#honestly i just want the series released and done with

[fideidefenswhore]

latest promotional article for the tmatl production referring to anne stanhope/seymour as 'violent'...booooooo

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Because I was asked about this today:

The reason I don't have rag quilts listed is because I have no closet space to store them. They take up more space because they can't be folded completely flat. This is due to the nature of the rag side. We have no closets in this house. Just two standing wardrobes and several plastic boxes for storage. All the smaller finished quilts and all finished quilt tops are stored in my standing wardrobe. Coasters and mug rugs are in a small plastic box I use for storing some of my loose patterns. Quilts larger than 40x40 inches are stored in a larger plastic box. All this is to avoid dust and prevent my cat from gaining access to them.

Storing rag quilts can be tricky. The one I have for myself is on the back of my armchair because it's simply easier than trying to fit it in a plastic box. For buyers, how and where you store you quilt(s) is entirely up to you, though I do advise keeping them out of direct sunlight because it bleaches the colors out of the fabric.

If you have a rag quilt, would you mind sharing how you store them?

Quick question about a quick quilt...

I can finish a lap size rag quilt in less than a week, twin size in about a week, queen size in two weeks. It's three layers of fabric, quilt-as-you-go, minimal piecing, and they are heavy. Excellent for cold weather and folks who like the weight of blankets but not weighted blankets.* These quilts aren't as hot as layers of fabric plus beads/pellets, and they breathe much more effectively. For a heavier rag quilt, it's a layer of denim and two layers of quilting cotton or flannel. I have a rag quilt for myself that's three layers of quilting cotton. My house is drafty and winters are full of rain, which means the cold sinks into your bones with the humidity. My husband keeps stealing my quilt because his man-cave is the coldest room in the house. He doesn't care that it's very feminine colors "because it's warm."

As for why it's called a rag quilt, here's a sample:

The top is the fluffy side with the exposed seams. Instead of a quarter inch seam allowance the seams under the fabric, it's a one inch seam allowance and the seams are exposed. Said seams are then cut at one inch intervals. With every washing, the seams get fuzzier and softer. They're fun to touch and feel really nice. It's also why these must be dried ALONE or all the strings will end up on whatever else is in the dryer. Three layers of fabric also means two rounds in the dryer on high heat (which is why I like using flannel rather than quilting cotton) or one round of high heat and hanging to dry for a couple hours.

The back looks like a more traditional quilt top and is often the side with denim on it if denim is used. The one is three layers of flannel and was a giveaway prize earlier this year, to celebrate meeting a ko-fi goal.

These are a delight to make and excellent for cold winters and drafty homes. Did I mention they're pretty heavy? The one I have, once all folded up, weighs about six pounds, and knocks my husband out within about ten minutes of him laying over himself. It's why I plan on making a rag quilt for him. He keeps stealing mine.

For context regarding prices, these take significantly less time to make. This one, a lap size, took just 14.5 hours, and that included the quilting. A traditional style baby quilt starts at $2125 because I have a lot more cutting and sewing, and I do the quilting by hand (though it will soon change due to soon having a machine I can use on my Cutie frame and do all my quilting on it), and can take 70-80 hours start to finish. I charge $27/hour + cost of materials to come to the final price.

*A PT I know hates weighted blankets because they cause a lot of injuries. People rolling in bed with a weighted blanket on them have ended up in physical therapy because of soft tissue tears. Most especially dangerous for people with EDS and other connective tissue conditions. Other injuries they've seen are from the pockets with the beads/pellets in them tearing open. Pets and small children have been known to choke on those, and folks who are heavy sleepers can also be injured if the pockets near their face tear in their sleep. When the beads/pellets get all over the floor, people fall and end up with serious injuries from that. Not to mention overheating under all of them because the material doesn't breathe well.

[idolomantises]

Wasn't sure when it would be the best time to discuss this, but since the ending is drawing near... yes, Bugtopia is ending.

It was a decision I really wrestled with myself for months over it, before finally concluding that letting it end after 40 episodes was the better option. Just to be clear, webtoons did not force me to end the series. They even offered to give me a pay raise to continue the series. It was my decision due to a multitude of personal factors. I'll just repeat what I said on my patreon:

I just want to say, first of all, thank you all so much for patiently waiting for my series to release and for supporting my work as I began developing the series. Bugtopia was a series I genuinely loved and adored and it made me feel so incredibly happy that people were turning their heads towards a series about weird bugs and their natural lives.

However, as you can probably guess, it pains me to say that I am concluding the series after season 1. I had 4 seasons planned with new characters to introduce, but unfortunately, I cannot see myself continuing to work with Webtoons and I want to pursue other projects.

This decision was due to a compiling number of issues with the company, the final straw was when they had a mass layoff, fired my editor that I've been working with for two years, and did not inform me for a week, leaving me in the dark until they randomly assigned me with someone else. My new editor is great and I'm glad I'm working with someone so patient and understanding, but this decision to fire my previous editor, the one who got me the job to begin with, without prior warning made me feel disrespected and disregarded, and it killed all motivation I had for properly completing the series.

I also felt incredibly overworked, I was spending vacation days working on comics and avoiding time with family just so I could get something done for webtoons once I come home. I feel like so much time was being wasted away for a company that paid me so little that I had to work twice as hard building up funds on my patreon. Bugtopia just ate up so much of my time. The pay also didn't make up for it. It's commonly assumed that webtoons authors make about $800 for the episodes they do, but that's not true. In fact, you can make far less depending on the amount of panels expected for your contract. It doesn't help that the artwork i did for banners and promotions were all things I had to draw and didn't get paid for, and the work I gave was either tampered with or scrapped, making me feel like I spent more hours of my day wasting time. There were also comics I had to censor and scrap, likely due to another series being in hot water for its racially insensitive content. But it was just extra work I wasn't being paid for. It also frustrated me because I was seeing other series with far more explicit content getting away with a slap on the wrist (turns out you can't say "fuck" anymore without it being hit with a mature rating, disappointing!)

In all honesty, it just felt like webtoons needed me more than I needed them. I was making more money from patreon in a week than I was making from webtoons in a month.

Personally, while I don't really regret my time with Webtoons and met some great people along the way, I honestly don't think any artist should work with them. You will be severely overworked and underpaid, and will barely be featured in ads unless your series becomes an instant hit immediately. It doesn't really matter how successful you are, you're just a product to Webtoons, put yourself above the corporation.

I have tried my best to provide you all with a satisfying conclusion to Bugtopia, even if some episodes may feel rushed or incomplete, but I completely understand if the conclusion isn't to your liking and I do apologize, but I could not continue working on this series if this was the mistreatment I was going to continuously get. I owe a massive thank you to my editor and assistants for helping me complete the series, I truly don't think I could have ever finished it without them.

Though I am done with Bugtopia, that does not mean I want to stop projects entirely, so please don't feel bad for me. I have a lot of upcoming projects and ideas in the works, and I'm still continuing the Monsters and Girls series.

Will Bugtopia ever return... possibly. I retain complete ownership of the series after a few years, and I wouldn't mind continuing the canvas series (or possibly starting over). Unfortunately I don't think I can continue the Webtoon Original as it belongs to webtoons now, but never say never I suppose!

[waitingonher]

because i love you — [hoo boys headcanons]

summary: your "thing" with the hoo boys!

author's note: in honor of the pjo series coming out today,,have this rlly rlly short draft from earlier this year! xoxo

percy jackson — doodling on him

“give me your hand.”

“yes ma’am.”

minutes pass as you doodle gods know what onto percy’s hand. you always resort to this whenever the camp head counselor's meeting begins late—which seems to be every meeting—and giving percy "tattoos" certainly kills time. last meeting, you drew a can of beans and the time before that, was a bouquet of tulips. so honestly his guess being a pair of socks this time isn’t too far of a reach.

“okay, done,” you release his hand, a proud smile gracing your features, “cute right?”

he quirks a brow upon seeing the drawing, “is that…” percy turns his head to the side, gaining better perspective, “is that a flying fish?” 

“wow, you’re good,” you say, giving him a nod of approval, “although, last time you did say that my can of beans looked like a roll of toilet paper…” 

your boyfriend throws his hands in the air, “in my defense, you used a shitty pen so it was hard to tell.” 

“whatever.” 

jason grace — sewing your initials on his clothes

“hi love,” jason says, plopping down beside you on the couch. you give him a bright smile as he places a gentle kiss on your head, “almost done?” 

nodding proudly, you hold up his pair of jeans to show him your work: your initials sewn onto a corner of his back pocket, “yup, just finished actually! what do you think of the color? i think you bought the thread for me on our second date. but i totally forgot i had it until i went digging in my supply box.” 

a grin plasters itself on jason’s face as he nods his head in realization, “i knew the color seemed familiar. i remember wondering why a tiny spool of thread was so expensive. but it’s perfect, i love it,” he kisses your cheek, “all my friends are gonna be so jealous that they don’t have their girlfriends’ initials sewn onto their clothes.” 

you laugh as you imagine jason vehemently bragging about his jeans to all his friends, “tell them i’m charging $50 if they want me to do theirs,” you wink. 

“we’d make more than the stolls’ and their smuggling business if we did that,” he laughs, admiring your work once more. who knew that having your initials on his pants would have such an affect on him, “also, can you do my sweaters and my other jeans?"

you raise a brow, "i might have to start charging you at this point."

leo valdez — impromptu fashion shows

“wow!” you clap enthusiastically, “your outfit even puts paris fashion week outfits to shame!” yes, because a rainbow checkered crop top with a humongous green tutu and a pink boa paired with insanely skinny stilettos beats any and all high fashion runway outfits, “now, leo valdez, can you give us a few words about your new clothing line? and possibly a bit about what it’s like to be so amazingly talented?” you inquire, raising an invisible microphone to his mouth. 

leo oh-so humbly bows and rises with a proud grin, “thank you, thank you, but i honestly must give all credit towards my beautiful muse, y/n, she’s the inspiration behind my new line. and about being so talented, it really is such hard work to be this naturally gifted.”

“ooh, do tell about this ‘y/n.’ i’ve never heard of her but she does sound absolutely gorgeous!” you exclaim, keeping up with the act. 

your boyfriend nods firmly, “oh yes, she’s very, very, very beautiful,” adding a playful wink, “but i must say, she has the worst morning breath i’ve ever encountered!” 

your smile drops and you squint your eyes, “i’m going to choke you with that stupid ugly boa if you don’t take that back right now.” 

“uh ma’am,” leo backs up nervously, clutching his boa, “i’m going to have to call security if you threaten me again.” 

"i'm seriously going to kill you."

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Nikolai (Long Drabble) Author's Notes: There was a poll past this picture. Don't scroll if you don't want spoilers. And also since I have y'all here, thank you for all of the support on this little series of mine! Warnings: MDNI, Sexual Themes, Angst

So, no, things were not fine.

Especially when the only person who gets an ounce of your kindness these days is Nikolai.

When the only person that is allowed in your office to “do work, because the rest of the place is too gloomy” is Nikolai. 

When the only person who is allowed to ask you about your well-being and actually get an answer is Nikolai. 

When all the 141 can do is watch.

Was this their punishment? To see you get closer with someone else right under their noses.

No, this was not their punishment.

Although you are constantly in their mind, Johnny, Kyle, John, and Ghost were hardly in yours these days. Maybe a few months ago, they were. Maybe when you saw a good piece of art, or smelled something really good, or touched something really soft, or heard a beautiful piece of music, you used to think of the boys. Maybe when you laid in bed at night and needed a quick release, you used to picture their bodies on top of yours to get you to that high point - maybe it was just one of them or all four at one time.

But, these days, they just exist how you exist in their minds: co-workers with no obligations to one another. Just a group of people who only need the other to get their job done and that's all. If that's what they wanted, that's what they get. If that's how they'll treat you, you'll treat them the same.

So you being friendly with Nikolai was just you matching his energy. He's friendly, so you are too. There was no ulterior motive here, because doing anything out of spite means you care and honestly you didn't care (that much) anymore.

All you cared now was your work and earning your ticket out of here.

But, to your dismay, it seemed like Nikolai had his own ulterior motives.

The last time Nik was here, which was around your second month with the 141, he noticed the way all of the guys looked at you. He knew that they liked you, probably before they did even. So now that he's back, he wanted to play matchmaker.

And honestly, this was the perfect scenario for the team. All 4 of them dating the same person. They were a unit, a package deal, a team. None of them were able to hold down a partner on their own... he's seen it with his own two eyes. But together, they would be unstoppable. And it seemed like you had more than enough love to give so honestly this was a win-win for everyone. But, things weren't exactly where he wished they were.

That's why when the current mission was over, Nik decides to take matters in his own hands.

After wrapping up on the final reports for the latest mission, Price calls for a celebratory bar trip. Nik is right behind the rest of the guys when he notices you falling behind.

"Aren't you coming?" he calls out. The 141 freezes while you look up like a deer caught in the headlights.

"No, I actually have--"

"Nonsense! We can't celebrate without you. Right Captain?" Nik looks at Price for support who only looks at the ground. Nik didn't take John to be the shy type. And not just John as everyone else looked at either the floor or the walls. Wow, this might be more work than he expected.

After begging for 20 minutes, Nik eventually wears you down. He would not take no for an answer.

But now as you sit with the 141 and Nikolai, you really wished you had told the Russian to fuck off. This was just painfully awkward. The only person that's talking is Nik and he just got up to get the next round of drinks. You would try to make small talk but they wouldn't even bother looking at you.

Thankfully, Nik comes back quick with 6 beers. After handing each guy a beer and taking one for himself, he slams the 6th one in front of you.

"We're here to celebrate, so drink with us!" he cheers as he tries to pull your soda from your hands.

You pull back and admit that you don't drink. The rest of the guys still at that.

Nik lets out a hearty laugh. "What do you mean you don't drink? The last time I was here I saw you down 5 tequila shots like they were water."

"Well, I stopped after... a bad night. I don't want to make the same mistake twice," you say before taking a sip out of your soda. Nik backs off and happily takes the beer for himself. The rest of the team just sit in silence. John and Ghost immediately down their drinks in an attempt to push down their guilt. Johnny starts to bounce his leg as he fights the urge to say something. And Kyle watches the condensation runs down his beer as his mind races.

A moment passes before Nik starts the conversation up again. He calls out your name and asks if you were interested in anyone on base. Everyone chokes on their drinks.

After catching your breath, you asks Nik why he would ask such a question.

"Oh c'mon, you're telling me that no one has caught your eye. Not even these big guys?" he quips while signaling at the 141. Their eyes widen at Nik's question. Wanting to know if you were interested in any of them, they finally look at you.

They wished they didn't, because your face twisted in utter disgust.

"Nikolai, I am here for one thing and one thing only and that's to do my job. I have no time nor desire to pursue anyone on this base and less this team," you got up from your seat and dropped some bills on the table.

"Wait, I didn't mean to offend or anything," Nik cries. He reaches for you. This is not where he thought this conversation would go.

"Of course, no one ever does. Everyone just talks and talks and assumes that I won't take it to heart. Well guess what, I'm done," you finish up your soda. "So I need you, and everyone else here, to get it together, because starting Monday, we are starting that joint mission and I refuse to look like a fool because you guys can't be professional" And with that, you leave the bar.

Nikolai is gasping for air. What the fuck happened? He looks at the rest of the team and is met with guilty faces.

What did they do?

Word Count: 1107

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[norrizzandpia]

this is about oscar? part 3 but its freak by doja cat 🙏🏻

I fear y/n has released an entire album this time lol @golden-flora

The Album (OP81)

Summary: She’s done singles, one song at a time about her and Oscar’s sex life, but, now, she’s ready for a whole album.

Warnings: dirtiest one of the series, sexual discussions, Oscar being cocky

Note: THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF THE WHO IS OSCAR PIASTRI SERIES IS HERE EVERYONE!!!! Hope you like it, i added some new things. First, as you know, y/n releases an album here, but, also, at the end, instead of smau, it’s just a regular story abt them on a podcast 🤭

y/nnn Oscar, the album, out tonight with a track list of Freak, Agora Hills, Dick, and Pussy Poppin 🤭

Comments:

Mclarensgirly SHE NAMED THE WHOLE THING OSCAR IM FUCKING CRYING

F1fan2023 using a photo McLaren took is cray

- y/nnn say it with me everyone: he looks hot!

- Mclarensgirly he looks hot!

- ln4andop81 he looks hot!

- f1fan81 he looks hot!

landonorris plz. plz don’t release it. I’ve never felt terror like this in my entire life after seeing that track list

- y/nnn don’t you put your life on the line every weekend to drive a car?

- landonorris yes.

oscarpiastri anyone want to come to the listening party?

- Danielricciardo no.

- landonorris absolutely fucking not

- logansargeant YOU THINK IM GOING TO BE LISTENING TO THESE???

- y/nnn y’all are some fake ass bitches

oscarpiastri haha have fun everyone!!!

- ln4andop81 mans is enjoying himself

- oscarpiastri more than enjoying myself

- landonorris like I’ll literally kill you

—

TWITTER

Mclarensgirly i would just like to say that this is the man all those songs are about

- ln4andop81 i mean she did say “tied him down to my queen bed” in freak so that pic does fit the sub allegations

- f1fan2023 she also said “love it when he hit and smack too” in agora hills

- Mclarensgirly also said “hold me down, when a hole need dick”

- f1fan81 also said “he want a quickie, let him lick me, then I started gasping. The way his tongue be going crazy, you wouldn’t imagine. I let him stick me, hair got frizzy, I might let him crash it”

- Mclarensgirly also said “He put that woo all down my throat until i started coughing.”

- ln4andop81 OKAY OKAY I GET IT 😭

- ln4andop81 but also like… lets talk abt it

- Mclarensgirly IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

- f1fan2023 “he like it when i bend it over and i arch my back. He tap me on my shoulders, i said ‘yeah, i like that’” YOURE KIDDING.

- ln4andop81 i envision that in my head at night

- Mclarensgirly oh?

- ln4andop81 moving on! “Pull the panties to the side, watch a movie and make it two. We just finished number one, but I’m ready for round two” YUM.MY.

- F1fan81 sometimes i wonder if I’m jealous of Oscar or jealous of y/n

- Mclarensgirly real.

- ln4andop81 we also need to talk about Dick bc she literally goes “i met the boy in the 6, but measurements wasn’t a six” UHHHHHHH

- f1fan2023 it baffles me that he’s packing that seriously

- ln4andop81 nothing baffles me when it comes to that boy now that y/n sang “When I made a little mess on it, he told me to clean my act up” BRUHHHH THATS FUCKING HOT AS SHIT

- Mclarensgirly “Skirt up, fuck in the backseat. Take that shirt off, baby, put it on me. Got me like ‘yeehow’, ride it like a horsey. Kinda like seesaw, up and down on the D, give it to him” McLaren’s kicking and crying rn bc they know they cant take their car back from Oscar after y/n confirmed they christened it

- f1fan2023 okay okay but can we talk about “suck a little dick in the bathroom” in agora hills (slay song btw i ate that shit up)

- ln4andop81 YEAH BC IM GOING TO NEED SOME MORE INFO THAN THAT. WHEN. WHERE. WHAT.

- F1fan81 i bet your ass it was in the mtc

- ln4andop81 or in the Australian Grand Prix paddock remember when no one could find him after the face was over and all he said he was with y/n? SHE HAD TO HAVE BEEN GIVING HIM CELEBRATORY HEAD

- Mclarensgirly honestly? They prob did it in both

- oscarpiastri mhm

—

Oscar and Y/n sat next to each other on the soft sofa of the studio. They giggled with the podcast host as she said their introduction.

“Breaking the internet right now with their sex life, Oscar Piastri and Y/n Y/l/n! Hi, guys, welcome.” Samantha, the host, spoke to them.

Y/n and Oscar mumbled pleasantries, their legs squished together even with all the space to Y/n’s left. The woman was quick to getting into the topic of conversation, having already discussed boundaries with the couple before the cameras started rolling.

“So, Y/n, you’ve just released a small album that focuses mostly on Oscar and the things you two get up to in the bedroom. Were you ever nervous to share these songs with the world?”

Y/n nodded, “At first, yeah, all the way back when we started with 34+35, but it got easier once I saw the overwhelming support for it. I think the best part about releasing them is seeing the jokes that the fans make about Oscar and that side of him.”

Samantha smiled, “That leads me to my next question, Oscar, were you ever nervous to have people know about that side of you? Seeing as it was such a shocker.”

He laughed as he adjusted his position, throwing an arm around his girlfriend, “Um, well, I didn’t think it was that shocking. We didn’t expect people to go haywire over hearing that I lean more towards the dominant side. We kind of assumed people inferred that.”

Samantha’s jaw dropped, “Really?! Oh! I’ll be honest, I was quite surprised when I heard it.”

Y/n shook her head, “I don’t know, I guess the way Oscar is in front of cameras is drastically different from how he actually is. He’s still very soft spoken and quiet, but a bit more outgoing.”

Samantha nodded as she glanced over her next question, “Oscar, what’s your favorite song off this album?”

“Oh, I am so ready for this. Agora Hills.” He answered immediately, smiling proudly at the others in the room.

Y/n turned to look at him, “Really?! Why?!”

His head leaned from side to side, “Just, it’s more romantic? I mean, you talk about tying the knot alongside the sex stuff.”

Y/n and Samantha laugh at his comment, Samantha agreeing, “No, I see what you’re saying. Y/n, you do say you want to show him off multiple times throughout the song.”

“Because I do!” She exclaimed, leaning into her boyfriend lovingly.

He kissed her temple, listening intently to Samantha.

“Your interactions with the fans are hilarious. Do you guys look forward to fucking with them?”

“Hell yeah!” Oscar exclaimed, “Once I caught wind of the fact that they didn’t think I did shit in the bedroom, I became very obnoxious when rubbing what happens between Y/n and I in their faces.”

Y/n cooed jokingly, “Aw, Osc, was your masculinity damaged?”

He rolled his eyes at her, laughing at her dig and pushing her away softly. They came back together, though.

“Before we move on from this subject, I want to ask Y/n, was the over six inches comment really true?” Samantha eyed her as Y/n glanced beside her at Oscar, silently asking him if she could do what he knew she wanted to do.

He nodded at her, shaking his head lightly as she said, “A lady never kisses and tells.”

Silence passed as she raised her hands and aimed them around nine inches apart. Winking suggestively at the camera, the women in the room gasped.

“IS THAT NINE INCHES?!” Samantha screamed, causing all of them to fall into a fit of giggles.

Y/n brought the microphone to her mouth and whispered, “Oh, yeah, it is.”

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Congratulations on 700 followers Mo 😖💗....I really LOVE reading your fanfics☺️

I was kindly requesting Navy hummingbird and sloth please

Eeeek thank you so much for reading! I hope you like this one! (Honestly? I kind of wrote this with the thought of it being Burning Hearts, my Law series, adjacent.) Needy Law is so cuuuuute!

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Prompt/Trope: Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac x Somnophilia 

WC: 1900

Warnings: oral, sex pollen affects, somnophilia without discussion but let’s assume they have (don’t worry we’re cool!) unprotected sex, p in v sex, prone bone, creampies and breeding baby!

Happy Anniversary, Baby (18+)

— — 

Law was a composed man. Over time, you had managed to worm your way through his hardened exterior to reach his nerdy, compassionate, caring center. Even as he opened up to you, he was still methodical about most things, including sex. He had the motions to make you orgasm down to a science at this point, making sure you were pleased far more than worrying about his own release. He always pulled out. He was the doctor who prescribed your birth control for god’s sake but he insisted on being careful anyway. Even if you begged him to finish inside, he was stubborn. You would never complain about your relationship with Law, he was just the way you liked him. 

Law was up early one morning going over paperwork at his desk. He couldn’t sleep any longer and didn’t want to wake you from your peaceful slumber by tossing and turning, so he decided to get some work done. 

After an hour or so of being engrossed in his work, Law glances at the calendar hanging on his office wall. Todays date had little pink hearts drawn around it in gel pen, by your hand of course. 

“Oh shit.” 

Law had forgotten about your anniversary. 

He had to think of something fast, preferably before you woke up. You were always telling him he worked too much so he couldn’t imagine the ass-chewing he would receive if you found out he forgot your anniversary. 

“Flowers…” He mumbles as he rises from his desk and leaves his office. He headed down the hall to the large closet you had converted into a makeshift greenhouse for your beloved hydroponic garden. 

He rips open the metal door and is hit in the face with moist air and the refreshing smell of greenery. The walls and center of the room were completely covered in carefully curated small plants, vegetables, flowers, and ferns. Law steps in and closes the door behind him. 

“She likes yellow…” Law mutters to himself as he finds himself overwhelmed by all the flowers around him. He was a doctor, not a botanist, he had no idea what any of these plants were so he just decided to choose something in your favorite color. 

He walked up to a large bush on the left side of the room that had unique-looking yellow flowers blossoming all over it. He thought this would be as good as any so he reached out his hand to pluck at the stem of one of the blooms. 

Just as he wrapped his tattooed fingers around the plant, the flower released a puff of yellow pollen right in his face. Law jerks backwards. The particles fly up into his sinuses and causes an uncomfortable tickle. 

“Ah- ACHOO!” Law sneezes violently which triggers the rest of the flowers on the bush to release their own supply of pollen into the air, clouding his vision and irritating his nose further. 

Law covers his face and rubs his eyes, trying to brush any remaining flower pollen off of him. 

“Must be some kind of natural defense mechanism… fuck that.” Law gripes as he wipes the last remnants of the pollen from his tired face. 

Law catches his breath and chooses to abandon this particular, aggravating plant. He spies a rosebush in the corner of the room. He knows what those are for sure, and as long as he doesn’t prick himself on the thorns, it should be less of a challenge to harvest them. 

Law walks over to the rosebush and begins snipping off the beautiful yellow blossoms, keeping the stems just long enough to put in a vase. Once he had around a dozen roses, he left the greenhouse room to find suitable container for the flowers in the kitchen. 

Rooting around in the kitchen cabinets, Law struggles to find anything nice enough for an anniversary bouquet. 

He wipes sweat from his brow and realizes that he’s been having to do it every few moments… why was he so sweaty? Was the boiler on the fritz again? He made a mental note to check the furnace on the ship after he gave you your gift. Law ignores the heat creeping up through him and continues searching the cabinets. 

He is pushing coffee mugs aside just as he notices the warm feeling become even more intense. Sweat was beading at his temples. 

“Fuck…” Law grunts and abandons his quest briefly so he can pour himself a glass of water. He chugs the entire cup in a few gulps and slams it back onto the kitchen counter. His jeans felt tight now. He looks down. His dick was fully hard, straining against the thick fabric of his pants. 

“What the hell…” Law had no idea what was happening to him. He was normally so in control of his faculties, but he now found himself painfully erect for no reason at all. He felt more droplets of sweat trickle down from his scalp to his neck. He grips the countertop and hangs his head, breathing heavily. 

It had to be that plant. He had no other logical explanation for the ache in his crotch and the uneasiness he was feeling in his head. The water didn’t help. He needed your help. You knew everything about the plants in there and would know exactly what to do to make the effects stop. 

Great, Law thought. Not only did he blow off your anniversary, he might have severely injured himself in the process… once again he wins the “Shittiest Boyfriend in the Grand Line” award. You were going to kill him, and at this point Law was so uncomfortable that he would probably let you. He abandons the flowers strewn across the kitchen counter and heads to your shared bedroom, desperate to find a cure to his ailment but also apprehensive of your reaction to his idiocy. 

He pushes open the bedroom door and quietly slips in, so he wouldn’t startle you if you were still sleeping. Before he has a chance to even form the words he wanted to use to explain himself to you, he was stopped in his tracks by your sleeping form. 

You had tossed all the covers off your body since Law had left, and you were laying on your back snoozing peacefully. Arms stretched over your head, Law’s bright yellow t-shirt emblazoned with his Jolly Roger was the only article of clothing you had on. You looked so serene, lost in your dreams, little snores escaping your parted dry lips… but Law could only focus on one thing. His t-shirt had ridden up and your thighs were spread, perfectly exposing your naked sex to him. 

Law felt his entire heartbeat in his cock now. Your plump, outer pussy lips looked so delicious, so kissable, and all Law could think about now was burying his tongue in you as you slept. Without thinking, Law unzips his pants and steps out of them when they fall to the floor, hissing as his dick finally has more room to breathe. He was no longer in control of himself, he could almost smell you from across the bedroom. He needed to have you now. 

He shouldn’t! The last of his sanity was pulling at his brain, begging him to just wake you up and ask you how to diffuse the effects of the flower’s pollen… but your naked cunt before him was just too much to resist any longer. 

Still feeling hot, Law strips himself completely, hat included. His hands tremble with need and tension as he tries to delicately settle himself on the bed between your legs, not wanting to wake you up. He would have a small taste and then let you rest… just one little lick…

He couldn’t help it. He immediately latched his whole mouth around your sex and laves his tongue up from the bottom of your hole to the top of your clit. 

“Hnnnhhh…” You whimper and shift in your sleep. 

“Mmmm…” Law groans into your pussy as your sweet taste helps alleviate some of the pressure he was feeling in his body. He can’t help but hump his hard cock into the mattress below the two of you, no doubt leaking pre and staining the sheets. 

Law notices you begin to stir and squirm underneath his touch, so he gently places his hands on your thighs to keep you still while he lapped at your pussy as if he was desperately parched and your body was an oasis. Becoming increasingly aroused, more of your slick leaked out of your hole into Law’s mouth which he greedily slurped up. The familiar flavor of you made his eyes roll back. He needed more. 

Law pushes himself up and positions himself on his knees between your legs. He grabs his cock and strokes it a few times harshly before lining himself up with your weeping hole. 

“I’m sorry baby…” Law whispers as he pushes himself into you. 

“Oh…” You sigh and your eyelids start to flutter. 

Without giving you time to wake up, Law sets a punishing pace with his hips and hammers into your wet cunt. Your breasts bounce freely underneath Law’s t-shirt and you rub your eyes involuntarily. 

“L-Law?” You sleepily say as you gain consciousness and realize he’s on top of you and balls deep inside of you. You thought you were just having a sex dream but you were shocked to find your partner waking you up with his cock. 

“Needed you now… Had to take you… You looked so fucking good and I just couldn’t stop…” Law grunts out as he thrusts into you with everything he has. 

“Fuck… feels so good…” You whimper out, sleep still heavy in your mind. 

