst open. It all happened so fast Richardson didn’t even have time to react as the door swung open. Several agents and officers were immediately on top of him, pulling him off of me. The next thing I saw was my husband’s face. His rough palms were immediately holding my jaw asking me if I was okay, gently pulling off the duct tape.

“Y-yeah, I’m good,” I agreed, standing up on shaky legs with his help.

Reid and Prentiss ran in, Spencer already holding out his jacket for me. Hotch took it, wrapping it around my shoulders as he tucked my head under his arm as he led me outside. There were already news reporters eager to get a shot of the man that had been terrorizing the city but they became equally interested in “the lone survivor” being escorted under the FBI agent’s arm.

~

Back at the police station I had been given hot coffee and a blanket as Aaron sat beside me on the couch. “He didn’t… touch you, did he?”

“No, the furthest he got was reaching the gun,” I tried to shrug him off. I hated feeling like a victim. I’m an FBI agent who did the job I signed up for.

“He won’t talk,” Derek said, exiting the interrogation room. “We’re not going to be able to intimidate him.”

“Let me try,” I immediately suggested. “We profiled him as a narcissist. The fact that he didn’t get to hurt me will drive him insane. He won’t like that a woman has power over him either. Especially one dressed like this,” I said, gesturing to my outfit.

“No, absolutely not,” Aaron immediately disagreed. “Y/N you just went through a major trauma. He was a second away from raping you.” He was basically begging me to understand how afraid he was.

“He’s in cuffs, I’ll be fine. Aaron, this is the only chance we have if finding Phoebe Simpson alive.”

He sighed deeply. “Fine,” he relented. “But I’m in the room.”

“He won’t talk to me while you’re in the room, I have to be in there alone.” Aaron didn’t like it but he he knew I was right so he just nodded before following me towards the interrogation room.

As I entered the room I could immediately feel Richardson’s eyes rake down my body. “You know for a ‘Man of God’ you sure do have a habit of looking at girls like they’re pieces of meat.”

“It’s your job as a woman to fulfill me,” he shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Isn’t one of the Seven Deadly Sins lust, Pastor?”

“It’s not lust to look at what’s mine. God told me that you’re mine.”

“A little late for that,” I mocked, wiggling my ring finger to show off my wedding rings. “Married.”

“Your husband lets you dress like a slut for other men to see? This is why you needed me tonight to show you your place below men, satisfying men.”

“Well I know you’re unsatisfied. They’re already calling me the lone survivor,” I bragged, taking a seat finally. I crossed my arms under my chest, revealing even more cleavage.

Richardson’s eyes immediately went to my chest and stayed there. “What do you mean lone survivor? I haven’t done anything wrong. Except apparently showing you the consequences of your actions is against the law.”

“You know, we have profilers here. That’s how we caught you, they figured out that you kidnap, rape, and murder women to have control over them.”

“I do have control over them.”

“So you are the one that has been kidnapping and murdering these women.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are you just tried to do it to me.”

“No I’m not!” he yelled lunging across the table. I didn’t even flinch, knowing he was restrained, something I was proud of until I heard the door bang open.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Hotch storm up to Richardson, trying to intimidate him. “Hotch, it’s fine. He’s restrained,” I said, never taking my eyes off the unsub. He opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. “Leave.” Closing his mouth again he complied, storming out of the room.

Outside every member of the BAU had their jaws dropped. Even if it was part of the plan they’d never talk to him the way Y/N just had. Hotch was fuming, not at his wife but at the man who was looking at her like a piece of meat.

“We already know you’re the one hurting these girls, tell us where Phoebe is and I’ll tell the prosecutor you were compliant.”

“What so my sentence gets reduced from five life sentences to four?” he spat.

Establishing my dominance wasn’t working anymore so I stood up. “Among other privileges in prison,” I coyly suggested, sitting on the table next to him. I was keenly aware of how high my skirt was riding right now.

Outside Hotch was screaming in his mind for his wife to not get within reach of the very dangerous man she was interrogating. The team nervously observed his angry expression.

“So tell us where Phoebe is and maybe I’ll make an appearance in your life again once or twice. I’d be so grateful.”

His hands were now straining against the cuffs to touch me but I was just out of reach. Unable to let the idea of sex with a woman he wanted to control go, he relented. “I brought all the girls to a friend’s farm.” With that I quickly hopped off the table, strutting out of the room. “Hey! What do I get?”

“Nothing, you get nothing,” I promised, exiting the room. “I’m coming with,” I said to the team already grabbing the bag of extra clothes and heading for a bathroom. I changed the fastest I ever had in my life and soon I was running out to the Suburban, my team and field gear already inside. Hopping in we took off as I strapped on my vest and boots.

“Never knew you were such a temptress,” Derek laughed.

“Men are so easy to manipulate when you take away what they want.”

We caught up with the rest of the SWAT team just as we pulled up to the farm. “We’ll take the house!” Aaron ordered and we followed him. Morgan kicked down the door and we were immediately confronted with the most putrid smell.

We went through clearing the rooms until I entered the bedroom. The smell became so strong I nearly gagged and I was horrified to see the already decomposing body of Phoebe Simpson. “We got a body in the bedroom,” I announced.

“Is is Simpson?” Rossi asked as he entered.

“Yeah,” I sighed dejectedly.

As Aaron came in he was horrified to see the state of the body. Aside from the decomposition she had been left in an abused state, cast aside like garbage. He became disgusted realizing that could’ve been Y/N. He knew she was safe, there was more law enforcement surrounding that nightclub than the White House but he still couldn’t help but think of the worst case scenario. He immediately reached for his wife, pulling her into his chest to assure himself she was there. Breathing in the scent of her hair as they exited the room.

Masterlist

Smutty follow up

[bau-drabbles]

a/n: inspired from all the prev posts!

your insta but you're dating aaron hotchner part 2 :")

part 1, 3, 4

liked by kate.callahan, the.davidrossi and 497 others

y/n_xo: look at my faves 🫶🥹.... and then there's aaron

view all 211 comments

its.emilyp: jumpscare warning next time 😨

d.morgan: nah he looks like he's concocting some evil plan

penny.garcia: he looks like he's going to steal christmas

reid.gram: he looks like he kidnapped my mom and held her hostage somewhere 😦

itsjj: just smile and wave, kids. smile and wave 🥲

d.morgan: crop him out next time fr 🙏

a.hotch: i'll crop you out of the team

d.morgan: say less 😍😮‍💨 least ion have an ugly smile

a.hotch: what smile? you just bare your teeth

y/n_xo: oh 😭

liked by penny.garcia, reid.gram and 489 others

y/n_xo: meme jack really quickly 🫣

view all 278 comments

reid.gram: jack is me when hotch is asking me to get to the point even though my point was the whole theory 🙂

penny.garcia: omg me when he tells me to search something more quickly even though i'm already working high speed 🙂

itsjj: me when he plants more files on my desk even though i'm drowning in the last ones 🙂

its.emilyp: he's me that one time hotch did "team building" and then proceeded to complain the whole time 🙂

d.morgan: me when i made one mistake and he held it against me for months but goes on about forgiving and how its important to move on 🙂

the.davidrossi: me looking at him ogling @/y/n_xo for months and then passionately disagreeing he was in love

y/n_xo: so i'm sensing some of you need therapy 🧍‍♀️

a.hotch: all of you are dead to me

liked by its.emilyp, itsjj and 524 others

y/n_xo: i really got replaced 💔

view all 200 comments

the.davidrossi: WHERE are you finding these???

itsjj: so... who's the wife in the relationship? 🤔

its.emilyp: it's rossi for sure

reid.gram: i would say hotch. the angle of the selfie says it all

d.morgan: nah it gotta be rossi, he types and cooks like a mom. sometimes he even be smelling like one

the.davidrossi: all of you are out of my will

d.morgan: i complimented your cooking and this is the attitude i get? choke

its.emilyp: you're probably immortal at this point, poisoning and sucking the life out of other people so you can drive us to insanity which would inevitably lead us to our doom. but i see right through you 😒

itsjj: sweetheart we need to stop watching horror movies at night time, okay?

a.hotch: it's not what it looks like!

y/n_xo: i don't know if i should cry or be disgusted >:(

a.hotch: baby, i haven't cheated. i promise you ❤

y/n_xo: omg could you imagine if you did with rossi? 💀

the.davidrossi: what is that supposed to mean? 🤨

reid.gram: she means you're old and embarrassing. and maybe even disgusting 🤷‍♂️

y/n_xo: i will physically mutilate you and feed you to wild dogs

itsjj: thanks for that, my kids are crying

liked by the.davidrossi, a.hotch and 478 others

y/n_xo: my bae 😍

view all 234 comments

reid.gram: we literally have a pending case right now y/n

y/n_xo: okay? he's still a bae 😍

reid.gram: awww really? hope you guys find out you're related 😍🤞

penny.garcia: well... at least we know those frown lines are removable 😌

reid.gram: in a time like this, his frown lines are what matters to you? imagine if he was dead

itsjj: omg imagine he was and you guys were discussing his frown lines. i'd resurrect and haunt everyone on this thread

reid.gram: don't worry, your cheeto breath would give you away instantly 🤢

penny.garcia: all i'm saying is i'd want to make sure our boss got a nice makeover one last time in the coffin. and you can't do that if you have bad indentations on your forehead 💗💗

itsjj: this alone should give you employee of the year 😍

a.hotch: i think we need to have a serious talk

d.morgan: seeing hotch not angry makes me feel deeply uncomfortable

its.emilyp: no cause same. someone poke him and see if he's alive

y/n_xo: you'd think i'd kill him? 😡

its.emilyp: if you did, there'd be no one between us would there? 😏

y/n_xo: 😳

a.hotch: i'm wide awake, thank you 😠

its.emilyp: its like he's still with us 😢 i can almost feel his presence 💔

[evilgoldphish]

Criminal Minds Point Key

My mummy dearest and I are big fans of criminal minds. Today we decided to rewatch the show and use our beautiful autistic nerd powers to create a somewhat logical point system to determine what are actually the best and worst episodes. 

