#for every jesus ad i see i add an extra nail to him into the cross

[sheofmanycoffeemugs]

The way christian religious ads are becoming more and more frequent on tumblr is actually upsetting. Stop evangelizing and proselytizing on the internet, namely tungle dot hell, you fucks. You have 30 churches per every 5 miles already. If it's not working irl, why tf do you think we want your bullshit here?

[cherrybracelets]

Politics & Violence (one)

masterlist | requests

summary: Your father is one of the most progressive presidents in history, and many praise you and your family for all the good you’ve done for the country. But there is a select group of radicals who plans to take the entire administration down, and the threat to you and your family is growing every day. Your father takes matters into his own hands when he hires individual body guards for each member of your family.

pairing: bodyguard!a. hotchner x presidents daughter!reader

words; 11.5k warnings: this fic will be 18+!!! lots of heavy stuff, drugs, alc, depression, sex, guns, violence, death 

song inspo: politics and violence by dominic fike

an: hey this is my first hotch piece and I’m super nervous so please let me know what u think!! i will be making a full playlist for this fic and a moodboard so keep ur eyes peeled; this is also obviously non canon and the backstory hotch has here is completely made up by me also this is gone be two parts ok bye

Being the daughter of the president was hard enough, it doesn’t make it any easier that you’re fucking your bodyguard. You wouldn’t trade Hotch for the world, but it was exhausting keeping up with this life sometimes. You never thought of yourself as someone who would get entangled up into a secret like this. You felt it weighing on you all the time. Every secret glance between you two in the hall, every ‘accidental’ touch at an event, the secret kissing in the closets with the door locked and the lights off. It was a thrill, but also added unneeded strain to your life. 

Hotch saw the effects he had on you, too. Both negative and positive. He knew that the love you two shared, the passion between you, would be unmatched with any other person. But he also knew how hard it was to keep that love a secret, to not hold hands in public, to lie to all of your friends and family. Most importantly, to lie to your dad. Loving him, being with him, it was a sacrifice. 

Your dad had spent the past 23 years of his life doing everything he could to protect you. He hated that he brought you into this life; he hated this life himself. All he wanted was to help people, and he thought the best way would be politics. But he didn’t know that with his more modern takes, many people would hate him. And it got so bad that last year you started receiving death threats. A group of radicals had recently started sending individual letters to your whole family, making it clear how much they hated you and what your family stood for. 

It was terrifying. And you were tired of it. You had been dealing with it your whole life, as he had been an important politician for a long time before winning the presidency. The cameras following you everywhere you went, never having real relationships with anybody because people just wanted the clout that came with knowing you. You were miserable, and were only finding happiness in the darkest of places, ironically. Partying, alcohol and drugs had taken over most of your nights, with a group of people who you wouldn’t really call your friends, but people who had allowed you to be miserable with them. 

You had never really had friends, besides your siblings. People always wanted to be your friend, but almost never for genuine reason. And when someone was being genuine, which was rare, you had a hard time trusting and ultimately hurt the person to avoid being hurt yourself. It was a terrible cycle that you’d been dealing with for... a long time. Twenty three years to be exact, because the night of your twenty third birthday was when it all changed. 

Your dad had called everyone to the house for a family dinner. At the time, you were living in some tiny studio across town, and your brother was shacking up with some girl he knew from college. It was pretty rare to get all of you together in one place, but for you and your brother, Matt’s birthday, it was extra important that everyone was there. 

Your father always blocked out his schedule for birthdays, they were a big deal to him. And although you were dreading having to put on your happy face for an evening of passive aggressive comments and awkward small talk, you did it for him. He was the only member of your family who deserved even a second of your time. 

So that night, you drove to your parents house, reminding yourself that it’s only a few hours and everything will be fine. There won’t be any issues, you and Matt won’t fight, the two younger siblings won’t fight, mom and dad won’t fight. No one will fight, you promised yourself. You’ll hold it together. You practiced your smile as you pulled in the driveway, hoping to not be too disingenuous when you saw everyone.  

None of them were especially bad people, they just all had a lot of problems, and were especially bad at dealing with them. But, so were you. Comes with the territory of being a high profile political family, apparently. You already saw Matt’s car there as well, which made you nervous. Matt and your mother being alone together for very long without you to interject was never good. It could already be a disaster as soon as you walk in. 

You got out of your car and walked slowly to the entrance, your head down. You didn’t like making eye contact with the secret service, they always made you incredibly nervous. They stood so still, but their eyes always followed you like a haunted painting. Someone opened the door for you, and you stepped through the entrance to an empty hall. You assumed they were in the dining room already, waiting for you. 

As you walked there, you noticed an unusual silence of guards and other employees. Most people at least said hi to you as you walked by, but there was nothing tonight. Every face you passed was buried in paperwork or their phones, looking worried. When you finally arrived to the dining room, you walked into an unusual silence. There were quite a few guards that you hadn’t recognized, one specific one watching you intently as you greeted your family and sat in between your dad and Matt.

“Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence, princess,” Matt grumbled, raising his eyebrows in discontent as he shifted in his chair. 

“I’m like, five minutes late dude, can you relax?” You protested, crossing your arms in frustration and avoiding looking at him. 

“Guys, please don’t do this, not tonight for God’s sake,” your father interjected, his teeth tightly clenched together as he stared daggers at the two of you. His forehead was sweating, and his nails were bitten down to the point of bleeding. It had been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him, but he was not like this before. Something was happening, and you felt your stomach turn as you looked around the rest of the table and realized you were the only one out of the loop. 

“What is happening with everyone right now?” You looked at your dad first, hoping he would step in and explain the obvious elephant in the room. 

“Someone is trying to kill us all,” your little brother, Charlie, blurted out. He was young, only ten, and clearly didn't understand the gravity of the situation. 

“Jesus, Charlie, way to freak her out,” your sister yelped, pushing him slightly. 

“Charlie, Dani, both of you shut up!” Your mom yelled, slamming her fists down on the table loudly and making you all jump.

“Everyone, relax, okay,” your dad instructed calmly. It used to be you, mediating every fight and solving every issue. But you couldn’t do it anymore, and your dad knew. He needed to step up and fix the shattered remnants of your family. Unfortunately, that was a harder job than being the president. 

“There have been some… issues, with this radical group based in Virginia. I get threats all the time, but, they are threatening each of you now. And I’m not going to put up with that. So, there’s going to be some changes around here.” 

“Yeah, go ahead and tell her about how we have to move back home,” Matt objected.

“What?”

“It’s only temporary, (Y/N). We are doing everything we can to catch the guys who are doing this. But for now it is safest for all of you to be home.” 

“I have a life, Dad. I can’t give up everything because you did some things that pissed people off.” 

“Don’t be so selfish, (Y/N), this is about all of us, not just you.” Your mom took a long sip of her wine and sat back in her chair, preparing for the yelling that was about to ensue. 

“You all each have a personal bodyguard as well, with high levels of combat training. They will be with you all day, everywhere you go. At night there will be a rotated shift of guards outside your doors.” 

“Oh, wonderful.” 

“Aaron, why don’t you come meet my lovely daughter,” your father muttered, motioning to one of the men standing behind him. As you suspected, the man who had not taken his eyes off of you since you arrived took a few steps forward, nodding respectively at you. 

“At least yours is hot,” your brother whispered to you, rolling his eyes. 

“My name is Aaron Hotchner, and I will do everything I can to keep you safe.” He stuck his hand out to you, and you grabbed it reluctantly, shaking his hand lightly. His touch was gentle, but his hands were strong and large compared to yours. He definitely looked the part. 

“What about my trip next week?” You questioned, turning away from Hotch and back to your dad. “I’m supposed to go do that college campus tour in California. I leave in two weeks.” 

“We all think you should still take that trip, it’s only a few weeks and Aaron will be with you the entire time. I don’t think the jet is a good idea, though. We’re going to have you fly commercial.”

“First class, I hope?” Your brother and mom both collectively rolled their eyes, and you just ignored them and continued to stare at your dad, awaiting his answers. 

“Of course, darling.” He smiled politely, hoping to end the conversation here and get on with dinner. You decided it wasn’t worth pressing it, seeing how clearly your dad was falling apart, you didn’t want to add anymore stress to him. 

The rest of the dinner was uneventful, for a change. You all made small talk, caught up on work and school- pretty boring stuff. The whole time, you felt his eyes on you. When you looked at him, he dragged his eyes away slowly, as if pretending he wasn’t watching your every move. You weren’t sure why he kept looking away when you noticed him- it was his job to watch you. It was almost as if the thought of your eyes meeting scared him. 

The most exciting part about a dinner with your family was when you could finally leave and go home- but tonight, unfortunately, you did not have that luxury. Your bedroom here was already prepared, and you always had a few spare pairs of clothes here. You knew there was no way you could convince any of them to let you go home. 

And you definitely could not go out with your friends. But they were blowing up your phone, talking about their plans to go out to some new club with some amazing new party drug. You looked around the room nervously, trying to plan an escape somehow. There had to be a way, you basically had a PhD in sneaking out. 

“Well, it’s getting late, I think it’s time for us to get Mr. Charles to bed!” Your dad teased, making funny faces at your brother, who just laughed in return. It was nice seeing him so full of joy, still loving life. He hadn’t hit the rough years, yet. You missed that feeling, the feeling of not knowing that every day, no matter what, would be miserable. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna head out. Breakfast tomorrow, Dani?” 

“Really,” she sat up, tilting her head in confusion. She was 16, now, and was more miserable than the rest of you. Being sixteen and living this life is utterly exhausting. She looked up to you highly, and you always paid her extra attention. You didn’t want her to end up like you.  

“Of course.” You kissed her on the head and hugged your dad, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone else. You walked through the doors quickly, a reluctant Aaron Hotchner following close behind. 

“I thought you left me alone at night.” 

“Once you’re safe and I’ve secured you in your room, I can pass my duties to another guard. I don’t see you safe in your room.” 

“Okay, dude, I got it,” you rolled your eyes, watching him get closer to you with every step. He was right beside you, now, your arms both at your sides, your hands accidentally bumping together as you walked. The moment his flesh touched yours, you felt your whole body fill with heat, your throat feeling tight as the forbidden flesh touched yours. That was the first time you knew you wanted him, the first time you felt like you could lose yourself in him. He smelled of strong coffee and vanilla, pulling you in like a flower shop in a Spring day. 

You stayed silent the rest of the walk, coming up to your bedroom door. “Honey is secure, send in the first shift.” 

“Honey?” 

“Code name.” He responded sternly.

“What does it mean?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know. I just picked it when I saw your picture.” He seemed caught off guard, as if nobody had asked him that question before. You were pretty sure nobody had a codename like Honey.

You saw the other guard approaching, and Aaron seemed to relax a little as he saw the man. This man was a lot younger, and you didn’t feel nearly as protected with him. Which was probably why he was the night guard, and perfect for your plan. Aaron and the other man spoke secretly for a moment, before he turned and walked away without saying goodnight. You felt a little hurt, but also knew that it was his job to protect you, not to get close with you. 

