#teen aaron

[ihopeineverloseyou19]

Getting older was never a reason to celebrate

tw: small mentions of abuse, blood, loneliness, self-loathing

words: 1.2K 

He wasn't considered important enough that people would remember it, remember him. Who he was. He didn’t care about it, so why it had to hurt so much, when his family didn’t either? @hotch-central @jaspxr @masterwords

He wasn't considered important enough that people would remember it, barely his school classmates did, so why did it hurt so much when his parents barely acknowledge that day? When they didn’t remember even the important things. His mother always forgot some food from the list his father so carefully created wherever the both of them had to go to buy some, for the meals he required to eat, his father needed everything on that list. Every item was important. If that happened, well, there would be a fight, it would start as a warning as Aaron’s father inspected their shopping bags, never spending more money than he gave them.

Money was tight in their family. Money, Aaron thought, was why he never got nice things, like clothes or presents on his birthdays. The occasional years hir mother remembered it. His father didn’t care about him, about his son growing up, Aaron learned to do the same, following his steps, not caring about his clothes not fitting correctly, he had worse problems than those, people not simply knowing when his birthday was, it was indifferent to him. He didn’t like celebrating it much, so why would he feel saddened when his other classmates would bring in something (most times a home cooked cake made from their mother). And the birthday wishes would spill out momentarily?

Forgetfulness was nothing new in his home, he should have been accustomed to his parents not knowing it. His mother didn’t even remember how old he was most of the times, even after the bad days, when she could not get up from bed, when her whole body ached, because his father had been more savage than other times, when blood was involved, his mother didn’t leave their bed. Aaron learned long ago not to bother her, not knocking on the door asking for presents, wondering where the cake he was made for seven consecutive years was, why his mother had not wished him a happy birthday and woken him up to a breakfast full of his favorite sweets when his father had gone to work. Why did he feel so empty on a day of celebration of his own birth? 

Sean came around faster than he could notice, ten years after his parents stopped seeing him, noticing him around. With Sean, they had a reason, he was not invisible to them, now, the new baby was the excuse, his father even helped, which was a rare occurrence. His father, who never gave a hand with anything, a mistake he committed when he yelled why his father had never had to put the table, Aaron slept with his first black eye. The first of presents he would get from his father, little marks across his skin that he didn’t ask for.

Every time his mother looked at his younger son, something was breaking down in Aaron, parts of a childhood he didn’t get to live. Parts where Sean was the only protagonist, out of the two boys, the one who had a normal life, between those four walls. His parents marriage was not bad for him, after all, his father had change for the better, he stopped touching his mother, and he didn’t feel the need to hit every moving object in his home, without counting Aaron, maybe it was what bothered him, that he keep immobile when the fist came to him, still, when the punches were coming his way, angry that he could not protect himself. But who could he? It was the first time he received any sort of emotional touch from him. He had to take everything he could, before his mother found out, before anyone found out. 

His little brother was different, he noticed it right away, from the continuous interest he always had on him. He was special to him, someone he had to protect through every fight his parents picked at night, tucking him in, later when plates were broken and the front door slammed close Aaron would go down to help his mother clean some of her bloody wounds, bandaging her just how he was taught, checking first if his little brother was asleep, checking if he had noticed a change in their family.

Sean, the first person that had cared to learn about his birthday, the first cake he had in eight years, his brother had saved up his monthly allowance to buy a chocolate frozen cake, it was the cheapest he could find. Aaron knew because he did the same thing once for his father's birthday, when his mother could not get up from bed. One of those days that Aaron was left alone. Those kind of bad days where he had learned to take care of himself. He knew that if her mother didn't have everything perfect for his father's birthday, she would spend more than three consecutive days in bed. If he didn’t want that to happen, he had to act quickly. Every movement came calculated after the first time, long sleeves were a necessity wherever he left his house, with those clothes, no questions were asked, as for the fights, they happened in every marriage, it was completely normal. For him at least it was. The only thing he could find that his father and him loved, was the love for chocolate. 

Now it was different. Everything changed when he stepped out of his house, leaving his little brother behind, because he would have been well taken care of. They didn’t have a problem with remembering he even existed, or his clothes size. His mother would never mistake his age or buy him clothes too little to fit, because he had grown out unexpectedly when he was eleven. Sean was not going to live through that, as much as it hurt him to admit it, his father loved him, more than he did Aaron. 

Old birthdays were not something he was proud to celebrate, even acknowledging that he was getting older bothered him, perhaps it was the lack of childhood he spent trying to be everything but a child, always vigilant of his father next blow towards his mother, or searching for some place away from home that he could feel safe enough to be himself. He lived being indifferent to his parents, he wondered if it was something he could recover from someday. 

 New birthdays, on the other hand, were everything he had desired to have as a child, happiness had to be the first thing he came up with everytime one of his colleagues reminded him that ‘tomorrow is your birthday’. If he could pick something he would cherish forever, it would have to be Jack, running towards his and Haley’s bed, little feet tip towing against their bedroom floor as he jumped in him, plastering him with kisses because it was his birthday, and the gift he received every year from him, he was convinced that they would need a bigger fridge. Aaron appreciated his own family, more than they would ever know, and even Sean, who was there every of his birthdays, with a yearly phone call. If he was lucky, his mother would also be on the other side, wishing what he had wanted to listen to since he was nine years old, nothing more than ‘happy birthday’.

[drowningmoon]

No honey they're a murderer to YOU, but to ME they're just a traumatized girl who was feeling silly

[itboytrends]

Nicholas Galitzine by Damon Baker, 2019.

[the-guilty-writer]

Aaron x daughter!reader where she is struggling with her mental health and has a crying breakdown in the middle of the night and he gets up from bed to comfort her?

My controversial opinion is that Hotch would be the best BAU parent for mental health struggles ❤

(Note that this is probably medically inaccurate, but I was too lazy to look it up)

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

It wasn't unusual for teenagers to struggle with mental health - this was a fact that Aaron Hotchner knew simply from studying behavior for so many years. The stages of brain development and the hormones impacted the mental state of many adolescents. The phase of life led to a more stereotypical phase of emotional ups and downs. He hoped that you'd be one of the many kids that grew out of such intense struggles as you got older.