Every episode starts with 100 points and either gains or loses points according to the following point key:

Jack appears physically in person. (+10)

Jack is heard or shown not in person. (+5)

Henry appears physically in person. (+9)

Henry is heard or shown not in person. (+4)

Victim actually does something smart or plays the long game. (+15)

Hotch/Morgan/Rossi isn't an asshole at all during the episode while being in it. (+20)

Reid’s interesting fun facts. (+5)

Awwwwwwwww that's so sweeeet (+5)

Okay, that actually made me laugh. (+5)

Hotch shows emotion. (+10)

Oooh they smexy. (+5)

Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. (+2) 

Actually wholesome. (+2)

*Jazz hands* (+10)

Someone picks up evidence using a glove without even wearing the damn glove in the first place. (-20)

There is a very obvious and easy way to do something that helps with the case but no one even mentions it. (-20)

“Why did you shoot him??? What was the point of that???” (-10)

“How in god's name are they still alive??? Are you immortal???” (-5)

Someone in the team going completely rogue. (-5)

Ruining an entire relationship with a single line of dialog. (-15)

✨Sexism✨ (-10)

✨Racism✨ (-10)

✨Homophobia✨ (-10)

That. Isnt. Possible. (-10)

A cognitive interview turning into blatant hypnosis. (-10)

Someone being immune from legal consequences. (-15)

Being insensitive to victims and/or survivors. (-15)

I understand… but still, WHERE IS YOUR WARRANT (-5)

Someone says something blatantly obvious. (-2)

This doesn't concern you! (-2)

What is that outfit??? (-1)

[mccdreamys-writes]

smiles for miles – 4. the darkness within

you used to captivate me by your resonating light. now, i'm bound by the life you left behind. - Evanescence, My Immortal

S E P T E M B E R   1 6 T H   2 0 1 1

It had been two long days since we stumbled upon the grim discovery of the body, yet the case remained as murky as ever, shrouded in a thick fog of uncertainty. Despite our tireless efforts, the clues seemed to elude us, keeping the truth just out of reach. One thing we knew for sure: the victim wasn't Maile. The stark contrast in blood types ruled out any chance of her involvement. Still, the eerie similarity of the blood found on the body to hers left us uneasy, planting seeds of doubt in our minds.

Breaking the heavy silence, Garcia's voice cut through the tension in the room. "I found her phone number," she announced, her tone laced with hesitation. "We should call her, but..."

Before she could finish her thought, Rossi intervened, his words carrying a sense of gravity. "Blake should be the one to make the call."

Garcia nodded in agreement, her expression filled with empathy. "Yes, that's what I was thinking."

As their attention shifted to me, a sense of unease washed over me. The weight of their suggestion hung heavy on my shoulders, and the seriousness of the situation settled in with each passing second. What would I even say to her after all this time? How could I possibly bridge the chasm that had formed between us, deepened by years of silence and unspoken words?

"I'm not sure if I can do it," I confessed, feeling the weight of uncertainty press down on me like a heavy burden.

Rossi's comforting presence across the table offered a sense of reassurance. With a gentle expression, he leaned forward, his eyes filled with determination. "Blake, you're the only one who can make this call. Believe it or not, she'll be waiting for you."

His words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a mix of emotions. Despite the passage of time and the distance between us, there was still a bond that tethered us together, a connection that refused to fade.

Hotch's calm voice interjected, adding another layer of wisdom to the conversation. "You never forget your first love," he reminded me, his tone reflective. "No matter what form that love takes."

With shaky hands, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, feeling the nervousness fill the room. Gripping the device tightly, I felt a rush of jittery excitement run through me.

Beside me, a slip of paper lay, covered in a string of numbers that seemed to shimmer with importance. Each number held the promise of reconnecting with a part of my past, a chance to step back into a world I had longed to revisit.

My eyes stayed fixed on the numbers, tracing them over and over with a mix of anxiety and optimism. I'd been wanting to reach out for so long, to break the silence that had kept us apart. Now, seeing those digits in front of me, I realized this might finally be my opportunity.

Taking a deep breath, I ticked in the numbers, each press of the screen filled with both uncertainty and hope. As the call went through, my heart raced in my chest, the anticipation almost palpable in the quiet room.

For a moment, it felt like time stood still, the whole world holding its breath along with me. And then, as the ringing continued on the other end, I prepared myself for whatever might come next.

With an eager beep, the call went through, and her voice, like a gentle breeze, greeted me on the other end.

"Hey there, I'm sorry I couldn't pick up. If you leave a message, I promise to get back to you soon."

It was just a voicemail, a place where all the unsaid words and hidden stories reside. But in that fleeting moment, it felt like a lifeline, a bridge spanning the gap between us, no matter how far apart we were.

As her voice filled my ears, I closed my eyes, letting it wash over me like a warm blanket on a chilly night. It was the voice I'd been yearning to hear, a mix of hope and longing that stirred a whirlwind of emotions inside me.

In that instant, she wasn't just a distant memory; she became a real presence, filling the empty spaces in my heart with warmth and love. I could almost picture her smile, hear the joy in her words, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like time stood still, leaving behind only the fond memories of our shared past.

With a sense of resignation, I faced the unavoidable end of our brief interaction. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I bid my farewell, the words laden with the burden of unspoken apologies and letters left unsent.

"I'm sorry," I murmured softly into the empty space, hoping my plea for forgiveness would somehow find its way to her before the call ended.

Frustration boiled within me like an unstoppable wave, urging me to release it in a burst of physical energy. With a controlled yet forceful motion, I slammed my phone onto the table, the sound echoing through the room, though leaving no visible mark on the device's flawless screen.

"It's voicemail," I announced with an edge in my voice, revealing the simmering frustration that bubbled beneath the surface.

As my teammates exchanged worried glances, I pushed myself up from my seat, feeling the tension in my muscles as I struggled to contain the swirling storm of emotions raging within me.

"Blake," Hotch's voice broke the silence, his brows knitted together in worry, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

Taking in a deep breath, I struggled to gather myself, feeling the burden of unresolved emotions weighing heavily on my shoulders like a heavy cloak.

"Just give me a moment, please," I requested, trying to sound steady despite the turmoil brewing within me. "I'll be back." With a heavy heart, I assured my colleagues before turning to exit the room, the weight of my inner turmoil palpable in the air around me.

When I reentered the room, a heavy blanket of somberness enveloped us all. The worried expressions etched on each team member's face spoke volumes, reflecting the tension that hung thick in the air. Their eyes fixed on me, silently pleading for reassurance.

"I'm okay," I offered, trying to inject some confidence into my words. But the hollow sound of my voice betrayed the turmoil swirling inside me. It was evident that my attempt at comfort fell short, leaving an uneasy silence in its wake.

The weight of their unspoken concerns pressed down on me, a tangible reminder of the seriousness of our situation. With a sigh, I voiced the question that lingered in the back of my mind, even though I dreaded the answer.

"They found another one, didn't they?" I asked, already anticipating the grim confirmation that I feared. Their solemn nods served as confirmation enough.

As Garcia's fingers glided across the keyboard, the computer screen flickered on, casting a pale glow in the dimly lit room. A series of chilling images emerged, each one telling a grim tale of a life snuffed out too soon.

"The body of another thirty-year-old has been found", Garcia's voice cut through the heavy silence, carrying with it an air of exhaustion and sorrow. "Her name was Alyssa James."

