#aaron hotchner whump

[evilkennedy]

Midnight Visitor

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood (brief), mentions of guns and violence, slight fluff me thinks

Word Count: 3.1k +

Requested: Nope! Came straight from this noggin of mine.

Summary: You’re injured on a case and Hotch blames himself? I’m bad at descriptions and titles bear with me.

You want to pretend like you know why you can’t sleep, mind preoccupied with the knowledge that you could’ve easily died… Of course you hadn’t, but there were always questions as to whether or not you could have should anything within the scenario have shifted even slightly. What would have happened should you have not stepped in front of the gun? Hotch would have been shot instead. What would have happened if the unsub held his gun slightly higher, a quarter of an inch further to the right…? If you weren’t undercover, if you had worn your vest, if Aaron had worn his— etcetera.

Your room is dark and your gaze rests on the ceiling, illuminated by the moonlight alone. It wasn’t that late, despite not looking at the clock or your phone, you’d known that much. Well aware of how much time was passing you by as you rested your weary bones. You’d been… ready. To give up; to let the bullet finish the job and take your life. Before Hotch had arrived at the scene, only a few houses down from where you’d been undercover, feigning the lives of a newly wedded couple, you’d been more than roughed up. You were barely aware of the way you’d gotten back up on your feet at his arrival, adrenaline taking over as the man that you'd come to care for, much more than what was normal between a boss and employee, was threatened. You could feel his gaze on you, even as you laid in your bed now, the way he silently pleaded you to get out of the way, to let him handle the rest— to stall him until the other agents got there, but you weren’t having it. Not only would you never forgive yourself for remaining idle and losing him, losing whatever potential relationship you so deeply hoped to develop, you’d never forgive yourself for allowing Jack to go without another parent, to lose him the same way he’d lost Haley. Even as you’d considered it now, your throat constricted with metaphorical barbed wire, you’re certain you wouldn’t have done anything different.

You sigh, closing your aching eyes against the phantom vibration of a gunshot soaring through the air. You’d still go through it a million times over to ensure that Hotch would remain alive, safe and sound. Even if that meant he was angry with you for now. Your chest seized with pain, more so at the idea that you’d ruined everything that the two of you had built between the other, the trust, the affection, the concern, the honesty, all of it, less than of any medical affliction or after effects of the trauma. Part of you wanted to message him, to tell him that you were sorry for not following his orders or for anything else he might be angry over except for the fact that it had been you instead of him. You refused to let him mourn over the fact that you’d gotten injured in his place, for his safety, but you knew that’s where his mind had been since. He hadn’t texted or called or even come by, and you wonder how correct that assessment had been. Would he be angry if you messaged now? The thought makes you feel ridiculous and you ignore it, succumbing to the sleep that had been threatening to pull you under since the sun had set. The last thought on your mind was of glazed hazel eyes and large trembling hands.

Aaron looks between you and the unsub, attempting to keep his gaze calculated and professional, but he hasn't been able to keep steady without knowing the extent of your condition. All he could tell was that it was bad. He doesn’t think you can stand, almost hopes that you can’t stand. If you stayed down, he could keep the attention off of you and onto him. He refused to lose someone else at the hands of a narcissistic psychopath. His heart skips a beat when he notices the way you make an attempt to push yourself up, only to lose your momentum part of the way up, falling back into the floor.

You hear him call your name, it’s quiet, a warning. You could tell it was a command, one in which you took as a suggestion, knowing exactly what kind of violence the unsub was capable of. You couldn’t allow him to be on the receiving end of that force, not when you were on your last leg. You were certain this would be the end for you and it didn’t have to be the end for him. You feel as though you imagined the panic laced in his tone, sheer anxiety gripping at his vocal chords as he pleads that you stay down, eyes glossy with the promise of unshed tears.

“Upset that I’ve discovered you both, Agent?” The unsub’s voice sounds like venom, hateful and acidic and cruel, his methodology had been specific, calculated— Aaron had never been more terrified than he was now and it wasn’t for his own life.

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea… you’re confused.” He was unarmed, at least physically. He’d have to stick with the profile for now, belittle the man so that he’d focus all of his anger and attention on him. You wish he’d stop talking and get to a safe place, but you weren’t naive enough to believe he’d get out of here unscathed, even if you could stand. Still, you worked on mustering every ounce of strength into your arms, hoping that you can pull yourself up before it was too late. You were well aware of your supervisor’s agenda.

“You know very well that I’m not confused, just like I know you’ve got something to live for while this one…” He gestures vaguely to you with his gun, “Doesn’t.”

He doesn’t allow Aaron to consider a response before speaking again, “I would almost think you’re a failure like me, making mistakes and losing the person you loved way earlier than you needed to, don’t look at me like that.” Hotch is glaring, defensive and tense. The unsub continues regardless, trying to get under his skin, “But something about the way you stand, the way you look and behave, you’ve got kids, huh? You’re a dad and after you fucked up with their mom or whoever, you place all of your worth in what you can do for them, huh? You think you’re so good and so righteous, playing the hero, saving the damsel in distress, but you’re no better than me. I know you think I’m a low life, but there’s purpose in what I do. Just like there’s purpose in you. I see it.”

It makes Aaron feel absolutely sick. He’d always hated when these unsalvageable, soulless bastards would sympathize with him like they understood the weight that rested on his shoulders, like they understood his pain. He knew they never would, not in the same way, not if he killed you now. He doesn’t let him speak again.

“You’re pathetic. I’m nothing like you. You’re nothing like me, you never will be. You get off on killing married couples, taking away something you could never have and that is love isn’t it? You’ll never be loved because you’re too fucking self absorbed to see that no one is as interested in you as you are in of yourself. You’re so mediocre, Kenny. You’re ordinary and worthless and you think you’re righteous because of what you do but you have never been more wrong, this is the work of a coward and a bully.” He’s shaking from rage, but he can feel the relief of having the gun pointed at himself instead of you. He’s no longer paying attention to your form on the ground, and he continues, egging on the angered man even further, hoping that the rest of the unit would arrive soon. They were in his ear saying as much.

“But you know that, don’t you? You’ve spent your entire life trying to prove yourself, to your mom and your dad and friends, partners, coworkers, hell, even strangers. You’ve been ignored and honestly, it’s for very good reason. You were never more than a pawn in someone else’s game and even now you’re going to go down and no one will remember you for the senseless crimes you’ve committed, you’re no Jeffrey Dahmer-“ With that, he knows he has said too much, riled him up too far, but he doesn’t even flinch when the gun goes off. He does, however, fly into action once the rest of the agents surround the small building they’d been in. He isn’t sure why he doesn’t feel the sting of a gunshot wound to the hip until he notices your body, now unmoving on the ground below him. He allows Morgan to apprehend the killer, knees giving way to his trembling as he falls to the ground beside you, immediately placing his larger hands on top of the gunshot wound that was meant for him.

He has to fight through tears, not willing to appear distressed as he makes an attempt to comfort you.

“Hey, you’re okay.” He can’t smile, even as you do. You’re content with knowing he’s safe, it hadn’t hit him instead. You were barely sure of what had happened yourself until you were lying in a puddle of your own cooling blood. You could barely feel it as you shivered, gaze fixed on Aaron. You want to tell him that you’re not okay and that he will be. You want to tell him not to blame himself, but as your mouth fills with copper you find that all you can do is tilt to the side to spit it out.

Your chest heaves and he has already called for medics and for someone to please just help, but you’d been so out of your mind that you didn’t hear it. You shake your head, tears falling freely from your eyes, either from the shock or from the pain, you weren’t entirely sure.

“Why would you do that? You were already so hurt, God, I-“ He stops, focuses on pressing against your wound again. It was bad, you could both tell. So this time, you force yourself to say something— anything to urge him into feeling a bit better or just a bit less guilty even if the attempt was futile.

“C-Couldn’t- You have J-Jack.” That would have to do. Your eyes were barely opened and you could feel your breaths slowing down, teeth clattering as you shivered, cold either from the blood loss or the wooden floor beneath you. Most likely both.

His eyes furrow together, multiple emotions pass over his features at once, you focus on the warmth of his hands against your abdomen, wishing that he’d relax his eyebrows or smile. Anything that wasn’t showing how utterly terrified he was of losing you. You just supposed you would have to be okay with seeing his face under any circumstances, and you would have to be because you begin to lose consciousness soon after that.

“No, no.” He speaks your name, it’s desperate but not in the way you’d been waiting for your entire career, it was bargaining, begging for you to stay. “Please don’t sleep yet, tell me something.”

While you want to, your tongue feels like lead in your mouth and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You didn’t know if you’d ever be waking up again.

———————————

You roll over, groaning at the noise that you hear from the living room of your apartment. It brings you fully back into the waking world, and despite looking over at your phone to see that it’s midnight, you’re happy to have been woken up from that particular dream. It was the last time you’d seen Aaron and you didn’t need to feel that guilt in your sleep as it had already been enough during the waking hours of the day.