Many parents would see that as an excuse not to validate the experiences, but he knew better. The idea that one might grow out of struggles was no reason to neglect them in the present.

It's why he didn't hesitate to get out of bed in the middle of the night when he heard you sobbing in your bedroom. He stroked your hair and hugged you tight, not caring that it would leave tear stains on his shirt.

The words he spoke were calm, validating, soothing. He kept his demeanor soft and steady, anchoring you to earth with his presence. Some nights you simply needed a good cry - a way to release all the energy that had built up inside - and he was always there to comfort you however you needed.

When your body grew tired and the tears stopped flowing, he stayed with you. He tucked you into bed, just as he had when you were a little girl, making sure the blankets kept you warm and safe for the night ahead.

In the case you got cold or felt unsafe, he made sure you knew he was only a call away.

[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

[princessxt]

Oii julia, queria pedir um aaron hotcher em que a filha dele estivesse na fase rebelde e saísse escondido de casa e algo acontece, obgd desde já q você cresça mt

You can make a request in the comments or by asking me a question!

You can see the list of who I write about here

like and follow to encourage me to keep posting<33

Stay with me

Pairing(s): Aaron Hotchner x Daugther!Reader

Gender: Angst

Warnings: Blood, torture, mention of death, criminal minds stuff

——————♥︎♥︎——————

Having a teenager at home wasn't easy, and Aaron Hotchner knew that. Y/n had just lost her mother, and was dealing with it in a natural way, rebelling against her father. Aaron tried everything to ease the pain of loss for her children, spending more time with them and putting them in therapy. This worked for a while, but later, her daughter's rebelliousness got out of her control. She left and only came back late, leaving her father worried, remembering the cases of dead teenagers that he had already worked with. She said that all her father's concern was nonsense, until one night, she ends up realizing that her father was right.

The Bau team was on a case,in Quantico. 4 teenagers had been tortured and killed, this messed with Aaron's mind, remembering his daughter, who was alone at home with her younger brother, Jack.

There were few clues in the case, and what affected Aaron the most were the similarities between the victims, who also looked like Y/n.

"It could be revenge. With the similarity between them. The killer sees the victims as someone who did him wrong in the past, so he takes revenge." Morgan says, twirling a pen in his hand as he examines case files.

"The killer could have been a victim of bullying in childhood by a girl with those characteristics. Or even been attacked by a woman like that." Spencer moves away from the board where he has photos of the victims pasted.

Aaron could barely focus on what was in front of him. He stood up and excused himself from his companions, ignoring their questions about his well-being.

He hurriedly enters his office and picks up his phone, dialing his home phone number. After a few seconds of calling, the phone is answered, and on the other end of the line he can hear his youngest son's voice saying "hello.".

"Hi honey, where's your sister?" He relaxes his shoulders after realizing that his youngest was okay. Little did he know what was coming.

"She's not here yet. I thought she warned you." Aaron's shoulders soon tensed again. His breathing hitched and his hands began to sweat.

"She hasn't arrived yet? Are you sure? Has she looked in her room yet?" He stutters, hoping that his son just didn't notice the older girl's arrival.

"I'm sure. The room is empty. I'm alone here" The boy says on the other end of the line. This couldn't be happening.

"Okay dear. Go to Aunt Sharon's house. And stay with her until I call." He tells the child to go to the neighbor's house, who was already an acquaintance of the agent. The phone is hung up and Aaron goes to the Garcia's room, knocking on the door and receiving permission to enter shortly afterwards.

"Wow, you're pale, is everything okay?" Garcia asks seeing the chef's condition.

"I need you to track Y/n's phone. She's not home yet." Aaron sees Garcia's face tense up and she immediately goes to her computer, typing quickly, But Aaron wasn't paying attention to that.

He only remembered the details of the case, and was afraid that a photo of his daughter would be the next to be placed on the victims board.

Meanwhile, Garcia anxiously typed on the computer, afraid of where Y/n was.

Not long after, she manages to track the phone.

"She's in a dead end on the street near the center. I think you should go check with Morgan or Emily." She turns to look at Aaron, but he was already out of the room, heading to his car. Garcia, worried, goes to the room where the other agents were and tells everyone what was possibly happening.

With Aaron, he drove fast, without thinking about the traffic laws he was breaking, at that moment, only his daughter's safety mattered.

Arriving at the dead end, he gets out of the car slamming the door behind him and goes to the end, finding his daughter's backpack thrown on the floor, along with her coat and her phone. Near his daughter's items was a piece of cloth , with a strong smell of alcohol and a few drops of blood near him. Aaron could feel the floor heave below his feet.

Fear ran down his spine. He felt like he was being shot when he understood what happened there. He was motionless, unresponsive as he held his daughter's coat, and could still smell the sweet smell of her perfume.

Behind him, Emily and Derek arrive and observe the scene, I understand what was happening.

"Hotch" Derek comes close to him and subtly touches his shoulder, while Emily calls the rest of the team to talk about what happened.

"He took my daughter." That was the only thing Aaron could say.

Y/n was smart and did something that would help the investigations before being taken. Her father always taught her and her brother self-defense. When she realized what would happen, she fought with the suspect and managed to injure him, making his blood drip onto the floor. This led the team to discover his identity.

"Garcia, find any place that has anything to do with him. It could be a family member's house."JJ tells Garcia while examining everything he had on the suspect.

It didn't take long for the blonde to find an old house far enough away that a person could scream and no one would hear.

All the agents were apprehensive when they arrived at the scene. They didn't know what they would find inside.

When they entered, the agents saw a horrible scene. Y/n was sitting in a chair, with her arms and legs tied, tape covering her mouth. There were bloody tools everywhere. Blood that was probably the girl's, who had cuts all over his body.

She raises her head, seeing the movement in front of her and her gaze goes to her father. Before she could say anything, all the agents point their weapons behind her.

The suspect gets closer to Y/n and puts a knife to the girl's throat before they can react.

"John, don't do that. She's not his sister" JJ takes over everyone and tries to negotiate with the suspect, who was neglected by his older sister during his childhood.

