#part two coming soon

[celaenaeiln]

One of Dick's greatest strengths is his ability to manipulate every single person in existence.

Genuinely I think this makes him the smartest person in the room. Not only is he a brilliant detective, but the fact that he's able to outmaneuver and control virtually everyone including other geniuses and masterminds makes him the most terrifying. There's a reason why his enemies have give up using intelligence against him and simply resorting to brute force.

Now hold your horses before you bring your crowbars and let me explain.

Dick once said, "On an even playing field, I always win."

And it's true. But how do you even the field if your enemies are geniuses, detectives, or metas?

"Well, if you don't like how the table is it, turn over the table."

And that's exactly what Dick does.

Let's begin from his younger years. Dick is 19, newly out of Batman's wing and in no position to take on a skilled mercenary on by himself. But the mercenary isn't going to stop just because he says please. So.

DEATHSTROKE WAS CLEARLY NOT EXPECTING TO GET OUTPLAYED BY A 19 YEAR OLD.

"You're right Slade, he's not a fool so choose a dumber kidnapping victim next time."

Ofcourse this is the least of his abilities.

This cover is perfect because it shows how two of them are literally in a constant game of chess. And evidence of Dick's tactical expertise was never more obvious than the bombing of Bludhaven.

By all means Dick had won.

And he's right. Dick is incredibly intelligent, and he has to be given how he maneuvered the entirety of the world to save him city. Not just the heroes and villains, but everyone - the heroes, the villains, the government, the civilians, the organized crime - everyone. He ruled the freaking world at that moment.

@haroldhighballjordan actually made a post about this that explains this scene so well

But yeah Slade knew he lost so in his petty vengeance what he basically did was set the whole fucking chessboard on fire.

The perfection to which Dick had calculated and moved millions of people to force Slade into abandoning their game and leave him shrieking and seething in rage over his loss. Another reminder that this game only happened because Dick manipulated Rose away from her father, away from his control to a better life.

Spyral is one of my favorite comics because it shows just how good of a manipulator Dick Grayson is.

One of Dick's coldest traits is his ability to manipulate a situation to fit his needs.

In the beginning Dick wanted to calm the meta down and take him in but the second his opponent let out the slightest hint of weakness, look how fast he flips his words. This man is brilliant.

And his planning came to fruition as the meta wore himself out, allowing Dick to take control of the situation and the opponent with no harm to himself-a quick, two second exit. He can manipulate emotions, thoughts, and people to get what he wants like he's playing chess with a child.

But it's not just other people- he can completely change himself to become a whole new person. In the earlier chapters, Dick is learning how to shoot a gun for the agency.

Dick's a terrible shot. Not a single bullet lands in the center of the target-there's no way he's ever going to shoot well....or atleast that's what he wants you to think-

"Yeah, well, that's what spies do."

"We lie."

He's a puppet master and the final boss.

part 2

[flea-palace]

various phantom x text posts

[ssaahotchxner]

50 shades of Hotchner Aaron Hotchner

The billionaire’s Anchor will be out Feb 14th-25 part two

♡ ︎ Summary , “You get the chance to interview the the billionaire who is the unit chief agent Aaron Hotchner who owns the BAU in end up falling for him but that doesn’t happen till part two/three this is your part of the story , part two will be his story . It’ll all fall in to place .

♡︎ Paring fem!reader ! Aaron Hotchner

♡︎ This is IB the trilogy of 50 shades of gray 

—♡︎—♡︎—Headlines —♡︎—♡︎—♡︎— Reader is a college student small age gape .. Studies english literature —Reader is beautiful intelligent not really upper class not lower class either She has little trauma with an Ex . Also she is an intern with Vogue magazine.

Mr Hotchner is a billionaire unit chief agent that owns the BAU headquarters in this scenario he’s has never been Married This is based off the fifty shades but it’s in a different AU . Was talking with @hoe4hotchner About this one . Your name for the best friend in this fic is Ib :) 🫶🏻💕

♡︎ Content hurt/Comfort/slow burn emotional/angst 

♡︎ Content warning trauma with an ex Drinking is mentioned but not consumed anxiety slow burn

♡︎ Word count 5.9k

♡︎ Author notes I’m hoping I’m not forgetting anything this is the first time I’ve ever written anything long like this let’s just say I had way to much fun with this one still learning to write Hotch an the team please be kind

This is inspired by 50 shades , in my own writing this took some time to write about four days maybe longer .

But I had so much fun

Your thoughts are welcome but please be kind …

The longest fic ever omg …

I did proof read this about four times I like how it sounds if I missed anything in the description please let me know but in a kind way please thank you

Omg guys I loved how this turned out I hope you do too eek .. get it Reid all I can say lol …

♡︎Background outline♡︎

You are a 25-year-old college student pursuing a degree in English Literature at a prestigious university in Quantico, Virginia. Known for your striking beauty, intelligence, and keen observational skills, you’ve earned the quiet admiration of your peers and professors alike.

you’ve grown up with a grounded perspective, valuing hard work and independence.

You are deeply driven, throwing yourself into your studies with unwavering focus. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays are dedicated to class, where you immerse yourself in analyzing the works of literary giants and crafting essays that showcase your sharp mind.

Wednesdays, however, are different. On this one day each week, you step into an entirely new world as an intern at Vogue magazine.

The hustle and glamour of the fashion industry couldn’t be further from your quiet life on campus, yet you’ve found a way to excel there too.

Whether assisting with features or observing the fast-paced brilliance of the editors, your time at Vogue challenges you in unexpected ways, pushing you outside your comfort zone.

Though shy by nature, you possess a subtle confidence that emerges when you're with your best friend, Rebecca—a free-spirited extrovert who often brings out your more adventurous side.

Coming from a comfortable middle-class background, you have never known the extremes of wealth or poverty. Instead, you’ve grown up with a grounded perspective, valuing hard work and independence.

You are deeply driven, throwing yourself into your studies with unwavering focus.

Your world revolves around literature, where you find solace and inspiration in the pages of classic novels and the complexity of human emotion. Yet, beneath your poised exterior, shadows linger. You’ve been grappling with the suffocating presence of your ex—a toxic figure who refuses to let go.

His threats come in the form of ominous text messages, late-night phone calls, and echoes of the emotional manipulation you endured during your time together. Each interaction leaves a mark, the sting of his words reverberating in your mind long after they’ve stopped. Rebecca is the only person who knows the full extent of what you’ve been through.

She is your anchor, the one who reminds you of your worth when the memories threaten to pull you under. Still, you can’t help but feel that your life has become a balancing act between striving for a brighter future and outrunning the shadows of your past.

This is the moment that changes everything: your decision to pursue an interview with Aaron Hotchner.

Now

Balancing everything had been a challenge lately. You were in school on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, and on Wednesdays, you interned at Vogue magazine. The internship was exciting, but it only added to your growing nerves—if this interview opportunity ever happened, you wanted to make a good impression.

You had spent the last few days diving into Aaron Hotchner's past interviews—every case, every experience he’d shared online. The man was an enigma, and you couldn’t help but admire his brilliance and the way he carried himself. But now, you were stuck. What if, by some miracle, you got the chance to interview him? You needed questions—good ones.

Sighing, you turned to your best friend, Rebecca, desperate for help.

She glanced at you, rolled her eyes, and grabbed a pen. With a smirk playing on her lips, she scribbled something across the first line of your notebook and slid it back toward you.

“Here’s a question,” she said, feigning nonchalance.

Curious, you leaned forward to read it, and your eyes widened in horror. “Are you gay?”

You nearly choked. “Rebecca!” you hissed, your cheeks flushing instantly. “Seriously? Gay? That’s your idea of help?”

“What?” she replied with exaggerated innocence, twirling the pen between her fingers.

“He’s not married or anything, so it’s a valid question. Besides,” she added with a pointed look, “you need to lighten up a little.”

You glared at her, but she pressed on, her voice softening. “Look, it’s been six months since you and…you know…broke up.

I know he still haunts you with those stupid messages and calls, but you can’t keep living in that shadow.

You need someone who can make you feel again.

It doesn’t have to be Mr. Hotchner, but it should be someone.”

Her words hit a nerve, and you felt your throat tighten. You wanted to argue, to tell her she didn’t understand, but deep down, you knew she wasn’t wrong.

Rebecca’s grin returned as she watched your reaction. “Oh my God, you’re blushing!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with teasing delight. “You totally have a crush on him, don’t you?”

“Do not!” you shot back, the heat in your cheeks betraying your denial.

“Sure,” she said, laughing. “Your face is practically glowing right now.”

Groaning, you buried your face in your hands, already regretting asking her for help. Rebecca’s laughter echoed around you as if to punctuate your misery.

Taking a deep breath, you peeked at her through your fingers. “For the record,” you mumbled, “I already did something. I sent him an email.”

Rebecca froze mid-laugh, her eyebrows shooting up. “You what?”

“I sent him an email,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

The weight of your own words hit you, making your chest tighten with a mix of nerves and excitement.

Rebecca’s jaw dropped, but instead of teasing, her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Well, look at you,” she said, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Guess you’re braver than I thought.” her voice light but impressed. “Miss Literary Genius stepping up her game.”

“I had to,” you said quietly, your eyes drifting to your notebook. “If I want to stand out—for Vogue, for school—it’s not like I had another option.”

Rebecca tilted her head, studying you. “You know,” she said softly, her teasing tone gone, “this could be a good thing.

You’re capable of more than you give yourself credit for.”

You gave her a weak smile, but inside, the nerves churned. It wasn’t just about the interview—it was about the possibility that Aaron Hotchner, the enigmatic, untouchable billionaire, might actually respond.

And if he did, everything could change.

—♡︎—The Email—♡︎

To: Aaron.Hotchner@fbi.gov

Subject: Request for an Interview for My College Research Paper & an opportunity for my internship at vogue magazine.

Dear Agent Hotchner,

I hope this email finds you well. My name is [Your Name], and I’m currently a college student majoring in English Literature at Liberal Arts University college in Quantico, Virginia. And I’m an inter for vogue magazine and for one of my courses, I’ve been given the opportunity to write a research paper on a topic of my choosing, and I decided to focus on the Behavioral Analysis Unit within the FBI.

Your work as an agent and leader of the BAU is fascinating to me. The way your team delves into the complexities of human behavior and criminal psychology aligns with many themes I’ve been studying in literature—how human motivation and character drive stories and actions.

If you are available, I would be deeply honored to interview you as part of my research. I believe your insights would add incredible depth to my paper and provide a unique perspective that no amount of online research could match. I understand how demanding your role is, and I would be happy to accommodate your schedule to make this as convenient as possible.

I’ve prepared a list of thoughtful questions with the help of my friend Rebecca , and I hope to use this opportunity to learn more about your work and the BAU’s impact on both the field of criminal justice and society as a whole.

Thank you so much for considering my request, Agent Hotchner. I greatly admire your dedication to your work and your contributions to making the world a safer place. I look forward to hearing from you and hope this email reaches you in good spirits.

You can reach me at any time via email at 578-865-2134 Yourname.literature@gmail.com or on my phone at Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you need any additional information.

Sincerely,

[Your Name]

[578-865-2134]-fake

Days passed, and you found yourself obsessively refreshing your email and checking your phone for missed calls. Nothing. By day four, you started convincing yourself it wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe your email had been too direct? Or maybe too casual? The thought made you cringe every time it crossed your mind.

5:45pm

That Wednesday, you had just gotten back from your internship at Vogue.

The exhaustion from juggling classes, work, and this looming interview weighed heavy on you—until your phone rang.

The number was unfamiliar.

You stared at the screen, the phone vibrating in your hand. Was it spam? A wrong number?—“Your Ex?

Summoning a shred of courage, you swiped to answer. “Hello, this is [Your Name].”

“Good evening, this is Aaron Hotchner.”

Your heart stopped.

Actually, stopped.

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. The deep, confident voice on the other end sent a jolt through your system.

Your brain barely processed the words before your legs carried you out of your room and down the hall.

“Rebecca!” you hissed, practically kicking her door open. She jumped, startled, as you clutched the phone like it was a lifeline.

“It’s him! What do I say? What do I do?”

Rebecca’s eyes went wide as a grin spread across her face. She motioned wildly for you to calm down. “Breathe! Breathe! And answer him before he thinks you hung up!”

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to inhale deeply. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner,” you finally managed, your voice shaking only slightly.

“I wasn’t expecting your call—it’s such an honor to hear from you.”

“That’s quite alright,” he replied smoothly, a hint of warmth in his tone. “I read your email, and I’d like to discuss your interview proposal further. Are you available to meet in person sometime this week?”— “Let’s say Friday?

Your heart raced as you clutched your phone. "Friday works great, sir," you replied, trying to sound composed despite the excitement bubbling inside you.

"Great," he said calmly. "I’ll send you the details. Is this number okay to use?"

"Yes, sir," you confirmed quickly, barely able to contain your enthusiasm.

"Good. I’ll send you a message once everything is finalized. Thank you for reaching out."

"Thank you so much, sir, for this opportunity," you managed to say before the call ended.

As the line disconnected, you let out a squeal of joy, practically leaping onto your best friend Rebecca’s bed. “Rebecca! It’s actually happening!

