#extended edition of my shotgun

[hectorthedoggo]

I will put this in ao3 and edit when i have the means to. but. @kani-miso it's 0009 sibs i thought of you and decided to make this 🎀🎀

UPDATE I ACIDENTALLY DELETED THE TAB WITH MY EDITS AO3 is going to kill me

“Alright. Milgram's up.” The creature stayed. Es stayed frozen from where they were sitting on the couch. Oh God. What's the consequences of my verdicts?

Wait. Up? This is Trial 2?

They disregarded that. It must be a mistake.

If these verdicts even are mine, I can’t tell. I've been dreading this. I'm scared. They clutched their arms, trying to gain some warmth, some friction, for what was to happen next.

Jackalope narrowed his eyes at them. “A nervous one, aren't you now. Anyways, so since the administrators decided that you were too unstable, you'll go free. Congrats.

Oh yeah, and the verdicts didn't really have consequences, it was just a little social experiment. It doesn't matter. Good luck surviving in the real world!”

What. What the heck is he talking about? “Wha- What do you mean- Who's the admin- wah!”

They felt a pulling sensation, and suddenly, they were standing in a Walmart™ parking lot. The only other person nearby was Mikoto Kayano.

But, nobody was dead. He was in his original clothes, but. Wait, where are we? What's this big sign that says ‘Walmart’?

What is a Walmart, and where the hell did Milgram go?

They also had a little pack with them, and upon opening it, there was a little message printed out. Nothing else.

‘mikoto is your legal sibling btw. gl lmao be glad I even gave you this note ur probably my favorite warden - Jackalope (professional child neglecter)’

At least the pack looked cool looked cool…

Es was about to have a mental breakdown. Why did Milgram leave me like this? Is this what I am to them?

“Woah, what happened?” Mikoto wondered, “Hey, Es. Did you do this? Is Milgram over? Did they identify it to be a mistake?”

They started shaking. They threw me out like garbage. I…

“Es?”

They sniffled at the situation. I’m… garbage. Because, as my usual logic says, I am what Milgram deems me to be.

“I- I have no idea…” they extended the last vowel to emphasize how little idea they had.

They threw the note on the ground --- or at least tried to, it just flew away, right into Mikoto’s hands ---, and started to sob.

The tables had turned. Mikoto looked like he knew why he was here, Es didn’t (nande boku ga koko ni iruyo). It was genetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto had gotten the note, and he read it. “Wh- huh?”

He stared over at Es. “Es, this is a mistake, right?”

“That is the least of my worries right now, pudding boy!” they snapped at him, instead channeling their sadness into aggression.

He completely disregarded their feelings, to the point where he might not have even heard them. “Right… my mom did mention that our father got remarried. Wah, Suu! You’re my little sib!”

He went up to their grieving form, and gave them a little fistbump, lifting up their unwilling arm to do so. Why did he do that? Last time we touched, John was beating the shit out of me.

A random car pulled up into the Walmart™ parking lot, and the window unrolled. 

It was a woman with brownish hair, who looked like Mikoto. “Oh, you’re the other sibling that your father was talking about. You two can just get in the back in the car, your sister’s taking shotgun. Nice to meet you!”

Why the fuck does Mikoto’s sister have a shotgun? Are they all like this?

Mikoto followed in with them, and buckled in. Es had no idea what was going on.

They could not find the seatbelt, too busy processing the upheaval of their life in the past 5 minutes.

“Yo, sib. The seatbelt’s over there.” Mikoto smiled and gave a thumbs up, like a reliable older brother. “I saw it.” I did not see it.

They touched it, and got stung by the heat. Their, wait, no, Mikoto’s sister turned back at their sound of pain, turning off her phone. “Ah, yeah. It’s summer, don’t touch it.”

They scowled, forgetting their dread in the face of the overheated car seatbelt.

The car chimed, and the keys jingled. “Alright, folks! You two seem pretty tired from wherever the heck you disappeared to. Would you wanna go home, or get some ice cream?”

The sister turned around, and smiled a little wide. “My dear siblings, do you know the answer? There is a correct one.”

Es scowled. “What the fuck is an ice cream. Why is the cream ice?”

“Are you serious?” She scrutinized their face, finding the truth, “Step on it, Ma.” She went back to her phone, probably texting her friends about this weird kid in a warden outfit that was apparently her sibling now.

Mikoto looked over at Es and shrugged, like a comical cartoon character. Like a ‘what can you do?’.

I won’t allow these insolent- wait, these aren’t prisoners. Unless the sister girl did something with that shotgun of hers. It would run in the family, I guess.

Wait, that would mean that I’m also violent. Nevermind.

The 11th cell came to mind, and they dismissed it. Wrong kinda fic, buddy. We staying fluff here.

“So, Mikoto. And, what’s your name?”

“Es. I think?”

The woman put on her strict mother voice. “... okay. Mikoto and Es. What was so important that you had to completely disappear for like a years. No note! Job gone! You could’ve died, for all I knew! Es, sweetie, I’m sure it was Mikoto’s fault. He’s such a bad influence.”

Es raised their hand to ask a question, slightly flustered from the pet name. She indicated that they could speak.

They decided to just reveal it all. “Um, Mikoto committed murder… eh, Mikoto, he has DID and was stressed from his job, hence the murder. And I was the warden of the prison that held him and 9 others.”

Mikoto lost all of his composure at all of his darkest secrets being revealed, the dramatic guy he was. “What… Es, don’t… I… that’s not… I don’t have DID? I was doing… I was doing just…”

He seemed a little overwhelmed at the prospect of having to unpack all of the luggage that Es laid out, so another guy came out. “I am not straight. Oh- sorry, hi, I’m John. I’m the guy who totally committed the murder 100% trust guys c’mon vote mikoto innocent 2024-”

I already had to deal with that yapping last interrogation. Es shut him up with their hand. He waved it away. “If you’re gonna say that shit about Mikoto, Es hasn’t been going to bed at a healthy time or eating healthy.”

They were betrayed at his reveal. “I can’t believe you.”

“We’re going to fix that, Es. You’re going to get the regular kid treatment.” The mother nodded, eyes steeling. Oh no, not the normal teen treatment!

John had some other stuff going on behind there. Maybe Mikoto’s cheesiness had rubbed off on him. “As soon as we get out of this car I’m giving you a hug.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

Speaking of unwarranted physical contact. “Oh yeah, mo- Mikoto’s mother, um… John beat me up in Trial 1.”

“SNITCH?!”

“What’cha gonna do about it?”

“Give you another hug.” He deviously grinned, knowing that wasn’t the answer they expected or an answer they liked.

“I won’t allow it.” But, they weren’t the warden anymore. They couldn’t deflect affection as well as they used to.

The sister was unbothered by this discourse. Perhaps it hasn’t quite set in. “I guess I got two extra surprise siblings. Cool.”

-

When they got to the ice cream store after a prolonged amount of awkward silence, the moment the car doors opened, the chase was on.

Es nearly ran into oncoming traffic to escape any chance at being loved, as one does, but John grabbed them and lifted them up by their elbows, giving them a hug once they were out of the street.

“Jeez, you’re light. C’mon, we’re getting ice cream and you aren’t gonna kill yourself.”

“‘M not!” They kicked their legs to try and get the man off of them. But, they had about the strength of a 5 week old kitten compared to him, without the claws.

He plopped them down, Es seething about their lack of power they had here.

The sister turned off her phone, finally, and turned to Es. “Okay, I just wanna make sure. Were you joking earlier about not having ice cream before?”

“I’m the prison warden of Milgram, I don’t need-”

She interrupted them before they could start monologuing and crying about how Milgram didn’t exist anymore. “You’re getting Birthday Bash.”

“What- but it’s not my birthday?” It could be, for all I know, but she’s doesn’t have to know that.

“Ok, what is your birthday?” Dammit.

“Great question!” Es stared into space, tone full of sarcasm. Milgram never tells me shit.

“Mikoto or whoever the hell you are, do you know their birthday?”

“Nah.” John responded. “By the way, um, this kid was the one who named me John, because they thought it would be funny to be a know-it-all and reference some English name.”

She looked over at Es. “No offense, but you suck at naming. I think we were all thinking that.” We…

Es tried to defend their horrible naming skills. “What?! Who else was gonna name him?”

Mikoto’s mother decided to join in the conversation, but left after putting her two cents in. “Me. Or Mikoto, since he’s where John came from.”

John smirked. “See, Es! But the name has stuck, so you owe me.”

Es crossed their arms, huffing. “I don’t owe you anything. You beat me up that one time, so if anything, you owe me!”

He couldn’t exactly find a defense for that, so he took their hat off their head and held it as high as he could reach, exposing their hat hair. “Hey!”

They jumped to get it, but to no avail. They looked pathetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto’s mother and sister had already gone in to order. Order, like what a judge says?

It’s all a law reference.

John grinned. ��You're a silly little creature, Suu.”

“You're not Mikoto, stop that.” I do not like that weird ass nickname.

He put on an innocent face. “What do you mean? I'm Mikoto, and I love my company so much! Hahaha, I would never commit murder. This must be a mistake!”

Es was somewhat surprised. “That's stuff he actually said in his first trial, how did you get it so accurately?”

“I hear this guy's internal monologue.”

That’ll do it. “Ah.”

 He threw their hat into the air while they were distracted, and they stepped back in surprise. He caught it. “Nice hat.”

“Get away from-”

The rest of the family brought over ice cream, and Es was handed a mash of colors in theirs that seemed unnatural.

“Is this food?”

“Eat it.” John asserted.

They shrugged. If this is poison, at least I don't have to worry about Milgram and all that stuff.

Worst case scenario, it doesn't kill me and it tastes bad. I'm not sure what my best case scenario is. Dying? It tasting good? We’ll see.

They bit down on the food with aggression, and it tasted… amazing, other than the fact that it was cold.

“What the heck is this? In a good way?” They temporarily forgot about their slight suicidal ideation.

“Bro has never heard of the wonders of overly processed foods…” the sister commented, smirking.

Why is she calling me bro? Huh? If I question her, will she bring out the shotgun? I'm scared of her. She’s my older sister now, isn’t she…

To be honest, Kotoko was scarier. I’ll be fine.

She wasn’t addicted to her phone, though… wait, right. Kotoko kinda was.

They grinned, and momentarily forgot their troubles in the face of their action. I’m so much better than these people. This tastes good. Mmm… ice cream… I like it…

They did get a brain freeze, and brought their hand up to their forehead in pain.

They got their head patted by John, who had somehow consumed his (larger serving of) ice cream. “Do you want the rest of that?”

“Yes?” They answered.

He grabbed a spoon, and took a bite of their ice cream. “Wow, this tastes nice.”

Es disliked the younger sibling experience. “Give me my hat back. I didn’t forget about that.”

“No.” However, he made a mistake: it happened to be in grabbing range. They quickly snatched it, and grinned in pride.

But, while they were distracted with John, they forgot about their other older sibling, who took a sizable amount of their precious ice cream.

I just discovered ice cream. Will they stop stealing it?

-

They were next in a car, making sure to avoid the seatbelt this time. About ⅓ of their ice cream had been usurped, and they didn't have the strength to defend it.

But, it wasn’t that bad. These people are nice…

I… I guess this is my life now? It’s not that bad.

Finally, there were no catches to this fact.

They would have to buy new clothes, the warden outfit was scratchy.

[missin-you-already]

I do love how the B.A.G. Alice is wielding on the first film's poster (& in a few of the promo images) never appears in the movie. She only gets to use the Springfield Armory in her other hand and a shotgun she finds after waking up in the general hospital

I do believe that in the unused alternate ending, where she shows up at some Umbrella building in a trenchcoat to fuck the place up, that big ass gun is what she uses

In my humble opinion though, that gun would never be Alice's choice of weapon. She seems to prefer firearms she can get away with using one-handed... Although technically I suppose you could use the B.A.G. that way, I'm referring to a firing position where you have your arm extended out

When Alice switches her lab coat and sheets for real clothes in Apocalypse, she also ditches her standard shotgun in favor of a compact cruiser and she uses it one-handed. The other guns she grabs we mostly see her dual-wielding, which she clearly loves doing and is a big part of the reason I think she likes her firearms this way. The P-14s strapped to her thighs are pistols. Simple. Easy. Like the similar Heckler & Koch Rain and a few of her teammates use in the first film, the MP5Ks carried in Alice's shoulder holsters have foregrips and are meant to be fired with two hands. However, they were actually fitted with different grips for the movie to accommodate one-handed firing

The compact cruiser makes a one-handed return in Extinction. When I think of Alice with weapons in this movie, I think of her with the set of kukris she slices the undead apart with, but the pair of Nite-Tacs she uses get a fair amount of screentime too. Most of it is spent dual-wielding, of course. And again, on the poster, she is holding semi-autos that she never uses (but they do seem up her alley)

In Afterlife, Alice carries two double-barreled sawed-off shotguns and two Smith & Wesson revolvers. Shocker! One hand would feel wrong if it wasn't holding a separate weapon from the other! When Claire tosses Alice a Heckler & Koch during the rooftop fight, she does use the foregrip this time... for a moment. She's back to dual-wielding a pair of them on the poster. Her army of clones all appear to carry a pair of Brügger & Thomet MP-9s in their thigh holsters

(I guess they must've found all those machine pistols during a raid on an Umbrella facility? But that's not even mentioning the swords, which I can't picture Umbrella troops using)

Anyway! The clones seem to take after the real Alice. There's even a clone that uses a dude's rifle one-handed while using the other to hold him up as her human shield

Retribution... On the cover, we see Alice rocking one of each firearm she uses. A KRISS Vector (submachine gun) and a SIG-Sauer (pistol). She finds the single SIG-Sauer in the Tokyo simulation and uses it on the zombies that get through the doors. The movie kicks off right where Afterlife ended, and for some fucking reason, she has a different pair of SIG-Sauers during the opening sequence that I don't remember her having in Afterlife. She gets the KRISS Vectors during her meeting with Ada and Wesker. These guns come with stocks, but to nobody's surprise, Alice picks up two without them since she's not gonna use them with all her one-handed firing

I'm fairly certain she only holds the foregrip of the KRISS when she's shooting the ice at Bad Rain's feet and when she's trying to destroy the small Scarab she ripped off Jill. Since Alice kinda gets her ass kicked in the fights against both of them, it's safe to assume her aim has been rendered far less steady, and because shooting with one hand generally affects accuracy, it makes sense that she uses the foregrip during these moments

Finally, The Final Chapter! Despite the good Claire/Alice stuff, this movie is my least favorite. The editing is bad, all the retconning is stupid, and killing Jill, Becky, Leon, and Ada offscreen was stupid too

Not important! Somebody suddenly decided to give Alice another Heckler & Koch (with the stock on!) and had her handle it two-handed this time. She even uses a rifle two-handed! She is injured when she joins the other survivors, though, and I'm sure the semi-auto had a standard grip

We are not entirely without Alice's usual gun habits, though. She's holding both of Christain's double-barreled pistols on the cover, and she does get to use them in the film. She also gets another sawed-off shotgun. It has three barrels this time (like the Hydra from the games lol) and is given to her by Claire :)

So yeah, I guess the point of this long ass post is to say that, if given the choice, Alice would not use that big ass gun. Not her style

[ssmtskw]

Hello and welcome!

Replacing my pinned with a list of the stuff I've written for anyone checking my account out. Heh. Everything is sorted by fandom, and then word count! (And if there's something I should add to the tagging, please feel free to send me a message about it so I can make the edits.) Enjoy... hopefully!

RWRB

some part of me came alive - 10,979 words [college-ish AU, 5+1]

"Bye David." David's head snaps back to Alex's direction, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly you'd think it wasn't even there. Alex, having just removed his glasses again as he yawns once more, doesn't see it. David takes a couple seconds before slightly shaking his head, like he's just imagining something and is now actively wiping the thought away. He opens the door before he responds. "Bye Alex."

(Or: The five times Alex unintentionally calls Henry by his dog’s name, and the one time he does it on purpose.)

Francesca - 10,189 words [graphic depictions and references of violence/abuse/injuries]

Once, in a much worse place before all of this; Alex had worked for someone with one side of his office overflowing with books. He'd read all sorts of things there: Anatomy, selected works in philosophy, Oliver Twist, war hero accounts, law. Anything he could get a hold of in the dark, really. Among those books were a bible. There's a passage there that stuck— something he'd only read past but had barraged into the walls of Alex's mind three years ago, Book of Jeremiah, chapter 17, verse 9: The heart is more deceitful than anything else and is desperate. Who can know it?

Love Songs in the Key of Liam - 8,152 words [Liam POV/centric, 5+1]

It's fucked. He's fucked — Liam, that is. There was no way this was going to work. Ever. What's the next worst thing to growing up closeted in a typically close-minded neighbourhood? Probably developing a crush on your best friend who lives in said neighbourhood. (Or: The five times love songs reminded Liam of his now estranged best friend, and the one time it reminded him of someone else.)

Terrible Things - 4,038 words [Hanahaki AU, hurt/no comfort]

"How long?" That, he can answer. "A year or so." He croaks out, not really wanting to strain himself any further.

water in my hands - 3,521 words [sickfic(?), has references to illness, hurt/no comfort]

It takes Alex a good amount of time to realise; sometimes love just isn't enough to keep the world going, even if he desperately wanted it to.

no question (he'll hold your heart if you let him) - 2,837 words [June POV/outsider POV, post-canon]

June doesn't think much about it at first, putting the box along the pile, but she belatedly realises what it is and gets an idea. A satisfied grin makes its way onto her lips when she finally finds it, an edition of Astrotalk that detailed star sign compatibilities. June doesn't open the magazine all the way to the Libra section, stopping short at someone else's instead. (Or: June finds a box that contained one of her teenage fixations and goes through it for old time's sake.)

Smoke Slow - 2,026 words [shotgun kissing oneshot basically]

“Hey.” Alex says, just for the sake of saying something, the silence between them wasn’t stifling but he didn’t want to risk their interaction coming to an end just because he’s not engaging enough. Henry gives him a sideways glance. “Teach me how to do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. The shotgun.” For a moment, Alex briefly considers how idiotic that probably sounded to Henry. It wasn’t a hard task to mimic, but Alex had long thrown out his composure out the fences of Pez’s house when Henry put the goddamn stick into his mouth. 

i'll be happy (just to have known you) - 1,855 words [hurt/no comfort]

Henry resigns himself to the reality that Alex—albeit distant and unattainable—still managed to break through his dismal world and grant him a light he never imagined was still possible to exist. This was enough. This was more than he'd ever expected for himself. It was the universe's way of extending an olive branch in response to the cards he'd been dealt with. He'd be stupid not to take it.

dreamy little you - 1,666 words [crack-ish AU, post-canon]

"Of course, love, but would you love yourself if you were a worm?" This visibly stumps Alex. If the way his mouth just opened for a rebuttal and coming up empty is anything to go by.

only got a hundred - currently at 4,008 words

An ongoing collection of 100-word drabbles written according to the Brownstone server's prompts.

Haikyuu

Ceilings (he thinks it's not real, it is) - 6,009 words [light angst and pining with a happy? ending]

“Yo, you sleepy?” Takahiro meant to say that no, he isn't. That Issei looks stupid with his hair messed up like that. That he should be asking Issei that, with the bags under his eyes speaking for themselves. Instead, what comes out is, “I miss you.” It would be so easy to take the opportunity now. But still, Takahiro is terrified of ruining things. Or: Takahiro has graduation blues, and Issei makes him feel better, but things don't just end there.

Bloom - 1,444 words [two-dialogue challenge oneshot, retrospective? angst/no comfort]

Matsukawa Issei is not much of a sentimental person, save for special occasions where he has no choice but to reminisce.

Cruel (what your mind can do for no reason) - 1,012 words [light angst/comfort, implications of dissociation]

Issei struggles through a bad mental health night, Takahiro breezes him through the tail end of it.

Shameless (US)

big guns out, shoot now - 3,257 words [first kiss oneshot]

It's kind of out of character for Ian, really, he's always careful about not blurting out or doing shit that tapped into his feelings on the brunette, around the very subject of his affections. Has been, in fact, for the last two years and counting. Not that it got any easier to maintain, there are always slip ups (Exhibit A: right here, right now), but that's solely his problem.

On the Off Chance - 5,780 words [soulmate AU, ongoing]

To say Ian was relieved when he hears Mickey confirm how he did not, in fact, get his soulmate mark just a couple days after coming of age would be a huge understatement. (Or: Soulmate marks only show up when the younger of the pair turns nineteen– which isn’t uncommon, to say the least.)

[masterofd1saster]

CJ current events 10oct24

I guess the shoe fits them....

