#aaron hotchner x child!reader

[allieslittlewritings]

*not my gif <3

Hotch's Office

Aaron Hotchner x Child!Reid!Reader

Summary: Reader wanders off to Aaron's office.

Warnings: None, reader is smart like her dad and loves astrophysics

Word Count: ~300

Spencer carried you into the bullpen and sat you down by his desk next to him.

Your babysitter cancelled last minute and the BAU didn't have a case assigned that day so Spencer decided to take you with him to work.

You had books and a few puzzles to keep you busy while he worked on filling out paperwork and reports.

Your dad also brought a pair of headphones for you, if you wanted to watch something or if the noises of the people in the office started to bug you.

Spencer got up to go ask Penelope about something.

He saw that you were busy reading and knew you wouldn't want to be interrupted.

The odds of you leaving his desk alone were low and he wasn't planning to take long so he left the room.

★

You finished your last book, and your third of the day, and your dad still wasn't back.

You looked at the books he had on his desk and questioned whether any of them would be interesting to read, he usually didn't mind if you read any of his books.

None of them piqued your interest so you just sat there, bored out of your mind.

You looked over at the other BAU members who were working at their desks.

They were clearly busy so you didn't want to distract them. But you were so bored.

Spencer's heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he got back to his desk and saw you were missing.

His eyes nervously scanned the room, not seeing you anywhere.

"Relax, genius, she's in Hotch's office," Emily said, seeing Spencer's worried expression.

"Oh, okay. Thank you." Spencer breathed a sigh of relief.

Spencer didn't want you disrupting Aaron while he was working so he quickly made his way to Aaron's office.

His door was already open, Spencer could hear you excitedly talking about something inside.

He knocked on the office door to make his presence known.

"Hi, Daddy," you greeted him from your place on Hotch's desk.

"Hi, sweetie, what are you doing?"

"Telling Uncle Hotch about astrophysics." She looked up at her dad innocently.

"Oh," Spencer chuckled. "Uncle Hotch has work to do, baby."

"But he likes hearing about astrophysics." She said, turning back to look at Hotch, "Right?"

"I do," Hotch smiled at you, "But sadly your dad is also right."

"But I haven't even gotten to the origin of cosmic rays yet," You pouted.

"Well, why don't you tell me about that the next time I see you?" Hotch suggested.

You mulled it over for a second before nodding, "Okay."

You hopped down from Hotch's desk and went to your dad who quickly picked you up and started exiting the office.

"Bye, Hotch," You waved goodbye to him over Spencer's shoulder.

"Bye, honey," He waved back before getting back to the report he was filling out.

"I like him," You mumbled to Spencer, resting your head on his shoulder.

Hotch liked you, too.

fin. ♡

[elizabethsnuts]

do you know about the tiktoks where there’s a baby named azai (he’s soooooo cute!) who loves to say hi to people at target?! would you be willing to write something like that with Hotchner!reader?!? but she does it whenever he has to take her to work? ☺️❤️

Social Butterfly

Aaron Hotchner x Daughter!Reader

Summary: When your dad takes you to work you can’t help but say hi to everyone that walks past.

———

You were back at work with Aaron, not surprising since you always seemed to be able to wriggle out of going to daycare. There was a bunch of sicknesses going around your daycare and Aaron preferred you to not be at risk of getting sick because he knew from experience how weak your immune system was.

You were standing in the elevator, your tiny hand in Aaron’s. He looked down at you and sighed. “Alright, you know what I’m going to say. Don’t say hi to every person you see, okay?”

You chucked your tiny thumb up and grinned, your pacifier still in between your lips. “Okay!”

Aaron gave you a little smile and picked you up under your arms to set you on his hip. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Aaron walked out of the elevator with you, immediately there were other FBI agents around. You grinned and waved excitedly. “Hi! Hi!”

You didn’t know this agent, and neither did Aaron but you didn’t care, you just wanted to say hi. The agent turned to you and smiled. “Hey there, sweetheart! Are you here with your dad?”

You nodded your little head, patting Aaron on the shoulder. “Daddy. He FBI!”

The agent chuckled and nodded, giving you a little high-five. “That’s so cool! I hope you have fun. I’m in the FBI too!”

You gasped and smiled, you thought it was so crazy that someone else was part of the FBI like your dad. “Both!”

The agent nodded and showed you his badge. “Yeah, we’re both in the FBI! Did you know that everyone in this building is in the FBI?”

Your little jaw dropped, your pacifier almost falling out of your mouth. “Daddy! Everyone here FBI!”

Aaron nodded and pushed your pacifier back into your mouth. “That’s right, everyone here is part of the FBI.”

The agent gave you a wave goodbye and one last high-five. You giggled and Aaron kept walking. He was secretly amused that you couldn’t help but say hi to everyone you saw. You saw another agent walk past and you immediately waved again.

“Hi! Hi!” You giggled as the agent waved back but kept walking. You loved going to work with your dad and seeing everyone.

Aaron shook his head with a small smile, gently rubbing your back. “What have I said about talking to strangers?”

You shook your head and giggled, eagerly waving to another person passing by. “Hi!” You turned back to Aaron and smiled. “Daddy’s friends.”

Aaron shook his head and kissed your cheek. “Y/N, I don’t know these people. Neither do you.”

You giggled and waved to another person. “I friendly.”

Aaron nodded in agreement, fixing the soft hair that had fallen out of your tiny hair tie. “Yes, you are.”

Aaron eventually made it to the bullpen and he pointed to all his team members. “N/N, these are Daddy’s friends, okay? You know them, but you don’t know the random people walking by.”

You nodded your head, looking around at everyone. You excitedly waved at them. “Hi, Aunty JJ! Hi! Aunty Emily! Uncle Spencer! Hi, hi, hi! Uncle Derek! Hi!”

Aaron chuckled and put you down, letting you run over to everyone and say hi to them. He watched as you gave everyone a hug and a wave, repeatedly saying hi to them. He would have to keep working on stranger danger with you but he’d let you keep being friendly to everyone for the time being.

[the-guilty-writer]

Aaron x daughter!reader,

His daughter is a cane user and she has a bad day pain wise?

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Just like your father, you'd always been stoic, easily able to hide your pain from the outside world. It was something Aaron always had to keep in mind, how you'd push through and never speak a word about your discomfort. He'd always seen the characteristic in himself as a blessing, but in you he viewed it as a curse to himself.

There were times when you couldn't hide it, though. Usually you were well past a manageable pain level when it happened, and Aaron beat himself up for not noticing sooner. He'd never thought the hardest person to profile would be his own daughter, but apparently you were. People didn't see what you didn't want them to see, including your father.

Today, however, you'd reached your breaking point, hardly able to get out of bed, even with the help of your cane. You had tried, of course, but the gravity of your pain had been too much to bear. The sound of Jack's bare feet running past your door reminded you of the day to come, how your brother approached everything in stride with a smile on his face.

You tried your best to do the same, but you could only do what your body allowed.

A soft knock landed on your door and you called to invite whomever it was in.

"Morning, sweetheart." Your dad peeked his head through the door, his brow already furrowed with concern.

"G'morning," you mumbled out the words.

Aaron padded into the room, closing the door behind him. He stayed as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw attention from Jack, who would have wanted to stay for the conversation.

Your dad sat down on the bed, running a gentle hand through your hair. The gesture was something he'd done since you were a little girl, one of calm and quiet understanding.

"Do you want to stay home today?" he asked.

"No." Truthfully, you didn't want to stay home. Want implied that it was something you could give or take, a choice. If you could have chosen to go to school, you would have, but your body didn't allow that kind of liberation.

"Do you need to stay home today?" Aaron re-phrased.

You didn't have the energy to speak this time, managing a slight nod.

"Okay." He kissed your forehead before exiting the room quietly.

As soon as he left, you fell into a state of half-sleep, unable to reach full rest due to the pain coursing through your body. It was like some sort of horribly sick joke that you needed sleep to aid the ache, yet it kept you from sleeping in the first place.

The sound of the front door opening, your dad talking to JJ, her leaving with the boys in tow, all happened in a haze. It was only when your dad’s footsteps ascended the stairs that you were able to pull yourself from the fog.

A quiet knock on the door brought you out of your head and into your body. Gentle footsteps sounded against the carpet until you felt the bed dip slightly, followed by a gentle hand tucking loose hairs away from your face.

You opened your eyes slowly, being met with resistance from your own body that so desperately wanted to block out the light. Pain made it difficult to process your surroundings, but once you did, the sight of your dad in his normal house clothes surprised you.

"Don't you have work?"

"Nope." He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Anderson is bringing me some files, but I'm staying home with you."

"You didn't have to do that." It came out as a painful whisper.

"I wanted to." Hotch reached for the bedside table, grabbing a cup with a straw. "Can you try just a little?"

He helped you prop yourself up against the pillows and held the straw to your lips. The taste of a fruit smoothie filled danced along your taste buds, and slowly but surely you were able to consume half the contents of the cup. When you were done, you pushed it away slightly and laid back down, your dad tucking you in just as the doorbell rang.

"I'll check on you in a bit. Promise to call if you need anything?" he asked.

You nodded your head, eyes already closed, mind in a half-sleep.

Hotch kissed you on the forehead gently and left the room, closing the door quietly so as to not disturb your rest. He could only hope that sleep (and pain medication) would allow you to begin the day again in a few hours.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

can i request a hotch x two-years-old-daughter!reader? i could totally see her begging her dad to let her wear her pink, poofy princess dress when hotch has to take her to work with him. but while hotch is busy, she manages to wander off. she then meets spencer (i imagine this takes place when spencer’s just starting with the bau) & immediately clings to him lol. she’s just very giggly, bubbly, cuddly, & LOVES to play with his hair. & poor spencer is just so confused but is endeared by her nevertheless. & then hotch finally finds her & is relieved. <3

sorry it’s so long! love your works!

Aaron Hotchner X Young Daughter reader

Request: can i request a hotch x two-years-old-daughter!reader? i could totally see her begging her dad to let her wear her pink, poofy princess dress when hotch has to take her to work with him. but while hotch is busy, she manages to wander off. she then meets spencer (i imagine this takes place when spencer’s just starting with the bau) & immediately clings to him lol. she’s just very giggly, bubbly, cuddly, & LOVES to play with his hair. & poor spencer is just so confused but is endeared by her nevertheless. & then hotch finally finds her & is relieved. <3

I do love young Hotch daughter who is completely opposite to her dad. Around season 1, Hailey is alive and just had Jack.

Third person pov...

Hailey smiles as her Husband runs around after their hyperactive 2 year old, little Y/N Hotchner was a ball of sunshine and energy.

The 2 year old was excited she had a baby brother and loved to play with him, though she loved playing with her Daddy even more.

Currently the little ball of energy was running around the house away from her Dad who was attempting to put her in her clothes, she was going to work with him for the day.

The little girl was only half dressed as she ran before the man could put her trousers on, giggling she shouts "no daddy!" As the man almost grabs her, a smile on his face.

Still chasing the girl, surprised at how quick she was for a tot, though he wasn't running more like in slow motion, wanting the chase to last a little longer, it wasn't every day he got to do this with his daughter (besides he had time before work started)

From the living room, Hailey watches her Husband and daughter with a smile on her face as she held her sleeping baby, Jack was sound asleep as if nothing was happening.

As they make another loop around the house Aaron stops and hops into the doorway of the living room, back pressed against the wall, Hailey watches her husband as he made a shush motion.

"Daddy?" Calls Y/N as the tot ran past the room, a confused look on her face and she looked for her dad. Poking her head around the door she looked at her Mum. "Where daddy?" She asks a pout on her lips.

Hailey fails to hide her smile as her daughter was grabbed and thrown upside down, giggling madly Y/N yelled to be let down. "Daddy! Let go" giggling even more when her tummy was tickled.

"Never, now its time for naughty girls to be dressed" he tells his daughter smiling wickedly as he continues to tickle his daughter, the H/C girl only wiggled in his grasp.

"No no daddy, wanna wear princess dress" yells the tot, Aaron stops his attack and looks at his wife. Hailey only shrugs her shoudlers.

Ever since her birthday Y/N loved one gift in particular, it was a beautiful poofy princess dress her parents got specially made for her.

She loved wearing it every time they went out and was always careful to keep it clean. Hotch sighs of course she would want to wear it to his work.

Looking down at the sad puppy look hisbwas getting he gave in. Hanging his head he stood up Y/N in his arms.

"Okay, Princess dress it is" he declared, dramatically, while bouncing the little girl in his arms before walking upstairs with a happy Y/N "yayy" cheers the young girl.

Finally ready to go Hotch grabbed his brief case, his lunch and Y/N lunch. As he headed for the door he called for Y/N the little girl eagerly bouncing over to him as he helped her put on her light up shoes.

"Ready princess" he asks her, Y/N gives him a huge gumming smile. "Yes Sir Daddy!" She saluted him before hugging her Mum and baby brother before leaving. "Good luck" Hailey whispers as she kisses Aaron.

When they arrived at the FBI headquarters Hotch pulls his daughter aside. "Now N/N, I know your excited, but I need you to stay close to me today okay? The office is busy and I don't want you to get lost" he explains to the girl.