You bury your face into the pillow, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. Another noise from the living room echoes through your hallway and this time, you think it’s a knock. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, thinking that it had been your pet to make that noise originally, but that second knock had sounded awfully like someone being at the door. You sit up, slipping on your slippers as you walk through the apartment, not sure of anyone that would be knocking on your door at this hour. You almost wanted to grab the gun that you’d kept in the kitchen by the door, but you resort to looking out of the peephole first. You’re shocked to see a disheveled looking Hotch at your door, and the ache in your body at seeing him makes you pause. You almost don’t want to open the door. You knew he visited you while you were out of commission in the hospital but he hadn’t seen you awake yet. He didn’t come by after you woke up and you didn’t hear or see anything of him. You barely understood why he stood at your door now, but you unlock it, opening it slowly so as to not bother your injured shoulder.

“Hotch.” You breathe out his name, almost choking on the syllables. The way he looks at you, still in his suit from work, has you weak, your eyes water upon seeing him standing in front of you. He looks so relieved and so worried at the same time, pretty hazel eyes filled to the brim with emotion.

He breathes out your name in response. Not your last name, not something professional, but your first name. It sounds so good coming from him and you just want to pull him into a hug, to apologize for being so reckless, just as he wanted to lecture you for the same. Upon seeing you, especially in the condition that you were in, he couldn’t. He could, however, admire how beautiful you still looked. His gaze wracks your entire frame and it pulls a blush out of you. It’s not sensual or lustful, but one of concern and remorse, you invite him in.

Closing the door behind him, you speak again, “I haven’t… I was worried that you were mad at me.” It feels lame to say, there’s so much more to be worried about, but that’s all that you can think to say now that he’s here.

Hotch has already hesitantly walked into your dark apartment, leaning against the small wall that separated your kitchen from the doorway, you can see how tense his shoulders are, even in the dim lighting.

He shakes his head, putting down his go bag before turning in your direction. You hadn’t dared to move from the position you’d welcomed him in, scared of what’s to come. You almost hope that it’s a lecture because you aren’t sure that you can handle the gentler tone he usually takes with you right now.

“At that moment, I was terrified.” He punctuates the end of the sentence with a whisper of your name. It’s coated with so much fear and anxiety and all you want to do is take it all away, ease it any way that you knew how, but instead, you listened.

“All I could see was your blood coating my hands… You were… cold to the touch, breathing, but so close to death that if I closed my eyes it was almost like holding Haley’s limp body to mine again. If I had done anything different in that moment or even before— you would’ve slipped through my fingertips before I even had the chance to tell you that you are the world to me. I would have done anything, and I still would do anything, to assure that you made it home in one piece, but I- I failed.” Towards the end of his rambling, his voice became more unstable, no doubt because tears welled up in his eyes as his throat thickened from the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“I didn’t visit because if I did I would have said that I loved you, but putting that on anyone feels like a damn curse.” He lets out a humorless laugh and that’s when you step into action, walking a few slow steps forward to look him in the eyes. He’s a bit taller than you and you’re glad that your non-dominant hand was injured so that you could bring your dominant hand to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch as you wipe the tears away.

“Oh, Aaron.” You don’t look at him with pity, more so a melancholic fondness, one of great understanding and love. You smile at him, your own tears welling up in your eyes as you blink them away.

“Your love couldn’t be so much farther from a curse.” There’s more you need to say, more that the two of you would have to work on if you went from here, but you’d relish this moment, even as it’s tinged with a sort of despair. It feels Shakespearean in portrayal.

“It was my decision to take that bullet, Aaron. Not yours. I was… I already didn’t think I was going to make it and I wasn’t going to let Jack grow up without his father too.” He sighs, hand coming up to rest atop the one you kept firmly against his cheek, thumb caressing the height of the bone there.

“I know that it scared you, it scared me too, and I’m sorry for being so reckless, I didn’t mean to make you feel like a failure.” You pause, “You’re anything but, and I wish you could see that for yourself. Haley’s death and my injuries aren’t on you.” You both knew that it would take some time for the other to heal, you’d both been through entirely too much shit to be considered normal, but you always had the other. And now that you both knew the extent of what that meant for each of you, and how that felt, this could be a new beginning.

Aaron nods, finally feeling like he can breathe again. “Can I stay?” He knows the answer, but he asks anyway.

You nod easily, “Please.” You go to remove your hand from his face, but he grasps it in his own, taking a moment to give your palm a kiss before bringing it down between the two of you. You take this as an opportunity to lead him into your room with his go bag so that he can change into whatever he has brought. The air feels lighter and you know that everything will be okay with time. No matter what, you’ll figure it out together.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #fluff #hurtcomfort #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner whump #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #gn reader #female reader #male reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x y/n #y/n isn’t used #how many more tags do I need

[masterwords]

Where my whumpies at?

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #whump #tw: blood #narrowing this down to 10 shots is a crime #i tried to select pics you don’t see as often #the less common pretties #aaron hotchner whump #i just think that no one has ever looked better being whumped

[tobias-hankel]

Criminal Minds: 9x3, Final Shot

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

[sequinsmile-x]

Fire & Ice

The case was over, the danger was gone and they could go home and finally celebrate Christmas.

The case was over, so she'd let her defences down, not knowing that the worst was to come.

-x-

Hi friends,

I actually have no idea where this idea came from. It was meant to only be one part, but me being me I got carried away and it is now two parts. Second part will be up in the next couple of days!

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Canon Typical Injury, Aaron Hotchner Whump

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She had felt nothing short of an exhibit in a zoo for days. 

Every interaction she had with Aaron, no matter how small, was observed carefully by their friends. The two of them watched by everyone in the team with a critical eye, the news of their relationship still fresh to the people they considered their family.

It had ultimately been her decision to tell them. Keeping it a secret had been practical at first, it helped them navigate the journey from friends to more, but then they realised they liked it. Both she and Aaron had enjoyed the peace that had come with the secrecy of the first 6 months of their relationship, the lack of involvement from anyone other than Jack and Jessica something they had both treasured. 

She knew Aaron had wanted to tell their friends sooner than she had, his desire to share his love for her with the world clear in his eyes whenever he looked at her, but she’d been hesitant. It had taken a long time to feel like she was on even footing again after Paris, something she’s sure she would have never found if it wasn’t for Aaron, for his gentle but strong love as she came back to herself, and she didn’t want to shake the foundations again, to change the dynamic of the team once more. 

In the end, it was the idea of not being able to spend Christmas with him and Jack without it raising suspicion that had pushed her towards telling their friends. She’d always loved the holidays, a fact that had surprised Aaron when she’d talked him into decorating his apartment much earlier than he usually would, her knowledge of him and the fact he could never say no to her, especially when she was naked, something she had used in her favour. 

They told the team a few days ago, using the annual party that Dave threw as the perfect opportunity. It had gone exactly how she thought it would. 

Dave had insisted he’d known for months, JJ had smiled knowingly, Penelope had asked intrusive questions and Spencer had avoided eye contact with both of them. It was Derek whom Emily had been most worried about, his dislike of any major change and desire for the truth were two things that made her nervous.

He’d been standoffish, a tension in his frame that she’d expected but had still hurt. He’d barely spoken to her since and it made her ache. 

Ultimately, it had been for nothing anyway. They’d got a call for an urgent case on December 23rd, pulling them all out of their homes and the holiday atmosphere they’d fallen into, and they found themselves hundreds of miles away, helping a team of local detectives hunt down a serial killer who was haunting a town. The unsub was devolving at speed, which meant they knew it couldn’t wait until after the holidays. 

She was furious about it, wanting nothing more than to wake up on Christmas morning with Aaron, snuggled up against his side as Jack burst into the room, his excitement forcing him out of bed earlier than normal. Instead, they’d spent the day in a cold police station in the mid-west, sneaking away to speak to Jack on the phone instead, once again promising him they’d have Christmas when they got home. 

As annoyed as Emily was about the disruption to her plans, she knew Aaron was more upset. He always worried he was letting down his son, that Jack would look back at moments like this and feel like he’d come second to everything else. So she’d pushed her own feelings down, let them roll in her stomach, and tried to help him instead, making a point of making him smile whenever she could, of encouraging him back to their hotel room with the lumpy bed every night so they could have some time together. One advantage of everyone knowing they were together now was that they could share a room officially. He no longer had to sneak back to his room at dawn, and she could take advantage of every possible moment in his arms. 

She groans as the alarm goes off, and she screws her eyes shut, desperate to steal a few more moments of sleep. Aaron chuckles from behind her and presses a kiss to the back of her head as he leans over her to turn off the alarm.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, his voice thick and raspy with sleep. She loved how he sounded first thing in the morning, it was a part of him that was just for her, a part of her Aaron that she could have before he slipped on his Hotch mask for the day. 

“Let’s just stay in bed,” she replies, turning in his arms and pressing her face into his chest, hiding her smile when she feels his laugh more than she hears it, the rumble of it passing from his chest into hers, “No more work.” 

“I wish we could, Em,” he says, kissing her head before he encourages her back to look at him, his fingers tangled in her hair, “But the sooner we finish this case, the sooner we can go home and have our Christmas.” 

She hums and smiles sleepily as she looks up at him, “True,” she says, placing her hand on his cheek and tugging him in for a kiss. She sighs as she pulls back, her forehead against his as she thinks about leaving this room, the strange sanctuary they’d found between over-starched sheets and faded art on the walls. The second they were with the team again they’d be under the microscope, every little thing they did or said around each other scrutinised, “Think you can yell at the others for staring at us?” 