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ Law huffs out before you feel him press hard into you. You then get the unfamiliar feeling of him shooting a heavy load inside of your walls. 

“D-did you r-really just-“ You stutter. You feel his member still twitching and hard inside of you. 

“Fuck why won’t it go down?” Law grits his teeth. 

“W-what?” Before you had time to question him further, Law picks you up by your waist and man handles you onto your stomach, spreading your legs again to make room for him. He pulls your hips up and presses his dick inside you again, your tender hole seeping white liquid out and coating him. 

“Shit! Law!” You moan as you feel him hit your favorite spot from behind. He picks up a brutal pace as he fucks you. “S-slow down, babe!” You try to push a hand back on his abs to quell his fervor. “I’m gonna-“

“C-can’t… I can’t! Fuck!” Law huffs as he grips your hips impossibly tight, surely leaving marks. You had never seen this animalistic side of your boyfriend and you couldn’t help how much it turned you on. You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge of orgasm embarrassingly quickly for someone who had just woken up. 

“AH!” You yelp into the pillow below you as you cum, hard. 

“Yes baby, this pussy is so fucking good, squeezing me so tight…” 

You were a babbling mess as Law’s heavy thrusts send you into overstimulation. 

“Gotta fucking fill you again, want you to drip for days…”

You whimper in response. 

“Yeah you’re mine baby, all mine… gonna stuff you so fucking good… FUCK-“ Law almost shouts as you feel more hot liquid filling your insides, surely leaking out around his member. 

Law rides out his second orgasm with a few more deep thrusts before he collapses over you and nuzzles his face between your shoulder blades. 

Finally feeling relieved, Law pulls out of you tenderly before flopping on his back next to you on the bed, out of breath. You turn to your side and snuggle into him as he wraps his arms around you. 

“Happy Anniversary?” Law says tentatively.

“Happy Anniversary indeed. Was that my present?” You giggle. 

“I cut you some flowers, left them in the kitchen, though.” Law says as he strokes your hair. 

“Wait… what flowers?!” You raise your voice as your head shoots up off his chest. 

xx

Mo

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour: Day 2

You decide to give Jungkook exactly what he wanted - a date. @suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.658

Warning: semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), smut, simp jungkook, car sex, creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talking, feelings being expressed :'), dom jungkook, submissive reader,

DAY 2

“Excuse me?” Jungkook is taken aback by your words and he releases a deep scoff from his throat. “No.”

You roll your eyes at Jungkook’s dramatic response. “I’m saying. It doesn’t have to be anything over the top.”

“Y/N…” Jungkook grasps both of your hands from the other side of the kitchen island. “...we’re not having our first date in my living room binge watching Law & Order and eating pizza.”

You sigh and slump your shoulders. “We can even watch whatever nerd shit-”

“Nerd shit?!” Jungkook appears offended. “Just because I watch a little Marvel.” he then shakes his head. “Look, that's honestly besides the point. Me and you are going on a real date.”

The following morning when you woke up, you were surprised to not see Jungkook. You recalled after the shower the two of you took that slumber came soon after, you sporting one of his shirts. The spot where you last recalled him was left cold, meaning that he was gone for the majority of the time you slept. 

You washed up, brushing your teeth vigorously to get rid of your morning breath. You then make your way down the hall to where you hear Jungkook scurrying around in the kitchen. “You don’t have to be so sappy.” you recall snickering, leaning against the other side of the island.

“Seriously?” Jungkook scoffed. “I woke up early to assure you have an amazing breakfast and this is what you say to me?” Jungkook shook his head but there's a tiny smile on his lips. “Picked these flowers fresh for you this morning. Hope the neighbor doesn’t mind.” Your eyes glanced at the assorted flowers that appeared as if they’ve been snatched from someone’s garden  - the stems are all different sizes and didn’t appear to be bought from a shop or a grocery store.

You and Jungkook ate breakfast, you happily munching on everything he cooked for you without as much as a care. You and him sat side by side, entirely too close, and enjoyed the company the two of you provided.

“Let’s go on a date.” Jungkook had said once he was done with his own food - a random silence falling before the two of you prior to him speaking.

Your head turned to Jungkook slowly, his eyes already on you and awaiting a response. 

“You already said you were my girl…” Jungkook trailed off, lifting his hand to cup your chin. “...if you cut off the play hard to get game you love to play, then we can do what we both want to do.”

“Okay.” you nodded your head, not only surprising yourself at your agreement, but also Jungkook. His eyes turned wide and in an instant, he’s smiling wide.

“I’m thinking…a picnic? A movie? Dinner? How about we just do it all?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

“A picnic movie…dinner?” you tilt your head with a smile on your lips. “Isn’t that what I suggested we do here?”

“Fuck, Y/N.” Jungkook drops your hands to run his hands through his hair. “You don’t go out on date’s much, do you?”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook, you think.

“Dates are supposed to be things we do outside the home.” Jungkook says slowly, speaking as if you were a child. 

“I know what a fucking date is.” you roll your eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you plan this…picnic movie dinner date. Whatever the fuck that is.”

Jungkook then claps his hands together. “Thank you!” Jungkook comes around the island to wrap you in a tight embrace, your back against his torso. “Then soon you’ll agree to be my girlfriend and everything will fall into place.”

“I don’t think so.” you snicker, but even you didn’t believe your words. You were, damn you say this, beginning to like having Jungkook around. 

“Mhmm.” Jungkook hums, his embrace only getting tighter. “Who knows what you’ll agree to when you’re on my dick.”

“Excuse-”

“I feel like you’ll agree to a marriage proposal as long as I fuck you right.” Jungkook continues, chuckling after the words are spoken. His right hand grips your breast tightly before it dips down between your legs. 

Jungkook’s shocked when you initial the kiss first, turning your head to press a needy kiss to his lips. It causes him to groan into it, cupping your sex entirely. 

“Can I sit on your face?” you plead.

“Always.” Jungkook nods hastily, hoisting you off of the island stool to make his way down the hall to his bedroom.

NIGHT 2

“How the hell did he get my mother’s number?” you asked Jungkook in pure disbelief, re-reading Jimin’s tweet.

“Please don’t involve me in that.” Jungkook glances away from the road to you. “I have no idea how. It’s Jimin. He has his ways.”

You groan, turning off your phone and putting it to the side. “Fuck Jimin.”

“Well, he is the reason you agreed to go on a date with me. He’s going to be the godfather to our children.”

You snarl at Jungkook’s words, heat rushing through you. “You always go years in advance, do you?” you grumble. “I thought Jimin hated me.”

“Hate you? Of course not!” Jungkook begins to laugh as if it's the funniest statement in the world. “He actually really likes us together. Says we fit.”

You furrow your brows at the new information. Jimin wasn’t an outright asshole, but neither was he someone you considered that “liked you”. 

“He’s just a little upset. I kicked him off the streaming services so you can have a better experience.” Jungkook snorts. “But he tells me all the time that he ships us.”

“Huh.” you nod slowly. “I suppose that means I have your friend’s approval.” you joke.

“Of course.” Jungkook laughs. He places a hand on your thigh while the other is firmly on the steering wheel. “I already met the in-laws. You milk my dick every night-”

“Ugh.” you slap his hand away from your thigh and cross your arms. “Y/N, baby. Stop denying fate.” Jungkook says. “We’re going on our first date. It has to be something to tell our kids about. So if you can kindly behave.”

Jungkook was adamant about a picnic movie dinner date - in his own way. The night is cool and far too chilly to have a picnic outside, not only that, but it was dark. He managed to find a drive in theater that was showing a horror movie tonight and before the journey there, he had gathered dinner - chinese takeout with an abundance of drinks and snacks to share along the way.

“Kinda dead.” you note as Jungkook comes to the drive-in theater. There’s a man at a concession stand who appeared to be half asleep upon Jungkook entering. He doesn’t bother to stop Jungkook so he can pay, just nodding his head for him to drive along. 

“Even better.” Jungkook murmurs to himself. There’s only 2 cars that he can see parked further from one another and from his own. “I’m so excited.” 

You couldn’t help but grim st Jungkook’s excitement. His determination to date you was cute, you’d admit. 

“What movie is on now?” you ask, taking off your seatbelt to get comfortable.

“Let’s see…it follows.” Jungkook scrolls through his phone for a bit. “Followed by some more horror. We can stay for one more if you’d like.”

You nod your head. 

The date was nice. Jungkook kept his car on so the heat could circulate and the both of you ate and talked, laughing at a few scenes or small jokes that each of you would send. 

Was this what your life turned to? A domesticated realtionship with Jeon Jungkook - the same boy you swore was the embodiment of a fuck boy? Your mother always told you not to judge a book by its cover and that’s exactly what you had done with him. 

But you’d give yourself slack. Jungkook looked like a fuck boy - tattoos, piercings, hot body and was a smooth talker? How could you think any other way?

But then Jungkook and his stubborn competitiveness came in. He was determined to prove you wrong - prove that he could be someone you could like more than just a fuck buddy. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook turns to you, a trail of sauce down the side of his lips. “You’ve been staring into space for a while now.”

You take a sip of your drink  - Jungkook insisted you tried this flavored soda that was one of his favorites; you weren’t so sure if you liked it as much. “Just thinking.”

“While there’s a murderer on the loose?” Jungkook furrows a brow, licking the sauce away with his tongue. “You would surely be the first to die.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“What’s on your mind?”

“What is it that you like about me exactly?”

Jungkook turns to you fully. “I had this speech set out for a one year anniversary.” he sighs.

“Can you get serious?” your body feels hot and Jungkook laughs. 

“I like how stubborn you are. You always keep me on my toes. I never get bored when I’m with you.”

“Yet.”

Jungkook frowns. “Don’t ruin the moment with your negativity.” he quips. “You aren’t afraid to shit talk me even when I know deep down in that shell of a heart…” Jungkook smirks at your scowling face. He drops his chopsticks into the container he was eating and grasps your chin between his fingers. “...you love my company just as much as I love yours.”

“Simp.” you mumble.

“I’ll always simp for my girl.” Jungkook retorts. “If you don’t believe me, Y/N. I can continue.” Jungkook drops your chin. “I come to like the way you look in the morning. Drool on my pillow-”

“Fuck you.” you groan. “-while you snuggle close into me.” Jungkook laughs at your reaction. “I like watching you eat until you’re full and not be embarrassed that I’m watching. I love cooking for you, too.”

You swallow at Jungkook’s words.

“I like buying you things because there’s that softness in your eyes when I give it to you. It’s nice for those few seconds that you’re silent, just smiling. It makes me want to buy you even more things.”

“You can stop now.” you murmur to him, your heart pumping out your chest, so loud you’re sure he can hear it.

“I like how good to me you are.”

“I don’t think I’m that good.” you scoff with a shake of your head. You don’t do anything for Jungkook - not as much as he does for you, that is.

“You are.” Jungkook begins to close the lids of his food, deciding that the food could wait. He places the food back inside the bags and discards them in his back seat. “You’re so good for me. When you sit on my face. When you let me take control. You’re always good to me.”

With each passing word, Jungkook’s voice drops until it’s in a complete whisper.

“You allow me to hold you close, to kiss you, touch you…” you don’t realize how your legs are clenching until it’s friction. Curse your body for giving out on you when it comes to Jeon Jungkook and his deep voice.

“I can go on and on all night, Y/N.” Jungkook speaks with a tilt of his head. 

You inhale, closing your eyes for a bit. “Jungkook…” you say, opening your eyes to look straight at him. “...take your dick out.”

Jungkook furrows his brows at your request. “Huh-”

“Just take your dick out.” you say, shoving Jungkook in the shoulder.

Seriously, fuck Jeon Jungkook and his way of words that makes you just want to wrap your mouth around his dick. 

Jungkook nods hastily, wasting no time doing what he’s told.

The car isn’t big - you’re used to a lot of space when being with Jungkook. But, you would make it work. You wrap a hand around the base of Jungkook cock, tongue sticking out. A trail of saliva falls onto the tip of his cock and Jungkook shudders.

You begin to suck on the tip of Jungkook’s cock, focusing on it entirely. Your hands pump the length of him just like you know he likes it.

Jungkook places a hand on top of your head, resting in your hair. He winches in pleasure, eyes snapping shut.

You take Jungkook in you deeper and deeper - so deep that he’s hitting the back of your throat. You’re clenching around nothing now, your underwear soaking by the second, but you didn’t care. You wanted Jungkook now more than ever - if even possible. The sounds of your slurping echo off the car walls, Jungkook turning down the radio so the movie wouldn’t distract him from you.

“You’re always so, fuck…good to me.” Jungkook pants. It’s like he’s told you - there was never a true dull moment. Even outside of sex, he never knows when he’s going to get himself into when he’s with you. 

You pop his cock from your mouth, a thin line of saliva connecting your mouth to it. “Do you want to cum in my mouth?” you ask him, wheezing. “Or on my face?”

“I-I don’t know.” Jungkook’s cheeks are dusted red by your sudden question. He’s never thought about cumming on your face - and the thought now interests him. However, it also makes him feel as though you’re something that he doesn’t think of you as  - a simple slutty hookup. 

Your tongue twirls slowly onto the tip, lightly passing the small hole as you await his response. 

“J-Just…fuck, Y/N.” Jungkook throws his head back and lets out a whine. “Can I fuck you?”

You knit your brows. “No room-”

“Back seat.” Jungkook rushes to say. 

“What if someone sees?” your heart is pumping with adrenaline at just the thought of being caught with Jungkook now.

“It’s dark.” Jungkook scoffs. “And who even cares?”

You lick your lips and nod your head. “Wanna ride you.” you whine low and it doesn’t take long for you to be fully undressed in the back of Jungkook’s car - Jungkook removing the bottom half of his clothing before joining you. 

It’s cramped, you’d admit, but it doesn’t bother you. You tried your best not to cause too much commotion in your riding - the car was already moving from side to side - but Jungkook wasn’t going to allow any hesitation. He didn’t care what others saw - not like anyone was watching. His hands are roaming your naked body, watching with hooded eyes as you take him.

“Everything…okay?” Jungkook pants, biting his lip to hide yet another pleasurable moan. You nod your head, arms wrapped around Jungkook’s neck. You’re unsure yourself where the stamina came from - Jungkook was always the one with the unwavering speed and energy. 

“Why do you ask?” Jungkook’s cock is so deep inside of you that you never want to stop riding him.

“You’re fucking yourself so good.” Jungkook grunts, hands gripping the flesh of your ass. “Just thought maybe there was…” he stops for a moment when he feels you clench around him and it takes everything in him to not flip you over. “...something on your mind.”

There was, you think. You leaned away from Jungkook to watch his expression - the low eyes, whispering “fuck” and “shit” every other moment mixed with the pure bliss on his face. 

“I love your cock.” you admit with a high pitched moan. Oftentimes you’d refrain from giving Jungkook any satisfaction so early on.

“Yeah?” there was a deep chuckle in Jungkook’s voice. Any chance you had of being in control is taken when Jungkook begins to thrust upwards to meet your hips. 

Sober you - and not the dick drunk person you are now - are surely going to look back and die of humiliation. Who were you giving a man the satisfaction of knowing what you loved about them?

“You always fuck me so good.” you capture Jungkook’s lips on your own, fully allowing him to take control. “You treat me well, too.”

Jungkook kisses down your jaw, his thrusts never halting. So this is why you were doing this - sucking his cock like your life depended on it and then attempting to milk him dry. He supposed this was your way of telling him that you liked him - in a typical you way of things. Only when you were being fucked so good could you ever admit these feelings for him.

But, Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way - he loved breaking down those walls you put up.

“I’ll always treat you well.” Jungkook grunts. “Come here.” Jungkook maneuvers you so that you’re against the seat, ass in the air. He wasn’t going to let the tight space stop him from fucking you the way he wanted to. 

Another pleasurable whine escapes you when Jungkook re-enters you. The new position allows him to go deeper, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. One hand rests onto your hip to keep you in place while another hoists you up by your neck.

“What else, baby?” Jungkook says between thrusts. “What else do you like about me?”

Jungkook was getting off to this, fully understanding that you wouldn’t admit these feelings for him any other way. You were far too stubborn - but that didn’t mean he never wanted to hear them.

“Y-You deal with me. You’re always so…so…” your eyes begin to flutter close, pussy pulsing around Jungkook’s cock. It’s as if with each thrust, he goes deeper and deeper, fully fucking every inch of life out from you. “...so nice to me.”

Jungkook leans down, his tongue licking from the middle of your back to your shoulder. He then presses a kiss against your shoulder blade. “You know you’re my girl. I’ll always be kind to you.”

“I-I know, baby.”

Fuck.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook. This was something he was never going to live down and the sober part of you hopes that he didn’t hear you say the little pet name that the dick drunk side of you said.

Of course, Jungkook did and his eyes widened slightly. 

“You like me.” Jungkook laughs a joyous tune - it’s as if he isn’t plunging his cock deep inside of you right now. He has a boyish grin on his lips as he continues. The hand on your hope makes its way between your legs, rubbing along on your wet clit. “You like me, Y/N!” he sing-songs.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook - because wasn’t it obvious that you liked him? You spent more time with him than you did with anyone else - even Chaeyoung was beginning to question if things had gotten further than you told her.

“Didn’t I tell you I can have you saying anything for me if I fucked you good enough?”

Fuck. Jeon. Jungkook.

Jungkook’s fingers continue to play with your clit, his pounding never ceasing. This is what fueled Jungkook - your moans, the clenching of your pussy, you admitting that you liked him - no matter how obvious it was outside of sex. Hearing you say it was enough to fuel him even further.

“It’s a matter of time before you admit you love me.” there it was, the deep sultriness in Jungkook’s voice has returned. “But we can wait a little longer for that. I’ve waited this long to hear you admit you liked me.”

You’re sobbing now due to overstimulation - that and Jungkook always had a way with words just as he had a way with using his dick.

“You always look so pretty when you take me.” Jungkook’s warm breath is right against your ear. It causes you to shudder while goosebumps litter your skin. “You know sometimes I think about how there’s guys I know that want you.”

You whimper when Jungkook’s hand slaps along your clit harshly. 

“But I have you here in my car creaming my cock.” Jungkook cackles as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “It brings great satisfaction knowing that I’m the one that has you. That Y/L Y/N who was once known to deny everyone…” Jungkook kisses your shoulder blade once more. “...is crying for my cock. Say it, baby. Say you only want me.”

“O-Only want you.” you comply far too quickly, a pathetic sob coming right after.

You’re cumming - it waves down on you hard. You don’t notice you’re crying with ecstasy until you’re blinking them away to focus on anything.

“Fuck, that’s right, baby. Only me.” Jungkook picks up the pace of his thrusts, sloppy. Your pussy is so wet that it squelches loudly. “Only us.” is all Jungkook is mustered to say before he himself is cumming, twitching with pleasure right inside of you.

Each time Jungkook cums inside of you always seems to be more intense than the last. He doesn’t release his cock from inside of you until he’s softening, the cum trailing down your thigh painfully slow.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks when he catches his breath, laying you gently against his seats. “I think we need a safe word. You never tell me when I go too far.” he murmurs, only half jokingly.

You mumble something beneath your breath and Jungkook comes closer to hear it.

Your body turns, your back now against his seat. Jungkook awaits for you to speak. “I’m so sleepy.”

Jungkook snickers. “I bet.” he responds. “You have work tomorrow, right?”

You nod your head, dreading the fact. Your work shifts are never long - but being with Jungkook majority of the day made life a little more bearable.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and making you want to be around him more.

“We should probably head home then.” Jungkook leans away but you grab his shirt. He stops, eyes fixed on you. “Yeah, baby?”

You lean forward a bit to capture his lips. It’s quick, nothing but a peck but it causes both of your hearts to leap. 

Part 6 Teaser | Series Masterlist

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

Studio TV Solutions presents Half Life VR but the AI are Self-Aware (2020) [not a real movie]. A movie with a totally improv’d script starring a moltey crew who are sure to give you a rip-roarin’ good time!

anyway hi new au just dropped. i’m calling it HLVRAIM. it’s HLVRAI but it’s a blockbuster movie and the science team are played by actors. i have many thought on backstories n stuff that i will stick under a “read more” here otherwise this post will be hella long on people’s dashes. 👇👍 pls care about this i thought so hard and much

Half Life VR but the AI are Self-Aware was put out by Studio TV Solutions in 2020 and destroyed the box office with how fun it was and how well the cast played off one another. The cast was given a general outline for the script with the goal for it to be mostly improv.

Gordon Freeman: Mannie Flores (Dominican American, age 28, he/him) - Popular Youtuber/Twitch streamer (“Radi0Mann”). Got offered the role in HLVRAI thanks to the creative things he’s done in his Youtube/Twitch career. This is his first “official” acting gig. He was pretty starstruck at first, but then as he got to know everyone, he realized they’re all a bunch of dorks (affectionate). - Started off as a gaming channel, but then started branching off into various creative endeavors as he got more popular. He still plays games too though. - One of the things Mannie did in his internet career that hit the mainstream was when he wrote, directed, starred in, and filmed his own movie in just 2 weeks because he failed a bet with his audience. Except the movie was actually really good and funny and heartfelt (i want to say it was about “a man who got left behind on earth after everyone else was raptured because god literally forgot about him”, but i think the concept might’ve been done already). - Met Benji through HLVRAI. They hit it off and now they’re dating. They tried to keep it secret for a while but Mannie had a slip-up during a stream that sort of blew it out of the water.

Benrey: Benji Song (Japanese/Chinese, age 30, he/they) - Started off as a film sound designer in the industry, then through a series of silly willy little events—possibly even shenanigans—got roped into a role in a passion indie film that became wildly acclaimed and flung him into the spotlight. Been an actor ever since, but isn’t the most proactive in taking jobs much to their agent’s annoyance. People never know where he’ll pop up next. Sometimes Benji will sneak in sound designer work behind their agent’s back. - Honestly likes background work more because everyone’s got these expectations of them as an actor that they feel pressured to meet. But he’s also afraid of disappointing people. He’s working on it. - Met their partner Mannie through HLVRAI. Totally was a fan of his streams/videos beforehand though. When they mention that, Mannie gets flustered. - Does music as a hobby. Electronic stuff mostly—enjoys mashing together all sorts of sounds and trying to make them work. After HLVRAI, Mannie’s streams gets cool new music that’s made by somebody going by “johnwicklover1994.” wink

Harold Coomer: Hau’oli “Hau” Kaleo-Kirchhoff (Hawaiian/Samoan, age 66, he/him) - Old musician who’s supposed to be retired but once in a while will release a song or even do a concert (but nothing crazy). - Hau’oli is pronounced [hh-ow-oh-lee], but he also goes by “Hau” for the haoles’ sake. :) Kaleo is [kah-leh-oh]. also Hau’oli sounds a little bit like the name Holly so that’s a fun coincidence i didn’t realize until later. - Most of his music is chill island tunes but he has been known to dabble in rock and jazz. - Married to Mose (been together for 30 years and counting).

Bubby: Mose Kaleo-Kirchhoff (German, age 69 [nice], xe/him) - Veteran actor—been in the acting industry for a long time. One of his more well-known roles was in a popular sci-fi series. - Married to Hau’oli (they got married the moment it was legal). - i went with a name that started with “M” cuz when Gordon first asks Bubby for his name, xe’s like, “mmm Bubby.” and i headcanon it’s because Mose was about to say xir own name and had to swerve last minute and the thing his brain resorted to was Bubby lol.

Tommy Coolatta: Luis Tanglao (Filipino, age 37, he/they) - Child star who dropped out of the industry when he hit his teens and then came back years later as a comedian. He has material about how fucked up being a child star was. Will only take acting roles if it interests them. - They don’t care about how the public/media sees him. He’ll speak his mind and call out BS when he sees it. Interviewing them can be a war zone. - Hosts a popular podcast with some buds they discuss things like video games, their lives, news, etc. Just shooting the shit. - Sunkist is their actual dog and she modeled for the png photo that was used. Her name is actually Biko. She is a very good girl. <3

Darnold Pepper: Sage Haven (African American, age 40, he/her/they) - Famous cooking show host who gets offered roles in movies. Got popular by how unconventional her meals and cooking methods are and how funny he is. - Has had multiple food/cooking/baking shows over the years. Every competition-based one they’ve had focused more on good vibes, fun, and encouraging one another rather than drama. One show involved people competing to see who could make the best full course meal with the catch being they could only cook everything in a microwave. Many microwaves perished. - Changed their name to Sage Haven during their transition. They chose it because it reflects his passion and also is a play on the phrase “safe haven”, which is what she wants to be to others. - He has an adoptive daughter named Kit. She helped them think up bits and jokes. She also had to help explain what Half-Life was.

haven’t gotten to gman and forzen’s actors yet unfortunately. thinking gman’s actor could be a talk show host? because that would be funny. anyway thanks for humoring me on my shenanigans. bye

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries • Oscar Piastri (PART FOUR)

Masterlist

There it is! Chapter 4! This is a very very angsty chapter, IM SORRY IN ADVANCE, but it had to happen for the plot to develop :'( Butttt, to make it a little better, it starts with smut hahah! And don't worry! I promise you that Oscar and the reader will be just fine & the next chapter will be having plenty of happy moments for them <3 Please let me know in the comments what you think of this chapter, because i'm honestly so insecure about this one!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader (norris!reader) ↳word count: 3.5K ↳ parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳chapter warnings: ANSGT!, smut, 18+ content (mdni!), oral (female!receiving), talking about feelings, emotional rollercoaster, brothers teammate trope, bestfriend!reader

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, Oscar finds himself grappling with unexpected feelings and rising tension, leaving him conflicted about how to handle his emotions

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

Once the calm had returned, reality began to set in. You grasped what had just transpired and what you had done. Did you regret it? No. Was it wise? Also no.

"I... um," you stammered, "I think I should go, they're probably waiting for us," you mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor. You tried to turn and leave your own room in haste until you felt Oscar's hand wrap around yours.

You turned back and met Oscar's gaze. He was now sitting up on the massage table. "Please, don't go," he whispered, his voice pleading. "Let me make you feel good too," he added, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed his hand and nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You gave in the moment you saw the look in his eyes, the growing arousal between your legs making it even harder to think clearly.

Oscar offered a small smile and jumped off the massage table. He took your hand and pulled you close, guiding you until the back of your calves met the edge of the bed. One hand moved to your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. "If you want me to stop, just tell me, okay?"

You nodded in response, unable to find your voice, captivated by the effect he had on you. The moment he saw your nod, he gently pushed you onto the bed. Climbing on top of you, he paused at the button of your jeans, looking up for approval before finally undoing the first button.

Oscar skillfully removed your jeans, revealing your red lace panties. "Fuck, baby, you're so pretty," he whispered, his voice huskier than usual.

Baby, that was new, a nickname he hadn't used before, making the moment feel even more intimate.

You bit your lip as Oscar leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh. He took his time to admire you, his fingers finding their way to your ass, squeezing lightly.

"Please, Osc," you begged, your hands tangling in his hair.

"Words, baby," he smirked. "Tell me what you want."

You released a soft moan as Oscar scattered small kisses on your thighs. "Anything. Touch me, Osc," you pleaded, tightening your grip on his hair, eliciting a soft groan from him. "I need you," you murmured, ending in a low moan as Oscar's finger traced up your clothed slit, sliding up and down, smirking as your body tensed.

"Can I take these off?" he asked innocently. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding.

"Yes," you said, and his fingers hooked around your underwear, swiftly pulling them down.

After removing your underwear, Oscar took his time to look at you before pressing a soft kiss against your inner thigh. His hands wandered up your legs, almost reaching the place you needed him most. "One last chance to back out. Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked gently.

"Please, just touch me," you murmured, frustrated by the building tension.

Obliging, he kissed his way up your legs, his hands squeezing your thighs firmly. Oscar placed a soft kiss on your cunt before parting your folds with his tongue. "Oh, you're so wet for me already, baby."

"Fuck," you moaned, your hips bucking upwards as his tongue found your clit. As Oscar moved his tongue in circles, you couldn't help but grab his hair, your fingers pulling as he expertly flicked his tongue against your clit, your body trembling with need.

Oscar groaned before pulling away slightly. "Fuck, baby, you taste so good," his voice huskier than ever.

His fingers gripped your hips tightly, pinning you in place as he slipped a finger inside you, eliciting more moans. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge.

"Osc, you're so good at this," you chanted, moans falling from your lips more frequently. "I'm so close, Osc."

Oscar groaned at your words, even more motivated to make you come hard. He slipped another finger inside you, his fingers joining his mouth. A smile crept on his face when he heard the moans caused by his actions.

You cried out, waves of pleasure washing over you, your body trembling as the pressure released into a heavenly feeling of relaxation. You pulled on Oscar's hair harder as you came with a loud moan, "O-Oscar."

Oscar's features were laced with lust as he watched you come undone beneath him. Your mouth was open, and your cheeks were flushed. To him, it was the most beautiful sight.

You reached out your arms, inviting Oscar to lay down with you. He couldn't resist and immediately crawled upwards, laying back on the bed and pulling you into his arms.

It was then that you realized the banging on your door. "Y/n, I'm coming in now! I've banged on this door long enough," Daniel called from the hallway.

"We're screwed," Oscar huffed, realizing you were both far from decent.

"One second, I'll be there," you yelled back, hoping he would be patient. You were wearing nothing but your t-shirt, while Oscar was only in his cum-stained boxers. You stumbled off the bed, running to grab your bathrobe, throwing Oscar his joggers.

You opened the door a tiny bit, peeking your head through the gap. "What's up?"

Daniel smirked. "I think it's more fitting if I ask you. I've been banging on this door for ages. Was afraid something was wrong. You weren't picking up your phone either."

Daniel was about to ask you something when he heard someone sneeze in your bedroom. He kicked the door open a bit more with his foot, his smirk growing. "Why are you wearing a bathrobe, and why is Piastri shirtless?"

You knew you screwed up. If you had just put your pants back on, you could have played it off as Oscar getting a massage. But with you in a robe, it was a lame excuse, because Daniel was smart enough to know that you wouldn't be doing that in bathrobe.... In other words: you both got caught like a couple of teenagers.

"Don't you dare say another word, Ricciardo," you warned, pointing your finger at him.

