#if you didn’t read my entire series don’t assume you know my entire argument

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello 🤗 I am back to cause chaos lol I have had this thought for days. What about the reaction of Andy and or Ari if there girl goes and gets waxed down there and they usually go to a woman but this time it was a man ?

Summary: Ari doesn't approve of your latest trip to the spa.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Jealous/Possessive Ari Levinson, Arguments, Smut, Discussions of Personal Grooming Habits, Manhandling, Oral Sex (fem rec), Ass Slapping, Cursing, Minors DNI.

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You and Ari are in the middle of a conversation one evening, with both of you taking turns catching the other up on the events of your day. 

“Anyway, I can’t wait to try their new, revamped line of body butters they’ve got coming out next month.” You pause for a moment to shut the dishwasher before dutifully pressing start. “I remember the first time I used their hibiscus and papaya scrub – wait. Or was it the oil?”

You cast a glance over your shoulder at your handsome Bounty Hunter who’s been busy holding up a wall in your kitchen ever since he walked in the door less than fifteen minutes ago. You’re not the least bit surprised when you see him shrug, the poor man looking so lost it was almost comical.    

“Eh, I can’t quite remember.” Your fingers come up to tap your chin. “But whatever it was, it seriously had me smelling so good practically all flippin’ day.” 

Satisfied, you return your attention back to tidying up your kitchen. Since Ari had texted saying he’d already eaten and you hadn’t wanted to leave the clean-up to the last minute, you’d decided to tackle it before you got too tired and didn’t feel like doing it anymore.

“Now, Beast, if you find yourself hungry in the middle of the night you just go on and help yourself. And don’t forget about the biscuits.” You tell him as you move to wash your hands. “They are literally the backbone of the entire dish.”

A beat goes by before your rugged companion responds. And when he finally does, it’s with something you least expect.  

“So, I take it there weren’t any, uh, other lady waxers workin’ at that fancy spa place of yours today?” Ari coughs, appearing more than a little uncomfortable with the subject matter at hand. 

“Huh?” Confused, you lean back against the countertops before bracing yourself on your elbows. “That’s all you managed to get out of the last ten minutes?”

His sheepish response of “well, yeah” has you shaking your head in exasperation. 

“Of course there were. The staff at Ostara is almost all exclusively female.”   

“Oh. It’s just that…” He gazes up at the ceiling, almost like he’s waiting for the right words to come tumbling down out of the sky. “When I asked how your day was a little bit ago, you mentioned that someone named Michèle handled your waxing appointment. I just assumed it was a woman...” 

“Nope.” You reply, crossing your arms over your chest. “Michèle is most definitely a guy.”  

“Okay.” Ari blows out an uncertain breath the same time as one of his big hands comes to rub at the back of his neck. “Not too sure how I feel about that.”

“About what?”

He gives a lame shrug before jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “‘I guess I’m just not too keen on the idea of another man seeing you…like that. In fact I know I’m not.”

His words have your mouth falling open. “Beast!” You exclaim, slapping an incredulous hand to your forehead. “I promise that we kept everything strictly professional.”

“Never said it wasn’t.” He mumbles, even as he continues glowering at you from across the room.   

“Welp, now that we cleared that up I think I’m ready for bed.” You push away from the counter, intending to put an end to the discussion by heading upstairs. Although a part of you should’ve known that it couldn’t possibly be that easy. “If you decide you wanna join me, you might wanna try getting over yourself first.” 

“Now hold on.” He goes to reach for you as you pass by, but because you see it coming, you manage to dance out of the way. “Bird, wait!”

You simply didn’t have the energy to argue with him about something as trivial as this tonight. He could get over it, or he could go home.

“Slow down a second, woman!”

To your credit, you manage to make it all the way to the top of the stairs and into your bedroom without looking back once. Not that you needed to anyway since you could feel that your Bounty Hunter was hot on your heels. 

“Hey!” Ari growls, snagging a fistful of your oversized sleepshirt and hauling you flush against his hard chest. “You know I hate it when you walk away in the middle of a conversation. Drives me fuckin’ nuts every single time.”

Now that you knew to be true. It was part of the reason you always kept that move in your back pocket. Because it always bought you time while pissing him off. 

“You were being ridiculous.” You tell him, reaching behind you to twine your arms around his neck. “But if you’re finished, I suppose I could be convinced to let you take me to bed.” 

All is quiet for a moment as your eyes flutter closed, your body content to relax as you listen to the sound of his heartbeat. A hint of a smile tugs at your mouth when you feel two large, warm hands settle on your hips, followed by a whisper of lips tracing along the shell of your ear. 

“How ‘bout you finish telling me about why you let another man see what’s mine?” While Ari manages to keep his tone low and even, there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s pissed.

And just like that, the spell is broken. Immediately, you pull away – surprised when he lets you go. 

“Seriously?” You snap, almost tripping over your own two feet. “I already told you, the girl who usually does it called in sick. What else did you expect me to do, Ari? Skip it?”

“Well, maybe.” Ari grunts, his sensual lips curving into a frown. “Not sure why you even felt the need to subject yourself to that shit in the first place. I had no idea when I left you this morning that you were planning to abuse my pussy like that.” You watch as he runs an agitated hand through his chestnut locks. 

“Just so we’re clear, this is my body we’re talking about, okay? Which means I'm in control of what happens to it.” You perch on the edge of the bed, your entire body bristling with annoyance. It was a shame that your man refused to let this one ride.

“Bullshit.” He hisses before grabbing the bottom of his faded gray t-shirt and dragging it over his head. “I’m not talking about your body, I’m talking about my pussy. The same greedy cunt I find myself feedin’ damn near everyday.”

“Oh, don’t be crass.” Your tone is rife with indignation, even as you feel your cheeks heat. 