He laughs and kisses her nose, his smile only getting wider as she scrunches it up at him, “I think that might be an abuse of my power,” he says, stamping a kiss against her lips.

She rolls her eyes playfully, “What is the point of sleeping with the boss if he won’t yell at your colleagues for you?” She says, the end of her sentence lost to a yelp as he rolls them on the bed, his body over hers as he presses her into the mattress. 

He kisses her fiercely, his hands sneaking under her, slipping under her t-shirt that used to belong to him, his hands on her as he pulls her closer, his palms warm against her lower back, his touch something she now couldn’t live without. She kisses him back, her fingers tangling in his hair as she wraps a leg around his waist, her heel against his ass as he pulls back. She hums thoughtfully, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. 

“I guess you have your uses,” she says playfully, pushing his hair out of his face, and he shakes his head at her. 

“They aren’t that bad, Em,” he replies, his smile crooked as he looks down at her, and she raises an eyebrow. 

“That’s easy for you to say, you aren’t the one Pen sends a daily sex update request to.” 

His eyes go comically wide, “She does what?” 

She chuckles and stamps a kiss against his lips as he pulls away, sitting up next to her as she sits up too, yawning as she rolls her neck. 

“I wish I could say I’m joking,” she says as she stands up, stretching her arms over her head, smiling to herself as he watches her walk to the bathroom, his eyes fixed on her thighs, on the soft skin he’d sucked a bruise into the night before. She turns to look at him and winks as she switches on the bathroom light, “If it helps, I’m always incredibly complimentary.” 

She closes the door before he can reply, his words muffled slightly when he responds. 

“I think you know that does not help.” 

___

She’s sure she’s never seen the team quite so relieved to catch an unsub. There’s a collective sigh of relief when they get a confession, all of the work of the last few days, the time they’d all lost with their families, had at least led to something. 

She sighs as she starts to take pictures down from the board, carefully piling them in a file so they can be handed over to the prosecutor. She smiles as JJ walks over and joins her, the tension that had been in her friend's shoulders since they’d arrived nowhere to be seen. 

“What did Will say when you called?” Emily asks, her smile getting wider as JJ’s does. 

“Henry was already in bed,” JJ says, looking at her friend, “But Will said he was going to make cookies so we could ‘have a proper Christmas’ the moment I get home,” she chuckles and tilts her head at Emily, curiosity shining in her eyes, “How about Jack? Has Hotch called him?”

Emily nods, “He’s speaking to him now,” she smiles as she thinks of the little boy, her love for him nothing short of overwhelming, “I have a feeling I’ll also be talked into making cookies,” she rolls her eyes when JJ raises an eyebrow, “Fine, I’ll watch them make cookies and be the test taster.” 

JJ laughs and looks past Emily, nodding when a uniformed officer they’d been working with beckons her over. She pauses briefly next to her friend and places her hand on Emily’s shoulder. 

“You both seem really happy, Em,” she says, squeezing her shoulder, “If there’s any two people who deserve that it’s the pair of you.” 

Emily presses her lips together, a failed attempt to hide her smile, and she places her hand over JJ’s, briefly squeezing it, “Thanks JJ, that means a lot.” 

She was happy. Happier than she had ever been in her life. There were moments when it didn’t feel real, when the simplicity of the life she’d found herself felt like it was too much, like it would be snatched from her the moment the universe realised she didn’t deserve it. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep, she’d watch Aaron sleep, her eyes fixed on the peaceful expression on his face, another part of him just for her, and she’d feel nothing short of unworthy. 

She’d told him that once, her insecurities catching up to her and forcing her to start an argument with him that she’d regretted immediately, her instincts to ruin something before it could be ruined for her still going strong. When she’d admitted that to him, tears she’d refused to shed shining in her eyes as she told him she felt like she didn’t deserve him, all the fight had drained out of him. He’d pulled her into a hug before he cupped her cheeks and held her in place as he told her in no uncertain terms how wrong she was, how much he and his son loved her, how she had been the missing puzzle piece they’d been looking for. 

She was still learning to trust being this happy, to allow herself to feel it, but day by day it was getting easier. She saw everything with him. A house. Marriage. More kids. 

She wanted it all. 

She continues packing away all of the casework and she looks up from the board when she hears footsteps, her smile turning tight when Derek joins her, the tension immediately palpable. 

“Hi,” she says, clearing her throat as she looks back down at the papers in her hands. 

“Hi,” he replies, barely looking at her as he helps her break everything down. She sighs and shakes her head, her patience with her friend, one of her best friends, fraying after days of him barely speaking to her over nothing more than the fact she’d fallen in love. 

“Look, Derek-”

“Morgan, Prentiss,” Aaron says as he walks over, his hands on his hips as he blows out a breath, “I’ve got to go with them to book the unsub at the county jail.” 

Emily frowns as she crosses her arms over her chest, “But that’s an hour away,” she says, sighing as she steps closer to him, unable to stop herself even though they were working, “Why can’t Detective Rooney do it himself?” 

Aaron’s jaw tightens at the mention of the lead detective they’d been working with since they arrived. He was a good man, but in over his head, the serial killer that had torn through his hometown at Christmas the biggest case he’d ever handled. 

“He’s asked for my support,” he says, a wry smile flashing across his face. She sighs, the thought of being here, of delaying going home for any reason, enough to make her chest feel tight again. Aaron notices, because he always noticed everything about her, determined never to let anything slip by him again, her fake death something that still weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he steps forward. He doesn’t touch her, won’t cross that line here, but he does get close enough that she can smell him, his presence enough to ease some of the tension that had started to build back up. He smiles at her, a soft thing reserved for her and Jack, “It’s only another couple of hours,” he says, “Then we’ll be on our way home, I promise.” 

She nods, biting the inside of her cheek as she fights a smile, “Yeah,” she replies, tightening her hold on her triceps so she doesn’t reach out and touch him, “We’ll be home soon,” she says, smiling at him before she steps back, “Be careful, the roads will be icy.” 

“I’m always careful,” he replies, winking at her before he turns away and she shakes her head at him. 

She only looks away when he’s out of her sight and she freezes when she sees Derek staring at them, a stern expression painted across his face. She shakes her head and clenches her teeth as she steps towards him, avoiding eye contact as she goes back to her task. 

“I get it was a shock,” she says, not looking at him as she finishes up packing the first of the boxes, “And I’ve put up with you being standoff-ish for days,” she looks at him, her eyes fierce “But I’d like it if you could get your head out of your ass soon, and just be pleased that your friends have finally found happiness after everything,” she lifts the box off of the table between them, “This isn’t some fling, I love him. He loves me, so get over yourself.”

She walks away, and she makes a point of not looking back.

___

Aaron sighs as he checks his watch, any hope of getting home before the sun rises fading with each passing second. They were on their way back from the county jail, the unsub successfully handed over, and the drive home was dragging out longer than the drive out there had. 

“Keen to get home?” 

He smiles tightly as he turns to look at Detective Rooney and then nods as he looks back at the road, his hands tight on the steering wheel, the bad weather making it harder to drive than usual.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies, a smile flicking onto his face as he thinks of his son, “My son, Jack, said he’d wait to open all his presents until we got home, he’ll be so excited he’ll be bouncing off the walls.” 

“We?” Detective Rooney asks, his eyebrow raised, and Aaron fumbles for a second, realising he’d slipped up, before the other man laughs, “We all knew you were with Agent Prentiss the moment you scowled at one of my men for flirting with her.” 

Aaron clears his throat, trying to push his embarrassment back down, “Well, I appreciate you not saying anything when we were working the case, we try our best to be professional,” he says, his smile tight as he tries to change the subject, “Do you have a family?” 

Detective Rooney smiles widely, “A wife and three girls,” he says, patting his pockets to try and pull out his wallet, “I have photos somewhere, our youngest is only just a year old so this was her first Christmas,” he looks in the back seat and sees where he’d thrown his wallet when they got back in the car, “There it is,” he says, unhooking his seatbelt as he leans back to get it, “My wife was furious I was working, but I told her this is the kind of case that makes or breaks a career-”

His words are cut off by the screech of the tires, the car moving of its own accord as they hit a patch of ice. 

It takes a matter of seconds, but it feels like an eternity, everything slowing down around them as Aaron does his best to gain control of the car again. It feels like it’s floating, any grip the tires may have had long gone as the car spins out of control. 

The car leaves the road and goes down a hill, time only speeding back up as it hits a tree, the bonnet crumbling around wood as if it was made of paper. 

Aaron hits his head hard on the steering wheel, his world narrowing down to the pain in his forehead, the way he feels immediately dazed.  His last conscious thought is of Emily and Jack, and of the promises he might not be able to keep. 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fan fic #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #Aaron hotchner whump

[artcake]

Hey could you do a self harm Hotch Reid sketch for the 500 followers sketches. I love your work

Spencer was worried. Hotch had gone for a run- another one on top of his morning routine and his new habit of running the FBI track at lunch, all on little sleep and less food.

When he'd been gone for two hours, Spencer drove to the park and walked the main running trail. It didn't take long to find Hotch, staggering through another lap, his knees and knuckles bloody from previous falls. He slowed and finally sat when Spencer approached, his shirt dark with sweat and fresh trails down his face and legs.