"She's not to blame for the things her sister did. Drop the knife and get away from her. If you hurt her, you'll be just like your sister. Do you want to be like your sister?" JJ approaches them. The suspect had tears in her eyes. Y/n looked at her father, also with tears in her eyes. Aaron watches the scene, ready to attack the suspect at any moment.

But JJ knew what he was doing, and with a few more sentences, he managed to get him to drop the knife, moving away from the younger one.

Before anything else, Aaron goes to his daughter, who can no longer hold back her tears, and sobs while her father unties her.

"I'm here, darling. Daddy's here" He removes the ropes from her body and the tape from her mouth. The girl's reaction was to fall into her father's arms, while she allowed herself to cry, finally feeling safe.

A few hours later, Y/n was already in the hospital, with her injuries treated, resting, with her father in a chair beside her holding her hand and her younger brother lying with her in bed, afraid of losing her, so how he lost his mother a few months earlier.

[fangirlwitchstuff]

The BAU as the Teen Titans.

Based on the vibe that they give me.

[pepsicola-pussy]

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

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Everybody Dies

Pairings: Rick Grimes x teen!reader, Daryl Dixon x teen!reader, Carl Grimes x teen!reader, Michonne Hawthorne x teen!reader, Aaron x teen!reader, Negan x teen!reader, Rosita Espinosa x teen!reader, Eugene Porter x teen!reader, Sasha Williams x teen!reader (all of them are platonic)

Requested by: @leahsbasement may i request a teen or child g/n reader that’s really close to the twd group and during the lineup they’re one of the people chosen by negan to yknow- receive the glenn and abraham treatment💀 and like we get some reactions from the group from it🧎 i apologize if this sounds really morbid but i am dire need of some good angst and i love your writing sm it’s amazing <3

Warnings: reader death, angst, a tad bit of fluff (definitely not much), mention of character death, description of Negan doing what he did to Glenn and Abraham, blood, mention of a brutal way to die, idk what more I guess you have all seen twd so you know what might be in this. Not proofread

A/N as usual the gif is not mine, found it somewhere on the internet. This is not proofread, well half of it is.

Now I tried to do a reaction with all of the people at the line up so sorry with Sasha I guess bc I don’t like her so found it a bit hard to write her as a character that’s close to the reader, and once more thank you for the request, it gave me an excuse to write this

Anyway idk what I think of this, wrote it in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep, so anyway hope you like it.

Everybody dies a little when the brightest soul disappears.

A sea of red water mixed with the gravel and mud on the ground. The trail of blood — that had gone its own path from the puddle it was previously in, could be followed towards two bodies. One of a hunched man, who racked with sobs through his entire body. His hands grasped towards the body before him. Blood still oozed from the head. Or what someone would once have called a head, as it was now just remains of smashed bones and brain goo. The once familiar face was unrecognizable to anyone. No one would ever be able to pinpoint who the body belonged to, because the head atop of it was gone. It had been smashed into a puddle of goo. No one would ever be able to see your smiling face, or the mischievous smirk that pulled at your lips whenever you wanted to rebel a bit. Nor would they ever see the sparkles in your eyes whenever you talked about the things you liked.

No one of the group surrounding the three bodies wanted to acknowledge what had happened. How could they. They’d all just seen three of their family members die, because of their actions. Because of them. The teenager in which the hunched man had taken a tight grip of their hands had warned them about the attack. That nothing good would come out of it, that it wasn’t who they were. Rick had been wrong like everyone else to ignore the teenager’s warnings. In the end it was what cost them your life. Their choice of actions had been the beginning of your end.

Rick couldn’t let the image out of his head, he couldn’t even look at your body as he held you tightly. His eyes stared into the distance at nothing in particular as his mind tried to register what had happened just a few hours ago. His cries had stopped only for his eyes to glaze over once more with tears. He couldn’t help but to think that it was all his fault. He had the final vote on what to do, and his vote caused your death. It caused Negan to seek them out. To line them up. To smash your head with his goddamn wired baseball bat. His goddamn Lucille. He swore to kill Negan if it was the last thing he did, whether you would want him to or not, he needed to. Rick wanted nothing more than revenge. Nothing more than justice and revenge brought to you, Glenn and Abraham.

Not soon after Rick had stopped crying his son had walked over to you and him. His eye was bloodshot by the tears that rolled down his red cheek. And his hand went up to rub his eye off the tears as he tried to control himself, as he sat beside his father. Same as everyone else at the brutal scene he couldn’t let go of the events. How everyone got a look of dread and fear on their face as Negan announced that he’d had to kill two more because of Daryl’s little outburst. Carl had glanced at his father to see that for once under this meeting he held actual fear in his eyes when Negan’s bat had landed in front of you. It was deadly quiet as all of the group watched you stare dead into the eyes of Negan who looked at you with a scary face, gleaming with excitement as he noticed everyone’s reaction.

Negan had watched with glee as everyone went into submission after Lucille had stopped in front of you. He’d felt kinda sorry for you. He didn’t usually kill teenagers but something about you annoyed him so greatly. Maybe it was the way you didn’t look with fear into his eyes, how you held your own, even with the knowledge that you would soon be dead. He didn’t know what it was but he had decided to kill you, well he decided in a way.

Maggie who had lost her husband and father to her child, stared with emptiness at you. She didn’t know if she’d be able to take it if you died as well. She had tried to fight the man holding her down, but to no vain. Her already bloodshot eyes had filled with tears and sobbed had shook through her body as soon as she saw Negan start to swing his bat. She didn’t want to lose you, she couldn’t. But her silent prayer came to no good end.

