#bau x teen reader

[wildflowerluver]

sweet pea

aaron hotchner x teen!reader, bau team x teen!reader

5 times the team hears about you and the 1 time they actually meet you

cw: fem reader, set over the span of three years, case mentions, broken family unit, hotchner trio, hotch is a swiftie, also refers to his daughter as ‘sweet pea’, team is nosy, eating/food, forehead kisses run the hotchner home

wc: 3.4k

༺♡༻

1. inception

child cases are always rough.

they’re not only extremely sensitive, but they hit emotionally for everyone involved. 

it’s a small town and yet no strong leads. there’s no reason for the case to be as difficult as it is, but every case the team looks into is different.

local p.d. bring in a woman named chancy solace. she was the last one to see the missing boy alive and no one wants to wait around for another death to happen to look for evidence.

hotch was set to do the interview.

he asked basic questions about the missing boy, keeping his voice calm as she recounted her day through tears. they all knew she was innocent, no doubts about it. he was set to finish up after a few moments. it was clear she didn’t know much.

as he went to stand, however, solace had stopped him.

“do you have children, agent hotchner?” her voice was broken.

hotch nods. “i do.”

“how old?”

“my son is 3 and my daughter is 13.”

the air outside the room went stale. everyone on the team knew jack. some had even met him within his first few weeks of life. he was three, that was a fact - but a daughter? not once had hotch mentioned one, let alone one with such a large age gap. jack never rattled about a big sister either.

solace frowned, more tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “then you must understand the guilt i’m feeling right now. can you imagine if you were the last one to see your daughter before she disappeared? how can i possibly have it in me to be a part of this?”

hotch doesn’t want to think about the question she posed, not at all.

“we’re going to find him. it’s going to be alright,” it was a promise, one hotch intended not to break.

he left the room after that. their only known witness wasn’t much help for the case and there was no point in wasting time.

rossi stops hotch before he can walk away.

“why’d you lie?”

there’s no question on what rossi is asking about. it’s profiling 101 that lying to a suspect, no matter innocent or not, could be dangerous.

hotch glanced at his team.

“i didn’t.”

2. first encounter

you’ve had a really, really, really bad day.

from the second you woke up, everything seemed to go wrong. school wasn’t any better and by the end of the day, the only thing you wanted to do was see your dad. he’s your favorite person and a hug from him always reassures you that things will be okay.

you text him before your last class of the day to ask when he’ll be home. if it’s even possible, a deeper frown appears on his face when he tells you no later than six. 

part of you wants to be happy from that response. no later than six means there’s no cases and he’s on top of his files. but after the day you had, you just need someone and waiting nearly four hours for him to get home is less than ideal. 

can i come to the bau?

your text is a shot in the dark. your dad keeps you out of his profession and you’ve never stepped foot in quantico. you just hope he gets some sort of semblance for what's going on if you're asking to come see him.

he responds back seconds later. ‘i’ll send an agent.’

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you to get there on your own, there’s even a direct line from the train station closest to your school, but you're still young, only 14, and you know he would feel more comfortable having an agent pick you up.

the next time you check your phone, your dad has sent a message with the name of the agent and instructions on how to prove that it’s him. it’s not him being overprotective, it’s him wanting you to be safe. 

agent anderson is easy enough to spot. you run through the procedures your dad wanted and once you know it’s the right person, you get in the car.

he doesn’t say anything when you shove your earbuds in your ears and shuffle your playlist and you’re thankful for that. you’re especially grateful that he doesn’t ask questions when you bite your lip and swipe away stray tears that have fallen down your face.

music is an outlet for you, an escape, and right now that’s all you wanted to do. 

earbuds remain in your ears as you step into the bau building. anderson leads you through security and gets you a visitors badge. you very faintly hear any of his verbal instructions.

he leaves you once you reach the right floor, pointing through the glass doors to show you where to go. with a smile, he’s gone.

you weigh your options for a moment before walking in. you told your dad you're here but you don’t know where his office is. and right now, you really do not want to deal with anyone else. but with a deep breath, you decide to take your chances and head in.

a child walking into the bau is an automatic red flag, let alone one with puffy eyes and red cheeks, a clear sign of crying.

morgan and j.j. are the first two to stand up, wasting no time in circling their desks to walk to where you stand at the bullpen entrance; j.j.’s mouth already open with an “are you alright?” on the tip of her tongue.

but before they reach you, and before j.j. can speak, hotch is out of his office and moving down the stairs.

he steps in front of them when he faces you, thus shielding you from the prying eyes of the team. you look up at your dad, eyes full of a new wave of tears.

hotch doesn’t hug you then, though he desperately wants to, nor does he explain who you are to the team. instead, he places a strong hand on your shoulder, turning you slightly before guiding you up to his office. the door is shut and the blinds are closed. the two of you are cut off from the others and all of them know not to intrude.

“who was that?” rossi questioned after stepping onto the catwalk. the commotion was noticeable.

“i think we just met y/n.”

3. phone call 

on flights home from cases, what the team does onboard genuinely varies with what time of day it is.

during early morning and late night flights, you can find most of the team asleep, trying to make up for the rest lost in the past few days. anything between that is typically a more active time.

hotch is dealt into a game of poker with the entire team. rossi acts as the dealer claiming he’s “not in the mood to get outsmarted at his favorite game.”

the entire group is laughing and chatting among themselves as they play. there’s no reason not to, it was a successful case - worth the positive mood on the jet.

hotch’s phone ringing cuts through emily’s turn.

he holds his hands up in defense and mumbles a quiet apology.

“hi sweet pea,” hotch barely has time to greet you before he gets cut off with your frantic “did you listen?”

his laugh causes the others to bring their heads up from their cards. a hotch laugh is uncommon, rare.

“i did. we finished up here last night so i listened before i went to bed and finished when i woke up,” he answers your question. 

he waits for your response, already knowing that you want to know his thoughts on the album.

“well,” hotch pauses. “if i’m being honest, i liked it more than fearless.”

j.j. and emily are the only two who have any idea what he’s talking about. a record could be set for how fast their eyes snap to each other once it clicks.

hotch is quiet for a few moments. though no one can make out exactly what you’re saying on the other end, they can hear your muffled rambling.

“yeah yeah, i liked that one too,” hotch agrees. “i think my top two are dear john and haunted, though. her songwriting is incredible in those.”

whatever he means clearly pleases you judging by the content look on his face.

“alright i have to get going,” he starts. “but i have the vinyl reserved at the record store. we can go when i get back? should be home by two.”

you agree without hesitation, several “thank you’s” being repeated. hotch won’t admit it ever to anyone besides you, but he’s excited to hear it on vinyl too. it’s kinda your shared thing.

“i’ll see you when i get home, okay? i love you.”

he hangs up after goodbyes, placing his phone back onto the table before picking up his cards. the silence lingers in the air even after he makes the motion that he’s ready to continue. “what?”

“you listen to taylor swift?”

hotch smiles, a genuine one. “my daughter loves her. have to keep up somehow.”

4. vacation 

when hotch doesn’t show up to work for a week, it takes only the first day for the team to panic. it had been a little over a year and a half since foyet had stabbed hotch and hotch had gone missing. no one was going to take chances when their boss, who typically had perfect attendance, showed up without notice.

rossi and morgan went to strauss at the end of the day. 

their interrogation on hotch’s whereabouts is in good faith, but it doesn’t take a profiler to notice strauss’ sigh at their concerns.

“agent hotchner is on vacation,” she starts. “he should be back next week. until then, i am under orders to not assign a new case unless necessary.”

the agents turn to each other in confusion as they leave. “a vacation? come on rossi, when in all the years of knowing him has hotch ever willingly gone on vacation.”

the older man shrugs. “i don’t know. maybe this’ll be good for him.”

there’s no arguing with that.

when hotch returns the following monday, no one hesitates to notice the change in his physical appearance.

his skin is tanned and he has a slight tinge of sunburn on his nose and cheekbones; a clear sign he went somewhere warm.

“hotch!” emily catches him before he can retreat to his office.

all eyes are on him and he knows it. 

“where were you?” she inquired. 

hotch sighs. “greece.” 

this catches the attention of the other team members in the bullpen. rossi seems to have found an empty chair at j.j.’s desk. even garcia had chosen this exact moment to get a new cup of coffee.

“greece?” emily stutters. “like the european country?”

hotch nods. “that’s the one.” 

morgan whistles. vacations in the bau are fairly uncommon. the looming threat of being called back for a case stops most from planning. even if the timing does work out, no one goes far; let alone out of the country. 

“and you just decided to go there for a casual vacation,” j.j.’s tone isn’t condescending, but rather showing genuine curiosity.

“it’s y/n’s birthday in a few months and she’s always wanted to go,” hotch explains like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “jack’s still a little too young so he stayed with jessica.”

he doesn’t mingle around after that, choosing to head up to his office to get set up after his week away.

“huh,” garcia murmurs. “didn’t take him for a greek island guy.”

“guess that shows just how much he’s wrapped around y/n’s finger.”

5. baked goods

you don’t have school today.

despite that, you still get up early to have breakfast with your brother and dad. once jack is picked up by the bus for school, your dad gets ready for work.

you stay in the kitchen, however, moving the cookies you made last night from one container to the other.

when your dad reappears, you wait for his hands to be empty before posing your question.

“is there any way you can give these to agent rossi?” you practically shove the container into your dad’s hand.

aaron raises an eyebrow. “rossi?”

“you mentioned he was italian,” you wait for a nod of confirmation. “these are canestrelli, they’re an italian cookie. i wanted to know if you could give these to him for a taste test.”

he smiles. “trying to expand your baking horizons?”

you match his expression. “exactly.”

with a kiss to your forehead, your dad is out the door and off to work.

“delivery,” hotch’s tone is steady as he knocks on rossi’s office door.

“from who?”

“y/n,” hotch answers as he sets the container down. “she tried to make canestrelli and wanted your opinion. i’m just the messenger.”

rossi takes the container from hotch. he opens it up before plucking a cookie out and examining it. “looks authentic.” 

if he’s being honest, even if the cookie isn’t good, he’ll still love it.

but it isn’t.

of course it isn’t.

rossi takes one bite and his eyes widen.

“i haven’t had canestrelli this good since the last time i went to italy. tell her she should be very proud and i will be happy to pay for more.”

hotch can’t hide his proud expression. “i will.”

+1 first meeting

you always wait for your dad to get home from work. it’s routine.

plus, you made a promise to jack when you put him to bed that you would send your dad upstairs when he got home.

you bake in the meantime. it’s something to pass the time and you figure having something fresh to eat would be a nice surprise for your dad.

music plays from the record you have spinning. you keep it quiet as to not wake jack up upstairs. he’s not a light sleeper, but you don’t want to disturb his rest.

the side door opens as you're mixing the flour to the batter. tonight’s bake is gingerbread. easy enough to make. 

it surprises you when your dad doesn’t call out a hello. he’s come home this late before when you’re still up and he always makes it a point to greet you. plus, you have music playing. there’s no doubt he can’t hear that.

“dad?” your voice is quiet.

you peer around the corner, stepping out a bit further when you see him, though you freeze when you notice the other people following him. 

“hi sweet pea,” his voice is tired, you can tell. you close your eyes when he hugs you and kisses your forehead. if his team is here you know it’s not good.

“what’s going on?”

he turns to you. “i can explain in a few minutes. are you okay for introductions?” his voice lowers for the last part, not wanting the team to hear if you say no.

you nod, though anxiety bubbles at the pit of your stomach at the deflection of the question.

“everyone, this is y/n, my daughter,” your dad starts. unsure what to do, you wave slightly. “y/n, this is my team, that’s dave, derek, emily, spencer, j.j., and penelope.” he points to each of the people as he rattles his name off.

while your dad kept you out of his work, you did faintly know each member of the team. he talked about them in passing and jack rambled often about something “uncle dave” or “uncle derek” did.

“why are they here?” you hope your question doesn’t come off as rude.

your dad squeezes your arm. “can you go back in the kitchen for a few? i’m going to get these guys set up and then i can explain. is jack asleep?”

you nod. “i put him to bed a few hours ago. he was asking for you.”

“thank you,” he starts. “i’ll go see him in a bit.”

the conversation is over. you feel awkward standing in the foyer where you’re clearly the center of attention. you turn and walk into the kitchen. finishing your baking seems like a good idea.

aaron enters the kitchen as you’re pouring the batter into the pans. the music is off by now, though the record stays on the turntable. he waits for you to put the pan in the oven and face him before explaining.

“there’s a mole in the bau. we’re trying to figure it out but we obviously can’t work there. i volunteered our house. we would’ve gone to dave’s but he’s having work done.” you know he’s giving you the most minimal answer possible.

“oh,” you’re honestly not quite sure what else to say.

he continues. “we’re hoping to have it cleared up soon but we don’t have a lot of our normal equipment. i wasn’t expecting you to be up for all this. couldn’t sleep?”

“was waiting for you to get home,” you shrugged. “you know i always do.” 

“yeah i know. i should’ve called.”

you turn to him. “It’s alright. i’m just going to clean up while i wait for the gingerbread to be done and then i’ll go to bed.” 

your dad nods. “let me know when you do.” he disappears out of the kitchen after that.

cleaning up doesn’t take long and you’re still elbows deep in soapy water when the oven beeps. you take it out of the pan and set it on a cooling rack before gathering your stuff. you’re honestly exhausted.

going into the living room takes a moment of mental courage. you know everyone is in there and you don’t want to interrupt them. but, you’ve missed your dad and you want him to say goodnight.

