#aarons fists are rated e for everyone

[saricess]

i'm sorry but i'm loving aaron's new attitude in emmerdale, eveything thing he says and his facial expressions keep making me laugh.

[w33nies]

Qué Maravilla CH.6 - 'No Laughing Matter'

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Miguel O'hara x SpiderReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh summary: everyone and their momma looking for Miles. art is not mine!!!! @neonrockingvisuals !!!!

--------------- Ch.6 - No Laughing Matter----------------

Though he would never admit it, there were many things Miles Morales was afraid of growing up: snakes, lizards, ingrown toenails, identity theft, the list goes on. Within the past several hours he had been forced to confront some of the scariests worst-case scenarios he could’ve never possibly imagined. He couldn’t fathom not being able to save his father. Not only that, but have his last conversation with him be an argument. A stupid argument. Not even an ‘I love you’ or a goodbye. Miles could’ve never imagined losing not only his family but his home, in the process. He could’ve never imagined failing not only as spiderman, but as himself.

Miles was sure he had seen it all in the past several hours. That was until he found himself being kidnapped and  tightly bound to a punching bag with metal chains in a dark, undisclosed location. That was until the figure dressed in all black removed his glowing mask and sneered at him with clear contempt in his voice.  

“My name is Miles Morales, but you can call me the Prowler.” 

 Miles couldn’t see himself as anything but spiderman. He always thought that even if he was never bit then, at the worst he would just be normal. Up until now, he thought he was incapable of evil. That no matter how bad it got he would never hurt anyone. He would never resort to crime. Miles genuinely believed that he was an intrinsically good person. Foolishly, he had believed a good portion of the villainy he had fought was because the had some evil nature to them. Anyone could be good of course, but not just anyone could be bad. Right? The uncanny stare of the boy in front of him gave way to a realization that hit harder than a brick. There aren’t many things Miles would say he is currently afraid of, but just like that Miles found he had a new fear. A fear of his potential. A fear of himself

He took a deep breath in an attempt to quell his growing anxiety, “If you don’t let me go, our dad is going to die.” 

“Your dad.” 

Miles turned his head to look at Uncle Aaron, leaning against what seemed to be a workbench full of sophisticated tech. Nonchalantly nodding to the song via his vinyl record player. ‘Ain’t No Love In The Heart of the City’ by Bobby Bland filled up the entire room. It had been a while since Miles had heard his song. Uncle Aaron, his Uncle Aaron, used to play it all the time. It was his favorite song. It was a signature staple in his playlist whenever they would tag some graffiti in the middle of the night. He studied this foreign version of his Uncle. The slow absentminded sway of his head. The silent mouthing the words with his hands stuffed in his pocket. For a split second he easily fooled himself into thinking this was the same Uncle Aaron. The one that saved his life with his own. The only man in his life who supported his creative spark. But this Uncle Aaron was probably going to kill him or do god-knows-what to him. ‘Could this really be the same man?’ the boy found himself pondering. ‘We can all be good, right?’

He turned to look back at his doppelganger “What are you gonna do to me?” 

“Only the best I can,” his alternate said mockingly. 

“Please,” Miles tried his best to fight the fearful tremor in his voice, “You have to let me go.” 

“And why would I do that?” Prowler raised his fist to make a show of activating his mechanical, clawed glove. Its menacingly purple glow being one of the few sources of light in the unsettling room. He then placed his fist so close to Miles’ face that he was uncomfortably tugging at the skin on his cheek

In response to this threatening display, Miles' discreetly presses a single finger against the chain that confines him. If he could break out of a futuristic jail cell, he was more than willing to try his luck with these chains. He turned his head to avoid the Prowler’s eerie stare and found himself once again looking at Uncle Aaron, who was now fiddling with his dying lighter in an attempt to light the cigarette already in his mouth. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you boy.”

“Don’t call me boy,” Miles' shaky breath betrays the stoic facade he’s trying to push.“I’m not your boy,” he asserted more securely this time. While he’s here he studies his counterpart’s face. He’s pretty sure they’re the same age, but something about him is different though. This version of him looks more rigid and hardened. Almost broken. There was a certain sadness to him. Not that he himself looked sad, but more so in the fact that he could tell he had it rough. This was a kid who never got to be a kid. Someone who had to grow up fast.  ‘Is this how people see me?’ He asked himself, ‘My parents, Gwen, Peter… Did they? Do they ever see me this way? Could they?” 

The sudden knee to Miles stomach causes him to lurch forward, well as much as his confines allowed him too. He’s left momentarily gasping for air as the Prowler resumes his previous stance and once again sneers in Miles’ face “Watch. Your. Mouth.”

He continued to watch Uncle Aaron through his peripheral vision. His final words replay in his mind “Keep going,” He had said with his hand firmly clasped in his as he took last shallow breaths in a dark, ruined alleyway “You’re on your way Miles. Just keep going.”  

For the first time in a while, since he had first encountered the spot, Miles began to laugh. He laughed to himself almost like a madman on the brink of a psychotic break. 

“You think I’m joking?” The Prowler frustratedly grabbed him by the collar, “You want something funny? I can be real hilarious.” 

“Sorry,” the boy giggled antagonistically, “It’s just too easy.”

Prowler cocked his head to the side, “Huh?”

“What you said earlier. When you told me to watch my mouth,” He lifted his head to face the boy in front of him, “Everybody knows the first rule of interrogation,” Miles then put on his best shit eating grin, “Don’t watch the mouth, Watch the hands.” Miles then grasps the chains with both hands and channels as much electricity as he can possibly muster. 

In the next instant a blinding seismic wave erupted throughout the building then followed by complete darkness. The record player fizzles to a stop. The T.V cuts to black. The only thing Miles can make out in the dark is the prowler's ominous, glowing mask. Soon after power flickers in and out. He swears he’s imaging it, but with each momentary blackout the mask seems to teleport closer and closer and closer until suddenly he’s right in front of him clawed hand outstretched towards his neck. Before Miles can react, the boy grabs him by the collar and flings him into the industrial pipes on the other side of the room, just barely missing the Television. Miles groans painfully upon impact, but somehow in the midst of this he once again steals a glance at Uncle Aaron who is holding his side with a pained look on his face; they both notice it at the same time, the now lit cigarette in Aaron’s mouth. Aaron puffs once to check whether or not he’s seeing things then he gives Miles a look he hadn’t seen in a while. The one where his mouth sits in a pout pushed to the side of his face and where he slightly raises his eyebrows. He didn’t say anything but Miles knew better than anyone that this was his own way of showing that he was impressed. 