“Who the hell’s bein’ crass, Duchess? All I’m doing is telling the truth.” Next he goes to work on his jeans, unfastening the button and zipper before dragging them down his legs and kicking them into a random corner of the room, leaving him clad in only a pair of black boxer briefs. “I tell you all the time about how fucking greedy she is, don’t I?”

Okay, fine. But that didn’t mean he had to be so loud about it. So what if you hadn’t been the type to enjoy sex all that much before Ari came along? Now you couldn’t get enough. Where was the crime, officer?  

“I’m not that greedy.” You pout, doing your best to ignore the wetness coating your thighs.

“Baby.” Ari murmurs, bridging the distance so that he can bend down to take your lips in a brief kiss. “How many times have you been done – I’m talking absolutely spent – and she hasn’t wanted to let me go?” He briefly distracts himself by twisting one of your curls around his finger. “So I’ve gotta take you again. Fuck you even longer and harder so she’ll finally let us both get some rest.” 

“I–I’m not even sure I know what you’re talking about.” Except you absolutely did know what he was talking about. And it was absolutely true. Well, most of it anyway. 

“Is that so?” Ari murmurs as his voice dips, his tone pitched to arouse. “Then perhaps you need me to help jog your memory.” His leans in trail a line of soft, sensual kisses along the curve of your throat. 

“Maybe.” You rasp, tilting your chin up so as to grant him easier access. 

“I’ll do whatever you want so long as today is the last day I ever have to hear about you letting another man see what’s mine.”

“That is IT!” You snap, shooting off the bed so fast you barely miss smacking heads. “Fuck you, Ari Levinson! If you’re so hellbent on making something out of nothing then you can just see yourself out already.”

“I can’t help it if what I’m feeling actually feels like something instead of nothing.” You can’t help but notice the way his heated gaze tracks your every movement. 

“For the last time, I went to a salon and spa to see a licensed esthetician for a professional waxing appointment like I have done for ages. Today it just so happened to be with a guy.” This time when he tries to touch you’re quick to slap his hand away. “Nothing happened other than me enduring having hot wax poured onto, and then subsequently ripped off of, my nether regions. That is it.” You huff, poking him in the chest with your finger. 

“And I’m trying to tell you that you didn’t need to put yourself through all that.” You jump when he nips at the offending finger, gently catching it between his teeth. “Not for me. I don’t mind a little hair. Doesn’t bother me any.”

Well, you would be sure to file that one away for future reference.

“But I didn’t do it for you, you goof!” You yank your hand away, attempting to put some distance between yourself and the annoying, half-naked Bounty Hunter standing in front of you. “I did it for me. It’s part of my…my self-care, or whatever.” Your pulse speeds up when you watch him reach inside his boxers to adjust his rapidly hardening cock. “Okay? But I won’t use Michèle again if it bothers you that much.”

“Appreciate that.” Ari nods once, his perfect teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he slowly backs you into a corner. “But I wanna put it on record that I’m the type of man who’s gonna enjoy his meal however you’re fixin’ to serve it, sweet Bird.”

Holy shit. Why the fuck did that make your pussy gush the way it just did?

“M–meaning?” You gasp when you collide with a nearby wall. Grinning, Ari slips a wandering hand between your bodies, pleased when he finds you naked and wet for him. He cups your bare pussy, reveling in the way your sticky honey eagerly coats his palm.  

“I just don’t want you thinkin’ about depriving me because you’re in between appointments, or 'cuz your regular gal has to reschedule.” You let out a whimper when Ari grinds the heel of his palm against your swollen clit. “I’m afraid that’s not going to work for me. Or, I suspect, for her.” 

“You’re so bossy.” You whine, rising on your toes as he continues to tease you. “You really gotta work on that.”

“You think so, beautiful Bird?” He gazes down at you through lidded eyes, his easy grin bordering on indulgent. And then he applies more pressure, not missing the way your toes curl into the plush carpet as pleasure begins to overwhelm you.        

“Uh huh.” Your hands go to grip his forearm, perhaps hoping to better increase the friction. 

“Then I reckon I just might owe you an apology.” And truth be told, he recognized that he probably did. It was entirely possible that he let the whole Michèle thing bother him more than it ought to. Perhaps he’d sleep on it and see how he felt about it all tomorrow. Or not.

But for now, there was something else he could do to help mend things – provided he was willing to get a little filthy. 

Ari surprises you by removing his hand. But just when you’re about to pitch a fit, he drops to his knees in front of you. “Let me make it up to you, sweetheart.” He begins as his fingers trail their way along the soft skin of your calf. “Let me apologize for giving into some of my baser instincts, like the neanderthal you’ll probably wanna claim that I am.”

“Beast–” You open your mouth to respond, only to let out a surprised squeal when he picks up your leg and drapes it over one of his broad shoulders. “Jesus!”

“Hush.” He then leans in to bestow a hot, open mouthed kiss to your exposed pussy. He groans against your most intimate flesh, savoring the sweet, earthy taste of you. “Need to make sure she’s okay before I start apologizing too much.” Is all he says before he goes back to burying his face between your thighs, nuzzling at your glistening folds with the tip of his nose. 

“Are you sensitive anywhere?” Ari growls, his voice coming out slightly muffled as he circles your throbbing bundle of nerves with his skilled tongue. “Sore?”

“No.” You breathe, lightly running your fingers through his dark brown strands. “In fact, I feel ah-may-zing.” You finish with a tiny giggle.

“Good.” 

That’s your only warning before your world suddenly shifts as Ari tosses your other leg over his shoulder. Next thing you know, he’s back to standing at his full height. And you’re now touching the ceiling with your thighs locked around his head.     

“Omigosh!” You cry, the sound of your nervous laughter filling the room. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you don’t – ooh…oh God yes…yesyesyes!” You smack your open palm against the ceiling as your Bounty Hunter begins to eat you like a man starved. 

“Oh don’t stop, Beast, please!” You sob, grinding your dripping pussy against Ari’s face, soaking his beard just the way he likes.  