“um, i’m going to head up to bed,” your voice echoes through the room. it was fairly quiet before and you feel embarrassed for interrupting that. the first part is directed at your dad. you turn to the rest of the team. “i made fresh gingerbread if anyone wants any. it’s on the counter, help yourself. i also put on a fresh pot of coffee and that should be ready soon.”

aaron’s heart is so full that he almost forgets the case at hand.

“i’ll be up in a minute,” aaron voices.

you hum, nodding to the team as a non-verbal goodnight.

he dishes out individual assignments within the team. they’ll work as a group to start before taking shifts so others can rest.

jack’s room is his first stop. he doesn’t wake the boy, choosing to instead kiss his forehead before picking up his stuffed dinosaur, a gift, and placing it back on the bed.

you’re just getting under the covers when your dad knocks.

“come in!”

your dad steps inside, shutting the door slightly.

“hi,” you smile.

“hi,” he echoes. “good day?”

you shrug. “yeah, i guess so. i got jack from school and we spent the afternoon together. missed you though.”

aaron frowns. “i’m sorry sweet pea. didn’t think this was going to happen. none of us did.”

“i know you didn’t. i’m not mad.”

you want to continue your statement and wash away any guilt you know he’s feeling. but, your body betrays you and a yawn cuts you off.

“alright, time for bed,” his words make you feel like a child but you know he’s right.

he tucks you in and like with jack, he kisses your forehead.

“goodnight dad, i love you.”

“i love you too.”

his demeanor changes when he goes downstairs and sits with the team. he’s serious, ready to work. right now this case is his priority. he, like others, wants to wrap it up quickly and efficiently. 

emily nudges him when he sits down beside her. spencer and derek’s banter about the case is long drowned out.

“she’s a good kid.”

hotch beams. 

“i know.”

[spnjediavenger]

It Won't Last Forever (Chapter 1)

Title: It Won’t Last Forever (Chapter 1)

Type: multi-chapter; father!Hotch x teen!daughter!reader, some bau x teen!reader (platonic!)

Warnings: canon-typical Criminal Minds sadness and/or violence, blood, light injury description

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: panic attack description, flashbacks, alludes to PTSD, family death

Spoilers: S5 SPOILERS

Notes: I changed the end of the episode a bit. Sorrynotsorry.

The panic attack and PTSD description is a mix of my own experience and some I read online - this is not how ALL panic attacks and PTSD are experienced.

Y/n/n is a general nickname, N/n is going to be a nickname only Spencer uses for Y/n

Information creds at the end; I took some info verbatim to use in some of Spencer’s info dumps

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Word count: 3,169

“Sometimes the loudest cries for help are silent.” Harlan Coben

The scene the team walked into wasn’t quite what they expected it would be. Hell, it wasn't what Hotch expected it would be. Not in the end anyway. He expected the blood on the floor. Even on the walls. But he thought he would walk in and find Foyet and be part of the final fight. What he didn’t expect was to find his daughter slightly beaten standing in the bedroom with a gun in her hands and Foyet dead on the floor - a bullet hole dead center in his forehead. 

Hotch quickly went to check that Jack was ok and send him out of the house with JJ before coming back to see his daughter. 

Y//n heard his movement and spun on her heel, gun pointed at him, eyes wild and body shaking.

“Y/n, honey, it’s me. It’s dad,” he said, holding his hands up in a calming manner. 

“Daddy?” she whispered shakily, body still trembling. 

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s ok now. I need you to drop the gun, honey.” Hotch had tears running down his face from grief and he couldn’t hide that right now. But he also needed to talk Y/n down, who was clearly in shock. 

The girl’s eyes flicked down to the weapon in her hands and she began to shake more. She looked back up at her dad. “I worked the case, too. I… I had to… I couldn’t let him hurt Jack too…” she trailed off as she turned her head to the ground and saw her mother’s lifeless body laying there. 

“I know, honey. It’s ok. But I need you to drop the gun now, ok? It’s all over.”

She looked down at the gun again, to Foyet’s body, then her dad and finally dropped the gun. Hotch was quick to kick it away and pull his daughter into his arms, glad she was safe. Her arms stayed at her sides and she stared straight ahead into the hallway. Hotch pulled back and tried to look into her eyes but they were devoid of anything. He called Morgan back into the room and asked him to take Y/n outside to have her looked at and informed him that she was in shock. Hotch walked over to Haley’s body and Morgan put an arm around Y/n’s shoulders to lead her to the ambulance outside. 

Each member of the team watched her, ready to offer comfort and condolences but Y/n just stared empty ahead. They looked at each other, concerned, but chalked it up to her being in shock. Some might think this day would be the eye of the storm. But the storm was just getting started. 

Hotch did his best to be there for his kids through losing Haley while not neglecting his own feelings and need to cope. Jack was so young that he didn’t fully understand what was going on; Y/n, though, should have been showing signs of coping. Or even just feeling. But she didn’t. For a teenager who just lost her mother, she was surprisingly calm. Hotch hadn’t seen her cry once since her death. And frankly, he was concerned. He tried approaching her and getting her to talk but she just kept telling him she was fine. She put on a happier façade around Jack but Hotch could see right through it. The rest of his team, when they would visit, noticed too. They were all worried. 

One Saturday, Hotch had to go into work. Jack was over at a friend’s house and would be sleeping over so that would leave Y/n by herself. 

He stopped by her room and tapped his knuckles on her door. A very quiet ‘come in’ sounded and he opened the door to find the girl sitting in the window seat staring outside, arms hugging her knees to her chest. 

“Hey, sweetheart. The team and I have to go into work. Do you want to come with me? Say hi to everyone? They all miss you. Might be a good idea to get out of the house for a bit with Jack at his friend’s,” he suggested.

Y/n let out a sigh through her nose and reluctantly nodded. She grabbed a hoodie and her mini backpack. Hotch held an arm out and she let him wrap it around her shoulders and lead her to the car. 

The ride to the BAU was quiet and uncomfortable. Well, it was uncomfortable for Hotch anyway. He spared glances at Y/n as she stared blankly out the window as they drove, no emotion to her features. 

As they entered the bullpen, all eyes looked up and smiles appeared on everyone’s faces. 

“Heeey! What’s happening Y/n/n?” Morgan said, getting up and opening his arms for a hug. Y/n returned the hug to a bare minimum and remained quiet. 

“Hey, how’s it going Y/n?” Emily was next, rocking her a bit as they hugged. The girl shrugged and let Spencer hug her next. 

“I think I found the perfect book for you to read next,” he said. Y/n forced a half smile and nodded. 

JJ came up next but decided against saying anything, noticing her reactions, or rather, lack thereof. 

“Oh my goodness gracious did I hear that baby Hotchner is here?!” Penelope’s voice rang through the room. She ran over and practically crushed Y/n in her arms. “Why did no one tell me our favorite Hotchner was coming?! Oh uh, no offense, sir,” she added, looking at her boss. 

He gave a small, humored smile. “Non taken.”

Penelope looked back to Y/n and frowned. “Oh my sweetness. What’s going on? Talk to Auntie Penny.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, then turned to her dad. “I’m gonna go to your office.”

“Alright, sweetheart.”

The team watched as she ascended the stairs, accepting a hug from Rossi as he came out of his own office, and shut herself in her dad’s. 

Morgan looked over to Hotch as Rossi came down. “She still isn’t saying anything?”

Hotch shook his head. 

“Have you tried taking her to therapy?” Rossi asked.

“She won’t even talk to me, Dave. Why would she talk to a stranger?”

“Because it’s not you. You should know that sometimes it’s hardest to open up to those you’re closest to.”

Hotch sighed. “I don’t think she’d take to the idea. She won’t even admit to anything being wrong.”

“Could she still be in shock?” Morgan offered.

“This far away from the trauma? It’s been a couple weeks - is that common?” JJ asked. 

“Typically, emotional shock lasts for minutes to days, but can last for weeks to months depending on the severity of the trauma. And considering there are multiple sources of trauma for Y/n that her mind is pulling from it’s actually not surprising that she’s still experiencing symptoms,” Reid came in with an info dump. 

“As much as I’m worried about Y/n, I’d like to get this case out of the way,” Hotch said, trying to change the subject. The others nodded slightly solemnly and got to work. 

A few hours into the visit, Y/n left her dad’s office to grab a snack. She passed the round table room and heard snippets of the team talking. 

“He may have the same mask but this man is nothing like Foyet.”

Y/n froze and almost tripped over her feet. Her breath caught in her throat and she shook her head to try and clear it. 

The movement caught Morgan’s attention and he tapped Hotch to stop his mention of Foyet. 

“You ok, kid?” Morgan called out to her. 

Snapping out of her thoughts, Y/n nodded. “Yeah, fine,” she said, and continued walking. The team shared looks but continued their work. 

Y/n bounced down the steps to the break room. She grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water and went to get a snack from one of the cabinets but the door was stuck. She groaned and gave a harder tug. With a bit too much momentum, the door flew open and the corner caught her under her eye. She gasped and dropped the glass, causing it to shatter on the ground. This caught the team’s attention from upstairs. 

The sting under her eye sent her back two weeks and suddenly Foyet was in front of her. 

“You weren’t the one I was figuring on fighting. But I’ll take it,” he smirked, punching her again. She fell to the ground, hands getting cut on the glass under her. But she didn’t notice. 

She kicked his knee, sending him to the ground with her. He grabbed his leg and she had the chance to get up. 

“Y/n.” That wasn’t Foyet’s voice. 

She grabbed the gun that had fallen out of her hands and pointed it at Foyet. He grabbed her legs and pulled them from under her. She gasped as her head hit the ground. 

Hotch tried grabbing Y/n’s flailing limbs to keep her from injuring herself further. He was trying to get through to her and get her to open her eyes but it was like she didn’t hear him. 

Y/n kicked her legs at him and landed one in the face. She took the moment to stand once more and shoot him square in the forehead. 

“Y/n!”

Y/n sucked in a deep breath as her eyes opened and she saw her father in front of her, his familiar grip on her wrists. 

“Daddy?” she whispered. Her body was shaking. 

Hotch swallowed the sob his body wanted to release at the familiarity of these events. “That’s right, sweetheart. It’s ok now.”

Y/n glanced around the room to remind herself where she was and saw blood on the ground. 

Haley’s body lay on the floor, blood seeping through her clothes from multiple gunshot wounds. She let out a broken gasp and moved away.

She jerked and tried to back away but Hotch kept his grip on her. She began hyperventilating. 

“Y/n, honey, everything is fine. That’s your blood, you cut your hands. You’re at the BAU.” He tried to keep his tone light but he was desperate to help his little girl. He didn’t know what to do.

“Hotch, maybe let me try?” Spencer spoke up. 

“She’s my daughter,” he defended. 

“Aaron, she needs someone who’s level-headed right now,” Rossi said. “Let the kid help.”

Hotch gave Spencer an apologetic look and nodded. Spencer hobbled over and carefully knelt down to Y/n’s level. 

“N/n, it’s Spencer,” he said gently. “I need you to look at me; can you do that, sweetheart?”

Y/n’s ears picked up on ‘N/n.’ Only one person ever called her that. Her wild eyes looked around until they landed on the youngest member of the BAU team. 

“Spencer,” she gasped, still hyperventilating. 

He smiled a bit. “That’s it. I need you to try and breathe for me ok? You’re having a panic attack. Can I help you move away from the glass?”

The girl nodded and Spencer guided her away and into a chair that Rossi had pulled out for her.

“Good job. Now, follow my breathing ok? Breath in for four, hold for four, let out for four.”

The girl nodded but as soon as she tried to take a deep breath, a sob came out making her practically choke on it. Hotch held a hand over his mouth and turned away, unable to stand seeing his daughter like this. 

Spencer rubbed Y/n’s back soothingly as she coughed. 

“Alright, that’s ok. Put your head between your knees instead. Putting your head below your heart will increase blood circulation to your brain and keep you from getting dizzy or passing-“

“Reid,” Morgan interrupted him, afraid his info dump would make things worse. 

“No,” Y/n whimpered. “Keep talking.” Listening to Reid talk was actually helping and giving her something else to focus on.

The boy nodded and kept guiding her actions as he continued talking, keeping a gentle tone instead of the usual teacher-like one his info dumps typically sported. “Morgan, grab some ice,” he said over his shoulder then turned back to Y/n. “Panic attacks are common for a number of psychological illnesses and can be connected to trauma. There are different types of attacks and I’m assuming this is situational-induced attack; these occur as a response to something specific and expected. They can happen in anticipation of a trigger or immediately after exposure to it. Triggers from traumatic events are quite common. Thanks, Morgan. Here, hold this. One way to stop panic attacks, especially when steadying your breathing is difficult, is to stimulate the senses. This works to interrupt the automatic reactions to the panic attack to snap the body out of the symptoms. Smelling something strong or holding ice are common methods and usually the most helpful. And one of the most important things to remember,” he added as he saw she finally began to relax, “is that while panic attacks may feel like they are never-ending, they usually peak within 10 minutes. It won’t last forever.”

“It won’t last forever,” she whispered after him. 

Spencer nodded and pushed some hair out of her face when she looked up. “It won’t last forever. You did great, N/n.”

The girl gave a small smile. It was the first real one Hotch had seen since before Haley died. He let out a relieved sigh and Rossi squeezed his shoulder. 

Spencer glanced at Hotch and looked back at Y/n. “Can you let your dad clean your hands and eye up, Y/n? Those need to be taken care of.”

The girl nodded and Spencer smiled and kissed her head as he stood to walk away. Hotch put a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. A silent ‘thank you.’ Spencer patted Hotch’s shoulder and left the room. 