Y/N smiles and hugs his neck giggling. "Yes Daddy! I be good" she smiles, Hotch pats her head a smile on his lips. "Thank you N/N" the two Hotchners then walk into the busy building.

And what a pair they made, Hotch in his usual suit and red tie combo, his stoic expresson on his face. Y/N in her pink poffy dress with light up shoes waving and smiling at all the agents she sees.

Once they get to the bullpen, Y/N is introduced to the team who are all excited to meet the young girl. Soon Hotch is busy in his office mountains of paperwork to go through.

On the floor lays Y/N, the young girl had grown bored it staying in the office. She had drawn lots of pictures, played with her toys. Now she wanted to explore.

Getting up from the floor she walks over to the door and opens it quietly, giggling silently she squeezes through the gap and is now free from the room.

Giggling she runs around the bullpen looking at all the desk and the members of her daddy's team, one person stand out to her, that's person being Spencer Reid who had jsut recently joined the BAU.

Walking up to thr agent she grabs onto his pant leg and shakes his gaining the surprised Dr's attention, looking doen and the girl dressed in pink spencer gives her an awkward smile.

"Hi..?" He says Y/N grins up at him. "Hi! I'm Y/N" she tells him proudly. Spencer is taken aback how smiley Hotches daughter is.

"I'm Spencer, nice to meet you Y/N" he says, before Y/N holds her arms up to him, Spencer was confused before realising she wanted to be picked up.

Nervously looking over to his bosses office he picks the girl up and sets her down on his lap, Y/Ns smiles brightens as she was held by the young man.

The brown haired man was surprised again when the ball on energy on his lap twisted around so she could koala hug him, pressing tightly to him Spencer hugged her back.

" your nice" came a muffled voice pressed to his chest, Spencer let out a surprised laugh at that making Y/N erupted into giggles all over again.

After hugging spencer the H/C tot began moving around as he tried to work, afgwr wriggling a bit she finally settled behind him, half sitting on top of his chair and half holding onto his back.

Y/N happily played with the agents hair as Spencer worked, he was slowly getting used to the girl spending time with him.

As this happened a very worried Dad was panicking in his office trying to find his daughter, after going through everything in his office Hotch threw open his door and stepped down the ramp into the bullpen.

Morgan stood from his desk as he saw the worried expression on the man's face. "Woah woah, what's happened Hotch?" He asks the worried man.

Shoulders shaking Aaron explained he couldn't find his daughter anywhere, instead of helping Derek just laughed and pointed.

Following his arm Hotch breathed a sigh off relief as he saw where Y/N had got to, smiling he watched his daughter laugh and play with the young doctors hair.

He was glad she was okay and made a new friend. Quickly taking a few pictures he sends them to Haily who messaged back just a quick. "Some one made a new friend" chuckling he responded. "I think they both made a new friend"

Putting his phone away he went back to his office, happy to leave his daughter in his agents capable hands.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot sorry for the wait! Sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word Count : 1375

[wastingmylifesecondatatime]

April Update - 2025

NOTE: You can find other masterlists in my mother masterlist (2019-2024), mother masterlist (2025)

I have updated the following masterlists this month:

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Zuko - One Shots/Drabbles

Black Butler

Sebastian Michaelis Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Aaron Hotchner Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Genshin Impact

Genshin Impact Masterlist - Series

Wanderer Masterlist - Series

Wanderer Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Arlecchino Masterlist - Series

Arlecchino Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Alhaitham Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Childe Masterlist - Series

Ayato Masterlist - Series

Dottore Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Harry Potter

Marauders Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Remus Lupin Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Sirius Black Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Regulus Black Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

James Potter Masterlist - Series

James Potter Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Theodore Nott Masterlist - Series

Theodore Nott Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Mattheo Riddle Masterlist - Series

Mattheo Riddle Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Marvel

Bucky Barnes Masterlist - Series

Bucky Barnes Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Druig Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby Masterlist - Series

Thomas Shelby Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Alfie Solomons Masterlist - Series

Sandman

Morpheus Masterlist - Series

Supernatural

Dean Winchester Masterlist - Series

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson Masterlist - Series

Twilight

Demetri Volturi Masterlist - Series

Various

[warriorofthought]

A fight in School

Summary: Falsely accused and feeling betrayed by his father's disbelief, Y/N harms himself in despair, prompting Aaron Hotchner to desperately try to save his son as the reality of his pain becomes painfully clear.

Word count: 4686

Warnings: trigger (self harm)

Aaron x Son Reader

You are the son of Aaron Hotchner with what you never had a problem with until the director summoned him into the school for a fight you had with a girl. 

" Sir, I summoned you because y/n had a fight with a second grade girl ." 

Aaron, hearing that, looked at you.

"Why did you fight with that girl?" Your father asks in a tone of authority while waiting for your answer.

"I didn't fight her, I was telling her she should let go of blues arm."

Aaron looked at you for a second as if he didn't quite understand what you were saying.

"Wait a second, did you hit the girl? Or didn't you?" As you were about to answer, he interrupts you with a more annoyed tone. "Son, don't make me wait. Did you hit her or not?"

"No, I didn't hit her!"

Aaron's body language relaxed slightly as he crossed his arms and looked down at you. "Then what exactly happened that made the girl cry?"

"She stumbled over her feet as I told her, she shouldn't bully others."

Aaron looked puzzled and tried to figure out whether you were lying or not. "Son, I'll only believe your version of the story if the girl herself comes and tells me that you are telling the truth." 

The Director looks around, trying to spot the girl.

You nod, understand your father's reasoning to hear the story from the girl.

The Director calls a small girl with a blue ribbon in her hair. "Come here, Fuyuna" the Director says to her. "Y/n says you're lying and that he never hit you, what's your side of the story?" Aaron watches the situation and remains silent, waiting for the girl's answer.

The girl, Fuyuna, walks toward the Director and begins to speak in front of Aaron. "He hit me," Fuyuna says, her voice trembling. "And called me stupid." The Director looks at you with a serious face, seemingly waiting for your response.

"No, i didn't do that " you say calmly trying not to be angry at that girl.

The Director looks at you with a skeptical face, trying to figure out if you are lying. "Son, are you sure you aren't lying? There is a girl here accusing you of having hit her and insulted her." Aaron looks a little bit annoyed as he expects your response.

"i didn't hit her" you say firmly. 

The Director looks at you for a few seconds with annoyance, since he doesn't believe your story yet. "Son, you know very well that I don't like when you lie." Fuyuna looks back and points at you. "He did hit me, sir." Aaron looks at Fuyuna and then back at you, expecting your answer.

"I didn't do that" you say again.

The Director looks at you with annoyance, he doesn't believe you and he is starting to get impatient. "Son, I'm not sure what they teach at your house, but here lying is a serious offense. I will have to notify this to the principal and inform him of your behavior." Aaron looks upset as he waits for your reaction.

"but i didn't do anything but speak to her" you say applied.

The Director looks at you, he is about to say something until the Principal walks in. The Principal starts to listen and seems very angry. "Well well well, what do we have here? A boy who has hit this wonderful girl?" Aaron stays silent as he watches the Principal listening to the story.

You look up hopefully and the Principal looks at you directly in the eyes, a serious face and a strong tone. "Son, did you hit this girl here or not?" You notice that the Principal is paying even more attention than the director.

"i didn't hit her" you say honest.

The Principal looks at the girl, Fuyuna, and then back at you. "Is that true that you haven't hit her?" The Principal is waiting for your answer, his tone still serious.

"Yes it's true, I didn't hit her." You say firmly and honestly.

The Principal looks at you for a few seconds and then looks at the Director. "Is he telling the truth?" Said the Principal looking at the Director. "I couldn't tell, sir." The Director looks upset and disappointed at you. "Son, I will have to believe the girl's story. What do you have to say about that?"

"That's not fair. I didn't hit her" you tone sounds sad.

The Principal looks annoyed and frustrated, he walks to you and kneels at your level. "Son, it seems that you are lying." You feel that he is disappointed in you, he stands up and looks at you sternly. "I want you to tell me right now the truth."

"That's the truth, I did not hit her, I haven't touched her." You tone firmly and strongly.

The Principal doesn't believe you. He looks at you, he wants to trust you, but a part of him still believes the girl's story. "Son, I'm going to ask you one more time. Did you hit the girl? Yes or no?" Aaron looks upset as he waits for your answer.

"No!" 

The Principal looks at you, for a few seconds he doesn't know what to believe. He looks at the girl with a stern face and then back at you. "Son, I'm giving you one more chance to tell me the truth. There will be consequences if you keep lying." The Director looks to the other side, trying to be invisible.

"I have not lied, please."

The Principal's face turns red and he seems very annoyed. He takes a deep breath and looks at you with an intimidating tone. "I'm tired of this, son. I want you to tell me the truth right now!" The Principal is getting impatient, he is still trying to trust you.

"That was the truth " you say and your eyes travel to your father.

Aaron looks at you and then at the Principal. He feels upset at you due to your stubbornness and lack of respect. He looks very disappointed and frustrated. "Son, I will say it again for the last time. Did you hit the girl or not? The answer matters to us."

"No, I didn't hit her."

The Principal looks at you and then stands up. He takes a deep breath and then looks you in the eye. "Son, you are one stubborn boy. You keep lying even though the girl is here confirming that you did hit her." Aaron's face turns red, he is trying to avoid the situation and not say anything.

"I didn't hit her, I'm telling the truth, really."  

The Principal looks at you with a stern face. He is annoyed and frustrated, he can't believe you are still not admitting the truth of what you have done. "Son, you know the consequences of your actions. As Principal it's my job to make sure you learn a lesson and never hit a student again. What do you say? Will you admit being guilty?"

"No, I didn't do anything, I'm not guilty." 

The Principal is getting more and more frustrated and angry with your behavior, he can't believe you are not being honest. "Son, you're giving me no other option. Do you realize the mistake you are making?" Aaron looks at you and shakes his head, also disappointed at your lack of respect.

"But I didn't do anything. She is lying." Your tone shows how desperate you are.

The Principal's face is clearly angry. He starts to walk toward you and kneels in front of you. "Son, you are not making this easy for the both of us." Aaron looks very upset at this behavior and shakes his head. "It's time you pay for your actions."

"I didn't do anything, please" 

The Principal looks at you for a few seconds, trying to calm down his temper. "Son, I have a question for you. Why are you still lying?" Aaron is still upset at your behavior, he can't believe what he is witnessing.

"I'm not lying. I'm telling the truth." You get upset because they question you again and again and seem not to believe you.

The Principal's voice turns to a shout while looking right at you. "You are a liar! It doesn't matter how much you say you're telling the truth, she knows it and I know it!"

Aaron looks very upset at your situation, he is angry at the Principal as well as disappointed in your behavior. "Son..." The Principal's voice becomes more serious again. "Son, you are going to pay for what you did."

"i didn't do anything, i didn't do anything" you whisper

You look up again at your father, hoping he would believe you.

Aaron looks at you sadly and shakes his head disappointed. His face is clearly upset and worried about the situation. "Son, the Principal has all the evidence to punish you. You know you are wrong." The Principal looks at you and puts his hand on his forehead, waiting for your response.

"I'm not wrong, i haven't touched this girl." You whisper 

The Principal looks at you, you can feel he is trying to be understanding and give you a chance. But his patience has limits, he looks angry at you. "The girl says you hit her, I believe her! What is your excuse now?" Aaron looks at you and sighs. "Son, you are digging yourself in a big hole."

"What more can I say? I have not done it. Should I lie and say I hit her? I didn't!" 

The Principal takes a deep breath and looks at you with disappointment. The tension in the room is palpable. You notice that the Director is there, also observing the situation and trying to be invisible. "Son, you must learn to accept your mistakes and not try to avoid them." Aaron looks at you with a sad look. "You know that you need to ask for forgiveness."

"Forgiveness? But I haven't done anything." Your tone is clearly frustrated.

The Director approaches you, he kneels in front of you and looks at you. "Son, whether you think you are guilty or not, the girl is hurt and the Principal wants me to punish you. It's time to learn to admit your mistakes and seek forgiveness." Aaron nods as he looks at the Director, still waiting for you to admit your wrong.

"Fine!" " I'm sorry."

"Can i go now"

The Director smiles slightly and stands up. He looks at you with a kind face, seeing how you learned your lesson. "See son, sometimes apologizing is necessary. Can you tell me what you are sorry for?" Aaron looks at you, still upset but at least you're admitting your mistake.

You nod and leave the room. You are hurt because your father didn't believe you.

You walk out of the room, feeling upset because of the fact that your father didn't believe that you were telling the truth. As you walk away, you feel a little hurt and disappointed because you felt that the Principal believed you more than your own father. It wasn't easy for you to apologize but you know that it was necessary for this situation to end.

You walk out of the school, feeling a little upset and disappointed in how the situation turned out. You head to the parking lot, still thinking about how all of this happened so fast and in such a short span of time. As you reach your father's car, you take a deep breath and enter the passenger side. You can see that he is upset about something but doesn't speak anything, it seems he also didn't expect this situation.

You take a deep breath and look at your father in the driver's seat. His face is serious and he seems upset about what happened. "Son, I'm disappointed in how you acted." Aaron says to you with a serious tone, you notice that he is still holding a little resentment toward you. "You lied and refused to admit your mistake. You should know better." He looks at you with a serious face, his words sound like an order more than a suggestion.