Words, rough and unintelligible, rumble out from somewhere deep in his chest. And while you may not be able to understand him, you know exactly what he’s trying to tell you. His hands gripping your ass to hold you in place are enough to drive the message home. 

You were to take everything he gave you like a good girl. His good girl. So you do. You practically scream yourself hoarse as Ari takes his time tormenting you with every sensual flick, every tortuous swirl of his wide, flat tongue.

He gets off on the way he's making your legs shake, the sound of you unbridled cries and soft whimpers leaving him painfully hard. But still he doesn’t stop. He continues taking his time, worshiping you the best way he knows how.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Ari grunts when he finally comes up for air, his breaths coming in sharp pants. “But I’m still gonna need a little more time to work on my apology.” One of his hands delivers a swift blow to your ass, making you yip. “Really need to reconsider my behavior today while I put a fresh spitshine on my pussy.” He winks at you then, letting you know that he means every word.

“I’m sure she won’t mind.” He quips with a grin, his chin still shiny with your juices. “And neither will you.”

END

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[sipsandfables]

Unfiltered Thoughts While Reading: Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros

⚠️⚠️⚠️ BEWARE! SPOILERS AHEAD ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Chapter 1

If I were Violet, I’d be like “Forget these biscuits and EXPLAIN YOURSELF SIR” 😂

If Brennan survived, then why did Tairn’s old rider die? 

“Stop bringing logic into an emotional argument.” Hahaha love Violet

I will say though that if she’s going to be mad at Xaden, she can be mad at Brennan for the same thing

Chapter 2

is this foreshadowing? Will Violet or someone else learn the art of ward building to save them all?

“Weapons are the only things that can win this war” for someone so intelligent, I’ve never heard Brennan say anything more foolish than that 

Andarna is a teen 😂

will she go through an emo phase? Hahaha

At least it sounds like her mom wasn’t in on this murder plot 

“Fucking Dain.”

Lol agreed

Chapter 4

I love how Dain acts like nothing happened. Like, wtf? Why are you surprised Violet hates you?!

Unless he didn’t know about the plan somehow and we all just assumed he did.

Also, maybe another mind reader read his mind and he didn’t actually tattle? But even if that’s the case, he still read Violet’s memories without her permission this whole school year

Chapter 5

“I’m pleasantly fuddled but not entirely sloshed.”

Lol I’m using that the next time I get drunk

Chapter 6

Violet has more self-control than me. She should have let Xaden stay the night lol

Chapter 7

I knew it! So, less dragons are bonding because of the war and the venin. I wonder if they are bonding with the rebels or just staying out of it completely 

Chapter 8

so Aaric is the kings son?! Bold move 

And now Liam’s little sister?! This series is going to kill me 😭😭😭

oh shes angry lol 

“What in the angry-Mairi was that about?”

Lol I love Rhiannon

“I've danced with Malek more than my fair share over this last year and told him to fuck right off every single time. ”

LOL

Fuck this dragon and fuck Varrish. What. The. Hell.

I’d be so pissed if someone ran after that because that stupid dragon is killing people in the way anyways. Hide ya kids, hide ya wife, they’re flaming everyone up in here.

“If Solas comes near you again, he knows I will devour his human whole and let him rot within me while his heart still beats, and then I'll take the eye I so graciously left him." "That's...graphic."

Tairn has the best threats lol he and Violet were made for each other

Chapter 9

I knew Imogen would grow on me!

Omg I bet the person they’re interrogating is Xaden. He never made it out to his post and it’s why he hasn’t come to see Violet. I just don’t know how they can keep the dragons from each other 

“"I can take her," Sloane fires back, white-knuckling her knife, "From what your letter said last year, her joints pop right out. How hard can it be?" "Seriously?" I shoot a reproachful look at Imogen. "I can explain." Imogen puts her hand over her heart, "You see, I didn't like you last year, remember? You're kind of an acquired taste."”

hahahaha I love the banter in this series

OMG!!! Nadine!!! I am NOT okay with how fast characters be dying in this damn series!! 😭😭😭

Chapter 10

I knew this dude was sent by Aetos. So freaking sloppy! And the more this book goes on, the more I think Dain didn’t know about the War Games thing. He’s an annoying prick but I don’t see him being malicious enough to let Violet walk to her death. Plus, I actually don’t recall him shitting on people with a relic. He just seems to hate Xaden lol 

Welp, there goes my theory about Xaden being tortured lol

I find it hilarious that Xaden is so obsessed with Violet’s hair lol

Chapter 11

“Coconspirators with a vested interest in keeping each other alive.”

Lol love Imogen. She’s giving me Ron Swanson vibes here with his “work proximity associates” speech 😂😂😂

Banning people from knowledge in order to keep their corrupt secrets from the public is not sustainable. Sure, it drastically slows the distribution of information but the truth always comes out - it’s just a matter of when!

I wonder if the Scribes are translating everything from the old language in order to hide more lies

 Varrish grinning at Violet saying “dragons don’t take orders from humans” does not bode well. Has he found a way to control dragons? Or at least influence them with blackmail or something else?

Varrish is such a dick. Like, get a life dude. 

Chapter 12

That comment about a blade of grass sticking to Violet was so random. 

Chapter 13

This Varrish guy is the worst. He’s like Miss Umbridge from the Harry Potter series

“You wish you were my type. I’m phenomenal in bed.”

Hahahaha I love Imogen. SHE BETTER NOT DIE

Oh no, I bet it’s that freaking survival class test! They’re getting kidnapped!

Chapter 14

Tairn is so sassy and I love it

Obviously, the water is drugged! Have they never read a fantasy novel?! 

