#i love penelope who digs her own grave | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shmaptainwrites · 3 years ago

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Secrets in Seattle [Aaron Hotchner]

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Spencer Reid, Gabriel (OC), Marigold Hotchner (OC)

Words: 13K

Summary: The team gets the smallest glimpse into Hotch's personal life and wants to dig more to find out what happened before they all got there.

Warnings: angst angst angst, main character death, death of an infant, blood, injury, stabbing, hospitals, terminal illness, hurt mild comfort, implied smut

A/N: Okay remember that really angsty fic I was telling you guys about? Well this is it and it is way longer than I expected it to be and I tried my very best with the warnings so I hope I covered everything, but otherwise for those who choose to read prepare to have your heart broken [Also a very special thanks to Jor and Lene who were helping me whenever I got a lil stuck I love you both mwauh]

Hotch never spoke of his personal life at work, it was something the rest of the BAU had accepted.

Aside from the occasional dinner outing and drinks with the rest of them they didn’t really know what he did.

Most of them gathered Rossi probably had the best idea out of all of them, but in reality, all he knew for sure was that Hotch was alone.

He woke up in the morning in a bed next to no one and went to sleep at night the same way.

They had tried asking him about dating once, even about setting him up with someone.

The idea was shot down faster than an unsub with his finger on the trigger.

But every now and again they would see him slip out of the office in the middle of the work day and come back maybe even gloomier than he was before he left.

No one ever knew where he went out to until one day just the most minute slip of the tongue told them otherwise.

“I have to go to the cemetery today,” he told Rossi, Emily, JJ, and Penelope.

They could almost visibly see the way he tensed when the words left his mouth. He wished he could have taken them back, replaced them with something else but it was too late.

“The cemetery?” Rossi asked.

“Yes,” Hotch answered simply. “I’ll be back in an hour, call me if a case comes in,”

He left like that, not another word before grabbing his keys and heading out of the office in Quantico.

“Why does he have to go to the cemetery?” Emily asked, looking more at Rossi.

“Beats me, he’s never talked about it before,”

“You think that’s why he’s always so sad when he goes out?” Penelope asked, her empathy always shining through. “Is he visiting his father’s resting place?”

“No,” Rossi knew that one for sure. “He doesn’t go there,”

“Who says we can’t find out?” Emily said but it wasn’t so much of a question as a statement because they all knew where she was going with it. She grabbed her own keys just as JJ gave her a warning,

“Em, Hotch is private for a reason, maybe we should just leave him alone,”

“Well how is it fair he knows so much about us and we know barely anything about him?” she asked. When no answer was received she nodded her head. “See that’s what I thought, it’s about time we knew something about him,”

Only thing was, even after following him to the cemetery, seeing him sit on the grass, replacing flowers in a small vase and leaving a tiny kiss chocolate on top of the headstone, she still had no more answers than she did before, only questions.

The name on the grave, for one, was unfamiliar.

(Y/N) (L/N).

She’d never heard it in her life.

Figuring it was maybe from an old BAU case on the way back she curiously called Penelope to see if she could help.

“Can you run the name (Y/N) (L/N) through our database? See if anything pops up?”

“You know I can, but what is this for?” she inquired back. Already having a good feeling what it was.

“Just a case I’m working on,” Emily lied.

If nothing showed up in Penelope’s search, maybe Rossi could be of some help. The name could have at least sounded familiar.

Penelope didn’t press, a part of her was probably more curious than she wished to admit so she just went with it.

After Emily hung up she called Rossi.

“Don’t tell me this is about Aaron,”

“Rossi come on you can’t tell me you’re not curious,”

The man sighed and Emily could practically see him pinch the bridge of his nose.

“What do you need, Emily?”

“Do you know someone named (Y/N) (L/N)?” she asked and there was silence on the other end of the line while Rossi thought long and hard.

“The name sounds familiar,” he finally said. “But I wouldn’t be able to tell you from where,”

“Alright, thanks anyways,”

“Don’t snoop too much Emily. He’ll tell us when he’s ready,”

“You can hope for that all you want Rossi but we both know that’s not going to happen,”

Emily wasn’t entirely sure why she was so invested in finding out who this person was, but it was clear she meant something to Hotch, she was someone important to him and he was constantly telling the team that they were important to him too. So if they were, why was he so secretive?

It wasn’t long before Derek and Spencer were also made aware of Hotch’s slip up and curiosity got the better of all of them.

After days of going through the system Penelope came back to inform them that there was no information on a (Y/N) (L/N) in the BAU’s database, so not a victim…maybe. They couldn’t rule out anything just yet.

But it seemed since all of them were so hyper-focused on whatever Hotch was doing, small things they never seemed to notice would come through.

The first thing was spotted by JJ. They were on the jet after a long, hard, and arduous case and she noticed Hotch going to sit off to the side, when he was sure no one was around him he pulled something out of his pocket. A necklace with an oval pendant, it looked like it maybe could have been a locket.

He fiddled with it for a little while before putting it back and she didn’t think much more of it.

But when she saw the necklace make another appearance, only this time in the middle of a case while they were dealing with a family annihilator.

This time he opened it, standing behind the evidence board, his thumb gently running along the side of the pendant while he looked at the photo.

When he closed the locket and looked back up his eyes locked with JJ’s. They both froze, looking at each other, Hotch’s brows furrowing deeper than before until she looked away.

She told Rossi and Emily later that night and suddenly the locket seemed to pop up everywhere.

—

Hotch didn’t trust many people to go into his office alone but Derek seemed to be one of the exceptions. If he was busy and couldn’t go and grab something himself, often he would send the younger man in his place.

“The middle drawer on the right,” he had said. “Top file underneath the books,”

Only sometimes Derek’s brian worked a thousand miles a minute and the directions became jumbled and he only retained a small piece instead of the whole.

So walking into the Unit Chief’s office he went behind his desk and looked at both drawers. Was it middle right? Or left?

He started with the left and the second he opened it, he knew it was the wrong one.

But he was so surprised all he could do was stare at the sparkling rings in front of him.

They looked polished and hardly worn. One simple gold band, obviously for a man, and another elegant ring, but instead of a diamond in the center there was a neatly rounded opal stone and smaller diamonds encrusted along either side of the ring.

He closed the drawer before Hotch came back, inquiring what was holding him up.

He covered up with a quick white lie about running into Penelope.

Truth was, he would be making a stop to her office on the way back. And so would Emily, Rossi, JJ, and Spencer.

—

Sometimes Rossi felt as if he was the only one who respected privacy anymore. He only stuck around to make sure he could stop something before it got out of hand and he vowed that if he came across any information it would go with him to the grave. He knew what it was like to want to have secrets. To keep things to oneself because memories were either too painful or were better just left alone.

And if Hotch had known what was going through his head, he would have been happy that Rossi was the one to find him on November 14th.

It was late and Rossi had thought everyone in the building had already left, but when he came out he could see the light of a lamp in Hotch’s office.

There was no curious intention when he walked into the room, only wanting to make sure his friend was alright.

Walking in, it was clear he was anything but.

Hotch sat at his desk, the bottle of whiskey he normally kept tucked in his cabinet for either a celebration after a good case or just needing to forget a bad one, placed slightly off to the side. The cup next to him was filled, recently Rossi assumed, and right in front of him, he held a stuffed bear. The cute cuddly kind every kid grew up with. But this bear was clothed in a pretty purple dress, with sparkly frilly ends on the skirt. And he just stared at it.

He knew Rossi was standing there, he knew very well someone was watching, but he couldn’t pull away. He didn’t have the energy, he was just so tired of it all.

So Rossi just quietly pulled up a chair next to his friend, leaning forward slightly to look at him.

“How long?” he whispered.

Hotch swallowed the lump in his throat before taking in a shaky breath and looking at Rossi.

“What?”

“How long has it been?” he asked, motioning to the bear in his hands.

He squeezed his eyes shut and Rossi could see him squeeze the bear so tightly his knuckles went white.

“T-Ten,” he said, his voice breaking, tears escaping his eyes as his shoulders started to shake. “T-Ten years,”

That was all it took for him to break. Everything spilled over, ten years of pain unbottled, the thing he never spoke about around others, but it was possible the alcohol was loosening his tongue.

His shoulders shook with sobs while Rossi wrapped his arms around his friend allowing him that solace that came with even a small embrace. He knew all too well what it felt like to lose a child. It was a piece of yourself you would never get back.

When his sobs died down, eyes still red and watering, he looked at the bear in his hands again.

His hands traced the words on the fabric of the dress, they read Daddy’s Little Girl.

“I was so excited,” he whispered. “Before she was born I-I was just out for groceries,” he started to share, his eyes never leaving those of the bear. “I saw this on the rack and I was so happy I didn’t even check the size,” he chuckled slightly to himself. “It was for 11-12 months, so I held onto it s-so she could wear it when she was big enough,”

Only now did Rossi speak up once more,

“Is it her birthday today?”

Hotch nodded, wiping a few more tears from his eyes.

“It’s hard grieving alone,” Rossi said gently. “Do you want to tell me her name so we can remember her together?”

Hotch wasn’t sure if he could say it, it had been so long since the name had passed through his lips he was worried the same pain would split through his heart as the last time he said it. But it had been ten years. It was time she had someone else to miss her.

“Marigold,” he whispered. “Her mom picked it,”

“That’s a beautiful name,”

And indeed it was. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

—

Rossi never brought up that night with anyone, preferring instead to keep it to himself, and it was clear Hotch noticed and was thankful, he showed it in his own little way too.

But it wasn’t long before one last thing was found that couldn’t be left unaddressed.

It was the start of a very long flight back home and Spencer had taken a seat next to the window while Hotch had been in the aisle seat, leaving for a moment to go to the washroom.

His wallet was left on the table in front of him, a paper sticking out from underneath and was blown slightly by the AC.

Spencer noticed this and thinking it was money went to take it and tuck it back in the wallet. He pulled the paper and as soon and it was untucked from the wallet he realized it wasn’t cash after all. Instead, he saw a picture of a younger Hotch, face beaming with joy while he held a newborn baby in his arms, a woman standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders and her smile just as wide as his.

Emily was the first to notice Spencer staring at the photo and came over to see what he had found, her eyes going wide when she saw what it was.

The rest of the team followed shortly afterwards, including Penelope who had been with them this case, and Hotch exited the bathroom confused as to why everyone had congregated around the young doctor.

“Why are you guys all gathered…oh,”

Spencer was the first to look up an apology right on the top of his tongue but Hotch stopped him.

So silently, he handed him the picture and Hotch took a quiet moment to himself, just looking at his family.

“Who are they?” Derek asked.

“My wife and daughter,” he answered quietly, but flinched when the words left his mouth. He never did end up getting the chance to marry you. “Fiancée,” he corrected. “We didn’t get married,”

And no one was surprised when Emily asked the million-dollar question,

“What happened to them?”

It was a good thing they had a long flight ahead of them.

—

“Victim’s from out of state so we have to take this one,” Gabriel looked up at his boss, passing him a small police file.

“Who found the body?” Hotch asked, looking over the papers.

“Friend of the vic, crime scene is her home,”

“You see if you can notify the family, I’ll go over to the crime scene, talk to the friend,” he instructed. “You know her name?”

“Yeah, (Y/N) something,” Gabriel pulled out his notebook and referred to it before correcting himself. “(Y/N) (L/N), that’s it,”

“Alright, tell Gonzales, Robinson, and Clarkson we have a case, they’ll work it with us,”

“You got it boss,”

Hotch grabbed the keys to one of the government SUVs and headed down to the parking garage.

Most of the time he appreciated having his team with him, but something told him that it was good he was going to be alone. Just a gut feeling.

When he reached the home some uniformed officers were already waiting there and trying to speak to you to no avail. You were still in shock, you needed time and space, neither of which they were giving you.

Hotch quickly jumped out of the car and jogged to the porch, flashing his badge and with a nod of his head, letting them know he’d take it from here.

You had your head in your hands, a pile of crumpled tissues between you, but you still recognized the additional presence.

You felt him leave for a short moment before coming back, along with a small thump next to you.

You looked up and saw a garbage can in front of you, no doubt for the tissues and sitting opposite you wasn’t one of the officers from before.

He gave you a moment to throw out your tissues and compose yourself before introducing himself as Agent Hotchner.

“I’m very sorry for your loss Miss (L/N), I can’t possibly begin to imagine what you’re going through,”

You hoped it wasn’t false sympathy, you had enough to deal with.

“What do you want, Agent Hotchner?” you asked him quite sharply, but still with a sniffle. “Everyone wants something,”

“Right now,” he started. “I want to make sure you’re feeling okay and then I’d like to see if I could ask you some questions about what happened so we can find out who did this to your friend,”

You looked up at him properly, only now taking in his features. He had the hardened look of a law enforcement officer, but the softness in his coffee coloured brown eyes was unmistakable.

“It might take a little bit…I hope you have time,”

“As much as you need,” he nodded, reaching over and offering you a tissue from the box which you took.

And he sat with you in silence while you mourned your friend, while you ran through every possibility wondering why it had to be her, how if you had just been even a little more careful, maybe this would have never happened.

Friends were supposed to look out for each other, but last night you failed to do that.

“I’m not too sure how I can be of any help,” you told him truthfully. “I was um…we were at a bar, drinking, and she came home early without me,”

“Did she take a car?” Hotch asked.

“N-No, she walked,” you told him. “The bar was close to here,”

“Why did she want to leave earlier than you?” Hotch asked. “Did you fight? Argue?”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “She was just tired and I wasn’t ready to go home yet,”

“And you didn’t see her leave with anyone?”

“No,” but you paused a minute to amend your answer. “I-I don’t think I did,”

“This is all very helpful, I have some agents waiting for an assignment so I’ll go get them to ask around the bar a bit,”

“Is it too much to ask to keep me updated?” you inquired.

“I will when I can,” he nodded. “And if you think you can remember anything else or need something,” he pulled out his card and handed it to you. “Don’t hesitate to call,”

You twiddled with the card between your fingers.

Agent Aaron Hotchner.

You thought the name suited him. A nice name for a nice man.

“Thank you,” you said. “A-And I’m not entirely sure where I’m supposed to stay now,”

“I’ll help you get set up in a hotel,” he assured. “Some of the techs will drop off some of your things in a bag for you later,”

“O-Okay,”

He stood up and you followed him, all the way to his car where he opened the door for you and helped you inside the large SUV.

The drive was spent in a mostly comfortable silence, the radio playing quietly in the background until he spoke up.

“Do you have someone you can be with?” he asked. “Someone you can call that can support you?”

You shook your head and stared out of the window, Seattle’s suburbs were nice but not nice enough to distract you apparently.

“No, I’m alone,”

When you said it like that you almost cringed at yourself. It sounded so pathetic.

“I mean umm…” you took a small breath in before continuing. “My mom and dad passed away when I was young and I don’t speak with my sister. I just moved here recently so I haven’t had much of a chance to get connected I guess,”

“Where did you move from?” he asked gently.

“California,” you said.

He nodded his head, his eyes still focused on the road in front of him.

“I moved here a while back too,” he said after a brief silence. “Maybe a year? Year and a half ago,” he shrugged. “It’s hard readjusting, but it’ll happen before you know it,”

“Thanks…I think,” you said, your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you looked up at him once more.

Silence filled the air once more as he pulled up into a small motel parking lot further in the city.

“I hope you don’t mind staying here, it’s just closer to the office in case you need anything,”

“No, it’s fine,” you assured.

“Keep your receipts and the bureau will be sure to reimburse you for however long you’re staying here,”

“Alright,” you nodded. “I’ll be sure to call you if I remember anything,”

“Day or night Miss (L/N), I’ll be up,”

“(Y/N),” you corrected. “Call me (Y/N), please,”

“(Y/N),” his lips couldn’t fight back the small smile that came across them. “That’s a very beautiful name,”

“Thank you, I-uh I picked it myself,” you chuckled lightly.

“Y-You did?” he asked and you nodded with a shrug, opening the car door.

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime,”

And before he could answer the door was shut behind you and you walked towards the reception to book yourself a room.

—

A night or so later, the case was coming to more or less of a standstill and that was never a good thing. Hotch was taking more late nights just to try and get any sliver of information from someone but nobody could tell him anything. It was like your friend had been killed by a ghost.

He hadn’t heard from you since that first day and didn’t have any reason to go back and follow up just yet.

But when he was least expecting it, a call rang through on his work phone, it was maybe just past one o’clock in the morning and he wondered who in the world had any information for him this late at night.

But as per usual he picked up the phone without any hesitation, reciting his usual answer of,

“Hotchner,”

“A-Agent Hotchner? This is (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N),”

“(Y/N),” he practically breathed. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” you sniffed and he could tell you were hiding something. “Everything’s fine,”

“Then why did you call?”

It was your turn to be silent now. When after a minute or so you didn’t answer, Hotch glanced over at his watch before sighing deeply. It wasn’t like him to go against protocol, but he couldn’t just leave you like that.

“Ice cream or pizza?” he asked.

“W-What?”

Saying you were confused would be putting it lightly.

“Which one do you want?” he asked. “Ice cream or pizza?”

If he had been standing in front of you he would have seen the small smile just peeking past a frown and he would have melted because that thing he couldn’t quite place? It may have been feeling a little stronger for someone than he should have.

“Ice cream,” you answered.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,”

He grabbed his keys and kept telling himself he was just trying to make sure there was trust between you two, in case you had any more information on the case that could get the ball rolling, but deep down he knew it was more, something else.

True to his word he was outside your room at the motel in less than ten minutes two pints of ice cream in hand.

Before he could knock twice the door was open and you stood on the other side, dressed in your most comfortable clothes you had on hand, an old pair of college sweats along with a quarter zip sweater, while he was still dressed in his work suit. Although his tie was loosened and the top button of his dress shirt was undone.

“I-I wasn’t sure what flavour you liked,” he expressed. “So um I hope chocolate and vanilla are okay,”

“Actually,” you sucked in some air through your teeth. “I’m more of a strawberry girl,”

Hotch was about to open his mouth with an apology, but you gave him a light laugh,

“I’m kidding,” you assured him. “Coping mechanism, just ignore it,”

You opened the door wider and allowed him to come inside, setting the ice cream down on the small table they had in the room. There were two chairs seated somewhat closely to each other and he took the left side while you took the right, reaching over to grab the chocolate ice cream first.

“Last time we saw each other you mentioned something about your name,” he opened with, easing into a conversation.

“I’m surprised you remember,” you admitted.

“Part of the job I guess,” he shrugged. “So you picked it yourself?”

You nodded your head.

“I never liked the name I grew up with, I don’t know why, maybe it just reminded me of my parents who were gone and I wanted a fresh start. So when I turned eighteen I changed it,”

“Huh,” he hummed. It was interesting, but he couldn’t deny the name you had picked suited you.

There was a slightly awkward silence between you before he spoke up again.

“So are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked, taking the other pint of ice cream from the bag. There was a pause before you responded.

“You ever get that gut feeling that something bad’s going to happen?” you asked him, but didn’t really wait for an answer. “I had one of those the night Nina died,”

So that’s what was upsetting you.

“And I can’t seem to shake that feeling that if I had told her something, either convinced her to stay longer o-or gone home with her, maybe this wouldn’t have happened,” you explained. “I can’t imagine what her parents think of me now…”

“I’m sure they’re worried about you too,” Hotch offered, but it was a cold comfort.

“You’re just saying that,” you whispered, your spoon twirling in the small ice cream bucket.

“Maybe I am, but I don’t think it’s fair you're blaming yourself for something you had no control over,”

“No control-,”

“Just wait,” he interrupted. “Look I’ve been with the FBI for maybe six years now, and before that I was a federal prosecutor,” he explained. “So in my professional experience, if you had gone back with her you wouldn’t be sitting here with me right now,” he said in a kind, but firm tone. “And from what I’ve heard from Nina’s parents she was stubborn, there was no way you would have convinced her to stay later if she didn’t want to,”

“And how does it make it any better if I’m dead or alive,” you turned and asked him. “I haven’t made a difference to anyone,”

“To anyone you know of,” he said. “I’ve only known you a few days and I’d be upset if you died,”

“Would you?” you raised an incredulous brow.

He nodded his head, placing a spoon of vanilla ice cream in his mouth before passing you the pint and asking to switch to which you obliged.

“A-And I’m not just saying that,” he explained, “I guess I just have a good feeling about you, it would be a shame for the world to lose that,”

You stared at the man in front of you with such curiosity. You had absolutely no idea why he had come at your request, why did he deem you a person worthy of his time. Surely he was busy with work, he was at the office until one in the morning and yet he dropped everything to come and sit with you, talk you down. And he was so patient, you knew you had a tendency to blame yourself and sometimes it just took some firm assurance, sometimes it took something more. But even after all that, here he was, sitting next to you, not in the least bit frustrated, there were less and less people like that in the world. You just counted your blessings that you got lucky and one was sitting right next to you.

“Agent Hotchner-,”

“Aaron,” he corrected you this time, removing whatever superficial professional boundary was left between you.

“Aaron,” you repeated. “A-Are you ever scared?” you asked just above a whisper.

“All the time,” it was so brutally honest it almost took you aback. He could have covered it up with an easy no and that would have been the end of it, but he said three words making himself so vulnerable to you, you couldn’t help but carefully reach your hand over to hold his over the table. “But it’s what keeps you awake, on your toes,” he explained. “I wouldn’t want to not be scared, I-I think it makes me a better agent. A better person, so I can help other people who need it more,”

But he knew there was a difference between you both. You were on one side, a side he wished he would never have to be on. Watching his loved ones hurt at the hands of someone else, taken away from their family and friends before their time. But he was on the safe side. He could distance himself from a case as much as he needed, but you were right in the middle of it.

“Is that why you’re here?” you asked quietly. “A-Am I just another person you’re helping?”

“No,” he breathed, “Not at all,”

“Then what am I?”

“I-,” he stopped himself, but you moved closer, your hand shakily reaching to his cheek, turning his face so he would look into your eyes.

“Aaron,” your voice was so quiet and he couldn’t pull his eyes away from you no matter the voice screaming at him to look away.

“(Y/N) I-,”

You cut him off, pulling him in and pressing your lips to his. His voice was muffled by your mouth, but it faded quickly as he held your face in his hands pulling you closer.

You moved, standing, but without parting your lips from his, one leg sliding over his lap until his hands slipped down to your waist, but when he felt your hands running through his hair, it hit him. He couldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be doing this.

“(Y/N) wait,” he held your arms, pulling you away and you froze.