Daniel threw his hands up, chuckling. "Well, I don't have to see anything. I think we all know what you two were up to" he laughed loudly. "Just wanted to give you a heads up about something" he chanted with a laugh

"Danny, Oscar and I didn't sleep together!" you whisper yelled

"Yeah right, and I'm not Australian," he cackled, leaning against the doorframe.

Meanwhile, Oscar had made his way over to you, now standing next to you. He handed you your trousers, just out of Daniel's sight behind the door. He cocked his head towards Daniel, "A heads-up about what?" he asked.

You scooted yourself behind the door, so you were out of sight. You got rid of your rope and pulled both your underwear and trousers up your legs, quickly fixing the button. Already knowing that there was no point in denying that anything happened anyway, so you might as well made yourself look a little decent.

"Ha!" Daniel chuckled, looking at his fellow Australian "Oscar is not denying it!"

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Dan, we honestly didn't do anything. She's my best friend; we hang out in each other's rooms all the time," he explained, trying to keep a calm voice, though the blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

You returned to the door opening, standing beside a still flustered Oscar. "Whatever, just tell me why you're here?" you asked, but as the words left your lips, you heard someone rushing over, tackling you in a hug. It was your brother, Lando.

"Just wanted to give you a heads-up that Lando is here, but there he is," Daniel laughed, seeing both you and Oscar turning beet red.

Lando had his arms around you. "Daniel said he'd get you from upstairs, but he took so long that I decided to take matters into my own hands," he chuckled.

As Lando pulled away from the hug, he looked at Oscar and squinted. "Care to explain why you're shirtless in my sister's bedroom and why you look like you've just, well, been busy?"

Oscar froze, completely at a loss for words. You, on the verge of a horrible excuse, felt a kick from Daniel, signaling he'd cover for you.

Daniel laughed at Lando. "It honestly looks like they were up to something, and I'm sure many people would ship them. But that's not it. Would be hilarious, though," he began, making you wonder what his excuse could be. "Oscar here has been whining all day about a sore back because I fell on him during Twister," he lied convincingly.

"Yeah, I just offered to give him a massage since I'm his physiotherapist and know what helps," you added, trying to keep a straight face.

"And that had to be in your bedroom?" Lando huffed, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Shirtless?"

"She has her stuff here, so it was easiest. Too lazy to move it all," Oscar rolled his eyes. "And honestly, Lando, as my physiotherapist, it's pretty much inevitable that she sees me shirtless."

Daniel laughed again at their banter. "Lan, don't act like it's the first time he's shirtless with her. What do you expect with her job?" he teased. "Besides, you were the one encouraging her to take the job, so you don't have the right to whine like a protective older brother now"

Lando sighed in defeat, throwing his hands in the air. "Daniel, her job is to be his physiotherapist, not to, you know, do funny business with my teammate," he whined, air quoting the last part. "Everyone with a brain can see that look on his face. Besides, Oscar's joggers are inside out. We all know Oscar—that wouldn't happen if he wasn't in a rush."

Oscar squinted his eyes closed, feeling busted. He honestly didn't know what to say, afraid that anything would do more harm than good.

"Lan, come on," Daniel tried to reason, still trying to help with a cover. "It was nothing. Just let it go."

"No, Daniel. I think I can decide pretty well for myself when to let things go. Y/N is lying to me, and she knows it," Lando said, getting a little desperate now. "You're breaking our one rule, Y/N..."

"Jesus, Lando, you're acting like a child," you yelled, getting annoyed. "Oh, go fuck yourself, Lando."

Daniel grabbed Lando's arm, trying to calm him down, but without luck. "Hey! Don't yell at me when you're the one breaking our one rule!" Lando shouted back, anger rising in his voice. "Oh wait, you didn't even realize, did you? Too busy with my teammate's dick in your mouth, weren't you?"

"Lando! Come on," Oscar started, trying to defend both of you. "She didn't have my—" Oscar began but quickly got interrupted by your fuming state.

"So what if I did, Lando? Maybe I had Oscar's dick in my mouth. Who knows? Maybe I want him to fuck me. It's none of your business, Lando," you yelled back. "Would you rather have me fuck a random stranger in a bathroom stall in a club instead of your, oh-so-forbidden, teammate? Because I could make that happen if you prefer. We'll see how you react then."

Lando wanted to react until he felt Daniel's hand cover his mouth. "Lando, you're only making it worse," he softly spoke, trying to get Lando to calm down. "Come on, let's go."

Daniel pulled Lando with him, looking over his shoulder at Oscar and you one more time, sending you a small nod.

You let out a sigh as tears started welling up in your eyes. Turning around, you let yourself fall into Oscar's arms, resting your forehead against his shoulder. Oscar embraced you, placing a small kiss on the side of your head. "You didn't have to do that, you know. We could have just tried to convince him it was nothing," he murmured softly, resting his head in your hair.

"He wouldn't have believed it anyway; he knows me too well," you stated, tears rolling down your cheeks as you tightened your grip on Oscar's still shirtless body. "All this because we were being stupid, horny idiots. It shouldn't have happened."

Oscar sighed, feeling a pang in his heart. "I'm not gonna act like I regret it, because I don't," he mumbled just loud enough for you to hear.

You pulled away slightly, looking up at Oscar with a trembling lip. "I don't regret it either, Osc. It was amazing, but it shouldn't have happened. Just like yesterday," you sighed, gently grabbing his hand. "We can't happen, Osc."

"Why not?" Oscar asked, his voice trembling, tears threatening to form in his eyes. He was trying to keep his composure, to maintain his calm and contained persona, but his facade was slowly crumbling.

"Osc, please. Look at our jobs and our friendship. We shouldn't risk either," you said, tears streaming down your face, the remainder of your mascara smudging your cheeks. "Also, I can't do this to him, okay? I can't break my promise to him. I'm sorry," you said, referring to Lando, as you let go of Oscar's hand and walked away, storming towards the front door of the house.

You bumped into Lando, Logan and Daniel on your way to the exit. They were talking, probably about the situation. Your brother looked emotional, almost like he had been crying. Was he regretting what he said? You hoped he would.

You looked up at Lando, shaking your head. "Are you happy now? You've ruined everything, Lando," you cried, storming past him.

Logan took a deep breath "I think I have to go check up on Oscar, I don't think their conversation ended well" he said, referring to you and Oscar.

Daniel nodded at him, agreeing "They were in her room"

Logan send him a nod and made his way up towards your room, noticing the door ajar. He approached the door and looked inside, revealing a defeated Oscar Piastri sitting on your bed. His head in his hands. Logan knocked on the door, signaling to Oscar that he was there "Are you okay?" Logan asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Oscar shook his head, softly looking up at Logan, his eyes puffy and bloodshot, a clear indicator that Oscar was crying "Can I come in?" the American asked.

Oscar shrugged his shoulders, nodding carefully, tears rolling down his cheeks. Oscar let out a shuddering breath as he felt his friend sitting down next to him, his gaze directed towards the floor. Logan put his arm around his friend, trying to comfort him in the best way possible "Wanna talk about it?"

Oscar sighed in a defeated voice, trying to stop the tears from spilling, failing miserably as he explained what happened. Logan felt so bad for his best friend, seeing how much it hurt him.

"I think she'll come around," Logan remarked, rubbing his hand up and down Oscar's back in a reassuring manner.

"I don't think she will. She's right, you know. I don't want her losing her job over this. I don't think Zak would be very delighted with me dating my own physiotherapist. I don't even know if it's allowed to date a coworker," Oscar sighed. "And besides all that, I don't even know if she feels the same about me anyway. For all I know, what we did could have been purely about lust."

"I highly doubt that, to be honest," Logan stated confidently. "She wouldn't have thrown such a big fight with Lando if it didn't mean anything to her."

"You don't know that. And like I said, it doesn't matter anyway. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if she loses her job over this," Oscar declared, wiping away a few more tears. "It just sucks because I love her so much."

Logan hugged his friend, trying to comfort him more. "Just promise me one thing, Oscar. Please put yourself first for once. Don't let yourself get hurt too much."

"When it comes to her, I can't promise you anything. But I'll try."

Logan stood up, hoisting Oscar up from the bed as well. "Come on, let's get you some distraction. You need it."

What Logan and Oscar didn't know was that Lando had been eavesdropping on them. He wasn't proud of himself, but to justify himself, he hadn't planned on it. He was actually on his way to apologize to Oscar, but he heard the two young drivers talking and didn't want to interrupt.

Lando was frozen in place when he saw the two walk through the door, coming eye to eye with him. The British driver looked at his teammate, noticing the bloodshot, puffy eyes. He felt the intense amount of guilt he was carrying grow even more. "Osc... I-I'm..."

Logan shook his head at Lando, pulling Oscar away from him. "Haven't you done enough already, Lando?"

"I just wanted to apologize," Lando declared, the guilt evident in his voice.

"Yeah, the damage has already been done, Lando. Please just leave him alone for now."

—————⋆₊⁺☾⋆later that evening⋆☾⋆₊⁺—————

It was almost midnight when everyone, except for Lando and you, had gone to bed. When you were getting some fresh air in the garden earlier that evening, your brother had joined you. He sat down next to you, noticing the cigarette between your fingers.

"I thought you'd quit?" he asked nonchalantly, trying to keep the conversation light.

"I did," you said, sticking it between your lips, inhaling the smoke, before slowly letting it escape again. "But then I fell in love with my brother's teammate," you whispered.

It was true, you did quit smoking, years ago. It was a habit you developed in high school. You didn't smoke often, just when it all got too much. You'd quit when the friendship with Oscar blossomed. You suddenly just didn't feel the need anymore. You always carried a pack somewhere in your bag, just in case, but honestly never felt the need to, until now. It was the first one in years.

Lando sighed, felt his breath hitching in his throat. "You really love him, don't you?"

You took another drag from your cigarette, before directing your gaze towards your older brother. Your puffy, teary eyes met his guilt-filled eyes. You nodded.

"God, I'm honestly the biggest asshole in existence," Lando declared, his eyes tearing up now, his breathing getting a little ragged.

"It's fine," you uttered.

"Y/n, honestly, it's not. Not one single bone in your body should be okay with this," he began, standing up from where he was seated, pacing around. "I completely and utterly fucked up. I just have to stop acting like a little shit and get my head out of my arse. And you are right, I’d rather have you sleeping with my teammate than some random dude in a nightclub. It's just that you are my baby sis and I just don't want you to get hurt. And if it's by one of my teammates, it just feels like I could have prevented it somehow. I'm just protective over you and I let it get to my head too much."

A small smile appeared on your face at your brother's remark. "I'm not saying you weren't being a total dick, because you were," you explained, running a hand through your hair. "I'm just saying it's fine. Oscar and I couldn't have happened anyway, Lan. You allowing it wouldn't change anything."

Lando looked a little confused. "What's holding you back?"

You took a deep breath and explained what you had explained many times, to many people, including Oscar. "It's our friendship and our jobs, Lando. I work for the team, and Oscar is a driver. There's a professional boundary that we can't cross without serious repercussions. Even if we tried to keep it secret, it would eventually come out, and that could jeopardize both our careers. And then there's the risk to our friendship. If things went wrong between us, it wouldn't just hurt me or Oscar, it would affect the whole team dynamic. It's a complicated situation, and as much as I care about him, there are too many factors at play. Sometimes love isn't enough to overcome the practical realities of life."

Lando listened, his expression softening with understanding. "I get it," he said quietly. "I don't like it, but I get it. I'm sorry for making things harder for you."

You nodded, appreciating his words. "Thanks, Lando. It means a lot to hear you say that."

"And you said that 'sometimes love isn't enough to overcome the practical realities of life,' but that also means love sometimes is enough," he began, directing his gaze back to you, his eyes meeting yours again. "And honestly, if you two are as perfect for each other as everyone says, maybe you should consider taking the risk. It might be worth it, you know."

A sigh left your lips, and you pondered his words. Maybe Lando was right. "I'll think about it."

Lando gave you a small, supportive smile. "We'll figure it out, sis. Somehow, we'll figure it out."

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

previous part | next part

Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28

[evertomorrowart]

Best of YouTube 2023

Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.

What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!

But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.

For those who don't know, further is an explanation.

At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.

Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.

TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘

I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.

As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.

Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.

At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."

Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--

I. L o a t h e. Football.

But.

F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.

Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.

CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.

Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.

Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."

Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.

Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."

"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?

I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.

The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".

Watch. The damn. Video.

In fact, watch all of them!

Thanks for reading this if you did.

[confused-pyramid]

One Step From Grace | s4

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 19.2k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, abortion mention, implied SA, gun violence, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 4x01, 4x02, 4x03, 4x09, 4x11, 4x16, 4x17, 4x18, 4x23, and 4x26

a/n: Some more tension in the slow burn! I included some more specific episode details in this one, because some of the eps and characters are important to future seasons :') P.S. I love hearing all of your thoughts and comments (it's honestly what makes all of this worth it) so lmk what you think:) Title is from Grace by Rag 'n Bone Man

series masterlist

"Garcia, is everyone okay?"

You can hear the sound of sirens blazing down the street a few blocks away from you, but you're too far away to make it there in time.

"Oh, thank god, you're alright," she gasps over the phone, her voice thick with tears. "Rossi and Reid called me just now, and Derek's on the line."

He greets you with a frantic urgency. "Hey, Y/N, I'm heading to the explosion site to see what happened."

"Okay, sounds good, keep calling people," you instruct Garcia, before swerving across the lanes and turning at the next intersection.

She calls Emily, who tells you that she's also going to the NYPD's critical incident command posts. When she tries JJ, the call doesn't go through, and then suddenly the line goes quiet.

"Garcia?" you call into the void. "Penelope, are you there? Derek? Emily?" No one responds, and your heart rate spikes again as you pull over in front of the command center and rush inside.

Rossi and Reid envelope you in big hugs when you find them in the main bullpen, and soon after, Emily and JJ join you inside.

"Do we know what happened?" you ask them as you crowd around the city map where Reid pinpointed all the prior crime scenes. "What street was the explosion on?"

Reid opens his mouth to answer, when Emily's phone rings. "Yeah, Garcia, I'm back. JJ's here too."

She listens for a few seconds, before her eyes widen and she glances over at you. Lifting the phone from her ear, she puts it on speaker and says, "Can you repeat all of that?"

"Derek's chasing after the bomber," Penelope says, her breaths coming out in short spurts. "The bomb... it was in Kate's SUV, or under it. Hotch is out there with her."

Your heart stutters and you press your palms against the back of the chair in front of you, leaning over it to get closer to the phone. "Is he okay?" You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment. "Are they okay?"

"He seems okay, but she looks really hurt. He hasn't moved her."

You release the breath you didn't realize you were holding and stand up straight, turning around to catch your breath. If something had happened to him...something irreversible...you don't know what you would've done. Especially after the last thing you said to him.

It's not your place to have this discussion.

Screw you.

"Where was Kate's SUV parked?" Rossi asks from behind you as you rub your eyes and turn back to face Emily's phone.

"2 blocks East of Federal Plaza."

***

You keep picturing the security camera feed of his SUV blowing up as you rush into St. Barclay's hospital. The moment Morgan called with the update that Hotch was taking Kate there in an ambulance, you all piled into an SUV and drove straight over.

You know Garcia and Morgan said he was fine, but not all injuries are visible. You're the first person inside, and you rush down the hallways until you spot a nurse in the ER. After you flash your badge, she points you to the curtains behind her.

When you push past them, he's standing up, working on the last few buttons of his shirt. His face is covered with tiny abrasions, and there's a piece of gauze stuck to his right ear.

"Aaron," you whisper, not wanting to startle him. He looks up as he grabs his tie out of the bag they put his clothes in. "Let me do that."

You take the tie from him as he sighs and closes his eyes for a long moment. It's silky against your fingers as you loop it around his neck and slide it under his collar.

"How are you feeling?" you ask him, trying to keep your voice soft.

He dips his chin to meet your eye and he squints as he shakes his head. "I'm fine, but Kate's in surgery. It didn't look good."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, forgetting about any prior gripes you had with her. "I'm sure she'll pull through."

He purses his lips and nods, just as the rest of the team pushes past the curtain. You step back quickly without thinking, and you don't miss the flash of confusion in his eyes before he turns to Morgan for the latest update on the bomber.

You swallow thickly as you look at your feet, letting everyone else walk around you. You don't know why you stepped back. Maybe it's the freshness of his divorce. Maybe it's the way Agent Calvert from the Portland office looked over your shoulder after you told him you weren't ready for dating again.

Whatever it was, you know you hated how it felt.

***

"There's a bomb on the ambulance."

Fear spikes through him as he turns around. "The ambulance which I drove in here." This day has already been longer than any of them expected it to be, but each passing minute seems to bring another surprise.

Rossi shoots him a knowing look that he reflects. "The hospital is their target."

He glances at you and you look back at him, your eyes filled with what he can only guess is fear. His mind flashes back to your interaction earlier, but he pushes it out of his brain as he realizes that they are down a man. "Where did Morgan go?"

Emily turns back. "He went to find the ambulance."

"Alone?" you gape at her, reaching for the gun in your holster.

He figures they only have a few minutes before the cell signal returns, so he grabs his own gun and nods. "Let's head down."

The ambulance is gone when they find the bomber in the parking garage, holding a knife to his throat. Before any of you can approach him, he slits his own throat. He can't help the grimace of disgust that crosses his face as the terrorist falls to the ground.

Once the immediate danger to the hospital is alleviated, everyone starts to relax. The rest of the team stays behind to clear the scene as he sprints up to the seemingly empty surgical ward. He finds the operating room that Kate was supposed to be in, but when he pushes through the doors, all he sees is a few janitors mopping the blood off the floor.

"What happened?" he gasps out. "Where's the surgeon."

A man in a blue scrub cap comes forward and pats his shoulder, a resigned look on his face. "We did all that we could. I'm so sorry."

All of the momentum leaves his body as he releases his breath, his shoulders deflating along with it like a circus balloon. The surgeon leaves the room and he looks down at her blood seeping down the floor drain. He watches as it mixes in with the cleaning fluids, and he can't help but wish that her death could've been less painful.

***

You wait outside the hotel the next morning, your go-bag hanging heavily off your shoulder. When the doctors told Hotch he wasn't cleared to fly yet, you told the NY agent assigned to drive him that you could take over.

"What are you still doing here?"

You turn around to see Hotch walking out of the hotel, the bag in his left hand evening out his gait after the explosion gave him a temporary limp.

You smile, pushing your sunglasses down from your head. "I'm your ride."

His eyes twinkle in the bright sunlight. "You really didn't have to. The flight is much quicker."

"It's okay," you shrug, before grinning. "Besides, I would never pass up an opportunity to annoy you for three hours."

That makes him laugh, before he winces slightly. Got it. No jokes.

He doesn't complain as you take the driver's seat, and that's when it hits you how much pain he must be in. For as long as he's had his license, he has preferred to be the one driving, sometimes even when he's in your car.

The first few minutes of the drive are quiet, but eventually you need to fill the silence. "I'm really sorry about Kate."

"Thank you," he sighs, his eyes squinting at the sun as you pull onto the highway. "I've known her for a long time." He exhales sharply. "Knew her."

You remember him telling you about a case he worked, years ago, that took him to Scotland Yard. He had sounded almost excited as he recounted the differences in how the British government handled procedure, but he had kept one thing to himself.

"You never told me about her," you say gently, trying to keep the blame out of your voice. You're not angry, you just don't understand why it would have been a secret.

He turns his head to gaze out the window for a few moments, before he looks back at you. "I wasn't sure about how that case would go when I agreed to take a look, but we ended up working really well together. I had spoken to her a few times before, mostly over the phone, but it was our first time meeting in person. We caught the guy we were looking for in just a few days, so before I left, she invited me to join her team for dinner."

You can guess where this is going, but you let him finish, in case you're wrong.

"When she dropped me off at my hotel that night, she made a... suggestive remark that I would've ignored if the implication hadn't been so clear. I shut it down immediately, but I didn't tell Haley when I got back, and I guess I just felt so guilty about it that I couldn't bring myself to tell you either."

Hotch feeling guilty about something. There's a shocker.

You glance over at him with a small smile. "I get it."

The "Welcome to New Jersey" sign flies past as you cross the bridge, and you both sit in comfortable silence as the sun glints off the water and reflects onto the cars around you. You see him looking out the window, and you wonder if he's thinking about Haley again, but then he turns to you with a curious expression. "The unit chief job here is yours if you want it."

Do you want it? You know you like leadership, and you would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about the possibility of moving up the ladder at some point, but now that you're confronted with the opportunity, it doesn't feel how you thought it would.

The thought of leaving this team, when they've become your second family, tastes bitter on your tongue. You know you could assume that other teams are like this too, but when you actually try to picture it, it doesn't feel possible.

"You can think about it," he says after a minute, "but not for long. They need a replacement ASAP."

You glance over at him and a realization clicks in your brain. "Wait, they needed your recommendation before offering me the position, didn't they?" You crack a smile. "You tryna get rid of me, boss?"

He laughs, before it turns into a small grimace from the pain. "No, of course I don't want you to leave. I just know you're destined for more than this. You could be doing so much good work, leading your own team."

The sun peeks out from behind the buildings in front of you, and you reach up to pull down the sun visor. "Maybe one day. But not today."

His eyes flit over to meet yours and you share a smile before you turn back to the wide expanse of road ahead of you.

***

You've been watching him all day. He was cleared to fly again, but you saw how pained he looked when the jet took off, and again when they exhumed Cortland's grave. The way he's been flinching back at the slightest sound, and cowering in pain after the louder screeches.

You tighten the strap of your kevlar vest and glance over at him again as he whispers something to the local sheriff on the Angel Maker copycat case. You've cornered the unsub in the latest victim's house, and Morgan got her out before she could be killed, but Emily continues to speak to the unsub through her megaphone, coaxing her out and into custody.

"It's over, Chloe," she says calmly as Morgan deposits the woman into the awaiting ambulance. "We have Faye. You have nowhere to go."

After a few moments, the front door creaks open and everyone lifts their weapons. She looks surprised when she sees the dozens of guns pointing at her, but then she lifts her own and Hotch steps in.

"Chloe, drop the gun."

The sheriff, with much less composure, jabs his weapon forward. "Damn it, lady, drop it!"

She takes a step forward and the sheriff fires, taking her down in one shot. Hotch goes down at the same time, doubling over in pain, his hands going up to cover his ears as he lets out a low groan.

As everyone else goes to Chloe, you rush to him, lifting your hands to press them over his in an attempt to help him hide from the external chatter and noises. "Aaron, it's okay, you're gonna be okay."

His body folds into yours as you wrap your arms around his head, clutching him to you, unable to help. "It's okay, it's okay."

It takes a few seconds for him to relax in your arms, and then a few more for him to remove his hands from his ears and stand up straight again.

"I'm okay," he sighs, his brow still furrowed with tension. "Thank you."

"Of course," you whisper, your chest heaving as the stress slowly seeps from your body. "You're not flying home."

He takes a deep breath before slowly dipping his chin into a nod. "It's a much longer drive. You don't have to accompany me this time."

The corner of your lip quirks up. "What makes you think I was offering?"

"Okay," he chuffs, rolling his eyes. You can still see the image of him doubling over in pain splashed across your eyelids, but you manage to push it out of your mind long enough to return his smile.

***

"Stand!"

You look up from the young girl you were interviewing with Emily and Spencer as Cyrus storms into the room with a gun, his second in command hot on his heels.

"What's going on?" Emily asks as she and Nancy Lunde, the state officer you came onto the cult compound with, stand up and approach him.

He squints, scrutinizing each of you. "We just got A very strange phone call from a news reporter. Is there anything you want to tell me, about a raid, maybe?"

You frown, genuine confusion coloring your expression as you shake your head. "We told you, we're child victim interview experts."

He takes another moment to consider your answer before nodding and instructing the man with him to lead you to the tunnels for safety while the raid continues.

You let Spencer, Emily and Nancy go ahead of you as the sounds of gunfire from the back get louder. When you reach the tunnels, they head further in to help the children take cover as Nancy turns back and gives you an earnest look. "I can talk to him."

You're shaking your head before she's done speaking. "No, you can't. It's too dangerous."

You try to grab her arm, but she rushes forward and past the small crowd of children that safely made it out of the school. You run after her as she calls out, "Mr. Cyrus, let me talk to them."

She's too close to the window. You reach forward to grab her arm and pull her back but then another round of gunshots fires off and she drops to the ground in front of you. You start to crouch down, out of the line of sight of the window, when a searing pain shoots through your abdomen. You keel over, falling forward into the wall of the chapel as you gasp out in pain.

It doesn't hurt as bad as it probably should, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins won't last forever. You press your hands against the bullet wound that ripped through the side of your abdomen, and try to calm your breathing as fear washes over you. The team knows you three are in here, they'll figure out how to get you all out.

You know the minimal loss scenario by heart, and the BAU was the one who wrote the CIRG playbook, so it's a small comfort to know that you'll be able to predict their moves. You can only hope that they will be able to predict yours just as well.

Another wave of pain shoots through your side and you grit your teeth as the adrenaline starts to wear off. They better hurry.

***

He knows he's emotionally involved. They all are, but if his people aren't the ones leading this negotiation, he won't be able to forgive himself for any outcome that doesn't end with the three of you coming out in one piece.

He's listening in as Dave speaks with Cyrus, and he can't help but notice how cavalier his tone is after his followers were just shot at. He continues to rant about the final battle he has foreseen, until Dave manages to get him back on track.

"Now, the four child services workers..." he says slowly. Hotch can hear the concern coloring his tone even as he tries to act detached.

Cyrus's voice is crisp over the line. "One of them is dead."

His heart jumps to his throat. Your face flashes in his mind and he closes his eyes as he silently begs whoever is out there for it not to be you. Not you, not Prentiss, not Reid. Please.

"Her name was Nancy Lunde."

His breath comes out like a gasp, and Dave turns to him with an equally relieved expression. He's so thankful that the guilt for wishing harm on anyone takes an extra second to take over.

But Cyrus isn't finished talking. "One of the other child service workers was shot during the same raid. Once again, by your people."

He looks up at Dave, waiting for him to ask who it was, but he doesn't have to. The next word out of Cyrus's mouth is your name, and his stomach twists with nausea and anguish even as he assures Dave that your wound has been cleaned and properly dressed.

He turns to look at the compound, as though he could see you if he squinted hard enough. Hold on, he thinks, hoping you can hear him somehow. You've always had a way of reading his mind. Please hold on.

***

You wake up on a small cot, with a woman bent over you. You hiss as she presses down the edge of the bandage on your abdomen, and you bring your chin to your chest to see the current state of your gunshot wound.

You're surprised to see the blood washed off, a clean bandage and gauze left in its place.

"You got lucky," the woman says when she realizes you're awake. "The bullet went all the way through."

"Thank you," you whisper, before turning your head to look around the room. "Where are the people I came in with?"

"I'll take you to them," she nods, reaching her hand out. You take it and let out an involuntary groan as she helps you into a standing position. You try taking a step, but another spike of pain shoots through you, so the woman latches her arm under your shoulder to help you walk.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually you get back to the main chapel, where Emily and Spencer are sitting with the rest of the followers. They turn when the doors open in front of you, and they immediately jump out of their chairs to take over for the woman helping you.

"How are you feeling?" Spencer asks, his eyebrows pinching as he looks at you.

"I'm okay," you assure him, even as your vision blurs from the pain of having to walk so far. "Can we just sit down, though?"

"Of course," Emily nods, helping you sink into a chair. "I'll get you some water."

Spencer sits down next to you when she rushes off, and you don't miss how he keeps glancing down at your stomach.

"It'll be okay, Spence." He meets your eye and you nod again. "We know the playbook. We just have to follow it."

Emily returns with a water bottle that she opens and hands to you, and you chug half of it before setting it down. Hotch, please hurry, you think, wishing he could hear you.

***

The next morning, you wake up to a knock on the front door of the compound. You peel your eyes open and try to sit up, before remembering what happened the night before. Your skin feels wet as you run your fingers against the edge of the gauze, and you look down to see that you're bleeding through the dressings.

"Emily," you whisper, pushing her shoulder gently to shake her awake. "I need you to get the first aid kit again."

You feel more blood drip down your stomach, and your vision turns hazy for a moment, like a confirmation. She walks across the room to get the kit, and you almost forget about the knock on the door, until Cyrus opens it, revealing a stone-faced Rossi.

They shake hands as Emily removes your dressings before tearing open a new packet of gauze and pressing it into your wound.

"The children," Cyrus tells him, gesturing to the crowd. He then points at the three of you. "And our guests."

Rossi meets your eyes for a split second, and you make sure to keep your expression neutral as he nods and turns back to Cyrus. You're glad it's him who came inside, and not Hotch, because even though you want nothing more than to see him right now, you also don't want him to see you like this.

Rossi tries to get him to release the children, but he ends up leaving with nothing more than a promise to send food and supplies.

***

"Prentiss, Reid, and L/N are okay," Dave says as he jogs back to the tent outside. He turns to Hotch then. "She's been shot in the abdomen. They've tried to dress her wound, but she's losing blood."

Shit. He shuts his eyes as he tries to think about what he can do from out here to speed up the playbook.

"I have a signal!" Morgan beckons them over as he lifts a few sets of headphones for them to wear. With the bug Dave left on the compound, at least they have ears on the inside. It's not all he wants, but it's something, at least.

***

"Which one of you is it?"

Cyrus storms into the basement, where Spencer and Emily are sitting next to you as you lay down on the small cot from earlier. After Emily changed your bandages, Spencer managed to convince him to let you rest away from the followers.

"Which one of you is the FBI agent?"

Spencer jumps in before you can react. "Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?"

You haven't had the time or capacity to properly profile this man yet, so you don't know if his evasive tactic will work, but you also know he's smart enough to have thought this through.

Cyrus sighs, almost like he's disappointed. "God will forgive me for what I must do." He steps forward and points his gun at Spencer's head. You gasp, trying to keep a look of confusion on your face as you fight the urge to step in.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Spencer says, stumbling over his words. His eyes are wide with fear, and you can't tell how much of it is real and how much is for show.

Cyrus tuts. "One of you does. Who is it?"

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract him, but then Emily stands up. "Me. It's me."

The moment of relief you feel when he lifts his gun from Spencer's head is gone as soon as he grabs Emily by the hair and drags her to the door. Your legs burn with the desire to leap off the cot and tackle him to the ground, but you can't move as the door shuts behind them.

