#sad aaron hotchner

[softhairedhotch]

jack has complicated feelings about his father, and aaron finds a note that explains it. content/warnings: angst, alcohol/drunkeness, hints of hotchgan but no relationship, angry notes, angry jack hotchner, teen jack, arguments, haley's mentioned a few times, parent loss mention, hurt/comfort, happy ending!! word count: 6.1k also on ao3!

i can't handle change

Aaron pressed a kiss to Jessica's cheek and allowed a small smile to twitch at his chapped lips. “Hello. Is everything alright?” He asked as he got rid of his jacket. He placed his briefcase on the kitchen table, settling his go-bag down on the floor beside it, and began searching for his laptop when he realised that he hadn’t received an answer. “Jess?” He glanced her way and realised that everything was not alright. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were slightly wet with tears wiped away a few times over. Taking two large strides toward her, he reached out to rest a comforting hand over her shoulder, squeezing gently. “What's wrong?”

“Aaron…” 

Panic hit him square in the chest. “What is it? Is Jack okay? Are you okay?”

Jess shook her head with a sniffle. Timidly, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Aaron thought his heart might give out as time seemed to slow around him, watching as she unfolded the paper. It was jagged at the edges, torn unceremoniously from a small notebook–no doubt Jack’s considering there was a small dinosaur that said ‘you’re rawr-some!’ in the corner of the page–and she bit her lip as she stared down at it. “I found this,” she started, her voice shaking. “In Jack's room. I wasn't snooping, I swear, it was just on the side with his homework, and I was wondering if I should leave it, or throw it out, or, or, or, I don't know, maybe just not show you.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she offered him the note. “But Jack wrote this.”

Aaron felt numb as he reached out for it. He had no idea what to expect. He combed over every possible explanation in a matter of seconds, fearing the very worst, but nothing could have prepared him for what he found, yet it all felt expected once the initial shock subsided.

‘I HATE MY DAD’ was scrawled across the top of the page in a deep red. The ink bled through the page, Aaron had seen it when Jess had opened it up, but he didn’t realise until now that it wasn’t accidental. Jack was full of rage as he wrote it, pressing down on the pen so hard that Aaron wouldn’t be surprised if he found the broken felt in the trash. Underneath, in black pen, was a letter addressed to Aaron himself, short but in no way sweet. 

He needed some time to process before he read the rest. He folded the paper back up, inhaled sharply, choked on air for a moment, and let out a deep hum when Jess clapped his back half-heartedly. Mumbling out a weak thanks, he dropped down in the nearest chair, careful not to scrunch the paper in any way. Despite the harsh words he wasn’t ready to read, he knew it was delicate.

“Aaron?” Jess whispered, her voice sounding distant to Aaron even though she stood right beside him. His ears rang, steadily increasing in volume until it physically hurt, and time seemed to stand still. It was as if he was trapped underwater with no escape, banging fruitlessly at the sheet of ice that kept him washed away in the current. “Hey, talk to me.” She reached out for him but he ducked away, unfolding the note once more. “Aaron, this is just a thing children do. It's nothing to do with you, it's their way of getting their feelings out.”

“Jack isn't a child,” Aaron replied, voice sharp. “He's thirteen.”

“And this is what teenagers do, too. Don't let it get to you.”

Aaron shook his head, staring down at the page. The words swarmed together, becoming almost completely unreadable, and he could feel the anger–at himself, not at Jack, never at Jack–begin to take a hold of him. “I haven't read it yet.”

“What?”

“I've only read the top line.”

Jess nodded in response. “I’m not leaving until you’ve read it all then.”

He had nothing to say to that. Instead, he forced his eyes to cooperate by blinking until the fog had mostly cleared, and he mentally cursed himself for not listening to his doctor about wearing his glasses, even when he knew he was reaching the age where they were necessary. He took a deep breath and began to read.

I HATE MY DAD.

I wish I had a better dad. One who chose me instead of his shitty job. I used to think he was a hero, like Spider-Man, but now I realise he’s just Peter Parker. A man who never has time for his loved ones because he’s too busy saving the world. A man who saves everyone but not the ones closest to him. He’s not a hero, he just dresses up as one. How can I call him a hero when he’s the reason my mom died? 

Why did he save me but not her?

Aaron’s hands shook as he read it over and over. The words imprinted themselves in his mind and, once he was sure he’d accidentally memorised every word, the paper slipped out of fingers, gracefully falling to the floor. He dropped his hands to his side, clenching his fists and running his thumb soothingly over his knuckles, although it didn’t help.

“Aaron?” 

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

Jess’ face crumbled, though she tried to hide it, and she gave her own curt nod. “Okay. Well, Jack's at Owen’s house. Do you need me to pick him up?”

“No.” What was the point in that, Aaron wondered, why take him from a place he felt safe, loved, appreciated, and bring him back to a lifeless home? That’s how Jack felt, right? “Let him have fun. I'll call Owen’s parents later and ask if they need me to pick him up soon.”

“They said something about a sleepover. We thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

Aaron nodded again, eyes never leaving a piece of wallpaper that curled away from the wall. He'd been needing to fix that for years, ever since Jack tried to sneakily skateboard around the house in the early hours of the morning and fell off, the skateboard flying at the wall and tearing up the paper. ‘At least it wasn't your head’, Aaron had said when he was woken up in a panic thinking someone had broken in, and Jack had laughed in embarrassment. They'd eaten leftover pizza in the kitchen at 4am, and Aaron thought that life was good for once. Things were good. He was good.

But seeing that note, he realised none of that was true.

He wasn’t a good father. 

It was something he already knew, of course, something that nagged away at him constantly, no matter where he found himself. But realising that Jack knew that too, had written it in words, scared him more than he was willing to admit. It destroyed him. He’d never felt more like a failure than he did in that moment. 

Jess rubbed comfortingly at his back, hands as warm as they always were, but he was too numb to feel it. Exhaustion lay thick on his shoulders, weighing him down until he felt as though he might collapse right then and there, and all he wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep forever.

“You should go,” he whispered, voice hoarse. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“No, it’s, it’s fine,” he mumbled, leaning down to pick up the note. His back stretched uncomfortably as he bent over, the muscles aching from the strenuous work from that week’s case and the long flight home, and he let out a soft groan. He knew he should get a nice hot shower, or dig out an unused heating pad hidden away in one of the kitchen drawers, but he was too tired.  He needed to sleep. “I’m just gonna lay down.”

Aaron headed toward the couch and Jess tutted, grabbing at his elbow and using minimal strength to divert him toward his bedroom. He allowed her to take him wherever, too drained to fight, and she gently sat him down on the bed. “I can make you some soup,” she offered, “or some green tea. I have some in my purse.”

“Of course you have some in your purse,” he replied, huffing out a laugh. “But it’s okay. You’ve done enough, thank you.” He laid back on the bed, hardly bothering to cover himself with the duvet. It covered his legs and that was enough. “I just need to, just need, uh, just…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence; he was out like a light.

Jess smiled at him, a sad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes (they never did anymore), and pressed a kiss to his forehead. She watched him for a moment, appreciated that he was allowed some form of peace in his sleep, and left, gently shutting the door with a heavy heart.

When Aaron woke up a few hours later, he couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened. His mind was completely silent–a rare occasion–and he felt calm. But then, as he wondered how Jack was doing, and where he was, and if he was okay, it all came rushing back to him.

Jack hated him. 

His son blamed him for the death of his mother, and he blamed him for never being around enough. Aaron understood, though, because he blamed himself for those things too. He always had and he always will.

Glancing at his watch, he noted that it was almost 9pm. He muttered under his breath and pulled up his contact list, scrolling through the list until he found Owen’s mom’s number, and dialled it. The call was quick–Jack wanted to sleep over, Aaron said that that was fine–and he dropped back against the bed with a deep sigh. He stared at the ceiling, hardly blinking, before forcing himself up with an angry huff. He knew he couldn’t wallow in self-pity, he had to do something. Anything to take his mind off things. To give him space to think about how to handle the situation.

Aaron changed into comfortable loungewear, avoiding the mirror in the corner of the room as he did, and made his way to the kitchen. His plan was to get himself a coffee, maybe two, and power through the pile of paperwork in his briefcase that never seemed to end. Before he could make it to the kitchen, however, he came to a stop at Jack’s bedroom door.

For a moment, he imagined that Jack was in his room. He pictured what he’d be doing–probably talking loudly to his friends as he played on the Xbox, or softly singing along to his music as he focused on his homework–and his heart hurt. He knocked on the door as if Jack was there to answer, and after a long silence, gently opened the door. He wasn’t there to snoop–he’d never–but he wanted to look around the place. He wanted to feel close to Jack, even though he knew his son didn’t feel the same way.

As he stepped toward Jack’s bed, the covers a dark blue with white spots, something Jack had picked out when he claimed he was too old for his dinosaur sheets, Aaron realised he couldn’t blame his son for hating him. Not when he knew how easy it was to hate a father. Not when he knew how easy it was to hate himself.

Aaron sat down on the bed, a groan ripping through his lips at the steep drop, and glanced around the room. There were a few pictures messily attached to a corkboard beside Jack’s desk, and he noticed that there were none of the two of them together. He knew they had pictures, he had one of them on his desk at work, and he knew Jack had a few printed out for himself, but it was clear he wasn’t proud enough of his father to keep those pictures up anymore. Ignoring the guilt that curled in his bones, Aaron laid back and stared at the ceiling. It was bare, the ceiling, but the fading marks of glow-in-the-dark stars were still visible. Jack had loved them when he was a kid, especially on dark nights alone when he was sure someone was going to hurt him at any moment, but as he grew into a teen, he’d torn them down. 

Maybe that was the first sign of his hatred, Aaron thought. Or it could have been when the bed sheets changed and no longer represented his personality. Or after his mom died, when he finally figured out that she was never coming home and he’d never see her again. Hell, maybe it was when Haley had left Aaron, before Jack could even put a word to his thoughts but knew how to feel hurt. How to blame.

Aaron’s head pounded, a constant thudding that refused to subside, and he forced himself out of Jack’s room before he could fall into a restless sleep on his bed. He headed straight to the coffee machine and made himself the strongest coffee he could before settling down at the dining table, sipping at it and letting it burn his tongue. He felt like he deserved it. Once the mug was mostly empty, he sorted through his upcoming reports through most important to least important and began working on the one needed early next morning. He caught sight of his go-bag on the floor and sighed, annoyed that he hadn’t had the chance to throw the clothes into the washing machine before he passed out, but he left it until he stood up for more coffee. 

Hours passed and he hadn’t even made a dent in the reports. He sighed, forcing himself up for his fourth–or fifth, maybe sixth?–coffee of the day, when the front door swung open. His first thought was to reach for his gun, too many years on the job training him for the worst, but then he caught sight of a tear-stained Jack and he hovered awkwardly between reaching for his weapon and staring at his son.

When the initial shock dissipated, Aaron moved forward slowly. “Jack?” He asked, freezing when Jack took a few steps back. “What’s wrong, buddy?” 

“Nothing.” 

Jack turned on his heel and sped toward his room, shaking off his jacket as if it burnt his skin, and Aaron followed him close behind. “No, don’t give me that. What happened to the sleepover?”

“I didn’t wanna have one.”

“But Owen’s mom said–”

“She lied!” Jack turned to face him, eyes full of so much sadness it physically pained Aaron to see. “Owen wanted the sleepover, I didn’t. I just wanted to see, to see if…”

Aaron held his breath as he waited for Jack to finish.

“I just wanted to see if you’d say no so we could finally spend some time together.”

All the air rushed out of his lungs. 

“Jack,” he started, but Jack was having none of it and slammed the door in his face. “Jack…” he called out again, voice weak. He hated feeling weak but it was unavoidable when it came to his son. There was no answer other than the sound of Jack locking his door, and Aaron hung his head. “I’m sorry.” It was a weak apology, one that stained his tongue with how false it felt, and he knew it, but it was all he could offer. 

Stepping away from the door, Aaron had no idea what to do. They’d never fought, not really. Aaron had promised himself that he’d never take his anger out on Jack, no matter what happened. As he made his way back to the kitchen, he felt ashamed. He stared down at his reports, unable to find it in himself to sit back down and work. 

Work could wait; it could always wait for Jack.

But could it? 

His job was hard enough as it is, even more so as a single father. There was never time to plan for events–he was either there, or he wasn’t. But he tried his best, he really did. And he thought that Jack knew that, and now he knew otherwise. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, he unlocked his phone and went straight to Jess’ contact number. His finger was inches away from calling her when he stopped himself, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose to dull the ache thrumming through him. He couldn’t call her, not for this. He went to her for everything and she came running when he called, always so willing to care for Jack without taking time for herself. He had to stop asking her to raise his own son for him. He had to stop asking her to stand in for her sister. He swiped away from her contact and scrolled down further to Derek’s name, dialling it before he could stop himself.