Aaron keeps driving without saying anything, the air in the car is tense and it seems that he is still upset about the situation. You feel that if he doesn't speak, the situation won't be solved so you take the first step. "I didn't lie, father." Aaron looks at you but doesn't say anything, it seems that he is still upset. There is a long silence between the two.

" you don't believe me" you say hurt 

Aaron looks at you and then back at the road. "Son, I'm trying to believe you. But you weren't being respectful and now you are being too stubborn." Aaron doesn't sound angry as he talks, but rather upset that you're still trying to avoid being honest. "Son, I know this is difficult. But I think it's time to tell me the truth. Did you hit the girl or not?"

"I didn't do that." your tone is small.

Aaron looks annoyed as you continue to lie, in his opinion. He still doesn't believe you and he takes a deep breath. "Son, you know very well that it's not okay to lie. I'm the father here and you must respect that." Aaron looks disappointed at you as he keeps driving, you can't help feeling as if your father doesn't trust you at all.

__________________________________

Timeskip (home)

You finally reach home. The whole time in the car, your father has been silent and he hasn't looked at you once. You both enter the house in silence, your father goes to his room while you go to yours. You are tired and you go into your room trying not to think about what's happened this afternoon. You lie on your bed, feeling disappointed and frustrated because your father doesn't believe you.

Your aunt approaches you and sits down on your bed. "Hi son, how are you?" She looks at you with a gentle smile, you don't know what to say after what happened. "Everything fine, Aunt." You feel like if you tell her the truth, she won't believe you either.

Your aunt and your father are talking in the living room. You can hear them but they don't know you are listening. Their words hurt you, they feel cold and distant towards you. You wish they trusted you enough to believe your words but it seems that they have already made up their minds about what happened.

__________________________________

Timeskip 

Weeks later, your father still hasn't changed the disappointed attitude towards you. Everywhere you go, you start to get disappointed looks. You didn't do anything wrong, but no one believes you, it's taking a troll at you.

After a terrible few hours at your sports club, where you still go even though you don't go to school, you come home disappointed and with pain in your heart. 

You lock yourself into your room and sit down on the floor, your gaze fell onto the Knife on the little table. Before you know it you take the knife and sit down again with the knife against the wall. You feel overwhelmed, the words of your father and your aunt are like a stab in the heart and you don't know what to do. You hold the knife, feeling the cold feeling of the blade against your skin. You are hurt and disappointed, you think no one believes you anymore. You sit there with the knife, thinking about what's going to happen next.

Quietly, without a sound, you start to cry. The thought that they don't believe you and that they are disappointed in you is so incredibly painful.

This has to end.

So you take the knife and slit your wrist.

It hurts a little at the beginning. Then you can watch the blood run out of you. Quickly a pool of blood forms around you and your vision starts to blur.

"I didn't do anything " you whisper weakly 

Your words are faint and you feel dizzy and weak from the situation. You look around, everything is slowly becoming darker. You watch as your blood slowly drips from the cut and you think about how everything has turned out. You try to call out for help but your words are weak and you can't seem to speak louder. As you start to pass out, you feel weak and tired, you wish that this pain would end. You close your eyes, thinking that maybe when you wake up things will be different.

Then Aaron manage to open the door and sees what you have done

Aaron rushes into the room as fast as he can, he sees you on the floor with the stab wound on your wrist and a pool of blood around you. He quickly kneels on the floor, takes your hand and applies pressure on the wound. His face is worried and his voice sounds desperate. "Y/n, no! Don't lose consciousness, keep awake." Aaron is scared and doesn't know what to do, you see how he struggles to stop the bleeding and keep you awake.

You open your eyes slightly and see König. 

" I didn't do anything" you whisper breathless 

Aaron looks at you with a worried face, he keeps applying pressure on your wounds as he tries to stop the bleeding. He can hear your words and he seems upset and desperate. "Y/n, stay awake, you hear me?" He looks at you, hoping that you are still with him. "Son, I need you to answer quickly." "Did you hit the girl?" Aaron is trying to stay calm but he seems upset and frustrated with the whole situation.

"no i didn't hit the girl and you don't believe me" you cry out and suddenly more blood comes out.

Aaron is still applying pressure and his face is full of sweat and anxiety. He is trying to control his emotions to keep the situation under control. He can feel the blood on his hands and he is afraid that he might not stop the bleeding in time. "Son, stay calm and try to control your breathing. You must help me to keep you awake." Aaron looks at you, his eyes are filled with concerns.

"i don't want to, nobody believes me" you say and a tear rolls down.

You feel frustrated and upset that no one is believing your words. You see how your father is trying to help you and control the situation but for you, it doesn't seem to be enough. You think that the only way to escape from this pain is to end your life. Then a new tear rolls down your cheek. "I can't take this anymore." Aaron looks at you with a worried face, he is trying to stay calm but the situation is making him anxious. He can see that you are in a lot of pain.

"you didn't believe me, i thought I could trust you, but I was wrong" you sob

Aaron looks at you with a kind face, he tries to think what he can say to make you feel better but his words are very few. "Son, you don't have to do this. I know it's hard to hear us but you must believe that you're still our son and nothing can change that." He looks at you again and takes your hand. He tries to speak but words don't come out, he is still processing the situation. "Son, I believe you. You have always been good to us and it hurts me that you are trying to do something like this."

"you are lying, you don't want me anymore, you don't want me to be your son" you stutter and your eyes began to close again 

Aaron notices how you're getting sleepy and he tries to shake you out of it. "No, son. We will always be your parents and we will always love you. You know very well that we don't want to hurt you, we are your parents and we love you very much." Aaron is trying his best to keep an optimistic tone, not because he wants to but he knows what a hard situation this is. "Son, just stay awake, don't lose consciousness. We need you."

"you don't need me anymore, I'm useless, i could see it in your eyes" you whisper

"You have mom, she is enough for you" you struggle to say this words

Aaron looks at you with surprise, your words break his heart and he starts to tear up. "Son, don't ever say that again. We both need you equally, we love you unconditionally and nothing can change that. Please, stay awake, don't you dare pass out." Aaron looks at you, his eyes are full of tears, he tries to keep his words calm and reassuring. "You are not useless, you are the most important person to us and we believe in you."

You smile in pain "you and aunt are so perfect, I don't fit in there" 

Then you can feel your head tilt to the side.

"Don't worry you both can be happy again" Your eyes close and your body goes limp.

Aaron grabs your hand and gently shakes it, trying to wake you up once more. "No, no, Y/n do not close your eyes. You are not a failure, you are a perfect son. Please, son, don't go. I need you, your aunt needs you, we want you. Do not leave us alone, please son." Aaron starts to panic, he notices the blood on his hands but he doesn't focus on that, he just wants you to wake up and survive.

Aaron heard the sirens and his eyes became bigger. He looks at you with worry and fear, he sees that you are still unconscious but you still have a little chance. A few seconds go by and the sirens become louder. "Son, please don't leave us. This is not the end, you still have a lot of chances to get through this." Aaron is begging you with tears in his eyes, he doesn't want to lose you. Then he hears the door being opened and the footsteps of someone getting in the room. He looks up and sees the Medical Team enter the room.

The Medical Team enters the room quickly and they immediately check your pulse and breathing. One of the team members checks your vital signals. "He's still alive." They look at you and they start to work quickly as they treat your wound and stop the bleeding. The Medical Team quickly brings a gurney and takes you away from your room, they put you on the gurney and carry you to the Ambulance. In no time, the doors are closed and the ambulance leaves the house.

The Ambulance leaves your house and heads to the Local Hospital at a high speed. Inside you are connected to various monitors and the Medical Team works non-stop on you. Your father is in the front seat talking with the Driver, he seems desperate and anxious. Then he looks back at you, his face is filled with tears and worry. "Son, please be alright." He looks at you with a lot of pain, the whole situation seems to be breaking him.

__________________________________

Timeskip

You come to your senses and notice how you are in a hospital bed, the Medical Team is still working on you. You see doctors and nurses going in and out of your room, talking with each other and checking your vitals. Your parents are sitting next to the bed, they look at you with worry and fear. Your father takes your hand in the meantime. "Son, thank goodness you're still alive. I can't describe how scared I was of losing you today." You see him crying, his eyes are filled with tears and he looks exhausted.

You pull your hand out of his grip.

He looks at you with a confused face, he doesn't understand why you are pulling your hand out of his grip. He holds your hand again and he looks at you in the eyes. "Son, please. Don't shut me out, I just want to be here for you and support you." He still seems worried and he is trying to control his emotions. "I can't bear losing you, I will never recover from that. There are a lot of things we still need to do together."

You pull your hand away from his, and your father’s face falls, his eyes filled with confusion and regret. He reaches out again, but you pull back, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy between you. He doesn’t push further; he just sits there, his shoulders slumped, looking like a man who’s been broken in a way that can’t be easily fixed.

“Son,” he says, his voice trembling. “I was so scared. I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance to talk to you again, to make things right. I know I let you down. I should’ve believed you.”

You look at him, and the anger and hurt you’ve been holding onto starts to rise again, but something in his eyes makes you pause. There’s a desperation there, a raw honesty you haven’t seen in a long time. You remember every look of doubt, every question that lingered when you insisted you hadn’t hurt that girl. The weight of their disbelief crushed you, but now, in this moment, you see how much it’s crushed him too.

“I didn’t do it,” you say, your voice cracking, but firmer than before. “I told you over and over, and you still didn’t believe me. You just… you just gave up on me.”

Your father swallows hard, his eyes filling with tears. “I was wrong. I was scared, and I let that fear get in the way of what I should have known all along.. that you’re my son, and you’d never do something like that. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.”

The raw sincerity in his voice takes you by surprise, and for the first time, you see the toll this has taken on him too. It doesn’t erase the past, but it’s a start. You see your aunt beside him, her eyes red and swollen, nodding in silent agreement, her hands clasped tightly as if holding herself together.

You take a shaky breath, feeling the anger and hurt slowly give way to something softer, something you’ve been missing…hope. “I wanted you to believe me so badly,” you admit, your voice thick with emotion. “I needed you.”

Your father nods, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “I’m so sorry, son. I can’t change what I did, but I’m here now, and I promise I’ll never doubt you again. I want to make things right, no matter how long it takes.”

There’s a long, heavy pause as you weigh his words, feeling the sincerity in them. You don’t have all the answers, and you know it’ll take time to rebuild the trust that was shattered, but in this moment, you decide to take a step forward. 

Slowly, you reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. The relief in his eyes is immediate, and he breaks into a smile…a real, genuine smile that’s filled with hope. Your aunt moves closer, wrapping her arms around you both, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a sense of warmth and safety.

“I believe in you,” your father says, his voice steady and filled with resolve. “We’ll get through this together.”

You nod, feeling the weight slowly lifting off your shoulders. It won’t be easy, and it won’t happen overnight, but you know now that you’re not alone in this. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe again. 

Maybe the past can’t be changed, but you have the future, and this time, you’ll face it together.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hello

I want to see cowboy reader get captured and hurt by unsub and JJ worried because those two seem to have chemistry

Description: Cowboy reader's father visits, things don't go too well...

Warnings: abuse, abusive parents, abduction, claustrophobia, judgy nurse, hospital visits, child abuse mentions

A/N: I'm panicking that this feels rushed but equally, I started writing this on the 15th of May so it can't be that rushed can it? Lmao (Also I'm so sorry it's taken this long). Posting this before I can doubt myself some more :))

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout

You and Spencer stood in front of the geographical profile, to be honest, Spencer was doing most of the work, you were watching the wheels in his brain tick. Since meeting the young doctor, you had almost been in awe of his intelligence and the way his brain worked (and you couldn’t help but want to protect him from the world). 

This precinct was set out slightly different to the others you had been to, this station’s conference room had no windows, purely lit by shitty lights that were screwed into the ceiling. The only way you were able to read in this room was if you also switched on a bright light that was a lot less warm-toned to actually see. 

"(Y/N)?" You snapped out of your train of thought, turning to the voice, it feeling vaguely familiar. 

"Yes?" When you turn to him, you instantly know who it is but you force your face to stay neutral.

"You don't remember me." He manages to look somewhat defeated, you'll give him that. 

"No, I remember you." You said, folding your arms, "You just don't mean anything to me." 

"And why’s that?" 

"You're not worth my energy." 

He places a hand on his heart, "You wound me, son." 

"Shame." You answer, you turn to Spencer, "Can you go get Hotch?" 

Spencer looks at the scene hesitantly, not wanting to leave you alone with the man. Especially if he is your father. "It's okay, Spence." You reassured with a tight smile. 

"Yeah, it's alright, Spence." Your father says as he takes a step towards Spencer. 

When your father takes a step closer to Spencer, before you know it, you have him pinned against the wall. "Don't you even fuckin' dare stand near him." You growl, "I don't care how much you think you've changed, come near him, I'll break you." 

Chuckling, despite his head pressed against the wall, your father turns his head to look at Spencer. "I have changed." 