Rosita was no better than Maggie. Since the first time you met when you and Glenn together with Tara searched for Maggie the two of you had gotten close and she as everyone else got flashes of your lives together. Of all your good and bad memories of everything you had survived. How you’d found an apple tree that hadn’t been destroyed at a random location in the forest and thrown apples at your companions heads as they hadn’t stopped when you told them to. Or how you’d draw drawings with the kids in Alexandria or help hunting and scavenging for food. Getting stuck in a building while a herd of walkers walked past. The blood and the gore of every kill. All of them comforting you while you cried yourself to sleep, all the cuddles you forced them into, especially Rick and Daryl. How you forced them to take a break so that they wouldn’t overwork themselves while doing the exact same thing. Needing help from others to make sure you actually took care of yourself and not just everyone else. It just made them all get to the brink of breaking even quicker as they thought of all your moments together. Not only did memories flash inside your head, nor only Rosita’s they flashed through everyone. You had always looked out for them and what had they given you in return, nothing but death.

Sasha wasn’t especially close to you but the previous death of Abraham and Glenn and now you had her at her breaking point. She might not have known you well but you were a good kid, you helped and knew how to survive. You didn’t take unnecessary risks and you’d helped her through her losses. So she tried nothing more than to break herself away from reality as she heard the bat make contact with your head. It reminded her too much of the other two kills and she couldn’t look through another one, not again.

Eugene only stared at the distance as sobs racked through his body not being able to watch you die. He couldn’t even bring his eyes to look at you afterwards, he’d never be able to erase the short scream of pain that had left your lips. He was at a loss of words and he wouldn’t be able to really function in a few days, much like everyone else. He was scared shitless and he didn’t know for anything in the world what to do or say in the hours that came after.

Negan had looked at everyone, gauging even the slightest reaction out of them. Michonne had watched helplessly at you, she’d tried not to flinch everytime the bat hit you among a sound she’d never wished she ever heard ever in her life. The only thing on her mind was how she taught you how to sword fight or when you hunted a deer together and accidentally fell into a puddle of mudd getting every inch of you covered in it.

Arron, who had been right beside you, wanted to crawl away as your blood splashed onto the right side of him. He remembered all the times you’d gone over to him and Eric to eat pasta not wanting to socialize with the rest of Alexandria. You’d always go to him or Daryl.

Arron felt sick as he felt your warm blood on his cold cheek, and he felt even more sick as he made a glance at Daryl who didn’t do anything else but staring with regret and anger at your body who now laid lifeless on the ground. When Aaron dared a glance at you his throat became thick and a sob threatened to come out but he didn’t make a sound instead he stared at you before he looked with fear, numbness, anger and defeat at Negan.

But it wasn’t until Negan had looked at Rick Carl and Daryl did he notice that he sure as hell picked the wrong one to kill, deep inside, he knew that he’d just started a war. A war that wouldn’t take too long to brew over to the real fight. However he was filled with glee over getting a few peaceful weeks at reveling in his power and control over Alexandria. Maybe that would make the war something never to come, how wrong he had been on that thought.

Daryl felt nothing but guilt as he looked at you and it was all he thought of when he got loaded into the car and the Saviours drove away with him. He regretted having lashed out. Regretted ever getting angry. Daryl knew more than anyone that he’d miss you when you were gone. Like Beth, he’d miss you, even more so than Beth.

Carl had held a strong front, but on the inside he was breaking he lost his best friend and the only kid that had been with him since the beginning of the disaster they now lived in.

Now in the present Carl placed his hand on Rick’s shoulder as everyone surrounded your body (except for Maggie, Sasha, Rosita and Eugene). The two Grimes hugged each other as Carl dug his head into Rick’s chest. The older Grimes, having stopped his crying once more, tried his best to comfort his son while he himself was still breaking.

Rick, like Carl and Daryl, had held a shield with spikes as defense against Negan, as they had all starred with the same thought of killing Negan running through their heads. They had let a numb shield cover them while their enemies still surrounded them. They hadn’t let go of the shield until their enemies were gone. (Or in Daryl’s case until he was alone in the cell he was placed in at the sanctuary).

That day, the day you died, was the day everyone in Alexandria died a little with you. You were the brightest soul in most of their lives and to lose you was one of the worst things to ever happen to any of them.

[reveseke]

The box of skulls

CM — Hotch & son!reader...

No warnings, just origami and startled reader.

Reader is written to be interested in origami. :') also blurb based on/Inspired by the image below lol.

It had been a long week, R just got home from camp and the house was quiet for the most part. He'd been told that Jack had been sleeping over at a friend's house for the last few days and his dad was out of town for the moment. A nice peaceful moment, no distractions, no people — just silence that fell nicely over the house.

The window was cracked open a little, the light of the sun in the early morning streamed into his room with the birds singing, cars driving by, and the wind blowing. The sound of paper being folded over the table of the teen's room as he folded the origami paper, at this point going over the steps by memory and letting his hands just handle the paper with care. By the table was a small box, filled with small origami skulls that R had recently —not even recently, looking that he'd been doing this for quite a while— picked up on.

Learned to make even with all the mistakes he'd done, some faint scars over his hands from the paper cuts he'd managed to conjure up from his work.

What he hadn't counted on was to not hear his phone go off with the familiar message ping, an hour or so ago. Too focused on making the small origami that he was startled by the hand that came to land on his shoulder.

"holy shiiuhhm.." R nearly cursed out as he spun his head, eyes widening as he saw his father standing over him. Swallowing the curse as he flashed an awkward smile and let the unfinished skull hit the table, "Hi, dad! When'd ya get home?"

Aaron looked a little amused as he curiously looked at the paper scraps and what his teenaged son was doing, "Just now. Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"nope!" R said as he lowered his hands on the table, letting his fingers thrum a few times against the surface, "No I didn't, sorry."

"What are you doing?" Aaron asked as he leaned back a little, now looking at his son as he picked up the unfinished origami and slowly cast his gaze upon the small box of skulls, "You've been .. certainly busy, no?"

"oh, that's just my box of skulls..." R smiled a little as he took the box of multicolor skulls and picked one of them up, "yeah, I learned to make them like a month ago."

"that's nice, why skulls though?"

"Uhh, no real reason just thought they looked cool and a little challenging, wanted to try it out."

[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.”