Before he can engage further, Miles feels a chill down his spine accompanied by  the familiar voice in the back of his head.  ‘LOOK OUT’ it says in an urgent whisper. He whirls around and sees the Prowler once again with his talons inches away from his face. 

Miles leaps to the left just in time to see the Prowler punch the area where his head was just moments ago. He slowly stands, holding a pipe he no doubt had just ripped out of the wall. He crushing it in a fist like a piece of paper then takes another jab towards his face. Miles dodges, barely, again and again and again and again so he decides to take offense. He attempts to land a hit on him but he misses,barely, again and again and again. Even trying to handicap him with his webs proves difficult.  After what feels like ages, both boys momentarily back away from each other, clearly out of breath. ‘I can’t keep going on like this,’ Miles said to himself, ‘Something’s gotta give.’

 Miles regains his composure then shoots a web into the ceiling, using the momentum to launch him in the air above his clone.  However before he lands, he activates his invisibility. Leaving Prowler stunned as he looks around wildly for the boy he just had his eye on. Punch after punch, and kick after kick coming in from all directions. He attempts to move from the onslaught but finds his feet don’t move. When he looks down he finds his feet webbed stuck to the floor.  

 Annoyed, he reaches into his jacket and holds onto the new gadget he an Uncle Aaron had just developed this past week. He didn’t need a bullseye, he just had to mark him.   

As he heard the whizzing of his opponent flying through the air, he discreetly pulled the pin on his makeshift grenade then threw two paint bombs in the direction of the incoming assault. A small amount of neon green paint stains the silhouette of Miles' ankle. Not wasting any time, the Prowler swiftly grabs his leg and swings him over his head and slamming him into the ground. The harsh impact has Mile’s figure phasing in and out of visibility.  Prowler grabs his chest, lifts him about a  foot off the ground, and then slams him again into the floor. The ringing in Mile’s ear is constant. Prowler picks him up again slowly by the throat.

He grins to himself, “Too easy.”

 “Stop messing around man, security switches at 6:00.” Aaron takes a pause to take a puff of his cigarette. “Wrap it up, then haul your ass to the lab. ” 

Prowler brings up his claw fully about to clobber him, Miles is racking his brain for ideas. 

“Wait.” Miles struggles to talk, “ You ever hear of the shoulder touch?”

“Huh?” Prowler is thrown off. Then he chuckles softly, “Shoulder touch? Man, I might've knocked you too hard.” 

Undeterred, Miles puts his hand on his shoulder and does his best to give a smolder given the position he’s in. Let out a strained, “Hey.” and then zaps the Prowler. 

A tiny small shock though is all he can muster given the current state he’s in. Luckily, it’s enough to immobilize Prowler's equipment. The Prowler smacks on his glove frustratedly. Sparks flying with each subsequent hit he directs towards it. Wasting no time, Miles lays an uppercut and a left hook to his jaw, finishing a jab straight to his abdomen. Prowler stumbles backward. Miles uses this moment to non threateningly raise his palms in the air, “I don’t want to fight you man,” he struggles to project his voice while gasping for air, “ I just want to go home.”

Prowler finally regains control of his glove. He takes a fighting stance, but then suddenly begins to lower his guard. “You call yourself Spider boy right?” 

“Spiderman.” 

“Cool, listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” 

“Really.” Miles responds unamused, “You only just tried to kill me back there.” 

“People change,” The prowler retracted his mask showing a smug grin, “More importantly, I think we can help eachother out here.”

“How?” 

“You say you’re from another dimension right? Tell me how you got here.” 

“It’s a long story. There was this ‘go home’ machine. It was supposed to send me home but it sent me here by mistake.”

“The ���Go Home’ machine…” Prowler shoots Uncle Aaron an amused glance before proceeding, “That sounds….stupid. Y’all don't have a collider?”

“Well I did have one but I wasn’t in my dimension I was- Wait…. Wait,wait,wait, wait, wait,” Miles paused, “You know about colliders?”

“Yep. There's one right here, in Brooklyn.”

“Where is it? Please. I need it to get home.” 

“Do you one better. I’ll take you there myself.” He examined his mechanical hand as if he was picking imaginary dirt from its claw , " Of course, you’ll have to do something for me...” 

“….What is it?”“

“Your little zappy-hands shit you did a second ago…,” he says vaguely gesturing to his person, “...What else can it do?”

Miles relaxes a little and starts counting off its capabilities on his fingers “Um, well, break chains? But you already saw that. I can charge my phone, jump start a car. Oh I broke this futuristic, holographic force field several hours ago. It’s a long story actually-”

“-Cool.” The prowler cuts him off, “That'll work.” 

“What’ll work? What are you saying? What am I doing?” 

Prowler looks at Uncle Aaron, who gives him an approving nod. Then the Prowler  makes his way over to the work bench and starts tinkering with his damaged gear, “I got a hit on a guy. He's a freelance scientist working for Alchemex in charge of some prototype for an inter-dimensional collider, name’s Jonathon Ohnn. ”

Miles feels his stomach drop, “A hit? You're a hitman?”

“I’d say I’m more of a… persistent negotiator," he spoke nonchalantly, “I just get results by any means necessary.”

“Jonathon….’ Miles thinks hard to himself. The name sounded familiar, he just wasn’t sure why.  “You’re gonna kill him? Why?”

Prowler rolled his eyes with a groan,  “Ay dios mío. It 's my job cabrón. But, If you can get me what I need I won’t have to.” He reequips his claw and walks towards Miles, slowly circling him like a vulture, “My…let’s just say boss, wants his research and Ohnn is a bit stubborn. Won't give up the rights to the collider. Won’t even sell it. Couple of nasty back and forths later and now he’s locked himself in his lab with some projected barrier. Nobody can get in or out…So, our deal is simple,” He directs a clawed finger to Miles" “You break the barrier, you get the collider,” puts his palm to his chest with a slight bow, “I get the guy.” He extends his hands for Miles to shake, “Do we have a deal?”