Federal and local law enforcement today arrested 42 members and associates of the SFV Peckerwoods, a San Fernando Valley, California-based white supremacist street gang, on a 76-count federal grand jury indictment alleging they engaged in a years-long pattern of racketeering activity that included trafficking of drugs — including fentanyl — illegal firearms possession, and COVID-19 benefits and loan fraud.***

***

They got their break in the travesty of the mistrial

Prosecutors in Los Angeles are reviewing new evidence in the case of the Menendez brothers, who were convicted of killing their parents in their Beverly Hills mansion more than 35 years ago, the city's district attorney said Thursday. Los Angeles County District Attorney George Gascon said during a news conference that attorneys for Erik Menendez, 53, and his 56-year-old brother, Lyle Menendez, have asked a court to vacate their conviction.*** Lyle, who was then 21, and Erik, then 18, admitted they fatally shot their entertainment executive father and their mother with shotguns, but said they feared their parents were about to kill them to prevent the disclosure of the father's long-term sexual molestation of Erik. Prosecutors contended there was no evidence of any molestation. They said the sons were after their parents' multimillion-dollar estate.

https://www.newsmax.com/us/menendez-brothers-california-killings/2024/10/03/id/1182796

Community Troy: "My uncle put his finger in my no-no." https://youtu.be/KqAx624ljH4?t=107

***

Never understood why they beat him

Following a trial that lasted nearly four weeks, a federal jury in Memphis, Tennessee, found three former Memphis Police Department (MPD) officers guilty of federal felonies related to the death of Tyre Nichols on Jan. 7, 2023. “All three former Memphis Police Department officers were convicted of federal felonies for their role in Tyre Nichols’ death,” said Assistant Attorney General Kristen Clarke of the Justice Department’s Civil Rights Division. “They join two additional former officers who had already pled guilty.  With these convictions, all five of the former officers involved in the death of Mr. Nichols have been convicted of federal felonies. Tyre Nichols should be alive today. We extend our condolences to the family and loved ones of Mr. Nichols. ***

Sentencing will be in Jan 2025.

***

National Review nails it

◼ U.S. district judge John Mendez ruled Wednesday that California’s law prohibiting what it called “election-related misinformation” doesn’t pass constitutional muster; the First Amendment protects political parody and satire even when members of the public might be fooled by it. The decision concerned video-maker Christopher Kohls, who goes by the handle “Mr. Reagan” on X. He produces deepfake-style political ads mocking progressives such as Kamala Harris. California’s law was so broad that it barred any deceptive communications likely to hurt a candidate’s reputation or electoral chances. Lawmakers should have known this provision could be interpreted as criminalizing a great deal of political speech that relies on exaggeration and humor. What is really bothering California’s lawmakers is not the access of citizens to the great traditions of political rhetoric—Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert were never going to be harassed by such a law. What scares lawmakers is that the means for making effective, professional-looking political propaganda are being democratized. Average citizens as well as media behemoths can now make politicians look goofy with a well-edited video, and social-media companies such as X, which remain outside progressive control, help those clips go viral. As the election approaches, we expect more claims that average citizens are dupes and cat’s-paws of foreign powers, a treacherous excuse for denying them their First Amendment rights.

***

USAA

***Murrah contacted USAA and convinced the institution to conduct an investigation — but USAA allegedly told him there was no evidence of fraud, despite a $14,174 loss across two of his accounts, including his emergency savings. Then, the bank unexpectedly closed his account. “The transactions were taking place in totally different states, they could see everything,” Murrah said. “They knew it wasn’t me, but for some reason they said it wasn’t fraud.”*** In April, a federal grand jury in Louisiana indicted 21 people involved with stealing nearly $7 million from USAA customers — particularly the accounts of older individuals with high bank balances. Three of the defendants worked for a call center that provided customer service for USAA and helped the rest of the group to access customers’ banking details to create counterfeit checks, reports Dayton Daily News. Last year, the institution also reported a data breach that may have impacted around 19,000 members after employees at a USAA contractor shared their access credentials with unauthorized individuals. And in 2022, the bank paid a stunning $140 million in civil fines to two federal regulators — the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network and the Comptroller of the Currency for falling behind in reporting suspicious transactions.***

The relationship between customer and bank is creditor and debtor. If the bank loses money, it loses the bank's money, not the customer's.

***

great

Chinese hackers accessed the networks of U.S. broadband providers and obtained information from systems that the federal government uses for court-authorized wiretapping, the Wall Street Journal reported on Saturday. Verizon Communications, AT&T and Lumen Technologies are among the telecoms companies whose networks were breached by the recently discovered intrusion, the newspaper said, citing people familiar with the matter. The hackers might have held access for months to network infrastructure used by the companies to cooperate with court-authorized U.S. requests for communications data, the Journal said. It said the hackers had also accessed other tranches of internet traffic.***

https://www.newsmax.com/world/globaltalk/chinese-hackers-us/2024/10/06/id/1182990

***

Surprise, surprise!

***

free speech case

Last fall, deadspin published a lie

The lie accused a 9-y/o boy of the worst sorts of racism. When the family pointed out that it was a hurtful lie, deadspin reinforced and republished the lie. The family sued.

***On Monday, Superior Court Judge Sean Lugg denied Deadspin’s motion to dismiss the Armentas’ lawsuit, rejecting arguments that the article was opinion and thus protected from liability for defamation. “Deadspin published an image of a child displaying his passionate fandom as a backdrop for its critique of the NFL’s diversity efforts and, in its description of the child, crossed the fine line protecting its speech from defamation claims,” the judge wrote. “Having reviewed the complaint, the court concludes that Deadspin’s statements accusing H.A. of wearing black face and Native headdress ‘to hate black people and the Native American at the same time,’ and that he was taught this hatred by his parents, are provable false assertions of fact and are therefore actionable,” Lugg added. Lugg also refused to dismiss the lawsuit based on Deadspin’s argument that it should have been filed in California, where the Armentas live, instead of Delaware, where Deadspin’s former parent company, G/O Media, is incorporated. One month after the Armentas filed their lawsuit, G/O Media sold the Deadspin website to Lineup Publishing, and the entire staff was laid off.

***

Go ahead, tell me the law is sexist

*** Schardin, of Blaine, was at a hotel with her spouse and two children on Jan. 14 when she spotted the two teen athletes, who were traveling from Colorado with their team, and struck up a conversation with them, according to a complaint obtained by Law & Crime. While she was with the boys in the hot tub, her husband yelled, “If you don’t come upstairs, our relationship is over,”*** She allegedly told the boys they were young enough to be her kids, but then pressured them into sex acts with her while a third boy watched, according to the complaint. “You already have a 38-year-old woman, a female in your bed, don’t you want to do more,” she said, according to one of the victims. “(Victim 1) described feeling stuck in the moment and did not know how to say no,” the complaint reads. “He said that in his head, his response was ‘not really’ but he responded by saying ‘sure,’ though he ‘wasn’t totally on board with it.’” Following the encounter, Schardin tracked the boys down to a rink where they were playing a game the next day. “(Victim 1) said they all started getting nervous and he was shaking on the bench at one point because he wanted to leave what happened the night before in the past and she was trying to follow them, ‘it was really creepy,'” *** In exchange for her guilty plea, another criminal count was dismissed and prosecutors agreed to jail time of no more than eight months, the Star Tribune reported. She must also register as a predatory sex offender. Her sentencing is set for Jan. 10, 2025, according to CBS News Minnesota.

***

George Gascón, the progressive district attorney of Los Angeles, is floundering behind his challenger, Nathan Hochman, who has a 30-point lead in the polls. “People do not feel as safe as they did before George Gascón took office and they want a DA who will prosecute crime, restore balance, and improve public safety,” Hochman told the L.A. Times. 

***

[simp-ly-writes]

Chapter Seven: Forgiveness

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.8)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: Preparing for the fight, you ready the troops, resolve prior conflicts, and help Charlie to led her destiny as you once and for all let the past go. Embracing a new lifetime, one that has you no longer the indebted servant, celestial lover, or war general but allowing yourself to love you and those around you without work on the mind.

Warnings: 4988 words, NSFW adult-content (18+ MDNI!), some emotional angst and teasing.

A/N: If you know me, do not read this, don't even look at this. This is my first time writing anything of this subject so bare with me and hope you enjoy!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

“So…” Angel Dust starts to comment, looking around your house before one of their hands extends towards your shotgun as you slap their hand away, placing a cup of coffee into it instead. “...What's it like being reincarnated? Does it hurt or do you remember anything you did in the past?” He asks, now tilting the mug towards you in a pointed motion. You offer a simple small smile, shaking your head before necking down the remainder of your glass as Husk strides over with the coffee pot to refill your cup  with piqued interest in your answer. 

After a few days had passed since entering the dreaming world, Charlie was still distraught over Vaggie and felt conflicted on why Alastor would lead her to such a person that tormented her every night Adam still breathed. You could do nothing, tried everything to force yourself to sleep but just as you would start to feel yourself being pulled away, various memories of past lives would flash before your eyes and you would awaken moments later to find a still asleep Charlie the next room over. In light of cheering the Princess up, you decided to invite some of your mutual friends from the hotel back to your place where you all waited for Charlie to awake to hopefully a wanted surprise. 

After thinking a moment longer on your response, both demons leaned forward to pick up on your answer. “I remember only snapshots of my past lives, yet I don’t see them as me now- we are different people and…” you shiver as blood flashes over your skin, flickering with a warping reality. “...I am not too proud of my prior actions and the vague reasons behind them.” Husk nods his head, seemingly understanding as his eyes cast over, Angel Dust wraps an empty arm across the cat’s shoulder, directing a knowing look. “We can all be losers at times but hey! We can all be our little own version of fucked-up together!” Angel Dust cheers as you laugh nervously, looking between the two to pick up on what you are missing yet a creak of the stairs has you all putting this conversation aside as Charlie rubs her eyes clear and lets out an excited cheer. 

“Holy Hell, you guys- I have missed you all so much!” She states, pulling all of you into a group hug. Seeing her reflection through a window, Charlie scrambles to fix her appearance as you wave a hand over her head, fixing it in an instant as she smiles appreciatively. “So! How have things been at the hotel?” 

Angel Dust pulls out his phone forcing Husk to answer, “Erm, well Charlie… our bonding activities have fallen through without you there and Alastor almost stepped on one of Sir. Pretentious’s eggs last night, Vaggie has been… even less talkative than usual and Niffy… has been Niffty,” You nod your head along as he speaks before turning around and back to the kitchen where you prepare brunch for the group. A mountain of pancakes are carried over to the dining room table as you slice the remainder of the fruit salad you started to prepare last night from your garden. “Breakfast is served!” you all out as their feet rush over, they hum out happily, “This shit if fucking fantastic,” Angel dust comments, mouth stuffed as you chuckle out, standing up to grab a napkin just as Husk yells back, “I will trade you some of my cocktail recipes if you teach me how to make these scones.” You turn around, smiling with a handful of serviettes in hand as you dish them out, now taking a bite of your own food as you all chat for a few hours, the food beginning to cool just as Charlie turns to face you. Husk and Angel Dust enforcing that they would wash the dishes since you cooked the meal. 

“I want to go back to the hotel… but I don't know if I can face Vaggie just yet,” she comments as you put your coffee down, humming out in contemplation before saying, “And that is perfectly fine but Vaggie choose to be with you for a reason, to help you run this hotel, maybe she also wanted redemption for her past just like you are trying to do for others.” Charlie’s wide eyes stare through you at this information, her head tilting as she digests it and with a click of the glass being washed in the kitchen sink- a small smile creeps its way across her face. “I never thought of it like that…” she simply says, playing with the table cloth before darting upstairs to pack her bags. I guess I’ll take that as a yes, she does forgive her, you think to yourself, bringing the remaining dishes to the sink as you say your thanks once more to the boys. 

--

When reentering the hotel, you did not expect to be invented with such hostility as you push your finger down on the angelic blade currently pointed at your neck. “Good to see you as well, Vaggie,” you comment with a teasing smile as you let out a sigh of relief, dropping her weapon as she steps to the side, inviting the group back in. Nifty is hanging from the newly installed chandelier, in a battle with the resident bugs of the hotel and Alastor is nowhere in sight. 

“It's good that you all are back, you missed the broadcast put every news channel has been receiving multiple call-in’s about angels scouting around Pentagram City, seemingly preparing the site for a larger attack. We are running out of time,” Vaggie states, twisting the end of her hair as she looks up towards the ceiling, also making sure she is ready to catch Niffty is she were to fall. “Well, I may know of a person that could be of help, Carmilla Carmine, fallen angel and overlord may very well be able to provide some answers after a recent meeting Alastor and I had with her. An Angel’s head was presented at the boardroom table by one of the Vee’s-” 

“And why didn’t you tell us this information sooner?” Vaggie presses, now looking at you with narrowed eyes as you cross your arms, standing your ground, “Information is most valuable as it is dangerous.” “And that is the most political bullshit I have ever heard you say,” She retorts as you shrug your shoulders now making your way upstairs, “Go to her Vaggie, you may also find more of the answers you are looking for, who’s to say that can’t help other things as well?”

You watch as her eyes dart around the corner of the room, winning herself over with your thoughts she nods once before picking up her spear and darting out of the hotel. Once standing a few steps up, you address the remaining crowd below you, “I can no longer guarantee the safety of the royals, pentagram city and this hotel as the angelic attack reigns near. I am understanding if during these times you make your leave to survive, let it be known I house no harsh feelings if you are to do so. I believe in your dream, Charlie. I believe it to be possible because we have all the resources we need in the team we have here,” you state, looking at the Princess with a soft smile, you can picture her mother standing proudly behind her- doing what even she was unable to get done before her leave. You both are unknowing to the shared nod of determination sent between the remaining group. 

“We already have been through the shitter, the sewage system, hell the fertilizer pile together, there ain’t no way any of us are leaving you now,” Angel Dust states, placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder as she begins to tear up once again, pulling everyone into a hug of thanks as you lean against the banister, smiling down at scene playing out in front of you. 

Charlie looks up, still holding on as she waves you over and you step down, joining the pile as you all laugh and topple over to the carpet floors below. Nifty hops down, into Husks awaiting arms as she joins you all laying on the floor, her feet kicking excitedly, “I can’t WAIT to kill them all!” She cackles out as your shoulders tense, Vaggie remains looking at the gleaming chandelier above, a possible reflection of her internal hope as you pray to every deity and god that would listen, please do not come crashing down again. 

--

As the group disburses into fortifying the hotel and gathering close friends and family to join the fight. You and Charlie talk in her room, sitting while overlooking the city below from the floor-to-ceiling windows. “It seems that all we need now is an army once Vaggie returns, hopefully with the weapons…” Charlie comments, sentence falling off in the end as KeeKee runs up and places herself into the Royal’s arms. 

You humm out, cracking your fingers and your neck as she pans her head up to yours once more, “And I can be just the person to help with that.” You take a stand, holding out your arm for Charlie to loop around as you both hop into a shadow you created on the floor, appearing at the front of the hotel amongst the various near-dead plants and uneven pavement. You summon your spear, slamming the end of it to the ground in quick succession. The earth groans to your command, pulling itself apart as various shadow forms of people you have slain in Hell’s past emerge, waiting for your command. “Welcome yourself to Hell’s army, new General,” you state with a proud smile as Charlie rapidly shakes her head in protest. 

“Okay, hahaha, very funny, but that's your job-” “Was, my job… I think that I should accept a long awaited promotion,” you cut her off with, looking off into the distance in a train of thought. Charlie grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze, “I don’t know how to direct a crowd like this, to win them over…”

“You already have, Princess. Simply be yourself, sing your songs and they will follow. You already are the best parts of your mother and they listened to her words much before my own,” you give her hand a squeeze in return before dropping it and compelling a tree stump to grow taller as Charlie now commands the army at an elevated position. 

Taking a deep breath she looks towards you as you provide a thumbs for motivation, clearing her throat, she projects her voice to the crowd and begins to sing as you motion you head back and forth to the beat, “Have you ever had a dream so clear in your mind that you could taste it?”

“YOU MEAN LIKE TEARING HUMAN FLESH APART?” one of your spirits yells from the back as you quickly clap your hands as their form turns to ash, drifting off into the wind without another word, Charlie continues to sing, sending you a thankful look as you walk between the rows of soldiers, joining them in formation for a moment, healing those last scars of your past.

“C’mon boys hop in the saddle!” Charlie shouts, jumping down from the log as she runs through an aisle and back towards the hotel as various shadowed faces look at one another before starting to slowly follow behind. You summon your skeleton stallion, it lets out an echoing cry as you dart off towards the palace, humming in tune to Charlie's voice before shouting out, joining the choir and singing, “We cannot take this anymore, the time has come to go to war, prepared to fight- we’re read for…this!” 

Taking a moment to look behind yourself before the hotel comes too far out of view, you see two fingers standing at the top of the crowd, sharing a hug just as a raven flies over your head, landing on the back of your hors, clawing on to a rib as you embrace yet another lifetime ahead of you. 

--

Lucifer did not know how long he had been asleep at the desk, he swore to be dreaming for the first time in eons, your finger turning the door handle, softly shutting it behind you. Your hands trailing up the various spines, each leather cover stitched by your hands as small red blood droplets could be found on the pages from the mistakes you made along the way. Hell’s history, your history together was sealed in these bindings as you reach the end of the wall, peering down to an almost filled shelf that is missing a book you had yet to finish before your death. 

Waving your hands over the empty space, it is soon filled with a glimmering flash of gold coins falling to hit the hardwood floors. They shatter on impact like glass and flicker out like a fire beneath your feet as you stand to your full height once more. Lucifer groans, setting his head back in the papers as he rubs his forehead, eyes glassing for the mental torture he endures over and over again as history would have it. 

The ringing of a bell can be heard in the utmost parts of the King's ear, a servant comes stumbling inside the room to complete the request. You breath is smooth and featherlight in comparison, drifting to encompass any senses he held prior as he tunes himself in, “A set of tea please,” you ask kindly as the butler nods aggressively, “of course, your highne-” Lucifer does not brother himself to hear the rest. Picking himself up from the desk as he walks over to your mirage. Your eyes snap over as he makes his way down the couple of stairs that designate your working space from the library and common space. Your smile growing, your hand extending outwards, your hair now fully grown back as you stand in a blood-red dress-shirt and white trousers. 

Lucifer takes off his gloves, casting them to the coffee table just behind you. You watch as his hand shakes, unsure of whether to trust you or not. You notice the struggle in his mind, you lean your forehead against his own, you feel as he lets out a shuddering breath murmuring seemingly to himself. “If you are to be a dream, the first one I have had in lifetimes or even a fleeting thought of mine. Please make this a long one- one that I can become lost in happiness.” 

“Hello Lucifer,” you whisper on his lips, a few tears escape from your eyes as you rapidly blink, your eyelashes falling to his skin as he hiccups back a chuckle at the feeling and a cry in shock. His shaking hands find shelter on your cheeks as your hands trail up from his hips, to his shoulders and carry through to his arms, resting on the backs of his hands as you rub small, comforting circles. 

“Why?” he mutters, taking his head back as your hands fall back to your sides, “why come back to me, after what I had seen with my brother I-” Your eyes drift off towards his shattered crown in the corner and the golden liquid that stains the floors beneath you. “I found that I was living in the shoes of a dead person all along, among other things,” you chuckle out just as Lucifer shakes his head with a tisk. “If you are to be new, then I am Lucifer, a man who appears to be falling in love all over again, a pleasure it is to meet you,” he bows, picking up your hand to place a kiss to the back of it. 

You giggle to his antics, picking up his chin from your hand to bring your lips together. Lucifer lets out a silent gasp in surprise, his body going stiff just as you move a hand to the back of his head, grounding him in this moment. He relaxes at your touch, hands getting lost in the roots of your hair as you lean down to further the kiss. Your heart beats at a mile a minute and you hope that your King cannot feel the sweat building in your palms but as you feel his lips break off from your own, watching as his hooded eyes stare at your swollen lips before falling down to your neck as your knees buckle in ecstasy. 

Soon you feel yourself falling backwards onto a soft cushioned surface as you are transported into a new room. You lay on your back in shock, watching as Lucifer crawls his way towards you on the beds covers, moving to straddle your hips he leans down, warm breath caressing your ear as a shiver runs up your spine to his whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you sound out, just loud enough for the both of you to hear as you pull him flush against your body and bite lightly down on the base of his neck, threatening to break the skin. Lucifer lets out a deep moan that has you squeezing your thighs, locking both of your legs and feet together as the two of you unravel one another. Lucifer’s eyes darken with unseen pleasure, savouring the feeling of your body against his own. And with an equally silent demand, your tops have disappeared, the cold air of the room embracing every inch of your skin that Lucifer had yet to claim as he pulls his neck from your lips, upper body now upright as you look up to him, eyes dilated and housing a lazy smile. 

You look as his hair glows in the setting sun’s light, forming a halo as you shiver at the feeling of hs hands trailing the sides of your body a smirk emerging on his bruised lips as your breath hitches at the feeling of his tongue making its way down to your navel regions. “Lucifer,” you moan out as his smirk only grows on your skin just as the time seemingly grows when he pulls away, hands grasping your waist as he tilts his head to look down at you. “I won’t move any further love if you don’t want me to. I need to hear you tell me you want this… want me… and I will understand if you do not, I promise that nothing will change about anything we said earlier.” 

Thinking about his words, nervousness explodes in your chest before becoming drowned with excitement, your body demanding, your heart longing.”I-I haven’t done anything like this in some time,” you start to say, struggling to finds the words before you hum to the feeling of his warm palms hugging your sides as you fix the hair out of your face, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as you maintain eye contact with the man above you. “I will lead if you wish, but I will only do what you feel comfortable with,” Lucifer states softly, helping you to fix your hair just before his breath hitches in surprise. Now carrying the smirk, you lock your hips and circle onto your side as Lucifer’s eyes go wide, his hands racing for support as he squeezes his hips. You peer down at the royal beneath you, hands training over the various scars across his chest and arms, usually unseen by the gloves he wears before leaning down, placing your head to rest atop his head as you listen to it hammer against his ribcage. 

