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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 10 months

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A Big Misunderstanding

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: mentions of being tortured, your partner is killed because of it, your coworkers blaming you for their death, migraines, deaf in one ear, feeling less than by hotch, fluff at the end

Request by anon: Read the request here!

Summary: You're a new transfer to the team without Hotch knowing about it You needed to escape harassment and tragedy from your other job, so Strauss places you as the new techy girl alongside Penelope. Everyone welcomes you with open arms but Hotch, and it's starting to affect your physical health.

Square Filled: guilty conscience for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

This is it. This is the first day of your new career, new life, and hopefully with a new family to call your own. The last one didn’t end up so well for you. You’re hoping to start something new with all new people and a brand-new attitude. You walk into work with your purse slung over your shoulder and enter the bullpen. There are so many people busting their asses, moving about the large area, and doing work at their computers. A black man walks past you with coffee in his hand, and you quickly stop him.

“Hi, where can I find Agent Hotchner?”

“Up the stairs. His office is right in front of it.”

“Thank you,” you smile and walk past him.

Agent Hotchner is sitting in his office looking over one of the files Spencer sent over to him when you knock on the door.

“Come in.” You knock again when you don’t hear anything. “Come in.”

This time you do. Hotch is floored by your beauty when you walk in but he remains stoic. He doesn't want to give away just how beautiful he thinks you are.

“Hi. My name is Y/N. I am here about the technical analyst position available.”

“There is no position available. I’m sorry, you must have the wrong department.”

“You’re Agent Hotchner with the BAU, correct? I was sent here to start with Penelope Garcia.”

“Who sent you?”

“I’m sorry?” you ask when you didn’t hear him speak. You move your right ear closer to him so you can hear better. “Can you repeat that?”

“Who sent you?” he asks more sternly.

“Cheif Strauss.”

Hotch doesn’t say a word and picks up his desk phone to call the Chief. She never told him she would be sending anyone over, and he never requested for a new person to join the team.

“Hello, Agent Hotchner.”

“Chief Strauss. I have Agent Y/N here saying she’s going to be working with our technical analyst. Am I hearing this correctly?”

“Yes, I sent her over there to be transferred.”

“Without talking to me about it?”

“I don’t feel like I have to tell you everything I do. She will be joining your team. I assume you’re perfectly capable of training her?”

“Yes ma’am.” Hotch hangs up and looks at you with a sigh. “The team and I are meeting right now to go over a case. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

You bite your lower lip nervously. You hate coming across as dumb but you really can’t hear what he’s saying when he speaks in a low tone or mumbles.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“I said you can join us. We’re about to be briefed.”

He gets up and walks out of his office with a hard look on his face. He hates himself for thinking you’re so beautiful when he’s going to be your boss. Dating you or even thinking about dating you is inappropriate, so he’ll try to keep this as professional as possible. You haven’t even started your first day and you’re already off to a bad start. Still, you chalk this up to a rough start and follow him into the briefing room where the rest of the team is at.

“Team, this is Agent Y/N. She will be starting today as a technical analyst that will be working side-by-side with Garica. Y/N, these are Agents Prentiss, Reid, Morgan, Rossi, Jareau, and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.”

“What’s your name again?” you ask the blonde and sit next to her.

“Penelope Garcia. You’ll have so much fun working with me. I like to keep it cool in the office,” she smiles.

You can tell you’re gonna get along with her easily.

“Let’s begin,” Hotch says and looks at JJ.

JJ places crime scene pictures on the screen for everyone to see. Some are of a crushed vehicle and others are of victims who have been crushed by a vehicle. Penelope gasps and looks away so she can keep some decency while you look on in curiosity.

“An unsub that kills with his car? I haven’t seen that before,” Emily says.

“Neither have the police in Bend, Oregon which is why they need our help. There have been two victims in the last twelve days. The first victim is Maria Delgado, twenty-three. She was hit on a morning jog. The second victim is Shannon Makely, forty-three. She was stranded on the side of the road when her car broke down.”

“What makes the locals think that they were connected?” you ask, trying to be part of the conversation.

“For one thing, they were both backed over after the initial impact. This wasn’t an accident. Plus, they matched treads in both scenes. They were large wheels for all terrain. Their wounds also indicated a raised bumper, so they’re thinking a large SUV to a truck. When we land, I want a list of everyone who owns a vehicle for all-terrain.”

“What?” you ask and look at his lips to read what he’s saying.

He shoots you an annoyed look which makes you sink into your chair in embarrassment.

“Garcia, get me the list.”

“Sure,” she nods and looks at you.

“Do they know the make or model?” Derek asks, moving the conversation along.

“No. The tires are made for multiple kinds of vehicles.”

“Were there any witnesses to either incident?”

“No, both victims were attacked in secluded areas.”

“Two tons of metal make a hell of a weapon,” Derek says.

“Serial killers have been known to become rather attached to their vehicles. Bittaker and Norris even gave theirs a nickname. Murder Mac,” Spencer explains.

“Bittaker and Norris were sexual sadists. There's no sign of torture here. This sounds like thrill kills for easy targets randomly selected. We need to think about if they’re not random. We need to see if there is a connection between the two victims.”

“With this type of impact, the vehicle shouldn't be hard to pick out of a lineup. There should be significant front-end damage.”

“Somehow I don't think it's gonna be that easy,” Rossi shrugs.

“Well, I think it's safe to assume our unsub is male,” Emily states. “A big car is phallic like he’s overcompensating for something. Maybe he’s impotent. If the unsub sees himself as physically defective, the car not only gives him the power and control he otherwise lacks, but it also serves as a shield.”

“Maybe a way to avoid physical contact?” Hotch asks.

“Now we’re going in a different direction. Power, control, and female victims equal up to a rape profile.”

“Rape and thrill kills are two very different profiles. What does victimology tell us?”

“Nothing, yet. Shannon Makely was a white, married, commodities trader. Maria Delgado was a Hispanic grad student and a competitive tri-athlete.”

“So far, gender's our only link. Hopefully, the crime scenes will tell us more. Garcia, Y/N, I want you with us on this one. Y/N, do you have a go-bag?”

“No.”

Hotch sighs in annoyance but Penelope saves the day.

“Come on, I’ll show you where I keep my go bag.”

You don’t mean to be a pain in the ass especially on your first day, but you’re really trying to fit in here. You used to be an active agent that was really good out in the field. You passed every test with flying colors and were up for a promotion within your field.

Until one day when you and your partner went undercover.

You two were captured by a well-known drug lord who was known for torture and gang violence. He knew one of you was FBI but didn’t know exactly which one. He tortured both of you until one of you confessed, but it’s not like you two were going to give the other one up. If only you had told him you were the FBI agent then he wouldn't have killed your partner. Your partner died because of you, and when your team busted in to try and save you two, the explosion from the blast they used shot your hearing so bad you became deaf in your left ear. If you get stressed too much then you start to get migraines and Strauss knows this.

Seeing Hotch behave this way starts a small headache you know won’t go away if he continues. You would have recovered and stayed with your original team if they didn’t harass you every day and blamed you for your partner’s death. Strauss knew it was a problem when you came into her office crying because of them.

You hope this team isn’t going to be like your last otherwise, you’ll have to find a new line of work.

“Are you sure I should come along?”

“You’ll do great,” Penelope encourages.

You and Penelope meet everyone on the plane. They discuss the case some more but you only listen this time. You want to see how each person is just by observing instead of butting in and trying to be like one of them. Plus, you’re not a profiler so you’ll leave this one to the team.

Your only focus is the computers and the technical world. When you were recovering from your accident, you taught yourself how to code and hack since you were bedridden for months. You got to the point where you impressed Strauss with your skills which is why she put you on this team. They don’t necessarily need you but this is the only team she can put you on without having to fire you altogether.

When the plane landed, you and Pen elope set up shop in the police station surrounded by laptops. One of the crime scenes happened near a security camera which is what Penelope is working on. You’re getting that list for Hotch of everyone who owns an all-terrain vehicle and cross-referencing if they still live in the state or not. This is what you like to do post-kidnapping. This gives you a different kind of comfort than being out on the field.

“Garcia, anything?” Derek asks.

“Not yet, sugar. Give me a few more minutes.”

“Y/N, I have a list of suspects PD already has in mind. Cross-reference those who are already on your list,” Hotch orders.

“I’m ready when you are.”

Hotch starts listing off names from your left side so it’s kind of hard to hear him. You don’t want to make a scene and ask him to move so you try your best to put in the right name. Hotch watches as you type in the names and sees you’re typing in the wrong names.

“No, I didn’t say Millie Bael, I said Lily Ball. Are you not listening to me?”

You’re trying really hard not to cry right now and your head hurts so much. Derek sees the look of despair and pain on your face and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Hotch, take it easy. It’s her first day.”

“Sorry, Lily Ball,” you mutter and type in the name.

After twenty minutes of almost wanting to cry, you narrow down your list to ten suspects. Penelope didn’t find good coverage on the security footage so she is looking into half of the men on the list while you get the other half.

“Look into the history of each suspect. I don’t want any stone unturned, understand?” You’re staring at Hotch’s mouth to read what he’s saying. Ever since becoming deaf, you’ve gotten good at reading lips. “Do you understand?”

You jump at the sudden change in tone.

“Yes, sir. I will look into the history of each ma and cross-reference them with accidents they might have been in.”

“That’s not at all what I said. I don’t even know why you’re on this team. We never had an issue with having just one technical analyst.”

Tears brim the surface of your eyes but you won’t let them fall. It’s only the first day. I’ll get better. Hotch walks away with a scoff and a shake of his head, and you fall onto your chair with a sigh.

“I don’t know why he’s being so hard on you. He’s never like this,” Spencer says.

Emily, Derek, and Rossi are out right now leaving you, Spencer, Penelope, and JJ alone in the conference room.

“I don’t mean to be this way. I was never like this.” You explain your past to them--the drug lord, getting kidnapped, tortured, injured, and harassed every single day. “I needed out of that job. I was so excited to be put here but Hotch is only reminding me of my coworkers. Hopefully, he’ll ease up on me.”

He didn’t.

For the rest of the case, Hotch continued to be hard on you even when the team defended you. Every little thing you did Hotch criticized, even if what you did was completely right. He always had something to say about something, and by the end of the case, your headache is at an all-time high.

While on the plane ride home, you tried to get some sleep. The migraine plus the stress Hotch is putting on you is enough to send your mind into a nightmare. A nightmare about what you could have done differently to save your partner. Hotch sits in his chair and watches you without anyone noticing him. He knows he’s been hard on you but he hates anyone new coming in and ruining the dynamic between the teammates that are already here.

You gasp awake and scare everyone from the sudden noise, and Hotch’s eyes narrow.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Y/N. When we land, you and I need to have a conversation with Chief Strauss about your future here.”

“I’m sorry,” you say as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Hotch,” JJ says to defend you. However, you’re already getting out of your seat and going into the bathroom to have some time alone to yourself. “Why are you being so hard on her?”

“Have you not been with her the entire time? She always asks me to repeat myself and she can’t follow instructions.”

“She was in an accident. She used to be a really good agent. I looked her up,” Spencer says.

“Her former team blamed her for the death of her partner, and she became deaf in her left ear after being tortured for information,” JJ finishes.

Now Hotch feels like shit. His face doesn’t give away how he’s feeling but deep down, he’s feeling like the worse piece of shit ever. He tries to talk to you when the plane lands but you escaped to grab your things to get the hell out of there. You’re almost at the elevator when Hotch stands in your way.

“Sir?”

“I want to apologize for how I’ve been treating you. I’ve been completely unfair to you without understanding who you are as a person and as an agent. I’ve always been reserved with new people on this team which is something I know I need to work on.”

“I don’t mean to do this on purpose. I’m assuming JJ and Spencer told you what happened to me?”

“Yes. If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll work on making you part of this team as if you started here on day one.”

“That’ll take months, I’m afraid, but apology accepted,” you smile.