Spencer knelt carefully against his still-injured knee and cupped his hand over the scrapes. "Come home," he said, and helped Hotch stand and slowly limp together back to the car.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanart #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotchreid #cw self harm #cw exercise abuse #sh isnt just cuts and bruises #its forcing yourself into strain and pain and struggle #everyone gets a hug and a helping hand today #500 followers #500 celebration #sketch #fan art #my art #hotch whump #aaron hotchner whump

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

Impact. A Hotchniss fanfiction. Proceed with caution.

Here’s the thing about car crashes; they happen quickly. One moment, everything was fine. The road was out ahead of them, smooth and safe as it had always been. The next, they were flying, and the road was gone and there was only terror and darkness and momentum.

Read on A03 or Fanfiction.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #emily prentiss whump #bau team is a family trope #aaron hotchner whump

[bring-back-hotch]

Chapter eight of my fic out nowwwe

NOW PEOPLE

GO READ IT NOW

AND LEAVE COMMENTS WITH SUGGESTIONS

Love youuuuuu thnx

Honey, there is no right way

Tario_501

#aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotch hotchner #dr spencer reid #criminal mind #behavioral analysis unit #bau #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner whump #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

[mrsfoyet]

Can’t breathe

wrote a short little drabble while sprinting and wanted to share! 

warnings: MCD, strangulation, descriptions of dying 

summary: Hotch is spending his day off with Jack when he suddenly feels something tighten around his throat. 

He felt something tighten around his throat, slowly restricting his breathing. He grabbed it and felt the texture of a thick leather strap and tried to pull it away, but the grip was too strong. He gasped for air, already feeling his vision blur. He reached out for Jack, trying desperately to call his name but he had no idea where he was. His little boy had been right beside him, eating an ice cream and talking about the plot of the recent Thomas the Tank Engine episode he had watched.

His legs were shaking, threatening to give out any minute but the attacker was holding him up by the grip of what Hotch assumed was a leather belt. Not the easiest item to strangle someone with, he wondered as his head started to spin. A garotte, wire or even shoe lacers would have been a more efficient choice.

His arms fell motionless to the side, not enough oxygen to keep his muscles working. He begged to God for Jack not to be watching. Where was he? He needed to see him. Needed to say goodbye even though he knew his vocal cords had long since dried up. He wanted to scream. To fight. To get a last chance to tell his son he loved him.

His whole body was now completely numb, from his curly toes to his hairy fingers, the belt being the only thing keeping his body in a horizontal position. Darkness enveloped him like an awaiting slumber. He wanted to welcome it, to finally have peace. Then he heard it. The sound he had been searching for in what seemed like an eternity.

”Daddy!”

He wasn’t sure if he was even awake or if it was just a cruel trick conjured by his oxygen starved brain. He needed to wake up.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner whump #strangulation #major character death #my fanfics

[sinclairscountryhouse]

idk if anyone knows this fic but it’s about hotch getting arrested in his home town and his childhood is opened up to the team and the officer at the precinct he’s arrested at questions him v harshly, clearly has a grudge against hotch. I’ve looked at all the usual accounts with hotch whump and can’t find it anywhere. It was on ao3 can someone help me out??

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fic #Aaron Hotchner whump

[pathologicalreid]

Dude I love ur writing sm!! It’s literally so good and Buried Alive was amazing! If ur down for it (totally no pressure at all) I was wondering if u would eventually write a second part where Spencer helps the reader with the aftermath? Like maybe they struggle with PTSD or severe claustrophobia after that? Idk ur literally amazing enough I’m sure u have great ideas and again, it’s completely up to u, I was just wondering

above ground | S.R.

part one part three

in which spencer helps you cope with the aftermath of your abduction, and you reciprocate

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: hurt/comfort, angst

content warnings: claustrophobia, being buried alive, nightmares/night terrors, ptsd, death, cpr, use of pet names, mentions of drugs, therapy, suffocation

word count: 2.2k

a/n: hello anon! i am absolutely always down for spencer reid hurt/comfort!! thank you so much for asking!!! i've been super overwhelmed with all of the support i've received on buried alive and i'm so so grateful for all of the kind things people have said.

Standing in a dark room, you looked around your surroundings. There was nothing around you that told you where you were. The walls were all blank, the ground was cement, and it was too dark for you to even see the ceiling.

Hesitantly, you reached out your palm, touching the wall just for it to be met with something… damp? You pulled your hand away, and your skin came back dirty. Your stomach churned as you observed the soil that had settled in the creases of your fingerprints. “No,” you breathed, quickly moving to dig at the walls.

You felt it on your elbow next, like the dirt walls were encroaching on you. You turned around to see the dark room was just getting darker, and the walls started to deteriorate. Like an avalanche, the dirt of the walls falls to the ground, covering your feet, “No,” you cried out this time.

Digging at the walls just made your earthly prison bury you faster, so instead, you tried to climb toward the ceiling. You whimpered in defeat as you reached the previously unseen ceiling. The loose earth reached your chest, constricting your breathing. You tilted your head back in an attempt to keep the dirt out of your mouth.

Your face felt cool like a gentle breeze was being blown on it. You choked, but to your surprise, you didn’t choke on dirt.

            There were hands on you, one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist. That didn’t make sense to you, someone hauled you into a sitting position, patting your back in an attempt to help you clear your throat.

            The choking turned to coughing, which then turned to dry heaving off the edge of your bed. Very rarely did anything ever come out, but you kept a trash can there just in case. You blinked as someone reached over and turned on the lamp on your bedside table, the comforting hand remained on your back.

            Desperately, you tried to catch your breath, tilting your head back as you tried to open your airway. “You’re safe. I’m right here, angel,” Spencer whispered from behind you, he leaned his forehead between your shoulder blades and drew hearts on your back with his index finger.

            You took a deep, shuddering breath as you finally filled your lungs, visualizing the air going in and out of your body. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.

            Spencer continued whispering to you, not once did he tell you that your dream wasn’t real because it was real. To you, being buried alive was very real. The suffocation was real, it had happened to you.

            Two months ago, you had been abducted and buried alive by a family, a mother and her two sons. All of whom were in jail awaiting trial. The two agents from the Omaha field office who had left you alone in the funeral home apologized profusely, you had a private meeting with the director of the FBI, and the BAU rallied behind you, it was nice, but none of it made the fear go away.

            The first nightmare came the same night you were back in Virginia, and you had screamed so loud that your neighbors called the police. Spencer handled everything, and when the officers insisted that they needed to speak to you directly, he flashed his FBI credentials, something he really wasn’t supposed to do.

            Your response was to avoid sleeping, at least at night. You stayed awake at night, reading, or watching TV with headphones on, and you slept during the day so that when you opened your eyes, you could feel the sun on your face. The problem was when you needed to go somewhere, you didn’t sleep, or when it rained, you didn’t sleep.

            The exhaustion just made your anxiety worse, and Spencer caught on to it. He sat you down on the couch and held your hands, telling you that he understood that you didn’t want to feel like you were burdening anyone with your nightmares, but he needed you to understand that you were killing yourself at the same time.

            He didn’t do it for everyone, but for you, Spencer took over the role of protector. He found you a therapist in the district that specialized in patients with PTSD and claustrophobia. It was an hour round trip, but Spencer was more than willing to take you the first few times.

            Dr. Montgomery quickly diagnosed you with PTSD and claustrophobia. You hadn’t realized that claustrophobia was something you could be clinically diagnosed with, but the doctor told you that there’s a difference between a fear of enclosed spaces and what you had. He was straightforward, which you liked, and he told you that your claustrophobia was a response to the traumatic event that you had experienced.

            A steady course of treatment that included medication and exposure therapy had slowly been giving you your life back.

            But then there was Spencer.

            Spencer had Morgan help him take the inside doors of your apartment off the hinges so air would flow, and you wouldn’t be afraid of suffocating. He left the ceiling fan in your bedroom on even as the weather cooled so the air never got stale.

            Six weeks ago, you had mentioned offhandedly that you were having a hard time sleeping in total silence, and Spencer had come home later with a white noise machine.

            When you apologized to him for needing the lights on to sleep, he responded by stringing lights around the entire apartment, telling you he read that warm light can help prepare the mind and body for sleep.

            He turned in all of his PTO, even accepting some from David Rossi, who didn’t use his anyway, so he could stay home with you while you were on mandatory medical leave. He tagged along to therapy appointments, to the neurologist, and even to the FBI physician who needed to clear your physical injuries to your ribs before you could return to the field.

            On his nightstand, there was a stack of books all about claustrophobia and loving someone with PTSD.

            Not once through this whole endeavor did you question your relationship with Spencer, he made himself perfectly clear through his actions. He wasn’t going anywhere.

            The FBI physician cleared you two weeks ago, your neurologist faxed Hotch paperwork stating you were without any deficits, and your psychiatrist told you that as long as you felt like you could avoid your triggers, you should be able to go back to work. In fact, Dr. Montgomery thought going back to work could be beneficial.

            You were supposed to go back tomorrow.