***

It's almost night fall by the time Emily joins you again. You and Spencer were moved back up to the chapel after Cyrus took her away, and seeing her now, she looks awful.

Splotchy bruises of purple and blue paint her neck and chest, and there's dried blood on her temple and the corner of her mouth.

"Emily," you gasp, trying to control your expression so that Cyrus and his diehard followers don't think you know her as well as you do. You hate the feeling of letting her take the brunt of his punishment and blame, but it won't help to expose yourselves as agents too.

Spencer leans over you to get a better look at her. "Are you okay?"

She nods, flashing him a small smile. "Yeah, it looks worse than it feels." You can't imagine she's seen her reflection today, but you still appreciate her trying to relieve his stress.

Right then, the front door opens again and a shipment of food containers are carried inside. Men lift the boxes and bring them around the room to feed everyone inside, and when they set a box in front of you three, you notice a familiar scrawl of handwriting on top of the to-go container. 3AM. They're coming in at 3AM.

***

When the followers leave to go to bed, Cyrus takes Emily away again to separate her from you and the others. You fight the exhaustion pulling your eyes shut as you sit on the floor with your back against the wall. Spencer has been talking to Cyrus's second in command, trying to convince him that the Bible can be used to manipulate anything, but Cyrus catches on quickly.

You keep glancing at the door, hoping that Emily will find her way back up before 3AM hits, but as each minute ticks by, the idea becomes more futile.

You saw the diehard followers rigging the compound with explosives earlier in the night, and the detonator is clutched in Cyrus's hand like a lifeline. The irony doesn't escape you.

"Something's wrong," the follower reports, his eyes scanning the darkness outside through the window of the chapel.

Cyrus walks over to check, and you use the moment of distraction to lift the edge of your shirt and check your bandages. You're starting to bleed through the gauze again, but it's not bad enough that you need your dressings changed just yet.

When Cyrus realizes that he's been lied to, Spencer tries to distract him by spouting off verses at a rapid pace, but Cyrus just rams the butt of his rifle into his head, sending him to the ground.

"You cannot convert my brothers," Cyrus says before hitting him again. You crawl over to him, ignoring the screaming pain in your side, and clutch his arm for some semblance of comfort. Cyrus looks down at the both of you, his eyes squinting. "No one had to follow. God could have stopped me."

"He just did."

There's a gunshot, and you whip your head around to see Morgan and a young girl racing out of the tunnel before he crouches beside you. "You two alright?"

You nod, reaching your arm up to let him help you into a standing position. "Where's Emily?"

"We got her out of here," he explains, before turning to the girl. "Sweetheart, come with me."

She looks at each of you, her face twisted with panic, before bending down and picking up the detonator from where Cyrus dropped it. Your eyes widen and you yank Spencer in front of you before pushing him down the tunnel. "Run!"

Derek wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding half of your weight as you both sprint down the tunnel after Spencer. You're almost outside when the explosion goes off, pushing you to your knees with a strong gust of air and smoke.

***

He yells out your name as the blast engulfs the compound. His throat feels ragged as he yells out for Reid and Morgan too, but he can't see anything until three figures stand up from the plume of smoke and stumble down the steps.

He rushes up, meeting you halfway as you collapse from Morgan's arms into his. He grabs onto you as your knees buckle, and he manages to pull you towards him before you hit the ground.

He can't breathe as he clutches you to him, trying to be mindful of your wounds. Your breath comes out in gasps that mix in with his own as he sags with relief that you're here, back in his arms, where he can keep you safe.

He pulls back when he sees the paramedics approaching, and it's only then that he finally gets a good look at you. Your skin is gaunt, and his heart thuds loudly in his ears as he sees you wince in pain.

When they load you into an ambulance, his feet finally start working again and he races after you. "I'm coming with you."

You nod as he climbs through the doors and you reach your hand out over the side of the gurney. Your fingers feel cold when he clasps your hand in his, and he syncs his breaths with the sound of the sirens as your eyes fall closed.

***

The first thought that goes through your head when you wake up is that it's too bright. You squint as your eyes peel open, and in the few moments it takes for them to adjust to the light, a chorus of quiet 'she's awake's filter around the hospital room.

"How are you feeling?" JJ asks, stepping closer to stand at your bedside.

"You gave us a real scare, Mama," Penelope adds with a gentle smile.

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat is so dry, no sound comes out. Emily darts forward to grab the cup of water on the counter, and you glance over to see the yellowing bruises on her cheekbones.

After a few sips, you clear your throat and say, "I'm good. How long was I out?"

"Just a day," Derek responds from the foot of your bed, where he's standing with Spencer and Penelope.

Spencer chimes in. "You got out of surgery a few hours ago, and the doctors said you can go home tomorrow morning."

You nod slowly, stretching out your arms and legs to test the limits of your mobility. When you push yourself up into a sitting position, it doesn't hurt as much as it did on the compound.

"Ah, you're awake," Rossi smiles as he joins you all in the hospital room. It's not exactly huge, so everyone has to stand to make room, but it still doesn't escape your notice that someone is missing.

You return Rossi's smile before glancing over at the door, trying to see if he's just outside. Noticing your gaze, Spencer walks forward and takes your hand, giving it a small squeeze. "He's on the phone with your father. I think he got a flight for tomorrow morning."

You exhale slowly and take another sip of water. "Thank you." He nods and moves to release your hand, but you grip it tighter, holding him back. "Seriously, Spence, thank you." You turn to Emily, who is on the other side and her eyes shine, reflecting the tears in yours. "That whole operation sucked, but I'm really glad you two were in there with me."

She lets out a watery laugh and bends down to press an kiss to your temple. "I'm glad you're okay."

When you start fading again, the team leaves with promises to see you back at work in a month, and you close your eyes to get a break from the harsh fluorescent lighting.

***

"Alright," he says into his phone, nodding. "We'll see you in the morning, Mr. L/N. Yes, she's doing a lot better...okay, good, see you soon."

He ends the call and tucks his phone back into his pocket, before walking over to the vending machine at the end of the hall to grab a few of your favorite snacks. He loads up on chips and pop tarts before heading back up the hallway to your room. When he reaches the door, he realizes that the rest of the team has left, so he steps inside quietly and takes a seat in the small plastic chair next to your bed, before gently setting the snacks on your bedside table.

Your eyes are closed and he figures you must have just fallen asleep, so he crosses his arms over his chest and just sits there, watching you. Your face is covered in little scrapes from the explosion, and you still look a bit ashy, but you somehow still do look beautiful. This isn't the first time he has thought this - it was more of a recurrent notion when you were younger - but he can't deny that you're just objectively a beautiful person. But then again, he's not sure if beauty is ever really objective (eye of the beholder and all that), so he pushes the thought aside and turns back to you.

His thoughts are interrupted when his phone chirps with a text message. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checks the name and sees that Haley has arrived at the hospital. He had called her after you went into surgery, knowing that she would kill him if he didn't keep her constantly updated on your condition.

When he finds her at the end of the hall, she pulls him into a quick side hug that's slightly barred by Jack, who is clutching onto her tightly. He can imagine how scary the hospital looks to a three year old boy.

"Hi, bud," he smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, before looking at Haley again. "She's sleeping, but I'll take you to her room."

"She's alright, Aaron." Haley is looking at him like she's worried he may break down, and it makes him wonder what his expression looks like right now. Ever since you got out of surgery, he has felt a weight lifted off his chest, but if he really thinks about it, he doesn't know if he feels all that much lighter at all.

But he doesn't want to say any of that out loud. Nodding, he cocks his head at the other end of the hall and leads her to your room, where you are blinking your eyes open again.

"Oh, sweetheart," Haley coos, adjusting Jack on her hip and walking over to your bedside. "I hope we didn't wake you up?"

You shake your head with a smile, but he can tell you're lying. You look exhausted, and he can see you periodically glancing at the light on the ceiling to keep your eyes alert.

"Well, hello," you grin at Jack as you carefully push yourself up into a sitting position. "How's my little Jack-o-lantern doing?"

His mouth twitches and he reaches his arms out as he lets out a loud, "Good!" You reach forward slowly, likely testing the limits of your mobility, and take him from Haley, who hands him off with a concerned look on her face.

"Be careful, baby," she tells Jack, before stepping back and crossing her arms. "Aunt Y/N is a little fragile today."

To his credit, Jack just slumps down into your arms, absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair as you turn to Hotch. "Reid said you called my dad?"

He nods, taking a deep breath. "He'll be here in the morning. I assured him you were just fine, but he wants to stay here for a bit to keep an eye on you."

"That's okay," you shrug, much to his relief. After your last conversation about your father, he wasn't sure where you stood and how far he was allowed to push. "It'll be nice to have some company while I'm off for the next two weeks."

"Two months," he corrects with a stern look.

"One."

"Fine." The only reason he relents so quickly is because he knows how quickly he would be back at work if he was in your position. "But I'm limiting your field work until you're more healed."

You nod after a second. "I'll take it."

Haley huffs out a laugh and looks at him with an expression he remembers from their marriage. Affection with a hint of exasperation.

"Alright, you two," she smiles, reaching for Jack again. His entire fist is tangled in your hair at this point, but you don't seem to mind. "I should get him to bed. It's already past his bedtime."

You nod and hand him back, before letting her envelope you in a warm hug that you settle yourself into. "Love you, Hales. Thanks for coming by."

"Love you too, honey."

***

Haley leaves with Jack, and you slump down in the bed, feeling tired, but no longer sleepy.

"I can head out too," Hotch says quickly, reaching for his coat, "if you want to sleep."

You shake your head, and he drops his arm immediately, as though he was just looking for an excuse to stay. The thought makes you smile and his brow pinches in confusion. What's on your mind?

"I'm just glad I met you." You reach for his hand he takes it, giving it a soft squeeze, before taking a seat in the chair beside you.

"I brought you some snacks from the vending machine," he points out, glancing over at the pile he made on your table. "I got your favorites...at least out of what they had."

You grin, feeling your chest fill with warmth as you take in the assortment. "Sunchips and cinnamon pop tarts. You remembered."

"Of course," he shrugs. "You're the only person I know, other than my three year old son, who still eats pop tarts."

You make a face, swatting your hand at him, but he's just out of reach. "It's not my fault toddlers have great taste."

He chuckles as you tear open one of the packages and break off a piece. The buttery, sweet taste brings you back to your childhood when your mom was still alive. She would wake you up with two brown sugar cinnamon pop tarts before school, the sweet smell enough to drag you out of bed at eight in the morning.

"What are you thinking about?"

You look up with a smile, your gaze wistful as the memory slowly fades away. "My mom, actually. I don't have a ton of memories of her, but sometimes the most random thing will trigger an emotion or a memory that I forgot I had."

He nods, his eyes thoughtful. "Like the taste of pop tarts."

"Exactly." You break off another piece and toss it into your mouth, before setting the package back on the table. "Last week it was the smell of this perfume I found at the back of my dresser. It wasn't even the exact scent she would wear, it just had the same base notes."

Your voice trails off, and he looks at you, giving you a moment before speaking up. "What else do you remember?"

"I remember her funeral," you say without thinking, before realizing that it's not a lie. You know that grief is weird, that people usually remember everything or nothing, but for some reason, the funeral only comes back to you in pieces. Your dad crying silently, Hotch holding your hand, your dress being too small on you. You wore it anyway, because she had picked it out for you at the store a couple of years before. "I remember you holding me up."

His eyes flash with something that resembles amusement and he purses his lips. "I remember feeling the opposite. I knew I was supposed to be there for you, but somehow, it felt like you were the one holding both of us up that day."

You shrug, realizing the details don't mean anything. "All I really needed was for someone to hold onto."

He nods and that's when your mind flashes back to New York last month. "Did you go to Kate's funeral?"

"No," he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "Her family flew her back to London to have it there, and I couldn't take any time off."

You want to apologize, but before you can open your mouth, he beats you to it. "I'm sorry for how I acted in New York."

You frown, but he just shakes his head. "I don't really know why I was trying so hard to protect her. I guess after the close call with Strauss last year, I was less sympathetic to bureau politics, but I still shouldn't have taken it out on you. I should've been protecting you too."

His words are tinged with self-contempt, and you find yourself wanting to take away his guilt even though you were hurt by how he treated you during that case. But that's how the two of you work. The protective instincts don't go away just because one of you is angry at the other.

You remember prom night all those years ago, when he was so peeved at you for convincing him to ask Haley to the dance, even though they had just started talking. She had freaked out and said no, so he was forced to take another girl who asked him after the fact (of which there were many), while you went with Kyle Martinez, who had been showing interest in you for a while. You knew your feelings for Hotch definitely weren't just platonic anymore, but he was into Haley, and he was also Hotch, so you had pushed it aside and gone to the prom with Kyle.

You had spotted Hotch the moment he walked into the ballroom that the school had turned into a Gatsby-themed prom venue. He commanded everyone's attention, and you certainly weren't immune, but you had your own date, so you ignored your best friend and danced with Kyle.

As the night wore on, he had grown bored and asked you if you wanted to get out of there and go somewhere quiet, but you weren't exactly experienced back then.

"I'm okay," you had whispered, trying to maintain your smile. "I'd rather just stay at the dance."

You can still remember the change in his expression when he saw you glance at Hotch, as though it was just yesterday. "What, are you into him or something? You seriously think he'd fuck you?"

You hadn't been able to help it as tears flooded your eyes, and before you knew it, Hotch was standing in front of you, glaring down your date as he asked if you were okay.

"Everything's fine," Kyle had sneered, trying to get around him. "Butt out of our business, Hotch."

He looked at you again. Do you want me to go?

You shook your head, a tear falling down your cheek, and before you had time to blink, his fist was swinging. There was a horrible thump as his fist collided with Kyle's cheekbone, sending him stumbling backwards from the force of the hit.

You couldn't move as Kyle swung back, trying to shove him down, but he didn't budge. He could take physical aggression better than most guys his age, but that didn't make this okay.

"Hotch, please," you had pleaded as he landed another punch. The sound of your voice must had cut through the fog, because he looked up then, unaware of the bruises on his knuckles. You helped him up, and the two of you watched as his date stormed out of the ballroom.

Presently, you look at him sitting in his chair and crack a small smile. "Do you remember prom night?"

He groans and you laugh lightly, being careful not to tear the stitches in your side.

"You never actually told me what that asshole did to you." His tone is light, but you can hear the genuine question underneath.

"It was so long ago," you shrug after a beat. "I don't even remember."

***

Your dad arrives at the hospital early the next morning right before you're discharged. The papers are quick, and by the time the sun has risen fully, you are being taken to his car in a wheelchair, despite your best efforts to refuse.

"I can walk!"

"I don't care."

"Dad, come on."

He frowns down at you. "I drove up here to be of use to you. Let me be of use."

You huff in frustration as he wheels you beside his car, and you try to get up on your own, but you twist the wrong way. You gasp out in pain as one of your stitches pulls and your dad immediately comes around to assist you.

"I hate your job," he grumbles, taking your arm to help you into the passenger seat. "If I had my way, you'd be working out of an office cubicle."

"I know, Dad," you soothe, turning your head back to smile at him. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too, sweetie."

The drive to your house is quick, and he takes your arm again when you get out to help you inside. Once you're laying down on the couch, you insist that you don't need any more concessions, but he doesn't sit down in your armchair until after he has brought you a glass of water and a blanket.

"Dad, I'm fine, really." He doesn't look convinced, so you paste on your brightest smile, and he finally cracks, smiling back at you. "What do you want to do today?" you ask him.

"Wha- do today?" he sputters. "You need to rest, young lady. I'm not letting you leave this couch until you head up for bed tonight."

You can tell he's serious about this, so you sink back into your pillows with a sigh and grab the tv remote. "What do you want to watch then?"

He leans back in his armchair and brings his palm to his face: his thinking expression. "What's on?"

You click on the television, and the first channel it opens up to is playing a rerun of Breaking Bad. Neither of you seem interested in watching it, so you keep flipping through the channels, but after 20 minutes of mindless surfing, you eventually end up back on Breaking Bad.

"We could just play it in the background," you suggest with a shrug, "while we talk."

"Sure," he agrees, placing his hands on each armrest.

Two hours later, your eyes are glued to the television after having watched three episodes.

"We should probably do something else," Dad suggests at the next ad break. "All of this meth production is rotting my brain."

"Yeah," you agree, taking your time to reach for the remote before clicking the tv off and tossing the remote aside. "We can have lunch in the kitchen..."

"Nice try," he chuckles, before standing up. "Aaron is coming by with takeout soon, and you can eat that right from here."

He had been coming by a lot after your movie night a few months ago, and while hanging out with your best friend isn't an anomaly, it does reinforce the reminder that neither of you have anyone to go home to at the end of the night.

It's another half hour by the time he shows up, Thai takeout in hand, and by then you're starving.

"Thanks for bringing food," you say genuinely after your dad lets him inside the house. "I was worried I would have to live off Dad's cooking for a week."

"Very funny," he says with an eye roll. "But yes, thank you, Aaron."

"Of course," Hotch says simply, before handing your dad a fork and napkin. "I'm also hoping to convince Y/N to take more time off."

"Not fair!" you complain, feeling like you're reverting to your high school self with your dad and best friend sitting across from you. "I'm not starting field work for a couple of months. I just want to come in soon to meet the new press liaison."

"Is JJ leaving?" Dad asks as he takes a bite of green curry with rice.

"Just temporarily," Hotch says, reaching for the pad kee mao container. You nod, chiming in, "She's due in a couple of months, so she's gonna start training someone soon to take over while she's gone."

"Is she still with that cop from...where was it again?"

"New Orleans," you answer with a laugh. "Yeah, she and Will are still together."

You can feel the conversation getting dangerously close to (ex) spouses, so you steer your father away from the topic by having him try all of the food Hotch brought. He ends up staying for a couple of hours as he explains some of the more tame cases you've handled to your dad, who actually seems interested in the finer details of each profile.

Eventually, he heads home, with the explanation that he has Jack that night, and you say good night to your dad before heading up for bed. You cover the stitches with plastic the way the doctors instructed you to before taking a fast shower and getting into your bed.

You can hear the sound of your father's quiet snores from the guest room down the hall, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine that you're back in your childhood home, sleeping in your pink and purple bedroom after spending the day with your best friend.

***

It takes a lot of convincing, but at the end of the month, your dad drops you off at work before making his drive back home. Emily had called you before the team's plane took off, and you timed it right so that you'd get to the office just as they arrived.

The elevator doors open on your floor, and you hear a loud conversation happening between Morgan and Prentiss just before they spot you from the bullpen.

"Y/N!" Emily grins, rushing forward to give you a hug. "How's the healing process been?"

"I feel a lot better," you tell her with a smile as you pull back and drop your bag next to your desk.

"You look a lot better," she nods, before Derek grabs you and pulls you in for a surprisingly gentle bear hug.

"You look great," he says, grinning at you. "Are you cleared to come back to work?"

"Not field work," you sigh, pushing your hair back behind your ear. "I'm just here to turn in some paperwork and then I'm stuck to my desk for a few more weeks."

Derek takes the files from your hand and tosses them on your desk before throwing an arm around your shoulder. "You should come out and get burgers with Prentiss and me."

"Tempting," you say, "but I just came by to meet-"

"Hey guys," JJ calls out from the hallway. "I want to introduce you to someone."

She walks up to you all with another woman by her side. "This is Agent Jordan Todd. She'll be taking over for me while I'm on maternity leave."

You grin, clasping your hands together in front of you as she smiles sheepishly at all of you. "Agent Jareau's told me so much about you all."

She turns to Emily first. "You must be Agent Prentiss."

"Yes," she smiles, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Spencer walks up at that moment and Agent Todd nods at him. "Hello, Dr. Reid."

He waves back, and she then looks at you. You reach out first to shake her hand and she smiles. "Agent L/N, I presume?" When you nod, she takes your hand. "I heard about the cult incident."

"Yeah," you let out a laugh. "Incident is definitely a word for it."

Derek drops his arm from your shoulder and Jordan turns to him with a cheeky grin that piques your interest. "And Agent Morgan. Nice to see you again."

He nods, not giving anything away. "Nice to see you, too. So, this must be the good news."

"This would be my brownie."

Emily frowns, pointing between the two of then. "Uh, you two have met?"

Derek doesn't turn away from her. "Briefly."

JJ shoots him a look before steering Jordan away to meet the rest of the team, and you and Emily turn to Derek with matching expressions. "What was that about?"

"I met her at a coffee shop this morning," he explains, rubbing a hand over his face. "She knew my name then, and I guess this is how."

"JJ's about to pop," Emily says, glancing at you with a small smirk. "Looks like it's about to get interesting at the BAU."

***

Your first case back in the field takes you to Atlanta, where Vanessa Holden was murdered after going home with a man she met on a night out clubbing. Jordan briefs you all on the details back in the office before you get on the plane.

You're still not used to JJ being gone, and you heard all about Jordan's drive from Hotch when he came by your house with dinner periodically over your bureau-mandated leave, but you don't want to make any judgments before getting to know her yourself.

You sit across from Hotch on the plane, and you don't miss the way his eyes follow each of your movements from the second you sit down. Your bandages are still on, but you've regained almost all of your mobility.

As the jet takes off, you lean forward slightly to adjust the back of your blazer, and his gaze shoots to you, his brow furrowing with concern.

You flash your eyes at him, cutting the tension with a small smirk. I'm fine, I promise.

He squints slightly, scrutinizing your expression for a moment, before letting out an inscrutable sigh and turning back to the case file.

When you land in Atlanta, you start off at the police department with Hotch, Morgan, and Todd, and her continued insistence on being the first to meet with the local officials and debrief them surprises you, given JJ's more subtle nature when working with those who call your team in.

The local police let you know that the Holden family has stopped cooperating with their investigation, but the four of you head over to their home to try and speak with her mother and sister one last time. Jordan gets you in the house by sharing a story about her older sister who passed away, and you find yourself feeling awful about your misjudgment of her, until you notice the look of Hotch's face.

"Did you know that about Jordan?" you ask, trying to understand why he looks so miffed.

"No," he says simply, his brow pinched together, "and neither did she. According to her file, she's an only child."

You flash your eyes at Derek.

The conversation gets you a basic profile of the unsub, based on the cocky way he held himself with Vanessa and the way he was dressed when approaching her at the club, but when the moment you exit her home, Hotch corners Jordan on the driveway.

"The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister," he fumes. "Where did you get that?"

She has the gall not to look ashamed, and you can't decide if you respect her resolve or detest her lack of responsibility. "Some of it was online, and some of it was an educated guess based on birth order."

"A guess."

You practically wince and Derek stares at her, as though trying to hypnotically get her to backtrack.

She looks down then, and he delivers the kicker. "And in the process you lied."

You step forward to insert yourself in the conversation (for what purpose, you don't yet know), but Jordan just stands up straighter, ready to defend herself. "That mother was shut down. I needed to salvage some rapport."

Hotch doesn't back down, and as his brow locks into place, you step back again. "I don't know how you did things in counter-terrorism, but we don't make it a habit to lie to get the job done."

"I got you in the door, didn't I?" she spits out one last time. It's both, you realize. Respect and distaste.

"Not only do you represent the FBI, you represent this team."

He shakes his head, and you cock your head at Derek, gesturing for him to head back to the car. You hear the tail end of their conversation as you yank open the passenger side door.

"From now on, everything goes through me."

Jordan gets saved by the literal bell as his phone rings, and when he steps away to answer it, she comes back to the SUV and gets in the back. "So, how bad did I just screw up?"

Derek heaves out a sigh, looking at her with his characteristic stoicism mixed with compassion. "On a normal scale of one to ten, I'd say a six."

He glances at you and you press your lips together. "But on Hotch's scale...an 11."

She rubs a hand over her face and you turn back to face the front, watching as Hotch paces back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear. He doesn't look up until he's back in the SUV.

***

The profile becomes clear when a new victim emerges: an unsub with a possible scar or birthmark above his left eye, who went to a class for pickup artists. After doing some researching with Garcia, Emily returns with a flyer for a man named Viper that makes your stomach twist.

You, Morgan, and Hotch join her at one of his classes later that day, and it takes everything in you not to sneer in disgust as he describes his approach to meeting women.

"This is the jungle, my friends," Viper finishes off, lifting his hands in the air theatrically, "and your prey wants to be caught."

You and Hotch share a look, and he raises his eyebrows as you cringe. What, not a fan?

You shove his shoulder with yours, but it's not hard enough to actually make him budge. Hilarious.

"Will you listen to that language?" Emily whispers from next to you. "He's training serial killers."

"Great," Derek sighs. "We're dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman."

Hotch nods. "That's one more thing he has in common with our unsub."

The class ends soon after, and you get the distinct pleasure of meeting Viper in the flesh. When he approaches the four of you, he makes a clear effort to keep eye contact with only the men, likely trying to use his self-prescribed techniques to make you and Emily feel vulnerable. Instead, it just makes you want to laugh in his face.

"So you think this- what did you call him- unsub, took my class?"

He raises his eyebrows at Emily then, in what you can only hope is meant to be a seductive nature, and she practically snorts. Using his clear attraction to her to the team's advantage, she steps forward and takes control of the conversation. By the time she's finished, she has managed to secure his location for later tonight, and get him just flustered enough that a chance meeting later would have him ready to divulge anything she wants to hear.

'Please tell me we are not giving up on that guy." Emily heaves out a breath as you all walk back outside after speaking with Viper. She was just talking to him, but she looks like she's ready to take another shower.

Hotch flashes his eyes with uncharacteristic mirth. "We're just getting started."

***

His eyes keep darting back to the door of the locker room. Prentiss is going undercover at Club Aqua to get more information about the unsub from Viper, and when she suggested that you and Agent Todd join her, he couldn't think of a good enough reason to quash her idea.

He knows he's been hard on Todd. He figured it out on his own, even with your furtive glances from the passenger side of the SUV after leaving the Holden household.

He wishes he could say it all came from a place of protecting bureau leadership, but he knows that isn't completely true. It's been almost two weeks since he last saw Jack, and every time he drops him back at Haley's, that feeling settles back in his gut, like clockwork. The feeling that tells him he's just like his father.

The locker room door flies open and he averts his eyes, trying to maintain some level of subtlety, but it's only Prentiss and Todd. Where are you?

His unspoken question is answered when Prentiss announces that you told them to get started without you. He's still worried that you're not ready for this kind of assignment so early in your return to field work, so, before he can regret it, he stalks forward and pushes open the door.

The regret immediately comes when he sees your bare back, underneath your unzipped dress, on the far end of the locker room.

"Oh, sorry," he blinks, turning his head back. "I didn't realize-"

He moves to shut the door again, but you look over your shoulder and raise your hand, beckoning him inside. "Wait, I could actually use your help."

He steps through the door and crosses over to you, where you turn your back to him after a small glance. "Zip me up?"

The bottom of the zipper is at the small of your back, and he tries to avoid touching you as he pulls it up to the base of your shoulder blades. He isn't able to avoid it completely, and he tries to ignore the heat of your skin as he drops the zipper and nods. "All set."

You turn around and he forgets to step back in time, leaving you only a few inches from him as you glance up with a confused smile. "You okay?"

He nods again, stepping back and clearing his throat. Why is his skin burning? "I should be asking you that. Are you sure you're up for this?"

"I'm getting the bandages taken off later this week," you tell him, partly misunderstanding his concern. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."

That's definitely a lie, but he allows it for now. "That's not all I'm talking about. You haven't been in the field in months. I just worry that I'm tossing you into the deep end on your first day back."

"I'm fine," you insist, reaching out to put your hand on his forearm. "I would have refused the assignment if I didn't think I could handle it."

He's not sure if he believes that either, but in this case, the assignment itself seems odious enough that he can let it slide. "Okay. Are you ready to head out there?"

"Yeah, just one second."

He waits as you pull a thin necklace from your bag and clasp it around your neck. When it's attached, you spin around with a goofy smile. "How do I look?"

"Amazing," he says without thinking. "I mean- you look great, of course."

You just smile at him, before patting his shoulder and walking out the door to meet the Prentiss and Todd at the club. Your hair brushes past him as you leave, and the scent of your perfume lingers in the air behind you, a flowery aroma that persists even when the door swings shut.

***

Emily waves at you when you approach her and Jordan in a crowded part of the club. "Y/N, I'm sure you remember Viper. God's gift to women."

You smile at him sweetly, before glancing at her. "Sure hope he came with a receipt."

"Another friend," Viper says, letting out a weak laugh.

Emily uses this moment of distraction to pounce. "You promised if I met you on your turf, you'd show me something special. So...let's see it."

He starts spouting off some nonsense about chemical signals, and you're about to take Jordan's arm and pull her aside to give Emily some room, when Viper turns to you with a mock-sincere expression. "Does the boss man you're out here, with me?"

You turn back with a frown. "Excuse me?"

For a moment, you forget to mask your emotions and he practically grins as his bravado grows. "What I do for a living is pretty similar to what you all do. I read people...and from what I could tell during your little ambush of my class earlier, there's something going on between you and the supervisor."

You let out a laugh that feels surprisingly forced as it leaves your throat. "I really can't believe there are people out there who pay you for assessments like that, because you're dead wrong."

He shrugs, looking back at Emily, and you roll your eyes at him before turning away under the guise of giving them some space. When you're out of his line of sight, you let out a breath that was caught in your chest. You know you and Hotch are closer than most friendships are at your age, and you're not unaccustomed to people reading more into it than there is, so you're not sure why Viper's words feel like a fist around your gut.

"Hey, you okay?" You turn back to see Jordan approaching you with a glass of water. "He's really trying everything to get under our skin."

You accept the glass gratefully, and swallow a few gulps, before nodding. "Thank you. I think I just needed some air. I forgot how stuffy these clubs get."

"I hear that." She laughs and you feel your chest loosen with relief that she didn't believe Viper's insinuation. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but I'm almost excited to get back into my work clothes."

You let out a breathy chuckle, before sending her back to keep an eye on Emily as she works on breaking Viper. Later that night, when you get back to the station to meet up with the rest of the team, you excuse yourself early to head to the hotel, and you allow yourself to pretend, just this once, that you weren't avoiding him, and you really were just tired.

***

You're sitting in your car in front of the hospital at seven in the morning, because you didn't want to take any work off just to get your bandages removed. You know this is likely the exact sort of thing the bureau mandates time off for, but a small part of you didn't want anyone knowing you were coming here. Or maybe you just didn't want him to know.