You went into your room and closed the door behind you, praying to God you had something cute to wear somewhere here. You searched around the closet, pulling garments off of hangers in frustration. Luckily you found an old dress that somehow still fit. You wiggled your way into it and fixed your hair a bit, hoping the low light of the club would cover for your bare face. You threw a robe on top of everything and shoved your heels into each pocket. You realized it was still pretty early, and decided to work on your presentation for your college tours. 

You were pretty proud of your program actually. You had created a program for colleges to help get students to care more about politics, helping them to register to vote, understand laws and policies, amongst a million other things. It ended up being very successful, and your dad even credited you for helping him to win the presidency. Most of your life felt like you were stuck inside the darkest cloud to ever exist- but when you were working on this, doing your presentations for people just like you… it gave you something to live for. It was one of the few reasons you had to keep going, in all honesty. 

And by the time you looked up at the clock, it was already almost 11, and your friends were on their way to the secret exit to pick you up. Yeah, there were plenty of hidden exit spots around the building that weren’t patrolled. You and Matt pretty much discovered that the first day you moved in here. You let your friends know that you’d be out soon, and you got yourself ready to go. You quietly opened the door to see the guard standing silently, turning towards you when he heard the noise. 

“Hey, super sorry, my mom just texted me to come to her room. I’ll be right back!” You smiled confidently, closing the door and trying to start walking before he questioned you. 

“I should probably go with you,” he requested.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. There’s a million of you guys on the way to her room. Plus, what if someone tries to sneak in my room. How will you know?” 

“Oh… alright,” he muttered, awkwardly. “Just don’t take too long.” 

You nodded in agreement and skipped down the hallway, people stopping to look at you momentarily before ultimately deciding they had something more important to do than worry about you. When you got to the back secret staircase, you dropped your robe and slipped your heels. Your friends were waiting for you at the door, greeting you with squeals and hugs. 

“The uber is right outside the gate, let’s go!” One of them said, sprinting to the exit. You all followed quickly, laughing and twirling in the warm summer air. That was weirdly easy. You had never had such an easy time getting out. You slowed down a bit, your friends brushing past you. Something felt off. But right now, you were out, and you could at least enjoy it while it lasts. You shook your negativity off and ran to catch up with them, exiting the gate and running up the street. You stopped at your Uber and slid into the back with two others. When the doors were all closed and the car started moving, your friend in the passenger seat turned around with a handful of small blue pills. 

“Have one!”

“What is it?” 

“It’s a whole lot of fun, that I know for sure.” He raised his eyebrows goofily, giggling as you shrugged and took a pill. You washed it down with a swig of vodka from someone’s flask. You winced at the sharp taste of the alcohol, feeling it burning your throat and descending into your stomach. 

The music on the radio was bumping loudly, each beat of the bass shaking the car. You felt everyone moving around you so quickly, but you were frozen. Your body wouldn’t move. You didn’t feel scared, though. You almost felt that if you couldn’t move, if all you could do was just sit there and listen, no one could possibly hurt you anymore. You were finally safe. 

But then a hand touched yours, and the reality of your pause in time came crashing down. Your whole body jerked, and you snapped back to reality to see your friend trying to drag you from the car and into the club. She hadn’t even noticed your temporary disconnect from reality, or if she did, she didn’t care. She, just like all of you, just wanted to party. The last thing you wanted was to come face to face with your problems. 

The club was dark and smoky, blurring the faces of those around you, everyone just becoming silhouettes of themselves. Someone passed you something to smoke, and you took a drag without hesitation. You got swept up into the crowd, your body moving with theirs like seaweed in a flowing ocean. Your feet were attached to the ground, but your body floated as if the wind was carrying it in her hands. Someone came up behind you, wrapping their hands around your waist and tracing their lips up your neck. Their body moved in sync with yours, the universe holding you together like a moon to it’s orbiting planet. 

“Shots!” A voice nearby called. You instinctively recognized the voice, and trailed off to find the rest of your friends passing around a bottle. You joined excitedly, wrapping your arms around one of them and reaching for the bottle. You took a long swig, not even tasting the overpriced tequila, just letting it pour straight down your throat and into your body. The walls around you turned into stained glass, the sunlight pouring in a shining a beautiful rainbow of light on the crowd around you. You remembered the blue pill you took in the car, and felt happy. He was right, this was a whole lot of fun. 

The music picked up a bit, and you felt each beat pulsing through your body as if it were your own heartbeat. You dragged a person from your group out to the dance floor, needing to move your body. Luckily the rest of the group followed, dancing with you, the blue pills pulling you all into the same universe. You loved moments like this, where you lost yourself, where you couldn’t even remember what real life was like even if you tried. The thought of that scared a lot of people, and you understood why. For many people, their reality was way better than anything a drug could create for them. But for some people, and for you, you needed to disappear into another existence in order to survive. 

You had no idea how long you had been dancing, it felt like only seconds but your body felt like it had been moving for hours. You were still slightly lost in your mind, the drug slowly wearing off and bringing you down to the harsh reality of the come down. You felt a hand grab tightly onto your wrist, and you yelped. You couldn’t see who it was, but they were tugging at you harshly, and you couldn’t resist much longer. Your body was tired and weak, and this man was strong. You finally felt yourself moving through the people and towards the exist, still no sight of who had their hands locked to you. 

If you someone snuck out and died, your dad would be so pissed. You started feeling scared, not enough drugs left in you to block out the reality of the situation. You panicked, trying to pull your hand away and scream. But no one noticed, everyone was lost in their own universes, completely away from reality, where you needed them. That was the downfall of this lifestyle, of course. Sometimes people could lose themselves a little too much. 

You managed to get pulled out the door, the fresh air smacking you harshly right in the face. You felt dizzy, the lights of the city around you spinning wildly. You sat down on the pavement, pulling whoever took you out down with you. You tried to look up at him, but felt queasy when you moved your head. 

“Just take a deep breathe,” a man whispered, placing his hand on your back and rubbing slowly. “Here’s some water.” He handed you an opened bottle, your fingers touching lightly and instantly making you feel better. His touch was almost healing, like he was pulling the pain right out of you. The longer he kept his hand on you, the better you felt. You sipped slowly on the water, the cold liquid flowing through you and cleansing your body. 

“We need to get going,” he instructed, pulling at your arm to get up. 

“Hotchner,” you muttered, finally realizing the mystery man that was stealing you away into the night. 

“It’s Aaron.” 

“I don’t like that. Doesn’t fit. I do like Hotch-” you hiccuped. “Hotch, actually, that’s pretty bad ass.” You giggled loudly, Hotch helping you into the front seat of the car and buckling you in. He went around the front and got into the drivers seat, starting the car with a grunt. 

“How did you find me?” 

“How long do you think Cooper would’ve waited until he realized you weren’t with your mom.”

“That’s not what I asked,” you sat up, taking a deep breath and looking over at the man. “I knew you’d realize I was gone. How did you find me?” 

Hotch moved his lips uncomfortably, his eyes shifting back and forth. 

“Why would you go out when you know how much danger you’re in? You’re an extremely intelligent woman on paper, (Y/N), but you are clearly so incredibly stupid.” 

You gasped in awe, your heart racing and heat flushing to your cheeks. You were blushing like a strawberry, digging your nails into your palms to refrain yourself from screaming at him, or punching him, or just getting out of the car at the next red light. 

“You don’t know anything about me, Aaron. Don’t pretend you know me from reading a few of my daddy’s notes.” You sat back in exhaustion, feeling your eyes fill with tears. You willed yourself to not cry in front of him, to hold it together until you were alone. The last person you wanted to break down in front of was him. 

“We’re stopping somewhere, before we get you home.” His voice was calmer this time, clearly realizing you were upset. He didn’t look at you the rest of the ride, staring ahead at the road, focusing intently on the cars around him. You recognized the street as he started to park, realizing you were at your apartment. 

“What are we doing here?” You muttered in confusion, looking around at the familiar buildings. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

He turned the car off and got out, walking around to you and opening your door. You reluctantly got out, and walked slowly to the front door of your building. You realized quickly you didn’t have your keys, and turned to him. As if he read your mind, he held up your keys in his hand and nodded at you. He walked to the door and typed in the code to unlock it, revealing the lobby of your apartment building. You were on the second floor, and the two of you walked slowly up the stairs to your place. He continued to stay silent as he unlocked your apartment door, opening it hastily as he braced himself to walk into your place. He shuttered uncomfortably as he stepped inside. 

“Can you tell me why we’re here now?” You insisted, shutting the door loudly behind you and locking it. You were still feeling kind of uneasy, and needed to reassurance of a locked door if someone happened to come look for you here. 

“Get your things. Everything you need.” He crossed his arms, a look of authority overcoming him. You realized now that he was dressed down- wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. His arms looked stunning in the cut off sleeves, the nicely displayed muscles in plain view. 

“Why… why do I need my things?” 

“Because, you’ve lost your privileges to privacy. Since you want to act out, you no longer have your own place. Take everything you need and say goodbye, because we’re not coming back here again.” He had raised his voice quite loudly, his arms uncrossed and at his sides. He had gotten closer to you as he spoke, now only a foot or so away from you. 

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am trying to protect you. Do you not care at all about your own life, or your families? You are being incredibly selfish, you know that. You have an amazing family that loves you, millions of people around the country that adore you. If something happened to you, the world would be devastated, and yet you are so reckless with your life? It’s… I truly don’t get it, (Y/N).”

You stood in awe, unsure of what to say to him. You felt like a thousand pound weight just dropped on your chest. No one had ever spoken to you like that before, especially not someone who was hired to protect you. You stepped away from him, stumbling over your steps as you rested yourself against the wall. 

“What… what about you?” You muttered, looking up at him. “You want to talk about recklessness with life? You don’t know me, or care about me at all, and you’re here ready and willing to die to protect me. Don’t you think that’s a little fucked up? Or, what is it, Hotch? Do you have a hero complex?” You cocked your head at him, grinning. Your moment of sadness had passed, and now you were pissed. Nobody talked to you that way. And now you wanted to piss him off. 

“No, you’ve got me all wrong sweetheart,” he chuckled, walking closer and closer to you until he was inches away and you were completely backed against the wall. He moved his arms to the base of his shirt and ripped it over his head, revealing an unsurprisingly ripped body. He had multiple scars across his chest and abdomen. 

“I’ve been in and out of foster homes my whole life. Switched schools constantly so I never had many friends. Went right into the Marines after high school and kept to myself for the most part there, too. I have no one, (Y/N). If I die, nobody would blink an eye. If you die, the whole country would shut down. Do you see these?” He pointed to his scars, touching them gently as if taking a moment to remember each one. “I’ve taken bullets for many before, and I’ll do it for you if I have to, Honey. That’s why I do this. I’m not reckless with my life. I have no one, no life outside of this. I can give up that to protect someone like you.” 

His hand was resting on the wall behind your head, his body towering over you. He was breathing heavy, trying to relax himself. 

“That is so…” you took a deep breath, bringing your hand up to his flesh and tracing your fingers over his scars. You gently circled the rough skin, watching him look down in confusion as you touched him. “Incredibly sad.” You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as your hand still pressed against his bare chest. “I’m so sorry nobody has made your life feel worth it. You don’t deserve that,” you whispered, your face only inches from his. You realized now the vanilla scent that rolled so deliciously off of him was his cologne, because it was much stronger as you got closer to the base of his neck. 