Derek answered after the third ring. “Hey, Hotch. We got a case?”

“No,” he replied after a long pause, suddenly anxious. Why was he even calling? What was he even going to say? “Uh, sorry, wrong number.”

Derek let out a loud laugh on the other end of the line. “There is no way you just said that, man. Seriously, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I was meant to call Jess, it’s just, uh, something with Jack, and–”

“Is he being bullied again?” 

Aaron sighed. “No, it’s something else. Something worse.”

There was a shuffle on the other end of the line and he could hear the opening and closing of a door. “I’ll be over ASAP.”

“Morgan, no–” But it was no use, he’d already hung up. “Shoot.”

Derek was at Aaron’s door quicker than he expected. He knocked a specific pattern before letting himself in and making his way to where Aaron stood. A crate of beer was in his left hand, his phone in his right, and he grinned when Aaron glanced at the alcohol. “I wasn’t sure how bad, so…” Derek shrugged. Aaron reached out for a beer and opened it with ease, downing it in one go. “Woah. Very bad then. Should have gotten something stronger, huh?”

“Jack hates me,” Aaron grumbled before he could stop himself. The beer wasn’t enough to loosen him up yet but he trusted Derek. He always trusted Derek.

Derek raised his eyebrows, his lips twitching into a disbelieving smile. “No way, man. That kid loves you.” A loud yell came from Jack’s bedroom as he raged over a video game and Derek’s eyebrows shot up even higher somehow. “What happened?”

Instead of repeating himself, Aaron reached into his pocket and pulled out Jack’s note. It was scrunched up into a ball–he’d gotten annoyed and tossed it in the trash before anxiously scooping it back out seconds later–and Derek took it from him, slowly unfolding it. He read it, his jaw going tense, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, before folding it neatly and placing it on the counter. “Yeah,” Aaron spat out, reaching for another beer and uncapping it, sipping at it this time. “That’s what happened.”

Derek was at a loss for words. Finally, though, after he took several thoughtful gulps of his own beer, he shook his head. “That’s just what kids do, man.”

Aaron fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s what Jess said.”

“Because she’s right. Jack just turned, what, thirteen? He’s entering his rebellious phase, so what? We’ve all been there, man.”

“Morgan, we’ve seen children’s rebellious phases. We’ve see what can happen to them; we know what loss at a young age does to these kids.”

“So, what, you’re saying you think Jack’s going to become a serial killer based on this note?”

Aaron almost choked on his beer. “What? No!”

“Then what are you trying to say? Because from where I’m standing it sounds like you’re comparing him to the children we’ve had to put away. Those children are troubled; Jack isn’t.”

“But he is.” Aaron polished off his second beer. It wasn’t his drink of choice, he preferred the burn of whiskey sliding down his throat, but it’d do for now. He needed to stop thinking so clearly, so coherently, just for a moment. “He lost his mom at a young age, Morgan. He heard her die. Heard me kill the man who murdered her. He’s never gonna get over that, that trauma will follow him for life. And I’m never around. To him, he lost both parents that night. I know I lost myself that night, anyway.”

“Hotch–”

“And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Talk to him.”

“How?”

Derek shrugged. “I can’t help you with that, man, you have to figure that out yourself. All I know is that it needs to come from the heart. Tell him how you feel, let him know you love him, make sure he knows that you’re trying. Because you are, I know you are.”

“Not hard enough.”

“Cut the bullshit.” Derek stepped closer and their eyes met. Aaron couldn’t look away. “You are trying, man. I’ve seen it first hand. Whenever you have the chance, you wrap up a case as quickly as you can just so you can get a few more minutes with that boy before he falls asleep. And if you know you’re not making it home that day, you call him any chance you can get. I know he doesn't answer as much as you would like because he’s always busy with school or friends now, but I see the effort you’re making, man. You hearing me? You are trying, I can see it. And Jack will too, eventually, but right now you and Jess are all he has, and all he knows is that he sees Jess more than you.” Aaron opened his mouth to say something but Derek cut him off. “No, let me finish. Trust me, I am not saying that to hurt you.. I’m just calling it how I see it. You’re trying, man, and you’re doing your best. You’re a good dad, Hotch, I need you to know that. But Jack isn’t going to understand that unless you sit him down and talk to him.”

Aaron had no words. He turned his beer a few times in his hand but couldn’t bring himself to take another sip as he mulled over the words. They hit him much harder than he expected but he knew deep down that it was all true.

“Jack’s a smart kid,” Derek continued, clapping him on the shoulder. “He’ll understand if you just give him a chance. But for now, give him some time to cool off and think.”

“Right.”

“Which means that gives us time to drink, huh?” Derek beamed, throwing his head back to drain the last of his beer. “Let’s get something stronger, though, this beer ain’t cutting it.”

“There’s some whiskey in the cupboard over there,” Aaron pointed toward it, “help yourself.”

“Nuh-uh, I ain’t gonna be the only one drinking this stuff,” Derek laughed, grabbing the whiskey and two glasses. “You better join me.”

And join him he did. 

A few hours passed and Aaron was, respectfully, wasted. He knew how to handle his alcohol, he knew his exact cut-off point, but he’d exceeded that by almost three times. Derek matched his energy, drinking as much as he did, and the whiskey bottle was almost empty by the time they were both falling asleep on the couch. 

“I meant what I said, by the way,” Derek spoke up, words slurring as he tried–and failed–to sit up. Instead, he chose to lay down across the couch, flicking his long legs over Aaron’s. Aaron didn’t have enough energy to push his legs away. “You’re a good dad.”

“You’re just saying that because you feel like you have to.”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the P. He laughed at himself afterwards, a small chuckle turning into roaring laughter that had him sliding off the couch, before he managed to compose himself. Aaron laughed alongside him for a short while, the alcohol making him feel like he was floating, but reality crashed down on him once again and guilt seeped into his bloodstream. “Saying it because it’s true.”

“Whatever, man.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow, laughing again. “Did Aaron Hotchner just say ‘whatever, man’? What’s next, you gonna rock up to work in a hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts? You gonna hang a surfboard on your wall instead of a bike this time?”

“Please… don’t remind me of the bike.”

“I will remind you of the bike, man, because seriously, what was that?”

Aaron shrugged. “I was in my biking phase. It reminded me of my time back in Seattle. It was…”

“It was funny, that’s what it was. But healthy, too.” Derek thought for a moment and gasped dramatically, reaching forward to lightly slap at Aaron’s upper arm. “Hey, we should go biking together.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Right now?”

“Jesus, not right now. I think I’d throw up just trying to sit on the damn thing.”

Aaron groaned and held his stomach. “Don’t mention throwing up or I’ll throw up.”

Derek covered his mouth with hand and Aaron closed his eyes to steady his swimming vision. Behind them, Jack’s bedroom door opened, and Aaron tensed as he focused on the tentative footsteps heading toward the bathroom. Derek began to talk about a brawl he witnessed at a local pub to fill the silence but Aaron wasn’t paying attention. His thoughts drowned out Derek’s voice, far more violent than the fight he was explaining, and when Jack came back into the room, the sound of footsteps was all he could hear.

“Hey Jack!” Derek said, sitting up with a smile on his face. “How’s it hanging?”

“Alright.”

“Come on, man, I haven’t spoken to you in ages!”

“Morgan,” Aaron warned, voice low. “You said to give him some time.”

“Yeah, from you,” Derek shrugged. “But who needs time away from Uncle Derek?”

Jack eyed them, unamused. “I need to go back to my game, Uncle Derek. It was nice seeing you.”

“Jack,” Aaron started, turning to face his son. At the sight of him, however, all words escaped him and all he could do was stare.

Rolling his eyes, Jack turned away from them and pushed open his bedroom door. “Wow, nice talk, Aaron.” And as if that wasn’t enough, he slammed the door so hard Aaron was sure there’d be a noise complaint in the morning.

“Holy shit,” Derek muttered, sitting up so fast his neck cracked unpleasantly. “Did he just…”

Aaron felt sick to his stomach. “He did.”

“And you’re just gonna let him do that?”

“For now, yes.” Aaron reached for the last of the whiskey and opened the bottle, throwing it back without bothering to pour a glass. “You should leave.”

“No way am I going to leave after–”

“Derek. Leave.” His voice was desperate; Derek had never heard him so vulnerable before. “Please.”

“Okay, man, sure, yeah. I’ll, I’ll leave.” Derek stood up, stumbled, and looked around as if he couldn’t physically get himself to move. “But only after I know that you’re okay.”

“Morgan–”

“No, Aaron. Only after I know you’re okay.”

Aaron was too tired to argue. 

The next day, Aaron woke up in bed and had no clue how he got there. All he knew was that his head was throbbing, his body felt weak, and he was wrapped up in his sheets like a newborn. Derek must have tucked him in. The thought made him flustered, albeit not entirely unpleasantly, and he pushed it aside as he forced himself out of bed.

Feeling gross, Aaron made his way to the shower and put the temperature as high as it could go, stepping in the moment it reached its peak. The water burned him, his skin quickly becoming bright red, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He stood there for what felt like hours before getting out, not even bothering with cleaning himself. He had no energy to commit to a task that felt so menial. Throwing on the first clothes he could find, Aaron finally allowed himself to enter the kitchen and make himself a coffee. To his surprise, though, Jack was there, making himself cereal, and at the sight of his dad he began to walk away, leaving everything on the counter.

“Jack.”

“Leave me alone.”

A switch flicked in Aaron’s head. He wasn’t going to take this anymore. “Jack Hotchner, you listen to me right now.”

Jack paused, stood still for a few moments, and slowly turned around. He looked nervous, not used to his dad taking such a sharp tone with him, but he nodded nonetheless. “Okay.”

“We are gonna sit down and we are gonna talk. Man-to-man. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… awful,” Jack said, but he managed a small smile. “But okay.”

Jack moved toward the couch and Aaron quickly made himself a coffee, grabbing both the mug and bowl of cereal before sitting beside his son. He passed Jack his cereal and watched him intently, waiting for him to take a few bites before talking. “Jess found something you wrote and she showed it to me.” Jack tensed but continued to silently eat, avoiding Aaron’s eyes. “On it, you said you hate me.”

“Dad, I–”

“Oh, so it’s dad now?” 

Jack looked incredibly guilty. “I’m sorry. I really, uh, really shouldn’t have called you by… something other than Dad. You didn’t, like, deserve that.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have, and I didn’t. But we need to talk about it, okay?” Aaron took a few sips of his coffee before placing his mug on the table beside him. “I understand that I’m no hero, especially not to you. Not after…” Aaron swallowed nervously. “Not after mom. I know that. But I do try, I need you to know that.”

Jack nodded. “You’re just… never mind.”

Aaron reached out and clasped Jack’s shoulder firmly in his hand. He waited patiently until Jack found enough courage to look up at him. “It’s okay, you can say it.”

“You’re never around.”

“I know.”

“And I need you around.”

A tear threatened to escape Aaron’s eye. “I know.”

“I don’t hate you, Dad. I was just… I was angry. You hadn’t been home in a week and all I wanted to tell you was some good news I got and I couldn’t.”

“You can always call me.”

“Sometimes you don’t answer,” he sighed, looking away again. He stirred his cereal but didn’t bother to eat anymore. “And I know it’s because you’re on a case, and you’re out there risking your life to save people and make the world a better place, but it hurts. And I wanted to tell you in person.”

Aaron nodded somberly. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Nuh-uh, we’re having a serious talk here.”

“Wow,” Aaron chuckled, “okay then. I guess I’ll reprimand you more and–”

“Oh, no.”

“–then you can tell me, huh?”

“I regret what I said, can I take it back?”

Bumping his shoulder against Jack’s, Aaron smiled. “After I say the rest of what I need to say.” Jack groaned, and Aaron rolled his eyes playfully. “I know you don’t hate me, buddy, but those words you wrote really hurt.”

“More than when you got stabbed?”

Aaron winced. “Way more. But we can move past that, it’s fine. I want to ask you something.”

“Okay…”

“If I were to take… time off work, how would you feel?”

“More than two days this time?” Jack asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Maybe even three days?”

“Alright, don’t get too sassy now, bud. You’re still in trouble. But, yes, more than two days, and more than three. What if, what if I…” Aaron couldn’t believe what he was about to suggest. “What if I left the job?”

“What?” Jack’s mouth hung open. “No, Dad, I’m not asking you to do that. You love your job.”

“I know you’re not asking, Jack. I’m offering. And yeah, I do love the job, but I love you more. And, truth be told, it’s getting too much for me.”