            Spencer was now sitting in front of you, and he offered you a small smile as you blinked yourself out of your nightmare-induced stupor and met his eyes, “There’s my girl,” he whispered. For a moment, you focused on his movements, smoothing your hair back with one hand and leaving the other hand resting on your waist. “I love you. You’re safe, you’re at home with me,” he reassured you.

            You narrowed your eyebrows, “It was- I was in the ground again.” Hesitantly, you looked down at your hands, they were perfectly clean, not a speck of dirt to be seen.

            “It was a night terror, angel,” he said, speaking gently to you as he reached over and pulled the strap of your tank top up and over your shoulder from where it had fallen. A night terror, not a nightmare.

            Tears dropped down your face when you closed your eyes. “I couldn’t breathe,” you whimpered. Taking a gasping breath, you looked at Spencer as you tried to draw air into your lungs, “I couldn’t breathe, Spence. I couldn’t breathe.”

            Quickly, Spencer pulled you into his lap and held you, “Shh,” he cooed. “I’ve got you, my love. I’m right here,” he murmured as you set your chin on his shoulder and cried.

            “I suffocated,” you whispered, it was a fact of your life, that you had stopped breathing for a period of time. The doctors estimated you had been down for almost ten minutes.

            His hold on you tightened, “I know,” his voice broke slightly. “I know, baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “What do you need?” He asked, watching you intently as he reached up and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away your tears.

            You blinked the last of your tears from your eyes before meeting his, “Can we go outside?” You asked him, placing your hands on both of his shoulders.

            Spencer nodded, leaning over to grab his glasses off of his nightstand before standing up and picking you up as he went.

            Instinctively, you yelped, but a laugh escaped your lips. It was a foreign feeling sometimes, but Spencer always knew how to elicit a smile from you. “Put me down,” you said, but your tone was light.

            Once your feet were touching the ground, Spencer looked at you, “I just wanted to see you smile.” He said earnestly.

            Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirked up, “Thank you.” You reached over to grab your phone off the charger and slide it into your pocket before you led Spencer out to your apartment’s balcony. He sat down on one of the chairs and pulled you down onto his lap.

            You let him hold you, not moving and just letting your body settle on top of his. The cool autumn air filled your lungs as Spencer held you. You let him hold you because you knew that his fear was just as valid as yours. While you were afraid of confinement because you had been confined, he was afraid of you dying because you had died.

            “I can hear you thinking, honey,” you whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?” You asked him, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers together.

            He sighed, “I’m worried about you,” he admitted. “I want to tell you not to go back to work yet, even though I know that logically it’s the next step for you,” Spencer said, you watched his honey-colored eyes as they studied your face. “And I know that you need it, you need to return to something dependable.”

            You move your head so you can look him in the eyes better, “But?”

            “But,” he continued, “the BAU isn’t dependable. You have this great routine that we’ve very nearly perfected and I’m so worried about you straying from it. The long hours at work could very well cause you to lose all of the progress you’ve made in the last two months,” he tells you candidly. “What happens when you need to get on an elevator, or when you need to get on the jet, and you can’t? What about when you-“ He cut himself off, swallowing thickly before he said something he couldn’t take back.

            You shifted so you were facing him, shoulder to shoulder, “What is it, Spence?”

            He took a deep breath and cupped your cheek with his hand, “The last case you worked on, you died. I pulled your dead body out of a casket. Fuck, Y/N,” his curse took you aback, he usually strayed from swearing. “I did CPR on you before Morgan took over,” he finished, voice growing hoarse.

            Your lips parted; you couldn’t answer him. You didn’t know how to answer him, but you took his hand and selected his third and index finger before pressing them to the pulse point on your wrist. In response, he sighed and leaned his forehead to yours. You watched his lips move as he silently counted the beats per minute.

            The both of you jumped when your phone went off, and dread filled your stomach when you checked your phone.

            Penelope Garcia: Local case. Round table room in thirty if you’re up for it.

            “If you ask me to stay home, I will,” you told Spencer, sweeping his curls behind his ears. “I won’t hold it against you, I’ll tell Hotch I need more time.”

            Spencer shook his head, “You know I can’t do that. I can’t make that decision for you, and I don’t want you to make the decision for me, you need to choose what you want.”

            You both went, Spencer distracted you for the entire elevator ride up to the BAU, but he was still tense. Even though he insisted he was fine, you knew him better than that.

Spencer followed you up to Hotch’s office and when you told Hotch you wanted to work but you didn’t feel ready to be in the field, your unit chief nodded and told you that you were welcome to stay in the local precinct and work on a geographical profile with Spencer.

            You watched the tension leave Spencer’s body. He tried to tell you that you didn’t need to do that, but you just rolled your eyes and dragged him to the roundtable room.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid whump #spencer reid hurt/comfort #david rossi #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid angst #written by margot #margot's asks #criminal minds angst

[masterwords]

i'd rot in hell with you

Summary: Adrian Bale fucked everything up with his bomb. Pre-show musing on the Boston bombing that put Gideon on leave.

Pairing: none...but you know how my platonic Hotch & Morgan look so if you want to read it as a pairing, no one could blame you.

Warnings: bombs, severed limbs (not belonging to anyone we know), hospital

Words: 2.1k

Notes: Written quick and dirty for a Halloween request asking for Hotch passing out. I had about a million different ways I wanted to write him passing out, it's a favorite of mine, but this is the first version that I finished. We're in the thick of wrestling season with the kids now so my time is limited but I'm working my way through every request in my box.

Read on AO3: i'd rot in hell with you

**

“Go fish.”

Hotch coughed. It was a hacking, awful sound. Like there was gravel or glass in his throat. His eyes closed when he coughed, closed like it helped hide how much pain he was in. Derek looked away while he coughed, felt around on the little tray with his hand blindly until he found a card from the pond and pulled it toward him. They'd started with poker, but Hotch wasn't with it enough for that. The drugs they had him on for the pain, the intense coughing fits, the headache. Those all made it hard for him to concentrate and Derek was losing every thread of patience that was still intact basically playing both hands.

So they switched to Hearts. And then Crazy Eights. And then Old Maid. And now, they were at Go Fish. It seemed to be about the only thing at Hotch's speed. Derek didn't think he could find a card game to play if this hadn't worked out, but Hotch liked to play cards to keep his mind off of hospital things. It was a time worn tradition already. In this case, he could hold his hand of cards up, and he could squint to try and find matches or what was asked for, but that was about where his abilities ended.

That was fine, as long as Derek didn't have to grab his hand, sort through it, and try to remain impartial anyway. If that happened, he might be inclined to switch to a rousing game of 52 card pick-up.

“...Jack of Spades?” Hotch asked. He whispered it, groggy and slurred, a partial question. His lungs just wouldn't push out enough air for more, and his blinking was slowing, eyes staying closed longer each time. Derek knew his hand inside and out at this point, things were moving so slowly.

“Nope. Go fish, sucker.”

Well, that was outside of Hotch's capabilities. He waited until Hotch pointed at the card he wanted, sort of just indicated it with one finger and Derek slipped it face down into his hand. They had a system now. Three games in, things were going well.

Gideon called twice while they played but Derek was ignoring those calls. Hotch told him to answer them, even swiped at the phone on the table like he could outmaneuver Derek in his condition. “Back off,” Derek had warned, and Hotch attempted to glare at him, but it only looked like he was going to pass out.

Again.

“You need to talk to him.”

“Like hell I do.”

(x)

As bombs go, this one was pretty damn bad. They thought they had it. Adrian Bale was going to surrender, he was going to give himself up and come out with his hands in the air. With a false sense of security, Gideon deployed S.W.A.T and the few members of the bomb squad they had on hand. Hotch, in his tactical vest over one of his new suits, followed behind. There were other agents that swept in behind him. All in all, there were too many eggs in this basket and Hotch was trying to push it along as quickly as possible. He had misgivings about the ease with which Bale surrendered.

Bale would be his. The rest of them would secure the building, check for hostages, Hotch would secure the suspect. With cuffs in his hands, he jerked Bale out of his position in the middle of the lobby and toward the door. Far from gentle, he shoved him forward, forcing him to skip steps and nearly fall down the stairs. From behind Bale he couldn't see the man's smile, and when he transferred Bale to Gideon and started back for the door, to help SWAT with their final sweep, he heard Gideon's frantic shouting.

“GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!”

Well. He hadn't really even gotten in yet, but the force of the blast and the glass flying through the air took the ground out from under his feet. Like it just fell away from him and he was soaring through the air. As a child, like most children, he'd wished he could fly. Had even tried it once or twice with disastrous results...he'd long since given up that dream, and here he was flying backward in what felt like slow motion. He landed first against his tailbone and then his head slammed against the ground with nothing to soften the blow. The world went soundless, sightless. Everything went black.

That happened fast, and then the world came rushing back in a swirl of sulfur and smoke. And screams. So many screams he was certain he was in the flaming pits of hell. His skin was slicked with sweat and soot, there were shards of glass in his hair and those screams became his entire world. They flooded, in an out, piercing the strange silence that told him his ears would not be right for hours, maybe days after this.