I adore Ridoc 😍

HE BETTER NOT DIE

You would think there would be more crossover activities and exercises between riders and infantry if they have to work together so much and infantry are expected to work alongside dragons

Chapter 15

Rhiannon is responding to Violet keeping secrets way better than Violet is to Xaden lol She’s like “hey, you’re hiding something and that’s fine but don’t lie about lying” with Violet. And Xaden is like “Honestly, I have secrets I can’t tell but here are all of the intimate details of my life.” Come on Violet! Quit trippin' and get back with Xaden lol

I don’t like the rift going on between Rhiannon and Violet this book. They need each other and it’s annoying lol

Alright 2 things that annoy me about this book so far:

1. The lack of Xaden and Violet scenes  2. Violet being mad at Xaden for keeping secrets from her in order to protect others

 Chapter 16

Yesssss, Imogen is spitting facts!!! Hopefully this will convince Violet to let him back in

“I’m still speaking.”

Okay Imogen 👀 She could get it 😏

Oh man, I really hope nothing happens to Rhi’s family and she blames Violet for keeping her in the dark

Of course she misses the interrogation technique class!!! Bad move man

Chapter 18

Theory time: Omg is death what’s powering the wards??? Is that why so many more people are dying at an alarming rate? They need more students to die to power up the wards? And maybe daggers work because they are an instrument for causing death?

“I want you.” All day. Every day.

LOLLL

Omg I love how ride or die Rhiannon is about Violet lol 

Who’s soul is Nolon mending?!

Chapter 19

Theory time: Solas’ orange is off and Dain’s dragon's breath stinks because they’re giving the dragons some concoction. Maybe it’s to control them? 

“Humans have the memories of gnats. Dragons hold grudges.”

Pearls of wisdom from Tairn lol

Damn it Tairn lol while I love that he put Varrish and Solas in their place, things just got a whole lot worse for Violet 😬

Chapter 20

“Ugh. Let’s go throw knives at shit.”

😂

Has Mira met Imogen? They’d be two peas in a pod lol

I’m also shook that they kill civilians. Wowwwww

Chapter 21

Man, this is starting to feel like Final Destination since all the Resson survivors are dying one by one

“History and current events are tied because one influences the other.”

Interesting foreshadowing 

I like Devera and I feel like she’s trying to do the right thing while the rest of leadership goes to shit. Like Professor McGonagall does when Dumbledore is no longer headmaster 

“That’s what we’re not going to do.”

You tell em, Devera!

I bet Varrish will be in charge of the torture lessons given his background and he’s going to try to kill Violet 

I was JUST wondering where Dain has been. Haven’t heard his holier than thou whining in a while lol

omg I called it in the last book! Her mom gave Xaden those scars! I also still think I’m right about Dain being guilty of being a prick but not of sending his best friend to get murdered 

Rhiannon is so smart! She reminds me of Bree from Legendborn 😍

I knew I liked Aaroc/Cam for a reason! Hope he doesn’t die….

Chapter 22

It’s strange that Violet is so bad at remembering names when she studied to be a Scribe her whole life lol

Chapter 23

For some reason, book 2 reads a little more like a YA novel than the first book

HAVE THEY LEARNED NOTHING?! Don’t  eat or drink anything!!!

Okay, you didn’t drink but did you eat the jam?!

Ridoc and his snake confession had me cackling

lol I totally thought Ridoc broke first but he was lying haha

I knew fucking Varrish would somehow weasel himself into this training

They’re using Dain? Well hell.

Also, isn’t his signet supposed to be a secret???

Chapter 24

Wait, they’re practicing on civilians?!?! At what point do people wake up and think “hmmm, we’re the bad guys”?

"We should consider quitting the quadrant." Ridoc jokes as we walk over the door and out of the chamber, "We'd be kickass thieves." "With dragons," Sawyer agrees. "Unstoppable," Ridoc says with a grin.

This is giving Six of Crows and I. Am. Here. For. It.

Unlocking doors? hmmmm interesting 

Chapter 25

I know exactly who did this! A scribe! It was the person walking in the hood earlier that Violet noticed. I wonder if it’s her friend or someone else

Those statements have to be true - Markham is acting too squirrelly about them

FUCKING JACK IS BACK?!

Idk how I feel about this book now lol like really? 

Hundreds of cadets die every year and they spent valuable resources and time to mend him?! What happened to “we let the weak die”?! This is utter bull

Also, Nolon mentioned how hard mending a soul is….it doesn’t sound like Jack has a soul 

Chapter 26

I love the nonchalant way Sawyer and Ridoc are ready to murder Jack lol

Chapter 27

Territorial Xaden is the best lollll he’s like who the hell's jacket is that and why isn’t it mine?! 😂

Well, that escalated quickly 👀🔥

Chapter 28

Oh that has to be his ex. The one that Bodhi mentioned

I knew it!

Chapter 29

“Pull yourself together”

Tairn with the tough love 😂😂😂

“I will already know, as I am continuously with you,” he grumbles. “Forced to bear witness to the awkwardness that is twenty one year old humans.”

💀💀💀

I forgot who Professor Kaori is but I love them!!

Chapter 30

FINALLY Violet realizes how hypocritical she was being about Xaden when she tells her friends part of the truth

I bet Andarna is sleeping longer than expected because she’s going to be powerful as hell lol

Holy shit. Too many people die too often in this series. I don’t even remember who Eya is!

Ridoc better not die

Chapter 31

Freaking JACK saved her?!?! What is this rouse?!

I 👏🏾 don’t 👏🏾 trust 👏🏾 him 👏🏾 

Let’s go Aaric! Sidebar, I need a novella about him. He sounds hot

Chapter 32

I thought Aaric ‘s brother died in Threshing! Well I guess Xaden could have killed him then lol

There’s no way Nasya sleeps through his post every time. I bet he’s spying on them

Oh Imogen has it taken care of lol good. Also, that’s a badass signet!

Chapter 34

“The birth of iron rain” !?

That sounds ominous

OMG LADY STOP DRINKING THINGS FROM OTHER PEOPLE

Fucking hell. I honestly can’t even feel anger for Nolon’s betrayal because I’m too annoyed with Violet rn lol

Chapter 36

So Dain is finally choosing the right side!