Yup, you’re going to be the death of him. Your smile is too damn beautiful not to see in his office every day, and he’s gonna do everything he can to keep it there.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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whiskey-bumblebee · 1 year

Text

head... shoulders, knees, and toes

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Warnings: This is smut so be warned <3 MDNI. Oral, M receiving, reader is more sexually experienced than Aaron, established relationship

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: The way I set out to write pure smut and instead fuckin'... George W. Bush shows up? Idk man. Hope it's good

You watch Aaron as he sips his martini. There's something about his casual confidence that makes you want to lock yourself in a room with him and throw away the key. He's not normally into martinis, too dry for him, but the black tie occasion called for something a little more elegant than his typical scotch.

"He's so delicious," You murmur to Penelope. It takes her a second to follow your gaze across the room, landing squarely on a tuxedoed Aaron. There's a quick expression across her face that reads something like 'Oh, of course.'

"You're so perfect for each other," She smiles, touching your arm affectionately. "It's incredible that we can look at him and see two completely different things."

"What do you mean?" You ask bemusedly, finally tearing your gaze from your partner so you can look at Penelope.

"Well, what do you see when you look at him? And I'll tell you what I see afterwards."

"The love of my life," You say quietly. "The man I want to spend the rest of my life with. It's cliché, but he's my rock. The rest of the world can be..." You trail off, gesturing vaguely at the room around you. "Fucked, but it's alright if I'm with him."

"See, when I look a-"

You hold a finger to Penelope's lips, quickly apologizing for cutting her off.

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Proceed with the monologue."

"I'll spare you the monologue," You tease back, letting your voice drop into an even lower volume. "But when I look at him tonight... I want to take his clothes off, and watch as he insists on folding them carefully, and then I just want to do crimes to his body. Crimes up and down."

You look back over at him, shaking your head. "He knows what the suit and the polished shoes do to me. He looks so authoritative."

He's absorbed in conversation, so he doesn't notice that he's the sole object of your attention, which is probably a blessing. If he caught you looking at him like this, you'd never hear the end of it.

"What do you see?" You ask, glancing back at Penelope.

"I see my boss," She chuckles, taking another sip of her long island iced tea. "He looks less stressed than he usually does. He looks nice tonight, but I'll leave the crimes to you."

"Speaking of crimes, do you think he'll get in trouble with Strauss if we leave early?"

Penelope looks at you like you've grown a second head.

"You know he was invited by the President, right?"

You sigh into your hands. "Fuck the President. I want him so bad, Pen."

"Go ask him," She says cheerily, egging you on. "Maybe he'll say yes. But you have to tell me all about it if you do leave early. We're having a bit of a dry spell."

Your brow furrows and you look over at Derek. Fortunately, he's also engrossed in conversation. It looks like he's talking to someone from the CIA. "Is everything okay between you two?"

Penelope nods. "I don't want to be TMI but..."

"No pressure," You reply. "But I won't tell anyone."

"He has a yeast infection," She whispers.

You cringe, quickly moving your hand to your mouth to obscure your reaction. "No judgement. Just... ow."

She nods. "And I don't want to get one, so it's been two weeks since we... you know."

You stand up and excuse yourself. "I'm gonna go ask him if he wants to go home."

Pen shoots a quick wink at you. "Fuck the President, right?"

"Right," You reply, blowing her a kiss as you walk away.

You look fucking hot, and you know it. Aaron knows it. Everyone knows it. There are heads turning as you walk across the room. You wait for your movement to attract Aaron's attention.

Someone with an earpiece approaches him, murmuring something in his ear. Aaron looks confused for a moment, looking over at you with a quirk in his brow. He says something back, quietly, and the man with the earpiece walks away.

"Have you been making undemocratic comments about the leader of the free world again, sweetheart?"

He kisses your cheek sweetly, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Can we talk? Somewhere private?"

"Not yet," He replies, a hint of humour in his voice. "I need to go and explain your comments to the Secret Service."

"Seriously?" You look over your shoulder, and sure enough, the man who'd talked to Aaron was watching you with a steely gaze.

"Did you really say 'fuck the president' in a government building?"

"Yes," You can't suppress a smile. "But I think you'll like the context."

"You know he's technically my boss' boss' boss, right?"

You gesture for him to come closer so you can whisper in his ear.

"I want to take this dress off, get on my knees, and wrap my lips around your-"

He clears his throat, leaning back. "Right. And this resulted in a threat to national security because...?"

"Because I want to get out of here. So," You mouth 'fuck the President'. "Right?"

"He's not even here yet," Aaron chuckles. "Don't you want to meet him?"

"Bush?" You give Aaron a look, and he has to hold back laughter. "I don't want to get you in any more trouble, but you're asking if I want to stick around for a few more hours in the hope that I might be introduced to Bush?"

"Honey," He murmurs, full of mirth. "I don't think it'll be hours. If his bodyguards are here already, he'll probably be here soon."

"Baby," You respond, echoing his tone. "If I don't get to suck your cock in the next five minutes, I am going to become a threat to national security."

He laughs wholeheartedly at that, tucking his face into your shoulder.

"You're going to get us kicked out. It's like making a joke about a B O M B in an airport," He smiles. "And besides, I don't think I want you to... do that. Down there."

You stroke his cheek affectionately, trying not to pout. "We've been together almost 6 months and I haven't. I really want to, but it's okay if you don't want to."

"Why are you so set on it?" He looks genuinely confused, more than offended.

"I get pleasure from it," You reply earnestly. "I like doing it."

"You have a clit in the back of your throat too?" He teases, his voice low enough that nobody else can hear. Fortunately, the music is pretty loud, and nobody seems to be paying attention to the two of you. Except that one secret service agent, apparently.

"When did you see Deepthroat?" You ask, intrigued.

"Irrelevant," He says quickly. "But honey, seriously, do you... Does it turn you on to see me in pain?"

Your brow furrows even more deeply at that. "Pain?"

"You know... With the..." Aaron trails off as someone walks closely past the two of you.

"Canapes?"

"No, thank you," He says with a polite smile, and the waiter steps away, giving you space. "Teeth," He whispers.

Your facial expression turns into one of complete confoundment and horror. "Teeth? Aaron, there shouldn't... It shouldn't hurt, and there definitely shouldn't be teeth," You whisper back.

"But the last time I had one..." He shudders slightly, his nose scrunching.

"Oh, you poor thing," You say, your face softening. "Do you want to try again? I promise I'll stop if it hurts. But I think I can make you feel good."

The look in your eyes is more than convincing, and it only takes a moment of looking at you for Aaron to nod.

You send Pen a quick text: success! text me if POTUS arrives pls

And quickly see her response: YES! go do your crimes ;)

You smile at your phone and tuck it safely back into your purse.

____

You've never been more glad for Aaron's familiarity with government buildings. He walks you over to a more private wing, and leads you to a bathroom with marble countertops, leather armchairs, and most importantly, a lock on the inside of the door.

"What is this place?"

"The executive bathroom. For when dignitaries visit."

He eyes you nervously. "Are you sure?"

You nod, pushing the hem of your dress up, over your knees, so you can kneel without kneeling directly on the fabric.

"Are you sure? Say the word and I'll stop."

He nods. "I'm excited."

He looks around the room, quickly tugging a towel off the (heated) towel rail. He tosses it to the ground, and when you look up at him from your position at his feet, he almost loses it.

You fold the towel under your knees and smile at him gratefully.

"If my phone dings and it's from Penelope, we have to go," You say, passing your phone to him. He nods and places it on the chair behind him.

You reach up to undo his fly, tugging his pants down alongside his briefs. He unbuttons his blazer and the last two buttons of his shirt, holding up the fabric so you have some room to work.

"Can I touch your hair?"

You shake your head. "On any other night, yes, but this style took forever to do."

"That's fair," He breathes.

Wrapping your hand around him, you take a moment to gauge his size. You've fucked before, but this is the first time you've been so close to his cock. You lick a stripe up the underside appreciatively.

"You're thick," You say quietly. "So if I use my teeth, let me know, okay? It'll be hard because you're like this," You use both hands to indicate his girth. "And my mouth is like this," You drop one of your hands, making a circle with your thumb and forefinger. It's an exaggeration, but only slightly.

He nods solemnly.

You slip all of your rings off, letting them clatter to the floor beside you. Starting slowly, you tease his head with kisses and short licks, graduating to longer licks as you stimulate more of his length. Once you've warmed up, you take his head into your mouth, especially careful to sheathe your teeth behind your lips. You press your head towards his pelvis in earnest, taking as much as you can.

Without meaning to, you moan as you sink down. You're taking almost half of him, so you wrap your dominant hand around his base, stroking the part of him that doesn't fit in your mouth yet. For now, you rest your other hand on the side of his thigh affectionately.

You take a deep inhale through your nose and lean even further forward, swallowing as his cock fills your throat. For a moment, you panic, but soon take a deep breath and remind yourself that you're okay. You move your head ever-so-slightly from side to side, willing your throat to open up for him. You want nothing more than to press your nose to his pubic bone, and to see his reaction when you do.

A throaty groan leaves him, and you feel a heavy twitch in your mouth. Keep going, you think. Almost there... With another deep breath through your nose, you close the distance between your lips and his base, overcome with pride when you do. Look at you, fucking champion. You've got this.

You stay there for as long as you can, using your tongue to stimulate him near his base, and swallowing so you can stimulate his head. With both of your hands now free, you use them to gently pry his legs further apart, and he does so with your slight encouragement. One of your hands slips between your legs, and you tease your clit through your underwear, moaning softly, your eyes falling shut with pleasure.

Aaron lets out a string of curse words, and when you open your eyes to look up at him, his eyes are glassy, his mouth ajar as he watches.

"Am I... Do you need me to do anything?"

You indicate a shaking head with your fist, and he nods, understanding what you mean.

You bring that hand to his balls, looking at him for permission. He nods again. You cup his balls softly, feeling the weight of them in your hand. For a moment, you calculate whether you'll be able to do what you're thinking of doing. You extend your tongue and gently bring his balls towards your mouth with your hand, so that the tip of your tongue is pressing against his balls while the rest of his cock remains in your mouth and throat.

He groans deeply. "How... Where...?" He decides against asking, giving into the pleasure instead.

You slowly draw your mouth off his cock, needing to give your jaw a break from being stretched wide open.

"Is there anything you want me to do? Different pace? Depth?"

You press your underwear to the side, running your fingers through your slick. Without meaning to, you buck into your hand, moaning softly from the unexpected stimulation. While Aaron considers his answer, you grip his bare hip with your wet hand, and gently tongue at his balls.

He almost comes just thinking about the fact that the warm, wet spot on his hip is from where you'd been touching yourself. He wants to suck on your fingers.

"You can... fuck, this feels too dirty to say out loud," He laughs to himself. "You can suck on them, if you want."

You hum and quickly oblige, taking them into your mouth, sucking lightly and running your tongue over them.

"What you're doing is perfect, and I love seeing my cock in your throat-" He gasps suddenly as you start to jerk his cock with your hand, making sure his cock and balls are both stimulated.

"Fuck, I'm going to come if you keep doing that."

You continue your movements, not wanting to stop if he is close to his climax, but you want to know that his first real blowjob is everything he imagined it could be, if not more.

You settle for continuing your movements on his cock, but pulling away from his balls for a second.

"Do you want to come, or do you want to try something else?"

He checks your phone. "We have time. Is there something else you had in mind?"

"Some of my other partners have really enjoyed a faster pace, so I thought I'd try that," You say, punctuating your sentence by nuzzling into his thigh.

"Yeah," He breathes. "That sounds good."

You nod and get ready to take his head in your mouth again, when he touches your shoulder softly.

"Wait, just in case I... I can't give you a warning, where do you want me to...?"

"To come?" You smile devilishly up at him. "If we were at home, I'd want it all over my face, my tits," You run your hand over the features as you name them, just to tease him. "But here, either my throat or a towel, so we don't make a mess."