Y/n’s eyes drooped a bit as tiredness overtook her. The panic attack had drained a lot of her energy. Hotch let her sit in silence as he tended to her wounds, not missing the flinch when he first touched her eye. But he wouldn’t bring it up now. He now knew he couldn’t wait for her to be comfortable talking but he would at least wait until she had more energy.

After wrapping her hands and cleaning her eye, Hotch took Y/n home. The team was just about done for the day anyway and the others told him that Y/n was his main priority right now. He thanked them and left.

It was around dinner time when they arrived home so Hotch suggested Y/n get changed into some comfy clothes and take a nap while he ordered takeout. She wordlessly nodded and went to her room. Hotch sighed and grabbed his phone to get working on dinner.

When the food came, Hotch and Y/n ate in silence save for the TV in the background. Y/n seemed to be a little less tired but Hotch could tell she had a lot of things running through her mind. 

Once they finished eating and the dishes were taken care of, Hotch approached Y/n before she could retreat to her room.

“Honey? Can we talk please?”

Y/n looked at her father and saw hope in his eyes. But almost in a pleading way. She weighed her options in her head but soon gave a resigned sigh and nodded. She took her dad’s outstretched hand and let him lead her to the couch. Y/n hugged her legs to her chest and Hotch brought a leg up so he could face her.

“Y/n…you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to…I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. But sweetheart, you have to let something out. Anything. I was going to let things go until you weren’t in shock but after today I don’t feel comfortable considering that luxury anymore. We’ve all been through a lot and you’re no exception. Keeping things bottled up isn’t healthy. As much as I hate to see you upset, it’s worried me that you haven’t cried once. Please just tell me something, honey. No one can help you if you don’t let us in.”

As Hotch talked, Y/n could feel the slightest sting begin behind her eyes. In all honesty - she was worried about her lack of emotion too. But she didn’t have it in her to say anything about it. It took too much energy.

She let out another sigh and looked down at her hands. “I haven’t said anything the past two weeks because I haven’t felt anything the past two weeks,” she said quietly. “It’s like my mind was a void. I put on a happy face for Jack because I know he needs me. But the rest of the time I just couldn’t be bothered. But today…”

Hotch watched her as her voice drifted off. “What happened today?” he asked gently.

Y/n took a shaky breath. “I heard someone say his name and I froze. I don’t know why. But I couldn’t move for a second. Then in the break room the stupid cabinet was stuck then it hit my eye when I tried jerking it open and all of a sudden I was back there. He was in front of me. It was like I was living it all over again.” At this point, her voice started shaking and tears were glossing over her eyes. “He had punched me when I threatened him and that’s what I think brought it on. It was in the same place the door hit. I could hear you calling my name sometimes but it sounded far away. But I saw everything again and I…I felt. I think it happened too fast the first time and my brain couldn’t catch up, b-but this time…this time it could.” She turned her red eyes up to her father’s, which were also beginning to redden. “I-I shot him, dad. I killed someone. And mom-” a cry escaped her lips and Hotch wasted no time in pulling her into his arms.

Ugly sobs forced their way out of Y/n’s lips as she clung to her father for dear life. Her fingers dug into his shoulders but right now he couldn’t care less.

“I couldn’t save her, daddy! I tried!”

Hotch started crying harder at seeing Y/n breaking down. “I know- I know you did, sweetheart. It’s ok. It wasn’t your job to. It’s not your fault.”

Y/n buried her face into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with tears and snot. They both wrapped their arms around each other tighter and cried. Hotch held her head with one hand while the other remained on her back, rubbing up and down. 

Nothing else was said. Right now, nothing else needed to be said. The Hotchner family had each other’s backs. They had a long road ahead of them, but they would get through it. Together.

Misty Copeland once said: “Be strong, be fearless, be beautiful. And believe that anything is possible when you have the right people there to support you.”

(Chapter 2) ->

Creds: how-to-stop-a-panic-attack-5202930

anxiety-101-how-stop-panic-attacks-their-tracks

[ravensinthedaylight]

Ruby : Part One

hey! can i request a prentiss x daughter fic where reader gets kidnapped by an unsub (lots of angst) and emily is all mama bear to save her. can either end with angst or fluff. thanks!

Reader’s Age: 9 Years Old

Requests: Open

Summary: When Emily leaves for a case she leaves you with your godparents. They both decide to take you to the movies, but that night something terrible happens. The next day Emily Prentiss and the team sit, listening to the case file going over the facts of your godparents murder and your own kidnapping.

A/N: I’ve just watched the episode on the Romanian family and couldn’t help myself, considering I had seen this request just hours earlier.

You clung to your mother’s leg, your nose was buried in her pant leg, taking in her scent before she went away for what could be days, maybe even a week or two.

She had always told you that she wouldn’t be gone for too long, but it didn’t make a difference to you, she was still gone none the less and you missed her regardless.

You love your godparents, the Brenners, Angie & Mark, both of whom had been your mother’s friends for years, even before you were born, but you loved your mom a lot more. You just wanted to stay with her.

This seemed to be routine, every time Emily would go away it would be the exact same goodbye. Sometimes you would be with your grandparents, her aunts and uncles and other times it would be Angie and Mark.

You were still sitting on the ground, eyes tightly shut. Your mom didn’t try to move, instead she was bend slightly to you, stroking the back of your head.

You couldn’t see you godparents behind you, but you knew that they were there, waiting to close the door when Emily finally managed to coax you off her leg, you weren’t ready for that yet. You knew it would be a while before you saw her again. 

Something felt really off, you didn’t like it. This made you want to hold your mother’s leg tighter, she made everything better, safer even. Your mom kept all the bad guys away, she kept you safe.

“I’ll be back before you know it bubs, I’ll be back as soon as I can. And hey! Maybe I could bring you to see the rest of the team after. Would you like that? Hm?” 

You looked up at her with a look that made her heart breakl.

“I love you Mommy.” 

Your voice was soft and it cracked slightly at the end.

“Hey hey hey bubba, please don’t cry. I love you too, so so much.” 

Emily picked you up and held you to her side closely. “My best girl.” She murmured against your forehead.

After a minute she placed you on the ground once again and held your face in her hand. “Behave for Mark and Angie, sweet girl.”

“I always do.” You pouted.

Your mother booped your nose before kissing it. 

“I know, lovely girl.”

Just then you heard her phone ding, and you knew it was time for her to go.

“Hey, Y/N.” Called Angie. “Why don’t you say bye to your mom and come help me try a new cookie recipe that I’ve been working on, triple chocolate chip.”

Emily let out a gasp. “Triple chocolate chip! Wow Y/N that’s your favourite!”

You nodded and placed both your hands on her cheeks. “You gotta promise me that you’re gonna come back to me.”

Emily chuckled. “I always do, bubs.”

“I know but I still need to hear you say it, because it helps yknow.”

Emily kissed your cheek. “I promise that I’m gonna come back the second the case is done. Scout’s honour. And hey, I’ll even throw in something else. The second I pick you up I’ll take you to the arcade and we’re gonna stay there however long it takes us to get enough tickets for that giant giraffe.”

It was your turn to gasp. “Mommy! That’s gonna take up over half my room!”

“I’ll bring uncle Derek and uncle Spencer to help carry it then.”

“I don’t think Uncle Spence will be much of a help, Mommy.”

Emily laughed loudly. “Alright, You, Go have fun with Angie and Mark.” She kissed your forehead again. 

“I will!” You dashed up the pathway to the door of the Brenner’s house. “I love you Mommy!”

“I love you too, Baby. Have fun.” She called after you.

When you turned back around again, she was getting into the car. “Have a safe trip!”

She smiled at you and waved, getting the gears ready to pull out. 

You felt Mark’s hand on your shoulder. 

“She’ll be back in no time, Y/N. I’m even willing to bet that she’ll get back by tomorrow night. She’s always in a rush to get back to her favourite gal.” 

You smiled up at him.

“And me and Angie was thinking of going to see a movie at around five.”

You grinned. “The new spiderman one?!”

“Mhmm you know it.” Mark laughed. “But I really am in the mood for some cookies. You wanna help your godmother finish em off?”

“Yes please!”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The movie was great. You and your godparents all really enjoyed it, although you were beginning to think that you were more a fan of the movie while it was the popcorn and pepsi that did it for them, but either way you had a good time.

You were a little homesick, but you always were, so it was to be expected.

Angie let you stay up until 9.30 pm, which was half an hour over your usual bedtime. You and her had made amazing triple chocolate chip cookies, which was now only double chocolate chip due to yourself and Mark eating a good amount of them before any actually went into the dough.

You currently sat at the table eating said cookies, enjoying the milk that came along with it. 

You wondered if your mom was still up. She probably was, she always stayed up late with a cup of coffee in her hand reading some files with Sergio on her lap. Sergio wasn’t allowed in your room. Which wasn’t fair in your opinion.

“Y/N.”

You jumped.

“Woah sorry, kiddo. It’s just me.” Angie spoke softly.

You didn’t know why you had reacted that way, something just didn’t feel right about tonight, you felt like something bad was going to happen, the feeling was foreign to you. Maybe the sooner you got to sleep the sooner you would wake up and see that you were just overthinking or something along those lines.

“I think it’s time for bed, don’t you?”

You nodded your head and took your godmother’s hand as she guided you up the staircase and into the spare bedroom.

“Somethings not right.” You whimpered.

“What do you mean, bug? You don’t feel well?”

“I-I don’t know. Everything just feels off. I don’t know how to explain it. I feel like something bad’s gonna happen.”

Angie chuckled lightly. “Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. Your mommy’s just fine.”

You weren’t talking about your mommy, you were talking about you, in that house. You weren’t afraid of Angie and Mark, but of the thought that something horrible was about to happen.

“But-”

“Night night, Y/N.” Angie cut across. You sighed softly before deciding to let it go.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” 

Your godmother reached into the cupboard under the nightstand and pulled out your to-go-bag that your mom had prepared, out of said bag she found your stuffed platypus, which you only ever sought out comfort in when your mom went on missions that she wouldn’t be home that night for. For that reason the stuffed animal gained the name ‘Mily,’ as it was somewhat of a substitute for your mom, given the name was “Emily’ but without the E.

“Goodnight, Bug. How about we make pancakes in the morning?”

You grinned and nodded. “Can we make some for Mommy, too?”

“Of course.” She smiled, and you returned the smile.

You barely realised how tired you were. You were asleep the second the light went off, not knowing that that would be the last time you would ever see Angie alive, and also your last proper night sleep that wouldn’t be plagued by horrific nightmares.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You felt a hand on your mouth before you even got a chance to open your eyes, which darted open straight away, you eyes were greeted by cold grey ones, a menacing glint in them.

Your scream was muffled by a man’s hand, that wasn’t Mark.

His hands were bloody, and so were his clothes, and to make matters worse the blood was now on your face too. But it wasn’t your blood, at least you didn’t think so. But you didn’t know who the hell it belonged to.

Ters sprung to your eyes as the man lifted you up into his arms, you were paralyzed in fear, but after a few seconds you started to kick and squirm.

“Sh sh shhhh, you’re alright.”

You sobbed in your kidnappers arms, what the hell was going on, this wasn’t a dream, it felt too real.

Your voice finally echoed throughout the house when your teeth sank into the man’s hand.

“PLEASE HELP M-”

“Behave or I’ll make you behave.” The man said a bit too calmly.

“MOMMY.”

“I said behave, dammit.” The window was opened now, you tried to scream again even though you knew it would be no use, nobody could hear you, there wasn’t any neighbours near the Brenner residence, the closest being about twenty yards away. The Brenners lived in the middle of the countryside.

“PLEASE I JUST WANT MY MOMMY!”

The man sighed darkly, heaving his leg out the widow. “I just killed your mommy, so be quiet for the love of god.” 

You froze, you couldn’t say anything now. He killed Emily. He killed your mommy, You didn’t understand. Why did he kill your mommy?

You were frozen, the next thing you knew was that he was carrying you across the lawn over towards a car you had never seen before.

“Did you get her, Dad?”

“Yeah, open up the trunk and tell your mother to start the car, we gotta get out of here quick before anyone finds the bodies.” Bodies? “I know we just killed em, but you never know how long it’ll take for people to find em these days, with all the gadgets and all, it was so much easier back in my day and- BE QUIET!”

You sobbed even louder. You wanted your mommy, who you were just informed was dead.

“Heavens sake, hand me my handkerchief, Adam. I can’t listen to much more of her whining.”

The trunk of the car was opened by the boy before he dashed off to the front left to retrieve what you knew would be what was demanded by your captor.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered.

“You’re ok. You’ll learn. They always do.”

The handkerchief was stuffed into your mouth and even more tears threatened to fall.

“Sit tight.”

The door of the trunk slammed shut, leaving you in nothing but darkness.

You could hear people move around in the main part of the car. You could hear celebrations and praise, a woman's voice and the boys and most hauntingly you kidnapper’s. He sounded so normal, as if he hadn’t just kidnapped a kid.

You could still feel the blood that soaked your clothes. It disgusted you.

You tried to shift your legs but realised they were tied together, you repeated the same motion with your arms, but they too, were tied together.

The car started. You felt the urge to sob some more, but suppressed it because of the man in the front, afraid of what would happen if you annoyed him some more.

You just wanted your mommy. 

What the hell was going on.

to be continued...

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[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi can I request a oneshot with the team x someone's daughter (idm who) who has POTS and has a bad POTS episode (not fainting tho) and just them helping or smt like that?

BAU team X POTS Teen Reader

Request: Hi can I request a oneshot with the team x someone's daughter (idm who) who has POTS and has a bad POTS episode (not fainting tho) and just them helping or smt like that?