“I want you Lucifer,” your hips buckle against his own, “I want this and every ribbon and string it comes with.” You repeat the actions, feeling as his chest rumbles with the groan he exhales, his hands grip your hips before directing the movement of your hips against his own. You grasp on to the rough feeling of your pants rubbing against one another, feeling each seam and ridge as your hips glide over the buckle of his pants, your hands grasp at his shoulders, nails clawing into his skin, hitting a point of desire as Lucifer compliments your moans with his own, indulging himself with the pain and pleasure you invite him to. 

Lucifer starts to thrust his hips up into your own, smiling while seeing your eyes go wide before rolling back as you both move in tandem to each other. You soon become reduced to mere sounds, unable to speak a word to the new worlds you find yourself becoming lost in, letting go of control. You let out a cry as Lucifer lifts you off him, you squirm in his hold as he silences you with a kiss. By grace of his magic, you gasp at the feeling of his skin against your own as he flips you around. Hot, wet kisses trailing from your neck, down to your chest as your hands grip to keep his head there. 

Coming up for air, your hands fall as Lucifer licks his lips, “look at me, darling,” he coo’s to you, “look at me,” he states again, now with more gravel in his tone. Your eyes flutter back open, a soft moan escaping from between your lips in response to his soft command. Becoming frustrated by the lack of his lips against your own, your hands begin to rise, reaching towards his neck before your wrists are captured behind your head that Lucifer holds in pace with one of his hands. You whine out he lets out a small chuckle, placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, you feel him smirking into your skin. 

“P-Please,” you beg, yet you do not know for what as your eyes flutter closed your hips moving to drag across his own yet he holds himself up, not allowing for any further touch as you huff out, frustration rising in you by every moment that ticks though. “Tell me, what do you beg for? What can I do to serve you?” Lucifer asks in a breathy tone against your lips as you shiver at the feeling. Tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck, you buckle your hips upwards once more, pleading, “please, Lucifer.”

Lucifer teases, pushing in gently as you moan out loudly in response, pleasure ringing in his ears to the sound. “It's this what you want?” he teases, thrusting gently into you once as you rapidly nod your head, hearing his smile. “I need to hear you say it,” his hips pause halfway through the motions as your feet kick out in equal frustration and embarrassment. “I need you Lucifer- fuck-” you scream out as he begins to pick up pace. He makes no move to cover your sounds, only encouraging you to be louder, “That's it, love. Call out to me, and me alone.” 

Your pleasure builds, your head tilting back into the mattress as tears begin to well in your eyes, breathless you whisper out as Lucifer tilts his head closer to you to listen, “I’m close.” He hums in response, letting go of your hands as they race to hold his lips, savouring the feeling of his mouth on your own. You feel dizzy, tears falling down your cheeks as you break the kiss to emit a loud whine as Lucifer finds the spot within you yet to be touched. Focusing in on it as he watches you fall apart from underneath him. 

“That's it, darling,” Lucifer praises you, his lips moving from your chin to across your collarbones before placing both of his hands on either side of your head, thrusts gradually lessening in rhythm. Your legs still, your hips tilting upwards as you take a sharp intake of air, filling your lungs. Your hands grasp at the sheets, fingers digging into the mattress, a soundless scream escaping your mouth as you exhale into a moan yet Lucifer remains restless, maintaining your high as you climax. 

Your legs cramp, body starting to stutter from the overwhelming pleasure. Lucifer was not far from you, holding himself back until your hands were pushing on his chest, urging him to stop as he quickly pulled out and finished. He twitches against your stomach, breaths laboured with sweat staining his forehead, hairs sticking to the moisture. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs out into your skin as you collapse in the bed. Feeling weightless in bliss- you mindlessly giggle at his hair ticking your neck as he leaves a kiss on your shoulder before rolling over as you both stare up at the ceiling, lost in this moment. 

Your eyes close, listening as he hums out a simple tune, your breath gradually becomes evened as you pick yourself up, making a move to stand before wincing and falling back onto the bed with a huff. Covering his laughs in his arm, you watch as his feet dangle lightly off the edge, swinging back and forth happily before turning in on his side to look at you and your bright red face. “Shut up,” you mumble out childishly, he does not cover his laughter now as you soon join in. 

Laughing now mere chuckles, Lucifer stands before you, muscles flexing as he stretches out his back and shoulders before turning back on his heel to face you, extending his arms, he reaches to cup underneath your thighs before hoisting you up into his arms. You wrap your sore legs around his waist, occasionally shaking in muscle memory as he walks you both towards the bathroom and into the shower.

Lucifer places you on a heated stone bench as the glass walls begin to steam, he moves to sit beside you, washing cloth and soap in hand as he kneads through your muscles and washing your skin. You return the favour, lathering the sponge as you rub gentle circles across his skin. Humming out approvingly, he holds your other hand, playing with your fingers thoughtfully before you both rinse off and magic yourselves dry. 

Searching around the bathroom for a towel, you bend inside a cabinet as Lucifer whistles out. Turning around to glare at the man, he opens his mouth to make a remark before you both are frozen still to an external voice breaking your moment together. “The tea has been prepared alongside dinner in the seating room,” a staff member announces as you both look between one another and the cracked open door.

A series of excited whispers can be heard from the next room over, various cutlery clatters against tables and candles are lit and lighters are waved out. Waiting for the bedroom door to close, your shoulders drop as you lean against the sink counter in relief as Lucifer walks towards you in a fluffy white robe, helping you into one of your own before making your way to the sitting area. 

Cheeks still painted red from the heat of the shower and partial embarrassment, you stick your head in your hands, elbow on the table as Lucifer pours out tea for you both, coming to kneel beside your chair as he takes a hand away from your face. “Whatever is the matter, dear?” he asks, concern washing over his features as you do your best to smile. “I feel embarrassed for myself, for what the staff must think of me, coming back and… sleeping with you so suddenly…” you state as Lucifer shakes his head. Now holding your hand as he raises himself off the floor to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“I say this delicately but… in the time we have known one another, it has been a long time coming,” he says the last point with a wink that has you pushing his face away from your own just as he ducks in to press another quick kiss to your cheek before settling himself at the otherside of the table. 

Taking a sip out of your tea, you lean back in your chair, observing the various dishes before you, “...you still remember my favorites,” you say in a small voice, a small grateful smile finding its way over your fleeting embarrassment. “I could never forget, not when I lifted the cloche during one of our combined dinners with Lilith and that same smile happened because of me.”

Looking at Lucifer as he says this, your mind flickers back to Charlie's words that seem so long ago now. “...Promise that you will at least look at him even if he does not notice. You deserve to see yourself loved…” Lucifer is engaged with describing the various dishes, his eyes are bright as he recounts his various associations with the foods and a startling amount of them are with you. “And those were always my favorite dishes, even with you gone, I felt like I was still eating lunch with you before court…” he continues to ramble as you reach across the table, fingertips touching one another as his words slow, looking down at your connection. 

“Thank you for loving me, after all this time, for still loving me,” you say, tearing up as you laugh, shaking your head, “gods why am I crying- fuck!” you shame yourself with. “I can say the same, thank you for staying with me, for forgiving me…” Lucifer says, fingers now crawling over to interlock with your own for support. “I thought I died in vain of my struggles and successes yet I realise that the gift you have provided to me is so much greater than my stupid records or plaques. It appears we both are fucked up,” you laugh through your tears, dapping them away with your napkin as Lucifer locks his ankles with your own underneath the table. “Yes, it seems so,” Lucifer replies, picking up his tea cup to cheers your own.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

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[stratiotis-nth]

The waitress came by to get their orders. She was perky, with one of those can-do-attitude smiles that looked fake and her brown hair tied back into a ponytail that swung when she walked with a spring in the balls of her feet. The moment she laid eyes on Cas and Dean saw that spark of interest, he elected to dislike her immensely.

“Can I get drinks for y’all?” She asked in a Tennessee accent, not even taking her stark gray eyes off Cas. Dean felt his fingers twitch from where they rested on the tabletop.

“Water is fine for me.” Sam said.

“What about you, handsome?”

It seemed to take Cas a second for him to realize the waitress was talking to him. Dean saw him blink in slight surprise at the nickname before squinting at the menu again.

“I’ll, uh, try your hard cider.” He decided.

“Good choice. Woulda guessed it for ya, too.” She smiled even wider, winking. Dean felt his eyebrows dip into a scowl. She didn’t look away from Cas, and the latter just squinted at her in confusion.

“I’ll take a beer. Cheapest you got.” Dean said loudly, sitting up a little straighter to block the waitress’ view of Cas. She blinked, looking a little miffed, but jotted down his order and bounced away.

Dean decided to hate how she walked.

“Waitress’ got a thing for you, Cas.” Sam chuckled, looking at the steak menu even though Dean knew he’s be getting a salad.

“How could she have an object for me if I do not know her? Did I drop something?” Cas asked, and Dean wanted to either smack his forehead on the tabletop or laugh. But he was still annoyed, so he just rolled his eyes instead. Sam laughed.

“I mean she likes you.” He explained. “Interested, y’know?”

“Ah.” Cas said, and then didn’t say anything else. He just ducked behind his menu. Dean caught Sam’s eye, who grinned and shook his head in amusement. Surely Cas didn’t have a thing for the waitress too? He could only hope his best friend had better taste than Miss. Pep In My Step.

When the waitress came back with their drinks, Dean noticed Cas’ was topped off with an apple slice.

“Figure out what grub y’all want?” She asked brightly. Her voice annoyed him. Sam ordered a salad (figures) and Dean ordered the diner’s classic hamburger and cheese fries.

“And you, handsome?”

Dean’s hand twitched again from where it rested on his thigh, and his pinkie brushed against the soft denim of Cas’ jeans. A jolt of electricity ran up his arm, and he nearly twitched again. The twitch almost turned into a full-on jump when he felt Cas shift his thigh until it was pressed right up against his, trapping his pinkie between both pairs of denim. Cas had moved to turn and face the waitress fully while he spoke, leaving Dean helplessly torn between tearing his pinkie away from Cas’ warmth and not wanting to in case the contact was an accident and moving would draw attention. He barely heard what Cas ordered, a loud ringing filling his head and erasing all other thoughts.

“Coming right up, sugar.” The waitress chirped, and Dean felt his menu—which had been clutched in his free hand—get tugged out of his grip. Startled, he jerked back to life in time to see Cas tuck their menus back into the rack, which thankfully gave him an excuse to wrench his pinkie from where it was trapped.

It took him a solid minute to realize that Cas had no intention of moving his leg. It remained pressed against his own while he and Sam started talking, like the contact wasn’t currently melting Dean’s brain. He stared blankly at a spot above Sam’s shoulder, his mind zeroed in on the solid line of heat pressed against his thigh. At least his pinkie wasn’t pinned between them anymore.

He should probably be wondering why this touch was affecting him so much. He had known plenty of best friends who liked physical affection and touched so casually, so logically, Dean knew it wasn’t that big of a deal but—he and Cas didn’t do this. The furthest they had allowed themselves to touch was an occasional shoulder clap and an even rarer hug. Unless one of them were injured or at a point of death, they didn’t indulge in casual touches.

So this felt like uncharted territory. It felt new and unsteady, like a newborn giraffe that Dean had seen in one of Cas’ documentaries. It was wobbly and awkwardly spread its thin legs like an idiot, trying to stay balanced. It could collapse at any moment.

There was that thing buzzing in the back of his head, that something that wasn’t going to go away but demanded his attention. There was something to this, something about how Dean didn’t pull away or feel that flash of fear at any physical contact that wasn’t intended to hurt.

Crazy how he was apparently more scared of a gentle touch than a violent one…Jesus, how fucking traumatized was he?

Very, Dean surmised as Cas shifted his hips, dragging his thigh up against his and making him lose his train of thought all over again.

When the waitress came back with their food, the only reason Dean didn’t rear up and snap when she called Cas ‘handsome’ again was because their thighs were still touching and his thoughts were still scrambled. Cas seemed entirely at ease, though. He thanked the waitress politely and started eating.

Dean stared at his burger for probably five minutes before he felt Sam kick him under the table. He jumped, nearly crushing his burger in his hands, before finally managing to get his head on straight and act like a normal fucking person. So what if their legs were touching? If Cas wasn’t making a big deal out of it, neither was he.

That mindset actually got him through the rest of the meal, and he was happily satisfied after about three baskets of fries that just kept coming. Cas also looked pleased, having polished off his cheeseburger and still picking up fries. He had a funny way of eating them though, as Dean noticed. Cas liked to squish out the mushy innards of the fries and eat them before popping the crispy skin into his mouth. If he hadn’t been a newly-made human, Dean would have made fun of him for it. But hey, he’s a weird dude.

They paid for their meal and left, Dean grateful for both the loss of Cas’ thigh pressed against his and that they were finally getting away from Miss Bouncy. Dean hadn’t really given her an opportunity to slip Cas her number or anything since he was the one picking up the check, and the obstruction of information was enough to appease that twisty feeling in his chest.

They headed out, Cas beside Dean as Sam walked unnaturally fast for the exit. The hosts big them goodnight and Dean was about to tell Cas there was some pie waiting back at the Bunker when two things happened.

Sam’s gleeful voice shouted, “Shotgun!” from across the parking lot and Cas’ head swiveled as someone behind him tapped his shoulder.

Dean felt himself immediately bristle when he realized the waitress had followed them outside. He felt a snap rising and his hand itched to grab the back of Cas’ jacket and tug him away, but he stopped himself.

What the fuck was that, Winchester? You don’t own him. He berated himself silently. Instead, he just shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled from behind Cas.

“—I’m free anytime, handsome.” The waitress winked, hanging Cas a slip of paper that he just blinked at.

“Thank you?”

“My pleasure.” She purred, and Dean felt his shoulders tighten.

“Cas, let’s go.” He heard himself snap, narrowing his eyes at the waitress who didn’t even glance at him. Cas, however, turned right around. The confused look on his face morphed into one of vague amusement.

“Of course, Dean.” He said, bidding the waitress goodnight and following Dean to the car. Sam was already standing at the passenger side door, and Dean caught Cas glaring at his brother as he slid into the backseat.

Cas sulked the entire drive home, squinty eyes glowering out the window and hands folded in his lap. Sam looked smug and Dean tried very hard not to think that maybe the phone number crumpled in Cas’ pocket was being saved for another time.

READ THE REST HERE!!

[delicrieux]

Can we have a part two to this??

It was really good

THE STRANGEST THING 2: IT GET’S STRANGER | endless drabble series (summer edition)

summary: steve has it bad for dustin’s sister, like, he’s loosing it pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader   a/n: ty babe ur wish is my command. prompt used: 19. sunglasses and sunburns 

masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the summer prompt list! make sure to check out the summer features as well <3 part 1.

No beaches are anywhere near Indiana - this isn’t, sadly, California’s sunny skies - but there’s Lake Michigan some-fucking-forever hours away and that’s good enough. The resident travelers piled into Steve’s car are as follows: the man himself, donning an appropriately summery Hawaiian shirt, Robin in a pair of shorts and a tank-top with her nose covered in a generous amount of sunscreen, Dustin matching the driver’s apparel but with a twist - no one had expected the sandals and pure white socks, and you. You, in the backseat with Robin, with sunglasses and a pukka shell necklace. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you listen to your little brother tuning the radio and Robin talking anxiously about something with mild interest.

The best Steve can see of you is a frown when he glances at the rearview mirror. This trip wasn’t supposed to end up like this. You were supposed to be sitting shotgun. Dustin was not supposed to be invited. How did Robin show up is a mystery in itself.

He’s grown exhausted by the time you reach that damned lake. Sure, there were closer destinations, but when he offhandedly invited you, he had expected a long car ride where the two of you were alone, which would, of course, allow him to get to know you better. You’d laugh the way there and chat and then he’d respectfully ogle you in your swimsuit and maybe, just maybe, when evening hit, you would say, y’know what, Steve, you’re not so bad after all. 

Cue hooking up in his car or something stupid along those lines, but hey, a guy can dream, right? You’re like, the coolest person he knows. Prettiest, too. This plan was doomed to fail, it was literally too good to be true.

Of course you extended the invitation to Dustin, maybe even by accident, after all, why would your brother’s friend just invite you without your brother? And it just so happened that you and Robin are on friendly enough terms for her to invite herself into the trip when you said, “Yeah, Dustin, Steve, and I are heading to Lake Michigan this Saturday.”

But here it is, Lake Michigan in all it’s glory. The heat had been cranked up and everyone is mingling in bikinis and tiny skirts and jumping into the water right after yelling a cool catchphrase. Gotta love America. 

“Don’t you dare.” Dustin voices, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction. You’re halfway through undressing and your hands halt their mission. Steve can’t see your eyes, but by the downturn of your lips he knows you’re annoyed already.

“What?” You question. Robin’s already lounging in her swimsuit and nursing a cold Coca-Cola, but no one seems to pay her exposed skin any attention, “It’s not like I’m gonna be naked.”

“Ewwww.” Dustin grimaces. Steve would, respectfully, of course, disagree, “Don’t make it weird. I’m just saying that you’re my sister. You can’t just prance around with a swimsuit when there are so many guys around.”

You make a surprised face, “Heaven forbid that, lil’ Dusty. I guess I’ll just overcook in my clothes.”

“That’s more like i-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. You throw your clothes in his face and rush to the lake. Steve’s eyes follow after your retreating figure before Dustin smacks him on the shoulder.

“Dude!” He whines, “Gross. Cover your fucking eyes, man.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Robin chimes, “cover your eyes. So not cool.” 

No one gives a shit at Robin staring as well. How come he’s the villain again?

“I wasn’t staring!” He’s quick to defend himself. Caught in this terrible conundrum he quickly thinks of an escape plan. Aha! The lake! Can’t catch him there.

He’s taking off his clothes on the way there and having full on yelling match with your little brother. He’s not even sure what excuses he manages to blurt out, but they must be good enough because Dustin doesn’t follow after him to drown him. Maybe he’s just thinking of a revenge plan. His warning, “I got my fucking eyes on you, Harrington!” doesn’t bode too well. At least Robin seems to be enjoying herself.

The water’s heavenly and highly populated. Lot’s of pretty girls and jacked guys but none are of any interest to Steve. He’s searching for you, but he’s already neck deep and still can’t see you anywhere.

Someone pinches his side and he flinches and spins around. You emerge from the water with a laugh and smile and it’s almost like that dream he once had-

No. No no, you’re just a friend. He has this friendly thing for you, an innocent little crush all boys have on pretty girls. It’s nothing serious, nothing to warrant any attention or Dustin’s scrutiny. 

He’s at a loss of words, though. So he just grins and splashes you a little and you yelp and skitter away, “Where'd your sunglasses go?” 

“Dunno.” You say, “lost them somewhere.” You dive down and he can’t see you anymore. Someone, presumably you, brushes his side and his arm reaches to grab you but you grab him first. For a moment he sees the skyline and the next he’s submerged. In the green-blue water he sees your smile before surfacing for air.

“You’re gonna drown me, Henderson.” He warns when you break the surface of the water.

“Only unintentionally.” You say with a wink and disappear again.

No need to panic. You totally weren’t just flirting with him. He’s about to have cardiac arrest in water but it’s fine. You’re just teasing. Making a joke at his expense. You’ve always done that. 

Wait, if you had always done that, then does that mean--

No, okay, stop. This is getting too much. His brain is frying. He has a thing for you. It’s not just a stupid crush, it’s getting bad, like, really bad. If you don’t accidentally murder him, then Dustin sure as fuck will. And with intention, too.

The afternoon slowly passes. He’s sunburnt laying on a towel and donning your sunglasses he managed to fish out of the water. Robin’s on her third cone of ice-cream chatting away about her upcoming band rehearsal. You’re listening to her sitting beside Steve. He both likes it and hates it having you so close.

Dustin was sent to bring back more ice-cream. It’s a mission he accepted gracefully. Without your little brother’s watchful eye, Steve feels a bit bolder. It’s nothing serious, just to test the waters, you know? Totally innocent, like, not his style at all.

His hand oh so casually inches to rest next to yours. He feels your hot skin against him and he fights back a smile when you don’t pull away. 

“I don’t fucking like this, guys.” Dustin sounds, and Steve freezes.

“Don’t like what?” You ask, bored.

Dustin vaguely motions between you and Steve, “You two sitting so close. There’s not enough space.”

“For who?”

“God.”

This is both the best and worst day of Steve’s life.

hope you liked it! <3

[whateverthebeeswant]

How The FUCK Do You Mistake Your Glock For A Taser: A Crash Course In Gun Anatomy

Ok listen up ladies and motherfuckers ‘cause I’m about to learn you on why anyone who says that they mistook a Glock for a taser is a fucking idiot. I’d like to dedicate this to the stupid fucking Republicans who, although they love talking about guns apparently don’t know a damn thing about how they work.