Miles looks at the outstretched hand, then to uncle Aaron, then to the boy in front of him again. “I’m not gonna help you kill an innocent person.” Just then Miles violently glitches. This one leaves him reeling on the floor, holding his sides in pain. 

“Never said I was gonna kill him, but from the looks of it, cabrón,” he took a step forward and leaned down to meet his face.“You don’t really have a choice, do you? You don’t know where the lab is pendejo and from the looks of it,” he leans in even closer to whisper in his ear “you don’t have much time.”

Miles chews his lip while lost in thought, but eventually sighs, “You torture or kill or hurt this guy in any way, I’m out. Okay?” 

Prowler once again puts his hand out for him to shake, “You have my word spider boy.” 

“Spiderman.” Miles reluctantly shakes his hand , “It’s spiderman.” 

“Whatever man.” Prowler's mask goes up “Just try to keep up.” Then he takes off. Miles looks at Uncle Aaron. Aaron gives him a nod which he returns, then Miles goes after him. 

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-two

I’m liking this two updates a week schedule because I hate leaving you guys hanging like that!! I hope this chapter makes it all better xx.

Oh btw the title of this chapter and last chapter are lyrics from “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet! (Also I know the gif is irrelevant but the ~emotion~ of it is relevant)

ALSO (wow I have a lot I keep forgetting to add) I meant to @ her last chapter, but all of these medical scenes and things were 100% done with the help of @thedumpsterqueen​ because I know next to nothing about all this stuff and she was an angel and let me ask all the crazy questions <333 (P.S. she has a Hotch fic called Standards of Performance on her blog that you guys should alllll read if you haven’t already!! It’s SO good it’s one of my favorites)

Warnings: angst and sadness, but that’s pretty much it

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two: I can’t imagine a world with you gone

Everything is a blur in Hotch’s mind before and after the first gunshot rings through the air. He didn’t need to hear the buzzing in his ear to know it had hit you.

He took off at a sprint, as did the rest of the team.

His ears are ringing. His thoughts are racing. He’s never been a man who talks frequently to God, but he’s praying. Hoping you’re alive. Begging you to not be dead.

Aaron would never forgive himself if you died. As it stands, though, he won’t ever forgive himself for this.

Prentiss, Reid, and Rossi take off in one direction. Hotch and Morgan take the other. Police officers fill the gaps and follow behind, everyone searching for you and Savannah.

Morgan is the first to stumble on the room. His throat aches when he screams for Hotch, keeping his weapon aimed at Savannah.

“Put the gun down!” Morgan yells.

Hotch comes skidding to a stop in the doorway a second later, weapon raised, but his eyes are focused on you. Savannah’s boot is pressing into your thigh, blood oozing from your wound, soaking your pants, spilling onto the concrete. Hotch’s heart drops at the sight. He’s seen enough bullet wounds to know how much blood should come from them. That is too much.

The bullet must’ve hit the major artery. And the thought terrifies him.

Morgan takes the shot when Savannah refuses to move. It hits her stomach and she stumbles for a moment before falling. Morgan yells for the paramedics again, distantly thinking they should be in here by now.

Hotch falls to the ground beside you, his hands cupping your face, not caring who sees. His thumbs tap your cheeks, willing you to open your eyes. You have a pulse, but it’s weak. Weaker than what it should be.

He presses hard over your wound, hoping to slow the bleeding, but there’s more surrounding your leg than he wants to see.

“Y/N?” He says, his eyes watching your eyelids for any movement. He lets out a momentary sigh of relief when your eyes open. “Y/N, please, can you hear me?”

You stare back at him, no signs of his words registering in your eyes. They’re empty. Haunted, again, but for a different reason this time. This time it’s different. “Aaron…”

“I’m here,” Hotch says gently, pressing his hand harder, his heart breaking when you groan in pain. “I know,” he says, shushing you.

Your eyes travel around the room then, and Aaron follows. Morgan is pressing his hand over Savannah’s wound, speaking into his wrist, asking the others where the hell the paramedics are at.

But Aaron doesn’t want you to see that, so he cups your jaw again, turning your eyes back on him. He smiles as best he can, the tears beginning to spill from his eyes as he takes in your face.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly. “Keep holding on. They’re almost here.”

“Aaron,” you try to say, your voice low and strained, and Aaron shakes his head, trying to get you to stop talking. “Aaron...I don’t wanna go without-- I need to tell you that I--”

“Shhh,” he tries again, not wanting you to waste any energy. “You don’t need to.”

“I love you,” you finally get it out. And he’s stunned to complete silence and tears. “I love you so...so much. It hurts.”

“Y/N,” he says, panicked. Your eyes are closing. “Y/N! Come back, Y/N, come back to me. Y/N. Y/N, please.”

Hotch is too caught up in holding your face and keeping pressure on your wound to notice the paramedics have arrived. One team goes to Savannah, relieving Morgan, while the other comes to you, trying to usher Hotch away, but he doesn’t budge.  

“Hotch,” Morgan tugs on the unit chief, grabbing at his arms, his heart breaking for the both of you. “Hotch, you need to let them get to her.”

Reluctantly, Hotch backs up, clenching his bloodied fist, grimacing at the way your blood sticks his skin together.

Everything else is a blur.

What does it need to be clear for, anyway? If you’re not here?

+++

You’re still in surgery.

It’s been an hour. But it feels longer. It feels like it’s been an entire twenty-four hours.

The entire team has taken up camp in a waiting room at the hospital.

Reid is reading and rereading every magazine he can get his hands on to distract himself, never mind the fact that he reads them so fast that he rips a page on one from turning it so quickly. Morgan has Garcia on the phone and has left to get coffee at least three times, the first time returning with a tray of steaming cups and the next two times returning with only one, but two tearful eyes. Emily has been pacing and will wear a hole into the tile at this rate if she walks for another hour. JJ has been staring at the wall, chewing so hard on the inside of her cheek that she flinches when she draws blood.