He nods, encouraging you back towards his cock with the hand on your shoulder. "Please suck my cock, honey."

You smile, satisfied with the effect you're having on him, and take his cock back in your hand, making sure there's plenty of spit on the lower part of his cock so that you don't accidentally hurt him.

This time, you focus your attention on flicking your tongue from side to side on the underside of his cock, taking only the first third or so. You're able to refine your technique now that you're not calculating how to take your next breath.

He moans loud and long, and you're vaguely aware of him grabbing a clean hand towel to press into his mouth. When you look up at him, he looks wrecked, almost desperate, white-knuckling a towel as his eyes follow your every move.

You match the pace of your hand to the pace of your mouth, and use your spare hand to cup his balls, teasing the tips of your fingers over them. Determined to make him come hard, you hollow your cheeks and suck hard, creating a strong suction.

His thighs twitch, and his hips jerk forward, pressing his cock further into your mouth. You swallow around his cock, and you hear something that sounds almost like a scream. When you look up at him, the edges of your lips quirk up in a smile. His eyes are squeezed shut and sweat is dripping down his forehead. His face is flushed and his hair is losing its sharp definition as the gel starts to melt.

He drops the towel unceremoniously.

"Fuck," He moans. "Fuck."

He gently eases you off his cock, and you're slightly surprised.

"Did you come?"

"Are you fucking joking?" He chuckles darkly. "Yes, I did, honey."

"I didn't feel it," You say slowly.

He takes your chin in one of his giant hands and tugs slightly. You scramble to your feet as he pulls your face towards his.

He immediately presses his tongue into your mouth, tracing your tongue with his own. It's almost like he's trying to-

With a small pop, he pulls away, a grin tugging at his lips.

"So that's what my come tastes like."

There's a flicker of recognition across your frontal lobe.

"You came so deep down my throat that I didn't even feel it," You say, slightly shocked. "Oh my god. Aaron, that's so hot."

He reaches between your legs, running his fingers between your labia.

"I want to make you feel good," He says. "You've been so good to me."

You pull away slightly. "Check the phone first. Just want to make sure-"

Aaron picks up your cellphone, smiling to himself as he turns the small screen toward you. "I'm guessing POTUS!! POTUS!!, and EAGLE has LANDED are Garcia's codes?"

"Shit," You murmur, bending over quickly to pick up the towels and put them back into place. "Sorry, Aaron. I hope he's still around so you can meet him."

He leans into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth briefly, and whispers, "Fuck the President."

___

You and Aaron take a moment to clean up, making use of the luxury amenities to ensure both of you look put together. You pop a mint into your mouth.

"Normally, I wouldn't mind the taste of your come on my tongue," You tease him, reaching down to cup him through his trousers. "But I think your team might not appreciate it."

In return, he gives your ass a squeeze. "I'm going to fuck you so hard when we get home."

___

When you return to the ballroom, you notice that almost everyone is seated, facing the stage.

"Maybe he's going to give a speech," Aaron whispers to you, shrugging.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner?" An aide comes up to you as you're about to take a seat near the back.

You look at Aaron for guidance, but he just nods at the aide. "Yes?"

"Would you mind taking a seat on this side, near the front? The rest of your team should be seated there."

"Of course," Aaron replies coolly, resting his hand on your lower back so he can lead you to your seats. Sure enough, the whole team is seated in that row. That's nice, you think. They seated us together.

You sit down, reaching for his hand, and he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. He takes your hand in his and rests your intertwined hands on his knee.

"Where were you?" Gideon chides Aaron from somewhere behind you.

"She started projectile vomiting," Aaron replies matter of factly. "She's okay now."

You flash Gideon a brief thumbs up.

"Oh," Gideon says, looking over at you apologetically. "Hope you're feeling better."

You nod warmly. "Thank you. I think there might have been some seafood in one of the canapes."

"Shrimp," Gideon nods. "Never good for me either."

The room fell into a hush as the announcer walked to the lectern.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the recipients of the Presidential Medal of Freedom."

Your eyes widen and you look over at Aaron. He presses his lips together to silence a laugh at your reaction.

"Ruth Johnson Colvin." Applause.

"Norman Francis." Applause.

"Penelope Garcia."

You fight hard to keep your expression neutral, but allow yourself to clap when the rest of the audience does so.

Once you've made eye contact with Garcia and sent your best non-verbal vibes, you elbow Hotch and raise your eyebrow at him. He shakes his head at you, careful to keep the movement subtle. He has no idea either. When you look up at the stage, you see Penelope is just as shocked.

"Elle Greenaway."

There's another polite round of applause, and Elle shoots you a panicked look as she stands up. You nod at her encouragingly, and watch as she straightens, turning her attention to the stage.

"Aaron Hotchner."

You have to clap your hand over your mouth to keep from exclaiming with excitement. Aaron lets go of your other hand, placing it safely in your lap before standing up. A boyish grin comes over his features as he maps his path to the stage. You clap animatedly, grinning widely.

Twelve more names are called, but your attention is undivided. You beam up at Aaron as the national anthem plays and the President enters the room. Laura Bush greets Dick Cheney with a kiss on the cheek, and moves to stand beside her husband. You feel like you're floating, and barely take in the speech until you hear a familiar acronym.

"We have a number of agents from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI with us tonight. Agents Garcia, Greenaway, Hotchner, Jareau, Morgan, and Reid. You may not know their names or their faces, but they work hard to keep each and every one of you safe, in this great country we call home. Their unit includes some of the best and brightest minds in the country. Although you probably haven't heard of these agents before, you've probably heard of the cases they've solved. Most recently, they tracked down the Illinois sniper, and saved actress Lila Archer's life."

There was a round of applause. Blurbs for the rest of the recipients were read out in turn, and soon enough, they started handing out the medals, with even louder applause for each individual as they posed for photos alongside the President.

You feel yourself glow from the inside out as Aaron's name is called, and you can't help but cheer as the President clasps the medal around his neck. He looks so handsome with the blue ribbon over his tuxedo, and the white and gold medallion hanging just under his bow tie. Gideon taps your shoulder, and as you turn, he passes you a handkerchief. You realize that you must have been crying, and dab lightly at your cheeks.

The rest of the night passes more or less as you expect it to, with the President giving short closing remarks and champagne served at the reception afterwards.

You've been at the reception for maybe five minutes when Aaron makes his way over to you, finally free from the sea of handshakes and introductions.

"Do you want to go home?" He says quietly, his breath warm on your neck.

"No," You lie, your voice higher than normal. "You should celebrate. This is a big deal. You can only ever get one of these." You tap the medal gently, and rest your palm against his lapel.

He raises an eyebrow at you, and clears his throat lightly before leaning back towards your ear.

"Don't make me a liar. I'm going to bend you over the kitchen table in the next hour. And if I can't help myself, we might just have to pull over near Alexandria..."

"Aaron," You breathe.

"Do you want to meet the President?"

You laugh quietly and nod. "Sure."

He takes your hand in his.

"Mr. President, this is my wife."

"Mrs. Hotchner," The President says happily. "I'm so glad you and your husband were able to make it. I was speaking with Gideon just before the ceremony and he said you were nowhere to be found."

You nod politely, trying to find something to say that wasn't:

"Yes, Mr. President, I was on my knees in one of the White House bathrooms. Lovely towels by the way!"

Or,

2. "Yes, Mr. President, unfortunately your world class chefs served bad shrimp so I was barfing my guts out."

The First Lady joins you, standing beside her husband. Fortunately Aaron, ever-smooth, ever-charming, saved the moment.

"She wasn't feeling well, so we went to the first aid room to get some ginger tablets."

"Oh! Congratulations," The First Lady says. "The country will be lucky to have another Hotchner."

Your expression of confusion gives way to a wide smile. Play the part.

"Thank you so much. We'd love to invite you to the baby shower..." You add.

"Oh, we won't be able to make it, we're afraid, but please send along your registry if you have one," She replies. "We're not allowed to attend civilian events unless they're family."

You nod.

"It was a pleasure to meet you both, and thank you so much again for tonight. It's a great honour and a pleasant surprise," Aaron smiles, offering a final handshake before he leads you to the exit.

"They think we're married and pregnant?" You laugh, hitting Aaron's arm playfully. "Oh my God, Aaron! You lied to the President!"

He laughs too, opening your car door. "Technically, he assumed."

Once you're both settled in the car, you pause for a moment, leaning across the centre console to give Aaron a kiss. You pull back for a moment, smiling.

"Presidential Medal of Honour recipient, Aaron Hotchner."

You kiss him again, but he pulls away, smiling too hard to kiss you properly.

"You really had no idea?"

He shakes his head. "No idea. Gideon organized the whole thing. I think he turned down his medal, though."

You run your finger over the deep blue ribbon. "It suits you."

He starts the car and settles his hand on your thigh.

"You might want to call in sick tomorrow," He says, merging onto the highway.

"I'm okay," You smile. "The projectile vomiting was a great cover up, but I feel fine."

He sucks his teeth and looks over at you briefly. "Oh honey, I'm not worried about your imaginary food poisoning. This is your heads up that if I do my job right, you're not going to be able to walk in the morning."

___

And that's the story of the medal framed on your mantelpiece, and the small card beside it, which reads:

Mr. and Mrs. Hotchner,

Congratulations on your firstborn. Wishing you all the best.

Proverbs, 17:6 - "Grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of children is their fathers."

Best wishes,

George & Laura

And safely tucked away in the back of a drawer somewhere is a baby onesie with a little American flag on the front, and a set of pastel Ralph Lauren washcloths.

#aaron hotchner/reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #reader insert #fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot #hotch x reader #hotch/reader #hotch smut #my writing

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wylankinnie · 7 months

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With John often spending his days at the clinic, Abigail took to strolling the town square. It was there that she met Kathryn Strauss and Celia-Mae Hayward, two young socialites, who, like her, had moved in only months prior to their meeting.

Needless to say, both women left a delightful impression on Abigail and soon secured themselves and their husbands dinner invitations.

#collymore: g1 #abigail collymore #john collymore #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical cc #sims 4 decades #sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 family #sims 4 historical

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makereadgrow · 6 months

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English paper pieced Aperiodic Monotile wall hanging is complete!

This block is based on the Smith, Myers, Kaplan, and Goodman-Strauss's aperiodic monotile known as the "hat" (explainer here https://amp.cnn.com/cnn/2023/04/06/world/the-hat-einstein-shape-tile-discovery-scn/index.html and the original publication https://arxiv.org/abs/2303.10798 )

In order to make this I broke the shape down to its most basic form - the 30-60-90 triangle. I drafted my own triangles on cardstock and glue basted the fabric to the forms.

From there I built up the shapes in shades of grey with a pop of orange. I wanted colors that both hid the complexity of the blocks and revealed it upon closer inspection. Ultimately I want the viewer to find new details as they look closer and longer at the peice.

Midway through making blocks I came to the realization (probably missed when I read the articles) that some of the shapes are mirrored in the tiling. I had already made my orange block but I elected to partially disassemble it and make that my central mirrored shape.

Initially I had no plan for how many blocks I would make. I essentially madr blocks until I was bored of making them. Because of the somewhat fluid nature of all the seams assembly of the blocks together was far simpler than I expected. I could fold in essentially any direction without creasing the triangles. I used a diagram from the Smith et al paper as my guide to assembly.

Once I had it all together it was time to quilt. Honestly the quilting pattern I chose was something of an impulse but initial tests were nothing short of delightful. While my local store carries only a few colors thicker hand thread I was able to find a soft grey that stood out on every fabric in this quilt, but didn't have such a harsh contrast that you can't look past the stitching. My design are simply 3" squares that overlap in the corners and were measured on the fly. Their irregularities are accidental but still a feature.

Finally I came to binding. I realized I had 42 corners to get around. I used a 1" bias strip to bias face the peice, folding out the seam allowances on the outer edge to secure the binding by hand. The only machine work on this quilt is in the seams connecting the binding strips. In hindsight I should have cut my binding strips at 1.25" but I managed to get it all turned and stitched down. This was most certainly the most challenging part of the entire peice.

