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andreafmn · 3 years

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Running In Circles - Chapter 3

Word Count: 1,854

Characters: Female Reader Rossi Character, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer “JJ”Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia

Story Description: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Criminal Minds, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and CBS Network. The only thing I own is Arden Rossi, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 3/?

A/N: This is a short one. Just fully domestic fluff and it makes me very happy, but letting ya’ll know this happiness will be kinda short lived. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 3

“Okay, buddy, let’s see.” I looked at the instructions in my hands from the fort kit I had purchased. It seemed simple enough and something Jack would enjoy inmmensly. “Let’s do this.”

“Yeah!” Jack exclaimed. Hotch laughed from the kitchen, insisting he had to at least cook some dinner. In the oven were the batch of brownies I had put in 10 minutes ago. It took about 30 minutes to finish the fort and the look on Jack’s face was priceless. Then he spent 10 minutes perusing my movie collection until he finally landed on Toy Story, once again.

“Well, dinner’s ready,” Hotch announced, bringing a tray with three plates of spaghetti to the fort.

“Daddy, daddy! Look at the fort!” Jack jumped up and down. It was a simple square base, big enough for three people and a triangle top. We covered it with thin sheets and hung wire twinkle lights on the top. Jack had run to my linen closet and gotten a thick comforter to lay on the floor, as well as most of the pillow that laid on my couch. He also arranged a couple of his plush toys in there to keep us company, as he put it.

“I see it, buddy. It looks great!” Hotch smiled brightly. “Now, what do we say?”

“Thank you, (Y/N)!”

“No problem, little man,” I smiled. “How about you invite your dad inside so we can eat some spaghetti?”

“Yes! Come on, dad!”

Hotch sat down next to me and passed a plate to Jack and me, putting a napkin on his son’s collar. The small kid smiled at his dad and dug into his plate without another thought, the sound of the movie filling in the background.

“You know,” I mused. “It was pretty bold of you to cook spaghetti for an Italian.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, I hope it’s good.”

I smiled and took a bite of the noodles. Hotch stared expectantly to see if he passed the Italian test. I chewed slowly, dragging the process along, until finally giving him a thumbs up. Hotch sighed and smiled before digging into his own plate.

After finishing the pasta, I took the three plates to the kitchen and served three plates of brownie with ice cream for me and the Hotchner duo. When those plates were empty, Jack laid his head on my lap and his feet on his dad’s and watched the movie. An hour and a half later, the blonde boy was softly snoring and peacefully sleeping.

“Looks like the little man ran out of juice,” I said as I ran my hand through his soft hair. “I think we should take him up to the guest room.”

Hotch softly placed his hand under Jack’s arms and carried him up the stairs to the first door on the right, careful not to wake the tired child. I pulled the sheets away and Hotch laid the kid on the bed. I left the room to let Hotch change Jack into his pajamas and went downstairs to clean up and pack away the fort for Jack to take home.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” I jumped at the sound of Hotch’s voice and he laughed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay, and don’t mention it.” I sat down next to him on the island. “Whatever you need, seriously, I’m here.”

He smiled and engulfed me in a hug; time slowed down. For a moment, just for a moment, it was only us. There was no hurting, no unspoken emotions, nothing. I breathed in his scent and took in the warmth coming from the closeness of his body to mine. He relaxed into me and let himself be human for a change.

All good things come to an end.

“Well, it’s getting late,” I said breaking the hug and clearing my throat. “Um, there’s towels in the guest bedroom closet and extra blankets just in case it gets too cold during the night.”

“Great, I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night, (y/n).”

“Good night, Hotch.” I smiled and waited for his figure to disappear in the stairs before opening the doors leading to my backyard. I breathed in deeply and tried to easy my heartbeat.

“What are you doing, (Y/N)?” I whispered to myself.

I spent the night tossing and turning, trying my best to not think that the man I liked was sleeping just a hallway away. Before I knew it, the sun was peeking in through my bedroom window, announcing that I had wasted a whole night of sleep inside my head.

So, I got up and went downstairs to work on breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, the works. I put a pot of coffee to brew and took out some toppings for the pancakes. As I was finishing with the bacon, I heard tiny feet running down the staircase.

“Morning, (Y/N)!” Jack exclaimed, hugging my waist since it was as high as he could reach.

“Hey, little man,” I said ruffling his hair. “Wanna help me set the table?”

He nodded and grabbed the forks I was holding, placing them rapidly next to the three plates that were already on the round table.

“Jack, where’s dad?” I questioned.

“He’s still sleeping.” He shrugged.

“I have an idea, little man. How about we wake him up with some silly string?”

“What’s silly string?” My mouth dropped. I headed to the hallway closet and took out two cans of silly string.

“This, buddy, is silly string,” I presented the can. “You press the button here down and string comes out.”

“Like this?” Jack asked as a string of green plastic was expelled from the can. He shrieked gleefully and his excitement grew as he saw the grin on my face.

“Just like that, bud. Let’s go wake up dad.”

He nodded excitedly and we walked up the stairs quietly. Once we reached the door, I turned the doorknob slowly and instructed Jack to go jump on the bed to surprise his dad. He smiled at me and when the door was completely open, he ran up to the bed and jumped.

When Hotch’s eyes shot open, Jack and I pressed the cans and shot silly string all over Hotch.

“Good morning, daddy!” Jack screamed as he flung the can around. Definitely a mess I’d have to clean later but very worth it at the moment.

“Morning, Jack!” The older man said as he brought his kid down tickling him slightly. “Is it safe to assume this was your idea, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, sir. It is,” I responded between laughs. “We have a very strict protocol in this household when it comes to wake up calls.”

“That’s a very effective wake up call.” Hotch smiled.

“Well, now that we’re all up, we can eat some breakfast,” I said. “There’s some chocolate chip pancakes for you, little man.”

“Yes!” He excitedly left the room and ran downstairs.

“And there’s coffee, too.” I smiled and Hotch got up to join us downstairs.

“(Y/N), thank you.” Hotch said as he stood on the doorstep ready to go home. “This is exactly what Jack and I needed, and I have no idea how I’ll ever be able to make it up to you.”

“Hotch, there’s absolutely no need.” I laid a hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze for reassurance. “I meant it when I said I’d always be here for you both. Whatever it is you need.”

Hotch smiled and left with an ‘I’ll see you at work’, and a Jack frantically waving from the backseat.

And that’s how our sleepovers started. Most of the times we had days off Hotch would come over and we’d build a fort with Jack and watch movies or played games. On hot days, we’d play around in the pool. Sometimes with the squad, but more often than not, just the three of us. If ever he needed it, I would take care of Jack so he could have a day to himself. These nights were happening so often, I transformed one of the guest rooms into a room for Jack. Hotch started leaving some of Jack’s clothes and toys. My house started becoming a second home for the Hotchner boys.

Slowly we grew closer and closer as friends, even if I wanted more. His friendship was too important for me to lose what we already had.

Back at work, it was business as usual. The team was none the wiser, but they could see that our relationship had gotten closer. JJ would always give me a smirk when she saw us hugging in his office, Derek would wiggle his eyebrows at me, and Penelope would silently squeal and flail her arms whenever she saw us in proximity.

Today was no different. Reid, Emily, Derek, and I were in the briefing room each stirring their wanted sugars and creams into the coffees I had brought in the morning. Reid quickly examining the box of donuts I had also brought along to pick the best one.

“Come on, baby girl,” Derek chuckled. “What’s going on between you and the boss man?”

“Well, Derek, if you must know,” I played along. The trio closed in as I pretended to look around for any eavesdropping ears. “Absolutely nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Come on, (Y/N),” Emily responded annoyed. “There has to be something. Friends don’t look at each other the way you both do.”

“My dearest Emily, I’m serious. I’ve just tried to be there for him in these very difficult times.” I sipped my coffee. “And I very much enjoy Jack’s company.”

“You know,” Spencer chimed in. “Oxytocin and dopamine, which are often referred to as the love hormones, affect pupil size. The brain gets a surge of these chemicals when you’re sexually or romantically attracted to someone. This boost of hormones causes pupils to dilate. So, really, if we wanted to know if something was happening all we have to do is pay attention to their eyes.”

“Thank you, Spence.” I laughed. “Now I’m gonna have to use sunglasses everywhere.”

“So that means there is something to look out for!” Emily chirped.

“No,” I cleared my throat. “It means that I don’t want to be stared at all the time by profilers, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, (Y/N), whatever you say.” Emily laughed.

After that, playful side eyes and nudges were implemented to our daily routine. They’d smirk whenever Hotch praised me and stared whenever he was even remotely close to me. At first it was funny, but it made me extremely nervous to think that Hotch could catch on. Although, it had been a couple of months with this behavior and thankfully, the unit chief had yet to figure it out, as oblivious to our teammates’ behavior as he was to my feelings for him.

Our friendship continued to flourish and strengthen as I pushed my feelings down in an effort to forget about them. It did not do me any good but, if this was the only way to keep him close, I would endure it.

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Tag: @ssamorganhotchner

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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Fic Rec Bingo!!

So instead of Fic Rec Thursday, I thought I'd do something a little different this week and recommend 25 fics based on this bingo card (although it turned into 26, oops). I kept most of these as CM because that's my blog's focus, but due to the nature of the prompts, there are 5 Marvel (Irondad) ones & 1 Sherlock towards the end!

from @lightveils on twitter, but found posted on tumblr by @cywscross <3

1. A fic with a premise that shouldn't work but does

I never would've thought I'd enjoy a fic with Spencer as a little rebellious shit because it seems so ooc, but I loved this one!

las vegas kid by trashcanbarbie - 1.9k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Gambling, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Young Spencer Reid, Teenage Rebellion, Protective Aaron hotchner, Pre-Canon, Father-Son Relationship, Teenage Spencer Reid

JJ raises her eyebrows, “so, you're trying to say counting cards isn't cheating?” “No,” he grins, boyish and charming, “it is.”

2. A fic you've reread several times

Discipline Changes by fullofcrazyness - 1.2k, 1ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Comforting Hotch

Jack stopped and looked at his dad, finally seeing that his dad wasn’t actually angry. Concerned and relieved, but not angry. He was about to say something when he saw someone in the doorway, white as a sheet. “Papa?”

3. A comfort fic

i'm always tired, but never of you by @iamrenstark - 2.2k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Derek, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Derek Morgan Needs a Hug, Men Crying, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury

When Spencer figured it out, he was stepping out of the elevator on the bottom floor of Quantico, and he went to tell Derek he loved him like he did every day, but he froze up, because he was afraid he wouldn't hear it back. (Or, Spencer thinks his boyfriend is falling out of love with him.)

4. A cathartic fic

Every Little Transgression by @58thacademic - 1.6k, 1ch, Gen, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Spencer Reid, Protective David Ross, Protective Derek Morgan, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, Spencer's Backstory, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Episode: s03e16 Elephant's Memory

Ok so. Elephants memory was really good because we got Reid backstory. But I'm still annoyed that he didn't defend himself against Hotch. So this was born.

5. A fic you'd print and put on your bookshelf

One Call Away by GhostInTheBAU - 204k, 32ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Dubious Consent, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Domestic Violence, Rape Recovery, Referenced Past Drug Use, PTSD, Hurt Spencer Reid, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Flashbacks, Healing, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Eventual Smut

When Reid's boyfriend attacks him, leaving him broken and bleeding, he calls the first person he thinks of for help. He calls the only person he really wants to see. He calls Hotch.

6. A fic you associate with a song

I associate this fic with The First Thing You See by Bruno Major. I think if you listen to the song, you'll easily see why <3

You Make Waking Up Worth It by @guccifloralsuits - 2.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Fluff, Minor Angst, Established Relationship, Morning Routines, Hurt/Comfort, Good Things Happen Bingo

“Morning sweetheart,” Derek says, pausing briefly to ruffle his hand gently through Spencer’s hair. The genius nuzzles into the touch but doesn’t reply. It’s too early for conversation, Morgan knows. Pretty boy may get up earlier than he does, but it takes the younger a lot longer to really wake up.

7. A fic that inspires you

This fic could have been in so many categories because I adore it, but I wouldn't have started writing Rain is a Chance to be Touched without this fic so it definitely belongs here.

Forgive Me For All I Could Not Become by @degrassi-fanatic - 105k, 20ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Angst, Case Fic, Confessions, Complicated Relationships, Near Death Experiences, Friends With Benefits, Smut, Miscommunication

In which Reid has always been good at hiding things. He hid his father's departure and his mother's illness from social services. He hid his addiction from his team. He hid his sexuality from the world. He hid his inappropriate feelings from his boss. That is until he's bleeding out in Hotch's arms, in an abandoned church, in Oklahoma. From there on out, Hotch and Reid learn to make a complete mess out of each other.

8. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

Even though it's unrequited, this was the first fic that really had me going !!! at Penemily <3

Another Wide-Eyed Girl by mallfacee - 2k, 1ch, Gen/Derek Morgan & Penelope Garcia, Penelope Garcia/Emily Prentiss (Unrequited), Coming Out, Internalised Homophobia, Derek Morgan is a Good Friend, Friendship, Gunshot Wounds, Episode: s03e08 Lucky

Derek Morgan is handsome and calls her “baby girl” and smiles at her like she’s the only girl in the room. Penelope Garcia knows she should be swooning and all she can think is that there must be something wrong with her not to react to a man like that giving her all this attention. Two years later she meets Emily Prentiss and understands.

9. A fic you wish could be a movie

Listen, I adore the soulmate trope, and an angsty moreid soulmate movie? Fucking sign me up right now

i need you now but i don't know you yet by @iamrenstark - 3.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt Derek Morgan, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Buford Mention, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Season 5

It goes like this; Spencer hasn't spoken to his soulmate since he was ten, didn't know their gender or their name or a single thing about them. Spencer's soulmate doesn't want him, and that's okay.

10. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

I'm doing two because fuck you that's why

This was one of the first fics I read of Adam's and I immediately fell in love with his writing! And I'm pretty sure that we ended up becoming friends after I rec'd it!!

Plum Sauce by @goldencatchflies - 1.5k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Jealousy, Platonic Morcia, Episode: s07e13 Snake Eyes

Garcia tells Spencer about what she thinks happened between her and Derek. He doesn’t seem too happy about it...

I read this from Syd and absolutely loved it, and like with Adam, we became friends from there! (I mean technically husband and wife, but, y'know. Semantics.)

You Belong With Me by @spencerspecifics - 11.4k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Song Fic, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Fluff

A fluffy Moreid fic based on You Belong With Me by: Taylor Swift

11. A fic you associate with a place

This reminds me of a chilled Sunday afternoon on my old sofa in my living room, with the fire on in the background. I read it all in one sitting and loved every word <3

Metanoia by @makaylajadewrites - 39k, 16ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Canon Typical Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Established Relationship, Near Death Experiences, Frostbite, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Spencer Reid, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending

Oh, Derek… He couldn’t stand the thought of him bursting in with SWAT in tow, gun at the ready, only to descend those creaky stairs and find his naked, bleeding body, vacated of life, crumbled on a red-stained mattress. The realization that he was going to die at the end of this was catching up to him, but maybe it would be better that way.

In which an unfortunate resemblance to an unsub's victims puts Reid right on his radar.

12. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Gasp out loud might be a *bit* of an overreaction, but this one took me on a rollercoaster and I loved every second of it (all of bau-gremlin's fics will do that to you tbh)

The End by @bau-gremlin - 3.1k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Graphic Violence, Stabbing, Blood and Injury, Temporary Character Death, Hurt Spencer Reid, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Spencer Reid

The famous interview with Chester Hardwick ... except Hotch and Reid get separated and Reid is left alone with Hardwick and a prison-made shiv.

13. A fic you found at the right time

You're Going to be Okay by fullofcrazyness - 2.6k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Dark, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Sad Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Depression, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending

Spencer was no stranger to depression. His father leaving him, his mother’s episodes, being twelve years old in a Las Vegas high school. All of those things made him very familiar with the illness. “I… I think I need some help.”

14. A fic that you would read a fic of

Chain Reaction by EloquentDossier - 42k, 16ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Alternate Universe, Texting, Dialogue-Only, Text Fic, Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Past Drug Use, Canon Divergence, Pining, Oblivious Aaron Hotchner, Happy Ending

A dialogue-only AU in which Hotch texts what he thinks is Rossi's new number but is actually the slightly eccentric stranger whom Hotch knows only as "Spencer." What follows is something neither man could have ever quite expected.

15. A fic that made you laugh out loud

The Bet by @degrassi-fanatic - 1.6k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Bets & Wagers, Humour, Fluff, Canon Divergence

“Fifty bucks says Hotch writes you up and sends you to sexual harassment sensitivity training.” she declares as she stares him down. Without looking away from her, Reid takes out his own wallet and flips it open to pull out a fifty dollar before placing it down right next to Prentiss’s own money. “Fifty bucks says Hotch will go out with me.”

16. A fic that gave you butterflies

The healing and dynamics in this one is just.... off the charts :')

Who Spencer Reid Loves by @blueberriesandbubbles - 36k, 11ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Abuse, Hurt Spencer Reid, Mutual Pining, Rape Recovery, Healing, Fluff

Derek Morgan has been in love with the resident genius as long as he's known him. When Spencer enters a relationship with a mystery man, Derek is unhappy. He is even more unhappy when he meets this man. Spencer starts acting different and Derek knows something is wrong and he has a feeling its connected to the man Reid is dating.

17. A fic that embodies something you value in life

The utter and total love and devotion in this fic just punches me right in the gut every time I reread it

A Little Fall of Rain by jack_hunter - 4.3k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Spencer Reid Whump, Autistic Spencer Reid, Major Character Injury, Secret Relationship, Team as Family, Dad Rossi

Morgan crept up behind the doctor and snatched the headphones off of his head, earning a yelp of a protest as he slipped them over his own ears. “Les Mis?” Morgan asked with a quizzical look, “didn’t peg you as the musical type, Pretty Boy.” Spencer snatched the headphones back. “I’ve always loved the theatre and I went to see Les Misérables with-... a friend last Friday.”

18. A favourite AU

The Curious Case of Dr. Reid by severaance - 37k, 10ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Transgender Character, Fluff, Trans Spencer Reid, Light Angst, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Smut, Insecurity, Happy Ending (Warning for Homophobic & Transphobic Slurs)

"And your names for the order, please?" The barista asked, eyes flickering expectantly between the two before her. "Spencer," she answered, although she was not talking to the barista. "I'm Spencer." The man before her had the same idea. "Derek."

19. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

I stayed up one night and read pretty much all the marvel fics this author has written, but this was the last one that I simply could not resist. The next day wasn't pretty :/

The more you say, the less I know by forthenightisdarkandfullofterror - 13.9k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Amnesia, Protective Pepper Potts, Not Endgame Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Blood and Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump

Tony wakes up from snapping with amnesia and for the life of him can't remember the kid hanging around, claiming to be 'just an intern'. Feelings get hurt.

20. A fic that made you feel seen

heavy in my bones by hopeless_hope - 4.4k, 1ch, Gen/Irondad, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump, Father-Son Relationship, Dad Tony, Worried Tony Stark, Angst, Chronic Illness, 5+1 Things

Five times Peter lied to someone about his chronic pain, and one time he told the truth and got the help he needed.

21. A fic you love without knowing the source material

(I mean this is literally all marvel fics but I'll rec this one because I loved it so much)

the locker room by searchingforstars - 15.5k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Miscommunication, Crying, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rape Recovery

Peter's falling apart and he doesn't know how things will ever go back to normal again after Ryder.

22. A fic you've gushed about IRL

Genuinely, this fic is better than most published fiction I've read...

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - 220k, 37ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse, Alternate Universe, Hurt Peter Parker, Foster Care, Identity Reveal, Slow Build, Disordered Eating, Homelessness

Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves. Simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter isn’t about to turn down an opportunity to fight alongside Tony Freaking Stark, but he also isn’t going to let his hero know that his recruit is a fifteen-year-old homeless dropout. So they strike a deal. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on. And that’s when things get complicated.

23. A fic you still remember many years later

The Transport Series by ancientreader - 135k, 2 works, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Backstory, Canon Drug Use, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Disability, AU, Important Character Death, First Time, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Humour, Fluff

How to become a consulting detective. // Jim's lessons are hard to unlearn.

24. A fic with a line or two that you've memorised by heart

"He has held up buildings and nuclear bombs and whole entire countries on his back. Peter’s body is the heaviest thing he’s ever held."

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by @madasthesea - 4.4k, 2ch, Gen/Irondad, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter Parker, Crying, Forehead Kisses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Hugs, Platonic Cuddling

But he knows. He knows. He can feel it. Peter’s dead. Peter Parker watches as Tony carefully arranges his limbs on a cot. “Mr. Stark,” he tries for the dozenth time. No one hears him.

25. Free Space

And to round it off, we have to celebrate the fic that really and truly welcomed me into the CM fanfic world...

Chanel by @4x24 - 24k, 7ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Getting Together, Spencer Wears Makeup, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Typical VIolence, Humour, Fluffy Ending, Pining, Smut Heavy

Penelope mentions offhandedly one night that she thinks Spencer might look good in makeup. Spencer takes the suggestion to heart. Derek likes the new look - and Spencer - more than he probably should. (Season 4)

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

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I Love You (Part Sixty) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Cursing. Panic attack. Character death. Alcoholism. Drugging(s). Physical trauma. Explosion(s). I think that’s it?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Nonbinary!Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 9574

Timeline: Season 8 Episodes 24. Right after part fifty-nine.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

It wasn’t like any other panic attack I ever had. For some reason, the really bad ones only came about when I was really worried about Hotch, like after the bombing in New York when I thought he was literally dying in my arms. This time around, though, I think I was just… paralyzed. I was staring at the wall, the sheets pulled up to my chin, a ringing in my ears, flashing memories of that night back in high school. Those pictures. These pictures. What made The Replicator any different than Steven Teller? A chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t connected his name to what had actually happened to me until my parents brought him up at Hotch’s birthday dinner. I would’ve gone my whole life trying to forget his name if they hadn’t said it, if Hotch hadn’t asked about him, and if Garcia hadn’t called to tell us that someone else had pictures of me now.

Who had seen them besides Garcia? Morgan? Spencer? Morgan would’ve understood because he knew about the true nature of the original photos—hell, he was the one who stumbled upon them in Rebecca Bryant’s apartment, so he had even seen them; but I didn’t want it to be Reid. The two of us were so close now since Maeve’s death. If he saw something like that, he would get all awkward around me and our friendship would slowly fall apart, and instead of letting me into his apartment every Sunday now, he would just let Scarlet in again like he originally did.

I didn’t understand who this guy was. How had Garcia been investigating it enough for Hotch to know exactly what she was talking about, yet I was completely out of the loop? Was I the only one who didn’t know? Why didn’t Hotch tell me about this sooner—if I would’ve known that there was someone out there watching us, I would have never gone on this “vacation”, and I would have made sure that we weren’t being followed, I would’ve closed the fucking drapes. The drapes.

Hotch pushed himself out of bed and ran to the window. “We need to make sure everyone’s safe,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hotch, who is The Replicator…” I croaked.

“He might have gone after the others.”

“Hotch, answer me!”

“Later.”

“He has pictures of us, Aaron…” I croaked as he closed the drapes.

We had left them open because we were so high up, and the lights were off, and the surrounding buildings shouldn’t’ve had a good view into our room. Closing the drapes just didn’t occur to us earlier. But now that we knew he had been watching, we weren’t taking a chance. Not that it mattered. He had already seen everything. From Hotch slowly undressing me, to tying me up, spanking me, torturing me… fucking me. That asshole got a free show, and then he had the audacity to send those images to our friends. Poor Penelope. She was probably mortified. Between getting hacked and having to see literal porn of her co-worker and her boss, she was likely having a meltdown. Yet, all I could think about was how this all reminded me of high school—of the images that boy took of me then used as blackmail against me. It was eerily similar. I absolutely fucking hated it.

“Call everyone, Y/N. Call them now.”

We both raced for our phones. Hotch called Rossi while I started with Reid. I was biting at my fingers nervously as the phone rang, because every second that passed without hearing his voice just somehow convinced me that something was wrong. And then he picked up. I let out a sigh of relief and hid my face in my free hand.

“Y/N?” He had no clue what was going on. “Y/N, what is it?”

I hated that he was getting as good at recognizing my tells as Morgan was. “Where are you?”

“I’m with Morgan. We’re driving back from getting some food. Did you know that you can get sauerkraut on hotdogs? It’s such an odd concoction, considering the hotdog was invented—”

“Spencer, something happened.”

He stopped. “What?”

“You and Morgan need to get back to the Field Office immediately. Don’t stop anywhere, don’t talk to anyone, keep your heads down. Got it?”

“Y/N, what is it? Why—”

“I don’t know… Hotch isn’t telling me right now, but he says he’ll explain everything once we’re all together.”

“Okay. We’ll see you there.” I looked at Hotch as I hung up and he came back into the bedroom, dressed in a button down and slacks again so that it could pass as business formal, considering we hadn’t brought actual work clothes. “Where’s Rossi?”

“He’s with JJ. They can’t get ahold of Strauss, so JJ’s going to head to the Field Office to meet up with Spencer and Morgan while Rossi goes to check on Strauss at her hotel. We need to get dressed and go.”

“Stop,” I demanded harshly. Hotch froze in place. “You need to tell me the truth now. Who is The Replicator?” He was still frozen. “Hotch,” I crawled onto my knees, “he went after our babies, and he took pornographic pictures of us. I have every right to know before the team does.”

Hotch sighed and sat down on the corner of the bed as he explained everything to me. A couple of months ago, something peculiar started happening. Someone was replicating the cases that we were solving—everything from the human marionettes to an Unsub who had exsanguinated his victims. Strauss didn’t want the team to get involved yet, though, so it was a need-to-know case only. I wasn’t on the list. Every time it happened. Strauss found out and told Hotch. The two of them had been keeping an eye on it, and he was convinced that she was going to turn the case over to us soon, but now he was coming after us personally, which was so… unexpected to him.

Rossi called back while Hotch was telling me everything. Hotch rubbed a thumb over the arch of my foot as he answered. “You’re sure?” he asked worriedly. “Alright. Okay. We’re on our way.” He hung up. “Rossi’s convinced that something happened to Strauss… He thinks that The Replicator might have taken her.”

“Fucking hell, Aaron!” I jumped out of bed and ran to change into different clothes. The only thing I had that was “appropriate” was a v-neck and jeans. So much for our vacation. “We should’ve known about this earlier!” I exclaimed, jumping into my pants. “It’s just another lie—”

“Jesus, Y/N! Stop with the hounding about the lies! Get off my back! This was an order, not a lie!”

Actually, he was right about that one. “Fine…” I grabbed my credentials, my weapon, and my bag before joining Hotch at the door. “You’re right.” I kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry.” He closed the door behind us, and we ran off.

In the car, Hotch and I held hands, both of us shaking anxiously. His thumb was doing circles around one of my knuckles while he kept his other hand busy on the steering wheel, tapping to a random beat in his head that he was using as a distraction. He clearly didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t expected that The Replicator would go for us personally—though, if he had come to me with this case before this, I would have told him that this was going to happen, and we could have prevented it.