As the photos of Alyssa flashed on the screen, a collective sense of dread settled over the team. The similarities to previous cases were impossible to ignore—the same gruesome method, the grotesque aftermath, and the unsettling symbolism left behind like a sinister signature.

"Same MO," Garcia continued, her voice trembling slightly as she recounted the disturbing details. "Face burned off, makeup, and that blood-drawn smiley face."

The room fell silent as Garcia's words sank in, each syllable carrying the weight of their grim reality. She took a moment, her features a canvas of mixed emotions, before continuing.

"And another poem," she said, her voice heavy with the weight of the revelation.

With a somber nod, Garcia began distributing copies of the document to each member of the team. As the papers exchanged hands, a tangible sense of solemnity settled over the room. The pages were marred by dark stains, the ominous color casting an eerie shadow over the words written upon them.

Despite the tremble in her hands, Garcia's movements were deliberate as she passed out the copies. The pages were stained with a deep crimson hue, the viscous liquid pooling and spreading across the surface in intricate patterns.

The room felt tense as we all took in the gruesome sight before us. The pages, stained with blood, seemed out of place against the otherwise sterile backdrop of our workspace. It was a stark reminder of the grim reality we faced.

"It's more than the circle from last time," Garcia whispered, her voice barely audible. Her observation sent a chill down my spine, signaling that things were getting worse.

My heart sank at her words. "Have we tested the blood?" I asked, my voice shaky with fear. I hoped against hope for a different answer, but deep down, I feared the worst.

Garcia met my gaze with a somber look, confirming my worst fears. "It's Maile's," she said softly, the weight of the revelation heavy in the air. Her words hung over us like a dark cloud, casting a shadow of sorrow over the room.

As her words sank in, a whirlwind of emotions swept through me. Disbelief, sorrow, and a deep sense of emptiness wrestled for control. I struggled to keep my emotions in check, but the weight of her revelation was like a heavy stone on my chest.

In a futile attempt to contain the flood of feelings, I squeezed my fists tightly, feeling my nails dig into my palms. But it was no use. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision and clouding my thoughts with grief.

"Where are you?," I asked the universe, the words barely audible, as if speaking them aloud made them more desperate. And as the first tear trickled down my cheek, followed by another and then another, I realized that I couldn't give them any less than that - the raw, unfiltered truth of my anguish.

With a sudden burst of energy, Reid rose from his seat and strode purposefully towards the whiteboard, his movements swift and determined. The precinct's makeshift investigation hub buzzed with anticipation as everyone turned their attention towards him, eager to glean insights into the unfolding mystery.

"Reid, what did you find?" Hotch's voice pierced through the air, echoing the urgency that gripped us all. I tore my gaze away from the chilling poem laid out before me, its words like a knot in my stomach, holding me in a grip of unease.

Finally tearing my eyes away, I looked up to find Reid diligently transcribing the poem onto the whiteboard, his hand moving with purpose as he circled select words and phrases. His actions spoke volumes, signaling the emergence of a potential breakthrough in our investigation.

"I think she's trying to tell us where she is," Reid announced, his voice brimming with both excitement and determination. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of Reid's marker scratching against the whiteboard.

"How do you figure?" Morgan's question broke through the tension, prompting Reid to explain his reasoning. With a furrowed brow, Reid pointed to the circled words, deciphering the hidden meanings within the poem.

"See here," he urged, drawing the team's focus to the annotated verses. "'That my heart in your hand was where it's meant to be,' and then 'For what we were, would never be felt again,' followed by 'As I looked up like you said, the stars had withered far instead.'"

As Reid unfolded his analysis, a spark of recognition ignited within me, illuminating the puzzle piece by piece. "You think she's in KC?" I chimed in, a mix of realization and urgency coloring my voice.

"Looks like it," Reid confirmed, meeting my gaze with shared understanding. "But then there's this part: 'So, I looked down to the ground, but nowhere you'd be ever found.' Are there places in Kansas City you'd avoid at all costs?"

His question lingered in the air, challenging my familiarity with the city I once called home. Memories of forgotten alleys and derelict buildings flooded my mind, each holding the potential to hide the truth we sought. "Yeah, there probably are," I admitted, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle like a heavy cloak upon my shoulders.

"It must be a place devoid of light, because the subsequent lines suggest..." Reid's voice trailed off, his brows furrowing in concentration as he attempted to decipher the stanzas.

JJ's intuition kicked in, seamlessly completing Reid's thought. "The light was gone, my soul had dimmed. The sun withdrawn, my eyes had brimmed," she recited, her tone tinged with solemnity.

"Exactly", Reid agreed.

Feeling the weight of responsibility, I leaned forward, eager to crack the code in front of us. "But how do we discern the exact location from these abstract verses?" I asked, my brain working overtime to come up with ideas.

Hotch's voice broke through the uncertainty, his tone firm and decisive. "We might not have all the answers right now, but we've got to move fast. Dave, JJ, and Reid, you're staying here to dig deeper. Morgan, Blake, we're headed to Kansas City to follow up on other leads."

As the urgency of our mission sank in, we got up from our seats with a sense of purpose. But just as I was about to step away, JJ wrapped her arms around me in a comforting hug, pausing my movement.

Her embrace conveyed a silent reassurance, a glimmer of hope in the midst of all the uncertainty. "We'll find her, Alex," JJ whispered, her voice filled with determination.

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Dear Gifter...

Hello, friends! As the year draws to a close, it's that time again for me to enlist in a whole host of Secret Santas to bring everyone some December cheer and hopefully put a lot of smiles on a lot of faces :)

A few of the gift exchanges I've participated in for years are changing their formats for signups this year, so I'm adjusting with them! I decided that, in order to make it easier for my various gifters to know what I like, I'd create this 'Dear Gifter' post to link to them!

So, if you have me for a Secret Santa exchange this year, this next part's for you <3

I've listed some general likes/dislikes, as well as fandom-specific likes/dislikes for the major fandoms I participate in gift exchanges for! If you'd like a list of specific likes for a fandom not mentioned below, just shoot me an ask on anon and I'll post one :)

General Likes:

Angst, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, self-harm, abuse, trauma, nightmares, autistic characters, asexual characters, poly relationships, QPRS, crackfics, college AUs, high school AUs, soulmate AUs, coming out fics, getting together/first kiss, non-sexual BDSM, BDSM AUs, Christmas fics, rarepairs, unrequited love, paranormal AUs

General Dislikes:

Alcohol (**TRIGGER**), smut/NSFW, sickfics, bugs, vomit, extremely detailed gore, physical whump/torture, mafia AUs, royalty AUs

For Shadowhunters:

Likes: Alec Lightwood centric, Autistic Alec, Asexual Alec, any fics that deal with Alec's self-harm, pre-canon fics, Lightwood sibling feels, parabatai feels, worldbuilding (ESPECIALLY in regards to the Fae Realm), HOTI Alec, trans Magnus, Malec, Jalec, Malace, Jimon, Lysabelle, immortal Malec, different first meeting, sub Alec, Dom Magnus, switch Jace, sub Jace, Dom Simon

Dislikes: S3 plotline NOT including the wedding, Inquisitor Alec, good parents Maryse and Robert Lightwood, bad parabatai Jace Lightwood, Clizzy, Luke/Maryse, Dom Alec, reverse AUs

For Leverage:

Likes: Eliot Spencer centric, pre-canon fics, Eliot/Damien Moreau, any fics that explore a fucked up/abusive relationship between Eliot and Damien Moreau, Autistic Eliot, Autistic Parker, ADHD Hardison, trans Eliot, asexual Parker, the OT3, Eliot/Quinn, Nate & Eliot as father/son or master/slave, cooking, botany/gardening, character study, post-canon fics, Leverage team as family, Dom Parker, sub Eliot, switch Hardison

Dislikes: Romantic Eliot/Nate, total AUs (i.e., not within the Leverage universe, such as college AUs), MCD, angst with no happy ending, Dom Eliot, sub Parker, unrequited love

For Detroit: Become Human:

Likes: Reed900, Gavin Reed centric, RK900 centric, Markus centric, reverse AUs, Hank & Connor as father/son, Jericho polycule, Simarkus, romantic Hankcon, Detroit: Evolution/Detroit Reawakening universe, slice of life, case fics, any fics set during the Android Revolution, asexual Nines, agender/non-binary Nines, non-binary Gavin, trans Gavin, Gavin Reed backstory/character study, aromantic Kara, detective/cop AUs, sub Gavin, Dom Nines

Dislikes: Fics that portray Gavin Reed in a bad light, POV Connor, POV Kara, total AUs (i.e. not within the realm of the DBH universe) EXCEPT detective AUs, Dom Gavin, sub Nines

For Criminal Minds:

Likes: Emily Prentiss centric, Jemily, Morcia, Morreid, BAU as family, case fics, Reid's drug use, Emily Prentiss with a self-harm habit, cottagecore/farm life/small town AUs, Autistic Hotch, Autistic Reid, ADHD Emily Prentiss, AuDHD Penelope Garcia, asexual Reid, JJ backstory/character study, infidelity (specifically JJ cheating on Will), pre-canon fics, Momily, kid fics, seasons 3-7

Dislikes: Breakups (except JJ/Will), MCD (angst with no happy ending is totally fine as long as there's no MCD!), events past Season 13

Thank you for reading! Remember, if the information you're looking for isn't here, please don't hesitate to shoot me an ask and I'll be happy to add it :) I hope everyone has a great winter and happy holidays if you celebrate! <3

[threespacemonkeys]

Criminal Minds/Highlander Crossover: You Only Live Twice (part 2 of 6)

The morning after, some people have a hangover. God, how he wished for a hangover. Instead, what he got were conspiracies, surveillance, stalkers and weirdoes with swords. Based off Evelyna1’s fic of the same name.