And now it hangs on my bare office wall, enticing me to stare at more than just a blank space.

#quilting #english paper piecing #hand pieced #epp #hand sewing #hand quilting #aperiodic monotile #einstein tile

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

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Ralvez Masterlist

Spencer x Reader Oneshots

Spencer x Reader Series

Luke x Reader

Fluff & Angst (SFW)

The Reid Effect - Spencer Reid doesn't like dogs, not even his boyfriend Luke's dog Roxy. Maybe some late night cuddles can change that. Part of the 12 Days of Shipmas and S13 Square for CM Bingo. Requested by Anon. F

Baby it’s Cold Outside (But it’s Hot in Here) - Luke is out and proud and has his sights set on Spencer. Spencer didn’t realise he could like men until he starts getting confusing feelings for his coworker. And then they get snowed in with no where to turn. A / F

Capture My Heart - Spencer Reid isn't a big drinker. A night at Rossi's and one bed makes him realise drinking isn't all bad if it means he ends up in Luke's arms. One Bed Challenge. F

In the Event of My Demise - months after his release from prison, Spencer Reid still hasn’t allowed himself to deal with the residual trauma of what happened to him. When a local case triggers his inevitable breakdown, Luke Alvez must pull Spencer back from the brink or risk losing him to his demons forever. Comfort Challenge. A / F

A Chuisle Mo Chroi (Pulse of My Heart) - Spencer chronicles his unrequited love for his best friend in the form of letters to his mom. But when she meets the person Spencer has detailed to her, what happens when she inadvertently confesses her son's feelings for him? Requested by Anon. F

NSFW (minors DNI)

Neither Fish Nor Fowl - Luke tries and fails to figure out Spencer's type. Spencer makes it clear with the help of ducks. Part of the 12 Days of Shipmas. Requested by @andiebeaword F / S NSFW 18+

A Cell Divides - Luke Alvez has prison all figured out. Until he’s introduced to his new cellmate, and he knows his heart will forever be imprisoned by the messy haired angel, Doctor Spencer Reid. Roommate Challenge. A / F / S NSFW 18+

Everyday Angel - in the midst of his drug addiction Spencer bumps into a handsome jogger who helps Spencer in more ways than he’ll ever know. Ten years later when he’s introduced to new agent Luke Alvez, there is something so hauntingly familiar about him… A / F / NSFW Themes 18+

Out of Reach - Spencer and Luke are both unhappily married to different people. But when they meet each other at a swingers party, anything can happen. Requested by @/andiebeaword A / F / S (minors DNI)

The Theory of Attraction - Spencer has been standoffish towards Luke since the moment he started at the BAU. Even once they start sleeping together, outside of the bedroom Spencer still treats him with disdain. And Luke is fed up of being just a booty call. For @reidsbookclub 1 Year Celebration. A / F / S (minors DNI)

The Kids Aren’t Alright - Break Away Unity Summer Camp was once the summer destination for the youth of Virginia, but after falling on hard times it was now struggling to stay afloat. And when a young boy goes missing, Erin Strauss knows it could be the nail in the coffin for her camp if anyone were to find out. So instead of reporting it, she enlists her ragtag team of young counsellors to help piece together the events that led to the kids disappearance.

But with her staff more concerned with getting laid, getting high and a myriad of other personal problems, getting to the bottom of what happened to one of her campers seems an impossible feat. Can they put their issues aside and work together to find the truth? Or will the mystery of Riley Jenkins disappearance be swept away with the campfire embers? Either way, it’s sure to be a summer they will never forget. A / F / S (minors DNI)

ON PERMANENT HIATUS

Chapter Navigation Under the Cut

Chapter 1 - The Kids Aren’t Alright

Chapter 2 - Unwritten

Chapter 3 - Dreaming With a Broken Heart

Chapter 4 - Check Yes or No

Chapter 5 - Don’t Let Me Get Me

Chapter 6 - You Might Have Noticed

Chapter 7 - In Between

Chapter 8 - Mr Nice Guy

Chapter 9 - Happy Unhappy

Chapter 10 - Only Young

Chapter 11 - Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year

#spencer reid #luke alvez #ralvez #ralvez fanfiction #ralvez fanfic #spencer reid x luke alvez #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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kelloggjkellogg · 7 months

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PART 17: LEE JEANS

Lee wanted to put themselves ahead of their rivals, Levi Strauss, so their Sixties take on jeans was to go flared and colourful. Flares as a trend began in 1967, mainly with the psychedelic and hippy crowd, became more mainstream in '68 and were firmly established by '69. They had yet to reach the excesses of the 1970s, though.

Fred wears... Hair: Base game Sideburns: Maxis Match CC World - S4CC Finds, FREE downloads for The Sims 4 (tumblr.com) Shirt: Shirt | BE THERE OR BE SQUARE SHIRT A mix of plaid and... (tumblr.com) Jeans: Cool Kitchen Stuff Shoes: Base game

David wears... Hair: Rusty Nail: Beatle Boy`s hair V1 - Sims 4 Hairs Sideburns: Maxis Match CC World - S4CC Finds, FREE downloads for The Sims 4 (tumblr.com) Shirt: Base game Pants: Patterned pants at Baufive – b5Studio » Sims 4 Updates Shoes: Base game

#1960s #sims 4 #decades challenge #1960s fashion

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zooophagous · 1 year

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Artemis adjusted her sleeve and slid her tightly fitted glove over her hand. She made a few grasping motions, testing the movement. Movement was important. Movement was crucial. Movement was the difference between life and death, and if her equipment was too restrictive it could end up killing the hunter it was meant to protect.

Strauss stood across the way from her. He wasn't messing with protective equipment. He didn't need to. He was stretching. He pulled one arm across his chest, then mirrored with the other, and tilted his head to either side, resulting in an audible clicking as his stiff joints readied for action. He looked bored, waiting for her to catch up. He shook out his hands at his sides. Artemis smirked, he looked something like a cowboy at high noon, preparing to draw.

You didn't see very many vampire cowboys.

"I want all of you to pay close attention to Director Van Helsing's technique. She is among the finest among our ranks, and you won't find a better example to learn from. You are all in for a very rare treat. A live mock-slaying like this with a real vampire is the first in the Institute's history." Ursula addressed the audience that filled the bleachers of the gymnasium.

"Mock slaying is it?" Strauss sneered at her. "How presumptuous. I think you'll find it to be more of a simulated feeding than a slaying."

He winked across the way at Artemis, who narrowed her eyes and slid her face mask into position. It was stark white and emotionless, mannekin-like; bulletproof and quite creepy, though whether or not a vampire was intimidated by it was anyone's guess. It was the final piece of the slayer's uniform, which included a neck guard, knee pads, a kevlar vest and threads of real silver that ran through the athletic wear, giving it a shimmering glitter effect that danced in the spotlight. She hated the glitter effect, really. It was hard to look properly intimidating when wearing a sparkly spandex. Let him try and touch it, though, and he'll change his tune, she mused.

"Oh, you think you can take down an actual Van Helsing, do you?" Artemis teased in return.

"I do not think, Frau Van Helsing. I know."

"Then you're not afraid of a little wager? Name your prize."

"I'm not sure I should say what I want from you in mixed company, Frau Van Helsing." He winked at her.

She blushed bright red, but under her mask, luckily the crowd would never tell. Even more luckily for Strauss, Ursula didn't seem to be paying attention to their back and forth, too focused on her students.

"Director Van Helsing will be wearing the standard slayer's uniform. This is the same uniform our field agents and graduates use, and you will hopefully get to see the purpose behind each piece, if Mr. Strauss does not simply lose the round immediately." She glanced disdainfully at the vampire. She didn't have high hopes.

"Mr. Strauss will be wearing standard athletic safety equipment but no other armor. The purpose is to simulate a meeting in the field, in which an agent accosts a vampire en situ without preparation. Director Van Helsing will be using standard issue knives and a Cardi-axe heartstick device much like the ones in your own toolkit. However, given that we do not want to actually murder Mr. Strauss tonight, the silver blade and hydrolic components of the weapons have been replaced with paint dummies. If Director Van Helsing lands a hit, it will show up as a blue mark."

She turned to Strauss, who now had paint on his hands from a marker of his own.

"Mr. Strauss has chosen for a weapon his own natural defenses. Where he touches with his claws, it will show up as a red mark. At the end of the mock fight, the winner will be announced after tallying up the amount of fatal or incapacitating injuries on the combatants."

It was time to square up. Artemis drew her first weapon, a blade, similiar to the rapier one might use in fencing. It was hard to maintain an intimidating look when one glanced down the length of the thing to see a little blue ball at its tip. Beyond the point of the weapon, Strauss stood across the staging area and wiped his palm across his mouth, giving him a red smear along his fangs.

"Beware my bite, Frau Van Helsing. It will leave a mark."

"Trust me Strauss, you won't be getting that close."

He began to pace. Slowly the combatants circled each other. Artemis held her sword up and ready, the point aimed in warning at the creature whose eyes bored into her own. The mask covered much of her face, including the eyes. In theory he shouldn't be able to see her expressions, part of the psychological portion of warfare. She got the feeling that he did, though.

He was much like a tiger; slowly padding around the hunter in careful steps that made no sound. When he spoke to her, it was a deep purr dripping in honey.

"There is no need for that kind of violence. Why don't you set that down, and we can talk this out reasonably?"

He almost sounded... melodic? Artemis shook her head and snorted.

"Are you seriously trying to use hypnosis to get me to drop my weapon? I wasn't born yesterday."

"Worth a shot." He shrugged.

And charged.

Artemis lept deftly to one side as Strauss barrelled past like a locomotive. He swung and missed, and left a red streak on the floor where he used his hand to stop himself and turn. He sprung back at her with a snarl.

She didn't have enough room to stab, but enough time to block. She crossed the rapier over her chest and caught the reddened claw before it hit her. Taking advantage of their closeness, she rammed her knee hard into the vampire's groin.

Strauss grunted and backed off. An athletic cup had mostly saved him, but the surprise at her ferocity had pushed him back, for the moment.

"Remind me not to make you angry outside of the ring."

"And here you thought this would be easy."

She sprung forward with a wide slash of her weapon. Strauss dodged easily, leaping backwards and breaking into a run around her as she desperately pivoted in place to face him. He went at her and she went low. He was strong and wiry, but a skinny thing. She lowered her center of gravity and bowled him over her own head.

He hit the floor. She stood over him with the tip of her blade at his neck.

"Do you yield?"

"You didn't say please."

He kicked her leg out from under her. She fell hard, inwardly cursing herself for the hesitation. She rolled away from him. He grabbed her by the arm but quickly let go with a sharp breath of pain. The silver thread had done its job.

Both of them were up and moving now. They retreated from each other and stood apart, sizing each other up.

"You've a bit of red on you, Frau Van Helsing. Am I getting too close for comfort?"

"If I had a paint marker on my knees you'd be sporting a set of blue balls, Strauss, don't get too cocky."

"What a crass pun. I am having fun today."

"You might feel differently after you lose."

He bared his teeth and ran at her with a roar. She braced with her blade in front of her. He faked left, then went right, then swiped at her sword arm. She struck back. He caught her by the hilt and made to take the weapon from her. She swung her free arm into his face. The glisten of the silver thread that close made him lose a second, which she used to free her weapon and slash it across his torso.

Not a killing blow, but the blue trace across his shirt was clearly a very painful simulated wound. He staggered back, and glanced down at the paint with a scowl. He looked back up at her and gave a hateful hiss.

The red paint on his face and hands gave him the appearance of a creature out for blood. The baleful expression completed the effect.

"Tiger, tiger." Artemis muttered to herself, trying and failing to remember the words of the famous poem.

Strauss sprang forward again. He grabbed her arm hard, despite the sting of the protective thread, and sacrificed a moment of pain for leverage. He grabbed her mask with his spare hand and wrenched it off center, blinding her.

