Hello!I hope you are having a great day!I love LOVE your writing and I would like to request a fanfiction where the reader is Hotch's daughter who works at the bau and is in a secret relationship with spencer without her dad knowing.Spencer wants to tell the team but she is scared about how they'll react so they fight but during a case she gets kidnapped and the feelings are high,so spencer accidentally reveals the relationship.I would love if it ended in smut (possibly dom!spencer who is angry at her for being so reckless and risking her life like that) and maybe a lot of angst??Hotch could potentially be fuming but when they get her back he decides that he will let them be??I would like my emoji to be 🌼!Thank you in advance and if you write this I would absolutely LOVE to read it!🤍🤍
A/N: I love writing for a Hotchner Reader because the Hotch/Spencer parallels are so 😙👌 This was so fun to write!
Warnings: Smut/ Angst with a happy ending, Semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, case details, kidnapping, abuse, strangulation, mentions of child death/ allusions towards pedophilia etc, Hotch is a somewhat shitty/overprotective dad/boss.
Masterlist!
Falling back into a hotel bed that wasn't yours, you wrapped your legs around Spencer Reid as he furiously worked open the buttons of your shirt, his lips locked with yours in a furious exchange.
“Spencer, Spencer, we can't-” You moaned as his lips fell down to your ear, a small tap to your thigh signalling that he wanted tour legs spread for him. Despite your vocal protests, you complied.
“Need to feel you,” he groaned, nipping and sucking his way down your chest as his big hands began pushing your skirt up and your panties down.
“Spencer, someone will hear.”
“I don't care who hears,” he whispered, finally ridding you of the last piece of material covering your wet sex. “I just want to make you feel good.”
His lips fell to your cunt, falling on your cunt as he began his ministrations. You loved this, the feeling of him near, his lips on you, his tongue teasing out whimper, then moan, then a scream of his name as you came undone on his lips. But that wasn't a chance you could take today.
“He's in the next room, Spencer. Fuck, he's going to hear us.”
You wouldn't push him off, enjoying too much the feeling of your building pleasure, so appealing to your boyfriend to do the right thing was your last resort as your hips bucked into his face, chasing your orgasm.
He didn't stop, but held your hips down, thrusting his tongue in and out of you as his fingers came up to tease your clit.
“Spencer, fuck-” you slapped a hand over your mouth as you shuddered below him, finally reaching your climax.
Your hands fell limp as he worked you through the end of your orgasm before rising up to lay beside you on the bed.
“I wish you wouldn't push it, Spencer. You're a dead man if he catches us like this.”
“Hotch won't kill me just because I'm dating his daughter. I don't understand why you don't want to tell people.”
You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. It was a conversation you'd been back and forward on a lot in the past six months.
Dating a coworker was tricky, doubly so when your coworker’s boss - and your boss - was your overprotective father. Things only became more complicated when you factored in a ten year age gap and the fact that your father refused to view you as an adult, even when you were a fully qualified member of his own team.
You'd had to fight for acceptance into the FBI and go above him to get the job on his team, a decision that he still berated you for to this day. But you'd had enough of him shielding you from reality, and it was a step you needed to take.
Falling in love with Spencer Reid, though, that was just pure bad luck.
You weren't sure how it had taken you until joining the team to meet the man, but you sure were glad he hadn't been introduced earlier. You'd joined the team at 24, having been in grad school until your FBI Academy application was approved, and somehow in the 10 years before that Spencer had worked under your father, you'd never crossed paths.
Of course, you knew who he was before that from context and conversations with your father, and of course, he figured out who you were quickly based on the many arguments you'd had in Hotch’s office. But that hadn't stopped you from repeatedly falling into his bed month after month, and then falling in love with him.
Your relationship was more than the sex, but it was also a lot of sex. From the stories you'd heard, and from the look of him, you'd assumed that Spencer was a delicate little flower, an innocent in the bedroom as much as any 34 year old man could be.