“We need to get out of here. Get you home.” He muttered, turning away from you harshly, and looking around to find his shirt. 

“I’m… I didn’t mean to upset you, Hotch.” 

“It’s Aaron,” he barked, his eyes filled with fury as he scrambled around for his missing clothes. 

“Why don’t we just get my things tomorrow? I promise I’ll stay in the rest of the night.” 

“You won’t have the chance to sneak out again, I can promise you that.” He said sternly, putting his shirt on quickly and heading for the door. You followed quietly behind him, your head racing and your body flushing from being so close to him just moments ago. He ushered you into the car quickly and slammed the door behind you. His energy had changed so dramatically from moments ago, but you were still feeling so drawn to him. 

You remembered the way his bare skin felt to your touch. Even one small brush on your fingertips against his flesh made him melt, as if he couldn’t remember the last time somebody had touched him with such pure intentions. 

He was driving quite recklessly back to the big house, not saying a word as you stared silently ahead, replaying the moment over and over in your head. You wanted to say something, trying to come up with the right words to handle this situation. But your brain came up empty, and you continued to stay silent the rest of the drive home. 

Hotch parked the car in the garage, sitting back in his seat for a moment as if he wanted to get something off his chest before going in. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell anyone you’d snuck out. I’ll cover for you this time, but don’t count on it if it happens again.”

“I’m sorry I made you come get me,” you whispered, fully realizing how dumb and selfish your actions were. He was right, you were reckless with your life. But you’d never really cared about it, or even thought about it, until now. 

“That was, um,” he shifted, clearing his throat. “That was unprofessional of me to talk to you that way. I apologize.” 

“No… I… you were right. I kind of needed to hear it. And, again, I’m sorry that you feel the way you do.” You slowly reached your hand out and grabbed onto his, your delicate hand resting gracefully amongst his strong, tired ones. It was almost comical, the difference in the sizes. 

Your fingers intertwined in his, your palms meeting as you sat silently in the car. You looked up at him, his eyes staring deeply at your hand in his. His thumb grazed gently over your skin, his silent way of acknowledging your touch. You knew, in that moment, that your feelings towards each other were the same. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, despite every element working against a relationship. And you both knew that. It could never work, and nothing could ever happen. 

He tore his hand away with haste and looked out the window, refusing to verbally acknowledge the moment you just shared. One of many moments you had shared since you met. 

“You need to get inside before anyone else realizes you’re gone. Cooper is inside the door. I’ll see you in the morning.” He refused to look at you, his body backed up into the door as far away as he could get himself. You nodded silently and opened your door, getting out onto the concrete and beginning to walk to the door. You turned back to look at him, and he was watching you, as always. 

“I want to make sure you get in safe,” he muttered through the cracked window of his car door. 

“Thank you, Hotch.” You smiled at him, and were hoping to catch a grin from him, too. But he didn’t seem like the type of man to smile very often, and this definitely wasn’t the right moment. He continued to watch you until you got in the door, an angry Cooper ready to lecture you as he walked you back to your room. You did your best to ignore his taunts, your mind still on Hotch.

You fell asleep quickly after you got back to your room, your body craving the healing powers of sleep. Your dreams were fluttered with thoughts of him, his touch. You could not even escape him in your solitude, your soul, your subconscious, was so encapsaleted by him. They would not let you forget him, even if your slumber.

You finally woke up around eleven the next morning, confused and dehydrated, your head throbbing. You clearly had a wicked hangover, and were still feeling pretty laggy from the drugs the night before. You crawled slowly out of bed and into your connecting bathroom, sticking your head under the sink and slurping down faucet water like a child on a hot summer day. The cool taste felt refreshing on your throat, but the minute it hit your throat you felt nauseous. You clipped your hair back so it was away from your face, which was still rocking last night's makeup. You finally opened the door of your room to a different man, one you hadn’t recognized. 

Seeing a stranger made you startled, especially standing right outside of your room. You instinctively wanted to call for Hotch, pleading for him to come sweep you off your feet and save you. But, there was nothing to save you from, as this man was just the third shift night guard. He confirmed that when he muttered, “Honey has left her room. Send in A3.” 

You waited for him to greet you, say anything at all, but he stood silent and waited for him commanding guard to relieve of him his duties. You started to walk towards the kitchen, the nausea you were facing earlier now turned to hunger. You were stopped by his arm, blocking you from going any further. 

“You have to wait until he gets here, Miss.” 

“Right, sorry.” He had already turned away, you weren’t even sure if he had heard your apology. You didn’t know how long you’d have to wait until Hotch came and released you from your prison cell, so you scrolled through instagram in annoyance as you waited.

“Good morning, it’s wonderful of you to join the living. Long night last night?” Hotch was smirking at you, a look of contempt as he clearly saw the misery of the previous night sweating right out of you. His mood clearly changed to despising you, again. And if that’s how he wanted to play things this morning, you were happy to play right along with him. 

“Not all of us have no life at all, Aaron. Sometimes people, ya know, do things.” You rolled your eyes as you walked passed him quickly, trying to get down to the kitchen before all the food was gone. 

“Not all of us have death threats hanging over our heads, either,” he snapped back, his voice sharp and stern. “Where are you going, (Y/N)?” 

“Breakfast. I’m hungry,” you shrugged, continuing to walk fast and not get too close to him. Everything felt so hot and cold, you honestly had no idea what he was feeling. The times where you were close, where you felt him, it was so genuine. You knew there was a chemistry between you. But his anger towards you also felt so real. If he was somehow faking, if it was an act or a defense mechanism for his true feelings, he was doing an incredible job. 

“All the food is gone. They won’t be back till lunch in another hour.” His smirk came back, as if he was excited by the idea that you now couldn’t eat. “We could go get food, though. If you’d like. If you can’t wait.” 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea actually. There’s a little diner right near my place that has the best chocolate chip pancakes I have ever had.” Your thoughts were racing, the idea of delicious food filling your brain. You did that, sometimes, just lost yourself in your thoughts or an idea. You caught him smiling, maybe at you, maybe at just a passing thought. But the feeling of him watching you, seeing your beauty, and smiling. It made your heart race.

“Let’s get to the car, we don’t wanna be gone too long. You’ve got a lot to prepare for your trip coming up.” Hotch motioned towards the stairs, and you remembered the current state of your wardrobe and stopped in your tracks. 

“I can’t go looking like this… I mean, this is bad,” you laughed, pointing at your messy hair and smudged mascara. 

“Maybe nobody will recognize you if you look that… well…” he chuckled, raising a brow as he looked you up and down. 

“Well that’s a little rude.” You both laughed together until silence ultimately fell on the room. You felt like there was more to be said, but you weren’t sure what. You stood still, waiting for some instruction on what to do next. Why was it that you could never figure out what to do with yourself in situations like this? 

“I think you look beautiful,” he observed, a slight comical tone to his voice. But the way he looked at you, the way he said it, for a slight moment, it felt real. His words felt real. And you would lose yourself in the chaos of it all if you had to spend every day decoding his words, trying to figure out what is real, what is truly him, and what is a facade. You couldn’t fall for him, you couldn't put yourself through that. But each moment with him drew you in more and more, you almost felt that you would be unable to escape him if things went any further, if the small flirtatious comments and slight forbidden touches when you were alone. 

“Let’s get to the car, go get you something to eat,” he instructed, beginning to walk away. You followed him close behind, not sure why you craved the security of him so much. It was his job, but he really did make you feel safe. You followed him down the garage silently, and hoped into the passenger seat of his SUV. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, trying to program the address into the GPS. He looked up at you for an answer, his eyes wide and childlike, the simple act of asking you for assistance making you melt. 

“Uh, Ruby Street Diner,” you stuttered, watching his hands diligently as he typed in the address. He turned on the radio and started driving, and you stared eagerly out the window as you drove. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you heard him humming with the music. It was those little things that reminded you he was still human, and that was the last thing he was supposed to do. The more human he became, the more he showed you of himself, the harder it would be for you to walk away. 

The drive was silent, but you didn’t mind it. It didn’t feel awkward. Neither of you had anything to say, and sometimes that’s okay. You watched him out of the corner of his eye, watching his face, the way he studied the world around him. Sometimes it seemed like he saw everything, like he saw you watching him. If he knew, he didn’t care. He would glance over at you ever minute or so, maybe to just check if you’re still safe, still breathing. Maybe because he, too, was wondering how he could walk away from you. 

He parked his car on the street across from the diner, and checked his pockets and gun before turning the car off. He looked around him, checking for anything suspicious and out of the ordinary. He clearly didn’t see anything to worry him much, because he opened the door quickly after and got out of the car. He walked to your side and opened your door, checking for oncoming cars as he did so. You were used to people opening doors for you, but something about him holding it open and grabbing your hand as you stepped out of the large truck was hot. 

You walked into the diner and were quickly seated at a small booth in the corner, per his request. It was never a good idea to be in the center of the scene, he said. You nodded in understanding, looking around at the crowd, which wasn’t anything to be worried about. The scene at a diner at noon on a Thursday was never very eventful. 

“Thanks for taking me out,” you whispered, your eyes lazily scrolling over the menu even though you already had your heart set on those chocolate chip pancakes. 

“It’s my number one duty to make sure you are safe and satisfied.” 

“Satisfied? I don’t feel like that’s really a part of your job description.”

“Of course it is. If you’re unhappy, angry, sad- you’re more likely to rebel, lash out, sneak out.” He chuckled softly, taking a sip of the hot coffee the waitress just poured for you both. You ordered your food, and Hotch ordered some wheat toast and a fruit bowl. You rolled your eyes at his order, knowing you were about to stuff your face. 

“So, are you saying the only reason I go to party is because I’m unhappy?”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions about your life. It’s just, in my experience, people turn to that life if they aren’t satisfied with their normal existence.” 

“Is anybody happy with their normal existence?” You questioned, sighing loudly as you sat back in the booth. He watched you for a moment, his eyes paying special attention to your rising chest as you started breathing heavily. He set his arm down on the table, laying his palm out as he looked up at you. 

You stared at his exposed hand, a sudden remembering of your fingers intertwined in his car last night. He needed your touch, then. He needed a pull back to humanity, a remembrance that nobody is truly alone in this life. And now, you needed it. You needed somebody to hold your hand. And he knew. 

You reluctantly placed your arm down on the table, looking around at the people in the place. No one was even paying the slightest attention to you. A rare moment where nobody cared who you were, or what you were doing. Your fingers moved towards his, and you grabbed on to him slowly. It was a slight touch, nothing that would be noticeable to anybody passing by. But it was enough for both of you. It was enough to mean something. 

“I would like to think that everybody has a chance to be happy. It’s just a matter of finding your happiness.” His fingers moved closer to yours, his thumb slightly rubbing your fingers. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, his illicit touch sending sparks through your whole body. 

“Alright, you guys ready to eat?” Your waitress cheerily interrupted, causing you to both instinctively rip your hands away and put them at your sides. It didn’t appear that she noticed anything but your heart was still racing and you could tell his was, too. 