I’m going to interview him—Aaron Hotchner!” you exclaimed, clutching a pillow to your chest.

Before you could process the moment, your phone buzzed in your hand. It was him.

The message read:

Hi, this is Agent Hotchner. Just a quick reminder about our interview on Friday at the BAU office at 9:30 a.m. If you have any trouble finding the office, don’t hesitate to reach out, and I’ll help with directions. See you then.

—Special Agent, Unit Chief Hotchner owner of The BAU

You stared at the screen, your hands trembling slightly. "Rebecca," you whispered, holding up the phone, "He texted me."

The excitement bubbling in your chest made it impossible to stay still. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

Your heart raced as you exchanged details with him, somehow managing to sound semi-professional despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The second the call ended, you collapsed onto Rebecca’s bed, clutching the phone to your chest.

“I’m meeting him,” you whispered, eyes wide.

Rebecca shrieked, grabbing your arm and shaking it.

“I told you! This is huge! You’re meeting Aaron freakin’ Hotchner. Do you know how many people would kill for this opportunity?!”

You nodded numbly, your excitement quickly giving way to nerves. “Oh God… What have I gotten myself into?”

Rebecca’s eyes lit up with mischief, and she clasped her hands together as if she had just come up with the best idea in the world. “I know what we’re going to do.

“Oh no, don’t even think about saying no—we’re celebrating tonight!”

You barely had a chance to respond before she announced her plan with a decisive grin. “We’re going to a club. Get ready. You deserve this.”

Rebecca’s energy was infectious, and before you knew it, you were standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the sleek black skirt she had practically forced you to wear.

The gold-strapped top you chose shimmered against your skin, catching the light in a way that made you feel... confident.

Pairing it with black tights and small black heels, you had to admit the outfit was perfect—just the right mix of bold and elegant.

As you reached for your earrings, you caught Rebecca’s reflection in the mirror.

Rebecca stood behind you, her arms crossed and her head tilted, studying you with a proud smile.

“This is Instagram photo-worthy. Seriously, you’re glowing. Come on, we need a little photoshoot before the Uber gets here!”

Before you could protest, Rebecca had already grabbed her phone and positioned you against the wall.

The next few minutes were filled with laughter as she directed you like a photographer at a magazine shoot. “Okay, now give me a smirk. Perfect! Tilt your head a little… yes! That’s it! Oh my God, these are so good!”

Rebecca even pulled you into a few selfies, making exaggerated pouty faces while holding the camera high. She burst into laughter, flipping through the pictures. “Look at us! We’re gonna break the internet.”

As the Uber pulled up outside, Rebecca grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You look amazing. You’re going to have the best night. Trust me, you deserve this.”

Her words melted some of your lingering nerves, and you found yourself smiling for the first time all evening. Rebecca had always had a way of pushing you out of your comfort zone, reminding you that life was meant to be lived.

“Okay,” you said, letting out a steadying breath as you grabbed your purse. “Let’s do this.”

With Rebecca by your side, you stepped into the night, ready to celebrate in a way you never had before.

As the Uber driver dropped you and Rebecca off a few blocks from your apartment, the thumping bass of the club music filled the air.

The neon lights outside flashed rhythmically, casting vibrant colors onto the sidewalk.

Rebecca practically bounced with excitement as you stepped out of the car.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked, her grin contagious.

You nodded, though your stomach was fluttering with nervous energy. Approaching the bouncer at the door, you handed over your ID. He glanced at it, then stamped both your hands with a glowing ink before motioning you inside.

The moment you stepped into the club, you were hit by a wall of sound—music thumping, people laughing, and the hum of conversation blending into a buzzing, electric atmosphere.

Multicolored lights swirled overhead, casting an ever-changing glow on the packed dance floor.

Rebecca turned to you with a gleam in her eye. “Let’s get a drink first!”

You smiled, letting her lead the way to the bar. As you weaved through the crowd, your gaze wandered around the room.

A group of people near the corner of the bar caught your attention. They were laughing and talking animatedly, the camaraderie between them evident.

You didn’t think much of it until you reached the bar with Rebecca and placed your drink order.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar face in that same group.

“No freaking way,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rebecca turned to you, handing you your drink. “What? What is it?”

You nodded toward the corner, your heart skipping a beat. “Look. Over there.”

Rebecca’s eyes followed your gaze. When they landed on the man you were staring at, her jaw dropped. “No. Freaking. Way.

That’s Mr. Hotchner himself. See? I told you tonight was meant to be fun!”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “Oh my God, this cannot be happening.”

“Come on,” Rebecca said with a grin, tugging on your arm. “We’ll deal with that later. Let’s hit the dance floor!

As you were making your way to the dance floor, a tall man accidentally bumped into you.

“Whoa, sorry about that, ladies,” he said, flashing a charming smile.

You smiled politely. “Oh, it’s okay, sir.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sir? Come on, now. I’m Derek Morgan, but you can just call me Derek.”

You introduced yourself, but before you could finish, you heard someone call your name from across the room. You froze, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Oh, great,” you muttered under your breath.

Derek’s brow furrowed as he glanced toward the source of your discomfort. “Everything okay?”

You let out a sigh. “Not really. That’s my ex.

I haven’t seen him in six months, but he won’t stop harassing me with calls and messages. I’ll be fine, though.” You offered a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

“Just Derek,” he reminded you with a smile and nod before heading back to his group.

When Derek rejoined his friends, he leaned in and spoke low enough for only them to hear. “Hey, guys, keep an eye on that guy over there.”

JJ glanced toward your ex, then back at Derek.

“Those girls he’s bothering?

“Emily chimed in , They’re beautiful.”

Derek nodded. “Right, but that guy’s trouble. Stay sharp.”

Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid , who had been quietly observing, straightened up. “Got it,” they said, There tone calm but firm.

As you tried to make your way to the dance floor, your ex suddenly appeared in front of you, stepping into your path with a forceful presence.

Without warning, he grabbed your arm.

“Come on, dance with me,” Nate said, his voice laced with a sense of entitlement.

You pulled away sharply, your heart racing. “No, Nate. No.”

Rebecca, sensing the tension, stepped forward. “Leave her alone, Nate.”

He sneered at Rebecca, getting right in her face. “What are you going to do about it?” he challenged.

You stepped in between them, trying to keep the peace. “Stop, Nate.”

“You think you can do better than me?” he spat, yanking your arm toward him with force.

You winced as you tried to pull away again, your voice trembling. “Nate, please…”

Rebecca didn’t hesitate. She stepped right in front of you, blocking Nate from getting any closer. “I said, leave her alone.”

At that moment, you noticed two figures coming up behind Nate—two men in suits.

You didn’t recognize them at first, but the intensity of their approach made you feel a flicker of relief.

Hotch and Reid exchanged a glance, both knowing what needed to be done.

“Let’s move,” Hotch said, his voice calm but firm.

Reid nodded. “Right.”

They reached Nate, moving with purpose, and Reid spoke up first, though his voice wavered slightly. “Sir, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Nate just laughed, clearly dismissive. “Okay, Dr. Please, leave us alone.”

But Hotch didn’t wait. He stepped forward, his gaze locked on Nate, commanding the situation.

“Take your hand off her.” His tone was unwavering, and it made your heart race in a different way—one of safety.

Nate scoffed, sizing Hotch up. “And who are you? Some guy in a suit?”

Hotch didn’t flinch.

“No, I’m with the FBI.” He flashed his badge, and Reid did the same, pulling his badge from his jacket pocket with practiced precision.

Nate’s demeanor faltered. He let go of your arm, his eyes wide with realization. “Whoa, okay. I didn’t want to start any trouble.”

Spencer added, his voice firm but measured. “Leave these ladies alone.”

Nate stepped back, defeated but unwilling to admit his wrongdoing.

As he walked away, Hotch’s eyes never left you, his gaze steady and protective.

Reid glanced over at you with concern. “Are you guys okay?”

You nodded, feeling both shaken and somehow grounded by their intervention.

Spencer, after sharing a brief look with Rebecca, turned to her with a smile. “Would you like to dance?”

Rebecca grinned and nodded eagerly. “I’d love to.”

With that, they made their way to the center of the dance floor, where the soft rhythm of the slow song started to fill the space.

As they began to move together, you found yourself standing next to Hotch, the noise of the crowd fading around you. The moment felt suspended in time.

The song continued to play, and with it, a quiet anticipation seemed to linger between you and Hotch.

The distance between you both felt palpable. As you stood there, your nerves betrayed you.

After a long, almost unspoken pause, Hotch finally broke the silence. “Would you like to dance?” His voice was calm, steady, like everything around you was perfectly still.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath. Your response came out as a soft, almost hesitant nod. “Yes.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch stepped closer and pulled you gently into his arms. The warmth of his touch was immediate, a powerful presence that settled in the pit of your stomach. There was something so unexpectedly comforting about his strength and the quiet connection between you both.

Neither of you said a word as you moved together, the music guiding you. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear as you laid your head against his chest. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The way he held you, his hand at the small of your back, was both reassuring and electrifying.

In the distance, you could see Rebecca and Spencer, the two of them enjoying their own rhythm on the dance floor. Their laughter mixed with the music, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Rebecca kept glancing over at you and Hotch, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

You stole a quick glance at her, your gaze sharp, silently telling her to stop teasing you. But she didn’t even flinch, her smile only widening as she caught your eye.

Your focus returned to Hotch as you both continued to move together, the slow dance grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

As the music filled the space, Hotch finally broke the quiet. His voice was soft but steady, as if he were reading the air around you. “I bet you weren’t expecting this tonight.”

You glanced up at him, your breath catching slightly. The warmth of his gaze sent a ripple of heat through you. “No,” you admitted with a quiet laugh, “not really. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

Hotch let out a low chuckle, the sound somehow calming yet undeniably magnetic. “I meant me saving you from disaster, of course.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you couldn’t help but smile a little, even as the conversation turned more serious. Before you could speak, your mind drifted back to Friday—your interview with him. The nerves you had then felt so distant now.

You hesitated, unsure of how to word the question that had been on your mind. "When did you realize it was me?"

Hotch’s gaze never wavered from you as he answered. “When Derek pointed you both out to me.”

The admission caught you off guard, but you masked your surprise quickly. “You did a background check on me?” you asked, your voice laced with both curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

He nodded, but there was no malice in his expression. “I mean, I had my tech, Garcia, do it. Your photo was attached to your file.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at the unexpectedness of it all. “Oh,” you said, a little breathless. “I see. It’s... very impressive.”

Hotch smirked slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Well, I like to know who I’m dealing with.” His tone softened, and his hand instinctively adjusted the way he held you, his touch warm and grounding.

You tried not to let the thought linger for too long, but the subtle tension in the air between you two was undeniable. Every shift of his hand, every look shared between you both, seemed to make the room shrink.

As the slow dance continued, you found yourself drawn further into his presence. You weren’t sure whether it was the proximity or the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear, but everything felt different now. The connection between you wasn’t just physical—it was something more, something deeper.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Rebecca still dancing with Spencer, her gaze flicking between you and Hotch, her knowing smile more evident than ever. You couldn’t suppress the small glare you sent her way. But even that felt secondary to the unspoken pull between you and Hotch.

The night was unfolding in ways you never expected, but somehow, it felt like everything was falling into place, one slow dance at a time.

As the night came to a close, you and Rebecca had the chance to meet the rest of the team. Garcia was just as vibrant and lively as you’d imagined, her bright smile infectious. JJ’s warm energy was comforting, and Emily had an air of quiet confidence. Rossi, ever the seasoned professional, gave you a kind nod. Derek was smiling, still a bit playful, as you turned to him, grateful for everything he’d done tonight.

You offered Derek a hug, your voice soft but sincere. “Thank you for looking out for me... and for Rebecca.”

He smiled warmly, pulling you into a brief but genuine embrace. “Anytime. Stay safe, alright?”

Rebecca, meanwhile, was chatting away with Reid, exchanging numbers with him as they laughed. You couldn’t help but glance at Hotch.

Every time you looked, his gaze was already on you, steady and unwavering, like he was silently taking you in from across the room.

Rebecca, clearly sensing your distraction, turned to you with a mischievous grin. “You okay over there?”

You offered her a quick smile, trying to shake off the feeling that had settled in your chest. “Yeah, just... taking it all in.”

Hotch’s voice cut through the moment. “Would you both like a ride home?” His tone was calm, yet there was something in it—something that made you feel both comforted and a little on edge.

Rebecca immediately agreed, her smile widening. “Yes, please. I’m not about to try finding a cab tonight.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. But you knew you couldn’t say no.

Reid, ever the gentleman, insisted on riding with you all, clearly wanting more time with Rebecca. You could see the small smile on his face.

As you all stepped outside into the chilly night air, the cold hit your skin, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Hotch moved toward you, opening the door of the black SUV. You felt a flicker of warmth at the gesture, even though the night was crisp.

Reid did the same for Rebecca, and for the first time all night, she was quiet.

You glanced over at her, wondering if she was feeling the same undercurrent of tension that you were.

Without a word, she reached for your hand, her touch grounding.

You didn’t have to say anything—it felt like there was an understanding between you two, unspoken but clear.