Warning: This post contains screenshots from the bodycam footage of the murder of Daunte Wright. The only objects shown in these screenshots are a gun and a taser; I have cropped Mr. Wright out of the image and there is no graphic content.

How the FUCK do you mistake a Glock for a Taser, Lesson 1: Basic Fucking Eyesight

 [IMAGE 1: Left photo from this NYT article shows the Glock 17 model and the Taser X26P beside each other. The Glock 17 has a longer grip, is darker colored, and is more rectangular. The X26P is bright yellow and has a curved grip and trigger space. Right photo from the bodycam footage video linked beneath the cut, timestamp 1:24, shows a fellow cop with a yellow taser similar to the X26P.]

Look at the pretty colors. Now listen to me very carefully, Blue Lives Matter: yellow is the color of the sun and also this taser. The Glock is the fucking black one.

Lesson 2: Basic fucking touch

Now, let’s say you can’t see. Well, even if it’s not color coded and you’re either blind or stuck in a cave and can’t see your hand from your face, that shouldn’t matter.

Humans are incredible in the animal kingdom because we have an extraordinarily developed sense of touch. Some researchers have proven that humans can feel the difference between a level of molecules.

Which is why it is so incredibly fucking stupid that Potter allegedly didn’t realize that she was holding a gun.

Look at the basic differences in the shapes, the grips, the trigger. I’m pretty sure the outside is made out of plastic or some other lightweight, matte substance. Grabbing a Glock instead of a pistol should be like reaching in your backpack for a pencil and grabbing a banana. And that’s ot even factoring in the weight.

Lesson 3: Guns are fucking heavy

If you’ve never shot a gun, then you might not realize how heavy they are. Hell, I can shoot a lightweight pistol and my arms will still be sore. This is partially because I’m a twink, but mostly because when you hold a chunk of metal for an extended period of time your arms get tired.

Although the NYT article I stole that picture from states that although the exact model Potter is holding is unknown, standard issue for the department are the Glock 17, 22, and 26 Models.

([MAGE 2: The Glock 17, 19, and 26 Models side by side (source) with a screenshot of Potter’s weapon from the body came footage (timestamps 1:30 and 1:31 in the video linked below). The Glock 17 is larger than the 19, which is larger than the 26. The body cam footage shows a gun that resembles either the 17 or the 19. Potter is holding her gun in a loose grip. A caption says Do not hold your fucking gun like this. You are not tomb raider”.]

Now, unless Potter has a rare condition where her hands did not grow past the age of 6, there’s no way that the grip of that gun belongs to a Glock 26 (yes, there could be another grip on it, but I digress). To me, it looks like a Glock 17 because of the length of the grip, but I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not an expert on Glock models.

So let’s say it is the lighter of the two, the 19. The Glock 19 weighs 670g unloaded and 855g loaded. The  X26P Taser used by law enforcement weighs 213g unloaded and 338g loaded.

Don’t know the difference between those two weights? Okay, well first pick up this cute little copy of “If You Give A Mouse a Cookie”  (weight ~345 g.)

[IMAGE 3: Picture of “If You Give A Mouse a Cookie”, a popular and very short children’s book]

Now, pick up the 752-page monstrosity that is the entirety of The Divine Comedy (weight ~794)

[IMAGE 4: Picture of a large copy of “The Divine Comedy”)

The weight difference between those is still smaller than the difference between a Glock and a Taser.

Or go pick up 3.4 apples and 8.5 apples. The list goes on. The point is that it takes an extraordinary lack of care and critical thinking to not realize the difference.

And Potter is holding the gun with one fucking hand.

Lesson 4: The Safety

This is maybe the most important part of the whole situation.

[IMAGE 5: A picture from the X26P User Manual, which displays a safety trigger than must be flipped up for the gun to work].

All tasers have a safety. You have to flip it up so you don’t accidentally shoot yourself in the ass. Now, I’ve only ever owned stun guns and never actually used ones, but I do shoot. When I’m shooting say, a shotgun, it’s an automatic instinct to undo the safety before I shoot. Close, shoulder, aim, safety. Fire. Fire. Close, shoulder, aim, safety. Fire. It’s automatic, but at the same time if I went to flip the safety and my finger ran over where the lever should be, I’d be pretty fucking confused.

And I don’t even going shotgun shooting that often!

Now let’s look at a close-up of the triggers of the Glock 17 and the X26P.

[IMAGE 6: A close up image of the Glock 17 trigger, the X26P trigger, and a diagram of the inside of a Glock 17.]

Glock’s don’t have the standard manual thumb safeties that come with other guns. Instead, they have a trigger safety. It’s hard to see in the first image, but there’s actually a second trigger/piece of metal protruding from the center of the trigger. This way you don’t have to deal with a manual trigger, but the gun won’t go off unless you pull directly back on the trigger.

Again, tactile sense. If you’ve trained with a weapon, a musical instrument, a piece of sports equipment, you know that object inside and out. You might be amazing with a tennis racquet, but if your shorter friend hands you her’s it’ll take awhile to get used to.

Now, it could just be that Potter is incredibly fucking stupid. Let me rephrase that: Potter is definitely incredibly fucking stupid. It’s not just the things she didn’t notice; besides her lack of protocol, she holds her gun with one hand. Maybe you can do that easier with a taser, which doesn’t have this nice little thing called “kickback”, but it’s still bad practice. She fires when one of her coworkers is close to Mr. Wright—generally, it’s a bad idea to fire a taser in an enclosed area.

I can’t speak on the sheer malice or racism in Potter’s own views, but I can say this: Potter was no rookie. She had spent 26 years as a police officer. She was training others. She was head of a fucking police union. So even if she is incredibly apologetic and pro-BLM, even if—this is who the policing system puts their trust in. This is the standard you get, after over 2 decades of experience. A mildly confrontational situation, an officer who doesn’t know her fucking weapons, and a man dead, and a child without a father.

Fuck the police. There’s nothing to reform here.              

Body Cam Footage for Screenshots: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdv03O23vRQ

Edit 15/4/2021: mistakenly referred to a taser as a stun gun. In case anyone was wondering, a taser shoots and a stun gun looks more like a cattle prod.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

okay but imagine edgy!karl but with the spice of closer by nine inch nails just a thought

EVERYONE: WE'RE TAKING THE SONG AT FACE VALUE CHILLAX

edit by 🍭 anon. step on me.

𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞: "... 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐋..." | 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐲!𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐥

link for Closer by NIN

warnings: smut (18+), thigh riding, vulgar language, temperature play, degradation, domination/submission, phone sex, mentions of alcohol and drinking, frat boys, smoking (inc. weed)

enjoy these vignettes of straight-up filth

other requests:

sorry no thoughts just edgy karl in a band. in all seriousness though i would kill for a band au with anyone

edgy!karl and like temp play? his tongue piercing got extra cold from the ice in his drink or something and then kisses the readers neck or something and the reader shivers and then he gets ~ideas~

sitting on edgy!karls leg in front of the whole frat, just a normal get together until karl starts bouncing his leg

In honor of me losing my voice for 3 days now, can we have Edgy!Karl reacting to you losing your voice because of him? I've said my piece -🍭

Ahhhhh okay so I had this dream where it was edgy Karl but the reader was riding him while he had his arms crossed behind his head and he was smoking a cigarette and just AHHHH. Can you extend on this pwease? :3 -🐙

mk hear me out, edgy karl. Phone sex ?

do you think that for your edgy! Karl fic we could get some more sub! Karl like he gets so drunk and all he wants to do is please the reader - 🥪

intoxicated seggs with karl (obviously not blackout drunk, fully consensual etc)

You weren’t sure how you ended up where you were, or even how Karl ended up where he was, on stage with a guitar slung over his shoulder as if it were made for him. He had gotten a call earlier in the night from a friend of his whose guitarist came down with the flu, and Karl was the only one he knew who could take over on such short notice.

You weren’t even aware he could play, let alone how good he would look in a torn-up t-shirt, lip ring caught between his teeth as he mindlessly strummed along to the music, sweat pooling at his temples from the lights and the exertion. His eyes always darted to you, looking for your flushed appearance as floods of dark themes flooded into your consciousness.

Girls were practically throwing themselves at him, yet with you in the crowd, his lust-blown pupils marked you as his target. As the set drew on, Karl sipped from a beer like the rest of the band, a cigarette dangling from his lips as clouds of smoke mixed into the air of fog. Finally, a cover song came on, one that you knew well. Its heavy beat served as the background music as memories flooded into your mind from when the song had played for the two in the past...

YOU LET ME VIOLATE YOU / YOU LET ME DESECRATE YOU ... YOU LET ME COMPLICATE YOU

You poured yourself a drink as Karl stood beside you, popping an ice cube in his mouth. It was your roommate’s birthday; nothing but a small gathering with a handful of your friends and some music. “Are you iron deficient, Karl?” You queried sarcastically, a nod to his ice chewing habits and a strange visit from your family members.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I already told your grandmother that I’m fine,” he grumbled, teeth crunching down on the cube as if to demolish the story, making you giggle. He moved to step around you, arm wrapping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your neck, his tongue ring grazing against your skin. You bit back a moan, body shivering at the feeling and he chuckled against your shoulder. “You like that, baby?” He mocked; voice husky at his realization that such a little action could get you excited so easily.

Later that night, Karl traced a path down your body with an ice cube between his pearly white teeth, grey irises watching your every reaction as he stopped at the hemline of your underpants. He traced a line down the lacy garment as you arched your back before pushing himself up on his arms and pushing the cube into your mouth. “Hold that for me, pet,” he stated, breath hot against your cold, wet skin, begging to be touched. His tongue dragged across your collarbones, the cool of the metal in his mouth making you moan around the ice in your mouth, grinding your hips against his.

As his cold mouth pressed against your inner thighs, you bit down on the cube, shattering it in your mouth as Karl chuckled. “We’re gonna have a fun night,” he promised, cold teeth nipping at your flesh to make you whimper.

I’VE GOT NO SOUL TO SELL … HELP ME GET AWAY FROM MYSELF

The club bathroom was dingy and dimly lit, but the cleanliness was the last thing on your mind as your fingers curled around the skin, Karl’s hand wrapped around your throat as he thrust into you roughly. Your makeup was running down your face from his spit and your sweat. The bass of the music was loud enough that it echoed around in the bathroom, setting Karl’s rhythm to his animalistic paces.

You smiled lazily, bliss covering your fucked out expression as he smirked at you in the reflection of the mirror with pride to see you in such a mess at his antics. His blunt nails dug into your hip, slamming your body against him as he used you like some kind of toy. His hand controlled your breathing, making you gasp for air as you rolled your hips against him, calling out his name loud enough to ricochet around the room.

The next morning, you went to answer Karl’s question about what you wanted for breakfast when your voice came out in barely a whisper. You shut your eyes in embarrassment with a hand closing over your mouth as his eyebrows raised at you. “What was that, baby? Let me hear you,” he mocked, walking over to press his thumb against your throat.

You shook your head, refusing to let him gloat about you losing your voice moaning his name the night before. He kissed you roughly, tongue pressing into your mouth to lap at your weak moans. His teeth dragged across your lips. “I said, I wanna hear you. I wanna be reminded how you lost your voice,” he stated darkly, a smug expression plastered across his face.

I WANNA FUCK YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL / I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE

With the party thundering into the night, you swiveled through the crowd of people grinding on each other, plastic cup in your hand as you returned to where Karl and a few of the other frat brothers were sitting. He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as you handed him the drink and picked your cards back up.

You’d been playing strip poker with the other guys, who were mainly drunk out of their mind and half-naked anyway. It also helped that Karl would whisper in your ear to guide you into burning and showing the right cards. He once told you about the group of men that taught him how to play during a trip to his father’s favorite country club.

His legs spread a bit more beneath you, shifting you in his lap to sit on his leg. Shamefully, your breath hitched in your chest, a blush spreading to your cheeks as your nails dug into his arm as if to tell you to stop. He tensed slightly before realizing that the only reason you reacted was because the friction was almost a tension reliever for you. You were already riding on your winning streak, but the last thing you could handle was the feeling of his thigh between your legs and in front of all the men drugged out on smoke and hard liquor.

Karl’s lips pressed to the back of your ear, his hand moving to switch a few of your cards around while the other gripped your waist. As you won the next hand, Todd dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him, rolling his eyes playfully before dropping backward and mumbling about taking a nap before he was dealt in again.

You giggled at him, only for Karl to move his thigh, dragging you against him. You peered over your shoulder slightly, glaring at him as if to tell him to cut it out, but he just smirked at you, holding your hips as he bounced his leg. His lips pressed against your shoulder. “Either you get yourself off or I get you off,” he taunted, the friction making you moan quietly.

MY WHOLE EXISTENCE IS FLAWED / YOU GET ME CLOSER TO GOD

Karl turned the radio up, tucking his hands behind his head as you dug into his jacket pocket for his lighter. You had him between your thighs, his fingers dragging up your skirt as you took the joint from behind his ear and brought it to your lips, lighting it and inhaling. Something flashing behind Karl’s eyes as you cracked his window. He grabbed your face before you could exhale, making you shotgun the smoke into his mouth. You moaned at the feeling of the drug seeping into your mind as well as Karl feeding off of your high.

He exhaled before pulling you in for a hungry kiss, moaning against your lips and digging his fingers into your thighs. You pulled away from him, pushing him back against the seat and handing him the joint before unzipping his pants. You dug your teeth into his bottom lip as you sank down on his hardened arousal, moaning at the tightening feeling. He groaned, his hand groping your ass to urge you to ride him.

He pulled away from your kiss, resting the joint between his lips as he tucked his hands behind his head. Your hands pushed into his jacket, sliding beneath his shirt as you rolled your hips against his. You pulled your fingers into your hair, tugging at the strands as one of his hands moved to brush below the hem of your shirt, moving to press his fingers into your back.

He watched you intently, teeth biting into his lower lip to keep himself quiet as you moaned. Euphoria spread across his face to mix with the cloud of smoke from the weed. You kissed him again, his tongue ring pressing into your mouth with a groan as you rode him harder, clawing at the friction and moaning at the feeling of his hands on your body.

YOU CAN HAVE MY ABSENCE OF FAITH / YOU CAN HAVE MY EVERYTHING

“What are you wearing?” Karl asked, voice low and tired from the day of traveling; static from the interference on the phone line giving his tone the feeling of an old recorded message. He’d left earlier in the week, leaving after spending the weekend with you to get back home for his brother’s birthday. He’d nearly kidnapped you from your studies to go with him, but with the impending exams, there was no way you could get away.

You plugged in your headphones, moving to lay on your back as you realized what he was up to. “I’m wearing socks,” you stated sarcastically, making him laugh on the other end of the call. You knew he’d be scrubbed of his alternative appearance while in his mother's house. Your mind wandered to how weird it felt to kiss him without his piercings.

He hummed. “Only socks?” He chippered, playful lust dripping from his words as he spoke. You pressed your fingers against your bottom lip, trying your hardest to remember what it felt like with his teeth biting into your skin.

“I’m wearing your shirt, too,” you added; moving your fingers to toy with the hem of the dark t-shirt. You hadn’t even thought twice when you slipped it on earlier. Only now did you realize how nearly pathetic it was after he’d been trapped in your bed hours prior.

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, yeah? You miss me at all?” He chided, making you chew the inside of your cheek. “Come on, tell me how much you miss me, baby.”

You were silent for a moment, his raspy voice sending heat throughout your body. You tried to picture him buried in your hair as he spoke to you, his fingers brushing beneath your clothing in the dark. “I miss you,” you hummed. “It’s cold here alone.” You chewed your lip, you were never good at dirty talk. You could hear your roommate and her group of friends downstairs giggling as they turned on some music, the lyrics drifting through the air vents.

Karl tsked. “I think that’s a lie. I know it’s warm between your legs, dove,” he answered coolly, making your cheeks flush. “Fuck, I want you,” he groaned, your eyes fluttering at his low tone as goosebumps spread across your body.

“Keep talking,” you whispered, your fingers itching to dip beneath the waistband of your underwear.

You could tell he was biting back a smug groan at your quiet plea. “You want me to walk you through touching yourself?” He almost growled. “I wanna hear you cum for me.”

I DRINK THE HONEY / INSIDE YOUR HIVE / YOU ARE THE REASON / I STAY ALIVE

The two of you stumbled into Karl’s room, the sound of music from the party drowning out slightly as he kicked the door shut, pressing his lips against yours as you tugged off his clothes. The back of your legs hit his bed frame, the pair of you tangling together before you rolled on top of him. He pulled your shirt over your head, hands settling on your hips to urge you to grind against him.

The taste of the liquor on his lips sent your head reeling as his cologne and the smell of cigarettes clouded your already muddled senses. Your fingers raked down his tattooed chest, making him groan, his eyes looking up at you submissively.

Whenever Karl was drunk, he always bent to your whim. His dominant mind seemed to flip a switch and all he wanted was to make you feel good. He wanted to be used by you like he always used you.

Heat flushed to your cheeks from the alcohol; you’d beaten Todd in beer pong, again, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have to down a few shots to level the playing field. Your mouth pressed to his again, tugging his pants down his legs before sinking down on him as he moaned deeply.

As you rode him, he moved your hand from off his neck, taking your thumb into his mouth; the metal of his tongue ring swirling against your thumb as his teeth grazed your skin. You moaned at the sight, moving your hand to settle in his hair, tugging his head to the side as your teeth dug into his neck, marking him with your mouth.

He pulled your hips against his, driving himself into you deeper as he thrust against you, making you groan against his skin. You kissed him, driving your tongue into his mouth as you savored his moans of arousal at the feeling of you.

You moved to sit up again, letting the music set your pace as Karl titled his head back in pleasure, teeth tugging his lip ring into his mouth. You clenched around him, just because you knew you could draw him over the edge before you, but his eyes flickered with a willingness to hold out that licked at the fire of determination building your tension.

He sent you a lazy smirk before reaching a thumb between your thighs from where his hands were gripping onto your hips; toying at your nerves and making your vision blur with how good he was making you feel. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, hips rolling against yours. You pressed your mouth to his again, basking in the taste of his words and the liquor that had melted against his tongue; ready the man between your legs to completely ruin you.

Tag List: (follow this link to be added :))

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu @theholycakehole @itgetsatadhazy @himbobimboeater @karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @twist3dtinkerbell @more-like-reyna @teenage0jealousy @deepestofwaters @honk-izzie-was-taken @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @instabull

Chances Are Masterlist

[nerd-at-sea5]

new year’s eve

the other 3 paper girls come out to visit kj in new york for the end of holidays (1999) and new years, unfortunately, unrequited love is a bitch. especially when you didn’t know it was unrequited. erin and tiff are the only ones with a brain cell.

they/them kj and mac, they/she erin, canon everyone else

cw; blood, violence, drinking

the pov switches a lot but it’s rlly clear who’s it’s in at a time

lastly, kj and mac’s relationship in this is borderline toxic. i’m aware of that. i wrote it intentionally, and honestly that’s because i’m writing it going with comic personalities. i don’t like the comics because (even though it’s a great ship) post-comic canon, kajemac would prob be p unhinged. i don’t like that they lost a lot of development bc they don’t remember it, and even if it’s not shown to it’s fullest that’s just how i see it going. i don’t like how i wrote them in this, but i tried to make it accurate in my eyes at least.

erin laughed in relief as tiffany pulled her suitcase and turned, pointing at a tall person with curly hair, “found them before they found us!”

erin laughed again, “good! at least we’re not wandering around, let’s sneak up behind them-” 

“erin we’re basically adults!”

but the two still silently snuck up behind the other paper girl, erin grabbing their shoulders as kj jumped, swearing, but spun around to hug the two, “oh my god it’s so good to see you guys!!!”

pleasantries exchanged,  erin looking around, “where’s mac coming from?”

“la i think. you know they’re writing books?”

tiff nodded, “yeah, i’ve got all of them!”

erin rolled her eyes, “you mean i have all of them and you steal my books. she’s a horrible roommate, kj.”

“i’m not that bad!”

kj laughed, and erin’s head jolted forward as mac’s hand landed on it, “NEW GIRL! and others.”

tiffany laughed while erin rubbed her head, “asshole.”

kj smirked at mac, who-thankful for the cold air that masked their blush, “and erin’s still your favorite.”

erin beamed, “that i am.”

the other nodded, “kaje, we love you, but for fucks sake can we go somewhere warmer?”

“jeez mac, you spend college in cali and now you can’t handle the cold?” replied tiffany as kj lead them out of JFK.

“it didn’t get this cold in ohio, tiffany!” tiffany gestured at kj, who was wearing jeans and a denim jacket, “oh i’m wearing three layers under this. i’m fucking freezing.”

soon, kj knocked on the window of a car, as a blonde girl stepped out, opening the trunk, “you guys must be the other paper girls.”

“nah i just found a bunch of random 20 year olds in the airport.”

the girl smirked, and waved to the other three, “i’m lauren.”

tiffany and erin extended hands with a smile, mac nodded, “how’d you two know each other?”

“met in film class, became roommates.” kj spoke as they shut the now full trunk and hopped into shotgun. they smiled at their friend and mac’s heart sank a few inches.