You ate your food quickly, avoiding eye contact with him as he nibbled on pieces of toast. You only seemed to have two types of moments with him; ones where neither of you could think of any words, or ones where words flowed out of you like a poet. You felt like you could tell him anything, but at the same time you were afraid to say anything. 

“I think we should go,” he quietly muttered after you had finally finished a majority of your food.

“Um.. is everything okay?” 

“This… this is really bad, Honey. What is happening now. It cannot be happening. I apologize for any inappropriate actions I’ve made since we’ve met. I would offer to step down and let someone else take this roll but I spent weeks training on how to protect you, and I don’t think you’d be safe with anyone else. I hope that’s okay with you.” 

You stared at him in awe, a sick feeling overcoming your stomach. You shook your head for a moment, trying to think of the right words to respond with. He was right, this was stupid, and an extremely self destructive act. Besides, nothing had even really happened, and it was probably way better to shut things down now before it went any further. So much of you didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to not know what a life with him could be like. But you thought about your family, your life, and knew it wasn’t smart, or safe.

“You’re right, um, yeah. That's okay. I think it’s smart to keep you on, especially with the trip coming up.” 

He nodded in agreeal, pushing his food away in disgust. You wondered if he felt just as sick as you did, just as heartbroken and miserable as you were. You knew one thing, for sure. That he was just as lonely and disappointed in life as you were. He was living in the same boat you were, and maybe that’s why you connected so easily. Sharing a common pain, it was easy to feel drawn to him. But you had to draw the line, as terrible as it was. 

“Let’s go back home.”

The next few weeks went by uneventfully. There was nothing new to report on Hotch, or Aaron, as he now insisted you called him. There were no passing glances, no secret touches. You had both controlled yourself, and it was much easier than you thought. You were starting to wonder if the attraction was all circumstance, and there was nothing of real sustenance to your ‘relationship’. His touch still existed in your dreams, though. That was one place where you couldn’t control your thoughts. Every morning when you woke up, the thought of you in his dreams made you wonder. 

Today was the day you finally left your trip, and you were flying out to San Francisco now. You sat eagerly in the airport, a crowd of men surrounding you, Aaron sitting at your side. He would accompany you in first class, and the rest of your night guards would scatter around coach to keep an eye on anyone suspicious. You had your headphones in, trying to distract yourself from the upcoming flight. You were quite a nervous flyer, and you were feeling exceptionally overwhelmed today. You couldn’t wait to get seated and have a drink, something to calm your nerves. 

You were leaving pretty late, and would arrive pretty late as well. When you got in, you were all going straight to the hotel and preparing for your first presentation tomorrow. You boarded quickly, being one of the first allowed to get on the plane. Aaron held on to your carry on bags, and his, and followed you into the cabin. The rest of your guards stayed behind until it was their turn to board. Luckily, nobody had seemed to notice or recognize you on the flight, yet. You were hoping it would stay that way, as you were utterly exhausted and weren’t in the mood for small talk with a stranger today.

“You all buckled in?” Aaron asked as he placed your bags in the overhead storage bin. 

“Yep, all safe and secure officer,” you giggled, leaning your head back in the large seat.

“Sounds good,” he smiled, taking his seat next to you and buckling himself in. You sat and scrolled through your phone mindlessly as the rest of the plane boarded, watching your night guards pass you by and give Aaron a slight thumbs up when they passed each other. You faked your way through listening to the emergency instructions, pleasing Aaron as he urged you to pay attention. The plane finally started moving and you settled into your seat, your nails digging into your palms as you prepared for the ascent.

Going up was always terrifying, but what you weren’t expecting was the turbulence as you headed into the sky. There was a storm coming in, and the pilot mentioned it might be bumpy until you get high enough. The shakiness was torture, but an unexpected drop in altitude made you jump and latch onto Hotch’s hand in instinct. Your fingers were locked with his, squeezing tight as the plane leveled out and you caught your breath. 

“Sorry about that, folks,” the pilot spoke over the intercom, his voice light and cheery as if nothing just happened. “Should be clearing out of this storm in a minute or so. Keep buckled.” 

You looked over to him, your hand still clutched in his, your heart finally coming to a normal rhythm. He was staring down at your hands, the remembrance of your touch sending him somewhere he was desperately avoiding. 

“I’m… it was an accident, Aaron. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, trying to pull your hand from his, but his grip was locked around you. 

“Nervous flyer?” He joked.

“Yes. I hate it.” 

“I fly all the time,” he assured, your hand still in his. “You know you’re more likely to die in a car than a plane?” 

“I’m not so much nervous about dying as I am getting stranded on an island like Lost.” 

“Weren’t they all dead in the end, anyways?” 

“I never got that far, but that still doesn’t sound ideal. The whole point of death is to not have to deal with life anymore.” 

Your hands were still linked together, his thumb now tracing circles on the back of your hand. His leg moved closer to you until you were touching, the closest you two could possibly get while sitting in a plane. It was in that moment that you realized whatever you had been trying to avoid with him was no longer unavoidable. You had reached a new level of intimacy, a door was opened that could not be closed. 

“Aaron…” 

“I don’t like that. I like Hotch,” he teased, his eyes twinkling as they met the dim overhead lights of the plane. 

“Hotch… are you sure you want to keep touching me?” 

His eyes widened at your voice, and he instinctively ripped away his hand and pulled his leg from you. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather a thought. 

“Do you want a drink?” You asked, trying to change the subject. 

“I can’t, I’m working.” He turned forward and looked at the stared at the screen on the back of the seat. You decided not to say anymore, clearly realizing the moment had passed and there was nothing left to be said. 

A flight attendant came by shortly after and you finally got your well deserved drink. Hotch stayed silent, watching you sip the forbidden liquid and get slightly more calm with every sip. You had two more before finally falling asleep, the exhaustion of anxiety taking over. You woke up when you felt your ears pop as the plane began descending. You bolted up with alarm, Hotch watching you quietly. You couldn’t remember if he looked over at you after you woke up, or if he had been watching while you slept. 

“We’ll be landing soon.”

“Can I have some gum?” You motioned to your ears, cringing in pain. Hotch handed you a stick of mint gum from his bag, which you chewed happily as you watched your descent into the night. The lights from the city were beautiful, and you felt extremely happy to be back doing what you love, in one of your favorite cities. You had always wanted to move here, but your father would’ve had a heart attack if you weren’t within 20 minutes of him. 

The plane landed on the ground with a jolt, shaking you awake. You looked to Hotch, who was already turning his phone on to inform your family that you had landed safely. He spoke swiftly to your dad, assuring him that he would let him know when we arrived at the hotel. You watched his every move, the way his lips moved with such assurity at every word he spoke. He knew you, everything about you, truly. He was the one person in the world that was 100% dedicated to you. He would die for you. Holy shit. Maybe you had a bit too much to drink. 

“You ready to go?” 

“Uh, yeah, let’s.” You stood up quickly, without paying attention, and slammed your head right on the overhead. “Shit,” you groaned, holding on to your forehead in pain. 

“Oh man,” Hotch mumbled, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. He reached his hand to your forehead and ran his thumb over the bump. He moved his hand down to your cheek, and looked down into your eyes. 

“It’s a little red, but I think you’ll be okay,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. 

“That’s good,” you mumbled, the tip of your nose brushing against his. You had placed your hand to his chest, playing with the buttons on the hem of his shirt. 

He pulled away from you suddenly, shaking his head and taking a breath. He opened up the overhead and pulled out the bags, not looking at you once again. You felt your legs shaking, your heart beating, and your center throbbing at the thought of his lips. It took all of your strength to not pull him back to you and kiss him. But you couldn’t, not here, anyway. 

You followed Hotch off the plane and stood at the gate for the rest of your men. Hotch didn’t say a word to you, only waited in authority for his men to meet him. He was their leader, they did everything he said. Watching him boss them around was kind of sexy, and you felt your body aching more and more for him. Finally the rest of your team came out and met up with you. 

“I want you guys to wait for Honey’s bags then meet us back at the hotel. There will be cars waiting. I want her out of here as fast as possible, so we’re leaving now. Are we clear?” He nodded at them in clarification, and they all nodded back in agreement. They began walking towards baggage claim, and you followed Hotch the opposite direction. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Secret exit, there’s a car waiting for us there.” He walked steadily at your side, weaving through crowds and shielding you from oncoming people. A few people glanced to your direction with curiosity, most likely thinking “I know that girl from somewhere.” But Hotch rushed you out too quickly for anyone to fully remember you. You passed behind a guarded door, Hotch flashing his badge to the guards as they nodded at him and opened doors. You were rushed down a flight of stairs and out a back door, into the California night air. And as Hotch said, a black SUV with a driver you didn’t recognize was waiting for you. 

“Who’s that?” 

“One of my old men,Derek, a good friend. It’s not safe for me to be driving here. We're in good hands with him, though.” 

Derek rolled down the window and greeted Hotch, a large smile of the man's face. “Nice to meet you, Miss. (Y/N). Welcome to my ride,” he laughed. Hotch opened the door for you and you stepped in the back, him following close behind. Derek started the car and began driving, flashing Hotch’s badge as you went through various gates to get back on the road. The partition was up in the car, blocking Derek’s eyes and ears from you and Hotch. You weren’t sure why he had it up, as most of your drivers usually leave it down until asked. Maybe he just assumed you would be having a confidential conversation or something, right? 

“Thanks for getting me out safe, Hotch,” you teased, placing your hand playfully on his shoulder. 

“Of course, Honey.” He turned towards you, his head tilted as he looked down to you. He rested his hand on your thigh, his thumb teasing your exposed flesh. You shivered at his touch, his hands cold against the warmth of your inner thigh. His fingers continued to trail up your flesh, toying with you as they moved slowly to where you craved him most. You moved your hips awkwardly, trying to get closer to him, trying to get him closer to you. 

He started to play with the hem of your underwear, his thumb grabbing onto the fabric and brushing against your flesh. His other fingers slowly began to touch you, moving rhythmically over your clit. You sighed in relief, finally getting the much needed pleasure. You wanted more, you would’ve straddled him right then and there. But he quickly took his hand away, leaving you defeated and unsatisfied. You turned to him with a frown, only to find a smug grin plastered on his face. 

“Later, Honey.” He whispered, his eyes locked on yours. You nodded, excitement overtaking you as you thought of what could happen next. You turned back forward and straightened yourself out, trying to catch your breath. 

The rest of the drive was torture, craving someone so close. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself together. Right as you were starting to convince yourself to just kiss him, you finally pulled up to the hotel. Derek parked in the entrance and got out of the car to open your door. He opened Hotch’s side, first, and shook his hand as he exited the car. You got out after him, declining for him to walk around and open your door, as well. Hotch had already grabbed the few bags you did have and was holding on to them tightly. You thanked Derek for driving you and assured him you would see him tomorrow. Hotch and him said their goodbyes, and then you followed him into the lobby of the hotel. You stayed behind as he checked you in, not trying to look too conspicuous. 

Hotch walked back over to you and flashed the room keys. “Let’s get to your room, get you settled.” 

You followed him to the elevator, which was an awkwardly silent ride. You rode up to the top floor, where the Presidential suite was, no doubt. Your father always insisted you had the nicest room in the place. It was a bit much, in your opinion, but it wasn’t worth arguing with him about things like that. The elevator finally came to a halt and opened its doors. Hotch left first and you followed him down the hall to one of the suites. 