"Bull. Shit." You force the words out of your mouth, anger flowing through your blood. "Spencer, go get Hotch." You wanted Hotch here for a multitude of reasons. The main three being:

Make sure you don't nearly kill him

Make sure he doesn't nearly kill you

Make sure Spencer is safe 

As soon as he's gone, your father's demeanour shifts and he smirks, "I thought we'd never be alone,"

And with that, he manoeuvers himself and slams your head into the wall, knocking you unconscious. 

When Hotch and Spencer ran back into the room, three minutes later, you were nowhere to be seen. 

You didn't know how long it had been, just that it must have been ages - at least four days. You had been there for ages, in the dark, a closet to be specific. And everywhere hurt - so, so much. Your father had been in multiple times and it was like you were twelve years old again, stuck at home with a monster with no one to save you. Except you knew that you had people in the outside world that actually cared about you (your team).

Each time your father visited you, dragging you out of the closet and throwing you to the floor, he inflicted a different pain that reminded you of your childhood while he hurled insults in your direction. It had been a while since his last visit - a few hours, perhaps - and, to your dismay, you were beginning to worry whether he would come back.

"This ain't creepy at all," You muttered to yourself, perhaps if you closed your eyes and simply pretended you were at home that would help.

You leant against the back of the closet, trying your best to get comfortable. You closed your eyes, picturing your bed at your Mama's house. Everything was okay. "You- You're fine," You mumbled to yourself, clutching your arm tight to your chest, trying to stabilise your shoulder. It had been dislocated on your first day here (wherever here was).

Everything ached heavily, throbbing in beat with your heart. Between the cuts, scratches, and burns, you felt like you couldn't take a full breath. It was dark and you couldn't see. You didn't know who was there, if anyone was really there. God you hated the dark. And it was cold, so very, very cold, you knew there was no way that you had lost enough blood to make it so. You knew that the only way in which it was so cold was that bastard had made sure there was no way heat could get into the room (assuming there wasn't a thermostat).

The beat of your heart filled your ears, mixed with the roaring that was occupying your ear drums. All with such force and such volume that you don't hear the gunshot in the background.

"Everythin's fine, you're gonna get out of this. Team'll find you. It's fine. It's fine-" Your feeble attempt at self-reassurance died in the back of your throat when you heard the familiar unlocking of the closet doors. You curled into yourself further, not looking up when the doors creaked open.

"(Y/N)?" JJ approaches you slowly, and you stare at her, trying to figure out if you've finally gone crazy or if she's really here. God, you hoped it was the latter. You couldn’t help but notice that the air around her seemed slightly brighter.

"JJ?" You wince, not only from the pain it caused in your throat and chest to speak, but by how utterly defeated you sounded.

"I'm here," She answers, "We're all here." With that, there was a small click and light flooded into your room. You winced, quickly ducking your head down and squeezing your eyes shut. When your eyes had adjusted, you opened them, forcing yourself to stand. 

The team's eyes widened at the sight of you, covered in blood and dirt, stripped of your shirt and socks. When you finally looked up, you curled into yourself slightly, trying to ignore the damage. 

You took a breath, "What about-?"

"He's dead." She answers and your shoulders deflate. They did come for you. He was wrong. Of course they would come for you.

"Who- Who shot him?" You asked hesitantly.

"I did," Morgan replied, frowning slightly. No matter what the man had done, he was still technically your biological father. You stumbled over to him, wincing and limping as you did so.

"Thank you," You mumbled, collapsing into a hug when you finally reached him. 

”How about we get you sit down?” Morgan asks gently as Prentiss places a seat next to you. Despite you protesting that you were fine, Morgan helps ease you into the chair while Hotch calls the paramedics to check how far out they were. 

When the paramedics arrived, they were quick to transfer you onto a gurney and then into the ambulance - the team keeping close. 

“Do you want us to call your emergency contact?” The paramedic asked and you shook your head.

“No, no thank you,” You mumbled, giving her a small smile. 

“Are you sure-?”

You nodded, “She, er, she’s already here,” You don’t notice Morgan shoot JJ a knowing smile - who responds with an eye roll and shaking her head.

“Okay, just so we know, who is it?”

“Oh, er, JJ,” You said, nodding to her, “The blonde haired lady,”

The paramedic takes a note of this, jotting it down on your form. “Thank you,”  

When you get to the hospital, you’re settled into a rather uncomfortable hospital bed (but you know better than to complain). They start by giving you pain killers and treating your major wounds - the burns along your side and chest, a variety of deepish cuts along your arms and torso, and finally checking your ribs and collarbone for fractures. You had tried telling them you were fine, but they weren’t having it - especially when they poked it and you cried out in pain.

"We need to take you upstairs," The nurse said, "We need to do an x-ray."

"Upstairs?"

"Yes, the x-ray department is on the fourth floor," The nurse said and you drew in a deep breath. "We need to transfer you into a wheelchair."

Eventually, you were out of your room, trying desperately not to think about the elevator. Being trapped in a small metal box.

"No, I- I'll take the stairs." You mumble, shaking your head as you approach the lift. Not now. You can do this right now. You begin to stand when a hand is placed on your shoulder, instantly making you feel relaxed. You know its her without even having to look.

"You know you can't take the stairs right now," She responds quietly.

"JJ, I'm fine." You answer, grinding your jaw. You did not want to go in that lift under any circumstances.

"It's the only way to get there."

"Then I won't go,"

"You need to get an x-ray,"

"Don't need to."

"What would help you feel safer?" Her voice is soft, calming.

"You." Your answer is instant, that's not the embarrassing part though. The embarrassing part would be asking to hold her hand. The embarrassing part would be asking if Hotch or Morgan could also come with. You knew that they wouldn't let anything happen to either you or JJ - and they were physically healthy and therefore actually able to protect both you and her (normally you wouldn't have a problem with protecting the pair of you if needed, but you were currently slightly incapacitated).

"What's the other thing?" Damn, she can read you like a book.

You swallow, frowning slightly as you flush red and look down at your hands, watching them tremble for a moment, "H-Hotch or Morgan?"

JJ nods in understanding, gently rubbing her hand along your arm. "Does it matter which one?" When you shake your head, she turns to the nurse, "Can you get Agent Hotchner or Agent Morgan please?"

"For an elevator?" You frown, staring at your hands more intently as your face grows hot, watching as they continue to shake from adrenaline at the idea of being in a lift right now.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, he's a grown man, he can ride an elevator-"

You can sense the anger radiating off the blonde so you shake your head, "JJ it's fine..." You mumbled, "Let's just go n get it over with."

"No. You'd feel more comfortable with Hotch or Morgan here, so we're going to make sure that one of them are here." She says strongly, not breaking eye contact with the nurse. "So, can you get Agent Hotchner or Agent Morgan. And another nurse."

The nurse stares blankly at her for a moment before nodding and walking off. "Are you alright?" JJ asks softly and you give a small nod, hands continuing to shake. Seeing this she slowly reached down, lightly taking your left hand in her right.

"I-I'm sorry," You mutter before your tone turns bitter. "I shouldn't be feelin' like this. It's just an elevator."

"(Y/N)," You look up at her, "You've been through something most people can't even imagine. You're okay to feel shaken by that."

"M an adult." You said, trying to ignore your eyes began to feel the familiar sting of tears. "I shouldn't be-"

"I'm scared of dogs." JJ said. "I- Spencer was taken by an unsub years ago and his dogs attacked me and now, I'm afraid of dogs. Is that unreasonable? I'm an adult."

"That's different."

"Why? Because I'm a woman?"

"Wha-? No. Because you went through a traumatic experience."

"And this wasn't traumatic?"

"No! This was my childhood! I got over it! I should be fine with this! I shouldn't be here shakin' like a leaf over somethin' I must have gone through a hundred times!" You exclaim, "I should be able to get in an elevator without vibratin' so hard I’m creatin' my very own massage chair!"

"You're allowed to feel this way," JJ says gently as she crouches in front of you. "It's okay to acknowledge things that scare you. And doing this? Getting in an elevator shows how strong you are. Even if it's with two friends."

"Is everything okay?" JJ looks up at Hotch, who let's his gaze settle on your form - he can't see much, but he watches as you lift a trembling hand to your face, presumably to massage your temples. JJ says nothing, unsure of how much you want her to say, so you take the lead.

"I don't wanna go in." You mutter. "I wanna take the stairs."

Hotch had never heard you sound so small. "I get that," Ensuring that his voice is calming, he continues, "But we both know you can't make it up all those stairs right now."

"Its- I feel like 'm trapped and 'm not even inside yet."

"We'll be here the whole time," Hotch adds and you nod.

"Is the other nurse here?"

"Yep," Another voice chimes, "I'm Nurse Maddison."

"Hi," You whisper. "I-I'm not normally like this," You mumble, this was slightly mortifying to say the least.

"That's alright," She replies, "We've all got our fears. I find it difficult to go on public transport - I'm scared of a lack of control."

"I-I'm scared if I get in the lift, I won't be able to get out." You admit. "I'm scared the lights will flicker, n I'll wake up, n I'll still be there. Or worse, the lights will go out n he'll be here."

"Who?" Nurse Maddeline furrows her eyebrows when you don't answer.

"I just really don't want this to be a dream," You whisper.

JJ squeezes your hand lightly, "I promise you, this is real."

"We're here, (Y/N). You're safe. You're with us."

You sat, taking deep breaths outside the elevator for a minute or so. Just catching your breath.

"Are you ready to get in?" She asks. Despite the question, her voice is full of understanding. "We don't have to push any buttons yet, and I can stand in the way of the doors until you're ready."

"Can- Can we do that one? With you in the doors?"

"Of course!" Nurse Maddison gives a small smile before pressing the call button for the elevator.

When she wheels you into the elevator, you forget how to breathe. Shaking your head quickly, you find Hotch and JJ (which is easy as Nurse Maddison placed the wheelchair so that you could see both of your colleagues), "I was wrong, I can't do this-"

"(Y/N), look at me," JJ speaks this time, "You're okay, it's okay."

You shake your head, "No, no, I can't-"

"I need you to calm down for me, okay?" Nurse Maddison says.

"No! No, I can't- I can't do this!" You bow your head, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands.

"(Y/N)." Hotch's voice is stern and makes you look up, "You can do this. I know you think you can't, but you can."

"Do you trust us?" JJ asks and you nod. Because you do. You trust the pair of them with your life. "Then close your eyes." You look at her for a moment before doing as she says, letting your eyes flutter shut. There's a warmth that floods through your body as she takes your hand again and you grip it lightly.

When the doors close, your grip on JJ's hand tightens and your eyes shoot open. "It's alright," Hotch is quick to reassure as JJ rubs soothing circles on your hand. "It won't be long before we reach the floor we need."

"No, no, Hotch, I need out-" You shake your head, desperately trying to get your breathing under control. "Hotch I need out, I can't breathe-"

"(Y/N), look at me." JJ's voice drew your eyes away from Hotch. "You're okay."

"No-"

"Yes you are, you're okay." She says softly, gently squeezing your hand in hers, "We're nearly there."

You pushed the palm of your hand into your eye, trying to force the tears back. "Not a coward." You muttered bitterly to yourself, not caring if the others could hear. You needed to get yourself through this ride without having a panic attack (and it was close). "Not a coward. Not a coward." You mumble the phrase, over and over. Intent on repeating it until you believe it. Of course, before that could happen, there was the familiar ping of an elevator door and your head shot up as they opened.

"Can we get out now?" You asked, looking up, "Please?"

Both Hotch and JJ give you a reassuring smile as Nurse Madeline gently pushes the wheelchair out of the elevator. 

JJ leans forward, so only you can hear her as she whispers, “See, I told you you could do it,” 

The x-ray went relatively smoothly, except for finding out you had three broken ribs and had broken your clavicle. You were also a lot calmer on the way down (still with both Hotch and JJ), feeling relatively calm (in comparison) when they wheeled you back into your room. 

The team immediately greeted you with smiles as you entered your room, Garcia standing up from your bed (where she may or may not have laid down on it).

“So, what’s the verdict, cowboy?” Morgan asked. 

“Um, three broken ribs and clavicle.”

“Clavicle?” Garcia asked.

“Collarbone,” Spencer added. 

“Does that mean no baking for a little while?” Both you and Garcia asked, turning to Hotch (who had to fight off a smile).

“Probably.”

[reveseke]

A cup of coffee …

– Request? No

– Criminal minds; Hotch & Son! Insomniac! Reader

– Warnings? None. Just spilled coffee and one curse. :)

– Note; primarily written with insomnia in mind, isn't limited to it though and could be other sleep disorders as well since it ain't specified. anyways a neurodivergent coded one. Not really proud but hey working with what I got while being sleep deprived, bc i need to desperately write something bc impulses. Kinda self-induced.

Edit. This is actually better than I remembered, now that I look at it lol.

It was quite late, the clock striking four in the morning already as R got up from his chair. Not really aware of time as he went out with an empty mug in hand. Dark circles underneath his eyes, making his eyes look a little sunken as one if the underneaths had some greenish discoloration that reminded him of an almost healed bruise.

His body swayed a little as he tried to keep walking straight and not knock himself on a corner of a door or tables on his way to the kitchen. In a way he was glad that his dad wasn't sleeping on the couch, but that just meant he was awake and most likely getting ready to leave.