He decided that blending in would be the best way to avoid standing out and that meant trying to find a place where a man in a suit wouldn’t stand out. He opted for one of the local coffee shops located around his apartment block. He settled down with a cup of the local blend and called Garcia back.

“Sir!” She gasped, relief coloring her tone. She lowered her voice. “Are you safe?”

“Yes, Garcia.” He replied, trying not to smile. “Did you find who was tracking your search?”

"No, I didn’t catch him. I kept him from snooping around, but I didn’t catch him. She took a deep breath. “He probably figured out that I work for FBI, and maybe saw a few files, but nothing too major. I could’ve tracked him further, but then I had to go and pull a few more files for an investigation into your death that apparently hasn’t happened yet or unless I’m speaking to a ghost.” Pause. “Are you a ghost, sir?”

"Possibly, but my coffee seems to be staying inside my body for the moment, so I think I’m alive.”

There was another long pause on the other end. “You... you just made a joke. Okay... well, I can tell you that were dealing with an elegant hacker and from the code that I’m seeing here, he could’ve continued through my firewalls and lead me on a merry chase, but he didn’t so either he figured he’d met his match or he already got what he wanted from my system.”

"This might still help us later.” Hotch said thoughtfully. “We should also assume that Foyet is watching the news and waiting to hear if I’ve been found dead inside my apartment. I’ve been thinking that we should give him what he wants.”

“What are you saying exactly?” Garcia asked.

“Go ahead a write up a report based on everything you and I know so far. Let the police file their report, and the team too. The more people that put in an official report the better.”

“You want people to think you’re dead?” Garcia asked. “Doesn’t that go against... well... everything? Wait.. am I going to have to lie to the rest of the team?”

“Garcia, if people think I’m dead and that Foyet did something with my body, then no one will be looking for me. Foyet will assume that the FBI is keeping my body under wraps and I’ll be free to investigate exactly what the hell is going on here.”

“Yes and yes! I get that.” Garcia replied, the perky tone to her voice back in place for the moment. “Okay, I am sending you everything that I have on this hacker guy, who goes by the username rog5000 by the way; totally original. And I will try to keep the fact that I am helping a currently dead agent under wraps for the moment.”

“Thank you.” He told her. “Has anyone heard anything from Haley?”

“They’re bringing them into the building now, sir. But considering the threat against you, and what happened at your apartment, I’d imagine they’re going straight into witness protection.” Garcia’s voice was quiet, sympathetic.

Hotch took a deep breath. This was not how he envisioned the rest of this week going. Instead of a few days off and a visit with Jack, it had turned into his family’s biggest nightmare. He wouldn’t even get to see them before they’d be gone from him forever. He took another deep breath and forced himself to think clearly, to dig deep to the place of stillness.

“Okay. See if you can make sure that Dan Riley is the one to pick them up. I know him, and I’d been hesitant to think he has anything to do with this.”

“Alright, I’ll contact him as soon as I’m done with you.”

“Thanks, Garcia. I’ll call you later when I know more.” He ended the phone call and turned his attention to the digital file in front of him. The list was short, it was an address to a local internet cafe on one of the local university campuses. There were thousands of possible people ranging from professors to students to friends and family of students; even campus employees such as security or cafeteria, but it was a place to start.

He picked up his coffee and left the coffee shop. It was time to do some profiling. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, reflexively reaching for his keys. He realized that there was no way he was going to able to drive his own vehicle. He let go of his keys and pulled his hand out of his pocket. He was going to have to find another way to get to the university campus.

A cab caught his eye a few blocks up and he walked towards it. The cabbie was taking fares and quickly urged Hotch inside before starting the engine and driving down the street. Hotch gave him the address to the university and they took off into traffic.

He idly picked up the paperback that was sitting in the backseat of the cab. It was some pop psychology book along with a thick psychology textbook. The cabbie glanced back and noticed that he was looking at the books. “You want them?” He asked.

“No. I...” Hotch started but the cabbie interrupted him.

“Some student left it in the backseat like a week ago and never came back to get it. They’re yours if you want them.”

Hotch realized that he was going to need something to help him blend in at the university. “Thanks.” He said, placing the book on his lap. He glanced at the paperback’s title once more. Who Wants to Live Forever? Seizing the Here and Now. He smirked. It seemed fate was teasing him again.

He exited the cab and paid the driver with what little cash he carried with him. He realized that if he was going to keep living like this, he was going to need to make a stop at an ATM. It would have to be quick though to avoid being picked up by any law enforcement as Garcia was sure to be monitoring his accounts and she would need to alert the team to any movement on his finances.

He stepped onto the university grounds, located the coffee shop, and settled down with his books to watch.

After wasting most of the day, Hotch was ready to call the stakeout a bust. There was no one that seemed to fit the profile of elegant underground government hacker. Just students and teachers working on projects. It was taking a chance to think that the hacker would come back here, but students tended to be thrifty and resourceful when it came to finding free internet. It was possible, but not very likely that he or she would return.

He had stalked several students and teachers who were furiously typing on computers, but they had all been working on papers and not coding on the dark web. Hotch decided that he would be better off trying to find a place to spend the night. He left the coffeeshop, books in hand and headed through the campus park.

It was getting dark by this time, and the number of students in the park was limited, though earlier in the day, it had been filled with students hanging out, studying, and making out amongst other things.

Hotch felt something creep on the edges of his awareness. It was almost like a sixth sense. A sixth sense that got louder and start to feel more like a headache.

His first thought was drugs, that he was having an adverse reaction to something that had been slipped to him. He put a hand on his head to try and stop the pounding and the buzzing, but just as quickly as it had come, it left.

Hotch was still trying to clear his head when a man stepped in front of him. Hotch moved to go around him, but the man stepped right into his path again.

“Excuse me.” Hotch muttered. He looked up into the face of the bearded man. He was young, maybe a student, but his eyes were bright with adrenaline. He looked eager for a fight.

“I am Erik Schmidt. Are you here to challenge me?” The man asked. He yanked out a sword from somewhere and stepped back a few feet, swishing it around in the air in front of him. “I am ready to meet your challenge, Immortal!”

Not overly concerned at the gesture – Hotch had been to college before and knew that most of the crazy things that happened were basically harmless enough when it came down to it. The sword even looked a little plastic. The student’s use of the world immortal though, did give him pause, but he ignored it and reached into his pocket.

“FBI.” Hotch identified himself. But the badge didn’t seem to do anything.

“I don’t care what ruse you use in the mortal world. Draw your sword!”

“I don’t have a sword, but if you come any closer, I will be using my gun.” Hotch told him calmly. The man advanced and Hotch drew his weapon, dropping the books in his hands; they hit the ground with a thud.

The man in front of him raised his sword higher with a grin. “If you’re here for my head, you’ll have to do better then a mortal weapon. There can only be one!”

He launched himself at Hotch with a move that he could’ve sworn he’d seen in a martial arts movie only. Hotch fired his weapon, but nothing happened; the man advanced. The man landed a few feet from Hotch and swiped at him with his sword. Hotch ducked, just barely making it under the blade.

He turned and saw the blade headed right for his head. He grasped something hard and smooth; he raised it above his head just in time for the sword to bit into the book. Luckily, it was a thick book and it slowed the sword down enough for Hotch to get out of the way before it was completely sliced in half.

Hotch rolled away from the man, one half of the book still clutched in his hands. There was no doubt in his mind that the sword was very real and that he was in danger. With no team, and no backup he could call on, this delusional student could kill him here and no one would be able to do anything to help him.

He flung the book at the man’s face, hitting him square in the nose. With the distraction, he was able to grab his back-up weapon in his ankle holster, and fire at the man’s knees. The man dropped to the ground, shouting with pain. He swiped at Hotch with the sword, knocking the gun from his hand.