I don't have POTS so I've done research and using the NHS website to help lol

The team are interviewing a teenager who witnessed the unsub kidnapping his next victim who the BAU were chasing, the teen has a pots episode.

Third person pov...

It had been a sunny day, in Louisiana

Y/N L/N was on their way home from a day out with friends, as they walked they routinely took breaks as to not have a POTS episode.

On one break they stood under a shaded area drinking some water, as they did they spotted a man dragging a young girl a couple years younger than they were, they watched as the girl struggled in the man's grip.

She and Y/N made eye contact, the desperation in her eyes made Y/N realise she was being kidnapped, they watched as the man forced the young girl into a white van, they stayed hidden.

After that happened they called the police.

Hours later the FBI show up at Y/Ns house, after reassuring their parents the teen was taken in for questioning about what they saw and if they could help them.

The interrogation room was warm, far to warm for Y/Ns liking, they of course knew it was hot outside but inside was unbearable.

Also they forgot to ask for some water, because of their condition the teen had to keep themselves from becoming to hot and to drink enough fluids otherwise they would faint.

As they sit in the room waiting for the agents to come in they begin taking off their button up shirt they had worn over the top of their tank top.

Soon two agents entered the room where Y/N was waiting, they could see the fear and anxiety in the teen eyes. Their hands were shaking and was fidgeting in their chair.

Morgan and Rossi took the lead in the interview, while the rest of the team observed from the other side of the two-way mirror.

"Now Y/N can you tell us what you saw?' Rossi asked gently, trying to make the teenager feel comfortable.

Y/N took a deep breath and began to recount their experience. They had been walking home from hanging out with friends, when he saw the unsub forcing a young girl into his van.

The H/C teen had immediately called the police but stayed hidden, watching the whole ordeal unfold. They manages to describe the unsub in great detail, from the way he looked to the van and the girl he took.

The team was impressed by the teens bravery and their attention to detail. But suddenly, their eyes screwed up in pain and began grabbing their chest.

Fanning themselves pulling the tank top away from their heated skin. The team were shocked not knowing what was happening to the teen.

Rossi and Derek were quick to the teens side. "Episode" mutters the teen slouching forward, this made Derek leap to catch the teen.

"Whoa there" he catches the teen, gently tapping their face to keep them awake. "Water they need fluid" Yelled Spencer, he had recognise the symptoms of POTS when the teen started fanning themselves during their explanation.

"And call and ambulance!" JJ nods her head as she begins calling for an ambulance.

Hotch then runs off for a bottle of water, as he came back he thew it to Rossi who grabbed it and began opening it for Y/N, he then knelt doen next to the teen.

" Ragazzino (kiddo), come on I need you to drink this for me" he coaxed the teen gently as Derek lifted their head to be able to drink the offered drink.

Y/N begins drinking the water, which helped, they needed lots of fluids during an episode. Spencer then walks into the room. "Ambulance is 5 minutes out, I've read up of POTS we should help them stand up and walk around slowly" explains the Genius.

Derek and Rossi look at each other before nodding. "Okay let's get them up" "on 3. 1..2..3.." together they help Y/N stand up.

Holding them up they trio begin walking slowly around the room to get Y/N moving to help the teens flare up, as they did this the ambulance finally arrived.

Y/N was then taken to hospital, Hotch called their Mum to meet them there, the team all pile into the two black SUVs, all wanting to make sure the teen was okay.

The next day, Y/N is back at the police station, their episode wasn't dangerous one, they had probably overexertered themselves yesterday after watching the kidnapping.

As they walk around they find the FBI agents that took so much care of them, their Mother had insisted on bringing them all home made cookies to thank them.

The teen knocked on the door to the conference room the team was using, everyone was there, Rossi and Derek were surprised to see the teen up and looking healthy again.

"Hey everyone" they wave to the team, the teen walked in holding out the box of cookies. "Thank you for helping me yesterday, Mum made cookies as thanks" they explained opening the box.

The team were shocked, they all reached into the box and grabbed a cookie each, Y/N watched as their faces all lit up at the taste. "Thank you and thank you to your Mother for the cookies" Hotch tells the teen.

Y/N gives them a huge smile. "Also I'm here to help you more, I remembered a few more things, when I have an episode I get brain fog and forgot a few pieces of information" they explained, soon the teen was sat at the table with the team.

The ac on high with a bottle of cold water infront of them. Y/N began telling the agents what they remembered, thanks to their memory they were able to catch the Unsub before he could grab another Victim.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, sorry for the wait I've had the worse cold literally all weekend felt like I was dying, finally feeling better again so here is a oneshot for you.

Sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1100

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Chocolate & Movies

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Imagine: having period cramps is one of the worst things, but luckily you have a dad who knows what will help, or in other words Aaron Hotchner is the best father you could ask for

Warnings: period, period cramps, pain, you know normal period things (me writing this as a woman knowing full well most men don’t know what I actually mean), hotch being the best dad ever, hotch cuddles, hotch hugs, idk what more

A/N Me 🤝 writing fics for my own comfort

This is my first Criminal Minds fic so I hope I did ok, and if you have a request for Criminal Minds pls send them in

So I’m mainly writing this because my period cramps are worse than normal, and I can take a lot of pain before it gets too much, and my period cramps are usually bad, so thought why not write some comfort fic about it and here we are, this is for anyone who have period cramps so enjoy I guess, sorry that it’s short

Side note: I wanted to ad that this is what usually helps me I’m not saying it helps everyone

You knew you should’ve been up by now, but there was no energy in your body to do so. All your energy went to not cry out in loud sobs of pain. It felt like someone was stabbing knives into your stomach and twisting them around. Any position you tried made the excruciating pain worse. Even the thought of walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water to take with the medication caused the pain to spike up. Your nauseous state didn’t help nor the fact that it felt like you were going to faint as soon as you lifted your head up.

Jack had already left for school and you were supposed to be in your father’s car in ten minutes so that he could drive you to school. However if you had a say in the matter that would not be the case, if you got your will through you’d be at home the whole day wallowing in the pain you got once a month as you (in your dramatic words) bled out.

You were about to take your phone (not wanting to yell) to ask your father if you could stay home when you heard his voice yell out to you. “Y/N, we’re leaving in ten, you ready?” seconds later when he hadn’t gotten a response, your door swung open and the bright light from outside shined inside your once dark room. Your dad saw you laying on the bed and even if he wasn’t a profiler he would still have been able to see the pain that you were trying to hide from showing on your face.

Aaron’s face softened as concern washed over his expression the more he looked at you. He went over to your bed and crouched down, his hand going out in concern towards your forehead thinking you might have a fever and a headache at first, but you felt completely fine against his hand. “What’s wrong honey” he heard you take a deep breath before letting out some few mumbled words “period cramps, hurt a lot”

“You wanna stay home” Aaron noticed how you sighed in relief at his question, and was glad that he had understood the situation right. He got a nod from you and went out of your room to tell the school you weren’t coming in today. Not long after he was back to crouching beside your bed, this time caressing your arm softly.

“I have to go to work, but we won’t have a case for a while so you can come with me if you want, we can stop at the store on the way and get-“ he was cut of by a groan coming from you as you tried to once more not give in to the pain.

“Yeah I’d like to come with you if it means I get to cuddle with you, otherwise I’ll stay here”

“Go get ready, I’ll get you a glass of water for the meds, okay?” Hotch got another nod from you and he went out to leave you to get dressed, well as dressed as pajamapants and one of your fathers oversized hoodie was. You took the painkillers, your phone, charger, headphones and grabbed the coziest blanket you could find and went out to the car.

Not soon after you’d been to the store, bought a ton of chocolate and were now in your fathers office. Aaron had changed from working by the desk to sitting on the couch writing reports as you cuddled into him. Headphones on (as to not disturb your father from his work) as your comfort show was playing on your phone. A bunch of chocolate wrappers were spread around on the floor and desk.

And even later that day when you got home, Aaron cuddled with you as you watched movies and ate chocolate. A heat pad (is that what they are called, I literally have no clue, says the person who always uses them) laid across your stomach, which together with the warmth from your father relieved some of the pain. That along with the fact that Aaron’s hugs could always bring some of the pain away. Maybe it was a dad thing, you didn’t know but you were happy that your father was a great hugger, and that his hugs always made you feel okay.

[thescribblesofreverie]

WIP Excerpt - Aaron Hotchner x teen!reader

I thought I would share just a little snippet of a project I'm working on. It's a series about Aaron meeting a teenager on a case who ends up being involved, and there's just something so familiar about her...

Reader does use she/her pronouns.

Everyone had that one touchy subject that seemed to bring back memories of events and cases past. Everyone knew that J.J. was the one who was affected by cases involving children. 

But this time it was Hotch who felt his chest restrict with each new fact presented. With every body found the pressure of solving this case felt ten times heavier on his shoulders.

On his nightstand, the alarm clock’s neon blue numbers read 3:22 A.M. He was pacing around the hotel room, mind racing a mile a minute. The facts and theories of the case were incredibly confusing. Everytime the team got close, something drastic changed and they were at square one.

Four young, innocent girls were dead, and a fifth was going to be soon if they didn’t shape up.

Hotch glanced out the window of the third story room to see a small diner in the plaza across the street. On its left there was a tobacco store with big yellow block lettering covering the window pains with advertisements promoting vapes and discounted cartons of Mavericks. To its right there was a laundromat, with a few letters of the sign tilted from rusted out nails crumbling away instead of holding it fast. The glowing blue and pink sign on the diner read “open 24 hours”, though it flickered out every few seconds. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he sighed.

Nothing was getting done in this small room, and the diner would have coffee. He had heard before the coffee from 24 hour diners was always better. He doubted that to be true, but at least it would be caffeinated. 

He grabbed the coat off of the chair in the corner of the room, and quietly left, locking the door behind him.

It was a short walk across the street. He pushed open the door, and a bell jingled.

Soft sounds of 70’s music filled his ears. His eyes found a pastel yellow and mint green jukebox in the corner. It was your typical retro themed diner. Checkerboard flooring, blue and pink booths and tables, milkshake decals on the wall, and a long bar that a waitress was cleaning with a rag. With the typical 50’s decorations and colors, but 70’s music playing and newspapers from the 80’s on the wall, the establishment seemed to lack a general knowledge on what decade it was supposed to be emulating. Nonetheless, there was a pot of coffee sitting behind the counter, and it wasn’t like this was the strangest 3 A.m. experience he had ever had. 

Hotch looked away and sat at the counter, waiting patiently for the waitress to meander her way over to him. She finished wiping down the section of counter she had been working on and dropped the rag in a basket beneath the counter. Finally, she looked over at him.

20-24 year old girl, medium build, round face, brown eyes, umber skin, and dark black waves of hair. She shouldn’t be working alone at night, he thought. Not with a killer on the loose.

“What can I get for you?” She asked, all but rolling her eyes. Her name tag said “Marisa”. 

“Just a coffee please.” He said quietly.

“Black?”

He nodded.

As she went across the room to fill up a mug, he took a moment to revel in the peace he rarely got to feel while on a case.

The soft lighting and low music was almost comforting, in an odd way. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Marisa set the mug of steaming coffee in front of him. “Just brewed a new pot, so you’re lucky.”

“Thanks-”

The jingling of the door interrupted him. 

“Marisa, darling!” A feminine voice cooed. 

The waitress had a look of annoyance flash across her face before she quickly covered and plastered on a smile.

“Julie, welcome in. Go ahead and take your usual booth. I’ll get you a coffee and… I’m so sorry sweetheart, what’s your name again?”

“Y/N. I’ll have orange juice, please.” 

At the mention of her name Hotch looked over his shoulder. Y/N was dressed in a pair of plaid pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. Her shoulders were hunched and as she sat down in the both, she immediately curled into the corner, like it was supporting her. Dark circles hung under her eyes and as he watched, she put a hand up to her mouth to hide a yawn.

It was early Thursday morning. And unless there was something going on that he didn’t know about, she had school in four hours. What was she doing up?

[mxssingmemories]

the s'mores incident // david rossi x teen!reader

summary: you spend a day at your uncle rossi's house, and he has marshmallows for you to roast at the fireplace. unfortunately, you forget that things near fires are, in fact, hot.

wc: 1k~

warnings: a burn injury

a/n: this is the first fic in the 12 days of christmas challenge!! i'm so excited to start this with you guys :)

“Hey, Uncle Rossi!” you smiled as you walked in the door of the agent’s home, backpack in tow. He smiled back, grinning as you looked around. “What’s all this? I know you normally go all out but this is…different.” you questioned, one eyebrow raised as you surveyed your surroundings. Normally, your uncle decorated like a “normal” person- a tree, lights, stockings for the team, and other little decorations here and there-but this year it was a little different. 

“Can you please tell me why it looks like Christmas exploded in here?” you asked, running a hand through your hair. To put it blatantly, there were things everywhere. Lights were up in every room you could see, and there were 6 nutcrackers on the fireplace. Six nutcrackers! You pointedly looked away from the tree, choosing to process that later. “Also, why is there a fire going? I thought you only did that when the team is here?” 

“Yeah, well, things change topolina. As for the fire, I thought you’d want to maybe roast a few marshmallows? I know you’re older now, but-” he was cut off when you effectively barreled into him. He feigned annoyance as you jumped up and down excitedly, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You know me too well," you exclaimed, giggling as he affectionately ruffled your hair.

"That's what uncles are for, kiddo," he winked, rolling his eyes once again as you gagged.

You loved Christmas at Rossi's for a lot of reasons, but the fact that he made sure you felt at home was a main one.

The marshmallows were laid out on the fireplace along with a few skewers. A quick glance into the kitchen revealed a bunch of graham crackers, and you chuckled at the fact that he thought you'd be making that many. There were probably about 30 set out on the table.