“Oh my God I-I shouldn’t have done-I don’t know-,” you stammered, trying to scramble off him, but he held you in place, trying to calm you down.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, still holding you tight. “Hey look at me, it’s alright,”

You felt so careless, embarrassed and you wanted to shrink into nothing, but he still continued to be careful with you.

“Why don’t you get some rest, okay?” he suggested.

“O-Okay,”

You got up off his lap and moved toward the bed while he closed the two pints of ice cream before putting them in the mini freezer.

“Aaron, I’m sorry,” you said quietly after he made his way to the door.

“Don’t be,” he assured. “I’ll call you if we hear anything else about the case,”

“Thank you,” you pressed your lips together and he gave you a quick nod before leaving the room, his heart beating at 1000 miles a minute.

—

“Ma’am can I help you with something?” an agent asked after you walked into the Seattle field office.

“Y-Yes I’m looking for Agent Hotchner,” you said.

“I’m afraid he’s busy right now. Can you wait? If not I can take a message for him,”

“No I can wait,” you nodded.

“Come on then, let me find you a seat,” the agent offered and you followed her through to the main office where she sat you down at a small table.

You glanced around at the office, noticing how everything was hyper-organized and after a quick look behind you, you saw Aaron in his office, speaking with a few other agents for a few more moments before packing up his things and taking a look outside, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment before he put his things down and came out to see you.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” he asked, in a quiet curious way, no frustration in his voice whatsoever.

“I-I know what happened last night-it shouldn’t have happened,” you whispered. “B-But I remembered something,”

“You did?” he looked surprised, like he wasn’t expecting your memory to be jogged like that.

You nodded your head.

“W-We ran into someone, at the bar,” you explained. “He tried to convince Nina to go home with him, but she just wasn’t feeling it I guess,”

“You think it could have been him?”

“There was something off,” you said. “I-I couldn’t pinpoint it but he made me feel uneasy,”

“Do you remember what he looked like?” he inquired.

“Yeah, I got a pretty good look at him,”

“Okay then, I’ll see if we can sit you with a sketch artist. You think you could do that?”

You nodded your head while he placed a hand on your arm.

“I’ll be right back, this will be incredibly helpful,” he admitted.

You worked incredibly closely with the bureau after that. You were their material witness.

When they had suspects they brought in you were always called to try and identify them. It’s not like you had anything better to do, your boss had given you some mandatory time off and you had no better way to spend it.

And when things finally came to a close you weren’t sure how you felt about it. It was a weird feeling like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders paired with a crushing blow to your heart.

Maybe that was because deep down you didn’t think you’d ever get to see Aaron again.

But after the arrest was made, and you had already signed a new lease agreement he was the first person to come knocking at your door, standing quietly on the porch awaiting your answer.

You checked through the peephole first before unlocking the door quickly and opening it wide so you could see him properly and fully.

“Aaron,” his name rolled off your tongue so simply yet he found himself wishing it was the only sound he would ever hear for the rest of his life. “What are you doing here?”

“The case,” he said, he looked a little…jumpy? “It’s over, we arrested the man who killed Nina. He confessed,”

“H-He did?” your eyes were blown wide and your lips fought their way into a smile, something they hadn’t done in so long.

“And it’s because of you,” he added. “The case was at a standstill, we had no leads, everything seemed to vanish into thin air but you… you came forward and that changed. Suddenly we were making connections left and right. You have every reason to be thanked (Y/N),”

“And you came to just tell me this in person?” you asked.

“Yes,” he nodded, “b-but also to give you this,” he added, handing you a small card. “It’s my um, my personal number. If you find yourself needing anything, and I mean anything I don’t want you to hesitate to call me,”

“Anything,” you whispered to yourself, your fingers tracing the straight edges of the card. “I will,” you said quietly.

“Take care of yourself, (Y/N),” he said softly, his hand coming to squeeze your wrist quickly before he turned around to leave and you shut the door.

Your next actions were almost immediate though. You pulled out your phone from your pocket and dialled the number on the card. Waiting one, two rings before he picked up.

“You said anything right?” you breathed.

Aaron stood at the end of the walkway to your porch, the phone pressed to his ear.

“Yes, anything,” he confirmed.

“I need you,”

There was silence on the line, followed by the dial tone and you held your breath until you heard the door click open behind you.

Turning around Aaron stood there, right in your foyer, closing the door behind him before walking up to you in a quick stride, taking your face in his hands and pressing a firm, strong, and needy kiss to your lips.

He kissed you with hunger, like he had been starving himself all this time only to now be allowed to devour you.

“The bedroom,” he said in a low, husky growl. “Where’s the bedroom?”

“Down the hall,” you said, but you didn’t know if he could tell between those words and the other sounds he coaxed out of your throat.

And you could tell that man really wasn’t lying. He’d miss you the most if you were gone.

—

“You know if you couldn’t handle the rain you probably shouldn't have moved to Seattle,” you quipped while you handed Aaron a towel that he used to dry his wet hair.

“I don’t know who told you I don’t like the rain,” he gave you a cheeky look and you chuckled, pulling the towel from his hands while he was still trying to dry his hair. “Hey!”

“I like your hair a little wet, it's cute,” you grinned, pushing yourself up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. “How was work?And did you get me my-,”

“Kisses?” he asked, lifting up the bag of chocolates. ”Yes but it’ll take you some kisses to get them,”

“Gladly,” you grinned, pressing a series of smooches to his lips before he handed you the bag.

“And work was the same as usual,” he answered and pulled you back for one more. You ran a hand through his wet hair, trying to style it slightly, but in the end just leaving it as a messy mop on his head.

“Come here, I bought you something more comfortable, you’re always wearing those suits and dress shirts,” you said, tugging him towards the living room.

A bag sat on the couch and you pulled a classic Eddie Bauer quarter-zip out of it.

“To match you?” he chuckled and you nodded.

“Come on, I’ll go get changed and we can sit on the couch and rest,”

Aaron couldn’t help it when his face broke into a grin followed by a chuckle.

“I love you, you know that?”

“You remind me every single day. Now go put this on,” you shoved the sweater in his hands before jogging off to your room to get changed.

When you came back out you saw Aaron slipping on the sweater, messing his hair more in the process.

“It fits great, look at that!” you jumped into his arms and he caught you only to fall backwards onto the couch with an oof.

“Is this why you like the rain? These sweaters?” he asked, slipping his hands slightly underneath yours to rest on your waist.

“Maybe,” you hummed. “But the rain is romantic too don’t you think?”

“In what way?” he inquired and you sighed, pressing a kiss to his forehead like he was too young to understand whatever you had to share with him.

“Think about it, we’re stuck inside, nowhere to go. Maybe I could turn a little music on, get us a glass of wine,”

“Just one glass for the both of us or-,”

“Oh shut up,” you laughed before you stopped trying to hold your weight up and let yourself rest against his chest.

Aaron’s work was demanding, he made sure you knew that when you got into the relationship. He ran a whole FBI field office and was constantly in the eye line of the higher-ups for an even bigger promotion. In the beginning it had been a bit of a whirlwind romance, but once things slowed down a bit it gave you a chance to really appreciate what you had together, something that could hopefully stand the test of time.

“Do you like the sweater?” you asked. “Because if you don’t you don’t have to wear it,”

“I love it,” he assured you. “And I love you for thinking of me when you got another one for yourself I’m guessing?”

“That would be correct,” you nodded with a laugh. “But you’ve been in the Pacific Northwest for a while don’t you think it’s time you got a bit of west coast style to take with you wherever you go,”

“I mean Gabriel is trying to petition for casual Fridays at the office,” he hummed and you weren’t at all surprised. That sounded like a very Gabriel thing to do.

“Are you going to give in?”

“I might this time, just means I can say no to the break room cereal bar, seems like a fair deal to me,”

“You’d turn down a cereal bar! Aaron, have I taught you nothing!”

“Well, there was that one thing-,”

“Okay no, you’re not using that against me,” you silenced him before he could continue. “Now are we going to order in or are you going to watch me burn down the kitchen for a second time and lose my security deposit,”

“As much as watching you cook would be entertaining we should probably order in,”

At least you could both definitely agree on that.

“And until it gets here maybe we can try that other thing I taught you,” you said, a sly smirk on your face as you lined a few kisses along his jaw before getting up to call your usual take out place and Aaron made his way towards your room.

It was always nights like these you wished could last forever.

—

“Marigolds? Aaron, what's the occasion?” you chuckled.

He looked more nervous than you’d ever seen him. Wringing his hands after he gave you the flowers, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“I-I know you said you had something you needed to tell me, but I was hoping maybe I could go first?” he asked and you nodded. Your thing had been a secret for a good week or so, it could wait a little longer.

“(Y/N),” he started, taking your hands in his and looking so deeply into your eyes you thought he might be searching for your soul. “I know we’ve moved kind of fast, the way we started this relationship was far from normal and every step since then has been….different,” he settled on and you nodded, agreeing with him, a small smile coming across your lips. “But I don’t care that it’s different, or unconventional, or whatever the case may be. I um…” he paused and took a deep breath, reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. “I just know that no matter what I want to spend the rest of my life with you,”

“Aaron,” you gasped softly, looking at the ring he was holding between you. “It’s beautiful,”

“I remembered you said you weren’t a big fan of diamonds,” he mentioned. “But does that mean-,”

“Yes? Absolutely it does,” you grinned, nodding your head and wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing a smacking kiss to his lips that turned into one of those needier, hungry kisses. teeth clashing slightly, his tongue didn’t waste a second to delve into your mouth causing a sigh to escape past your lips while he managed to slip the ring onto your finger.

“And you had something you needed to tell me?” he said and you chuckled,

“Moving on so quickly?”

“I just didn’t want you to forget,” he held you close, your noses brushing against each other and before you knew it his lips were on yours once more, only this time stealing smaller, slower kisses.

“It’s kind of a hard thing to forget,” you hummed.

“Really? How hard to forget?” he asked.

“Let’s just say instead of honeymoon tickets to Paris we’ll be buying formula and diapers,”

That seemed to catch his attention. He paused and looked at you, a hint of a beaming smile coming across his face.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked and you nodded your head, a large smile plastered on your lips. Now it was his turn to offer you a kiss, one of pure bliss and happiness.

He was going to have a wife and a child, a beautiful family to start his life in Seattle. He had a job he loved and everything seemed to be falling into the right place.

“We can plan the wedding for after the baby comes,” he suggested.

“Perfect,” you grinned.

And that’s really what it felt like. Absolute perfection.

—

“Wait, you're having the baby?!” Aaron exclaimed quietly, not really the best place to be having that kind of conversation, in the middle of a budget meeting, but you both knew you were coming close to your due date. It just seemed that this baby wanted her dad to skip out on work. “You’re already at the hospital, who drove you-,? Gabriel? Seriously? No, okay I’m on my way I can’t miss the birth of my first child,”

Aaron hung up his phone and looked over at the rest of the people in the meeting.

“S-Sorry,” he apologized. “My finacée just went into labour,” he pointed to his phone. “I have to go, but all the information is in the PowerPoint,” he assured.

“Don’t look so tense Hotch, you’re having a baby, I think that’s a good enough excuse to miss a budget meeting,” Davies patted him on the back and he smiled.

“Alright, well I guess I’ll see you guys on the other side,”

Unfortunately, it seemed more and more like the other side he needed to get to was blocked by heavy traffic and he cursed himself for not bringing the siren.

And just when he thought it was a lost cause he came to the end of the bottle neck and things cleared up, allowing him to speed to the hospital you were at.

He ran inside without much of a thought, heading straight for one of the rooms before a nurse stopped him.

“Sir,” she said. “Sir what’s going on?”

“My fiancée,” he said, slightly out of breath. “She was going into labour. She said she came here I-,”

“Hotch!”

His head turned at the sound of his name and he looked over to where Gabriel was waving him down.

“Miss, he’s the father, we should get him in the room,”

She nodded her head and they followed him to the room you were in.

“I’m sorry I tried to stay with her but they wouldn’t let me,” he said.

“No it’s alright,” Aaron assured patting his friend on the back, “Thank you for driving her, I don’t think I could’ve gotten there in time,”

“Don’t mention it,” he placed a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, “Now go be with her, dad,”

When Aaron walked into the room your eyes immediately locked with his and your shoulders relaxed.

“Oh thank God,” you cried and he rushed to your side, holding your hand while the doctor instructed you to push.

“I’m so sorry,” Aaron apologized. “I tried to get here as fast as I could but there was traffic on the highway-,”

“Aaron shut up,” you said loudly through gritted teeth and a groan of pain. “You’re daughter’s a real stick in the mud and we all know where she gets that from,”

“Cracking jokes in the middle of labour, is this really the time?” he asked.

“The time is whenever I say it is!” you pushed harder and the doctor encouraged you to go more, the baby was almost there.

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh at your nonsense, pressing a kiss to your sticky forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I know you can do this just a little more,”

His encouragement was followed by the cry of a small baby girl which in turn allowed you to take a deep breath in, then out. It was finally over.

The doctors offered for Aaron to cut the cord which he did, catching a slight glimpse of his daughter before they went to clean her up.

He came back to your side, wiping the beads of sweat off your forehead and pressing so many kisses all over your face.

“(Y/N) you were amazing,”

“I still am amazing,” you frowned playfully at him, the exhaustion clear in your voice, but your sense of humour clearly still intact.

“Yes you are,” he chuckled.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner,” you both looked up and turned your attention to the doctor. “Congratulations, on a happy and healthy daughter,”

He handed you the baby and you curled her up so carefully in your arms, pulling down the swaddled blanket slightly so you could see her little chin.

“Aaron she’s beautiful,” you breathed and he nodded, pressing one more kiss to your cheek.

“Just like her mama,”

You stayed like that for a short while before looking up at Aaron,

“Do you want to hold her?” you asked.

He carefully nodded his head and you handed your newborn daughter over to him.

He clung onto her with certain protection only a father would have over his daughter, his eyes welling up with tears at the sight of her small and adorable features.

“Hi baby,” he chuckled with a small sniff, bouncing slightly to keep her calm and content.

It was easy for you to tell in that moment as he talked quietly to the small girl that he was going to love her with every fibre of his being.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner,” the doctor said once more and you both looked up again. “Have you picked out a name for her yet?”

Aaron looked over at you.

“You pick the first name,” he said. “I can do the middle name,”

“A-Alright,” you nodded. “Marigold then,” you smiled. “Like the flowers you gave me when we got engaged and when I told you I was pregnant,”

Aaron smiled at that, it was perfect.

“And the middle name?”

“Gabriella,” Aaron filled in. “Gabe will never let me live that one down, but you wouldn’t have gotten to the hospital without him,”

“He’ll love it,” you chuckled. “And you talked to him right?” you asked. “About being you know…”

“The godfather?” he asked with a slight chuckle. “Yeah, he went full Marlon Brando for that one,”

Aaron pressed a delicate kiss to his daughter’s head before handing her to you and going out to the waiting room to grab Gabriel.

“It’s alright if I come in?” he asked and Aaron nodded.

“Come meet your goddaughter,” he said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leading him into the room.

“Hi Gabe,” you smiled. “Thank you for driving me again, seriously we don’t know what we would have done without you,”

“Don’t mention it,” he nodded. “Seriously, anything for you two,”

He looked over at the tiny girl, a fond smile on his face.

“And we’d like you to meet Marigold,” you introduced. “Marigold Gabriella Hotchner,”

“Gabriella?” he looked up at Aaron.

“Come on I wasn’t going to name her Gabriel,” he teased and the two men shared a small laugh before hugging and you offered for him to hold the baby.

Even though the exhaustion was getting the better of you, you tried to savour the moment and everything about it, because faster than you could blink you knew things would be right back to normal.

—

“Hotch are you okay?” Gabriel asked, his boss and close friend looked deathly pale, something wasn’t right. When there wasn’t a response and just a blank stare he tried again. “Hey, Hotch?”

“He has her,” he whispered.

“Who? Who has who?”

“Chester,” his voice was raw, teetering between anger and anguish. “Chester Nolan,”

“We put him away ages ago,” Gabriel countered.

“He got out,” Aaron explained. “You remember what he said to me at the trial when I testified against him,”

“Hotch no,” Gabriel didn’t want to believe it was try and neither did Aaron, but what he held in his hand said otherwise.

“Gabriel look. He has her,”

It was clear what they had to do next. It was against protocol to do anything else but tell whoever was their superior. But normally running an FBI field office means you are the superior in a close 100-mile radius.

But Aaron made the decision to phone the director. It was a risky move but everyone within the FBI knew who Chester Nolan was. A former agent with a very long revenge list that had Aaron’s name written in blood at the top.

The main reason he was in prison was because of him.

But this was back before he had a soon-to-be wife. A child. A family.

It was when he was just alone and those threats meant I’m going to come take your life away because that’s what means the most to you.

But it was clear he had been watching and knew that didn’t matter anymore. Only you and Marigold.

“Gabe, I have to go home,” he explained. “There are some case files there, I was just going through to catalogue into the digital system, but they should be here now,”

“Alright,” he assured. “You go ahead and take a breather, we can hold down the fort for now,”

He nodded and twiddled your engagement ring between his fingers. He’d have to leave it here, he really didn’t want to but as much as it hurt to say it. It was evidence.

He gave it back to Gabriel before heading off to his car and driving back to your home.

He was on edge. He had seen what Chester had done, the way he made his victims suffered, and above all how he picked them. Families that were already involved in FBI cases.

He was sick to his very core and if he got his hands on you. Well, Aaron didn’t want to think about that.

When he arrived back home, everything seemed quiet and normal, but Aaron knew it wasn’t. He noticed the door creaked slightly ajar and that was enough for him to pull out his gun and keep watch of the exterior before going inside.

Once he was sure it was clear, he climbed up the steps of the front patio, the same steps he ran up when you had told him you needed him, walking past that same door only this time, instead of desire and love, there was only fear behind his eyes.

He came in through the foyer, the place he proposed to you, only to find it streaked with blood.

He wanted to run, scream your name, but if Chester was here he would only hurt you more.

The sweep took what felt like a painfully long time before he came into the last bedroom. The master bedroom.

And when he opened the door he had to stifle a cry that wanted to escape from his throat at the sight of you.

Blood pooling all around the bed, soaking into the white sheets, you were sprawled out, like you couldn’t move, but when he saw your eyes slowly blink, he came closer, your name almost caught in his throat.

“(Y/N) sweetheart?”

“Aaron?” you croaked.

He nodded rushing over to your side only now his instincts kicking in to find the bleeding and try and stop it.

“Hey beautiful, I’m right here,” he sniffed, and you could see the tears streaming down his face.

“Aaron I can't feel my legs,” your voice shook and trembled and he choked back a sob.

“Just hold on for me okay? I’m going to call for help,”

He used one hand to pull out his phone after tying some sheets around your midsection like a makeshift tourniquet.

The operator came on immediately and Aaron knew what he had to say, he had done this penalty of times before.

“This is SSA Aaron Hotchner with the FBI, I need a medical team to 1354 Yarrow Point Road in Bellevue,”

“Sir, what are the injuries?”

“Multiple stab wounds,” he said, trying to make his voice sound steady. “The suspect hasn’t been apprehended and is still on the run,”

“Help is on the way sir, hang tight,”

The only thing was he didn’t know how much longer you could hold on.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), look at me,” he held your cheek with a bloodied hand, “Look at me, stay with me okay? Stay strong, I know you. I know you can do this,”

“Aaron,” your voice was tired, peaceful, and scariest of all, it was ready. “Aaron take care of…” you closed your eyes for what felt like an eternity before opening them again, a shaky breath leaving your lips. “Take care of Mary, okay?”

“I will, but I’m taking care of her with you,” he insisted. “You’re not giving up (Y/N), you can’t,”

He was begging now, tears streaming fully down his face as he hunched over you, his forehead pressed to your own, not caring that your blood-stained everything on and around him.

You mustered whatever strength you could to lift your head slightly, pressing a few kisses to his cheeks, across his nose, faltering slightly when you came to his lips, tears of your own mixing with his and your metallic blood.

He could taste it, taste it when you kissed him. The way it coated your mouth, your teeth, just past your lips.

“I love you,” you whispered. “And you’re gonna be fine without me,”

Without you.

No, no he wasn’t.

“N-No,” he sobbed. “No I can't (Y/N), I can't do this without you please just hold on a little longer,”

“Aaron I love you,”

“(Y/N)-,”

“Aaron I love you,”

He choked on his tears again, squeezing you so tight.

“I l-love you too,”

Your eyes fluttered closed with the faintest smile and suddenly, Aaron couldn’t feel your small breaths against his cheek anymore.

It felt as if his whole world had shattered, crumbling right in front of him as you laid dead in his arms.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been when the ambulance finally pulled up.

He didn’t know how long it had been when Gabriel came and carefully pulled him away from you.

He didn’t know how long it had been when he picked himself up and walked over to the cot where his infant daughter, only seven months old, was just waking up, wanting to be held.

He carefully scooped her out of her bed, looking back down on her innocent little face with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Marigold let out a small cry and his heart clenched even more if possible, holding her up a little higher so he could press a kiss to her forehead.

“Shh Mary it’s okay, it’s okay,” he hushed, fresh tears starting to spill out again, covering the tracks of the dried ones. “I’m here, dad’s here, i-it’s okay,”

He wasn’t sure when his assurances turned into shaky cries again, but when they did, Gabriel was right at his side, taking Marigold into his own arms before allowing Aaron a shoulder to cry on.

He held back tears of his own, you had been like a sister, Aaron like a brother, and now his family was hurting.

And just like that Aaron thought his whole world fell apart. It was a shame he didn’t know he hadn’t hit rock bottom yet.

—

“You have that appointment for Mary today,” Gabriel reminded him. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No it’s fine,” Aaron shook his head, packing up the last of his things in boxes. “They just,” he waved his hand around. “Ran some tests it should be fine,”

“Okay, I can stay and pack the rest of the silverware then,” he said. “And before you say anything I’ve already taken a couple of weeks off. I’m coming with you to Virginia. I’ll help you settle in,”

“Gabe, I’m from Virginia there’s no settling in needed,” he insisted.

“Yes, but if you won’t let me be there for you let me be there for (Y/N),”

The move had happened so quickly Aaron barely had a chance to blink an eye after your death. They transferred him to Virginia, his home state, just as the morgue asked what burial plans he had for you. He couldn’t leave you in Seattle, it was still a city where you barely knew anyone. It wouldn’t be fair. At least in Virginia, you would have him. He would visit you, take Marigold as she got older.