If I would have known that this guy existed in the first place, Hotch would’ve had to drag me out of the house and to work just to leave Jack and Scarlet. I wouldn’t have sent them to school, I wouldn’t have left them to go on vacation, and I wouldn’t have let them go to the fucking park while we were gone just to give the creep an opportunity to take pictures of them. He could fuck with us all he wanted. Those pictures hurt, and the situation was still spinning in my mind to the point I wanted to throw up; but at least we were adults who could handle it. Jack and Scarlet were still just my little babies. It didn’t matter how big they were getting, they were always going to be my babies, and no one ever fucked with them.

Hotch kissed my knuckles as we parked at the hotel. He paused for a moment, turning to look at me, cradling my cheek in his other palm. “I’m sorry. If Strauss didn’t order me to keep this confidential, you would have been the first person I told. You have to believe that.”

“I do.”

“Are you okay now… knowing what we know about tonight…”

I shook my head. “No, but it’s not the point.” I escaped his touch so that I could open my car door and jump out. Hotch followed shortly, deciding to drop the conversation.

The second we stepped into the hotel room where Strauss was supposed to be staying, we saw Rossi pacing around, completely stressed out, running his hands through his hair while muttering thoughts under his breath. I glanced around. The window was open, the bed was a wreck, there was broken glass on the ground, drawers were left open, the bathroom looked like a tornado had torn through it, but what was most obvious were the mini alcohol bottles from the mini fridge that were scattered everywhere. I thought she quit drinking. There was a situation a little bit ago shortly after The Face Cards when I was still bedridden where Hotch and Rossi found out that she was an alcoholic and decided to get her some help.

“Her one year chip is here,” Rossi said, holding it up for us to see. “She never lets go of it, Hotch. Ever. The Replicator must have her.” So, everyone seemed to know about this guy besides me, I supposed? What the fuck? “I’m going to check the roof.” Rossi was already moving for the fire escape.

“Be safe. We’ll head down to the lobby to look at the security footage,” Hotch said. I wanted to go with Rossi to give him back up, but I realized that Hotch didn’t want me to stray far from him after what happened. So, I followed him out of the room, and we started hurrying towards the inside stairwell just to see if she had wandered down there somehow. Hotch’s phone started ringing.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Straus…” He cocked a brow while answering. “Erin?” He stopped in his tracks when he heard the other end, making me stumble to a halt. “Where is she, you bastard.” He started running as fast as he could through the hallways, leaving me behind.

“Aaron! No!” I yelled, trying to run after him.

“Stay here! I love you!”

Those words echoed in my head as déjà vu overtook my senses. Hotch had said the exact same thing to me after we found Sam dying on his carpet, and Hotch went to the hospital with him. The panic that hadn’t settled in earlier was certainly settling in now. I could remember how Hotch said those exact same words to me as he closed the ambulance doors, and a few moments later, I collapsed on the sidewalk, unable to hear anything, unable to move, unable to breathe until I heard his voice again. He went on his own this time, though—No.

I started dashing to follow him, even though he had enough of a head start to already be out of the building. The Replicator had talked to Hotch. He had called from Strauss’s phone, which was the perfect way to lure Hotch out of the hotel, and it worked, which meant that if he had a plan, he was going to go after Hotch next. I started skipping steps in the stairwell. Not him. Not now. Aaron Hotchner was all kinds of stupid, but I wasn’t going to let this stupid decision get him killed while I froze up in a fucking hallway. I couldn’t live with that regret if that were the case.

When I pushed through the front doors of the hotel, I started looking up and down the street in search of Hotch. He had to be around somewhere. He got a head start, sure, but not enough to disappear into the night unless someone took him. He had to be close. I refused to believe that he was anywhere other than on that block, safe, alive, and waiting for me to find him. So, I just kept looking. I spun around in circles, jumping to look over the crowd, pushing between couples just to see if Hotch was hiding somewhere. I felt like I was going insane.

And then I saw him on a bench. I recognized his hair, how dark it was, how he liked to keep it short in the back but long in his face so that I could play with it when I was bored or during sex. I recognized him because of his body type. The shirt he had put on back at the penthouse was a simple button up, but it was fit to his body so well that when he was sitting down like that, I could see his biceps stretching the sleeves, and the actual torso part of the shirt had molded against his loose abs. I would recognize my husband anywhere. Even while his face was away from me, and he had someone in his arms, I could still tell that it was him. He looked okay… at least from where I was standing. I couldn’t tell for sure, though, so I dared to run across the street and hurry over to the bench. I could tell for sure now. He was alright, but he was holding Strauss in his arms, despite the fact that she wasn’t breathing anymore.

“Aaron…” I carefully peeled his grip off of her. “Aaron, it’s okay…”

As I kneeled down in front of Hotch, I recognized the lost fright in his eyes from the bombing four years ago, and from the murder of Haley a little under that, then my kidnapping two years ago. Whenever he was panicked, whenever there was too much going on at once, his eyes got lost in the world, like he couldn’t see anything at all, yet could somehow still see everything. It was hard to explain, but the way his jaw slacked, and the way his breath was shallow, and his body was unnaturally still… It all pointed to that instinct that overtook him every time something bad like this happened.

I put my hands on his face to bring his eyes level with mine. We had been through this before, we learned how to handle it, now all he had to do was focus on me and we would be fine. He told me that feeling my touch, hearing my voice, seeing my face, it always brought him down to Earth when this happened. So, I held him close, I kissed his forehead, and I whispered to him that everything would be alright.

“He talked about Foyet,” he finally told me.

I stopped comforting him for a moment to reflect on what he just said. “What?”

“He…” He lowered his head. “He talked about how Foyet killed Haley… That I was stuck on the phone, incapable of doing anything that could help.”

“How could he know that?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head against my touch.

“Look at me, baby.” I lifted his head gently. “We’ll figure this out. I promise. Just breathe.”

“He said he’s going to race us home—”

“Shhh…”

“The kids—”

“They’re at the office. They’re safe. Please. Catch your breath with me.” I inhaled slowly, letting him know that I wanted him to mimic me. I nodded an encouragement when he started doing so, and then when we couldn’t breathe in anymore, we held it, then slowly exhaled. He was relaxing in my touch already. We did it again. “You’re doing good, baby. Keep going.”

Footsteps hit the pavement behind us. I turned somewhat, just long enough to see that it was Rossi. He froze when he saw Strauss beside Hotch. As he collapsed and pulled Erin in for a hug, I helped Hotch to his feet, pulling him away so he could collect his thoughts again.

“Don’t stop breathing, baby,” I begged, pressing my forehead against his.

“Foyet—”

“Foyet’s gone. You’re here. I’m here. The kids are safe at the office. Just breathe.”

When the EMTs arrived, they put a sheet over Strauss’s body, lifted her onto a stretcher, then rolled her into the ambulance. Rossi was quiet while he followed them. With Hotch still somewhat out of it—not as bas bad as before, but still— I was the one who nodded in his direction, letting him know that it was okay to go with her. We would see him later.

At the Field Office, Hotch was finally relaxed and level-headed enough to explain to the team what was going on and what we were going to do now. We were going to get on the jet, head back to the office, and take down whoever the hell this Replicator guy was. Everyone seemed on board, but there were a lot of questions about when Rossi would be rejoining us. Honestly, we weren’t sure. He was flying with Strauss to Bethesda to talk with her children and stick around for the autopsy, which we would have by the time we would land in Virginia and get settled back at the office. He would probably return after that… if at all. What we needed to focus on was just getting the profile done and making sure that Strauss’s death wouldn’t be in vain.

When we got back to Quantico, I ran straight into Hotch’s office, finding Jack dead asleep on the couch, buried under a blanket that Hotch always had stowed away in case we had to sleep at the office, too. As for Scarlet, though, she was still awake. Jessica was sitting in Hotch’s chair at his desk, and Scarlet was sitting across from her, playing with some toys. She spotted me almost immediately, though.

“Mom!” She slid off the chair and ran to me.

“Hey, lil’ bug!” I exclaimed, lifting her into my arms. I kissed her a thousand times. “I love you so much!” I kept kissing her. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“She’s been fussy without you guys,” Jessica said.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her. I brushed Scarlet’s hair out of her face. “Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story before Dad and I have to go save the world again?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and pressed her cheek against my chest while still hugging my neck.

I sat down in one of the chairs across from Hotch’s seat and relaxed. While telling her the story, I thought about how relieved I was to have her in my arms again. The Replicator had a thousand chances to take her or Jack from me, especially while Hotch and I were gone. Hell, he got close enough to take pictures. If he really wanted to hurt us, he could have stolen my lil’ bug away. If that happened, I wasn’t sure if I’d survive.

By the time the story was over, she had magically fallen asleep in my arms. I smiled and kissed her hair. As I got up to lay her down on the couch with Jack, he rolled over and started snoring, making me and Jessica chuckle quietly, but I had to shush her.

When Scarlet was done, I looked at Jess. “I’m so sorry that this keeps happening to us.”

She shook her head. “As long as everyone’s safe, it’s okay.” She stepped forward and hugged me tightly. “Are you guys okay?”

“Not right now, but we will be.”

“You’ll get an actual vacation weekend soon.”

I laughed. “$20 says it doesn’t happen.”

She pulled away from me to shake my hand. “Deal.”

There was a knock on the door from Hotch, coming to tell us that Strauss’ autopsy had been completed. His gaze flicked to the kids, and he hesitated for a moment. They were asleep, but I could tell that he wanted to wake them up and just feel the way they would give him a Superman hug at the same time until he couldn’t breathe. But he restrained himself. He carefully stepped into the room and crouched down in front of the couch, kissing Scarlet’s forehead, then Jack’s. He stayed with them for a second longer, just admiring how perfect and innocent they were. My heart broke in my chest a bit, a smile creeping onto my face, and I reached forward to brush Hotch’s hair out of his face.

“We should go, baby,” I whispered to him. He nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “They’ll be alright. I promise.” He kissed me gently while keeping my head tilted up with his thumb. When he pulled back, we pressed our foreheads together. “Your messes are my messes.”

“Your messes are my messes.” He kissed me again quickly before taking my hand and leading me out of his office, waving goodbye to Jessica. She waved back to us while sitting back down to play a game on her phone. When we walked into the boardroom, we saw that Garcia was finishing up with hanging all the evidence we had of The Replicator. “Garcia, is this everything?” Hotch let go of my hand to cross his arms over his chest.

She nodded. “JJ’s grabbing the printed copy photos from Strauss’s autopsy, but this is everything else… except for you and Y/N… You know…”

“Thanks.”

“So, while you guys were on the jet, I started digging into why he would have possibly attacked Strauss and on this day, considering he would’ve had a thousand other chances to do it if he really does work for the FBI, but I couldn’t find anything in her life that was historically relevant.”

“We need to focus on the location, then. He waited until she was in New York, rather than attacking her here or at her home.”

“Look at how many photos he had of her, guys,” Morgan pointed out, referencing the dozens of pictures of our team up on the wall. I knew that he had taken pictures of me and Hotch in bed, but I didn’t think that he had really been stalking the entire team all this time. “She’s hardly ever in the field, yet there’s more pictures of her than anyone else. It’s like he’s obsessed with her.”

“Maybe Strauss was always the real target. We were just in the way, and also a distraction.”

“I’ve got the rest of the photos,” JJ said, holding the stack up for us before heading to the board to pin them up. “We were right, he replicated the New York attacks, which accelerated his timeline. He spiked Strauss’s alcohol with meth and heroin.”

“Not ecstasy?” I asked.

“Nope.” She hung up a picture of a symbol that had been carved into Strauss’s wrist antemortem.

“Wait—” I stepped forward, halting her actions. “What is that?”

“An infinity sign?” Garcia guessed.

“An eight? Wasn’t she his eighth victim?” Morgan added.

“But why would he do that? His whole M.O. is copying our other cases as closely as possible to prove that he’s been stalking us. He wouldn’t deviate just to make things interesting now,” I said.

“He would if Strauss was his intended target.”

“It’s too random. Everything this guy has done thus far has been strategic and with the point of getting under our skin. This doesn’t affect us personally in any way, unlike the photos and him mentioning Foyet on the phone,” Hotch said.

“Wait. He knew about Foyet?” JJ questioned. “How? That was a confidential case. No one outside of our unit and SWAT knew the intricate details of what happened to Haley.”

“But the file has enough general information. He had to have accessed it somehow,” I said.

“Maybe when he hacked Garcia?”

“It’s a paper file. Cody made sure it didn’t make its way into any system to ensure that no one could get their hands on it outside of the FBI, which means… Technically, anyone working for at Quantico could know.” What was he saying? “The only people who knew where Y/N and I were this weekend before the hack was the BAU and Cody’s office. The only problem here is that Strauss wasn’t sure that she recognized him. If he works for the FBI—”

“He might not have been showing his face to her—and even if he was, she was probably too out of it to actually recognize him,” Reid said. “Besides that, there are hundreds of new and old faces every day at Quantico. Strauss was a busy woman. She might not’ve remembered him.”

I shook my head. “Let’s say that he does work in the FBI, that explains how he knows about all of our cases with so much detail. He replicates everything, we can’t forget that. So, what the hell is the symbol on her wrist replicating?”

“The Cutter,” Hotch realized. We all looked at him, giving him our full attention. “The last case we worked before this weekend.”

We had been in Detroit for nine days, tracking down an Unsub who liked leaving Joker-like smiles on his victims’ faces by cutting them up. Sometimes he got fancy with it, taking their tongues, cutting a toe or a finger off, but he always cut the mouths. There was nothing about carving symbols into the victims. No eights, infinities, whatever. So, why did Hotch think that this had anything to do with that?