Once everyone was settled inside, you spoke up, your voice breaking the silence.

“We’re just a few blocks from here. Just take a couple left turns, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Hotch gave a short nod, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment. “Got it,” he replied, his voice steady.

The engine hummed to life as the SUV pulled away from the curb, the soft sound of the tires on the road blending with the quiet stillness of the night. But the tension, the pull between you and Hotch, was still there—lingering

As you arrived at your and Rebecca’s apartment, Reid turned to you with a kind smile. “It was nice to meet you,” he said sincerely.

“You as well,” you replied softly, your voice tinged with shyness.

Reid stepped out of the SUV and circled around to open the door on Rebecca’s side. As she got out, she turned to you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Be good to her, Hotchner,” she said firmly, her voice filled with protective warmth.

Hotch met her gaze in the rearview mirror and gave a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of her words. Then, his attention shifted to you, his dark eyes calm yet piercing.

You tried to focus, but your thoughts were spinning. One question had been circling in your mind ever since Rebecca had scribbled it in your notebook. It felt too big to ignore.

You looked up at Hotch, hesitating for a moment. “Can I ask you an off-the-record question?” you finally managed, your voice tentative as you wrestled with your nerves.

“Of course,” he replied gently, his tone inviting trust.

Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out: “Are you… gay?”

Hotch’s brows knitted together in confusion as he processed your question.

Your eyes widened in panic. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what came over me,” you blurted, flustered and immediately regretting your boldness.

Before he could respond, the sound of his phone vibrating cut through the moment. He pulled it out, his expression sharpening as he read the message.

“It’s Reid,” Hotch said, his tone calm but clipped. “He says your ex is waiting for you on the steps.”

Your stomach dropped, a cold wave of fear washing over you. “What?”

Hotch hesitated, reading the message again. What he didn’t say aloud was the rest: He’s got Rebecca. He’s holding her arm.

“Hey,” Hotch said firmly, drawing your attention back to him. “It’ll be okay. We’ve got this, all right?”

You nodded shakily, though your hands trembled. Together, you stepped out of the SUV and made your way toward the apartment.

Your heart dropped when you saw Nate—his hand gripping Rebecca’s arm as Reid tried to intervene.

“Get your hands off her!” you shouted, rushing forward despite the fear gripping you.

Nate turned, his face twisted with anger. “Oh, so you’re with the suit guy now?” he spat, his voice venomous.

“Nate, let her go,” you demanded, your voice stronger this time. “Let her go now.”

Hotch stepped in beside you, his presence commanding. “You need to leave. Now,” he said, his voice low and firm, brooking no argument. “Unless you’d prefer I call my team and have you in handcuffs for harassment. Got it?”

Nate hesitated, glaring at you and then at Hotch. But something in Hotch’s tone—or maybe the promise of a full FBI team arriving—made him think better of it. With a muttered curse, he let go of Rebecca and stormed off.

Hotch stepped closer to you, his arm brushing against yours protectively as he watched Nate leave. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his steady presence grounding you.

You turned back to Rebecca, rushing to her side as tears welled in your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rebecca said, her voice breaking as she pulled you into a hug. The two of you clung to each other, the weight of the moment spilling out in shared tears.

“I thought I had him,” Reid said apologetically, looking at Hotch with guilt in his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Hotch reassured him, his tone firm but understanding. “You did everything you could.”

The four of you stood there for a moment, the tension easing as you realized it was finally over—for now. But as Hotch’s hand rested lightly on your back, you couldn’t help but feel safe, like everything might really be okay.

Hotch turned to you as the tension began to fade, his presence still steady and reassuring. “Good night,” he said gently, his dark eyes meeting yours. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth in his words that helped ease some of the lingering panic.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Reid stepped forward, offering Rebecca a comforting hug before giving you both a small smile. “Good night,” he added warmly.

“Good night,” you and Rebecca said in unison, your voices subdued but sincere.

You and Rebecca headed toward the apartment as Hotch and Reid got back into the SUV. The low hum of the engine reached your ears as the vehicle pulled away, disappearing into the night.

Once inside, you both stopped for a moment to catch your breath, the events of the night weighing heavily on you.

“Man, what a night,” Rebecca muttered, breaking the silence.

“Not exactly the kind I was hoping for,” you replied with a soft laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Rebecca said, her voice trembling.

You turned to her, shaking your head firmly. “This isn’t your fault, Rebecca. Do you hear me? None of this is your fault. You didn’t know Nate would show up at the club, and you definitely didn’t know he’d be waiting for us here.”

Rebecca let out a shaky breath, her eyes glistening. “I guess none of us expected to meet the FBI tonight either.”

At that, you couldn’t help but giggle, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah, not exactly a normal Wednesday night.”

Rebecca gasped, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “Oh my God, you’re laughing! Who are you, and what have you done with my stressed-out best friend?”

You grinned. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” You paused, the weight of the evening still heavy but beginning to lift. “I need a hot shower,” you added, stretching your arms.

Rebecca perked up. “Pizza?”

“Absolutely,” you said with a nod.

“I’ll order it,” she offered, already pulling out her phone

“Great. Extra cheese, please,” you called over your shoulder as you made your way to the bathroom.

The sound of water cascading from the showerhead was a soothing balm, washing away the tension of the evening. You leaned your forehead against the cool tile, letting the steam wrap around you like a comforting embrace. For the first time in hours, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply.

When you stepped out of the shower, the faint aroma of freshly delivered pizza filled the apartment. You grabbed your phone from the counter, smiling at the text message that had come in while you were in the shower.

Hotch: Stay safe. We’re here if you need us. And to answer your off-the-record question… No, I’m not gay. It was nice meeting you tonight. See you Friday for your interview. Also… Reid is absolutely crazy for your friend.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read the message. A warmth bloomed in your chest, the earlier embarrassment of your question melting into something lighter—something you couldn’t quite name yet.

“Pizza’s here!” Rebecca called from the kitchen.

“Perfect timing,” you replied, setting your phone down as you padded into the living room, the smell of pizza making your stomach rumble.

Rebecca handed you a plate, raising her eyebrows when she saw the faint blush on your cheeks. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a big bite of pizza to avoid further questioning.

But as Rebecca turned back to the TV, you glanced at your phone again, the message still glowing on the screen. You couldn’t stop the small smile from returning.

Maybe tonight wasn’t all bad after all.

The next couple of days flew by in a blur of school assignments, internship tasks, and the lingering emotions from that unforgettable night.

Before you knew it, it was Friday—the day of your interview with Hotch.

You were both nervous and excited, knowing the interview wasn’t just for your school paper but also for Vogue, the magazine where you were interning.

Rebecca had insisted on driving you to the BAU office, claiming it was the least she could do after everything that had happened.

“Why are you so calm?” you asked, staring at her in disbelief as she hummed along to the radio.

“I’m not the one interviewing an FBI Unit Chief,” she replied with a grin. “That’s all you.”

You sighed, glancing down at your nearly blank notebook. Despite your best efforts over the past couple of days, your mind had been an absolute mess.

You’d written a few questions, but none of them felt right.

“I can’t think,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “Help me.”

Rebecca gave you a sympathetic look as she pulled up to a stoplight. “Okay, how about this: start with the basics. Ask him what made him want to join the FBI.

Then maybe something about the most rewarding part of his job.”

You nodded, jotting her suggestions down. “That’s good. What else?”

“Hmm… maybe ask him about the hardest case he’s ever worked on or what it’s like to manage a team under so much pressure.”

You scribbled furiously, feeling a small spark of inspiration.

“Also,” Rebecca added with a mischievous grin, “you should totally ask him how he manages to look so intimidating all the time.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t be awkward at all.”

Rebecca shrugged, her grin widening. “Hey, it’s a valid question.”

By the time you arrived at the BAU, you had a decent list of questions, though your nerves were still in overdrive. Rebecca parked and turned to you, her expression softening.

“You’re going to be great,” she said firmly.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, Beck.”

When you walked into the BAU office, you couldn’t help but be awed by the energy of the space. Agents moved with purpose, phones rang in the background, and the atmosphere hummed with quiet intensity.

A receptionist greeted you and directed you to a conference room where Hotch was waiting.

As you entered, you spotted him standing by the table, reviewing some papers. He looked up as you approached, his calm and collected demeanor instantly grounding you.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a small, welcoming smile. “You must be here for the interview.”

“Yes,” you replied, extending your hand. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Agent Hotchner.”

“Call me Hotch,” he said, shaking your hand firmly.

You settled into a chair, opening your notebook as you tried to steady your nerves.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his tone professional yet kind.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before diving into your first question.

“What made you want to join the FBI?” you began, your voice steadier than you’d expected.

Hotch leaned back slightly, considering your question. “Originally, I worked as a prosecutor.

But I realized I wanted to be more involved in preventing crime rather than addressing it after the fact. The FBI offered me the chance to make a difference in a more hands-on way.”

You scribbled down his response, already feeling more at ease. “What’s the most rewarding part of your job?”

He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Knowing that we’re able to bring closure to victims and their families. It’s not always easy, but when we solve a case, it reminds us why we do what we do.”

“What’s the hardest case you’ve ever worked on?” you asked next, your voice quieter as you sensed the weight of the question.

Hotch’s jaw tightened slightly, and you could see a flicker of something—pain, maybe—flash in his eyes. “Every case involving children is difficult,” he admitted. “Those are the ones that stick with you the most.”

You nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy. “How do you manage the pressure of leading a team in such high-stakes situations?”

Hotch folded his hands on the table, his tone steady. “I trust my team. They’re some of the most capable people I’ve ever worked with. We rely on each other, and that makes all the difference.”

As the interview continued, you couldn’t help but notice how thoughtful and measured Hotch was with each response. Despite his stoic exterior, there was a quiet strength and kindness to him that made you feel completely at ease.

By the time you wrapped up, you had pages of notes and a new level of admiration for him.

“Thank you again for taking the time to do this,” you said as you gathered your things.

“It was my pleasure,” Hotch replied, standing as you prepared to leave. “And remember, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

As you walked out of the BAU, you couldn’t help but smile. When you glanced at your phone, a new message popped up from Hotch:

Hotch: Stay safe. We’re here if needed. Also, it was nice meeting you again. And Reid wasn’t kidding—he’s definitely interested in your friend.

You laughed softly, tucking your phone back into your bag. As the BAU disappeared behind you, you felt a sense of pride—and maybe something more—that you couldn’t quite put into words yet.

Thank you for taking time to read this I appreciate it

Much love Kris 🫶🏻💌 part two coming soon ..

Tag list

@hoe4hotchner besties name is in it so had to tag her 🫶🏻💕 thank you for , just for being you . You are an inspiration to me so wanted to add you in this fic .. thank you for being so kind to me .

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@angellsell

@catssluvr

@hotchs-big-hands

@hoe4hotchnerlibrary 🫶🏻💕

@kiwriteswords 💕🫶🏻💗

[dangopango00]

DEMONIC FEATURES HCS

Random Om demon hcs + OM Demons x gn reader

Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi) | Pt. 2 (4567) | Pt. 3 (Royal Trio) Coming soon

CW: suggestive but not much, just “slut” used in regard to clothing and vague suggestion of leviathan with two. 👍

A/N: ive had om since like fuck idk since that first genie event or sth WHATEVER the point is its been a MINUTE and i only JUST watched the anime 😭😭😭 theyre so sweet and silly i cant take witttttt i need to write for them i love them all so muxygehwhwhshshwbwb I swearrr om is one of the only otome where i can gaf about more than 2 or 3 characters

Also u should read them. All; I throw in general hcs too

Lucifer: The Peacock

- I think his wings should have eyes in them like its such a missed opportunity for a reference to his animal counterpart (peacock), a reference to biblical angels and a reference to the fact that he always somehow knows what everyone’s up to and what their ulterior motives are. Ik he has a few on his outfit but it just doesn’t give that otherworldly creature dread feeling you should get when looking at a demon (Not to go on a tangent but when I see a hot demon character I want to be afraid of them but then go “wait why is this hot”)

- Also while he technically has 4 wings, I think that when he flares out his wings they should expand in such a way that makes it appear like he has more

- I imagine his wings stretch out and look bigger whenever he feels proud of and satisfied with himself— esp when he’s around you; its cute tbh but he also does it when hes super pissed; are you gonna take that chance? 🤔

- Imagine if the little diamond on his forehead was a closed eye and every now and again it opens especially when he feels as if his pride is threatened or when he’s generally angry. Personally I think that would be sick af

- I KNOW THE MARKINGS ARE JUST LIKE BIRTHMARKS BUT IMAGINE THEY FEEL DIFFERENT FROM THE NORMAL SKIN like Lucifer’s markings could be feathers covering his jaw and below (see: Howl Pendragon bird form, kinda) and they feel like real feathers too

- I think we all agree that whenever he feels protective of you he’d wrap his wings around you and shield you from anyone’s view but his own

- Keeps a feather on you (probably gives it to you as a gift) so he can keep an eye on you at all times (This is not a pun; imo he can see through the eyes on his wings when he closes his main eyes and opens his third)