But he stood. Had to, really. The building was smoldering, office furniture being reduced to coal. He stood up, steadied himself and stormed back into the building shouting for people he knew had been inside. Glass crunched beneath his feet, he slipped a few times in debris, in blood. There were people who cried out to him, but they were beyond his help. Just bodies, most of them, making the last noises they would ever make. Nothing really alive. There was an arm at his feet, and he felt the bile rise in his throat. Just an arm, a hand with a wedding band fused into the melted skin. He stumbled toward the corner, pressed his hand to the heat-soaked wall and threw up.

(x)

Hotch slept with that sort of hospital unease that made Derek nervous. He could see the pain lines deepening when he shifted. His back was messed up, but he wasn't dying and there were so many other people that were...they were just sitting around waiting. He was hooked up to machines and IVs with bandages around his head and his chest and his arms...more gauze than Derek had ever seen on a person. He looked like a mummy from all the old movies his sisters liked to torment him with. He'd never been a fan of scary movies. The gauze was yellow stained with iodine and brown with blood, he was a mess of bruised and bandaged flesh.

But he could smile, dammit. And he did. About what, Derek couldn't really figure out. What did he have to smile about?

When he finally answered the phone, he'd waited until he was certain Hotch was asleep. Not just fighting sleep, lost somewhere in that hazy middle ground where time doubled up on itself and he was both sleeping and awake...he was out.

Gideon was angry at him, but he sounded off. Strange. Bad.

Derek almost felt guilty for pushing him away, but he was absolutely certain that Gideon should feel guilty right now. While he'd been sitting watching a ventilator breathe for Hotch, while he watched him gag and cough when it was pulled out, Gideon was just...out there. He wouldn't come to the hospital. At first it made sense, he'd stayed at the scene, he was taking care of the mayhem but that wasn't it. He was avoiding it now. It had been over a day, things had settled, the rubble was nearly cleared and still he was avoiding the hospital. Even went so far as to ask Derek to meet him outside to talk. “He's sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“Out front, five minutes.”

He was hesitant, but the nurses coming in to change his bandages and administer another breathing treatment made the decision for him. Hotch didn't want him watching any of that. He didn't either.

But he also didn't want to talk to Gideon. Seeing him standing there, his complexion was almost gray. He looked like a ghost. “What can I do for you?” Derek asked it, like Gideon wasn't his boss. And maybe right now he wasn't. They were all sort of hanging by a thread, there was an IA investigation and they were all effectively suspended until it concluded. People died on their watch, and IA didn't care that Hotch was very nearly one of the casualties. He wasn't even out of the woods yet. That smoke inhalation was no joke, his lungs were trashed.

“I'll be taking some time off,” Gideon said, so matter of fact that it seemed almost shocking. The man had never been one to beat around the bush but Derek wanted to punch him in the nose. Make him bleed. “After last night, I...I might have...”

“Yeah. Okay. So what, it's just me and Hotch now? Except he's in a hospital bed barely able to breathe on his own so...what...the BAU is mine?”

“For the time being. You'll have Doctor Reid and Agent Jareau.”

Derek laughed. He couldn't help it. The sound was desperate and a little unhinged. Gideon didn't seem to mind. “Yeah. Thanks man.”

(x)

Hotch was standing right in front of him, but Derek could tell he really shouldn't have been. He looked dazed and a little wild. Around them glass fell like pounding rain, and he was talking to Hotch, but Hotch really wasn't hearing him. He was just staring at him.

“Come on, you need to go get checked out,” Derek said, reaching out to touch Hotch. He shifted away and shook his head, returning to Earth for just a moment.

“No, I'm not hurt, we need to see if there were any survivors...”

“Hotch, you've been in here for ten minutes looking. There's no one left that needs a medic...just body bags. You need to be seen before you...” He started to say pass out, but almost like it was a stage cue, Hotch took a step forward and the lobby...what was left of it anyway...seemed to stretch like taffy before his eyes. Everything went gray and his knees buckled. He fell to the floor so fast Derek didn't have time to react. He just crumpled, collapsed like a house of cards. His head hit with a sickening thud for the second time that evening and Derek screamed for help. Hotch had a pulse; he was breathing but God it sounded bad. There was this high-pitched whistling sound coming from his lungs, a horrific gasping sound and his ribs expanded so big on some of his breaths in that Derek thought they might crack. How long had he been in this building? Derek hadn't been there long, but it sounded like Hotch had been huffing the smoke for hours.

“HELP! I NEED A MEDIC!” What a ridiculous thing to say, at the site of a bombing. Of course. Everyone needed a damn medic. “Hotch?” he asked, tilting Hotch's chin upward, like he could open his airway. He had no idea if he should do that, if he was helping or hurting, he was just scared. “Hotch?!”

Hotch's eyes opened, his soot laden lashes fluttering like dusty moth wings against his cheeks. “Derek...” he whispered through barely moving lips. “I'm...”

“Shhhhhhhhh...” Derek said, pulling Hotch into his lap. If those medics were going to take their time, he'd just damn well sit here with Hotch and wait. There was nothing else he could do that he thought was even half as important. “I'm here. Not goin' anywhere. Just relax. Help is on the way.”

(x)

“Gideon's gone,” Derek said when Hotch seemed lucid enough to listen. Not talk, he could barely string two words together that made any sense at all. They either disappeared into a coughing fit, or they were complete concussed nonsense. “He's on leave. I dunno man. I don't know what the hell is going on. Everything has gone to shit.”

Hotch shivered beneath the thin blanket and let out a small cough. When he spoke, his voice was wet and teary. “Do you need to leave?”

Derek swallowed hard and shook his head. He should, he was probably supposed to. Expected to. If he looked at his phone he would find messages from JJ, from Reid, from Strauss. They had no one at Quantico to answer for this right now and the Director would be on the war path. He couldn't find it in him to care though, not yet. Maybe not ever. “No. I'm here. You just sit tight. We'll go back together or not at all, huh?” He wouldn't go down with the BAU's ship, not right now. He was tied to Hotch. His loyalty was here. This was the ship he went down with.

Hotch smiled. It didn't quite look happy or reach his eyes, but it was something. It was all Derek needed to make him sit back down on Hotch's bed and start shuffling those damn worn out cards for another intense round of Go Fish.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #boston aftermath #criminal minds #hotch whump #aaron hotchner whump

[tobias-hankel]

01x15 - Unfinished Business

How do you do this job, and still have a wife, and a baby?

Well, when I'm with them I try to focus 100% of my attention there.

And when I'm with you guys, I try to do the same thing.

03x18 - The Crossing

Well, I mean I might have tried harder if there were children involved.

I tried.

Hotch.

I gave absolutely everything to...

Haley and Jack and my job.

So something had to give.

03x19 - Tabula Rasa

A person can't live two lives.

#01x15 #03x18 #03x19 #Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #I shouldn't post this late at night #but I was rewatching 03x19 and that victim said 'a person can't live two lives' #and Hotch just had this look #someone should make a gif of it #I don't feel like it #oc #aaron hotchner whump

[sequinsmile-x]

Took a Tour of the Stars

It happens quickly. A glint of the knife, a familiar grunting sound from her husband, and the flash of red against his shirt that spreads quickly. She barely has time to react before the men are gone with their belongings and Aaron slumps against the wall, his hand pressing into his lower abdomen as his blood spills out onto the ground. 

It was just supposed to be date night. 

-x-

Hi friends,

I had honestly planned on updating SGW today (don't worry, there will still be an update over the weekend) but I had a ROUGH day and decided to write something where I could get some of the feels out and...here we are.

I hope you like it, please let me know what you think, feedback always makes me so happy!

-x-

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: Canon typical injury/violence, pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily smirks at her husband as he jolts in his seat, sitting up straight as he tries to get away from her foot, how she’d run it up the inside of his thigh. 

“Emily,” Aaron says, trying, and failing, to hide how affected he was by her, how affected he’d always been. 

“What?” She asks, feigning innocence as she smiles slyly, one of her hands holding her mocktail and her other on her bump, “I’m not doing anything.” 

“We’ll be going home soon-”

“Excusez-moi,” she says, cutting over him and finally removing her foot from his lap as she gets the waiter’s attention, “L'addition, s'il vous plaît.”

She ignores her husband’s gaze, how it burns into her, making her shudder with anticipation as the waiter nods at her. 

“French, really?” Aaron asks, raising his eyebrow at her as she finally turns to look at him, a glint in her eyes that only ever meant good things for him. She shrugs nonchalantly, as if she didn’t know exactly what hearing her speak French did to him. 

As if she wasn’t fairly sure it was the very thing that had led to the night she got pregnant. 

“You’re the one who picked the restaurant this time,” she says, finishing her drink and placing the empty glass on the table, “It’s not my fault you picked a French one.” 

Date night had become a regular thing since just after she’d had their daughter Alice almost four years ago. At first, it had simply been Aaron’s attempt to get his wife out of the house, to get her used to spending time away from their baby daughter before she went back to work, but it had quickly become more than that. Alice’s birth marked the end of an era for them working together and the start of Emily’s job in another department. Date night had become something important to both of them, time when they could reconnect, when they could just be Emily and Aaron, instead of Mom and Dad or Hotch and Prentiss, and it was something she always treasured. 