You haven't been trying to avoid him. You may be a little embarrassed by how far under your skin Viper got with his one little comment, but you can't help it. The notion stirred something you don't recognize inside of you and you don't want to take the time to think through it.

You take a deep breath and get out of your car, before walking into the hospital and checking in for your appointment. When you called to secure a time slot, the nurse mentioned that, barring any complications, the appointment shouldn't take more than half an hour.

You're a few minutes early, so you sit in the waiting area, flipping through a fashion magazine from the table next to you. After a minute, you're so engrossed in a page about returning trends that you don't realize he is sitting next to you until he taps the side of your foot with his own.

"Oh shit," you blurt out when you see him, more out of surprise than the shame of being caught. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"Garcia saw it in your calendar and told me." You turn to look at him with mock-exasperation, but you're caught off guard by the genuine hurt in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me the appointment was today? I could've driven you."

You open your mouth to come up with an excuse, but all that comes out is, "I don't know." He doesn't look convinced, but the doctor calls your name then and you stand up, pressing your lips together. "Will you come with me?"

He stands up immediately, without another word, and you both follow the doctor into a back room, where she proceeds to remove your bandages and check where you are in the healing process. The wound is closed, and is almost entirely scarred over, but she recommends that you continue to take it easy - a point which you see Hotch take mental note of immediately - and limit excessive physical activity.

"The wound is healing very nicely," the doctor says as you walk back to the front. "Give me a call if anything changes, but as long as you keep applying the salve, there shouldn't be a permanent scar."

You thank her before she heads back to meet with another patient, and Hotch holds the front door open for you as you walk out into the parking lot.

"Thank you for coming," you tell him earnestly, "even though I didn't ask you to. I should've told you."

He exhales through his nose, bumping your shoulder. "Yeah, you should have."

He loops his arm through yours as you step off the curb and you lean your head on his shoulder for a second before unlocking your car. You were stupid to let Viper's words get to you. He's your best friend.

He's your best friend, and you love him.

***

One of the first happy memories at the office in a long time comes in the form of JJ coming in with baby Henry. It feels like a welcome relief to see her face back in the bullpen, and for a few peaceful moments, everything feels like it's back to normal.

You know firsthand how much this job takes from people, and Jordan's absence in the office now doesn't go unnoticed, even with a sweet baby boy here to take your mind off of it.

Is this my fault?

Rossi had tried to talk her down after discovering that the unsub had killed his entire family in their home, seemingly after her press release, but sometimes the words aren't enough.

I'm not sure I can do this job.

There had been so much anguish in her voice as she admitted to Rossi that she wasn't cut out for this line of work, but no part of you judged her for it. A bigger piece of you almost envied her ability to recognize that she was in over her head - that she couldn't keep going like this.

Looking at JJ now though, you feel a sense of hope again, like maybe this job doesn't take everything from you.

"I thought you could use a surprise," she smiles, cradling Henry in her arms under a swath of blankets.

"He's beautiful," you whisper, stepping in closer to get a better look at his little scrunched-up face.

Penelope comes back into the room with a freshly warmed up bottle of milk, and JJ starts to feed him as everyone leans closer in wonder. "I wanted us to have at least one good memory to hold onto in this room."

Before you can react, Derek is pushing past you and Spencer. "Excuse me, kid. Um, JJ, can I..."

He points to the bundle in her arms and she looks at him with a soft grin. "Of course."

She carefully transfers Henry into his arms as all of the women worriedly chime in with reminders and comments on his form.

"You gotta hold his head up."

"Careful, you're smothering him!"

"I got it," Derek chuffs, before rocking Henry in his arms. "Look at that, what's he doing? He's smiling at Derek Morgan."

Penelope and Emily share a look. "Gas."

He shoots them a pointed glare, before grabbing the bottle from Garcia's hand and feeding Henry himself. "Hey, little man."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face as you step back to give them some room. Your shoulder bumps into Hotch as you step around JJ, and you look back at him, noticing the little curve of his lips. "You're smiling."

He glances over at you with an eye roll. "Gas."

***

"What's up, Hotch?"

You roll over and turn your bedside lamp on as you press your cellphone to your ear. The alarm clock beside you says it's just past five in the morning.

"We have a case."

You frown, pushing yourself up. "Wouldn't JJ usually call us to come in?"

"This one's different." His voice sounds slightly muffled and his tone is colored by a familiar tinge of irritation. "Dallas AG called me last night to come down here, and it looks like they may have a serial."

"You went alone?" you ask, trying to blink the grogginess from your eyes as you get out of bed. You are distinctly aware of how many questions you're asking, but your brain is still fuzzy from being woken up.

"Yeah," he says simply, before you hear someone call his name from the other end of the line. "I convinced them to bring the team in as well. Anyway, I have to go, but I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, see you-" The line cuts and you sigh, tossing the phone down.

So much for a full night of rest.

***

Spencer briefs all of you on female serial killers on the flight over, and once you land, Hotch is waiting at the hotel. You drop your things off in your room and meet with him, Rossi, and Morgan to head over to the location of the latest crime scene, when another man is murdered.

"Victim was Joseph Fielding," Rossi explains when you enter the office building. "He was CFO here."

"Poisoned?" you clarify.

"And staged," Morgan adds, glancing over the body. This time, the victim was left out in the open, naked and tied up. There's no way the company can keep the media away from this one.

"Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?"

You turn around to see a man in a fancy suit stalking towards the four of you. You step back to let Hotch get around you, and he approaches the man with a frown. "I'm Hotchner."

"Larry Bartlett," he introduces himself. "I represent Mr. Fielding and Webster Industries."

Hotch angles himself to stand between the man and the body. "This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett."

"I spoke to Ellen Daniels," he explains, his eyes glinting with over-confidence. "She said you're a very reasonable man."

You resist the urge to snort as Hotch moves to get the attention of the police officers nearby. "Escort him out, please."

"No, wait! The press is outside, and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?"

This time it's you who frowns. "We're not about to lie for you."

"Don't have to lie," he says, gesturing with his hands as though that will help his case. "Just don't comment."

Hotch looks at him for a moment, before excusing himself and pulling the rest of you aside. "Is there any reason to go public yet?"

Rossi shrugs. "Validating her is exactly what she wants. If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake."

You almost smile. "He doesn't need to know that."

Hotch meets your eye for a beat before spinning around and putting his lawyer face back on. "We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails...everything."

***

When Penelope uncovers that the victims have all been withholding child support from their ex-wives, Hotch meets with the city's high-profile corporate lawyers to present the profile. You're not sure how helpful this will be, given that their primary motive is to protect their clients' companies, but it proves useful when one of the lawyers reveals that the unsub may have a penthouse to her name.

The apartment is massive. You walk around the living area, trying to find anything the unsub may have left out, but she has clearly been covering her tracks.

When you don't find anything by the bedroom, you head over to the walk-in closet where Derek and Emily are poking around her jewelry box.

"Hey, Prentiss," Derek suddenly says, lifting up a leather bodysuit and holding it in front of her. "Got a whip?"

Rolling your eyes, you smack the top of his head with the evidence baggy in your hands and walk back out to find Hotch. He's poring over her antique book collection when suddenly the apartment phone starts to ring.

You all argue for a few moments over who should take the call, and Derek quickly alerts Garcia to trap-and-trace it, before it soon goes to voicemail.

"Hi, it's me," the woman's voice says brightly in the voicemail message. "You know what to do." There's a beep, and then her voice comes back, more present this time. "Aaron."

Your eyes snap over to him, but he's still looking at the phone.

"I know you're up there," she continues. "Aaron Hotchner."

He reaches forward and carefully lifts the phone with his gloved hand. He walks over to the window as he presses it to his ear. "I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, but I don't know yours."

You bend down and press the speaker button on the main console as he moves across the room.

"I thought I could trust you, Aaron." Her voice is tight over the line, the tiny speakers still enough to amplify the emotion in her voice. She sounds so...disappointed.

"Who says you can't?" he responds slowly, clearly testing the range of her emotion.

"I want to," she says quietly. "I even looked you up online. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings...and for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world."

You remember that presentation. There had been a shooting at an elementary school in Virginia, and the moment the news hit, he had been on the phone, discussing procedures to ensure it wouldn't happen again. You went with him that day that he gave the speech, and you could tell he had been thinking of Jack the entire time he was up there.

Hotch closes his eyes for a beat. "But I've disappointed you, haven't I? Just like all the other men in your life who've walked out on their families."

The line is silent, before: "Did you walk out on your family?"

Hotch looks down for a moment and you fight the urge to walk over and pull him into a hug. "No. My wife left me."

You can feel the team's eyes on you as you keep your expression neutral, your eyes focused on him.

"Do you have kids?"

Your mind flashes to Jack, and your chest feels warm as he nods, before muttering a quick "yes".

The woman speaks up again, her voice stronger yet more emotional. "How often do you see him?"

"I try to see him every week."

She scoffs. "Do you see him every week?" Her question is like a jab, trying to push him into doing or saying something that will prove he's just like the other men in her life.

"No," he admits, glancing back at you. You nod, trying to let him know that you're right here. "I don't get there as often as I want."

"I believe you." Her voice softens and you watch as Hotch's expression turns back to his thinking face. He has an idea.

He lets her talk for a minute, listening in to Garcia's updates on the trap-and-trace, until he chimes in again. "But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?"

You can hear the confusion in her tone. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you wanna show the world all these bad men, and my investigation's just getting in your way."

"No, Aaron," she sighs heavily. "You just want me to disappear, just like they do."

He shakes his head, turning to look out the window. "Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you. You don't know who to trust. Am I right?"

There are tears in her voice as she quietly whispers an acknowledgement.

"Come to me and turn yourself in." He walks back to the living area. "I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear."

His voice is a comfort, and for a brief moment, you think that he could probably convince you to turn yourself in if you had to.

There's a beat of silence, before a small rustling sound. "If we met under different circumstances...I could believe that."

The rustling continues, before her tone changes completely, going from soft and meek to strong and icy. "I won't let you cover this up."

There's a gunshot right before the call cuts out.

***

You follow Hotch and Derek into the hotel room, checking behind you as you aim your gun out in front of you. Once Garcia found Megan Kane's address and client list, everything else fell into place.

The room is empty, except for a gun and a bottle of champagne placed theatrically on the center table.

"Hotch," Derek whispers, pointing out at the balcony, where a figure is laying down on one of the lounge chairs.

His brow furrows and he lifts his hand. "Wait here."

"You sure?" you ask, stepping forward to get a better look.

He nods. "It's over. She knows it."

Derek steps out to call 911, and you watch as Hotch approaches her slowly, tucking his gun into his holster before sitting on the chair beside her.

"Nothing will change," you hear her whisper, her voice overflowing with despair. "They'll just go back to doing whatever they want and they'll keep getting away with it."

He shakes his head. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

The response is almost corny, but his voice is so earnest that you find yourself believing him anyway.

He reaches forward and takes her hand, holding it tightly as her head lolls to the side to look at him. "How could your wife have ever left someone like you?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can feel the sadness permeating off of both of them as he comforts her in her final moments. Haley is one of your good friends, and you know she would've made their marriage work if it was something she could control. This job just isn't that.

Megan lets out a soft sob and you avert your eyes, feeling like you're intruding on a private moment. "You're the first man I ever met who didn't let me down. Will you stay with me?"

He doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He holds her hand for a long time, and he doesn't stand up until you're certain she's been dead for minutes. The walk back to you is slow, and you can see the extra weight on his shoulders as he trudges across the hotel room.

You open your arms and he all but falls into them, letting you pull him into a tight hug that you can tell is holding him together right now.

"You did good," you whisper as his face presses into your shoulder. "You kept your promise. It's the last thing she wanted, and you gave it to her."

You feel him nod, and a moment later, he stands up, letting his arms drop like deadweights. His hair is slightly disheveled, so you reach up and push the front strands back from his forehead, before resting your hand on his cheek for a quick second. "Let's go home?"

He nods again. "Let's go home."

***

It's snowing. You don't realize it until you step out of the car and onto the sidewalk in front of the Georgetown brownstone where the priest was taken in.

Emily and Derek caught him in the middle of an attempted exorcism, and you didn't arrive with the rest of the team until they were already bringing him out in cuffs. She looks shaken as she leads her friend out of the house and to the ambulance waiting on the street.

Once the paramedics take him from her hands, her body all but deflates, and she exhales deeply, as though releasing the pent-up tension from the day.

"Em," you whisper, approaching her slowly. "Can I drive you home?"

She doesn't look at you at first. Whites flecks of snow dance across your vision and stick to her coat and hair as she stares at the ground. After a moment, she shakes her head. "I'm gonna walk for a while."

Her feet don't move, and you're reminded of a conversation you had years ago, when she comforted you and offered you a quiet place to just be. Gently looping your arm through hers, you ask, "Do you want some company?"

She nods almost immediately, and you let her lead the way as you walk away from the red and blue flashing lights. You can't imagine how tough this case must have been for her, especially because the people she loved were so deeply involved.

The walk is silent, and you look down, watching the patterns the soles of your boots make in the snow. You only stop moving when Emily does, her sudden stillness tugging you back as she stands in front of a small church that she must have seen from down the street.

She lets go of your arm as she turns her face up to the sky, hugging herself in an effort to stay warm or shield herself. Maybe a mix of both.

"You don't have to say anything," you say softly as you turn to face the church as well, your shoulder pressing lightly against hers, "but if you want to, I'm always here to listen."

Emily glances up at the church, her eyes shining in the cold, and presses her lips together as she takes in a shaky breath. "My friend...who died...Matthew. He knew the Bible inside and out, and one day he started to question everything."

You think you know where this is going, but you don't want to interrupt her when she's letting out emotions she has clearly kept inside for years.

"We moved around a lot when I was younger, because of my mom's postings, and when you're 15, it's really hard to get accepted."

She's silent for a few moments and you take the opportunity to fill in the gaps for her, so she doesn't have to say it out loud. "You got pregnant?"

She nods, taking a deep breath. "Matthew wasn't the father. It-it was...something else. But I didn't know what to do. He told me to talk to our priest, but he just said that if I had an abortion, I wasn't welcome in his congregation."

Your throat tightens with tears and you blink them back, swallowing thickly. "What did you do?"

"Matthew found a doctor." Her arms tighten around her abdomen, and she lets out a small shiver. "He took me there, and he stayed with me. Then, when we got back, he held my hand and walked me into the church." Her voice cracks as she continues. "Father Gamino actually stopped his sermon, but Matthew told me to hold my head up and we walked to the front pew."

Her arms fall then, and you look up to see the wetness on her cheeks, pink from the cold. "Matthew saved my life. He made me feel like I was worthy of...love, and friendship, but then his anger and questioning started." She finally looks at you, and her eyes are wide with grief and anguish. "He saved me, and it's my fault that his life unraveled."

You're shaking your head before she's even finished speaking. "Em, honey, it's not your fault. He was your friend. He loved you, and everything he did for you was his choice. Anything he discovered after that was already within him."

Another tear falls down her cheek and you reach forward to pull her into a hug that she accepts gratefully. "You're one of the strongest people I know."

Her hands clutch the back of your coat as she cries silently into your shoulder, and you don't let go until she finally stops shaking.

***

Hotch is ending a phone call when you step into his office. He sets it down and nods when you step inside, but you can see the lines of tension just in the way he's standing.

"Is everything alright?" you ask, walking inside and standing in front of his desk. "What was that call about?"

He doesn't look up. "Shaunessy died last night."

"Oh, Aaron, I'm so sorry." You squeeze his forearm over the desk, but he still won't look at you. "He was your first boss here at the BAU, right?"

He nods, before clearing his throat and straightening his back. "He was sick. This isn't a surprise, but there's something else we may need to talk about-"

He's interrupted by JJ coming into his office, a case file in hand. "Sorry, but you wanted to know immediately about any unusual Boston homicides?"

You see his jaw twitch as he takes the file from her and flips it open, scanning the first page quickly. JJ glances over at you, a confused expression on her face, but you can only shrug.

He looks up after a minute. "We're going to Boston."

JJ sputters. "Wha-what, but we haven't been invited?"

"We will be." He grabs his coat and sidesteps the two of you, before booking it out of his office. You're hot on his heels as he grabs his briefcase and alerts the team that they need to be ready to leave within the hour.

"What was that about?" Morgan asks, turning to you.

You shrug again. "I have no idea." You turn to the glass doors swinging shut behind him, and rush outside before you can second guess your actions.

"Aaron!" you call out, forcing him to hold the elevator for you. "Tell me what's going on."

He sighs as you step inside, and he sets the briefcase on the floor. "It's the Boston Reaper. He's back."

"The Reaper?" The name sends a shudder through your body. "That was your first case as a profiler, wasn't it?"

He nods, and you wait for him to continue. "He offered Shaunessy a deal that if he shut down the investigation, then he would stop killing."

His words take a moment to register, but then your face falls. "He took the deal. And now that he's dead..."

"The Reaper has started killing again."

***

The next crime scene comes in the form of an older couple, who were killed in their car on the side of the street. When you arrive, you discover that the unsub left behind the previous victim's watch, as well as a note.

You sidle up next to Hotch, bumping your shoulder against his to alert him to your presence. "Looks like he went through her purse. Any idea what he was looking for?"

He's so focused on the letter in his hands that he doesn't respond, so you lean in and read it from beside his shoulder. "The question mark is new."

"It's for us," he says suddenly, dropping his hand and looking at you. "He's saying it's not fate. He's saying we had 10 years to save them and that these latest ones are on us."

You frown, trying to scrutinize the lines of tension on his face. "You got all that from one question mark?"

"I may know him better than I've let on."

Your brow furrows and you grab his wrist, bringing his attention back to you. "What does that mean? Aaron?"

"It means that there is a profile on The Reaper."

"You said you were called off before you could make one-"

"We were," he cuts you off, shaking his head. "I had just started the profile, and then he stopped killing, so officially we were done, but..."

You purse your lips. "But this case stuck with you."

He nods. "I kept coming back to it over the years, and I worked on it alone."

You can imagine young Hotch, in his first years at the bureau, poring over the case file late into the night, because he couldn't put it away when the unsub was still out there. You realize, all of a sudden, that it reminds you of Gideon.

Looking up at him, you release his wrist, letting your fingers drag on his pulse for a moment before letting go. "We need to hear your profile."

***

After he gives the profile alone, you all head back to the hotel to get some rest before the long days ahead of you. In your heart of hearts, you know that no one will really be sleeping tonight, least of all Hotch, so you go up to his room with him to keep working on the case.

"Can you imagine living with the fear that the man who killed your fiancee, and nearly killed you, is still out there?" Your question is mostly rhetorical, but Hotch still lets out a soft grunt from the bed where he's poring over crime scene photos from the last few victims.

"It explains why Foyet went so underground," he says with a frown. "The multiple residences under different names, always taking the bus...I just wish he had taken us up on moving him to a safe house."

"I think that's actually the one part I do understand," you muse, looking up from the file on your lap. "Part of the reason why I came back from my dad's house so soon after Jeff died was because I needed everything to return to normal. I needed my life back."

He glances up at you then with a slight raise of his eyebrow and you shake your head before looking back down. It's okay. Not now.

He looks like he wants to say something, but then the hotel room phone goes off, piercing the air with a high ringing sound. He gets off the bed and picks it up, answering with a stern, "Hotchner."

He's silent at first, but you only look up when you hear him say, "You've misjudged me. I'm the guy who hunts guys like you...I'll see you soon." He slams the phone down on the receiver, and even though you know exactly what that was, you still need him to say it.

"Hotch, what was that?"

He rubs a hand over his face, pacing back and forth across the small space in front of you.

"Was that him?"

He doesn't respond, instead mumbling something under his breath that you can't make out. You stand up and cross the room, before grabbing his forearms so he's forced to look at you. "Aaron! What did he say?"

His eyes are frantic as he finally meets your eye. "He offered me the same deal...and I didn't take it."

***

"Six bodies, not including the driver. He put 'em down with the gun and finished them off with his knife."

The scene inside the bus is horrifying. Blood is dripping from each of the seats, and the words "No Deal", along with a series of numbers, are painted in blood on the windows.

Rossi comes up beside you as you watch Hotch survey the scene, an eerie stillness to his composure. "What's going on with him?"

You glance at him, before turning back to Hotch. "The Reaper called him at his room tonight, offering the deal...and he hung up on him."

Rossi nods, before patting your arm and stepping around you. He nods at Hotch, grabbing his attention away from the scene he hasn't been able to look away from for minutes. "Y/N told me what happened earlier. So, what, you think this is your fault?"

"It is." His voice is shakier than you'd expect based on the resolution in his choice of words.

"Okay," Rossi shrugs, reaching for the gun in his holster. "Here, use mine." Your brow furrows and you step forward, making sure you're nearby in case this gets out of hand. You love Dave, but he can be a bit heavy-handed sometimes.

"You convinced me," he continues, shoving his hand forward. Hotch shakes his head, but he doesn't let up. "No, no, you hung up on him. You practically killed them yourself. Go ahead, get it over with. Don't worry about us. We'll get this guy without you."

Hotch closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, they're shining with tears. You realize, with a shock, that you haven't seen him cry in decades. Not since the day after his father's funeral when Sean shut himself in his room for hours, because he truly believed that his brother didn't care about their family.

When he looks at Rossi again, a few tears have fallen down his cheeks. "I had ten years to do something about it."

"Look," he says simply, lowering his gun, "if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, then you go ahead. But that voice in your head, it's not your conscience. It's your ego."

Hotch deflates, and you reach forward to wrap your fingers around his wrist, maintaining a steady connection. He looks at you, and you dip your chin into a tiny nod. It's not always your fault.

He looks back at Dave with a heavy sigh, but he doesn't pull his hand from your grasp. "You can put that away now."

Rossi raises his eyebrows as he tucks the gun away. "You sure?"

Hotch shakes his head, unable to hide his smile, and you let out a little chuckle. "It's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"My wife always said I had a flair for the dramatic."

You and Hotch speak up at the same time. "Which one?"

Rossi shrugs. "All of them."

You laugh, before squeezing Aaron's wrist once more and letting go.

***

George Foyet is the Reaper.

You can't believe it even as the words circle around your brain. The team was able to catch him before he killed Colson, the journalist who wrote a book about him, but the victory still doesn't feel sweet.

I'm gonna be more famous than you even realize.

His last words before Derek cuffed him and handed him off to the police. They won't leave your head even as you step off the elevator into the office. Emily and JJ are chatting about some new restaurant in town as they step out ahead of you, and you walk to your desk in a trance, unable to figure out why you aren't able to let out the breath you've been holding since you left for Boston.

Your question is answered when JJ runs back from her office a few minutes later, her phone clutched in her hand and a panicked expression on her face. "Foyet escaped."

***

It takes a while for Derek to get over the Foyet news. He took his badge and credentials when he knocked him out, and even with the replacement he was given, you know the knowledge that Foyet is out there is still irking at him.

Hotch isn't much better. He's been throwing himself into work extra hard, and you're worried he's going to burn out or simply combust if he keeps at it.

This is exactly what Foyet wants, you want to scream. He's trying to get in your heads and mess with your life, without even being here.

But you don't say it.

***

He's been so immersed in work that he doesn't really get to talk to you until a case in Oregon, where an unsub has been killing people by hitting them with his car.

You're grabbing a cup of coffee at the local police station, pouring in an uncharacteristic packet of sugar, when he approaches you, perching on the edge of the counter. "Sugar?"

"I know," you sigh, tossing the empty packet into the trash can next to you. "I just wanted something a little sweeter today."

"Can't argue with that," he says softly, making you smile. It drops almost as fast as it appeared, and he scoots closer as he hands you a wooden stirrer. "How are you holding up?"

This case can't be easy for you, especially knowing how your mom died. You don't talk about it often, but when you do, he can tell it's because you need to let it out. He's the same way with his father, only the feelings he is hiding from are different.

"I'm fine," you say quickly, like it's an automatic response. You both know it's a lie, and you close your eyes for a beat, dropping the stirrer into your cup. "I should be fine, but...I don't know." He follows your gaze over to the open case file across the table, and notices how your eyes hang on the crime scene photos. The car wreckage. The tread marks on the road. "I don't know why this case is affecting me so much. I didn't even see the crash when my mom died."

He reaches forward and closes the file. "Grief works in interesting ways." If there's anything he has the authority to speak on, it's grief. But then again, so do you. He doesn't know if he would've gotten through the aftermath of his father's death without you. Thinking about it now, he doesn't think he's told anyone else the whole truth about his family. "Anything can be a trigger."

"What was your trigger?" you ask suddenly, turning to look at him. "After your dad died?" Your eyes are full of curiosity, and for a moment, he wonders again if you really can read his mind.

He takes a deep breath before answering. "For a while, almost everything was. The smell of his beer, the material of his favorite coat...it all made me so angry."

"I remember," you whisper, setting your coffee down, "but soon after, that changed." You look at him with a small smile. "You met Haley."

His jaw twitches and he realizes that he wasn't even thinking about her. The first person that came to mind when he thought about his healing process was you. Haley was everything to him, but she wasn't built for the life he grew up with. She wouldn't have been able to understand the rage flowing through his body when he thought of his father's death. The anger and hurt he felt, that somehow always transformed to guilt when he went back home for the night.

"Yeah," he says after a moment, accepting your judgment, even if it is a lie. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore, so he diverts back to the original subject. "Your mother was different. She loved you exactly how you deserved to be loved. Even if it hurts sometimes, it's just a reminder that you had something great."

That makes you smile, and he feels warmth fill his chest. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

He nods, patting your knee. "It's been known to happen."

***

You're in the passenger seat next to Derek when you see it. You watch him swerve his SUV into the unsub's truck in real time, but you still don't believe what you're seeing until the cars come to a stop, smoke billowing out of the front.

Derek screeches to a stop and there's glass everywhere as you throw yourself out of the SUV and race towards the collision site.

Aaron is stumbling out of his car when you reach him. There's a gash on his forehead, dripping blood down his face, and another on his arm. He tries to reach for his gun, but you grab his arms, holding him against the SUV.

"Sorry," he mutters through gritted teeth as you reach up to swipe the blood off his forehead before it falls into his eye. Your hand stays on his face as you survey the rest of him for any other wounds that may need your attention.

Once you're certain that he'll be okay, you turn back to him with a glare. "You scared the shit out of me." Your thumb is unconsciously rubbing circles on his jaw as he looks down at you. You are well aware that danger comes with the job description, but he also knows you would kill him if he ever put himself in serious danger, especially when it wasn't necessary. "Don't ever do that again."

He takes a deep breath as you pick a piece of glass out of his hair. When you return to meet his gaze, he reaches out to grab the strap of your vest. "I'm sorry."

You tug each other forward into a hug at seemingly the same time. You don't get the chance to be careful with his wounds as you collide into his chest, but you forget about everything else the moment his arms close around you. He's okay. He's alive.

"You don't get to die on me," you whisper into his collarbone as you tighten your grip around him. "Promise me."

You know it's not fair. You know it's not something he can control, especially with the kinds of people you chase on a daily basis, but it doesn't matter, because he knows you. He knows when you need the facts, and when you need reassurance, so instead of uttering a funny quip or a painful truth, he just says, "I promise."

***

Are you sure it's okay that I'm coming?

You type back a response as soon as you see the message on your phone. Of course. Dave invited you and Jack, and I would love to see you too.

A few minutes later, you get a simple Ok, so you set your phone down on the table and stand up to join the rest of your friends. With summer around the corner, Dave wanted to host a garden party, and after the last few months, you definitely don't mind the respite.

"Come get some more food," he tells you the moment you approach them by the edge of his huge yard. He's standing with Derek, Spencer, and Penelope by a long table adorned with steaming dishes of bread, pasta, and salad.

"I'll explode if I eat any more," you say with a laugh as Spencer stuffs another piece of bread into his mouth. For a small as he looks, he can be a bottomless pit when it comes to good food. "Have you guys seen Hotch?"

"He isn't here yet," Penelope notes as Derek wraps an arm around her. "I'll keep an eye out though."

"Do you think he'll bring Haley and Jack?" Spencer asks as JJ approaches with Henry in her arms.

"I told her to come," you say, tickling the baby's chin with the tip of your finger. "It'll be nice to see everyone together."

As though conjured by their questions, the door to the backyard opens and Jack steps out with Haley and Hotch right behind him.

"You're here!" You walk across the lawn and give her a quick hug, before bending down and lifting Jack into the air. "What's up, Jack-o-lantern? You're so big now."

"Yeah," he giggles, wrapping his arms around your neck. You press a loud kiss to the side of his head and he bursts into a fit of giggles as you tickle his belly with your free hand.

"I'm so glad you made it," Dave says from behind you as he comes over and gives Haley a hug. "We love having you here."

She raises her eyebrow at Hotch, but there's no intention behind it. Divorce seems to have treated them well, reminding them of all of the good that was there before everything else got in the way. "Thank you for inviting us."

"Seriously, thank you," Hotch agrees, before reaching out to take Jack from your arms.

"Any time," Dave says sincerely, before nodding at him. "Come help me grab some more wine from the cellar."

They disappear into the house, and you pull Haley down with you into two of the chairs by the edge of the sprawling yard. "Hotch and Jack are sweet together."

She nods, looking wistfully at the door. "He loves any time he gets with his dad."

"It can't be easy," you say slowly, hoping you aren't breaching a boundary unknown to you. "I've seen firsthand how busy the job has been getting recently. I haven't been home before midnight in over a week."

She's silent for a moment, and you worry that you crossed the line, but then she just smiles. "He's trying so hard...and that's all I can really ask for, isn't it?"

You suppose she's right. Not everyone is lucky enough to find a person who fights as hard as Aaron does to get home to his family at the end of the day.

"You're good for him, you know." You look at her as she crosses one leg over the other. "You always have been."

"You are too."

"I know," she says, before shaking her head. Her expression is warm as she smiles at you. "It's not the same, though. Even when you weren't around, you were in everything he did."

You don't know exactly where she's going with this, and you're acutely aware of the choruses of laughter floating over to you from across the lawn as she reaches out to squeeze your arm. "He loves you."

Your face transforms into what you imagine is a look of confusion. "I love him, too. He's my best friend."

Haley looks at you for a moment, before shaking her head with a nearly inscrutable sigh. "Anyway, thanks for convincing me to come. I'm gonna get some food."