- Pact mark spans from the nape of your neck to about 1/3 your spine (pretty big but not humongous) and is in the shape of a peacock feather but when his powers/benefits are used the barbs of the feather move in a way similar to fire and the eye in the center opens (it kinda tickles and/or sends a chill down your spine)

- Pact mark allows him to locate you in pretty much any place without an uber powerful magic barrier or like interference (Which I think would make sense considering he always knows what’s up + he DID say making a pact with him entails you are his and he is yours [since you can summon him wnv I think and command him to do stuff])

- Something he already does but I just noticed lines up with peacocks is tilting his head when he’s sick of everyone’s shit

- OH MY GODDDDD HIS WINGS DRAPE DOWN LIKE PEACOCK TAIL FEATHERS. HE HAS LONG WINGS. LOOK AT THIS AND TELL ME THAT SHIT WOULDN’T BE MAJESTIC AS HELL ON HIM

Mammon: The Corvid

- I think his wings are nicely placed but I would make them curl/angle upwards more to more resemble bird wings (Ik Lucifer is the bird wing guy but hes a bird too 😞😞) kinda like this

- I think that while the bones are exposed on his wings, on the back of the wings there should be patches of feathers showing he lost them in his fall from grace aaaa 😫😫😫

- I know the demons have either wings or tails but like. Entertain this thought: Mammon with cute lil tail feathers 😭😭 mammon with a bird tail would just fit so well im sorry

- He subconsciously lowers/bows his head while talking to people he respects and admires (like you and Lucifer) like laying his head down on his arm or desk or sth

- Collects stuff that looks interesting— stuff he thinks he can probably use or fix up and sell. Pretty much proven but I feel I should emphasize how bad it gets, like he needs to clean his room at least weekly or his room will be full of junk 😭 (he js like me fr)

- Great at impressions; I THINK this was included in the story at one point (?) but idk so I will mention it here. Give him a voice and he can mimic it pretty well (Brothers would def use this to their advantage for silly little schemes if mammon weren’t charging an arm and a leg for his services gn)

- Will engage in anything he finds interesting and stimulating; the reason he sucks ass in school isn’t really because hes dumb but he has a hard time focusing on shit that isnt stimulating (that’s kinda how it is for most people but like especially for him, he indulges heavily into freedom/temptation; usually won’t do anything he doesn’t want to)

- Blinged OUT. More rings, a gold necklace thing (those thick round ones), more ear piercings and i like the drawing someone did with his fangs being gold however ntm as the absence of such things also shows his balance between his heavenly virtue and deadly sin (Charity vs Greed) and how despite his sin he really can be a modest guy

- Markings should cover his face and be little portals that let him summon grabby hands and sometimes he gets you stuff and sends it through the portal on your body (your pact mark)

- Speaking of pact marks, I think his is on your heart or right above and is like a dripping fingerprint that turns into a full blown hand print (maybe even the monkey’s paw?) when his powers/benefits are being used; Its hard to describe the feeling but when his hand goes through it feels like you’re gagged right then and there and its a little bit hard to breathe when you first made the pact because its a little uncomfortable but as you got used to the sensation and nurtured your magic ability, your breathing went back to normal

- I promised myself I wasn’t gonna get into outfits too much because they’re. Um anyway all I’ll say is he should have some slutty bellbottoms in his demon form idgaf

A/N: im so sorry mammon fans for the neglect i didnt know what to really put since crows are just like. Silly feathery black blobs

Leviathan: The Serpent

- He should have poisonous spines on his tail that lie dormant but flare up whenever he feels strong emotion (embarrassment, anger, jealousy etc) and in relation to that he should have a few scales visible on his neck but more should appear leading up his face to his eye when he feels these strong emotions like his skin hardens and turns to scales (almost like how our veins bulge when we humans get very angry) it would be cool af ngl and kinda fits how his voice changes when hes annoyed (I SWEAR it gets all deep and like gravelly ig)

- ALSO i mentioned in another post but his eyes should become super snake-like (pupils slimming down) when he gets angry/envious but adding onto that, his pupils should dilate like a cat when he feels a positive emotion like excitement (though I think his pupils would dilate when looking at you lovingly, if you flustered him his pupils would constrict, not because its negative, but because he doesn’t know how to handle it)

- Grows much taller in his demon form imo since sea serpents are big as hell (he doesn’t become a giant or anything but he does grow like a foot or so which. He might as well be a giant bc hes alr pretty tall) Honestly I think all demons grow in their demon forms but he just grows an exceptional amount compared to any other demon

- Two…. Nvm iykyk fr a certified hood classic and i dont see enough of it in fics 😒

- Often accidentally sticks out his tongue while angry and bites his tongue and it just ruins the mood as well as any fear anyone had of him bye. Hes so goofy i just love him

- Long ahh tongue; snake reminiscent

- The back of his slut zip jacket should be vaguely shaped like fins + would it be wrong to say he should have slutty bellbottoms too? Can’t I dream? 💭 not as wide as Mammon’s though he’s not doing it like him fr

- Wraps his tail around you as if trying to shield you from public view with his spines whenever he gets jealous or protective

- I think it would be cool if the design on his jacket was a fishbone or if his tail was a bit translucent and showed bones inside (Ik tails don’t have bones generally but bear with me here) as a reference to how the Leviathan became a meal after being defeated

- Subconsciously moves slowly and methodically like the way he leans his head in slowly as you talk is very snake of him

- Big yawn (can open his mouth really wide)

- Pact mark is on the side of your neck, a bit closer to the front though and is shaped like a scale initially but grows into a very large patch of black scales with a purple underside, covering everything in the area almost like a bad rash when you use his powers/benefits

- Activation feels as if you’re being suffocated slowly, like water is slowly entering your lungs as the “rash” spreads at first but, again, as you get used to it this sensation wears off but a feeling that won’t ever wear off when activating the pact mark is the feeling that Levi is there looming by your side through the mark but just out of view whenever you try to see him; it’s a little maddening

- Can find you with sth similar to echolocation and it’s especially effective in water; can also spread the scales further with enough willpower and/or jealousy, basically creating a shield for your body

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Born to Survive (1/2)

Astarion x f!Tav (tiefling), Canon Compliant,

Astarion's Romance, Act 1

1.8k of about 6k

part 2

Astarion's perfect little plan to seduce and manipulate Tav goes awry the first night he spends with her. But he should have known from the moment she agreed to meet him in the woods. // Part 1 of 2 cause this was longer than I planned for (heh). Astarion's dialogue is as close to the game as I could manage, with some embellishment. CW: Astarion's v healthy approach to sex/intimacy. MDNI This part is not explicit but part 2 is only that. Song Rec: Natural (Cover) by Kristen Collins & Kurt Hugo Schneider//

Astarion from the growing darkness watched as Tav knelt by the campfire, fighting with the instincts honed over centuries. 

Tonight, she was going to feel their razor’s edge—except she was going to live to see the morning. 

Maybe that was why the vampire was feeling a little bit of…hesitation, for once. He’d done this song of seduction and dance of deception more times than he could remember. It would be easy as any night on his back. She would be no different. 

So he thought. 

Tav was paying all of her attention to the fragrant herbs she’d gathered into neat bundles, binding them together, singing their edges to combine them, and deftly blowing them out again. 

It made Astarion scoff to think the tiefling had time to be concerned over such trivial matters. Tadpoles in their heads. Death stalking them at every corner. And here was the ranger, worried about potion ingredients camp supplies. 

And here he was, charming a mere ranger. 

Astarion watched as she brushed her long hair over her shoulder and out of her way to continue focusing on her task. His eyes traced the marks still visible on her neck. The twin punctures were worn so openly, brazenly advertising that she’d so willingly let a vampire feed from her. 

That was his way in. Because he remembered how…intimate that encounter was. A foreign concept from a life of feeding on rotten rats—but he was more than familiar with the way her body trembled under his teeth.

Astarion rolled his shoulders back to relax, composed his face into a charming smile, and sauntered over to the fireplace. 

“Darling, there you are.” 

“Astarion!” Tav jumped, nearly dropping the herbs into the flames. “Gods, you’re quieter than any prey I’ve tracked.”

He gave a flippant wave to ward off her comment. If only she knew how groomed he was to stalk the most clever and dangerous of prey. 

“I was just thinking about you. Remembering our time together, the things we shared…”

Tav straightened up from her crouch at the fire. She arched an eyebrow, and rested her hand on her cocked hip. “Astarion, if you need blood—” 

“I don’t just mean that lovely neck of yours,” he interrupted smoothly. He made a point of his eyes traveling over her figure, wondering what was hidden under supple leather armor—worn, well-used armor.”I’m growing to like the whole package.” 

“Really?” Tav asked, her tone dripping with a skepticism he didn’t appreciate. “I didn’t think a little dirt would do it for ya.” 

Her bright eyes raked over his impeccably kept appearance, which he had still managed after an abduction and days out in the wilds, thank you very much. 

But then Astarion noticed the slight swish of her tail. Though tieflings weren’t as common among his targets, he’d charmed and manipulated a few in his endless nights on the streets. 

Tav was either irritated…or interested. 

And Astarion knew just how to tilt that reaction into his favor. 

“Honestly,” he protested, stepping a bit closer to her. “And, you clearly like me too.” 

Her tail slashed back and forth, disturbing the dust near the fire. Even as she wore that face of suspicion and doubt. Cute little thing. Like a kitten who thought her mewling was a roar.

 “Come now, don’t be coy.” Astarion stepped artfully into her personal space, crowding her against the log that Karlach had placed as a bench before the fire. “Your body has already given you away…I could feel it.” 

Tav swallowed, and his eyes were drawn right to the graceful slope of her neck. 

As if she needed any more reminding of the night he first fed from her. How she had laid her head back into his hold. How he nearly lost control when he tasted the sweet nectar flowing through her veins—he almost forgot how she squirmed under him, but didn’t push him away. Then, that traitorous tail of hers curled up at the point. 

She may as well have broadcast her arousal to the entire camp. 

Astarion raised a hand, ghosting his touch along the defiant line of her jaw, down to her throat and the fading marks his fangs had left behind. She didn’t flinch at his almost-caress. In fact, she was already tilting her chin to it. 

“The little shivers, when I was getting lost, in your neck…”

Some feeling bubbled up unbidden from within the vampire. That moment, his first time taking blood from a thinking creature, well he couldn’t help it if that was special to him too. Astarion could still feel her fingers coiling at the small hairs at the back of his own neck.

It was…intimate. Like hadn’t known before. 

No. 

He quickly buried the foreign desires and slipped back into the persona that never failed to stoke them in others. Want was a weapon in his arsenal, one that he could wield with lethal dexterity. 

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” 

Tav’s teeth bit into her bottom lip, and she must know that she’d been caught. The agitated flicking of her tail slowed. Astarion knew that he had her when the pointed tip began to curl. 

“So I did.” 

A triumphant grin tugged at the corners of the elf’s mouth. He, deliberately, tilted his head to her, so the setting sunlight might catch his gleaming fangs when he grinned. 

He was always so careful to conceal his nature from unsuspecting prey until he could pull them into the shadows. But Tav’s obvious attraction to his vampiric features was something he fully intended to exploit. 

Such a wicked weakness for good girl. 

“So did I, more than words could say.” He let his rich voice drip with honey as he finally let his cool fingers touch her heated skin, skimming deftly over the fading twin marks. 

Tav shivered under his hand, but didn’t pull away. 

He had her now. 

Astarion loomed closer, his cool breath ghosting over her pointed ear. “I was so…very pleased with what you gave me, darling. You deserve a reward.” 

He expected her to melt into the caress of hand and his words, but Tav stiffened under his attentions and pulled back. Confusion flickered over the elf’s face before he could conceal it behind an innocently wounded expression. What did he say wrong?

“I don’t need a reward, Astarion.” Tav’s tone was firm, but irritatingly gentle. Which just made him want to snap his fangs in frustration. She ducked back to pick up her abandoned herbs, bundling them up neatly, and literally slipping right out of his fingers. “Some people help just for the sake of helping, you know?”

Astarion bit back the scathing retort that rose to his lips. 

It wouldn’t do him any good in his current objective, and might just shatter the fragile mood he had so carefully constructed. 

Instead, he forced a disarming chuckle and slid onto the log seat next to her. “Of course dear, I simply meant we could take an evening to ourselves.” Her tail twitched next to him. “Get away from camp, get some…privacy.” 

Astarion’s silver tongue was not about to fail him now. Tav’s back was to him, taking her time packing her herbs away, a tension lingering in her shoulders that he wanted to sooth away with his hands—or his mouth. 

She was proving to be more of a challenge. No matter, he enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse. Though he had no intention of being the mouse. 

Tav turned back to face him, those jewel-like eyes scrutinizing his face, like she was trying to pierce the winsome smile he plied as a well-worn mask.

She leaned closer, bringing her earthy smell of herbs and leather and something wild that made something in him ache for more. To have her closer—to feed, obviously, nothing more. 

For a fleeting moment, Astarion was certain he had Tav ensnared at last. 

“We don’t need to leave camp for you to feed on me, you know?”

Gods dammit. 

There it was again, that insufferable, good-guy tone that made him want to tear his perfect curls—he’d already seen Tav run headlong into danger over some undeserving wretch just under the pretense of doing the right thing. It might just make Astarion ill. 