NEW YEARS; 1999 -> 2000

mac had been in gay bars before, this was nothing new, but there was something about kj grabbing their hand and pulling them in, or how erin stared up at the colorful ceiling with awe, it made mac feel like their first ever time.

tiffany disappeared for a minute and came back with four drinks, out of the corner of their eye-mac saw lauren hang back, as she had been doing the past three days.

maybe it was because they had taken too large of a gulp, or maybe it was because they saw kj’s eyes follow her, but mac grabbed the blonde’s arm, “your part of the group, assuming the world doesn't blow up when the clock hits 12.”

lauren laughed, accepting the half full glass from kj with a smile. “i hope it won’t, i still have to edit this thing before classes start again.”

tiffany nodded, kj coming around to sit next to mac, prompting the other to hold their glass tightly, focusing much to hard on tiffany’s ramble about time and how it works.

soon, kj prompted a conversation with mac, who pulled out a cigarette to help calm their hands, “you know that’ll kill you one day.” 

mac rolled their eyes, “i survived brain cancer, kaje. plus your cute when your pissed.”

kj choked as they were inhaling their drink, and erin slammed a hand into their back, laughing while mac froze, downing the remaining sips a futile attempt to seem more drunk than they were.

“um. thanks, mac.”

mac nodded silently, and then internally beat the shit out of themself.

soon enough erin slid into the chair, “you know a bunch of people keep flirting with me and buying me drinks, but i’m just not into any of that so....want some shots?”

mac laughed, and gratefully accepted, “this is why i love you. still no boyfriend?”

erin shook her head, “not a fan of it. or a girlfriend. i like being single. i’ve got tiff, even if she’s going out with chris-he’s pretty cool.”

mac shrugged, nodded as they took a sip, “fair enough.”

“oh hey, thirty seconds left c’mon-!”

mac grinned, following erin to the center of the bar, everyone standing together, some with arms wrapped around partners, others with friends.

“HERE’S TO HOPIN’ THE WORLD AIN’T ABOUT TO BLOW!” a man’s voice shook over the crowd, before the group collectively chanted.

“ten, nine,” mac watched kj loop her arms around tiff and lauren, “eight, seven, six,” erin and tiffany pulled mac into the hug, “five, four,” the paper girls all grinned together, “THREE, TWO, ONE-”

a roar went up from the bar, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!” 

as mac let erin pull them into a bone crushing hug, tiffany cheering, and as they broke apart from erin glanced up to see kj.

kj kissing lauren, both hands on her face, smiling before they pulled away and was hugged by tiff and erin, looking up at mac, smile falling. 

the alcohol instantly vanished, they were sickeningly sober, shock and some form of shame clawing at their throat.

“mac?”

tiff’s voice felt like it was reverberating around cotton, “mac, fuck!” the glass they’d been holding left it’s shards sticking into mac’s hands as they shoved through the doors, into the cold.

“FUCK!”

their hand pain shot into the thousands, pulling it away from the icicle, swearing profusely.

“mac?”

and damnit, why did kj have to look so perfect, shitty bar lighting, snow everywhere, but still perfect.

“go back inside, kj.”

some part of them knew that it was too easy, that kj shouldn't have left that fast, but time seemed to collapse in on itself, all mac could see was kj’s hands on lauren’s face, lauren’s hands on kj’s waist, and red washing over everything.

they didnt realize they were moving until they were back in kj’s car, erin’s scarf wrapped around their hands.

“i’m fine, eri-”

“no, you’re not. you could have gotten frostbite, how stupid-”

“erin.” kj’s voice was deathly calm, lauren sitting ridged next to them in the passengers seat. “it’s ok. they made it through brain cancer, we’ll fix mac up at home.”

tiffany glanced around, “it’s better than ‘91 right?”

“what...happened in ‘91?” lauren spoke softly, almost scared, she pulled the car into the spot and they started walking to the second floor.

erin started laughing, “kj and mac got into this huge fight and-”

“oh my god, shut the fuck up erin!” before they realized what they were saying erin was backing up, “ok, jesus.”

kj rubbed their eyes, and grabbed mac’s arm, “come on.”

“what the fuck, kj?”

“we’re going outside and talking, because apparently i’m the only one who can talk to you without you making them feel like shit!”

mac protested, but let themself be dragged out to the balcony (after tiffany bandaged their hand).

“ok, what is your problem?”

mac could barley see kj through the snow, but they scoffed, “jesus christ kaje.”

kj raised an eyebrow, “mac, please. i know your not like, a dick about me being gay anymore but....c’mon.”

“you fucking kissed me! and you don’t even remember! and i thought you might have, but no you fucking don’t. and now your here, with your goddamn girlfriend-”

“i kissed you?! that’s what this is about? god, mac i kissed you about a thousand times through high school!”

 the pain shooting through kj’s voice was almost enough to make mac stop, to apologize and shove it down,

“no. you kissed me the night before you left to go back to your sophomore year. you kissed me after tiffany and erin snuck the vodka from your parents cabinets and we all got drunk. you kissed me, and you said you loved me and-” their voice broke, and the shock of hot tears hitting their cheeks made both mac and kj falter.

“you said you wanted to date me. make it official. we never did that in high school.”

kj fell into a chair, “kj, you kissed me and then you fucking vanished.”

“i’m sorry-i’m so sorr-”

“I DON’T WANT A FUCKING APOLOGY!”

tiffany sat next to lauren, who looked up from the book she was staring at, “sorry about....that.”

lauren shrugged, glancing out the window at her girlfriend, “it’s ok...i wish i knew why they were both so upset.”

erin stepped into the room, “they’ve always been like this. love-hate kind of thing, five bucks says it’ll turn into a fist fight.”

lauren felt her jaw drop but she said nothing, tiffany grinned, “no way, that hasn't happened in....years i think. your on.”

“did they get into fights often? in high school i mean.”

erin smirked, “well....not physical stuff. unless we weren't sober. mac did get bruises a lot, but that wasn't kj, and kj’s just clumsy as fuck..”

the blonde choked into their water, “what do you mean, bruises?”

“it wasn't anything abusive. well, it was but it wasn't kj.”

at lauren’s confused expression tiffany mouthed ‘dad’ and she nodded solemnly. “got it.”

“they both have a hard temper and sometimes it got the better of both of them, but they only ever yelled at each other-basically all of the injuries were from bullies or mac’s dad.” tiffany clarified, “kj was bullied constantly.”

lauren nodded, “i knew that, i just...why would they keep being friends if they kept screaming at another?”

erin shrugged, “kj stayed because they were in love with mac-sorry, just the truth.” lauren shrugged, “it’s fine.” 

“they never admitted it, and don’t tell them that we’re saying this, but you deserve to know. it’s not exactly morally correct but...i think it’s worse if you don’t understand.”

the blonde nodded again, and tiff continues up the story.

“mac was the only one who could calm kj down when they were really angry, calm them down without getting hurt-kj’s not a mean person but i’ve heard them get mad at people before...jesus. and kj’s always been mac’s closest friends, it’s not erin. sorry. neither of them ever wanted to hurt another, i mean-kj punched mac after a party one night, i think that was the first time they’d gotten physical, and it was clear that they instantly felt horrible. even if we didn’t notice at the time.

“mac stayed because kj was the only person who loved them in a truly healthy way. aside from tiff and i, but that was platonic. kj was the only one who could clam mac down when shit got bad. mac used to get panic attacks and flail around, kj’s arms got covered in bruises. that i can say with no moral obligation, they joke about it, i don’t know why.”

lauren opened her mouth to speak, but erin interrupted in a shockingly calm voice, “tiff you owe me five bucks.”

all three of them turned to the window, watching kj’s hand clap to their face as blood dripped from their nose for a second, then shove mac against the wall as  mac’s hand fell back, bloodred.

lauren shot to her feet and flung open the window, “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“lauren-” kj hand’s dropped from mac’s shoulders and flew back to their face.

mac spun at her, expression unreadable before erin grabbed mac’s arm, “and we’re going for a walk!”

lauren turned back to kj, pulling them over to the sink where tiff grabbed the first aid kit, again.

“what the fuck, babe?”

kj sighed, dropping their head, “i’m sorry, i’m really sorry-”

tiff rolled her eyes, “it’s fine it’s not like it’s the first time that you guys are getting hurt. neither of you are exactly beacons of safety.”

“i don’t think we’ve gotten into a fist fight in what, 8 years?”

lauren looked up from the medicine cabinet she was rummaging in, “’91?”

both paper girls nodded, “so, what happened?”

kj nodded at tiffany, who smiled slightly, “honestly it was pretty funny, mac thought they’d be able to skate board down to this creek, and then thought they could jump it. it was a solid 15 foot gap, and we were all varying levels of drunk-we weren’t that smart, no judging. basically, kj grabs them right before they lift off, and the board goes flying into the creek, instantly swept away. 

“mac turns around and punches them straight across the face. we’re all silent for like, a minute? and then kj-you fucking idiot, tackles mac right into the creek. erin and i just sat there for ten minutes waiting for them to stop, and then it turned into a water fight-but it’s winter, and the middle of the night-and” she turns to kj with a large grin, “THE WATER’S FUCKING BLOODY, SO ALL OUR CLOTHES GET RUINED!

but it gets better, because then we have to go back to kj’s house, where their parents have a party, and explain why we’re soaking wet, drunk, and covered in blood.”

lauren turned back to her girlfriend, mouth open and shock all over her face. 

“i told you that you wouldn’t have been my friend in high school.”

“HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD RIGHT NOW?????”

[leviabeat]

Volbeat are pleased to announce that the entire performance of Wait A Minute... Let's Tour: Live from San Diego will be broadcasted on the band's YouTube channel on Thursday 6th October at 8pmCET/2pmET and is available to watch through Sunday 9th October.

Capturing one of the band's first shows back on the road in Autumn 2021, this intimate performance at San Diego's historic venue The Observatory North Park was filmed shortly before the release of Servant of the Mind. The setlist included some of the very first live performances of the hit singles "Shotgun Blues" and "Wait A Minute My Girl." Filmed and edited by the team at Ghost Atomic Pictures ("Shotgun Blues," "Die To Live (feat. Neil Fallon)," "Leviathan," Let's Boogie: Live from Tella Parken), you can feel the excitement of both the band and the crowd as they both return to live music after such an extended period away.

Source.

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Fearless (S.H.)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: Steve tries to make your ruined prom night a little bit better. Based on Fearless by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 2,1k

Warnings: None

A/n: this was previously posted on my old blog @/kissingsucks. I deleted that blog a while ago but I want to repost some of my old work from there. It’s been slightly edited because it kind sucked lmao

You honestly didn’t know why you thought this night would go well. You’d spent hours getting ready; perfectly curling your hair, painstakingly applying makeup, and slipping into your beautiful deep red dress. You and Robin had sat giggling in your room and listening to music, preparing for the night ahead: prom. You hadn’t wanted to go, but Robin insisted. Neither of you had gone to many dances throughout high school and she decided that the two of you needed the ‘experience’. So you begrudgingly agreed and bought a pretty dress from Macy’s at the mall the next town over. After getting ready the two of you sat on your porch, waiting for your ride. Eventually, Steve pulled up in his car and stuck his head out the window.

“Wow, you two clean up nice!” He yelled. You and Robin laughed before hopping in. You called shotgun and Robin climbs into the back, mumbling under her breath. Steve turned up the radio before speeding off towards the school. 

•••

Steve pulls up in front of Hawkins High and turns to you and Robin. 

“Ok both of you,” he says in a mock authoritative tone. You see Robin roll her eyes and a smile creeps across your face. 

“No drinking, no drugs, and you must keep a three-inch distance between you and your dance partners,” he says, listing each rule off on his fingers. 

“Ok dad,” Robin replies sarcastically. You chuckle before jumping out of the car. 

“We’ll be fine Steve,” you assure him. He sighs before reminding you that he’ll pick you and Robin up at eleven. The two of you wave and he drives off.

“I wish we could’ve convinced him to come,” you say to Robin as the two of you make your way to the front door. Robin shrugs before replying, “he graduated last year he’s probably too embarrassed to show up here”. You nod, knowing that it’s probably the truth. But deep down you wished he would decide to come along. When Robin had suggested attending prom, you had imagined the three of you dancing in the middle of the dance floor. Steve in a gorgeous, well-fitting suit. It was a silly fantasy. A result of an even sillier crush on Steve Harrington. It had developed over the summer. You had worked at Scoops Ahoy along with him and Robin, and there was just something about watching him flirt with girls in the stupid sailor costume that made you blush. You thought you did a pretty good job at hiding it but you were convinced Robin knew. Though Steve still seemed oblivious, and for that you were glad. You didn’t want to destroy your friendship. You and Robin push open the doors to the gym and step inside. The dance was themed “city lights” and the gym was adorned with metallic streamers and colorful lights. You smiled widely, and step in, high hopes for the night ahead.

•••

But here you are, an hour later, sitting alone on the bleachers. Prom had been fun for about fifteen minutes. You and Robin danced to Duran Duran and you were practically squealing with happiness. Then you went to grab a cup of punch. The line was long, it took you nearly five minutes to grab cups for you and Robin. You turned around, only to see her huddled in a corner with none other than Tammy Thompson. She was smiling wide and the two were speaking in hushed whispers. You sighed, realizing you couldn’t interrupt her now. If you did you know she’d kill you later. So you trek up the bleachers and drink both cups of punch. And you sit. And sit. And sit. You were too scared to dance alone, and nobody seemed interested in asking you to dance. Robin and Tammy were still off in their own world and there was no hope of stealing Robin back anytime soon. So you found the closest chaperone and asked to use one of the office phones. 

•••

The phone rang once before he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Steve it’s (Y/n),” you reply. 

“Hey, is everything ok?” He questions.

“Um…” You’re unsure how to answer. “Can you just come pick me up?” you say. You hear shuffling on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah give me a few minutes and I’ll be over to pick you guys up,” he replies.

“It’s just me,” you tell him. “Robin is staying.” The shuffling stops.

“Oh. Well, I’ll be there soon anyway,” he says before the line goes dead. You smile at the chaperone and head outside to wait

•••

A mere fifteen minutes later Steve’s car pulls up. It had begun to rain and your hair had lost the artificial curls you’d spent hours perfecting. You sit on a bench out front, your hands crossed against your chest. As soon as you see him you jump up and practically run to the car. As soon as you got in Steve gives you a questioning look.

“Jeez y/n what happened to you.”

“Nothing Steve, it just got boring,” you reply in a huff. Steve furrows his eyebrows.

“Where’s Robin?” he questions.

“She’s talking to Tammy,” you reply and Steve nods, understanding dawning on him. 

“No one else to talk to?” he questions. You shake your head. 

“I only danced for like ten minutes it was so stupid,” you reply, letting your annoyance show in your tone. You heard Steve chuckle beside you. You steal a quick glance at him. He’s staring down at the steering wheel in front of him, hair in his eyes. Under the soft glow of the singular street light of the parking lot, he looks almost angelic.

“Well that’s not a real prom experience,” he says turning towards you. You shrug before averting your eyes, hoping he didn’t catch you staring. You sit in comfortable silence for a moment, and you wonder when Steve is going to put the car in drive. But instead, he suddenly turns up the random Janet Jackson song playing on the radio and throws open his door. He steps out into the rain, practically soaking his t-shirt immediately, and runs around to your side of the car. He opens your door and extends his hand to you.

“What are you doing Steve,” you question. He smiles widely before grabbing your hand and pulling you outside.

“I’m giving you the full prom experience,” he answers mischievously. You stand in front of him, feeling the cold rain run down your shoulders. Steve begins dancing badly, wildly jumping around and swinging his arms.

“Steve!” you yell, scanning the parking lot to make sure no one can see you.

“Come on Y/n! Have some fun!” he yells back at you. You hug your arms close to your chest. Not quite sure what to do. Steve runs over and grabs your hands, forcing you to jump along to the music with him. You giggle which causes Steve’s smile to widen. Eventually, the two of you are drenched, laughing wildly, and clumsily dancing with each other. The pavement seems to glow under the streetlight and the thunder rolling in the background makes the moment feel magical. You stop for a moment to catch your breath and you grasp Steve’s hands. He holds them to his chest. Staring at you, smiling and breathing heavy. His hair is wet and matted against his forehead, his cheeks are a deep rosy red, most likely from the cold, and he has never looked so beautiful. Suddenly the radio crackles, a commercial break interrupting the music. And the moment is broken. Steve drops your hands and straightens quickly. You blink, the magic you felt only moments earlier dissipating. 

“I should uh, get you home,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You nod, and head for the car. Your soaked dress squishes as you lower yourself into your seat and you make a face. You hear Steve chuckle slightly beside you. 

He puts the car in drive and heads off towards your house.

He drives along the road, the radio quietly playing, filling the silent air. You look at him, trying not to be too obvious. He runs his hands through his wet hair and you feel a pull in your gut; yearning. You had been kidding yourself. It wasn’t simply a silly little crush. It was a butterflies explode in your chest kind of crush. A sweaty palms and averting eyes kind of crush. A type of crush that is always in your mind, occupying your dreams and thoughts. The kind of crush that never gives you a moment to breathe. The kind of crush you’d dance in a storm with, ruining your best dress, just for the chance to be close to them. And as you’re lost in your thoughts, Steve looks over to you in the passenger's seat and gives you a small smile. You’re frozen, unable to look away from his deep brown eyes. And for a moment he looks like he wants to say something but then the light turns green and he turns back to the road. You look away, your cheeks burning, and stare at your hands. 

A few minutes later, Steve pulls into your driveway. 

“Well here we are,” Steve says, staring up at your house. You turn slightly towards him.

“Thanks for the ride. Sorry I made you leave early to get me,” you say quietly.

“Hey don’t worry about it. I’ll always be around to give you a ride if you need it,” he says, turning towards you. You glance at the clock on his dashboard and curse under your breath. Steve furrows his brows and glances at the clock himself. It is ten forty-five.

“I should go inside, you probably have to pick up Robin now,” you mumble, fumbling with the door handle. 

“Here I’ll walk you up,” Steve says, unbuckling his seat belt. 

The two of you walk up the walkway towards your front door. The silence that hangs between you is awkward, something that has never happened with you and Steve before. You arrive at your door and you dig in your small clutch for your keys. You find them and put your key in the lock before turning to Steve. 

“Thanks for picking me up early,” you say to him. He shrugs, his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah no problem,” he says, kicking a rock off your porch. You start to turn towards the door but stop yourself.

“And thanks for the mini dance party back at school. You stopped my night from totally sucking,” you say with a slight laugh. Steve smiles slightly, looking at the ground.

“Yeah of course, glad I could help,” he replies. You smile, waiting to see if he’ll say more but he doesn’t. For a fleeting moment, you feel brave and you lean over and give Steve a quick peck on the cheek. He jumps back, eyebrows furrowed. 

“(Y/n) I…” He looks at you, confusion clearly written on his face. You cringe before turning to escape into your house. You wonder how you could’ve been so stupid, thinking he might’ve felt the same way. But before you can step into your house a hand grabs your arm and pulls you back. You turn and lock eyes with Steve. His eyes are soft but determined and his face is tense. Before you have a moment to think his lips crash into yours. For a moment the kiss is awkward, teeth knocking into each other. But then the two of you find a rhythm and it’s flawless. You pull away, gasping for air. Steve smiles down at you, his eyes blown, a soft smile gracing his face. For a moment the two of you stare at each other, the air practically buzzing. Steve leans down and kisses your forehead before pulling away. 

“Well I guess I better go pick up Robin,” he says, chuckling.

“Yeah she‘ll kill you if you're late,” you say breathlessly. Steve squeezes your hand before turning and heading back to his car. You stand at your door and watch him climb into his seat. Before he drives away he sticks his head out the window. 

“I forgot to tell you earlier, but you look beautiful!” he yells to you. You giggle, feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush before thanking him. He pulls out of your driveway and drives off. You finally open up your front door and collapse against the door frame. And you sit and wonder why you thought this night was going to go horribly. Because it turned out to be the best night of your life.

[grasslandgirl]

im not even looking at the questions so heres a surprise mix for you: 11, 18, 32, 39, 1, and 4 have fun bestie

i love u i love u i love u

1. Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

truly wholeheartedly wish i had the energy and the motivation to rework my av tatbilb au. [you gonna break my heart, sammy?] i loved the concept and spent six months hammering away at it and by the end i was just tired of it and wanted it to be done, and i feel like the ending is rushed and hollow because of it. it was the longest thing i'd ever written or posted at the time- over three years ago, now- and while im really proud of the fact that i planned it out and wrote it and actually finished it, i do think i could and can do it better. spend more time fleshing it out, make it feel less like a trite reworking of the original, dont rush the get together at the end, etc.

idk if i ever will. but maybe some day

4. Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them?

:)) well. it depends on how you define oc's, but they're pretty close.

and yes ive written SO many stories for them, there's so much lore and extended universes and multiverses.... god. insane. shout out to dnau's. if you know you know etc

11. Three tropes that are fine but overrated.

oooh uh. hm. idk if it's a trope, necessarily, but like supernatural creature/ mermaid au's aren't really my jam- especially when those aren't themes or elements in the canon material, it just always feels so jarring and its hard for me to acclimate to enough to suspend my disbelief

a more traditional trope, i HATE the shotgun proposal trope at the end of a story/movie, especially when they havent been together longer than a year- they should NOT be getting married it will NOT stop their problems

uh also in fic im wary of kid fics, if only bc most people who write kid fics do NOT know how to write children and will write the most intelligent eloquent four year old in the world like. dude. talk to children before you make them central in ur fic. sorry.