And then you'd both been offered spiked drinks at a holiday party courtesy of Penelope Garcia, and he'd proved you deliriously wrong. He'd been hooked from then on, and after waking up awkwardly in his bed the next morning to two cups of coffee and a spread of breakfast pastries he'd gone out to specifically pick up for you, you'd been hooked on him as well.
The only problem was Hotch.
You certainly weren't winning any daughter of the year awards already with the stunt you pulled to get on the BAU, but you didn't want to be completely and totally disowned just yet.
“Hotch won't kill you for dating his daughter, you're right,” you mumbled back to Spencer rolling yourself back on top of him and pinning his arms down so his fingers couldn't tease you any further.
“Thank you, now if you trust me, I've ran like four different scenarios in my head so-”
“He'd definitely fire us both, though. And that's worse than death.”
“Y/N….”
“Tell me I'm wrong, please. Back up your findings with empirical evidence. He doesn't want me on the team, Spencer. He doesn't even want me in the FBI. I think he'd be happy enough to ship me out of the country, too, if that helped.”
Spencer sighed and tugged your hair behind your ear as he gestured for you to sit up.
“I know it's scary. But I love you. I don't care about the consequences because I'll still love you before and after telling him.”
“And during?”
“I might freak out a bit, but deep down, the love will be there still.”
You hit him with a pillow and climbed off the bed.
“Okay, get out now. I'll think about it but you really can't stay here tonight.” He nodded, grabbing his things and pulling his clothes back into place.
“So, like we're totally done for tonight? Nothing else.”
“Spencer! Out!” You whisper-shouted the words and watched him turn your door handle as slowly as possible before he waved his goodbye and left your room.
12 hours later, you were once again getting frustrated with Spencer Reid. And Aaron Hotchner. They may soon be enemies, but goddamn they were perfect for each other in some ways.
“Hotch, you can't just give me nothing to do. Send me to the morgue with Rossi, or let me interview family members with Tara. I'm a member of this team, too, so let me do my job.”
“You'll do well to remember that I'm your boss, Y/N.”
“You're acting more like my dad right now. A boss would utilize his team members.”
You'd been stuck in this stale mate since the morning, and Reid hadn't helped at all. When giving out assignments that morning, you'd not been notably left out of crime scene investigation, suspect interrogation, and anything helpful. Reid usually asked for your assistance at times like these, but he was finally putting his money where his mouth was and keeping distance from you in the office.
So far, you'd ran coffees back and forth between the kitchen and work room and had been communicating back and forth with JJ and Derek in the field and Garcia back at Quantico.
You'd been, for lack of better comparison, relegated to receptionist.
“At least let me work on the geographical profile with Reid-”
“Absolutely not.”
You stiffened at the reaction, wondering just exactly why he would react so strongly. Spencer had snuck in a few secret kisses here and there this morning, though you'd been sure that you'd had no witnesses.
“Why not?”
“I don't want you to distract him.”
Bile settled in the back of your throat as you tried your best to bite your tongue and keep the bitter words in.
“You know, sometimes, Dad, it feels like you love everyone on this team more than you love me.”
He locked eyes with you quickly, but he glance was dismissive and stern, almost as if he was asking you ‘seriously.’
You turned on your heels and began to walk out before he called out from behind you again.
“Y/N,” you stopped despite yourself.
“Leave the gun and badge on the desk. We'll discuss this after the case is closed.”
You almost laughed. You almost blurted out your relationship with Spencer just to spite him. You followed his order and took yourself out of the office for some fresh air, finally giving him what he wanted.
An hour of aimlessly wandering down the street, and you turned into a run-down park. 16 missed calls from Spencer and other members of the team, who'd no doubt watched you turn in your badge.
Garcia had even called a few times, and you felt guilty for not forwarding her calls somewhere else, knowing she'd probably have key case information for someone.
But you just couldn't handle it anymore, so you switched it off, pushed it back into your pocket, and kept walking.
It was two more blocks before the man following you pushed a soaked rag over your mouth and nose and pushed your unconscious body into the back of a waiting van.