Jack's face became one of concern and he sat up straight, scrutinising Aaron from head to toe. If it wasn’t so endearing to witness, Aaron’s sure he’d have broken down right then and there. He looked so much like Haley when he looked at him like that. “Did you get hurt on the last case? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Aaron moved Jack’s bowl away from the two of them before pulling Jack into a hug. He squeezed him tightly and took a deep breath before answering. “No, bud. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“Really?” 

“Of course. You’re the best kid I know.”

Jack wrapped his arms around Aaron’s neck so tightly that he feared he might really need to go to the hospital if he kept up with that grip. He was growing stronger each day, both mentally and physically, and Aaron felt emotional at the thought. “Aren’t I, like, the only kid you know.”

“You really, like, believe that?” Aaron said, mocking him gently. 

Pulling away, Jack laughed. “Don’t make me take back everything I just said.”

“Oof, bud, too soon.” 

“Sorry,” he shrugged, not looking apologetic in the slightest. “Does this mean we’re okay?”

“Of course we are. I don’t think you could do anything that would end up with us never okay again.”

“Even if I keyed your car?”

“You what?!”

“Oh my god, Dad, it’s a joke, it’s a joke I swear,” Jack said through laughter. “Sorry, I forgot you don’t do well with jokes.”

“No, I suppose I don’t,” Aaron replied, dropping his shoulders in relief. “That was always your mom’s thing.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence, both reminiscing over Haley. Aaron remembered how hard she’d laugh at her own jokes and the way she’d light up the room as she did. She always worried that it was annoying but Aaron promised her that it’d never annoy him, and it never did. She was endlessly brilliant to him, and always would be. Looking at Jack, he felt the same way.

“So,” Aaron started, breaking the silence. Jack looked up at him expectantly. “What was the good news you wanted to tell me?”

“Oh.” He grew sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, and Aaron cocked his head, intrigued. “Uh, well, promise not to get mad?”

“Now I’m worried, so I don’t know if I can make that promise.”

“It’s not bad, I swear.”

“Okay… I promise.”

Jack took a deep breath, wringing his hands together in his lap. “I kinda, sorta, maybe, just might, I don’t know–”

“Jack.”

“Ihaveagirlfriend.”

Aaron’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I have a girlfriend.”

It took a few seconds for it to register in Aaron’s mind. At first, he wanted to demand information so that he could send the names to Penelope for background checks on her parents and her parents’ parents, but he refrained from saying that out loud. His second thought was that Jack was too young to have a girlfriend, but then he remembered his first kiss was with a boy behind the school bins when he was seven, so he couldn’t say anything. And then he remembered what his own father did to him when he told his parents he had a girlfriend when he was eleven, and how it took months for that broken arm to heal, and he realised that he was nothing like his father. “That’s great, buddy. What’s her name?”

“Lola.”

Aaron smiled. “That’s a pretty name. Tell me everything.”

Jack beamed up at him and scooted closer so that he could lean into Aaron’s side, burying himself even closer when Aaron grinned back and wrapped his arm tightly around his shoulders, before he began to ramble about his new girlfriend. They’d met at school in art class and she had the sweetest laugh, according to Jack, and he was sure he was going to marry her. As Aaron listened, he thought back to Haley, and he couldn’t help but feel so proud. Things were good again, and this time he was sure they’d stay that way.

#aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner and jack hotchner #aaron hotchner & jack hotchner #jessica brooks #haley hotchner #derek hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #sad aaron hotchner

[hotchley]

look at how his tears ricochet

It's Results Day eve so as you can imagine, stress levels are high. Which means if you have anything negative to say, don't. Anyways, this is that crying in the shower fic that's probably been in the works since last year. There's also a shocking lack of actual crying in the shower. And much like 100, it got very dark very quickly. If any of the triggers may impact you, give it a miss. There's no shame in that. I'd rather you be safe than upset. And yes, the title is from my tears ricochet, it was the only thing better than crying in the shower

Onto the fic!

Trigger Warnings: crimes against children (kidnapping and being held but they are rescued), abuse of power (hotch feels he's crossing a line), intergenerational trauma, discussions of cycles of abuse, intrusive thoughts surrounding caring for children, negative self-image, disassociation, extremely self-destructive behaviour, canon-typical violence, someone injures a person when in a state of disassociation (it is not excused, just explained and help is being found), mentions of parentification, brief implications of potential hypothermia, blood- if I've missed any, let me know!

read on ao3!

It happens in the middle of an interrogation. Like most times, there is no real warning that it is going to happen. It just does, causing his voice to break slightly as he shoves his hand into his pocket so the suspect does not notice that they were shaking.

Emily's eyes dart to him. Of course she has noticed. She always notices. She frowns at him for a moment, and then swiftly takes over, pretending that Hotch's pause was one of anger as she snaps at him before turning to their suspect and telling them everything is going to be okay.

Hotch takes that moment to pull himself together and he forces himself to breathe. It is not the time. He cannot fall apart. Not when there is a little boy out there, desperately screaming for someone to help, and the man sitting between him and Emily is the only one that can do anything about it.

"Tell us where you took him," he says, keeping his voice dangerously calm. It makes him sick, impersonating his father, but it is the only way he can fulfil the role that he has to play. 

The only way he can act like he was filled with such anger and hate is if he closes his eyes and pretends he was a fly on the fall when his father would come home after a difficult day at work, ready to take it out on his wife and eldest son.

He just dreads the day where the line between the role he is playing and the person he really is becomes too blurred and he can't tell the difference. Because one day it will come, and on that day, he will kiss Jack's forehead one last time and leave. He will leave, and never return and Jack will eventually understand. 

Aaron Hotchner is not a good man. He is a coward hiding behind fancy credentials and a hard stare. There had been a time, only a few years ago, where he believed he was better than his father. He thought he had broken the cycle and saved his son from the same fate he had suffered, but he hadn't. Hotch had only ever known a broken mother and a twisted father, but at least he had them.

What is Jack going to know? His mother is dead, his only memory of her being one of fear and sadness. He will grow up believing she was perfect and beautiful and ethereal- which she had been- but in a way that is unhealthy. In a way that nobody living can ever compare to. And he will grow up with a father that is so afraid of the man in the mirror that most days, he didn't even look at it.

"I've not taken anyone anywhere," their suspect says with a smirk.

Hotch fights to keep a hold of that anger. He needs it, to survive this interrogation, to get through to this case, to go home as the loving father that doesn’t lash out at the wrong people. He needs to hold onto the anger so he can convince himself it isn’t his. 

That it is just an act. A ruse. 

He tells himself it is no different to the women flirting to gain information. Only it is. It really, truly is.

"If you don't cooperate with us, I swear, I will find you and I will hurt you so badly you'll wish I had killed you when I first found you,” he snarls. 

Deep down, he knows this is wrong, and he is bordering on the thin line between getting information and causing fear, but he is a bad person. He does not care. All he cares about is the little boy that is never going to know a normal life. The little boy that he is still no closer to finding. The little boy that he sees Jack and Henry in.

“Will you? I don’t think you have the guts to do that. I think everything you’re saying is a lie that is part of a silly facade, designed to shake me and force me into giving up the location. Which, by the way, I do not have. Because I haven't kidnapped anyone. As I have said, multiple times now."

“You can say that till you’re blue in the face. But you’re lying. You are telling a filthy lie, because that’s the only thing you’re good for. It’s the only thing you have ever been good for. If you’re not going to cooperate with us, then that’s fine. It’s your choice. But we’re going to find the child you took. And then I’m going to treat you the same way I treated the man who killed my wife.”

He’s toeing a line, but he’s spiralling and he needs to hurt someone. None of the management tips are working. He wants to feel blood on his knuckles and bruise the flesh of someone else. 

“Are you? What did you do to him? I bet it was terrifying,” their unsub mocked.

Emily opened her mouth to intervene. Things were getting out of hand. And even though she had no idea what she was meant to say, there was a reason her and Hotch were doing the interrogation together. She had always been the best at pulling him back from the edge.

“I fought him, and I beat him to death. I beat him past death. And it still wasn’t enough. Maybe it’ll be enough if it’s you.”

The unsub- no, not unsub, person they’re interrogating, innocent until proven guilty and all that- doesn’t react. They’ve got years of hearing empty threats and having other threats be carried out to react in any sort of way that would give Hotch what he so clearly wants.

But Emily reacts. Barely. But she does it. It solidifies the spiral into the abyss. It’s strange to think about how one single movement can completely change a person’s life. Because again: she hardly moves. All she does is flinch. Ever so slightly. She is scared- any rational person would be- but not of Hotch. For him. And more importantly, she’s shocked and disappointed. Shocked that things had gone so far and disappointed in herself for not realising there was something going on earlier. She is not disappointed in him. She would never be disappointed in him.

Hotch sees Emily react. And for a single moment, he becomes Aaron. Emily morphs into Prentiss because they could use this to their advantage. They could use it to find the child. Convince the unsub that Emily is truly on his side. Convince him that Emily is so disgusted by Hotch that she will sympathise with a man that may or may not be innocent. Build that trust till he lets his guard slip and then sneak in till he tells them everything they could possibly want from him.

“I get it now. You have a son, don’t you? Tell me, Agent Hotchner. What kind of parent do you think your child is going to be with you as a father? You know, since you seem to be no better than your own. I think it’s going to be everything to witness. Who do you think you are, trying to break the cycles when they are present in your blood and all your DNA knows?”

Aaron’s eyes widen and the facade cracks a second time.

Emily focuses on the words and not the emotions they invoke, and she finds the crack in the armour that she was searching for.

“Did you break any cycles?” She asks, as gently and conversationally as she can.

“How could I? He’s still- he’s in my head, and he’s in the people I see in the street, and he’s just so present and I can’t get away from him until I do everything he tells me to do-” The suspect trails off and Emily can’t help the way her heart twinges. This is a man that has only ever known pain and destruction. A part of her wonders if he ever stood a chance, when everyone and everything turned their back on him.

“What did he tell you to do?” She carries on.

Hotch closes the door behind him, but she forces herself to maintain eye contact with the suspect. They’re so close. And someone else needs to be strong.

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh god, I’ve ruined everything. I’ve- I’ve taken something from him. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, I swear. Just- don’t make me go back to that house. Please. Don’t make me.”

“We won’t. Just tell me where the little boy is, and you won’t ever have to go back there again. I promise.”

The unsub tells her, and then Emily’s the one gently closing the door behind her as she tells Garcia to get as much information on the building as she can, and then follows JJ and Reid into one of the cars. Hotch is nowhere to be seen, and she hopes he’s with Derek and Dave. They’re braver than her and they’ll say the words.

When they find the child, it’s Morgan who wipes his tears and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. Aaron is shaking too much to do it. Emily notices that his gun is still holstered and wonders if it will be like the months following Foyet’s death. They scheduled unofficial arms qualifications randomly, under the guise they wanted help with technique. Just to be sure.

Although the boy is terrified and just wants his parents, they all know that with the right resources, he will have a life. A good life, full of joy and love and sadness and anger. Perhaps it won’t be as normal as it should have been, but he has not been given a death sentence. Each of them are proof of that. Little pieces of themselves get revealed during the course of each case, and it was probably the little details of their childhoods that had been mentioned in passing that allowed his parents to breathe properly.

The father goes to hug Hotch. He steps away, and JJ closes her eyes. Aaron turns and wipes his eyes with such little subtlety that suggests he is more far gone than anyone had initially suspected, then holds his left hand out.

His left hand. The one he shoots with.

They take it gratefully. The mother watches him, a knowing look on her face. She makes no attempt to hug him, but she does smile and say her thank yous. Aaron returns the smile, and says they could contact him if they needed anything.

As they walk away, it occurs to the remaining members of the team that her hair had been the brightest blonde any of them had seen. Maybe she had more in common with Haley than they had initially assumed.

Before returning to the motel, Aaron pulls over at the police station. Nobody gets out with him, even though Emily stops behind him. She wants to get out and ask what is going on- there are some things that cannot be explained through a text message- but it’s too risky. None of them know how long he will be in there for, and if they get caught talking about him behind his back he will retreat into himself ever more.

Aaron’s return to the car is preceded by a woman who looks like a defence attorney. Derek notices that she’s holding a card. Aaron’s hand has ink stains along his pinkie. Lord only knows what they were saying to each other.

“It was a good case,” Dave says. 

Aaron doesn’t take his eyes off the road. If he hadn’t been turning so smoothly, Spencer could’ve convinced himself he wasn’t really there. That he was looking without seeing anything. Perhaps he was. They’d been to the town before, a few years back, but Aaron’s memory for roads was unparalleled by all but his.