Rossi has been staring at the wall, too, but mostly he’s been worrying about and watching Hotch.

Aaron has been biting his nails, tugging at his hair, angrily wiping away tears, and left once to go on a walk before returning two minutes later, asking if they had heard anything. Those two minutes had felt like two hours and he was worried sick for all 120 seconds that he missed something.

Dave hasn’t tried to say anything to Aaron, though he wants to. It’s heartbreaking to watch Aaron like this.

You’re going to pull through. Dave — and the rest of the team — can’t afford to think otherwise. And they refuse to think otherwise, unable to imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here.

But it seems like Aaron is thinking otherwise.

Truthfully, he is. But he’s thinking about so much more.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

And he was too stunned to say it back. The one chance he had, and it might be gone now. Ripped away. Forever.

He sent you in there. He did this to you. He had his reservations, but the call had already been made. You seemed so sure. You wanted to do this so badly. He didn’t want another fight about him not trusting you because it’s not about his trust for you, it’s about how terrified he was for you.

He’ll never forgive himself for this now. Not ever.

It’s a world he can’t even bear to imagine. One without you in it.

Yet here he is, grappling with the fact that he might not have to imagine it soon. He sent you in there. He knowingly put your life in danger. And now he’ll have to live with the consequences.

+++

Aaron is shaken from his trance by the doctor and a nurse coming in to inform the team that you’re out of surgery and that it went well.

But you’re in the ICU.

“She lost a great deal of blood,” the doctor says gravely. “But we think she’ll pull through. She just needs to be watched closely for the time being.”

Everyone nods silently, not sure of what else to say, other than feeling relief that you’re alive.

“Visiting hours are long over, so I recommend you all get some rest,” the nurse says. “She’s in good hands here.”

“Thank you,” Rossi replies.

The doctor excused himself, but the nurse stayed, offering to answer any extra questions. “Visiting hours start at seven a.m.,” she says first. “And in the ICU, only two visitors are allowed in her room at a time.” She doesn’t voice an apology, but one is in her tone as she glances between the six team members.

“Can I stay?” Hotch blurts out of nowhere. The team member’s heads all turn to look at him in surprise. “Can anyone stay the night, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah,” the nurse nods. “One person can.” Her eyebrows furrow sincerely. “Are you her dad?”

Morgan internalizes a snort.

“No,” Hotch replies kindly. “I’m not, but I’d like to stay. I’m her boss.”

Still the nurse looks skeptical. “Would she be okay with—”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Emily blurts out, tired of waiting. And when Hotch sends her a look, she says, “What? It would’ve taken you hours to say it.”

“Oh,” the nurse chuckles, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. Yes, of course you can stay.”

Hotch lets a tiny smile shine through, but it’s not much. Truth is, he’s terrified to see you. But leaving you here alone – even if this is a hospital – terrifies him more.

The rest of the team says goodbye to head back to the hotel for some much-needed rest, if they can sleep at all. They know they’ll wake every couple hours to worry about you before sleep consumes them once more.

In the meantime, Hotch will be here to look after you for all of them. You’re like a little sister to the rest of them, even though Morgan is the only one to have voiced that. You’re loved here. Loved more than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.

You’re loved by Aaron much more than he’ll ever be able to articulate to you. But he’ll try. He’ll try to help you see.

+++

Hotch is finally walking to your room in the ICU after another half hour of waiting. The nurse said they had to get everything settled in your room before he could come back, which only made Hotch’s worry spike even more.

But eventually, he’s in your room with you. A pillow and blanket is in the chair by the window, but he’s not paying attention to it.

You. You’re asleep, of course, and probably will be for a few more hours. The nurse said you had already woken up once, but because of the pain medicine and the overall stress your body has been under in the past few hours, you fell back to sleep almost instantly.

Tears well in his eyes at the sight of you, laid up in the hospital bed, IVs and wires all over you. The beeping of the heart monitor is the only real sign to him that you’re even alive. Your chest is rising and falling, but it’s barely visible underneath the gown and blankets and wires.

You have one regular IV placed on the top of your left hand. Some other line is in your upper arm, and another in your wrist. He has no idea what they’re all for, he just knows he hates seeing you connected to so much.

Aaron wipes at his eyes angrily. Does he have a right to be this upset when he’s the one who sent you in there?

He turns and sets the pillow and blankets in the other chair, knowing he won’t sleep tonight even if he wanted to. Instead, he pulls the chair closer to your bed, where he can place his hand next to yours.

And, if you happen to wake up, you can reach for him if you need to.

+++

Three hours pass and you still haven’t woken up. Aaron knows. He’s been watching you the entire time.

The nurses have come to check on you a few times, assuring Aaron that it’s normal for you to be sleeping like this. But he just nods silently.

He wants you to wake up. Just for a minute. He needs you to just open your eyes and look at him, just once. That’s all he needs.

But it’s wishful thinking as the sky begins to lighten, showing the first signs of dawn.

Aaron links his pinky with yours, afraid to do much else and risk messing up your IV. Holding pinky fingers is enough right now. Or at least, it’ll have to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud, to you, or really to no one at all, because he’s not even sure you can hear him. “I’m just so...sorry, Y/N.”

Stupid tears gather in his eyes again, clogging his throat, stopping his words.

But he keeps going.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “And I know you’ll try to convince me that it’s not, but Y/N, it is and I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I let this happen to you.”

He leans his head into the palm of his free hand, tightening his pinky finger’s grip on yours.

“I love you,” he blurts it out, tears warming his palm as they cascade down his cheeks. “I love you and I need you to wake up because I need you to hear it. I love you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day that I’ve known you that I haven’t loved you.”

He sniffles, loud and body-rattling, glad he’s alone in this room with you because he’d never let anyone else see him like this. No one but you.

“I tried to get it out before, but you were already gone, and I— You need to wake up. I need you to wake up. Please.”

Aaron keeps his eyes closed and head down for a few minutes longer. He doesn’t even see that you’ve opened your eyes.

Until your pinky finger gently squeezes his.

He lifts his head quickly, eyes wide and wild when he sees you’re looking back at him, eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion.