Especially since life was about to get a whole lot busier in four months when she had the baby she was currently carrying. With Alice, they’d found out as soon as possible what they were having, the knowledge easing Emily’s anxiety throughout her pregnancy. She’d been told when she was in Paris that she might not be able to get pregnant, let alone stay pregnant, so every little twinge, everything that felt strange, had made her worry. She felt calmer this time around, although she was still cautious, already assigned to strict desk duty. They’d made the decision not to find out what they were having, the two of them determined to find out when their child, the one they both knew would be their last, was born. 

“What can I say, I’m a martyr,” he says dryly, pulling a laugh out of her as the waiter puts the bill down on the table. Aaron grabs it before she can, raising his eyebrow as she rolls her eyes and sits back in her chair, rubbing a circle on her belly.

“It’s my turn to pay,” she grumbles, narrowing her eyes as he pulls his card out of his wallet and hands it to the waiter. 

“And I want to treat my pregnant wife.” 

“You can treat me when we get home,” she says, biting her lower lip as he leans forward, his hands linked together on the table in front of him, his wedding ring glinting in the low light of the restaurant. 

“I plan on it,” he replies, purposely making his voice deeper, well aware of the impact it had on her. He pulls back as she leans in for a kiss, playing the game she had started, and smiling as she huffs out a breath, “If it makes you feel better, I used the card to our joint account. That way we’re both technically paying for dinner.” 

She smiles at him, pressing her hand into her belly where she feels the baby moving, and she allows herself to bask in how well her husband knows her, “That does make me feel better, thank you.” 

Once they’ve paid, Emily makes the point of thanking the waiter in French purely to get a reaction out of her husband. Aaron helps her into her jacket, his fingers purposely lingering on her shoulders as he does so, a smile spreading over his face as she shivers. 

Emily smiles as he opens the restaurant door for her, forever a gentleman in ways she’s sure would have once annoyed her. As they step out onto the street she wraps both of her arms around one of his and presses her cheek into his shoulder. 

“I hope Alice and Jack behaved for JJ and Will,” she says as they start the journey towards their car, she tugs him towards an alley that she knows is a quicker thoroughfare to where they’d parked, two streets over, her feet hurting too much to even think about walking the long way around, “This way is faster.” 

Aaron nods and they enter the alley, “Jack would have behaved, Alice on the other hand…she’s just like you so who knows what she’s been up to.”

She acts offended, scoffing like this wasn’t a conversation they had every time they did this. A script of sorts that they both knew the words from, a part of their comfortable, ordinary life. 

“She’s perfect,” she says, defending their three-year-old, well aware that when Alice was in full-blown toddler mode she could raise hell. 

“I know she is,” he says, kissing the top of her head, “Like I said, she’s just like you.” 

Emily blushes, but any response is cut off as two men block them off in the alley, seemingly appearing from nowhere. They were dressed in all black, hoods pulled up over their head and obscuring their faces. She looks down and sees both of them are armed, a large knife in each of their hands. She doesn’t react outwardly, and neither does Aaron apart from the slight step forward he takes to put himself in front of her. She grasps his arm tighter, her nails digging into his skin through his jacket, a silent warning not to do anything stupid. 

She thinks of their guns locked up in the hidden safe they have at home. They hadn’t brought anything with them tonight, they never did unless they were working anymore, both of them so safe and content in their day-to-day lives that they didn’t feel the need to. 

It was just supposed to be date night. A nice meal with her husband before they went home and had sex before their toddler inevitably crawled into their bed in the middle of the night, a habit they knew they needed to kick before the baby arrived. 

It was just supposed to be date night. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” Aaron says, his voice even, the years of practice he’d had thanks to his job overriding the fear he was feeling. He couldn’t protect Emily right now, not in the way he wanted to, but he’d let the world burn before he let one of these men near her. 

“Just give us your wallets,” one of the men says, stepping closer, pointing his knife towards Emily’s hands, “And your purse and all your jewellery, and no one will get hurt.” 

She looks at her wedding rings, at the bracelet Aaron had bought her for her most recent birthday that had slipped past the cuff of her jacket and was on display, and she shudders out a breath. She nods as she does what she’s asked, removing them with fingers that don’t shake and passing them to Aaron who has taken off his ring too. 

Aaron steps forward and puts everything they’d asked for on the ground, taking Emily’s purse too and doing the same. He stands back up straight and makes sure he’s in front of his wife again even though he’s still several paces ahead of her, using his body like it was armour, shielding her from harm like he had been doing with his love for years now. 

One of the men steps forward, but freezes at a sound at the other end of the alley, another voice is added to the mix as it breaks through the tension. 

“Is everything okay over there?” 

It happens quickly. A glint of the knife, a familiar grunting sound from her husband, and the flash of red against his shirt that spreads quickly. She barely has time to react before the men are gone with their belongings and Aaron slumps against the wall, his hand pressing into his lower abdomen as his blood spills out onto the ground. 

It was just supposed to be date night. 

___

Her eyes are fixed on the ground, her knee bouncing as she bites at her cuticles, the blank space on her ring finger catching her attention. The skin was paler where they’d been, a band of light skin because the last time she’d had them off for any length of time was when she was pregnant with Alice and her fingers had swollen. 

Aaron had bought her a chain to keep them on, a soft smile on his face as he handed it to her, well aware that even though she wasn’t one to attach meaning to physical objects the rings were important to her. Now they were gone, forever tarnished even if they got them back, and the thought of it made her feel sick. Her stomach was churning and she knew her stress was making the baby kick more. It felt like a soft reassurance from within, a reminder from her son or daughter that everything would be okay. 

Aaron was in surgery. He’d remained conscious the entire time, desperately reassuring her as if he wasn’t the one who had been stabbed, whilst she yelled at the person who had interrupted them being mugged. Her voice cracking as she asked for an ambulance, her own cell phone in the purse that had been run off with. The doctor who had come out to speak to her had assured her everything was as good as it could be, that they had to control the bleeding, but it was all too familiar. A ghost of the past haunts her as she sits waiting for news, memories of a time when she hadn’t been loved by him yet overwhelming her as their baby shifts under her skin. 

“Momma!” 

She stands at the sound of her daughter’s voice, fixing a smile on her face as she sees her children come into view. Jack runs at her, his arms tight around her middle as he buries his face in her chest, a tension in his shoulders that is tight enough to break her heart, a vice around it that she can physically feel. 

JJ and Will aren’t far behind, Alice in Will’s arms and her tiny fists reaching out for her mother. Emily wraps an arm around Jack and holds him just as fiercely as he is holding her. She shifts him just enough so she can take Alice from Will, settling her on her hip, some of her anxiety lessened by having all of her children within arms reach. 

“Emily, what happened?” JJ asks, her hand on her friend's shoulder and squeezing tightly, providing what little comfort that she can. 

“We…” she swallows thickly and clears her throat. She knew she hadn’t given many details over the phone, just that Aaron was in the hospital and a request to let the rest of the team know and to bring the kids to the hospital. She wanted to see them, she needed to, and she knew Jack in would rather know when something was happening rather than being kept in the dark. 

When she became his mother she promised she’d never lie to him, and it was a promise she intended to keep.

She smiles tightly at her friend and then looks down at Jack, encouraging him to shift enough so he can look at her, “You stay here with Uncle Will, okay?” 

He frowns, “Mom-”

“I’ll be right back,” she says, running her hand through his hair, “I just need to speak to Aunt JJ,” she says, seeing that he’s still unsure. She looks at her daughter, the toddler too young to understand what was happening but clearly stressed by the tension around her, her little hand tight in the neckline of Emily’s dress, “Can you sit with your sister and Uncle Will for me? I know Alice likes it when you sing to her.” 

She feels bad for playing dirty, for counting on the endless empathy that he had inherited from his father, but he nods and she feels relieved. She kisses his forehead and then guides him over to where Will is now sitting, an understanding look on his face as Jack sits next to him as closely as he can. Emily hands over Alice who resists, her grip on her tightening, and Emily smiles at her before leaning in and kissing her cheek.

“Mommy will be right back, sweet girl,” she says reassuringly. She nods gratefully at Will as he takes Alice from her, already talking in the tone she knows her daughter finds comforting. 

She walks several paces away with JJ, still in sight of the kids but far enough away that they can’t hear them.

“We took a shortcut,” Emily says, crossing her arms over her chest, holding herself together because she had no other choice, “It was my idea, I…I didn’t want to walk the long way around.” 

“Em,” JJ says fiercely, reaching for her hand and linking it with hers, “This isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of the men who did this.” 

Emily nods even though she isn’t sure she believes it, and she blows out a steady breath, “They came from nowhere. I wasn’t paying attention, I wasn’t looking for threats I was…I was just on a date with my husband,” she says, her voice cracking for the first time all evening, giving way under the weight of guilt she couldn’t shake, “They had knives, they took our wallets, my purse. Our rings. Then they got spooked and…one of them stabbed Aaron.” 

JJ squeezes her hand again, smiling encouragingly at her, a kindness in her eyes Emily wasn’t sure she’d ever deserved, “Well, Pen is at mine watching the boys and by the time she arrived she’d already blocked all your cards and started tracking your phone. Derek is poised to get the bastards that did this the second she finds them.” 

Emily chokes on a laugh, the sound catching in her chest, held in place by the sadness that wouldn’t let it escape. It was strange to think sometimes she’d found her family, her people, in the most unlikely of places. People she had been to hell and back with and for more than once. 