As soon as they enter, Aaron is walking up the stairs to his room. Upon their arrival, there had been a shared relief that they wouldn’t need to share rooms. Long and back-to-back cases wore on everyone’s tempers and love for one another so it was a relief to have space and time away. But now it feels like a curse because there is nothing they can do to stop him from isolating himself.

“Give him space,” Dave says.

The question remains the same as it always does. How much space do they give before it becomes irresponsible? And how much of a watch can they hold over him before it becomes insulting?

Everyone nods, then starts to go about their post-case rituals. Derek is on the phone to Penelope, JJ and Emily are changing into more comfortable clothes so they can go for a walk and Dave is finding the nearest bar. Normally, Spencer would either join Emily or Derek. Today, something tells him to go upstairs. His room is next to Hotch’s.

“I think I’m going to go for a nap,” he says. The team appreciates being told when plans change.

“Sure, that makes sense,” JJ says. She’s texting Will, so he understands her detachment from the conversation. Emily and Derek nod, also already preoccupied.

“Spencer. Remember. Space,” Dave says. He’s not being unkind.

“I know. I won’t forget,” he says. Of course he won’t. But that’s not what he means.

“You’re a good kid.” Dave calls the people he sees as children that. He’s not used the term with Aaron in at least three months. It’s the third time that case that Spencer has heard it in place of his name. He wonders if Dave knows.

“Thanks,” he says before turning and walking upstairs.

He knocks on Aaron’s door. “It’s me.”

Aaron pauses his pacing. “Spencer, I know you’re just trying to help but I really, really need to be alone now.” His voice hardly shakes, but he can’t tell whether he’s grateful or not. He needs them to know that he’s struggling otherwise there’s no point in screaming, but he wants them to run before they help.

“I know. But I’ll be here if you need me.”

He nods, then remembers Spencer can’t see him. “Thank you.”

Spencer walks away and into his room. Aaron puts the lock and chain on his own one, breath already coming in short breaths. He feels the familiar haziness of a post-case drop and knows that he needs to eat, drink and sleep before he completely crashes.

There’s nobody watching him but Haley’s knowing gaze and Jack’s childish innocence. And they aren’t real, it’s just a moment in time that Jessica had once captured. Haley doesn’t know anything about him anymore, she’s six feet under and it’s his fault. Just like how Jack no longer has a childish innocence because it’s been stripped from him.

Just like his.

Just like the unsub.

Just like their victim.

He reaches into his bag for a water bottle to hold, but his hand closes around something soft instead. Confused, he pulls it out.

It’s a giraffe. The mother had handed it to him when they’d first interviewed her, saying that as soon as they found her baby, he could give it to him and he would feel better. Safer. Like he really did get to come home.

And in between everything else that had happened, he’d forgotten. Now there is a boy that is going to have to trust that nothing bad was going to happen as the darkness closes in, and he would be forced to confront it without his favourite item. He had already lost enough.

It’s stupid, to be getting so overwhelmed by a giraffe plushie. But it isn’t about the plushie. It’s about everything else.

He’s getting overwhelmed. He is starting to feel disconnected from his body, like he’s watching his life play out from someplace else and that there’s a thought he can’t quite put into words, but thinking it will do something terrible.

He drops the plushie as his throat starts to close. Every small detail from the case seems to be coming to the absolute forefront of his mind and there’s nowhere to lock them away because it’s all too present and too much.

The images pile up on top of each other, each more damning the one before. The smirk before the unsub had assessed his character, turning his insides to ice. The dazed expression on the boy’s face, as though he couldn’t quite believe he’d been saved. The gratitude the mother had shown, even though he didn’t deserve any of it because- because

Emily had flinched. 

She’d flinched away from him and closer to an unsub because she felt safer there than with him.

He’d scared her.

And he didn’t know if there was anything- words, actions, sacrifices- in the world that would make up for that.

Before he can fully process what he’s doing, ice cold water is assaulting his back and freezing his skin even through his suit jacket and shirt that he makes no effort to remove even though they were a present from Dave and dry-cleaning will be hell.

He’s so unaware that he doesn’t even know he’s crying till he tastes salt. The realisation only causes him to sob harder because this is who he really is. This is what happens when the walls come down and there’s nobody left to pretend for.

He falls apart, and it’s disgusting to see.

His clothes are soaked through. He’s starting to shiver. Hair is plastered to his face and he can’t bring himself to push it off because now he looks messy. The tears falling from his eyes mix with the water that is still cascading with too much pressure. As he stands to turn it off, he slips and bangs his hip against the tub.

Maybe he screams. Maybe he doesn’t say anything because there’s nobody to hear him. But he can’t help but feel as though it’s a sign. He knows he needs to get up and get out of the shower because he is shivering and uncomfortable, but perhaps there would be something good in giving up. If he gave up, he would never scare anyone again.

What Aaron hadn’t accounted for was scaring someone whilst he was still alive, and the response it would create.

Spencer heard him fall from his room. Or more accurately, he heard something from Aaron’s room as he stood opposite the door, debating whether or not he should go in. He understood they needed to respect his space, but there was something uncomfortable about sitting in his room whilst his friend was struggling so close to him.

“Hotch?” He called out.

There had been no response, and he had hovered for a few moments.

Aaron did scream. Spencer heard it. And whilst he didn’t have Derek’s strength, he did have Derek’s technique. Within seconds (and on his first attempt) the door flies open. Aaron isn’t in the bedroom, and he panics for a second.

Then he hears the shower running.

He should have known. Back when Gideon was with the team, he used to set a timer as soon as Hotch said he was going to shower. And if it went over a certain number of minutes- nobody else on the team ever knew quite what the number was- he would go in and make sure everything was okay.

Reid had thought it was strange until he saw Hotch’s suit hanging up to dry.

“Hotch? I’m coming into the bathroom,” he announces. But if his suspicions are correct, Hotch will be too far gone to process his words.

Spencer doesn’t have the words. Hotch is sitting in the shower, hair plastered to his face. His eyes are red, silver lines embedded onto his cheeks as tears continue to silently stream down his face. The water is causing him to shiver, but it’s like he hasn’t even noticed. He’s still talking to himself, but the words aren’t making any sense.

And that strange but familiar sensation, of watching your parent become your child, washes over him.

He needs to do something. Anything. 

Again, he doesn’t have Morgan’s strength, but he has the same first aid training as a paramedic. He knows how to lift someone safely. Hotch will likely support some of his own weight since he’s conscious, but Spencer knows he needs to be careful or he risks hurting himself.

“Aaron, I’m going to put my arms on you. It’s just to lift you out of the bathtub. That’s all,” he says.

He doesn’t get a response, but they don’t have time to wait for Hotch to come back to himself. He just turns the shower off, and leans forward. Then it suddenly occurs to him that he needs to make sure that everything is normal, or at least not bad enough to require immediate hospitalisation. 

It happens in the space of a second that feels like every millisecond plays out in slow motion. Aaron touches Spencer’s face. With his hand, and a shocking amount of force. Then Spencer’s hand falls away and there’s a sudden surge of pain. 

When he presses his hand to his face, it comes back streaked with red. Perhaps it indicates some deeper issue with his relationship to his body and the strain it can survive, but his first thought is not concern for his hearing or his health. His first thought is fear about how Hotch will react when he realises what he's done.

But now he’s back to being himself, and Hotch is still sitting and shivering.

He does the only thing he can. The phone rings twice before it’s answered.

“Spencer?”

“Derek,” he whispers. 

He hears movement, and he knows he doesn’t need to say anymore. He’s not sure he’d be able to say anymore either.

“Hotch? Can you hear me?”

Hotch doesn’t reply. Spencer sighs. Until Aaron comes back to him, he isn’t quite sure what he should do. He doesn’t want to try and lift him again because it could be dangerous. His face hurts, and there’s blood dripping onto his shirt, but he can’t turn his back. Not yet.

But he needs to. 

He walks backwards, keeping an eye on Hotch. Then he turns, runs into the bedroom and pulls the duvet off the bed. It’s the best he can do, even if it’s not ideal.

“Aaron, I’m just going to put this on you because you’re really cold right now,” he says.

Aaron nods, and Spencer almost cries with how relieved he is by that small motion. And then he starts to panic because it means he needs to hurry up and clean himself up before Hotch starts asking questions.

“The door had been left open. I assumed that meant I was meant to come straight in,” Derek says.

Spencer jumps, and turns around. He’d been dabbing at his face and shirt using the basin that was in the room. “Yeah, I-”

“What happened to you?”

“I don’t- he didn’t mean to.”

“Spencer. What is happening?”

Aaron screams

Derek and Spencer look at each other, then run into the bathroom. Hotch has thrown the duvet off of him, and is back to shivering. His arms are wrapped around his knees and he’s rocking himself back and forth. His eyes are no longer completely glazed over, so it’s clear he’d come back to himself.

“Hotch?” Derek whispers, trying to use something his father hasn’t tainted.

“No, no, no, get away. Get away from me. Get away or else I’m going to- I’m going to hurt you. I’ll hurt you. Same way he did. I’m not better. I’m not better, never have been. Get away. Get away. I’m bad. I’m a bad person and you can’t- you can’t be here,” he murmurs.

Derek looks to Spencer. “Hotch, you are better than your father. You didn’t intend to hurt him. And I know you’re scared. But it’s okay. Spencer forgives you. Spencer forgives you, and so do I. You have made amends already. We’ll deal with everything later, and we will get you help and this will not happen again, I swear. But right now, I need you to do what I say. Okay?”

“He forgives me?” Aaron asks.

“Yeah Hotch. I forgive you. It’s okay,” Spencer says. He knows how terrifying this must be. He knows that Aaron will do everything he can to make sure he learns to never do it again. And he knows that Hotch will never have to learn alone, because he’ll be right there.

“It’s all going to be okay,” Derek says. “You just need to get out of the bathtub and start to warm up. Can you do that? For us and for Jack and for yourself?”

Aaron nods. He stands on shaking legs, and then he takes Derek’s hand with a slight smile. 

Spencer grins at him as he walks past.

Aaron doesn’t relax when they get him in the bed. “What if it had been Jack?”

It’s the unspoken question they’ve been asking themselves since the case started and they realised it was only a matter of time before he lost control. But at that time, everyone had assumed that would simply be an emotional outburst. Jack knows how to handle everyone’s tears. Has done since his mother’s funeral.

“It wasn’t. It wasn’t, and that’s what we need to focus on. It wasn’t Jack this time and it won’t ever be Jack because you’re going to get better. I promise,” Derek tells him.

Aaron doesn’t seem convinced, but he’s too tired to fight. “You never break your promises,” he whispers.

Derek doesn’t believe that’s true. “No, I don’t.”

“Do you want us to stay?” Spencer asks.

Hotch shakes his head. Then he hesitates. “Yes. Please.”

“Okay.”

He falls asleep a few moments after that, and the shivering stops a few minutes after that. He looks more peaceful. Younger as well. And like he’s not hurting. Like he remembers who he really is.

There’s no guarantee that it won’t happen again. But there is a guarantee that he will try and make sure it never does. And that’s enough for all of them. Because across town, there’s a boy sleeping in his own bed whilst his mother and father start to forgive themselves and each other. 

And in that motel where the mattresses are slightly lumpy, the water never reaches the optimum temperature and the coffee feels more like water with a bit of flavour, there is a man who has enough love for his family to do whatever it takes to get better. Love alone isn’t going to save Jack Hotchner-Brooks, and that much is clear. But his father’s desire to do better and be better and make sure he never knows a touch laced with anger, and the rest of their family’s support to make sure he’s able to find that help, is.

Aaron will wake up in the middle of the night, feeling too cold and disoriented. Derek will ease him back to sleep, and Spencer will be okay despite his injuries. Then the sun will rise on them once more, as it always does, and they will start their own journey to getting better. Somewhere along that journey, Aaron will forgive himself.

And then he’ll suddenly feel warm inside, and it will taste like Haley’s surrounding him with all her love.