“And you don’t owe me for it, either.” The sincerity in her voice was making his cold skin crawl. 

Astarion had lived long enough to know that altruism was a myth. Benevolence was meant to beguile. And anyone offering a hand would want their palms greased. 

Tav was either a fool, or the trickiest devil he’d tangled with yet. 

The misunderstood outcast card was not his favorite hand to play, but it worked so well on those with a savior complex. 

“Oh, I understand.” Astarion said softly, arranging his face into a petulant pout. 

Tav’s brows furrowed, and she finally looked back up at him. “You do?”

“I do. Stealing off into the woods with a vampire…” He let his voice trail off, oh so hopelessly. “It is a lot to ask you to put your faith in me.” 

“Astarion, that’s not—” 

He cut her off with a wounded sigh. “You do not trust me.” 

Astarion stood and turned away, shoulders slumped in feigned dejection, waiting for her to take the bait.  She would get to her feet and follow. He could count it down in his head. 

Three, two, one…

“I do trust you.” Tav’s soft voice was almost pleading. 

A slow, satisfied smile curved Astarion’s lips, surprised she’d yet to faint from that bleeding heart. 

“Then, trust me.” Astarion purred, closing the distance between them in one sinuous stride. He loomed over her, feeling the rush of her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck. 

Tav reached for his hand, but the vampire deftly bypassed it. His long fingers encircled her wrist, the heat of her skin sinking into his palm and warming him already. 

Her eyes were wide, nearly luminous in the gathering dusk, but he let his gaze linger on her mouth, his own lips parting ever so slightly. 

“Trust me, when I promise you a night you will never forget.” He lowered his voice and let shadows fall over his crimson eyes. 

Tav shivered, and Astarion knew it had nothing to do with the temperate air. He could smell her arousal, heady and sweet, as obvious as the almost perfect curl her tiefling tail was making. 

“Okay,” she breathed, her word a little more than a sigh. “I trust you.”

A victorious grin spread over his lips and through his veins. He finally had her right where he wanted her. Under his hand as he cupped her cheek, drawing her close, his breath ghosting over her lips before finding her pointed ear.

“See you there, lover.” 

part 2

[starryyskies]

context

[wrenthewrenbird]

Some Gigs pico park screenshots, part one.

Ones that go together:

Anddd my favorites:

Then some quotes I love:

"I know this game just came out but I think we're the best pico park players" -Grian

"Pew pew pew pew" -pretty much all of them on the space invader type level.

"HIGH FIVE GRIAN, HIGH FIVE GRIAN" -Skizz on the level they can't touch each other.

"Skizz don't suck my block, please. Stop it" -Gem on the remember one.

"I have a heart condition." -Grian at the end of this one when they finally get to the door:

They are hilarious and it's so fun watching them play XD. Will be posting a one with screenshots and probably quotes from part two! Have a good timezone!

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: Hand Me My Shovel

in which Joy has some strong opinions

cw: referenced violence, death mentions

previous // masterlist // next

×~×~×

Joy’s meeting with Sahota had felt a lot like treading water; expending a shit ton of energy and still going nowhere. The others hadn't fared much better. Kaius seemed more sour than usual on his return, and Benji came back from his hour half an hour early. Harbor hadn't come back at all. She'd almost been afraid the morale would slip completely after the bout of failures, but she should've known she could count on Jer to save the day.

“How'd you do it?” It was the number one question on her mind as soon as she’d caught the look of quiet triumph on his face. He might as well have lassoed the sun.

Jericho took a seat across from her. Training had dissolved into lunchtime not long after he’d left, and Joy’d gotten lost in her own thoughts and lingered in the kitchen even after the other two had gone back to the mats.

Hi mouth tightened at her question. “I guess… I convinced him we could help.”

A fair strategy, but it felt like there was more to it. “What did you say?”

“I'll tell you later.” His voice dropped. “Joy, I think we should talk about something.”

Oh she did not like that tone. One syllable in and she knew something was wrong. “What is it?” she asked carefully, casting a habitual glance over her shoulder. No one in the kitchen, no one in the hall.

“It’s Harbor,” Jer replied, glancing down at the table, eyes on his clasped hands. “He… he hurt Sahota. Pretty bad.”

“What?” She felt her brows knit together at his words. “How bad is pretty bad?”

“He started…” Jericho exhaled, paused as if considering something. “I don't know the extent. He was pretty beat up when I got there. Seemed like he was in a lot of pain.”

“Fuck.” Was that why Harbor hadn't come back once his time was up? She'd thought nothing of it until now; he didn't like hanging out with the group, and was all scowls and bitey comments when he was forced to. Nothing new there, but beating up Sahota? That was lower than she'd thought he'd stoop. Did he resent losing the fight on day one? Was he trying to prove something?

“Are you going to tell anyone else?” she said at last.

Jer shook his head. “No, not… not yet. We're supposed to work together. We don't need any more of a rift between us and Harbor.”

“We also don't need a bully on the team,” Joy said. One bad apple would spoil the mission. She didn't want to have to worry about looking over her shoulder whenever Harbor was around.

“I don't know the full story,” Jericho said. “I think we should talk to him about it before jumping to any conclusions—” 

“I trust everyone had a productive training day?” Vic’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and Joy nearly jumped out of her skin.

Shit, how much did he hear?  The thought was instinctive, another habit from making quiet deals and trying to keep out of trouble. She felt she should laugh at her paranoia, especially regarding this, but didn’t it make sense?

Vic was good at acting friendly, but in the last three days alone he’d encouraged them to kill a stranger and watched his partner’s torture as casually as he would a popcorn flick. She had the feeling he’d be quicker to encourage Harbor’s violence than put a stop to it, and that was the last thing they needed.

“I heard Sahota let you all dabble in interrogation,” Vic said, striding into the kitchen. “Did you have fun?”

“I wouldn't call it that,” Joy said, shifting in her chair.

“That's life for you. Never as interesting as the movies.” He took a seat at the end of the table, steepling his fingers. “I understand you made a wager on behalf of Rebecca Finley.”

Sahota’s deal. She’d gotten so wrapped up in the Harbor bullshit she’d forgotten what they’d won.

“Unfortunately, said wager was made without my knowledge,” Vic continued, “and can't be honored in either direction.”

Her mouth was open before she could stop herself. “What? You can't—”

“Cavan.” His tone was a warning, like a rattlesnake shaking its tail, and Joy snapped her mouth shut, clenching her teeth together to keep the words in. The evening meeting where he'd shown them the video was still sharp in her head. Vic could be real fucking mean when provoked. He was a little too similar to some of the army sergeants she'd known in that way, and that wasn't a fact to be proud of.

“As I was saying,” Vic said, “I'm vetoing the deal you made. However, in an effort to reach a compromise, we will be going with a third option instead of either extreme. Finley's off the menu. No more energy will be wasted on deciding what to do about her; we'll just bypass the matter entirely.”

But we earned it.

With the effort of pushing back the sea, Joy managed to bite her tongue. Jericho had earned it, and he hadn’t said a word. Better not to provoke another shouting match with Vic. She knew she wouldn’t come out on top.

“Is that all you have to tell us?” she muttered, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“What are we doing instead?” Jericho asked at the same time, his tone considerably more reasonable than hers.

Vic inclined his head towards Jer. “In the last hour, I've been scouting new assignments,” he replied. “I'm pleased to say I came out the other end with a task for each of you.”

Joy crossed her arms, pressing clenched fists into her sides. Okay, this was good. As long as she was beholden to Vic’s will, she’d better be getting shit done.

“I’ve already spoken to Mr. Manak and Mr. Ruebin. They'll be leaving tomorrow morning to search Finley's drop site for relevant intelligence.”

Her knuckles pressed in deeper, and she had to fight to keep a neutral tone. “Didn't you just say she was off the menu?”

Vic chuckled, and she couldn’t help but think he was entertained by her frustration. Why? Because she couldn’t protest without being threatened with jail time?

“Finley is,” he said. “Finley’s stuff is another matter. Mr. Davis, you and Mr. Harbor will be using my computer to access anything you can on Rotorworx. With your combined skills, you should be able to find weaknesses in their website. Get us some usable information if you can. And Miss Cavan.” His eyes landed on her. “You'll be accompanying Sahota on an expedition of sorts. I've located one of Rotorworx's old project sites. There may be residue there that can clue us in on the Reality Cage.”

Finley could’ve clued them in on the Reality Cage, if Vic wasn’t so hell-bent on doing things his way.

“Okay,” she said, still rigid in her seat. “Cool. Where is he?”

“He’s resting,” Vic said.

She and Jericho shared a glance. Bet he was. The one bright spot here was that the assignments had been divvied up in such a way that Harbor and Jer were paired together. If there was any sense, any fucking decency left in the guy, Jericho could bring it out. If not… Maybe he and Vic were just cut from the same cloth. And in that case, she wanted nothing to do with him.

“I expect you both to tackle your taskings first thing in the morning,” Vic said, getting to his feet. “Rest while you can. It’s imperative we don’t waste another day.”

With that, he left.

Joy slouched back in her chair as soon as his footsteps had faded, looking up at the ceiling. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“He has a plan in mind,” Jericho said. “If he thinks Finley is a waste of time—”

“So what if she is? He can’t just snatch that away.”

“He’s in charge.”

“So is Sahota. Doesn’t he get a say?” She huffed, letting her arms drop to her sides. “What if this keeps happening? The whole ‘my way or the highway’ thing?” She shot a sharp look in Jericho’s direction. “What if it gets one of us killed?” She’d dealt with bad leadership before. Experience didn’t mean shit if you weren’t willing to choke down your ego and listen to your troops.

“I don’t think it’ll go that far,” Jericho said quietly. She wondered if he was trying to convince himself.

“He was fine abandoning Sahota. What if next time it’s one of us on the screen?”

Jericho winced. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it.” He let out a sigh, tapping the back of his hand. “It’s just this one mission, then we’re done. We won’t have to deal with it anymore.”

She knew he was right, but it still felt like the wrong call. “Is it worth it? What if we end up with another Finley, but he makes us go through with the murder part? Is it worth it?”

He was looking at his hands again. “What about the Cage? This mission isn’t just for us. People are in danger.”

“I know, just…” She clenched her jaw. “Maybe we can do it without them?”

“Joy…”

“We could.” Just her and Jer could do it. Sneak out of here and break the dangergate before things went south. Benji would probably get in on it too, maybe even Manak. Then they could do things her way. They had a location. All they really needed was a crate of C-4 and a description of the Reality Cage.

But Jericho was shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said. “I can’t take that risk based on a maybe. If we leave, we’re still on the wanted posters. I can’t run forever.”

Her burst of rebellion deflated as quickly as it had risen. He was right. She couldn’t ask him to put his kid on the line like that, and even if she was acting alone, she still wanted to see her family again someday.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Okay.” The kitchen fell silent. No distant footsteps, no brilliant new ideas. They were stuck following Vic’s orders. She just had to hope he’d keep them in the realm of sanity.

“So,” she said, once again slouching in her chair. “Harbor.”

“Harbor,” Jericho echoed.

“Should we talk to him now? Before tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” Jer answered. “I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“I think he might see it as an attack. I think… I should just try to bring it up naturally.”

“It should feel like an attack,” Joy protested. “He did something wrong, and he needs to know it.”

“I don’t know,” Jer said again. “I think he… I don’t know, there’s something not adding up with him. It doesn’t fit.”

“Maybe he just hates Sahota,” she offered. “He was the only one who voted against the rescue.”

Jericho shook his head. “I don't think he meant to take it as far as he did. Maybe something set him off.”

And that was just what they needed on the team, someone with an unpredictable temper. Harbor was already hard enough to work with.

“That's no excuse,” she said.

“Let me try tomorrow, okay?” Jer replied, giving her a sincere look. “If it goes bad, we’ll confront him together.”

If it went bad, she wanted him gone. Sure, the guy had psychic powers or whatever, but that didn’t excuse any of his bullshit. If he wound up going overboard and hurting anyone else, she’d take care of him herself.

“Okay,” she said. 

“And speaking of…” He gave her a curious look. “You'll be with Sahota tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you…” Jer grimaced. “Can you try to check on him? See how he's doing?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Because that went so well last time.”

“This is different.”

“Different how?”

“He…” There was that hesitation again, like Jericho was about to drop some big reveal but thought better of it at the last second. “He seemed upset,” he said.

“Sahota was upset?” She frowned. “Like… he was mad?” Hell, she would be too.

“More like… sad,” Jericho said. “Overwhelmed. I don't know.”

Sahota and sad just didn't compute. Overwhelmed, she could understand, but sad about what? Harbor? The failures of his trainees? Based on everything she'd seen from him so far, it didn't make sense.

“Can you do it?” Jericho said, giving her what could only be described as puppydog eyes. "See if he's okay? Tomorrow?”

Joy sighed. Taserbot mazes she could handle. Lab expeditions, she could handle. Feelings? That's where things got dicey. But despite her own reservations, she nodded. “Tomorrow.”

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink ,

@sodacreampuff , @starfields08000

@whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes , @clickerflight ,

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

will you please do a part 2 of pet owner!!!! It was so good!!!