And just like that, just seeing your eyes open and looking right at him, the dam breaks once more. He’s a mess of tears when he leans his head down onto the bed. You lift your hand and thread your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes as more tears slip down your cheeks.

You scratch a soothing pattern on the base of his skull, moving your other hand over your body to hold onto his arm. He senses the movement and lifts his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, all he knows is his back aches when he straightens up again, and you’ve fallen back asleep.

Next chapter

[qvid-pro-qvo]

vi. the call.

ocean’s eleven au. for funsies. aaron hotchner x female!reader. george foyet x female!reader.. 

word count: 1311

rating: e for everyone, because even the best of us have felt the sting of betrayal (no trigger warning. some slight violence in the beginning). 

i. // ii. // iii. // iv. // v. // vi. // vii.

-

aaron feels the fist connect with his stomach just as the door to his holding room flies open.

he coughs, shaking his head, even though there’s nothing to clear. he can see shiny leather shoes in the corner of his eye, ahead of two pairs of boots, but gives himself a moment to catch some air before saying anything.

“foyet,” he mutters. swallows. clears his throat, so it can echo in the room. “george. how was the match?”

he doesn’t lift up on his own. refuses to, with the pettiest part of himself. if foyet wants to look him in the eye, he’ll need to work for it.

“let’s get up, aaron,” the man says tightly, and aaron has to fight a smirk again as he’s lifted by some extra muscle.

aaron groans with it. some added effect, shakes his head, pops his neck. he looks a mess, he knows, hair usually so carefully styled a mess on his head, something smudged on his cheek, sweat on his brow. but he still looks foyet in the eye, lifts his chin because he can.

“was this you?” foyet asks. he’s standing tall, hands on his hips, and he pushes on his toes as he looks at aaron, to match his height, to really look him in the eye.

“was what me, foyet?” aaron asks, coughing again. catching his breath.

there’s something burning in foyet’s gaze, something dangerous, a challenge that aaron meets with a single raised brow. the man takes a step closer, so that they’re almost nose to nose. “i won’t ask you again, hotch. was this you?”

there’s an answer he’s looking for.

it’s one aaron can’t give.

“foyet,” aaron sighs out, gives his best look of exasperation through his heavy breaths. lifts his hands to gesture to the nearly empty room. to stephen, who’s been beating the snot out of him for a minute or two. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

there’s a beat. a pause. george foyet measures up aaron hotchner with a look, and crosses his arms over his chest.

and then he hums.

“all right,” he mutters. still measuring aaron up, still doing his best to read the unreadable. “fine. you didn’t have anything to do with it. so, then. i guess you’re free to go, then.”

the door opens. the hallway is stark. white. bright. aaron winces at it.

“show him out.”

-

your heels can’t click on carpet. instead, it’s a very light thunk you hear as you pace, your eyes on your hand as you chew lightly on a nail.

watch television. that’s what rossi had said. but something keeps you from flicking the tv on, something makes your hand drop from your mouth and wring in your other one.

oh, god. who are you kidding? you know what the something is. you know who the something is. the same person who kisses your cheek to slide a phone into your pocket.

and george. you’re worried for him. even with the dismissal from before. something is happening, tonight, and you feel your chest tighten at the thought of something happening to both of the men –

no.

the man you care about. so… deeply.

you ignore the way that sentiment barely settles. shake your head. and then the phone rings, and you’re there, lifting the phone to your cheek.

“hello?”

it’s a cheery, bright voice, one who seems to delight in the development. “hello, darling. turn on the tv. channel 88.”

“who is this?” you shoot back. immediately. but just as soon as you say it, you know it’s moot. there’s no one else on the line, and you’re left with a choice.

it’s an easy one. you feel the remote calling to you, and your dress swishes around your ankles as you reach for it, lift it up, press the power button and 8-8 with sure fingers.

the picture is clear, but it’s not a tv show you’ve ever seen. your eyes narrow at the sight, because there, in front of you, are the two men on your mind, a hallway between them.

and all you can do is watch.

-

“what happened, foyet? someone rob you?”

it’s a taunt. it’s unlike aaron, the way it comes out, confident, cocky. his charisma is a silent one, but foyet doesn’t know him, no matter how much he pretends to in this moment.

“hold it” is what george says, and the two bodyguards stop, arms out to block aaron from going any farther.

on his heel, aaron turns, almost too ready for it. but it doesn’t matter, because that’s not what foyet sees. all foyet sees is his brow lifted on his head, the mild shock on his face from being told to stop so abruptly.

foyet crosses the hallway in long strides. it’s no time at all before the distance is closed again, with him looking up at aaron with that same calculating look.

“so. know something after all?” he asks, and aaron simply blinks. foyet scoffs at the look, but shakes his head. “one more chance, hotchner. did you have something to do with it?”

aaron lets his tiny smirk play this time, pairs it with narrowed eyes. “i could get you your money back. if that’s what you’re asking.”

he’s caught. foyet smiles, puts his hands on his hips.

“and if it is?”

“then you know the price.”

it’s left like that. in the air. because however much foyet thinks he knows, aaron gives it to him on a silver platter.

“your old flame,” foyet purrs, and the sound is nauseating. but aaron perseveres.

“what would you say? if that was the offer?”

there’s barely any hesitation. foyet just smiles.

“i’d say yes.”

-

it hits you like cold water, poured over your head. it soaks you, from head to toe, and you’re let almost gasping at it, a little opened mouthed as you stare at the television screen.

the offer had felt ridiculous. you’d almost scoffed at it, shaken your head, but george – he hadn’t blinked.

he hadn’t hesitated. 

he’s still standing there, after all. entertaining it. a smile that you’ve seen before, the smile he gets when he thinks he’s won. it makes your stomach churn, and you’re moving without thinking, without needing to think.

you grab your clutch. you put on your coat. you straighten and stand tall. and your steps carry you out the door, even as you hear aaron’s voice drone on, as you hear george’s sharp reply. it’s not real words to you, just background noise, as your heels finally get tile to click on, the elevator as you press the button down, down, down.

it’s aaron. it has to be. all of it, every last minute of it. but it doesn’t matter, in that moment. nothing else does but getting out of there.

the first floor arrives with a flourish, a gentle voice telling you so. the doors slide open, with ease, and your gaze lifts from your painted toe nails to the sight of george standing before you. he looks murderous, looks furious, and your presence only dims it somewhat. but he seems to get that your eyes don’t warm when you look at him, that you hand on your clutch tightens in a white-knuckled grip.

you feel weak, almost for a moment. but then you see something like realization on his face, something like recognition of the absolute shit he said, and it’s oh, so easy to stalk past him.

he says your name. once, twice. intense, urging, but you only turn to meet his eyes, to give him a smirk that shows your teeth.