“Alright, here you go,” he said, handing you your key and dropping your bags to the floor. 

“Uh, are you leaving me?” You questioned, your eyes wide with confusion. 

“Relax,” he chuckled. “I’m right across the hall. I’m just gonna change, I always feel so gross after a plane. Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll check on you in a few minutes?” 

“Alright,” you grumbled, disappointed that your night with Aaron was clearly ending here. 

You opened the door to your room and brought your bags in, Hotch waiting for your door to close until he went into his own room. You laid down with a huff on the bed, sulking into the covers in frustration. What a fucking tease, you thought. You shook your head in anger and jumped off the bed, willing yourself to relax a bit before tomorrow. 

You changed out of your clothes, stripping completely naked and throwing on your silk robe before you got in the shower. You started unpacking your toiletries, placing your obnoxiously expensive hair and skin care in the shower, ready for you to use at your convenience. You searched in frustration for your toothbrush, tossing things around your bags as you looked. You felt like you’d been searching for a half hour when a knock on the door through you from your search. 

You stood up uncomfortably, realizing you were almost naked. You looked around for clean clothes, but were worried if you didn’t answer the door immediately one of those big-head guards would knock the door down. You groaned loudly and ran to the door, hoping to god you weren’t too exposed. 

Hotch was standing in the doorway, a filthy grin on his face as you opened the door. You backed away from the door and he walked in, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked up to you, his body inches away from yours. He grabbed on to the sash of your robe, pulling at the end so that the loose knot would come undone. The front of the robe spilled open, exposing your nude front. Hotch brought his hands to your shoulders and grabbed onto the robe, pulling it completely off your body. 

He brought his hand up to your chest, slowly caressing your breast and toying with your nipple. He ripped his shirt over his head aggressively, and then wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled your face close to his and kissed you, a much needed kiss full of desperation. His tongue invaded your mouth forcefully, his body taking complete and total control of yours. His lips tasted like scotch, which he clearly drank pretty quickly in his room before coming over. Maybe he needed the courage, or maybe he needed to take the edge off. Either way, the taste made you crave a drink. 

You started to push away from the kiss, planning to run to the mini bar and grab a bunch of bottles for the two of you. Hotch just chuckled, grabbed onto your wrist and pushed you on the bed. 

“Hotch, I want a drink,” you giggled, trying to evade his grip. 

“Not now, Honey. Now you want me,” he ordered, biting his lip as he looked down at you. 

“Yes, sir,” you teased, blowing Hotch a kiss. He moved down lower and spread your legs, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes. He spit aggressively on your pussy, and then dragged his tongue across your entirety. He was lapping at your clit sloppily, your body jerking with pleasure as he shoved two fingers inside of you. He started to focus more with the tip of tongue, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm, arching as they went inside to hit your spot. 

“Fuck,” you squealed, arching your back as your body was overcome with pleasure. 

“Are you gonna cum, sweetheart? Are you gonna cum for me?” He growled, pouting his lips as he looked up at you. 

“Yes, keep doing that,” you stuttered. A satisfied smile came over his face, and he went back to eating you out. He focused on your clit, his tongue stimulating it in ways you’d never experienced before. Your body was almost shaking as you finally reached your climax, Hotch licking you up as you finished. You went limp, for a moment, trying to catch your breath from your high. 

“Turn around,” he instructed, slapping your thigh. 

“I need a sec,” you muttered.

“Now. Turn around, now.” His glare was intimidating, but you could still see a gleam of light in his eyes. The dominance was something you hadn’t experienced yet, but it was turning you on wildly. You nodded at him, getting on your knees and bending over. He slapped your ass with a force, making you yelp with an equal mix of pleasure and pain. You could hear him chuckle behind your back, already feeling your skin raising where he marked you. 

You heard him unbuckling his pants, and you’d realized you hadn’t seen his dick yet. You wanted to be surprised, though. You wanted to experience him for the first time inside of you. You felt him placing himself at your entrance, the tip of his dick playing with you. He started to slowly slide in, and you were uncomfortably shocked by his size and girth. You winced as he fit all of himself inside of you, feeling his length overtaking your whole body. He was by far the biggest you’d ever experienced, and you were taking a second to adjust. 

“Oh, poor Honey,” he chuckled. “Am I too much for you?” 

“No, I can handle it,” you replied in defiance. “Fuck me, Aaron. Fuck me.” 

He laughed again, taking your instruction to heart and pounding himself in and out of you, fast. It was too much at first, feeling like he was breaking you. He was so much bigger than you, he could literally overcome you. You felt his presence watching your ass as he fucked you, realizing now how hot it was that he was so big. 

“You have such a tight little pussy, I fucking love it,” he moaned, his nails digging into the flesh on your hips. His pumps were getting sloppier, each thrust you could feel his body getting more tense. He was twitching inside of you, and finally you felt his warm release fill you up. He stayed inside you a moment, both of you catching your breath. He pulled himself out and sat on the edge of the bed. You turned around and laid flat, staring breathlessly at the ceiling. 

You heard the sound of a phone, and you winced as the comfort of the silence was broken. Hotch stood up, his naked body glowing like a statue in the low light. You took in his body, examined it like a piece of art, remembered every bit. You never wanted to forget him. You didnt think you could. 

Hotch grabbed his phone and answered quickly. “What’s going on?... Alright…. Sounds good.” He ended the call and set the phone done on the desk. 

“Get dressed, make the bed,” he requested, rather harshly.

“Ugh, cmon Hotch, can I just have a second?” You groaned, flopping to your side in exhaustion. 

“Do I need to ask again? Get up, put your clothes on and make the bed. Now!” He barked. He was already searching the ground for his clothes, trying to put himself back together after unraveling with you. You got up and did as you were told, putting your robe back on and searching for pants. You made the bed to the best of the ability, although it wasn't really your strong suit. You shrugged, apologetic as Hotch gave you a disappointed look when he looked at your work. 

A knock on the door prevented Hotch from lecturing you on your cleaning skills. He ran to the door and opened it to reveal the rest of your guards. They dropped your bags off in the entryway and shared a few words with Hotch. He turned to you and started to talk. 

“First shift will start now. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Of course.” 

Hotch grabbed his phone and dialed a number, holding it to his ear. He waited a few seconds before the person on the other end answered. 

“It’s me. Honey is secure. I’ll check in in the morning.”

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 2/10

Updates for this’ll probably come every couple of days or so, and I’m already bracing myself for a third wave of edits to come. But here’s the next part, and Sharky, I’m sorry about the skunk, but you were the one to mention it to begin with. ...And the resulting idea was too entertaining to pass up.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 4.3K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

It took two and a half days to tear the old boathouse down.

John hadn’t lied when he mentioned wanting him to get in there and take it apart piece by piece, and hovered over him the entire time.

The whole monitoring bit was easily the part that annoyed him the most. Like he was waiting for him to screw up. To somehow find a way to take the already burnt building and set it on fire again through force of will alone. Which, while badass, was well out of his means, all the wishing and praying he’d sometimes do to monkey Jesus aside.

But that didn’t stop John from acting like he had the ability. Riding him further during smoke breaks, or barking order after order at him from the sidelines.

Every other word out of his mouth was a correction. To tell him to go back to read the blueprints again. To check his measurements. To put out that cigarette, pry out that misplaced nail, and to use some of that delicacy he kept on going back to, making Sharky’s eyes want to roll back into his head.

And music? The one time he’d tried to bring any levity to the situation with the soothing sounds of disco, John put an end to it immediately. Really just made it clear how much of a drag he wanted to be, and only wanted to push the point home.

Seeing as John was some big-shot lawyer, he really expected him to have more to do than nitpick and lord this whole thing over him. Like he’d stick around for a few weeks, use the time to get off on whatever power trip he was having over this, and then go back to bugging the department, the local businesses, Nick, shit, anyone.

But John Seed was also petty as fuck.

Local gossip hadn’t painted the guy as a kind or forgiving figure, and while the Seeds as a whole were alright at best and fucking weird at worst, over the past couple of years John had picked up a rep as a colossal asshole all on his own.

Tickets? Contested. Special orders down at the store or for parts? Made with specific instructions that needed to be followed to the letter. If not, he’d demand and get his money back, damning everyone with the fine print others would skim over.

Hell, Sid, one of the guys that worked down at the cattle ranch, had traded paint with him once. He’d done so while stopping at the general store, and hadn’t paid much mind to the fancy car parked in the lot, getting just close enough to leave a small scuff on the rear bumper.

In those cases, a person would trade numbers, or see what they could buff off before moving on, 'cause insurance claims were a pain in the ass, and half of the cars in the county were a little late on renewing registrations anyway. Shit, he was coming up on a year, and hoping to see how much longer he could go before any of the Deps cottoned on to it.

But no, the minute John caught on, Sid recalled the glint he got in his eye. Then told him he’d slap him with the largest fine possible for both the damage and the late reg. All over trading paint. Not major damage, not even a busted tire.

Just paint.

Sid was still spitting mad about it, months after the fact.

He’d even pulled a fast one when it came to setting up big bro Joe’s compound. Digging up some obscure property laws all but guaranteeing the land could be sold to them.

No, no one earned the title of mega-dick by being sweet and accommodating. His bro had smoothed over a lot of ruffled feathers by being pretty okay after that, even with all of the converts chilling the fuck out on his property, but John was still John.

And now he personally had that shit to deal with. Today, two days from now, and who knew how many weeks or months after that.

So much for those chicks wanting and keeping his number too. Hurk told him he’d snagged at least one number on the way back to their drop off, but when he’d tried to call them back the other day he got no answer. Ghosted him like it was nothing, and he guessed he deserved that.

What with getting himself caught and left to doing whatever the hell John wanted for as long as John wanted.

“As per our agreement,” John would remind him, whenever he felt the point needed pushing.

And he pushed.

Whenever Sharky would drop something, whenever he let his feet drag, whenever he cut something and John was ready to whip out his tape measure.

He pushed, and Sharky shot another prayer up to monkey Jesus, hoping that maybe this would be the day to go Human Torch on the situation. Or at the very least a little Cyclops.

Not today, but he’d try again tomorrow.

But on the days when Sharky was working, it wasn’t always just the two of them. He’d full on expected this whole thing to go on in its own little pocket, with Hurk eventually crashing the party due to a need to bust him out or worse.

The day that Joseph first showed up stood out, for one.

Joseph Seed was kind of like Pastor Jerome. Not his first pick to hang out with, considering they were both on opposite sides here. Of the whole preaching and managing earthly temptations, while not super indulging in the kind of shit that he knew he wanted in his life, period.

It came with the territory, being religious leaders and all that, but when Joseph first rolled in to the county, he’d brought his people with him.

And they were an interesting bunch. The People of Eden’s Gate were some kind of holistic commune where it was pretty hunky-dory roughly ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent was wondering just what to do about the men and women that wanted the simple life. Living humbly while offering help wherever needed.

While their hearts were in the right place, it was pretty boring stuff otherwise, Sharky decided. He’d even considered joining up for the hell of it only until Hurk reminded him that there wasn’t much fucking to be found there. Pretty women, sure, but the kind more focused on spirituality, and less on how many ways they could Clutch Nixon-ify their daily lives.