#sumayyah writes cm #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #sad aaron hotchner #hurt aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #emily prentiss #<- less present... #but still #tw crimes against children #tw power abuse #tw intergenerational trauma #tw intrusive thoughts #tw negative self image #tw disassociation #tw self destructive behaviour #tw parentification #tw blood

[ficmeoutofthisworld]

"i'm sad again don't tell my boyfriend" but ur boyfriend is a profiler and already knows u can hide nothing from them

#sad reader rn #aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #ficme.txt

[littlecarmine]

THOMAS GIBSON as emotional AARON HOTCHNER | 7.10 “THE BITTERSWEET SCIENCE”

CRIMINAL MINDS (2005 — PRESENT)

#cmedit #criminalminds #cm #criminalmindsedit #criminal minds #cm 7x10 #criminal minds 7x10 #.gif #hotch.gif #hotch edit #hotch gifs #hotchedit #aaron hotchner #aaronhotchneredit #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner gifs #thomas gibson #my sad guy #qp

[emilylprentiss]

AARON HOTCHNER criminal minds | 6.20

#lord help me i [redacted] but this scene is so sad i almost threw my ginger ale #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminalmindsedit #tvedit #dilfgifs #dilfsource #tuserkei #userkayjay #usercats #tuserlana #tuserheidi #userrinanoir #singinprincess #cm gifs #'to haley and emily' im going to ACTUALLY throw up and die #my dude lost 2 women he loved in a year im ugly crying bye #im finally watching the seasons/episodes i skipped bc emily ~*died*~ bc im petty and didnt want to watch anything she wasnt in #except for s10 bc i love jlh with my whole titticles #cm rewatch #*mine

[ssahotchnerr]

mentally i’m smushing my face into his chest 😵‍💫

#can we discuss this because #THERES JUST #SO MUCH TO LOOK AT #WHO ALLOWED HIM TO BE SOOOOOOOOOOO #HANDS IN POCKETS #HIS SHIRT #seeing his belt buckle ALWAYS makes me so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 #🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ #good distraction from how sad this episode is #aaron hotchner #criminal minds

[14buddy22]

You’re Losing Me

Aaron Hotchner x Female reader WC: 3.7k Warnings: ANGST

Based off the song; You’re Losing Me by Taylor Swift

@ssamorganhotchner​ (prepare for your heart to break bestie)

Masterlist

You had tried. You really did. You tried to keep your relationship with Aaron alive. You tried to keep it interesting, tried to keep it fun, but it wasn’t that anymore. You could try all you want to make him happy. You’d do whatever he wanted as long as he was happy, even if you sacrificed your happiness.

You were tired, lonely, empty inside. You were tired of being 2nd to him. You knew the implications of his job. He was very upfront about that, even telling you the night you met. He told you his marriage ended because of his job.

You ignored it, because you fell in love with him. You knew that his job made him happy and you learned to be okay with that. You knew that dates would become canceled, you knew you’d show up to family and friend events usually alone, you’d take care of his son more times than not because he was away.

You chose to ignore it. Him and the BAU were like peanut butter and jelly. They worked well together, but anyone else who joined, did not mix into that perfect combination. You wish you had, but you didn’t. Maybe you did for a little bit, but it wouldn’t last forever.

You were tired of always being his “back-up”. You knew it was always the BAU over you, but when would he realize he should start putting you before the BAU. He knew the BAU was the reason his first marriage failed, shouldn’t he consider changing that before his 2nd marriage started?

You found yourself sitting in the sunroom of the house you and Aaron had moved into. It was the perfect size for you, him, and Jack. Even though Jack was older and his toys had turned into more electronics than anything, there had been talks of having kids with Aaron. The perfect single family home that you and him picked to be perfect to raise a few more kids that you and Aaron made.

You loved the sunroom. It was yours and Aaron’s favorite part of the house. You both loved it because of the light that came from it. You know it was called “sunroom” for a reason, but still, it was your favorite place in the house.

But it’s funny how you found yourself sitting in the dark, without Aaron. You didn’t know what to do. You don’t know when it got this bad between you two. You don’t know where it all went wrong. You don’t know how he didn’t see the signs.

Sitting there with your thoughts to yourself, all you could think about is how long you’ve been with Aaron. All you’ve ever wanted to do was to make him happy, even if you sacrificed your own happiness. You’ve always been like that, that never changed, even when you and Aaron started dating.

You were a pathological people pleaser.

It’s been roughly 1278 days since you and Aaron Hotchner became a thing. That’s 3 years and 6 months that you two were dating. Too many “i love yous”, hugs, kisses, late nights, date nights, family adventures, and making memories to count.

You tried to pinpoint the exact moment of where everything went wrong, when you began to sacrifice so much of your happiness that Aaron was taking for granted. He never saw the signs that you were exhausted with your relationship with him. You loved him, but he’s losing you.

You and Aaron had been together for 3 and a half years. You set yourself into a routine that you just went through the motions with him every single day. There was no surprise element. You tried to surprise him with dates, but that was quickly resolved when majority of the time he was still never back from a case or was pulling a graveyard shift getting caught up on paperwork.

You were proud of Aaron. He was a great profiler, yet he never saw the signs. He never saw how you had to put a smile on around him. He didn’t notice the way that you were trying to tell him to take some time off so you and him could go on a weekend getaway because you felt lonely.

You felt like you were the only one in the relationship. 6 months ago is when you started to notice it. You noticed that you and Aaron had been in a routine. It was the same thing everyday. Even with as chaotic as his schedule was, it was still predictable.

He missed the dates you planned with him or the dates he had planned with you.

He missed your family events where you would have wanted him to be there with you.

He missed your friend gatherings where you wanted to show him off, to prove to your friends that they were wrong about him, but he let you down.

Maybe that’s where it all went wrong. Time and time again, Aaron slowly let you down with all the broken promises he left you. Promises of I’ll be home early tonight turned into late nights at the office. Promises of “I’ve made dinner reservations for us tonight at this new restaurant” turned into, “I’m caught up in a case, we’ll go out when I get back”.

Those promises were never made up.

That’s why you were sitting in the room you and Aaron loved, alone. You wanted to go out for a nice dinner tonight, but, from the time it read on the clock, Aaron had forgotten about the reservation you made. You had reminded him this morning. Jack was spending the night at his friends house. You thought back to this morning, making sure you did remind him.

Aaron was drinking his coffee in the sunroom this morning when you decided to make your way to him.

You gave him a kiss and he pulled you into his lap. It was his favorite way to start the day with you. You wanted to break routine and have him stay in bed just a few more minutes but he preferred to be up out of bed.

“Good morning. Any fun plans today?”

“Clean the house, do some laundry. Boring stuff.”

Aaron took another sip of his coffee and as you played with the back of his hair. You decided to bring up the fact that you two had your date night planned for a couple weeks now. You specifically remember telling him to request tonight off.

“Remember, Jack’s at a sleepover tonight, you and I have dinner reservations.”

If you hadn’t known Aaron as well as you did, you would have missed the way he slightly stilled for a second, but you didn’t. You chose to ignore it, you know he couldn’t have forgotten.

“Of course. Jack’s sleeping over at a friends house, you and I are trying that new place tonight. What time?”

“7:30.”

“Right, 7:30. I’ll be home at 7 to pick you up. Okay? After dinner, we’ll come home and I’ll show you just how much I’ve missed you and how much I love you.”

He leaned forward to kiss your neck, slowly sinking his teeth into your skin, sucking what surely would leave a hickey for the tonight. You pulled the hair at the back of his neck away from you, not wanting him to go any further, not wanting him to leave anymore marks on you.

“Aaron. Save that for tonight, otherwise I won’t be able to cover it up.”

As you got up from your spot on his lap, you made your way to start making your breakfast and cleaning up the remmanents of his.

He got up, grabbed his briefcase, walked over to you and kissed you.

“I’ll see you tonight, I love you.”

“Bye, Aaron. Be safe. Love you, too.”

It made you wonder, how can he say he loves you when he doesn’t know you’re dying.

How could he not know this was your last resort to save your relationship. Him knowing that you made reservations but him forgetting. Granted, you still had until tonight to make sure he’d remember, but you were starting to doubt. You two were just a sad song that wouldn’t come back to life any more.

It was now 8:30pm. Not a word from Aaron. No text, no call, nothing. Not even a text from the team. You didn’t like tracking his location. You weren’t insecure, you didn’t think he’d be cheating on you, but you decided to text Penelope, to see if they were on another case.

She had easily become your best friend on the team. Sending a quick text off to her asking if there had been another case, you started to think about breaking the engagement off with Aaron.

You were empathetic. You always give him the benefit of the doubt. But you think he forgot. You know he has to keep everyone else on schedule but you just wanted this once for him to have taken something seriously.

He was the best profiler, yet couldn’t tell if something was wrong in his relationship with someone he’s been “in love with” for 3 and a half years. Someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Was it all a lie?

Penople quickly texted, “Greetings, future Mrs. Hotchner! We are not on a case. Hotch actually sent most of us home early. So I’m surprised he’s not with you? Maybe he’s still in his office?”

That hurt you. If he sent the rest of his team home early. Why wouldn’t he come home early? No text. Nothing. You reminded him about your date. Maybe he knew this relationship was ending and he was just trying to avoid it?

Then you heard the garage door opening and closing. As you stood up, you were met with him staring at you. Silently pleading with you to already forgive him.

But you couldn’t. Not now. Not when you know he sent his team home early and there wasn’t a case. You couldn’t.

He knew he fucked up, royally fucked up. He saw how you looked so beautiful in your form fitting dress. He knew that you hated dressing up all formal, yet you still did it because it always got the best reaction from it.

“I am so sorry.”

“You’re losing me, Aaron.”

Aaron’s heart stilled. He didn’t know if he heard you correctly. You didn’t realize that you barely spoke that. It came out as a whisper. You didn’t know if you had the courage to say it out loud or say it again, but it had to be said.

You were met with silence from him. Why won’t he say anything? You wanted to scream at him, but you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t yell at him. He had a tough job and you just yelling at him wouldn’t work, he didn’t deserve that.

“I’m sorry I forgot about our dinner. I am so sorry. I started looking at this case and I knew it was close to 7 but I thought “it’s only a little case, it won’t take long” and then next thing you know it was 8:30”

“There’s always going to be another case. I just asked this one time that we had gone out for dinner. I made this reservation weeks in advance. I asked you to request this one night off. Aaron, you sent your team home early! You couldn’t even come home early. I just wanted one night with my fiancé. That’s all I wanted.”

Aaron was silent. You felt bad. But, when was it your turn for you to be unhappy? You always pleased everyone, but when could you please yourself? You probably wouldn’t marry yourself either with the way you were a pathological people pleaser.  

“Do something, babe! Say something!”

You were still met with silence from him. There weren't many times that Aaron Hotchner was speechless, but this was one that stunned him the most. His fiancé tells him that he’s losing her. The one woman who he needed the most in his life, he was losing her.

“Lose something, Aar. Risk something.”

You were afraid by saying that, he would risk losing you. He was already losing you. You told him that, you already knew that, but you had a glimmer of hope. You thought back to the 3 and a half years and countless happy memories made up of him. The countless “you’re the best thing to happen to me”. You believed it. But was it a lie?

“Choose something. I’ve got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.”

Aaron moved towards you and he said, “I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

“Aaron! I’m sorry doesn’t excuse the way you’ve been acting towards me. I don’t know what else to do. I know I’ve tried given you the world because all I’ve wanted since I’ve met you was to make you happy. But you know what, Aaron? Is it wrong for me to want to be happy? Is it wrong for me to want me to be seen by you?”

You looked at him, tears in your eyes. Your heart was breaking. But, you couldn’t continue to be in a relationship where you didn’t have a pulse anymore. If Aaron thought this relationship was worth saving, he wouldn’t have messed up.

Don’t you deserve someone better? You made the ultimatum. But you had to have known there was a possibility Aaron wouldn’t pick you, and you have to be okay with that. Yes, it’ll hurt if he doesn’t choose you, but in the end, you just wanted him to be happy. If you not being in his life anymore made him happier, then so what?

You were bleeding, not physically, but you were in a constant battle of you v the BAU in Aaron’s life. You were tired of the battle already. You knew making the ultimatum you or essentially the BAU wasn’t fair to Aaron.

But you deserve someone who was going to give you what you deserved. You just wanted to be seen by someone. He was losing you, yet wasn’t fighting hard for it.

“I have loved you since I met you. The last 3 and a half years have been amazing. But if you want me to choose between you or the BAU.”

Your heart shattered. He didn’t have to say the rest to know what he was choosing, and it crushed you. Metaphorically, you didn’t have a pulse anymore, your heart wasn’t going to start again for this relationship.

You slipped your engagement ring off your finger. You carefully placed it down on the kitchen counter. How ironic that the place he proposed to you is the place where you two were breaking up.

“This is for the best. I want you to be happy, Aaron. That’s without being in a relationship with me. I thought I could handle the BAU and you, but, I just can’t Aaron. I deserve to have someone keep their promises or at least make up for them. I deserve to go on dinner dates. I deserve to have a family that I’ve dreamed of having. I know this is what you want. You’ll have the BAU and Jack. You won’t have to worry about dinner dates or dates in general. You’ll just have work and your son. Don’t mess those two things up, Aaron.”

You looked at him. His eyes were filled with tears but he refused to blink. If he blinked, he’d lose all control.

“I’ll stay tonight in the guest room and I’ll talk to Jack when he comes home in the morning, then give me a day or two to pack-up and then I’ll be gone for good.”

You grabbed his hand and then kissed his cheek. There was loss and indecision in the air, but it was for the better, right?