You sat down on the couch by the fireplace as you watched him work. You had to admit the flames from the fire felt nice, the heat allowing you to shrug off your coat.

"Ready to start?" he asked, eyes gleaming as he extended his hand to you. With a nod, you took the skewer from his outstretched hand.

"Hey, be careful before you get to close to the glass, it's really hot," he warned, eyeing your hand that was already dangerously close to the aforementioned area.

"I'm not a baby," you sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. Carefully, you positioned the marshmallow on the skewer before holding it over the flames. You felt the heat on your face as it began to roast, turning a golden brown. Unfortunately for you, you'd forgotten the words your uncle said to you only 30 seconds ago, and placed your hand directly onto the glass.

"Shit!" you yelped, immediately jerking your hand back as the pain started to kick in. You shook your hand rapidly, Rossi's running footsteps drowned out as your hand burned.

"Hey, come on, passerotto, let's get that bandaged," he said gently, pulling you up by the shoulder and guiding you to the sink. He turned on the cool water, running his hand in the tap to check the temperature before moving your hand under it. The cool water soothed your hand almost immediately. It was in situations like these that you really your uncle's ability to keep a clear head. He jogged over to the first aid cabinet, pulling out some aloe vera and a bandage.

"Can I touch it?" he quietly asked, and when he received a nod from you, he uncapped the aloe vera and put some on your hand. The relief was instant. The water could only do so much, but having the gel on your hand cooled it down a lot more. You watched as he carefully wrapped the bandage around the burn, making sure to not put pressure where it wasn't needed. Your focus was taken off of the injury as your eyes fell back onto the kitchen table. You perked up quickly as another thought entered your head.

"Can I have a marshmallow?" you asked him, smiling when he looked at you incredulously.

"Didn't you just get severely burned, or did I imagine that?" he mocked, looking from your hand to your face and back. You held eye contact with him, not faltering under his stern glare. The Rossi Stare was something you'd been used to receiving for upwards of ten years-it didn't really affect you anymore.

"Fine," he relented, walking over with you to grab a marshmallow. He tutted as you tried to grab one with your injured hand. "Watch yourself, kid," he warned as he handed a cooler s'more to your uninjured hand. You nodded your thanks to him as you popped it into your mouth. A comfortable silence fell over you two as your uncle did the same, a satisfactory look falling on his face at the taste.

"So, can we maybe roast a few more?" you asked, refusing to look at him. Rossi stared open-mouthed at you. "Come on, there's like, 20 left! Please, Uncle Rossi? You're my favorite uncle!" you whined, and the last sentence was a cherry on top as he relented.

"Alright," he surrendered with a sigh, handing you a skewer. You bounced up and down, thanking him repeatedly as you ran back to the fireplace. You returned to your original spot as your uncle's eyes watched you.

"Questa maledetta bambina," he muttered under his breath as you fumbled with the skewer. "Hotch is gonna kill me."

[writerswritewriting]

Another random thought, but I was watching a Hivemind video (Shirts That Go Hard Tier List) and was introduced to this beauty;

and can't stop thinking about bau!reader who's working late at the office with the team - maybe an office day or something where they're all doing paperwork - and for some reason or another their shirt gets ruined. It's fine. No biggie. They've got a plain white t-shirt still in their go bag, and it's not like they've gotta see anyone else, it's just paperwork. They'll go change in the bathroom quickly.

Only to be absolutely horrified by the sight of this shirt when they get there - not a plain white t-shirt, but this stupid birthday gift that was just a gag, definitely not ever meant to see the light of day, only ever used as a sleep shirt.

I just find the concept absolutely hilarious of reader just walking out of the bathroom with cheeks flaming, wearing this. Criminal profiler, professional, hunter of serial killers, and this is the shirt they are wearing. Idk I think it's funny lol

[moonstruckme]

Okay my inbox is doing that fun thing again where it disappears the ask I was looking for only to reappear after a couple of days, but luckily I had it copy + pasted and I think it was from an anon anyway, so thank you very much for your request!

Request: undercover spencer and reider?? fake dating??? tension???? the brainrot i have for this man is ridiculous

cw: serial killer, no killing in the scene but they do talk about how he's killed people in the past

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 825 words

Spencer’s fingers are intertwined with yours, your knees touching, and yet you have to ask: “Are we being…canoodle-y enough?” 

“Enough for now,” Prentiss’ voice is dry in your earpiece, but you can hear the humor in it. “We don’t have any movement yet, and it’s not like you’ve got any competition.” 

That’s fair enough. While you and Spencer have been sitting on a park bench playing couple, the rest of your team has quietly cleared every real couple out of the area. The serial killer you’re trying to lure out seems to have a thing for this particular park—as do teens trying to light a spark away from their parents’ homes. Your unsub likes to find some young sweethearts in a secluded area, then kill the girl while the boy watches before offing him, too. Your team is hoping that you and Spencer look young and in love enough in the dark to pique his interest. 

And you can’t help that you’re no longer a teenager, but luckily attraction to Spencer Reid isn’t difficult for you to fake. 

“It’s getting late,” you whisper to him. “Doesn’t he usually strike around eleven?” 

Spencer’s pupils are large and reflective in the darkness. “He’s regimented,” he replies, just as softly, like you’re lovers whispering sweet nothings in the night, “but in the past, his window has extended from eleven to eleven thirty. We might have some time.” 

“Do you think he’s here already?” 

“Probably.” His hand coasts up your arm, a tentative teen trying to make a move. It draws a line from your elbow around your back to settle on your waist. Spencer’s mouth is close to your ear. “He likes to stalk his victims for a while. He’s probably making a few passes around the park.” 

You swallow but do your best to look comfortable, leaning into his side. “Right. That makes sense.” 

“You seem nervous,” he says. 

“Do I?” 

Spencer hums, and his forefinger makes a couple of slow strokes on your side. The movement is so small you wonder if it’s for your unsub’s benefit or yours. 

“I know this is your first time being the bait, but no one’s going to let anything happen to us.” His voice is hardly a murmur, breath sweet and warm on your cheek. “Hotch wouldn’t let us do this if he wasn’t sure they could protect us.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. Spencer adjusts his grip on your waist, and your heart flutters. You really hope you’re attacked by a serial killer before he figures you out. “Yeah, I know.” 

“We’ve got a jogger in dark clothes headed your way,” Derek says through your earpiece. “Look like you like each other, kids.” 

Your breath catches as Spencer’s free hand comes up to catch your jaw, turning your face gently into his. Your noses tease each other, the nervous beginnings of a kiss in the making. You have the sense that if you inhaled it would close the space between your lips. 

“Close your eyes,” Spencer murmurs. 

“What?” 

“It’s only believable if you close your eyes.” 

You trust him. Your eyelashes brush against his skin as they flutter closed, and Spencer caresses your cheek as if in approval. You’re acutely aware of every nerve in your body. Your blood rushes fast, the hairs on your arms upraised and your brain buzzing, but the atmosphere around you is as quiet as if you’re frozen in time. 

Then the bushes to your left rustle. 

Spencer’s up and in front of you in a flash, but not before JJ’s shining her flashlight and pointing her gun at the unsub. 

“FBI! Put the knife down.” 

The man hesitates. You grab Spencer’s sleeve, thinking for a moment to pull him back, but the unsub is still too far away to even entertain taking either of you hostage and now Hotch is on your other side, repeating JJ’s demand. You breathe a soft sigh of relief when the knife makes a dull thud on the grass. 

“Good job, lovebirds,” Derek teases as Hotch puts the guy in cuffs. “I wouldn’t have thought this perv would go for anyone not already half naked, but you two were so convincing he chose you anyway.” 

“Probably just for lack of better options.” You look down under the guise of brushing off your pants.

“No, you were great.” Spencer’s voice is sincere. It’s praise given casually, with no awareness of how it affects you. “It’s hard to keep your head in those situations, but you did really great.” 

You shrug, bashful. “Yeah, well, you did most of the work. I definitely wouldn’t have known what to do if you hadn’t taken the lead.” The double entendre has blood rushing to your face, but thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice.

But of course, Derek does. “That’s what I’m always saying.” He drops one eye in a wink, teasing coating his voice. “You’d never know it, but pretty boy here’s got moves.” 

[ddejavvu]

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: your starbucks order is a little too complicated for aaron to understand.

Aaron, in many ways, acts like a father. He's stern when he notices one of his agents on their phones during a case, he scolds Reid for not getting enough sleep, and he's infinitely grumpy when traffic is poor. It means that when he swings the van into a starbucks drive-thru on your way back to the precinct, you feel like a kid on Christmas.

"Hotch!" You squeal, mouth already watering in anticipation of your favorite drink, "I knew you were my favorite."

He lets a small, amused smile grace his typically stoic features, hands relaxed at the wheel as he maneuvers the van beside the window.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" The speakers emit a crackly voice, and you're sure the person on the other end can't be over 20.

"One tall dark roast, and-" Aaron recites, then turns to you, "What do you want?"

Aaron's never heard so many words jumbled together before. You spit the name of your drink like it's lyrics to a song, an unintelligible rhythm to them that Aaron is helplessly lost amidst. You must have told him twenty separate terms, stringing them together in a way he could never hope to reproduce. He blinks once, his jaw shifted so that his lips part slightly.

"What?"

You huff out a laugh, "A-"

"Will that be all for you today, sir?"

Tense, realizing you have no time to coach Aaron on your hyperspecific drink, you surge forwards, nimble hands undoing your seatbelt as you lean across Aaron to speak into the receiver.

Out of reflex, your hand falls to his thigh to brace yourself, and the muscles are strong beneath your fingers. You nearly jumble up your own drink order, especially at the way his breath hitches when you practically crawl over his lap in the seat to stick your head towards the window.

Aaron's never been this close to you before. Not like this, not with your hand on his thigh and your ass not far behind. If he were to glance down, which he won't, he could see straight down your top. He won't, though. He wouldn't have a clear enough head for driving if he did.

Aaron didn't catch your drink order before, and he's certainly not able to now, too overwhelmed by the scent of your perfume and the feeling of your palm braced steadily against his thigh. You dig your fingers into the fabric of his dress pants for stability and he hopes you can't feel the way his slacks tighten ever-so-slightly, cursing himself for chubbing up like a horny teen.

"Okay," The employee hums, furiously pressing buttons on the computer to complete your order, "Is that all for you folks?"

"That's it," You hum cheerily, "Thank you!"

"$11.87,", the voice comes back, not nearly as jovial as you.

You unstick yourself from Aaron's thigh, knee aching from where it had been balanced on the center console. You send him a sheepish smile when your faces are only inches away, lips plumping as they curl.

"Sorry," You breathe, settling back in your seat so that Aaron can pull up to the next window, "I know it's complicated. I didn't think to prep you. I panicked."

"It's alright," He manages to find his voice, using every ounce of strength in his body to fight against the speechlessness that threatens to overtake him. He hands his card to the woman at the window, and sees you already reaching for your wallet to pay him back. He won't let you.

He pulls up to the next window and clears the cupholder of someone's old plastic water bottle, "I don't even think Garcia has that long of an order. And she's notorious for trying pinterest brews."

"It's complicated, but it's good," You gush, happily taking the drink from him when he's handed it by the man in the window. Aaron's surprised they managed to concoct yours in under twenty minutes. Your lipstick leaves a prim stain on the white lid, and you hum in pleasure, "Ooh, they made it just right."

Aaron sips at his own bitter roast, using one hand to steer as he fumbles to fit his drink in the small cupholder. He's got his eyes on the road, and his hands occupied, so he's a little frazzled when the rim of your drink pops into sight beside his face.

"Wanna try some?"

"That's okay, my hands are full." He hums, seriously considering just crashing the car to have a hand to take your drink with. He can't believe he's missing the opportunity to fit his lips over residue of your own, press his mouth to that pretty pink kiss mark you'd left in your wake.

"It's alright, here." You hold the drink to his lips, "I got it."

Aaron steals a glance at the cup as he fits his mouth around the spout, spending as much time as he can staring at your lipstick on the rim before looking back up at the road. You tilt the cup towards him, and the drink floods his mouth, excessively sweet and creamy.

He nods and you lower the cup again, careful not to spill any on his neat, white dress shirt. He hums at the taste, hoping you share a similar one, "That's good. Very sweet."

"Mhm." You agree, raising the drink to your own lips again. Aaron feels a sheen of grainy residue on his lips, and he's hoping it's not the stain of your lipstick, just the feeling of it.

He's unlucky.

"Oh, Hotch," You laugh, "There's lipstick on your face. Hang on," You lean over, smearing your thumb against the very corner of his mouth, "There. Sorry," You're sheepish as you settle back into your seat, "The perks of sharing drinks, I guess."

Aaron thinks he'll remember the feeling of your hand pressed against his face for eternity, and he'd be willing to suck down a thousand cups of liquid sugar just to feel it again.

[outerspacebisexual]

Memories of Days Gone By - Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer has never understood having a cluttered desk at work. Then you start at the BAU, and he's forced to share a desk with the least desk-tidy person in the whole FBI. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word count: 3.1k Warnings: none, except talk of reader getting shot a/n: woah, outerspacebisexual actually writing instead of just reblogging post about writing? crazy Masterlist

Spencer always thought that having personal mementos in the workplace was weird.

Maybe it came from his mother, whose desk was always so cluttered she could barely place anything down without something else falling off. He could—as with everything else—vividly remember sitting in her office chair, spinning in around and around in circles, watching his framed toothy six-year-old-self flying past him again and again and again.