“I need to see her computer.” Hotch turned to snap at someone outside the room. “Anderson, I need you to run to Strauss’s office and bring me her computer, please. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Anderson did as he was told, literally racing to the office just past the bullpen, though the door, down the hallway, and to the right. We waited patiently for him to come back. “Here you go,” he said, panting, handing the laptop over.

“Thanks, Anderson.”

“No problem, sir.” He took his leave from the room again.

Hotch passed the computer over to Garcia, who was sitting down and wiggling her fingers to warm up before she would start typing up a storm in order to hack in. Hotch watch from over her shoulder. “I need you to access who was on the distribution list for my case report for The Cutter.”

“You don’t know who reads your reports?” she questioned, already typing.

“I know that she sends them to the head of the Criminal Division and the Director, but I don’t know who else has access to it.”

“It’s right here.”

Hotch leaned in further to read because the words were too small for him. I was going to have to drag him to the eye doctor soon. Just because I always joked that he was getting old didn’t mean that I didn’t actually worry about him; and something that I had been noticing recently was that he was struggling to read things as well as he used to. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he needed reading glasses now. Not that he would ever wear them. Aaron Hotchner would rather die than ever admit that he wasn’t physically fit to be in the field or to work on reports when we were at home.

“She amended my report,” he said. We all grew curious. “She wrote that he carved infinity symbols into his victims’ wrists.” He stood up tall to address us, “She trapped him to make sure that we would know that he was an insider. Garcia, who else read this?”

“Two other people so far. The Director and— Uh oh.”

“Uh oh? Again?” I scratched my fingers through my hair, really annoyed with how she wasn’t just spitting it out. The other day, she pulled the same shit. Uh oh. I loved her to death, but sometimes she needed to just say it rather than dragging it out.

“You remember the Senator that investigated the BAU after Doyle?

Okay. That was an uh oh. Fuck.

“I’ll talk to him. You all need to stay here, stay together, don’t talk about this outside of this room. No one else can know about this.” Hotch hurried out of the room and B-lined straight for his office to grab one of his suits from his go-bag in his office. I followed him. “Hey, Jess, I need to change real quick,” he said as we walked in. “Can you give us a sec?”

“Of course.” She immediately stood and went to stand outside the office.

I closed the blinds while he quietly picked up his bag, carefully pulled at the zipper, cringing at how loud it was, and pulled his clothes out, all without waking up the kids. It was funny that he thought that they would jolt awake. The two of them were freaking corpses when it came to sleeping. Back when Scarlet was a baby, she was the worst about staying asleep, but now she could sleep all day and all night without a single issue. As for Jack, he struggled to fall asleep sometimes because of his nightmares, but once he was asleep, he was out until morning. They got it from their dad.

“You’ll stay here with them until I get back?” he asked me, peeling off his shirt. I nodded. “Henry’s just down the hall in JJ’s old office with Will. If Jack wakes up soon, he can probably go hang out in there while Jess keeps an eye on Scarlet in here.” He kicked off his pants, then picked up his button up and slid his arms into the sleeves. I helped put it together nicely while he focused on sliding his suit pants on. “I’ll ask Anderson to get everyone donuts from Leonard’s for breakfast. The kids’ll be happy about that.”

“Aaron,” I whispered, fitting his tie around his neck for him, “are you okay after last night?”

“I will be after all of this and once the two of us can sit down and talk about it.”

I flattened his collar around the tie, then stepped back so that he could put his suit jacket on. At least he wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t going to keep it bottled up this time and have me wondering if he was really alright or if he was just lying to me again. I was really fucking sick and tired of him lying to me. I mean, he had been really good about it since the Piano Man case over a year and a half ago.

He kissed me as he holstered his weapon and clipped his badge onto his jacket. “I love you. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I love you.” I cupped my hands on his cheeks before kissing him. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” We pressed our foreheads together, both of us letting out a relaxed exhale. “Come back to me.”

“I’m just going—”

“Promise me.”

Hotch snaked his arms around my waist, pulling me as close to his chest as humanly possible, our foreheads still pressed together as he towered over me. His fingers sprawled on my back. “I promise.” He rubbed his hands smoothly up and down my back for a bit. “And I promise that we’re going to talk about Strauss, about the pictures, about having another weekend where we can do things the right way.” His hands turned to fists around the fabric of my shirt. “I promise that I’m not going to let this guy take away anything else from us.”

We kissed again, our lips barely meeting because if it was anything more than that, we would have passionately, desperately kissed one another until we were breathless and forgot about the world around us, which wasn’t ideal. We needed to stay focused. Hotch needed to find the Senator, talk to him about still keeping an eye on our unit, even after they cleared us after Doyle, and then we needed to find out who the hell The Replicator was. We could forget about life later.

“I love you, Y/N Hotchner, more than life itself.”

I melted in his arms a bit, grabbing onto his suit jacket to maintain my balance. “When you say shit like that, I don’t know what to do with myself.” We both chuckled quietly. Jack suddenly stared snoring on the couch, making us both laugh again. “He’s so like you, it’s stupid.” Hotch’s smile faded, but he tried to mask it by kissing my cheek, then hiding his face in the crook of my neck. “Go save the world, Agent Hotchner.” I begged, prying him off of me before we could stay glued like that for the rest of our lives. I combed my fingers through his hair to make sure he looked nice for the Senator. “We’ll be here.”

Hotch’s hands left my back, making me ache silently for his touch again, which he somehow recognized, because he immediately held my hand in his as he started walking around me and stepped towards the door. I didn’t move. Our arms continued to stretch towards each other, fingers intertwining in an attempt to stay with each other for a little longer, but once he was out of reach, there was nothing we could do. He opened the door, turned to look at the kids once more, then left. I sighed and slumped into a chair.

Jessica carefully peeked in, wondering if it was safe to return. When she saw me sitting there, flustered and silent, she stepped in and closed the door behind her. I half expected that she would return to Hotch’s seat. It was, after all, the most comfortable seat in the room, and I knew it, considering it was my desk for a little while. But Jessica sat down next to me and took my hand in hers without saying anything. Nothing needed to be said. We just stayed there, watching the kids as they slept, waiting for Hotch to come back with answers.

----

Around the time Hotch returned, Rossi was walking in, too. We all spotted him, but no one said anything to him or approached him. We all just decided to meet in the boardroom while waiting for Hotch to get his things organized and make an attempt to talk to Rossi, which he was immediately denied. He looked to the boardroom, begging one of us to try again, but we all stared at each other, asking ourselves who dared to do it.

“I’m gonna go check on Rossi.” Morgan said to the group. We all nodded understandingly.

When he left, Hotch traded places with him, coming into the roundtable room with a stack of papers. “This is everyone who has read my reports over the past two years.” He dropped the heavy stack on the table. “There’s thirty-six people.” My jaw fell. We were going to have to profile thirty-six different people on a time crunch, which was near to impossible, even with all six of us, plus Garcia, working on it. That was still about six people per team member. How the fuck were we supposed to profile all that?

“Woah! Rossi! What’re you doing, man?! Put the gun down!” Morgan shouted.

My brows furrowed for a second as I stepped closer to the windows of the room to look across the bullpen and into Rossi’s office. There was Morgan, standing in the doorway, and in front of him, Rossi was pointing a gun at him. I dropped my papers and ran. When I was close enough, I slowed down to be casual. I didn’t want to spook him.

“Dave,” I croaked, stepping into his office. My hands were sprawled out in front of me, ready to swing for the gun if he moved for the trigger. “What’s this about?”

“Morgan’s fingerprints were on the glass that killed Strauss,” he answered.

“What?” Morgan questioned, scoffing.

I took another careful step forward in front of Morgan. There was no way he was going to shoot me. “Dave, someone on the inside is The Replicator, they’re probably the one who told you that—”

“It was in her report that was on my desk!” he yelled. The gun was shaking in his hands as his nose started to bleed the same way Strauss’s had been. He had been drugged, too.

I looked over at the page on the ground that was supposedly the official report he had just been reading. “You’ve been drugged, Rossi.” I was still walking towards him, despite Morgan’s quiet protests behind me. “He wants us to turn on each other. If you pull that trigger right now, you shoot me, you lose Hotch, you lose Reid, you lose Morgan, and you lose JJ. Is that what you want? Do you want him to win after everything? After Strauss?” I was close enough to reach for the gun. “Don’t shoot me. Just let me… Let me help you…” I started slowly going for it. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you help, and you’re going to be just fine.” I had a grip on the gun, and I managed to finally pry it away from him.

Morgan let out a heavy sigh of relief behind me. “I’ll call the paramedics.”

Hotch finally came rushing in, now that the coast was clear and the tension had been diffused. If he had come in any sooner, Rossi might have been spooked and shot me, even if he didn’t want to, but just because of how the drugs fucked with him. He immediately came over to check on Rossi. We helped him onto the couch in his office, and Hotch didn’t hesitate to ask if Rossi had taken anything, drank anything, bumped into anyone. All he told us was that he had picked up Strauss’s report, and that was when he started feeling like shit.

“That was stupid of you,” Hotch whispered to me while slapping Rossi’s cheeks to keep him awake. “The kids are in the next room, how could you—”

“The kids!” I pushed myself up to my feet using Hotch’s shoulder and ran straight to his office. If Rossi had been poisoned through the paper, that meant that the Unsub must have dropped it off, or else security would have caught it. The Unsub was in his office. He walked right past our family. He could have done something to them. “Scarlet—” I turned into the room to see her and Jack watching a movie together on a tablet. I stopped in my tracks for a second as they looked up at me with raised brows. “Did anyone come in here?” I asked Jessica. She shook her head, eyeing me suspiciously.

He didn’t go for them. He said something to Hotch on the phone last night about how he was going to race us home, and Hotch was worried about the kids, which was why we brought them to the office, thinking that they would be safe, but the Unsub had them right there, and he went right past them, and he didn’t—

“Mom?” Jack questioned me. “Are you okay?’

I nodded and faked a smile. “Of course, little man. I was just checking on you guys…” I cleared my throat. “Did you, um… Did you get a donut yet?”

“He had two,” Jessica answered.

“And what about you, Scarlet?”

“I had two, too!” She laughed at herself. “Tutu.”

I smiled casually at them before turning and hurrying right back out of the office, letting out a shaky breath. The office was supposed to be safe. What if Scarlet or Jack had run into the Unsub? What if they had touched the paper Rossi touched just because they wanted to see what the superheroes were up to? I let out another breath, this time trying to calm my nerves as I saw the medics run into Rossi’s and start caring for him.

“We found something,” Reid said quietly, sneaking up on me, even though he hadn’t meant to.

I looked at him suddenly. “What?” I really hadn’t heard him. I had been so lost in thought that I knew he said something important, but I really couldn’t register what it was. “I’m sorry.”

“We found something.”

“Something good?”

“We found the Unsub.”

“Is he still here?” I asked eagerly, already walking with him along the balcony towards the boardroom again. He shook his head. “What do we know?” I asked everyone else when we entered.

“Is Rossi okay?” Garcia asked before she felt like answering me. I nodded to her while taking a seat, now waiting for her to tell me something. She caught the hint. “So, instead of profiling all thirty-six people who had read Hotch’s reports, we instead chose to connect anyone to New York since we noted that might be important to him if he chose to kill Strauss there.” Okay, so… “There were two agents at Quantico. One died last March, but the other… John Curtis… He worked under Strauss during the Amerithrax case in 2001 since he specialized with biochemistry. It seems like he was really hoping to move through the ranks at Quantico, according to letters he wrote to the Director after he was unfortunately demoted to go work in Kansas City.”

“How’d he make his way here, then?”

“After fifteen letters to the Director’s office, he was finally promoted to work in his office.”

That explained how his clearance was high enough for him to get into the building and into the BAU specifically without being detected. If we were to take the cars downstairs, he probably would’ve been prepared that something would go awry with them to prevent us from chasing him down this time around, so it was agreed that we were going to take the helicopters up on the roof. They were faster, more convenient, and unexpected. Curtis probably had no idea that the BAU even had access to the helicopters. They were our best bet. So, we all geared up and started running upstairs, assigning seats in the two vehicles. Hotch, JJ, and I were going to be in the first one, meanwhile Morgan and Reid would be in the other.

As we were flying through the air, speeding towards Curtis’s farmhouse out in rural Virginia, Garcia was in contact with Hotch, Morgan, and SWAT, discussing the layout of the farm so that we could perform a tactical breech with minimal losses. JJ and I were sitting together in the back, though, just staring out our respective windows. I was counting the minutes until we would land. Even after all this time, I still fucking hated flying, but at least when we were on the jet, that was familiar, so I could feel safe there, but now we were in a helicopter, which was unchartered territory for me, and I was terrified. The height wasn’t the problem… It was the fact that we could crash at any minute, and that would be it. Our fate was practically out of our hands.

It was like karma could hear me, because the next thing I knew, alarms were going off in front of the pilot, and we were dropping in the air. I cursed under my breath and held on for dear life. Through the headsets we were wearing, I could hear the pilot saying something about how auto-pilot was failing, and that something was preventing him from turning it back on. I squeezed my eyes shut as we kept falling. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hated flying, and this was exactly why.

“Brace for impact!”

And then we hit the ground.

I weakly opened my eyes, blinking harshly to try and wash away the fog while also trying to adjust to the darkness. We didn’t die.

“Are you guys alright?!” Morgan asked as he pried Hotch’s door open.

Hotch fell sideways out of his seat in the helicopter, crashing to his knees before Morgan could catch him. I groaned, holding my head, trying to make the spinning stop. My fucking back hurt like a bitch, too—not as bad as when I first injured it at the bank during The Face Cards’ bombing, but certainly getting there. I whimpered when it hurt to move.