She swung her fist at him hard in the dark. She dropped her rapier. This was going south. With one hand she fumbled her holster for the Cardi-Axe device and with the other she peeled off her mask to face her opponent.

She had just enough time to see him bear down on her hard once again before being taken to the floor.

Strauss had gotten her mask off, and it was all he needed. One hand on her throat, he pinned her to the floor and was at her now exposed neck. She winced under his cold breath and the faintest sensation of his fangs on her skin, threatening to bite.

The bite never came.

Strauss chuckled darkly in her ear and pulled away to see the red mark of paint along the vein in her neck. The mark of a fatal blow.

"Game, set, match, Van Helsing."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Strauss. You lost."

He looked down, and saw with some surprise, a mess of blue paint. She held the spent Cardi-Axe bolt gun in her hand, now covered in sky blue paint from where she had shot him in the chest as they had fallen. A fatal blow was there, directly over the heart.

He touched the paint and examined it with surpirse in his eyes, almost as if it were really his own blood.

Ursula stood stammering with her mouth open, getting increasingly more flustered until she grabbed the mic and addressed the crowd once more.

"Well! I didn't expect Mr. Strauss had enough practice killing people to be that good at this. Seems I was mistaken. We have a tie."

She approached the two fallen warriors with an air of disappointment. "Alas, this is an all too common outcome. The monster is slain, but the hunter is also tragically felled. As you see here we have two fatal blows. I cannot tell you how many good hunters have died and taken their quarry with them. It just goes to show all of you, no matter how good you are or how poor you believe your opponent to be, this is always a life or death matter."

Strauss stood up and offered his hand to Artemis, who took it, and rose to her feet.

"That was a very enlightening sparring match, Frau Van Helsing. Thank you for playing with me today."

"Any time. Too bad about our wager."

"Well. Perhaps since we both won, we should both get something we want, hm?"

"What if we want the same thing?" She winked.

It was Strauss' turn to blush.

"Hold on a moment, Mr. Strauss." Ursula wandered into the ring. "I think for argument's sake, I'd like to go a round with you."

"You?"

"Trust me, it will be over fast."

Strauss smirked. "You know I won't hold back in the ring. Are you certain?"

"Very."

In one fluid moment, Ursula drew a pistol from her pocket. "Do you yield, vampire?"

Strauss chuckled and meekly raised his hands in mock surrender.

"To you, Frau Harker, I yield."

"Not good enough."

POP. POP. POP. POP. POP.

She fired the rounds in rapid succession. Each one struck and exploded across Strauss' shirt in a mess of bright yellow paint. He staggered back and looked down at his ruined shirt in disbelief.

"There. Five fatal blows in a row. That is my most important lesson to impart on all of the students- if you're close enough to use your bladed weapons, you're too close. Don't be stupid. Use ranged whenever possible. Director Van Helsing got lucky here, but the Cardi-Axe device is intended for unconscious or restrained subjects only."

She turned to Strauss with a prideful "Hmph!"

"Go get yourselves cleaned up, you two. And everyone else can head to commissary. Get moving, we have to clean the gym before the damn paint sets."

Strauss headed towards the showers, but not before leaning in conspiratorially to Artemis as he passed.

"Are you quite serious about this 'wager' of ours?"

"Get cleaned up and meet me at my office. We'll talk."

#wayward souls #writing

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my18thcenturysource · 2 years

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Today we're taking a look at the costume of an OLD period film, where my interest collide: 1920s and the 18th century.

Der Rosenkavalier (1926) is based on the opera of the same name by Richard Strauss, and the music from that is what accompanies this not so silent film. Since the libretto is changed a lot from the one of the opera, the movie also includes music from Strauss' Couperin suite. It was premiered in 10th January of 1926 at the Dresden Semperoper, and Strauss himself conducted the orchestra! Isn't that super cool? You can watch it on YouTube!

The costume design for this film was by Alfred Roller, Hans Rouc, and Stefan Wessely (the three of them usually worked in Art Direction), and Ludwig Rudlof was the wig maker.

I had never thought about this film until I was reading a magazine (a new one, from 1923 LOL), and there was a little column about Jaque Catelain (who plays Octavian in this film) and it had a photo from this film. And OF COURSE that sent me to a rabbit hole. I mean, look at him (and Elly Felicie Berger):

And, now something @vinceaddams always tell us all to look at: LOOK AT THE COAT SHOULDERS!!!!!! That's so good! AND FROM 1926.

Now, I love LOVE LOVE the costumes of this film. Let's take a look!

First of all, we have not one, but TWO robes de cour with the right kind of lace sleeves! One has a more historically accurate neckline, and the general silhouette of the torso. It was worn by Huguette Duflos as the Countess Maria Theresia von Werdenberg (the Marschallin):

And the other has a more square neckline (like in a middle way between a court mantua and a robe de cour), and the torso is less accurate (she doesn't seem to be wearing the right stays, nor the dress having the proper boning), but the petticoat is SPECTACULAR (worn by Elly Felicie Berger, as Sophie):

The women have both other dresses:

A robe à la française in stripes for Sophie:

This very flammable looking for the Marschallin:

And this one is also a robe de cour (kind of?), but with a petticoat and overskirt that feels more like a robe à la française. I mean, it clearly closes on the back, so I like to think of this dress as a robe de cour.

We also see Carmen Cartellieri wearing... this... dress and a coat/robe over it. This might be the dress that looks more like a halloween costume of the whole film, but honestly, I've seen way worse lately...

Now, let's just enjoy all of the menswear. They have some funny and odd cuff choices, but the general look is WAY better than many MANY modern 18th century set films and series. But the coats, the wigs, the cravats... it is all so pretty!

Here some early 18th century wigs:

LOOK AT THE VOLUME OF THIS FROCK COAT!!! Also, I LOVE that they kept the dark coloured hair of Jaque Catelain as Octavian in some parts:

And in other parts where he's supposed to be dressed nicer, he wears a white wig. This is also my favourite suit of the film, that looks taken straight from a Barbier illustration:

Now let's look at Paul Hartman as the Marschall. The silhouette that he wears is slimmer and fitted closer to the body than the other characters, being it from later in the century.

He wears a court outfit, that has too short breeches and too straight front:

His other main look is this suit with decorative lines, that along the riding boots, gives him the appearance of strict military dude. The front is nicely curved, and even the shoulders have a structured feel that matches the character. That's good costume design, my friends.

Over this outfit, he wears a carrick (or garrick) coat and a tricorn hat:

We also have Michael Bohen (as Ochs von Lerchenau) and Karl Forest (as Herr von Faninal). Their looks are kind of mid 18th century (?) and earlier 18th century kind of mixed together. They have different lengths of waistcoats and one of their coats (the one on Karl Forest) looks earlier to me. But in this comedy of errors, both of them are supposed to be kind of silly, so I accept that they look kind of odd. Still, better than many series I've seen lately.

So, to finish this post, here are some images from the film that I didn't use complete before, but you might want to see. Enjoy:

So, what is your favourite outfit from this film?

#1920s #18th century #period drama #opera #richard strauss #der rosenkavalier #the knight of the rose #1926 #long post

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sednonamoris · 1 year

Text

life ain’t fair and the world is mean

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: Arthur’s decision after meeting with Mary Linton again leaves you caught between a rock and a hard place.

Warnings: Angst, so much dialogue, complicated love squares (?), sibling dynamics

Word count: 1,383

A/N: Felt absolutely deranged writing this ily all pls enjoy <3

Series masterlist • AO3

—

Everyone at camp knows Arthur got a letter from that Mary Linton.

As much as he swears up and down that whatever was between them is long over, you can tell the heartache hasn’t faded the moment his eyes land on the familiar cursive. He mouths along like he can taste her on the words she’s written.

You look away to give him his privacy and grimace something close to sympathy. Whatever it is she’s asking for after all this time, he’ll give it to her - at the very least he’ll go to her.

Poor bastard.

Almost-loves last longer and hurt more than real ones. You ought to know.

He rides off when early morning mist still clings to the lowest parts of the land with dewdrop fingerprints. Abigail watches him go with a pinched look on her face. John watches her watch him with a frown. You pretend not to notice any of it.

Hosea does the opposite, actually seeking John out. John looks over at you helplessly, and you tip your hat with a faint smile just to watch his eyes widen with betrayal. You listen long enough to hear the beginnings of that wheezing cough you’ve worried over for weeks and a far be it from me interfering in your business before snagging an unmanned rifle and heading off on guard duty. Maybe Hosea will have better luck than you and Dutch and Arthur and Abigail and everyone else knocking some sense into him.

It’s a pleasant spring day, warm with enough of a cool breeze to keep the worst of the heat and the bugs at bay. You find a spot to stand midway up the path and settle in against the bark of one of the taller maples. Sunlight filters through the canopy of leaves above and leaves everything dappled gold. You breathe in deep and sigh out springtime. Almost summer, now.

Horseshoe Overlook has been good for the gang. Valentine is just big enough and just used enough to seasonal workers that you pass off fine, even despite Arthur’s determination to fight half the town. Strauss has him collecting debts already, and Dutch has asked that he see about Micah’s predicament over in Strawberry. You can’t say you miss having that one around, but loyalty is loyalty. Dutch would surely ask him to rescue any one of you if the situation were reversed.

In the meantime the girls have been sniffing out leads, and the boys have been robbing just about everyone they come across. For your part, you’ve been scoping out local homesteads and farms looking for anyone who seems to be sitting on decent animals or piles of cash. So far it doesn’t look like you’ll be lucky enough to find both. Guthrie Farms was your destination yesterday, and you think you’ll pay them another visit one of these nights to relieve them of some choice cattle. There’s a buyer up near Three Sisters in the market.

In the back of your mind the concern about Cornwall and those bonds lingers, but so far it seems he’s been content to live and let live. Hopefully that lasts. You let the thought fade and settle in for a morning of boredom and birdsong.

—

Your watch is almost up when someone rustles through the brush, approaching at a steady trot.

“Who goes there?” you call out, and stand a little straighter with your gun.

“Arthur, you dumbass!”

It’s only just afternoon - somehow you expected he’d be gone for the day at least.

“Such manners,” you mock, but pause once he’s close enough for you to see the look on his face.

He’s been crying, those cornflower eyes even sadder than normal. There’s a resigned stoop to his shoulders. A pinch between his brows. You wonder just what exactly Mary had to say after all this time.

He ducks his head and murmurs a halfhearted sorry.

“S’fine,” you dismiss with as kind a look you can manage. You tilt your head up at him when he lingers, looking like a deer caught out in the open.

“Do you have a minute to talk, actually?” He can’t quite meet your eyes.

“‘Course. Let me swap with Karen and I’ll meet you.”

He nods gratefully and rides up to the nearest hitching post while you do just that, a quick handoff with a look that begs her not to ask too many questions. Karen glances over to Arthur, then back to you, about as solemn as she gets. She nods you on your way before making her way into the treeline.

He’s waiting for you on the outskirts of camp, just past the chickens and partially hidden by a copse of half-grown saplings.

“The hell did that Linton woman do to you?” you ask, hands on your hips.

Arthur huffs a sarcastic laugh. “More what I did to her. She wanted my help - somethin’ to do with her brother. I told her it’s best we never speak again.”

You puff out a breath. “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Arthur shifts in place, and you can tell there’s more to it. If he doesn’t know how to say it you doubt you’ll know how to answer, but you guess friends aren’t always for saying the right thing.

“Before I left she gave me back the ring I proposed with. I want, well,” he fumbles, “I been thinkin’ someone ought to do right by Jack and Abigail for a while now. Make sure they’re taken care of, since Marston won’t.”

Of all the things he might’ve said, you can’t decide if you should be more or less shocked that it’s this. Longing looks and stolen dances are one thing, but everyone knows Abigail and John are together, even when they’re not - especially when they’re not.

“Jesus, is that why you told Mary you won’t see her anymore?”