“you always tell me that in your hotel, someone’s always watching.” you can’t help your little empty laugh, the way you shake your head and turn away. “why did you think you’d be the exception, george?”

-

tag list: @crazyshannonigans // @quillvine // @hurricanejjareau // @winterscaptain // @writefasttalkevenfaster // @ssaic-jareau // @altsvu // @tamarastevie // @megans-txmblr // @anotherspencerreidblog // @mijop // @1234-angelika // @kelstark // @nuvoleincielo //  @wanniiieeee // @arianmock13-blog // @averyhotchner // @barbasbodaciousbeard // @xxlovingfandomsxx 

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[aftgficrec]

do you guys have any fic where foxes acts like normal teenagers, gets drunk etc.?

Sure! Along with those below, this drinking-games ask might also have the sort of fun you’re looking for, and the fics in this ask add weed to the mix. Some of my personal favorites from previous recs where the Foxes let their hair down are ‘The Duality of Neil Josten’ here, ‘better than nothing’ here, and ‘Dark necessities’ here. - A

Drunken Foxes by kiraisstillhere [Rated G, 3247 Words, Complete, 2020]

After a good game, the Foxes decide to celebrate with a little party. Everyone drinks, everyone has a good time, and everyone is shocked that Kevin sounds ridiculously West Virginian.

tw: alcohol

adult life is already so goddamn weird by hiraethia [Rated T, Series, Updated 2018]

Part 1: to kill a fox (twenty one times) the foxes have a reunion in a diner that just happens to have a jukebox that offers three plays for a dollar. they subsequently have the best meal of their lives. (inspired by john mulaney's 'salt and pepper diner')

tw: alcohol

Part 2: cheap shots (and terrible thoughts)  it's nickel shot night at eden's twilight. the foxes are competitive. that's all you really need to know. (inspired by john mulaney's 'blacking out and making money')

tw: alcohol

Part 3: i am home now andrew has a bit of a strange habit he picked up from his childhood. he shows neil one day. (inspired by john mulaney's 'the one thing you can't replace')

tw: alcohol

Pray for the Wicked by exyjunkies [Rated T, Series, Updated 2020]

Part 1: Welcome to the Club [Andreil Week 2018] Shaking off Kevin’s arm, Andrew grunted, “One college party.” Kevin fist-pumped. “That’s it.”

tw: alcohol

Part 2: I Know You Wanna Wherein Andrew tries to go back to normal after having met Neil, but it doesn't go as planned.

tw: alcohol

It Was Like This by alex_glasses [Rated T, 4332 Words, Complete, 2020]

The Enemies to Lovers College AU literally no one asked for.

tw: alcohol

Hold each other, by exactly13percent [Rated E, Collection, Complete, 2018]

Ch. 34 'What u do' [Rated T] - Aaron has a roommate he doesn't know, freshman year. Neil is dragged into a group of friends that is odd at best, but for a while, he never meets Aaron's brother. And then he does.

tw: alcohol, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Art

the gang on their way to get shitfaced art by @ttvck

andrew drinking at eden’s art by @lnmei

she was the life of his party art by @thisisntworthless

[sailorjupitersworld]

I’ve Got You

To previous readers of the story who might be coming back to re-read, I did some editing and rewrote a few things. Not much is different, but spelling mistakes have been fixed and grammatically incorrect sentences have been take care of. (I hope I got them all at least.)

Plot/Summary- There’s a string of murders involving young women in San Antonio, Texas. (Y/n) has a connection to the case, but does she realize that in time?

Warnings- Mentions of rape, abuse, abusive ex-boyfriend, swearing, blood.

Pairings- Spencer Reid x Reader

a/n- First time writing first person. I apologize if it’s horrible!

----

“It seems this unsub is going after young women in their mid to late 20′s. Typically women with (h/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, (s/t) skin and are recently out of a relationship. We think this is a man of in his late 20′s to early 30′s. He seems to be acting out some kind of fantasy,” Hotch started.

“He’s a confident, charming, and kind man. He has the ability to lure his victim’s to a place where there is a lack of people. He knows how to get them alone.” Prentiss followed.

“And he has access to chloroform, to knock his victim out and drag them to where he’s keeping them.” (Y/n) finished.

The group of policemen nodded, dispersing to their set locations.

“Alright guys, we need to find who’s doing this and fast. 7 victims in two weeks. We’ve gotta stop this man before he kills again.” Emily stated, a look of worry etched into her features.

“Prentiss and Morgan, I want you two to head down to the bar the last victim was scene. Ask around and see what you can get. (L/n), Reid and I will head to the crime scene and see if there’s anything that may be different from the last. JJ, I want you to talk to the family, see if there may be anything that connects her with the last few victims.” Hotch ordered.

---(First Person)---

The three of us exited the SUV, gloves already equipped.

Something about this case left a sinking feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t unusual for a case to make me a bit queasy, but I’ve never felt like this before. Something was wrong. I just didn’t know what.

“Hey Hotch, (Y/n), check this out.” Spencer waived you over, a piece of paper in his hands.

“What is it?” Hotch questioned, 

I grabbed the paper and began reading aloud.

“Hello there agents. You think you’re close because you have a profile? Because you think you know me? You don’t. Though, maybe one of your team members do. Have fun!

-DJ.”

“Who does he know?” Spencer asked, confused.

My heart dropped, (e/c) eyes widening the size of dinner plates.

“(L/n), what’s wrong?” Hotch questioned.

“I need to make a phone call. I’ll be right back.”

“(N/n)!” Spencer called after me, but I didn’t stop. There wasn’t any time.

“I said I’ll be right back!” I shouted, causing the police officers on scene to give me a confused look.