She never swapped out that photo, even when he got older and his round, chubby face became angular with his teen years. Not when he graduated high school, or college, or college again. In fact, he knew for certain that photo still sat on his mother’s bedside table. So you’re always here with me, she’d said on one of her good days. And even though most of the time she had no idea who the tiny child with thick frames was, she still traced a finger down the side of the glass before bed.

When Spencer first joined the BAU, he’d made a point to ensure his desk was cleared every hour. Empty coffee cups, old files, shredding, sticky notes; after one hour, it all went. That way he could ensure that everything got done.

And that same habit continued for years, until you showed up.

Hi, you’d said on your first day, sticking out your hand and smiling wide. Looks like we’re desk buddies.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. The desk had belonged to Emily before you got there, and the idea of looking up and seeing you was just another reminder that he’d lost her.

He was nice to you, of course. You hadn’t done anything wrong. You’d simply taken a job opening from the ballistics unit to the BAU. It wasn’t your fault that his dead friend’s desk was now yours.

At first, he noticed how you had a habit of leaving empty coffee cups on your desk, choosing to get another one rather than reuse the one already on your desk. It wasn’t a problem. There were plenty of mugs in the kitchen. But when your chair hit your desk, they chimed together, and the noise set him on edge.

He left it alone for the first month.

But then came the files.

Files piled up on your desk---not in neat piles marked ‘Complete’ and ‘Incomplete’ like his—just spread out across the surface in every direction and orientation. And as the week went on, more and more were added until there was no discernible way to tell which had been done and which hadn’t. This led to you having to leaf through folder after folder until you found the one you were looking every day.

Spencer had been tempted to say something one week when he’d watched you out of the corner of his eye search for a file for fifteen minutes. You’d found it right as he opened his mouth, spinning in your chair and heading straight for Garcia’s office. Spencer had sat and stared at the mountain of manila folders then entire time you were gone, thinking to himself, How could you put up with this?

How could you deal with having to fight with your desk at every second of the day just to find something? The idea of it made him want to throw up. Not that his apartment was any better, he knew that. But there was a difference between work and home. Home was allowed to be messy and cluttered, full of the rest of your life outside of work. Work was work. It depended on being able to obtain information quickly and efficiently—not after ten minutes of rooting around.

Hey, Reid? you’d asked one afternoon. Have you seen that Milwaukee case file?

Which one?

The consult one? With the three missing girls?

He tried his best not to roll his eyes. I think you put it down on the edge of your desk.

You spun and rifled through the stack, grinning when you held it up. You’re a genius, you know that?

Pursing his lips, he said, Believe it or not, I do.

Spencer might’ve been bad at reading social clues, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you were just trying to be nice and start a conversation, but he reached over and lifted the phone to his ear, pretending not to notice the way your face fell. You quietly turned back to your computer and opened the file.

A week later, you tried again. Reid, do you want coffee?

No, he answered quickly, despite blinking back the sting of a 3:00am emergency case. ‘Urgent’ was all the text from Hotch had said, and now he was sitting behind his desk once again, for the fifty-second hour this week. Hotch was never wrong. There had never been a case that Hotch had chosen where the team hadn’t been needed, not in all the years Spencer had worked for the BAU. But he couldn’t deny that there were times that he wished he wasn’t at work.

You sure? I know we got more sugar, if that’s what you’re worried about.

I’m fine, he snapped, harsher than he’d intended. Thankfully, you left it alone.

+

Then, you were all in Atlanta, consulting on a case of three male bodies and another man missing. By the morning, his head had cleared, and he noticed the space you’d put between the two of you when you both arrived at the ME’s office.

Doctor Glenn, thanks for meeting with us, you started.

Doctor Glenn had smile brightly at you, standing from behind his desk to shake your hand. Spencer waved. Of course. And please, Scott is fine.

You sent him a soft smile. Where are we with the latest autopsy?

Well, from what I can tell, the murder weapon was some sort of short-bladed knife. What kind, I can’t say for certain. The advanced decomposition on all three makes it tricky.

Something like a kitchen knife? Or pocketknife?

Scott nodded. It’s possible. Like I said, I can’t be sure at this stage.

Can I see the photos? Spencer asked.

Absolutely, Scott replied. I was going to give you the file anyway. He opened the closest folder to him, but frowned. Oh, this isn’t right. Sorry, it’s here somewhere.

Noting his reddening cheeks the longer he searched, you said, Your desk looks a lot like mine.

If Scott noticed you attempt to put him at ease, he didn’t make it known. Brows pinched tightly together, he queried, The BAU doesn’t have strict guidelines on that kind of thing?

You shrugged. Maybe, it does. Though, I’m sure I’d have been written up by now if it did. You leaned forward in your chair to glance at the photo frames on the side. Spencer could see them clearly from where he sat. Two dozen frames littered the side of his desk, all displaying four boys---from baby photos to teenagers. Are they your boys?

Scott, visibly grateful to have a distraction while he continued rustling through drawers, didn’t look up. Yes, the four of them. James, Patrick, John, and Liam.

Spencer watched in silence the conversation the two of you had.

How old?

James is almost 21, Patrick, 19, and John and Liam are both 16.

Twins?

Indeed.

Must have been a handful when they were younger, I’m sure.

He smiled gently. You don’t know the half of it. John’s decided to head to college in California and Liam’s heading to New York.

It must be nice to have them close, at least for the time being, you replied.

It is. I don’t quite know what I’ll do once they’re gone, if I’m honest. And I worry. Like every parent does, I suppose.

Well, if they’re half as kind as all these photos make them out to be, then I’m sure they’ll be just fine.

That’s kind of you to say. I’m not blind, either. I know it’s a lot.

You laughed. It’s not, I promise. It’s nice to have something to remind you of the good. Especially with jobs like yours and mine. Reminds you of what you’re working for. Who you’re working for. There’s so much darkness out there, if we don’t remind ourselves, we can get lost in it.

Scott produced a file from the bottom drawer, and Spencer just stared at you, even as you took the file and flipped through it.

+

A month later, Spencer found himself hunched over his desk, computer brightness on low as he tried his best to block out the noise emanating from every corner of the bull pen. With the migraine he was sporting, he was sure he could hear all the way to reception, which did nothing to help his pounding head. He clicked random buttons on his computer as his eyes watched each minute tick by.

Four hours. That was all he had left. Then he could leave and collapse down onto his couch and sleep for two days until it was gone. With each passing minute, his brain fog got worse, until he was reading the same sentence for the fifth time in a row without comprehending what it was saying. Who even sends an email at 1:04pm on a Friday?

Aaron Hotchner, according to the contact name at the top. He needed to reply. Hotch would be expecting an answer.

Spencer hadn’t even realised you’d been speaking until you waved a hand in the air over the partition between your desks.

What? he asked, when you just stared blankly at him.

I asked if you were OK?

He sat up straighter, doing his best to ignore the pain that stabbed through him. I’m fine.

You cocked an eyebrow. Are you sure? You don’t look great.

I said I’m fine.

You were silent for a long moment, and you refused to break eye contact with him. That was until you leaned over and reefed open a drawer.

What are you doing?

You continued to dig through it. I have some pain meds in here. Nothing fancy, but you look like you could use some ibuprofen.

I don’t need it.

And I don’t need to sit here and watch you suffer for the rest of the day, Reid. Seriously. It’s painfully obvious.

Spencer didn’t have it in him to reply. Any other day, and he might’ve snapped at you. But today, he would take your kindness. As he came around to your side, he peeked inside your drawer, noting it was the same as the top of your desk. Cluttered and messy.

He stared at the mountain of files, eyes roaming over your desk. Your nameplate. Your empty coffee cups. Your photos. He paused as he took them in—for the first time since you’d been here.

Many different photos were tacked onto the partition. Most were of a cat and a dog and a few people who he assumed were family and friends from outside of work.

Only one was framed—a photo of the team. He could remember the day. You’d only been at the BAU for a month and upon returning from a hard case, Garcia had surprised you with a cake and balloons in the conference room. You’d cried, he remembered. Which he’d thought was weird, but hadn’t taken much note of at the time. Anderson had snapped a photo at Garcia’s insistence.

Suddenly, a sleeve of ibuprofen was thrust into his chest. Here.

Thank you, he mumbled.

You don’t need to thank me, Reid. Just take it, and maybe seen Hotch about leaving early. That can be your thanks. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, which he returned before heading to the breakroom.

+

Six months after you started at the BAU, you got shot.

Not life-threatening, but a bullet to the shoulder meant you were laid up on leave for two weeks.

The bullpen had never been so quiet, Spencer thought. Though maybe it was his guilt that made him think that. It had racked him every day of the two weeks since they’d gotten back from Wichita. The bullet had been meant for him, and if he’d actually been paying attention to his surroundings, then he wouldn’t have missed the UnSub lining up the shot, and you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way, taking the hit for him.

Your screams still echoed in his mind. The first, his name: Spencer! Get down! And the second, your yelp of pain. Spencer had fired off two shots in quick succession, taking out the UnSub with barely more than a thought before he was turning to you lying flat on your back and gripping your shoulder.

He’d accompanied you to the hospital, where they said long-term damage was unlikely, but you would have a long road to recovery until you had full use of your arm again.

Hotch had immediately put you on leave, threatening that he’d make you take even longer if he saw you in the office at all before the two weeks was up. You had kept your word to him that you’d take the full two weeks.

Spencer hadn’t been sure what to do about your desk for the first few days. Hotch had instructed him to take over your files, which was easier said than done.

Heaving your last folder into his ‘Complete’ tray, he breathed a sigh of relief. Glancing at the clock, he realised he’d been zoned out writing reports for four hours. The rest of the team had all gone—aside from Hotch, but when wasn’t he in his office.

Starting over the partition, Spencer eyed the mess that still cluttered your desk. He hadn’t wanted to touch anything except the files, which he’d gingerly sorted into what was done and what wasn’t, careful not to disturb anything else on the desk.

Now, staring at all you’d left behind when they’d suddenly been forced to jet off, he wondered if tidying it was the least he could do. Maybe you would thank him for it. Or maybe you’d tear his head off for touching your stuff.

He decided to take that risk.

Collecting the loose papers and random Post-its, he placed them neatly into piles to the right of your computer. Most where mindless reminders for yourself—Get the dry cleaning! and Pay the water bill by tonight!

Spencer wasn’t always grateful for his eidetic memory, but not having to remember small day-to-day tasks was a huge bonus for him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope without it.

He straightened the tacked photographs and wiped down the team photo. He made sure your computer was properly plugged in. He ensured your tablet was fully charged for your return. He was almost satisfied, when he noticed one green Post-it note had fallen behind your monitor screen. Weaving his hands between the cords, he pulled it out.

Thanks for the ibuprofen. I really appreciate it.

Below his barely legible script, sat a small face he’d doodled. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought anything of it since he stuck it to your monitor.

But you still had it, even two months later.

He stuck it back where he’d put it the first time.

+

You’re back, Spencer said as he entered the bullpen the next morning.

I am, you replied, grinning wide. Do I have you to thank for this?

Placing his bag down on his seat, he said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Oh, come on. There’s only one other office neat freak in this whole place, and I know for a fact it wasn’t Hotch. When he said nothing, you rolled your eyes. Fine. Guess I’ll have to pass my thanks on to the boss man.

Spencer smiled as he unloaded his bag.

Cat got your tongue or something, Reid? He kept his lips sealed perfectly shut. Ok, then. Keep your secrets. I don’t need to know them. I don’t want to know them anyway.

I’m getting a coffee, he said suddenly, cutting off your teasing drawl. Do you want one?

You blinked. What?

I said, I’m getting a coffee. Would you also like one?

Uh, yeah. That would be great, you managed after a moment. Thanks.

He nodded, and he pretended he didn’t feel your eyes watching him the whole time as he made his way to the break room.

+

“Reid?” Morgan called, and Spencer looked up from the file he was currently nose-deep in. “Are you coming?”

“What’s happening?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

Morgan groaned. “Don’t tell me you forgot about dinner at Rossi’s tonight.”

“Oh, that’s tonight?”

“Yes, pretty boy. How could you forget?”

“I didn’t forget,” he mumbled, gathering his belongings as Morgan made his way over to him.

“From the looks of it, you absolutely did.”

“I didn’t. I just…have a lot on my mind.”

Morgan stopped at the side of Spencer’s desk, his signature smirk adorning his face. Spencer didn’t even look at him as he hastily jammed files into his bag.

“This is new,” Morgan commented, and he glanced over to see him staring at a framed photo he’d picked up.

When he flipped it around, Spencer could see it. The photo of him in his apartment, sitting on the couch, grinning ear to ear, and you sat right beside him, holding your left hand up to display the shiny ring adorning your finger. You’re looking directly at the camera. Spencer is only looking at you.

Spencer took the photo from him. “I liked it, so I got it printed.”

He didn’t have to tell him that he got every photo printed now. He’d never been a fan of technology, and the idea that all his best memories were being held ransom on a device that could be destroyed any minute made his head spin. So, he got every photo printed. Most were safely tucked away in albums on his bookshelf at his apartment.

But this one was special.

Morgan’s voice was gentle as he said, “It’s nice.”

Spencer smiled and brushed a finger over the glass. “Reminds me of the good,” he said.

Then he placed it back down on his desk, the frame right at home amongst all the others.