“No! I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Why are you telling me?” The question is desperate, even to your ears.

“Dutch an’ Hosea are too close to this, and everyone else is too far off. Guess I was hoping you’d be able to make more sense of it all than me.”

You laugh a terse, bitter laugh. “I ain’t too close? Really? All these years, Arthur, you been like a brother to me, but John— You know this ain’t fair.”

“Most things ain’t.” His eyes are pleading. Sad. Sorry. Damn him. “Just tell me if you think I’m bein’ a fool and I’ll leave it alone.”

And there you have to pause. Because is it really so foolish to want to give Abigail the partner she needs, and Jack the father figure he deserves? The way he looks at them is not lost on you. When he lost that young woman and little boy all those years ago he was inconsolable. In a lot of ways you think he still is, though he hides it everywhere but his eyes. More than anything you want him to be happy. You know that if Abigail will have him, he will be.

But you need John to be happy, too.

And you feel like the worst person alive, because he isn’t happy with Abigail and he’s not happy without her, either. Mostly he just seems determined to be miserable and make it everyone else’s fault but his own. How the hell are you supposed to help Arthur without hurting John when every choice feels either selfish or spiteful or wrong. The love harbored deep in your bones marks you a traitor.

Because if you were any kind of friend you wouldn't say: “You’re always a fool, Arthur Morgan, but not ‘cause of this.”

But you do.

“Really?” he asks.

“Really.”

He smiles, a little bit of heartbreak and a little bit of hope.

“After— Well, you know,” he cuts himself off, unable to say their names even after so long. “Feels like it could be a second chance, is all.”

“You believe in those?”

He sighs. “Not really.”

You try to smile, to reassure him, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. He clasps your shoulder in unspoken thanks before leaving you alone on the edge of camp with nothing but your thoughts and a sick feeling in your stomach.

—

When John comes around later that evening you can’t look him in the eye.

#john marston x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr x reader #ghost story #ch. 16 #fran writes

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baubeautyandthegeek · 1 year

Text

Birthday Bingo Madness

Prompt related details: Family is designed to be vague to fit whatever you feel you want to write where Family Values is more fixed on who teaches their family things or people who taught your chosen character something. The Loose Rules: Submissions can be anything written for example : a ficlet, headcanons, drabbles, one shot, whatever you want. Fics can be a ship, a reader insert, an OC, basically whatever you want. Any/all fandoms we share welcomed, but here’s some ideas; - FBI - CSI (All variants) - Law & Order (All variants) - Criminal Minds - Star Trek - Star Wars - Blue Bloods - NCIS - Dracula 2000 The Firm Rules: You must tag me @baubeautyandthegeek and use the hashtag #flickbirthdaybingo35 on each creation Bingo begins May 6th And ends the same day a year from now. Please only post one creation each day. And only one square per creation on each board. No underage characters/readers/oc's in sexual or romantic situations please. Anything that gets to over 1000 words should be under a read more. Please use appropriate tags and trigger warnings Ensure trigger tags are also shown at the top of fics Please do ask if you have any other questions

Prompts under the cut if you can’t see the boards:

My Current Top 35 Characters: 1. Elle Greenaway 2. Emily Prentiss 3. Erin Strauss 4. JJ Jareau 5. Penelope Garcia 6. Alex Blake 7. Kate Callahan 8. Tara Lewis 9. Ashley Seaver 10. Kate Joyner 11. Katie Cole 12. Clara Seger 13. Abi Borin 14. Holly Snow 15. Hollis Mann 16. Jenny Shepard 17. Kate Todd 18. Abby Scuito 19. Kasie Hines 20. Sarah Porter 21. Alex Cabot 22. Casey Novak 23. Melinda Warner 24. Kim Greylek 25. Dani Beck 26. Connie Rubirosa 27. Serena Southerlyn 28. Alex Eames 29. Serena Stevens 30. Zoe Callas 31. Megan Wheeler 32. Jackie Curatola 33. Erin Reagan 34. Isobel Castille 35. Marisol Delko 35 Smut Prompts: 1. Daddy Kink 2. Mommy Kink 3. Spanking 4. Breathplay 5. Lingerie 6. Choking 7. Consensual Somnophilia 8. Biting 9. Marking 10. Collaring 11. Scratching 12. Vibrators 13. Strap-Ons 14. Tied Down 15. Cuffed Down 16. Mild Flogging 17. Begging 18. Body Worship 19. Dirty Talk 20. Praise Kink 21. First Time Together 22. Virginity 23. Light Whipping 24. BDSM 25. Dom/Sub Dynamics 26. Alpha/Omega Dynamics 27. Fingering 28. Oral 29. Professor/Student Kink 30. Uniforms 31. Suit Kink 32. Blindfolds 33. Temperature Play 34. Delayed Orgasm 35. Multiple Orgasms 35 Random Prompts: 1. Vampire AU 2. Werewolf AU 3. Hurt/Comfort 4. Losing A Child 5. Losing A Loved One 6. First Kiss 7. Workplace Romance 8. Soulmate AU 9. College/School AU 10. Model/Photographer AU 11. “I miss you” 12. “I thought I’d lost you” 13. “Please come home.” 14. “Marry me?”

15. Gunshot Wounds

16. “Why are you bleeding?”

17. “Kiss me!”

18. Secret Romance AU

19. Celebrity AU

20. First Fight

21. “Bring the fucking fight box… I’m not losing you over this.”

22. Polyamory

23. Poison

24. Crying

25. Movie Night

26. Family Values

27. Family

28. Birthday Party

29. “Birthday Girl”

30. Wedding

31. “My wife…. Still not over that.”

32. Honeymoon

33. Sickfic

34. Accidental Baby/Pet Aquisition

35. “What did I tell you about breaking the law???” “I didn’t…”

#birthday bingo #flickbirthdaybingo35

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mrskennedy · 1 year

Text

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis chats with Chicago Mayor Richard J. Daley, Robert Strauss, former American ambassador to Russia, and his wife Helen Strauss backstage at the 1976 Democratic National Convention held at Madison Square Garden in New York City.

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countessviolet · 5 months

Text

Family on Fire - Ch. 1 - Morning Commute

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The Baudelaire siblings bustled quickly from their makeshift attic bedroom, shrugging on coats and boots as they prepared to sneak down the decrepit steps and out the even more decrepit house.

"You have —" Klaus panted as he struggled into a sweater, fighting with his glasses as the rough material scratched at his skin. "Study Hall first period, right?"

"Yeah," Violet responded as she finished putting Sunny's tiny beanie on her head. They hoped their neighbor, Justice Strauss, would be able to look after Sunny while the eldest Baudelaires were at school. Since their move into the dilapidated House of Eyes, their kindly neighbor had been more than helpful with getting the Baudelaire's adjusted to their new circumstances, whether it was lending them books or keeping Sunny. Violet and Klaus readily agreed they would leave her in a sewer before they left them alone with their strange, often drunk or hungover guardian. Violet led the way down the rotting staircase, having mesmerized the noisiest portions of stairs, a necessary inkling of information to avoid their wayward guardian's tyranny. They did not have the luxury to deal with his jabs and unreasonable demands this morning. Well, any morning really, but today they were exceptionally pressed for time. After all, when one's guardian kept the entire household awake with play practice, or whatever Count Olaf and his theatre troupe were doing until the wee hours of the morning.

Good fortune seemed to be on their side as they neared the end of the stairs, the front door a glowing, abet dusty, beacon that signified that the day might be saved yet.

And then Count Olaf stepped around the corner, long legs crossed casually at the ankles as he very intentionally blocked his wards' escape.

"Hello, hello, hello," he greeted cheekily, sneering as they jolted, the sight of their pitiful figures giving him a bolt of energy. "Count Olaf," Klaus greeted with clear irritation. "We need to get going so if you wouldn't mind—" “Has being an orphan for three months completely stifled your manners?” the Count inquired mockingly, giving the boy a sick twitch of a smirk. “What would your parents think?

Quickly, and with as passive an expression as she could muster, Violet prevented her brother from shouting at their guardian and/or from bounding down the stairs to him by prodding Sunny into his arms. Klaus was still very defensive when it came to the subject of their parents. Violet had learned to internalize the pain from Count Olaf’s stabbing reminders of their loss.

“Good morning, Count Olaf,” Violet greeted as she stepped around her siblings, putting even less distance between themselves and their dreadful guardian.

“Much better,” the Count remarked with a wink. Violet managed to hide her wince of discomfort.

“Yes, well," she said, carefully clearing her throat. "We’re going to be late for school as it is so if you'll please—”

Olaf scoffed, the action so exaggerated the Baudelaires could see coffee-mixed-spit fly from his mouth. "School," he mocked in a high-pitched voice, leaning against the banister. "Such a waste of time. I never finished school and look at me now!"

The Baudelaires were well aware from past situations with the Count that a sudden change in his posture following a great exclamation warranted a bout of praise and applause, or so Olaf had told them before.

"Yes," Klaus falsely agreed, his nose slightly wrinkled.

"Bort," Sunny babbled, meaning something along the lines of: "Don't you dare sneer at educated people, you lout!"

Violet took the smallest step forward, shoulders squared. "Count Olaf, you recall Mr. Poe's recent requirement for him to consider allowing us access - "

"To your glorious fortune that should have been handed over to me the second I became you brats' guardian? Of course I recall!" Count Olaf finished with a snarl. "Perfect grades and attendance for the selfish orphans!" he continued with heavy mockery. "As if feeding, clothing and housing you wasn't enough."

"You've barely done any of those things in the three months we've been here!" Klaus shouted from behind Violet who turned and begged with wide eyes for him to stop.

"Oh, I've done more than you, mouthy brat," Olaf shouted back, his frame solidifying. "All you've done is complain!" "Anyone who stayed in this house an hour would understand why!" he roared back, placing Sunny on the stairs behind him. "You give us lists of chores every day but destroy all progress we make the very same day! You threaten us with bodily harm constantly and make life generally unbearable!" "Oh, you little - " "Klaus!"

"Temp!" Sunny cheered, meaning: "Make him cry, Klaus!"

Violet had no choice but to press herself into the wall as her brother and godawful legally-appointed guardian faced each other, their sneers equal in malice.

"You're not a guardian," Klaus growled. "You're a tyrant with an alcohol problem and a complete disgrace to the entertainment industry!"

In a flash, Count Olaf had his hand intertwined in Klaus's sweater, yanking him down to his level until their foreheads threatened to collide. "I'm going to rip your eyes from your skull you son of a - "

"Count Olaf!" Olaf and the Baudelaires shot around to find none other than an agape Mr. Poe standing in the entryway, just behind the Count's most recognizable henchman, the Hook-Handed man. His expression was slack, pity mixed with second-hand embarrassment clear on his scarred face. Hanging from his signature hooks were what appeared to be several plastic-wrapped costumes.

Mr. Poe quickly recovered, marching into the house with purpose.

"Oh, Mr. Money - Poe!" Count Olaf corrected quickly. "This is not what it looks like!" The banker glared at the wirey fingers still woven into Klaus's collar. The Count released him, making a show of trying to smooth out his clothes before the young teen slapped his hand away.

"Well, it's more what I heard that ignites my concern, Count Olaf," the banker spoke as he covered a light cough in his ever-present handkerchief.

Olaf turned to his associate, his eyes hardening. "Why are you letting people into my house!"

"He just sort of followed me, boss!" the hooked-handed man said, struggling as the costumes danced from his flailing arms. "Said he wanted to make sure himself the Baudelaires made it to school, something about a requirement to - "

"The glorious Baudelaire fortune, yes I know!" he hissed at his associate with malice.

“Yes, well, that's what we were trying to do until -" Klaus's explanation was silenced by Count Olaf's purposeful but well-hidden shove. T

he young scholar landed beside his baby sister with a thud, his kidneys and spine aching from the impact. Violet ducked under Olaf's arm to her brother's aid, glaring at the Count's back.