Aaron only silently nodded his head before moving over to the small play mat they had set up for Marigold, picking her up and buckling her into her car seat, which she didn’t like very much.

“I know, my love,” Aaron whispered. “But it’s only a short ride okay, I promise,”

His voice seemed to calm her slightly, the whines turning into soft sniffles while he picked up the seat and went to head out to the car, saying a quick goodbye to Gabriel.

Like he promised his young daughter the ride was short and he took her out of the seat as soon as he could before walking into the office, cradling her in his arms like she was still a newborn, but she liked being held like that. It was how you always held her.

The waiting room was stuffy, bland, reminding him of how he had to spend countless hours in places like these waiting for his father to be done with his appointments. He hated every minute of it, being forced to stand around for a man who had done nothing but berate and abuse him, his brother, and his mother.

The voice of one of the receptionists snapped him out of his daze when he heard his daughter’s name called out.

“Oh she’s such a cutie,” the receptionist smiled. “How old is she?”

“Seven and a half months,” he gave her a polite smile despite the continued feeling of emptiness inside him. The whole world didn’t need to know he was a broken man.

When he entered the pediatrician’s office, she was already there going through some files but lifted her head to give Aaron a sympathetic smile as he entered.

“Mr. Hotchner, thanks for coming in for this,”

“Of course,” he nodded. “Y-You said the test results came in?” he asked, taking a seat. If he was perfectly honest he hadn’t remembered what the test was for, that was something you had taken Marigold in for just weeks prior.

“Yes sir, and I um-,”

Before she could even finish her sentence he knew something was coming. Something he didn’t want to hear. And as she spoke it was like all of his worst fears were realized in the span of a week.

She spoke calmly and softly but Aaron was having a hard time processing the words she was saying. It was like they were floating around in the air but he couldn’t reach out and grab them and make them stick in his mind that his little girl was sick. Really sick.

“I was told you’re moving to Virginia,” she said and he nodded slowly, swallowing thickly.

“In a few days,”

“I know some great Virginian pediatricians who are specialists in this field, I can write you a referral to one of them so you can take Marigold once you’re settled. Really, I’d recommend as soon as you can,”

Aaron nodded his head carefully.

“D-Do you know what happened?” he asked. “How she…got sick?”

“It could have been a number of things, but I’m afraid it’s not something we can pinpoint,” she explained. “But I know a lot of parents with kids this young who get sick tend to blame themselves and I want to assure you that none of this is ever anyone’s fault,”

He may have nodded but that didn’t mean he believed her.

“It’s biology Mr. Hotchner. You can’t control how it comes up, I can't control it either, but we can try and make it better for her,”

“Of course,” he said quietly. “I um-I have to head back, we’re shipping some stuff out tonight early tomorrow, and Marigold gets fussy if she doesn’t eat by five. Y-You’ll email me the address. To the pediatric office?”

“I’ll do it right now,” she nodded. “I’ll even let him know myself to give you a call,”

“Thank you,”

He stood up and as he left the office Marigold giggled, reaching up to grab the zipper of his sweatshirt before attempting to put it in her mouth.

“Mary,” he sighed, moving the zipper out of her hands but she only reached for his finger, putting it in her mouth instead.

Aaron stood still for a moment just outside of his car, looking down at the baby in his arms.

She chewed contently on his finger, she only had one small tooth poking out of her bottom gums, but it didn’t hurt when she bit down on them, the tooth was too small for that.

But the time came where he had to put her back into the car seat and she whined when he pulled away, but he wanted to go back to Gabriel’s home and hold her.

“Everything went okay?” Gabriel asked as soon as Aaron stepped back inside with Marigold in his arms.

Aaron opened his mouth but just shook his head.

“Hotch what happened?”

He explained to Gabriel what the doctor had told him, including that they were already arranging to see a specialist in Virginia.

“Is she…Is she gonna be okay?” his voice was quiet, almost like he didn’t dare ask the question, but he had to. It was his goddaughter.

Aaron pressed his lips together. He wanted to say yes, he wanted to tell him that it was possible to beat whatever this was, but the truth was that in reality, you could never know. He didn’t know. And the only thought running through his mind was that he was going to lose his only reason to live. He was going to lose his daughter right after he lost you.

“I-I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I just want to hold her for a while,” his voice was soft, quiet. “I don’t know what else to do for her,”

Gabriel nodded and let Aaron walk over to the room he was staying in. He placed Marigold down on the bed and climbed in next to her, gently rubbing the back of his fingers up and down her small chubby arm while she played with the sheets.

Aaron wasn’t sure when the tears had started to fall, but these days he just let them come. He owed himself that much.

It seemed the small girl noticed his tears and reached out her hand, placing it on his cheek as the tears kept coming down, stronger and stronger until his vision was blurred by the water in his eyes.

Marigold was all he had left of you, and from the moment she came into this world she had been the light of his life. Just the mere thought that something could happen, had happened, to her was devastating.

“I promised your mama I would take care of you,” he whispered. “I don’t feel like I’m doing a really good job,”

She babbled something, just jibberish, but she was still trying to communicate. He wondered what she would say if she could speak to him.

“I love you, sweet girl,” he moved her hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss against her small fingers. “To the moon and back,”

—

When Aaron moved to Virginia it felt like he lived more at the hospital than his own home.

He had taken an indefinite leave of absence from work; there was no way in the world he, or anyone for that matter, could juggle both.

The amount of medical jargon he heard day in and day out was enough to make his ears bleed, he couldn’t even tell how much of it he registered.

It made him feel like a terrible father, no matter how many times a day Gabriel called him and told him otherwise. All he could do was sit and stare as his daughter laid down in a small cot, tubes, far too large, coming out of her arms and one wrapped around under her nose to help her breathe.

It seemed after he moved things just got worse and worse and worse.

He wasn’t sure how many times he had fallen asleep in the chair next to her small bed, just letting her hold his finger, spending every moment possible as close as he could to her.

And sometimes your voice would pop up in his head and say things like,

“Aaron, remember when I told you about skin-on-skin contact? It’s good for the baby, maybe it’ll make her more comfortable,”

And the second it came to his mind he didn’t waste a second, no matter the late hour, carefully unbuttoning his dress shirt and holding his sleeping daughter up against his bare chest while he listed to her heavy and laboured breathing.

He remembered what the doctor had said when she was born.

“A healthy baby,”

He wouldn’t be saying that if he saw her now.

And the amount that Gabriel called and checked up on him, Aaron thought he was going to uproot his whole life in Seattle and come move to Virginia.

He tried to ignore it each time the doctors whispered. He knew she was getting worse. It didn’t matter, none of the special treatments they’d done were doing anything to help her, she was just a baby and she was exhausted.

Aaron could tell just by the way she yawned, the way she only wanted to stay in his arms. The way she cried and wouldn’t stop no matter what because Aaron knew she was calling for you. She missed you as much as he did.

But you couldn’t hold her so he did his best to substitute.

The times where his heart would stop was when they had to take her away, to another room, to another wing. He didn’t like being separated from her, but if there was an emergency it was bound to happen. And they seemed to be happening more often these days.

And after each one he prayed he wouldn’t have to hear the dreadful voice of the doctor, filled with sympathy and pity, but deep down he knew he would have to hear that voice one way or another.

He told himself he could be prepared for it, but in reality, it ate away at him every day and the minute the doctor walked up to him and said,

“Mr. Hotchner,”

Just his name. He knew she wouldn’t last much longer. His eyes were bloodshot long ago, from all the sleepless nights piled with fighting back tears, it didn’t help.

“If you’d like to go hold her, I can take you to her right now,” one of the nurses spoke up and he nodded.

Marigold deserved that. She deserved her dad by her side.

When they entered the room the faint beating of the heart monitor filled the empty air and Aaron made his way to the seat placed next to her bed, carefully lifting her up and into her arms, cradling her the way she loved so much.

And he just sat there, looking into her eyes that looked just like yours, but in a glance, they carried that same peace, readiness, and he didn’t know how that was fair.

“I love you, my sweet girl,” he whispered so quietly, gently pressing his forehead to her own. Her eyes were closed now, small hands just resting, fingers barely moving. “To the moon and back. I’ll always love you to the moon and back,”

The beeping on the monitor slowed and he shakily lifted his lips to press the smallest kiss to her little button nose just as the long tone drowned out the sounds of his silent sobs.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he cried, still holding onto her so close, so carefully. “I’m sorry Mary. I’m sorry,”

He was sorry to Marigold because he felt he could have done more. He could have taken care of her better.

He had been a single father for less than a week and this had been dropped into his lap. He couldn't do it. He couldn’t take care of her and these were the consequences.

He was sorry to you too. He promised to look after her, take care of her. How could he have taken care of her well if she was gone now? Slipping right through his fingers just like you had only months ago, the wounds still fresh.

And when the nurse tried to carefully offer to take her away he refused. He said,

“N-No, please,” it was more of a plea, begging for more time. “I-I just want to hold her a little while longer,”

“Mr. Hotchner, sir, I’m sorry,” the nurse started. “But she’s gone,”

“I know,” he sobbed. “But please just-j-just let me hold her a little while longer,”

The nurse nodded her head and stepped away from the grieving father, allowing him one last moment of peace with his little girl.

—

“All that happened and you said nothing?” Emily whispered. “You suffered through that all alone?”

Hotch cleared his throat, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“The higher-ups were aware of my situation when I was transferred,” he explained. “But when I came back to work the last thing I wanted to think about was how I had lost them so I-um…I made a bit of a promise to keep my work life and personal life separate,”

“What about Gabriel?” Derek asked. “Are you still in touch with him?”

Hotch nodded, “He still lives in Seattle, has my old job now, but he comes almost every year either around the time (Y/N) or Mary passed,”

“Hotch,” JJ spoke up and he turned his attention to the blonde communication coordinator. “You have this locket and you bring it out whenever we deal with family cases. Why? What’s in it?”

Hotch fished in his pocket and pulled out the necklace, laying it on the table in front of him.

“It was (Y/N)’s,” he said. “She used to wear it all the time and said it was her good luck charm because the first day she wore it was the day she met me,”

That made a few of them smile softly, seeing as he was being so candid, maybe sharing a happier memory.

“It’s got a smaller version of this picture in it,” he took out his wallet and pulled a separate photo out of one of the pockets and slid it over to JJ who then passed it around to the rest of them.

It was a picture of the three of you, something a friend had taken while you were at home. You sat on the ground with your legs laid out in front of you while Aaron’s head rested in your lap and he held Marigold up on his stomach. You were both looking at your daughter with such love in your eyes, so much happiness for the future.

“It reminds me of what I’m trying to make sure the other families can still have,” he explained. “I don’t want anyone to feel what I felt,”

Dave placed a hand on Aaron’s shoulder and he took in a short breath.

“Hotch, I know it’s not… we’re not them, but we-we love you. You’re our family,” Penelope expressed. “You’ve taken care of each of us more times than we can count,”

He chewed on his lip and nodded. He loved them too, the team, a lot. After everything that had happened he drowned himself in work, not allowing himself to get close with anyone outside that or anyone at all, trying to at least. But Penelope was right, the BAU was his family, and even though he’d grieved in silence for all these years they were still going to be with him every step of the way, even if he started his real healing process a little late.

And when the jet landed and he thought everyone was going to go home, they dragged Hotch with them, piling into two cars before driving off somewhere.

“Where are we going?”

They didn’t give him an answer but as the streets became more and more familiar he had a good idea.

Emily offered to link arms with him as they walked up the stone path leading to your resting place, and they took a couple of moments of silence together.

“You know,” Hotch spoke up. “(Y/N) used to love to go dancing,”

The team all turned their heads to look at him, the faintest smile coming across his features.

“She would drag me to this bar close to our place every Friday night after work, and I was a terrible dancer,” he shook his head. “But she took her time and taught me and… we had a lot of fun,”

“Well I do know a pretty good bar that’s got some great music,” Derek suggested.

“And I promised next time we went out for drinks it was on me,” Dave added.

They looked around for a consensus, everyone agreeing before they landed on Hotch.

And for the first time in a very long while, years even, he heard a gentle familiar voice in the back of his mind.

“Go dancing Aaron, it’s been a while since you’ve had some fun. We always had fun together, go remember that,”

He looked at Derek and nodded,

“As long as I’m not paying for drinks,”

The team all smiled and a chorus of agreements was sent around, even a pat on the shoulder with an attaboy from Dave.

And as they walked away from your resting place he stayed one extra moment, taking a small kiss chocolate out of his pocket and letting it rest on your headstone.

“We did have fun, didn’t we,” he murmured before with one last brush of the stone he turned around and jogged away to catch up with his family.

If you enjoyed this fic please consider commenting and reblogging! It's the best way to give creators motivation and exposure!

Criminal Minds:

@wifenumberfour @hotchnerundercover @disgruntledchowchow @itsalonglongwaytobasingse @pachiibatt @calm-thy-breasts @g1nnyslove @jfklms @ijustwannaread2k19 @michelle9-433 @zheezs14 @obviousoasis @mintphoenix @yougottalovefandoms @penceyspells @greeneyedblondie44 @theinsanespaceship15 @gspenc @co0chiegrip1 @needylun

Aaron Hotchner:

@ssaic-jareau @84hotpockets @wanniiieeee @enjoymyloves @yoshigguk @kleff03 @witch-with-wifi @justreadingficsdontmindme @bakugouswh0r3 @ssavanessa22 @papiazullll8 @aashy723 @becausehello @carolinesbookworld @rexit-mo @tbuhgs @averyhotchner @enilledam @zetasaturno99 @coralsweetsharmony @thenewnormalforensicator @g0lden-cth @ssamorganhotchner @vvenus-devi @seelieseeking @flipperpenguins @emilysbau @kilaville @hc-geralt-23

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hangezoeenthusiast · 4 years ago

Text

You failed me

multiple x gn!reader

word count: 2,524

warnings: cursing, yelling, arguing, death, angst, blood, explosion, the egg (it deserves its own warning)

synopis: you guys failed me(us)

(the lyrics go with each person, might not get everyone, and also xd’s part is kinda wonky)

song: rät by penelope scott

I come from scientists and atheists and white men who kill God They make technology, high quality, complex physiological Experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good They taught me everything, just like a daddy should

Quackity, Karl, George, and Sapnap left you. Your mentors, your friends. The ones who taught you everything you knew. They went to build their little “Kinoko Kingdom” while you stayed in the ruins, the dust. “They’ll regret that.” you swore. You built something better, something greater.

It was called “Las Nevadas”. A place where everyone was allowed. They would remember not to fuck with you. They would soon realize that they should watch their back for the rest of their short, stupid lives.

“Watch out, you guys, I'm watching your every move.”

And you were beautiful and vulnerable and power and success God damn, I fell for you, your flamethrowers, your tunnels, and your tech I studied code because I wanted to do something great like you And the real tragеdy is half of it was true

Wilbur majorly fucked up. He was supposed to be with you to the end, your guys’ country, right? No. He left you behind. He went to find peace, find his heaven, while you stayed on earth, wallowing away until your flesh seeped off your rattling bones, rotting away by yourself, with no one to bare witness.

“Why didn’t you bring me with you Wilbur?” you asked his stupid grave on top of the once L’Manburg. “Why did you get the ecstasy, why do I get the remains?”

“I’m coming for you Wilbur, and when I do, we are going to wreck upon justice on everyone who wronged us, wronged you, they will feel our wrath.”

But we've been fuckin' mеan, we're elitist, we're as flawed as any church And this faux-rad West coast dogma has a higher fuckin' net worth I bit the apple 'cause I trusted you, it tastes like Thomas Malthus Your proposal is immodest and insane And I hope someday Selmers rides her fuckin' train

"Y/n!" Technoblade yelled. "I TRUSTED YOU, AND YOU BETRAYED ME, FOR WHAT, TO BLOW UP A STUPID COUNTRY, A COUNTRY THAT WAS DOOMED TO FAIL FROM THE START." He started to battle you, missing every single swing, blinded by fury.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE.”

"LOOK AT ME GODDAMN IT."

You looked up at him in the eyes and boldly said, "No, Techno, don’t you see, you’re in the wrong here, you’re the one who betrayed me." You were blinded by friendship, you couldn’t see that Tommy had betrayed Techno, and that what the Butcher Army did to Techno was terrible.

"What do you mean Y/n, you know what they did, they wronged me, they used me, they tortured me, they gave me hell, so I gave it back to them, I destroyed the things they loved, the people they loved, you see Y/n, those who have treated me with kindness I will repay that kindness tenfold, and those who treat me with injustice, that use me, that hunt me down, that hurt my friends, I shall repay that injustice a thousand times over, do you understand?"

"No I don't, Techno, you can't do this.” you begged. He pushed you out of the way, "Get out of my way Y/n." “No, I won’t, I won’t let you destroy everything we worked for.”

“Well, then I have to fight you.”

And thus the battle began, Swords clashing against each other, blood spilling from open wounds, friends digging each other into a whole both of them couldn’t get out of. Techno was letting you off easy, he knew his strength, he knew that he could’ve beaten you in one swipe, but he didn’t want to kill you.

So when you had the opportunity, you swept from under his feet, and knocked him down. You placed your blade onto his neck, pressing down until a little drop of blood appeared, “Stay down Technoblade, or I’ll do something worse than try to put you on trial.”

He watched as you walked away from him, trying to save L’Manberg from a worst fate than death itself.

“One day Y/n, you’ll see, I’m on your side.”

I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it's true I wanted to be you and do what you do I lived here, I loved here, I bought it, it's true I feel so stupid, and so used I feel so used

"Why would you do that Dream? You didn't have to do that." you interrogated. Dream had stupidly blew up the community house. You both didn't plan that, he had gone behind your back. "I had to Y/n, you wouldn't understand."

"What do you mean I don't understand, you went against my back, we were supposed to-" you cut off yourself, "Dream, don't you understand, you did something stupid, and what did you get, you got stupid jail." "The reason I did that is because I needed to isolate myself from humanity." he said, proudness lacing his words.

"What do you mean?" you questioned. "If anyone knows I can revive people, I'm screwed, so that's why I need to be by myself, yeah it sucks major ass, but at least no one else will know, well, besides you anyways." "I have a task for you Y/n/n, I need you to find a way to bring Tommy and Ghostbur in here."

"Why Dream?"

"I'm going to revive Wilbur."

I was your baby, your firstborn, the hot girl in your comp-sci class And I was Darwin's prep school dream, bred, born and raised to kick your ass I fell for circuit boards, rocket ships, pictures of the stars If you could only be what you pretend you are

"PHILZA MINECRAFT COME BACK HERE." you were chasing Phil, through the woody forest, covered by oak trees. He had information on Technoblade's whereabouts and you needed it. You chased him with your enchanted netherite armor, netherite sword and axe, and a few op potions. Your goal was to capture Philza and interrogate him on where Techno's place was. The thing was, you were his child. His own child trying to kill his own son.

He felt betrayed, his own child turned against him and their brother, their family. "The Butcher Army must've gotten to you somehow." he thought in his head. Surely, his darling Y/n didn't do it on their own will, right?

He was incorrect, you did it because you believed that Techno needed to be brought to justice, by punishment. You believed that your own sibling needed to die, because he was a "liability" to L'Manberg's growth and future. He needed to die because as long as he would live his long life with his little enderman Edward, retired, he would still cause trouble to everything you, Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy, and Ranboo had built.

He pleaded, "Stop Y/n, you don't have to do this." You argued, "I do Philza, as long as he lives, my plans for L'Manberg will forever cease to exist."

He felt like shit, you called him Philza, not Dadza, or Dad, or anything besides his normal name. "Did I screw something up?" he asked himself quietly under his breath. "Yes you did Phil, you took the traitor's side." you had heard Phil mumble.

"HE'S NOT A TRAITOR." Phil yelled at you. "Yes he is, he deserves what he is about to get, I will say it again, where is his base?"

"I'm not saying, Y/n, why are you doing this, Techno is your own sibling." "He's not my sibling anymore, that stopped when he destroyed L'Manberg, you're lucky I forgived you." you declared.

"Y/n/n, please don't do this."

"I have to Dadza, I can't let him roam free."

When I said take me to the moon, I never meant take me alone I thought if mankind toured the sky, it meant that all of us could go But I don't want to see the stars if they're just one more piece of land For us to colonize, for us to turn to sand

Bad had tried to convice you to join the Eggpire. You had no effect while being next to the egg, and he had to take you out. People who had no effect towards the egg had to be eliminated.

He was creepily following you, waiting until you stopped to get a chance to capture you. He had hope that you did have an effect, that you would join the Egg with him. He didn't want to kill you, you were his best friend, besides Skeppy of course.

"Come back here Y/n." he said. "No chance in hell Bad, get the fuck away from me." "HEY, LANGUAGE!" he exclaimed. "No language, get away from me, you're creeping me out."

He threw his trident, spinning in the air, trying to catch up to your frantic steps. You were trying to get to Church Prime, where no one could kill anyone, hopefully Bad would abide to that rule. You were just about to step on Church Prime when you bumped into a hard, armored chest.

You looked up shyly, and saw Punz, with his red eyes reflecting anger. "Where are you going Y/n?" he questioned. "Somewhere." you blankly stated. You were desperate, you didn't want to die, or anything else that Bad was going to do to you. You tried to dodge Punz, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, "Stay right here Y/n."

"No, get away from me, I don't know what's wrong with all of you, but go away, I don't want anything to do with your stupid Eggpire." He raged, and grabbed your wrist heavily, "DON'T TALK ABOUT THE EGG LIKE THAT, IT WILL TAKE CONTROL OF THE SERVER, AND YOU ALL WILL BE ITS SERVANTS." "LET ME THE FUCK GO PUNZ." you screamed. You were wiggling in his grip, trying to escape his lunatic self.

While he was holding you, you saw two other shadows behind you. It was Antfrost and Bad. "What do you guys want from me, I didn't do anything wrong."

"You are against the Egg Y/n, people who are like you and Tommy have to die."

"Well, I'm not dying today." you murmured under your breath. "What was that you said?" Antfrost asked you.

You smirked, "I'm not dying today, I'll tell you one more time, let go of me."

Bad and Antfrost walked closer to you, Punz right behind you, all of them cornering you into a tight spot. "What you going to do about it Y/n, you're cornered."

"You'll know when they get here, but for now, you better run boys."