Working on part 2 for Kirtch and story boarding three stories from asks while also pretending to be a functioning adult ❤️

[ovrour]

okay, alot of you guys wanted a part two so guess what…im whipping it up in the kitchen, hopefully it’ll be out by tonight🤓☝🏼.

lots of love, alondra💋.

[maitaiwiththecorpses]

Begin Agian.

inspired by Icebreaker by Hannah Grace

__________

The singing skates on the ice.

The scrape and sting.

It all comes back to one thing: Hockey.

__________

When his heart beats too fast, Aiden always knew exactly what to do. Go to the rink, lace up, and force his skates to move in parallel lines. Each skate would face straight ahead, an even distance from each other, and never touch.

Aiden would do this for hours and hours and it always worked.

Until her.

__________

Aru is a hockey player. She doesn't look like one, or even act like one. In fact, you could even say she doesn't skate like one.

She is, though.

Where every other player on the ice is all straight lines and sharp edges, Aru skates in cursive- delicate turns and moves that are so small but have an attitude bigger than the rink.

She is not a figure skater. At least, not anymore.

Her style has enough nuance that, matched with her lithe body, makes her nearly invisible on the ice-

Until she has the puck.

__________

His mom's a coach. It's pure coincidence that she ends up being his coach, though.

"Boys, huddle up!" Aiden skates over to her, taking his helmet of as he goes. He's not calculated, though, how fast he's going, and ends up having to turn at the last minute into the boards. "Aiden," she reprimands, and he knows that he's in for it on the car ride home.

She clasps her hands. "Listen. You all know the girl's team coach, yes? Shakhuni? Well, he and I have noticed some... animosity between the two teams."

"I don't understand, coach," one of the guys- Blythe, I later realize- says. "We don't even talk to the girl's team-"

"Don't! Don't give me that bullshit, Mr. Fahey. Or do I have to pull up video from last week's party that you all attended? Don't think I didn't hear everything." Aiden winces, recalling the events of the party. Blythe and Rudy, his cousin, had poured a keg of beer on a few members of the girl's team while they celebrated their win against a rival team.

Shit. He was at that party. He could get totally screwed over for this.

"Their coach has talked his team down from going absolutely batshit on your asses, but you know what? I was about to let them beat the shit out of you all- you deserve it. Davey College is a tough team to beat, and last I checked, you all couldn't do it. The least you could do is celebrate them. And for the record, Mr. Fahey-" Blythe immediately recoiled. Aiden couldn't tell if he should laugh or feel sorry for his teammate. "It isn't better that you don't speak to the girl's team. You're part of the same department, you should be like a family."

"So what are we doing about it?" Aiden asked, pushing off the boards to join the group.

His mom gave him a stink eye before continuing. "You will have to share the rink." Sounds of shock and dismay bubbled up from the team. "Meet with their team- discuss a time, discuss scheduling. I don't care how you do it, just know that you are now in charge of how much you are allowed to practice."

Up till then, Aiden's day had been going pretty well.

Until now.

__________

"What the fuck do you mean we have to share a rink?" Her coach walked away flippantly, not responding. "Boo?!"

"Ms. Shah, I don't get paid enough for this, go complain to the dean if you're really upset."

She stumbled off the ice, not even bothering to take her skates off before trying to catch up to her coach. Her skates felt clunky on the carpet floor, but she reached him eventually, and when he felt her jerk his shoulder back, he finally relented.

"Malini is really trying to imbibe these boys with good values, Aru."

"At the cost of our training? Huh? Is that how it is?"

He pushed a crumpled post-it note into her hand. "You have a meeting with their team captain at two. You're to discuss and lay out the groundwork for a future schedule. Stay strong, don't let him walk all over you."

"That is so bullshit, Boo, you know I wouldn't let him-"

"Aru. Cool it. You're not on the ice anymore. Just- do what's best for your team, you hear?"

She sighed and let him walk off- this argument wasn't worth either of their time, and she needed to get dressed. Aru undid her skates and took off her gear, leaving on the white long sleeve and pulling her high-waisted jeans out of her bag. If there was one thing good about gear bags, it was that they were like voids- they never ran out of space.

"Hey, Aru?" Hira skated over with both their sticks. She'd left it on the ice after storming to Boo. Hira handed it to Aru, a frown on her face. "What's the verdict? Are we actually doing this?"

"I have to meet their captain in thirty minutes, so, yeah, I guess we are."

Hira crumpled her face in disgust. "Don't they get that this is so insensitive after last week?"

"It's not my place to argue. Apparently the dean and director of the sports department are in on it too." She finished putting on her sneakers before locking up her gear bag and grabbing her regular backpack. "I'll tell you how it goes, ok? You can fill Brynne in, too, just don't let it get too big." The dean wanted to keep the incident on the down-low, so in theory, only Aru, the coaches, and the boy's team captain were supposed to know about this meeting, but Hira had watched everything go down, and Aru wasn't about to stop her teammates from getting in on all the bullshit.

Until the bullshit got too much.

__________

An unknown number was ringing on his phone and his mother was glaring at him to pick up.

"Ma, you don't have to drive me back to the house."

"I'm not driving you to that frat house, Aiden, I'm driving you to the conference room."

"Already?" He jumped forward in his seat, eyes wide at his mother. "I haven't prepared any pointers, I can't meet her yet."

"She just got off practice, you'll both be on the same level. And that's her calling, if you didn't know, so you better pick it up, or she'll stick a puck up your ass the next time she sees you."

Aiden picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Arundhati Shah speaking. Is this Aiden Acharya?"

"Uh, yeah. This is Aiden. You can- you can just call me Ai-"

"Alright I'm at a Starbucks right now but apparently there's a conference room at Kingdom Quad we were supposed to meet at. It's a little out of my way, so I'm going to be a bit late. Please keep the data from your team ready for access incase we need to analyze team value."

"Excuse me-" Aiden was officially scowling. Team value? Is she for real?

His mom lit up with a bright smile. "What is she saying, what is she saying? Put her on speaker, nah?"

Aiden cleared his throat. "Um, Arundhati, I'm gonna put you on speaker, I'm here with Coach Acharya."

Immediately, Aru's tone changed from cold and unfriendly to warm and inviting. "Nice to meet you ma'am, though not in person. I was just saying I'm going to be a bit late to the meeting seeing as it's quite far away from where I am right now and I didn't get the details until just recently-"

"Oh, no worries, Ms. Shah!" Seriously? Since when did his mom get all chill? "What's the point of me having a car if I don't help out a fellow female athlete. Send Aiden a pin of your location and we should be there soon!"

"Sorry, who's we-?"

"Send the pin, dear!" And then, with no warning, his mother pressed cut on the call.

"Ma!"

"What? Did she send yet?"

"We're not picking her up!"

"Oh yes we are. And you are going to sit in the back seat with her, too. This is team bonding for a reason. The animosity between even the captains is so thick." She sighed heavily. "I have never been so sad to see such unsupportive men and women's hockey teams of each other. Truly. In my time, your father's team and mine- we were best of friends. Half of our teams were dating each other, the other half acted like siblings. You know- in our second year, both hockey teams decided to pool money and buy a house together? We all lived together for the next three years- every member of the teams. It seems, though, that the house has fallen out of favor with the girls and now you boys are the only ones using it."

"The house is a bit big," he relented, putting up Aru's location on the GPS. He saved her number in his phone as he did it - Arundhati Shah Women's Hockey Team Captain (Cranky)- and turned up the NPR on the radio.

"You see? That's what I'm talking about. You're not using it to its full potential, just like your defensive line." And all of a sudden, she was back to Coach and not Mom, lecturing about how weak the defense can get. "Arre, Aiden, go to the back, we're pulling up on Aru's location soon."

"Ma, please, I don't want to sit next to her, it's gonna be so awkward."

"Aiden. Listen to me, beta. In life, you must do the awkward shit first to get to the good shit next. Now get out of the front seat."

Aiden heaved a sigh as he climbed into the back, nearly somersaulting into the seat before he buckled up.

"Arundhati! Hello! In back you go, now." His mom smiled brightly through the window at the crowded Starbucks outside, gesturing to the back seat with more joy than she should have possessed.

"Oh, thank you Coach Acharya-"

"Please, dear, it's Malini Auntie. I knew your mother in college very briefly. Plus, Coach Acharya is my ex husband." Aiden scoffed in disgust at the mention of his father. One hell of a coach he was.

"Oh, well. Thank you, Malini Auntie, I really appreciate-" Arundhati stopped midway as she slid into the backseat, making eye contact with Aiden. "Oh, that's what you meant when you said 'we'. Hello, you must be Aiden Acharya."

Aiden cringed internally at his full name- this girl was so frigid and formal, what was her problem?!

"It's just Aiden, really no need for the Acharya part."

"Ah, Aiden, what are you talking about? You must be proud of who you are. You are the son of two very famous NHL players. You must hold your last name with pride. Arundhati, you'll have to teach my son a little something about pride in yourself- I love your name so much, and you let people call you Arundhati?"

Arundhati looked nearly nauseous next to Aiden, but tittered half-heartedly. "No, ma'am, as proud as I am of my name, I do typically ask people to call me Aru."

His mother went silent in the front seat. The point she'd been trying to make had been upturned. The car went into park outside of a large building surrounded by spring grass. "Ahem. Aiden. Ms. Shah. I will see you both next at the joint team meeting." She turned back to look at Aiden. "Beta, do try to be flexible, haan?"

"Thanks, Ma. Bye."

As they got settled in the conference room, Arundhati seemed to be minding her own business.

Until she slammed a puck on the table.

__________

"Listen here, buddy. Here's what's going to happen. The girl's team is exponentially better than yours-"

"Woah there!" Aiden yelled, trying to interject. Aru wasn't having any of it.

"I'm not done speaking. You will speak when I'm done." She bit back the bitch! at the end of her sentence, not wanting to further antagonize him.

"Fine. Fine. Say what you have to say and we'll see- whaaaat is that?" Aru had slid her phone over to Aiden, pulling up the video from last week's party. In it, Rudy and a blond hockey boy poured a keg of beer over her.

"That was me, a week ago, after one of the biggest games of my life. Those were your teammates, a week ago, after one of the biggest games of my life." Aru remembered the rush of heat she had felt in embarrassment- she never threw big college parties, it had been such a bad idea to do it- and the sticky sweet of the beer all over her. The video cut off right after, but she had run to the bathroom and thrown up once the beer stopped pouring out of pure embarrassment.

It was one of the worst days of her life.

And Aiden was quiet, for once.

"Your team has a track record of being total bitches. Y'all minimize our wins and maximize our losses. You harass our players and treat them like shit. This is it. This is the final blow."

"So what do you propose?" Aiden said, nearly sounding remorseful.

"In terms of sharing the rink- there's an uneven amount of hours for the hockey teams to practice. I say the girl's team gets the extra hour. We perform better overall, we should get more ice time."

"If y'all perform so well, why do you need the extra time? Give it to the boys." Aru was starting to get irritated again- this man truly had no sympathy.

"We perform better because we work every chance we get. We should get the extra time."

"Why don't we split it in half? Thirty and thirty?" Aru shook her head. God, this boy was dumb.

"No one's gonna come to practice for thirty minutes, and the skating team practices right after this block, so I'm not willing to risk the wrath of their coach because your team went over." She noticed his fingers tapping on the glass of the table and nearly felt sorry for him. She would have been so much jitterier than him if she was in his position.

Aiden narrowed his eyes at the puck on the table, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Well, we're supposed to plan team bonding, yeah?"

"I mean, I guess," Aru relented, shrugging her shoulders.

"Why don't we have the teams share the rink? And instead of it being more of a focused practice it could be like a play time?"

Aru stared at him incredulously. "You want to give twenty four professional athletes an hour of playtime?"

"Yes."

This man was joking, right? But it was a good idea. It would satisfy the coaches in terms of 'team bonding' and if they planned it right, it could be utilized as an hour of training.

"Fine. Fridays at six is playtime." Aiden cracked a smile just then and Aru thought she would throw up. This was a significantly tighter schedule than she was used to, there was no missing just one practice because you were sick, or running late from another class. She'd have to find a way to make it up for herself- maybe come into the rink before it opened for some solo skating. It wasn't the best idea, but it would keep her conditioned.

"Ok. I look forward to seeing you at the team meeting," Aiden said, before promptly leaving the room.

__________

Eldritch House- College Frat, Or Symbol of Hockey Unity?

Aiden frowned at the article on his phone. This was new. There were pictures in it of the construction of the house he lived in with his teammates, and the first class of hockey players who lived in it. He spotted his own parents in a few of the pictures as he read the article accuse the boy's team of getting rid of the unity that came with their university's hockey teams and how it was a degradation of tradition.

He copied the link and sent it to Arundhati, remembering his mother's words earlier that day. The guilt of it all finally filled him as he sat in bed, he remembered all the shitty things the girl's team had gone through just that semester, and he felt even worse that now that he'd met Aru and seen the pain behind her eyes about the beer incident.

Needless to say, this caused a complete anxious meltdown. It was three am, and then suddenly it wasn't.