But Joseph on his own was a different story.

Watching John go from calmly sipping his drink, doubling-down on just how refreshing it was when Sharky happened to push the wheelbarrow past him, to spitting half of it out when Joseph materialized next to him was fucking priceless.

Greeting him warmly, Joseph pulled a sputtering John into a kind-of half-hug gesture, but John’s cool had already been lost, and in front of his entourage too.

Joe’s wife was with him, plus kiddo number one of a baker’s dozen, carrying them up and on her hip as they talked. With them was also a woman dressed in the modest clothes the Peggies stuck to. She wasn’t trying to stand out, but he didn’t need sharp eyes to see how damn pretty she was.

It had to have been a brother thing, Sharky gathered. Embarrassing the shit out of younger siblings seemed almost natural to Joseph, and it might’ve been petty of him too, but watching John try to get his shit back in line in front of all of them was like hitting the jackpot.

So, Sharky kept on working, sneaking looks over at the group every now and then, and at one point gave an awkward wave back whenever they tried acknowledging him. But whenever John glanced his way, Sharky didn’t hide his shit-eating grin. No, it stayed put for the rest of the day.

The next time Joseph came over, however, he didn’t stop by just to say hi. He approached Sharky, ignoring John’s loud protests, and insisted on helping.

He’d get water, and help with any items that needed anchoring, stepping in whenever it looked like Sharky needed another hand. It was the most contact he’d had with the guy outside of the times he’d tried preaching at the Eagle, and outside of that? He was actually pretty okay to be around.

Well, he personally didn’t have a problem with Joe, at least. John’s irritation skyrocketed with every suggestion, especially when Joseph did the impossible. Told him that with a three-person job, you needed three people, and John? John was capable.

“You sure are,” Sharky added, giving him a wicked grin, and John looked mad enough to spit.

But he didn’t say no. Didn’t even try, or attempt it.

Did more than his fair share under the loving supervision of his older bro, and come nightfall, Sharky realized he’d had a damn good day. It was the lightest he’d felt in weeks, and wasn’t about to turn that down. Not when it helped him jump back into things with some extra pep, and the progress was a boost too.

With the actual frame up and the panels and exterior being added piece by piece, Sharky was starting to feel pretty accomplished. Proud even, because he built this. Yeah, he was being needled at every step of the way, but he used his own two hands to get this set up, no one else’s, and at the end of the day could actually see more of this coming together.

If he kept this up, he’d also have some extra skills to add to his repertoire. Might even get a chance to twist Hurk’s arm into trying out that whole ‘building and flipping’ thing that seemed to be hot at the moment, provided he wasn’t here for the next ten years.

But goals. He had goals to work towards and something to show for it, and it was pretty damn nice in the grand scheme of things.

Today, however, John had a guest again. The same Peggie woman as before, holding a basket, flanked by a few other converts.

Full on expecting to see Joe with her, Sharky wondered if he was waiting out in the woods again. Hell, even John was checking the path back up towards his house, looking past her every now and then to see if he’d catch him.

But as the minutes ticked by, and Sharky kept on working, nothing happened. And long after the other Eden’s Gate members had left, the two kept on talking, having what seemed to be a hell of a time going off of the signals they were giving off.

Smiling, laughing. Facing each other directly as they spoke, Sharky had John’s back to him almost completely, which had his eyebrows climbing up.

And judging by the way she was reacting to John in turn, he had to have been turning on the charm. Smiling shyly, twirling her hair around her finger, hell, he’d put money on her being a two-word question away from dropping everything to get a piece of that.

It was annoying as fuck, really. Dry spell or not, watching John pull it off with minimal effort sucked.

Sure, he had a lot of things working for him. The guy was loaded, for one. Had more than enough money to net himself a fancy car, his large-ass ranch, and a plane. He’d also had a boat up until Sharky had wrecked it, but that was beside the point. Man had more money than sense, and worked the slick lawyer angle for all it was worth. He’d listened in on enough convos to know just how many women in the county dug it. Shit, men too.

Plus the whole property on the water was a real panty dropper. At least going off of what his Auntie had said shortly after John had first bought it, gossiping with Sharky about the costs and expenses that came with it.

Then she promptly turned the talk on its head by launching into talking about John’s ass instead.

His drink hadn’t stayed in his mouth for long, and she’d dropped her forlorn sighing long enough to tell him not to stain the carpet. That he had to hear and think about John’s ass at all wasn’t fucking fair, especially since he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t that much of a draw to begin with. He’d checked.

Whenever John’s back was turned towards him, he’d sneak a look to see what the deal was only to be disappointed. Better asses were walking around Hope County right this moment, his included, but good luck trying to argue that with her. Or even get three words in edgewise before wanting to slap some sense into himself.

Besides, John’s eyes were better. Hands down, Sharky knew they’d been his ticket to pound town on more than one occasion, needing only to show them off and say a few fancy words to seal any kind of deal.

Dropping the wood onto the ground, he crouched down low. Stared at the wood grain of the plank to clear his mind a little before shifting his attention back towards John.

Shit, were they still talking?

He rolled his eyes. Whatever John was saying couldn’t have been that good, and any joke? Nowhere near funny enough to get a giggle like that.

At that time, John turned, giving him a look over his shoulder as Sharky became well aware of two sets of eyes on him. The woman for one, and the pretty boy lawyer that had been eating up every last shred of her attention until now.

A cross between smug and expectant, John gestured towards him.

Well?

Sharky knew three ways to tell someone to get fucked, but picked the least subtle one just in case.

Shocked for a second, John closed his mouth. But soon after, he pressed a hand to his chest, looking hurt. It was pretty convincing, making Sharky feel for a moment that he’d done something shitty like kicked a puppy.

Shame it didn’t reach his eyes. Or match the sharp smile that crept in.

“Smug-ass, smirking fuckface,” Sharky muttered, throwing the wooden plank to the side.

But not even that stuck around either. No, John flashed his pearly whites at the woman with him too, making her melt right in front of them.

Salt in the motherfucking wound. That’s what it all was, but lucky for him he only had a few more hours left to go. Then he could go home, get in a kickass shower and see what Hurk was doing.

Standing up, he wiped his face down with his handkerchief. If this had been anytime during the summer he would’ve been dying, but at least the weather was working in his favor. The breeze took the edge off just enough, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds to soak it all in.

“Oh, Charlemagne?”

Grating right on his ears, the pitch John used never failed to make him want to grind his teeth together. That, and saying his name. Kept on doing that well after being told he could call him Sharky. Shit, even his grandma used it sparingly.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing over there-“ John froze, and all smugness vanished.

That put him on edge. “Yo, you wanna expand on that, amigo?”

Slowly turning around, Sharky caught the small creature on the ground and felt every hair on him stand on end. Black and white, and assuming the posture any pissed off animal would, it stood tall for its small size with its tail up, ready and aiming right at him.

Skunks, though, had never liked him. Guess he’d earned that after the whole kissing one bit. So, staring down what he was sure had to be some distant relative out for revenge, he did what came naturally.

Yelled. Loudly, and might’ve sealed his fate right then and there.

Hit, but not in the eyes – thank Hurk’s monkey Jesus for that – he sprinted down towards the river and dove right in.

Grabbing his cap, he kept it in hand as he bobbed back up to the surface. The smell hit as he gulped down air, and he furiously paddled away from the shore when he realized he’d been followed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

This was fucking bonkers, and it was only getting worse.

Could skunks swim? Did they have a sense for it, or was he getting played by the only one able to? Was this the moment some poor guy was going to have to act out in the movie about his life? Swimming out, smelling to high heaven as a rich asshole laughed it up from the shore?

Fuck, he hoped to hell not, 'cause he’d lived an okay life up ‘til now. And having that be the moment he’d be known for immortalized up on the silver screen was just lousy at best.

Looking back, he watched as the skunk gave him the evil eye for a minute, pacing back and forth as it thought about shooting at him again. Little fucker wasn’t done yet, but couldn’t fire another round off from where it was.

John on the other hand, was watching the whole thing develop from a distance. He hadn’t taken off, but wasn’t laughing like he thought he would either. If anything, his gaze was sharp as he aimed it over at the skunk camping him out, and kept it set in place as he approached the boathouse.

Whatever the hell he had in mind, Sharky hoped he’d do it, and do it fast.

Shit, if he ended up zapped too, that’d also make his week, but for now he needed to keep swimming, and tried to see if he could make his way back towards land. His arms and legs weren’t tired, but the water wasn’t getting any warmer, and this was more of a workout than he’d planned for.

The skunk did not let up, following his drift.

“Seriously? Don’t you got something better to get up to?”

No, it didn’t, and he paddled harder hoping to get some kind of a lead on it. Kicked enough with the intent of making a break for it as soon as he hit land.

Maybe he could shimmy up a tree? Nah, he’d be a sitting duck, worse off there than here. Get back to his car on the way? His keys were swimming in his pocket right now, along with-

Aw, dammit. There went that phone. Sputtering into the water, he coughed around the word that would’ve come out otherwise, then gave it up to keep on swimming.

On the edge of the shore, he dragged himself up and out and booked it. Didn’t see anything waiting for him, but didn’t waste time either. Just hit the nearest patch of tall bushes and stayed low.

Waiting was the worst part. Waiting, listening, and trying not to make too much noise on his end. Every branch, twig, and leaf was the enemy now, and he wasn’t about to let that skunk get the drop on him again.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Loud squeaking sounded off in the distance, and he poked his head out from the bush.

Scanning left and right, Sharky checked for black and white. That and movement. When neither seemed to be present, he pushed his way forward and stepped out into the open.

Letting out a slow breath, he shook his hat out and slipped it back on. Then took in a tentative sniff as he raised his arm. The smell hung around him like a cloud, and getting a bigger whiff of it only made him want to gag.

Peeling the shirt off, he wrung it out, and gave it a smell as well. Now that made his eyes water. With his luck his jeans were just as bad, and he didn’t bother checking. Just pulled them off to get some of the water out of them too, and resigned himself to drip-drying the rest of the day outdoors.

“Charlemagne? You can come out now!”

John. Guess he’d found a way to deal with it after all.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Ugh, fucker. Took him long enough.” Groaning to himself, he slung his wet clothes over his shoulder and started heading towards the clearing.

“Well, there you…are?” John gave him a quick once over as he walked past, and pursed his lips. “Hmm.”

The woman with him didn’t even try to make eye contact. Just kept her attention directed elsewhere, her cheeks tinted red.

Great. Not that he was trying, but his odds of getting even a pity look in passing had all but tanked.

“Yo, I don’t wanna know what you did, but after that? My bullshit meter’s maxed, so fuck off.”

Prying his keys out of his pocket, Sharky unlocked the trunk of his car and threw the clothes into the back of it. Between the gas cans and propane tanks he’d thrown back there often enough, skunk wasn’t going to add much to the smell in there.

“Fuck off? That’s not very kind, all things considering.”

The trunk dropped, and he might’ve used more force than necessary. “Kind?”

“Not even a thank you?” John eyed him from a distance, smug, but only for a second. “After chasing off your little tormentor? Such a shame, really.”