'Cause we're so fuckin' mean, we're so elitist, we're as fucked as any church And this bullshit West coast dogma has a higher fuckin' net worth I bit the apple 'cause I loved you, and why would you lie? And then I realized that you're just as naïve as I am Oh, you're so traumatized it makes me want to cry

"Tubbo, don't do this." Schlatt had unfortunately found out that you were a spy, that you were on Pogtopia's side. He had ordered Tubbo to kill you with fireworks, to light you on fire, give you blisters all over your body. "Please Tubbs, you're my friend." you pleaded.

"I can't Y/n/n, or something worse will happen." he whispered to you. "What do you mean?" you asked. "He can-" he trailed off, looking somewhere else besides your eyes. "Tubbo, you don't have to do what that stupid bastard tells you to do, you're your own person, with your own thoughts and actions."

"I'm sorry Y/n, I hope you can forgive me."

"TUBBO N-" you was cut off by firewords hitting your skin, making blisters and burn marks all over your body. You lost your second canon life, feeling betrayed by Tubbo. He killed you for what, a stupid father who never cared about him in his entire life, a father who exiled his friends that actually treated him like a person, and not like some random piece of trash.

You respawned in your bed, feeling bruises and bumps mostly on your forearms and your back.

"I'll help you Tubbo, I’ll get rid of him.”

You dumb bitch I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it's true I wanted to be you and do what you do I lived here, I loved here, I bought it, it's true I'm so embarrassed, I feel abused

“Come on Y/n/n, come with me.” Punz begged of you. He wanted you to visit the Egg. You didn’t want to be controlled by a stupid omelette. "I'm not Punzo, why are you so obsessed with that stupid thing."

"DON'T SPEAK OF THE EGG LIKE THAT."

You put your hands in front of you, accidentally touching Punz's chest, "Ok calm down buddy." He didn't calm down and instead yelled at you on why you had to join the Eggpire.

"If you join, you will be forever happy."

"If you join you'll get whatever you want."

You were tired of the members of the Eggpire to convince you to join them, you didn't like eggs anyway. "Punz, for the last time, I'm not joining you, stop telling me."

“Then you have to die.”

So fuck your tunnels, fuck your cars, fuck your rockets, fuck your cars again You promised you'd be Tesla, but you're just another Edison 'Cause Tesla broke a patent, all you ever broke were hearts I can't believe you tore humanity apart

“XD!” You were pissed at him, he had destroyed your house, made your friends pissed at you, just everything you liked. All because he wanted you for himself.

He wanted you to be dependent on his every word, and he was being a manipulative psychopath. And you didn’t tolerate that, it was like he was his human counterpart, Dream.

He walked to you with confidence, waiting for to get a hug from you, well, he didn’t get that. You slapped him so hard his head swung to the left.

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

“That’s what you get you stupid son of a bitch. You fucking ruined everything.” “Calm down Y/n/n, what is wrong?” He acted concerned, but you knew that he was faking. He would do anything to get someone’s approval.

“DO YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT’S WRONG, IT’S YOU, YOUR STUPID PRESENCE IN MY LIFE. YOU KEEP ON WALKING AROUND LIKE YOU FUCKING OWN THE PLACE.”

“Calm down darling, just take some netheri-” you interrupted him by slapping the ore out of his hands. “I don’t need jack shit from you XD, you know what, take back the necklace, I don’t want it.” You pulled the shiny, green emerald necklace off your neck, and pulled XD’s palm out.

You placed the necklace filled with memories, and put it on his hand. You closed up his palm, and walked away, leaving XD to his own accord.

“We could’ve had evertything X.”

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starwarned · 3 years ago

Text

@carryon-countdown 2021

Day 18, 12 December: Angst

rated T, 1058 words, general tags: just pure pain, crying in bed, hurt/comfort, fuck the mage

I assume that everyone has seen and cried over this art as much as I have at this point, but I asked tessa if I could write a fic based on it and they said I could so here I am :')

Finish reading below the cut!

BAZ

It’s been two days.

Two days since Dr. Wellbelove called Simon to tell him everything. He still won’t tell me exactly what happened, how they got to the conclusion, or even who was involved in figured it out.

He hasn’t spoken to me in over forty-eight hours.

He hasn’t cried or talked or yelled or anything. To be fair, he’s been sleeping most of those hours, all curled up in the sheets, tears and snot covering his face as he only cries in his sleep. (I hope he hasn’t noticed that I’ve wiped off his face while he’s in bed a few times.) (How one person can accrue so much mucus is beyond me.)

Simon’s letting me hold him now.

He hasn’t been for the past two days, so I’m trying to soak in every inch of physical contact I’m getting. His wings are spread out, one curled around my back as he leans into my chest. I’ve got one arm around his shoulders and the other skating up and down his arm in what I hope is a soothing motion.

I’m waiting for him to say something. I don’t want to push him to have a conversation he’s not ready to have. And if I have to sit here for hours or days, waiting for him to talk to me, I’ll do it.

“Baz,” Simon whispers, and his voice is creaky from lack of use.

“Yes, love,” I breathe, gripping his bicep tight for a moment. A reminder that I’m here and that I’m listening.

There’s silence. And maybe I just imagined him talking to me. “How could he?” he asks. So quiet that I can hardly hear.

I don’t know. I don’t know the answer. For every moment that Simon has not been crying or screaming or angry, I’ve been stewing with hatred. I’ve always fucking hated the Mage, and now, I’m ready to find his grave, dance on it, piss on it, and then set the entire establishment on fire. No rest for the bloody wicked.

“I don’t know, Simon,” I say. I try not to let my rage betray itself in my voice. I don’t think Simon’s in the emotional place to curse the Mage’s name right now. (Davey. Fucking disgusting.)

“How did I not mean anything to him?”

I’m not sure if it’s better to insist that he did or that he didn’t. Either way, it’s horrible. “You mean everything,” I say. “You mean everything to me. To the people who love you.”

Simon tucks his face closer into my collarbone. Everything he’s said has been so vague up to this point. And he’s held it together.

Finally, I hear him sob. I feel it hitch against my chin where his head is wedged between my neck and my head. He cries openly, squeezing me tightly. I hold him. What else can I do?

“I don’t want to be his son.”

It’s a breath of a sentence. And one that digs deep into my chest and buries itself into my heart. Finds its way to every ounce of me that loves Simon and hates anyone who would dare to hurt him.

“I know,” I say, tucking my face against his hair. I reach my hand up to blindly find his face, stroking over his damp cheek with my thumb. And then, I think about my own family. I think about my father and his distant form of affection, his refusal to discuss things that matter or things that aren’t comfortable for him. I think about my mother. And about Daphne.

Simon chokes on a sob.

“You’re not his son,” I say quietly.

He starts to pull away from me like he wants to look into my eyes to see if I’m fucking with him, but I hold him fast to my chest. Just let me say this, Simon, then you can look at me all you want.

“We choose our family,” I murmur softly. “Jamie and Lady Ruth are your family, not just because you were born into their family tree, but because you choose to be with them. Penelope’s your family because you chose her when you were eleven years old and your prick of a roommate wouldn’t associate with you.”

He snorts a wet laugh at that. He starts to speak, but I stop him by moving my thumb over his lips. He kisses it.

“You choose your mother, Lucy, because you know that she loved you. You know that she did everything she could do to care for you, to protect you. That’s what families do, Simon, they protect.”

I let him move back from me now, just enough that I can slide down the bed a bit and be on the same level as he is. I look him in his eyes. They’re wet with tears and I want to kiss him enough that he never cries again, but I don’t have that power.

“You’re not his son,” I say firmly. “He is not your father. You have no obligation to hold him as such.”

“He didn’t even want me,” he whispers. “He sent me to a care home every summer.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t he want me?” Simon demands, crying harder now. I’ve never seen him cry this much. Except, well, maybe when he killed the Mage.

I press my hands against either side of Simon’s neck softly, pulling him forward so I can kiss his forehead. “I don’t know, love,” I say. I don’t know a lot of things tonight. “But I do know that he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any longer. No one has a claim over you beyond the grave.”

Perhaps not the best sentiment because I’m sure he’s now thinking about Lucy — but if he is, he doesn’t show it.

He’s quiet, and his tears start to subside. He hiccups a few times like a kid and I hold him close, wrapping him so tightly in my arms that I’m not sure he can breathe. He doesn’t make any motion to move so either he can breathe or he’s attempting to drown himself in my chest.

I can’t say I blame him.

He comes up for air and kisses my chin.

We don’t say anything else. Simon falls asleep in my arms soon after.

The fucking Mage. May he rest in pain.

#this doesnt fit the theme that i've been following for all of my prompts so far but neither did my fic with rory and i dont caREEEE #this took hold of my brain and would not let me go #i do have another angst and biting-based fic just sitting in my docs now though that i will probably hide there forever #anyways everyone say thank you tessa for the pain #fic #my fic #coc #coc 2021 #carry on countdown #lauren's coc works #writing #my writing #carry on #simon snow #simon snow series #baz pitch #snowbaz #carry on countdown day 18 #coc day 18

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yourmidnightlover · 4 years ago

Text

rock

Summary - spencer wants to figure out what's wrong with you, only to be reminded what day it is and he remembers why you've been so distant.

TW: talk abt: rape, recovery, therapy, case stuff; mention of: drug addiction, rape, miscarriage, being shot, death lol

WC - 4,283

!DISCLAIMER! - i am in no way trying to romanticize recovery from a traumatic event or being upset/depressed/anxious. this is kinda my way of getting through my own issues, so please don't think that's what i'm trying to do in any way. i also don’t know how i feel abt this ending since i wrote it so long ago but oh well!

i just realized there are a few spoilers so i'll put *asterisks* around them. those parts are just explaining how the reader's always there for the team.

----------------------------------

you had always been the rock in spencer's life.

mentally, at least.

when he had nobody there for him when he was going through his addiction with dilaudid, there you were. you helped him through it when everybody else on the team acted as if they never noticed.

you were the one that encouraged him to get help, and pushed him to follow through. you made sure he ate and talked to someone when he had his urges again, even if it wasn't you.

you let him come over and cry about what had happened, and how unfair his life was. you consoled him and would tell him how nothing was his fault. how he didn't deserve anything bad in his life.

*and when emily 'died', he went to your house every day. you held him as he felt himself falling apart from losing her. you didn't even worry about yourself needing to be consoled, because spencer needed you to be there for him.

*when she came back you were the one to convince him to forgive her. you talked sense into him. you reminded him how much he pleaded to have her back, and then he did. so he managed to forgive her... because of you and your logic.

*and you weren't just there for spencer. while, yes, you made a special effort to be there for him, you were there for everyone on the team.

*when derek was arrested back in chicago and the team found out about his past, you were the one he leaned on for comfort. you and penelope. you let him cry on your shoulder and yell at you about how twisted a man would have to be to do something so cruel to a child.

*when jj was kidnapped and beaten to a miscarriage, you were the first she told. you didn't say anything. you knew there was nothing you could say that would relinquish the pain of losing a child. so you let her cry. you let her hug you for what felt like hours. you let her grief her unborn baby for as long as she needed.

*when penelope was shot, nobody cared to check up on her after the fact except you. you went to her apartment for weeks just to make sure she was okay. eventually, she was able to let loose all of her frustrations on you, and you took it like a champ. she ranted about how she just wanted to be loved by someone attractive and how unfair and cruel the world is, in spite of how much good she tries to bring into it.

*when hotch lost hailey, you took care of his files. you offered to watch henry and let hotch cry to you about losing her a few times once you broke past his tough exterior. you even cried with him and jack. you made them dinner whenever you could, and helped him look for good nannies to help care for jack.

*when rossi lost carolyn, you went to her grave with him on many occasions. you brought him his favorite scotch, which was very pricey, and his favorite cigars, also very pricey, and tried your best to recreate 'the rossi special' upon his directions. it helped him feel in control of something when he needed it.

*and when emily came back from the dead, you helped walk her through her own grief. she lost herself, and buried her emotions. you helped her dig up her old self, and grow into an even better woman. you even took care of her cat when penelope couldn't manage. you helped emily grieve her own death when she wanted to deny it ever happened, and she was forever grateful for you.*

you had become like the team's built-in therapist when something bad happened, and you loved it that way. you loved being the one the team went to when they needed it. it made you feel as though you had a purpose, which was something you desperately needed.

but when you went through your own trauma almost a year ago, you refused help from anyone. you knew you should've asked someone for help, or at least someone to cry or talk to when you needed to.

the team had been working on a case for longer than expected, 8 days now, and everyone was really frustrated. you had released the profile 7 days ago, and there was still no new information. it was as if the unsub had gone dormant, and you all couldn't bear that thought.

when the team released earlier than normal from the precinct and you all went to the hotel you had been staying at, you decided to get a drink from the bar quickly. you went alone, wanting to review a few of the case files during the process and not needing a distraction.

you ordered a jack and coke, and opened the case files to begin rereading them, seeing if you had missed anything.

victims were kept for 24 hours, filmed, raped, restrained, cut in pieces, and thrown in the trash like garbage. it was absolutely disgusting, and the worst you had seen in a while. the victims were low-risk and most of them had a place of authority.

the unsub had been profiled to be someone who was bossed around by a woman, narcissistic and egotistical, wanted to feel more power and authority.

the problem is, that profile was most people living in the area. even penelope couldn't dwindle down the suspects.

and alas, you had missed nothing. nothing new appeared or caught your eye. you gulped down the rest of your drink and paid for it before packing up your things to head upstairs. you tossed the file back into your bag and began the trek to the elevator.

you were interrupted by something hitting the top of your head, rendering you unconscious.

the team had woken up, and after waiting around for half an hour, spencer realized something was wrong. he had morgan bust into your room, only to find the bed unslept in. you were missing. and the worst part... you fit the unsubs type.

spencer felt his heart drop at the realization he had taken you. and it seemed as though there was no trail as to where you had gone. penelope checked the cameras, only to find that they were hacked right after you left the bar, and then they resumed after you were taken.

at least they had a time frame.

later that day, after everyone hasting to figure something, anything out, spencer had gotten an email. he opened it and expected it to be relentless spam, only to realize it was a live feed video. a video of you. he instantly called penelope in hopes that she could trace it.

she said she could, but it would take some time because the amount of routers it had been going through.

while they were waiting, you noticed you were alone. you knew who the unsub was too, thanks to his baffling stupidity and narcissism that lead him to believe he wouldn't get caught.

"officer johnson! it's officer johnson!" you looked around the camera for a second, noticing something moving. "he-he here," you cried out. "i love you," you said to the camera to nobody in particular, but someone in mind.

you were terrified. spencer could see it in your eyes. he could see the tears you tried not to shed. you didn't want to please him, but you couldn't help but feel the absolute horror and fear coursing through your body at a relentless pace.

"hi there, missus fbi," he teased, finally walking into the frame with a ski mask over his face, clearly not aware that we knew his identity.

spencer told garcia who he was, and she began her digging. officer johnson's great grandparents had owned a farm that was since then refurbished. it was an hour away.

officer johnson had known that you two had chemistry. that's why he sent the email to spencer. he saw the longing glares, the 'innocent' touches, the smiles you would give each other, the longing looks you shared. he wanted to torment him.

so when he began undressing you and you turned your face away from the camera in hopes of sparing some of your own dignity, spencer felt his heart breaking for you. it broke even more when he heard the yelps, and screams, and please, and "no!'s" you elicited during the act.

they caught him before he cut you, but not before he finished the first part of his plan. your skirt was ripped, and your shirt was practically in two pieces. spencer had given you his jacket to cover yourself as much as you could.

you stayed silent the ride back. you didn't even let spencer hold you like you normally would after a tough case. you were ashamed. embarrassed. you felt worthless. you felt pathetic. you felt stupid. you felt helpless. you felt like you were drowning. you felt like you were without a life raft.

you knew you could talk to the team about it, but you felt so disgusted by the thought of what happened to you that you only talked about it in your therapy sessions.

hotch had given you two months off. he wanted you to grieve, and go to therapy, and try to cope with everything that had happened.

and you did try to do that. you tried your hardest to get over it and move past it, but nothing helped. not the journaling. not the talking. not the crying. nothing was working.

spencer gave you a little space at first, but he then decided to try to help you as you had helped him. he went over to your house almost every day, and sat outside your door after you wouldn't let him in.

you knew he was there... you sat on the other side.

"i-i know that you probably don't want to see anyone right now. and i'm uh, i'm sure you feel alone right now, or like you can't talk to anyone," spencer sniffled. "but pl-please just uhm, just know that i'm here when you want to talk about it. i'm here to listen to you when you need me to. i-i don't want you to be alone during this time, y/n. please, just let me in," he begged.

that was normally what he would say almost every night he went to your house. he would sit outside for hours after he would ask you to let him in without fail. until one day you let him in.

spencer felt so much relief when you opened the door, only for it to be smashed when he noticed your eyes looked red and puffy, your cheeks were stained with the tears you had been crying for so long. your cheeks were sunken in, and there were dark circles underneath your eyes that were once full of life and happiness. your eyes no longer had that gorgeous sparkle in them.

spencer vowed he would get them back.

as much as spencer wanted to wrap his arms around you in that moment, to comfort you and tell you that he was there, he wanted you to make the first move. he wanted to tell you how strong you were and how proud of you he was for getting through that. he wanted to tell you how much he loved you.

he wanted you to make the first touch, because he didn't want to further upset you. he didn't want to trigger a repressed memory, or bring back the feelings of what had happened.

but spencer's touch was nothing like the officer's. spencer's touch was soft and gentle. spencer's touch was feather-light and endearing. spencer's touch was love and home. the officer's was brittle, and rough, and repulsive.

"hug me?" you sniffled as your eyes welled with tears again as they had been for the past three weeks.

"of course," spencer slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulders as yours found his torso.

he walked inside with you still in his arms and slowly shut the door. without breaking from the hug, you both walked to the couch and sat down.

you didn't say anything. you just needed spencer to keep hugging you, so he did. he did whatever you wanted, needed, from him. eventually, you fell asleep in his embrace on the couch.

when spencer looked down at you, now sleeping against his chest, he couldn't bring his heart to remove himself from you. so like any whipped man would do, he carefully picked you up bridal styled and carried you to your room. he took his shoes off as well as his sweater vest before cuddling back up next to you.

as if it was a reflex, you cuddled up into his chest when he neared you again and got underneath the covers. spencer slept the best he did in months with you. and you slept without officer johnson in your dreams for the first time since that day.

ever since then, spencer had been making sure you were eating and drinking. he took you to your therapy sessions and stayed over most nights you had asked and he was able to.

they had a few cases during the two months, so every moment he could, spencer was with you. he coaxed you back to your normal-ish self. he watched as that glimmer in your eye began to slowly grow brighter everyday. he watched as your smile came back, and your tears didn't come so frequently.

the first time he had heard you laugh again, spencer had thought he was dreaming. he wished he had recorded that moment. he was more grateful than he's ever been in his life that he had an eidetic memory, because that sound would forever be engraved in his brain.

when you returned to work, you clung to spencer. he had become your tether to reality, and hope. he had become your rock during the recovery.

over the months, everyone slowly began to forget what had even happened. things went on as usual, and the team forgot the traumatic experience you had gone through. even spencer might've let the experience get lost in his brain.

so when it became 11 months and 3 weeks since the abduction, you began to distance yourself once again.

you politely declined going out with the team a couple days before the anniversary, something you never did. you insisted that you were just especially worn out from the case you had just been on.

spencer had to finish files given to him by derek anyway, so he didn't get to witness the encounter.

once the day of the anniversary came upon you, you found yourself feeling sick to your stomach. you couldn't help the tears that would fall from your face every so often. you knew why you felt this way, but you wanted to push past it.

you had gone into the office wearing a pantsuit and blazer, wanting to avoid the normal office skirt you happened to be wearing the day it happened. you stayed at your desk and quietly did your case files. you didn't even greet spencer as you would every day. you gave him a kind smile, but you would normally give him a hug, or at the very least an eager wave upon his arrival.

spencer just assumed it was one of those days where you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. it wasn't spencer's fault he thought this. he didn't even look at his calendar to check what day it was. he just knew they had paperwork.

but he did have this day marked in his calendar. he had it marked so he would remember to be extra kind to you, and do your files for you, and come to your place with your favorite wine and takeout. he wanted to help you through the one year anniversary, but he forgot to check his stupid calendar.

you thought he didn't care. you thought the man who you loved, and the man who helped you through everything that had happened had had enough of your complaining and grievances. so, you didn't tell him about it. you didn't bother him with the terrible thoughts clouding your mind because you thought it'd burden him.

so when you finished all of your case files early, you asked hotch if you could leave early, at 2:00, because you had things to tend to. he allowed you to do so, but this rose a flag for spencer.

he saw you exit without saying goodbye to him, something you hadn't done the entirety of knowing him. you had always told everyone to have a nice night and to be safe before leaving, but not today.

finally, he looked at his phone for the first time all day, only to feel like the worst person in the world to realize what day it was. spencer felt absolutely horrible at this revelation and ran into hotch's office as quick as he could after packing his things.

"hotch!" he exclaimed upon opening his office door.

"go. she was practically in tears," hotch informed him. "and reid," spencer stopped in his tracks to turn and look at the stern man, "please make sure she's okay." spencer gave him a soft grin and a nod before turning around and bolting out of the office.

you had gotten home and immediately burst into tears. you shut the door with your back, and slid down it. you had never understood why people had done that in movies until now. you just couldn't wait to break any longer, so you settled for your front door.

you held back no wail, or scream as you cried in front of your door, your knees pulled up to your chest as you held them tightly.

you wondered why you had to go through that. you wanted to know what kind of karma there was for someone who had always tried to do the right thing to be hurt... and for nobody to even care. nobody wanted to console you, or to make sure you were alright.

you had checked up on everyone on every anniversary of their struggles. whether it be a death, abduction, anything, you had been there for every single anniversary or reminder. and nobody was there for you.

nobody was there for you to hug, or to lean on, or to cry to, or to scream at, or to rant to. nobody was there. nobody loved you enough to care about that.

but then you had to remind yourself that they all had lives.

but the person who is your life didn't even care.

spencer didn't care.

and that's why you truly lost it.

he acted like it was just another day. he acted like it wasn't the anniversary of the day you thought you were going to die. the day you wanted to die. the day you felt your most low, and humiliated. the day you lost all hope. and he didn't remember.

if the man with an eidetic memory didn't remember, it must be extremely insignificant. so therefore, you must be extremely insignificant.

spencer raced to your house. he wanted to be there for you today, and he failed. he felt like a failure as a friend. he hated himself for not being there for you when he knew you would need him. he knew how you clung to him in your time of need. you thought he was worthy enough to hold onto when you needed someone, and spencer felt elated at that.

but now he wasn't there for you. and you needed him.

he had quickly stopped by the store and your favorite takeout place to get the things you'd want. he got your wine, chocolate, food, flowers, and a teddy bear that had a sweater vest on him - you've always loved his sweater vests.

when he got to the steps of your house, he felt his heart drop. as he walked closer he heard the wails of your crying right by the door. he could sense the heartache from the edge of your porch, and felt himself feel even worse, which he didn't think was possible.

he instantly ran to the door and knocked profusely. you sniffled one last time, feeling embarrassed that someone had heard you crying your heart out. you had figured one of your neighbors heard you and wanted to tell you to keep it down, so you wiped your tears and the stray mascara from underneath your eyes and opened the door, keeping your eyes lowered in embarrassment.