4:30 am

might as well get down to the rink for some early practice, he thought. He grabbed his gear bag, leaving all hopes for any chai for the next five hours behind.

He was close friends with the custodians at the rink, so they let him when he shows up at all odd hours of the day. "Mornin, Greg."

"Hope your morning grump gets cheered up in there, Acharya," Greg smiled a knowing smile, and Aiden frowned.

"Sorry?"

"Head on in, son."

Aiden just nodded gratefully, not awake enough to process Greg's cryptic message. When he entered the rink, Chandelier by Sia blasted, and the scrape of skates were already running.

Arundhati.

She had two weights strapped to her torso and calves, and she was doing a freakishly familiar routine on the ice.

2012 Winter Olympics.

Aiden remembered. He'd studied the pair routine for days in secret- he was obsessed. In a leap of faith, he put his bags down and laced up, falling in line right behind the other hockey captain, parallel to her.

She noticed him very suddenly, but before she could say anything, he pushed off hard and turned to face her, skating backwards and to the left- he tilted his head in question- you know the next turns?

She stared at him coldly, reaching her hands out to him, building speed and turning Aiden so he didn't bang into the boards. They crouched in time, and Aiden stood in just the right moment, spraying ice and spinning them giddily. Something flickered behind her eyes and she shook her head, subtly hinting that whatever this was was over.

Aiden let go, and she glided backwards on her skates, still crouching.

"You're a figure skater?"

"No. Not anymore. I just came here to train."

Aiden smirked despite himself. "With a skating routine?"

"It's a lot more intensive than you think. You just saw. Look, your already sweating." She gestured to his forehead, which was indeed beaded with sweat. "Now try doing it with fifty pounds on your body."

"That can't be healthy, Shah."

"It's fine," she snapped. "I don't need you policing my body and my rink."

"Arundhati-"

"Aru, please. It's unnecessary to be this formal at five am."

ok, then.

_________

"Aru," his voice sounded so foreign to her ears, with her name. She couldn't tell if she liked it or not. He was precise. That routine wasn't good, but he knew it. It scared her.

The weights pulled into her ribs- it was starting to hurt a bit. Tough it out, Shah.

"You know boy's practice starts soon, yeah?" Aiden searched her face for something, and she scowled at him. Did she look like she was in pain?

"Of course. Listen, if you're here to practice, that's cool and all, but I need to train, too. I'm gonna put my headphone in." She skated over to the rink side seats, tapping on her phone to get her music started up. She could feel his gaze on her back, and part of Aru wanted to turn around and scream "WHAT" at his face.

She didn't do that, though.

Pity.

_________

An hour went by, then two. Aru didn't stop. Those weights were totally hurting at this point, Aiden could tell from the look on her face. He could also tell that she couldn't hear him. He tried talking to her momentarily while her back was turned, and he found that she couldn't hear a thing with those headphones on. She'd do laps and laps on the ice and not a sound would get through to her. So he talked. He blabbered and blabbered to her while he did drills, not caring if he was heard or not- it was the perfect remedy to his midnight anxiety.

And then the guys started rolling in. Aru still did not notice. She had started doing drills in the middle right about when Aiden had gone off for a water break. He heard Blythe yell from the locker room, "get out on the ice, guys!" And then Aiden saw it. Tommy Glasgow, barreling onto the ice towards Aru at full speed, backwards. She was hitting the boards before he even jumped over them, and at the speed he was going, god knows that he would have hit the boards too had he not stopped.

_________

This is what happened to Malini Auntie, Aru thought dimly. Most people thought the professional hockey player had quit the sport due to her unexpected pregnancy with her son, but Aru knew they were wrong. It was the semi-finals. They were winning- they were supposed to go to finals within the week. Just five more minutes of the half. Malini didn't know she was pregnant yet- it was too early to see the signs, too insignificant. And then the accident happened. She got into a fight with the opposing team- they bashed her into the boards.

Malini Acharya broke three ribs and her femur that day. She also found out that 1. She was pregnant. And 2. Her career as a professional NHL player was over.

This isn't happening. Her career couldn't be over. It would be terrible.

"ARU!" There was a dizzying shout from above her. Or was it to the left?

Someone gripped her face- not too hard, but enough to feel. "Stay conscious, ok?"

Aru felt herself shake her head. She was so tired. She just wanted to go to bed.

"No. Dude. Shah. I need you to stay with me, ok?" Someone shouted 'ambulance' in the background- Aiden's hands were really warm. The rink is so cold- how did she not notice that earlier?

"Cold," she choked out, with a broken smile.

"Shit, she's going into shock. Hey, Shah, who am I?"

"Whaddya talkin bout?" She slurred. What was this man talking about? Stupid, silly, warm-

"I'm Aiden, and I just happen to be a super hot guy who likes you." She was being lifted now. Aiden sounded desperate. Stupid. Super hot? That's not accurate.

"I would say-" her eyelids fluttered. What is happening? "-more cute than hot."

"Ma'am I'm going to need you to stay conscious. Sir, could you continue speaking to her- it's best if she stays awake." Aru heard the crackle of walkie talkies, and suddenly she could hear her heart in her ears and her eyes were awake and wide.

"I loved walkie talkies as a kid, you know?" She said to Aiden. His hand was wrapped around hers tight, and he looked so, so pale.

"Shit, that adrenaline stuff they gave you really worked."

Aru felt herself frown. "Who's they?"

"The- Shah, you're in an ambulance. You're going to the hospital."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you a-"

The end, Aru.

_________

He'd been here for six hours. It was ridiculous.

"She's out now," a nurse came to inform him.

She had passed out in the ambulance. She had a concussion and a singular broken rib.

When he walked into the hospital room, she was there, staring him down. "You have anxiety."

A million thoughts raced through his head, "what."

"I didn't have any music in at the rink. I was listening the whole time."

"Oh. Well. Glad to know you haven't lost your memory."

"You need therapy," she said bluntly.

"Perhaps." He relented.

"You like me," she said, once again as blunt as can be.

"Oh, you really remember everything." He started sweating. What the hell was he thinking, confessing to her like she was on his deathbed?

"Aiden I don't hate you. I hope you know that."

"Alright Shah. I'm glad to hear."

"I wouldn't hate it if I could begin again with you."

"Me neither, Shah. Me neither."

_________

A/N: Does this fic have a part two? YES IT DOES!

[prxciouslullaby]

SUMMARY: Stu can’t stop thinking about Randy’s spiel back at the video store. [AO3 link] PAIRINGS: Stu x Randy, Stu x Billy

“He’s probably dead! His body will come popping up in the last reel somewhere! Eyes gouged out, fingers cut off, teeth knocked out!”

The words are still ringing in Stu’s ears as he and Billy walk back to his place. He can hear Billy talking about something — something about how easy Principal Himbry had gone down — and knows he should be listening, but the idea of torturing Neil Prescott in such a way is enough to distract him from Billy’s words. It’s such a simple, tantalizing image, Stu realizes. So tantalizing that if it weren’t for him planning the “perfect ending”, he would’ve done it himself a while ago.

Or, rather, he and Billy would’ve taken turns inflicting the pain.

“Y’know, his idea ain’t half bad,” he finds himself saying out loud as he sees his house come into view.

“What?” he hears Billy ask, in a tone that’s got some bite to it that Stu doesn’t quite catch.

“Randy, he’s got something going there,” he elaborates, opening the the white wooden gate leading up to his house. His hands dig into his pockets, searching for his keys, as he continues. “With the whole ‘eyes gouged out, fingers cut off, teeth knocked out’ thing—”

Stu doesn’t have any time to react as he feels Billy drag him down the walkway by his neck and slam him into the front door. Billy pins him there, his eyes narrowed and teeth grit, and Stu can’t help but squirm under his touch.

“What the hell are you doin—”

“Did you forget the plan, dipshit?” Billy hisses, tightening his grip on Stu’s neck. “Did you forget your idea—”

“We’re still doing that!” Stu snaps back. He grabs Billy’s arm, a warning that he’ll shove him off if he’s not careful. “But why not cast some doubt on poor little Ray, huh? Another red herring! Won’t even be on poor ol’ dad, for continuity. Just another random body before the party. C’mon Billy, there were witnesses! It’d be easy—”

“It’d be easy to fuck up and we don’t have time.” Billy leans in close to Stu’s face, shoving Stu’s hand off. His breath is hot and his eyes are filled with a rage that normally turns Stu on, but now only succeeds in annoying him. “The bitch dies tonight. All of them do. That’s the rules.” Billy backs off of Stu, but not before shoving him into the door again. Stu wraps his hand around his throbbing neck as he watches Billy walk away from him. “Don’t you forget it, Stu. We are not deviating from the plan.”

“Billy! Where are you going, man?”

Billy doesn’t reply. The conversation’s over, just like that, as Billy walks down the street, his fists clenched at his sides. Stu wants to follow after him, to demand to know where he’s going, to ask him what that had been about, but he can’t get his body to move. He stands there for a moment, staring at the empty space Billy left behind, before his body finally cooperates and staggers towards the fence. Billy’s already gone, though, taking the mystery and slew of questions with him. Stu walks back to the front door, shakily taking his key out and unlocking the door. He internally curses as he feels tears pricking his eyes and he kicks at the door before he steps inside. He hates that his anger takes on the pathetic form of crying and shaking rather than the cold, threatening presence Billy’s anger has.

The house is quiet. A good sign, Stu thinks, as he beelines to the hallway closet. His hand is still shaking as he grips the doorknob, and he takes a moment to steady his breathing and relax. He slowly opens the door and peeks in. Neil is still right where they left him, bound and gagged on the closet floor. His eyes are shut, which lets Stu know that he won’t have to worry about him making noise during the party.

Not that anyone would hear him, anyway.

Stu shuts the door and leans his head against it. He still feels off, and he knows it’s a feeling he’s going to have to get rid of sooner rather than later if he wants Billy to trust him.

Trust him.

The thought draws out a bitter laugh from him.

Because honestly, what the fuck was Stu supposed to do to convince Billy that he was competent enough for this plan? He’d already gutted Steve and killed Sidney’s whore mother a year before with Billy, he’s devoted most of his time and attention to Billy, what else was left? Sure, he’s nearly “blown their cover” a few times, but he did it at times where he knew no one was gonna catch on! No matter how many times Billy had argued with him afterward, absolutely no one had caught on to them...

...Except for Randy.

Stu had to hand it to Randy, he was a perceptive and clever little shit without even realizing it. He always had been, ever since they’d met in the third grade, even before the movie geek persona had consumed him. Hell, it’s why they’d managed to stay friends all these years. Randy was just able to read people, even jokingly. It’s part of the reason why Stu suggested Randy be included in their plans, to have someone who he knows he could trust to read the room.

Billy had been vehemently against the idea.

Stu wasn’t sure Billy had ever been so annoyed at the mention of Randy’s name prior to that. Billy had gone on a rant about how unreliable Randy was, how the “movie virgin freak” didn’t have it in him to actually follow through and would instantly narc on them if he was included. Stu had interrupted the rant to defend Randy, reminding Billy that he was insulting his childhood best friend here and how he could stop the rant because he understood his point. That had only fueled Billy’s anger further.

“They won’t be friends when we’re killing them,” he had snarled, scowling as he focused his gaze on Stu. “They’ll just be bodies to get us closer to our goal. Get that through your fucking head, Stu.”

You’re such a little lapdog.

Randy’s words echoed in his mind. The words had irked Stu as Randy had said them, and it had been obvious in his tone when he’d practically interrogated Randy on why he thought Billy was guilty, but Randy hadn’t been perceptive enough to catch on.

Or, maybe he had and he just wasn’t letting on.

Stu could definitely see why they needed Randy dead by the end of the night. It wouldn’t matter if Randy was right if he wasn’t around to tell authorities the truth. Still, it’s a thought that bothers Stu more than he’d care to admit.

And that was just it, wasn’t it? He’d meant it when he told Billy to stop insulting his friend. He’d known perfectly well that Randy would wimp out and sell them out the second he’d realize they were actual murderers. And he knows exactly why Billy goes ballistic every time Randy’s name is brought up.

Because Billy could see right through him.

Stu just couldn’t bring himself to throw away all their years of friendship by killing him. Even after Randy suspected him from the beginning, even after Randy had called him a lapdog, Stu had suggested ways to keep him alive in spite of it all.

Because, as much as Stu has tried to push it out and hide it away, a part of him still loves Randy.

A part of him still loves to hear his stupid geeky facts about all of their favorite horror movies, still loves seeing Randy roll his eyes at his terrible jokes, still loves clinging to Randy, feeling his body pressed against his and playing around with whatever body part is closest to his hands, just to get Randy flustered until his face turns bright red and his breathing hitches. That part of him knows he won’t be able to handle hearing his heart beat stop or see the life drain from his eyes as he dies.

It’s why Billy has to be the one to kill Randy. He volunteered to do so, in fact. Stu had asked Billy to make it as painless as possible — the only genuine request he’d made in their whole ordeal — and although Billy had promised him he would, he wasn’t sure he’d follow through with it.

Hell, what if he was going to kill Randy right now?