~

Eventually, the sun sets, and the string lights in Dave's backyard turn on, along with the soft sounds of Ella Fitzgerald and Sam Cooke. He helps Derek and Will push the tables and chairs aside to make room for a dance floor, and soon, Haley is in his arms as they swing along to the lilting tunes filtering out over the yard.

It feels natural, dancing with her like this, but at the same time, he knows it's different now. He holds her firmly as she tilts in his arms, loose from the wine that Dave made sure was pouring all night, and she lets him swing her around the lawn, no care in the world.

Soon, the song changes, and she looks at him with a dreamy smile. "You love this song."

It's a soft tune by Sam Cooke, one he can't remember the name of right now, but he smiles at her as he nods. "I'm glad you're here. You and Jack."

"I missed you all," she says, before cracking a smile. "Mostly just Y/N though."

That makes him laugh, and before he knows it, Dave is walking over, with you on his hand, asking to trade partners for the song. "I haven't gotten to talk to Haley all night."

It's not the best excuse, but Haley doesn't seem to mind at all. "Of course, I'd love to dance."

Dave whisks her away, and Hotch holds a hand out for you, pulling you into another steady swing.

"I love this song," you whisper as the two of you fall into a rhythm. "I Wish You Love."

Right, that's what it's called. His hand settles on your waist as you grip his shoulder, and he can tell you've had a bit of wine too, but only because of the red tint of your cheeks.

"This is nice," you say after a few beats of silence. "We don't get to do this often."

He nods, turning you to make room for Derek and Emily, who are swinging heartily across the yard. "It's nice to see the kids together." He glances over your shoulder to peer at JJ, who has Henry and Jack in each of her arms. She has jumped head first into motherhood, and it suits her.

The song changes to something a little slower, so he steers you to the edge of the dance floor, taking control as your feet glide after him. Maybe you've had a bit more wine than he first assumed.

The thought makes him chuckle and you look at him with a quizzical expression. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, and clasps your hand tighter to hold you to him. He glances over your shoulder again and finds an excuse for his laughter almost immediately. "Garcia is trying to teach Reid how to dance."

You tug his arm immediately, spinning the two of you around so you can see the situation he described, and your face breaks out into a wide grin when you spot them a few paces over. "The poor kid has no coordination."

As you watch them dance, he watches you. The way the string lights glance over your exposed shoulders. The sparkle of your eyes under the waning moonlight. He realizes, not for the first time, how beautiful you are.

He could give himself the usual excuse, that it's just the time of the night, or the single glass of red he drank a few hours ago, but tonight, he lets himself just be there.

You're his best friend, and he loves you. He's here, dancing around the grass with some of his closest companions, and you're with him. For once, he can just be.

***

You can't the pile of shoes out of your head. Derek and Emily were able to find the girl before Lucas Turner killed her, but even after arresting him and getting her back to her mother, the case is still sticking with you.

89 pairs of shoes.

You shake the thought from your head as you get into Hotch's car in the field office parking lot. He insisted on driving you home after seeing the look on your face in the plane, and for once, you didn't argue with him.

"I can't stop thinking about them," you whisper as he pulls out of the lot. "So many lives that are forever changed because of two men."

You saw how Derek reacted when he found the box of muddy shoes. You saw JJ's face after she had to shoot Hightower for murdering the man who experimented on his sister.

"I'm thinking of giving everyone a few days off," he says, glancing over at you. "We all need some time to get away from this job. I'll put the request in tomorrow morning."

You nod, unable to voice your opinion. You feel depleted, without having even witnessed the horrors you know occurred up on that farm.

It takes a second, but eventually you regain the ability to speak. "Do you think it's worth it?" Your voice feels like sandpaper, but the question hurts more than anything else. "This life, I mean."

He mulls it over, and you notice his grip tighten on the steering wheel in front of him. "I think it has to be." Your brow furrows, and you don't know whether you want to scream or cry at how terrible that answer feels right now, but he isn't finished. "We have put too much of ourselves into this job to allow us to forget about all of the good that has come out of it too. If we choose to forget the good, then none of it means anything."

You look at him in wonder, realizing he has voiced exactly what you needed to hear. You're constantly awestruck by how he always seems to know exactly what to say to bring back your sense of purpose.

"You're good at this whole leadership thing," you say softly, cracking a smile when he looks at you. "You help me grow."

He pushes you just hard enough to help you transform into something so much bigger and better than you hoped you could be. His chin dips and he turns back to the road as your neighborhood comes into view. "You help me grow too."

You lean your cheek on your palm as you snuggle further into the seat. "I called Josh Cramer, over at organized crime."

His eyebrows raise with surprise and he glances over at you. "Jeff's old boss? How did that go?"

During your last interaction at the BAU office all those years ago, you weren't ready to see him yet. He still reminded you of the hate and anger and guilt you felt over Jeff's death.

The last few months have been kinder to you, though. It doesn't hurt as much when you think about him.

"It went well," you sigh, looking out the window at the houses passing by. "Even though it'll never really be the same, it felt more like old times, if that makes any sense."

"It does," he says simply, providing you an acknowledgement before letting you fill in the spaces yourself.

You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs, before letting it out again. "He told me a story from before Jeff went undercover. It was just a dumb story about some night his team went out for burgers after wrapping up a case." Your breaths get shallower, but the tears you are expecting don't come. "Apparently, he made the team go to three different burger spots, because he wanted to bring me back curly fries, and none of the places were selling the kind I like."

You clear your throat to dispel the tightness, and when you look back at him, the car has come to a stop in front of your house.

"That sounds like him," Hotch says, smiling at you as you chuckle to yourself.

You nod, closing your eyes for a beat. "I guess I just wanted to say that, yeah, our lives are sometimes changed inalterably, but...it's not always bad. I met him, I loved him...and then I lost him, but I still wouldn't take back any of it."

His eyes crinkle and he looks out the windshield for a brief second. "Me neither."

It's already late, and you don't want to take up any more of his night, so you bid him goodbye and shut your door after making him promise to actually get some rest.

Your front door shuts behind you, and you hear the sound of his car driving off as you exhale heavily. Your house feels big with you here alone, but for once, you revel in the solitude. Finally, a few days of peace and quiet.

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[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 8

Title: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You're just there to help JK with his final project, so why are you being doused in water, facepaint and smoke? Art. Art is why.

Warnings: T, language, fluff, angst, honestly this one's kinda wholesome and fun, some photogrpahy jargin in there, but nothing a quick google search can't fix if you really need to <3, it's mostly surface level jargin. Also the smoke machine works cuz JK has great ventilation due to the massive windows being open, so don't worry bout that XD, some light and fun name calling, some world building. Ask if you need clarification on anything. That's all I think!

Word Count: 11,684

Release Date: September 1, 2024. 4:30PM

A/N 1: Surprise! Happy JK Day.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

PJK [7:36pm]: Saturday afternoon. my place. 11am.  PJK [7:36pm]: bring an extra set of clothes, something warm. Sweats if you have them. PJK [7:37pm]: also, Im gunna need your shirt size

The first three weeks of November have flown by and dragged on at the same time.

The weather’s getting colder. You need a thick jacket if you want to be anywhere outside, and all leaves have fallen from the trees, leaving pines the only ones left with their winter coats on. Hot chocolate from greenhouse cafe has become part of your life’s blood so you don’t freeze, and gloves with pocket warmers inside them are once again a part of your everyday. 

But November skies have returned. And you frequently set up camp on the drying grass beside the greenhouse, dressing your canvas with oil paint to their likeness as it’s the only paint that doesn’t dry the second it’s out of the tube in the cold, static air.

Jungkook told you earlier in the week the shoot would most likely be this weekend, and that he just had a few final strings to pull together before being able to confirm. So with that in mind, you intentionally tried to finish all your work before this weekend, knowing the shoot will take a while to complete.

He mentioned it may leak over into Sunday depending on how much you get done on the first day, which is fine with you considering you usually spend Sunday evenings at his place anyway. You’d consider it an extended edition of your regularly scheduled broadcast.

And speaking of regularly scheduled, you haven’t missed a single movie night since Nel left. Granted, it’s only been three weeks, but even missing the two you did because of Nel had made an impact. 

You’d gotten so used to them, having that time to destress and unwind before the week starts. A nice little routine that helps reset you both mentally and physically.

Suddenly not having that was…a weird feeling you try not to remember. 

And you are more than happy to never miss another one ever again.

You aren’t sure what Jungkook tells Adaline he’s doing during movie night, but she’s never interrupted you, not even once. And it’s something you are increasingly grateful for, because she is one of the things you destress from as your unspoken rivalry always amps up the closer to exam season you get.

It’s Thursday evening, and you’re in your room finishing up a Microeconomics 3 assignment while piano music plays on a speaker in the corner. You use it to help you focus, and it’s working its magic as you’re finishing your work in record time. 

Music has always helped you work better, and you credit it largely with how you’ve been able to keep up with everything in your schooling.

Yuri’s in her room, doing homework as well you assume. Or maybe texting Tai—the dreamy, big dicked Ilcalos island Count—you swear she’s only put her phone down for sleep and showering, as she’s constantly checking to see if he’s messaged her. And you hope it turns out well for them, Yuri deserves someone who treats her well. Especially after the whole Jungkook debacle—which you’re not allowed to bring up—and then the poor rebound you aren’t allowed to talk about either. You’re just happy she’s finally found someone worth her time.

Picking up your phone, you shoot Jungkook a text back.

You [7:40pm]: okay! saturday at 11 sounds good. I’ll bring sweats and warm socks

You message him your shirt size too, curious as to what he’ll use it for, but you’re sure you’ll find out in due time. You always do.

Subject to many of his homework assignments, you’ve been posed and lit and adjusted every which way. 

Jungkook is incredibly professional when you’re with him as a model. Light touches to correct posing, always with a ‘may I’ before he does, and he fills the room with kind words, good vibes, and fun music so you never feel awkward. 

At first you were really iffy on the whole idea when he first asked in September, because it would be the prince of your nation photographing little ol’ you. You weren’t anything special—yet—and you’re still never one for being in the spotlight, or for being on camera. At all. But if it was just for homework, and you were helping out a friend…you figured why not? 

It helped that all of your worries immediately faded when you saw the results of that first shoot.

An email from a very non-princely email address found its way into your inbox. The subject was the date of the shoot, and the only message inside being:

 thanks. Hope you like them. 

Let’s do it again sometime.

-J

When you opened the attachments you made a quick dive to catch the phone that fell from your hands in shock. 

You looked…beautiful. Like you never had in pictures before. Not in school, or at graduation, not even in the ones you took of yourself. 

You didn’t know you were capable of looking like that. 

Like how he saw you. Captured you. 

And you’ll never admit you’ve held your chin a little higher with every shoot since.

They make you feel powerful, attractive. More confident, and sure of yourself, as if you were always meant to be in front of a camera. Like you’d been in front of one since before you could walk.

They do that for you.

He…does that for you—with his pictures, of course.

Jungkook is very talented. Very skilled with his camera, and you find yourself looking forward to the concepts he comes up with every time. Trusting him and whatever his vision is wholeheartedly. 

Though a small, immature piece of you is also pleased he still wants you to model, and not Adaline. That he finds you easier to work with over her.

Your competitive streak never fails to come out, even with the smallest, secretive things.

Take that Adaline.

You gladly help him out with his homework, and he does the same for you. 

If you ever need a male reference or a profile study. Anatomy practice, features practice, likeness practice. Anything and almost everything, all you have to do is ask, and he sits still or places whatever you need in front of you while you sketch.

Hands, however, have always been a personal favourite of yours.

They’re one of those things that can be drawn a hundred different ways and never look the same. Always a new position you can put them in. Consistently able to shake things up. And one set is never like the others—like eyes. There’s little differences in all of them and that’s where their magic lies.

You do these studies at the greenhouse, it has the best light to shadow ratio. When you ask him for one, he’ll switch to working with one hand, while the other does whatever you tell it. Normally either placed on your table or if there isn’t enough room, which nine times out of ten there isn’t because of all your supplies, you stick your foot on the lower metal frame of his table and he rests his arm, wrist or palm on your up bent knee. 

Due to this, you’ve unintentionally come to find out that his hands are very strong, very calloused, and very, very warm…

Also! Aside from hand studies, you love loose figure studies because they’re great warm up sketches. And what Jungkook doesn't know is that you have dozens of warm up sketches of him. Doesn’t know you sneak pictures here and there when you can, hiding them in a hidden album on your phone entitled ‘hmwk screenshots.’ And he definitely doesn’t know that when he’s sitting at the cafe, nose deep in assignments, you doodle his features or his outfit in real time.

A nose here, a jacket there. A muscular forearm covered in tattoos also tends to find its way onto your page every so often.

He’s got a good physique. And the ridges make for excellent anatomy practice. So does the intricate line work of tattoos, and fabric rippling. Especially in drastic lighting. Consistency is key in maintaining and improving your work and it’s not like any of these sketches will ever see the light of day anyways. 

They’re just, well…practice. 

A sigh escapes you, and you refocus on finishing your microecon work. You still have two more assignments to get done before Saturday at eleven.

“And why are you working with some random girl when I’m available, again?” Adaline asks. She’s currently sitting on Jungkook's couch in your spot. He’s setting up tomorrow's materials against the big white wall by the floor length windows that showcase his balcony.

It’s why he chose to live here instead of in the dorms or on campus. His place isn’t enormous, like most people would think, it has enough room for everything a regular student needs: bedroom, kitchen, workspace, living room, bathroom, even a guest room. But the one thing he keeps different is the big white wall where a dining room would normally be. 

Jungkook’s place has high ceilings, 10 feet tall, which is higher than the average but not excessive. And the wall that connects his kitchen to the balcony is a perfect mock studio. He can even keep all his equipment there; lights, gels, backgrounds, tubs full of props, camera cases, lenses, and more all stored in neat shelving against another wall. 

“Because students volunteered for extra credit, and she’s who was assigned to me,” a small lie, one he was sure that Adaline wouldn’t dig into too deeply. 

“Why didn’t you tell me I could volunteer?”

“Because you didn’t need the extra credit?”

She pouts, and goes back to her phone.

Adaline also doesn’t know it’s you he’s photographing and that is one hundred percent intentionally planned by him. 

He could sense something between you two after you made that one comment after fall break. He notices now how you stiffen slightly every time he mentions Adaline, and the one time he mentioned you in passing to test the waters, Adaline changed the conversion topic almost immediately. A look of annoyance, or maybe even insecurity in her eyes.

So he’s been lucky that Adaline has never wanted to see any of his schoolwork prior to or after the singular shoot he did with her. 

Lucky she hasn’t seen your face fill up his screen constantly. 

And extremely lucky that she doesn’t know about the hidden folder buried deep in his desktop labeled ‘eqpmt rcpts’ filled with dozens of candid shots of you.

To be fair, you don’t know about them either. They’re random, shots taken every now and then where he thought you looked happy, focused, or just existing. True candids of the most candid person he knew.

It started that day with his first assignment from Professor Hirmer. He’d taken those quick pictures of you painting, and then simply never stopped. 

He has pictures of you in the courtyard, walking and talking to Yuri, you smiling. He has some he took on his phone when you’re over for movie night, invested in the film or talking to him. And a bunch of you painting at the greenhouse. It’s hard to take secret candids when he’s right beside you, but he manages seeing as you haven't caught him yet.

He even has a few of you and Nel, love clearly written on your face in every single one of them.

Whenever he spots you before you spot him, and he has his camera on him, he takes a couple. 

They’ve amassed into a healthy sum, but he thinks of it as a harmless habit as no one will ever know. And it’s not like he’s following you around to take them or using them for anything nefarious. 

He just likes taking your picture. Capturing your spirit, your candor. 

Your realness. 

You are wholly yourself, always, no holding back, all of the time. 

And to him, it feels like coming up for a breath of fresh air.

“Hey!” you say as you let yourself into Jungkook’s apartment. You’d knocked but no one answered and it was currently 10:56am on Saturday, so you knew he was here. Plus, his door was unlocked.

“Jungkook?” you call. 

No answer.

You take your shoes off after closing the door and locking it. He should really keep his door locked. 

Very quickly become best friends with the couch, you toss your backpack of warm clothes on the floor while you wait for him to make an appearance. 

There’s shoot equipment everywhere; lights in the corner, some with soft boxes on them, gels laid out on the coffee table, and what you’ve come to learn is a lens case sits on the couch beside you in Jungkook's usual spot. 

Jungkook has also somehow managed to find some small trees in blue ceramic pots and what you’re pretty sure is a smoke machine. 

But the most peculiar thing is what looks to be a kiddie pool up against the wall with a folded tarp at its base. 

Well that's…interesting…

You hear a door open somewhere in the apartment and running water. 

“Jungkook? That you?”

“Hey! Yep. Just give me a sec, I’m almost done.”

The water sounds cease and Jungkook makes his grand entrance as he turns the corner holding a large watering can. Your eyebrow raises.

“For the trees?” you ask.

“What?” 

You point to the watering can currently making his veins pop. 

He laughs, “Oh! No. This is for later. You’ll see,” and walks to the other side of the room by the pool. 

“Aren’t we mysterious today,” you say, following him with your eyes. He’s in ripped black jeans that accentuate the muscle definition of his thighs, and a matching baggy shirt. When his back is turned you snap a quick picture. The fabric folds on his baggy shirts are some of your favourite mindless things to cool down sketch.

“Nah, just focused. We have a lot to get through today.”  He sets down the watering can and you can see the moment the switch flips from friend to photographer. “The guest room is ready for you. There’s a clothing rack inside with each look labeled. There’s also makeup and face paint, if you could bring out the make up after you're done changing, that would be great. We’re gonna start with ‘Bright and Bold’, okay?” 

You usually use the spare room as a change room when you have to switch clothes for a shoot. But they were always from your own closet. He’d tell you the concept he was going for and you’d bring a few options to choose from.

Makeup you were used to, though. Jungkook loves abusing your artistic abilities for his shoots in the way you decorate your face or body, saying they make his works a level up from the rest of his classmates. 

They also usually make for some of the coolest pictures you have of yourself.

This is the first time he’s ever bought clothing, though.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, this being his final assignment for an important class, and him being as serious as he is about his work and the final product. But you can't help it, you’re excited to see everything he’s chosen for the shoot. 

For you.

For the shoot.

“Yep, sounds good. Be out in a few,” you reply. He nods in acknowledgement before moving to set something up and you don’t stick around to find out, grabbing your bag and heading towards the door lined hall. 

The guest room is modest and clean. White sheets and gray comforter with, surprisingly, two throw pillows to spruce it up. The walls are white too, but you’re pretty sure that’s because Jungkook’s not allowed to paint the apartment per his landlord's wishes—a thought that still makes you laugh.

He could buy any place he wanted, but chose to rent. ‘To get the real university experience,’ he explained when you asked him the first time you went over.

Black furniture accents the room. A comfortable looking leather chair sits in the corner by a glass door that leads to the balcony. It has a small table beside it. There’s a dresser with a mirror in the other corner and of course, in the center of the room, is the bed. It’s a nice room. However, the newest edition is what’s keeping your eye.

Four shirts hang from the rack at the foot of the bed. The first is vibrant and colourful, the second a light neutral short sleeved V neck, third is strapless and skin coloured, and the last is made from thin black fabric you assume will be skin tight by the looks of it. 

As promised, they’re all labeled with a sticker. 

You throw your bag on the bed and grab the colourful one first. Its sticker says ‘bright and bold,’ and you put it on after removing the shirt you came in, then zip it up. The material feels heavy, durable and expensive. You check the tag on the inside seam and see it’s from Ilkaya, one of the biggest and most expensive fashion designers on this side of the realm. 

Your eyes bug out of your head, and you try not to breathe too hard for fear of ruining it. Your routine of thrifting all your clothes makes you pretty damn sure you can’t even imagine how much this cost. 

It feels good though, comfortable, not itchy. Really freaking expensive.

You look at yourself in the mirror, and you have to admit you look amazing. It fits perfectly in all the right places, compliments your skin tone, and even brings out your eyes. Begrudgingly, you admit to yourself that maybe there’s some sense in what the price tag could be. But it would still be a ridiculous sum for a jacket.

With one last look in the mirror, you grab the palettes, brushes and other tools off the dresser, and leave your designated dressing room for the day in favour of returning to the living room. 

Jungkook’s got music going from your shared playlist. Insisting on making one after your second shoot together, when he decided you both agreed to the arrangement becoming a regular thing. It’s a good mix of both of your musical tastes, even though you guys figured out quickly that you liked pretty similar stuff anyway. 

“What do you think? Does it work?” You ask as you turn the corner. 

Jungkook fiddles with this camera before looking and pausing for a moment to take you in. You hope you look okay, but the weird look he has on his face makes you backtrack a bit. 

“Is this not the one you wanted? It had the label on it. But I can go back and double che- ”

“You look amazing,” is all he says, and your worry slides off you instantly. He smiles wide, the one you’ve come to recognize as genuine. 

“Thanks. But the colour’s doing most of the work for me,” you say, smiling back shyly.

He has a white background set up, and two differently coloured gel’d lights sit on opposite one another, a third, smaller floor light faces the background. A backlight, he’d call it. 

Bright and Bold indeed, though there is the matter of-

“What do you want me to do for my make up?”

“Actually,” he sets down his camera gently on a table, “Is it okay if I do it? I want it to be a little more on the amateur side and I don’t think your years of refined talent would let you get the exact look I want.” 

That’s new. But you're here to stand and look however he wants you too, so you allow him with a nod. 

“Sure, where do you want me to sit?”

“Here’s fine,” he says as he pulls a stool that was off to one side close to one of the windows. “As long as you don’t mind holding the make up. I don’t have a table to set them down on.  Should’ve thought of that, sorry.” 

You can tell he’s mentally scolding himself for forgetting something.

“No no, it’s fine,” you say, taking your seat, “I don’t mind, really.” 

Placing the balls of your feet on the bar that holds the chair legs together, you make your lap even enough to set the palettes out, and use a hand to hold all the brushes. 

Jungkook laughs, noticing your feet as you sit, “Cute socks.”

They’re light blue with a fox face on them, and little ears stick up from the elastic around the ankle. 

“Thanks,” you laugh too, they’re your favourite pair. “I call them my fox socks. They’re lucky.”

“Let’s hope so. Wish me luck fox socks,” he calls to your toes, and you wiggle them in response.

He picks a brush and chooses a colour. “Close your eyes and let me know if I’m pressing too hard. If it isn’t obvious, I’ve never done this before.”

You close your eyes and whisper, “Will do.”

It's a uniquely intimate experience having your makeup done. Willingly letting someone get up close and personal with you, allowing them to see every potential scar, blemish and pore in the name of beauty and for the sake of creativity. 

In this case, it’s also a little questionable considering where you feel the brush putting down colour: cheeks, lids, temple, nose. However, you’re simply a pawn in a well thought out plan, so you sit and wait for him to finish.

“Annnd done,” he says, making a final swipe with the brush on your cheek. “You look great! I didn’t hurt you, right?” he asks, showing you the makeup in a palettes mirror. Your face looks like it’s been attacked by a rainbow in the best way. You smile, taking the mirror from him and looking at all the little details. 

For a first timer, Jungkook did a really good job. 

“Nope, I’m good. How do you want me?”

Jungkook leads you to the backdrop, placing you in front. 

“One second,” he says, grabbing a remote and clicking a button to lower the black out curtains on the windows, and then another that turns off the apartment lights. He also clicks on all the lights he’s set up and you’re quickly illuminated by a bright red and purple as well as the back light.

“I’m good to pose?” he asks. 

“Yep.” 

You love that he always asks first. It makes you feel safe and considered, consenting to every touch prior to its occurrence. 

Jungkook instructs the first pose to have your hands on the sides of your face, making slight adjustments so that you don’t cover any of the makeup. And for the first time, his touches leave little sparks where they land. 

You’re sure it’s just because of the lights or that the shirt is thick and makes you warm. 

Or maybe you’re just nervous and need to get the first photo jitters out of your system.

Soon enough, the camera’s pointing at you and you smile the brightest you can. He’s given you the prompt of ‘you’re so excited and happy you can’t hold it in,’ and you work with it the best you can, taking the first few with the pose he gave before being given full reign. 

It’s a decent way into the first shoot when Jungkook says, “Hmm…we’re not quite there yet, I need a bit more,” and follows up with, “How about ‘you’ve just been commissioned by the Modern Art Museum to have the leading showcase for next year’.” 

You smile the biggest you think you ever have at the thought. Because that’s the dream, that is the biggest goal you could achieve. An entire gallery of your work as the primary exhibition in the Western Shores Modern Art Museum? You couldn’t go any higher. It’s every artist's dream.

“There you go! That’s it!” The camera’s capturing quickly as you imagine what it would be like to have your own showcase at the WS-MAM. Incredible is the first word that comes to mind, your work in the biggest museum on the continent? You can’t even imagine, but you want to. 

One day, you promise yourself. You’ll do it one day.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, breaking your daydream, “Let me switch out the gels for new colours and go again. These are great so far though, you're doing amazing.” 

You hold your hand out for a high five and he smacks it. “Go team!” you say, and he laughs.

An hour and a half, a makeup fix and three lighting changes later, the first shoot finishes. You collapse on the couch and rub the muscles on your thighs. 

Jungkook plops down beside you, nose deep in the pictures he’s just taken, double checking everythings good.

“This is a fantastic start, I hope we can keep it up all day and finish before tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you say, and you mean it. Shoots with him are always fun, but inevitably tiring. “I’m gonna to grab a water, want one?” 

“Yes please,” he replies without looking up.

In the kitchen, you open the fridge to grab the two bottles and notice a box, stamped with a coffee mug that has a greenhouse inside of it, on top. The greenhouse cafe’s logo. 

“Can I ask what’s inside the cafe box?” you ask as you sit back on the couch and pass him a bottle.

“Ah, caught red handed,” he says, setting his camera on the table and taking a swig. “I may have asked Vivan earlier this week to make sure there was an overstock of tarts so I could grab them for you as a thank you for today.”

...Oh

That’s so sweet. He’s never gotten you a thank you gift before, especially not in the form of the most delicious pastry to ever exist. Maybe you should get him something for all the times he’s helped you with homework? A solstice gift maybe?

There’s heat forming in your chest and you really hope it’s not the beginning stages of heartburn. Maybe Jungkook has antacids. 

“You didn’t have to do that, I’m happy to help.”

“So you don’t want them then?” his shit eating grin making a glorious comeback because he knows what your answer’s going to be.

“No! I want them. I most definitely want them.”

He chuckles and puts his water down.

“Okay Donatello, glad you accept. Let's move on to the next set up. There’s makeup remover and cotton pads in the room, and some moisturizer too if you need it.”

The next shoot is called ‘Regality,’ and it has you in the strapless shirt. You find out it’s quite a low cut when you put it on. There’s enough to cover you, but there’s definitely a lot of your chest showing. However, under the shirt on the hanger is a scarf to cover yourself with, which you think is very considerate.

“Makeup?” you ask as you come out again, scarf covering you.

“Neutral, but strong. Kind of like how my mother does,” the background is still white, but you have a hunch that it will remain white in this picture, unlike the last one. “This one is going to be black and white, so try to emphasize your natural beauty.”

You ignore that he essentially just said you're beautiful, surely he’s just being kind and professional. Making sure his model feels good about herself. 

Right?

Right.

You put on a coat of mascara and go light on the shadow so it won't be too dramatic on film. You also use a shade of lipstick that adds just a tint to your lips and a blush that makes your eyes pop.

Jungkook has you sit on the stool from earlier and faces your body three quarters of the way towards the camera, but keeps your head turned in profile. 

“Oh! Almost forgot, one second,” Jungkook jogs to his room, coming back with a palm sized velvet box. “I had my mother send these over for this shoot. She has better taste than me, so I let her pick them out.”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when he opens the box. 

Inside are two dangling diamond earrings, and quite possibly the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

And now you’re terrified. 

“Jungkook, I can't wear those. They look like they’re worth more than my house, my car and my tuition combined.”

He takes one out and places it in your hand for you to put in, it’s the length of your index finger. And all you can think about is the potential houses you’re holding as you look at it. 

It’s a semi-rectangular earring, encrusted with four columns of diamonds that cascade down, each column longer than the previous. Like a sparkling waterfall you can attach to your ear.

“Don’t worry about it, mum said she never wears them anyway because they’re part of a set that the necklace was lost to years ago. Please,” his face is nothing but reassurance and small smiles, “You’re giving them a chance to live again.”

You couldn't say no to those eyes even if you wanted to.

So you reply, almost breathless and still against your better judgment, “Okay.”

Placing them in one after the other, they have a significant, understandable weight to them. You take a couple deep breaths so you don't freak out, and then you return to your previously designated pose, profile set, body facing the camera.

“Can I adjust?” Jungkook asks, after taking a step back and getting a wider view. 

You nod gently, still terrified of the earrings.

He makes sure the earring is visible and untangled first, before a finger gently comes beneath your chin, and lifts it a bit higher. 

The feeling they leave behind is all you can think about as you stare at your place on the wall, Jungkook snapping away. Not even the soft light illuminating your profile is enough to make you blink.

This shoot goes by quickly, and you’re relieved to get the earrings back safely inside their box.

“It’s like 2:45, wanna break for a late lunch?” Jungkook asks. 

“Please, I’m starved,” you say, returning from the guest room after tossing on the sweater you brought. “What's on the menu?”

“Well, we have two options,” he says, looking very faux serious, “1. We order out from wherever you want and awkwardly wait for it to arrive because the next shoot is not one we can’t prep for, then eat, then shoot.  Or 2. I make use of the ingredients I bought to make Bulgogi Kimchi Fried Rice and you get lunch and a show.”

You're shocked. 

Jungkook…cooks? Oh this you absolutely must see.

“Hmm….” you say, pretending to really mull it over in the same ‘serious’ tone, “I’m thinking I’ll have to go with option two, Chef. But I’ll lend a hand where I can, no use in standing around doing nothing.”

“Every chef needs a sous.”

With both of you on task, lunch is getting made quickly. Jungkook has all the ingredients to make ‘my buddy’s famous family recipe,’ a man who you assume is a chef back at the palace. The island countertop is currently covered in them; onion, kimchi, marinated bulgogi, gochujang, cooked rice, eggs and more. 

You’re surprised at how skilled Jungkook is in the kitchen. He’s cutting the ingredients like he’s been doing it his whole life and working the pan over the stove like the proper technique has been drilled into him since birth. 