“That I ain’t feeling, what? Warm gratitude towards you right now? Like happy and fuzzy shit?”

John scoffed. “Hardly.”

“'Cause you’re making a whole lot of noise for nothing, and I wouldn’t be out here busting my ass at all without you to begin with.”

“Oh, my dear Charlemagne,” he watched as John withdrew a blue handkerchief from his jean pocket, and held it up to his face to cover his nose, “I’m hardly the one at fault here.”

His patience snapped like a brittle twig. Rattling off words as fast as they came to him, Sharky scraped for the bottom, tried actively to come up with the most out of bounds targeted insults he could conjure up just to see if he could wipe what he was sure was a smirk right off of John’s face.

Then nearly crashed into the woman who had stepped into his path. Making full-on eye contact now, she gave him a hesitant, but soft smile. “I think this might help.”

In her hands was a towel. A nice, fluffy one, and she held it out towards him.

The anger drained out of him as he stared at her. Almost as if someone took an ice bucket and dumped it right over his shoulders.

Gingerly taking it, Sharky let it dangle in the air between them. “Uh, thanks?”

“Of course. For anyone in need, and you certainly seemed to be. Considering your lack of…clothing in general right now.”

Still had the underwear on, at least. Blushing five different shades of red, he quickly wrapped the towel around himself. “Yeah, um, thank you again, miss.”

She nodded, and headed back towards John. “We’ll be heading out, but can we expect you at mass later tonight?”

John lowered the handkerchief just enough for Sharky to catch the frown. “If work allows it. There’s still a lot left to do here, but you can let Joseph know I’ll try.”

Sharky pulled up a corner of the towel to wipe his face, no longer able to hear much of what was traded between them. Lady hadn’t even flinched at the smell up close, and the towel was a nice one. Nicer than any of the kind he had at home, and must’ve been in the basket she had with her.

Yeah, got that pity look after all. Great.

Staring down at his feet, he removed his cap to run a hand through his hair. The hushed voices behind him eventually stopped, and by the time John walked over he’d switched to looking out over the water.

“That was interesting.”

“Sure,” Sharky said, tired of arguing with him.

“And there went our progress for the afternoon. At least the morning wasn’t a complete waste, but our guest derailed us thoroughly. And I don’t believe you have a change of clothes, do you?”

Sharky rubbed his shoulder, and felt it twinge in response as he moved it. He badly needed a cigarette, and was desperate enough to see how many times it’d take for a wet one to actually light.

“Do you?”

“Look, I get what you’re asking. And no, I’d have-“ John raised the handkerchief again, and the words died in his mouth. “You know what? Forget it. And if you’re looking to avoid this shit, don’t stand downwind of it. Basic Scouting 101 right there.”

Sharky whipped the towel off and threw it at him.

John snatched it out of the air, keeping it from smacking him in the face. “Leaving?”

Not bothering to check behind him as he approached his car, Sharky flashed him the finger.

“You can take this with you, you know.”

That John didn’t take the bait, or fight him on it, only irritated him further. He also seemed to be following him, and Sharky scowled at him. “Don’t need it.”

John sighed, and put away the cloth. “Charlemagne, it’s a towel, and you’re still soaking wet.”

“And maybe I want the draft to help dry the swamp ass brewing here, okay?” he shot, climbing in behind the wheel. “And if you wanna give me shit for cutting out early, tack on more hours as a penalty, whatever, I’ll deal with that next time. Or, hell, the time after, as long as it doesn’t mean I’m still standing here talking any of this shit with you. That work?”

The thin line John had pressed his lips into told him otherwise, but he said nothing. Just crossed his arms before holding out the towel to him one last time.

Sharky hit the gas and didn’t look back.

[stone-man-warrior]

April 2, 2021: 2:04 pm:

============================================

I want to demonstrate how SAG news media creates labels for groups of people, and labels are created for just about any kind of repeatable circumstance, situation, disease, ailment, condition or set of conditions. The labels serve a tremendous role in the advance of global terrorism and mass murder by creating a set of jargon that is accepted as truth by millions of news viewers, while at the same time, that same jargon works like an instruction manual when viewed by members of the Canadian terror army who are led by the news media personalities with orders that are crafted by SAG Writers Guild members.

The Canadian terror army consider themselves as Pirates, they relate with pirate ideas and the “Pirate Way”.

“Pirates Say Aarrrgghh!”

Pirates take stuff that does not belong to them, they just take, and keep taking, while saying “Aarrgghh! and swinging a sword while releasing nitrous oxide gas on the wind.

The Canadian terror army of Pirates are all Christians. The most difficult part of this explanation is when I need to say that the Christian religion is fake, always was fake, is going to stay fake, and will never be a real religion, because Christianity is born of being pirates, when the first group of them took over Greece where the Parthenon is at, destroyed everything there, then found the Library at Alexandria, stole that and took slaves. The combination of the knowledge contained in the scrolls of Alexandria and those slaves who could read them was used by those first Christians against other populations of people, and the very first use of that knowledge wielded as a weapon was when the pirates used what the knowledge at Alexandria explained about Earth and time, the way there are four seasons, and the distribution of time in a year was done in ten increments, there were ten months in he year back then, so, to make it confusing  for everyone, the terror pirates added January and February to the beginning of the year, Doing that disrupted what people already knew, that in March, which was the first month of the year, that is the time to begin to start to grow the food that would be stored and eaten in the next winter. The pirates added the two months, and that news spread around, while the vast majority of people could not read or write, they just knew that “It’s the beginning of the year, so, we need to start growing the food” ... but it was January, and the food would not grow as it did before at the beginning of the year in March.

The Christian Pirates used the Library at Alexandria and took as slaves the people who could read the scrolls, and those people were forced to teach the Christian Pirates, who used what they learned, against others.

They shifted time, They stole time itself and harnessed time as a weapon against people in effort to weaken them.

(low flying terror air force airplane noted over my house just now at 2:32 pm)

I already explained all of that in better detail in other parts of this account,

The Christian religion is not a religion, it’s an organized group of pirates who tell wild stories about a “God” and they use the contents of a book, “The Bible” as a means to lure in victims, who are nailed to the cross, on the pirate ship, to catch wind, to move the boat forward, so that they can lure in more victims, ever more Jesus’ are captured with the fake stories in the book, they are nailed to the mast of the pirate ship to catch wind, to move the boat forward, to catch more Jesus’, to nail to the mast, to catch wind, to move the boat forward.

=======

Those labels I started out with:

Antifa: This is a fictional group of people. “Antifa” demonstrations can be quickly assembled by NBC/Universal/Comcast. All they need is a “casting call” and the SAG actors (extras) will gather where they are told to gather. A screenplay is written such that the events will draw attention from desired locations, while providing distraction from other locations and perhaps other places where more offensive mass murdering, raping, and pillaging is taking place away from the planned Antifa demonstrations. The word Antifa is a brilliant use of the concept on the part of the terror army leaders who came up with that term, “Antifa“. That world allows the smart, patriotic US Citizens who are opposed to fascism will be looking like a gang of criminals simply because they might say out loud that there are Fascists who took over. The Fascists, AKA: Screen Actor Guild Members, invented a word, a label, that they can stick onto people to make those people appear as terrorists when they speak of fascism and US takeover by Fascists. The Fascists crafted the label that turns the good guys into perceived bad guys. The only safe thing to do, is carefully avoid use of the word “Antifa” and to completely disassociate ones self from Any Organized Group of demonstrative people. The only group to belong to in my view, is that of “United States Citizen”, and it’s not enough to say “American“ anymore, those days are long over with. You have to be specific, United States Citizen is the only thing that will work as a title to align ones self with a controlling entity. The problem with that, is that the US White House and US Congress have both been hijacked by Fascists from Screen Actor Guild, who claim to be US Citizens in White House and US Congress. Add all fifty US State Governors to the Fascists who hijacked USA.

Three Percenters: The Three Percenters is terror code for the activity of attacking and taking 3% of the population at a given event or gathering, city or county, or other place where people are at. The “Three Percent Taking” is done at theaters, music concerts, sporting and other events at stadiums, ... any place where people are gathered in large numbers can be set up in advance with apparatus and layout that favors the 3% taking. Basically, if a hundred thousand people are at a Cal-Jam concert in 1974, then, 3.000 people can disappear, be taken captive, farmed of assets and family contact information, then killed & replaced with impostors who will vote in upcoming elections as they are instructed to vote, for the Fascist Shills that Screen Actor Guild arranges to be on the voting ballots. The “Three Percenters“ label, covers all of that other truth up and buries it within a mysterious group of armed “militia”. The fact is, that any one who knows the truth and thinks about making a report about the three percent taking at venues, will think twice when they also think about a mysterious armed militia, and they won‘t make the report about truth because the Christian terror pirate Fascists of Screen Actor Guild managed to find a way to scare people before they make the terror report. (at Cal-Jam, there were First Aid Tents. The three percent taking was done mostly by virtue of groups of terror soldiers tripping the victims at various sets of stairs, and other means of creating injury such that the marked victims would go to those first aid tents, where the victims where kidnapped from while within the cover of the tent area, a roped off, controlled area where multiple first aid tents were at. I was there, I lost a friend to the three percent taking at Cal-Jam, Kim noice never came home, but someone else did come to her home and began driving Kim’s car.)

Oath Keepers: Oath Keepers is another scary mysterious militia story that has many uses for NBC/Universal “demonstrations”. As a word, or terror term, look at Oath Keepers like this: “To take an Oath, is to give your word, to make a promise to be loyal to some group and duty” ... something like that, make your own assessment of “Oath”, that assessment I did is basic. So, the “Oath” is about “The Word”, and now you can see what is happening behind the scenes of the demonstrations that include “Oath Keepers”. They are especially religious, Christian variety terror pirates, maybe the term serves a need to specify a difference between Seventh Day Adventist Canadian terror soldiers vs the SAG leadership levels of terror operatives. If so, “Three Percenters” starts to look more as SAG, while “Oath Keepers” makes me lean more towards a SDA riddled area of thought. Honestly, come to think of it, both terms, “Oath Keepers” and “Three Percenters” seem to have a Christian sort of bad taste to them.

The Proud Boys: “Proud”, African Lions run in “Prides”. I say the “The Proud Boys” are just another brand name of the same generic product as the “Oath Keepers” and the “Three Percenters”. Lions are “The King”, so, that is more Christian religious bullshit in my view.

After doing this little bit about the media and the labels they use for covering Fascism and USA take over by SAG Fascists, I have this thought:

Of the groups mentioned, the one the matters most is “The Three Percenters” because of the reality of the ongoing 3% taking at various venues where people gather for Kill & Replace terrorism. It could be that SAG created those other groups primarily in effort to try to bury the existence of the “Three Percenter” stories in them, as a way to turn the “Three Percenters” cover story into a circus of various opposing militia, so that no one will be thinking about the taking of 3% of the people in the stands at the Super Bowl every year while Lady Gaga is leaping from the rooftop into the stadium below in glorious SAG style with 500 colorful drones making a Star Map in the skies above.

Labels, they serve the Media, and the Media is killing the US Population. They have been doing it since 1971, and now, they are using a horible biblical sized epic plague as the cover story, it works the same as the Pied Piper leading the Lemmings over the cliff, but this Piper has Sheriff John and Friar Tuck working for him from the British Throne.