"y/n," spencer announced sadly, a tear falling down his face. you looked up in confusion from hearing his voice. you noticed his tear and reached up to wipe it away on instinct.

"why're you crying? are you okay?" you asked, forgetting all of your own problems at the sight of spencer crying. spencer let out a small chuckle at your concern.

"i'm alright, aside from the fact that i'm a terrible friend," he admitted as his smile quickly faded upon seeing your stained cheeks. "i brought your favorites," he offered, holding the bag of goodies in one hand and the takeout in another.

"y-you... why?" you asked, wanting to make sure you weren't misreading the situation for him trying to comfort you.

"why?" he asked in disbelief. "because it's the anniversary. i can't tell you how sorry i am, y/n. i swear i marked it on my calendar and planned for us to take off so i could take care of you. i-i just woke up late and never bothered to even check my phone. i kn-know it's no excuse... but i am so, so, so sorry," he rambled out, already tearing up.

you grabbed his arm gently and pulled him inside before you started crying in front of your neighbors. you took the bags from his hands and placed them on your coffee table.

"i thought you just didn't care," you shrugged as you took a seat on the couch, prompting him to sit beside you.

"y/n..." he sighed as he realized how terrible he screwed up. "i will always care about this. i will always care about you. don't ever think differently. i'm just incredibly... dumb sometimes. i can't believe i made you think that," he trailed on. "i will never not care about you, y/n. i swear it. i will always, always care about you. i will always love you," he froze as he realized what he just revealed. your eyes widened, and squinted, and roamed his face, trying to figure out if he meant the words he had just sped out. "i truly do, y/n. i i’m in love with you and i'm so sorry i made it seem otherwise."

it took you a second to absorb everything that he had said.

"you too," you solemnly admitted. "i’m in love with you too. and i could forgive you... for almost forgetting," you gave him a small smile.

"i'm glad you could forgive me. i don't know what i'd do if you didn't," he relished. "you actually love me?" you nodded with a small smile.

"i have for a while," you turned your head to the bags on the table.

"oh! right!" he said, reaching for the gifts. "i got your favorite takeout, your favorite wine, your favorite chocolates, flowers, and..." he trailed on as he revealed each item. "i saw this teddy, and i couldn't resist," he smiled.

you took the bear, taking in its appearance. it had a light blue, navy, and white diamond pattern sweater vest and brown shoes on. it looked like spencer, just teddy bear form. you smiled widely at the sentiment.

"it's you," you grinned as you took it in your arms, hugging it tightly as you saw spencer nodded with a smile mirroring that of your own. "i love it," you chuckled.

"i would understand, the fur is really soft," he relished in the thought.

"i don't think he'd be as good of a cuddler as the real thing, though," you grimaced. "but he'll do for when i don't have you here i guess," you shrugged with a smile.

"i plan on being here as long as you'll let me," he said softly.

"always," you grinned, setting down the teddy bear and trading him for the real spencer reid.

"always," he repeated, taking you in his arms and squeezing you tightly as if you'd float away at any moment. "now let's dig into this food while you talk about your feelings, if you want that is," he said after releasing you from the hug.

"i think i want to," you nodded. "and spence?" he turned from getting the food out of the bag to look at you for a second. "thank you for being my rock through all of this."

"i'll always be your rock, y/n."

@averyhotchner @greenprisca @muffin-cup

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst

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criminalshminds · 3 years ago

Text

A Broken Whisper

A very, very, very late prompt from @eprcntiss, but good things happens to those who wait, right???

Prompt: “What are you doing here? It’s late.” Pairing: Hotchniss (Emily Prentiss x Aaron Hotchner) Rating: General Audiences Words: 1968 TW: Canon faked death, slight intrusive thoughts

Summary: He didn’t know why he felt the need to check up on her, but he’s glad he did. Though he never thought she’d be here. (Post Doyle)

*****************************************************************

He couldn’t say why he had the urge to check on Emily, he just did. Something has been up with her since she came back after Doyle. Hotch has tried to be a sounding board for her, but her walls are always up that she manages to deflect any of his concern and places it back on him. But he saw her face at the take down that night. He saw the lone tear that fell down her cheek, one that she quickly wiped away before anyone could see it. Maybe that one tear led him to her apartment. He parks in a spot that looks directly up into her apartment. A spot that he has been in plenty of times before, back when things were simpler. Back when they would steal little kisses. Where she would wave at him from the window in her living room as he left to go back home to shower and change before work. Where he told her that he loves her. Back before she started to pull away. Back when things made sense.

Since her return, they haven’t spoken of the past. Actually, they haven’t really talked at all. The only words they utter to each other are work related. Well, that’s not completely true. She did utter a goodbye today. Maybe that’s why he felt the need to see her. Looking up at the window that used to hold her smiling silhouette now just holds a darkness that sends a shiver down his spine. Like he’s not supposed to be here. Like he is intruding in a life that he doesn’t belong in anymore. Taking a chancery glance around the parking lot, the first thing he notices is that her car isn’t in its designated parking spot. Second thing he notices, is that she hasn’t been home since leaving work five hours ago, if the snow piled up on the concrete has anything to say about it. Knowing that she could be literally anywhere, he huffs out a sigh before digging around his pockets for his cell phone.

“Bossman, I know I am the goddess of all wisdom, but even goddesses need their beauty sleep.” A grumble comes through the phone, definitely not the cheerful voice of Penelope Garcia that Hotch has come to know.

“Garcia, can you do me a favor?” He speaks quickly into the phone, no room or time for nonsense.

“Does it involve me coming back into the BAU?” Hotch hears some rustling noises, and only now does he realize that he is calling at almost midnight.

“No.”

“Hit me with your best shot.”

“Don’t raise any alarms unless I say so.” Hotch runs his hand over his mouth before asking his request. “Can you get me a location on Prentiss?”

She immediately shoots out of bed and races to her laptop. She skids to a stop, barely landing on her couch before frantically typing and shooting out questions. “What? Why would I – why is she? She’s not – “ Not again, not when we just got her back.

“Garcia!” He interrupts her panic raise of questions hoping to keep her head on straight.

“Right, sorry. Um, give me a minute. You sure it’s nothing?” She waits for a second, getting no response she continues to type on her laptop before it pings her location. “I got it! I sent it to you. Please bring our girl back home.”

“I will Garcia, and remember – “

“I know, I know, not a peep.” As soon as the last word left her mouth, Hotch moved the phone from his ear and immediately went to his messages. Letting out a sigh, he puts the car in reverse and makes his way down the empty streets.

His shoulders don’t sag in relief until he sees her car parked in the desolate lot. Pulling into the space next to her, he glances at silver sedan hoping he’ll be lucky to see her behind the wheel. Mentally groaning when the car is as barren as the parking lot he is in, he turns off his car and shuffles out into the chilly night. It didn’t take a genius to know that she has been here for a while, if the buildup of snow on her car was any indication. The steady stream of snow flurries coming down has covered any footprints that could potentially lead him to her. Although, none of that was necessary. For the seasoned profiler he is, he knew exactly where she went once the coordinates led him here.

Quantico National Cemetery

He stares at the sign, willing his feet to move. A staring contest that even the famous Aaron Hotchner glare can’t win. It’s not until a particularly strong gust of wind whips around him for his feet to catch up with his brain. A shiver races through his body. Either from the cold or from that sinister feeling of being alone in a graveyard at night. He silently moves through the sea of headstones, a walk that is second nature to him. One that he frequented quite often for months. He makes his way up to the tree that helped shelter the gravestone from the elements and finally sees the back of her head. He knows that she hears him coming, the crunching of the snow beneath his feet hard to miss, even past the sound of the wind. Stopping a few feet behind her, he waits a minute before speaking.

“What are you doing here? It’s late.” He’s expecting her to turn towards him, but she sits as still as a statue staring at the engraved stone. She doesn’t respond right away, making him move closer to her. He opens his mouth to ask again when he hears her soft voice reply.

“I come here to think.”

Curiosity got the better of him. “About?”

“Life.” Her soft declaration carries through the wind and wraps around him. She reaches forward in a practiced motion and brushes the fresh snow away to keep the text visible.

Emily Prentiss

October 12th 1970 – March 7th 2011

Fidelity Bravery Integrity

“It’s so precious. You never realize how special it is until it gets taken away.” He continues to stand behind her, keeping his mouth shut. This is the most open she’s been since her return and he’s not about to ruin it. “I didn’t think it’d be this strange. Basically coming back from the dead. You know I came here the first time purely out of curiosity. Taking my picture off a wall is one thing, but removing a whole grave?” She lets out a humorless chuckle.

“With a click of her finger, Garcia could get it removed.” He speaks before he could stop himself. He holds his breath hoping that he didn’t just cause her walls to build back up.

“No.” Her head tilts back towards the sky. “I need the perspective.”

Furrowing his brow, he carefully walks next to her before slowly lowering to the ground. He starts to reach for her before quickly retreating, remembering that she’s no longer his to touch. He starts to question what her fake grave can help her with before remembering something she said after a case years ago. I need to know that I can be human.

“Being reminded of your own mortality isn’t the right perspective to have.” He spoke softly even though he wanted to scream.

“Don’t you get it? It’s a reminder of how fragile life is. Logically speaking, I shouldn’t be here.” She scrunches up her eyes, a tear streaks down her face as she pounds her fist into the ground.

His hand shoots out and covers her fist that is still resting on the snow-soaked grass. His touch finally breaks her out of her trance with her eyes finally meeting his.

“But you are here. Living, breathing. Dammit Emily! Don’t you understand? You can’t move on until you finally accept that you are meant to be here. With me! With us.” He is grasping at her hand like she will disappear any second while his shoulders are shaking with the intensity of his breath. She keeps his stare for a second, before turning away back to the headstone.

“Am I?” She whispers. He lightly grasps at her chin, moving her head to face him again.

“Forever and always.” That little phrase breaks her. In a second, she leaps from her spot into his lap, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck. The reaction almost pushes him backwards into the snow, but he quickly settles himself. His hand moves and starts stroking the back of her head in a practiced movement before he gently starts rocking them consoling her quietly in her ear trying to overpower her chant of “I’m sorry.” They stay wrapped around each other until he spares a glance at his watch, telling him that it is half past one in the morning.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.” He whispers into her ear, helping her up to her feet. He feels her shiver against him as a large gust of wind almost knocks the both of them from their feet. Only now does he notice that she’s been in just a sweater this whole time.

“Jesus Em, you couldn’t have brought a jacket?” Shedding his coat, he drapes it over her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her waist guiding her to his car.

“Left it in the car. Didn’t realize how long it’s been.” She chatters out to him, leaning closer towards him for warmth. He lets out a frustrated sigh before picking up the pace, trying to get her to shelter.

He helps her into the passenger seat of his car, passing off her concerns about her car. “We’ll take care of it in the morning.”

He quickly makes his way into the driver’s seat to turn the car on. They sit in the warming car for a couple minutes in complete silence. Neither quite knowing what to say to the other. After another minute, Hotch figures it’s best to start to drive to her apartment. It’s not until they are halfway there that she finally speaks up.

“Aaron?” She says no more than a whisper.

“Hm?” He hums out, sparing her a quick glance before looking back to the empty road.

“I – I, thank you.”

His lips start to curve up into a smile and he removes one hand from the steering wheel to grasp at hers, stopping her from the continued picking of her nails. He squeezes her hand gently in response before leaving their fingers intertwined. Neither of them speak until he parks back at her apartment complex.

She starts to let go of his hand to make her exit before his voice stops her.

“Em?” With her hand still on the inside latch, she turns to face him. “I know it’s not my place anymore, but please don’t be afraid to come to me. If you’re having a bad day, let me know. You mean so much to me. I meant it when I said forever and always.”

She slowly nods her head, before leaning forward to give him an awkward hug across the center console. Pulling away, she shyly gives him a peck on the cheek before whispering. “Forever and always.”

She opens the door, and goes to leave his jacket on the seat, but he holds up a hand to stop her. “Give it to me tomorrow.”

Smiling softly, she nods before closing the door. He patiently waits until he sees the light go on in her apartment. He waits until he sees her figure standing in the window, giving him a small wave. Like before. He slowly pulls out of the parking space, smiling to himself. Yeah, things are starting to make sense again.

#prompts #prompt writing #allie writes #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss #we love when inspiration strikes you #also love doing prompts way out of order #i apologize to the other prompts that came before this that i sidelined to write this one #very late tho #this is from my 350 celebration #which was at least 2 months ago??#sorry besties #hope you enjoy

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

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waldosia.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: this is intended to be part of the ajf universe (berry hill section), but also stands alone! berry hill is probably good to read before this one, just for a little context. this takes place a couple of weeks after berry hill, during the last few minutes of lauren, and continues through the end of season six. there will be two more parts of this section!

summary: the team reels from emily’s loss and finds footing as best they can in the new normal, until, of course, the rug is pulled out from under them again.

words: ~3k warnings: canon death, language, more slow burning

berry hill (part 1) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

There’s nothing worse than the silence of the waiting room. JJ paces back and forth, waiting and watching for movement down the hall. Hotch has been restless as well, sitting and standing and wandering in equal measure. Seaver perches on her chair, her bare toes digging into the rough fabric of the seat. She’s quiet, staring into nothing.

Dave sits beside her, his elbows on his knees, his hands laced together. His lips never stop moving, and you’re sure he’s praying. It’s odd to see him there without Emily. Much like Derek and Penelope, they usually stick together in tragedy or stress. It’s more than strange to see him without her - almost like missing a limb you didn’t know he had.

You find your eyes tracking Aaron more often than not. There’s tension in his forehead, and his mouth is tight. Your first instinct is, of course, to soothe his hurt, but there’s so much of your own. He meets your eyes, and you pat the seat next to you.

With a heavy sigh, he sits down beside you.

Your voice is quiet, as to not disturb the stillness of the room. “When’s the last time you ate?”

He shakes his head. You reach out and slip your hand into his elbow. He covers it with his own and you lean against each other. Derek and Penelope are in a similar position across from you. She’s tucked under his arm, her hand rubbing back and forth over his chest, still spattered with Emily’s blood.

You can’t imagine what he’s feeling. If it had been Aaron…

The thought is too unbearable to consider. Aaron’s arm flexes around your hand, and you realized the thought brought your shoulders to your ears.

“Are you alright?” His voice is the barest whisper.

You nod. “Just thinking of Derek.”

He takes a deep breath. You know he understands.

‘“I was just...if it had been -”

“Don’t.” His whisper breaks over the word, and his fingers slip between yours around his arm. Your breath catches in the smallest of sobs, and you turn your head into him.

Hours and hours and hours pass. You think you fall asleep once or twice, but it’s fitful and not at all restful. Hotch is back to pacing - traveling a path from the door to the back room and back to you.

Eventually, he sits again, leaning against you once more. You can feel the exhaustion radiating from him. At a certain point, you take him under your arm. He leans his head into your shoulder and closes his eyes. You’re certain he doesn’t get any sleep, but you appreciate the effort. It’s all for you.

JJ returns, and you all straighten, waiting for her to say something. She can’t speak.

Penelope says something, but you can’t hear her. You can’t hear JJ, though you know her mouth is moving. You sag forward, nearly falling out of your chair. Aaron catches you as he stands, his arms locked around you.

Spencer rushes past JJ, but she stops him. They speak, but you still can’t hear over the rushing in your ears. You find your feet and turn into Aaron, whose hand presses your head to his chest. Your whole body buzzes with something cold and unpleasant, like a shot straight to your nervous system. You’d take a bullet again, rather than feel this.

Slowly, he guides you to the chair on the other side of Penelope. You cling to her, Aaron’s jacket still around you. She’s sobbing, and you can’t feel a thing. When you look up again, JJ has her arms around Spencer, who looks much like you. Broken. Soggy. Weak.

Tired eyes track Aaron as he rounds the corner to the back hallway. JJ finds him a minute later, and you still can’t hear them.

You can’t hear anything.

+++

The funeral is wretched. When the hearse arrives, you help Aaron with his white pallbearer gloves, buttoning them around his wrists and straightening his tie. Your hands linger on his lapel. His shaky breath shudders through him under your hands, and when you look up at him, his eyes are closed.

One of his hands covers yours and you grasp his fingers.

It’s too soon.

We can’t do this again.

It’s too soon.

“There’s never enough time,” he says, almost inaudible.

You squeeze his hand and release him, smoothing out his coat and collar and the hair at his temples before letting him pass. Derek and Spencer take the first pair of handles, Dave and Anderson the second. Will and Hotch share a look before taking the final pair.

You offer your arm to JJ, who takes it, and you follow the men across the cemetery. Penelope and Ashley trail behind you, also arm-in-arm.

Ashley’s been a gift - quiet and warm and observant - through this whole ordeal. You’ve done your best to welcome her into the fold. She doesn’t need to feel like a replacement or a burden. She’s a member of your team. Maybe not a member of your family, but your teammate nevertheless.

The whole affair is far too quiet, far too solemn, to really be a celebration of Emily’s life. Hotch returns to your side once she’s laid over her grave. He gives you a rose and an arm. You take both, the wool of his coat soft against your fingers. Both he and JJ decided to leave the boys at home, but wouldn’t tell you why.

Privately, you figure it’s too much for Jack, and it would be best to keep him and Henry together. Two funerals in as many years is too much for anyone, let alone someone just six. Jess is with the boys at JJ’s house. There’s nothing that woman can’t do, and you love her for it.

Looking around, you realize everyone in attendance is a familiar face. Emily’s mother is the only one you don’t know well, but you’d know a Prentiss anywhere. She dabs at her face with a handkerchief, and a well of spite rises within you. There’s no reason for her to be here.

You’re her family. You will survive her.

+++

Derek is in shambles. You spend as much time with him as you can, but he’s more withdrawn than you’ve ever seen him. JJ and Spencer have clung together, as have you and Aaron. Dave and Derek aren’t as close, and they’re both wildly independent, so they’ve sort of drifted in Emily’s absence.

It’s your mission to keep them in one piece - sharing meals and filling empty evenings with movies and poker and company. You find yourself at Dave’s often, with Jack in your lap and Hotch and Derek on either side of you.

You have rapidly become the team’s backbone - a role you take on with energy and a certain degree of joy. Taking care of them helps you forget your own grief, and never leaves you without company.

+++

Seaver’s graduation is a spot of joy in an otherwise dreary few months. You shout and whistle at all the appropriate times, remembering all too well what it felt like on the other side. There’s a moment where you share a smile with Hotch, and it almost feels normal.

“Remember that?” You ask, tipping your chin toward Seaver. She’s beaming, holding her new credentials in her hand as she greets her family.

He nods. “Do you?”

You snort. “Oh, please. How could I forget?” The day lives rent-free in your mind. Hotch passing you your credentials, badge, and ID tag is a memory that will stay with you forever.

“Glad I made an impression.” His smirk is well-concealed, but you elbow him in the ribs for good measure.

“Shut up.”

He quirks a brow at you, and you grin.

Almost normal. Almost.

+++

Your phone wakes you, and you pick it up right away, recognizing your ringtone for Hotch. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

You flip your bedside lamp on and rub your eyes. You’d be lying if you said you were getting any sleep yourself, and you’re almost relieved you have some kind of company. “Hey, Aaron. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to wake you -”

“You didn’t.”

He pauses. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I could hazard a guess it’s the same reason as you.” You play with the comforter, the fabric a necessary distraction. “Is Jack still with Jessica?”

“Yeah, for the rest of the week. He’s got a school trip thing, and I didn’t want to leave him if a case came up. They’ll be back from the mountains on Sunday afternoon.”

Your lower lip disappears between your teeth. “Do you want any company? Sometimes it’s -”

“Please.” He cuts you off, and you snap your mouth shut, already throwing the covers back.

“I’ll be there soon.”

The drive is quiet, the Virginia highways barren at nearly two in the morning. You pull into the garage in your usual guest spot and climb the stairs.

Though you have a key, you knock twice before using it.

Always good form to warn an armed federal agent when you’re about to enter his home in the goddamn middle of the night.

He invited you.

Yeah, still. Would hate to get shot on a night off.

The kitchen light is on when you enter, and you lock the door behind you before checking it out. You leave your shoes at the door and drop your keys in the dish.

He's standing at the counter, fixing two cups of tea. Wordlessly, he passes one to you.

You follow him to the bedroom, turning lights off as you go. He slips under the covers, and pats the covers.

“Thanks for the tea,” you say, settling in beside him.

It’s become sort of routine. Since Berry Hill, sharing a bed has become far less taboo and far more common. Even when Jack’s home, you’ve set up the couch for yourself before spending the night next to Aaron. That way, you can wake up early and settle in the living room before he wakes up, or make it look like you slept on the couch even if he wakes to find you in his father’s room.

The element of surprise is always a gift - Jack is more than thrilled to find you whenever you spend the night. He doesn’t know to ask questions, and really you aren’t sure what you’d say even if he did.

Aaron would probably have the words. He’s good at that kind of stuff.

You sit together in silence, sipping out of your mugs and enjoying the quiet darkness. When you’re done, you leave it on the coaster on your bedside - well, on the bedside table.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask.

Aaron’s been finished for a while, his empty mug on his table. He’s already settled in, laying on his side toward you with his hand tucked under his cheek. “Not tonight.”

“Is it Emily?”

He nods. “Yeah, something like that.” There’s more, but he’s never been too good at articulating his feelings. You’ve learned it’s best to just keep him company and not push too hard.

You slide down, bringing the covers up to your chin. “Come here.”

He smiles in the dark and wraps you in his arms. It’s already easier to close your eyes, and you know you won’t be half as scared to confront what you find behind them. His breath fans across the top of your head, much more steady than when you arrived. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Sleep tight, Aaron.”