“I gave you my best me’s. My endless empathy. I’ll always love you, Aaron.”

As you walked away from him, you went to your room and cried yourself to sleep. You were upset with yourself for not trying to come up with a better solution. You were upset with him for not trying harder. You were upset because you were losing Jack. The closest thing you had to a family and you lost them both.

Talking to Jack the next morning was hard. Aaron didn’t say a word while you talked to Jack. Jack was upset. You knew it would be rough on him. You’d been in his life for 4 years, now you had to walk away. Leaving Jack was going to be harder than you thought.

“I don’t want you to be mad at your dad. It’s not his fault. If you want someone to be mad at, be mad at me.”

Aaron was just looking down at the floor. He didn’t want to see that you were now crying as Jack was hugging you so hard, crying too. He didn’t realize that you were going to take the blame for Jack being upset.

****

It had been a few months since you’re engagement with Aaron ended. You were heart broken. You had to realize that you gave him the ultimatum. This was making him happy, he didn’t have to worry about coming home early to a wife. He didn’t have to worry about being a father to any extra children you and him wanted to have. He only had to worry about himself, Jack, and work. That was it. You pleased him before you could please yourself, even with a broken heart, you realized that he chose and that’s what he wanted. You didn’t force him, he had the opportunity to fix it and he didn’t. It didn’t just go bad that one night a few months ago, there was some part that was the beginning of the end.

Were you able to pinpoint it? No, not exactly. But it got to the point in the relationship right around the 3 year mark where it had been a problem and you didn’t realize it. Aaron knew it was coming too.

Aaron and Jack took the break-up hard. Jack wouldn’t talk much with his father. This was just as much Jack’s loss as it was Aaron’s. Aaron didn’t realize all you did for him. He didn’t realize how much of things you actually took care of.

You did the laundry, you cleaned the house, you made sure Jack cleaned his room and bathroom, you did the yardwork, you made sure the house was always filled with food. Aaron didn’t realize this, but you always bought refillable ink for his pens and always replaced them in his office. He didn’t know it had been you doing that. He thought he just bought a really good brand of pens, but when his pen finally ran out, that’s when Jack told him that when you went shopping with Jack one time, you explained to Jack that his dad loved the type of pens they were and bought refillable ink, always refilling it when you noticed it was low.

It’s true when they say, “you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone”. Aaron realized that the hard way, he was determined to get you back. He needed you in his life. You were the fresh air he needed. He loved walking in his home, seeing you in the kitchen or the sunroom, waiting to talk about his day with him. He missed how you were a great mom to his son.

Aaron royally messed up and he needed to get you back. He knew you were still best friends with Garcia, so when he called Penelope asking where you were living, he didn’t miss the stutter in her voice, when she quickly said, “S-sir, I can’t tell you that.”

“Penelope, please.”

Then he heard your voice. “PG, I’m going on my date with that guy who owns the bar! My location’s on, we’re going to the restaurant across from where he works. Love you.”

You were going on a date. You knew the guy wasn’t Aaron, but you wanted to get back out there. You couldn’t sit around and mope.

Aaron hung up the phone and said, “Jack, get in the car. We have to go somewhere.”

As him and his son raced to the car, they both got in and Aaron was driving like a madman. He knew exactly what bar and restaurant you were talking about. It wasn’t the first time that the owner of the bar had been interested in you.

As Aaron saw you standing outside, he pulled his car over, but then he saw the owner reach out his hand and you grabbed it, moving closer to the man. Aaron couldn’t get out now. You wanted to be happy. You deserved to put your happiness in front of someone else’s. Aaron had his chance with you. He didn’t realize that until he saw you now, smiling and twirling in the middle of the sidewalk as there was a live band close by, the man spinning you around.

Aaron was pulled out of his thoughts when Jack said, “Dad, what’s going on?”

Aaron’s heart broke, more than it had when you pulled the engagement ring off your finger, more than it did when you told Jack you were moving out. Aaron’s heart was shattered now. He couldn’t come back from this. You made Aaron happy, sacrificed your happiness for Aaron, that’s the least he could do now. You warned him. You told him that he was losing you. He just didn’t know he had the perfect woman until you were gone.

With a voice barely above a whisper, trying to respond to his son, he said, “I lost her.”

As Aaron drove away, the last thing he saw in his rearview mirror was you smiling, almost like you were looking exactly at his car. He had lost you and he wasn’t getting you back. The hopes of you and him together again were gone. He didn’t understand how he missed the signs, but he did and now he’s paying for it. He lost you and he wasn’t getting you back. 

Part 2 (if you want)

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner angst #jack hotchner #SAD HOTCH HOURS #Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fic

[thechroniclesoforphic]

They told me time would heal me. "You'll get familiar with the pain, enough to carry it for the rest of your life without dying instantly" is what they should've said.

#fypシ゚viral #poem #writers and poets #chaotic academia #my poem #academia aesthetic #poetry #depressing poem #love notes to no one #fypシ #sadbeautifultragic #sad poem #ssa aaron hotchner #sad thoughts #sads crap #sadnees #sadgirl #im hurtin

[dcvidsrossi]

Emily: What am I most afraid of? Hmm, let's see...

Reid: Global warming. And getting a ‘B’.

Rossi: The phone ringing in the middle of the night.

Hotch: I'm too much of a perfectionist.

Rossi: Aaron, this isn't a job interview.

Hotch: Oh, man. Job interviews.

Morgan: Nothing.

Reid: Yeah, right. What about the pigeons?

Morgan: No, I don't like them. They're shifty.

Will: Losing JJ.

JJ: Aww. Hotel bedspreads.

Will:

Penelope: Never getting my driver's license. Or getting one but the picture sucks.

Emily: Dying alone.

#i like how they're all a little funny because they fit the character so well #and then there's emily's‚ which is more than a little sad because it fits her character so well #emily prentiss #spencer reid #david rossi #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #william lamontagne jr #jennifer jareau #jj #penelope garcia #hotch x rossi #morgan x reid #will x jj #otp tag: mom & dad #otp tag: “just friends” #criminal minds #incorrect quotes #criminal minds incorrect quotes #cm #bau #source: modern family

[hotchnisslvr]

how do we carry on?

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: m

word count: 4.8k

genre: angst, hurt no comfort

summary: emily was your confidant, your best friend. when she dies at the hands of ian doyle, you find comfort in your boyfriend, aaron. when you find out that she’s alive and that hotch had known all along, your world falls out from under you. can you and hotch come back from the decision he made for the good of the team?

*if this gains enough traction i might follow up with a pt.2 to give it a happy ending*

The criss-crossed lines of the tile floor blur together as you stare blankly between your feet. The tops of your thighs have gone numb from digging your elbows into them, using your cradled hands as a pillow for your forehead. You couldn’t go home, not until you knew.

Rossi had offered to go on a walk and get a coffee, but shitty lukewarm hospital coffee was the last thing you needed. You hadn’t meant to write him off, you just couldn’t justify doing anything to distract from the fact that she was on that operating table, that Emily’s life was literally hanging in the balance.

The rest of the team was no better off than you are right now. Penelope’s knitting needles clack relentlessly, the scarf inside of her purse growing as her hands keep busy so her mind doesn’t focus on how hard she’s trying not to cry. The last time you’d poked your head up, Derek hadn’t moved from the waiting room windowsill where he’d been standing still as a statue staring out at the cityscape. If Spencer didn’t stop shaking his leg, you feared he would wear a hole straight through the tile. JJ exits the waiting room as often as she returns, her liaising days quickly coming back, making her their only link to the operating room. Hotch’s behavior is no different. His cell rings every ten to fifteen minutes, no doubt the Bureau wanting to know how the hell this could happen. It’s the only sign that time is actually passing and you’re forced to accept that you’re not stuck in some fucked up purgatory-esque hellscape where time stands still, torturing you as your dear friend’s life teeters between worlds.

What you wanted, what you needed was for him to hold you; to place a kiss against your temple and tell you that everything would be alright. It had to be alright.

He couldn’t show favor to you though, not now. The team didn’t know about your relationship with him, though you believe a few have their suspicions. You’re all too observant for your own good. Not much goes unnoticed by anyone. So when JJ walks back into the waiting room, everyone shifts toward her to try and get a glimpse into her facial expression and body language for any sign of an update regarding Emily’s condition.

Instantly, you know something is wrong. JJ’s eyes flit from one person to the next, not lingering very long on anyone. Spencer is the first to stand and you follow suit. You close in, forming a small half circle. Behind JJ, Hotch stands in the doorway, brow straight as he folds his arms across his chest.

“JJ?” Her name is an anxious plea on Penelope’s lips.

JJ’s eyes drop to the floor as she presses her lips together. She takes a deep breath and lifts her eyes, yours the ones they land on as she speaks. “She never made it off the table.”

A choked sob echoes from Garcia as she falls into Derek’s arms, his features fixed as he stares ahead though his knuckles flush white as he holds tightly onto Penelope. Rossi pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he mutters something to himself; a prayer, maybe. Spencer envelopes JJ in a desperate embrace, as if clinging to her will somehow make her words any less true. Afterall, how can they be? Emily can’t go down, not like this; not after all she’s survived.

Someone says your name. Your brow dips, but you don’t respond. You need to see Emily. Your feet move of their own accord, guiding you through the waiting room. Someone grabs your arm and you tug away from their grasp, set on pushing onward and finding the OR.

Someone repeats your name, and you can’t help but latch on to the deep tenor that belongs to Hotch. You halt in your tracks and close your eyes, tears leaking over your eyelids and down your cheeks.

“I need to talk to Emily,” you say, your voice small.

The way Hotch says your name is laced with pity and you hate the way it sounds on his tongue. He pulls gently on your arm in an attempt to reel you into him, but you resist. You bite your lip to still its trembling. Yanking your arm free, you press on into the hallway and stumble toward the double doors that read in bold letters: Authorized Personnel Only. Fuck that. You’ve got a badge, that’s authority enough. Before you can push through, firm hands twist around your arms.

You push back, but their grip tightens. “Stop,” Hotch urges authoritatively. You turn into him and pound your fist against his chest, a sob cracking free from your mouth. “She’s not gone,” you cry. “She’s not gone. She’s not—” Your legs tremble with the wave of grief that crashes over you and you can’t hold your weight as it does so. Falling to your knees, Hotch reacts. His arms fold around your waist, catching you as you collapse into the wide plane of his chest. Your ribs ache as your lungs inflate with each rapid, sobbing breath. Your vision turns fuzzy at the edges as you try and fail to slow your breathing. It feels like you’re dying as the waves of grief assail you over and over again, battering you, body and mind, in an unrelenting tumultuous current of sorrow and pain as the wicked reality sets in. Emily is dead. You barely feel Hotch’s hand in your hair cradling you against him. As he murmurs apologies and sympathies in your ear, you don’t see the weighted look he exchanges with JJ.

•

The funeral comes and goes. The day is too beautiful for Emily not to be there to see it. You sit on the porch at Hotch’s house, breathing in and out as you watch the daffodils dance in the afternoon breeze. You smooth the fabric of your dress down over your knees, the satin wrinkled from the way you clenched it during the service.

Your phone buzzes in your purse. The number of messages and phone calls you’d ignored continues to rise, but you can’t bring yourself to express any gratitude for their condolences. You can’t bring yourself to feel anything except the crushing weight of grief.

You picture Emily sitting beside you on the wooden porch swing. Last Summer, you’d sat here with her as the team gathered for a Fourth of July Barbecue. Jack had made invitations and delivered them to the team at the office. He’d been so excited and so were you. It was around then that you and Hotch had begun to toe the line between colleagues and something more; a morning coffee dropped off at your desk here, an extra visit to his office there. You’d sat here with Emily watching as Rossi backseat barbecued Hotch on the grill. She’d caught you smiling at him alongside the fondness in your gaze. She’d clocked you from a mile away.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” Her laugh had tinkled from lips, ringing like a morning bell.

“What are you talking about?” you’d asked, trying and failing to school your features into a mask of indifference.

“I’ll tell ya, it’s a big swing, but if you hit it, that’s a home run for sure.”

You’d nearly choked on your lemonade, coughing and gasping; drawing the attention of the others.

“Wrong pipe!” Emily had called while pointing at you and clapping a hand against your back. “She’s good!” In a low voice she’d added, “Though I’m sure with him, it’d be just the right pipe.”

You’d elbowed her in the ribs and bust out laughing together. For the longest time after that, she’d been the only person that you’d confided in about your burgeoning feelings and relationship with Aaron. Through that, she’d quickly become your closest friend on the team.