It was the quiet voice of his dad that made R stop for a brief moment just behind the corner of the kitchen where Aaron would not see him. Contemplating whether or not to go for another cup, he shrugged his shoulders as he wobbled in. Aaron had been speaking on the phone with who R presumed to be JJ or possibly even Veronica to come and babysit them, or more to babysit Jack.

Aaron looked up at the boy making brief eye contact before he stopped completely from what he was doing. "Morning." Casually R greeted, immediately after doing so he went for the coffee pot.

"Don't you think you've had enough coffee for the night?" Hotch mindlessly asked as he glanced at the boy, it was visible, the sleep deprived state his son was in. Lightly tilting his head as he poured his coffee without a word, a hand wrapped around the mug for a more secure feeling as he did briefly make eye contact with a small, "No." Putting the pot down he took a small sip from it.

"Is Veronica coming today?" He asked as he straightened his back out, Hotch currently scratching something down on a paper with a ball point. "Yes. She's coming around ten to check up on you two. Don't do anything stupid." Gathering what he had Aaron took his leave from the kitchen area.

"No promises" He gave a tired yet managing a cheeky smile baring his teeth for a second as his hand slipped mindlessly; "shit!" there was a small yelp as the coffee spread everywhere and the mug hit the ground with a lightly spooked R looking down defeated.

Appearing at the doorway, Hotch looked at what the boh had managed to do within a few seconds of his words.

"Language." He merely reminded him with a heavy sight before disappearing out of the door for good.

" "LaNgUAge" .. language my ass"

[ex-coolgirl]

not me thinking of writing a new fic again (for criminal minds this time) when I still haven’t updated my other 2 current fics 😭

got the layout of the characters already… 💀

[monzabee]

pleading the fifth - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: a rather... interesting complication happens when jack’s nanny is called to school by the principal. the only person who can save either of them? it's aaron, of course.  

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 2k 

Warnings:  yelling (kinda), poor Jack is punished without a reason, other than that none?  

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

You’d consider yourself a rather calm person—a pacifist, really. You don’t confront people, you don’t get unnecessarily angry, you can’t even recall a time you’ve raised your voice in public. But right now? Right now, you are trying your hardest not to bash the principal’s head into his desk as he stares you down. It’s a glorified staring contest between the two of you, with Jack as your unwilling audience and referee.  

When the school first called you to tell you should come into the principal’s office, you thought of the worst. The worst being Jack having an accident, or one of the crazy criminals his dad deals with escaping prison and somehow finding him—which should serve as a reminder for you to stop falling asleep to murder podcasts.  

But no. Instead, you find yourself in a situation so utterly ridiculous, so mind-bogglingly absurd, that you’re starting to wonder if Aaron spiked your morning coffee before he went into work as a juvenile prank. “You’re telling me,” you say slowly, pressing your palms against the desk, “that Jack is in trouble… because he didn’t answer a question in class?” 

“He was exhibiting disruptive behaviour, which hindered the ability of the other students in class to participate.” The principal explains, he’s an aging man with thinning hair and an ever-present scowl, folds his hands neatly in front of him and you find it hard to take him serious due to the absurdity of the situation.  

You blink. “Disruptive? He didn’t even talk!” 

“His silence, Miss Y/LN,” he points out, whilst he’s pointing at Jack, “was disruptive to other students.” 

Jack, sitting beside you, shifts uncomfortably in his chair. His little hands are folded in his lap, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He looks more annoyed than guilty. Your feel for him, for you know he’s not a bad kid, he’s the complete opposite, really. “But still. You called me down here because he didn’t want to answer a question?” 

“Yes,” the principal continues. “His teacher asked the students to share what their parents do for a living. When it was Jack’s turn, he refused to answer.” 

You glance at Jack. He meets your eyes and gives the tiniest shrug, as if to say Yeah, and?You return your attention to the principal. “With all due respect, I don’t see the issue here. Jack’s dad is a federal agent. Maybe he didn’t feel comfortable talking about it.” 

The principal sighs, rubbing his temples as if you’re the one being difficult. “Miss Y/LN, we encourage transparency in our students. Sharing personal details fosters a sense of community and trust within the classroom.” 

You stare at him, waiting for the punchline. “And you think forcing a child to disclose information about his father’s dangerous job is a healthy way to foster trust?” 

The principal’s scowl deepens. “It sets a precedent. When children refuse to participate, it encourages others to do the same. That’s not how we run things here.” 

Jack finally speaks up, his voice steady but tinged with frustration. “I did participate. I said, ‘I plead the Fifth.’” 

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. 

The principal looks unimpressed. “That’s not participation.” 

“Actually,” you say, unable to help yourself, “it’s a constitutional right.” 

Jack nods excitedly. “Exactly.” 

The principal rubs his temples. “Miss Y/LN, this is not a debate. We called you in because Jack’s response was disrespectful and set a bad example for his classmates.” 

“Oh, come on,” you say, exasperated. “He’s a seven-year-old, not a criminal. He didn’t swear, he didn’t insult anyone, he just chose not to disclose personal information about his father. And frankly, I think that’s smart.” 

“Oh, you misunderstood me—he talked about Mister Hotchner’s job.” The principal clarifies, “He refused to tell the class what his mother does as for a living.”  

You blink.  

Once. Twice.  

Slowly. 

Jack is still staring at his lap, clearly uncomfortable. The principal is watching you expectantly, like he’s waiting for you to snap your fingers and magically produce an answer that will satisfy him. You take a breath, steady and slow, before asking, “And did it not occur to you that Jack doesn’t have a mother?” 

The principal’s expression falters for just a second before he recovers. “Well, I—” 

“No, really,” you cut him off, leaning forward with your elbows on the desk. “What exactly were you expecting him to say? That she passed away? That she’s not in the picture? That it’s none of your business?”Jack’s fingers tighten around the hem of his shirt, his small shoulders hunching. “Because all of those things are true, and dare I say, this is just a great ground for a lawsuit.” 

“I—” The principal clears his throat. “We didn’t realize—” 

“Oh, you didn’t realize?” You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You’re an educator, and you didn’t think that maybe, just maybe, forcing a child to talk about a subject he’s uncomfortable with might be a bad idea?” 

The principal shifts uncomfortably. “Miss Y/LN, we were only trying to encourage openness. Jack could’ve explained it to class—” 

You’re done. You pull out your phone and hand it over to Jack. “Go out and call your father, tell him to come here as soon as he can.” 

And Jack, being the sweet and smart kid that he is, doesn’t hesitate for a second. He takes the phone with a small but satisfied smile, hops off his chair, and walks out of the office, pressing the call button as he goes. Once you’re satisfied he’s out the door, you turn back to the principal.  

The principal watches him leave, his jaw tightening. “Miss Y/LN, I don’t think involving Agent Hotchner is necessary—” 

You arch a brow, crossing your arms. “Oh? You don’t? Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you want to discipline a child for not wanting to discuss his dead mother in front of his classmates.” 

The principal shifts in his chair. “That is not what I said—” 

“It’s exactly what you said.” You let out a slow breath, reigning in the urge to throw his stapler at him. “Look, Jack is a kid. A good one. He’s polite, he does his work, and he keeps to himself. If he chooses not to answer a personal question in class, that’s his right. And you know what else? If Aaron were here, I guarantee you he’d be saying the same thing—but with a lot less patience than I am.” 

Aaron Hotchner is used to walking into tense situations. In fact, he thrives in them. He’s spent years profiling criminals, negotiating with hostage-takers, and dissecting the minds of the most dangerous people in the country. But right now? Right now, as he takes in the scene before him—his son looking uneasy, you standing rigid with barely contained anger, and the principal sitting behind his desk with an expression that’s quickly morphing from smug authority to barely concealed nervousness—he knows exactly what kind of situation this is. 

It’s one that will not end well for the man in front of him, and not because he’s about to chew the principal out, but because you’re just as angry as he is.  

“I’d like to hear why my son was called in for disciplinary action.” His voice is calm. Even. But it has the weight of authority behind it—the kind that makes grown men break eye contact and shuffle in their seats.  

The principal straightens, clearing his throat as if that will make Aaron any less unimpressed. “Well, Agent Hotchner, I assure you this is simply a misunderstanding,” the principal starts, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Jack refused to participate in a classroom discussion, which we found to be disruptive.” 

Aaron’s jaw tightens. “Disruptive,” he repeats flatly. He’s aware that the look he gives the man is quite off-putting, but he couldn’t care less given that his son has been put on the spot. 

“Y-yes,” the principal continues. “We encourage transparency in our students, and when Jack chose not to share what his mother does for a living—” 

Aaron hears you scoff at the flimsy excuse the principal offers. He also hears the faint shuffling of clothes, and he doesn’t need to turn around to see that Jack has tucked himself over to your side. It’s a comforting thing that he does whenever he feels overwhelmed, and though the two of you have tried very hard to help him overcome this, he feels glad that Jack has you at the moment to bring him relief.  

“He doesn’t have a mother.” Aaron’s voice cuts through the air like a knife. Sharp. Final. He’s also very aware of the fact that your lips are curling in an unapproving way, and of the fact that this can be an uncomfortable topic for most. But why should his child be put in an uncomfortable situation by the very people who are supposedly tasked with his well-being. 

The principal falters. His mouth opens, then closes, before he manages a weak, “I wasn’t aware.” 

Aaron’s expression remains unreadable, but his tone drops, making his displeasure crystal clear. “Then maybe you should have been.” 

Beside him, you shift slightly, and when Aaron looks over the shoulder to you, you have your arms protectively around Jack as you level the principal with an unimpressed look. “That’s what I said.” 

Aaron almost smirks. Almost. But the sight also tugs at some of the strings of his heart. 

The principal stammers, scrambling to regain some semblance of control. “Agent Hotchner, I assure you—” 

“Assure me what?” Aaron interrupts smoothly. His voice remains even, but there’s a razor-sharp quality to it now. His annoyance is amplified due to the fact the he is back at looking at the middle age principal instead of his son and you, but he tries to remain as stoic as he can. “That you failed to consider the emotional well-being of a child under your care? That you thought coercing him into sharing deeply personal information was an acceptable way to foster ‘transparency’?” 

The principal swallows. “I—” 

Aaron doesn’t give him room to recover. “Jack is a child. A good child. If he chose not to answer a question, there was a reason for it. And instead of respecting that, you decided to make an issue of it. You called in his guardian, wasted her time, wasted my time, and most importantly, made my son feel like he did something wrong when he didn’t.”The principal’s face is rapidly losing color, and you find it highly amusing to watch Aaron tear him a new one as you absentmindedly stroke Jack’s hair. Aaron takes a step forward, just enough to make the older man shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Jack will not be receiving any disciplinary action for this. Furthermore, I expect a formal apology from both you and his teacher.” 

“Agent Hotchner, I—I don’t think that’s necessary—” 

“I do.” 

The silence in the room is suffocating. The principal, realizing he’s backed into a corner, nods stiffly. “Of course.” 

Jack may be young, but he isn’t oblivious. He understands things far too well for a child his age—has seen too much to be anything but painfully aware of the way the world works. And right now, he understands that the adults who were supposed to protect him in this environment have let him down. 

Aaron takes in a slow breath and releases it just as steadily. He won’t let this moment define Jack’s time here. He won’t let this school—this principal—become another source of stress in his son’s life. 

He turns his attention back to the man in front of him, watching the principal squirm under his gaze. “I trust this won’t be an issue again.” 

“No, sir.” The principal nods quickly, his hands folded tightly together on his desk. 

The final look Aaron gives the man is cold, and you’d be lying if it isn’t at least a little bit satisfying to watch. With the matter settled, Aaron turns to Jack, his face softening. “Let’s go.” 

Jack doesn’t hesitate. He hops off the chair and moves toward his father, but not before looking up at you. There’s something in his gaze—relief, maybe, or gratitude—and your heart clenches at the sight. 

You ruffle his hair playfully. “Come on, kid. Let’s get out of here before your dad arrests someone.” 

Aaron sighs. “I don’t arrest people for incompetence.” 

You smirk. “Pity.” 

[allieslittlewritings]

Smiley Hotchner

Aaron Hotchner + toddler!daughter!reader

Summary: Toddler!reader spends a day at the BAU

Warnings: None, vague UnSub things

Word Count: 750

‎Aaron bringing you to the bureau was a rare occasion. He had always preferred to keep you away from his work as much as humanly possible. However, when their most recent case involved a local UnSub whose victims all bared an eery resemblance to you, he couldn't ignore the nagging voice in his head telling him you would be safer with him.

Though it leaned towards unprofessionalism, he couldn't help himself. He called your babysitter and she brought you to the bureau shortly after.

The other team members diverted their attention from the evidence board to the small footsteps sounding through the bureau.

Blissfully unaware of the real reason you were there, you immediately ran to your dad with a bright smile on your face. Aaron felt the tension in his posture ease when he saw you.

"Hi, Daddy." Your loving smile remained on your face.

"Hi, honey." The smile on his face was smaller but no less full of love and warmth. He started carrying you to his office, pointedly staring at the rest of the team so they would get back to working on their profile.

"How was your day, sweetheart?" Aaron asked, putting you down on the couch in his office.