Thirty minutes pass, and after both of you shed a tear at the cut onions and evenly split the remaining tasks, you’re sitting on the couch about to take your first bite. It smells delicious. Your mouth is watering and you can’t wait to dig in, stomach painfully empty by this point.

Finally taking that first bite, you nearly die of euphoria.

“Ouhmahgaud,” you say, mouth half full. Jungkooks on the other side of the couch, trying not to cough out his own food from laughing at your reaction. His eyes are nearly shut with how wide he’s smiling.

“Good?” he asks after swallowing his food first, like a civilized person.

You’re vigorously nodding as you swallow your own helping in hopes you’re understood.

“You’re giving me this recipe. I need it. I don’t think I will survive if this is the only time I ever get to eat it.” Your bowl is almost half gone already. Thank god there’s leftovers, you will be having more.

Plus, you want to make it for your mom when you go home, she’ll love it. 

“I’ll text it to you later, don’t worry.”

You’re very sure the look on your face conveys the gratitude you feel and the rest of the meal passes in a very comfortable and satisfied silence. 

Twenty-ish minutes later, after letting your seconds settle for a couple minutes, Jungkook gets back to business. 

“Next look is the most adventurous, it uses the facepaint. Are you okay with contacts?”

“I think so, never tried them before though. Just give me a few before we start so I don’t explode when I stand up.”

“All good,” he says, before quirking a lip and adding, “I really don’t feel like explaining why there’s kimchi and bits of you all over my walls to either of our parents, so take all the time you need.”

You laugh, firstly at the visual, then at the idea of Jungkook meeting your mother. That would be something you needed on record, paper and film.

After a minute, you get up, the guest room making your acquaintance once more. 

“This one is called Enigmatic,” Jungkook calls.

“Got it!”

You take longer than normal to change, maybe eating before putting on the skin tight shirt wasn’t a great idea. But at least it was stretchy. 

It has long sleeves, a high neck, and is a very dark midnight black. There’s a matching black scarf for this one too, and a safety pin attached to the corner.

“Okay, what's the plan for this one? I hear facepaint is involved,” you say, back for round three, scarf in hand.

The background of the set is black now, a close match to your shirt. Jungkook is by the smoke machine, currently set up on the stool and plugged into a nearby outlet. 

You hold up the scarf, questioningly.

“That’s to go over your head after the paint, but let’s see if you can do contacts first, they’re in the washroom. Need help?”

“No, I'm good.”

You don’t succeed at first, but after a couple attempts you look in the mirror and see purple eyes staring back at you. You love them.

“I look like a badass,” you say, returning. The smoke machine’s been turned on and it’s created a completely different atmosphere. At your reemergence, Jungkook shuts it off and comes close to give you a look. You freeze a little at the eye contact, his browns meeting your currently violets for a prolonged moment.

“They look better than I’d hoped, this is going to be great.” 

He reaches under the gels on the table for a piece of paper. It’s a makeup model face with the look he wants drawn on. “Are you able to do something like this?”

The diagram shows the cheeks, bottom half of the nose and down all the way to the neck as black, and the eyes and up as white, bleeding down into the black like smoke. You’re going to need eyeshadow for that part. If you did that with the face paint it would just become a gray mess.

“Yep, but it’s going to take some time to get it right.”

“That’s okay, I’ll use it to get the smoke machine properly set up.”

You use one of the palette mirrors and start with the white, covering the top of your face and making a good base layer for the eyeshadow. Then fill the bottom of your face and neck with the black. Carefully, so as to not make gray, you use a large brush to cover both sides with their respective eyeshadow shades, before blending them together like the reference. Your skin starts to feel like it’s on fire by the time you're satisfied and you check your phone for the time when you finally finish. 

4:37pm. 

Not bad. You put the scarf over your head and cover your ears with it, using the safety pin to hold it in place. 

“Done.”

Jungkook takes one look at you and lights up. 

“Have I ever mentioned how talented you are, and that you make my schoolwork so much more fun? Because I feel like I should again even if I already have.” Your cheeks heat, glad he’s excited you’re able to help. “How did you manage to make it look even better?”

“I do vaguely remember mentioning something about a deal with a semi-suspicious genie,” you joke. And both of you break out in giggle fits after a second, recalling the conversation from forever ago. 

Running through the same steps of lighting, posing, and adjustments, Jungkook then flips on the smoke machine and lets it fill the room heavily before starting to take pictures. 

You’re sitting on a small box this time, so that you’re slightly lower than the camera. Jungkook tells you to keep your hands at your sides and look up, just above the rim of the camera lens. It creates a very interesting look, and you're excited to see the results. 

He has you do a couple more poses before allowing you to do your own thing once more, trying to think of what would look mysterious and enigmatic.

You try to let the music inspire you. This is a look you’ve never done before, so you’re finding it a bit difficult to get into it despite Jungkook's helpful prompts and suggestions. But you flow a bit better with it as time goes on and you become more comfortable.

An idea pops up out of nowhere and you have him do a close up from the middle of your chin to the middle of your forehead. You stare straight into the lens to really showcase the purple contacts and makeup.

“This’s the one for sure,” he says, taking a few more. “Great idea, why didn’t I think of a close up in the first place?” You know he's talking to himself at this point. 

It’s close to 6:15pm when Jungkook decides he has enough pictures for this look. You don’t mind the longer shoot seeing as you set aside the day for this, and you can’t wait to see how these ones turn out in particular.  

You’re halfway through getting the face paint off, a mountain of gray stained cotton pads beside you, when Jungkook turns the music down.

“Let’s do a light, early dinner and then shoot the last one?” he asks. “I kept this one at the end because it’s going to create the most mess and it’ll be nice to have dinner out of the way for when I have to clean up.”

“More mess than this?” you point to the cotton pad mountain.

“Much more.”

“Light, early dinner it is,” you confirm, not wanting to have to wait till late to eat. “But can we order out so I have time to get the rest of this off?”

“Sure, what’ll it be?”

Clean faced, moisturized and ramyeon filled, you and Jungkook are preparing for the last shoot. Or well, lightly arguing.

“Water?”

“Mhm.”

“On me?”

“Yep.”

“From that thing,” you point to the contraption he calls a c-stand that will be holding the very full, very large watering can over your head for an extended amount of time, “And into there?” you point again to the kitty pool on top of the tarp that’s underneath the watering can c-stand. 

“That is the plan,” he looks amused at your slight distress.

“Are you nuts? What if it falls on me? How do I know it won’t unhinge and I’ll have a nicely cracked open skull to explain to my mother on Solstice break?”

“It won’t fall and you know it won't because you trust me and trust I wouldn’t put you in unnecessary danger. But if it does, tell your mom I say hi and sorry.”

You scoff at him, unbelievable. “So you admit there’s a bit of danger!”

Jungkook sighs, and looks to the ceiling. “Yes, YN. There is a touch of danger. But that’s only if, somehow, the c-stand I have triple safety checked, duct taped twice, and quadruple secured with four fifteen pound sandbags, decides that you deserve a watering can to the head.”

You side eye his tone. This wasn’t an unrealistic worry. But you do trust him. And trust he would never intentionally put you in any danger.

The trees are set up near the backdrop that looks like a row of brick houses. The shot is supposed to be ‘The Calm after Before the Storm,’ where you look relieved and happy in an ‘outside’ setting while ‘rain’ falls over you, also in black and white.

“Fine, but if I hear one peep from that thing,” c-stand staring down the tip of your finger once more, “I’m tuck and rolling and taking you out while I do it.”

“Very fair!” he says relieved, and goes to set up the stand with the watering can. 

You’d changed into the neutral V neck after dinner, and he’s asked for no makeup. So all you have to do now is stand and pose while trying not to die from foreign objects falling from the sky while you get wet.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

It is incredibly difficult, and you’re glad he made this one last because you’re at best; slightly miserable. Only the promise of a hot shower, hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows and your pick of whatever you watch afterward is keeping you going.

You started this one just shy of 8pm after waiting 45 minutes for the food. And it’s nearing 9:30 now. Jungkook has had to refill the watering can four times, dump the kiddie pool twice,  and you swear if you don’t finish within the next twenty minutes, you’re going to collapse from shivering.

To be fair, he does fill the watering can with warm water, but it only stays warm for so long before freezing water is pouring on you for the millionth time tonight. 

“I have one last idea, and by the way, I’m never doing this concept again so don’t worry about that, but also… don’t shut down the idea immediately okay?” Jungkook says. 

The watering can is almost empty again and you’re relieved that your time is almost up. That in itself should make for a good picture. He snaps it.

But his tone makes you a little wary, “Okay… what is it?”

“Pretend I’m Nel and you’re seeing me for the first time in six months, like you do at the end of April.”

Well, you didn’t have that down on your photo shoot prompt bingo card. 

Are you okay with the idea? You aren’t sure, but aren’t not sure either.

“I mean, I’ll try. Maybe you could give vocal cues to try and help? But don’t make it weird.”

“I won’t, promise,” Jungkook pauses for a second before adding, “Does he call you baby?”

You nod, and you distantly hear and ‘okay’ as you slowly allow yourself to get into that headspace.

You start, and the camera starts going.

You’re in the airport, waiting for Nel, ‘smoosh’ paper in hand. The gate opens, and through all the other passengers you see him, see that he’s in one piece, see that he’s safe. 

Your face illuminates with relief at that so much so that you don’t even notice the water that starts running down your face. 

You hear a ‘hi baby’ and in your head, it’s coming from Nel’s mouth as he nears you. You smile impossibly wider at the thought of seeing him, feeling him. Having him here with you. 

You look happy to see me, ‘Nel’ says.

“I am,” you reply. 

There’s repetitive clicking in the distance, but you ignore it. It’s probably just a flight attendant's heels on the floor.

“I missed you.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Nel speaks again.

I missed you too, baby.

You’re shivering hard now, lost in thought, unaware of reality. 

YN, Nel calls.

“Yes, love?”

“YN.”

“Babe, what is it?”

“YN, hey,” you're being shaken gently.

“Hmm? What?” you slowly arrive back to the present. Strong hands grip your shoulders. They feel nice. Solid. Deliciously warm. 

A very concerned looking Jungkook comes into focus, camera dangling around his neck and reaching for you.

Oh.

He’s the one holding your shoulders, trying to get you to come back to reality.

“There she is, welcome back,” he lets go and grabs a blanket from somewhere and wraps it around you. “We got the shot, go take a shower and warm up okay?”

“Okay,” you say, still a little dazed, but present enough to function.

You step out of the pool, holding on to the hand Jungkook offers to balance—Warm. Solid. Strong—and head straight for the bathroom, making a pit stop in the guest room to grab your bag with fresh clothes. 

The hot water cements your place back in reality, letting it warm you up and cleanse you of the day. 

You have no idea what just happened with that whole Nel thing, but it was a new feeling and a new headspace and you really aren’t in the mood to analyze or acknowledge, so it’s shoved onto a top shelf in the back of your mind for a later date.  

Once you're able to return to the directory of your mind, you don’t know how long you’ve been in the shower. But you know you’re clean, no longer cold, and in the mood for hot chocolate, so you step out and dry yourself with the towels Jungkook laid out for you on the toilet seat.

They’re soft. So soft in fact you consider only for a second shoving one in your now less full bag to take home with you. However, you do rather enjoy your friendship with the prince, so you think better of it upon second thought. 

Dressing in your sweats, you exit, tossing the towels in the hamper and your bag of the clothes you arrived in back into the spare room.

“Better?” Jungkook asks as you sit down in your spot on the couch for the last time tonight, wrapping up in the blanket he left for you. He’s in the kitchen but heard you coming.

“Much, thanks,” you sniff, “Is that hot chocolate I smell?”

Jungkook returns from the kitchen, two mugs in hand. “With extra whip cream and marshmallows, as ordered.”

You carefully take it from him, giving your thanks and happily slurping away the second it’s in your grasp. 

“Alright Caravaggio, what are we watching?” he asks, sitting down on his side, sipping away on his own. 

Sometime between you leaving for the shower and coming back out Jungkook changed into his own comfy attire, and tidied up the studio space as the pool and tarp are nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve thought really hard about this, all of however long I was in the shower,” Jungkook mutters something about 35 minutes; you ignore him, “And have settled on ‘A Miser Brothers Solstice’.”

He whines just a little when he says, “But it’s November.”

“So?”

“So, Solstice isn’t until the third week of December,” he’s saying this like his point is the most obvious thing in the world. 

It’s not.

“Your point?”

“That it’s November, and you want to watch a Solstice movie.”

You’re mockingly outraged.

“Who made you town grinch? I didn’t realize we had a holiday hater in our midst.” 

You loved the holidays, all the big ones, and the small ones, but Solstice was special. 

“I’m not a grinch, I’m just not there yet, mentally.”

“Then get ready to dive in head first, because you said I could pick the movie for risking my life for you and I pick ‘A Miser Brothers Solstice’.”

Jungkook doesn’t argue further, but he does roll his eyes as he puts on your movie with a small smile hidden behind his drink.

It’s sometime during the first act, you’re lying back against your corner of the couch, feet up and under the blanket when you ask, “What are your solstice break plans?” 

Jungkook takes a moment to part from the TV, very invested for someone who was so against it half an hour ago. “I have a lot of ‘princely duties’ to do for Solstice, like standing and looking thoughtful while my dad gives his annual Solstice speech,” you snort. “Then there’s the palace dinner, the parade through the capital, and the live televised event,” he says in a tv announcer's voice, “Where my family and I light the Solstice Star. And then there’s the new year and that in itself has another long list of things I have to do. Besides things like that though? Not much, and then it’s back here.”

Right.

You often forget who he is. 

That behind those kind eyes, and small smiles, behind the greenhouse study dates, and movie nights, and photoshoots, Jungkook has an enormous responsibility constantly looming over his head, counting down the days until he finishes his schooling. One that’s just waiting to drop onto his shoulders forever. 

You often forget that Jungkook is the Prince, first in line to the biggest throne in the realm. That you spend your time with not only Jeon Jungkook, friend and photography student, but also, His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook, Heir Apparent and Future King of The Western Shores.

He just makes it so damn easy to forget.

You only asked because you thought maybe he had plans with friends or family, completely forgetting about all of the things the royal family does during the holiday season to celebrate with the nation, their people, and now you feel like an ass for even bringing it up.

But there’s something in his answer, or lack thereof, that snags your attention. 

“What about celebrating with your family and friends in private?”

“No time,” Jungkook’s stare goes distant as he brings his knees up and puts his arms around them, resting his chin. “Friends are always busy with palace preparations and dad’s not really the sentimental type. We celebrated when I was younger; big family breakfast, presents, tree decorating, whole thing. But after I turned about 13 or so, it started dwindling pretty quickly. Now it’s just me and my mom exchanging a gift with each other at midnight under the palace tree.” 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard something so heartbreaking yet beautiful in your life. 

“Your mum sounds wonderful, I’m really happy you two get that time together.” 

He looks at you, and you can tell by the look in his eyes he loves that time with her more than anything else. 

Solstice is supposed to be the time you spend with your family, blood or chosen. The time where you all gather to cook and bake, and exchange thoughtful gifts with the ones you love. The time where you truly cherish one another and count yourself lucky for all that you have. 

Solstice is your favourite time of the year.

To not spend it like that just seems…wrong. Horribly, painfully, awfully wrong.

“What about you?” he asks.

You don’t want to make him feel bad, so you tone down your answer, taking away the meat and giving the bones.

“My mum and I cut down our own tree and decorate it with the ornaments we’ve collected over the years,” you have them from every place you’ve ever visited, and your mum kept all the ones you ever made as a kid. You even get a new one every solstice to take a picture for and label with the year.  

“Then we bake solstice cookies until our hands cramp and survive off only them until solstice dinner; a turkey, honey glazed carrots, mashed potatoes with gravy, essentially if it waters your mouth, it’s there,” he chuckles at that. “We do gifts for each other too, opening them on solstice morning before making hot drinks and reading in the breakfast nook until the sun sets or till we get hungry, whichever comes first.”

Jungkook's eyes glow, radiating warmth, a lazy smile on his face as he listens to you. 

“That sounds really nice, YN.”

“It is,” you reply, looking him in those radiant eyes as you do. He looks… happy. Happy for you, that you get to have something like this that’s so special. It breaks your heart a little…maybe you can help.

“You wanna make some solstice cookies with me before break?”

His look of happy shifts to one of slight panic.

“What?” you question, and comically ask, “Have you never made solstice cookies before?”

He hesitates before answering a very quiet, “Uh…N-no.”

Your shock must be incredibly evident in the way he almost flinches at your reaction.

So you try your best to keep your voice level when you ask, “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. I’ve never made solstice cookies.”

That’s it. You can’t hold back any more, you’ve never heard anything so blasphemous in all your life.

“You’ve never what?  How is that even possible?”

He shrinks into himself a little more.

“The palace pastry chef always makes them because that’s kind of his job,” you stare at him in disbelief. “Is this really that big a deal?”

You swear there’s cog’s and smoke flying out of your ears. Solstice cookies are a religion in your household. You know dozens of recipes by heart, always finding a new one each year to try and up your game. You cannot imagine a solstice without making them. Wait no, actually you can, but it would be because you’re dead.

You held back in your answer earlier, for his sake, but you and your mom’s hands cramp up because you make enough cookies to give a box to everyone in the neighborhood. It’s one of your favourite traditions, and your neighbours even look forward to it every year, going so far as sending you both recipes to try out.

“Big dea—you’ve never fucking mad—not even when you were little? No one brought you to the kitchen and let you help? Aren't all your friends back home the pastry chefs' kids or something?” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but your tone is a little more passionate than you were intending. 

But Jungkook knows you, knows you occasionally get that passionate about things, and takes your outburst in stride. 

“Yeah, one of them is, but we don't sit around the oven and make cookies all break long. And his dad is always too busy to teach us even if we wanted to.”

You decide something. Right then and there.

“This year you are.”

“What?”

“Mark your last Saturday off because I'm going to show up here, ingredients-a-plenty and teach you how to make solstice cookies. I have a million recipes up here,” you tap your head with a finger, “But I'll choose the easiest ones. And I’ll come over early so we can spend the day making all of them. I can’t in good conscience leave for the break knowing you’ve never made them.”

He sighs. “Do I have any say in the matter?”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook stares at you and you can’t figure out what he’s thinking. You’re worried he’s going to say no anyway. To say you’re crazy and that they’re just cookies and that he has more important things he has to do on his Saturday before leaving for home.

But he doesn’t. And you should’ve known he wouldn’t, not after all the time you’ve spent together. 

You know better. Know him better.

“Alright Picasso. Sounds like a plan. I’m looking forward to it,” he decides, and goes back to watching the movie. 

It’s the first time he’s ever repeated a nickname.

“Wait! The wind guy wants to replace who?!” Jungkook shouts. 

You laugh at his confusion, and rewind the movie.

Jungkook wakes up sore.

His back is killing him, which makes sense since he’s half lying on the couch, half on the ground. 

The TV’s silently playing some slideshow of movie recommendations based on recent watches. 

He checks his phone, reaching for it on the coffee tale. 

14% battery. 

4:07am. 

Shit, he fell asleep. 

After the solstice movie he wanted to watch its predecessor. You had no qualms and so on it went, but he doesn’t remember much after the brothers started fighting.

Hearing soft, even breathing next to him he turns to see you, hunched over in your spot asleep, no doubt in the process of ruining your own back.

He should go to bed.

You should go to bed. 

But you’ve never stayed the night.

What should he do? Should he wake you? 

But you look so peaceful. And it’s nearing exams. You barely sleep when it’s exams season. 

Instead, Jungkook goes to check the guest room, but it’s a mess with yesterday's comings and goings. Make-up and clothes and hangers strewn everywhere.

Quietly, making a decision he hopes you won’t kill him for in the morning, he pads back to your sleeping form. 

It’s for your back, he tells himself. No other reason.

Deja vu sets in as he scoops you up from the couch, blanket and all. Just like last time, you gain enough consciousness to know to wrap your arms around his neck, but not enough to wake up. Your head rests on his shoulder and he selfishly savours the feeling as he walks down the short hallway to his room.  

Jungkook sets you down gently on one side of the bed, and your arms release, slumber undisturbed as he tucks you in.

He goes back to the living room to retrieve your phones. Yours is still at 56%, and he places it on the table beside you when he returns.

Climbing into his side of the bed, he’s careful not to touch you.

Though he wants to. 

Desperately. 

His sleep deprived brain is too slow to block out the thoughts that start to race. Thoughts of how he wants to turn around and pull you into his chest, slide an arm around your waist, and kiss you goodnight. How he wants to wake up in the same position, you still in his arms. 

But he’s also awake enough to know that will never happen. That you’re with Nel, and happy with him. That he’s drawn that nice, big line.

He’s awake enough to know you being in his bed is a fluke, unintentional.

A one time thing.

Plugging his phone into its charger, he sets it down on his own bedside table and pulls the covers up, falling back asleep.

His back facing you. 

An exhale wakes you.

Warm and cozy, you take a deep breath and roll to your left side, stretching on the way over. The scents of clean linen and something familiar find you. It’s comforting, that smell, but you can’t place it.

Another exhale, but this time you feel it as well as hear it.

You open your eyes to see a sleeping Jungkook face not a foot from your own and you jolt in shock, falling off the bed in the process. 

You look up from your new seat on the floor, ignoring the pain in your side from landing, and peer over the covers to check on Jungkook, who, miraculously, hasn’t woken up from your tumble. 

Relieved, your mind focuses on more pressing questions like ‘how did you get here?’ And ‘why were you in his bed?’ 

The last thing you remember was being halfway through the prequel to A Miser Brothers Solstice on the couch, watching Jungkook more than the movie because of how invested he’d become in the story. 

But you aren’t on the couch now. You were in his bed. 

The bed of the Prince of the Western Shores. 

The Prince who has a girlfriend, and you, who has a very long term, very serious boyfriend.

You hear a vibration, and following the sound, you find your phone on the bedside table. 

You quickly grab it quickly and go to the living room as quietly as you can manage. 

There’s a large number of unread texts. 

SlurryYuri [11:08pm]: hey, just checking in. You didn’t get home when you said you’d try for SlurryYuri [11:31pm]: Helloooooooo? YN? You there? SlurryYuri [12:14am]: it’s getting late YN, when are you coming home? Are you on your way?

Missed Calls: (3)

SlurryYuri [2:43am]: it’s been hours, so you better be dead or have crashed in the school somewhere. Either way I’m kicking your ass when you get home

Missed Calls: (2)

(Recent)

SlurryYuri [9:36am]: you’re still not home?? YN seriously, where are you SlurryYuri [10:23am]: If you don’t message me back in an hour I’m calling the police and filing a missing persons

Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. You crashed hard, the shoot must have taken more out of you than you thought, so you never texted Yuri you were going to crash in a sleep pod at school like you’d planned too. 

You make quick work of messaging her back, glad she unintentionally gave you just the excuse you needed. 

YN [10:25am]: ohmygod I’m soooooo sorry, it was the school one. I fell asleep in the school. I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ll be home soon, promise. I’m just going to grab breakfast first. Again im sorry

SlurryYuri [10:27am]: thank the gods youre okay!! Don’t ever do that to me again YN! I don’t wanna be the one who has to break news to your mom!! She’s too nice.  SlurryYuri [10:27am]: and take your time getting back if your rushing for me, I’m not at the dorm SlurryYuri [10:27am]: Tai showed up yesterday out of the blue and took me dancing. We’re out getting brunch right now, and he has plans for the rest of the day SlurryYuri [10:28am]: Im just glad you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere

YN [10:29am]: me too, and okay I will. Thanks for checking up on me and making sure im safe, youre my favourite

SlurryYuri [10:30am]: damn right I am, see you tn <3

YN [10:30am]: see you <3

You exhale deeply, that was fucking close. 

Your stomach rumbles and it reminds you that you actually need to get breakfast. 

What could you have? You could order in again, but that means a wait time and you are hungry now. You could raid Jungkook's pantry, or see if he has any fruit, but then you think that’s a gross invasion of privacy when it’s not movie night and you haven’t asked if it’s okay. 

Wait.

The egg tarts!

You dash to the fridge, the marvellous sight of a greenhouse inside a coffee mug comes into view. Stuffing one down before you even get the box from the fridge, you exit the kitchen, sit down on the couch, setting the box on the coffee table. Once opened in front of you, you realize there is a healthy amount of tarts inside. 

How many did Jungkook ask for?

Speaking of, a bed-headed, yawning Jungkook makes his morning debut, still in last night's clothes.

“Hey,” he says groggily, walking over and stealing a tart.

“Hey!” you say back, not nearly as friendly. 

“Overnight tax, Picasso. Room isn’t free.” He chuckles at your faux outrage, popping half the tart in his mouth as he walks to the kitchen and grabs something from the fridge. Returning, you see it’s a morning protein shake. 

Gross. 

“So is that name the one you’re sticking to now?” you ask, picking up another tart. At this rate they won’t last until lunch.

“Yeah, that okay with you? It’s your name in my phone after all.”

“It is?” You didn’t know that.

“Yeah, has been since the start.” 

You’re quickly learning that sleepy morning Jungkook is very different from morning post work-out Jungkook, friend Jungkook and photographer Jungkook. His voice is deeper, he’s a lot more relaxed, and maybe even harmlessly borderline flirty, like he’s not all there yet. Softer. 

“Picasso’s just fine. A compliment really.”

“Oh? And what am I in your’s then? Hopefully something just as nice?”

You tell him like it is.

“PJK.”

“PJK?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yeah? It’s obscure enough to not be recognizable if someone were to see it, but enough for me to know who it is.”

“Nah, you need something better, PJK is boring.”

“It’s your initials.”

“And boring,” he’s really not letting up on this. 

“Well...what would you save yourself as?”

He mulls it over for a minute before deflating. “Okay, fair point, but I seriously want a new one. Something that can rival Picasso.”

“Do you have any nicknames? Something not completely obvious?”

For a morning person, Jungkook sure is taking his time. Maybe he was only a morning person before 8am, and then if he got up anytime after that he became a normal person who despised mornings like everyone else.

“Uhh…Vivian calls me JK, but that’s essentially the same thing as PJK. My buddies back home sometimes call me Kook, but I don’t think that works either. My mum has one for me that I will not disclose to anyone so long as I am breathing. So I guess not.”

A lightbulb dings over your head. “What about your security? Don’t they have special code names for you when they detail you? Like bear or eagle?” 

“Yeah, but it’s not nearly as badass as either of those.”

“Fess up,” you say. Now you have to know.

“Hare.”

“Hare?” Now it’s your turn to be incredulous. “Like a rabbit?”

“Yep.”

An idea pops into your head and an evil grin spreads across your face, one you know is already setting worry into Jungkook’s still awakening brain as you change his name.

“I don’t like that look,” he confirms. “What’d you change it to?”

You flip your phone around and hold it up to him.

“Bunny?” he says incredulously once again.

“Yes.”

“I give you Picasso, one of the greatest painters of all time, and you think giving me bunny is anywhere near on par with that?”

Teasing him is far too fun, especially when he makes it this easy for you.

“Oh absolutely. In fact, I think it’s the best name I could possibly set it as.”

Jungkook disagrees, vehemently. “No, change it back. PJK is fine.”

“Too late. You dug your grave, now lie in it.”

Jungkook brings a hand to his face, pinching the crease between his brows and takes a very long, deep breath, exhaling just as dramatically. 

You take that as your victory. But you’re sorely mistaken.

He launches at you, reaching for your phone and you scream, reaching your arm to keep it away from him. You have a fox socked foot on his chest to try and keep him back. His right arm is holding him up near your hip on the couches edge and he’s reaching with his left as far as he can without breaking his sternum on your heel. 

“Give it!”

“Never!”

You try to bring up your other foot to push him away, but Jungkook is strong, and forces both it and the one on his chest down with the arm that was supporting him, temporarily keeping himself up with his left hand on the back of the couch. 

With your legs out of the way he can almost reach his phone. But in his distracted state, misses the couch when he goes to put his supporting arm down again, and flips onto the ground, taking you with him. You scream, but his arms wrap around you as he makes sure to take the brunt of the impact, landing on his back, you safely secured to his chest. 

There’s a moment of pure stunned silence, you resting your forhead on his chest while you process, him not letting go of your waist as he gets a breath into his winded self, before you’re both laughing as you take in what happened.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, you?”

He takes a second to respond. “I’m great.” 

You push to sit up, and he releases you from his hold, but that was a mistake. Because now you’re sitting on his lap. 

It takes an entire three seconds of you staring at him and him staring right back before you jump and scramble off him as fast as you can. 

“Sorry.” you say in unison, you standing and him from the ground. It’s a painfully awkward 8 seconds before you break, cackling at the whole situation, and he joins in with you again. 

Jungkook brushes off his pants as he gets up too. “Got any plans before tonight,” he asks, business as usual.

“Nope, cleared my schedule in case this went long, I’ve got the whole day.”

You swear his smile grows two sizes.

“Well in that case,” he looks to the TV, then back to you, “Wanna start movie night early?”

An entire day to relax and chill out before the hell that is exams season takes your every free second? 

Yes please.

“Solstice movie marathon?” you propose slyly, near devious.

“I’ll get the popcorn,” he confirms, already halfway to the kitchen.

You spend the day like that, on the couch watching movie after movie, both pretending the little incident never even happened. 

But you make sure to go home after movie night this time. 

Chapter Nine: TBR

A/N 2: This chapter kicked my ass but it's here and I couldn't be more thrilled. I really like how it's ended so I hope you guys do too.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ Stupid (Pt. 3)

Pairings: Sam X fem!reader

Summary: Pent up feelings have a way of boiling over…

word count: 1.8k

Tags: Reader and Sam are in love, sloppy make out, kissing, sex, intercourse in the impala, PiV, slight softdom!Sam, praising, reader has female anatomy, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, can be read as porn w/o plot but feel free to check out the other parts

Notes: With that, this series comes to a close! Honestly i really love writing Sam, y'all might just see more of him soon. Also, had my first day of school friday!

Part 1 Part 2

Requests are open

Sam’s hand slips to the underside of your knee. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. You know what he wants and you’re more than willing to oblige. You rise to your knees and with his help you swing your leg over his lap in one swift motion.

His hands rest on your hips while you sink into him. As your hips go flush with his, even through pants you both feel the sensitivity building within both of you.