[ihopeineverloseyou19]

The graves beneath my heart (I wait for the ghosts to come)

I'm learning geography is about loss and so I keep moving into closets that never smell like you. I'm learning not to order everything and want nothing. My mouth is empty. The words won't stay. “ Paul Guest from my index of slightly horrifying knowledge; Airport letter 2”

Your memories are sceneries for the things you said

But never really meant

Words: 4.1k

Or read it on Ao3

He sleeps in his old bedroom, where he can still find that old red outline that had been painted over more times than he could count. The paint had dissipated with the years, his mother finally giving up on repainting it completely the night his father died. It was still there, little red blood dots from all those fresh cuts all those years ago, marks that he himself made. He knew that he would not remember his childhood happily, not like other kids would do, or even how Sean would do, it was the only thing that had given him a sort of power back, his own little twisted idea.

The first one, he remembers, was when his father pushed him in front of his only picture hanging by his wall, a picture of him when he was smaller, happier. He had found it fitting that he had been the one to break it, the only piece of glass in the back of his head, ‘A superficial cut’ as the doctor explained them when his mother brought him to the hospital that afternoon when she noticed how his son had blood dripping down his neck, it wasn’t too serious for him, not really, comparing to how brutal his father had been other times, he had it coming, he had been ‘lucky’ if the glass had gone in deeper he could - would probably- have had complications.

The marks stayed there no matter how many times his mother had begged him to stop, he would go on every night, adding new spots, it was a way that made him feel better in a way, he could stare at his own blood night and night again, counting down from where it started, hoping that he would not had to do it for another nights, but did it anyway, the last mark he put up, was when he put his broken finger in his wall, the blood from his body clamped out there, or the little he could get without messing up his bedsheets, the sticky way a fine line of blood appeared when he separated his hand from the wall for what would be the last time.

Something his mother was not happy about, he did it in hopes that she could understand what happened down in the basement, the way he screamed for his father for forgiveness, the way his mother drowned out his son asking -praying- for her to help him with a colorless drink in hand.

How it had been a memory she could never completely erase, the guilt for not saving him, for not knowing how, without breaking a family she was bound with since she married his father. She couldn’t leave him, not without ending up with nothing but two boys and her. He was everything she had, and her husband knew it all too well, she could not leave him, no matter what he did. She stayed.

He can sense it, the moment his bedroom door opens, he had learned all the sounds of his old home in the nights he was to busy eavesdropping how once and again his fathers footsteps lingered too much in front of his bedroom door, debating if that night would be one for him to understand that he did something (he never knew what) wrong, that he needed a lesson.

Aaron learned the way the last stair had always cracked when the pressure of both feet were pressed together, when the person at the top of the stairs didn’t know where to go. When someone could not decide what to do. His heart beating inside his ribcage, the way his breathing quickened when he heard his bedroom doorway open, he stopped all his movements, something he learned to train himself in just perfectly (his father did not move him if he noticed Aaron sleeping, completely still) it was the only way he would let him be, he never did figure out why.

He remembers how it felt, how he felt his skin tear open with every wound, the relief that came after when he put lotion on, the coldness of the bathroom late at night, even with the door close, the way he could not keep looking at himself for too long in the mirror, choosing to shower as quickly as possible to get the blood stains out, the rapid moments, fearing that the way he tried to hold his screams when the warm water hit his body, fearing that his whimpers would wake his parents up, that he would wake Sean up.

He didn’t move, not until he heard his father footsteps disappearing up the stairs, he had always laid there, motionless, petrified to move, scared if he even lifted a finger he would be pressed harder against the warmless floor, the bruises and punches he tried to avoid, but somehow they always came. The way his body was never completely healthy, purplish spots in his skin late at night, a different ointment for the wounds, to get them to heal quicker.

They must have been the only thing that reminded him of touch. The only thing that reminded him he was breathing, alive. The pain had that power over him. It made him real. Well, realer than he ever was. He feels now the way he did when his father came into his room, wanting to step out of his body, to forget he even existed, that he even survived, to float above the pain that always seems to surround him, but it’s not his father who stands in the doorway. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at the figure that had been looking at him, the same figure he learned to grow up with, but in a different body, Sean had been more relaxed than him, than his father.

“Jack’s asleep in my bed” Sean crunches down to face him, he traces his forehead with a finger, taking some drops of sweat in it, “He said that you were moving too much in your sleep”

Aaron breathed out, he knew what had woke him up wasn't his son, Jack’s little space empty beside him, a new kind of guilt eating him, how could he not notice his own child walking out of bed?

“Want to tell me what happened?”

“I’m fine” Aaron states, letting the sheets fall from his body, the temperature growing within the passing seconds, he was burning up, not a so rare occurrence the little times he was back in his old bedroom, “He can sleep with you I suppose”

Sean doesn’t reply, he nods, closing the door again, letting the room bathe in a new kind of darkness, leaving him alone for the first time since he came inside his mothers house, he knows that Jack will be okay with Sean, he had never been a kid with insomnia neither too restless when he was asleep.

He turns his light on, looks at the ceiling where little stars should have been place, but never were, at the walls where posters he had put up when he was a teenager had been cleaned up, he stared at the blank walls, noticing how fitting this room was for him now, how the missing pieces of him had been stripped out of him little by little, until nothing was left but a void in his heart that not even Jack could fill.

Maybe it was the guilt he carried, he wasn’t sure. He thinks delusionally that the void is Haley, a ghost of what had been the love of his life, placed permanently on his chest, on his lungs, no letting him absorb the little moments he spend with Jack, laughing, then crying over the fact that those things had been what she had wished him to do when she was still there to see them.

There was something so strange about having to share his space again, him dropping by Sean’s bedroom when he was still a baby, checking if he was hurt the way he had been, nights he fell asleep next to his brothers crib, that later had been turned to a ‘big boy’ bedroom for him, the way he snuck out to his brothers bed, after countless showers and slept there.

Sean’s room had been the only safe space for him, the only space his father could not hurt him, not without Sean knowing what kind of a person he was, his mother knew it, she had been the one to wake him up, to help him to his own bed when his muscles ached so much that he could not do it on his own, she had helped him with clothes that were too tight for him. Most of all, she had kept that secret, not letting his father know, sometimes when he felt particularly awake at nights where Aaron had gone.