×××××
Two hours of near constant complaining to Hotch had gotten Spencer nowhere in his demands to know just where you went.
He'd called you 36 times since Hotch had told him you'd left, and he hadn't stopped freaking out since.
“But where did she go?”
“I sent her back to the motel.”
“All of our cars, bar the one JJ and Morgan took to the crime scene, are outside and accounted for. The motel is a 34-minute drive away. It'll take her 5 hours on foot through our unsubs hunting grounds, and I'm not sure if you've noticed, but she matches the victim profile we just gave. Where is she?”
A muscle in Hotch's jaw twitched, but neither of them moved, eyes locked in battle to see who would back down first.
A call from Penelope ended whatever disaster was storming between them.
“Hotch hey, I can't get in contact with mini-Hotch, so here I am. Morgan called earlier from the crime scene. From the way they're posed, he said they could be possible stand-ins for a lost child a daughter or a sister, so I cross checked the ownership of the vehicles that run with the tires we found prints of at the scene, and I got a name. Like one.”
“Great work, Penelope, send it over.”
Hotch dropped the call and looked back up at Spencer, readying himself to give orders and push the issue.
Again, their standoff was interrupted.
“Hotch,” JJ rushed in, carrying a radio dispatcher, face white, and filled with worry. “You need to hear this.”
“Witness reported an abduction on East and 7th, patrol surveyed the scene and found a cellphone. Identifying information suggests it belongs to a Y/N Hotchner. We're bringing it into the stat-”
Hotch stood so fast his chair almost crashed to the floor. He stood so fast that he barely had time to dodge the lunge Spencer took in his direction, fist pulled back. It would connect, given the chance he knew it would. He'd been the one to teach Spencer to throw a punch in the first place.
Morgan insinuated himself between the two men before, and blood could be shed, quickly pulling Spencer back as Rossi, too, rushed into the room to diffuse the situation.
“One hour. I've been asking you for one hour where she went, and you wouldn't answer me. You made her leave her gun behind.”
It wasn't exactly a shout, but there was something broken in his voice, as of his mouth had filled with blood and he could only spit hate at a man who'd been a mentor to him until seconds before.
“If she's hurt- fuck, if even a hair on her head is out of place, I'll-”
“What, Spencer? What will you do? She's my daughter. What could you do that-”
“She's my girlfriend! She's my girlfriend, she's the love of my life. God, I want to marry her, I have the ring, I have the proposal planned, all that was left was telling you and then asking her, but you've been such a dick to her about this job, and about cases, and God knows what else, that she doesn't want to say anything to you, and now you've driven her away and she's fucking gone. And she could be hurt or in danger or d-de…”
He crumpled to the floor, Morgan still holding him as his legs gave way beneath him.
Nobody moved for what felt like hours, still in their grief, shock, some just nervous to see what would happen next.
“You've been in this situation before, Hotch. So have I. It's …. It hasn't ended well for us before.”
The words were so final, so defeated that they sucked the air out of the room.
“Morgan,” Hotch started quietly, eyes still locked with Reid's, still staring down the reflection of his own despair.
“Get Garcia back on the line, I want confirmation that the vehicle that picked Y/N up is the same one that our unsub has been using to set up crime scenes. See if she can lift a name and an address. Rossi, if he's skilled enough to pick up an FBI Agent unaware, we need a SWAT team, get one on standby.”
Slowly growing in volume, he continued, as the room started moving at his signal.
“JJ, Tara, take over where Reid left off with the geographical profile. Look at Y/N's last known location and how far a car could've gotten in the last 24 minutes.”
He paused again, staring Reid down.
“Reid, you're with me.”
xxxxx
It took you a few seconds to gain a sense of your surroundings when you came to. Partially because of the drug induced migraine splitting your head, and partially because of the mess of ribbons and stuffed toys you'd woken up in.
A change of clothes, and hands tied to what seemed to be a children's bed and you felt so grossly vulnerable your body shook with a few harsh sobs before you regained your composure and remembered your training.