He tucks his face into your hair, and after a few moments, you hear his breath slow and even out. You lean back, finding his face completely relaxed.

That’s better.

With him asleep, you’re able to tune out your thoughts in favor of his heartbeat against your cheek.

+++

Jack is long asleep when it’s your turn to need company. You’re on the couch, wrapped in Aaron’s arms, sobbing into his chest. Earlier, you found a bank of recorded shows in your cable box that you were waiting to watch with Emily. The realization that you’d never be able to watch them with her knocked you out at the knees, and there was nothing you could do but sit on the floor and cry.

When you caught your breath, you called Aaron and took a cab over to the apartment. Your tears didn’t let up for a single moment on the way there, and started anew when you saw him.

You couldn’t speak, but he just led you to the couch and let you curl up against him. With his cheek against your hair, he rubs your back until you can finally breath without hiccuping.

“What was it?”

“The shows.” You sniff, and wipe your nose on your sleeve. “I was saving shows to watch with her. They didn’t stop recording. I didn’t think to -” A fresh wave starts, and you tuck your head back into his shoulder. You do your best not to wail, keeping quiet for Jack’s sake, “I didn’t think to stop recording them. I don’t even really like them, but we always watched together.”

His next words are familiar to you. “It’s all about the routine.”

Those are the same words you used after Haley died. One of his first breakdowns after her death came when he was packing Jack’s bag for the week, getting ready to drop him off at her place. When he realized there was nowhere to go, nowhere to take him, it knocked the life out of him just like your shows did tonight.

“Once you find something to fill the space,” you’d told him, “things get a lot easier to manage.”

And it was true. That was the first weekend he called you to come spend the day with Jack, and your time together patched some of the holes.

He squeezes you to him. “Do you want to find something to watch together? We can start a new show or maybe movie nights with Jack? Maybe with Will, JJ, and Henry? What do you think?”

You give him a watery smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

+++

Andy Swan is a trip and a half, and you find yourself liking her a little more than you thought you would. She and Aaron have a great deal of history, and you enjoy the way they give each other a hard time - pushing and pulling for control of a stressful investigation. They’re different, but highly complementary in their leadership.

It almost reminds you of your relationship with Derek - mutual respect in droves, but a supreme lack of patience, and a little more good humor than is actually necessary.

It’s only when the case is over that shit hits the fan.

You’re all in the conference room following the successful completion of the case. Doyle, of course, has been on your minds since Emily’s death, and you spend at least fifteen hours a week maintaining the not-so-sanctioned investigation into his whereabouts.

But this wasn’t about Doyle.

“I’ve been assigned to a joint task force in Pakistan for an indefinite amount of time.”

The news knocks the breath out of you, and your eyes flicker around the table. Everyone is just as shocked as you are, though you’d like to imagine the short-circuit you’re experiencing is all your own.

“What do you mean?” The question leaves your lips before you can stop it, and Hotch’s brown eyes meet yours. There’s an apology in them.

“Tomorrow, I leave for Pakistan. I’m not sure how long I will be gone. Derek will take over as Acting Unit Chief in the meantime.”

Derek’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “You’re kidding.”

“You carried off the job very well last year, and I have no doubt you will have the same amount of success in my absence.”

Derek looks like he wants to speak again, but refrains.

“I understand this is less than convenient. You’ll all have the declassified brief in your inboxes by the end of the day today with more information about the transition. You’re all dismissed for the day.” With a final nod, he walks out of the conference room, leaving you all slack-jawed and more than a little confused.

JJ’s eyes meet yours, and you shrug. You ask, “Has he said anything about this to you?”

“I’ve heard approximately nothing about it,” she replies, peering down the hall.

Goddamn you, Hotchner.

He’s packing up his briefcase when you pass his office. You don’t stop, sitting down at your desk. You’re surprised frost doesn’t rise from the ground at your feet.

There’s a moment where he stops at your desk on the way out of the bullpen, but you just stare at him. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it. After a moment, he finally says, “Jack is with Jessica tonight.”

You have no idea what your face looks like, but it’s enough to drop his shoulders and send him on his way, defeated.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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aficwhore · 4 years ago

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Madam Faux

Prologue

Aaron Hotchner x Nameless OC, John Wick x Nameless OC

Summary: An unusual case makes its way onto JJ's desk, leading the team to dig down the rabbit hole of "Kitty's" old life. That's when they discover who they've truly been working with. This blast to the past exposes all the dark things she had wanted to keep hidden. Will 'Kitty' go back to her old ways? Or her even older ones?

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: 18+!!! explicit language, sexual themes, weapons, blood, violence, gruesome scenes, death, strip club/stripping, assassin past life, love triangle, trauma, other adult themes.

A/N: So excited for this series, here's to the beginning of a long journey <3

I sat silently at my desk, continuing my report from our last case. As a special agent in the Behavior Analysis Unit, we see a lot of fucked up stuff. This time it was a serial grave robber turned serial killer. It was one of the weirdest cases I've been on yet. He had been so obsessed with human anatomy, he wanted to learn about it, but wanted to do it in his own way, using cadavers. But when he found it less exciting, he had resorted to fresh cadavers, ones he harvested himself. And even when that was no longer enough, he chose live ones. I had never seen so many bodies mutilated still breathing, until this particular case. Luckily we caught him, he didn’t go down without a fight though, he was shot down, instead of paying his sentence in a padded prison cell. Quite a few of our cases end this way, unfortunately, leading to tons of paperwork after.

The bullpen was quiet the past few days, not much traffic or cases passing through. We all sat at our designated cubicles and typed away, reporting everything we could remember. The tapping of everyone’s keyboard echoed through the room, slight sighs coming from us every once in a while. The faint sound of heels clicking on the floor began to grow. The quick steps meant whoever was coming our way had something important to tend to. Right as the sound stopped, a voice spoke, “We have a case, a big one.” My head shot up, meeting JJ, who was standing at full attention, a file clutched in her hand. “Meeting in five,” she added, turning on her heel and heading into the room behind her labeled ‘Conference Room.’

In seconds, Spencer shuffled a few things on his desk, and scrambled to the room. Emily stood up from next to me and scoffed, “That kid is so eager.”

“You’re telling me,” I laughed, grabbing my notebook and a pen, following Spencer’s abrupt path into the meeting area. When I made it through the door, Penelope, Dr. Spencer Reid, and Emily were sitting around the table, patiently waiting for everyone. I brushed passed JJ who was leaning against the wall, and pulled out a chair to sit in.

Once I settled into my chair I began to rummage through my notebook to find a blank page, so I could take notes, as did the others. The silence that filled the room was awkward, causing the young doctor to break into nervous habit. He slouched over the table, arms perfectly laid to each side of his binder, a black ink pen in one hand being clicked. The clicking continued, almost perfectly timed pauses in between, as the minutes went on.

“Hotch should be here soon.” Derek announced as he entered the room. He walked quickly around the front of the desk and sat in a chair, caddy corner from the head seat.

“JJ, can’t you fill us in while we wait?” Emily asked, awaiting an answer.

The young blonde pushed off the wall and cleared her throat, “I would if I could, but it was noted that Aaron had to lead, from the very beginning.” She swallowed harshly, as if she was concerned.

“Hm, that means this debriefing isn’t going to be good.” My voice spoke, partially confused. No one else said anything. We all furrowed our brows, wondering what the hell we were about to get into. I opened my mouth to speak again, but was cut off when the tall and dark haired man bounded into the space.

He seemed stressed, his face was ridden with worry. JJ stepped forward, handing the files she held, to him as he placed his things on the wooden table. “Sorry for making you wait. I had to make sure I got all the information I could. We need everyone on board, with all their attention.” His voice wavered, “Even looking over the files, I have never read of anything like this.” Opening up one of the manilla folders, he pulled out pictures and handed them to Emily, letting her view them and pass them around. “Five males and three females, found dead in their ‘extravagant’ homes. All with similar wounds and markings. A small, horizontal laceration directly in front of the neck, right at the junction between the jaw and throat.” He continued as the photos finally made their way to me. Observing the pictures, they all were quite similar. The victims lay flat on their back, beaten and bruised with their arms crossed over their chests in an ‘x’.

“They seemingly had been in a physical fight, scratches, bruises, and blood covered their bodies. If you look closely you can see an indention or mark on all their chests, which appears to be that of a high heeled shoe.” Aaron explained in detail. As I raked my eyes over the photos again, they felt very familiar to me, like I had Deja Vu. One thing stood out in the stills, all the eyes had been covered with something reflective and shiny. “Also found at the scene were gold chips, a type of currency no one has seen or heard of.” When the words left Hotch’s mouth, the photo became much more clear now. The familiarity came rushing back, bringing anxiety and worry with it. His voice threaded on, but in my mind, his words were merely gibberish, a ringing in my ears came and swept away my hearing.

Flashes of old memories flickered through my mind, ones almost exactly like had been shown. Bodies laid flat, arms crossed, and doubloons hiding their eyes. The repeating images made my heart pound, surely loud enough for the rest of the team to hear. A sweat broke out along my forehead, my skin suddenly became too hot for me, the clothes I wore felt tight and as if they were going to suffocate me. My thoughts raced, how was I going to follow this case, when I knew the answer, but couldn’t offer it.

“Kitty?” Penelope whispered my nickname, yanking me from my thoughts. I found it hard to tear my eyes away from the papers scattered on the desk before me. “Kit.” She whispered again, this time reaching her hand under the table and gripping my knee. Her touch lured my sight away from the photos and into her brown eyes. “You okay?”

Wanting to disguise my fright, I nodded as calmly as I could. Her eyebrows snapped together in suspicion and her hand left my leg. “We’ll discuss the rest on the way to New York City. Wheels up in 30.” Aaron finished, glancing between our faces, checking in on us.

My heart stopped, we were officially going to New York. The one place I left many years ago and never looked back, for many reasons. And now I would have to return and face my past.

#John wick #johnwick x reader #John wick angst #John wick au #criminal minds #criminal minds au #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #aaron hotch angst #aaron hotch x reader #Aaron Hotchner #John wick x criminal minds au #criminal minds x John wick au #angst #smut #behavioral analysis unit #bau team #bau x reader #Madam Faux

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alexandrablake · 4 years ago

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ombrophobia

word count: 1,668 warnings: this one’s a heavy one. allusion to suicide, major character deaths, language, went on a rant about how i feel when my anxiety is really bad, typical cm violence. all around angst. a/n: yeah, idk, kind of a vent writing. partially inspired by curtains close by @kermitsaysgayrights

ombrophobia (noun): an abnormal and persistent fear of the rain, often caused by negative past experiences.

Maybe it started all those years ago. The water rushing, spilling, overflowing onto her bathroom floor, her sister's body encased in it. It wasn’t the dripping that made her freeze, it wasn’t the dripping that terrified her, but it may have been the dripping that was the beginning of the end.

She was a young girl the first time it happened and the novelty of the billowing clouds that loomed over Roslyn's fresh grave was lost on her. It was straight out of cinema, the way the sky opened up, rain pouring over the grieving party’s shoulders.

And, back then, she considered it Roslyn’s final goodbye. She too was shedding tears over her grave, reaching out in the only way she could to take some of the weight off her family and friends.

Years flew by, rainstorms drowning the world out every so often. She grew up with the rain, the cold, humid Pennsylvania air beckoning it. She got used to having an umbrella tucked away in her bag, she got used to games being cancelled because of poor weather, she got used to the feeling of wet hair plastered on her neck as she walked down the sidewalk.

She never got used to the gloom.

Her father died junior year, heart failure taking him from her grasp. She’d sat by his pristine hospital bed, surrounded in the flowers of well-wishers, and stared out the window. Tear-shaped droplets of water slid down the glass, racing each other to the bottom. They left tracks, bars between her and the world without grief.

The funeral four days later was all of the same. The world around her was drowned out by the sound of water hitting earth. They’d rushed the burial, none of them wanting to stay out too long in the November rain. Far quicker than she’d wanted, her father was whisked away from her.

She was starting to get sick of the rain.

College was a breeze. Away from her mother, her house, her memories, she could forget what she’d left behind. Afterwards, she moved even further, finally finding something she wanted to do, hoping, praying, that the distance between her and her old life would finally cease the downpour.

It did for a while. When it rained - and it did rain - there was no burden for her to carry. She’d open her umbrella, step outside, and act like nothing was wrong, because for a while, nothing was. It was easy to pretend she was okay when all she had to do was turn away from the ever growing storm cloud hanging over her.

Her phone didn’t have disuse in the months after Elle’s resignation. Storms happened for days on end in her absence. Every time a bright flash flew across her view, she had to restrain herself from calling.

Reid’s kidnapping was her first clue that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as okay with rain as she thought she was. They’d sat in that hellhole for days, eyes glued to the screen, wishing for just a tiny hint of how to help him. She’d locked herself in the bathroom, eyes averting from the tub, and stared into her own eyes in the mirror. The storm clouds had rolled into the horizon of her life.

They’d rescued him, but the damage was done to them both. He’d hid his trauma in the depths of his mind, locked the door, and threw away the key. It was a disaster for another day for Spencer. She wished she had that luxury.

Gideon left, leaving behind rolling claps of thunder. It was dark when Spencer had called her that dreary morning, informing her that their team member was gone, and he wouldn’t be returning. She’d hung up the phone, no tears in her eyes, but the sound of water on her window filled her ears.

Sometimes, when it was just her, she allowed herself to cry at the sight of rain. After she was reassigned, it rained for two weeks straight, a ceaseless downpour filled her life. Will had sat by her side, arms wrapped around her shoulders, whispering words of reassurance into her hair the first time she broke down in his presence. He didn’t ask questions, as he himself had demons when it came to storms, and for that she was forever grateful.

It rained when she got off the plane after the call. For the first time she had seen rain in months, she’d wished it had been under better circumstances. Prentiss was missing, and so was a piece of herself. She didn’t carry an umbrella so the water would mingle with her salty tears.

The conversation that she and Hotch had about Emily’s fate had taken place on a bus stop bench, the smell of fresh precipitation floating into their noses. Her hands shook when he reached to help her up, and she didn’t know if it was because of the day’s events or because she knew that her wall against the rain had a large crack in it.

Ironically, it didn’t rain at the funeral. But, god, did it storm in the aftermath. Through his tears, Reid didn’t notice hers. He didn’t notice how her gaze lingered in the collection of water on her windowsill. He didn’t notice how the shoulders his head lay on shuddered. He didn’t notice the incessant whispering that she was doing in an attempt to reassure herself.

It was the universe laughing at her. “Oh, Jennifer Jareau is sad? Make it rain.” She knew what rain meant symbolically, she remembers that much of high school English. Yet, this was real life. Why the hell did a dark cloud just seem to be following her?

Then Will died. The explosion. Emily’s wordless apology that she couldn’t get out because of her wounds. The lack of a band on her finger. And the fucking rain.

She had to sit with her child’s arms around her and explain over the torrent that his father was dead. His tiny fingers clutched around her ringless ones told her that he understood what she was telling him. Her eyes fell upon a picture of Rosalyn, and it was all she could do not to scream.

Henry had insisted on wearing one of Will’s ties to the funeral, a dark blue one with the outlines of clouds on it. Fitting. Her team and what was left of their families gathered around the casket, droplets ricocheting off it as it was lowered into the ground. This time she didn’t leave early.

She sat by his headstone for what seemed like eternity before a gentle hand was laid on her shoulder. Her mother attempted a smile and murmured something about how she was going to get sick from staying out in the rain and cold. She didn’t care.

Emily left and it rained.

After Alex Blake retired for good, the shaking really started. Rain rolled in, and the fidgeting followed. She couldn’t sit still, not without panic rising in her chest. She was trapped in a rainy day, never escaping, no more shoulders left to cry on, no funds left to draw out of.

Penelope tried and failed to help her. When it rained, she delivered bright flowers and had her favorite music echo throughout the hallways, a desperate attempt to drown out the sounds of the cascades on the roof. It was almost comical, but she knew Garcia was just trying to help, and for that she was grateful.

She’d sat on the couch that resided in the former office of Derek Morgan, leg bouncing, nails digging into her palm. Reid joined her every now and then, but the memories of what was no longer oozed from the walls and it was just too much for him sometimes. It was the nail for the coffin she’d lied in since she was eleven.

Little over a year later came the hammer. It was after a bad case, and the image of the girl screaming for her help danced across her vision. There was no one there to comfort her, and so she sat on the bottom of her steps, muffling her cries so she wouldn’t wake up Henry.

Her phone rang. Several times. She ignored it the first few times because there was no way she’d be able to have a functioning conversation, not with the way tears were streaming down her cheeks and air caught in her throat. But she answered when the calling kept coming.

Aaron Hotchner was dead, a collision on the freeway. The other driver hydroplaned, losing control of his car, and ran straight into Aaron. They pronounced Hotch dead on the scene, but Jack, who was riding in the passenger seat, had escaped without much harm.

And the rain kept pouring.

There was no one to call, no one to inform, except for his brother, who didn’t seem to care too much that his own flesh and blood had just left this earth. The now orphaned Jack was placed permanently in his aunt’s care, and it seemed all too soon that Aaron Hotchner’s legacy had been washed down the storm drain.

Because it was someone she loved, it rained at the funeral. Hotch was buried in the same cemetery as Will, close enough that if she squinted through her wet lashes, she could make out the outline of his headstone. It was a peaceful location, the spot next to Haley’s under a tree.

But it was just drowned out by the rain.

There was nothing she could do to stop it, it was the weather, and honestly it was her fault for choosing a state with such dreary weather. But it chased her and it chased her and it chased her until she was cornered. She was cornered in a maze of grief, of loss, of heartbreak. And there was no way for her to escape.

The rain always found her.

#hi yes sorry for going awol #i had an interaction with someone and for some reason it sparked this whole like 'no one on here really likes you. in fact they hate you'#took a break but i'm back i think #doing the celebration things soon i am so sorry #eva writes occasionally #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau fanfiction #angst #criminal minds #cm

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lizzybeth1986 · 5 years ago

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Quick Thoughts on The White People Waambulance, Chapters 18 and 19

• Sorry this QT is coming out so late, guys. I regret to say my heart wasn't really in this one...and it hasn't been with regards to my QTs for a while. This one might be my last, unless we count me finishing them off for the (not rewritten) Book 1. It's been two years since I began, and the last two books made the process honestly really exhausting.

• I clubbed the two finale chapters together because I really couldn't be bothered to do separate ones for both.

• In fact...I won't be doing any of what I have been doing for my QTs so far. I'll be honest to you: I usually do multiple replays, the last few in tandem with the other routes on YouTube. I go through the scenes one by one. I keep note of differences and variations and carefully choose screenshots that will reflect the gist of the scenes.

But I couldn't be bothered to do any of that this time. I pressed the "continue" and then the "end book" buttons as soon as I finished my first run of those chapters. I'm drained, guys. And I don't think I'll be coming back to the TRH series at least, not even for Liam or Hana or Kiara. Maybe my mind will change by the time the second book comes out (update from present-day Lizzy: no it didn't) but I'm not counting on it. And you'll probably know why by the time this QT ends.

• TW: Discussions on racism, both fandom racism and from within the narrative. The last section of this QT is going to be...pretty heavy, guys.

There's also going to be a lot of anti-Drake, anti-Olivia, anti-Madeleine and anti-Penelope content here, so if you like any of those characters...well, you've been warned.

The ensuing post is going to be LONG, and I know a lot of you have good reasons not to deal with long posts, so here's a tldr:

1. The TRR writing team stick to their weird obsession for jobless whiny white men.

2. Read this book once and you'll feel like you're drowning in an ocean of white tears.

3. WOC continue to get scraps from the writing team, even as they boast of being diverse and inclusive. In fact, they're regularly treated as mere tokens, exotic eye-candy or non-entities, while their behaviour is measured on standards that are very different from their white counterparts (this happens in other books as well).

...okay I wasn't expecting for the tldr to be long too 😅

• Me @ my QTs then:

Me @ my QTs now:

• I'll probably be finishing off my TRR Book 1 QT series when I'm a little less burnt out, but for now this is where it ends, I guess.

• So...here is to summarize the last two chapters: Accident happens. LIs mad. Paparazzi sad (but largely get away scot-free). MC and baby safe. At the Council meeting Kiara slam dunks the murderer of Liam's mother with the style and elegance this fandom still refuses to acknowledge her for. The MC is nice to her for like half a second. Last Apple Ball. New clothes for everyone as if they had a Diwali bumper sale the week before or something. Godfrey is somehow responsible for the security (who thought this was a good idea) and seeing the Auvernese Royal Guard outside our doors is SO not-creepy.

We get to see if we impressed our Auvernese and Monterriso allies enough. Bradshaw compliments Kiara for like half a second. Olivia sees the dude from the Q&A session (Jin) at the Ball and (if you pay) you get to see her catch, interrogate and lowkey flirt with him.

Leona and Bianca make it to the ball (where is Bartie Sr. Where are Xinghai and Lorelei. Where is Regina) and this time the narrative makes sure to shoehorn a plot element into their presence here: Leona is there so we can do something about the reveal that she constantly ratted us out to the press for money. ("oh look! Walker Ranch was plot related after all! We have a reason (albeit a flimsy, paper-thin one) to set 9 whole chapters in Texas. Even though we had to literally come up with this bit in the last minute, because really - all we wanted to do as a writing team was nut collectively over Drake Walker")

(I also can't believe that between the time I wrote this line and the time this QT finally came out - they literally found a way to re-fucking-write Book 1 so they could nut collectively over Drake Walker earlier)

• Why were we required to dress down in Texas for these assholes when they couldn't even bother to dig up their Sunday best for this ball??? Oh right, they're Walkers. Hypocrisy runs in the family.

• Good thing is you can choose to banish Leona if you want. She's angry about it for a second then accepts it and leaves. But like what is the point of banishing her when she hardly even bothers to come there in the first place? She's not going to be bawling her eyeballs out saying "boohoo, they threw me out of this country that I spent like five minutes in and never even wanted to visit in the first place".

• Bianca is present at the end of Chapter 18 mainly to deliver to us a plot point at the very last minute: a clue about where we could find proof about Queen Eleanor's murder. Bianca mentions conversations Jackson had with her, and a secret room somewhere. Her leaving the palace and abandoning her children is addressed, and the MC gets to berate her. It's...short.

• Why this important piece of information was given to Bianca when idk LEO could have pitched in and spoken about it, no one knows. Oh wait. I keep forgetting. Bianca is Drake's mother. That's why.