I rushed out of the building and turned into the alleyway, quickly dialing the number. “C’mon, pick up!” I muttered.

“Why would I pick up, when I’m right here?” A gravelly voice came from behind me and I felt my heart rate speed up.

“Damian.” I hissed.

The blonde haired man grinned at me, an evil glint in his eyes. “Shut up, bitch.” A fist came towards me, and before I knew it, everything was black.

----

“Officer, have you seen the other agent that came in with us?” Hotch asked hurriedly. 

They haven’t seen you in over 20 minutes, and it seemed that nobody else on the scene had either.

The woman nodded and pointed to the ally. “She was just over there. She went down that way.” The ally was dark and dreary.

Spencer and Hotch walked quickly, flashlights in hand. 

“There’s nobody here.”

“Hotch, look, her phone.” Spencer said, he could only fear the worst for you. You fit the victimology, he knew you shouldn’t have been working this case.  He didn’t say anything and he knew.

“Get it to Garcia, and have her trace the last call. We need to find (Y/n) quickly, before she ends up like the rest.” Hotch felt the same panic and urgency as Spencer. You were like a daughter to him, and he couldn’t lose you.

---

“Son of a bitch.” I rasped. My throat burned and my head pounded.

I tugged at my hands, but I couldn’t move them. Looking up, I realized they were bound to a pipe... No, not a pipe. A pole.

It was damp, dark, and a musty smell filled the air.  I must be in a basement.

A large metal clang was heard in the distance. His footsteps could be heard.

“Good, you’re awake.” Damian grinned.

“Let me go.” I croaked.

He crouched in front of me, “Oh honey, after what you did to me, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” Pulling out a knife, he dragged it across my cheek.

“Now it’s time you paid.” He growled. Slicing my shirt down the center, he made several shallow cuts along the skin of my chest and stomach.

I didn’t let out a sound, closing my eyes in pain.

“Aww, not gonna make a sound? Well, maybe this’ll help.” He flipped me and I heard what sounded like a belt buckle.

“No.. No, please don’t” I whimpered, writhing and attempted to free myself from the binds, rubbing my wrists raw in the process.

“Too late!” He clawed at your pants, undoing the buttons.

I knew exactly what was going to happen, and there was no way for me to stop this.

---

“Damian Jackson! He was put away for domestic violence, sexual and physical abuse, and attempted rape. His girlfriend filed 4 years ago. Oh my god...”

“What is it Garcia?”

“H-his ex! (Y/n) (L/n), born (birthday). That’s our (Y/n)!”

Everyone exchanged surprised glances, not once had you mentioned this. Not a word. They had know you for almost three years, and none of your behavior showed signs of past abuse. Spencer wracked his brain. “How could I not know? I should have know!”

Prentiss’ voice interrupted his thoughts, “Garcia, when did Jackson get out of prison?” 

“He got out two weeks ago,” 

“When the killings started,” Morgan interrupted.

“Where can we find him?” Rossi rushed.

“78451 Swan Drive!”

“Baby, I love you.” Derek said thankfully.

“Whatever you say hot stuff, just bring her back to us.” 

Hotch and Reid were already on the move, “All units, head to 78451 Swan Drive. Bring an ambulence!” Hotch shouted.

---

I sobbed quietly, blood gushed from my nose, my chest was covered in red, not a single piece of (s/c) skin in sight. My hips throbbed with bruises and my wrists were bleeding. My pants were in tatters and strewn across the room. The only thing keeping  myself not exposed were the black shorts I wore underneath and a bra. “At least he was courteous enough to leave those on.”  

“They’re not coming, don’t you get it?” He growled, kicking my side once more.

I groaned in pain, “No, they’re coming. They’re going to arrest you, and put you away for life. Maybe they’ll put you on death row.” I spat.

He grabbed my hair and pulled me up to face him. “You fucking bitch! You have no idea what you’re talking about!” He screamed, spit flying in my face.

A loud crash was heard from upstairs, followed by voices.

“Get up, slut.” He cut the rope from around my wrists and pulled my body up.

My legs were weak, and I couldn’t help but stumble. 

“I said GET UP!”

The metal door was opened in seconds and I let out a breath of relief when I saw the people who stood before me. Morgan, Hotch and Reid stood before me. Their guns were raised and they were clad in vests.

“Spencer...” I rasped.

“Shut it!” Damian screamed once more, pressing the cold metal against my neck. “You move and I’ll cut her throat open!”

“Put the knife down Damian.” Aaron growled. His face was etched with anger, but his eyes were full of fear.

“You don’t have to do this Damian, we can get you help.” Spencer attempted to reason. 

“I don’t want help,” He began to drag the blade along your neck, “I want this fucking bitch dead!” 

I felt a sharp pain in my side and Damian let go. I fell to the ground with a thud and I gasped for air.

“No!” Everyone yelled. 

I watched through spotty vision as Damian was tackled to the ground. Hotch and Spencer quickly made their way over. Spencer was quick to pack the wound with the remnants of my shirt.” 

“I need a medic! Federal Agent down!” Hotch yelled into his ear piece.

Spencer grabbed your head and looked you in the eyes, “(Y/n)? (Y/n), it’s okay. We got you. You’re going to be just fine.” He assured.

“I’m sorry. I should have said something. I should’ve known it was him. I’m so sorry.” I cried. (h/c) hair stuck to my face, the blood and sweat serving as the adhesive.

“Shush, you’re gonna be okay. Save your strength.” Hotch grasped my hand.

“Gentlemen, I’m going to need you to move.” The EMT said.

They quickly moved you, and soon you were being carried to the ambulance.

“Spencer, I love you. Aaron, thank you for being there for me,” I choked out. “If I don’t make it-”

“No, stop talking like that. You’re going to be just fine.” Spencer whispered shakily, tears streaked down his cheeks.

Black spots began to cloud my eyes, and the voices around me became muffled.

"I love you too.” Was the last thing I heard before everything went black.