The knots on the rope holding your hands were tight. There wasn't much room to move with them pinned above your head, but you recognised them as naval knots. Your unsub had experience at sea, recreational or professional you'd yet to determine.
Looking around again, you looked for entries and exits, wanting to know how the unsub would come in again and how you could get out.
There were no windows, but a set of stairs leading up towards a solid door told you that you'd been locked inside a basement. A basement decorated similarly to a child's bedroom.
Dimly lit by a mass of fairy lights, the room seemed covered head to toe in teddy bears, dolls, and children's books, a sturdy handmade doll’s house standing in the corner of the room.
Faintly, you heard the creaking of floorboards above you before the handle of the basement door rattled and more light poured in.
“I bought you breakfast, cupcake.”
There was no time to feign unconsciousness again as your captor finally came into view.
He was older than middle-aged, slightly wider around the midsection than you assumed he'd been in his youth. His hair was closely cropped and laid neatly, leading you to suspect he was former military.
“Oh, good, you're awake. What do you want to do today, cupcake? Daddy has some time off now, I can play with you all you want.”
You moved slowly, pushing yourself up to a seated position so you could bend your arms a bit. But you didn't look away, needing to keep him in your line of sight the entire time.
“Where am I?” You asked slowly, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Wow, you must've had a deep sleep cupcake. You're in your bedroom, silly!”
The man's sprightly tone was disconcerting, and you could see a muscle in his forehead twitch slightly as you spoke.
“O-of course. My mistake. Maybe I'm just still tired.”
He laid the tray on the bedside table and sat on the bed next to you. You tried your best not to shy from his touch as he stroked your hair, but every muscle in your body tensed and pulled from him reflexively.
A quick glance to the tray and you saw the food he'd brought you was a small cup of pills and a glass of water to rinse them down with.
If he noticed your flinch, he said nothing, grabbing a hairbrush from the nightstand and beginning to comb through your hair slowly and deliberately, taking care like one would a daughter.
“Daddy,” you took a chance, recalling the name he'd given himself earlier. “Can we play outside today? I want to go to the park.”
He stopped moving, and you held your breath as his smile dropped.
“No, sweetie. You know we don't go to parks.”
“Why not? I really want to play there, Daddy, please!”
In seconds, his hands wrapped around your throat as he pushed you back down into the bed, holding you there with his tight, suffocating grip.
“Shut the fuck up you little slut. I said we don't go to parks, you listen. I am your father, you are not being taken by one of those sick freaks again.”
He released you as quick as he grabbed you and stood up, pacing as he attempted to regain composure.
“You can draw or we can have a tea party but you know we can't go out. You know that cupcake, I've told you so many times.”
He grabbed at his hair, pulling it from its carefully styled arrangement into a mess, his fingers leaving red marks against his white skin as he pushed and pulled his head.
He breathed deeply, and you sat up, trying to regain your composure as you watched him lose his.
“What was her name?” You whispered, half hoping he would hear you, half praying that he'd ignore you for the sake of his fantasy.
“W-What?”
“Your daughter. What was her name?”
He focused on you again, but his hands - hands that you knew could and would choke the life out of you if you did something wrong again - his hands were shaking.
You heard the floorboards creaking upstairs and decided to push your questioning, hoping it meant what you thought it did.
“Why are you saying it like that, ‘was?’ Is. Her name is, your name is Laura, and you're my little cupcake.”
“What happened to her?” You filled your voice with as much sympathy and understanding as you could muster, one eye on the basement door that was being slowly pushed open. One look at Morgan at the top of the stairs had your heart rate slowing to a calmer speed. You locked eyes with him for a second, halting him, and he nodded, waiting for your signal.
“You, you're my cupcake, you look just like… She should look just like you.”
The man sat on the bed again, stroking a hair out of your eye as his filled with tears.
“Fifteen years. I looked for her for fifteen years, you know. If I hadn't taken her to that park-”
“That must have been hard.”
He nodded as he broke down in silent sobs.
“They said… they said she probably died a day or two after we lost her. When they found her, she was…” he rested his head on your shoulder, let him cling to you as he mourned his daughter.