A couple of kids shout at one another, laughing, as they ride past the house on their bicycles; shattering the memory. You dip into your purse and withdraw your phone, pressing a button and powering it down. The screen door creaks on its hinges and Hotch steps down onto the porch, the planks shifting beneath his weight. He sits beside you and offers you a mug. The scent of coffee reaches your nose and you accept it, thanking him quietly. Aaron had taken his suit jacket off and loosened his tie. He stretches an arm around your shoulder and draws closer to you. He kisses the side of your face and stares out at the yard.

“It was a beautiful service,” he offers.

“Aaron, don’t.” You close your eyes and take a breath. You hold the coffee with both hands, rubbing your thumbs up and down the warm ceramic. “Please don’t make small talk with me about this like it’s all so fucking normal.”

He sighs and apologizes. “I just wish I could make all of your hurt go away.”

A shudder runs through you and you nestle in closer to him, taking a sip of your coffee as you do so. “I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

•

Her brown eyes stare back at you, though the photo paper could never capture the light that flared within them when she was alive. Of all the faces you could have seen up on this wall, you’d never anticipated hers being one of them.

Every day you stop by her portrait on the wall of fallen heroes. People talk about her less and less around the office. The team doesn’t stop, though your conversations are stilted and often end in awkward silences; no one really knowing how to carry on once the conversation slows to a natural end. You speak often with Spencer about the ways in which you’ve been grieving, the sleepless nights and early mornings. Derek is reserved. He’s angry above anything else. He feels betrayed by Emily and a part of you understands that. She’d not told any of you after all. You’d be remiss if you’d not also spent some of your time grieving in anger. Of all the times you’d stayed late after work, gotten together to hang out on weekends, or gone out for drinks, she had never indicated anything was wrong. You had told her everything, confided every one of your fears and hopes into her and you’d thought that the street had been going both ways. God, you’d never been so wrong.

“Conference room in fifteen,” Aaron says as he walks past you, hand grazing your back as he does so.

You smile tightly and nod, glancing once more at Emily’s photo before making your way to your desk in the bullpen, ignoring the fact hers still sits empty and unoccupied beside yours. How has it been three months already?

•

“Emily!”

Your eyes dart around the room frantically searching as your heart thunders in your ears. You feel the organ pounding against your ribcage, threatening to break free of it. It only takes a second for you to realize it had been a dream.

Aaron rolls over and sits up, threading an arm around your back and rubbing your hip with his fingers. “Another nightmare?” he asks, words tinged with sleepiness.

You nod, yawning as you rub your eyes. The dreams are further apart, but at least every other week her face haunts your subconscious. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some sort of self-punishment as life goes on and the days get easier.

In reality, you don’t know if it’s easier or if you’ve just forced yourself to become numb to it all, compartmentalizing the pain of losing your best friend because if you didn’t you don’t think you’d be able to leave the house and do what you do day after day.

“Are the appointments with the therapist helping?” he asks.

Another question you don’t know the answer to. On some level, yes. Talking to someone who knows nothing about you or her or anyone else on the team is good. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, worried you're going to dig open a wound the others are equally fighting to heal by talking about her or how much you miss her or wish she was here. On another level, you don’t open up fully to the doctor. There are some layers of this injury you don’t want to see heal and scar over. If you do that, it’s like you’re telling Emily that you’re over her death, as if it’s something as easy as that, something you just get over. No, some things need to stay fresh, to serve as a reminder that Ian Doyle is still out there. The man who took your best friend away from you and your BAU family is breathing and she’s not. You clench your fists, the sheets balling up in your hands as your resentment burns deep inside you. Yes, that’s it, the idea of him walking around thinking he’s gotten away with this is enough to stoke the flames simmering deep inside you.

You take a deep breath, mentally imagining the flames subsiding, and they do. They dial down, but they don’t disappear. You glance down at Aaron, who snores softly beside you. His fingers still curl around your hip and a faint smile graces your lips. He tries, you know he does, but this is exhausting for everyone. He bears the brunt of it at the office. He fought to be the one to meet with the team and conduct the grief interviews, not wanting a stranger to come in and sift through your friends’ and colleagues’ pain over what happened. God knows how much bureaucratic red tape he had gotten tangled in right after the fact, the higher ups demanding how such a blunder could occur right under their noses. Aaron had put out the fires though, as he always did. Reaching around his back, you withdraw his hand from your hip and tuck it by his side, not before pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You glance at the clock before lying back down. 4:15AM blinks back at you on the digital clock face. In forty five minutes the alarm will go off and it’ll be another day at the office. Settling down into the pillows, you press your back into Aaron’s body, yours molding against the planes of his as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His arms slinks around your waist and pulls you in as if you can get any closer than you already are. He tucks his chin over your shoulder and his lips brush against your jawline.

“I love you,” he whispers and you relax into the safety of his embrace.

“I love you, too, Aaron.”

•

Nights are hard when Aaron is gone. Pakistan is nine hours ahead and all Hotch has to communicate with anyone is a satellite phone, the number for which you don’t have access to. Whenever Hotch calls, the caller ID flashes the word ‘Unknown’ across your screen. There have been several times you’ve missed him due to being asleep or at work. Each call missed feels like being sucker punched. Every time you talk, a part of you worries it’ll be the last time. You didn’t use to have this fear, not until Emily. Despite staring death in the face on a week by week basis, most of the time playing Russian Roulette with the Grim Reaper himself in each unsub you cross paths with, somehow you never thought he’d actually take someone you love from you; that he’d take down one of the team. You never thought there’d be a last conversation with Emily, and now she’s dead.

Dead. The word is a heavy stone, sinking from the cusps of your mind to the pit of your stomach. It sits there, a persistent ache idling deep inside of you. It never relents and it never allows you to forget.

There are nights you dream that Aaron is dead too, that somewhere far away and beyond your control, he’s dying on the ground, bleeding out, and no one knows. You don’t even know what he’s working on and he can’t say; despite your relationship there are still levels in which Hotch’s clearance supersedes your own and the need-to-know red tape keeps you out. Afraid to close your eyes and dream of his unseeing, you stare at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling lazily overhead of the bed you usually share with him.

“I miss you,” you whisper to no one; and you don’t know who you’re talking to anymore.

•

“He’s back?” your heart flutters in your chest, equal parts excited and anxious at the prospect of Aaron’s sudden return. You push off your desk and swivel in your chair to stand, rushing down the hall and leaving Reid behind as you make your way hastily to the conference room.

The door is cracked and a gleeful sound eeks past your lips as his tall frame comes into view. You slip in before anyone else arrives and throw your arms around you. Inhaling deeply, his familiar teakwood scent envelopes you just as his arms do. You move to pull away, but his arms tighten around you.

“A second more,” he whispers, and there’s an edge to his voice.

You write it off to jet lag and sink into his embrace, though you notice how slight he feels against you. Finally, you pull back and cup his face in your hands. The scruff of his beard is prickly and you laugh as you take in his rugged appearance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with this much facial hair.” You swipe your thumbs over the hair on his lip and he tilts his head, kissing the inside of your hand. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply before lifting them to meet yours. It's then you realize how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes are puffy and purple, almost as if they’re bruised. His forehead is creased, brow furrowed; definitely not how you pictured him upon reuniting.

“Aaron is everything ok—”

“I need you to know I would never hurt you,” he says quickly, interrupting you.

You purse your lips, brow pinching at the sudden admission. As your lips part to speak he directs a pointed look at you, the depths of his brown eyes wavering. “I love you,” his voice cracks, “so much.” He swallows, his throat bobbing as he does so. “Please remember that.”

There’s a hollow feeling in your gut, a chasm opening wide where every anxious and painful thought that you’ve tried to keep buried since he’s been gone begins to claw their way out as a thousand different outcomes play out in front of you. “Aaron, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer your question as the rest of the team trickles into the room, sitting at the round table or standing as suspense fills the space. It’s tangible. Everyone’s posture is rigid and tense in anticipation of whatever it is he has to say.

“Seven months ago I made a decision that impacted everyone on this team,” he begins, eyes firm.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably beside you. Rossi leans forward, fingers steepled under his chin.

“As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood,” Hotch continues and your ears prick at the sound of her name. Why would he bring her up? No less, her condition the day you all lost her. You all know this.

“…the doctor’s were able to stabilize her.”

Your lips part but no sound comes out as you raise your eyes to meet his. They meet yours for the briefest of seconds before flitting on to the others.The next words to leave his mouth sound far away, interrupted by the blood now pounding in your eardrums. “She stayed there until she was well enough to travel…given identities…”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel as though you may choke on it. Air doesn’t seem to be able to bypass it and you have to remind yourself that you can breathe even though it feels like all the oxygen has vacated your lungs.

Penelope is the first to speak. “She’s alive?”

Spencer’s brow quirks as he tries to rationalize what’s being said to him. “We buried her.”

You did. You helped carry the casket. You felt the weight of her dead body and watched it sink into the earth. If that wasn’t her, what the fuck or who the fuck did you actually put in the ground?”

“As I said I take full responsibility for this decision,” Hotch continues, eyes downcast. “If anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”

The blood pounding in your ears is deafening. When Hotch looks up, you search his eyes and can’t help wondering if you know him at all. All of the nights you literally made yourself sick from crying and he held your hair back as you dry heaved over the toilet and your body spasmed from the grief of losing your best friend, he’d known that she was alive. For a moment, you think you may be sick right there at the round table at the thought of it all. Derek is speaking, his voice tight with anger but you don’t hear him. Heads turn and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as a haunting feeling creeps up the back of your spine.

Turning around in your chair, everyone else stands but not you. If you do, you know your knees will buckle and fall out from under you. Spencer and Penelope are on their feet, moving briskly to greet the ghost of Emily.

Except she’s not a ghost. Her skin is not the cold blue-gray pallor of death, but pink and bright, the blood beneath her flesh very much pumping through a heart that’s beating. Her dark brown hair is sleek and shining, her bangs grown out and styled; her part now to the right. You watch her arms fold around Spencer and the way he squeezes her in turn. Penelope follows suit, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiles widely. Derek stares on, features fixed in a cross between anger and shock. Emily approaches him with apprehension. An apology leaves her lips as she draws him in for a hug and his arms tentatively wrap around her. When she turns to you, your muscles tense. Those deep brown irises flicker back and forth across your face, searching for a reaction. You don’t give her one. Instead, you push past her, avoiding any and all physical contact with her, and dip out of the conference room.

You hear Garcia call your name and Derek shouts about having a case. You don’t care. You bypass your desk, not even bothering to get your purse. Your keys are hanging on a carabiner on your belt loop. Ignoring the elevator, you shove your way through the entrance to the stairs and move down them so quickly you’re surprised you don’t lose your footing and tumble down them. Down and around you go, your footsteps echoing as your heart slams against your ribcage. You slap your badge against the keypad that lets you exit the building, ignoring the greeting from the security guard at the front. As you push through the front doors of the office building, you barely make it to the bushes before you fall to your knees and retch.

•

A car door slams followed by the double beep which locks them. You close your eyes and inhale deeply as you prepare to face him, hands clenching around the sweater you were packing. A tear slips free from your eye as you breathe out and look toward the ceiling, as if the answers to why all of this had to happen are written up there. This is not how your reunion is supposed to be. You’d pictured his homecoming for weeks; thought about the outfit you’d wear to dinner and the lingerie you’d bought to wear just for him when you both got home, opened a bottle of wine, and made up for all of the time lost while he was away. That is how tonight is supposed to go.

Now you’re leaving, and you don’t know if you’ll be coming back.

The lock on the front door jiggles before the gears click into place. It squeaks on its hinges as it swings open. Five beeps follow and you can picture his fingers pressing against each button on the alarm system. His keys clatter as he drops them on the table. As his footsteps edge closer to your bedroom, you count each one. The sound that usually means safety and security, now sends a shiver of anxiety throughout your body.

He appears in the doorway, eyes rife with exhaustion and the bags beneath them puffy and swollen. His cheeks are flushed and his nose is pink, as if he’d been crying. Maybe he had been, god knows you had. His eyes flit between you and the bag you’re packing. His lips part and a small sound of desperation slips past them.

“Baby, please—”

You hold up a hand, curling your fingers into a fist. Your lip curls as you speak. “Don’t,” you breathe. You swallow the lump that quickly forms in your throat as you drop your hand, zipping the bag shut.

The inner corners of his brow draw upward and you can hardly stand to look into his pleading gaze.

“You have to understand—”

“Understand, what? Aaron?” You ask sharply, struggling to hold back the thick hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

He places a hand on his hip, fingers tucking back the fold of his unbuttoned shirt as his thumb hooks into his belt; a gesture you’re all too familiar with as he does the same thing with all of his suits. His other hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose. He pauses, inhaling as he tries to find the words. After a moment, he scrubs a hand over his face and turns his gaze to yours.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” he says. When he looks at you there are tears in his eyes. “I hated myself, watching the agony this decision put you and the team through. I wanted to tell you and take away your hurt, but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to the team. Just because you’re my girlfriend, I can’t—” He turns his hand and slams his hand against the doorframe causing you to flinch. “Dammit!”