Hotch caught his arm on the backswing, grasping a pressure point on the other man’s wrist and bending it. He wrenched the sword from the man’s hand. The man looked surprised. Obviously, he hadn’t been expected that Hotch was going to fight dirty. Well, that was his loss.

“Who are you?” Hotch asked, pressing the blade against the man’s throat.

“You’ve won.” The man gasped. “Just do it already, or the next time you won’t be so lucky, cheater!”

“I’m not going to kill you.” Hotch told him.

“I will not be apart of your sick experiments.” The man spat, suddenly sounding desperate. He shoved himself forward, falling on the blade. It sliced clean through his neck and both body and head fell the ground at Hotch’s feet. Hotch stumbled back from the corpse, tripped over the planter box and landed on his butt, sword in hand. He sat there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.

The black metal of his firearm gleamed in the grass and he picked it up, placing it back into the holster.

A crackle in the sky made him look up, half expecting to see the lightening. But the sky was clear, stars shone in the blue/black sky. He looked back down and saw that the body was glowing. This day was only getting stranger. Lightening flickered and danced along the body and then it jumped to him. He had no time to prepare himself before the lightening hit him in the chest. And oh, the feeling of power that flooded him! It was over as suddenly as it begun and left him shaky, dizzy and even more confused then ever.

He panted, pushing himself to his feet with the sword. If this is what is felt like to get struck by lightening then it was no wonder that people chased storms. Slowly, someone sighed from behind him and he spun around, sword raised, to see a man in a black overcoat standing a few feet away by the park bench.

There was no weapon pointed at him, no reason to think that this man was a threat, but Hotch knew instinctively that this was a dangerous man. Possibly even apart of the same group whose member he’d just beheaded.

“I was just here to pick up a book.” The man admitted in a long suffering British accent. “I swear that’s all it was. One ancient and very useful book. But then I just have to walk past you almost getting yourself beheaded by some jackass who apparently takes the Game way more seriously then even McLeod does. I’m still half tempted to walk away and leave you here.”

“I’m sorry?” Hotch was still trying to get his bearings after the menace with the sword had come after him. What the hell had been with the lightening? He didn’t feel burned, his clothes weren’t charred, he felt normal. But he knew with a strike like that, his team should’ve been picking him up in a body bag.

The long black coat, the manner in which he was being treated by the man in front of him was leading Hotch to believe that he was involved in some sort of occultist practice. How else could he explain the sword wielding, and the ancient manner of speaking?

"But I have to say that an immortal FBI agent; that is shaping up to be interesting, almost worth sticking around for. We’ve had people in law enforcement change before, but it’s a little more complicated when it’s an FBI agent without a teacher.”

The man in front of him smiled and Hotch realized that he was amused at the whole situation. Not only that at the fact that he’d almost been killed by a sword, but at the fact that he held all the cards and Hotch knew nothing. He had two choices; play along or tell him go away.

“We?” He asked. “Did I somehow stumble upon a pledge ritual?” Damn, there was that wry humor breaking through again. Before yesterday, he never wouldn’t allowed his personal feelings to enter into an encounter with a subject.

“If you want to call it that, then yes; you did.” The man responded.

He was young, Hotch realized as he took a better look. Possibly a student at the university, but the manner in which he treated people was with contempt. Almost like he was better then they were; narcissistic. Obviously thought that he was a part of some group with a mission. What the mission was though was up for speculation. But his eyes were old, really old. Hotch had seen young people with old eyes before, usually because of something traumatic in their past, but this look was beyond old; ancient was a better way to describe it.

“Be glad that I’ve elected to talk to you instead of trying to kill you like this young whelp.” The man in black nodded to the headless body lying in the grass. “I usually succeed.”

“Does your group usually progress to killings before conversation?” Hotch asked. He touched the reassuring weight of the sidearm at his side. “As you said before, I’m an FBI agent. Who are you?”

“You can call me Adam.” The man said walking closer. He held out his hand towards Hotch, motioning to the gun with his eyes. “And you won’t need that. If you’re going to kill me, you’re going to have to try a whole lot harder then that.”

“You mean with this?” Hotch lifted the sword.

To his credit, the man in front of him didn’t even flinch. He dropped his hand, shoving it deep into his pocket. “It’s called a Quickening. The lightening show that you experienced.” He clarified as the confused look at Hotch’s face. “It happens when you behead another Immortal. That is the Game.”

“Immortal?” Hotch asked. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard someone use that term today. He wondered at it’s meaning.

“It’s what you are.” Adam told him. “It’s how you survived nine stab wounds from that serial killer you were hunting. I believe the newspapers call him the Boston Reaper. He killed you in your apartment late last night.”

Hotch raised the sword. “What do you know about the Boston Reaper?” He asked, his voice had gone low and cold. He pointed it at the man’s chest. Despite his non-nonchalant attitude, Hotch could tell that the presence of the sword really did bother him.

“Much less then you do actually. Mortal serial killers really aren’t my area of expertise.” Adam responded. He waved at the sword. “You mind putting that thing away before campus security comes by and sees you with it?”

Hotch didn’t lower the sword. “Why? Do this bother you?” He stepped closer and let the point of the sword poke Adam in the chest. “You know a hell of a lot about immortality then anyone else I’ve met, so I’m betting that you are also immortal which means that this isn’t going to kill you, at least not until I raise it a few more inches.”

Even as he said it, Hotch wondered what was happening to him. He hadn’t been this... well... arrogant in a long time. Not since he’d gotten knocked down a few pegs during his first profiling case.

Adam managed not to look a little intimidated as he stared back at Hotch. "Here’s a piece of advice because I know that look in your eyes. That arrogance you’re experiencing right now? It because you just beat fate. That pride will fade after a few hundred years and it’ll be replaced by a cold and calculating weight. Whatever happened between you and the Reaper; that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that if you want to survive, you’ll play the Game.” He told him in a low, dangerous tone, punctuating the last few words.

“So what then? I just leave my old life behind and pick a sword to run around beheading people?” Hotch asked sharply. “I’ve dedicated my life to putting away murderers like you, I’m not about to become one of them.”

“I’m not a murderer.” Adam responded with a wry grin. “Not by your mortal standards anyways. Beheadings have now become a matter of life and death for you, Aaron. And if your FBI personnel file is anything to go by, I know that you have it in you to play this deadly game.”

“You’re rog5000.” Hotch said in understanding. “You were the one who was trying to find out who was doing those searches on spontaneous resurrections. That’s how you know about the Reaper, and how to know who I am.”

“Guilty as charged.” Adam replied with a grin. “I knew you FBI boys were quick. Though I didn’t manage to get any further then a few names and case-files before I was so rudely kicked out by some computer genius. It didn’t take long with a little investigative work to figure out who’d changed after that. Not showing up for work was the first clue, but all that blood in your apartment was really the clincher.”

“You’ve been watching me? Why? For how long?” Hotch took a step forward.

Adam took a step backwards to avoid the point of the sword. Another sword appeared from thin air and Adam knocked the sword out of his hands with a few deft moves. Now Hotch was the one standing at the sword’s pointed end. Adam pressed hard enough to draw blood.

“I think it’s time we turned this conversation around again.” He said quietly. “You see, you’ve entered a very dangerous Game. You can see how easily I disarmed you. There are others more experienced at swordplay, who’ve had more training and more practice then you ever did in your college fencing class. I’m more experienced. Do you understand me?”

Hotch nodded. The sword point making it hard to speak.

Feeling in over his head again, he reached for that untouchable stillness that most law enforcement professionals learned to develop when dealing with unknown subjects. One of the first killers to get under his skin was when he’d worked that old case in Seattle. But then he’d been young and green, now he was more experienced. Or so he’d thought. For the first time since that case, that place of stillness was a little harder to access. Maybe it had something to do with what had happened to him.

Adam released the pressure he was putting on Hotch’s throat and sword disappeared again. “Good. Now you have two choices; you can go back to your team and tell them it was all a big mistake or you can disappear and live a new life.”

“And if I refuse to choose?” Hotch asked feeling drops of blood run down his neck.

Adam shrugged. “That’s not up to me. Just know that if you expose yourself to the rest of the world, there’s a whole lot of us who’ll make it our place to make sure that you’re the only one being exposed. We’ve existed for centuries among mortals and we’re not about to let ourselves be put into the public eye by one FBI agent who refuses to follow the rules.”

“You haven’t even told me what those rules are yet.” Hotch reminded him.

“Oh for...” Adam looked throughly vexed. He searched his pockets for a moment and then shoved a piece of paper at Hotch. “Here. Don’t loose that. And get yourself a teacher. You’re going to need one. Well, I don’t think you’ll need help in the offensive area, your rather thick head will get you into trouble.”

“Hey!’ A shout interrupted them and Hotch turned to see campus security headed towards them. He turned back to Adam who had vanished without a trace.