“We couldn't identify her, but she had that teddy with her. The teddy with the cupcake in its hands. She never went anywhere without it. So we…we knew.
You looked at Morgan as he slowly made his descent into the room, closely followed by JJ.
The man looked up into your eyes again, wiping the tears from his face.
“She was only 8.” He looked defeated, and your heart broke for him, even as you wished to get as far away from him as you could physically muster.
Morgan pulled him up and away from you as he secured the man with handcuffs, but his eyes remained locked on you.
JJ untied you and guided you out, but you felt his gaze bite into you ever after you'd left the basement.
As soon as you were above ground, you let your body divest itself of adrenaline, your legs buckling as JJ tried to catch you. Another set of arms was quicker, though, and you didn't even register Spencer's arrival before burying your head in his chest and letting your sobs escape you.
He guided you to your feet and walked you out to the ambulance, his arms protectively wrapped around you, his lips peppering kisses along your hairline and forehead, anywhere he could reach. In moments, you were bundled into the ambulance, and three gentle voices were trying to calm you, to pry you away from your comfort doll.
You wondered if you'd die like the unsubs daughter had, if they'd find you clinging to Spencer the way she had to her teddy bear.
“Y/N,” your father's deep voice was clear and smooth, the only thing that was cutting through the wretched moment of pain you were enduring.
You remembered yourself again, relinquishing your grip on Spencer and wiping the tears from your face as you finally looked towards Aaron Hotchner.
The paramedics took their chance and began checking your vitals, working around you in a hurry.
“Dad, I'm sorry, I was walking and didn't notice that he was behind me, I should've been more careful-”
“Y/N, it’s okay. You're okay now.”
You nodded as he came closer. You ignored the tears in his eyes, trying not to break down again. It had been an age since you'd last witnessed him cry, at another crime scene with another family member and another unsub. You couldn't think about how close you'd come to making him relive his worst nightmare.
Spencer's hand was still firm in yours, and you held it like a lifeline, though you were sure your nails had to be cutting him by now. It took another moment to register that he was holding onto you just as hard, that he was unmoving, still where he was usually a series of compulsive moments, tapping, hand wringing, fists clenching and releasing.
You glanced between the men, who had now become quiet as they surveyed you, and noticed the tension. Before you could say anything, though, the paramedics took over.
“We're going to get you to the hospital now, Agent, one coworker can accompany you in the vehicle, preferably one with knowledge of your medical history.”
Both men immediately moved forward again, as if ready to jump into the van, before turning again to each other.
“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself just as the buzzing in your head from the migraine grew louder.
“Y/N, it's your choice. Who do you want to come?” Spencer said gently, his body still stiff with worry.
“I'm her father. This isn't a question of who she likes better.”
“I have her medical records memorized, and I have more knowledge about the drugs the unsub gave her, but Y/N can choose for herself because she is a grown woman.”
You sighed and dropped the man's hand as the medics ushered you into the van fully, but the men were fully absorbed in their fight for dominance that they barely registered it.
“JJ. JJ is coming with me,” You could see both of them turn back to you to argue, but you continued before they could. “Because I am a grown adult who knows her own medical history, and I don't need my father and my… coworker having territory wars over my wellbeing.”
And possibly because she'd be the least awkward option to answer the questions about sexual activity and possibility of pregnancy around, but you really did not need to vocalize that.
“Right now, I'm just a victim you've saved. Go and do your jobs and meet me at the hospital later because I am not doing overtime completing paperwork while on suspension.”
JJ climbed up into the ambulance and the doors shut, letting you finally get a few moments peace as it began slowly making its way to whatever hospital was closest.
“He knows, right?” You asked, covering your eyes with your hands as you braved for the answer.
“Hotch? You could say that he figured it out.”
“That bad?”
“Spencer threw a punch at him. He tried to at least.”
“What?!” Your body shot up, but the paramedic gently forced you back into a laid position, giving you a warning look to stay put as she checked your blood pressure.