Neither of you waste any time. Your hands slide up the back of his neck, fingers tangling into his hair. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your lips meet in a hungry kiss, tongues licking at each other, saliva wet on your lips, the occasional clash of teeth.

One of his hands slips beneath your shirt, sending shivers through your whole body. Sam’s hand slides up your back, long, delicate fingers trailing every vertebrae of your spine. His tongue runs along the inside of your teeth, licking at the roof of your mouth, anywhere he can get, really.

His free hand reaches down to his pants, pinching and adjusting the fabric near the tightening crotch. This action doesn’t escape you. You roll your hips, grinding into the growing bulge in his jeans. He involuntarily breaks the kiss, throwing his head back and driving his hips into you with a groan.

“Fuck,” He says in a breathy murmur.

He was so beautiful in this moment, the strands of hair fallen in front of his face, the curvature of his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You could feel your body growing hotter and with it your desire. You kiss your way up his neck, jaw, and collar bones, leaving lipstick stains in your wake.

Every movement, every breath coming from you sends more blood away from his head and straight to his dick. He wanted to take this slow- make this extra good for you. But every action executed by his fuzzy mind was done with the end goal of making you scream like you did in his every fantasy.

Sam’s hand falls from beneath your shirt and lands on your ass. He gives a gentle squeeze, causing your breath to hitch in your throat and a momentary pause in your kissing. Proud of himself, having evoked that reaction from you he squeezes harder, this time urging your hips in an up and down motion against his cock.

He was going to take it slow.

The friction provides a bit of release from the growing heat between your thighs.

“Sam- mfg,” You moan against his neck, sending vibrations across his skin. Your voice was like honey and he couldn’t get enough.

Sam did want to take this slow.

But he needed you.

badly.

Fuck it.

“backseatbackseatbackseat,” The words come tumbling from his mouth, breathy and filled with titillation. He’s slightly incoherent but you get the message.

…

“sssam,” you whimper out as your breasts slap against the hood of the trunk.

You did attempt the backseat but belts are complicated and it was damn near impossible to get your boots off in the dark. Either way, you both were far too turned on and impatient to wait a second longer.

“Mmm good girl, just like that, baby,” Sam cooed.

He slid in and out of you with slow deliberate motion. His hands gently rake up and down your back, stopping just before reaching your breasts and his thumbs kneading your ass cheeks as you adjust to his size.

Your fingers outstretched in front of you, ball into fists as ripples of painful pleasure spread throughout your body. You whine, your hips writhing as Sam fully buries himself within you. You never did expect Sam to be so large. In retrospect, it does only make sense for a man with a stature such as his.

“I know, baby, I know.” Sam says softly. He leans down, serving only to push himself further inside of you, for which he profusely apologizes for by planting loving kisses across your back and shoulders.

“Are you okay, love?” Sam says in between kisses. “We can stop if you want.”

“No, mmf, don’t stop,” You whimper, lifting your head in attempt to look at him. “Plleeeass, don’t stop.” You beg, your voice needy and filled with air.

“Okay, hon,” Sam replies with a small chuckle. He presses a kiss to your lips before straightening himself and picking up right where he left off.

His hands firmly grip your hips. Sam slowly pulls out as if you were made of delicate glass. Then, you feel the warm tip of his length teasing at the entrance of your pussy, as if debating whether or not he should.

“Sam, plea-

Without warning you feel yourself being completely filled by every inch of him. You gasp, your body rocking forward and your senses reeling.

From behind you hear Sam groan at the feeling of your pussy around him. His grip tightens on your hips, the indents of his fingers sure to bruise.

“God, you feel good,” he murmurs.

Before you have a chance to catch your breath he thrusts inside again and again, picking up a steady rhythm.

You moan and cry out breathless repetitions of his name. “F-fhuck, oh god, Samsamsam, fuuuuck, don’t mmfg stop.” Your hands desperately grasp at nothing. You suck in your bottom lip and bite down hard as you attempt to quiet yourself.

Sam immediately takes notice of how your once enthusiastic moans become high pitched squeaks and sharp breaths.

“Mm, c’mon baby, be a good girl for me, lemme hear you.” He lets out a groan, his thrusts fluctuating as you clench around him. “You like that, being called a good girl?”

His voice is low and raspy as he speaks, sending your stomach (and vagina, honestly) fluttering. You could hear the almost pride in his voice- having found out what makes you tick. You nod a mousy yes, raising to your tiptoes so your hips are aligned with his.

Sam groans again, your tight pussy fitting him perfectly. “Good girl,” He murmurs as he makes you moan again and again - music to his ears. He sings your praises in drunken murmurs as he fucks you till you see stars, not the ones overhead.

The night air, warm and thick around the two of you, felt as though it were heating up. Every inch of his body buzzed, his heartbeat raced, and his breaths came out in short pants. You were so beautiful before him- bent over, hair splayed across your back and the sweat on your skin illuminated by the moon. It was almost involuntary as his body moved.

Sam’s arm reached beneath you, wrapping around your waist. You gasp, he lifts you to him, your back flush with his chest.

“God you’re beautiful,” Sam mumbles into your skin. His other hand slides down your torso, landing on the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.

You throw your head back in a crying moan. You reach behind you, your hand tangling into his mess of hair. Sam growls into your ear in response. His thrusts become more sporadic, his cock entering and exiting you in rapid needy thrusts. His fingers match that same desperate rhythm , or lack thereof, working your clit in jagged circles at the slowest pace he can manage. The extra stimulation provided drives you so close to the edge. Your pussy spasms around him, your awareness threatening to fade as a white hot pleasure spreads through you.

“Fuck, baby i’m close where do you want it?” Sam says through barred teeth as he struggles to hold himself back.

“Inside,” You pant through moans.

“You sure?” He grunts out, his hips stalling.

“Yes! i’m on the pill, please just cum inside me!” You cry out.

Without another word, you both let yourselves go. The entire world around you seems to fade out of existence as firey waves of ecstasy roll through your body. Your back arches and your legs shake while the climax washes over you.

Once you come down from your high you find Sam behind you, panting just as hard as you were. He was still inside of you, along with something warm and sticky.

“That was…” He breaths.

“Wow.”

“Yeah… you okay?”

“Mhm, you?”

“Better.” Sam chuckles.

…

After a maddening search for your missing clothing and some difficulty getting dressed, Sam helps you into the backseat of the car since your legs had given out. He just stands there in the space of the open door, smiling down at you.

“What?” You smile softly.

“You’re beautiful.” Sam says simply.

“Thank you, I think you are as well.”

“Thanks,” He smiles.

Bzz Bzz

“Hm?” You both go curiously.

You peer around to the front seat only to see your phone just how you left it- dead.

“Not me.” You shrug.

“Shit,” Sam begins patting his pockets before pulling his phone from his back pocket. “it’s Dean.”

“Is he okay?” You question, watching Sam’s face as he skims the messages.

>Hey so i may or may not have accidentally sent you to the wrong spot. oops.

> One image attached: A selfie of Dean and Garth’s smiling faces, both holding up blood-stained machetes.

> Walked back to the car and i think i saw you two kissing?

> Nicee, knew you could do it ;)

> You’re not responding so i can only assume you’re either dead, or getting some

> i did buy two motel rooms for a reason, samuel.

“Oof.” Sam says aloud.

“What is it?” You rise to your feet and peer over his arm to look.

>Dude, i swear if you’re screwing in baby rn

>Sam DO NOT FUCK IJ MY CAR!

>IN*

“Technically we didn’t do it in the car.” You giggle.

“Don’t think that matters much.”

“Yeah… well, if he asks let’s just say your phone died.”

“Good idea, but let’s not think about that night now.” Sam tosses his phone to the backseat and turns all of his attention back on you. “Cause right now,” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “All I wanna think about is how I have the most amazing girl in the world, right in front of me.”

You blush, hard. “Oh really?” You smirk, playing coy. “Dunno if i can belive you on that one.”

“Then how can I prove it to you?” Sam replies in an equally playful manner.

“Hmm, i’ve got a few ideas.” You crane your neck upward toward him, biting down on your lower lip.

Without a second thought Sam cups your face in his hands and pulls you in for a soft and sweet kiss.

When you pull apart he smiles at you dumbly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And with that he pulls you in for another kiss. Sam would be happy to prove just how amazing you are forever.

Taglist: @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillies444lola @n0va25 @wowzabowza69

[aviradasa]

Teenage Leolas first partner is a human?How will you and Aaravos react?

Aaravos x reader hc!

Ask and you shall receive! This was such a cute idea, and I couldn't resist lol. Also again sorry it this is shitty I'm extremely exhausted and am writing this from my phone late at night, lol also sense this probably is shitty I'm happy to announce I'm going to be making a series based off of the Aaravos family hcs I've posted which will be more in depth and fun!

I'll link the other hcs here

Masterlist

Aaravos introducing you to his daughter

Aaravos getting ready to propose to you with leolas help

You and Teenage!Leola sync up that time of month and Aaravos is done

{Fluff} Warnings:none!

@josmarney23 @delusional-mushroom @imsimping4life

It was a beautiful day out, and you and Aaravos were just chilling out studying the universe and all of its secrets with no worries in the world

That was until your 16 year old daughter Leola walked in looking a little too nervous for your taste

"Hey, mom..dad.I have something to tell you!" She says with an awkward smile as she waves her hands up and down in front of her, a nervous stim she's had since she was a little girl.

But it just makes you and your husband more concerned

You look at Aaravos with confusion and concern and are a little disappointed when he gives you the same look back before you both turn towards leola once more.

"What did you do?" Aaravos asks

"Did you kill someone? It's ok if you did, we can help you take care of that." You join in with a straight-face

"Yes, if that's the case, don't worry, me and your mother can handle that. It was probably only an accident!" Aaravos agrees as you as you both stand up and approach your daughter.

"What? No! I didn't hurt. Or kill anyone! I just wanted to tell you that me and Michael decided that we want to be together! ( I decided cause I'm lazy that the boy holding her hand in the picture that I made the title card is gonna be her partner for this!)

You and Aaravos share a look of shock.

Like, excuse me. Your little unicorn has a boyfriend? YOUR DAUGHTER?

"Wait, who is Michael again?" You ask; the name sounds familiar, but it's hard for you to remember all of the Leolas friends as she makes so many new ones all the time.

Aaravos, on the other hand, is too busy trying to comprehend what his sweet daughter said. He doesn't even hear you ask her who Michael is. he just folds his hands together like a prayer, lifting them up to his face with eyes so wide they look like they are about to pop out of the socket

In response to your question,leola rolls her eyes and walks out the front door before rentering, pulling a tall human boy into your house by the arm. Once leola releases him, he gives a little wave. "Hello, there!" He says nervously with a smile laced with a bit of fear.

NOW you remember him. He is one of Leola's childhood friends. They used to play outside together with all the others. Before you can say anything, though, Aaravos speaks first.

"No, absolutely not. No. It was nice meeting you, boy." He says with a straight face. You give him a small slap on the arm and a stern look

"What? Dad, what do you mean?" Leola asks in confusion

"No. Just No." He says again.

"Why not? Are you mad he's a human or something?" Leola shoots back. Before it can escalate though, you interfere

" That has nothing to do with. It has to do with the fact that he looks at least 30." (Please tell me you get the reference, lol)

"DAD HES MY AGE! YOU'VE MET HIM BEFORE!" Leola shouts, which honestly gives you the sign to stop this before it gets out of hand

"Okayyy that's enough." You say to them.

You mouth a small apology to leola and Michael before you grab your husband and go to the next room for a moment, and as you're walking out, you see leola facepalm before crossing her arms in frustration. Michael quickly jumped to her aid. He gets a few points for that

Once you get into the next room and close the door you scold the fuck out of your husband

"Aaravos, what is your problem? You know damn well he's not 30! If you don't stop and give the kid a chance, I'm gonna knock you out."

"You won't even have the chance to knock me out before -"

"Oh my gods, once again, what is your problem it's completely normal for kids there, age -"

"I still don't like it!"

"Why not cause it's a human boy she brought home?"

"I never said that!"

"Well, that's what she's getting from it!"

"I don't like it 'cause She is my little girl. I'm not having some human boy mess up her life. she's not ready for that torment."

"Oh, she is fine. It's some puppy love, and she's known that boy for years he wouldn't hurt her! besides, there is nothing we can do about it that won't drive her away from us!"

"Oh, there is definitely something I CAN do about it.-" "Oh, don't you even think about it. That won't end well for anybody!"

"Yes, it will. It will end well for you, Leola, and me"

"If you touch one hair on that boy's head, you're sleeping outside. May the gods strike me down if I'm lying!"

"I suppose they will have to! Cause I'm not allowing this."

"No, we are not doing that. We are going to go out there. Talk to them like adults. And make a decision based on facts and information they provide!"

Your overlapping arguments end up being overheard in the next room, where Leola and Michael are standing. She covers her face with her hand and shakes her head back and forth in embarrassment as Michael reassures her it's fine.

This goes on for a while before you exit the room with a victorious smile. Aaravos follows behind you with a disapproving sigh. Yet he still complies

You decide to sit down and talk. Asking (interrogating) Michael about his life, his family, his intentions with his daughter (Aaravos),

Michael was a farm boy from next door. He had been friends with Leola for years, but he was a shy kid and tended to blend in with the group (which explains why you and Aaravos forgot he existed)

after a nice conversation (plus some cryptic threats)(Aaravos), you both come to the decision to allow them to continue dating. But you and Aaravos insisted on meeting this boy's parents.

Leola is honestly so happy that you guys didn't care that he was human. She was just a little peeved that her dad was being overprotective.

By the way, that never stops. He is always going to be overprotective of his little girl. No matter if she is 16 or 9000, he is always gonna be ready to hide a dead body for her, and you are right there with him.

But anyways

Once everything is settled and you guys send Michael home, you both sit down with just leola and talk to her alone, and luckily, everything adds up!

As time goes on, y'all practically just adopt Michael as a son. Who cares if he has parents of his own. He's always at you guys' house anyway 🤣

Even Aaravos starts to like Michael a little bit after he shows an interest in magic and philosophy

Sometimes, when Michael stays for dinner, he and Aaravos will just be full-on geeking about this stuff while you and Leola just chuckle about it

Aaravos will deny warming up to Michael, though. He will still be like, "No, I don't like him." But everyone knows he's lying, and you and Leola laugh at him.

Though if Michael ever hurts Leola ( he wouldn't dream of it. This is just a what-if), he's got you and Aaravos on his ass in a heartbeat.

All he can do is pray and beg for mercy at that point cause running is not an option. There is nowhere he could ever run that you and Aaravos would not find

Nobody ever hears from him again

Ever

But you guys do get a pretty cool coin to add to the collection; alongside that, you guys don't let Leola date after. If she's hurt once, y'all are not letting it happen again.

But other than that, yall are pretty cool about it and don't really care too much human, elf,boy, girl, they, who cares as long as your little girl is happy you guys are happy with her

[storiesfromafan]

Benny x Reader

A/N: first off, want to say this is my first time not only writing a Benny fic, but also writing something different to my usual stuff. So please be kind, as I am terrified to post this haha.

I have been thinking about this idea, and possible series, for over a week. So I finally bit the bullet and wrote out the first part. It's more of a set up for the reader, as I want to make this a series. As well, I left out places and such, but tried to do it in away that its not bad. Only because I'm from Australia and don't really know much with America, only what I've seen in movies and TV shows.

If it is not really liked, I will take it down. But if anyone is interested, I am happy to keep going. I have two more parts kind of planned out. But there is a few idea's I'm not 100% sure of. So if anyone want to talk Benny and these ideas, please message me.

Alright, I guess on to the story then...

“Tell me about the first time you met Benny?” Danny asked moving his microphone towards you.

You were sitting on your couch, lit smoke in hand. “Honestly, the first time I saw Benny, that was something. He saw me more then I really saw him”.

“What did he say to you? Or what did you say to him?” Danny asked adjusting the recorder.

You chuckled. “We never said anything to each other, well I said something but it wasn’t to him. You see I’d just gotten back from living with my Aunt for over three years. I’d gone to live with her when I was nineteen, prior to that for the last ten years the woman had been on my dads case. She believed a man couldn’t raise a girl. My old man wouldn’t listen to her. So I grew up a tomboy, eventually he entertained her request”.

You took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers, before releasing the smoke. “I can tell you living with that woman was torture. Along with her daughter, who had just gotten engaged when I arrived. They both took to teaching what is expected of a lady, how to dress, walk and talk. The only way I survived it was when I made friends with some locals there that raced motorcycles. When my Aunt found out, she flipped out, sent me back after I wouldn’t change my ways...”

~~~

How you managed to pack up three years in two large suitcases surprised you. But here they were, back in your old room on your families farm. The room looked just as you had left it, only a tad dusty from half assed cleaning courtesy of your dad and brother. Looking around brought back memories. Your best friend pushed past you and took a seat on your bed.

“Can see the males of the house don’t know how to clean properly” she commented running her hand over your bedding.

“Unfortunately not. If they did, along with being able to cook, then women would not be required” you laughed lifting and bringing a suitcase over, before dropping it on the bed.

“Agreed" she laughed with you.

You began to unpack the suitcase, which had mostly shoes, tops, bottoms, personal items. Once that one was done you removed it from its place before replacing it with the second suitcase. This one had a few more tops and bottoms, but mostly your dresses.

“Lilly, do you mind getting the dresses out and I will hang them up?” You asked her as you put away the last of your tops and bottoms.

“Sure” was her response before taking out the first dress and handing it out to you.

You thanked her while taking the garment from her hands, putting it on a hanger and then placing it in your closet. While doing this together Lilly filled you in on the town gossip, along with that of people you had gone to school with.

“You remember Anne, right?” – You nodded your head – “she has turned into a real Miss Prim and Proper! No doubt it’s her mummy’s doing, dolling up her daughter in hopes for her to catch a big fish!”

You laughed. “Really? You believe her mum would do that?”

Lilly gave you a pointed look. “Just about every girls mum wants her daughter to land the perfect catch. They practically raise girls to be perfect house wives. My mum done it with me, it’s only half stuck” she laughed pulling out another dress.

You felt a pain in your heart at your friends words, for you didn’t have the luxury of growing up with a mum. You only knew your mum till you were eight, before she died. You love your dad but you missed your mum, and all the stuff you missed out on learning from her. Thankfully Lilly’s mum was a great second mum, not to mention your Aunt when she would come and visit would also give you a little of what you missed out on.

Lilly sighed holding your dress to her body, “I’m so jealous of all the lovely dresses you have”.

You smiled softly. “They are nice, but not ideal for a farm”.

“Well of course not! But when we go to town or parties, they will be perfect! Maybe I could borrow one or two sometime, specially when I have a hot date” Lilly asked leaning toward you batting her eyelashes.

You laughed taking the dress. “Sure, but make sure they are cleaned before returning them. Don’t want any suspicious stains on them”.

She gave you a disgusted look retrieving another dress. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m a lady” Lilly proclaimed sweetly.

You laughed taking the dress from her hands, while she gave you an offender look before she in turn laughed, not hurt by anything you said or done. That was your friendship, completely open and honest. Since you were both children you got on like a house on fire. You told each other everything and not once judged each other. Lilly was the sister you never had.

Once you had finished unpacking that was when you heard the revs of a motorcycle. You looked to Lilly, just as she looked to you. Without saying anything the both of you left your room and headed outside, hearing the revs again you figured it was coming from the old barn away from the house. Both giggling at the intrigue, you both headed for the barn. You were the one to put your weight into opening one of the barn doors, wiping your hands on your jeans walking into the space, Lilly right behind you.

Before you was your older brother, Andy with a racing bike. He looked up when realizing he wasn’t alone, wiping his hand on an old rag. Once his eyes landed on you did he smile brightly before pocketing the rag and coming over to engulf you in a big hug, which lifted you off the ground.

You laughed. “What a great welcome home”.

Andy laughed swinging you around. “Welcome home kid. I’ve missed you!”

You hit his shoulder telling him to put you down, which he did reluctantly. “You saw me a few months ago”.

“Still missed you!” He laughed.

You shook your head at your older brother, before eyes going back to the racer. “Project of yours?” You asked as you walked toward the bike.

Both Andy and Lilly followed you. Andy took the place he had originally been when you entered the barn, while you moved to the other side of the bike, Lilly chose to stand back. You looked over the bike, admiring it’s beauty. Motorcycles was the one thing you and your brother had in common. It was a great way to bond together when you were a teenager.

“When did you start racing?” You asked running a hand over the bikes seat. “Does dad know?”

Andy rolled his eyes. “Yeah he knows. I’ve been racing on and off for seven or so months”.

“He has ever since joining the Vandals” added Lilly.

You looked to your friend before back to your brother with a raised eyebrow. “Really? The Vandals huh? When were you going to tell me, hmm?”

Picking up a tool, Andy went back to adjusting something on the bike that you couldn’t see while shrugging his shoulders. “Does it matter?”

“You usually tell me these things Andy, I feel hurt you didn’t mention it” you said with a touch of sadness. “And dads fine with it?”

He laughed. “Of course, he’s fine with it. Since he knows most of the guys in the club”.

You nodded. “Alright.”.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), Uncle Johnny keeps an eye out for his boys” Lilly spoke up, knowing you worried about your brother.

Yes, you recall Lilly mentioning her Uncle Johnny, and that you had met him a few times when he had stopped off at Lilly’s house, was the leader of The Vandals. He seemed like a nice man, always looking out for his family. You also recalled her mentioning the club, but you hadn’t been around when it turned into a riding club, just when it was in the early stages of a racing club.

After that you and Lilly chatted with Andy while he worked on the bike. The atmosphere had returned to a happy and fun one. You learnt about what had been going on with Andy and the farm, along with your dad, who you still hadn’t seen yet. You couldn’t wait to see your old man, you had seen him a few months back when you saw Andy, but you missed the time with him. You had missed both men in your life. But now you were back where you belonged.

“There” sighed Andy dropping the tool in his hand and turning the bike off, “I think that will do for now. Just have to test her”.

“Her?” Both you and Lilly questioned looking at Andy.

“Yeah, her” he replied moving to kick up the bikes kickstand and holding the bike up. “It’s been nothing but temperamental and trouble, just like a female”. His tone was teasing, telling you he was joking around.

“Sounds more like a male” retorted Lilly with a laugh.

Andy shot her a dark look before laughing himself. You shook your head laughing at the two of them. Eventually he admitted defeat when he and Lilly went back and forth a bit more.

Andy began to move the bike around and then out the barn door, both you and Lilly following behind him. Out in the sunlight you can see the bike better, watching as Andy gave it another look over. You stepped up to him and watch him. Once he was happy with the bike, Andy was about to get on when you stopped him.

“Could I give it ago?” You asked softly. You’d ridden bikes before when you were a teen. Plus when you were living with your Aunt, which may or may not have upset her.

He looked at you unsure. “I don’t know kid. She hasn’t gotten all the kinks worked out of her. I still have this issue with her taking off when you go up in gears, she just accelerates and can be hard to handle”.

You nodded but smiled. “I promise to be careful and not go too fast. Please, can I?” You gave him the biggest puppy dog eyes you could.

Andy wasn’t sure if he should let you, but Lilly came to your defense. “Come on Andy, you know she will be careful. It’s just a few laps, it won’t hurt”.

Reluctantly he agreed and you shot Lilly a big smile, which she returned. So with his consent, you grasped the handle before moving to swing your leg over the bike, and sat down taking hold of the other handle. Andy stepped up and walked you through starting her up, you knew what to do but let him instruct you. He went over everything; front brake lever, throttle, clutch lever, gearshift lever and rear brake pedal. With his instructions he stepped back from you and let you go.

You started out slow, going around in circles before both your brother and friend. Lilly was cheering you on, which made you laugh. Gradually you picked up the speed and at Andy’s words, you did wider laps.

“You look so cool!” Called Lilly. Which you rolled your eyes at.

“Alright kid” Andy called. “Why don’t you take her back up behind the barn, then down toward the house and then turn right to take the long way back to the barn, get her speed up a bit more”.

You nodded giving him a solute, which made Lilly laugh and your brother call out for you to keep your hands on the handlebars. You did as he instructed before turning around and riding up behind the barn. As you looped back around you revved up the bike, and as you straightened up and headed for the house, you shifted the gears. Unfortunately the little issue your brother warned you about decided to come forth as you gained speed. The bike jerked with the acceleration, you held onto the handlebars tightly doing everything to keep the bike in check.

Andy noticed the change in your body and figured out what had happened, panic setting in he began calling out to you. He couldn’t do much more than that. He prayed you could handle the bike, and didn’t want to think of what could happen to you.

All the while before you had gotten on the bike, none of you were aware that your dad had returned home. Along with him were two men from The Vandals, the older male had dark hair while the younger dirty blonde hair, with stubble to match. They were discussing some business before heading around to the back of the house, when they all caught the sounds of a bike.

“Take it Andy’s working on his racer” the older male commented to your dad.

He laughed. “Yeah, the boys determined to smoke the competition Johnny”.

Johnny laughed. “He’s a good kid and rider, no doubt he will beat them”.

The Three started to make their way around to behind the house. They all looked up to the barn to see the bike take off up behind the old building. Your dad noticed two figures standing by the barn, one looked to be Andy, which confused the man. He wondered who was on the bike then. That was when the bike came back into view, heading towards the house. The shouting from the barn caught everyone’s attention, worry setting into your dad.

You had been so focused on staying in control of the bike you hadn’t noticed the three figures walking into your path until last minute. Upon seeing them you quickly dropped the gears on the bike before hitting the back brakes. With the light weight of the bike you managed to turn it right, planting your right foot to the ground and pulling off a slide stop. Dirt kicked up at your manoeuvre, you sat there a little stunned as the bike idled away.

You blinked a few times before turning to look at the males before you. But mostly to your dad, who looked just as stunned as you.

“Ah, hi dad” you said slowly. “Didn’t know you were home”.

He looked at you, to the bike you sat on and then back to you. “What are you doing?! You shouldn’t be riding that!”

You flinched at his slightly raised voice. “I was testing the bike for Andy...”

He shook his head. “Did he tell you about the issue it has with acceleration?” – You nodded – “and he still let you ride it!?”

“Well I promised to be careful” you replied.

Your old man shook his head. “You shouldn’t haven’t gotten on it (Y/N), what if you had crashed! Turn it off and get off it, now!”

“But I didn’t crash, I think I handled her pretty well” you defended as you turned off the bike before getting off it.

By this time both Andy and Lilly had jogged down to the scene. Your dad turned and began to have words with your brother, while he took the bike from you.

“Seriously Andy, I thought you’d know better than to let anyone on that bike before getting it sorted out” he said with a deep sigh.

Andy looked down while apologizing.

“It’s not all his fault, I wanted to ride it” you came to your brothers defense.

“Yes, well I’m disappointed in both of you. What if something had happened to you? Your brother would have to live with that” he guilt tripped you.

“I am sorry dad. But I kinda knew what I was doing...” you said softly not looking at the man before you.

That was when you noticed the other two on lookers. Suddenly you felt embarrassed that both of them were witnessing you and your brother getting a scolding.

While from the time you had stopped and until you finally noticed them, the younger of the two males had been looking at you. He was surprised when you had slid stopped the bike you were on. It had been like an Angel had slid before him. He was impressed by how you had not only handled the bike, but also your dad. But found you cute when you got embarrassed by him and Johnny. He could tell there was more to you, and it was fascinating.

Before you could really take in the two Vandals, your dad sighed once more. “Andy, take the bike back to the barn. (Y/N), go back into the house with Lilly”.

Lilly walked up to you and linked arms with you and began to pull you to the house, reluctantly you let her do so. All the while Lilly softly comment on the events. But before disappearing into the house, you watched your brother push his bike back up to the barn, then you looked to your dad and the older male watching your brother. Looking to the younger Vandal you saw him looking at you, and not to were the other two beside him was looking. But then Lilly pulled you into the house, severing eye contact to the young Vandal.

“What was that Fred?” Johnny finally questioned.

Your dad sighed. “That was my daughter. She got back today from her Aunts”.

Johnny whistled. “Might have your hands full with that one. But I will admit, that stop was impressive”.

Fred shook his head. “Don’t let her hear that. Don’t want to encourage her” he laughed darkly. “Come on, the sheds this way”.

Your dad started to walk again, while the other males followed. Johnny continued to ask about you, which your dad filled in. He said how he’d lost your mum when you were eight. How he did his best to raise you, all the while his sister-in-law kept hassling him about letting her take you in and raise you.

“The old battle-axe didn’t think I could raise a girl” Fred said with a sigh. “She was kinda right. I raised a tomboy”.

Johnny laughed while the other male smiled. “Nothin’ wrong with that” comment Johnny.

“I agree” said Fred, “but (Y/N) missed out on a lot not having a mum around. Thankfully Lilly's mum was there when it came to female things”.

Johnny nodded before following Fred into the shed. The younger male decided to wait outside, which was fine with the pair. Walking over to a fence before the shed, the young male lent back on the post, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. Taking out a cigarette, he pocketed the packet and pulled out his lighter. With the cigarette between his lips he sparked the lighter and lit it. Taking the first drag he put away the lighter, eyes looking back at your house as he released the smoke into the air.

Honestly, he can say he had never seen a female ride a bike before. Usually the females that were around The Vandals were always on the back of one. So seeing you handle that bike like you had was not only impressive but also a turn on. He hoped to cross paths with you again sometime soon.

Johnny came out of the shed with Fred. “Come on Benny, were done here”.

Moving from the fence post, Benny followed both men back to the front of the house and where their bikes were. Once on their bikes, they both started them up. They sat there for a few minutes, which allowed Benny a few more drags from his smoke before tossing it off to the side. He and Johnny began to move their bikes back to turn around, when Benny got a glance of both you and Lilly by the window. With a small smile, they both took off, heading back into town and to the bar.

~~~

“As I said, it was something. Me embarrassed by my old man having words with me. I didn’t really take Benny in at the time” you stated putting out your cigarette.

“You said Benny noticed you more?” Danny asked checking his recorder.

“Yeah, he told me so later on. He’d call me his Angel on wheels” you laughed.

“So the next time you saw Benny, you finally spoke to each other?”

You laughed more at his words. “Unfortunately, no. We might have if the time was right. But that second time I saw Benny, I really saw him...”

A/N: please don't hate me for this lol. I am also sorry for the use of (Y/N).