I’m so glad Varrish is dead! He’s the worst lol. Violet will definitely have to watch her back from Solas

Yay! Devera came through!

The secret is out! Finally!

Chapter 37

🌶️🌶️🌶️

Chapter 38

Andarna is back!!! Yayyy!

I bet this “blood magic” means sacrifice! they have to kill people to build a new ward

I knew Mira would punch Brennan after seeing him for the first time haha

Chapter 39

The 6 strongest riders: Caden, Felix, suri, bodhi, violet, Brennan - I’m surprised Mira isn’t one

Chapter 40

I do think Violet is a little slow on the uptake when it comes to understanding her power which is surprising since she’s so smart

I’m excited about this sibling trip lol

Chapter 41

“Fuck it. We don’t need a luminary.”

Mira is a whole vibe lol

Cat is the worst and Violet is annoying me by listening to her lol Xaden is obsessed with you girl - ignore this jelly belly lady

Well that explains why Violet was trippin' hahaha wasn’t her fault

Chapter 43

yeah I agree - allowing people to die on the parapet is unnecessary lol

Holy shit ! This entire hike is stressful as fuck!

RIDOC!!!

Chapter 45

“The problem with mankind is we too often find our souls to be a fair price for power.”

Chapter 47

I hope Violet kicks Cat’s ass and makes it embarrassing for her lol

Chapter 48

Well that was hawt lol

Xaden talking shit about Dain will never get old lol

The way Xaden feels about Violet reminds me of Rowan to Aelin because his love isn’t conditional and based on if she’s “good” - “If you’re a monster, I’m a monster” (Queen of Shadows)

Xaden is very swoon-worthy lol

Chapter 49

I feel like it’s always Sawyer pitching the idea to just kill an annoying enemy (Cat, Jack, Varrish) and I’m here for it 😂

HE BETTER NOT DIE

oh no….am I starting to find Dain not so bad? Lollll

Chapter 52

Theory time: I really think these nightmares are real - somehow the Sage is communicating with Violet through her dreams Theory Time: I bet she gets captured or agrees to go to the head Sage by the end of this book to set up the next book

Oh god, I really hope an attack doesn’t occur while they’re on this training mission and then Violet feels responsible for not putting up the wards sooner 😬

Chapter 53

Violet must be thinking of Xaden and how he might go mad since his dragon was previously bonded with someone in his direct line

Fucking Solas. I almost forgot about this enemy!

Chapter 54

Honestly I’m surprised she doesn’t have more enemies since if you kill her, you essentially kill 4 beings in one swoop

Andarna is a badass

Chapter 55

No lie, this fight between Xaden and Violet is a little silly and getting exhausting

Ah, I came to the wrong conclusion about Xaden and his bond with Sgaeyl 

Chapter 56

Omg is Xadens second signet mind reading? That would explain a lot. It would also explain why he’s scared to share since they execute people with that signet

Called it!!! I’m glad her response was not immediately “I don’t love you anymore”

Now I need to reread these books to see when he reads her mind. Oh man, I hate to say it but it kind of sounds like what Dain did to her last year

hmmmm, that was too easy lol

Ugh, we’ve been here before - Violet discovers a big secret about Xaden right before some war conflict and they’re fighting in the midst of chaos. Not sure I’m a fan that it’s a repeat of the last book lol

Chapter 57

well I’m glad Cat has stopped being a twat and decided that focusing on saving the continent is the way to go over petty squabbles over an ex lol She reminds me of Lysandra but in a good way lol 

I think the trouble with the writing of their relationship is that Xaden is so amazing and their relationship is so magnetic that their conflicts feel forced. The obstacles they face within their relationship are hard to develop when Xaden is always saying the right things after they fight lol Not that I’d want it any other way - but I think that’s why I’m struggling with not rolling my eyes when they get into arguments. Violet deserves to be angry about the betrayal but then it just feels like her decision on what she’ll do next about them takes FOREVER and it feels like it’s dragged out across a whole ass book.

Omg did Brennan come?! Is he announcing his “undeadness”?!

Violet immediately wants Xaden to use his secret signet on the others? I don’t disapprove at all but that better mean she will forgive him swiftly lol

It isn’t in Violet to NOT help innocent civilians if she can.

“I love you enough to bear the weight of your disappointment.”

Total mom sacrifice right there!

I need a novella of their mom and dad and how they got together lol

Chapter 58

If I were with the Rebellion, I’d agree to help Navarre on the condition that they make it public knowledge that Venin are real and they’ve been lying to citizens for centuries in order to keep a specific amount of citizens safe - that way, they’re not leaving innocents to die AND if they all survive the battle at Solstice, the rebels will walk away with an additional win (the entire continent knowing the truth)

am I the only one who visualize white walkers from GOT when I read about the venin in this book? Lol

Alright let’s go!!! Way to not turn into the enemies! 

Chapter 59

What is with Andarna’s scale colors?! Their changing colors have been mentioned all book - I wonder what’s the significance? Is she a rainbow dragon?! That would be dope lol

Jack's dragon's eyes are weird? Another reference to dragons seeming off! I bet they’re controlling it! But who would want the wards to fail? Who is Jack in league with if Varish is dead? IS Varish even dead?! Did freaking Nolon bring him back to life like he did with Jack?!

What the heck?! Did Jack become venin?! Why did he slaughter his own dragon?!?

Chapter 60

I knew he became venin! But didn’t realize it was for SO LONG!

Well, everything is going to hell in a hand basket 

“Fucking Jack.”

Ain’t that the truth lol

There’s no way this battle is in this book, there’s not enough pages left!!!!

Chapter 61

Can Andarna turn invisible??!

I’m so stressed lol

Chapter 62

Omg is Andarna a chameleon?!