18. First, second, or third person?

third, primarily. but given the right circumstances and personal heaspace ive been known to dabble in first and second.

32. Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing?

i'm always a sucker for the classic italicized Oh. moment, personally [insert essay about breath in the narrative and how impactful giving your characters AND your readers moments to breathe within the story can be]

but i also really enjoy a- to quote casey, who reads and edits a vast majority of my writing bc she's wonderful- "one sentence paragraph" i think it can be a really fun and a really impactful kind of narrative punch moment and can spice up the rhythm of your writing

as for like specific expressions that i use or over use, im sure i have them i just can't think of any off the top of my head- i write how i talk a lot, so i know a lot of my sav-isms and style of speech leaks into my writing but idk if im self aware enough to notice the explicit patterns yet (if you have noticed patterns/repeated phrases, please let me know!! id love to hear them svkjnsfk)

39. Wildest AU scenario you have written?

this is an impossible question skjfvnskfjvns ive written SO many au's for so many CRAZY concepts that like. the scale of which is the wildest is purely subjective, and im not the one to ask bc i wrote all of them skfjvnskfjv

ive also got a TON of unused crazy au ideas in my docs/ idea lists that i haven't used or written yet so like.... comparatively the ones i HAVE published are pretty tame skjvnksfj

all that said. my eldonado fic Happiest is insane just bc of the sheer self indulgence of it, i wrote them doing a play i did in highschool, and i gave sam the role that i played. can you say #projection ?

ty ty ty ty jamie- for someone who picked a bunch of random numbers you really happened to pick a bunch of questions that are really relevant to us skjvnskfjvnsf

send me writers asks from this list!!

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (2/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 10.6k (yeah i have a spacing problem)

a/n: part 2 of this series is here! some dialogue, cases, and themes taken directly from criminal minds (S03 EP20, S04 EP01, & S05 EP08). originally, i had it planned to be 3 parts, but after editing, and looking at the word count, it makes more sense to be 5 parts. i don’t want to inundate you lovely people with massive word counts (even though 10k is massive) so this is the finalized count. because i finally got my shit together and finished this out, part 3 will be up wednesday morning, part 4 will be up friday morning, and the final part 5 will be up sunday morning. thank you to everyone who showed some love for part one, and thank you to anyone else who stumbled across my crazy writing and read along!

at the end, I’ve tagged the peeps that interacted with part 1. if you don’t want to be tagged for the other parts, just let me know :)

ok enough of my rambling inner monologue, here we go friends!

link to part 1: here

****

May 2008

We were in New York, investigating what started out as five connected shootings in the city. After twelve hours, we were up to nine fatalities.

We delivered the profile at nine thirty, finally satisfied with the outcome after a day's worth of combing over crime scene photos and witness statements. Hotch didn’t want to waste another second, making sure the profile went out before the night shift went out to patrol.

“Now, our first theory is that we’re dealing with a team.” Derek started. “In the case of the D.C. snipers, there was actually one intended victim.”

“John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex wife, but he knew if he did, he’d be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation.” 

Spencer added before turning to SSA Joyner. “Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub.”

“We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They’re opening a line of communication.” 

There was an outpouring of judgement focused on us, since we were in charge of the D.C. snipers case as well. These unsubs know we’re here, and they’re trying to show they can outthink us.

“Yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence.” You tried to hold your ground, and not let their opinions get to you.

“And like I said,” Prentiss interrupted, ready to put these cops in their place. “They know these cases. He’s also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection.”

“We’ve asked officers to canvass their precincts, and look out for a father-son type of duo that fit the dominant-submissive profile.” Rossi had Reid hand out some gang related profiles, just in case the profile shifted. But we were pretty confident in our first go. 

“Talk to the people on your beats, look out for anything suspicious. And let's pray that this isn’t random.” The detective in charge finished and let his precinct disperse. 

“Hey y/n/n, we’re gonna head back in five if you want a spot in the fun suburban.” JJ teased and lightly shoved Spencer’s shoulder. 

You smiled and started packing up your backpack. “Okay. Just, leave the fragile doctor alone.” 

After packing up any files you wanted to review when you got back to the hotel room, you let Morgan and Rossi know the four of you were headed out. They weren’t much further behind with Prentiss and Garcia. 

You met Reid and JJ in the lobby, droopy eyes and mouths full of yawns adorning the three of you. It was a long day, and it was only going to be worse tomorrow. 

“Where’s Hotch?” You asked, ready to get your feet out of these narrow leather dress shoes. You were wearing your combat boots tomorrow. 

“He’s checking in with the lady friend.” JJ nodded her head toward Hotch, who was conversing with Joyner in her office. They were standing close, and you thought you caught a smile on his face. “Do you think they’re into each other?”

“She looks like she could be Haley’s twin,” Spencer added and you sighed. 

The moment the team arrived at HQ this morning, everybody noticed the resemblance to Hotch’s ex-wife. SSA Kate Joyner went pretty far back with our unit chief. They went through the academy together and had some assignments overlap over the years. If it were up to Morgan and Garcia, the two of them would be out on a date right now. But you and Rossi quickly quieted the rumors, not wanting to deal with the rage that was Aaron Hotchner if he knew we were discussing his love life. 

It had barely been six months since Haley left with Jack, and Hotch had just taken off his wedding band a few weeks ago. He didn’t tell any of you until you all witnessed him getting served in the office. It slapped you across the face, especially since you’d just met Haley and Jack for a quick lunch a month and a half before. I guess she wanted Hotch to tell you when he was ready. 

As much as you valued your three year friendship with Aaron Hotchner, you knew Haley deserved better. Hotch adored his wife and son, and would fight heaven and earth to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he was too busy fighting the demons from hell to be a present father and husband. Everyone had their breaking point, and Haley had hit hers. From what Hotch has told you, they’re still amicable, and are trying to be friends again. After all, it wasn’t a lack of love that ended their marriage. It was a lack of prioritizing his family. 

“Knock it off. He’s on his way over.” The three of you turned to one another, pretending to hold an intriguing conversation about one of Spencer’s magic tricks. Truthfully, you were always intrigued in his magic tricks; you never understood how he could pull endless quarters out of your ear. But that conversation would have to wait for another day. 

“Ready to go?” Hotch pulled the keys out of his pant pocket, and the three of you nodded as Spencer called shotgun. A smile crossed your lips, never getting over the jovial things Spencer loved to claim when his intellect wasn’t needed to solve a case.

The fifteen minute ride to the hotel downtown was silent. You were all exhausted, emotionally and physically, sick of having to watch people die over and over again. 

The four of you made it into the lobby, tomorrow morning’s papers already spread across the table. “The late edition didn’t miss a beat.” You said and picked up one of the papers, the headline reading ‘Execution Style’ with a still from one of the murders. You showed it to Hotch and he shook his head. 

“I’m glad I never stooped to this level when I was publishing.” You murmured, reading the first paragraph of the article. 

“JJ,” Spencer started and pointed across the lobby, causing all of us to turn. It was Detective Will LaMontagne Jr., JJ’s adorably chivalrous Louisiana boyfriend. 

“Will.” You could practically hear the smile on her face as she led the walk over to him.

He was supposed to fly into D.C. to visit JJ for the weekend, but came to surprise her in New York when he heard the news. Spencer and I shared a look as Hotch extended a hand to him. 

“Detective.”

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, I know you’re working. But, um. I can’t stand you being on this case. And me not being here, not with what’s going on.”

JJ shook her head in the slightest, and you started to get nervous.

“Is there a problem?” Hotch asked, concern completely taking over his voice at the thought of any harm happening to his team. The couple shared a knowing look, and your patience was starting to run thin with the information being withheld. JJ meant the world to you, and you wanted to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, she turned to face you all, a shy smile covering her face. “I’m pregnant.” 

Spencer looked over at you, not knowing how to react to the news. But you couldn’t help the smile widening on your face. 

“Oh my god, JJ! Congratulations!” You wrapped your arms around her and she laughed, most likely out of relief. This was a secret she kept for a long time.

“I’ve asked JJ to marry me,” 

“Will.” She cut him off as Hotch gave him a congratulatory handshake. 

“We’re working out some kinks.” He added as Spencer was next to hug your blonde friend. A baby, in the BAU. You might have been more excited than JJ.

“We’ll, uh, give you both some privacy.” Hotch started towards the elevator, and JJ was quick to follow. 

“Hotch,” She didn’t continue, you knew this wasn’t the exact situation she wanted to tell everyone she was having a baby. 

“JJ, you could have told me.”  

The tenderness in his voice could have broken your heart in two right then and there, but add on the fact that you swore you could see Hotch’s eyes tear in the slightest, you were done. You didn’t want to mention it in front of Reid, but you knew this had to do with Haley. You’d be an idiot not to notice.

The three of you filed into the elevator, leaving JJ and Will to talk in private. You all got off on the fourth floor, Reid’s room the first to come up in the hallway. 

“Night Spencer.” 

“Goodnight. Seven a.m.,” He reminded you as he opened the door with his keycard.

You and Hotch walked down another ten feet before he found his room. 

“Goodnight,” He mumbled out and reached for his key. 

“Hotch,” He closed his eyes, nodding his head in the slightest. 

“I’m tired, y/n.” You could’ve pushed harder. You could have gotten him to crack if you started nagging enough. You’d earned the title as baby sister from the team since you could whine and nag them into doing anything. But tonight didn’t seem like a good time for your skills. 

You nodded, understanding this conversation wasn’t going to happen. 

“Goodnight. Get some sleep.”

Despite your best efforts, you didn’t sleep a wink. Hotch had gone over his files and called for Kate to meet him in the lobby. But then there was an explosion, and you had to watch from your window as Hotch sat by Joyner, waiting for her to die.

Once the team had caught the second unsub and wrapped everything up at the precinct, you headed to the hospital to check on Hotch. And unsurprisingly, he was refusing any further treatment for the ringing in his ears he tried to deny. You saw him kick Rossi out of the room, the third member that couldn’t get through to him. 

“Bobo, why don’t you give it a try. Can’t yell at the baby with a broken arm.” You were the one to tackle the unsub, and landed pretty hard on the pavement downtown. Nothing a black cast covered in smiley faces from Spencer and Garcia couldn’t fix. 

“I know you can’t tell, but I’m flipping you off right now.” You responded to Morgan as you raised your casted hand toward him.

You headed to Hotch’s room, knocking on the window before you walked in. 

“I swear to god if you try to put me in another MRI,” He started to raise his voice when you interrupted him.

“Shit, I should go tell Morgan he was wrong. Boss is willing to yell at the baby with a broken arm.”

He turned around to face you, the lines on his forehead disappearing once he saw it was you and not Rossi. 

“What happened to your arm?” You smiled and glanced down at the cast. “Just another day on the job. Tackled the unsub, the pavement was not very kind to me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put his tie back around his neck. You scoffed, stepping over to him. 

“Why the hell would you want to put that back on?” 

“Because it’s part of my suit.” 

You knew better than to pull it out of his hands. He was holding on to any semblance of control, and his outfit was all that he had left. Instead you took a seat in the stiff chair across from him, watching as he grimaced every time he lifted his arms too high. 

“If your goal is to get me to stay another minute here under observation, you’re not gonna win.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not my goal.”

He sighed, giving up on putting his tie on. He moved to finish his top button, he was at least going to be covered. 

“You should be excited for JJ.” You started, testing the water on this subject. 

“Did I suggest otherwise?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” His eyes widened the slightest, and you regretted asking the question. You gripped the arms of the chair, ready to be ripped a new one. 

Instead, Hotch let out a sigh, and you snapped your head up. “Two weeks. Haley went to visit her mother for a week, and then we went from Florida to New York in three days.”

He was already away from Jack half the week when they were still living under the same roof. Now he was lucky if he got to say goodnight on a weekend. 

“Why don’t you take some time off? I’m sure you have weeks saved up. I’ve been here three years and have never seen a tan on you.” 

He shook his head. “Strauss would never approve of it.”

“Hotch,” 

“Y/n, I really want to get out of this hospital room and call my son.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Fine. But you’re not flying home. You have a choice between Morgan and Rossi to drive you home. My recommendation would be Morgan, you don’t want to sit through four hours of Opera music.” 

You stood up, refusing to meet his eye. You were sick of dealing with stubborn men. 

“I’ll see if they can fax your records to D.C. before we leave.” 

He muttered out a thank you as you left the room, shaking your head at the rest of the team.

“Nothing?” Morgan asked as you returned to them. 

“Nothing. Even the baby gets yelled at.” Spencer spared you a glance and you gave him a small smile. You would be fine. “And Derek, you’re driving him back.”

***

January 2010

You didn’t think it could get worse than seeing Hotch with nine stab wounds at the hands of Foyet. You desperately wanted to believe that it couldn’t be worse than that. But you were naive to think that he would let Aaron survive and not make him suffer.

None of you would be able to erase the image of Haley’s bloody body lying in the home where she and Aaron created their family. You wouldn’t forget the sight of Hotch beating into Foyet’s face, or the sobs that raked through his body once Derek had shaken him off. This was a tragedy that shaped the entire team.

After Haley’s death, the seven of you took turns checking in on Hotch, Jack, and Haley’s sister Jessica. She stayed close by when Hotch was on leave, helping him with Jack’s routine, and how to explain to the four year old where his mommy went. She moved back into her apartment a few blocks away before Aaron returned to work. He wanted to prove to her that he could do this on his own, that he could be the strong father that Jack deserved, and that Haley would be proud of.

While the three of them were together, the team would try and make it over every Saturday for dinner. Hotch needed to be around friends, and Jessica needed a guilt free night to spend with the people that made her feel good. He was reluctant at first, not wanting us over the apartment, complaining that it was a mess, and it was too small to fit everyone. But it was impeccably neat, the result of a widow not being able to sleep. Once he became comfortable with us coming around on Saturday’s, we’d pick two weeknights to stop by with a dinner, movie, or game to help take their minds off of the pain. Although you and JJ stopped by every friday regardless of whose week it was, Hotch really appreciated the extra company, and so did Jack.

Despite his attempts at being independent, there were one too many distressed calls being made to you or JJ if he couldn’t get a hold of Jess, or if he didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility. 

Your feelings about Jack Hotchner hadn’t changed in the four years since you met him. You would still do anything to see the adorable little boy smile. So, it was easy to say that you didn’t mind the late night phone calls worrying about Jack’s stuffy nose or when he should take the chicken out of the freezer without it going bad. Because the more he reached out to any one of you, the closer he was to finding a new normal. 

However, all of you were surprised to see SSA Aaron Hotchner in his office only a month and a half after the event. Sure, he made remarkable progress, but you all assumed he would take a little more time, maybe take Jack on a well deserved vacation. Instead, you walked into the office on a monday morning, Hotch the first one in attendance. 

That was two weeks ago. 

The readjustment period had worn off, and Hotch was back to being a drill sergeant. Even more aggressive than he was before. 

The case we were working was local, saving us the discomfort of sleeping in a hotel bed. We were in Virginia, investigating two murdered families, similar to ‘The Fox’.

“Who?” You asked, not familiar with the creepy nickname.

“Four years ago Karl Arnold, aka the fox, killed eight families.” Derek informed you. It must have been just before you started at the BAU. 

“Similar to this case he took the father’s wedding rings, except in his case he took them as trophies.” Spencer finished.

“Hotch, you gave evidence at Arnold’s trial. I think you should go see him.” Derek was acting unit chief since before Haley’s death, and continued his position even with Hotch’s return. Strauss was weary now more than ever to give Aaron the title back so quick.

“I’d like to take l/n with me.” You looked over to Hotch, his eyes resting on yours, waiting for your approval. 

You gave a small nod, placing your sunglasses over your eyes. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Hotch got the keys to a suburban and before you could meet him at the car, Prentiss pulled you back. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” She was always looking out for you, heck she was the one that made you pack extra barf bags for crime scenes. She knew meeting face to face with a family killer would do a number on you. But Hotch can’t face this guy on his own. Not after what happened.

“I’m good. Not the first time I've interrogated a psychopath.” She reluctantly nodded. 

“Okay. Just, let Hotch take the lead.” 

You gave her arm a squeeze. “I will. Let’s find this guy.”

The ride to Red Onion Supermax was a short and quiet one. Hotch filled you in on the particulars of Arnold’s case, making sure you knew it inside and out. This was a team effort after all. 

You couldn’t get a clean read on Hotch, however, on the ride over. He’d yet to crack a true smile or laugh in the weeks he’d been back, which normally wouldn’t be so out of character for him. But Reid had been trying to get him to crack with every magic trick he knew, even agreeing to let Derek joke about his lack of childhood and understanding of pop culture. But nothing worked. 

It worried you to see the regression he’s made since coming back. You knew how happy he was at home with Jack, that a smile crossed his face most of the day when he was playing legos with his son. You hoped he was here because he wanted to be, not because he felt like he had an obligation to the team or the Bureau. 

“Karl has a big ego. He’s going to answer every question with a question. He’ll try to gain the advantage with me by asking why I’m not wearing my wedding ring.” You looked down at his left hand, the gold band that you noticed on your first day, now gone, along with the woman he loved. “And then he will turn his attention to you.”

“So that’s why you brought me along.”

“Your presence will throw him off guard. And he’s going to want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families.”

“To freak me out?” Because you haven’t even met this sick bastard and you were certainly already freaked out. 

Hotch met your eye, and you knew this was only going to get worse. “To pull you into his fantasy.”

The guard radioed for the gate to open, and you tried to contain the tremors in your hands. This was a wing of psychotic sexual sadists, they would pick up on your nervous ticks.

You looked to Hotch once the gate opened, and he nodded for you to go in. 

“Go ahead.” You followed the guard in, surprised at the lack of noise you were welcomed with. “Keep your eyes forward. More than anything he’s going to want to see images of the children.”

“We can’t give him that.” You argued, as you started to hear the men from their cells. 

“We have to give him something or we’ll get nothing from him.” 

You’d kept your breathing under control the entire walk down the hallway, until a man crashed against the glass, causing you to flinch and spare a glance.

“Isn’t that, uh,-” 

“Derek Payne.” He finished for you, his eyes still straight ahead. 

“It’s reinforced glass.” You scoffed. Of course he wasn’t worried about another man ripping him apart.

“Easy for you to say, he tore apart fourteen women.”

The door opened to the interrogation room, and this time Hotch entered first. You were met with Karl Arnold, red bushy hair and a beard to match. He was average height, and a little stocky, not what you pictured him to look like.

“Hello Karl,” Hotch greeted him as we settled in on the other side of the table.

“Agent Hotchner,” He stood. “I wasn’t informed you were bringing a, uh,” He glanced at you, looking you up and down before turning back to Hotch. You really regretted wearing a white silk top with your dress pants today. “They just said two agents.”

“This is Agent-” 

“Y/n, l/n.” You tried to control the dilation of your eyes as he looked right through you. “I know all about you.”

Now you understood why Emily asked you if you were sure about this. He kept his eyes on Hotch as he started the interrogation, never looking you in the eyes longer than a second. Even if you directed a question toward him, he would only answer to Hotch. He was a misogynist. You don’t know why you’re so surprised at this discovery, he tortured wives and families.

When he offered up his book of dialogue between him and his fans, he smelled your perfume as you reached across the table to grab it. Hotch quickly took it for you, letting you sit back down in your seat. Your gut was no longer in your stomach, it was lodged in your throat. 

“How’d you lose your ring, Agent Hotchner?” It was beyond your level of profiling to understand how Hotch could just sit there and take the assault on his personal life from a man who ruined families, especially with what he’d just been through. You’d never mastered the art of compartmentalization quite like Hotch. But right now, you were thankful for your uncontrollable emotions.

“I can look past your refusal to answer my question, if you let me see the children. It’s the only way I can truly help you.” You gripped the files harder at the mention of the victims and looked at Hotch. 

“Can I speak with you for a second?” He nodded and the two of you stood. 

“Is there something wrong, y/n?” You bit back the sarcasm that was threatening to fall from your mouth. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Karl.”

You exited the interrogation room, still clutching the files close to your chest. 

“We cannot show him these.”

 He looked at Arnold, who seemed to find your eyes, even through the reflective mirror. “These images will be his undoing and will lead us to the killer.”

“These are not just images.” 

“That’s exactly what they are.” 

“Hotch, I am not about to parade a dead twelve year old girl in a bathing suit in front of a serial killer who gets off on it.” You raised your voice, not willing to compromise any respect you had left for these victims. 

“Then show him the others. It’ll gain his trust and get him talking. He won’t talk to me, he knows I know everything that gets him off. But he’ll want to tell you just what he would do to them. I told you, he wants to pull you in.”

You shook your head. “These are children! Helpless children whose fathers have to live with what this animal did to their families! These strangers do not get to see the torture and humiliation that they went through.”

“If you can’t stomach showing him what he desires, then I’ll do it. Because we’re not leaving until we get a name out of him. You’re either with the team or you’re not.” 

You scoffed. “You’re not the unit chief anymore. I do what Morgan says if we can’t come to an agreement.”