“That’s good,” she says, looking over at the kids, smiling softly at the sight of Alice already getting sleepy in Will’s arms. 

“Are you okay?” JJ asks and Emily looks back at her, her eyebrows furrowing. JJ rolls her eyes lovingly and points at her bump, “Physically. You and the baby.”

She nods and rests her hand on her belly, “Yeah, we’re fine they didn’t get near us.” 

“And you had that confirmed by a medical professional, right?” JJ asks knowingly, raising her eyebrow at her friend whose silence was the only answer she needed, “Okay, we’re getting you looked at-”

���JJ-”

“Look, we both know when Aaron wakes up it’s me he’ll be pissed at if you don’t get checked out,” JJ reasons, tilting her head slightly at her friend, “He is entirely incapable of being pissed at you.” 

Emily still feels resistant to it, wanting nothing more than to sit with Alice and Jack until the doctor comes out to update them, but she knows her friend is right. She sighs and nods, “Okay.” 

JJ smiles at her and walks back towards Will and the kids, speaking to them but ensuring Will knew she was actually addressing him, “I’m just going to take Mommy to have the baby looked at, okay?” She says softly, her eyes flicking to her husband’s briefly, “And when we come back we’ll have lots of new pictures of the baby for you to look at,” she waits for Jack to nod, Alice already mostly asleep, and she stands back up straight, directly addressing Will this time, “If there are any updates-”

“I’ll make sure you know them, darling,” he says, “I’ve got it here, you go make sure she looks after herself.” 

She smiles lovingly at him, reaching out and briefly squeezing his hand, “As always, you get the easy job,” she jokes as she winks. She walks over to Emily and puts her arm around her friend as she leads her to the nurse's station. 

“I heard that you know,” Emily grumbles and JJ chuckles.

“Good. I meant you too.” 

They are sent by a nurse to an examination room and told a doctor will be with them shortly, a promise made after JJ made no secret of what they did for a living. 

Emily slips off her shoes as she gets up onto the bed, her hands on her bump as she blows out a breath, “I really am fine. Baby hasn’t stopped kicking.” 

“I know,” JJ says, taking a seat on the chair next to the bed, “But we both know you’d never forgive yourself on the off chance something did go wrong.” 

She knows she can’t argue with that, so she doesn’t, simply nodding at her friend as the door opens and a doctor walks in. 

“Emily Hotchner?” He says as he looks at his file and Emily nods, smiling tightly at him. She usually felt a spark of joy whenever her married name was used, something that only ever happened in personal circumstances like this, but tonight it was nowhere to be found, “I’m Doctor Covey, I hear you had a bit of a scare this evening?” 

She clears her throat, “My husband and I were held at knifepoint, he’s in surgery right now but I didn’t get hurt.” 

“Still,” Doctor Covey says as he walks over, tugging the ultrasound machine with him, “It’s always best to get these things checked out,” he says, and Emily doesn’t have to look at JJ to know she’s smiling smugly, “Is this your first?” 

“No,” Emily answers, “I have a little girl, she’s three.” 

He smiles, “Then you know the drill,” he says, pulling a paper blanket from the dispenser above the bed, “If you could pull your dress up over your bump we’ll have a look at your baby and see what's going on.” 

Emily hesitates, looking at her friend as she’s handed the small, paper, covering she’s been given to cover her lap, and JJ laughs. 

“Em, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. You do remember your bachelorette party, right?” 

She blushes slightly, her teeth clenched as she narrows her eyes at her friend before she nods, shifting so she can hike her dress up as needed. 

“I thought we said we’d never speak about that,” she grumbles, wincing slightly as Doctor Covey puts some of the cold gel on her skin. 

“Sorry,” he says, already looking at the screen of the machine, the wand pressed into her belly, “Just a few seconds and we’ll be able to see your baby."

She closes her eyes as she feels anxiety set in. It felt wrong to be doing this without Aaron here. He’d been to every scan, every appointment, making it a point to never miss any of it, and she hated that he was somewhere else in the hospital. Once again being stitched back together because she hadn’t been able to stop him from getting hurt. She smiles softly as she feels JJ grab her hand, and she squeezes back tightly, grateful for the presence of her best friend if she couldn’t have her husband with her. 

The relief she feels is palpable when she hears the familiar swoosh of her child’s heartbeat, the sound forcing her eyes open as she looks at the screen. She can’t help but smile at the sight of the baby on the screen, how their hand was up near their face, almost as if they were waving.

“Everything’s okay?” She asks, and Doctor Covey nods smiling as he turns to look at her. 

“He’s perfectly healthy, exactly what I would expect to see for how far along you are.” 

She freezes, all of her focus shrinking down to one word he’d said, the laugh that had been trapped earlier in her chest finally escaping.

“He?” She asks, her voice full of wonder as she looks at her stomach, “It’s a boy?” 

In any other circumstance, she’s sure she’d find the way the doctor’s eyes go wide funny, but it’s the last thing she can think about right now. He stutters as he puts the wand back down.

“I’m so sorry, I should have checked if you knew-”

“No,” she says, smiling as she cuts off the unnecessary apology, “That’s okay…” she turns to look at JJ, unsurprised to find tears shining in her friend's eyes, “A boy. I’m having a boy, JJ.”

It’s joy she didn’t think she’d be able to feel at the moment, and it’s fleeting, immediately replaced by the nagging fear she’d never be able to tell the one person she wanted to tell more than anyone.

___

When Aaron wakes up, the first thing he feels is pain. 

It’s familiar, greeting him like an old friend. A burning sensation low in his abdomen pulls him awake, concern for Emily, for his family, overriding anything else. He feels a hand he’d know anywhere squeeze his and he turns his head to look at his wife. She looks tired, worn down by the last several hours, but she’s still beautiful. All of the features he’d loved for much longer than he should have ethereal even in the fluorescent hospital lighting. 

“Hi,” she says, keeping her voice low, the tightness in her chest that had taken residence there the moment he was hurt easing slightly. 

“Hi,” he repeats, his voice sounding rough even to him. He looks around, “The kids…” 

“They’re okay,” she says, smiling softly as she rubs her thumb back and forth over the heel of his hand, “It took some bribing to convince them to go, but they are at JJ and Will’s tonight. Will promised to make them breakfast which did a lot of the heavy lifting.” 

He nods, his head swimming as he does so, “You’re okay?” He asks and she smiles and nods. 

“I’m fine, baby is too,” she says, “We’re fine,” she says, shifting so she’s sitting on the edge of his bed, placing his hand on her belly so he can feel their son move. “Derek called, they got the guys who did this,” she says, blowing out a breath, “Apparently they had a truckload of things they’ve stolen, they’ve been working those streets for weeks.” 

He looks down at their hands and looks at the empty space on her finger, the one on his, and he squeezes her hand, getting her attention so her eyes meet his. 

“I’ll buy you new rings,” he says, his voice so serious that she laughs, the sound wet as she shakes her head and wipes stray tears from her cheeks. He knew her so well that it made her ache, aware without her saying something that the meaning the rings held would change after this. That every time she would look at them she’d think of this, of how she could have lost him in a way she had never seen coming.

“We’ll buy new rings,” she corrects and he smiles.

“I’ll put it on the joint account,” he jokes and she laughs again, nodding because she knows there is no point in arguing with him. He looks her up and down, his eyes fixed on her bump, “You're both really okay?”

“JJ made me get a scan, I’m fine,” she says, pressing her lips together to suppress her smile, “He’s fine.” 

It takes a second longer than it usually would for her words to register because of the medication in his system, but she sees the moment it does. His eyes going wide, immediately filled with the same joy she’d felt earlier. This time she lets herself enjoy it this time, lets it settle over her now she knew Aaron was okay.

“He?” He asks, the same wonder in his voice that she’d had when she asked the same question, “The baby’s a boy?” 

“Yeah,” she says, her smile so wide she swears her cheeks could split with it, “It’s a boy. We’re having another son.” 

The joyous laugh that escapes him, the one she thought she might never hear again today, and it eases the last bit of tension that had existed in her chest, the feeling immediately replaced with love for him and their family. 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss fan fic #Aaron Hotchner Whump

[letthewhumpbegin]

Criminal Minds, s4e1

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #thomas gibson #whump #whump gifs #blood #bloody clothes #fainting #collapse #ltwbcriminalminds

[artcake]

hey! Are you taking requests? If you are do you think you could maybe do one of hotch comforting Spencer when he has a bad mental health day? Love you art 💗

Hitting a tender spot today. Everyone go hug your dad- or your mentor/father figure.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanart #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #dad hotch #sorry shippers but this is a bad week #take the time to call your dad today #or someone who fills the dad space for you #hurt/comfort #whump #sketch asks #sketch #prompts #500 celebration #500 followers #fan art #my art #art

[paininseries]

Criminal Minds s4 e1

I‘m rewatching Criminal Minds, and this scene was just too good not to gif: One of my favourite tropes, a heavy collapse due to a hidden injury, tearing down a bunch of stuff along with you.

#whump #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch #falling #collapse #unconscious #Post Explosion #fainted #faint #blood #injured #bleeding #Post collapse #Explosion #hidden injury #Favorite #Trope #mine #disoriented