------

Everyone sat in the lobby of the hospital, tears filled their eyes. Waiting for news on your condition. Morgan paced, Prentiss bit her nails, JJ munched on cheetos with a solemn look, Rossi twiddled his fingers and Garcia was wiping at the constant flow of tears. Hotch frequently made his way to the front desk, asking for new, yet receiving none. He was almost frantic. He’s lost too many and he couldn’t bear to lose another one. Spencer tapped his foot, trying to keep his breathing under control. The brunette wanted scream. It was agony not knowing. For someone like Spencer, not knowing was rare, and he hated it. The sound of the door opening and closing caused everyone to bolt up from their current positions. 

“How is she?” Emily cried.

“Is she alright?” JJ gasped.

The surgeon and his nurse smiled, “It was a tough battle, but luckily the knife just missed any vital organs. She lost a lot of blood, but she’ll be fine if you give her time to heal.”

“Can we see her?” Spencer choked out. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks stained with tears. 

The nurse nodded, “You may, but be careful. Not only will she be dealing with physical scars, she’s going to be going through a mass emotional trauma. She’s been swabbed for DNA and cleaned up as requested by the Bureau. But be warned, experiences like this... they don’t leave the brain easily.  Please be cautious and try not upset her. She’s in room 241, down the hall and third door on the left.”

Aaron let out a shaky breath and nodded, “Thank you.”

Everyone made their way down the hall quickly, and there you sat, eyes wide open.

“Hey guys.” I croaked. 

---

Everyone chatted with you for about 20 minutes before deciding you needed rest. Hotch and Spencer stayed however. 

Hotch needed to ask you just one question, “(Y/n),”

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It didn’t seem important. It’s apart of my past I don’t particularly like living through, but I will admit that it made me stronger. I knew who it was when we found that note. I should have said something, but I just couldn’t until I knew for sure.” I looked down at my hands, avoiding their gazes.

“I understand (Y/n). But if you keep information from us again, I’ll have to write you up. You endangered yourself and others.” He scolded.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”  I looked down at my hands, avoiding their gazes.

“Oh, and (Y/n)?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” I gave him a soft smile, before he turned and left the room. I waited until he left before turning to Spencer, who had taken a seat next to me.

“I meant what I said. I love you.” I smiled, meeting his beautiful hazel eyes. Much to

“I love you too, (Y/n). But none of this was your fault. You couldn’t have known, and you couldn’t have been sure,” He grasped my hand, much to my surprise. Spencer wasn’t exactly one for physical contact.

I grasped his cheek gently pulling him in for a soft kiss. I pulled away with a gasp of terror, startled by the image of Damian forcing himself upon you.

“(Y/n), what’s wrong? 

“I saw him... What he did to me. I’m never going to be able to forget him am I? He’s always going to show up in the corner of my mind.” I cried.

“(Y/n), breathe. It’s alright, he can’t hurt you anymore. I’ll never let anything like this happen you again, none of us will.” He hugged you to him, cautious to not hurt you more.

“Thank you.” I sobbed over and over.

“It’s alright I’ve got you.” He hushed, your cries died down and your body relaxed in his arms. You had fallen asleep. He set you down gently and placed a kiss upon your forehead. “Whatever happens (Y/n), no one will hurt you ever again.” He whispered to your sleeping form.

“Nobody..” he heard you mutter.

He smiled, “Nobody.” 

---

It had been a year since the incident. It had been a long recovery, the memories of what happened that day were not forgotten. But here you sat cuddled up to Spencer at a Christmas party that Penelope had decided to throw, enjoying the people you love and cherish.

You looked up at him, a smile on your features,

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” Spencer chuckled at you.

“I was just thinking... The shittiest things have happened to all of us,”

“Very true,”

“But we all have each other. Some people aren’t that lucky.”

“What are you trying to say (Y/n)?”

“I never had a family, people to fall back on, and now I do. I guess I’m just saying I’m lucky is all.” I stated thoughtfully.

I was truly lucky to have every single one of the people who sat before me.

“Marry me.” Spencer blurted out.

“What?”

“I know we haven’t been together long, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Are you sure?” I stared at him, looking for any signs of regret that he may be having right now. I couldn’t find any, all I could see was a man who loved me with his heart and soul.

“Yes, I’m completely sure.” He nodded.

“Yes! Yes I’ll marry you!” Pressing an excited kiss to his lips,

“Wait,” Emily interrupted

“Who’s getting married?” Derek cut her off.

“We are.” I said nervously.

“OH MY GOD!!! FINALLY!!!” Penelope squealed.

“Do you know when?” JJ asked.

Spencer shook his head, “No, not yet. Maybe in April.”

“Congratulations!” Will said, giving you a hug. Everyone else doing the same.

I stopped at Aaron and Jack who was super excited. “There are two things I know for sure though,”

“What’s that?” asked Kevin.

I kneeled down to meet Jack’s eye level, “Jack Hotchner, would you do me the honor of being the ring bearer?”

He looked at his dad excitedly, “Can I daddy?”

Aaron chuckled, “I don’t see why not.”

“Yay!” Jack exclaimed excitedly, “Can my dad help me?”

“Well, I have another job for your daddy,” I grinned and stood, “Aaron Hotchner, you have been for me more than my parents ever have or ever will. You’ve helped me through situations that I couldn’t confide in anybody else with. Not even Spence. After Haley’s death, I wasn’t sure if you’d ever be the same, but you never stopped being there. You have always been a shoulder I and everyone else could cry on. That being said, would you do me the honor of walking me down the aisle?”

Aaron stared in shock, tears pooling in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he pulled you in for a tight hug. “Yes (Y/n),” He whispered.

“Why are you upset daddy?”

“I’m not upset Jack,” Aaron said, seperating from the hug to look at his son with a smile. “(Y/n) just made me very happy. That’s all.”

Jack giggled, “Good job (Y/n)!!!” He cheered.

Spencer came over and put his hand on your lower back.

“I love you guys, all of you. You’re the best Christmas present a girl could ask for.”

Through the rest of the night, nothing but laughter and love were in the air. New memories were created, ones of love and laughter. 

And you knew you’d soon be creating ones of lust when you arrived home with Spencer. It truly was a night that you’d never be able to forget.

---

That’s it! Sorry it’s so sloppy and kind of all over the place when it comes to POV’s. And sorry it’s super super long! I just couldn’t stop writing. Hope you enjoy!