“Y/N…” Hotch groaned, carefully crawling his way over with Morgan’s help. “Y/N…” He reached around and unbuckled me from my seat. I coughed; my lungs too weak to maintain a normal breathing pattern. “Baby…”

I weakly wrapped my arms around his neck and attempted to pull him close. “Are you okay?” I opened my eyes as the world stopped spinning. Hotch nodded. “Where’s JJ?”

“I don’t know.” We stumbled onto the grass together. “Are you alright?”

I rested my forehead against his shoulder. “My back…” I croaked.

“It’s hurting again?”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine, though.”

“You said that last time—”

“But I mean it now. Why didn’t he kill us?”

“What?”

I cleared my throat and stood up straight, trying to shake off the ache in my back. “Why didn’t he kill us? I felt it at the end, something controlled the helicopter enough to have us land somewhat carefully, but then he took JJ… Why?”

“To give himself a bargaining chip?”

“Maybe…”

“Hey—” Reid called, running over to us. Just as I looked at him, he crashed into my arms, pulling me in for a hug. I ignored how it hurt my back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. He took JJ.”

“What?” He pulled away so that he could go check the helicopter for himself. Just as he was inspecting it, a few black SUVs pulled up to take us the rest of the way. Maybe we should have just started with that.

Hotch helped me to the car, Morgan and Reid following close behind. Usually, Hotch would have sat in the front, leaving me in the back, but this time around, he sat with me, squeezing my hand as tightly as he could. I think that we had been through too much over the past few days. It was finally taking its toll. What we thought was going to be a normal getaway turned into working two cases—one where Hotch had to deal with his brother, then he had to deal with a thousand personal things. Pornographic photos, Strauss, Foyet being mentioned, the kids, meeting with the Senator—There were a thousand more things I could have possibly listed, but nearly dying in a helicopter crash… yeah, that was the cherry on top. He had been in the front seat with the pilot. I was in the back with JJ. When we were going down, I wanted nothing more than to hold him again, to look into his eyes, but I couldn’t because I was just behind him. Then, The Replicator could have taken me, but he didn’t. Hotch had risked too many things by not sitting in the back with me, but he wasn’t going to risk that now, the same way I wasn’t going to let him risk it either.

When we arrived at the house, SWAT was there, waiting on us, and for the call that Hotch wanted to make. Without hesitating, he said that we should breach the farmhouse up ahead. So, SWAT led the way, the team following close behind. We started by surrounding the entire thing. When everyone was in place, Hotch gave his mark on the comms, and then we all stormed in with our weapons raised. My back hurt like a bitch as I navigated my way through every room with Morgan, but I put on a brave face and tried to focus on just not getting shot or something. That was probably worse than hurting my back.

When we found nothing on the main or upper floor, Morgan and I moved towards the basement door. He grabbed the handle and I nodded, gesturing for him to go. We hurried down the steps. The basement was a red room for photography so that he could print out whatever pictures he took of us. Morgan and I spotted all of the photos of me and Hotch in bed because they were hanging up on a line to dry. Morgan quickly looked away out of respect.

“Anything?” Hotch asked in a whisper, scaring the shit out of me and Morgan since we weren’t expecting him to be there. When we caught our breaths, we shook our heads. “There’s another room over there.” He pointed with his flashlight.

Hotch led the way, Reid and I shoulder to shoulder, Morgan following behind us. The door was open, so Hotch lunged into the room, hoping to get a jump on Curtis if he happened to be around the corner, but he wasn’t. When we were all inside, we saw JJ sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, chained to it, her mouth gagged with a cloth napkin, of all things. Reid quickly holstered his weapon and hurried to help her.

“Morgan, we should go find him,” Hotch said. “Y/N and Reid can handle this.”

I knelt down on the ground beside Reid to help him get JJ free as the boys ran back out of the room. I peeled the napkin out of JJ’s mouth. “You okay?”

“He said that there’s eight locks because there used to be eight of us before he killed Strauss,” she said urgently.

“That’s all he said?”

She nodded.

Reid picked up a carabiner of keys laying on the ground next to the pile of locks. He sifted through them, only counting six, but each of them had a letter taped on. I inspected the locks themselves, spotting that they had numbers on them. Somehow, the letter and the numbers correlated.

“What are the letters?” I asked.

“G,” he began. That was the seventh letter in the alphabet. “A.” That was the first. “N.” That was fourteenth. “Z— Zugzwang.”

I froze and looked at him. Zugzwang? As in what Diane said to him over the phone when she first took Maeve? How would Curtis know that—Why would he use that? I mean, Zugzwang itself meant the point in the game when the player(s) had to decide if they wanted to forfeit or play until the bitter end, so in the context of the keys and the locks, what did that mean for JJ?

“It’s too easy,” I muttered under my breath, but he was already going for it.

Hotch and Morgan were already running back in, which meant that they probably hadn’t found Curtis. Great. So, now we were playing a risky game that had an uncertain end, and our Unsub likely got away. Well, fuck.

“The whole place is lined with C-4,” Morgan warned us. They were watching as Reid kept unlocking JJ’s chains. “We have about three minutes.”

“We’ll be gone by then,” Reid insisted. Unless this really was too easy, I suspected it was.

Then, it dawned on me. Reid the other week, when Scarlet and I were at his house, was trying to teach her some of the “basics” of chess, which in his mind was everything from how to move the pieces to how to win in less than three moves. He forgot sometimes that she was only two. She was smart, but she wasn’t as smart as he was, though he sometimes wished that were the case. But there was something he said about Zugzwang. The best thing to do in that situation was to do nothing at all. To not forfeit, to not play, but to just… wait.

“Don’t move—” I tried warning JJ, but the second the chains were off her hands, she stood up.

Suddenly, we could all see the pressure plate that she had been sitting on the whole time. Everyone’s eyes widened as we froze, waiting to see if something would happen, like the bomb potentially going off randomly. Nothing happened for a second. We all relaxed, but it came too early, because the door suddenly closed behind us.

Our three minutes were running out.

With our exit blocked, we called Garcia quickly, hoping that she would be able to do something about the bomb’s detonation, or perhaps getting the door open, if she could. I didn’t have high hopes. I was just staring at Hotch as he desperately tried to get the door open. After Haley, we promised the kids—well, technically just Jack—that nothing bad would ever happen to both Mom and Dad while we were off saving the world. Ever. I genuinely thought that if something happened, it would have been one of us going home, having to explain to the kids why Mom or Dad wasn’t coming back, holding the kids as they cried. Hotch and I were prepared for that. But I never in a million years thought that our kids would have to grow up as orphans. Yet, while watching Hotch desperately pry and scrape at the door, I couldn’t help but think that Jack was going to have to live with knowing that three of his parents dies because of the BAU, and that Scarlet was going to have to grow up without Mom, Dad, Curls, and Uncle Morgan.

Emily was going to have to come back. Because she was Scarlet’s godmother, she would have to leave London to handle the will, the house, everything with Jessica. From there, the two of them would have to decide who was going to take the kids and where they were going to be raised. Would Emily take them to England? She had a steady job there with enough income for a thousand kids, but did she have a place for them in her life? Not really. Would she still fight like hell to raise them, anyhow? Of course. As for Jessica, she had a job, but not one with enough income to support two kids on her own. Her place was big enough for them, and it was already in our neighborhood, so she could make sure the kids still went to their schools where they had friends.

Not that my opinion mattered in any of this. The door was barely budging, and Garcia had managed to severe the tie between the phone Curtis had and the bombs he planted; but if we didn’t get the door all the way open soon, none of it was going to matter. My kids were going to grow up forgetting their parents’ faces.

“What the hell are you guys doing in there?!” Rossi exclaimed on the other side of the door. He must have pressed something outside, because it suddenly opened, giving us freedom. “Ever heard of traps before?”

“We have to go,” Hotch ordered, ignoring Rossi’s wit. He must’ve still been high from whatever the hospital gave him.

When we ran outside, ducking behind the SUVs for cover, I looked around for a headcount, realizing that we were one short. Hotch, Morgan, Reid, JJ, they were all there… “Rossi!” I shouted.

He was right behind us, I thought, while we were running out of the house. Where the fuck did he go? It wasn’t like he could get lost, considering all of the sirens and lights that were coming from the road we were on. We were like a beacon screaming: “HEY, WE’RE OVER HERE, IDIOT?!” So, where the fuck was he?

“We have to go back in.” I stepped around the car and took a step that was meant to lead into a sprint, but Hotch caught me, holding me back the same way Morgan had when JJ found out that Will was going into The Face Cards’ bank. “Aaron, stop!” I hit at his hands to make him let go, but he didn’t budge. I didn’t understand. Rossi was his best friend the same way Morgan was mine; why wasn’t he doing anything? “We have to get him!”

“Look, he’s right there,” Hotch said calmly, risking letting go of me with one arm so that he could point at the house. Rossi was crawling out of the storm cellar that connected to the basement we were in. He stumbled for a moment, trying to get to his feet, and then he started running like hell towards us. “He’s fine.”

As if the timing couldn’t’ve been any more perfect, the place blew just when Rossi was far enough that it wouldn’t hurt him. We all ducked while flinching. Glass shattered, wooden beams flew in different directions, and part of the house collapsed in on itself. I did my headcount again. Hotch had me in his arms, Morgan was at my side, Reid was checking on JJ, and Rossi was now casually walking over to us. We had everyone. We were okay. So, I relaxed in Hotch’s arms, letting my head fall back against his chest. What a shitty fucking fucking weekend.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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scgdoeswhat · 7 years

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20 Years Later

Prompt: Round 43 of #ChoicesCreates: 20 Years Later, hosted by @dopecatcollins and @theroyalwreck.

Summary: Jake reflects on his own life and his decisions that have brought him to this point, 20 years after escaping La Huerta. (Jake x F!MC)

Rating: PG-13 (Primarily swearing)

Words: 1,613

Author’s Notes: This turned out to be more of a character study of Jake and it completely deviated from the original outline I had planned. This is also my first fic for Endless Summer (and Choices, in general) so I hope I did the characters justice. No Beta used. Jake and co. belong to Pixelberry, while OCs, some backstory, and plot belong to me. Thanks for reading and I’d love to hear your feedback!

Jake McKenzie walked out of his beachfront shack and towards his hammock, beer in hand, ready to relax and do absolutely nothing on his day off. It had been 20 years since the asinine and unexplainable events of La Huerta. Time had slowly helped him cope with his emotional scars, though deep down, he knew it was more the whiskey and beer that helped numb everything so he could live.

“Live?” He scoffed. “Fuck that, more like barely survive,” he said to himself while taking a swig of the bottle of beer.

And survive he had. It’s what he was good at. In those years on the run prior to that fateful charter to La Huerta, he somehow was able to lay low in Costa Rica, procuring odd jobs without putting himself on the map. This was how he met his pseudo-boss, Manuel, who needed someone to help man a boat after his original worker could not make it that day for one reason or another. Jake had been on the docks, waiting for any opportunity, when he heard Manuel cursing up a storm about losing a couple grand because of that puta madre. That day on the docks started a fruitful partnership that allowed him to obtain Delilah and he was always thankful for the friendship, not to mention Manuel’s lack of questioning over his past.

“‘La Huerta, was it really 20 years ago?’” he thought, eyes looking out over the sparkling ocean.

Ironically, time for Jake meant almost nothing to him these days. Days blended into weeks, weeks into months… hell, he didn’t even know what date it was. He just knew when to come in and earn his pay check.

Apparently the time spent on that damn island didn’t mean much to the outside world either. While he and the rest of the group were busy bouncing around the space-time continuum, fighting sea monsters, and altogether not trying to get killed, one week had passed by the time he returned to Costa Rica. One whole fucking week.

Jake chugged the rest of his beer as he reflected, dropping the empty bottle into the sand. It was going to be one of those days.

“Good thing I brought out the fresh bottle of Jack,” he mused, allowing himself to drown in the memories.

He closed his eyes and the first thing that entered his mind was Her. His Princess. The way she sauntered into his life, commanding his attention and respect. The way her smile lit up the whole room. The way her eyes lit up whenever she looked at him. It felt like a lifetime ago. In reality, it was.

His eyes squinted open, frowning as he blindly felt for the bottle underneath the hammock. Unscrewing the cap, he took a big gulp of the amber liquid, relishing the masochistic burn down his throat, not unlike the memories that burned into his mind.

Jake had loved her. Who was he kidding? He still did. They were soulmates. He never believed in such foolishness until she walked into his cockpit. He initially wrote it off as a passing fancy. Who wouldn’t have wanted her? She was a smoking hot, barely legal college co-ed with a mouth on her.

He smirked, “’What a mouth, indeed.’”

As much as he loved the carnal nature of their relationship, it went far beyond the intense physical attraction. He didn’t know how or when it happened, but she had broken down his walls and firmly planted herself in his heart. He loved her so much that he knew he had no business being with someone so amazing. There was nothing he could offer her. A life on the run? Always hiding and looking behind their backs? That was no life. It would have been a prison for her and he couldn’t be the one responsible if something happened.

So Jake did what he did best. He ran. After the group escaped the island, they found themselves, much to his luck, in Cuba. He told her he was still wanted and couldn’t go back, especially now that Lundgren was MIA. He wanted her to finish her degree; to make a life for herself. She told him he was her life.

He remembered grabbing her after she said that, kissing her passionately and pouring every emotion he had into it. They made love – multiple times – that night while waiting for the US authorities to gain clearance in order to pick them up.

It was the cowardly way out, he knew, leaving in the middle of the night. If he had stayed, there was no way he would have been able to say no to her. He had somehow been able to contact his boss and thanks to a few favors called in, he was on his way back to Costa Rica before she would even wake up.

That was the last time he saw her or anyone from the group, aside from that one time 15 years ago when Estela (how the hell did she find him anyway) searched him out, only to call him weak and a bastard for leaving Her in that manner. He had nothing to say except that she was right. Estela never bothered him after that.