The thought is enough to get Stu moving to the front door again, but he stops himself right at the bottom of his staircase. He knows it’ll throw a wrench in their plans. He knows that if he’s right, and he manages to interrupt Billy as he’s killing Randy, Billy would just go after him once he finished Randy off. He can’t afford that. Not when they’re so close to executing their plans.

Not when Stu wants to earn Billy’s trust more than he wants to keep his friend alive.

And so he forces himself up the stairs and to his shower. He has a party to get ready for, after all. Whether or not Randy shows up won’t matter, despite a small part of him hoping he does.

Randy had been right. Stu was Billy’s little lapdog.

< — — — — — >

Stu’s heart sits heavy in his chest, like most days as of late. But tonight it feels like it’s weighing him down so much more than he anticipates it to as the clock ticks closer to their perfect ending. He can’t say he’s confused or even surprised, but he is annoyed.

How does Billy do it? Stu wonders if having mommy issues helps him isolate and bury his feelings deep down where he needs them to be. Not that he’ll ever ask that out loud, unless he wants Billy to tie him down and punish him like he’s done in the past when Stu asks too many questions he shouldn’t. Stu can’t really help it, he just loves pushing people’s buttons and getting under their skin. It’s harder to do that with Billy, especially since he’s better at doing so, but it was always easy with Randy.

Randy.

There he goes again, taking up all the free space in his brain. That was the fifth time now — not that Stu’s keeping track — that Randy manages to worm his way into his thoughts. The first four had been while Stu had showered, and man had that gotten him bothered. Stu smacks his head, as if that’ll help shake the thought out, and walks into his closet.

He can’t afford to fuck up tonight, Stu reminds himself. He knows it’ll go just fine, he and Billy will survive and get away with the perfect crime while living the lives they’ve always dreamed about.

Together.

It’s a comforting thought. Stu can’t say he’s ever felt valued as much as Billy has valued him, always letting him know when he’s done a good job and involving him every step of the way. Billy’s the first person to be fully transparent with him, as far as he can tell. He has a silver tongue when he needs it, sure, but he typically says things as they are and gets to the point, without caring for how it’ll come off. Stu had never really seen that before from anyone in his life, so when Billy tells him he cares about him, he knows he means it.

Or so he tells himself.

It’s hard to tell with him sometimes, and Stu hadn’t inherited Randy’s prowess despite studying him for so long. But Billy feels as genuine as Randy had, so he figures that Billy has to be telling him the truth. Especially considering how he’s seen Billy act around others who he knew he despised, there was no room for debate on how they felt about each other. This was clear. Easy.

Stu reaches up to the boxes sitting on the shelf in his closet and pulls out the Ghostface costume. He manages to pull something else down with it that lands near his feet. He cusses under his breath and kicks it off to the side as he buries the costume underneath some clothes he’s piled in the corner of his closet. Once it’s sufficiently hidden, he turns his attention to whatever fell and freezes.

Chucky’s horribly scrawled face stares back up at him, with the words “Happy Birthday!” drawn in bloody, red letters just above it. Stu doesn’t realize he’s reaching for the card until he feels it in his hands. There’s a weight to it that he doesn’t remember there being, and he slowly opens it to see the words “Friends ‘til the End!” written in the same bloody red lettering. There’s another drawing here, too, but instead of Chucky, it’s a stick figure drawing of him and Randy huddled underneath a mountain of blankets and pillows whilst sitting in front of a tv.

Stu isn’t sure if he’s about to have a fucking conniption over seeing this card but he is sure that he’s trembling the longer he holds onto it. He lets it fall to the floor and sits against the wall, hugging his legs close to his chest. He glances up at the box it fell from and sees Randy’s name faintly scribbled on the side of it. In his writing. Stu thinks back to the last time he saw this card. He’d angrily written Randy’s name on a box his mom had given him to clear up storage and stuffed it full of all the things he didn’t want to see from him anymore. All of the photos, the cards, the gifts. He’d wanted to get rid of it all in hopes that he’d stop hurting.

But he just couldn’t get rid of the damn box.

He’d tried several times to throw it out, to hand it to his mom so she could throw it out or toss it in the garage, but every single time he’d stopped himself. He couldn’t even figure out why, and in his frustration he’d just tossed it on his shelf and called it quits. Out of sight, out of mind, in a place where he felt comfortable enough to leave it to gather dust. The memories haunted him, of course, but were only really present in his dreams nowadays.

Stu lets out a shaky breath. Was he crying? His hands touch wet cheeks and he realizes that yes, he is crying. He stands, swaying slightly, and walks back into his bathroom. His sink turns on and water splashes on his face as he tries to calm himself. But god he just can’t relax, now can he? The card being the final nail in the coffin for the truth he’s danced around for so long.

Life just wasn’t fair.

Stu realized that years ago but it had never been such a hard pill to swallow before. He knows it’s because of Randy keeping him sane, keeping him level-headed enough to enjoy what little thrill he found in his mundane life. He isn’t sure he ever told Randy that or if it was something he already knew just by looking at Stu whenever they’d hung out. But he never knew, had he? He couldn’t have, because if he had then he wouldn’t have left.

Right?

Now you’re getting it, he hears Billy’s voice say, echoing from the back of his mind. If he really cared about you, and if you two were really as in sync as you said you were, he’d still be here, wouldn’t he?

He would be, Stu knows that as fact in his heart. He would still be around and Stu would still be wrapped around his finger like he always had been. Because what they had, although gone unspoken, was simple. Comfortable. Despite what others might’ve thought, despite how easily Stu knows Randy would’ve begged to keep things secret, despite how dangerous it might’ve been, Stu would have lived it for Randy. Loved it for Randy, the thrill of it all. And everything was going their way right up until freshman year of high school.

Until Sidney.

And suddenly, Stu’s anger comes back to him. He hears Billy’s calm and reassuring words and sees the look in his eyes that he craved so desperately from Randy and remembers exactly why he agreed to all of this. He couldn’t have the future he wanted with Randy anymore, but he could have it with Billy.

It could be so easy with Billy.

It could be so easy with Randy gone.

And as Stu stares at his reflection in his bathroom mirror, the doorbell rings. It echoes throughout the house and brings him out of his thoughts, back into reality. He stands in his bathroom, alone, and his anger disappears as abruptly as it appeared. Dread slowly creeps in, seeping into every portion of his body that will feel it. Had that thought been his own? Or some other voice that had forced its way in? Stu couldn’t tell anymore, and he was almost too exhausted to care. He was tired of thinking, tired of worrying about the next step, tired of hiding.

Billy never really got that. Something else he misses about Randy.

A small voice in the back of his head reminds him of his worries about Billy gutting Randy before he even makes it to the party.

Another voice reminds him that it won’t matter after tonight.

He and Billy will be the sole survivors tonight. And nothing is going to stand in the way of that.

[completemessash]

Impatient - Part 1 (a.i.)

notes: i started this the night before 5sos' perfomance at pal norte so that's where it takes place :)

Warnings: SMUT, Ashton x reader, blowjob, cum, well in this part only talking about those things, dirty talk and a horny drummer

xxx

“Ash, you need to get on stage soon”

“I know”, he mumbled against your skin, “But you’re so hot. Why would you wear this tiny outfit when you know I have to perform?”

“It’s not tiny at all”, you laughed, while half heartedly trying to push his head away from where he kept nipping at your neck and the top of your cleavage. And it really wasn’t all that tiny, you were wearing a dark pair of jeans and a crop top. Which was admittedly quite low cut and maybe you had chosen that top on purpose because you knew he couldn’t resist you, but it was nothing that you would count as ‘tiny’.

“I can’t help myself when you look like this, babe”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re sitting behind a drum kit, isn’t it?”, you smiled, feeling the hardness against your leg.

“Mhm”, his answer was distracted. His hands were pushing under the top, cupping your boobs into his hands and squeezing them. You were thankful that they all had individual backstage rooms this time, even though all of them – except Ashton – had probably already ended up in one together.

“Ash”, you laughed again, which turned into a small whine when he bit the skin on your collarbone, “How old are you? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a pair of boobs in your life”

He stopped, pouting up at you. “I’m offended”, he complained, “And besides, I’m not seeing any boobs right now”

“You have like then minutes-“

“Plenty of time”, he argued and you gave in. Not that you would have declined this, but it was fun to tease him when he got a little desperate.

In no time, he had gotten your top of, unclasping your bra with practiced fingers, lips searching your flesh as soon as it had fallen to the floor.

“You’re such a boob guy”

He stopped again, that offended look on his face again. “Why do you have to insult me so much today?”

“I’m not insulting you”, you grinned, “Simply stating facts.”

“Do you want my cum on your boobs or not?”, he asked, yup, he was impatient today.

But you weren’t done teasing him yet: “Oh, so I’m not even getting anything? Probably have to jerk you off, too, huh?”

“Well uh-“

“It’s okay, babe, we only have ten minutes, you can always promise to get me off once we’re back at the hotel”

He nodded eagerly, then mumbled something about only having eight or seven minutes now and fumbled to open his pants.

[mmayawriter]

Chapter titles from my autistic brain

1.I ain't reading all that! 2.My Love, all mine, all mine 3.Holy Mother God, you made a mistake: me 4.*Action Winter Journey starts playing in the background* Well we're fucked. 5.How ba-a-a-ad can I be? 6.How bad can I possibly be? (Let's see!) 7.Cigarette Ahegao 8.Did you not read the colony policy? 9.Why is life so vile?! 10.Naughty from Matilda is playing in my head on loop 11.I've wasted like half of my summer (tryna hold on your hand) 12."No [name], you shut up!" "Hey, that's [name]'s [object]-" .and the first line is "Not anymore!" 13.Eenie meenie miney mo, now all ya clothes gotta go! 14.Nothing's new. 15.September 1st, 1998: Dear Diary 16.Don't lose your head 17.Gretel by Soddiken is a carbon copy of my life 18.I can't handle change. 19.Chop Chop Slide 20.Was it the Boogey man? 21.I hate who I was before 22.My face will be too mingled to identify 23.Send you at a wedding in Somewhere-Stan with you as the bride 24.Honey whatcha ya waiting fo-(SHUT UP (name)!) 25.Stay in don't help yourself 26.(name)'s Inferno (excuse me sir!)

[inkcat1987]

Little comic from these drawings here ! :D

Tw: dead body, blood, my au

[noirapocalypto]

─── ᴀꜱ ᴅᴜꜱᴋ ꜰᴀʟʟꜱ

─── ᴄᴏᴠᴇɴ ⋆┊ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʟᴇꜱ

Have really been wanting to create the family and figure out what each member of the coven look like! I haven’t exactly figured out how many generations there are, so gonna wing it for now ghdhfhdd there’s at least four generations so far. Casey and his sisters would fall into the “second” generation, Salem and his cousins being the third in present day 2077, and then Silas’ young daughter and if any of the other Hales have children—would be the fourth generation. 🤔 I’ll post each generation as I create them! [ x ]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʟᴅᴇʀꜱ:

ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀɪɢʜᴛ: ᴍᴏɪʀᴀ, ᴀɴɪᴄᴀ, ᴄᴀꜱᴇʏ, ᴄᴏʟᴇɴᴇ ʜᴀʟᴇ

─── ᴍᴏɪʀᴀ

ᴇʟᴅᴇꜱᴛ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴄᴏᴠᴇɴ ʙᴏʀɴ ✦ ʜᴇxᴇꜱ, ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇꜱ & ʙᴀɴᴇꜰᴜʟ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ✦ ᴛᴡɪᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴅᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄɪʀᴄᴜᴍꜱᴛᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ ✦ ʟᴏᴜᴅᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ, ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ ᴡɪʟʟᴇᴅ, ᴠɪɴᴅɪᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ✦ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪʟᴀꜱ, ᴀᴠɪꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴀʜ

─── ᴀɴɪᴄᴀ

ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴇʟᴅᴇꜱᴛ ✦ ᴇᴍᴘᴀᴛʜ, ᴄʟᴀɪʀᴠᴏʏᴀɴᴛ, ᴘʏʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇʀ ✦ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ, ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ, ꜱɴᴏʙʙʏ ✦ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪᴛᴄʜ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ ✦ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴏʀꜱ ✦ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇᴄᴋᴇᴛᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴇᴠᴇ

─── ᴄᴀꜱᴇʏ

ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴏʟᴅᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴏɴ ✦ ᴀʟᴄʜᴇᴍɪꜱᴛ, ᴅʀᴜɪᴅ, ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ✦ ʀᴇʙᴇʟ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ✦ ᴄᴏᴄᴋʏ, ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ, ꜰʟɪʀᴛʏ ✦ ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ᴡᴇᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴀʟᴇʀ ✦ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ɪꜱɪᴀʜ ᴀᴋᴀ ꜱᴀʟᴇᴍ

─── ᴄᴏʟᴇɴᴇ

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ ✦ ᴇɴᴇʀɢʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀ, ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴇʀ, ᴀᴜʀᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ✦ ᴋɪɴᴅʜᴇᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ, ᴡʜɪᴍꜱɪᴄᴀʟ, ꜰʀᴇᴇ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ ✦ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪᴘᴘɪᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ✦ ᴄᴀʀᴇᴛᴀᴋᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʟᴇ ᴇꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ ✦ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʀᴄʏ