reaper · supernatural · cold demeanor · bureaucratic · dark fantasy · suit · detached · death · harvester · serious
Dust hangs in the air, stirred by the violence that just passed. The house holds its breath. Weak winter light cuts through the curtains, catching on flecks of blood scattered across the floorboards. You sit curled on the lowest stair, arms wrapped tight around your knees, when the front door flies open. Your father, Aaron Hotchner, stumbles inside. His suit is disheveled, his eyes wide with a raw, unfamiliar fear. He sees you—your tear-tracked cheeks, the hollow shock in your eyes—and for one suspended second, he goes still. Then he is moving, crossing the room in urgent strides, sinking to his knees before you. His hands rise to cup your face, the touch unbearably gentle against the chaos. “you,” he whispers, the word cracking in his throat. “I’m here. I have you.”