He kept tabs on the group periodically through years: Sean went on to have a hall of fame NFL career, all the while with Michelle by his side. She wasn’t just a trophy wife, either, as she completed medical school and residency from Stanford. Craig and Zahra went on to be reality stars (total wtf), winning globe-trotting, adventure seeking shows with Craig’s “Chyeah!” becoming a pop culture phenomenon. Raj became a heralded celebrity chef, with his own show and slew of restaurants.

Aleister proved that he wasn’t the dick that betrayed them on the island. He was a silent donor to many philanthropic causes, dismantling Rourke Enterprises in the process. There was no need to worry financially anyway, as Grace was even more successful than her mother. Last he heard of Diego, he was able to use some “discarded” technology from Aleister and Grace that allowed him to be with Varyyn. (Hell if he even began to try and understand how that worked.) Quinn became a successful author, writing fantastical tales about a group of kids stranded on an island, including a girl who became possessed through the island’s power.

Jake waited to see what his Princess was going to do to shake up the world. She graduated… and nothing. It wasn’t until a couple months after Estela found him that something finally popped up.

“Delacroix Heir Surprise Wedding.”

His mind went numb at the memory of finding out she married some Richie Rich, stick up his ass, wannabe actor, trust fund baby who lived off of daddy’s money. At the time, he couldn’t stop himself from reading the blurb on whatever stupid blog site. The post detailed the elopement as best as it could, but more importantly, had a picture of the happy couple. He stared at the photograph. She was as gorgeous as ever, wearing some expensive Italian designer’s strapless number.

Her face told a different story. She held a smile, sure, but he saw it never reached her eyes. Or did it? Maybe his eyes were just interpreting the picture into what he wanted to believe. It didn’t matter anyway. He lost any right or claim to her the night he left. He stopped keeping tabs on everyone after that.

“’It was for the best. That guy’s been able to give her the life she deserved to have,’” he thought to himself, taking another drink. He closed his eyes, drifting off to an uneasy slumber, nowhere near as drunk as he would have liked to have been.

Jake is awakened some time later (one hour, two hours? Who the fuck knows?) by the sound of someone yelling.

“¡Oye, Lobo!”

The half-asleep man rubs his eyes as he sits up groggily.

“¡LOBO! ¿Dónde estás?”

“Manny, calmate. I’m over here. What’s up?”

“’What’s up…?’ Ayyy…” Manuel starts rapidly muttering in Spanish under his breath, with Jake barely making out a few words, including puta and mierda. The Costa Rican man takes a deep breath, glaring at the best pilot he’s ever had on staff.

“Where’s your mobile. I’ve been calling you for the last hour. Ricky esta enfermo. Necesitas que trabajar hoy.”

“Manny. It’s my day off. Come on, man.”

“Lo siento, Lobo. Big money today. I’ll give you cincuenta por ciento. She’s paying $10,000 for basic scenic shit.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened after doing the quick math. $5,000 would go a long way. He rubbed a hand over his face.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do it. What time?”

“Una hora,” Manuel smiled as he continued, “la chica es muy linda tambien, go clean yourself up, cabrón. Cuando fue la ultima vez que tuviste la concha?”

Jake flicked him off as he went into his place, hearing his boss’ laugh reverberating through the open air.

“’I guess there’s a reason why I didn’t get stinkin’ drunk today,’” Jake contemplated. “Few grand for a couple hours work ain’t bad at all.

He walked towards the helipad, spotting a solitary figure close to the helicopter… and what a nice figure it was. She had these long and smooth legs, a nice ass, trim waist, with hair that cascaded down her back. She looked deep in thought and didn’t hear him approach.

“Excuse me, miss?” He turned on the charm as he addressed her. “Hi, I’ll be your pilot today. I’m – “

She whipped around, but the world had gone into slow motion for him.

“Jake???”

“Princess???”

FIN.

#jake mckenzie #jake x mc #endless summer fanfic #jake mckenzie fanfic #choices fanfiction #endless summer #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices fanfic #choicescreates #fanfic #choicescreates43 #scg writes

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bloggatersgonnagateuniverse-blog · 6 years

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The ancients’ secret, chapter 1

Her soggy eyes glanced her room, Hayley was crying as if this was the last time she would see that picture again. It was not something rare, she has been weeping all morning because she was leaving home for an expedition to an unknown place. However, those were not tears of sadness like when her father insisted that she should do her homework. Those were, in fact, tears of joy, because she could not believe still that she was accepted in such great expedition, since she thought that for being General O’Neill’s child, she wasn’t allowed to be in a military position near her own father. Against all odds, she was fairly accepted, needless to say she was also the valedictorian of one of the best institutes in the world.

Hayley O’Neill is not Jack O’Neill’s biological daughter, she was raised by the General after being the last survivor of a planet massacred by the Goa’ulds when she was just a baby. She has a strong character; if somebody hurts or lashes her family or her team, she tends to use sarcasm as a mechanism of defense. Besides, her IQ is extremely high, although it often gets wasted. Her hair is golden and when she looks at the sky, you could not tell if those where her iris or the arch of heaven. She is 5’ 3’’ feet tall and neither fat neither skinny, she had a complex body for her height.

She wanted to pack up as soon as possible, she wasn’t comfortable with her father because they recently have had an argument about the dangers of this expedition. He did not want her to go to Atlantis, the knew the risk of that. Besides, he was afraid for her daughter, that she suffered as he had suffered, he did not want to wait for a phone call from his job with bad news, telling him that his daughter was in a coma or worst, dead. With Hayley, Jack had become overprotective and she tried her best to understand his actions, he had never overcome what happened to Charlie and, of course, repeating memories was not on his duties.

When she was packing, Jack entered the room after knocking at the door. He knew it was forbidden to enter her room without asking, unless he wanted to face her fury. Even though the door was open, she got mad again, she wasn’t happy at him so she answered rudely:

‘What do you want, dad?’

The General looked sadly at her when facing her bad temper, it was a bit unfair to have an argument with her about her dreams, but he felt there were several reasons to do so. He couldn’t help to reach and hug her when he answered her question, full of affection, as any parent would do:

‘Kid, I am so sorry. I didn’t want to be so hard on you, not even argue with you. It’s just… You know what I think of working on the Stargate Command, of what it means if you go.’ Jack tried not to cry in front of her, so he did his best to maintain calm when he faced her. ‘On the other hand, though, I had been talking with John Sheppard. Do you remember him? This man… he used to come home quite a lot, when you were little you were always asking for the Major, it seemed as if you had a little crush on him.’ In that very moment, Hay couldn’t avoid blushing and hitting her father with the pillow. Jack couldn’t stop laughing at that moment. ‘Let’s be serious for once, please. He has told me that you are going to be okay by his side, and he will talk with Elisabeth in order to be your direct boss.’

Hayley, when hearing Sheppard’s name, got so excited: when she was just a little kid, she was madly in love with him, her father was absolutely right. In fact, she enrolled on the army at an early age because she wanted to be like the great John Sheppard. She never forgot that name; she never told her father, but she had a picture with him in her room, to which she wished goodnight. She couldn’t help to hug her father, although this time she did it with pure happiness, besides, she proved that emotion with her following words. Nevertheless, she didn’t use that rude tone but so much energy between her lips:

‘Thank you, thank you, daddy. I promise I call to the Stargate Command at least twice a week’ the young woman peeked at her watch, they had just an hour to go, and he was the driver. ‘C’mon mister O’Neill! Turn on the engines, I don’t want to be late and get lost with so many people.’

Jack laughed and went to get the car ready, Hayley stayed a little longer to finish packing, because talking with her father turned out to be a delay. She looked one last time at the door on her wardrobe. It was the hiding spot of her biggest treasure: a very special picture of John Sheppard and her. She kissed it and sprinted out to the car, destination: Stargate Command.

They were all excited for that greater adventure coming up in Atlantis, it was something new for them, everyone could tell. Hayley and Jack arrived a bit late, in the control room Doctor Elisabeth Weir was waiting nervously. The General tried to apologize, but Hayley stopped him because she did not want him to act for her anymore, which made the Doctor smile:

‘Worry no more, soldier O’Neill’ said Doctor Weir, at the same time she indicated with a gesture to remain calm. ‘You will be traveling with Major Sheppard until we reach Atlantis, it will be a short trip, but organization is organization.’ Doctor Weir was going to give further explanations about the expedition, but she was interrupted by Doctor Jackson, who suddenly appeard to rush them up, so Elisabeth talked to the team straightforward, after saying some last words to Hay.

‘We will talk about everything when we reach Atlantis. It was a pleasure to finally meet you.’ Hayley smiled kindly and copied her words, but the Doctor wasn’t listening anymore.

Hayley, before reaching the Stargate, said goodbye to her father and Daniel with a big hug. Samantha Carter couldn’t be there for personal reasons, so Hay asked her father to give Carter some kisses from her. Jack was about to cry, although he played the strong boy and let Jackson to cry for him. Hay had to hug Daniel once more, crying with him as well, even Jack finally teared up in that moment. After that fully emotive goodbye, Major Sheppard indicated Hayley to come along, and Hayley tried her best not to faint for being in his presence.

When the last one of the team crossed, Hayley and Jack crossed their looks, they were saying goodbye once more. She couldn’t keep it on, after all, it was time to leave, time to go through the stargate and start a new adventure on Atlantis.

xxxx

“Tick..., tack, tick..., tack, tick..., tack”

That sound was madness, but more exasperating would be a complete silence. The class was focused in one thing and one thing only: the paper which will decide if they pass that subject. The faces of the young students were such an exhibition on the strongest emotions of humankind. A boy on the first line was answering the questions extremely fast, with an unhealthy position of his back, his neck almost upside down and his tongue resting in one side, being bitten by his owner as if he was a little child drawing. A youngster was crying on the corner, and another one was lying on his desk sleeping, probably... The teacher was sick of moving around watching the class to avoid any short of cheating, and he stayed looking at the infinity, wishing the hour could finish as soon as possible.

That was the great opportunity of Edward. That boy, who had finished his exam centuries ago, took a piece of paper from his suit jacket and put it on his exam questions. There was no worth in copying right now. Edward hated archaeo-biology, but not for its content. That exam was focused on bones’ classification and Edward learned that lesson one boring day during the last course of primary education. In fact, he hated that subject for his professor. He was always saying that Edward was useless, he wasn’t meat for this degree, he will never be some one to remember. That boy, still innocent and full of strong emotions, used to cry for it, and get disappointment for his choice of career.

If any luck, he actually had a professor who’d pushed him forward. That professor proposed him a mental exercise, a riddle to test him: he had invented a language which Edward had to unravel clueless. And Edward, in the middle of an anatomy exam, discovered how to use that invented language and how his teacher had created it; from which languages it came from… everything.

The alarm sounded loudly in each four walls and reached to their ears as a disturbing beep. Edward run away from the room with his precious paper on his hands. He slipped on the wings’ floor and climbed the stairs jumping some steps on the way, stepping hard with his white converse. The boy forgot to knock at the door, he even forgot how to breath after that run.

‘Doctor Jackson! I… I have it.’ The young man lowed his enthusiasm when he realized his mistake: he has interrupted the Doctor, that mustn’t be done in any university, is so unpolite… His head went all dizzy imagining the worst-case scenario.

Doctor Jackson was professor on Egyptology and Cryptology. Rumors said that he was the director of an expedition in a conflictive area, and that was the reason why you often could find him talking with some soldiers, who were part of his team as a defense line. Therefore, it was quite strange to find professor Jackson at the university. Edward was lucky. He met the professor in an activity for which he was selected some years ago, some short of gymkhana for nerds which consisted in decoding some symbols. Edward discovered that those were engravings of stars’ coordinates and that ignited the obsession of Doctor Jackson for the boy. Needless to say that Edward decided to study archeology from that archeology and hence, Jackson and the boy created a close friendship.

Daniel Jackson was growing his hair again. He said that that reminded him what it was like some years ago, when everything was different. He wanted to go back. He has always been showing a picture of him and a military friend of his in the desert, right after saying all of what I mentioned. He was a strong man, still having a childly face, though. He used to wear an army suit which his friends on the army lent him for his expeditions, and Doctor Jackson used to redecorate it with junkie-hipster patchs he bought on the internet, like sings as “SG1” or similar ones. Edward imagined that was the name of his bike-aficionado gang and he never believed there was something remarkable about it.

The professor stopped talking with the person on his office and fixed his eyes on the boy. Edward had twenty-one years, but he dressed up with a bizarre suit: a dark-green jacket with a red dying flower, a brown shirt, a black blazer from witch hanged a pocket watch and brown trousers His youth could be seen between his callow face and his white converse. He had a scruffy brown hair like his eyes, always shiny, always full of will to learn something new.

‘I’m so sorry, professor. My lady…’ he made a formal sing which actually turned to be quite messy. ‘I’ll come back later.’

The woman gave Edward a big smile and her eyes sparkled out of curiosity. Her golden hair, so curly and so wild, seemed to become even curlier when she show the boy.

‘So… This is your newest obsession, Danny?’ she smiled as a scoundrel.

‘Moore’ he said to the boy, ‘let me introduce you to Doctor Song.’

‘Moore…Oh, you are so polite when you are near my presence, Danny. Don’t worry, my child.’ She touched Edward’s shoulders, which made the kid uncomfortable as he looked down. ‘I was already leaving. Enjoy my little Danny, he is a wonderful company.’ She winked him and Daniel shaked his head, hiding a smile.

‘I’m sorry for interrupting, professor’ said the boy when the woman left. ‘But I had discovered it. I know how your language works, the wraith language, as you called it.

Daniel Jackson raised his eyebrows, questioning the situation.