============

3:56 pm:

Back in 1971, the plan that had been carefully crafted over coarse of the previous thirty years or so, was deployed, rolled out, set into motion. What I do lately for when I need to think hard about this subject, and specifically “when was the Britain/SAG terror alliance nailed down, and when did the takeover plan begin to materialize as the adopted one that was rolled out? The plan to Kill & Replace US Populations with use of the broadcast airwaves by Screen Actor Guild Media entities who command a trained army from Canada who are armed with invisible gas that has no odor or taste, nitrous oxide, and to have the army release the gas in effort to prime the victims, to make easy to capture prey, and to mitigate the potential danger to the terror army soldiers, who are trained by Britain, in Canada, and are led as an army by Screen Actor Guild as mentioned with news stories on television, in code.

That is the final plan that has been under way since 1971. When did the plan begin to take shape as it’s final agreed upon form the way it was rolled out?

I say the plan took shape at about the same time as, or shortly after the faked attack on Pearl Harbor. I say that the Pearl Harbor Attack was the epitome of a different attack plan that was formed and took shape in the years following and a a result of World War One. The British never got past that Boston Tea Party. They never have given way to the sovereignty of USA. The British still feel that all of north America belongs to Britain, they never have stopped their advance, they simply regrouped, came up with goals, plans, and have been carrying out offensives against USA ever since the first Colonials were here to so the offensive.

Pearl Harbor attack was done by Britain with fake Zeros fitted with Mercedes Benz motors, and, those airplanes played a much smaller role than we are led to believe. The result of the Pearl Harbor attack is that USA was weaponized against Japan, by Britain’s charade.

now, Britain is secretly the ruling entity in Japan, and has been since USA bombed Hiroshima. It all was a complex plan to take Hawaii and Japan at the same time.

Today, Britain is secretly the ruling entity in USA as a result of the nitrous attack Kill & Replace plan with SAG media in the command position.

Britain rules Hong Kong, Australia, Canada, Japan, India, USA, new Zealand, all of South Africa, and a whole bunch more, yet no one ever talks about all of that.

I was trying to make a simple point when I started writing this addition to this entry. I want to point out, that in 1971 when the current take over plan was initiated, and SAG began to do the command orders for the Canadian terror army that was handed to them by Britain, at that time in 1971 the Screen Actor Guild could have been describes as “A nation without a country, gaining ground”.

Today, fifty years later, the Screen Actor Guild is in the White House and has been since Ronald Reagan. SAG and the “Kill & Replace” voter replacement plan worked, is complete, is over with, done, successful, and now US Congress is all Screen Actor Guild. Each state Governor’s Office is manned with a SAG Shill, so, again, success, the plan worked.

Fifty years ago, a group of organized like-minded people had a plan, they rolled out the plan, and a “nation without a country” is now a nation in secret command and control of that country they took as per plan.

Fifty years ago, US Citizens all were part of a nation, the Unites States of America.

now, it’s those few remaining US Citizens who are the nation without a country,

Since the SAG/Britain/Canada plane worked so well, the Kill & Replace method of murdering one citizen at a time in great numbers in effort to gain one single vote per murdered citizen actually worked. The bastards somehow managed to kill and dispose of hundreds of millions of US citizen voters ....

.... and no one has noticed in fifty years.

All that needs to happen now, is a controlled clean up effort to rid the country of the remaining US Citizens who are oblivious to any threat from Canada, Britain, or Screen Actor Guild.

It will be as simple as vacuuming the living room when the floor is already clean.

======

This is a Jack:

That is not a USA Flag, yet that Jack flies in the office of the US President, in the halls of US Congress, and in the offices of Governors throughout USA,

The USA Flag does not have a gold binding around it’s perimeter,

https://uscode.house.gov/view.xhtml?path=/prelim@title4/chapter1&edition=prelim

§1. Flag; stripes and stars on

The flag of the United States shall be thirteen horizontal stripes, alternate red and white; and the union of the flag shall be forty-eight stars, white in a blue field.

(July 30, 1947, ch. 389, 61 Stat. 642.)

=============================

Gone.

USA became fools, and the people are believing the lie that is Corona Virus. The lie that kills the nation.

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5:28 pm:

Has any one else other than me noticed that since Joe Biden and Democrat presence took the White House that there seems to have been a boatload of horrible murderous rampage killings and Schule Schute style events?

Why?

The Republicans are no different than the Democrats, so why does Biden and the Democrats come with so many additional dog & pony shows?

You don’t really believe that all of those media feeding frenzies all took place without a Hollywood script and screenplay, casting call, props, make-up and wardrobe departments in full swing do you?

Why are the so called Republicans so quiet lately? What are they up to in the background while their Democrat comrades are drawing so much attention?

Some things to consider:

Republicans are interested in earthly materials. They like mining, minerals, metals, trees & lumber, granite for making fluted columns on Greek Architecture. Republicans like Railroads, big shipping boats, ports, lanes of traffic. They like military contracts, giant machines that are capable of digging to do more mining.

Democrats are interested in insurance companies, complicated social programs and hand outs for ease of scraping the cream off the top of the money trail. Democrats like hospitals, drug manufacturing, they like to stylish colorful and elaborate clothing, big parties, awards ceremonies, social media, and electronic gadget manufacturing. Democrats like Ray Bradbury style stories about the future, they like rockets and space travel, and one day, the Democrats say they want to start a colony on Mars.

Both Democrats and Republicans love banks, and banking, the Dems like to wear gold, while the Republicans would rather stash the gold away in case they need to melt it down to make a rake so they can plant some food after the shit gets a little more real than it already is.

The last time I checked, the FBI had about 4,000 field agents nation wide, and those field agents have support services from base operatives that don’t do field work.

Let’s say those 4,000 field officers are busy, they are hot on the trail of a whole bunch of really bad bad guys who are taking over USA at an alarming rate.

Then, in the middle of gaining some ground, catching up to those bad guys, media shows up with a bullshit story about some asshole who crashed the gate at the US Capitol Building.

All of those 4,000 field officers might be called to duty to protect the US Capitol Building where the US Congress members are at. The officers could get bogged down in a sea of paper work, making assessments, measuring, doing “What If Scenarios” just in case that asshole that crashed the gate was just a distraction for other idiots in the DC area.

Something like that would be bad. It would take the focus off of what those officers had found, and they found that they are greatly outnumbered, but, they still have to go babysit the US congress because some asshole crashed the gate.

For some perspective, where I live in Josephine County Oregon, I estimate that there are more than 4,000 hard core terror soldiers just in the five mile radius that surrounds my house. Each one of them has support available from a terror airforce that also resides in that same radius area, and what’s more, is each one of them has direct contact and support available from the US White House if that is what is necessary to protect them from being discovered,

But some asshole crashed the gate at the US Capitol Building.

=======

More perspective to think about:

Within about a one hundred mile radius of my home in Josephine county, there are a number if US national guard bases, I can think of only three that I actually know of as result of having been to them, but I am pretty sure there are many more withing that one hundred mile radius, and that includes Air Guard bases.

The thing I want to point out having mentioned those national guard bases, is that in that same one-hundred mile radius the included guard bases, there is not one single solitary US national Guard serviceman.

none.

There are bases, and there are men on the bases, but none of the men on the bases are US national Guard members.

There is US Military equipment at those bases, and there are men at the bases, but there are no US national guard members at the bases or near the military equipment.

now this may seem as stretch of the imagination, but I say the reason that the Joe Biden White House came with so many Schule Schutes and a gate crasher at the US Capitol, is largely because there are no US national guard members at those bases.

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6:34 pm:

Horrible poison leg attack update:

The surface wounds are slowly healing. The poison is still inside the leg. I went to two doctors this week and each one turned me away. The Asante Urgent Care doctor should have numbed my leg, and irrigated the three red sores that are there on the left side, opened the wound, used cleansing and antibiotic irrigation to flush the poisons out, then a stitch or two to close the irrigation area should have been applied, with a prescription for some antibiotics to take over the next ten days. That, and some suitable pain medicine should have been done at the White City Urgent Care when I was in the exam room there on Tuesday.

Instead, the doctor told me to go to a different hospital, where I might need to have the leg amputated above the knee.

The foot is persistently swollen, the toes are ice cold inside, and that is a product of the poisons, is not because of absence of blood flow. There is ample blood flow, but I think one of the poisons I was injected with was freon, the stuff that goes in an air-conditioner unit, and I believe that is why my toes are feeling like ice is inside.

I tried the name brand neo-sporin. and it worked for a little while, however I am experiencing a painful situation with application of name brand neo-sporin. The area where those sores are at on the shin is where I put the ointment, then, later, when I rinse the area because it starts to burn with the feeling like the worst sun burn I ever had, that I why I go rinse with Peroxide, but for some reason, that neo-sporin coming off with peroxide is taking a whole bunch of skin with it. Layers of skin are pealing away with the peroxide after use of name brand neo-sporin. The Equate brand just burned real bad, was unbearable, but this burns then peals way too much. The result is a lot of raw new skin that pealed too soon and is very painful while I am trying to apply some heat to warm the inside of my toes.

I have not walked enough to make assessment of the muscle cramp spasm of the calf and other shin muscles. I do feel some pain at the front ankle where that shin muscle is at on the front, and I am concerned about that muscle as it is located along the length of the shin just under those big poison wounds.

All of those open sores started out as tiny little red dots where the syringe penetrated my skin when I was attacked.

==============

8:35 pm:

I took a walk to the Jackpine just now.

As I stepped outside, the listening device that Monroe terror cell put under my house at the front porch picked up the sound of the door opening and closing, and then that sound signaled some synthesized bird call sounds to play through an amplifier at Chartrand’s terror cell. That sound was loud and signaled Sandy Monroe and another female to come out of the Offensive Monroe Surveillance Travel Trailer, but only after they waited until I had walked by that area. As I went through my gate, the two women signaled for a vehicle to come down the road from Sunflower or Strongs terror cell. Then, as I got to Jackpine, that is when that car actually showed up, I saw it coming so I quickly turned around to return home. Then, a conversation started at the Monroe back porch area, and simultaneously another conversation began at the Monroe Offensive trailer. The car that came down the road pulled into the Monroe driveway instead of going straight through as usual. Then, as I reached the place where the Monroe Trailer is at, three bull dogs began to bark and ran quickly to where I was hobbling myself past there. The conversation between the two women. Sandy and another girl that sounds exactly like Deb Monroe, got real loud while the dogs were running towards me at the fence line. The two women began to shout at the dogs, and the peaceful walk to the road was completely spoiled by terrorists who are constantly listening and watching every last thing I do with electronic surveillance listening equipment and many cameras.

The leg condition is still real bad, and made a muscle spasm by the time I reached my gate. I decided I had gone too far by the time I was almost home, and was unable to continue walking without taking a rest.

The interesting part of this is that while out running errands at the stores and doctors, the spasm muscle cramps did not happen, so, I suspect that Monroe is releasing more extra poisons in the nearby area, poisons that make a leg muscle cramp. That A-1 Exterminator van filled with pesticides was there in the Monroe driveway when I returned from the store on Wednesday.