• Okay so Amalas valiantly found out about Leona's involvement in this and gave us tangible proof via photographs. But we're kiiiinda forgetting that the scrutiny and privacy invasions were happening even before we hauled ass to Walker Ranch? Who was responsible for those? Who was the "source" that the Chapter 17 paparazzo was referring to, the one that mentioned they would triple the price for more photos of the Queen/Mother of the Heir (Coz like why would she do that. She's already broke)? How did Amalas come by this information so easily and why was she really that invested? Why is no one asking these questions? Why isn't the group asking these questions? Why are they stupid. Jesus, they're all so stupid. HOW ARE YOU SO STUPID, SQUAD.

• Shortly after they get rid of Leona and Bianca, the rest of the group give the happy couple a choice of toys for the nursery - and that's our final nursery purchase. You can either go for the corgi - which is on brand for the series by now I think - or the lion, which is seen as very Cordonian.

• More party shenanigans. We're nice to Kiara for another half-second. Kiara arranges a photoshoot for us. The team can't pretend to give a fuck anymore about its fans so they will ask us to pay for an edit that I've seen millions of edit-creators in the fandom do wayyyy better. Like let's be honest - compare the engagement shoot pics (messy as they were) to the shoots we eventually got this book. You can see the difference. You can tell which one required more work.

• Anyway, if you choose this scene you wind up going back to the ballroom, dance with your spouse, aaaaand it's time for another diamond option. This time your spouse gives you something you've been craving (mousse parfait for the Liam MC, chocolate chip cookies for the Hana MC, handmade chocolates for the Maxwell MC and a choice between bacon and a veg version of it for the Drake MC. Damn, team TRR. Your favouritism is showing). The couple also writes a letter to the baby that the child can read growing up, in a bit of a parallel to Eleanor's letter to Liam that we see at the end of the chapter.

• After this, Liam reveals he has been pondering over what Bianca said, and wants to find out where they could find that secret room. Cue Liam's own flashback scene for free. Godfrey bringing to Queen the same goblet that the RoE MC found in a flea market in Book 2 for Regina (or perhaps just a similarish one). Liam and Eleanor reciting a rhyme that turns out to have clues for the secret room.

• To give the team credit, they seem to have (finally) put some thought into this. Like this actually feels like Liam's scene. Not one that delivers information about his family but is really about another character. They seem to incorporate all the things Eleanor seemed to be known for - things that were hardly addressed in the books when it came to talk of her. She is shown with a love for books given that books and poetry form an important part of the clues she leaves for Liam. One of the books is about foraging, which is unsurprising considering her love for gardens that was established in Book 1 of TRR.

• So...like...nice job but why was practically everything about Eleanor (including the way she'd stand up to Constantine, her displeasure at the sound of Godfrey and Bartie's names, her nature that Liam not only inherited but also learned) left only for your finale? Why no buildup? Why was I seeing you lot constantly pandering to Drake's family the entire time? Why do I know way, way more about Jackson than I do about Eleanor whose story this WAS? Why is she and her son suddenly getting this burst of attention at the tail end??

• They still manage to push young!Drake into a scene focusing on Liam and Eleanor, so we can see how Eleanor's teaching of how to be a responsible royal began to make inroads into Liam's way of thinking. It's the ultimate irony, that Liam took his mother's advice so much to heart that he lets Drake stay in his home, eat his food, and complain about those dastardly nobles to his heart's content for free.

Poor Eleanor in her grave is like

• Very fitting, how Constantine's proposal to Eleanor happens in the hedge maze, very much like Liam's first declaration of love in Book 1.

• If you're married to Liam, you get an extra letter that's addressed to Liam's future wife. She clearly knew her days were to be numbered by the time she gave birth to that second child at least.

• Lmao @ how the team somehow managed to remember that Eleanor would have been Leo's stepmother too. He's mentioned a couple of times. They didn't have enough time to develop a sprite for young!Leo but somehow had all the time and resources to make one for young!Savannah who had literally no purpose in Drake's flashback scene? Hmm. Hmm.

• They somehow manage to find the twin to the RoE MC's gifted goblet that Godfrey gave Eleanor the night she died, and Liam reveals that he's been obsessed with poisons enough to know that it wasn't the drink that was poisoned, it was the cup itself. Everyone is shook.

• Love that extra little detail about Liam's obsession with learning about poisons and how it's a sign of how deeply Eleanor's death affected him. But tell me honestly if you remember this plot point coming up even once before in any significant way. Even during the one time a person is poisoned in the previous book (by the laws of karma, the victim in this instance is Godfrey's only daughter) Liam shows very few signs of this "obsession". At a time when he has also lost a father. Convenient how something that could have added more depth to Liam is kept aside until there's a scene where his knowledge is required. Convenient indeed.

• I kind of understand why Liam acts on impulse, okay. The man just discovered who murdered his mum, at least some amount of irrationality is allowed (esp considering he hardly got to express ANYTHING when his goddamn father died). But you'd think Liam's friends would hold him back and help him think this through? Convince him that there are more effective ways to confront and get a confession out of Godfrey who after is in charge of security at the moment? You seriously think charging into the ballroom and suddenly stripping this man of his titles is going to actually work??? You couldn't figure out how to make him vulnerable instead so that he wouldn't be able to escape???

• I mean like, sure, one could always rationalize it all as "well see Lizzy, they needed a dramatic end to this story and they needed to wrap this mystery up quick". But there were other ways they could have spread it out than make it all sound so...so random. And you bet we all know why the narrative had to scramble around last minute to solve this. It's because we spend half the damn book in a dilapidated ranch with a shit family!

• Anyway, Godfrey escapes...and the MC tells her spouse that she's going into labour after...two contractions? Um. Okay.

• So. That ends Book 1 of this new series. And with it my QTs, for this series at least. My QTs for Book 1 (the OG, not the rewrite) might continue, but I'd need to repeat my failplay again because I lost most of those screenshots 😭

General Thoughts on the Book:

• So far, this is what I can see as happening in the next book:

- The birth, obviously

- Any extra perks from our purchases (ie. the nursery and the garden)

- Subplots involving the LIs' conflicts regarding parenthood and their own childhoods

- The mystery behind Eleanor's death isn't quite over yet, nor is the truth behind the constant paparazzi presence in TRH. Leona was the scapegoat this time around, but how did Amalas get all this information so quickly?

- Where is Eleanor's other child? Olivia's investigations may or may not lead to that answer. I'm pretty sure Jin might be involved as well.

- Another possibility is that Madeleine may give us important information since she was potentially aware that Eleanor was pregnant at the time.

- The mystery behind Jackson's death and what he knew regarding Eleanor's condition.

- What part did Bartie Sr have to play in all this? How involved was Constantine in the murder (if in fact he was)? What more dark secrets will we learn about Constantine, Godfrey and Bartie Sr during this time? What ultimately caused the breakdown in Constantine and Jackson's relationship, since Drake mentions Jackson being around when Regina was Queen as well?

- Speaking of Regina, how involved was she in any of this? We know she was Godfrey's cousin-in-law and Bartie Sr made a comment on her during the announcement about the heir, and that she married Constantine a couple years after Eleanor's death, but was she aware of any of this or was she largely out of the major plot and brought in later to cement Godfrey's position and power?

- I'd mention the possibility that Lorelai could know something, but they didn't really give anyone connected to Hana any time at all, so I have my doubts.

- Operation Swan, and possibly a visit to Monterisso. Liam's younger sibling must be in one of these places but my guess is on Monterisso.

- I'm guessing the team will write a nice wedding for Penelope and Ezekiel next book, while Kiara continues to get scraps from the same team.

- Drake and Olivia will continue to eat into the plot. Madeleine will join this unholy trinity as well because they've set the stage for her to have plenty of angst.

With that over, these were my thoughts once this book was finished:

WHERE ARE THE DUCHESSES?

Remember how, back in Book 3, we all marvelled at the number of women in this country who were in positions of power? Adeleide and Emmeline were powerful duchesses while their husbands were secondary figures, and Joelle though married into a noble family is an influential artist and - according to Liam - the embodiment of King Fabian's values. It seemed like, despite the underlying sexism and racism in the story, women were at least at the forefront of Cordonian politics.

This is virtually gone in TRH1. Godfrey (who wasn't even interested in Krona in the first place, much less Cordonia) and Landon (whose only concern seemed to be Penelope, leaving Emmeline to manage the duchy) have a seat in the Council. In fact we never even see either of these woman in the book. I can maybe understand the logic behind not appointing Adeleide, but the fact that Emmeline is passed over for her far-less -qualified husband is a mystery to me!

Also, has anyone noticed how white-male-centered the whole Eleanor story is? Notice how we never see Eleanor's friends, besides Jackson? We never see any of the courtly ladies of that era? She's the Queen. She'd have her own court. I find it impossible that Eleanor would have no interactions of importance among her own goddamned court, that Joelle, Emmeline or Adeleide wouldn't even be mentioned in her story thus far. It's fascinating that forget being part of her story - these women are largely forgotten in the book itself.

(Note: It's also important to add that none of Kiara's family - besides Zeke - makes an appearance this book. At all. One member of Penelope's family and one member of Madeleine's family is in the council, but we never really see or hear anything from Kiara's, even though Hakim was Constantine's old friend and Joelle could have easily been connected to Eleanor, given that Eleanor was exactly the kind of ruler Joelle would have loved and respected.

While we're on that subject, Lorelai could have been connected to Eleanor as well - considering that we know next to nothing about her years in Shanghai. There were ways Hana's story could have been tied into the overall plot as well that were largely ignored. The fact that both the main and secondary WOCs presented opportunities for better plot and story, and despite that they were largely ignored in the books...I think that says a lot. But I will get into more of that in detail in a different section).

LI SPACE AND STORY

• Now...as we all know, The TRR/TRH series is primarily a romance-focused book first, with an underlying plot about royalty and politics. So it makes sense to evaluate the book based on what it gives its love interests. That includes the number of scenes they get, and the kind of focus their story is given. So...here's the rundown of how that goes in TRH Book 1:

Liam: Overall, not too bad. He gets one individual scene, a free and paywalled childhood scene (though the free one is essential for the group's realization of who killed Eleanor). The letter his mother writes to Liam includes an extra section towards the end, meant for the MC who marries him. However, we must note that a lot of this "attention" was thrust into the very final chapter of this book, and 99% of the same book didn't exactly make an attempt to explore his inner thoughts on anything - his mother's death, the dealings with the foreign countries, his political activities. Eleanor being pregnant came from a scene that made Olivia the center of attention, the MC had the opportunity to ask him how he was feeling only once or twice, and most of the time the narrative relegated it all to "the matter is still being investigated". It's a slight improvement from the absolute lack of concern the MC and the narrative showed about Liam's emotional state post his father's death in Book 3, but not much.

Variations wise, the team did step up on the basic ones for most of the LIs, so clearly we've moved past the days of seeing cut-paste scenes and the likes of Liam and Hana saying "I'm so dumb in love with you". However, in playthroughs where the MC is Liam's wife and Queen of Cordonia, her lack of genuine concern for her country and lack of curiosity about the place she's ruling, sticks out like a sore thumb. The fandom loves to highlight how the plot is "written for Liam" or is "easier in Liam's playthrough", but besides his own child being the heir, nothing else from Book 3 onwards seems like it was particularly written with him in mind.

Drake: Hoo boy. So 2019 was clearly the year that many people didn't believe me about Drake eating up space, and the year they had to eat their words because in TRH it was too obvious to be ignored. On an overall scale you cannot avoid the extra perks even his LI scenes got - his Valtoria scene in Chapter 4 was longer, set in a different place and he was allowed to expand on his decision to say yes to Liam's request in a way Hana and Maxwell never were. We learned way more about his familial relationships and dynamics than all the LIs combined. His childhood scene was the first to be given variants depending on whether the MC was his wife or not. His sister's wedding takes up almost half the book, leaving little to no space for either the intrigue, or even the pregnancy that was supposed to be THE most important part of the book.

An insane amount of retconning was done to emphasize strongly on the "marshmallow" part of his personality, having him state time and again that for the MC he can even "sport a tutu if you said you had a thing for the Sugar Fairy". Part of these changes could be attributed to the backlash the team got for having him call a pink cake "girly".

There is a strong possibility that Jackson might be explored further in the second book, and it's no surprise considering that he's the one parent that is most talked about in the series. The book looks like it was truly written with Drake in mind, with a heavy dose of Olivia, and everyone else was added as a bit of an afterthought.

Maxwell: Pretty awful treatment for a character that the head writer of the team claims to like. He has no individual character scenes, and one childhood scene where his older brother Bertrand is given more focus. Ironically, Maxwell was more wary of Bartie Sr in TRR Book 2 than Bertrand was, but somehow they changed this little detail so that Maxwell could be written out of his own story.

His LI scenes were also not given much effort - some were badly written, and some scenes (like the free ones) showed little to no variations between the friendly and romantic playthroughs. One that comes to mind is the baby announcement photoshoot, which was so poorly done it added nothing of value to the character or the relationship.

Like the last book, Maxwell isn't allowed much development in TRH1, and he's still forced into a largely "court jester" role in the story. This reflects very poorly on him in certain situations, such as the chapter where we finally get glimpses of his book. The aim was to be humourous and light about the events of the series, but he comes out of it sounding thoroughly insensitive towards his friends, none of whose consent he took to write this self-centered pile of garbage.

However, there is hope that they might do things a bit better for him next book, if the rewrite of him in TRR 2.0 was anything to go by. However, it would be awful if they tried to do a better job of him and then left out Hana. Speaking of which...

Hana: I'm going to begin this section with a comparison to another character, someone who should have been treated as a secondary character - Olivia.

Olivia in this book has 2 character scenes (they're very plot driven, but they also explore her outside of her friendship with the MC and dynamic with the group). The spy scene with Auvernese royalty, and the scene with Jin, the Auvernese spy. An entire chapter is spent in her duchy (by now we've seen Lythikos four times and I'm now sick of the place), and she winds up taking over Maxwell's Q&A scene as well.

So that's technically 2.5 scenes AND a childhood scene that revolves around her even though it's about Liam's mother. In addition to this, Olivia also gets her own mini-book, The Royal Holiday, that revolves (again) around her duchy and has the group clamouring to give her attention when no one else wants to.

Here are the stats for Hana, who by virtue of being an LI, is also a potential co-protagonist in the series:

Nothing.

Zilch. Zip. Zero. Nada. Nothing.

She has one childhood scene that is part of the group's scenes - a beautiful, heartbreaking one that serves as a slap in the face to anyone who'd dared to be dismissive of what she went through earlier - but none after that, and no individual scenes either. The team - in one of their most offensive choices this book - force a storyline where she has fertility issues just so the MC can be the one carrying the child, and the same MC can opt(!!) to ask about her well-being after two days. The same MC has the chance to whine about not getting pregnant soon enough in front of Hana.

There have been a few efforts made to make the MC appear more caring towards Hana: she can angrily defend Hana against Isabella's jibes, and she can make Hana relax for once during the baby shower (unlike the wedding reception where the same MC treated her like a bridesmaid). The MC even gets to tell her wife that she should never consider herself secondary or unimportant.

All of these are nice, but at the end of the day they're all scraps. I'd equate it to how we're allowed to give Kiara compliments on the final two chapters, but the white women around her still get a far bigger chunk of space, story and attention dedicated to them. The team have a pattern of adding these tiny tidbits that will temporarily satisfy stans while still maintaining the status quo, and that's precisely what's happening here. Its important for us to understand this. Underneath all this surface concern and all these scraps, Hana is still getting dust in place of actual story and characterization. And given that they made ZERO major changes to Hana's scenes in TRR 2.0, I'm not expecting that to change.

As for the book in general...I don't have to go into why this book is a mess, do I? We all know. We've all witnessed how disproportionate the writing has been and while I'm glad more and more people recognize what I've been seeing since Book 3, it's sad that it took 9 whole chapters in Walker Ranch for so many to understand exactly how much space Drake has been eating up for no good reason.

BLACK HOLES AND WHITE TEARS

I'll begin this section by talking about Drake Walker. He's the most prominent sign of the larger problem.

Drake Walker is what I call a Black Hole LI. And yes I mean black hole as in the one that exists in space (Beckett from TE also fits into this category). He is the kind of LI that sucks up everything. Love. Light. Joy. Common sense. Other characters' spaces.

He is the kind of love interest that will have Liam's traumatic experience centered around him. The kind of love interest for whose problems - largely created by his mammoth ego - we have to resolve in Shanghai, the home of the lone female LI. While that same female LI gets nothing, and then disappears in a subsequent chapter. The kind of love interest whose love confession can take precedence even over the MC's own issues (remember the Beaumont House chapter in Book 1? The one that took place the day after Tariq nonconsensually kissed the MC? 98% of the dialogue revolved around Drake's feelings. Not about the faulty lock, not the possibility that the MC's security had been tampered with - Drake's feelings). The kind of love interest that was given an entire extra wedding and artwork for his mother in Book 3 itself - none of which were given to any other LI.

A Black Hole LI is totally the kind of LI that would get 9 whole chapters in their home while we have never even visited the homes of the others since the early books of the previous series.

This wasn't something that began just this book. It's been a constant since Book 2, and you can even see signs of his story gaining way more importance in Book 1. It's also not something we can - in all honesty - blame simply on finances and fan popularity: the writers confirmed Drake to be one of their favourites, and attempts to give his scenes additional perks (eg plot elements pushed into both the Whiskey scene and the Beaumont Office scene) happened long before they could make any conclusions about his popularity. I bought the Beaumont Office scene to find out more about that family. I bought the Marshmallow scene so I could find out more about Liam and Hana's conversation post Coronation (remember - Hana was never even allowed to speak about her return to Cordonia because that scene was given to Drake). I bought the Italian Restaurant scene to learn more about Liam's assassination. The funny thing about all these three is that these were their stories to tell, yet Drake is the focus. Quite a few of Drake's initial scenes sold because the team consistently made the effort, consistently ensured that the information from his scenes would benefit us in the long run. The narrative allowed for Drake to have his own story, and additionally let aspects of his story overshadow that of the other LIs' (see the examples I've given above). Even though he has very little of value to contribute to the larger story (no job, his friendships are shallower than a wash-basin, and no genuine communication with any commoner in the story - only endless whining).

The treatment Drake gets that no other LI does, is a problem in itself, but it also is a small part of an even bigger issue. He isn't the only white character who gets this sort of attention and detail to his story.

Take Olivia, for example. Started out as a rival to the MC, before her sad sad childhood and her genuine love for Liam was revealed in the Book 1 finale. Over the course of the story, her role changed from petty rival to Warrior Duchess to reluctant bff. Over the course of the original series, Olivia became one of the most prominent characters in the story, on par with the male LIs. I'm not sure how many people realize that Lythikos is the ONLY duchy in the kingdom we've seen thrice (four times if you count Holiday). To give you an idea of how big a deal that is, here's how many times we've visited other duchies besides the capital and Applewood:

Fydelia - 2

Portavira - 1

Castelserraillian - 1

Ramsford (the home of our sponsors!) - 1

Hana's mother's home - Never.

Lythikos has a detailed familial and cultural history, and I wouldn't be lying if I said we know more about this one region than we know about the entire country of Cordonia. And honestly for me, the obsession with this one duchy has reached saturation point. Lythikos is not Cordonia. Lythikos is not all there is to Cordonia or even the only place that should matter. Yet it seems the team is more than eager to flog that horse until there's nothing of interest left.

Olivia is the only character who gets an entire mini book that revolves around comforting her and making her feel better about her background and origins. I don't think we've ever given Hana this much attention when she left her home for us. Or when she was being bullied by Madeleine. Or when she was the other bride in that grand wedding. Or when we received the news that carrying a child to term would be dangerous for her body. Or --

We were given an entire mini-book to comfort Olivia - the woman who continued to call Hana "damaged goods" and " a failure" for not marrying a man, while Hana's friend/wife stood by and watched. The woman who didn't have to think twice before making snide remarks about an equally skilled courtier who never did her any harm, only because she could get away with it. Istg when I heard that most of the court snubbed her during that first event in Holiday, this was my reaction:

Like girl I feel bad for you but at least now you know how it feels to be held responsible for shit beyond your control!

Hana, in the meantime, is forced time and again into situations that would break most people - but with very little payoff. Her arc with her parents was given a resolution that confirmed that Hana could only be considered worthy if she was useful. She was made to interact time and again with the woman who harmed her with such glee in Book 2. The MC - as a friend or as a wife - is at best neglectful of her issues and at worst someone who uses and discards Hana as she sees fit. And now...in her romantic playthrough she's given a storyline that doesn't allow her to bear children easily, and the MC spends less than two minutes to actually check on her. Hana is one of the co-protagonists, yet a side character given the treatment she should be getting. One could technically blame finances for the way she's being treated too, but keep in mind that the bad treatment goes as far back as the Applewood chapters in Book 1. Technically a time when she was bringing in money.

I get it. Olivia is a fan favourite. Many in the fandom wanted her to be an LI, the writers didn't, so they carved out this middle path where she'd have a major portion of the story anyway. But keep in mind that a lot of this attention came - and is still coming - at the cost of Hana. The team pretty much gave Olivia what they'd been refusing to give Hana all along.

On a smaller scale, you see similar patterns with the secondary characters - especially the women of the court. Madeleine and Penelope had elaborate backstories designed to make people forgive and sympathize with them, and Kiara - even though her backstory in Book 1 was inherently tragic and deserved to be handled sensitively - was given validation with great reluctance from the team, and with no consequences if we treated her cruelly. Even now, the team has only tossed Kiara a couple of scraps in the final chapter, while already setting the stage for Madeleine to get her own tragic "patriotism" arc for TRH Book 2, and a possible wedding for Penelope in the near future.

The difference here doesn't just lie in who gets attention and who doesn't. It lies in how the MC is supposed to view these women as well. A lot more sympathy and understanding is automatically extended to the white women, and the MC faces consequences if she fails to acknowledge their pain. Far less sympathy is offered by default to the black and the Asian woman - the MC may be friends with Hana but a huge chunk of their relationship is mostly about the MC benefiting from Hana's skills without giving much in return.

Even though their misdeeds are acknowledged and spoken about, both Madeleine and Penelope are written in such a way that the problems they're currently facing matter more than anything they've ever done in the past. Hana is made to sweet-talk Madeleine despite being bullied by her in a previous book. The MC herself never gets ANY opportunity to directly address what Penelope put her through in Portavira, because what the MC went through matters less than Penelope's condition.