“What’s going on here?” The guard asked coming up to Hotch. “The park’s closed, sir.” Then he caught sight of the headless body in the grass. “Holy mother of...” He grabbed for his gun.

Hotch held up his identification, holding his finger over the name just in case. “FBI. I just about to call it in.”

“Yeah, okay...” The guard look a little green. “Is that really a...?”

“Headless body, yeah.” Hotch replied. “Why don’t you wait over there while I call it in.” He motioned towards the park bench a few feet away.

“Sounds good.” The guard said. “I’ll alert campus security too.”

“You do that.” Hotch told him, already walking away from the body. He brushed blood from his neck, but didn’t feel any cuts; odd.

He glanced back, but the security guard wasn’t watching him as he spoke into the portable radio. He picked up the abandoned sword in the grass and kept walking until he was out of the park. Under the light from a streetlight, he looked down at the paper in his hand.

Don’t involve mortals in challenges of other Immortals. Great, his first day as an immortal FBI agent and he’d already broken one of the rules. He shook his head at how crazy that sounded and continued down the street. He was going to have to find another cab and some place to sleep tonight.

[ashery24]

Reid: Did you ever watch Star Trek?

Hotch: Do I look like I watch Star Trek?

Reid: It’s hard to tell who’s a Trekkie

Hotch: Spencer, I'm the BAU Unit Chief and Senior Supervisory Special Agent. I did not have time for Star Trek. I was more of a Star Wars fan

[malereaderrecs]

Young Reader (aka Parent Character) List

Key: M = Male reader N - Gender neutral reader T - Trans reader

Avengers Avengers Greetings from the Avengers base (+) M, Y

Clint Barton Being Clint’s kid and acting a lot like Nat (+) N, Y Clint talking to you, his child, when Laura finds your binder (+) T, Y Joining your father Clint in fighting Thanos (+) N, Y Being a kid living on the street that Clint adopts after the battle of New York (+) N, Y Being Clint’s child would include... (+) N, Y Being Natasha’s sibling and told by Clint that she’s gone (+) N, Y

Loki Being Loki’s kid and going into battle with him (+) N, Y Thor finding out Loki took you, a superpowered teen, in (+) N, Y

Natasha Romanoff Going undercover as mother and son (+) M, Y

Steve Rogers Being Steve’s son and going through your first heartbreak (+) M, Y Being Steve’s son and him helping you deal with school stress (+) M, Y Being Steve’s son and running away (+) M, Y Being Steve’s son and having fire powers (+) M, Y Would Include: Being Steve’s son (+) M, Y Being like Steve’s son and getting hurt on a mission (+) M, Y Being Steve’s son and worrying that you aren’t good enough (+) M,Y

Stephen Strange Coming from an abusive home and Strange adopting you (+) M, Y Being Strange’s kid and getting into a fight about magic (+) N, Y

Tony Stark Headcanons: Coming out to your dad, Tony, as trans (+) M, T, Y Headcanons: Being Tony’s kid and having depression (+) N, Y Your dad Tony finding out you self harm (+) N, Y Being Tony Stark’s stepkid (+) N, Y Unfillable expectations (x son!reader) (+) M, Y

Thor Being Jane’s kid and Thor’s step kid (+) N, Y

Chicago Med/Fire/PD Antonio Dawson Being Antonio’s son and landing in Med (+) M, Y Being Antonio’s kid and getting a binder (+) T, Y

Criminal Minds Aaron “Hotch” Hotchner Being Hotch’s kid and getting suspended from school (+) N, Y

DCEU Oliver Queen/Green Arrow Your older brother Oliver helping you through a panic attack (+) N, Y

Doctor Who 9th Doctor The Doctor being like your father and taking care of you (+) M, Y Meeting the Doctor as a child (+) N, Y The Doctor being protective of you, a young trans man (+) M, T, Y

Gotham Jim Gordon Headcanons: Being a street kid Jim adopted (+) N, Y Being adopted by Jim and getting grounded (+) N, Y Jim catching you, a street kid, in his apartment (+) N, Y

Harry Potter Remus Lupin Being Lupin’s son and both of you surviving the Battle (+) M, Y

House M.D Dr. House House introducing you, his trans son, to his team (+) M, T, Y Being House’s kid and playing guitar at the hospital (+) N, Y

The Old Guard Joe and Nicky Being young when you discovered your immortality and Joe and Nicky treating you like their kid (+) N, Y Travelling with Joe and Nicky after they take you in (+) N, Y Headcanons: Being part of the Old Guard and closest to Joe and Nicky (+) N, Y

Once Upon A Time Henry Mills Having a sleepover with Henry (+) M, Y Going on a date with Henry and getting interrupted (+) M, Y Being Henry’s secret admirer (+) M, Y

Peaky Blinders Tommy Shelby Being Tommy’s kid and coming out as trans (Part 1)(Part 2) M, Y, T Being Tommy’s son and coming out as gay (+) M, Y

Peaky Blinders Preference: Being a younger Blinder and calling them mom/dad (+) N,Y

Sherlock BBC Mycroft Holmes Being Mycroft’s kid and having anxiety (+) N, Y Being Mycroft’s son (+) Y

Sherlock Holmes Being Sherlock’s son and coming out as trans (+) M, T, Y Being Sherlock’s son (+) M, Y Coming out to your dad Sherlock (+) N, Y

Twilight Carlisle Cullen Being Bella’s trans younger brother and asking Carlisle to take you shopping (+) M, T, Y Headcanons: Carlisle being a father figure to you (+) N, Y Meeting Carlisle and Esme when they save you (+) N, Y

White Collar Neal Caffrey Your dad Neal needing your help with a con (+) N, Y

The Witcher Jaskier Headcanons: Being Jaskier���s child (+) N, Y

X-Men Charles Xavier Being Charles’ son and having the same powers (+) M, Y

[sirmatthew1972]

Forever: The Double Edged Sword

Chapter 4 is up! More smut inside... Teaser It's been years, maybe decades even, since Aaron has slept so deep. Without pause. For hours on end. No haunted memories to creep into his every pore and to keep him awake, ready to fight as an immortal man must to keep his head. Sure, there's the continued buzz of having another of his kind near, but the presence of Spencer is fast becoming familiar to him. Wanted more so. By his foolish old heart. That part of him which won't ever let go of mortal longings such as to grow old together. To not waste a moment… since even one as defiant of time like him still has an expiring date… but then, such painful thoughts for once aren't enough to stir him. Not this morning. Read more on AO3

[booksincrime]

hotch: *hears a shot*

hotch: WHAT WAS THAT??

reid: PRENTISS SHOT AT MY COMPUTER

hotch, coming down the stairs: why the actual fuck did you do that?

emily: well, this dude was saying that he was immortal and i didn't care but then the mf started S P A R K L I N G

emily: i had to do something.

hotch, now looking at reid: YOU WERE WATCHING TWILIGHT?!?

[whump-town]

Thinking about Scratch has only put the image of the last Jack we saw in my mind. A kid so close to being an orphan, closer than even I'm sure he realizes. Angry, he was so angry. A perfectly logical repsonse to the things that he's been through. A boy afraid to lose his father and at an age where he can no longer take such great comfort in the illusions of immortality and superhereos.

And, so, what if Scratch had found them instead of Emily?

Jack probably doesn't remember Foyet but there would be a hallowed deja vu for him in that moment. When Hotch realizes that they can't get out of this. When Hotch takes him by his shoulders, runs his hand over Jack's face, through his unruly hair, and says I love you. He says I love you instead of run faster or keep your head down. I love you and I'm sorry and you'll be okay.

Ever since Bill Kindermen, the father who killed himself rather than his son, Hotch has spent months turning that over in his mind. What would he do? What could he do? No father had ever protected him, never showed him how to do this. Would he have a paternal instinct to protect Jack even dosed, even out of his mind in fear?

And now he knows. Turning back to Scratch, making himself the object of all of Scratch's rage now he knows.

And now Jack remembers so much more about Foyet. One last hug. His father's calm order to hide. The shouts and the gun shots.

What happens?

Are they reunited? The team comes and saves the day. Maybe Hotch and Jack aren't reunited until the hospital. Bruised and battered but alive. A soft, pained grunt when they hug, Jack just running straight into him.

or... Is Jack at an orphan at 12? Knows the full extent of his parents love at such a young age. Both dead and somehow, for some reason he isn't.

[spencermyangel]

A fluffy thing where Spencer infodumps to Morgan and he’s really sweet and engaged with it?

CW - Mention of Suicide and Depression

“Morgan!” Spencer called over as he ran across the bullpen, clutching his messenger bag.

“Wow, Slow down, Pretty boy,” Morgan chuckled as he studied Spencer’s ruffled appearance, “What’s got you so excited?” 