Chapter 63

Theory time: Andarna is head of the seventh den of dragons! This is why she’s so unique. She’s not actually black like Tairn . I bet she’s one of one making her the head of her den. It would make sense since she’s an orphan 

Add-on to the theory: I think both journals are right but describe it differently. Warrick says six AND the one that combines all which must be what Andarna is since she’s always changing colors. Lyra’s journal says seven because it combines the six and the one

Good thing Andarna can make fire now!

Chapter 64

Not a Liam letter 😭😭😭

This heartfelt moment between Andarna and Violet is everything. 

The way that Andarna looks up to Tairn gives me all the feels

What about Sloane?! Can she somehow reverse her power and GIVE instead of siphon?

Ah yep, apparently she can.

Her mom is going to sacrifice herself! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Chapter 65

I’m honestly surprised Xaden killed the main sage. I figured he’d be a bigger part of the storyline 

Don’t tell me Xaden is also now Venin?! 😭

NOOOOO 😭😭😭

Sgaeyl is pissedddd

Chapter 66

OMG WERE THOSE XADENS DREAMS THE WHOLE TIME?! 

I can’t recall if Violet only had the nightmares when she slept near Xaden 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I am unwell.

#iron flame #fourth wing #fourth wing review #xaden #xaden riorson #violet sorrengail #book review #iron flame review #rebecca yarros

[asachuu]

A lot of people are talking about Arthur’s age right now to the point even I know about it from under my rock, but instead of stating the obvious and simply assuming everyone is in on everything already, I’ll just ask this: what is actually so unbelievable about him being 27? I’ve heard folks say that it would mean he would be 15-16 at the time of joining his organization, which is indeed correct, but somehow, this comes as a surprise or something unacceptable, and I don’t understand why? The two literal fandom favorites, Dazai and Chuuya, met at fifteen years old when one was a mafia member already and the other joined at the same age, and no one seems to find that unbelievable?

Anyway, since I have my two cents on this matter, I have to shove the rest of this under the cut, but please bear with me here.

I presume people are mostly shocked for that reason, though do correct me if I’m wrong— I do see how it could be inconceivable to think of his whole entire background, memories, memoir and so on as being attributed to a 15-19 year old instead of someone far older, but if that’s due to any other reason than it simply not meeting expectations thanks to some former headcanons, I’m not too sure why. Obvious Fifteen parallels aside, it’s not as if BSD is some light-hearted series where characters going through incredibly harsh events we cannot even imagine have to be of legal age and in perfect circumstances to be able to handle it— I suppose some could be wondering about that aspect, but it would match up with the whole feel and plot of the story, and no part of it feels out of place. I’ll admit I used to believe Arthur was 36-37 at the time of his death as I didn’t know of his age either, but upon seeing he was a decade younger, I didn’t exactly think it to be nonsense for the sake of him being “too young”, and not to mention, this would also mirror his IRL counterpart, being 16 at the time of meeting Verlaine— which you absolutely could say is too young, considering the entire story between them, but it did happen, and BSD is based on the real-life authors after all— so I don’t see any argument against this which truly makes sense, all things considered.

That aside, I will say that Arthur’s canonical age specifically matters to me, unlike some other characters’ ages, and perhaps my reasoning could be a shared one that contributes to some of this confusion, and that is because it does change the perspective of Fifteen/Stormbringer to quite an extent. I had a whole post drafted about this already a week ago, but it seems to be even more relevant now, so I’ll just throw a part of it here and the rest in a reblog to not derail too much.

In my opinion, if one is to read Arthur’s memoir from Stormbringer, it feels much different to think of it as written by an adult as opposed to a teenager, purely because of its content— the character who has no family to return to, no loved ones or friends or even personal feelings he is allowed to have due to his job, the one who is overjoyed to finally have a partner whom he could make any difference to and who is already prepared to be forgotten after his death anyway, is not actually fully grown up, which maybe some are having a hard time accepting, I’m not too certain.

To me, this view on the story is indeed a lot sadder, especially if one is to consider his only partner betrayed him at 19 instead of whatever other theory could be in place, alongside all else I won’t be mentioning here as I believe I wrote a long enough essay about those two as is, but I don’t think any of it is strange or odd-sounding. If I may, in my personal opinion, I actually believe it makes far more sense, and not because it once again would align with his IRL counterpart even here— no, rather considering his behavior in Fifteen of desperately trying to find a way to remember his best yet only friend, likely because he hadn’t had anyone by his side from such a young age and clearly latched onto the first person he could have had alongside him, which could be a fully applicable theory even if you hadn’t seen the pair in any unrequited romantic contexts that could have been his motive. Does it make the story far more sorrowful? Yes. But does it make the story nonsense and unbelievable? Absolutely not. At this point, I would be so much more surprised if he wound up actually being 37 as I and what I suspect is a decent amount of others guessed at first, because in that case, I would somewhat understand the other side to my arguments— I still wouldn’t agree with them as I never did, even in the past when I didn’t have any extra information, but I could potentially see where they’re coming from at the very least.

I’ll just briefly acknowledge that perhaps some saw the memoir implying Arthur being more of Paul’s mentor at the time, being much older and wiser than him as would be expected, but I don’t think this was ever anyhow highlighted in the novels to make it clear that Arthur could be considered as such entirely— it was only said he would be the one to raise him, which I admit would not leave me assuming the given character is 15, but all things considered, it still aligns with everything above. I also have to acknowledge that in Fifteen, he is referred to as an “older” member of the Port Mafia, but I believe that refers to the eight years he spent in it, and was not meant to be an indicator of his actual age at the time, although compared to Chuuya and Dazai back then, perhaps 27 could indeed be seen as older in a very relative sense. Still, neither of these things are a direct contradiction to his supposed age, and while I’m not here to “prove” he’s 27 or 37 or whatever else one could assume, since I don’t have any other source of information other than the S3 guidebook and don’t have any reason to come up with alternative theories, hence why I choose to trust it unless official sources state otherwise, I’m only here because it surprises me how many people are shocked by this, as if many other characters in BSD weren’t in the same exact age range at the time of drastic or serious events happening around them/to them. I assume that, for some, this is merely something which goes against their personal headcanons or is just wholly unexpected, with nothing more in-depth sitting behind it, at whom this post is not aimed whatsoever, but I saw some saying it doesn’t even fit into canon at all, which…how, exactly? Because I don’t see it at all.