"It was good!" You reached into your little backpack and pulled out a piece of slightly folded paper. "My teacher told us to draw something we love, so I drew you." You held the piece of paper out to your dad, expectedly waiting for him to take it.

He gratefully took it and felt his heart melt in his chest. The scribbles you had drawn would by no means be hung in a museum (unless it was owned by Aaron in which case it would be the number one display), but it was surely one his favorites pieces of art to ever be created.

A line of red as his tie, messy brown dots for his eyes, and a wonky line on his face to represent a grin.

"Do you like it?" you asked hopefully.

He bent down to be closer to you. "I love it." He gently kissed your head and handed the drawing back to you.

For the next few hours, you stayed in his office, drawing more scribbles and playing with the toys he kept in his office for you.

Most of the team went to apprehend the UnSub. Their profile indicated that the UnSub would comply relatively easy when arrested so a few of the team stayed behind.

Aaron being the Unit Chief meant he had to go along. Before he left he asked the ones staying behind to keep an eye on you.

Reaching up to open his office door, you curiously exited his office. Spencer and JJ were in the bullpen, removing things from the evidence board and putting files away, while Penelope sat on Spencer's desk and told them about the reality TV show she was currently watching.

You ran, carefully so you wouldn't trip, to where they were and waited for them to acknowledge your presence.

"Hi, Y/N!" Penelope happily greeted you, holding her arms open for a hug.

You practically crashed into her and hugged her back before doing the same to JJ, and Spencer. You opted for staying by him, holding onto one of his legs and admiring his shoes. You wondered how he kept them so clean when he wore them just about every time you saw him.

He wasn't sure whether he should politely tell you to let go of him, so he could remove a somewhat graphic photo from the board before you saw it, or let you stay there.

He looked at JJ and Penelope, visibly conflicted and in need of help.

Penelope smiled amusedly and gently poked your arm, getting you to look up at her with one eye, the other being lightly squished against Spencer's leg. "Hey, baby Hotch, why don't we go to my lair and I can show you the new game I made?"

"Ooh, okay!" You let go of Spencer and held out your hand for Penelope to take.

She grabbed your hand and started leading you to her office. You looked back at JJ and Spencer, who very quickly covered the photo he'd wanted to remove, and waved at them. Spencer wasn't thinking very well when he removed his hand from the board to wave back to you. Realization only hit him when he saw your gleeful expression morph into one of shock.

Aaron happened to walk back into the bureau at that exact moment and saw the surprise on your face. Spencer gulped nervously at the hard stare Aaron gave him.

Before he could go over to scold him for not being more careful, you tugged at his pant leg and looked up at him, gaining his attention. He leaned down, thinking you were upset. "What is it, honey?"

"Daddy, I desperately need shoes like Uncle Spencer's."

[elizabethsnuts]

The most recent fic with Hotch’s daughter was chef’s kisses! It’s just too cute! Can we get one where baby Hotch has her father’s frown and scowl? The team finds it hilarious but Hotch is so surprised. 😂

Cranky-Pants

Aaron Hotchner x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You didn’t get enough sleep last night and were grumpy all day, the team couldn’t help but find it funny that you looked like your dad when you were angry.

———

Today was just not your day, you were tired, you were cranky, you missed your midday nap and you wanted to take a long sleep but you couldn’t as your dad had taken you to his work again.

Aaron was also not in the best mood as you kept him up for most of the night and now was giving him a hard time because you were tired, so tired that you wouldn’t go down for your nap.

Aaron was holding your hand as he walked out of the elevator, you were trailing a bit behind him, stomping your little feet angrily as you walked. You let out an angry noise and stopped walking as your tiny shoe came undone.

Aaron sighed and knelt down to tie your shoe. “Y/N, I know you’re tired and cranky and I’m sorry but can you please be a little nicer.”

You huffed in annoyance and crossed your little arms. “I nice!”

Aaron looked at you and raised his eyebrow slightly. “You are not being nice to me right now.”

You let out another irritated noise before you squealed as Aaron picked you up and held your arms down so you didn’t flail them around. He walked into the bullpen and immediately heard the giggles and chuckles from his team.

His face contorted into a curious and confused frown. He looked around at the others. “What’s so funny?”

JJ and Derek were giggling, Spencer was covering his mouth to try and contain his laughter. Derek crossed his arms and chuckled again. “She’s got the same frown as you, Hotch.”

Aaron frowned again and quickly looked at your face. “What? No, she doesn’t!”

Derek shook his head and pointed to your face and then to Aaron’s, you were both making the same face. “Yes, she does! You can’t deny something that is right in front of me and I can see with my own two eyes. She’s got the same frown as you.”

Emily smiled and took you out of Aaron’s arms, gently patting your back. “What’s with all the frowning today, cranky pants?”

You looked at Emily with a scowl which caused her to widen her eyes and let out a surprised chuckle. “Woah alright, baby Hotch. You sure do look like your dad when you’re angry.”

You just whined and put your pacifier in your mouth, resting your head on Emily’s shoulder. She started to gently rock you while keeping up the back-patting, trying to get you to sleep. You were very obviously tired.

Aaron looked over to see you half asleep on Emily’s shoulder, he saw your eyes close and the soft sucking of your pacifier slowing. He breathed a sigh of relief as you stopped fighting sleep and eventually gave in.

“I don’t know how you did that, she didn’t sleep at all last night nor did she take her nap today.” Hotch gently rubbed a hand over your back, a small smile on his face as he saw your little frown in your sleep.

Emily chuckled. “What can I say? She loves her Aunty Emily.” She softly stroked your cheek, trying to jokingly pull your frown into a smile. “She looks just like you when she gets cranky, y’know? Same frown, same scowl.”

Aaron chuckled and shook his head. “I didn’t even realise, it’s a bit surprising.”

Emily raised an eyebrow and smiled, still gently rocking you. “Surprising that she looks like her dad?”

Aaron shrugged and smiled back at Emily. “Just thought she looked more like Haley.”

Emily looked back at your face, quietly studying it. “I don’t know, I think she looks like you both. I definitely see you in her though, especially in her expressions.”

Aaron’s smile widened into a genuine one, he gently took you back into his arms. You stirred a little, moving your head around. Aaron quickly but gently moved it onto his shoulder, softly combing his fingers through your hair. “Shh-Shh-Shhh, it’s just me, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

You mumbled in your sleep quietly and relaxed into him, your tiny fingers gripping his suit. You loved your dad even if you did get angry at him because you were tired.

[the-guilty-writer]

happy father's day

to the rossi!child readers - he's away a lot, but he loves you more than anything. he makes sure to tell you every chance he gets. your favorite meal is ready for family dinner.

to the hotch!child readers - he sees the pain you hide so well. know that it's safe to fall apart sometimes. he wil be there to help you pick up the pieces. you don't have to hide anymore.

to the morgan!child readers - he tells you to follow your dreams and he means it. spread your wings and fly. he will catch you if you fall. you will always be safe with him looking out for you.

to the spencer!child readers - he knows it's hard to be different, and he's going to make sure you know how loved and understood you are. you'll always be enough for him. he hopes you know that.

(late) happy mothers day

to the garcia!child readers - she doesn't just tell you, but shows you how perfect you are. there's nothing she wants more than for you to always be the most authentic version of you.

to the JJ!child readers - she loves you in a way that would be impossible to describe with mere words. in every way, shape, and form, her love for you is truly unconditional.

to the prentiss!child readers - she knows the greatest gift she can give you is to raise you to survive on your own. stand up tall and strong and fearless; your mother raised a soldier.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

ahhhh! i was the anon who requested the most recent hotch!daughter fic! tysm for writing that. the most adorable thing ever <3!!!

is it ok to have a sort of follow up on that fic? maybe reader comes back and forces hotch and all the bau members to play princess tea party with her during their lunch break haha?

Aaron Hotchner X Young Daughter Reader Pt 2

Request : ahhhh! i was the anon who requested the most recent hotch!daughter fic! tysm for writing that. the most adorable thing ever <3!!!

is it ok to have a sort of follow up on that fic? maybe reader comes back and forces hotch and all the bau members to play princess tea party with her during their lunch break haha?

Start of recap...

Following his arm Hotch breathed a sigh off relief as he saw where Y/N had got to, smiling he watched his daughter laugh and play with the young doctors hair.

He was glad she was okay and made a new friend. Quickly taking a few pictures he sends them to Haily who messaged back just a quick. "Some one made a new friend" chuckling he responded. "I think they both made a new friend"

Putting his phone away he went back to his office, happy to leave his daughter in his agents capable hands.

End of recap...

Third person pov...

A couple months after Hotch and Haily get a divorce. Haley has the kids most of the time and Hotch gets visitation rights, little Y/N loves spending time with her Daddy.

It was a typical day at the FBI academy for Aaron Hotchner, the team's stoic leader.

As they were reviewing their case files and strategizing for their next case, Hotchner's phone rang. He picked it up and on the other end was his ex-wife, Haley.

Hotchner's heart skipped a beat as he heard the sound of his two-year-old daughter, laughing in the background.

The spending if her voice grew louder, she had come closer to the phone.

"Hi daddy!" She squeals as she sees his contact. Hotch let's a smile fall on his lips. "Hi baby, you want to spend the day with me and the team?" He asks the young girl.

Hotch immediately pulls the phone far away from his ears as his Daughter screams in joy shouting into the phone. "Yes yes yes!" Hotch laughs at how excited the little girl sounds.

After getting the phone back, Haley explained that their original babysitter had called in sick and she had an important meeting she couldn't miss, Jack had school so She asked if Aaron could take care of Y/N for the day.

Despite his busy schedule, Hotchner couldn't say no to spending time with his daughter. He quickly made arrangements for Y/N to come to the BAU office and inform the team that they would have a special guest for the day.

As the clock struck 12, Agent Hotchner was in his office, going through files when suddenly he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in" he called out, not looking up from his work.

To his surprise, it wasn't one of his team members, but his 2 year old Daughter

Y/N standing in front of him with a huge smile on her face.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed, running towards him.

"Hey, Princess have a safe trip" Hotch asked, lifting her up in his arms. The energetic girl smiled and hugged his neck. "Yep I did, can we play daddy?" she asks the man, giggling.

Hotch chuckled, "i'm sorry sweetie, but Daddy has to work right now. Maybe later, okay?" The H/C girl pouted, but before Hotch could say anything else.

she suddenly let out a loud giggle and ran out of his office. Hotch shrugged, thinking it was just a phase and went back to his work.

But 5 minutes later, he heard more giggling and the sound of his door opening again.

This time, it was the whole BAU team following Y/N who was dressed in a pink princess dress with a tiara on her head.

She was holding the young Dr's hand who was smiling, Y/N still loved Spencer the most apart from her Daddy of course

"Hotch, we have a problem" Rossi said, a serious look on his face but trying to hold back his laughter.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, "What's going on?" Everyone one of them after trying to keep a straight face.

"Morgan found this little princess wandering around the bullpen, claiming that she was here to play with you" JJ explained, trying not to laugh

Before he could say anything, Y/N ran towards him and tugged on his shirt. "Daddy, I wanna play tea party with you and your friends!"

Hotch looked at his team, trying to hide his amusement. But seeing their pleading faces, he knew there was no way he could deny his daughter's request.

"Okay, just for a little while" Hotch said, putting the little girl down and joining the others in the break room.

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement as she dragged Spencer out of her Daddies office and to the found table room.

She then passed out plastic tea cups and saucers to everyone. "You're the queen, Daddy!" She said, placing a tiara on Hotch's head.

The team couldn't help but laugh as they pretended to sip imaginary tea and have conversations with the little princess.

They even played make-believe with her, pretending to be princes and princesses in a magical kingdom.

Hotch was the Queen, Rossi was the King, Y/N of course was a Princess, Spencer the court magician, Penelope the fairy God Mother, Derek a Knight, JJ and Emily were princesses with Y/N.

For the next hour, the BAU team forgot about their stressful job and just enjoyed the innocent fun with their bosses daughter.

Hotch couldn't remember the last time he laughed this much, and seeing his team bonding with his daughter made his heart warm.

As the lunch break came to an end and they had to get back to work, Y/N hugged each team member tightly, thanking them for playing with her.

"Thanks for saving my princess, Hotch" Derek said, high-fiving him as they all left the break room.

Hotch smiled, feeling grateful for his team and their willingness to be a part of his daughter's little tea party adventure.

From that day on, whenever little Y/N would visit him at work, the team would always set aside some time to play with her.

Hotch couldn't be happier, knowing that his daughter was being raised in a loving and supportive environment.

The end!

I hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for the wait. Finally got around to writing this. Sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1100

[wastingmylifesecondatatime]

UPDATE: 07.06.2024

NOTE: You can find other masterlists in my mother masterlist

I have updated the following masterlists:

Marauders Era Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Maurauders Era Masterlist - Series

Golden Trio Era (Slytherin) - One Shots/Drabbles

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[ssa-dado]

30 Seconds

triathlon!Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: SMUT, pre-relationship mutual pining and just a touch of ♫ LOATHING, UNADULTERATED LOATHING ♫ Summary: You text the hot swim dad for legal help. He shows up in khakis. You try to behave. You fail. He's accidentally jealous of your date, you accidentally grind on his lap, he finishes in his pants, and somehow it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to you. Warnings: SMUT MDNI (heavy makeout, dry humping and *sighs* Aaron creams his pants for just that... the title is descriptive enough), age gap, cuss words, hint of the vile act of female masturbation *pearl clutch*, objectification of the Hotchner body Word Count: 4.9k (damn gurl) Dado's Corner: Based on this request! And... um... full disclosure... I added the glasses part solely because of the cat pic sent by @hotchology, who said this ginger furball is how they imagine Hotch in glasses (LOOK HOW CUUUTE)

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Everything showers.