[wildflowerluver]

can i req a emily prentiss daughter reader after emily “dies” and reader’s reaction to her death. angst, and then emily comes back and reader acts like morgan and is mad at emily, then fluff

motion sickness

emily prentiss x teen daughter!reader

the rise and fall of losing and regaining your mom

cw: character death, follows season 6/7 plot, reader has symptoms of depression, angst, yelling, grief, panic attacks, aaron cares so much for the reader

wc: 2.3k

༺♡༻

losing your mom doesn’t just hurt, it destroys you. 

emily wasn’t just your mom, she was your best friend. stemming from experience with her own mother, she made sure you two were close. 

the two of you traveled a lot when you were younger due to her job. but, joining the bau set permanent roots in washington d.c. you adored the city to grow up with and more importantly, you adored her team.

emily trained you like a profiler - on a much smaller scale, obviously, but you knew basic human behavior and safety. you were in highschool, she wanted you to not only be safe, but to be able to take care of yourself when she was away on cases.

you had woken up that monday to a note on the counter from your mom. you initially didn’t think much of it. she always left notes if she had an emergency case. 

you went through your normal maneuvers, getting ready for school and feeding sergio before leaving. 

it seemed like a normal day.

aaron had been the one to break the news.

you got a knock on the door of your home late that night. you were up late doing homework and if you were being honest, from anxiety too. your mom hadn’t texted or called. no contact worried you immensely.

turns out, your gut feeling had been right.

you don’t say anything, peering up at the agent with curious eyes as to what he’s doing here at this house. 

“i’m so sorry,” he starts.

three words.

i’m so sorry.

something had happened.

“we did everything we could,” the rest of his words seem to go fuzzy. if he keeps talking, you don’t hear anything.

your mom was dead. 

he didn’t even say it and you knew. her job had caught up to her.

he’s there when your knees buckle, arms wrapping around you to help you to the couch.

the tears come hot and fast, breathing becoming erratic as everything sets in. your mom was dead. she was gone and she wasn’t coming back. 

she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.

aaron rubs your back as you sob. he doesn’t try and assure you that it’ll be okay because you know for a fact it won’t. all you wanted was her.

you don’t know how long you cry. the only thing you remember is aaron forcing you to match his breathing to back you down from the panic attack you were already spiraling yourself into. time doesn’t seem to be real, but that’s how grief is.

the one thing you know for sure is that you’re grateful aaron’s the one with you. he’s stoic and is, was, close with your mom. 

the second wave of panic hits hard: you’re alone. you have no parents and no one to care for you. you’re going to have to do it on your own.

you eventually run out of tears.

the numbness quickly replaces the weeping.

your mom was dead.

no matter how often that realization hits you, it feels like a fresh wound. you don’t know what happens, nor do you want to. all you can hope is that she went peacefully, that she wasn’t alone.

aaron stays the rest of the night and into the next day.

you barely sleep, a few hours at a time. each time you wake up, without fail, there’s the split second you forget what had happened before it all comes rushing back.

your mom was dead.

__

sergio gets rehomed quickly.

the cat had nudged his way into your room one afternoon. you were alone. parts of the house sat in boxes for your move. you hadn’t even dared to touch anything of your moms. the house was set to stay in your name as an inheritance. if you ever chose to return to d.c. it would serve as a place to stay. 

he jumped on your bed, pawing his way up your duvet to meet where your face was pressed against the mattress, stiff with tears. he meows, seemingly sensing your mood.

and you freak. 

you throw back the covers as you jump up.

“she’s dead, serg!” you scream, voice hoarse. “she’s fucking dead and she’s not coming back!”

sergio just sits, tilting his head.

you break.

looking at him reminds you of your mom. you picked him out, she chose the name. you couldn’t even look at him, let alone take care of him. it was just more pain.

penelope takes him in a heartbeat.

__

family friends in the midwest take you in.

it’s universal that staying in the city, in the home you shared, wouldn’t be good for you.

you leave almost immediately after your mom's funeral.

it’s a big gathering. 

agents from the bureau and friends in the surrounding area are there. the entire team, too. you sit in the front row with j.j. 

you don’t speak, you can’t.

staring at her coffin doesn’t seem real. 

you’re the last one to place a rose on the casket before it's lowered down. tears flood your cheeks and you have to bite your lip to suppress your sob. 

one kiss to the shiny wood and she’s gone.

the team each gives you a long hug. it’s a blur of ‘please reach out if you need anything’ and ‘you have our numbers’ but you appreciate it.

aaron is the one who drives you to the airport. 

you hold his hand the entire way.

__

life moves on but you change.

it marks five months since you left d.c. and the grief of losing your mom never lets up.

you keep the note she wrote the day of her death with you everyday. you trace the ‘i love you’ she signed it with more times than you’d like to admit.

to put it simply, you lose yourself after her death.

everything that made you you seems to disappear. school becomes an afterthought. you pass your sophomore year, barely, but if you didn’t you wouldn’t even care. your voice goes too. staying quiet is easier, better. nothing even feels worth talking about anymore. 

you’re grateful for the people who took you in and they do their best to help, but nothing replaces your mom. nothing will.

you get a call from a random number.

you decline it. you rarely pick up unknown numbers if ever. but when the number calls back two more times, you finally answer.

“hello?”

“is this y/n prentiss?”

you flinch at the last name but hum.

“this is erin strauss. i’m the bau section chief at quantico. i worked above your mother.”

erin strauss? you barely knew the woman, only hearing about her from your mom on the rare occasion she complained about her. why she was calling was beyond you.

she speaks before you can say anything. “while i know you’ve relocated, i do have a box of your mothers things here in washington if you are interested in coming to get them. i know this may seem like a postponed call but i’m sure you understand it’s a sensitive topic.”

she has no idea.

you didn’t know what she could have but you agree. you needed anything else you could get of your moms.

“i can talk to my foster parents and work something out.”

“great, i’ll see you soon.”

it takes you a few weeks after the initial call to make it back to washington d.c. emotions aside, you’re still a minor and flying alone needs additional paperwork. one of your family friends had offered to go with but you declined. you needed to do this on your own.

stepping off the plane, however, you seemingly regret that.

it’s been five months, nearly six, since the funeral. five months since you lost your mom. five months since you had spoken to and seen any of her team. five months since being home.

a car was arranged by your family friends to be waiting at the airport for you to drive to quantico. you ease back into driving in the city quickly, trying desperately to block out the visuals around you that pour memories in your mind.

it takes you nearly a half an hour to walk into quantico. 

seeing the building reminds you of your mom, obviously. you know that she has a picture on the wall with the same inscription on her tombstone, you had seen ones of other agents when you visited her at work. one deep breath and a swipe of tears later and you’re heading in.

when you had informed strauss of your arrival date, she made sure things at security were set. clipping a visitors badge on your shirt feels strange, like you shouldn’t be allowed to be here.

strauss’ office is easy enough to find with the help of an agent.

she isn’t even in there, though the box, clearly labeled, sits on one of the chairs.

you hoist it in your arms, fully intent on leaving the bau though the remembrance of the portrait makes you pause.

you need to see it. even in picture form, you need to see her. 

maybe saying hi to the team wouldn’t be a bad thing either.

you push through the glass doors to the bullpen, eyes darting around to take in the atmosphere you hadn’t seen in so long.

and then you see her.

she’s leaning against j.j.’s desk, laughing at something spencer said across from her. the team, aside from aaron, is out and mingling as well.

she’s alive.

your mom is alive. 

she’s not just alive, but she's standing less than 30 feet away from you.

everything seems to stop. the box in your hands slips out of your grip, clattering to the floor with a loud thud. if there was anything in there that was breakable, you were sure it had shattered.

all eyes in the bullpen snap over to where the commotion is.

you meet your mom's eyes, unable to focus on anything else. 

“y/n-” she breathes out, seemingly in equal awe at seeing you. 

your mom was alive.

when she takes a tentative step towards you, you take one backwards.

the atmosphere of the bau becomes suffocating. the months you spent mourning your mom's death was for nothing. she was here in washington d.c. laughing with her coworkers and she hadn’t reached out to you at all. 

everything is too much to process for you. none of it even makes sense.

you abandon the dropped box, turning on your heel and rushing out of the bullpen.

you take the stairs for the purpose of time. her voice calls your name behind you. in an effort to lose her, you weave your way between floors, taking different staircases until you’re back on the ground floor.

the fresh air outside doesn’t even help.

you avoid going back to your house. it was only yours because your mom left it in your name when she died. or well, faked her death.

instead, you find a hotel and check in. cash, of course. it would take penelope longer to track a paper trail than if you used your debit. 

technically it’s illegal to book hotel rooms for minors but, like with your safety, you were raised as a profiler. lying your way into a room wasn’t hard and you had no shame in using bau relations for further convincing. 

the second the door of your hotel room closes, you break.

betrayal takes over as the primary emotion. you buried her. she didn’t say goodbye and all this time you had thought it was because it was an urgent case. she planned to fake her death and let you mourn her.

the team didn’t even seem shocked by her return; the same ones who held you at her funeral and one of whom spent the entire night after delivering the news comforting you.

oh god, did aaron know?

your mom was alive and she hadn’t even thought of you.

__

you maximize your time at the hotel, choosing the latest possible check out time.

you head back home. that word leaves a sour taste in your mouth. it’s a 50/50 chance if your mom is there or not, but the realization hits that you’ll want, need, to see her.

the key to the home hasn’t changed. it still dangles from your keychain and fits perfectly when you slide it in to unlock the door.

your mom is sitting on the couch when you walk in. sergio purrs beside her, clearly ecstatic that his mom is back.

he jumps off the couch when he hears the door open, parading towards you with a meow. you, however, can only focus on her.

“y/n-” she starts again.

she lets you make the first move, eyes pooling with tears at the site of you.

your tears have long begun to stream down your cheeks. a sob falls from your mouth when you reach her, hands extending out to hold her face.

thumb rests on her pulsepoint on her neck. her heart is beating, steady. that feeling alone makes everything more real.

“how?” is the only question you can ask.

she holds your wrists.

“it doesn’t matter right now, i’ll explain later, okay? i promise,” your mom pleads. “i was waiting until things calmed down a bit before i reached out to you. i’m so so sorry.”

you press your foreheads together. you don’t want an apology. 

“it’s okay mom. i’m just really glad you’re here.” and you mean it.

the two of you spend the greater part of the day crying and holding each other. when you’ve calmed down, you fill your mom in on everything that’s happened.

you go to bed that night with her tucking you in and kissing your forehead like she always used to do. 

“goodnight y/n, i love you so much.” 

“i love you too.”

your mom is alive.

[spnjediavenger]

It Won't Last Forever (Chapter 3)

Title: It Won’t Last Forever (Chapter 3)

Type: multi-chapter; father!Hotch x teen!daughter!reader, some bau x teen!reader (platonic!)

Warnings: canon-typical Criminal Minds sadness 

POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions PTSD

Spoilers: S5 SPOILERS

Notes: The PTSD description is a mix of my own experience and some I read online - this is not how ALL PTSD is experienced.

The Container Exercise is a real thing, one of my past therapists actually walked me through it and i love it

EMDR is an actual method of therapy and it works for some and not for others, it's also very dependent on person and situation; this is taken from my own experience and doesn’t reflect everyone’s

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Word count: 814 (shorter, transition chapter)

“It is worth remembering that the time of greatest gain in terms of wisdom and inner strength is often that of greatest difficulty.” Dalai Lama

When Hotch informed Rossi that Y/n had finally agreed to therapy, the older man told him that he had an old friend who was a licensed therapist and specialized in PTSD. Hotch was grateful for the suggestion. He decided to bring Y/n to work with him so he and Rossi could talk to her about it together. 

When they got to the BAU, everyone greeted her, glad she wasn’t as emotionless as the last visit. Hotch then brought her up to his office, keeping the door open. 

Y/n pulled some homework out of her bag as her dad began to work at his desk. A light knock came to the door about 30 minutes later, making both Hotchners turn their heads up. 

“Hey, Dave,” the older Hotchner greeted and waved him in. 

Rossi walked in and patted Y/n’s head, making the girl smile a bit. He sat in the chair next to her. 

“What’s going on?” Y/n asked, looking from Rossi to her dad. 

“Y/n, I know you’re hesitant about starting therapy. But when I mentioned to Dave that you agreed to it, he mentioned he knows someone that might be a good choice.”

“Dr. Warner is a friend of mine, very good in her field. She specializes in kids dealing with PTSD. We figured you might feel a little better if you’re talking with someone one of us knows.”

Y/n thought it over for a second, gave a half smile, and nodded a bit. “That sounds good. Could you…could you be there too, Dave? For the first time at least?” she asked. 

The older man smiled warmly and put an affectionate hand on her cheek. “Of course, bambina.”

Y/n giggled a bit and smiled at the italian nickname only Rossi used for her. “We’ll get you better, kiddo.”

Y/n put her hand on his and smiled. “Thank you.”

Y/n sat in a small waiting area with her dad and Rossi. Her leg bounced up and down wildly as her eyes darted around the room, trying to find something to focus on. She only stilled her leg when her dad put his hand on her knee, catching her attention. Her movement had stopped and she turned to look at him. 

“Y/n, it’ll be alright. Dave said Dr. Warner is a nice woman. And therapy goes at your own pace and comfort level. You’ll be just fine. Ok?” Hotch held his palm up and Y/n accepted his hand. 

“Ok,” she sighed. 

“Y/n Hotchner?” a voice called from the other side of the room. 

Hotch ran a comforting hand over her back as she took a shuddery breath and they walked over with Rossi in tow. 

The woman led them into a room and shut the door behind everyone. She held her hand out to Y/n first and introduced herself, “I’m Dr. Warner, but you can call me Peggy.” She shook each person’s hand and gave Rossi a small hug as well. 

“Thanks for doing this, Peg,” he said warmly. 

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Dave. Please, everyone, take a seat anywhere.”

Y/n sat on the couch across from Dr. Warner’s chair and had her dad and Rossi sit on either side of her. 