Then Haley came, sharing a bed was what had been healing for him, another person curled up on him, nothing bad coming out of that touch, arms wrapped around his middle as he slept. Until all of that stopped, when he was called out of bed for cases that were too important to let them be for when there was a reasonable hour, when he had to get out of his house before it was morning, out of Haleys’ embrace. Finally Haley had set a line and walked out of their house, not the way he had, after coming back, he knew that it would be forever.

Haley’s death, the way he would have let Foyet kill him without thinking twice if Jack wasn’t in the picture. He doesn’t know what was worse, letting Jack grow up without her, or him being the one who was left to parent his child. He never grew up to be the perfect example for a child. His father tainted his childhood in front of his eyes, angry constantly about things he could not control.

Him dying meant that Aaron would be hit with waves of undesired grief, how could he mourn him when his father did nothing but destroy everything he touched. Still, he was added there, to the graves beneath his heart, a place that he knew selfishly didn’t belong. He wasn’t mourning for the father he had, he cried for the father he wished he could have, one he thought would fill the shoes off when Jack was born, but he didn’t know how.

Haley was added there, to a place he didn't want to expand anymore, not so soon, the familiar nauseating feeling wherever he saw the ring, still in his left hand, cold metal bathed in gold, a promise to love each other forever engraved in the back of it. At least he didn't break that. He still loved her. Aaron doesn't really think he isn't going to stop. The ring stayed there, as he took the sweat with cold water in the bathroom next his room, the one he hasn’t allowed himself to step a foot into, until now.

Haley’s death had to be the reason the pills the doctor gave him didn’t do anything at all, he took another one, before going downstairs. Perhaps not having Jack's small body pressed against his own, curled by him, him breathing, knowing that his son, the only thing that has a little part of Haley is safe, one of his hands holding onto his t-shirt as if he was to disappear at night was being the thing that was causing him another sleepless night, but he knew better.

Now Jack was capable of sleeping alone. He no longer needed him. Aaron has to remind himself that sleeping in different rooms was only the beginning of Jack growing up, he thought about how many nights like those would have to take before he no longer needed him at all. Before Jack makes his own life.

What he thinks about instead is how he found Jack when he arrived home from work, or the little paperwork the bureau lets him do, to have him occupied while Jessica spends time with him.

Old tapes lying on the floor, Haley’s voice sounding from the speakers at the back of the TV. If he didn’t think about it enough he could almost imagine that she was with them. That she was still there. Jack obsessively watched those the first night he spent with him, a day before the funeral took place. Those CDs where Aaron had to pause one to get him to go to bed, where Haley ironically smiled brightly at him, playing outside with Jack, years ago when she was the center of his universe, where he valued them more than his job.

He never imagined himself teaching Jack how to tie a bow so soon, slowly letting him do his own while he tied his black shoes, he never imagined having Jack with a suit so similar to what Sean had worn when their father died. He never imagined having to say goodbye to Haley so soon, to be the reason she and many other people were killed.

Aaron never would have guessed to have Jess moved into his apartment to be close to Jack and him, her arguing over the fact that ‘he was not ready to give up on his job’ the way she knew him had always been surprisingly well, considering that he had spent most of his time with Haley, only both of them alone had shared one summer, the last his father lived, that he thinks might have given her an insight about his childhood, not something that Haley had ever been known of, not completely.

She knew what she was doing, as Jack had admitted that he didn’t want to talk about Haley because it made him sad. Aaron knew, still knows that it would be the only way he would talk, even if it was not to him. Jack needed and outlet to let his feelings out, and if that wasn’t him, he was in peace with it, the few times they tried, he made them stop, because he was profiling his son, he was not acting like a father would, so he did the only logical reasons he could think off, offer that duty to her.

Instead Aaron listened and tried not to go outside, he tried not to run form that vacant apartment that Haley never got to see, he still tries not to think of all the things she is going to lose because of him and most of it he tries to keep out of his mind that she is not here because of him. He tortures himself over and over again, the way Jack voice had shaked wherever they lighted a candle to talk to Haley, how he never wanted to continue doing it, he didn’t feel comfortable enough for it, not with him in the room.

He knew that there will be a moment where he would think of her as she was, as she once had been, where the last image of her in his head will be distorted, just enough so he doesn’t remember how she had died. So that it doesn’t remind him that he was the one who caused it. Who caused her death. He waits until that day arrives, hoping that it will let him close his eyes without replaying their history, without continuing seeing the inevitable end, the one he knows exists.

That when Jack gets older, he might hate him, that he might hear the phrase his brother Sean had thrown at his mother, when she was trying to get him to enter their house. Aaron knows that some day, when Jack is older enough to puzzle the pictures in his head, when he is older to understand what had happened to his mother, he will be blamed. Jack is going to resent him, he is okay with that.

Jessica had always been a good listener, leaving him to read some of Jack’s favorite stories wherever he had time to call for his bedtime stories when he was away. She had made all of that work out for them. She had helped him into bed, helped Jack put on his favorite pajamas and talked about family, about memories. About how Haley’s death caused him, how that made him feel.

Aaron wants nothing more than to go back, change history, let Haley go the moment he laid his eyes on hers, he is sure that it would not break his heart that much, not like now. Count his steps towards that theater room, change his direction, walk home earlier that day, anything to make sure that they never crossed paths with each other. He would give everything up if she was still here, with him, raising Jack.

He still has Haley's first video about Jack on his phone. Haley’s first text engraved on his phone, back to when they were just high schoolers, not knowing what to do or how to act. Old awkward conversations that started about school subjects, but ended with ‘i love you’. Back when he said it first and when she said it back. The long phone calls when he had been away in law school. Every step of their history was never erased, Aaron wonders if he could do the same with his memories of them. How was he supposed to show Jack how they feel in love using things stored in his phone?

He goes to the living room, trying not to paralyze when the third stair cracks below him, silent footsteps as he makes his way, reminding himself that his father is gone, long gone, only his ghost could have still be residing there, his mother unknowingly bringing him back to life with every pie she baked. He finds Jessica at the counter with an already cold coffee in front of her, a sombrer expression he has seen in the mirror for nearly a year in her face.