It was bold of you to remind him of his subordinate place. But you were equals now, despite the decade between you two. You didn’t have to listen to his orders if you felt they were wrong. 

He reached for the files, but you turned away from him. “I’m going in there. Not you. But I’m going to run the interrogation my way, not exposing these children. If you have a problem with that, you can call Morgan.”

You motioned for the guard to let you back in. You took your seat across from Karl, a smirk still evident on his face. 

“What, no Agent Hotchner?”

“You know, yours was one of the first cases I studied,” You started, trying to loosen up the muscles in your face. Going against every natural instinct in your body was making it hard to relax. “I’ve been fascinated ever since. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was embarrassed with him in the room.”

“You’re embarrassed because you want to know what I did, don’t you.” You pushed out a smile, a little giggle behind it to entice him.

And of course it did. “Yes.”

“I can show you exactly what I did to them.” 

“Tell me.” You tilted your head to the side, pushing some hair behind your ear. You were fighting the bile rising in your throat with every word you exchanged with him.

“Children are so precious, so clean. But they need guidance, especially the girls.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Girls have much more to lose than boys. It’s a fact, the female body can handle pain much better.” If this wasn’t a serial killer across from you, you’d agree with him and make some jokes about the female anatomy. But he was enjoying this, just like Hotch said. He was pulling you in.

“What did you do to them?” 

He smiled. “I showed them, what men, their fathers, and brothers, are capable of.” 

“And what is that?”

“Once I killed the children, It always amazed me how little the father fought the inevitable, the dying.”

“I never thought I would get these answers, let alone from the man himself.” You pushed out another smile, because you knew he was holding back. He was almost willing to trust you, he just needed to be groomed a little more.

“It takes a good woman, to make an honest man. And you’re prettier than Agent Hotchner.” 

He was dancing around the information now, knowing that he had your time and attention. “Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?” 

“I already told you why.”

You dropped the sweet tone, and pushed up on your elbows. “No, you told me how. And your motivations were all driven by sex, motivations you learned from your father.”

You saw him flinch, and you knew you were getting somewhere. 

“You assert your dominance by making the father, the head of the household, watch you torture, assault, and take anything you wanted from the people he’s supposed to protect. Now your admirer, they don’t have the same ambitions as you do. And normally, that would bother a man like you. You want to be adored for every single part of your mess. But like you said, they’re an admirer, not a fan. So I’m guessing it’s a woman, who you’ve really come to care for.”

He tugged on his shackled wrists, you clearly got what you were looking for.

 “Those women, those girls, they needed to be taught a lesson. How to obey who’s in charge. And you,” he laughed as he inched as far across the table as he could. “The things I would do to you if I weren’t nailed to this table. You’d be done before I could call your name.”

Before you could respond, Hotch came into the room, demanding a name. You stood up, no longer needing to play a role. 

“It must be distracting, working with such a beautiful woman everyday.” You didn’t spare him another glance as you heard him mumble out a name to Hotch, finally getting what he wanted: power over you.

“Morgan, we’ve got a name. It’s a female guard in intake. Get everybody here ASAP.” The guard led you and Hotch back down the hallway, through the lion's den, and back to the elevator. Once inside, you let out a breath. Hotch turned to look at you, but you spoke up before he had the chance. 

“Don’t ask me to do that ever again.”

You would’ve yelled at him, tore him to pieces in the elevator ride from the fourth floor to the exit, but there was a guard escorting you out. You didn’t want him to have the privilege of watching two FBI agents battle it out. And honestly, you weren’t sure if you had the heart to yell at him after all he’d been through.

But once you were escorted through the exterior gates, your team in sight, you regained the nerve to give Hotch a piece of your mind.

Not before he spoke first though. 

“You did exactly what needed to be done. I didn’t ask you to act that way toward him, and I’m sorry you feel that that was your only way in. But I’m not going to apologize for getting the name of the killer.”

“So you would have acted in the same degrading way if the roles were reversed?”

He scoffed. “Yes, I would have. Because unlike you, my feelings don’t impair my judgement or ability to do this job. You’re an asset to this team, you need to find a way to get your emotions in check.”

You stopped walking, turning around to face him. You were in the middle of the driveway now, SWAT and BAU canvassing the scene. But you were going to do this here and now.

“The only reason you brought me here was to appeal to that sick son of a bitch. The only thing that makes me an asset to you is the fact that I have a vagina and you don’t. You turned me from a Supervisory Special Agent into a fighting fuck toy! You watched as I drained every ounce of respect I had for myself to turn into what that psychopath desired, all because I wouldn’t show him pictures of innocent children.” He looked over your shoulder to the team, embarrassed that they were hearing this. “At least have the respect to look at me while I’m talking to you!”

Hotch had never heard you yell like this. You were the calm one, the baby, as Derek called you. No one ever pushed you so far over the edge to get a reaction out of you. At least, not until he did. 

“The next time you ask me, JJ, Prentiss, or Garcia to flirt our way into a serial killer's mind, to expect us to degrade ourselves in order to save another woman, I will not hesitate to report you to Strauss.” You could hear footsteps behind you, but you continued on as tears started to form in your eyes. “You used to say that my empathy was what made me an amazing agent. That my ability to connect with victims and families was the reason I’m here. So do not try and make me feel worthless for possessing something that you wish you could have. Because the way you act, with no capability for empathy, is a depressing way to live.” 

“Y/n,” Spencer rested a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off.

“Figure out the man you want to be.”

Before you could say anything else, Spencer dragged you away from Hotch and towards the cars. You could feel the tears freely falling down your cheeks, but you made no effort to remove them. You ignored the stares from the rest of your team, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing what went down in that interrogation room. Instead, you got into the passenger seat of the suburban, and Spencer started the drive back to the office. 

Rationally, you knew you went off too hard at him. He never deliberately asked you to flirt with Arnold. He asked you to show him the pictures of Lucy, to get him to crack under the fantasy. But you refused. You would rather make yourself go through that pain than any young child. It’s what you’d always done.

Spencer tried to convince you they hadn’t heard the conversation. That they were all too focused on SWAT’s apprehending of the guard to pay attention.

“Spence,” You started and looked over at him. “We all had our earpieces in. You heard every word.”

And he was silent the rest of the ride back. You were exhausted, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep on your couch with reruns playing in the background. But you had a mountain of paperwork to finish, and still needed to debrief when the team got back.

Halfway through your stack, the team came back to the bullpen. Prentiss gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze as she passed by, heading for her desk. Derek had agreed to let everyone go home without debriefing. This was the earliest we’d been done with a case so close to home. We needed to capitalize on our rest. 

JJ was the first to go home, excited to be home in time for dinner with Will and Henry. Prentiss and Rossi followed shortly after, going to celebrate the win of this case at an expensive restaurant, at Dave’s expense. 

“Come on you two, don’t make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming.” Derek addressed you and Reid as he pulled his coat on. 

“We’re right behind you boss man.” Spencer said and turned his desk light off, grabbing his cane. He should be able to ditch all mobility aids soon.

You swung your backpack over a shoulder and turned off your own light. You didn’t even make it out of your four foot space before Hotch called out to you.

“Y/n, could I see you before you leave?” He was standing in front of his office, on higher ground than the rest of us. Power move, you thought to yourself. But he wouldn’t be that petty.

You looked back to Reid and Moran, the former nodding to you before seeing himself to the elevator. Now it was just Spencer, his eyes begging for you to leave. 

“I don’t need to remind you how deeply you care for all of us. But if you keep putting yourself out there to comfort him, you’re going to get destroyed.” This was the first time Spencer had mentioned this to you. Sure, you’d been helping Hotch out at home, a little more than normal, but everybody was pitching in. His wife died for god's sake. 

“Spence, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He let out a sigh and fidgeted with his cane. You found it at a consignment shop on one of your weekends off, and bought it for him without hesitation. It had an eagle engraved in it’s clutch, something regal, medieval, and screamed Spencer Reid. You ignored the price, a forty dollars more than you would’ve liked to spend on a walking stick, but the look on his face when you gave it to him was priceless.

“You need to stand up for yourself. Nothing excuses the way he treated you today. Regardless of your decision to play a character.” 

God, could he read you. 

“No pair of rose colored glasses could cloud that. Not even yours.” He gave you one last shadow of a smile before limping his way to the elevator.

Once you regained your composure, you turned to make your way up to Hotch’s office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the paperwork waiting to be filled out before him. You knocked on the open door, and he stood up without even looking at you. You were going to take Spencer’s advice and stick up for yourself, so you had to set the pace.

“Can this be quick? I wanted to get home before traffic started up.” He rounded the front of his desk, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it. 

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you back at the prison.” You nodded, not wanting to verbally accept the apology that was due to you hours ago. “I was out of line and completely blinded by the case. I should’ve listened to you and taken your reservations into consideration. It was narcissistic of me to think I was the only one capable of making the right decision.”

“Thank you.” You stuttered out, still absorbing the tone of his voice. His word choice was self deprecating, a cry for help if you didn’t know any better. 

“Y/n,” He started but was interrupted by a shaky breath. “I hate that I made you feel like all you’re good for is to romance your way into their heads. You deserve to be treated with respect, to be valued because of your empathy and your psychological understanding of victims and their families. If I’ve ever made you feel like you were worthless before this afternoon, please tell me.”

“No, you’ve never made me feel that way.” 

He nodded before turning to grab a piece of paper from his desk. 

“Good. Because I’ve written up a complaint for Strauss, describing my behavior and language directed toward you today. You shouldn’t have to wait for a next time to file it.”

He extended the paper to you, and you walked until you were standing in front of him, accepting the complaint into your hands. But you didn’t even read it before tearing it in two. 

“What are you doing?”

“Hotch, I’m not filing a complaint against you. Everything that I did today was my choice. You didn’t force me into anything.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, the first time you’ve seen it tousled in the office.  

“I was uncomfortable showing Arnold those pictures. So I made the choice to play a character, to appeal to his fantasy. You weren’t in the room, and you didn’t suggest that. If anything, you tried more than anything to get me to stick to the script. Did you have some choice words for me that weren’t necessarily appropriate? Yes. But we all have our moments. After we got out of there, I felt sick that I had to do that to get a name out of him. It wasn’t the first time I’ve camouflaged myself for the greater good, and it won’t be the last. I took out the self hatred I had on you, because you were there. Because if I did it your way, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror again without feeling ashamed. But you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I do. I deserve to be ridiculed for telling you that your empathy is a weakness. I deserve to be ridiculed for yelling at Garcia for missing something on a search. I deserve,” 

His voice broke, and you froze in place. You were about to see Aaron Hotchner cry for the first time in four years. “I deserve to be punished for Haley’s death.”

Your own eyes started to water as you saw a single tear roll down his cheek. Without thinking, you reached forward and held his hands in your own. They were shaking, and he tried to pull them away from you. But you held on tight, you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hotch, look at me.” He kept his gaze on the windows, looking out onto the concrete roof. 

“Hotch, please.” You were quieter the second time, and that’s what got him to meet your eyes. 

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you could’ve prevented Haley’s death if you did one thing instead of the other. Because no matter what you did, Foyet would’ve found her, and done this all over again.” He tried to look away from you, but you tugged on his hands, begging him to stay. “But what you did prevent, was Foyet taking away the greatest thing you and Haley ever made. You saved your son, Hotch. And you ended Foyet’s reign of terror. You get to spend every day reminding Jack how amazing his mother was. How strong, resilient, and fierce she was. How she looked death in the eye and didn’t even flinch. You get to live the rest of your life for your son.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting the few remaining tears fall down his face. You let your own fall with the reprieve of no longer being under his stare, not wanting to fall apart when he needed you.

“I love her. I never stopped loving her. The divorce, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of this job.” 

You squeezed his hands before letting them go, letting him wipe off his face. 

“I know. And I know she never stopped loving you.”

You never thought you would get to this moment when you first met Haley. You let out a small laugh while remembering your first encounter, how pregnant and angry she was at Hotch.

“What?” You smiled and shook your head. 

“I’m just remembering the first time I met her. She was pregnant, she called you a robot, and was cracking jokes left and right to try and get you to crack.”

That got him to smile. “I could always make her laugh when we were younger. She had the funniest, most embarrassing laugh. But it was Haley. And it was addicting.” 

You wanted him to remember her like this, with a smile on her face and the loving soul she was. 

“I truly am sorry for what I said to you, but you have to know I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded. “I know you didn’t. Just apologize to Garcia in the morning, and get home to Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He gave you a small smile as you picked up your backpack.

Spencer’s words stung in your ears while you were holding Hotch’s hands. You loved everyone on this team as your family. And Hotch needed you to be there for him a lot more over the last two months. Sure, you’d brushed off some harsh conversations with him considering the circumstances, but you knew when it went too far, like today.

“Y/n,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you at the door. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “Of course.” 

Maybe you did care too much for people. But if it helped them get back to normal, you’ll continue wearing those rose colored glasses a little while longer.

***

March 2010

“I’m grocery shopping. Because I have no food in my apartment and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sick of eating pizza.” You threw a box of cheerios in your cart, careful not to hit the eggs on their way in. 

“That’s how you’re spending your saturday? Our first saturday off in a month?” 

“Well, unless I want to spend another twenty bucks on one meal, I’ve gotta do my grown up chores.” “You need to get your butt back home so we can go out and drink.”

Emily was relentless, to say the least. Every single weekend you had off, her number popped up on your phone the minute you got home. She hated resting in her own solitude, and tried to drag you along for any activity she could think of. Shopping, drinking, walking around the national mall, and, in desperate cases, running. But her record wasn’t stellar in getting you to attend.

“I’m spending the afternoon with my couch, a book that has taken me too long to read, and probably eat an entire bag of smartfood.” You chucked a box of granola bars in your cart too when you heard a kid cry. You turned to the end of the aisle, but the parent was blocking the child. “Besides, it’s dinner tonight at Hotch’s.”

“He canceled this morning. Rossi was supposed to call and let you know.” You rolled your eyes. Of course Dave forgot. 

“Daddy! I want the poptarts!” You heard the kid yell out again. But you knew that voice, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Em, I’ll see you on Monday. Have a shot for me.” 

“I’ll have two.”

You laughed as you hung up the phone, pushing the cart over to your favorite little boy on the planet. You didn’t think to give the father another glance when you didn’t recognize him, but that’s because Aaron Hotchner is never without a suit at the office. He was dressed in jeans now and a quarter zip, looking like a normal dad.

When you approached the two boys, Jack was leaning against the shelf, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet against the ground. 

“It looks like SSA Hotchner could use some help profiling his son.”

Hotch was quick to stand up, meeting your eye. You only smiled while crouching down to Jack’s level. 

“Hey little man, what’s the problem here?” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and your heart broke at the redness in his eyes.

“Daddy won’t let me get any pop tarts.” 

“That’s because you ate the whole box in one day without my permission.” Aaron argued back. 

You hid your laugh in your shoulder, not wanting to upset Jack any more. But Hotch had already caused him to spiral into a meltdown again. 

“Jack, have you ever had ants on a log?” He shook his head, tears continuing down his chubby cheeks. “Well, they were my favorite snack when I was little. It’s celery, peanut butter, and raisins all set up on a plate. And the best part is, you get to make it yourself! Now, I know how much you love peanut butter, and I bet if you ate this snack, Daddy will let you get poptarts the next time you go grocery shopping.”

“Okay.” He said and nodded his little head. “But I’m sick of grocery shopping.”

“Me too buddy.” I sat down next to him. “I do not like having to walk up and down these aisles searching for food. So, why don’t we sit here while daddy finishes his list?”

You spared a glance at Hotch and his practically full basket. You knew he would be done in ten minutes if you stayed here with Jack. 

“Are you sure?” Aaron asked and you nodded. 

“‘Course. I don’t need food that bad anyway.” He sighed and made his way back to his carriage.

You pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of your purse and handed it to Jack. 

“Aunt Jessica told me that you know how to write your name now. Can you show me?”

He sat up straight, laying the paper down on the floor. You watched as he made a loopy uppercase J, followed with big and small letters to spell out the rest of his name. 

“That’s awesome buddy. What about your last name?” 

“Hotchner!” He yelled out and you laughed. 

“Yeah, let me spell it out for you.” You wrote it out on the paper and it took him a few minutes to copy down.

“You’re turn now, y/n.” He handed you the pen and you wrote your name down, saying the letters as you wrote them. Jack repeated you, and it made you laugh. You forgot that kids were such sponges. 

By the time you finished writing Aaron and Haley’s names for Jack, Hotch was back with his cart. “Alright buddy, it’s time for us to go. We gotta let y/n finish her grocery shopping.” 

“No! I want y/n to come home with us for dinner. She was helping me spell everyone's names!”

You smiled as you stood up, giving Jack a hand. “Maybe next time buddy. But you gotta get home to try those ants on a log.”

“Actually, we’re making pizzas for dinner, Jack’s saturday choice. You can come over, if you don’t have any plans already.” You’d never heard Hotch this nervous before. It made you laugh a little. 

“I’d love to. Only if I get to put extra cheese on my pizza though.” 

“Of course!” Jack exclaimed and you matched his smile. 

“Awesome! I’ll let you two pay for all this food and I’ll meet you at your house okay?” Jack nodded before running to the front of the cart.

“You sure you don’t have any plans? I don’t want you to give up another saturday night at my expense,” 

“Hotch there is nothing more exciting than spending my weekends with the cutest four year old on the planet.” He smiled, but you knew he still wasn’t convinced. “Besides, every other twenty-nine year old I know is in a stuffy club in uncomfortable clothes. This is much more my pace.”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Okay. We’ll meet you at the apartment in a half an hour.” 

“Sounds good. See you soon Jack!” You waved to the little boy and quickly tried to finish buying the staples that could get you through a few days at home. 

You got home and quickly put your food away, making sure everything that needed to be refrigerated was chilled. You switched your t-shirt for a long sleeve tee, opting for sneakers instead of boots. Comfort was the utmost importance on days off.

It took you twenty minutes to get to Hotch’s apartment from yours, arriving at five on the dot. You were known for, and proud of your punctuality. Hotch answered the door after two knocks, and you couldn’t help but focus on the noise of three different locks unlocking. 

He greeted you with a slight nod of the head, button down replacing his quarter zip. 

“Do you even own comfortable clothes?” “This is comfortable.” You rolled your eyes, as he took the poptarts from your hands, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Didn’t I just have this fight with my four year old son about not buying these?” He asked as he let you in the house. 

“Yes, but I’m the fun dinner guest. I bring the treats for the children.” 

He tried to hide the small huff of a laugh that escaped his lips, but you still caught it. “You will be the death of me.”

You let out a laugh as he led you into the kitchen, putting them away on the top cabinet. I reached for my hip and pulled my holster off, putting it on the counter. 

“Do you have somewhere I can put this? Last thing I need is to drop it while I throw up my pizza dough.” He unlocked the drawer in his desk, placing it in there before locking it back up.

You heard tiny footsteps running down the hall. “Y/n! It’s pizza time!” 

You smiled as he tugged at your legs. “I know! I’m so excited!”

“Alright buddy, you’re up first. Show y/n how we properly throw our pizza dough in the air.” Hotch pushed a step stool over to the counter, waiting for Jack to step up. The grin on the little boy's face was ginormous as he powdered his hands with flour, taking the small ball of dough Hotch separated for him.

The two of you were on either side of Jack, each ready to follow his lead in the process. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, three!” 

You spun the dough in your hands before throwing it in the air, watching it separate the slightest bit. Jack’s giggles filled the apartment as he let his dough fall onto the counter. Aaron shook his head, you could tell this part of the meal was always a struggle for the little boy.

You watched as Jack spread out the miniscule amount of sauce he wanted along his crust, topping it off with a mountain of cheese. You taught him the more cheese, the better, and he clearly still believed you. You added some pepperoni to your own oval shaped pie, unsuccessful in making a perfect circle crust. But, not everyone could be the perfect Italian chef like David Rossi.

While the pizza’s were in the oven, the three of you sat down to play a few rounds of Candyland. You hadn’t played since your time at DCFS, and you forgot how there was no real objective to the game. It certainly wasn’t your game of choice, but Jack was still a little young to be able to contend with you in a game of monopoly. A few more years, you thought.

Once the pizza’s were done, Jack helped you set the table as Hotch cut the pies. You felt a little out of place, crossing some very important boundaries by having dinner with just the two Hotchner boys. This saturday was much different than the ones you spent when the whole team was over, Henry and Jack putting on dance parties for the guests. 

You started to become more aware of your actions around the apartment; how you knew where the placemats were kept, that Jack used his purple cup for milk at dinner, and the strict no electronics rule at the table. However, that had been established by Haley years ago. The thought of her had a shot of guilt running through your stomach, sitting down with her family for dinner, just three and a half months after she’d passed. 

You’d been thinking a lot about what Spencer had said that night at the BAU. He was vague, too vague for the doctor that could tell you how long he’d been alive down to the second. After a few sleepless nights, you called the doctor in question and demanded he explain himself. But after his admission, you quickly regretted having all the information.

Spencer Reid has known you for almost five years now, and has seen you through the moments that have shaped your adult life. Killing Stephanie Moore, testifying in the fisher king case, being your excusing phone call from multiple dates, and holding your hand as you took in one of your former foster siblings from a bad relationship. There was absolutely nothing in your life that could be hidden from him.