"But of course they're going to make it to school!" the Count practically sang, wrapping an arm around the banker's shoulders and spinning him around before he had a chance to protest. A quick eye-cut to the hooked-handed man sent him sprinting to the living room, costumes raised high to protect them from ruin. "Surely you know I'm nothing but interested in my wards' education, yes?" Olaf inquired through a forced smile. From the stairs, the Baudelaires picked themselves up, brushing dirt off their wrinkled school clothes and watching the scene before them, annoyed that Count Olaf had once again managed to worm his way into the holes of Mr. Poe's logic before they could get a word in.

"But you...what you said to Klaus - "

"Just a dialogue suggestion for the next time he runs into bullies at school. I am an actor after all," the Count bragged, leaning closely into the banker's ear. "Between you and me, I hear they dunk him in the toilets in the girl's locker room. Poor kid needs all the help he can get."

"We can hear you!" Violet called out.

"Quiet dear, grown-ups are talking," Olaf returned. With a hum and a barely thorough glance back at the Baudelaires, the banker seemed almost contempt with the Count's explanation. "Well, as long as they get to school on time. The requirement -"

"For the fortune," Count Olaf forced out, teeth clenched. "I'm aware."

"Mr. Poe, wait!" Violet called out.

"Oh, don't fret, Violet," Mr. Poe said as Olaf straightened his hat and coat for him. "Of course I wouldn't leave without telling you all goodbye."

The Baudelaires watched in annoyed despair as Count Olaf practically waltzed their financial advisor right out the door.

"Goodbye Baudel - " Count Olaf spun towards his charges as the front door promptly slammed in the banker's face, annoyed and now exhausted from having to put on an act with a fleeting hangover. Damned brats did not consider how hard he had to work to steal their glorious fortune. "Well," he snarled with a toothy grin.

"I suppose I better get you brats to school, hmm?" The siblings stared frightfully at one another, unsure of which fate was worse: spending day after day in Count Olaf’s terrible home or getting in a moving vehicle with said man.

“Um,” Violet began, working through her initial shock. “That’s very…generous of you but we really—”

“I’m so full of love,” Olaf deadpanned, long neck twitching in the direction of the front door. "Now get."

"But Sunny - " Olaf groaned, the sound reminiscent of a wild animal or an incoming emergency siren. "Hooky!"

The Baudelaires flinched as the Count's handless associate came bounding into the living room. Olaf quickly grabbed Sunny from Klaus' arms and hung her by the back of her onesie on one of his hooks.

"There! Car, now!"

The Baudelaires wasted no time in finally easing past their guardian into the cool morning air. Instead of relief however, a thick dread filled them all. Mind you, this was the first time the Baudelaires had set foot in Count Olaf’s car. Violet, having a broad mind for mechanics, already knew it was far from safe for him and his troop, let alone three children. She could hear gears grinding whenever he parked and there was always a lingering burning smell, like oil or rubber, that followed him into the house. The inside, as the siblings found out, was just as concerning. The back seat, though roomy, was stained and ripped. There were only frayed strips of elastic where seatbelts were supposed to be.

“We could just make a run for it,” Klaus suggested.

"From the metal death trap or the human one?" Violet returned.

“Oh, good morning children!” The Baudelaires turned to see Justice Strauss strutting across the street, perky despite the early hour. "Is everything alright?" the kind but often ignorant judge inquired. "You're running a bit behind today."

"Everything's fine!" Count Olaf exclaimed as he came bounding into the driveway, placing tight grips on the eldest Baudelaires' shoulders.

"Oh, Count Olaf," Justice Strauss greeted with an air of surprise. "I...wasn't expecting you this early."

"None of us were," Klaus grumbled.

Olaf's grin flickered a bit but he kept to his role. He was an actor after all, and right now he was playing the part of a concerned, stable guardian, even if he really, really, wanted to choke one of his charges.

"Well," He said through a clenched smile. "I just...lo...loo..."

The Baudelaires exchanged worried looks as Olaf struggled to release a certain four-letter word. Klaus finally released a loud cough in an attempt to pull the Count from his stutter.

"I...adore these brats—eh, children. I just have to spend as much time with them as possible," He said, looking greener than he had a moment before. The Baudelaires rolled their eyes at the very obviously false garbage their guardian just spat out, but their law-abiding neighbor did not seem to catch on.

"Well, it's very nice to see you all getting along," the judge offered despite Klaus and Violet's obvious discomfort. Before either of the siblings could respond, the Count steered them back towards the car.

“Welp,” Count Olaf said as twirled the keys around one finger. “Hop in.”

The siblings exchanged worried glances before reluctantly sliding into the back, sitting together as tightly as possible as Olaf jerked the wheel, speeding into the street where he narrowly missed hitting several parked cars and a couple walking their dog.

“Oh my gah—” Klaus exclaimed as he and Violet whirled around in the back, gripping any piece of the car that felt stable.

"So..." Violet inquired hoarsely. "Just for conversation's sake, when was the last time you had your car serviced?" Olaf looked up at her through the rearview mirror but supplied no answer.

"Oil change, brake test?" she offered.

"Airbags tested," Klaus added as the car went over another hurdle in the road. It was surprising how a public road could have so many dents and injuries.

Olaf shrugged as he rounded a left-hand corner, narrowly missing hitting a car that very legally had the right-a-way. Ahead, several traffic lights began to change from green to yellow, falsely giving the Baudelaires hope that he would abide by the laws put in place and slow down. Violet and Klaus were subsequently forced back as he sped through the quickly changing red lights, earning the ire and blaring horns from several vehicles.

"Slow down, you animals!" Olaf shouted out the window. To Violet and Klaus' increasing horror, he turned his lanky body awkwardly around in his seat to look at both of them. "First rule of the road, watch out for idiots," he instructed.

“You're driving on the sidewalk!” Klaus gasped, gripping Violet for dear life. The Count glanced away for them to the road.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as he jerked the car back on the road, narrowly missing a fire hydrant. "That could have been nasty."

Violet looked around the rapidly moving exterior. Rows upon rows of high-class houses passed in one mass blur. She could just make out the home’s occupants—school children the parents that were seeing them off—scurrying into their and their neighbor’s yards for protection.

"The speed limit is 35 in this area," The young inventor gasped.

The Count scoffed in response. "Speed limits are suggestions," he said, his grin widening. "Oh, that's good advice."

"Here's some more," Klaus said as he clutched onto the shoulders of the seat in front of him. "Slow down."

"Yes, I'm teaching you orphans valuable skills and getting you to school on time, I'm brilliant!" Count Olaf cackled, the exaggerated gesture causing him to once again distract his hands and eyes. Mr. Poe would love this! Him, a brilliant and humble actor, building three grubby children into perfect pillars of his greatness. Yes, he'd have a massive check written out in no time -

"Watch the road!" Klaus and Violet shouted out.

The Baudelaire siblings bustled quickly from their makeshift attic bedroom, shrugging on coats and boots as they prepared to sneak down the decrepit steps and out the even more decrepit house.

"You have —" Klaus panted as he struggled into a sweater, fighting with his glasses as the rough material scratched at his skin. "Study Hall first period, right?"

Violet led the way down the rotting staircase, having mesmerized the noisiest portions of stairs, a necessary inkling of information to avoid their wayward guardian's tyranny. They did not have the luxury to deal with his jabs and unreasonable demands this morning. Well, any morning really, but today they were exceptionally pressed for time. After all, when one's guardian kept the entire household awake with play practice, or whatever Count Olaf and his theatre troupe were doing until the wee hours of the morning.

Good fortune seemed to be on their side as they neared the end of the stairs, the front door a glowing, abet dusty, beacon that signified that the day might be saved yet. And then Count Olaf stepped around the corner, long legs crossed casually at the ankles as he very intentionally blocked his wards' escape.

"Hello, hello, hello," he greeted cheekily, sneering as they jolted, the sight of their pitiful figures giving him a bolt of energy.

"Count Olaf," Klaus greeted with clear irritation. "We need to get going so if you wouldn't mind—"

“Has being an orphan for three months completely stifled your manners?” the Count inquired mockingly, giving the boy a sick twitch of a smirk. “What would your parents think?

“Good morning, Count Olaf,” Violet greeted as she stepped around her siblings, putting even less distance between themselves and their dreadful guardian.

“Much better,” the Count remarked with a wink. Violet managed to hide her wince of discomfort.

“Yes, well," she said, carefully clearing her throat. "We’re going to be late for school as it is so if you'll please—” Olaf scoffed, the action so exaggerated the Baudelaires could see coffee-mixed-spit fly from his mouth.

"School," he mocked in a high-pitched voice, leaning against the banister. "Such a waste of time. I never finished school and look at me now!"

"Yes," Klaus falsely agreed, his nose slightly wrinkled.

"Bort," Sunny babbled, meaning something along the lines of: "Don't you dare sneer at educated people, you lout!"

Violet took the smallest step forward, shoulders squared. "Count Olaf, you recall Mr. Poe's recent requirement for him to consider allowing us access - "

"You've barely done any of those things in the three months we've been here!" Klaus shouted from behind Violet who turned and begged with wide eyes for him to stop.

"Oh, I've done more than you, mouthy brat," Olaf shouted back, his frame solidifying. "All you've done is complain!"

"Anyone who stayed in this house an hour would understand why!" he roared back, placing Sunny on the stairs behind him. "You give us lists of chores every day but destroy all progress we make the very same day! You threaten us with bodily harm constantly and make life generally unbearable!"

"Oh, you little - "

"Klaus!"

"Temp!" Sunny cheered, meaning: "Make him cry, Klaus!"

Violet had no choice but to press herself into the wall as her brother and godawful legally-appointed guardian faced each other, their sneers equal in malice.

"You're not a guardian," Klaus growled. "You're a tyrant with an alcohol problem and a complete disgrace to the entertainment industry!"

In a flash, Count Olaf had his hand intertwined in Klaus's sweater, yanking him down to his level until their foreheads threatened to collide.

"I'm going to rip your eyes from your skull you son of a - "

"Count Olaf!"

Olaf and the Baudelaires shot around to find none other than an agape Mr. Poe standing in the entryway, just behind the Count's most recognizable henchman, the Hook-Handed man. His expression was slack, pity mixed with second-hand embarrassment clear on his scarred face. Hanging from his signature hooks were what appeared to be several plastic-wrapped costumes.

Mr. Poe quickly recovered, marching into the house with purpose.

"Oh, Mr. Money - Poe!" Count Olaf corrected quickly. "This is not what it looks like!"

The banker glared at the wirey fingers still woven into Klaus's collar. The Count released him, making a show of trying to smooth out his clothes before the young teen slapped his hand away.

"Well, it's more what I heard that ignites my concern, Count Olaf," the banker spoke as he covered a light cough in his ever-present handkerchief. Olaf turned to his associate, his eyes hardening.

"Why are you letting people into my house!"

"The glorious Baudelaire fortune, yes I know!" he hissed at his associate with malice.

“Yes, well, that's what we were trying to do until -" Klaus's explanation was silenced by Count Olaf's purposeful but well-hidden shove. The young scholar landed beside his baby sister with a thud, his kidneys and spine aching from the impact. Violet ducked under Olaf's arm to her brother's aid, glaring at the Count's back.

"Surely you know I'm nothing but interested in my wards' education, yes?" Olaf inquired through a forced smile.

From the stairs, the Baudelaires picked themselves up, brushing dirt off their wrinkled school clothes and watching the scene before them, annoyed that Count Olaf had once again managed to worm his way into the holes of Mr. Poe's logic before they could get a word in.

"But you…what you said to Klaus - "

"We can hear you!" Violet called out.

"Quiet dear, grown-ups are talking," Olaf returned.

With a hum and a barely thorough glance back at the Baudelaires, the banker seemed almost contempt with the Count's explanation.

"Well, as long as they get to school on time. The requirement -"

"For the fortune," Count Olaf forced out, teeth clenched. "I'm aware."

"Mr. Poe, wait!" Violet called out.