“Don't be too hard on him, Y/N. He thought he was going to lose you. They both did. I don't think either of them would survive it happening again.”
The guilt hit you right in the chest as you nodded and dropped the conversation.
“Maybe I should've let Spencer come with me.”
“Why?” JJ asked, not offended bit curious.
“Because I'm not entirely sure my father won't throw that punch back at him now he knows I'm okay. It's hard being in a relationship if one of you is dead.”
The older woman chuckled slightly, and you settled back down, letting the car movements rock you into sleep.
xxxxx
A few hours later and some quietly bickering voices pulled you from the rest you'd so sorely needed. Without even opening your eyes, you knew they'd both subtly scrambled to your bed to make sure you were comfortable.
“What are you talking about?” You asked, wiping your eyes carefully as you tried to sit up, arms still aching from being tied up.
“Oh shit-” you exclaimed after seeing your boyfriends freshly split lip.
“Dad, what the fuck?”
“Y/N, it's fine. It doesn't hurt.”
“Aaron Hotchner, do you have nothing to say for yourself?” You tried to put all of tour anger into the words as you said them, bit he looked at you again with his straight face, and you crumpled under the pressure.
“I won't…I'm not going to object. I just ask you to keep your private life separate from your work.”
“And you're going to punch my boyfriend while I'm unconscious, so I can't defend him.”
“I'm still your father, and he deserved it.”
You looked back over to Spencer, who was quite notably not meeting your eyes.
“Do I want to know?”
“I'm leaving now. Jack will be here soon. He wants to check on you now that school is over. We told him you were hurt trying to save a sick man.”
“Thank you, dad.”
He nodded at you and left you alone in your hospital room with Spencer.
“Why did you deserve it?” You whisper shouted the moment you assumed he was out of earshot.
“The doctor came in and asked about some old bruises on your upper thighs. And ass. And chest. I had to admit they weren't sustained during the kidnapping, and Hotch wasn't pleased.”
You huffed out a sound halfway between incredulous and a strangled moan of shame as you curcled yourself up into a ball and tried your best to die.
“Great. Wonderful.”
“If it makes you feel any better, he thought it was signs of domestic violence and not just rough...sex.”
“Yes, Spencer, that makes me feel entirely more comfortable with the situation.”
Registering the sarcasm in your voice, he quieted down again, settling into the chair by your bedside and grabbing your hand.
You sat silently together for a few minutes before either of you said anything.
“I'm sorry. I know you didn't want him to find out.”
“Spencer, you don't have to apologise. All things considered, this is possibly the best way he could've found out.”
“My busted lip suggests otherwise, I think.”
“And a whole lot more would've been busted if he caught us any other time. Besides, I already lost my job, so there's not much else at stake anymore.”
The words stung you as you said them, but you did still feel the weight of your dismissal in your chest, spreading miserably through your bones.
“Does your head still hurt?”
“Not really, why?”
“You're not as perceptive as you usually are.”
You shot him a confused look as he smiled softly down at you, offering a nod towards the small coffee table under the window of your hospital room.
There on your table sat your creds and your gun. The silent acknowledgement you'd been waiting for from your father.
Spencer sat by you as you did your best to hold off the tears. He let you pretend there was something in your eye, let you wonder if your eyes had become watery because of dust from the basement. He quietly held your hand as you grinned and grinned until you pulled him in for a kiss and held him close to you.
His lips were soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of you even as he tried to hold himself up and off you so he didn't hurt you.
“You know,” you said, punctuating each word with another sweet kiss. “This means- that- you're- stuck- with- me.”
He laughed into your final kiss, finally pulling back for more air, studying your face as if he were trying to memorize it.
“That was never the issue.”
“Oh really, and what was?”
He kissed your again, slow and deep this time, taking his time working his hands down from your hair to your neck to cup your face so you were opened up to him, letting his lips and tongue explore everything he wanted to. He pulled away eventually and instinctively your lips tried to chase his, even as he pulled out of reach.
“Making sure you stayed by my side.”
1K notes
·
View notes