So when he told you he noticed your feelings for Hotch ‘about two years ago’, you nearly stopped dead in your pacing tracks. Not because you didn’t know your own feelings for the man, but because you didn’t realize it had been that long. That he had been married to Haley, albeit only for a month longer, that you started to notice how handsome your boss was. Upon hearing the truth out loud, and from another person, you ran to the bathroom and threw up a few times. 

You were so embarrassed, so ashamed of caring for someone that couldn’t be yours. For caring for someone who’s wife you truly adored. After the third round of puking, Spencer reassured you through the phone that it wasn’t your fault. We can’t control who we love. And yes, he said love.

“Are you okay y/n?” Jack’s little voice pulled you from your thoughts. You smiled at his sauce covered face and nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your pizza, Jack?”

“Awesome! Daddy is the best pizza cooker ever!”

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” Aaron commented and referenced your plate. You hadn’t taken a bite. 

“I’m good, really. Just thinking about how I’m going to make a bigger lego tower than Jack after dinner.”

That got the little boy to laugh, successfully switching the conversation to Jack’s favorite toys. But you noticed the glaces Hotch snuck your way, not believing you for a second. You were an awful liar. 

The longer the three of you sat at the table, the larger your smile grew around these boys. Seeing Hotch being able to relax and really enjoy his time with Jack always brought a smile to your face. He was a natural father, sliding into the role of playmate and swaddler, cuddler and soother. You even remember him helping JJ out with Henry’s swaddle at work one day.

But you knew he felt guilty, not being able to be present in his son’s life everyday. You saw it in the hundred’s of views of the video of Jack’s first steps, the late night phone calls while away on a case just to say goodnight to his little boy. He missed out on a lot of the baby years, and he would be making it up to Jack for the rest of his life, with nights like these. With the whole weekend devoted to Jack Hotchner’s favorite things, minus the sugary pop tarts. Hotch had mastered the duality of being a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, and the loving father to Jack Hotchner. It was one of the reasons why you started caring so much for him. 

“Alright Jack, you can build one tower with y/n, then it’s bath time and off to bed.” You saw the pout on Jack’s face as Hotch cleared our plates, and you helped him off the chair. 

“Come on, maybe if we’re quick enough we can make two.”

He giggled as he led you to his room, stuffed animals and toys galore. This boy won’t want for a thing.

“Okay, you make a big blue one, I’ll do purple.” 

You finished much quicker than the four year old, but under no circumstances would he let you sit and watch him make his masterpiece. Instead, since you had nearly two and a half feet on him, you stacked your tower on top of his and continued adding pieces to make it bigger. He cheered you on as it started to reach your head, and you were getting excited yourself. Until, it came to a crashing fall with the last green piece on top. 

“Noo!” Jack yelled out, trying to catch the falling pieces. 

“It’s okay Buddy, you can always make another one.” Aaron’s voice trying to soothe his son caught both you and the little guy’s attention.

The two of you turned to see Hotch leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. You wondered how long he’d been standing there. 

“And maybe next time, we can make one as big as daddy.”

 Hotch let out a laugh as Jack smiled at you in amazement. He liked how your brain worked. 

“Bath time, bud. We gotta get your face cleaned up from all that pizza sauce, and ship you off to bed.” 

“But y/n’s here,” He whined, not wanting the lego fun to end.

“Well I have to get home and take a shower too, bud. Don’t worry, there’s plenty more playdates in your future.” You said and stood up, giving the little boy a high five. 

“Go wait for me in the bathroom okay, I’m gonna walk y/n out.” 

“Okay. Bye bobo.” He said and ran off to the bathroom, leaving you speechless in his bedroom. 

“You let him be around Derek Morgan way too much.”

“Probably. But you can’t compete with the guy who brings over a new lego set every weekend.” Hotch got your gun for you, walking you back to the front door. 

“Are you kidding? You’re his hero, Hotch. He asked me last week if I was a superhero like daddy.” He cracked a smile, but his eyes were glued to the floor, unable to meet your own.

“Why did you cancel dinner tonight?” He sighed and lifted his head. You’d been wanting to ask him since you were at the grocery store. The team had been coming over for three months now, and it was something we all started to look forward to.

“I was sick of feeling like a burden to you all. I mean, asking you all to give up your Saturday nights, sometimes our only free night of the week to spend in my depressing apartment, it had been enough.” If only you could show this man how much the team cared for him through your eyes, he would never doubt his worth another day in his life. 

“Hotch, the highlight of my week is coming here to be with you all. My family. Watching Henry and Jack play with each other, listening to Spencer and Penelope fight over who the true godparent is, and getting to be on the receiving end of Rossi’s awesome cooking?” 

He nodded, mumbling an ‘I know’ a few times under his breath. But he needed to know that as much as you all come here for Jack, you guys care for Aaron and his well being just as much. 

“I come here every saturday to make sure that Aaron Hotchner has not dressed in a suit for the sixth day in a row, and to make sure he knows that he’s doing such an amazing job with Jack. That he is being the best father, friend, and boss, that he can be.”

This time, his eyes were locked on yours as you got a real Aaron Hotchner smile out of him, dimples and all. You couldn’t help but make a check mark in the air, the team tally still going strong. He playfully rolled his eyes as you swung your bag across your shoulder. 

“So who’s in the lead now?” 

“Me, for the last six months. I can’t be dethroned.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, hoping he wouldn’t think too much into your stat keeping. 

“Well, that seems like a pretty accurate tally.”

You made sure it was. And selfishly, you hoped no one else could get that beautiful smile to cross his face like you could. 

“Thank you for coming over. We both had a lot of fun.” 

“I did too. I’m around anytime, my tower building skills are not occupied for many other people.” He let out a laugh as he opened the door for you.

“Goodnight y/n. Let me know when you get home.” 

“I will. Night, Hotch.”

You got home in twenty minutes, texting Aaron as you walked through your door. Quickly changing into pajamas and throwing Legally Blonde into the DVD player, your phone dinged at a new message.

It was from Hotch, a picture attached to the message. It was of Jack, towel wrapped around his head, eyes shut from grinning so wide. ‘He wanted me to send this to you. He said, ‘this is how happy I am that y/n was here tonight.’ Thanks again for everything. Goodnight.”

You couldn’t help the tears that pooled in your eyes at the sweet little boy in the picture, and his amazing dad behind the camera.

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites

[hellhound-wrangler]

I have made the immensely foolish decision to dip my toes into the “writing fanfic” waters and I’m now regretting all my life choices. I have weird disjointed chunks of a story, some more edited than others. Also I apparently have a masochistic streak, because I’m writing fic for the game that aggravates me on almost every level, instead of one that isn’t actively maddening.

Anyhow, if you, too, have an inexplicable fondness for the garbage fire that is Fallout 3, I bring you a small offering of irradiated trash.

A week later, Charon shoved open the door of the Ninth Circle, a moaning drunk with broken hands draped over his shoulder (“Now take out the trash Charon, there’s a good boy” Azhrukhal had said before turning to the fool’s terrified friend to settle the briefly-disputed bar tab), and a slouching smoothskin leaving Carol’s Place took three long strides and caught the door, holding it open for him without comment. He spared a brief hard stare for the human, who looked back blandly. Unarmored, no visible weapons save a 10mm on their hip, torchlight glinting off their battered glasses, hair and skin and clothing all in unremarkable shades of gray and tan, just another scavver looking for oblivion in the shittiest bar in the end of the world. He wished he could warn the wastelander off before they poured more caps into Azhrukal’s safe and wound up robbed or dead or beaten or sold or whatever sick whim the old rat had in store, but standing orders strangled any warning he could offer in his throat (“Stop scaring off the customers, Charon”). 

When he came back into the bar, he briefly thought that the smoothskin had had an attack of good sense and left, until he realized that the customer deep in conversation with Azhrukhal at the bar was not the injured ghoul’s partner after all. The colorless wasteland clothing was the same, but the line of the shoulders was too relaxed, the body on the barstool too long and slouched and balanced to be the stocky frantic drunk Charon had last seen sitting there, the voice too low and calm to be a strung-out fool trying to spare themself a beating.

He didn’t want to hear whatever trap Azhrukhal was weaving for another stupid tourist, and he concentrates instead on the music of the radio, the morbid calculation of how long it would take until the ceiling fell in, the low burn of a two-day thirst in his throat. Sinking into his misery, he let the sounds of the Ninth Circle wash over him.

“-keeps hackin’ and whackin’ and smackin’-”

“-unfailing, unflinching, until the day - “

“-drinks are foul-”

“-he finally met his fate/ But when they came to pay-”

“-a liability, the dog-catchers are coming-”

“-yesterday...I found one of Patchwork’s fingers-”

“-civilization is a thing for me to see -”

“ - must be kidding-”

“-bottle imp, Azhrukhal, will you be carried-”

“-how they coax him I’ll stay right here - “

“-need just a little bit of jet, I’ve got the shakes-”

“-never see him after tonight-”

“-what I do all year round-”

The sound of caps pouring onto sticky wood seizes the attention of every patron in the bar, and the refocusing of their bodies, rather than the sound itself, pulls Charon back to the present. The smoothskin drops an empty bag like garbage, a long messy pile of caps lying on the bar between them and Azhrukhal. The bartender draws in a single rattling breath and hastily shoves a filthy envelope across the bar to the human, eyes already on the treasure before him.

“Fine. Take your dog and get out.”

The human nods once, slipping their glasses from their face and tucking them into the neckline of their shirt. They stand smoothly, slouch vanishing as they rise. They open the envelope as they walk over to Charon, fishing something out. Their eyes are an eerily pale brown, catching the torchlight like an animal’s as they open their mouth to speak. Abruptly he recognizes them, the height (tall for a wastelander, though not compared to him) and the gleaming eyes - it’s the merc with the mottled armor. Ambush predator, he thinks again.

”Talk to Azhrukhal” Charon snarls, cutting them off. Whatever idiot deal they had entered with the bartender, he wanted as little to do with as possible.

“You are no longer under contract to Azhrukhal.” The smoothskin slides his folded contract from the envelope and extends it for him to see, looking absurdly as though they were offering it to Charon. One corner of their mouth curled up briefly, a snarl or a smile, there and gone again in an instant. “I promised him that tonight was the last time he’d see you.”

“You purchased my contract from Azhrukhal? So, I am no longer in his service. That is good to know. Please, excuse me.”

Dazed, wondering if he’s dreaming, Charon brushes past the smoothskin, closes the distance between him and his former employer, as Azhrukhal sweeps cap after cap into a box he pulled from beneath the bar. The bartender’s head jerks up, glowering, his mouth opening to spit some final insult but Charon’s shotgun is already in his hands. He had meant to confirm his change of employment, hear the old ghoul seal his fate by acknowledging that Charon was no longer bound to him, but suddenly the thought of hearing the bartender’s rotten voice even one time more is unendurable. Before Azhrukhal can speak, the spray of buckshot silences him forever. Charon watches the headless body fall and fires again, blowing apart the chest (head and heart, big boy, a woman’s memory whispers, if you want them to stay down). He considers shooting the corpse again, reducing it to scraps of meat and bone and buckshot until he runs out of shells, but decides that this is sufficient and slips the shotgun back into its sheath.

Over the startled screams that marked the patrons’ reaction to Azhrukhal’s death, his new employer’s voice comes clear and steady. “Do you need anything out of here before we leave?”

Charon snorts, rolls his shoulders to feel the press of the shotgun in its holster across his back, shakes his head. “No.”

[figonas]

Twilight Re-watch Notes Pt. 1 - A Contest for the Worst Movie Quote in History

I'd like to think I'm funny so please enjoy my scene-by-scene notes from a recent Twilight Saga re-watch.

Hey Catherine Hardwicke, opening with the death of an animal was probably not the best choice but go off I guess??

There is a lot of general Bella awkwardness that I'm skipping over here but the scene in gym class is so horrifically, painfully uncomfortable that I almost passed out from the second-hand embarrassment.

Jessica trying her best to be fake nice to the human embodiment of a crumpled soda can: "Aren't people from Arizona like....really tan"

Bella with all the cadence of a child who just found out Santa isn't real: "yeah..I guess that's why they kicked me out"

Mike clearly just trying to get his dick wet: "HAHAH you are funny"

no mike she is not.

I'm not gonna go into the biology class scene because god knows tumblr has beaten that particular horse to death. BUT the scene in the administration office immediately after that is a TRIP. Edward has one of his most dramatic lines here when they won't let him switch classes: “I’ll just have to endure it” ?!?!?!?!?!?! This is INSANITY, he sounds like he's going to burst into tears like Edward please chill you aren't even being a little subtle.

I will never get over Bella trying to put Ketchup on her burger and then just???? giving up???? when it doesn't come out after she limply shakes it approximately once.

“HOW YOU LIKIN DA RAIN GIRL” Is our first contender for the worst and most unnatural line in movie history, and trust me there are plenty more.

Bella accusatorily saying “you were gone” to Edward as if this dude who she met for approximately 30 minutes 2 weeks ago owes her even a PALTRTY SCRAP of an explanation about anything???????

Actually, this whole scene is a horrific nightmare of awkward intrusive conversation:

“You’re asking me about the weather” HOE WHAT ELSE ARE YOU GONNA TALK ABOUT YOU DON’T KNOW EACH OTHER

“hey did you get contacts” WHO JUST ASKS THAT?!?

and of course; “it’s the fluorescents” [RUNS AWAY]

Charlie and Bella have the only organic-sounding dialogue in the entire movie. Any awkwardness they have is BELIEVABLE father-daughter awkwardness and not like "I'm being forced to film this against my will" awkwardness like every other exchange in this film series.

Bella asks Edward ALL OF ONCE about him saving her from the truck and Edward gets so haughty and smug thinking that Bella won't figure it out

“you’re not gonna let this go are you?” “no” “then I hope you enjoy disappointment” [storms off] MY DUDE LITERALLY 2 SCENES LATER SHE FIGURES IT OUT IN 3 GOOGLE CLICKS

“I had an adrenaline rush, it’s very common you can google it” contender number two for the terrible dialogue award.

Edward saying “if you were smart you would stay away from me” AFTER HE APPROACHED HER LIKE FUCK OFF [skeleton throwing its own skull gif]

Kstew got a lot of flack for her performance in this movie but when she has a good partner to exchange lines with she SHINES. The scene with Angela and her at the beach where she tells her to ask Eric to prom is GOOD. EVERY scene with Charlie in THIS ENTIRE FRANCHISE is GOOD. It is nothing but pure misogyny that Rpatz didn’t catch any flack for his truly, horrifically awkward performance

I cannot believe Stephanie thought it would be a good idea to have Edward save Bella from potentially getting gang r*ped like I get it girl is about the drama but still this is just a TOOOUCH too far

“your hand is so cold,” WHO SAYS THIS TO SOMEONE THEY BARELY KNOW COMPLETELY UNPROMPTED???

SHE TRIES TO REFUSE CARRYING BEAR MACE WHEN SHE WAS ALMOST R*PED NOT 4 HOURS PREVIOUSLY LIKE SIS CARRY A KNIFE?!?!?!?!?

The “you’re impossibly fast & strong” monologue is so bad I want to barf

“I’ve killed people before” “doesn’t matter” BITCH YES IT DOES WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

“MY OWN PERSONAL BRAND OF HEROIN” IS SO BAD. Like we all recognize how bad this is right? Especially when one considered the target demographic for these films, i.e. teenage girls, have NO FUCKING FRAME OF REFERENCE FOR THIS WHAT.SO.EVER.

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb” YOU’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR ALL OF 3 SECONDS I CAN’T WITH Y'ALL. AT LEAST THE BOOK HAD SOME BUILD-UP JESUS GEEZUS

Who thought this meadow scene was a good idea, they need to be sent straight to hell. WHY ARE THEY LAYING DOWN LIKE, SIT MAYBE?????? IT’S SO WEIRD AND UNNATURAL THEY LOOK LIKE DOLLS I HATE IT

The scene where they get out of the car and Edward puts his arm around Bella while Spotlight by Mutemath plays in the background is TOP TIER teen drama bs and I love it. Far and away the best shot in the movie apart from The Baseball Scene(TM).

I will never get over the fact that Edward's bitch ass rats Bella out for already eating when she comes over to meet his family. BE FUCKING COOL EDWARD FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, GOD!!!

Esme is too pure for this world I can’t deal with her, & Emmet waving the knife is my favorite thing in all 5 of these movies

Why tf are Alice and Jasper fucking off doing god knows what in a tree and not helping with dinner like everyone else? Y'all ain't special even Rosalie is helping

Esme talking to Rosalie “Clean this up..now” I LOVE YOU BE MY MOM

Earlier they talk about the fact that vampires don’t sleep BUT the first thing Bella says when she walks into Edward's room is “no bed” girl we know what you after you ain't slick.....

WHAT IS THIS DANCING SCENE IN HIS BEDROOM IT’S HORRIBLE TO WATCH and I want to find whoever thought “well I could always make you” was a good line for Edward to say and slap them directly in the mouth.

“hold on tight spider monkey” excuse me while I VOMIT

Mike offering his opinion on Bella dating Edward HOWEVER justified is automatically invalidated by A. his own romantic interest in Bella and B. the fact that he has also know Bella for all of 10 minutes & has no bearing on her personal life whatsoever

THE PAST COUPLE OF MONTHS THIS MAN HAS BEEN COMING INTO HER ROOM AND WATCHING HER SLEEP THIS IS RED FLAG CITY LIKE BELLA WATCH A TRUE CRIME DOCUMENTARY OR READ THE NEWS FOR FUCKS SAKE

THIS FRANCHISE HAS THE MOST HORRIBLE KISSING SCENES IN MOVIE HISTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU CAN HEAR LITERALLY EVERY BREATH, EVERY AWKWARD PRESS OF LIPS. You're telling me THIS was the best take of this???? CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW AWKWARD THIS WAS TO FILM

The whole scene when Bella is telling her dad about her date with Edward is absolutely god tier. Charlie snapping the barrel of the shotgun closed, him motioning that he has a halo on, asking her if she still has her pepper spray. BILLY BURKE LIFTED THIS MOVIE UP AND TRIED SO HARD TO CARRY IT ON HIS BROAD, MUSTACHIOED DAD SHOULDERS, WE STAN

WHERE TO START WITH THE BASEBALL SCENE:

Supermassive Black Hole in the background, Alice going AWF with her pitching, Rosalie getting all pissed when Bella says she's out and Emmett yells "c'mon babe it's just a game" like the puppy dog of a person (vampire?) he is, CARLISLE WEARING A SCARF WHILE PLAYING BASEBALL, I WILL NEVER EMOTIONALLY RECOVER FROM JASPERS BAT TRICKS, EMMET AND EDWARDS LAUGH AFTER CRASHING INTO ONE ANOTHER.

A TRULY IMMACULATE MOVIE SCENE. This scene isn’t long enough

“My monkey man” might be the worst line in this movie, I’m so torn between which one is the worst. Also, I'm just now realizing that this is the second time someone has compared a loved one to some type of monkey and I really don't like it.

Bella's defeated “I can’t hurt him” breaks my heart every time. AND FUCKING BILLY BURKE pulling out his acting chops with Charlie’s poor little broken sounding “I know I’m not that much fun to be around we can do more stuff together” & “I just gotcha back” LIKE LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SCENE HURTS ME ON A PHYSICAL LEVEL AND I AM ENTITLED TO FINANCIAL COMPENSATION

I know I've skipped over a lot but it's just a lot of like star wipe level montage of nonsense, so we are mOVING ON to what is possibly the biggest plot hole I've never recognized before now: How in the hell was James planning on luring Bella out if he didn’t find that videotape of Bella's mom looking for her????? Or was he just going to bust up in the holiday inn, metaphorical guns blazing & toss Bella out a window???

This fight scene between James & Edward is VERY poorly choreographed and you can practically see the stunt wires pulling on their clothes but no one is surprised..this is Twilight after all.

Who the fuck starts the fire in the ballet studio if Carlisle & Edward are with Bella, Jasper and Emmet are holding James's arms and Alice is ripping his head off???? Esme and Rosalie aren't there so the only explanation is that Emmett's power Stephanie never told us about is his ability to start small, controlled, indoor bonfires with his mind.

If Bella was losing blood from her femoral artery it is HIGHLY UNLIKELY that she would have been cognizant enough to tell them her hand was burning + THERE’S A BIG ASS BITE HOW DID THEY MISS IT???

Let Me Sign is such a good fucking song. Actually, while we're on music every song on every Twilight Saga soundtrack SLAPS. At least 1 department at Summit Entertainment was staffed with competent people. (side note, why the fuck do I know the studio by name that made this movie. I need to go lie down)

Bella acting a damn fool in the hospital bed like clingy much

CHARLIE IS SUCH A GOOD DAD FUCK!

The Edward/Jacob beef is so dramatic at prom can you both chill for 5 minutes we haven't even gotten to y'alls bullshit yet that's not until New Moon.

Bella really thought this mfer was gonna turn her at prom in the middle of the dancefloor??????????

Flightless Bird American Mouth. That's it, that's the bullet point

Victoria coming to prom, like we stan a dramatic bitch.

I will almost CERTAINLY post my New Moon (Extended Edition) notes in a few days. & yes I do have notes on the entire franchise.