#text post #bungou stray dogs #bsd fifteen #bsd arthur rimbaud #randou #bsd stormbringer #bsd storm bringer #asachuu

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Honestly, how can you like the Blackfyres when they represent misogyny, racism, toxic masculinity, and failure? Daeron the Good, on the other hand, was by far one of the best, if not THE best, king Westeros ever had. Daemon was a warmonger. Daeron raised Baelor Breakspear, one of the best people to have ever lived in Westeros. Daemon raised Aegon and Aemon who were "witless bullies." Daeron was loved by Naerys (awesome), Aemon (awesome), Daenerys (awesome), and Elaena (best princess ever).

Pt2 Who was Daemon loved by? I guess his mother Daena who we can assume was a piece of shit since she worshipped her brother the Young Dragon. Daeron the Good was creating a dynasty of racial tolerance, having heirs that were mixed with Valyrian, Dornish, Stormlander, and eventually Tyroshi via Kiera of Tyrosh. His heirs were wise and would rule as well as he did.

This is a blog that sometimes answers questions about A Song of Ice and Fire and related supplemental books (Tales of Dunk and Egg, The World of Ice and Fire, Fire and Blood, SSMs) written by George R.R. Martin. I wanted to make this clear, because from the content of your messages I’m not entirely sure you’ve read these books.

Honestly, how can you like the Blackfyres

Check my house Blackfyre tag; I’ve answered this question 4 times from people a good deal less hostile than you were. You are not entitled to my time.

when they represent misogyny, racism, toxic masculinity

[Citation Needed]

and failure?

Nobody tell anon about Ned’s execution, the Red Wedding, Summerhall, Brienne and Arya’s Riverlands arcs, the GOT series finale, or tragedy as a genre/narrative tool in general; their head might explode.

Daeron the Good, on the other hand, was by far one of the best, if not THE best, king Westeros ever had

Check my anti Da3ron II tag for why I don’t agree. Stating an opinion without supporting evidence isn’t a great way to build an argument.

Daeron raised Baelor Breakspear, one of the best people to have ever lived in Westeros.

If you’re going to give him credit for Baelor, why not give him credit for Aerys I or Bl00draven? Or does the do-nothing monarch and the kinslaying tyrant secret police chief not support your argument?

Daemon raised Aegon and Aemon who were "witless bullies."

I guess I have to remind you that Aegon and Aemon were 12-year-old boys who were murdered in front of their father on Bloodraven’s orders. As for the “witless bullies” comment, here’s what GRRM had to say about Joffrey (a proven sadist and tyrant) dying: “I also tried to provide a certain moment of pathos with the death. I mean, Joffrey, as monstrous as he is…is still a 13-year-old kid. And there’s kind of a moment there where he knows that he’s dying and he can’t get a breath and he’s kind of looking at Tyrion and at his mother and at the other people in the hall with just terror and appeal in his eyes—you know, “Help me mommy, I’m dying.” And in that moment, I think even Tyrion sees a 13-year-old boy dying before him. So I didn’t want it to be entirely, “Hey-ho, the witch is dead.” I wanted the impact of the death to still strike home on to perhaps more complex feelings on the part of the audience, not necessarily just cheering.” If GRRM wanted us to feel some sympathy for Joffrey while dying, he definitely wanted us to consider the deaths of two seemingly normal 12 year olds a tragedy.

Also, you bring up Aegon and Aemon, but not the decent Daemon II, Aenys, and Haegon. We love consistency.

Daeron was loved by Naerys (awesome), Aemon (awesome), Daenerys (awesome), and Elaena (best princess ever)

[Citation Needed] We have no canonical interactions between Daeron and Daenerys, and the only canonical interaction we have between Daeron and Aemon is when they teamed up to tell Aegon to banish a teenage girl and her infant son (their half-brother and nephew) from court over something her father said (which I guess is “awesome”). I’ve made my own feelings on Elaena clear in her tag (and gotten some bizarre hate for it), but I doubt they had a warm relationship.

Who was Daemon loved by?

“Until this moment, he had never met a man who'd fought for [Daemon Blackfyre]. I must have, though. There were thousands of them. Half the realm was for the red dragon, and half was for the black. —The Sworn Sword

“He made friends easily, and women were drawn to him as well.” —2005 SSM

“The whole realm knew that [Daenerys] loved Daeron's bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn, but the king was wise enough to see that the good of thousands must come before the desires of two, even if those two were dear to him…” —ADWD The Watcher and “Despite Daemon and Daenerys being in love, her brother the king, Daeron the Good, was more concerned with matters of state than matters of love…” 2012 GRRM interview

“…Old fools and young malcontents still make pilgrimages to the Redgrass Field to plant flowers on the spot where Daemon Blackfyre fell. I will not suffer Whitewalls to become another monument to the Black Dragon.” —The Mystery Knight

Are you sure you’ve read these books?

I guess his mother Daena who we can assume was a piece of shit since she worshipped her brother the Young Dragon.

You got the order wrong; it says in the relevant SSM that she worshipped her father Aegon and idolized her brother Daeron, and it was only her admiration of Aegon that was mentioned in TWOIAF. Also, calling a woman “a piece of shit” because she liked the brother who didn’t lock her in a tower or usurp her throne is hardly the antisexist behavior the Blackfyre antis claim to adopt; and if we judged all ASOIAF female characters based on the men they like, we’d find very few of them likable.