A huge smile broke out on Spencer’s face, he began flapping his hands and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I was at a used book store, and they had an antique Anne of Green Gables book set,” Spencer excitedly told him, reaching into his bag and pulling out the first book. Morgan had to admit it was quite beautiful. Green and leather bound with gold designs of flowers and leaves. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Morgan offered, setting his files aside, “I just finished these, and I’m sure Hotch won’t mind if we take a break.” 

A huge smile broke out on Spencer’s face as he nodded and pulled up a chair, “I love Anne of Green Gables so much. You know in Cavendish, Prince Edward Island, they have an Avonlea village. I’d love to go and visit one day.”

“Well, maybe We’ll have to go together,” Morgan told him, smiling at how happy Spencer was. 

“Really?” Spencer asked as his eyes lit up.

“Of course.”

“Did you know that Mark Twain described Anne as the dearest, most loveable child in fiction since the immortal Alice?”

“I didn’t, that’s interesting,” Morgan responded. 

Spencer nodded, “My favourite filmed version is 1985 movie, it’s so sweet and cute,” Spencer rambled on. 

“How about I come and watch it with you later?” Morgan offered.

Spencer’s hand began flapping rapidly and his smile seemed to grow even bigger as his eyes sparkled, “Really? Do you want to?” 

“Of course, it’s got to be good if you like it so much.”

Spencer blushed and ducked his head, “The saddest part is when Matthew dies,” he continued, “L.M. Montgomery said she regretted writing it and that if she rewrote it, she would let Matthew live many more years.” 

“Wow,” Morgan said, “I wonder if there are a lot of authors who regret making a big decision in their writing.” 

“I imagine there are,” Spencer replied, and then paused. “L.M. Montgomery’s family revealed that she suffered from depression and they believed she died by sucide, as they found a letter by her bedside after she died that said, ‘ May God forgive me and I hope everyone else will forgive me even if they cannot understand. My position is too awful to endure and nobody realizes it.’ Her granddaughter said she decided to reveal the family secret to help reduce the stigma on mental health issues.” 

“That’s sad,” Morgan said, “but I hope revealing it did help with the stigma.”

“Me too,” Spencer agreed. He then went on to inform Morgan of many more Anne of Green Gables facts, Morgan happily listening.

A/N - Me info-dumping through Spencer. I love Anne of Green Gables so much, I don't like the TV show though, no offence to anyone who does. I also want the book set so bad but it's 800 CAD, here's a picture

Send in asks and requests here

Masterlist

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated :)

[masterwords]

Anticipate

Summary: Hotch takes Morgan out on a date to a Moroccan restaurant, and they eat with their hands and are awkward and cute. Yep, that's the story.

Warnings: a TON of food mention (that's really all the story is about)

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 2.5k

Notes: Prompt 23 - A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating from 50 Types of Kisses. I basically just used this as an opportunity to immortalize one of my favorite restaurants and waiters from my hometown. Completely FLUFF and self-indulgent. That's it. An excuse to show Hotch courting Morgan, because of all the shit I put Morgan through on a regular basis. :)

** SORRY to anyone who read the first version, Tumblr did something really weird with the editing and glitched out hard. APOLOGIES! <3

Read on AO3: Anticipate

**

At dawn, Derek found himself with his back resting hard against the brick of the precinct wall. He wanted nothing more than to go home, real home, Virginia and his house and his dog. The case was stalled, trail cold, and while he didn't feel quite so under the gun in Chicago as he once did...there was still something awful and ominous about walking into that police station, seeing where his father's desk once sat, where his father took up space. He could feel him inside of those walls, haunting the corridors between cells and file rooms, evidence lockers and coffee pots. He'd spent years here trying to make his own mark only to feel crushed by the weight of his father's legacy.

“You okay?” Spencer asked, approaching Derek with his hands shoved in his pockets. The crisp scent of impending snow hung on the breeze, in their breath suspended before them in midair.

“I'm good,” Derek assured him, nodding. “Just needed to get out of there for a minute.”

“I bet Hotch would let you go for a while...if you wanted to see your mom or something? Nothing's happening in there.”

“I said I'm good, Reid.” There was a little more venom than he'd intended, and Spencer nodded, rocking back on his heels a bit. Too awkward to speak again but too awkward to walk away, he stood in silence and turned his face to the sky that was turning a deep gray.

The day drug into night much the same way, with Derek finding any excuse not to be in the station. No one was being particularly bad, in fact his old buddies had been almost too welcoming, but that corner where his father's desk should have been seemed too potent, the air inside settling thick in his lungs until he felt sticky and wrong.

“I gotta go,” Derek said, sliding up behind Aaron at the white board. He was lost in thought, staring at Spencer's scrawling red writing.

“Sorry...what?” Aaron asked, blinking himself from the daze. “What time is it?”

“It's almost 9...I gotta get outta here.”

Aaron nodded; arms folded over his chest. He looked pensive, like he was chewing on words, getting a taste for them and whether or not he should let them loose. “Are you hungry?” Derek almost laughed, he choked on it a little considering how serious Aaron had looked as he tried to figure out those words.

“Starving.” He did let out the laugh then, he just couldn't help it and Aaron sighed.

“Let's go get some dinner. There is a little Moroccan place two blocks down that looked good.”

To call the restaurant a hole in the wall would be a vast understatement. It was hardly more than a door, one tiny rectangular window to the side of it that was filled with opulent gold trimmed glass. The sun would shine through, but you couldn't actually make out more than strangely shaped shadows if you looked. “This place?” Derek asked, peering up at a sign that simply read MOROCCAN RESTAURANT above the door, no fancy name or pretty design. Aaron nodded.

“It came highly recommended,” he offered, reaching for the handle. “By everyone.”

The place was empty, a fact that did not take Derek by surprise. There was a heady bouquet of spices that hung thick around them, cinnamon and clove and nutmeg on top of cumin and ginger and something green, parsley maybe. He closed his eyes and tried to place each scent, tried to imagine what the menu might look like.

“You sure they're actually open?”

“Says until 11...”

Being seated was an ordeal Derek hadn't anticipated. The waiter, who introduced himself as Mandou, drug them from table to table, offering them a seat only to say “No, no, this isn't right...” before moving them along. Derek was starting to feel like Goldilocks when finally, they were placed at a spot in a dark corner, right beside the kitchen. It was secluded, draped with curtains, a table only inches above the floor and surrounded by ornate, gilded cushions. “Remove your shoes, please,” he said, indicating a small nook for them to be placed. Aaron slid easily out of his shoes while Derek tugged his pants up and kicked out of his boots. Mandou chuckled at the sight, Aaron's perfectly shined dress shoes with Derek's half-zipped scuffed motorcycle boots knocked over on top of them.

Aaron waited until Derek sat down before doing so himself. He would, under other circumstances, have reached for Derek's chair, pulled it out for him but sitting on cushions makes that impossible so he decided the next best thing would be to simply wait his turn to sit, his deeply ingrained sense of propriety a difficult thing to shake. Derek didn't seem to mind it. Once Derek was settled into his cushion, Aaron lowered himself until he was able to sit cross-legged, tucking his feet beneath his thighs for a little extra warmth. The restaurant was hot, humid, but he'd worn thin socks and dress shoes and his toes were more than a little freezing after the walk.

“No menus?” Derek asked, watching Mandou walk quickly away from them. He disappeared into the kitchen.

“I called ahead,” Aaron replied, a little sheepishly. He'd been trying to play it cool, the two of them hadn't been doing this for very long now and he didn't want to seem too eager. Silly old man, he thought to himself. “They have a few options. There is a menu, and you can order from it, or they have a full five course meal already prepared that they recommend for timeliness. Do you mind?” He froze a moment, wondering if he'd made a mistake. This was...new. He hadn't dated anyone since Haley and was suddenly acutely aware that he did not know what he was doing.

“Not at all.” Derek smiled a little nervously. He wasn't used to being the one wine and dined, not used to being the one courted. It was new but it's definitely not...bad. They were both a little rusty, he thought. “So, what are we eating?”

As Aaron opened his mouth to speak, their waiter returned with glasses of iced mint tea. He explained the meal to them, his eyes twinkling as he lit the candles on the wall around their table. Light flickered soft and steady, warming their secluded little spot and Aaron worried maybe this was too much...he hadn't anticipated candlelight and such an ornate meal. There was a brief moment that he considered apologizing for coming on too strong, but before he could summon the words, Derek's hand was on his thigh like he knew, like he needed to reassure him it was okay. He took a deep breath, relaxing into the assuring touch.

“He looks scared,” Mandou said to Aaron with a grin. “You don't take him out much, do you?”

“I uh,” Aaron began, a flush spreading hot beneath his tight collar. “No. I guess not.”

“Shame on you.”

Mandou came back quickly with a small cart that rattled as he walked, and Derek glanced at Aaron who looked like he was busy trying not to be sick. “Aaron?” he whispered, leaning close. “You okay?”