A sacred rite of modern womanhood.

Takes minimum two geological eras to complete, consumes half the planet’s fresh water, and must be repeated often to remain an eligible mating partner.

Because that’s the whole point of being a woman, isn’t it? To be clean, hairless, glowing, and vaguely vanilla-scented - just fuckable enough for men who think 3-in-1 shampoo counts as skincare.

The concept of an everything shower is… layered. Part hygiene. Part penance. Part psychological rebirth. A full-body cleanse for the sins you haven’t committed yet.

You’ve done them before first dates. Before almost-dates. Before parties, dick appointments, emotional breakdowns, and that one Tuesday when you just needed to check in on her-

(Her. Down there.)

Once, you even did one before visiting your mother. (Unclear whether that was for survival or atonement. Maybe both.)

But never - not even in your darkest, most masochistic imagination - did you think you’d be doing one because of an eviction notice.

Not until today.

Because Aaron Hotchner - a man who should be both physically and emotionally unavailable due to his very, very, veeeery important job saving the world - is apparently not unavailable.

Not when it matters.

Not when it’s least convenient for your nervous system.

…The irony.

All it took was one stupid text. A momentary lapse in dignity. Something he’d probably refer to as “compromised judgment.”

do you happen to know a very cheap lawyer asking for a friend

And instead of his usual three-to-five-business-days reply time, he hits you with:

aaron hotchner (work, no nudes): Are you at home now? – A.H.

And now you’re just a bit overthinking… because how does he know that?

Did the FBI install a secret camera in your pothos plant? Does he have access to some satellite heat map of your apartment? Has he been watching your window? A camera in the air vent?

(Has he seen you trying out that new clear dildo in front of the mirror for “science”?)

(The one time you tried doing yoga and got stuck in child's pose for 40 minutes?)

You don’t know. You don’t want to know.

All you do know is that you are currently fully naked, shaving for a man who:

Has no idea he’s being shaved for, while you’re on speakerphone with him, as he gets closer and closer to your building block because he invited himself into your private space and-

Would absolutely turn around and disappear if he ever caught even a hint of cucumber-scented shaving cream (you borrowed from your roommate) and realized you'd… prepared for him.

Because your “just in case” implies premeditation. And premeditation implies intention. And intention? Intention is basically foreplay.

And foreplay is strictly prohibited outside the sanctity of marriage, a psychological clearance form, and at least three signed affidavits from HR.

He would enter WITSEC on the spot. Change his name. Grow a beard.

(Hot.)

“What’s happening? Are you alright?”

He concernedly asks over the phone - totally unaware (definitely unaware) that every time he checks in on you, he’s poking your very well-buried, very latent daddy issues with a stick.

(Or maybe he keeps asking because he’s the one with daddy issues. Very obvious ones. That classic parented-child energy. Raised himself on black coffee, moral obligation and emotional regret.)

What a match, really. You get off on being cared for, and he gets off on taking care of people he’ll never emotionally open up to.

Soulmates.

Anyway-

“So… my landlord is an asshole and I really hope he gets some very painful hemor-”

Mr. FBI has the audacity to call you by your full legal name before cutting you off with, “This call is being recorded. I’d appreciate it if you refrained from making…” he even pauses, searching for the most delicate phrasing. Because God forbid he doesn’t sound like a morally burdened Disney princess. “explicit threats.”

Oh, you’d appreciate a few things too. Like having his actual number and not the one issued by the United States Government - so you wouldn’t have to worry about scandalizing some poor technical analyst who’ll be forced to transcribe this call word-for-word the second they find his body in a ditch and trace it back to you.

(“Exhibit B: She said, quote, ‘I hope he gets some very painful hemor.’”)

…But you’re not as childish as him to complain about that.

“My bad.”

“It’s alright.” (Can he please stop talking like this?)

“Yeah… I-” Your voice trips. Your face is hot. Your entire body is hotter. “The thing is-”

“I’m listening.” Oh, fuck him. (Please.)

“In short: the building’s falling apart. We’ve been emailing the guy for weeks, complaining, begging, threatening – nicely - and either he forgets to reply or says he’ll fix it and then doesn’t. It’s been an eternity and he still hasn’t done a single fuc-”

Recorded line. Recorded line. God forbid the man has a seizure because of you. “-thing.”

You hear a chuckle on the other end.

You hate phone calls.

You’d choke him if he weren’t safely boxed inside a moving vehicle.

“I said threats. You can curse. I’m not ten.” Oh, he’s smiling. You can hear it. The smug bastard.

“Oh, that I noticed.”

You love phone calls.

If he were here, he would've already hit you with one of those signature stares - intended to intimidate, but really just making you want to lick the corner of his mouth out of pure spite.

But look at you. Free. Untouchable. Doing amazing.

“The thing is, I didn’t pay rent this month. Because they’re still ignoring the repairs. And now they’re threatening to evict me if I don’t pay.”

“That’s retaliatory. It’s illegal.”

“Wait… you’re telling me I’m not screwed?”

“No, they are. You withheld payment due to unaddressed health and safety violations. That’s protected under landlord-tenant statutes,” he says, suddenly shifting into full legalese, something-something code 572, subsection blah-blah, tenant rights, lease clauses-

You don’t hear any of it. Actually, the very second he started speaking fluent Law Daddy, , your brain slammed the emergency brake to focus on the real crisis:

What the fuck are you going to wear.

“Document everything-“

Lace? Bold choice, but post-shave? Masochism. Granny cotton briefs? He’ll never look at you again.

“Photos.”

Tight top, no bra? Risky.

What if he hugs you and feels how obnoxiously hard your nipples are?

(He’s not a hugger. He doesn’t seem like a hugger. Right?)

(Right??)

(But what if he is today?)

(What if he walks in, sees you - top clinging, no heating - and suddenly decides: You know what? Now’s the time. Now’s the moment I become a hugger. Just for her. Just this once. Just to pull her in close, pretend it’s chaste, press his palm between her shoulder blades and - oh fuck - realize it’s not.)

(What if he hugs you and feels it?)

(What if he hugs you and keeps hugging you?)

(What if he grips tighter, his hand slides just a little lower, and his voice does too, right by your ear - “You’re not wearing a bra.”)

(“Neither are you, sir.”)

(And what if that hug turns into a grind, into his thigh between your legs, into lift me onto the kitchen counter and show me what else you know about tenancy law.)

“Emails.”

Loose top, skimpy bottoms? Slutty. Strategic. Respectable slutty. He’d stare at your legs all night.

(He wouldn’t. But you’d know. Which is worse.)

You should lather in coconut oil, just in case.

You should lather in coconut oil anyway – hydration is important to avoid ingrowns (and yes, to smell edible too.)

“Timestamps.”

Tight top, no bra, skimpy bottoms? Too much? Too “I can’t pay the plumber, but maybe I can offer something else...”

(Not that you’ve watched those. Obviously. You’re just… aware of the trope.)

(Not because you spent 30 minutes the other night trying to find the perfect one. And then another 10 skipping the plot because it was too unrealistic, there’s no way the plumber just happens to have lube.)

(Not that you wouldn’t do it for him. But you’re also not going to lower yourself to being a badly lit, lazily scripted fantasy for the male gaze.)

“…If you haven’t already, I’d recommend drafting a written complaint.”

“…Aaron, I don’t even know where to start,” you mutter. “That’s why I asked if you knew a very cheap lawyer.”

“I’m the very cheap lawyer.” For some reason he chuckles, probably it’s because of his own joke, “Don’t worry, we’ll do it together, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

He is not there in fifteen.

He’s “there” after fourty-eight minutes - flustered, apologizing, muttering something about I-395 and a jackknifed delivery truck, which is just adorable, really, coming from a man who’s clearly never taken the bus in heels while bleeding through his jeans, juggling three leaking Trader Joe’s bags, and re-evaluating every life decision since birth.

He’s grumbling about “infrastructure,” all furrowed brows and moral outrage. How sweet.

You, meanwhile, are Frenching the entire Department of Transportation.

You are giving gridlock the kind of wet, eye-contact blowjob that wins awards - because, for once in your adult life, the universe delayed a man just long enough for you to become a person.

Thirty-eight glorious minutes to shave, moisturize, hide the evidence of your emotional instability, light a candle, panic about the candle (too much?), blow it out, light it again (fuck it), rearrange your throw pillows, Febreze your loveseat, and clean your floors so well you briefly consider serving dinner off them - or yourself.

(Also enough time to change outfits four times, reject each one violently, and land on something that screams “Oh, this? Just threw it on,” while whispering: “I shaved everything.”)

You’ve never been more grateful for civic failure.

You look good. Your apartment looks good. You know it smells amazing in here. You know it. You can feel the Pine-Sol particles sparkling off the hardwood.

Any second now, he’s going to say something about it.

He’s going to inhale – deeply - and ask what detergent you use. Compliment your lavender baseboards.

You can feel it coming. You’re ready. You smile. You bask.

Aaron sets down his bag. Unclips it. Opens it. Looks up.

“I printed out the tenancy statutes,” he says, already pulling out an aggressively highlighted stack of documents from the briefcase.

And this would be impressive - should be impressive - if he weren’t wearing a plain black T-shirt that is doing things to his arms. And the khakis. Fucking khakis.

The most indecently decent pants in the entire male wardrobe.

They whisper "suburban dad," but scream "accidental bulge in soft daylight."

Speaking of which, unfortunately, your apartment lighting has never worked harder - midday golden-hour haze bouncing off every freshly scrubbed surface, casting soft shadows and sensual gleam until finally it settles on The Situation.

…Shit.

(Do not look at it.)

(Do not acknowledge it.)

(Do not mentally calculate whether that’s just the way his pants fold or if that’s his dick pressed against the zipper like it also has a clause to deliver.)

(Do notice, however, that he still hasn’t said a single word about how nice your apartment looks. Rude.)

“I flagged the key violations and I added notes on a recent amendment that strengthens your case - you can reference it in your response letter.” His eyes scan the room clearing it for hostiles - except all he really sees is your loveseat. Small. Soft. Close.

And you, in a tank top.

He clears his throat. Adjusts the folder. His gaze flicks back to you – quick, sharp, and immediately redirected to something safer, like the floor.

“Where… should we get set up?” he asks, like he hasn’t already mentally measured the loveseat twice, logged its exact dimensions in his brain, and is currently laser-eyeing the very cushion he’s dying – dreading - to sit on.

“Oh, I don’t know… wherever you’re comfortable.”

He nods - just a touch too seriously - then hesitates. Again. Checks one more time, with those painfully polite eyes: Can I...? Is it alright if...?

(…As if you might suddenly revoke loveseat privileges.)

Then, slowly, he lowers himself onto the cushion. Perches. Occupies the absolute minimum amount of space humanly possible.

If he still had the joint mobility of his youth, you’re convinced he’d just origami himself into a respectful little one-inch cube and tuck into the far corner.

You glance at his shoulders - very broad, deliciously broad, yes - tense, but more at how hard he’s trying not to brush them against yours. What a funny man.

Especially funny because while he's typing up your official letter - like a good little lawyer - he's also letting the conversation drift into a completely unrelated side street.

Unrelated except for the fact that it's all about you.

Like how he “casually” mentions he hasn’t seen you at the pool lately.

The one where he trains and you sit in a cracked plastic cafeteria chair pretending to wait for your friend’s aquatic therapy - when really, you’re mourning every second you’re not legally tethered to the hot dad at swim practice. The hot dad who doesn’t even know he’s the hot dad. (Him. Obviously.)

You go for your friend. Technically.

Spoiler: she’s got two weeks left.

Which means once her sessions are over, you and Aaron will have absolutely no logical reason to ever speak again. No built-in excuse. No default setting.

And now there’s a looming, mutual thing neither of you are acknowledging.

You’re sure there’s a term for this. Something about large mammals afraid of mice and metaphor.

“Yeah, I was in the lane next to your friend’s the other day…” he starts.

“Really?” You pretend you didn’t get fourteen missed calls from said friend, who - when you finally called her back - didn’t even say hi. Just launched straight into: “Burgundy swim cap guy looked up at your seat three times. Three. He looked so sad you weren’t there I had to explain where you were so he wouldn’t drown in longing.”

“Yes… we talked for a bit. She seems very nice…”

Ah.

Interesting choice of words, considering she told you – verbatim - “I can’t believe someone built like a brick shithouse could be that pathetic.”

(She has yet to understand that that is the whole appeal. Him. And that exact contradiction. Him and that-)

“So… how did… your date go?” he asks, pretending to be casual. He’s polishing his glasses against the hem of his shirt, even though they’re already spotless. (You weren’t even aware he needed glasses. Probably neither is the rest of the planet.)