The session started simply with Dr. Warner explaining to them how things would go and taught Y/n a tool for when she was between sessions. 

“This is called the Container Exercise,” she explained. “I want you to close your eyes and picture a container. It can be any kind you want. A box, a jar, anything. Think of the shape of it, the color, if there are any designs on it. Do you see it? Now, any time bad memories or feelings come up between our sessions, or you aren’t in a place where you can properly handle them, I want you to imagine putting those memories and feelings inside your container and sealing it until we can talk about them. You can open your eyes now.”

The rest of the session went by rather smoothly as well. They didn’t get too far into specifics about Y/n’s trauma since it was the first session, but Dr. Warner got the basics of what they would be working on. Upon understanding these things, the doctor recommended a technique called “EMDR” which both Hotchners agreed to start for Y/n at the next session. 

When the group left, Hotch kissed Y/n’s head before she got into the car. “I’m proud of you, sweety.”

The girl smiled and hugged him. “Thanks, daddy.”

She was on the road to recovery.

“You survived the trauma. Now, you’ll survive the recovery.” Unknown.

[miley1442111]

hi! can you do something with aaron and like a younger next-door neighbour and they're kinda secretly and newly dating and something with Jack goes wrong and reader helps fix it so aaron is just so in love and asks if he can tell jack and it's just super fluffy and cute!

Anyway, thank you so much, i love your writing!!!!

i love this idea so much!

--------------------------------

telling him- a.hotchner

--------------------------------

--------------------------------

a/n: i got nothin.

summary: jack can't go to school, so you swoop in and become aaron's hero, he asks two pretty important questions.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: none

--------------------------------

Aaron didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d left the BAU. Jack was 11. He had a pre-teen who he’d just moved across the country and changed his entire life. 

What the fuck were they doing in San Francisco?

Aaron was a lecturer now, on law in Stanford. Jack attended a new school, much to his dismay. 

And then there was you. The gorgeous woman who lived next door to them. You were a lecturer as well, nuclear physics but you were often mistaken for a student, considering you were only 25. You’d been very kind to him since he started work there, and even had had them over for dinner a couple of times. 

--------------------------------

“I don’t wanna go!” Jack exclaimed, arms crossed. 

“Jack, I have work in 45 minutes, my students are taking the bar exam, and you know your babysitter is out of town, you have to go to school,” he sighed, feeling helpless. Doing this alone had been the hardest part. He had to leave the family he had, the entire team, and his life behind.

“But they’re mean!” he sobbed into his dad’s chest. “They make fun of me for not having a mom…” 

Aaron’s heart broke. He didn’t want to send his kid into school if he was being bullied, and he made a mental note to speak to his teachers. 

“Hey guys,” your kind voice filled the house from downstairs. Aaron had given you a key just a few weeks ago. “Ready to go?” 

Aaron looked at the time on his watch, it was exactly when you all carpooled to school, then work. 

“Up here!” Jack shouted down to you as he cried into his dad’s shoulder, ruining his suit. Aaron could hear your footsteps up the stairs and he braced himself for any judgy looks. 

Judgy looks which never came.

“Poor Jack,” you sighed, rubbing his head. “What’s going on?”

“The kids at school laugh at me because I don't have a mommy anymore,” he cried, getting up and giving you a hug. You sent Aaron an empathetic look and hugged Jack back. 

“That is awful Jack, how about this. You come to work with me and your dad, my lectures don’t start ‘till later so you can hang out with me and I know someone who works at your school, so if you tell me your teacher’s name I can get the lesson plan for today and we can work through it in my office, does that sound good?” 

Jack nodded his head furiously and hugged you harder, his tears subsiding. 

Aaron’s heart could’ve exploded. You were so kind. You two had only been on a few dates in recent weeks, you hadn’t told Jack yet, but you were so caring. 

He mouthed a ‘thank you’ in your direction and you shrugged. ‘It’s the least I can do’. 

Aaron ran into his room, pulling on a new suit jacket to replace the one soiled by Jack’s tears, grabbed his briefcase, and followed you out to the car. You’d called your friend at his school and gotten the information so Jack had his school books in his bag. You drove them to the Stanford campus, explained to your supervisor who told you it was alright, and departed for the day, Jack’s hand in yours. Aaron walked over to his building, and you stayed in yours, sending him updates throughout the day. You made the majority of your lectures for the day either study lectures, or just cancelled lectures so you could keep a close eye on Jack. You even allowed three of your most responsible students to teach Jack some maths. 

At the end of the day, Jack fell asleep on the couch in your office while you were busy cleaning up your lecture hall. 

“Hi honey,” Aaron smiled from the door. 

“Hi love,” you smiled back. “How was your day? Did anyone faint in the exam hall?”

He crossed over to you in three quick strides and pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply. You were so kind, you’d taken care of Jack all day for him, you’d made him feel less alone in the most isolating time of his life, and you were his. Well, maybe, he hadn’t exactly asked yet. “No one fainted, but a few did vomit before coming in.”

“Poor them,” you sighed. “Jack was fine all day, no issues.”

“Have I told you how wonderful you are?” He smiled and you chuckled. 

“A few times, sure,” you teased. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Aaron smiled and moved one of his hands to cup your cheek. “You’re wonderful.”

You smiled back at him, pecking his cheek. “Well, good thing we have a date on Friday.”

“I want to tell Jack,” He admitted. “About us.”

You nodded. “You’re sure? It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

“I’m sure. He loves you anyways, what’s the worst that can happen?” He asked, pressing kisses to your neck as he spoke. 

“Umm- He could hate both of us because he feels like we’re replacing your and Haley’s relationship, he could start to resent you if we break up, he could hate me, the list goes on-”

“Don’t let it,” he smiled. “I have spent my whole life making calculated and deliberate decisions, even if I knew those choices wouldn’t make me happy. I want to be happy now, with you and Jack,” he admitted. In recent months you’d taught him the value of being slightly selfish, despite his altruistic tendencies. 

“Alright, whatever you say love,” you smiled and kissed him again, then went back to your desk to gather your things. 

“I also want to ask you something,” he stated and when you turned around you saw a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hands. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You chuckled softly and smiled, the sweetness of the moment warming your heart. “Yes, Aaron, I will be your girlfriend.”

He grinned when you accepted and his hands wrapped around your waist as he pressed your lips against his  in celebration. 

He was happy, truly happy. For the first time in a long time. 

And it was all thanks to you.

--------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi, can I lose Aaron Hotchner with his daughter who does theater, the reader was going to debut in a play as Juliet

Aaron Hotchner X Teen Daughter Reader

Thank you for over 500 followers!!

Hey its been a while since I wrote one of these terribly sorry, It's tje summer holidays now so I will work on them more.

Request: Hi, can I lose Aaron Hotchner with his daughter who does theater, the reader was going to debut in a play as Juliet

Third person pov...

Y/N Hotchner was in her highschool Theatre group, she was sit on the stage absently listening to what her drama teacher was talking about, the 15 year old had been in the theatre club since she started highschool.

As she sits her teacher talks talking. "The play we are doing this years class is Romeo and Juliet" He tells the group of Female and Male students, they all gasp and start taking to one another whsipers filled the air.

Their Drama teacher chuckles at how excited they all sound before clapping to get their attention again. "Alright Alright! Settle down students" once it was quiet the teacher began talking again.

"Now I have already thought about parts, For Juliet I have chosen..." the H/C teen was half listening to her teacher half not as she swung her legs.

"Y/N Hotchner"

Y/N jumps in surprise and snaps her head over to her teacher and sees the rest of her club watching her, she looks around nervously. "Y/N you shall be Juliet" her E/C eyes widened at that.

The teens jaw drops in shock. "..huh?" She muttered completely shocked the hall silent before everyone starts clapping for her, Y/N quickly stands up from the stage and stands next to her Drama teacher.

'Juliet huh' she thought to herself as her teachers calls out the other parts for the play.

An hour later the teen is leaving school, the script for the play in hand her speaking parts underlined. "Juliet huh.." she muttered to herself before leaving the school grounds and making her way to her Dads work.

She gets through security and the reception desk relatively quick before walking to the elevators and pressing the floor for the BAU.

As she waits she glances down at the script reading over her lines, once the doors open she walks out again still reading the script and into tje bullpen of the BAU.

The door swung open, and Y/N entered the office, vibrant and unaffected by her father’s heavy workload. She was dressed in a simple black ensemble, her hair cascading in soft waves. At fifteen, she had grown into a confident young woman, and she wore that confidence like a second skin.

“Dad! Are you busy?” she asked, glancing at Emily before returning her focus to Hotch.

“Not at all. You came at the right time,” he said, his voice shifting into the gentle timbre he reserved for her. “Your entrance is always welcome.”

Y/N’s face broke into a wide smile as she crossed the room to hug her father tightly, warmth radiating between them. “I’m glad! I have something really exciting to tell you!”

“Okay, let’s hear it,” Hotch urged, though he already sensed what was to come.

“I’m going to debut as Juliet in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ next month!” Her excitement bubbled over, lacing each word with passion. “I wanted to invite you and the team to come see it.”

Hotch felt his heart swell at the sight of her enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful, Y/N! I’m so proud of you,” he said, more convinced than ever that she would shine on stage. But his pragmatism chipped away at those feelings; the BAU often came first, not leaving much room for personal endeavors.

“What’s the time?” he asked, noting the delicate balance he needed to maintain between work and family.

“It’s Sunday at seven! Please say you’ll come!” She looked at him, her deep brown eyes sparkling with hope.

“I’ll be there,” he promised honestly. “And I’ll let the team know. I’m sure they’d love to support you too.”

Y/N grinned. “Thanks, Dad! You’re the best!” Triumphantly, she slid a flyer for the play across his desk, where pink and lavender roses entwined around cursive letters announcing the performance.

As he watched her leave, a swell of warmth filled his chest. Emily stood nearby, watching both father and daughter with a wistful expression.

“Y/N is remarkable,” she said, patting Hotch’s shoulder. “You really should be proud.”

“I am,” Hotch replied, a rare vulnerability surfacing. “She makes it easy.”

Later that afternoon, the team gathered in Hotch’s office for the customary briefing. The scent of freshly baked coffee lingered in the air, fueling their energy as they prepared for yet another case to dissect. JJ, Reid, and Rossi filed in, each of them taking their usual spots around the room.

“Hey, Hotch,” JJ began, her smile brightening the room. “What’s the latest on the case?”

Before he could reply, he caught the wave of nerves unfolding in the pit of his stomach. “Actually, before we dive into the details, I have something else to share,” he interjected, causing the team to perk up with curiosity. “My daughter, Y/N, is making her debut as Juliet in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ on next month on Sunday, I’d like it if you all came to support her.”

Surprisingly, the room erupted into a chorus of enthusiastic agreement.

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it!” JJ declared, her eyes dancing with excitement.

“I’ve always wanted to see her act!” Reid chimed in, adjusting his glasses, the gears in his mind clearly already turning with thoughts of Shakespearean analysis.

“Count me in too,” Rossi added, a smile playing on his lips. “The kid’s got talent. It runs in the family, I bet.”

Hotch’s heart warmed. It was moments like these that reminded him the BAU was more than just a job; they were a collective family bound together by loyalty and support, just like him and Y/N.

As the evening wore on, they dove into the intricacies of their latest case, but even amidst the discussions of serial behavior and profiling, Aaron found his thoughts returning to Y/N. His heart swelled with pride at the thought of her in that iconic gown, delivering lines that had stood the test of time.

At precisely seven o’clock on Sunday night a month later, the theater buzzed with excitement. The faint sound of chatter flitted through the air as Hotch and his team took their seats in the front row. The theater itself was a labyrinth of richly decorated walls and elegant velvet curtains that framed the stage.

When the lights dimmed, and the chatter gave way to an anticipative silence, Hotch felt a pang of nervousness in his stomach. He glanced at his colleagues, who were whispering about the anticipated performances.

Then it happened. The lights came up, illuminating the stage, and Y/N appeared in her maiden role, a delicate visage of youthful passion and raw talent. With every line she delivered, Hotch could see the embodiment of countless hours spent rehearsing in the family living room, her voice lilting and vibrant, each syllable dripping with emotion.

The performance flowed seamlessly as she danced across the stage, her essence intertwining with the tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet. Each tragic moment hung heavy in the air, and Hotch’s heart raced with pride.

When the final curtain fell, the applause resonated like a heart beating, filling the theater with affirmation—for Y/N and for the team who had gathered to support her. The lights brightened, and as Y/N took her bow, her gaze locked with her father’s.

He gives his daughter a huge proud smile and blew her a kiss which she returned a wide happy grin on her young face as she bowed to tje audience, a successful performance for her and her class.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for the wait, sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Requests are still open!

Word count: 1330

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

･*:.｡.─_*✧.｡.:*･# ﾟ𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 ﾐ

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Warnings = **

x teen!reader / x child!reader / x daughter!reader / x gn!reader / x platonic!reader / x sibling!reader / son!reader / romantic!reader / ftm!reader / mtf!reader

I don’t own Criminal Minds or any of the characters in Criminal Minds , I only own the imagines that I have created in tumblr or wattpad.

Main masterlist

CRIMINAL MINDS CHARACTERS

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*✧.｡.:*･# IMAGINES ﾐ

Chocolate & Movies ** - your dad helping you with period cramps - Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

✧.｡.:*･# SERIES ﾐ

The Team Baby ** - just a bunch of fics with reader being the youngest bau member - father figure Aaron Hotchner x youngest!Bau!reader, Bau x youngest!Bau!reader (coming soon)

✧.｡.:*･# HEADCANONS ﾐ