Compare this to the relatively small scale of Kiara's "misdeed" (being honest about not continuing with an alliance - I'm surprised people think this is an actual thing to be offended about!), and the way the MC is allowed to mistreat her sans consequences afterwards. We're even allowed to call Kiara a snob in the books - which isn't at all true if you look at any of her scenes in canon - and constantly make fun of her desire to learn (in fact, if anyone in the series could be called a snob, it would be Olivia). If I were to sum up how a woman of colour is spoken about in the books, vs a white woman - this screenshot would do the trick:

(Notice how none of the options to speak about Penelope allow us to speak rudely of her, yet in Kiara's case we're allowed to make judgements on her as a person. In Hana's case, while we don't exactly drag her the way we can drag Kiara - we get precious few opportunities to actually defend or support her when others talk rubbish about her).

When you explore the series overall, it's impossible to ignore the casual racism that makes disrespecting people of a certain race/colour easier than on another. It's impossible not to see where the narrative chooses to give consequences to an MC who treats a white woman badly, and where it allows the very same MC to suspect, and then (optionally) gaslight, a woman of colour a couple chapters later. It's impossible not to see which people are meant to be respected despite their bad behaviour, and which people can still be treated badly despite their better behaviour. It's impossible not to see a pattern emerging.

This is not even a problem that plagues only the TRR series. From TCaTF to ACOR to Platinum to even MoTY, there is an ongoing pattern of discrepancies between the way white people and people of colour - particularly women - are treated. Many POC characters are placed in situations where it's easier for them to suffer/die/be shown disrespect, than it is to show them kindness or mercy. MOC are regularly either exoticized (Prince Hamid is the most glaring example of this) or placed in very traumatic situations for which the payoff isn't always going to be that great (I know this happens to Dallas, but I don't know about the payoff for Syphax).

WOC particularly suffer quite a bit in a lot of PB novels, in comparison to their white counterparts. Rowan Thorne of TCaTF, as a character, didn't deserve for her death to be made easier than her survival (in contrast to Diavolos, who was given far more opportunities AND will live simply by virtue of allying with Kenna), any more than Kiara deserved to be interrogated by the people who should have been concerned for her safety or Xanthe deserved to be shipped to slavery. All this, while a Vanessa (who is in a position of power and who plays an active role in rendering the MOTY MC financially helpless) gets a diamond scene where she "explains" her situation and a Madeleine doesn't even have to hear about her bullying from her victims.

The fandom, too, has contributed to this on a number of occasions. Speaking specifically of TRR, how many times have we seen Hana being dragged on Olivia posts? (also, if we were really measuring Olivia by the impossible standards that we held for Hana's characterization, Olivia would appear pretty damn one-note too: after all, 80% of her characterization consists of knife jokes). How many times was Hana being looked at with disdain for either her niceness or the poor writing for her, while the same fandom would regularly coo over a nice-presenting Penelope (whose characterization is one of the most inconsistent in the series)? How many times have we seen Kiara being called a creep/obsessed for merely looking at a man, while almost no one judges Olivia for kissing a man without his consent? How many times have people forgiven a traitorous Penelope and hated on a far more innocent Kiara in the same breath? How often did the fandom hate on Liam for accepting the MC's advances after she rejected him, yet not say a word when Drake did the same thing? How many times has Maxwell been loved for his humour and childlike nature while people of colour with a similar personality (Lily from Bloodbound, for example) were hated on instantly? Clearly, there have been more instances of people in the fandom sympathizing automatically with the white character, than with characters of colour. Time and again, brown and black characters - particularly women - have been required to match up to impossible standards (if they're nice they're boring. If they don't like the MC they're <insert every gendered sexist insult you can think of here>). The standards are far more relaxed for white characters, and they're often given more breathing room and to most of what they want without the constant judgement that black and brown women get. The standards set up for both are grossly different.

Racism is a beast that assumes many forms - and not all forms of racism will appear obvious to some, especially when such stereotypes are so normalized in media and popular fiction that we almost accept it at first. Almost. To get to the root of why there's such an imbalance in this series - among others - we need to first acknowledge the sexism and racism that are such a vital part of its narrative, and that its fandom regularly buys into and (sometimes unwittingly) promotes.

At this point, it's important to understand that having queer characters or characters of colour simply exist in the books isn't enough. Token rep can be found in PB's books by the dozens, but at the end of the day it means nothing if there is a constant reluctance, over and over and over, to treat those characters with the same care and sensitivity that they treat their white ones (or their "exoticized brown" ones).

• Like I mentioned earlier, I won't be playing TRH from this point forward, but I do hope to finish my TRR QTs soon. I have a LOT of thoughts! If you'd like to be tagged on those, do tell me!

#long post #tw: racism from pb #tw: fandom racism #trh quick thoughts #trh qts #king liam #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #anti drake walker #anti olivia nevrakis #anti trr madeleine #anti trr penelope #trr kiara

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stephspencer10 · 4 years ago

Text

A ghostwritten Memoir about Rena Chynoweth, Ervil LeBaron, and his cult

This Memoir, written around thirty years ago, struck me as the work of an immature apologist and revisionist. Its bias toward Uncle Ervil’s cold-hearted cult hangs like a cobweb over the entire tale authored by none other than my Ex-Aunt, the infamous Rena Chynoweth.

The book is still in the public libraries, et Al; but sadly in need of a rewrite and updates. Recently I had the opportunity to meet one of my Uncle Ervil’s more than fifty children, the brilliant, gifted, and beautiful Gabriela LeBaron; on break from her classes at Cornell University.

She told me Rena had indeed taken in Uncle Ervil’s kids and raised them, chancing her own life and well-being while she helped them get out of Ervil’s cult and become good law-abiding citizens! Hats off to Rena!

This is a long story I hope Gabriela will eventually write. It is a story of great love, sacrifice, dedication, and redemption — especially on the part of Rena, her husband, and others who helped her, including the invaluable “nonprofit” group, “Discovery.” **

( INSERT: October 10, 2017: See, at the bottom of this essay, what I “discovered” about the “Discovery” Organization/Business: Then you be the judge. Some of my cousins vouch for what the “Discovery” group did for them. But it’s common to leave one cult, only to be taken in by another.)

Getting back to my Review of Rena’s Memoir written over thirty years ago, it seemed to me she bragged about and exploited the soldier part she played in this sad, sordid tale about her psychotic, serial-killer husband Ervil’s violent, brainwashed cult. At the same time, however, she ended her book with these positive words:

“I was given a ‘second chance.’ Maybe God wants to use me to reach those kids [Uncle Ervil’s children]. Because I’ve been through years of intensive self-deprogramming myself, I feel I can help them through my own experiences because I understand their very complicated background.

“They should also receive extensive professional help, guidance, and a chance to be around people who really care what happens to them. Simply putting the younger children in foster homes and hoping for the best is not the way to handle the situation.

“They will only run away and return to the lifestyle they always knew, breaking the law and posing a danger to people’s lives. They should not be allowed to grow to adulthood without being given a chance to learn proper values.

“These last remnants of Ervil LeBaron’s flock are still a risk to the rest of society. They are the last ones who may still feel bound by his blood covenant that has claimed so many innocent lives.

“They have grown up around violence and violent teachings, and there is grave danger they will pass these values on to their own children. I want the killing to stop. Only by finding those still out there and getting them the help they need can we stop the bloodshed.

“What John, my mother, and I envision is a ranch –- a place where these young people can live with family who loves them, where they can finally have the chance to go to school and church and be able to receive the counseling and guidance that will help them become assets to society.

“There are a few of us who are willing to do anything we can to give them a chance. If God is willing, and with His help, we shall succeed. If anyone has information that would help us reach out to the LeBaron children please contact … “

* Note: Rena left an address and phone number. But the resource was over thirty years old, so was likely outdated.

Furthermore, I had reservations as to how helpful Rena and her ranch would be to Ervil’s remnants, given the tone of her memoir.

But yesterday, April 5, 2016, I learned from my cousin Gabriela that Rena did indeed do a great service to society, and the remnants of Ervil’s children still left in his cult.

In fact, Gabriela said Rena and her cohorts are largely responsible for having brought to an end the devious and divisive cult Ervil LeBaron started! WOW! I pray that’s the case.

If so, I’m impressed with the present-day Rena. Because this means she not only remade herself: She used her personal awakening to help remake and save other unfortunate cult inductees born and raised in my Uncle Ervil’s bizarre and dangerous mafioso clan.

Rena’s old memoir, however, sounded to me like she had lots of deprogramming and repentance left to do, back then, before she could convince me she was no longer caught up in some of the abusive beliefs of “The Lambs of God” and it’s avenging angels.

Based on Rena’s memoir, I couldn’t see how it would be helpful to sequester, on a secluded ranch, Uncle Ervil’s warped children who would then have none but Rena and the likes of her as role models.

Besides, her ranch idea sounded like another reclusive cult to me. I felt the best way to civilize warped and abused children was to fully immerse them in a much more healthy environment than the one they came from.

In other words, I didn’t think it would be beneficial for a messed up and confused band of cult and ex-cult members to be living together on a singular ranch with more of their own kind who’d also grown up in their backward, brainwashed, degenerate past.

It seemed to me, the best way to heal “damaged human goods” was to mix and mingle them with normal and better examples — strong people they could emulate and learn from — not some adults who still likely had a lifetime of healing left ahead of them before they fully emerged from their bloody, cult mindset; and the harm it left in its wake.

To add to my apprehensions, In 2015, as I exited my car, a young man handed me a proselytizing pamphlet. Its doctrine and the image of a sword on the front told me it was material from Ervil’s Lambs of God — or an off-shoot thereof.

My blood curdled to realize The Book Of Revelations and “avenging angels” literature was still being disseminated — and in my area, no less! It’s scary stuff; and sickening to know the cult of Ervilites still has its leaders … or splinter-groups.

I figure a take-off from Uncle Ervil’s cult was possibly indoctrinating some of Ervil’s progeny and old cult members. Or it was a new group, altogether, but using Ervil’s teachings; and trying to bring converts into its bloody cult under a new self-proclaimed prophet.

I would be very happy if Rena, et Al, did have a hand in ending my Uncle Ervil’s malevolent cult. Let’s pray that’s the case. But that Lit I was handed leaves me worried — though, according to Uncle Ervil LeBaron’s astute and beautiful daughter Gabriela, Ervil’s cult no longer exists!

Gabriela told me it was thanks to Ervil’s ex-wife Rena’s loving and devoted care of her ex-husband Ervil’s kids that she, Gabriela, was brought out of her father’s cult-cesspool she had grown up in.

Since then, Gabriela has become a new person, on her way to doing wonderful service to help make the world a better place! She’s a poet, artist, academic, leader, and more. I’m expecting great things from her in the future — in keeping with the things she is doing now by getting her college degree, etc.

That said, as per Rena’s old memoir “Blood Covenant,” penned over 30 years ago, it’s still a worthwhile read but desperately needs fact-checking! Also, she makes assumptions about a number of serious things that took place in Ervil’s life, as though she were an authority on the subjects. But her assumptions are based on uneducated and wishful thinking.

For example, she claims “Ervil had nothing to do with the JFK murder.” What does she really know about this? She wasn’t around Ervil or the cult in 1963. I was. Furthermore, she was only a small kid at that time.

Continuing with my criticisms, important parts of “The Blood Covenant” history were conveniently omitted. She wrote more about her girlish romantic escapades and her “middle class” self than anything — though she and her family hardly fit the sociological definition of “middle class.” “Lower-lower middle class” or “working-class” was more like it.

The chronicle of her life as Ervil’s wife appeared to be largely an attempt to be in the limelight and cash in on the notoriety of her Ex-husband, Ervil LeBaron, so as to make money and be a star — albeit a notorious one.

Sadly, we were lucky to get three paragraphs about her cold-blooded murder of Dr. Rulon Allred. And the best apology she could come up with, as to the “Lambs of God” atrocities and murders was, “This did not need to happen.”

Here’s what Scott Anderson had to say: “In 1990, Rena published her autobiography, “The Blood Covenant.” The ghostwritten book is rather bizarre, a rewrite of “Perils of Penelope,” in which Penelope has a gun and knows how to use it.

Interspersed with gratuitous digs at her murdered sister, Lorna, and insistent claims to having been a “victim,” Rena offers long and clinically detailed accounts of her many brushes with oversexed male suitors.

The small matter of Rulon Allred’s murder is dealt with in a few paragraphs. In 1979, the baby-faced, eight-months-pregnant Rena had taken the witness stand to tearfully deny any role in the elderly man’s slaying. In her book, and with all the passion of a financial reporter, she admitted to being the killer.” (Author of “The 4 O’clock Murders”)

Suffice it to say, you may find Rena’s memoir worth a perusal, if only to see how a member of Ervil LeBaron’s self-appointed murder-for-God cult used to think.

But if you want to get a better handle on the real scary-scoop, read from start to finish, “The 4 O’clock Murders” by Scott Anderson. And “Prophet of Blood” by Ben Bradlee, Jr. and Dale Van Atta.

Note: These books may be he found at public libraries, bookstores, Amazon.com, and possibly on Kindle.

Note: Some entries in the above documentaries are not completely right. But hats off to these Author’s for doing as well as they did with a subject that was often next-to-impossible to get “the truth” about.

Since these books were published, there has been great change and progress in Uncle Ervil’s children and families: tales of redemption and examples of what’s possible in the human spirit, against all odds.

As an example, read Uncle Ervil’s daughter’s memoir published in 2017, “The Polygamist’s Daughter;” available in bookstores everywhere. You may also go to the “University” of YouTube to see her interviews; and check her website: AnnaLeBaron.com

Online, there’s much information on anyone or anything I mentioned in this blog. Check YouTube, Wikipedia, and other sites.

The following is an excellent video Documentary on my Uncle Ervil LeBaron and the LeBaron saga.

youtube

** 10/17/ 2017 — Look what I just found online regarding the Discovery training group I mentioned above. It’s well worth reading!:

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Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: notmuch4games ()

Date: February 20, 2008 03:32AM

Howdy, all you straight shooters out there. There is another thread on this site detailing the creepy and controlling tactics of the Discovery Cult operating in the Dallas area, but a new year deserves a new thread.

I just got an email from a contact asking me if I still have Info on Discovery. I do! For those of you who have not read my previous posts, myself and some other straight shooters with family members swindled by D had quite a heated exchange with certain misguided cult-goers. They went on to easier targets no doubt. But my contact assures me that they have simply tried to slip back under the radar.

This group (cult) has an upsidedown view on family values. Put quite simply if your spouse attends Discovery “training” and you chose not to go, the Facilitators or TAs will tell them that you can’t be trusted with details of the training and that if they can’t convince you to attend then you don’t care about them, you will never understand them, and in the end they will have to break ties with you – But not to worry cause their NEW family cares about them and will fill the void where their family and friends once dwelled.

I’ll tell you the basic jist so you don’t have to be subjected to the verbal abuse and physical conditioning; ie, withholding of water, food, bathroom breaks, and personal space.

They will pressure your husband, wife, son, daughter, ect., to give members of the opposite sex “PEE-PEE to PEE-PEE” hugs (their term, not mine) and to not share with their “old” family the way that the facilitators verbally abuse and degrade each member of the group as their turn comes, breaking their spirit and reducing them to tears in a public setting for all to witness. They basically make them feel worthless for the first two days and then make nice and become their best friend on the last day.

The owner of this cult has no formal training in this dispicable form of therapy, nor any training — ANY therapy. This Cult is operated by a lawyer and a gas station owner. It’s all on the web, if you care to investigate.

If you are considering going to Discovery training of if someone you care about is thinking about going – INVESTIGATE! They will break them down and put their own twisted values back into the shell that once was your loved one.

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Re: Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: straightup ()

Date: March 07, 2008 06:36AM

NM4Games- WELL SAID! You hit the nail on the head. You have been fed the same cult crap as the rest of us. I wish I had come here before I went to Discovery. You could have saved me much money and much more trouble.

Looks like you have their number. CREEPS!!! I’m still reeling from my experiance. I have lots of questions and a little insight. I’ll send you a message. Keep up the good work

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Re: Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: Enviro_Cop ()

Date: May 27, 2008 09:26AM

Hey Straightup: What made you realize Discovery was a scam? You are lucky to get out with your mind still intact. They are still registered as Discovery Training Ministries LLC with the IRS, although they don’t include that info on their website.

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Re: Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: notmuch4games ()

Date: June 03, 2008 12:07AM

I’m still around, guys. As long as Discovery is robbing people of their hard-earned money, I’ll be here to tell what I know about them.

Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 06/03/2008 12:10AM by notmuch4games.

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Re: Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: straightup ()

Date: June 03, 2008 05:34AM

EC, I have read your comments and the other comments by the creeps from Discovery. They are all so completely fooled by the mind games and BS being fed to them by Lowder and his ilk! I feel sorry for them. I feel sorry for me 🙂

I wasted a lot of money on that crap and I have more problems now than I did before. Actually, my old problems are probably small compared with the new issues I picked up at Discovery. I am practically broke after completing two “classes.” I was approached about helping to pay for another classmate’s tuition shortly after my first class. I had never seen the mean-spirited money-hungry side of the facilitators until I told them that I could barely afford to go to D2 myself.

They were completely different after they saw that I wasn’t going to sign my life away. I was willing to give everything (spiritually) that I had, but I think the money thing really pissed them off. At D2, they kept making references to selfishness and self-centeredness when I would come around. Now I can see them for what they are. A business! I wish I had seen this thread before I wasted my money. Has anyone ever sued a group like that and recouped their money?

At D2, they kept making references to selfishness and self-centeredness when I would come around. Now, I can see them for what they are. A business! I wish I had seen this thread before I wasted my money. Has anyone ever sued a group like that and recouped their money?

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Re: Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: Enviro_Cop ()

Date: June 03, 2008 07:14AM

Notmuch4games, good to see you are still in the fight! I too will remain to educate people just how evil Discovery is.

Straightup, it is crazy how the people become total believers. I refused to contribute to D2 (financially), and it looked like my Ex would stop going but low and behold one of her new “family” came forward and paid for the entire weekend, including gas money! They sent her a lot of emails and cards trying to shame her into signing up for the next training. It was all about sending money to Discovery. But she couldn’t see that.

They sent her a lot of emails and cards trying to shame her into signing up for the next training. It was all about sending money to Discovery. But she couldn’t see that. I am glad you didn’t become one of those zombies!

There is an entity called the Texas State Board of Examiners of Psychologists (http://www.tsbep.state.tx.us.html). Here is their mission statement: “The mission of the Texas State Board of Examiners of Psychologists is to protect the public by ensuring that psychological services are provided to the people of Texas by qualified and competent practitioners who adhere to established professional standards.”

They exist to regulate the practice of psychology in the state of Texas. That also encompasses investigating people or companies practicing psychology without a license. I feel Discovery Training uses methods which could be considered practicing psychology.

A person can file a formal complaint against anyone who they feel is practicing psychology without a license. Maybe if enough people come forward the gas station owner and lawyer might get investigated?

Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 06/03/2008 07:40AM by Enviro_Cop.

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Re: Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: notmuch4games ()

Date: June 06, 2008 12:50AM

I filed some paperwork, but I was advised that the lawyer that helps run this scam had all the language just true enough to not be fraudulent. Discovery works very hard at giving a legitimate, even benevolent appearance to the mental, emotional, and even physical abuse administered at the hands of it’s facilitators. Anyone who has had dealings know that this group is anything but legit. They brainwash their members, alienate them, and then squeeze all of the money they can out of them.

Anyone who has had dealings know that this group is anything but legit. They brainwash their members, alienate them, and then squeeze all of the money they can out of them.

I actually called the “Ewing Ranch” of Dallas fame where D holds it’s abuse siminars and spoke to the site manager. He was quite shocked at my claims about the D cult. He seemed unsure of the validity of my Info, so he gave me his email address and I sent him a condensed version of my file on Lowder and his cult.

I noticed that Discovery’s website now has them meeting at the Dallas Doubletree. Hope I did that! 😉 When I have time, I’ll speak to the GM at Doubletree too. I actually stay at that particular hotel when I’m on that side of town.

Straightup, hang in there. Your mind has had bogus and hairbrained ideas inserted into it by invasive methods. You will slowly start to regain the person who went to the brainwashing siminar. All of the old issues will still be there, but they are YOUR issues and YOU are the only with the solution. There is no GAS STATION OWNER, NO LAWYER, and no magic pill that will solve yours mine or anyone else’s problems. Discovery in Dallas is selling magic beans, and people are still buying the crap. STOP DISCOVERY CULT NOW! Keep your loved ones away from cults (LGAT, Discovery, etc.)

All of the old issues will still be there, but they are YOUR issues and YOU are the only with the solution. There is no GAS STATION OWNER, NO LAWYER, and no magic pill that will solve yours mine or anyone else’s problems. Discovery in Dallas is selling magic beans, and people are still buying the crap. STOP DISCOVERY CULT NOW! Keep your loved ones away from cults (LGAT, Discovery, etc.)

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Re: Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: notmuch4games ()

Date: August 07, 2008 10:49PM

Hope everybody is staying away from Discovery and other cults out there. Just send me a message if anyone has questions about D. I am happy to tell what I know to anyone with an interest. Keep up the fight, guys. Maybe someday the authorities will “discover” what many of us already know: DISCOVERY IS A CULT AND IT DESTROYS FAMILIES FOR MONITARY GAIN. God bless!

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Re: Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: done ()

Date: September 25, 2008 01:57PM

I really wish I had seen this forum before last weekend: My friend made me go.

I am definitely a “changed” woman! I’ve never been more depressed in my life. The sickest thing is, I am NOT one to be swayed by this kind of thing. Or at least I never thought I was….but on Sunday, I was all about this damn thing. Telling my friends to go and everything. It took a long, long discussion with one of my more rational friends to realize what had happened. This whole damn thing is sick, and I’m so angry about it. Is there anything we can do to stop it? I feel so used.

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Re: Dallas Discovery Cult Still Ruining Lives

Posted by: Harley21 ()

Date: October 07, 2008 12:53PM

I do not know anything of this cult but I do feel like giving some advice: Do not blame yourself. Always stay positive and hang out with that rational friend of yours. I believe that we can learn from ALL things good and bad……I bet this will make you a much stronger person in the long run. Be good to yourself and smile always.

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Review of My Aunt Rena Chynoweth’s “The Blood Covenant” This Memoir, written around thirty years ago, struck me as the work of an immature apologist and revisionist.

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