"Oh, don't fret, Violet," Mr. Poe said as Olaf straightened his hat and coat for him. "Of course I wouldn't leave without telling you all goodbye."

The Baudelaires watched in annoyed despair as Count Olaf practically waltzed their financial advisor right out the door.

"Goodbye Baudel - "

Count Olaf spun towards his charges as the front door promptly slammed in the banker's face, annoyed and now exhausted from having to put on an act with a fleeting hangover. Damned brats did not consider how hard he had to work to steal their glorious fortune.

"Well," he snarled with tooth grin. "I suppose I better get you brats to school, hmm?"

The siblings stared frightfully at one another, unsure of which fate was worse: spending day after day in Count Olaf’s terrible home or getting in a moving vehicle with said man.

“Um,” Violet began, working through her initial shock. “That’s very…generous of you but we really—”

“I’m so full of love,” Olaf deadpanned, long neck twitching in the direction of the front door. "Now get."

"But Sunny - "

Olaf groaned, the sound reminiscent of a wild animal or an incoming emergency siren.

"Hooky!"

The Baudelaires flinched as the Count's handless associate came bounding into the living room. Olaf quickly grabbed Sunny from Klaus' arms and hung her by the back of her onesie on one of his hooks.

"There! Car, now!"

The inside, as the siblings found out, was just as concerning. The back seat, though roomy, was stained and ripped. There were only frayed strips of elastic where seatbelts were supposed to be.

“We could just make a run for it,” Klaus suggested.

"From the metal death trap or the human one?" Violet returned.

“Oh, good morning children!”

The Baudelaires turned to see Justice Strauss strutting across the street, perky despite the early hour.

"Is everything alright?" the kind but often ignorant judge inquired. "You're running a bit behind today."

"Everything's fine!" Count Olaf exclaimed as he came bounding into the driveway, placing tight grips on the eldest Baudelaires' shoulders.

"Oh, Count Olaf," Justice Strauss greeted with an air of surprise. "I…wasn't expecting you this early."

"None of us were," Klaus grumbled.

"Well," He said through a clenched smile. "I just…lo…loo…"

The Baudelaires exchanged worried looks as Olaf seemed to struggle releasing a certain four-letter word. Klaus finally released a loud cough in an attempt to pull the Count from his stutter.

"I…adore these brats—eh, children. I just have to spend as much time with them as possible," He said, looking greener than he had a moment before.

The Baudelaires rolled their eyes at the very obviously false garbage their guardian just spat out, but their law-abiding neighbor did not seem to catch on.

"Well, it's very nice to see you all getting along," the judge offered despite Klaus and Violet's obvious discomfort.

Before either of the siblings could respond, the Count steered them back towards the car.

“Welp,” Count Olaf said as twirled the keys around one finger. “Hop in.”

“Oh my gah—” Klaus exclaimed as he and Violet whirled around in the back, gripping any piece of the car that felt stable.

"So…" Violet inquired hoarsely. "Just for conversation's sake, when was the last time you had your car serviced?"

Olaf looked up at her through the rearview mirror but supplied no answer.

"Oil change, brake test?" she offered.

"Airbags tested," Klaus added as the car went over another hurdle in the road. It was surprising how a public road could have so many dents and injuries.

Olaf shrugged as he rounded a left-hand corner, narrowly missing hitting a car that very legally had the right-a-way.

Ahead, several traffic lights began to change from green to yellow, falsely giving the Baudelaires hope that he would abide by the laws put in place and slow down. Violet and Klaus were subsequently forced back as he sped through the quickly changing red lights, earning the ire and blaring horns from several vehicles.

"Slow down, you animals!" Olaf shouted out the window. To Violet and Klaus' increasing horror, he turned his lanky body awkwardly around in his seat to look at both of them.

"First rule of the road, watch out for idiots," he instructed.

“You're driving on the sidewalk!” Klaus gasped, gripping Violet for dear life.

The Count glanced away for them to the road.

"Oh!" he exclaimed as he jerked the car back on the road, narrowly missing a fire hydrant. "That could have been nasty."

"The speed limit is 35 in this area," The young inventor gasped.

The Count scoffed in response. "Speed limits are suggestions," he said, his grin widening. "Oh, that's good advice."

"Here's some more," Klaus said as he clutched onto the shoulders of the seat in front of him. "Slow down."

"Watch the road!" Klaus and Violet shouted out.

The Count's attention, thankfully, returned to the road just as he approached an angry red light. With a yelp matching the Baudelaires, he slammed on brakes. Though the car stopped, the echoing screech of metal hitting metal and Count Olaf's shoe going straight through the floorboard sent a new wave of terror through its occupants.

"What was that?" Klaus inquired carefully.

"Um," Olaf stuttered as he stared at the scattered remains of his car's brake system scattered on the asphalt under his shoe.

A series of angry horns resounded behind them. The traffic light above them had morphed into its signature green light.

"No don't—"

But Olaf had already slammed on the gas, soaring away from the angry drivers into a thankfully mostly empty stretch of road. It was a clear shot to the school now.

"For God's sake!" Klaus moaned as gravity pushed him further into his seat.

"Hey, a little gratitude would be nice!" Count Olaf barked.

"Oh yes!" Klaus shouted as he maneuvered himself to the middle of the car, leaning over the expansive front seat to glare at Olaf. "Thank you for forcing my sister and me into a car with no brakes! Thank you so much!"

"It had brakes when we started!"

"You blundering—"

Violet pushed herself between her brother and wayward guardian, tying her hair back with her faux silk ribbon as she tried to remember alternate braking features on cars.

"Oh good, Violet," the Count said. "You take the wheel while I kill your brother!"

"Take your foot off the gas, now!" she demanded.

The Count looked at her, flabbergasted at her flash of audacity. "Who do you think you are barking orders at —" Klaus and Violet both grabbed Olaf by the face and forced him to look forward. To all their growing horror, the car soared closer to a completely oblivious crossing guard escorting a hoard of pedestrians across the street.

"Emergency brake! Now! NOW!" Klaus exclaimed.

Olaf blinked, freed from his stupor to reach beside his seat to pull at the tool in question. However, the car's erratic speed did not change.

"Get your foot off the gas," Violet pleaded.

"My foot is not on the gas!" Olaf lifted his legs to his chin, holding them tightly as their doom eased closer.

The oldest Baudelaires flew into action—as well as someone could while the car they were trying to stop was threatening to collide with early morning traffic. Violet, after pushing Olaf as far as he would go against the door, banged her fist against the horn but not as much as a whimper echoed out. Of all the things in Count Olaf's metal deathtrap he called a car to not work…

Violet pushed aside the Count's legs and reached for the gas pedal, the sight of the zooming gravel below making her nauseous.

"It's stuck!"

"Of course it is!"

"What did I say about gratitude!"

Violet felt around until she found the problem: a loose bolt.

"Klaus, Olaf, pull on the brake while I fix this, hurry!"

The two men pulled with all their might, the brake not budging.

"Come on…"

"I'm too handsome to die like this!" Olaf exclaimed, the burst of emotion somehow enough that the brake loosened just as Violet loosened the gas pedal, sending the car to a screeching stop and its occupants into the spacious front seat.

"Ow," Violet moaned, having hit her head against the window when the vehicle settled.

"Is everyone okay?" the young inventor inquired as her head finally stopped spinning. Thankfully though, the car had stopped mere inches from the crosswalk, the near-catastrophe having gone unnoticed by the attendant and pedestrians. Count Olaf had pulled himself upright and was attempting to compose himself. Violet could make out a small tremble in his hands. Klaus had been sent into the back seat yet again, his glasses crooked on his pale face.

"Well…we made it."

Violet and Klaus looked out the window. Low and behold, their high school was waiting, and by the number of students still mulling about, they made it just in time.

"Wow," Violet said, genuinely surprised they made it at all and at how the car was still running.

"Hey!"

The three shouted and shot towards the driver's seat window where the crossing guard stood with a deep frown. She pointed at an unknown object in the car, the tip of her finger smudging the already dirty glass.

"None of you have your seat belts on!"

The three stared at the guard, exasperated, then at each other. Slowly, they re-strapped themselves in whatever their section of the car had as a seatbelt.

The guard, satisfied, left to yell at a group of children walking too fast across the crosswalk as the car's occupants continued to recover.

"Four minutes before first bell," Klaus sighed, attempting to fix a dent in his glass frame.

Count Olaf glanced out the passenger seat's window at the mass of students heading into the school.

"We made really good time." Klaus admitted, still so dazed it felt like the words had come from someone else entirely.

"Of course you did," the Count scoffed. "I couldn't have planned it any other way.

Violet groaned, stretching out their aching sore limbs as Violet struggled to get the passenger door open.

"Here," Olaf said when he noticed her, leaning over and pulling the door handle in just a way that the door opened with only a few loud pops.

"Oh," Violet replied, surprised at the Count's flash of consideration. He shrugged in reply.

"Let's go," Klaus whispered, urging his sister out of he car.

The Count seemed perfectly content to simply drive off, but Violet had yet to close the passenger door or move from the car at all. Her stillness was because she knew she was going to regret what she was going to do next. She could easily just leave things the way they were and continue to ignore him until Mr. Poe allowed him access to her fortune or she turned 18. However, it was apparent now that they could co-exist and work off each other. She didn't want to spend the next three years struggling and fighting for comfort. She didn't deserve that. Klaus and Sunny didn't deserve that. Maybe Olaf didn't either.

"Problem, orphan?" Olaf teased, though he was curious as to why she was holding them up.

"I…could look at the car later tonight. Perform that oil change and a few other things, if you want."

Olaf's eyebrow arched in suspicion. From the corner of her eye, Violet could see Klaus's head shoot up, his eyes wide with stunned terror.

"Just to make it safe enough to get us back and forth to school, and maybe the grocery store,"

Count Olaf scoffed. "Near-death experience stir up some more audacity, orphan?"

Violet crossed her arms and rested them on the rolled-down window, staring at her appointed guardian with discontent.

"I was just thinking Mr. Poe might be quite impressed if he saw you continuing to make an effort - "

"Starting to," Klaus corrected bitterly as he wiped his mouth.

"And," Violet continued, unperturbed, kept her stare on Count Olaf. "He might be encouraged to make sure we are plenty comfortable so you can continue those efforts, don't you think?"

Count Olaf's grin was diabolical, but Violet was satisfied he got onto the hint.

"Glad to see at least one of you brats is finally starting to cooperate," he said.

"My siblings will follow as long as you cooperate," Violet returned, stepping away from the car. "Do we have a deal, then? Can we try to cohabitate at least?"

The count stared at the eldest of his three charges. In all honesty, he was charmed at her pluck. She knew how to ease into his good side, unlike her loud-mouth brother who was practically paying property taxes on his bad side.

Really, it wasn't terrible having them with him. He'd grown used to their presence in his halls, used to the little flaws they had been leaving in his life for the past three months. He was less annoyed with their existence now, and could look at each of them without seeing Beatrice or Bertrand looking back.

And the closer he kept them, the closer he would be to their sweet, beautiful fortune. How did that saying go? About closeness and enemies? Yeah, he could do that. For now.

He shrugged, putting the car in drive.

"Just don't scratch the paint. I'm keeping a total of what you brats owe me, you know."

"Fine," Violet sighed, stepping onto the grass where Klaus gave her a worried frown.

Count Olaf waved them off as he sped off into the road, just making it to a changing green light.

“See you at three!”

Violet and Klaus stopped in their tracks, shooting around to see the Count speeding off dangerously into traffic, his hand waving wildly to them out the window. After the initial shock wore off, Klaus made a mad dash away from his sister, and the school at that.

"Where are you going?" Violet called after him.

Klaus, a crazed look in his eyes, pointed into an unknown location. "I'm going to beg the school board to put a bus stop on our corner! There's half a town of eyewitnesses who will gladly sign that petition!"

#a series of unfortunate events #asoue #asoue fic #violet baudelaire #klaus baudelaire #sunny baudelaire #count olaf #family on fire verse

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