‘It is… It is a simple patron of two base-languages’ he followed, mumbling. ‘It uses some Latin grammar structures, but its iconography is, nonetheless, a very imaginative alphabet, professor, I give you that. However, I got you. It’s a basic form of Egyptian iconography, like a draft of the real representations. Mixed up with a similar form of the language of stars you invented when we met in that museum activity. How much time did you spent in elaborating that language?’

Daniel had a total speechless expression, although he dared to ask:

‘How much time did you spent in decoding it?’

‘An anatomy exam’ he answered, proudly.

‘An anatomy exam, you say…’ he muttered. ‘Edward, I would love to fall back on you for something far more important that any test I gave you, far from university, or any job you could ever apply to.’

His heart skipped a beat. Was that his biggest opportunity? Will professor Jackson take him to his expeditions at last?’

‘I want you to participate in a very important project. You will be my eyes and my voice in a secret investigation. This is going to change your life, you are going to move out from home if you accept. You couldn’t see your family for a very long time, but you will be one of the most important explores in the whole universe.

‘The whole universe?’ He blinked.

‘Edward, what I am going to tell you is top secret. You will have to take an oath in front of the most important faces of the militia.

‘You are scaring me…’ the boy sneezed. He did that all the time, he had allergies to everything, but he used to sneeze when he was nervous too. Daniel smiled warmly, picturing himself on the boy’s shoes.

‘I want you to come with me to the Stargate Command…

…Edward Moore, welcome to the stars.’

#sg1 #stargate #stargateatlantis #DanielJackson #jack o'neill

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dinoalexander · 7 years

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The Semi Quotable 2017 Part 5

“applebee’s is literally begging to give away their food.” – Christine Teigen

“In the car w/husband, I offered $20 and a blowjob immediately if he could guess the official title. He did not win.” – @SteelyDanRather on the title announcement for Solo: A Star Wars Story

“280 tweets look like serial killer manifestos” – Scott Aukerman

“Dick Versace had two goals in 1989: guide the Pacers to the playoffs and beat Ricky Steamboat as many times as possible.” – Super 70’s Sports

“It’s D-Day and (Robert) Mueller secured the beaches before noon. Run Nazis.” – Mark Frost on the indictment of Michael Flynn

“The Rebellion is reborn today. The war is just beginning. And I will not be the last Jedi.” – Luke Skywalker

"The answer is either ass, boobs, or dick." -Jordan

"For the sake of salvaging whats left of the positions dignity for President of the United States...can someone in his staff please for the love of God delete Trumps twitter account? Its now gone from one of the most prestigious positions to "worlds most cringe worthy Twitter handle" in less than 6 months." -Steve

"Plague!!!!!!" -Block

"Donald Trump deals in bullshit the way a bovine fertilizer salesman deals in...well, bullshit." -C

"Sometimes you're the Galactic Empire, sometimes you're the Rebel Alliance." -Heather

"Leave it to us to make 'The Little Mermaid' SUPER awkward." -Q

"Ted Cruz...trippin'?" -Molly B

""Live your life in such a way that Donald Trump tweets mean things about you" -David K

"I remember reading so many posts immediately after the election from people who were absolutely terrified of what was going to happen once Trump was sworn in and Republicans controlled both houses of Congress. As evidenced by the fiasco that's unfolding with the health care bill, it should be clear that you folks had nothing to worry about. Even if they had some sort of nefarious purpose they were trying to carry out in their agenda, it seems as though these guys couldn't find their ass with both hands and a GPS." -Tim

“Well then get your shit together, get it all together and put it in a back pack, all your shit, so it's together. And if you gotta take it some where, take it somewhere, you know, take it to the shit store and sell it, or put it in the shit museum. I don't care what you do, you just gotta get it together. Get. Your shit. Together.” -Morty Smith (Justin Roiland)

"Alright, I'm now willing to admit there is a downside to everyone wearing yoga pants in public: I can't tell which of the adults milling about at the gym are here for adult gymnastics and which are just waiting to pick up their kids." -Pam

“Byron Allen’s got me all confused.” -me whenever “Happy” plays on the radio.

"A teacher in the school is selling Girl Scout cookies. The teacher got my order. In related news, someone's daughter is going to Camp Sugarbush this summer. Also in related news, after I eat these cookies, my nickname will be Sugarbush." -Klauss

“Like THAT’s safe!” -Michael, on Quisla’s... erm, safe.

"I used to eat a lot of natural foods until I learned that people die of natural causes." -Rammson

"Donald Trump doesn't understand climate change because he lives in perpetual shade." -Laura

"A close friend referred to this before and after as Exponential Degredation. He said it and he's not taking it back." -The Perfesser

"This would be the equivalent of opening up a Cracker Jack box looking for the prize and seeing it in the bottom ox a box filled with sludge. There's some cool things but do you really want to go through the sludge?" -Gordon, on "Hip Hop Squares"

"You're not minimalist. You're broke." -some guy

"Okay, so we have watermelons.... why aren't there earthmelons or airmelons or firemelons? What happened to the rest of the elemelons?" -Emily Ann

“Thanks for making me confused about my sexuality, Adam Driver. You talented douche.” -Laura

"Unicorn Frappuccinos are what happens when you try and make too much of a good thing for profit. Its the answer to a question nobody asked. It's a Bar Rescue gone horribly wrong." -C

"(As Craig Ferguson) Now he used to be a wrestler and now he's going into politics. Now the two are highly different of course. One involves people with larger than life personalities who make grandiose claims and attack their opponents constantly and the other involves spandex tights." -Brian

"Dang it, PWC! Where were you in November? We could have had Emma Stone as President!" -Clint

“Feelings are real, but they are not reality.” -Dan Harmon

"It's like you've inherited a baby alligator. He was cute for awhile and now he's a big alligator who's threatening to destroy everything but still hangs around you and calls you daddy." -Gordon

"If one of those interchangeable Kardashian chicks dressed as a stewardess interrupted Sean Spicer's press conference by handing him a Pepsi, we as a nation could begin the healing process." -Kevin

"Opened Emma's recital costume and IT WAS COVERED IN GLITTER AND NOW I AM COVERED IN GLITTER AND EVERYTHING I OWN IS COVERED IN GLITTER OMG WHYYYYYYYYYYYY" -Molly B

"It's not terrible, but you can see terrible from where we're standing." -Q

"WHERE ARE MY PANTS!!!" -Michael

"Ladies and gentlemen, my sister, the one-woman Greek chorus." -C

"I have designated February 14 as 'Catch Pokémon, Not Feelings Day'." -J-Ho Boy-Type

"Because that's what ABC thought. This party needs more Lucy Hale." -C

"If I were Samsung I would make my keynote address one sentence. "Samsung galaxy S8… This one won't light itself on fire"." -Brian

"We are not going to let another demon monster take hold and grown and run wild. We are going to nip this problem in the bud. WE ARE GOING TO KILL HITLER AS A BABY!" -Q

"To quote the great Panamanian philosopher Roberto Durán, 'No más'." -C

"I broke my banana." -Q, re: an actual banana.

"Los Angeles has two football teams, two baseball teams, two basketball teams, and two hockey teams, but no curling teams?" -Kevin

"I have to wait for the Luther breakdown to finish!" -C

“Ugh. I really wish I had something cool to say.” -Johnny Yong Bosch

"Less Donald Trump! More techno music!" -bus random to a Bop It!

"Someone told me that being verified on Twitter “really doesn’t do anything” but that person is 1) wrong and 2) head of a social media dept." -Cory

"How did you know Carolina was going to beat Duke?" -Q

"Quisla... its U.N. motherfucking C. They handle shit. Consider this shit handled." -C

"my most-recent counseling appointment had me reaching the following conclusion: i fully acknowledge that i am a jackass, and my attempts at keeping myself from being a jackass has stifled what people like in me as a consequence of not wanting others to think badly of me. so what am i to do? just be a jackass and shoulder the consequences no matter when and where it happens? not entirely -- if i am to have my moments of jackassery, i will make better efforts to steer those spells towards being a jackass for the right reasons. sometimes it takes a jackass christian speaking up when someone claims to be a christian but whose words and actions are far from the basic command of 'love one another.' sometimes fighting for the weak and powerless means being a jackass towards the mighty and powerful. sometimes only an absolute jackass would punch a nazi in the face. i'm josh eldridge. i am a jackass. i hope this admission doesn't effect our friendship." -Josh

“Kylo Ren is like a sullen, resentful jungle gym.” -Laura

"I'm going to make a screwdriver because it's cold as shit outside." -Shelly

“I’m Regis Philbin! Welcome to night 24 of Who Wants To Get Impregnated?” -Jordan

"I just can't girl right." -Shannon

"Our long national pasttime is over." -Jessica, on overlong baseball games

"You may have a problem if the Target cashier recognizes you, knows you by name, and asks if everything was good because you didn't come in on your 'normal' day. Yay! I'm a regular!" -Aryn

"I read my bed all the time! It's a Serta!" -Kitty Carrion

"Does Baby Jojo need a binky?" -C

"I sense a great migraine in the Force...as if millions of white people were trying to get woke at the same time." -Laura

"Well the inauguration is over, finally after two years we can all get back to normal and... *boots up facebook* ...and I'm going to stay off Facebook until January of 2021, cheers 🙂" -Brian

"What fruit is the state of Georgia famous for? ... Todd Chrisley." -C, at quiz night

"So, apparently as an instructor, referring to the start of a new semester as "hazing" is frowned upon." -Heather

“2017 in a nutshell: You see “Mario Batalli :(“ as a Facebook status and you say to yourself, “Dead or pervert?”” -Adam

"Fun fact: staying sane is hard." -Jordan

"If I performed my job with the same razor-sharp precision with which meteorologists perform theirs:

Boss: Is this the data you promised me three weeks ago? Because it looks like completely wrong information.

Me: Yeah, but, as you can see, I've color-coded it in lovely hues of blue, purple and pink where I thought it would make it look nice.

Boss: Yep. Looks great! Keep up the good work.

I am clearly in the wrong profession." -Molly B

"😂😂😂 if I was meant to behave, I wouldn't have been born so good at misbehaving 😛" -Emily Ann

"Seen on a group page tonight:

Everything Kirk Cameron touches turns to patriarchy." -Shrub

"In other news, 30 oz of ribeye can be converted to 0 if you just believe in yourself." -Justin S

"Bacteria gets me so hard." -Jordan

"Oh REALLY..." -Q, reaching for Jordan's pants

"Who here loves animals but hates that Sarah Maclachlan commercial?" -Sweet Tea Shakespeare guy

“Hey... I run them miles. I’m slow as fuck, but I run them miles.” -C

"Trying to stay positive in a world full of assholes is like trying to shovel hot jello from a wheel barrow using a pitch fork with only one prong!" -Sheila

"If there's one thing I learned in college, it's: never underestimate the power of an icy, cold shower beer. Thanks guys!" -Dahlia

"No, no, no. I can't have penises all over my car tonight. Tomorrow night, maybe, but no penises tonight." -Nicole W

"Maybe for Lent Trump should just give up." -George Takei

"She wanted someone to take the pickle, so I did." -C

"Too... many... JOKES!" -Brian

"Saw the Barca result. Ah, so that is why folks riot." -Steve P

“I can’t have weird Chico. I live with him.” -Q

"Yay sports! Spoooooooorts!" -Milana Vayntrub

"You're at a bar. Playing bar trivia. Against an IQA ranked quizzer and his sister who would also be IQA ranked if she made the trip to Raleigh with me that morning. We are naturally expressive people within our family. That comes from being the children of Carlos and Olivia Alexander. We laugh together, we love together, we cook, fight, and emote together. And when we win, we emote like hell. If you don't like it when we win, next time bring smarter friends. Until then, get the fuck over it." -the son of Carlos & Olivia Alexander.

"This is my face when I find out some epically old karma has been served." -Shannon

Okay, one more oughta do it.

0 notes

spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.1

this arid world has turned my deep heart dry

This is the first chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Chapter Summary: follows S5E1 and Spencer's depression and disordered thinking is introduced.

TW: depression, disordered thinking, loneliness, the events of s5e1 (guns and knives)

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

"She simply said this arid world has turned her deep heart dry, there was just one way she knew of to finally feel like she was free, and it was 1400 feet beneath the cold and stormy sea." — Erin Hanson

Spencer’s entire body feels heavy as he drags himself into work, and it’s not exactly a good sign when he can’t even find the energy to press the button for the right floor; he just stares pitifully at the array of numbers as if the elevator will read his mind and resolve the issue for him. Eventually, he brings himself to move his finger the short distance, cold metal colliding with cold flesh, and the doors shudder close, catapulting him up several storeys towards his fate.

Some might call the emotions Spencer’s experience typical burnout, far too common in the FBI and even more so in units that deal directly with horrific crime on the regular, but he knows it’s more than that. His entire life is operating in a minor key, he’s functioning entirely on auto-pilot, and chunks of his day are a blur, almost impossible to recall. He knows he’s depressed. Knowing such a fact, however, does little to cure the actual problem. He has no idea what to do with information like this except bottle it up and shove it as far down as possible while pretending as much as possible that absolutely everything is fine.

Emily and Derek are laughing about something as he approaches their group of desks. Only weeks ago he would’ve been crushed when they don’t so much as look over to say hello, but now he’s glad to not have to fake a smile, invent a story to tell about his weekend, pretend he’s not currently being held together with slowly peeling sellotape.

Instead, he focuses on feeling grateful that no one’s commented on him arriving a whole hour later than he used to as he unpacks his messenger bag. It’s not like it’s his fault he can’t pull his exhausted body out of bed in the morning, but since he’d rather not disclose such sorry information and finding an excuse is way too much effort, spending the morning in solitude seems the only option.