He keeps at it. Rubs one lens. Then the other. Then back again.

You wonder if he’s trying to distract himself. From the question. From the answer.

Your date.

The one that made you miss your friend's call. The one you actually went on. The one that-

“It went well, actually.” It did. Way too well. And that’s the problem.

Because you keep chasing Aaron.

Despite the very obvious fact that nothing will ever happen between you. Because he’s… well, him. And you’re…

A little too young. A little too broke. A little too you.

(And technically if you do the math, you’re closer to his son’s age than his. Just by a few years, sure, but still. Still enough to justify it to yourself out loud, then say it again. And again. Until it starts sounding like a fact.)

It’s just a harmless crush. A stupid little thing. A flicker. A fantasy. A hobby, really.

You have so many of those - men. Smart, emotionally unavailable, vaguely haunted. You collect them like parking tickets: Useless. Repetitive. Always showing up when you least need them. But you keep them. Stack them in a drawer somewhere in your head.

Just in case.

Still, there’s something about this one.

About him.

Aaron.

Aaron in wireframe glasses, almost making you believe in the higher powers he believes in too. (Hopefully not the United States government.)

Aaron with that voice, that jaw, that posture.

Aaron, who says things like “landlord-tenant statute” and somehow makes it sound better than the poetry in those overpriced, niche little books you only buy for the cover, the ones where the author hits enter every four words so it tricks you into thinking they mean something.

And maybe – deep, deep down – it’s because you want to be proven wrong. That someone like him could find goodness in parts of you you’ve already declared a lost cause. That he could look at all the rot and still see something worth saving. Or maybe it’s just easier. Easier to chase something you’ll never catch than turn around and face the things already standing still, arms open, waiting to love you back.

“I’m glad to hear that,” says Deliciously Four-Eyed Aaron, just a little too tight. Tighter than his khakis, which shift and pull every time he readjusts to keep from getting a flat ass on your loveseat.

(What’s wrong, Agent Hotchner? Not expecting it to actually go well? God, you hope that’s why his jaw looks like it’s about to file for divorce from the rest of his face.)

“I don’t know him well,” he adds, clinically. “But… he seems like a nice guy. He’s good at his job.”

Right. Which is rich, coming from the man who literally handed you the guy’s number. And now he’s playing coy?

So what was that, then? A random act of kindness? A stroke of pity? Was it projection? Was it a fever dream?

Did he just reach into the FBI rolodex and go: “Hmm. You’re not under disciplinary review, you own slacks, and your blood pressure is normal. Here, date this emotionally volatile woman I know and I think you might like - she has opinions and abandonment issues, enjoy!

Because Aaron doesn’t do spontaneous. Aaron does strategic. Aaron does 48-hour surveillance and triple-signed documents.

He’s not the guy who improvises. He’s the guy who rehearses his improvisation.

So forgive you if you’re just a little confused by Mr. Times New Roman over here, trying to mentally trace the logic that gets you from “I barely know him” to “you should definitely let him finger you. Only after marriage, though.”

It’s weird. And yet, somehow, that’s not even the most annoying part.

“Good at his job?” you echo, with a laugh that sounds way too close to a cry for help. (Of course. Of course that’s Special Supervising Whatever-the-Fuck Hotchner’s metric for male compatibility. Not empathy. Not emotional availability. Not even basic social literacy. No, job performance. What a catch.) “What are you going to say next, that he’s a good person because he clocks in early and doesn’t steal breakroom coffee?”

“Well,” he says, adjusting his glasses that did not need adjusting, “I can’t vouch for the coffee. But I do see him arrive on time. From my office. If that’s what’s concerning you.”

…Oh. So that’s what this is. We’re flexing now.

Mr. I Have A Window. Mr. I Oversee The Peasants. Mr. Private Office While Everyone Else Plays Hot-Desk Musical Chairs. Mr. Title, Tenure, and a Chair That Supports Both His Spine and His Reluctance to Feel. Mr. I Deserve This Square Footage Because I Ruined My Marriage for the Federal Government.

(You could go on. And on. And on. You won’t. But you could.)

And it’s not even clear who he’s trying to one-up here. The guy he set you up with? Or… you? Both?

Like, “Yes, he’s punctual. Yes, he’s nice. Yes, he’s good at his job. But I define what good is. I’m his boss. Be impressed by me instead. Please. I beg you.”

Okay. Breathe. Relax.

No one invited him to a pissing contest and yet here he is, unzipping his intellectual fly right in the middle of your living room. (Not the fly you wanted unzipped, unfortunately.)

You squint at him. “So what, you show up before everyone else just to watch your little ducklings waddle in behind you? Mother Goose clocking in before sunrise to lead by example and assert dominance?”

He turns toward you. Tilts his head. Makes that face. The one you’ve been craving since the second he walked in.

Eyebrows drawn, mouth slightly open - just enough to spot that one crooked tooth, bless it - an expression that says concerned, confused, and disappointed in your tone, all in one.

“It’s none of that,” he’s dead serious, even if he’s visibly smiling… marvelous. “It’s just respectful to be on time.”

Sure, Agent Hotchner. Tell yourself that while polishing your Employee of the Decade plaque.

“I barely even see my boss at the café. Twice a week, tops. And only after we open.”

Aaron lifts his eyebrows. Shrugs. “I’m not an asshole.”

Then he goes back to typing, pretending he’s not biting the inside of his cheek like the whole thing didn’t get to him.

Like he’s completely unbothered by the idea of some man buying you coffee and making you laugh for two full hours.

Like his knuckles aren’t just a little too tight around that trackpad.

“You know, for someone who just said he’s not an asshole, you sure spend a lot of time trying to prove how much better you are than other men.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” he says, softly. Too softly. Like he knows volume would give him away.

And fuck, those eyes.

You can’t look at them too long. You bounce between his face and anything else - your coffee table, the printout, his lap (unfortunately) - because those glasses are giving him four eyes now, and all of them are aimed at your skull, dissecting every micro-expression.

He's a bit suffocating.

“I think what really bothers you,” he says, measured, "is that you’re used to being misread."

You scoff. “Excuse me?” (Bitch.)

"You act like you want to be chased, but only if it feels reluctant. If it's earned. You push people to see if they’ll push back. You turn it into a game because it’s safer that way. If it’s a game, you can pretend you were never serious when they walk away."

Well. Okay. First of all: Rude.

Second of all: Accurate. Horribly accurate.

But also: How dare he.

"And if they don't... if they try to meet you where you are... you push them away first. Just to prove you were right to be afraid" he says - and the bastard even smiles. (Fuck his dimples. Really. Pretentious as hell.) "You punish them for it… and you punish the ones who don’t play, too. Because deep down, you still don’t know which would hurt more."

"Wow," you never thought you'd actually be speechless, and yet - here you are, scrambling for a comeback. Great. "Good thing you said you weren’t trying to prove anything. Otherwise I might’ve gotten confused and assumed you were just showing off." (Good enough. You’ll take it.)

Smarty-pants chuckles under his breath then leans back against your very professional, very structurally unsound loveseat. His knee brushes yours.

You pretend not to notice. He pretends he doesn’t notice you noticing.

"Not showing off, just telling you what you already know."

"Oh, right, because you’re such an expert on me."

"I’m just observant."

"And arrogant." And a fucking hypocrite too.

"And you still looked at my mouth twice." What a who-

Somewhere between your brain screaming full bitch slap, full bitch slap and your hand almost twitching to deliver it… you miscalculate.

You lean in. And instead of bruising his cheekbone, you crash your mouth against his.

Pride - and the stack of feminist books judging you from the bookshelf - insist it’s you who moves first. You believe them. You have to.

Even though his hands are already there - rough and steady, drowning your face in their grip - before you even finish breathing in your half-ounce of courage. Before you really even choose anything at all.

(But sure. Go ahead. Call it empowerment. You’re totally running the show. Girlboss shit.)

You want to bite him. Sink your teeth into that smug, diagnosing mouth. Split his lip. Make him bleed all over the living room he still hasn’t bothered to compliment the smell of. (You’re not petty about it… it’s just an observation.)

But it’s slower instead.

You taste his nerve first, his fear right after.

He’s already halfway to pulling back even as he keeps kissing you - trying to have it both ways - and for a second, you do break apart.

Both pretending you could still undo this. (And also undo all the bullshit he said earlier, profiling you so hard he didn’t even realize he was accidentally outing himself too.)

It doesn’t last.

You crash back into him, sloppier, mouths dragging, missing, gasping, half-kissing, half-clawing at each other as you’re both a little too desperate to land properly.

For a split second, the kiss turns... almost sweet. Tender. Romantic, even.

You could say he’s a good kisser.

You could say he’s a great kisser.

You could say he’s the only man alive who could kiss you stupid and still find a way to remind you to breathe through your nose.

(Like when he notices you getting lightheaded and somehow fixes it without even pulling away... which, not gonna lie, is a little humbling.)

But there’s no time for critical analysis. You’re already shoving him flat onto the loveseat, pinning him down, while he blinks up at you - wide-eyed, flushed, so beautiful it makes your chest hurt.

(And he looks so... concerned. As if he’s realizing just now that there’s absolutely no dignified way to get out of this alive.)

(Good. He shouldn’t.)

There’s tongue.

There’s teeth.

There’s his hands – everywhere - gripping your waist, sliding under your shirt, squeezing the backs of your thighs, pushing your leg higher over him until you can feel - Oh. Oh, he’s hard. He’s so fucking hard.

There’s a muffled noise from the back of his throat that sounds suspiciously like please and you are not thinking about that right now.

And it’s-

God.

It’s filthy. It’s great.

You grind down hard, whimpering shamelessly into his mouth, and he bucks up into you, meeting you halfway with both hands locked around your ass, squeezing so rough you’ll be wearing fingerprints by tomorrow.

(You hope so.)

(You really fucking hope so.)

He helps you move –

Up.

Down.

Slower.

Harder.

Guiding your hips with just enough pressure to make it feel like it’s your idea, finding the rhythm you didn’t know you needed until he gives it to you, forcing you to ride the thick, hard shape straining against his pants-

Just the right angle. Just the right friction.

So perfect it catches your clit every single time, knocks a gasp right out of your throat, straight into his mouth.

You’re soaking through your panties. You’re shaking with it. And it clearly gets to him - God, it wrecks him.

You can feel it - the way he tenses under you, the way his hands clutch harder at your ass, the way his cock throbs against you through the fabric like he’s just barely holding on.

He bites down on your bottom lip, rougher than you expect. Too rough for a man who apologizes when he says fuck.

He holds it between his teeth, sucks it – hard - humming low and filthy against your mouth, so obscene it makes your hips stutter.

Drop.

Just enough to let your soaked cunt drag across the swollen head of his cock.

And when you grind back, slower, tracing right along the thick ridge straining against his zipper, he chokes on a breath.

“God, fuck-”

It tears out of him, raw, as if he’s almost embarrassed by how much pleasure is tangled in it, by how stupidly sincere it comes out of his mouth.

(Also, thank God he didn’t reverse it. If he’d said “fuck, God,” instead, you’re pretty sure he would’ve stopped everything, dropped to his knees, and asked you to drive him to a confessional. Not even a metaphor - actual church. Actual guilt. Actual “forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”)

He tilts his head back, groaning, neck arching against the pillow - exposed, gorgeous - and you completely lose it.

Your tongue drags over his throat, chasing the pulse hammering under his skin, tracing your way back up to his mouth.

He’s so hot. He’s so good. He’s-

…terrified.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes, suddenly sitting up on his elbows. “I-” 

He fumbles. He panics. He stands. Backs away from the couch. From you. Visibly blushing. Visibly mortified.

“I didn’t mean-“

He doesn’t finish the sentence...

…Because he finished in his pants instead.

Poor thing.

You should be a little cruel about it - he was an asshole earlier, after all - but you’re not quite mean enough to kick a wounded 6’2” puppy when he’s already limping. (No pun intended… or maybe-)

"Hey," you murmur, reaching out, curling your fingers around his wrist so he can’t backpedal any further. He flinches. (Not much. Just enough to make you want to kiss him again. Harder this time. Until he flinches worse.)

"It’s okay. It’s-" You almost say sweet - catch yourself just in time, because you’re not trying to get murdered tonight.

"It’s normal," you settle on instead. "It’s flattering. Honestly.” (Also kind of hot. But you’ll take that particular confession to your grave.) “You didn’t... ruin anything."

He still doesn’t look convinced. At all. In fact, he looks like he might apologize again, maybe even draft a formal statement and notarize it.

You scramble. “It’s not a big deal, seriously. Who cares if it was-” (You hesitate for half a second, fatal mistake.) "-like, 30 seconds? Could've been 29, right?!”

…Right.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @goorgeousz ; @hayleym1234 ; @ignoreeeeeee ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @littlemisskavities ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mmmunson ; @mxblobby ; @nikt-wazny-y ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softtdaisy ; @softestqueeen ; @thatkidofwarandpeace ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24 ; @who-needs-to-sleep

(I might've missed someone this time, pls tell me in the comments if your name got lost AAAA sorry in advance)

Little reminder that the requests for fleabag!reader are open!! Ok.. I'll go now. Bye.