Your voice is soft, but sure when you speak. “You can’t bend the rules.”

It’s what you’ve always worried about, both of you. You always knew the job could come first, especially with him being the Unit Chief. You always understood that that meant no preferential treatment and that is something you never would’ve asked him to do. You just never anticipated it happening like this, a complete and total life altering mind fuck.

Aaron drops his hand and it slaps against his thigh in defeat as it falls to his side. “What was I supposed to do?”

You cross your arms over your chest, fingers curling over your biceps to try and still your shaking hair. You hang your head and a curtain of hair falls across your face, “I don’t know, Aaron.”

He kicks off the doorway, moving towards you with his hands outstretched. It happens without thinking, the way you flinch away. Pain flashes in his eyes and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the stomach the way it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

His hip is close to yours, his body angled away from you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulder as he looks down. “Don’t do this,” he whispers.

Your lip quivers, chin wobbling in response to the tears you’re trying so desperately to hold back. “I have vacation I’d been saving.” You pick up your bag and throw it over your shoulder, not daring to look up at him because you know if you do you’ll shatter into a thousand shards of glass at his feet.

As you move toward the door, you pause. For a split second, you entertain the thought of dropping your bag, running across the room he’d chased you around so many times before, and throwing yourself around him. You consider all the things you want to say and scream and cry about; all of your anger, sadness, betrayal, grief, and love. You crave him so terribly in that moment because his have always been the arms you’ve run to when things become too much to bear.

Instead, your chin dips toward your shoulder as you speak, but you don’t raise your eyes to meet his. If you do, you don’t think you’ll be able to leave. “My gun and badge are in the safe.”

As you make your way down the hallway, you have to bite your knuckles to stifle a sob just as you hear one leave his lips from the bedroom.

You don’t turn back.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt no comfort #angst #hurt no comfort #bau reader #bau!reader #fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #drabble #fic #hotch #sad!aaron hotchner

[hotchbabygirl]

if he looked at me like that...

#the way he's looking so tenderly #im so in love and he's not even real #the fake scenarios my mind is coming up with thanks to this photo is scary and sad #listening to celine dion and looking at pictures of hotch is a deadly combination don't do it folks #aaron hotchner #hotch🌹

[softhairedhotch]

Aaron Hotchner, Season 5 Episode 9.

#this scene is so fucking sad #god #he deserves the world #not this #poor him :( #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner screencaps #criminal minds #criminal minds 5x09 #criminal minds screencaps #screencaps #thomas gibson

[pepsicolapussy333]

Me when I come up with the most elaborate, detailed, erotic, emotional, life changing plot for a fanfic and realize I have to write it to read it

#em’s brain #criminal minds #lana del rey #mgg #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #fanfic #y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reid x reader #marauders #manic pixie dream girl #girlblogging #hotch x you #sad girl aesthetic #vampire diaries #teen wolf #harry potter fandom #harry potter

[hearthotchner]

flowers, petnames, and, apologies

— inspired by this post, which was prompted by a tiktok sound

walking into the bullpen, derek morgan couldn’t help but notice the person delivering a large bouquet of flowers, “woah woah woah, who are these for?” he asked, assuming they were for one of his female co-workers.

“um.. a mr aaron hotchner?”

derek’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and his jaw dropped, just before the expression was replaced with a mischievous smirk, “let me take this off your hands, i’ll give ‘em to him.”

after bidding the delivery man a thank you and goodbye, derek carefully placed it onto his empty desk; almost immediately, his coworkers surrounded him, intrigued by the colourful array of flowers that lay on his desk.

the bouquet wasn’t overwhelmingly bright, yet it wasn’t void of hues either. they were light, soft, pastel colours — easy on the eyes — majorly white, but with splashes of light yellows, baby pinks and reds dotted around, with, just a hint of blue.

“do you know who they’re from?” penelope’s voice piped up.

before morgan could respond, he was cut off by reid, “most likely a partner. did you guys know that lily of the valley actually represents new beginnings, which is why they’re used for various occasions: weddings, baby showers. and, the blue hyacinths show a desire to make peace — they’re apology flowers, the colours are those usually used to display remorse.” his voice got higher as he got more excited about the topic, “oh! and roses are typically used for a romantic partner, and are normally pink or red; in this instance they’re yellow, and there’s a lot of them, meaning they’re likely to be his favourites.”finally taking in the bewildered looks of his colleagues, the young genius smiled sheepishly at them, quickly shutting himself up.

“you look way too far into things, reid.” derek rolled his eyes, “they’re probably just an early valentine.”

“there’s a note.” jj pointed out — it was hidden inbetween a couple roses.

as derek reached for it, penelope scolded him, “hey! stop messing it up! we really shouldn’t be snooping, you know he likes his privacy.” she frowned, attempting to remain mature, “but i wanna know so badly- be careful!” she lightly smacked his arm.

with confidence that he was right, derek flipped the note over to read it out loud; the smirk wiped off his face at the first two words he saw, “i’m sorry.” he read in annoyance, while glaring at spencer — but nothing could prepare any of them for the next words,

“miss you pookie bear?”

—

meanwhile, said pookie bear was sat at his desk, paying no mind to what was going on in the bullpen, with his head in his hands: your argument from the night before being the only thing he could think about.

—

“this is the third time you’ve done this, aaron.”disappointment evident in your voice.

“i know, i’m sorry.” there were his empty apologies, “i got caught up at work, i lose track of time.” and his pathetic attempts to excuse his negligence of your relationship.

“but you always do this, you’re never here. you never text, or call, and i’m waiting up until 12 in the morning for you.”

“look, we’ll talk about it in the morning, i’m tired.” he sighed.

“we won’t, because you’ll be gone before i wake up.” you were telling the truth — that’s exactly what he did the next morning, left for work without saying a word.

he furrowed his eyebrows in frustration, “you knew what it was going to be like when we started dating, you said you could handle it. my job is demanding.”

rightfully so, you were becoming upset, “not for paperwork! i understand that you get called away abruptly, and i love that you value other peoples lives before your own — it’s why i fell in love with you.” you smiled at him softly, although, it wasn’t for long. “but, i’m talking about when you’re cooped up in the office for so long, there’s no reason for you to be staying there for that much time, after everyone else has left.”

then, everything went quiet for a bit, with you waiting for him to provide some sort of explanation, and when you didn’t get that, you continued, “i just think… if you had to choose between me or your job, you’d pick your job with no hesitation.”

the lack of response caused your face to fall, “i’m sleeping in the guest room tonight, aaron.”

he should’ve done something, anything. instead, he ran away, avoided you like a coward, using his office as a place to seek refuge from taking accountability for his actions.

one time, you told him he was bravest man you ever knew — he almost laughed at how wrong you were.

history was repeating itself. you were his second chance at love, and he was making the same old mistakes, that cost him his family. aaron thought he had changed, swore to himself that he’d never do something like this again. but, here he was, having someone waiting at home, willing to drop anything for him, yet he wouldn’t do the same.

picking up his phone, he dialled your number.

it rang out for a minute, before going to voicemail — he hoped you were just busy, and weren’t already walking out of his life.

“hey,” he breathed “i wanted to say i’m sorry, for last night, this morning.. everything really. i shouldn’t have left, and i should’ve said something.” closing his eyes, he stopped himself from rambling, because you deserved to hear it in person, “i’ll be home soon, and we can talk.. please call me back.” please don’t leave me. “i love you.”

hurriedly gathering his things, aaron walked out of his office; path coming to a stop when he saw his team staring at him, all looking a little smug. a puzzled look found it’s way onto the unit chiefs face.

“hey there snookums.” derek grinned.

aaron quirked a brow, frown deepening, “what?”

stifling a giggle, emily gestured to the bouquet, “someone sent you flowers.”

knowing exactly who sent them, he swiftly excused himself to set it up in his office.

when he read the note, he felt his lips curve up slightly, and he jokingly huffed at the petname — you always loved making him blush and laugh with the obscure names you’d come up with for him.

but, why were you apologising? you did nothing wrong. it should’ve been him doing this, not you.

right as his thoughts began to spiral, they were interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket.

“hi, aaron! did you get my gift?” hearing the sweet sound of your voice, so excited and happy to speak to him, brought a sense of relief over him.

rough hands slowly reached over to feel the soft yellow rose petals. “yeah, i did. thank you.” his brows tilted upwards, guilt kicking in again, “why are you saying sorry?”

“‘cause, i shouldn’t have accused you of choosing your job over me, it wasn’t right to push that on you-”

were you out of your mind?

“sweetheart, please stop.” he begged. “you haven’t done anything wrong. telling me how you feel isn’t wrong — telling me that i’m not doing enough isn’t wrong. we need to tell each other these things.” he shut down your attempts to put yourself at unnecessary fault. “i know i haven’t been around lately, but i’m gonna change that. i promise. i want to be deserving of your love, (y/n).”

“you already are, aaron.” you whispered.

“i’m leaving now, so i’ll talk to you at home. i have a bunch of free days to use, and we have lost time to make up for.” he smiled.

closing the door behind him for a second time, aaron scanned the room, his team no longer huddled in one spot, now at their desks; still deep in a conversation he didn’t care that much for.

the bullpen fell silent at the sight of him with his briefcase and keys in his hand, shocked that he was leaving early — not even on time.

morgan, of course, was the first to talk, “where’re you off to in such a hurry honeybunny?” snickering at his own joke.

“don’t make me flag you for creating a hostile work environment, derek.”

“that’s not funny!”

#kinda unhappy with how the ending was written ngl #this was meant to be funny idk why he got sad #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #my fic

[littlecarmine]

ELLE GREENAWAY and AARON HOTCHNER LAST SCENE | 2.06 “THE BOOGEYMAN”

#cmedit #criminalminds #criminal minds #criminalmindsedit #.gif #hotch.gif #elle greenaway #ellegreenawayedit #hotch #aaronhotchneredit #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #cm 2x06 #criminal minds 2x06 #we love how there are 2 people in this scene but neither is in focus!! #but its so important #it really broke him for a while #sad hotch #qp

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Gideon + Poetry

All photo credits are at the end

"Romance #1" by Eunsong Kim

like some 14 year old girl waiting for her crush to glance back i

keep waiting for capitalism to end

but it won't end

my adult life lover states

on what will end:

Libraries Birds Retirement Recess Sprinting during recess Hispid Hares Starfish shaped like stars inconvenience Wrinkles Sunken cheeks Living Corals Protests Anti-Nuclear Proliferation Non-Aggression Pacts Dragonflies Mangosteen DMZs Trade Embargos Leopards, all kinds Sawfins Rewilding Infiltration Plot/Dreams Oak, Trees. Partulina Varisbilis Partulina Slendida (-------) Violence Prevention Programs News. News:

Might a few jellyfish survive—

counting till revelations becomes a part of—

I feel like Gideon isn't talked about very much, and I get it. He's in the show far less than Rossi, and his ending is unsatisfying. But in many ways, he built the team. He's Spencer's father figure and Aaron's friend. He sticks up for Elle, Emily, and Penelope and keeps Morgan in balance. I think he is sad for much of the show and is good at hiding it. I think this poem represents that dynamic well. He's waiting for the world to be good. He's waiting for something that will never come, and in the end, that's why he has to leave.

But I just want to remind you all there is good in the world. There is hope out there. You matter and if you feel sad or alone I am always here to talk. Please be kind to yourselves today. I hope the start to your weeks is amazing! Love Levi - ❤️

Text Break Banner by @cafekitsune

Photo credits

Top: Left (@h-f-k) Center (@ellie-makes-mbs) Right (@peacefulandcozy)

Middle: Left (@himekokosu) Center (@criminalmindsverse) Right (@grapeperfume)

Bottom: Left (@triflingthing) Center (@arnab-comel) Right (@flowersforfrancis)

Tag list: (🩷) @tgskitten @geminitapestry

Want to be added to my tag list? Please check out this post (linked) 

Want to send in a request? Please check out this post, CM Request Post (linked)

#criminal minds #cm #jason gideon #gideon criminal minds #criminal minds poetry #gideon poetry #levi rambles #levi writes #meloncholy #eunsong kim #aaron hotcher #emily prentiss #spencer reid #derek morgan #ssa aaron hotchner #sad peoms #criminal minds moodboard #gideon mood board #light academia #light acadamia aesthetic #mood board #gideon is the og #more love for gideon #mandy patinkin #cafe aesthetic #flower aesthetic #i love you baby #🩷 #you make me so happy #can't wait to meet you irl