“Just...realizing this might have been a little much...” he muttered sheepishly, and Derek let out a soft chuckle.

“It's fine. It's good.”

A silver basin was set in the middle of the table, and Aaron reached out first, let his hands hang loose while Mandou poured warm water over his hands. He sighed into it, the way it warmed his cold, sore joints. Derek followed suit, put his hands in when Aaron pulled his out and dried them, knuckles brushing briefly on the way past.

“You ready?” Mandou asked, and soon the meal was being brought out piece by piece, dish by dish. Aaron didn't have time to put words to the tight ball of anxiety festering in his belly, and each time he tried Mandou returned with a new dish. Lentil soup, bread and hummus, a lovely crisp tomato dip.

“How are you holding up? I know coming to Chicago is always a challenge.” Aaron asked in the quiet moments they had to themselves. Derek shrugged, toying with the edges of the tablecloth.

“I'm alright.” He kept his voice quiet, almost said he was fine or good, but he owed it to Aaron to be honest. They were both learning how to do this, to share. Like a couple of selfish kindergartners, this was a skill they were learning together. “Being out on the streets has been interesting. Ran into my sister outside the bank she's working at...”

“You know, you can stay with your family instead of in the hotel, if you'd prefer.”

“Nah,” Derek shrugged. “Too distracting.”

Mandou came back and stood over them while their brief conversation died down, setting down a chicken pastilla with crumbly philo dough covered in powdered sugar and cinnamon. It overflowed with shredded chicken and almond and egg. He got on his knees beside Derek, so close their shoulders touched, and took Derek's hand in his own. Aaron tried to read Derek's features but came back empty handed, watched without breathing while Mandou pushed Derek's fingertips into the pastry, right in the center with a smirk while encouraging him to pull out what he wanted and take it to his mouth. “He gets the best part, the most coveted...”

Aaron watched the concern on Derek's face at the idea of sweet chicken, but the way his features softened, melted when the flavors hit his tongue made him relax. His blood pressure was on a roller coaster ride tonight. “Fuck,” Derek moaned, forgetting himself momentarily. Aaron let out a little chuckle.

“One more?” Mandou asked, offering to Derek again. With an almost apologetic glance at Aaron, Derek pulled off another bite after which Mandou made his departure triumphantly, leaving them to enjoy their pastry in silence. Watching Aaron eat with his hands was an experience Derek really never imagined...it went so against everything he'd ever seen from Aaron. But then, watching him eat was still shocking in general. At a certain point, early on, he'd been so intimidated by Aaron's intensity that he had convinced himself he didn't eat human food at all.

The wreckage of the pastry stared him in the face, and Derek was certain he was full. He had to be, but moments later the dish was cleared and replaced with a tagine full of steaming chicken. A whole chicken gleaming and covered in a honey orange sauce, freckled with prunes and raisins and nuts on a bed of golden couscous. He leaned back against the wall and rubbed his stomach dramatically for a moment, and Mandou laughed at the absurdity of the sight.

“Your abs will thank you...” he said, clearly flirting with Derek, or at least making a show of it. Aaron had been warned by the officers who recommended the place that the waiter would be like this and not to take it seriously, he had a flair for the dramatics and now that Aaron could see how few tables would fill up at a time...he understood. The poor guy had to amuse himself somehow. Aaron was just glad not to be the one selected for the attention. “All protein. In the morning, you'll see Superman.”

They moved slower through the chicken, much slower, and talked more instead. The mint tea flowed freely, and though they were both stuffed they couldn't seem to find a way to stop. It was decadent, a beautiful and enticing distraction from the misery of the precinct, the horrors plastered all over their workspace. There was no rush here, no clocks on the walls, no reason to hurry. Aaron's phone hadn't buzzed all night. He'd told the entire team to go get some rest, get some food, take a breather. Unless something happened, they could possibly have the entire night to themselves.

The meal was completed with a small tray of gooey baklava, dusted in bright green pistachio crumbs. It was sticky enough that they both found themselves licking their fingers afterward, and when Mandou came back out with the basin and the pot to wash their hands, they were both ready for a nap.

“He's pretty,” Mandou said to Aaron in a loud whisper. “I'll take him if you don't want him.” He winked, and Aaron's cheeks flushed with warmth. Before he could answer, Mandou leaned to Derek and said the same thing about Hotch, and the three of them all shared a quick laugh. On the way out the door, Derek slipped his hand into Aaron's before he could put on his gloves and pulled him close. He wanted to feel Aaron's skin, still warm, in his as he opened the door and lead them out into the brisk winter wonderland. Snowflakes flurried around them, coating the sidewalk in a fine white powder. Aaron slipped a little with each step, his shoes not at all made for this weather. He had winter shoes, of course, but they were stuffed beneath a table in the conference room at the police station two blocks away and he wasn't exactly eager to return so soon. Instinctively, Derek gripped his hand tighter, braced Aaron against him just enough that he wouldn't fall.

They didn't get far before Derek decided to duck them around a corner, into a small dark alley. There were tiny twinkle lights above them, a seating area for a nearby cafe a few yards behind them. It wasn't terribly dark, not at all dangerous but still just secluded enough. He pressed Aaron's back flat against the wall, leaned against him and kissed him. It was deep, none of the earlier nerves present in this kiss. His tongue darted out to part Aaron's lips, tasting the sweet orange blossom syrup of the baklava still on his tongue. Aaron's arms slipped around Derek's waist, hands sliding up under his thick winter coat and he relished the warmth as they pressed themselves together in a series of endless breathy kisses. Aaron hadn't been kissed like this in so long he couldn't remember, so long he thought he might have forgotten what it felt like entirely. His heart hammered against his sternum, and he felt delightfully lightheaded, the kind that you know is made of only good things, and he never wanted this moment to end.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed against his thigh, and he groaned; a moment later Derek's phone followed suit.

“Well,” Aaron sighed, dizzy and pressing their foreheads together. “It was fun pretending we lead normal lives for a while huh?”

“Dinner was a miracle,” Derek responded with a smile, dipping in for another kiss. He wouldn't go down without a fight. “Let's go. And uh...maybe...” he paused, waited for Aaron to fire off a quick text to say he's on his way before continuing. “Maybe if we have time, you could meet my family. Officially.” Sharing. He hadn't brought anyone home to meet his mom...not ever, not once. Couldn't fathom feeling strongly enough about anyone to let them meet his mom...until now.

“I'd love to.”

[bau-hugs]

More Random (and unhinged) Criminal Minds Headcanons

Garcia was a band nerd in high school and probably played something like the oboe or piccolo (and she definitely chose her instrument based on which one had the weirdest name)

JJ gardens — and is vaguely terrible at it — but she always lets her little boys help and they spend her days off digging in the dirt and planting flowers (and, okay, maybe she has them pull weeds while she “supervises” but, I mean, isn’t that what kids are for?)

Gideon✞ moonlights as a mall Santa Claus during the holiday season and is consistently grumpy about it despite the fact that he chose for that to be his only hobby

Rossi is immortal — him and the queen of england are in cahoots — and that’s why the man never freaking retires (you would think he’d go play golf like a regular old person but nooooo chasing serial killers is apparently more fun)

Emily played softball in high school — while in full goth mode because she’s just iconic like that — and made a habit of kissing girls under the bleachers after practice

Hotch spends his hours ironing his clothes until there isn’t a single wrinkle in them and Jack — because he thinks his father is the absolute coolest — has a toy iron that he pretends to iron his clothes with

JJ has a country accent (because in this house we support Country Bumpkin Jennifer Jareau™) but only when she yells at her kids and to her horror, the boys pick it up and also only have an accent when they’re screaming at the top of their lungs (Will calls them hillbillies but really, that man has no right to talk)

Spencer rides a bike to get around — save the earth, be sustainable, all that — and collects hella bumper stickers to but on the thing. The bike was originally green but it’s impossible to tell now because it’s covered in so many stickers (half the stickers are obscure memes and science facts)

Clooney the Dog™ is some kind of small, fancy breed like a poodle and Derek occasionally carries him around in a bag (Clooney’s got bad arthritis but Derek still wants him to see the world and get some fresh air, okay?). He’s really defensive about his dog-purse

(maybe Spencer occasionally sticks Clooney in the basket of his bike and rides him around but Derek isn’t supposed to know about that)

Emily was notoriously terrible with kids but once JJ got pregnant, she panicked and became determined to be the best aunt ever and she bought at least 20 how-to books on parenting (Spencer and her practically formed a book club, together reading through all of the books by the time JJ’s nine months were up)

JJ is a huge soccer fan and Derek is a huge football fan and, because nobody else will watch sports with them because they get way too into it, they watch the games — and yell at the tv — together (and occasionally bicker about which sport is better)