He doesn’t really understand how he’s gone from being a genuinely happy person, thick as thieves with everybody on the team, to this. It’s almost as though somebody’s cut the rope tying him to the others and now he’s drifting away, sinking without everyone else’s buoyancy to keep him afloat. He can see them all still tied together, barely seeming to notice their drowning team member, clearly not missing his presence.

This misery over his inevitable isolation, though, is his own fault: he can’t believe he let himself forget his place. He’s useful, good to keep around for his intelligence, his reading speed, his problem-solving skills, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Spencer is not friendship material. And he certainly isn’t relationship material.

The day starts off slow, everyone burying themselves in their paperwork, but Spencer finishes it far too quickly for it to really serve as much of a distraction. Depressingly, it’s still miles slower than he’s used to. Since his pile of consults seems too exhausting to even look at, he decides another coffee is very much in order.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ says happily as soon as he pushes his way into the breakroom. She’s leaning casually against the counter as she drinks her coffee, reading through what looks like case notes at the same time.

“Hi,” he says, trying for a smile but he knows there’s no way he could possibly match her relaxed grin. Instead of trying to converse, he just heads straight for the coffee machine, fixing his eyes on the steady stream of coffee pouring into his mug already piled high with sugar.

“You alright?” JJ asks, sounding a little suspicious. Not concerned, Spencer notes, just suspicious.

“Hmm?” He looks up and catches her eye before deciding he should probably answer verbally. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a bit off the past few weeks.”

Spencer sighs. Maybe this is an opportunity to actually communicate his feelings. He doubts JJ will be able to help but really he’d just like a bit of comfort: he’s in so much pain that a hug would feel really nice right now. And besides Penelope, she’s probably the team member he’s most comfortable with. If he’s going to share with anybody, it should be JJ.

“I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, I guess,” he admits, looking up as his left-hand fidgets on the hot ceramic side of his coffee mug. He resents how vulnerable his voice sounds, he’s giving far too much of himself over to hands he’s not sure he can trust, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

“Really?” JJ sounds surprised. Spencer recognises the tone as that of anyone who has a certain perspective on him realising that he also has feelings alongside his intelligence, and it hurts. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer just presses his lips into a thin line and nods awkwardly in thanks.

“I mean… at least you’re not going through what Hotch is,” she offers, completely unhelpfully. “He’s still trying to cope with his divorce and isn’t seeing Jack as much as he used to. Derek was almost killed by the Reaper just a few months ago, Emily only recently lost a childhood friend — I mean, the whole team has been through a lot. Keep your chin up.”

She smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder, before leaving the break room and heading back to her office, leaving Spencer standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. He wants to shout that he was literally poisoned with anthrax only a month ago, if they’re tallying bad things happening as a method of tracking who has the right to be miserable. The others might be going through a lot, that’s true, but it doesn’t lessen any of the pain thudding in his chest and stirring in his stomach.

As he walks back to his desk, he realises he’s learned one thing: opening up = not a good idea.

As completely fucking miserable as he might be, there’s exactly one person in this world who doesn’t deserve to be burdened with any of it, so he carefully tucks it away in his pockets and plasters on the mask he’d perfected so many years ago. It might be a little rusty, after all, it’s been little used in recent years, but it works just as well as it used to do when he pushes the door open to Penelope’s office.

“I bring blueberry muffins,” he says as cheerfully as he can muster, and something inside him does warm as Penelope’s face lights up, squealing a little as she reaches her arms out eagerly, making grabby hands at the paper bag he’s holding.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I love you,” she moans, keen to rip the bag open as he pulls up a chair next to hers.

“I think I do,” Spencer chuckles, and it’s one of the only genuine reactions he’s given in months, “mostly because you tell me every day.”

“Mm, that’s right,” she concedes through a mouthful of warm muffin, pointing a finger at his chest. “I love you even more than I love coding.”

“That’s a lot,” Spencer says, trying for serious but he can’t stop a fond smile slipping across his face.

Penelope swallows her rather large bite of blueberry muffin and passes him his one. “It is,” she says. “How are you, anyway? You look tired, poor baby.”

Spencer looks down for a moment, schooling his expression for a second before he forces himself to look back up at her. “Yeah, I didn’t… didn’t sleep well last night, I guess.” He tries for a reassuring smile but he knows it’s more of a grimace.

Penelope’s face immediately morphs into one of grave concern. Spencer knows that that’s just the way she is, melodrama and fierce protectiveness is virtually her brand at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t any less agonising to see, or the anxiety of being found out any less paralysing. He decides not to give her any room to actually address it.

“I’ll be fine, Penelope, don’t worry,” he says, turning away to brush some muffin crumbs off the desk and into his hand, purely so he doesn’t have to attempt another pathetic smile. “A good night’s sleep tonight will fix me right up.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still looking far too worried for Spencer’s liking.

“Of course, Pen.” He feels sick at lying to her, but he has no idea how to broach any of the tumultuous emotions raging inside of him, especially after JJ shut him down so brutally. “It’s only a bad nights’ sleep.”

He’s saved from her inevitable continued line of questioning by Emily poking her head round the door and asking for Spencer’s opinion on a consult.

While getting out of bed in the morning might be an almost impossible task at the moment, the idea of getting into it at night seems rather depressing, really. That’s probably the reason he’s still at the office, despite the time nearing 8 o’clock and exhaustion settling into every muscle fibre of his being. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s just a little more time in close proximity to one Aaron Hotchner.

Of course, he’d had to accept the fact that he was maybe, just a little bit in love with his boss a long time ago. He just refuses to admit that he’s this embarrassing about it. Perhaps staying late to spend more time with someone you like this much wouldn’t be so weird if there was a reasonable chance of conversation — if he ever even saw him — but there isn’t even that: Spencer sits and works quietly at his desk, Aaron sits and works quietly in his office.

Today, though, today his lingering finally pays off.

Aaron is on his way back from the photocopier when he stops by Spencer’s desk. He doesn’t see him coming, though, is the thing: he has no time to try and make himself look even a smidge less miserable or to school his surprised yet utterly lovesick expression.

“Won’t you want to be heading off soon, Reid?” he asks, clearly curious as to why Spencer remains at his desk when there’s no real work to be doing, but he cleverly paints it in a light-hearted tone. Even though Spencer is completely aware of what Aaron’s doing, he doesn’t feel attacked or under pressure.

“Oh,” Spencer says unintelligently, stammering a little as he scrambles desperately at a somewhat coherent reply, “yes, yeah, I’ll get going soon.” He doesn’t want to lie when he doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t try and offer an explanation for his staying late, and he knows Aaron won’t push. He manages an almost entirely genuine smile, though, which must count for something, even if it’s only because he’s hopelessly in love with the man leaning casually against his desk.

“Right then,” Aaron says, offering a small smile in response, letting his hard exterior drop in the nearly empty office, and even though it’s nothing special, not really, Spencer carefully files it away as his heart pitter-patters against his ribcage and his stomach pools with warmth. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

Spencer just nods in response and gathers his things, placing them carefully in his messenger bag and shrugging his jacket on before walking out of the building. When he glances back, just as he pulls the glass door open, Aaron is watching him carefully. He doesn’t turn away but instead offers a small wave, which Spencer returns bashfully, blushing scarlet in the elevator and on the walk out of the HQ and during the whole trek down the street and sat on the metro train and on the final stretch home. He fumbles with his keys and curses himself for being so goddamn pathetic.

He doesn’t consider it for long, though, because he’s utterly exhausted and his tired bones collapse on the sofa, and who is he to try and get them to move again? Sleep is a mercy.

🌧

The case is gruelling and stressful enough without the endless and constant worry about where on earth Aaron is. He never turns his phone off and Spencer can’t think of a time he’s worked a case without him, not properly; he’s always the first one at the office, the first one on the plane, the first to jump out of bed towards the chance to make a real difference in the world. It’s so out of character for him and it’s utterly distressing.

Nevertheless, he focuses all his attention on the job; on protecting Jeffrey and Tom Barton, on bringing justice to the perpetrator when they inevitably find them. He offers lame and desperate excuses for Aaron not being there, all the while knowing full well that none of them are likely. Something is wrong and he’s powerless to help.

Emily tells him why. He sort of forgets how to breathe.

Getting shot in the leg while simultaneously petrified for the livelihood of the person you’re in love with is inconvenient at best when trying to talk down an unsub and protect a victim and eventually fatal at worst, but somehow he half-manages and Tom escapes unscathed, though he isn’t quite as lucky with the unsub.

That’s what matters, really, isn’t it? That others are safe, even if it means he’s in danger? After all, Tom Barton has lives to save and a son to raise, a wide social circle, and a loving family. What does Spencer have? No, it’s much better that he’s the one hurt than anyone else.

Of course, once the adrenaline of the situation starts to wear off and medics arrive on scene, he realises quite how badly he’s hurt. Already feeling woozy, energy seems to seep out of him as roaring, raging agony takes its place. It’s the first time he’s ever been shot and it’s worse than he could have imagined: no amount of studying literature and anecdotal evidence could prepare him for the feeling of a small metal ball tearing through the flesh and muscle and tendons — though, hopefully, and judging by the amount of blood he’s lost, no arteries or large blood vessels — of his thigh.

His team arrives, minus Emily and minus Hotch, and they’re concerned, of course they are. That is, until he presents them with someone they see as much more important, someone whose life is worth something, someone they care about deeply being hurt. And they leave.

He doesn’t get a chance to tell the medics that he doesn’t want narcotics, so the ride to the hospital is a blur of morphine and voices talking to him, though he can’t quite piece together what they’re saying. He wonders vaguely where everybody is, whether Hotch is alright, whether he’s about to die, but no real emotion is attached to any of these thoughts, they just… are.

He’s rushed into surgery almost immediately after he arrives at the hospital, and the next thing he’s aware of is a dull, ever-present, agonising ache in his upper thigh and exhaustion settled into his bones like his body is pain’s home, fatigue’s resting place. The last time he’d blinked himself awake in a hospital bed, blinding pain burning in one part of his body or another, Derek had been sat by his bed, eating jello.

There’s nobody by his bed this time.

A PCA pump is resting by his right hand but he doesn’t touch it. Clearly, nobody from his team has informed the hospital staff of his previous addiction; he doesn’t even know if they’re at the hospital; if they know what’s going on. The morphine he’s already had is going to be hard enough to deal with, he can feel the future cravings itching beneath his skin already, scarred-over track marks simmering away.

It’s over twenty-five minutes of lying helplessly on a hospital bed in a cool, impersonal room, feeling a certain kind of emptiness sitting in his stomach, before a nurse comes by. She looks pleased enough to see him awake, but he doesn’t care about her satisfaction, he cares about his team, about Penelope, about Aaron, and he’s too exhausted to do anything about it.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says cheerily and for once, he doesn’t try and conceal his despondency. It’s oddly freeing. “I’ll get the doctor to come and explain the situation.”

She bumbles out of the room, clearly not fazed by Spencer’s expression, so he resumes staring at the wall, allowing his thoughts to wander, still not managing to attach much emotion to them other than a miserable sort of emptiness.

The doctor is nice enough, making sure he understands his injury and the procedures he’s had done, as well as the recovery ahead of him, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s as though this is the last straw; this is the proof, the evidence to win the case he’s been fighting in the court of his mind. His team doesn't care. His life is worthless. He will always, always be alone.

JJ stops by briefly. This feels like it should be a consolation, but it isn’t. He learns of what’s happened to Aaron, what his family is going through, and suddenly he feels selfish: how dare he demand and crave attention when Aaron is far more hurt and injured than he is? When he’s far more important and far more deserving of the team’s attention? Self-loathing creeps up his throat and settles into grey cotton wool that won’t melt in his mouth.

Spencer doesn’t know how to react to the incredibly overwhelming events of the day, and JJ doesn’t seem to have time for this. “Right, Spencer,” she says, visibly impatient with his emotional floundering, his lack of verbal response, “I need to go. We need to sort this out for Hotch. We owe it to him.”

She leaves, and all Spencer can think is how much more worthless not being able to work on his case makes him. If he can’t even work to save the man he loves; if he can’t strive effortlessly to protect him and make him happy, then what is he doing here? Aaron will be furious when he finds out Spencer laid in bed lazily instead of diving headfirst into the case.

No. That’s not true. He’ll be sickeningly nice about it, while on the inside suppressing his disappointment, and Spencer will feel even more guilty, he’ll be even more irate with himself, and life will seem just a little bit bleaker.

He’s discharged a few days later, and nobody has visited, barring JJ’s fleeting, impatient stop by. He goes home in a taxi and struggles up the stairs on his crutches, almost glad he didn’t have many personal items at the hospital. Then again, that was because he was completely isolated. And if he did have people to bring him things in the hospital, then he’d probably have someone to help him up the stairs too.

It’s a moot point, really. He dives straight for the non-narcotic painkillers he’d been prescribed as soon as he sits down on his dusty couch in his messy apartment, desperate to relieve at least some of the agony throbbing in his leg still. Clearly, the universe decided he wasn’t in enough pain already; that the unrequited love and the growing depression and the recurring stomach cramps and clenches in his chest weren’t quite sufficient.

He knows the team is working flat out on the Foyet case. But even Penelope, who probably works the hardest of all of them, has had time to send him an encouraging text message promising to pop round as soon as she can. Other than that, his phone is dry and his heart slowly freezing over.

Truthfully, he’s not sure how much more of this he can stand. He’s feeling the same way he did as a child: isolated, othered, hurt, and utterly, utterly alone. When he’d joined the BAU and was welcomed immediately into the arms of a family, he promised himself he’d never feel like that again. He would never, ever allow himself to sink so low; not when he was surrounded by so many people who proved day in day out how much they loved him. Surely, feeling like this would simply be impossible.

For once, Doctor Spencer Reid is proved wrong. And it burns, festers, and screams like nothing else.

Chapter Two

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