“I figured it would be you” Jess had taken up on Jack’s offer to stay with him, just for tonight the child had begged her to stay, she had been offered to stay in all three bedrooms, courtesy of his mother claiming that the old couch was not suitable for anyone's back pain. She had declined the offer, even when Aaron had argued that he knew what a sore back would look like the next morning, he had lived in his office couch for so many nights after Haley had left him, until Derek happened.

He takes a seat next to her, the old kitchen he used to have a quick glass on milk in every morning before school ( it was everything his stomach could really tolerate) had been changed in something more colorful, modern, as if the whole place had been filled of happy memories and activities, “Can’t sleep?”

"It's seems like it" She takes the spoon, mixing the liquid she had inside the cup, it must have been cold by now the sound of the spoon clicking with every side of the mug was the only sound that could be heard in the silence, "I feel like it's my fault that you are back here"

"Sometimes I wish I hadn't gone back" He admits, his head rested on his hands, eyes closed as if he could tune it all out, he could reveal what this house did to him, "when Gideon left, I should have followed right behind him"

"Your work completes you"

He shakes his head, "Haley did" he said he opens his eyes, looks over at Jess, her movements completely stopped, she almost looked frozen hearing Haley's name

They both knew that it wasn't the complete truth, he had tried to separate his work and family time, but people had always needed him first, victims were what he chose over her. Over his family.

"My father has always done this" Jess stops, she lets a tear fall, there isn't anyone beside him here, no Jack who could see her cry all those tears she tries to hold on to as she tells him their stories, "It doesn't feel like a year has passed by"

"I sometimes think that she's right by the door" He admits, countless of days after her death, even before Erin had come into his house to talk about an early retirement he had tough about the possibility of Haley being around the same time she used to come to collect Jack, but she was never the one who drove him back to her, he knew that Jess had taken over that when their divorce was finalized.

“It doesn't feel real right?” Jessica stands, holding onto the cup, rounding the kitchen table, until she is in front of the sink, one water droplet had fallen, there's a little puddle where the water kept coming out even with the sink closed, that was how she felt like after her sister's funeral, knowing very well that she, being the oldest one, was - had- to be the one who died first.

“At what time do we have to be there?” It’s a filler question, he already knows the answer, the little card of a yearly ceremony to host Haley’s death, the words he had stared at when he read that it would be held in his hometown, where she was buried.

“10 a.m.” She puts her coat on, Aaron knows that she can’t stay in this house, if he could, he would walk out of here too, leaving Jack, Sean and his mother sleeping, but facing Roy earlier than he should have scared him to death, knowing that he still blames him for his daughters death, not like he blames himself, but close enough to spend as less time as possible in his presence.

He knows that Jess will be back here when it's brighter outside, early, when the reddish colors of the sky, fight off the darker colors of the night, that she will be there to wake up Jack, with her pajamas put on, the blanket of the couch unmade so he doesn’t think that she left to go to her own home, where her father was waiting up for her. Where Haley’s room still resided, the door closed next to her own, “Goodnight Aaron”

He lays on his bed for the second time in the night, midnight had already passed, he has the new suits he purchased for Jack and him, different for what they would wore almost a year ago in the chair he used to sit in every nights of his school days to study, the pain in his body always had been mortifying to sleep in, so he studied, that way his professors congratulated him with every new achievement, something his parents didn’t care on doing when he brought the grades home.

Jack, he learned that over the months he came to know his son better, would not be a night owl like him, he came to realize that his son loved to sleep in as much as he could, and he could not be happier to comprehend that Jack looked at sleep as a form or rest, instead of escape, it showed that he was, after all that happened trying to make a good job with him.

The last thing he browses over, instead of clicking on an old video that would show memories of a happy Haley, of a real Haley in his phone screen, not the ghost that comes to him some nights. It's Derek’s goodnight message that he clicks on, he had sent a picture of him and Prentiss, legs sprawled in their desks, his face contouring in what looked to be mid laugh as he threw something and Reid, JJ he suppose was the one who had photographed the moment, he sends back a simple ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can’ he knows that Derek would understand it, what he really meant with that, he missed him, but didn’t know how to comfort those feelings.

Tonight, was not supposed to be about him, it was not the correct way to dwell in his feelings for him, what would it meant for them, not when Haley was still present in all the good memories he cherished from his childhood and teenage years. Aaron knows that he'll find a way, someday to think about her, without feeling the burning sensation of tears in his eyes. But for now, the only thing he could muster was some hours left of sleep, hoping to find Haley there, waiting for him to come to her, like he did the first time they met.

[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

[thatfictionalwh0re]

I beg. If you’re going to write smut, stop putting #angst because it’s really annoying when it’s not angst and it’s just all smut.

[the-guilty-writer]

Aaron x daughter!reader,

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

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't you have work?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi! could I request a fic where theres a killer that goes after 13-16 year old girls with brown hair and thats Hotchners daughters age and description. She somehow gets taken and when they find her she is like tied to a chair or somthing and Hotch thinks she got SA but she does not! But he goes all dad mode and morgan scoops her up in a blanket lots of comfort!!!

Aaron Hotchner X Daughter Reader

Request: Hi! could I request a fic where theres a killer that goes after 13-16 year old girls with brown hair and thats Hotchners daughters age and description. She somehow gets taken and when they find her she is like tied to a chair or somthing and Hotch thinks she got SA but she does not! But he goes all dad mode and morgan scoops her up in a blanket lots of comfort!!!

Third person pov...

It happened so fast that even Y/N had trouble remembering what happened. She rememberd she had jsut said good bye to her Dad and was on her way to school.

Her dad had been worried, There was a killer on the loose, targeting young girls between the ages of thirteen to sixteen with brown hair. The victims were always found tied to a chair, brutally beaten and traumatized.

Aaron was a part of the team assigned to the case and it hit too close to home. His own daughter fit the description of the victims, making him even more desperate to catch the killer.

The man had been weary about letting his daughter out, but realised he could keep her under lock and key, she had her life to live and had to go to school.

The 14 year old was casually walking to school, her bag on her back and happy walking in the sun, she passed by a suspicious car.

The instant she did she felt the persons eyes on her, it heightened her anxiety but she kept on walking to school. Slowly she got out her phone from her pocket and began tapping on it.

A man then got out of said car, he was tall, kept his head down, he began to follow the teen. Y/N looked behind her every few seconds while tapping on her phone.

She was planning to text her dad and began walking quicker, she heard the man walk faster to catch up with her.

The brown haired girl taps her Dads contact and begins typing, they had a code word for incidents like this she had to be quick.

DADDIO

Y/N

Ech

"Hey there" comes voice from behind the girl scaring her. She turns quickly and hides her phone, the teen looks up it was the guy following her.

She stared at the man, not saying a word. This made the man angry, Y/N saw grit his teeth slightly, she then inches away slightly from him.

The guy keeps a friendly smile on his face as he looks at the young girl. "Sorry for scaring ya. Just wanted to ask if you could tell me where the library is?" He asks the girl, Y/N relaxes slightly, her legs tense she was ready to run if the guy posed as a threat.

She looks at the time on her phone her message to her dad still open. Once seeing the time she looks back up. "Sorry can't help you I'm running late for school" she says to the man soundly apologetic.

She turns to run but her wrist is grabbed, the mans grip was hard and it was painful. Y/N tried to wretch her arm away but it only made the grip on her wrist tighten, he was twisting her wrist a way it shouldn't go.

Tears at the corner of her eyes she tried to yell for help but one look from the guy said 'you scream and I break it' so she kept her mouth shut, with her hand gone she uses her other to try and text behind her back.

She taps on her phone suddenly it falls from her grip. Looking at the ground I  horror her phones screen was horribly cracked, she jsut hoped she was able to send the message.

The man then begins dragging her to his car, unlucky for her know one was around to see her being dragged off. Suddenly everything went black.

With Hotch...

Aaron Hotchner had just arrived at the office after seeing his children off to school, he sighs as he walks into the Bullpen.

The others had already arrived and were standing around Reids desk. Hearing his phone go off he gets it out, upon lookomg at the screen his face goes pale.

Gideon who was walking towards the man noticed the man face instantly and was worried. "Hotch? What's wrong?" He asks the man, drawing the attention off the team.

Soon they all surrounded their unit chief. The man had an iron grip on his phone, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Hotch, man tell us has something happened?" Asks Derek he taps the man's shoudler.

This seemed to jolt the man out of his frozen state. "Y/Ns in trouble" the team act, everyone gathering in the round table room.

Echo was there codeword for danger and Y/N and Jack knew they should knly use if for emergencies, Hotch knows Y/N would never abuse that rule.

Hotch pacing in the corner, Derek and Elle going over the evidence they have, Reid trying to form a geo plan of the unsubs comfort zone, JJ was on call with crime lab, Gideon ws thinking the evidence over while still calming down Hotch the man was wearing a hole into the floor.

"Hotch, you have to stay calm, we need you at your best to find Y/N" reasoned Gideon, the man managed to get the worried man to claim down slightly, he stopped pacing but tapped his finger against his leg instead

"Anything yet?" He asks impatiently. The team all shakes their heads, the man impatience grows as they work. Suddenly JJ gets a call. "Yes hello this is Agent Jareau, you have something" her voice gains the attention of the others.

"They found where Y/N had been taken" she explains to them Hotch visibly relaxes. Then JJs face goes worried. "What's wrong JJ?" Questions the man his anxiety on edge.

JJ thanks the person and ends the call. "Im sorry Hotch, all they could find was her phone. The screen had been smashed" she tells the worried Dad.

Hotch freezes. "What" he whispers as the team watch him.

With Y/N...

The 13 year old was in a dark room, stripped off her skirt and shirt, only in her shorts (she wears under skirts) and her tank top on. Shivers rack her naked body.

Either fear or the cold she didn't know, shivering she slowly looked around her head in pain from the punch she got from the man, she tried to move only her legs and wrist where tied to the cold uncomfortable chair she was on.

"Someone help me,please" she whispers to herself, she wants her dad, she wants to be home and in her dad's arms. "Daddy" she sobs to herself, suddenly a door is opened.

A bright light comes from a staircase she just realised, tears running down her face she sees the man from before walking down and coming towards her.

Shaking again she tries to move the chair away from the freak, she aches to be able to kick the man in the goods. " No go away leave me alone" she shouts to him, the man had a frightening look on his face.

As he got closer Y/N saw something shimmer in the light, it was a knife. E/C eyes widened in terror, her wiggling increased. "No no get away! Daddy daddy!" To her luck footsteps are heard upstairs.

She screams louder hoping to draw their attention to the basement. "Daddy daddy down here hurry" the man gabbed her face harshly to stop her from screaming.

The damage was done "let the girl go you son of a bitch!" Yells a very familiar voice, it was Derek Morgan one of Y/Ns uncle. E/C eyes once again fill with tears at the sight of her Dads team.

She sees the horrified looks on Elle, Gideon and Derek faces as the creep puts the knife against her throat, his face still covering her mouth.

Behind them she sees her Dad his face is angry, he wasn't happy. Taking a chance she bites the man hard, with a cry he let's her go but shoves the girl away making her fall back hitting her head on the wall.

Vision swimming she hears a gunshot, the creeps body falls next to her, muffled shouts are heard, before long she was being untied, then picked up by someone, recognising the scent she realises it was Derek.

She wraps her aching arms around his neck tightly as he wraps her in many blankets, sobbing loudly he tries to comfort her.

Derek rubs the girls back as Hotch gets a few punches in on the Unsub, he hated how long it to them to find him and save Y/N.

The traumatized girl continues to cry as Derek comforts her, once Gideon finally pulled Hotch off the Unsub the man remembers his daughter and goes to her.

Feeling guilty about not comforting her first, Derek puts the girl in his arms and walks away, Hotch shushes and bounces Y/N in his arms.

"Your safe now baby, its Daddy" he comforts, her Y/N continues to cry happy she was saved. "Dad your here your here" she cries Hotch just hugs her tightly not letting her go. "I'm here baby" he whispers.

The end!

Long one for this request.

Hope you liked this oneshot, so sorry for the wait of updating, I've been busy with classes. As usual sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1610