Take, for example, Elaena Targaryen. “The great love of her life was her cousin, Alyn Velaryon, the seafarer and admiral known as Oakenfist…” (same SSM as previous) However, Velaryon was instrumental in Daeron’s conquest of Dorne “Daeron divided his host into three forces…one led by the king's cousin and master of ships, Alyn Velaryon, traveling by sea…most importantly, the royal fleet broke the Planky Town and then was able to drive upriver” and “Lord Alyn Oakenfist descended once again upon the Planky Town and the Greenblood.” (TWOIAF Daeron I). If Daena gets called a “piece of shit” for admiring the man who instigated the Conquest of Dorne, surely Elaena would be equally (and unjustly; these are teenagers and/or severely undersocialized prisoners preyed on by older men) condemned as the lover of his right hand man?

Better get your story straight.

Daeron the Good was creating a dynasty of racial tolerance

[Citation Needed] That’s why Tanselle Too Tall got justice for her broken fingers, yeah?

…and eventually Tyroshi via Kiera of Tyrosh

Don’t use the Tyroshi as an example of Da3ron’s “racial tolerance” dynastic heirs when he, his descendants, and Bl00draven set out to kill Rohanne of Tyrosh’s children and grandchildren with Daemon Blackfyre.

His heirs were wise and would rule as well as he did.

#hate mail #anon hate #ask #fragile anti #anti daeron ii #gif #house blackfyre #daemon blackfyre #anti targaryen

[youlackconviction]

*exaggerated sigh* here’s a link to the rest of the post, do what you want with it (they weren’t kidding when they warned it was LONG, and no i didn’t read it all)

the only reason i’m posting about this is because of one remark they made:

and honestly?

i’m just so... absolutely sick to death and beyond of people who DON’T share my views on something, telling me WHY I DO.

i don’t try to tell these people why they LIKE the series, or LIKE sylvie, or LIKE her with LOKI. so why the hell do they insist on trying to lay my thoughts out for me - when so many of the ones who think like i do about it have gone to such exhaustive lengths to explain it, very carefully.

1) NO, i don’t give a fuck about fictional “self”cest. that’s literally a fantasy concept that cannot exist in our universe. so why would it concern me in the slightest if someone wrote a made up story where that impossible event takes place? i literally don’t give a shit about that fandom trope as a storyline -

EXCEPT where it is used to criticise gender diverse people with the bizarre and harmful claim that "fucking themselves” is the reason a person wishes to depart from their assigned birth gender. that dehumanises and fetishises trans and fluid people.

the show drifted a little close to that accusation with mobius screaming at LOKI that he was an “incredible seismic narcissist” for “falling for himself”. even though the show was also super clear that she wasn’t LOKI, she was nothing like him, she was amazing and he was shit actually so how could it be self-love? except somehow it teaches him to love himself? um... kissing yourself is not what self-love means, showrunners. fucking hell.

2) NO, i also don’t give a fuck about lokius. can these people even imagine confronting an IRL person who admits to disliking a specific woman, and presenting this argument to them? “you only hate her because you wish her boyfriend was fucking a man instead of her!” and actually, i ALSO can’t stand mobius, because of the abusive way he treated LOKI. mobius is nowhere near good enough for him, and i absolutely don’t ship them either.

what’s fascinating to me is that they never quote our actual most common arguments against the sylki ship and then attempt to dismantle them or show them to be on false ground. is it because they simply can’t? that the arguments are so reasonable and watertight, that to argue against them would make them look unbalanced, misinformed, and creepy? i don’t know, but until i see it happen, i might as well assume that.

in bullet point form, my own reasons for disliking sylvie:

she’s rude, obnoxious, and aggressive, all the time

she has no personality, just a set of bullying tropes

she never misses an opportunity to belittle or mock LOKI

she doesn’t support him, build him up

she isn’t kind to him, shows no empathy

she’s verbally abusive and physically abusive

she thinks that trauma is an olympic event that she won

she’s emotionally manipulative

she’s ungrateful and selfish

she doesn’t listen, just insists she knows best

she’s one-dimensional and poorly written

the weak plot framing sets her up to be admired but it just backfires

the writers nuked LOKI to make her look better

her actor comes across as too arrogant and dismissive of tom

her acting itself is incredibly average and inconsistent

there are more... *gestures at my entire blog* in there somewhere lol. anyhow... yeh. that. and i’m not even gonna insist that series fans DNI cos guess what, i don’t care if you reblog this and try to argue with it. be my guest, just don’t get mad if i reply to your arguments with my own.

#in defense of loki #loki deserves better #marvel hates loki and tom

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 49: Coming Down

Previous chapters // Montserrat’s masterlist

Fandom: SVU // Pairing: Rafael Barba x OC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​ @averyhotchner​​​​​​ @abzidabzy​​​​​​ @hellofutur​​​​​​ @foxesandmagic​​​​​ @xovalliegirlxo​​​​​​

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

Arraignment was early as usual. Charmaine Briggs was the last on the docket.

"Notice how calm she is," Amanda said to the others as they filed into the room. They went right to the first bench as Charmaine and her lawyer took their own spots.

"Years of practice, maybe?" Olivia asked.

"I don't know," Montserrat straightened in her spot. "I honestly can't read this woman. One moment, she looks honest and the other…" It would be one of those types of cases where half of them were split with each other and some, like her, was split with herself.

"Manslaughter in the second degree...does the defendant have a plea?" the judge commanded the entire room into silence.

"A plea for sanity, your honor," Charmaine's lawyer was a sharp-tongued woman even at the early hour that it was. "Mrs. Briggs is a widow whose husband died tragically of natural causes."

"Natural causes brought on by the reckless behavior of the defendant," Rafael said in case the two women forgot that important detail. "Her counsel might want to read the statute."

The woman sent him a glare. "The ADA might want to ditch the condescending attitude before it drips onto his suit."

"You two hash this out on your own time," the judge cut into what promised to be an interesting argument. "Assuming no objection, I'll enter a plea of not guilty. Bail is set at 100,000, cash or bond. Next."

"She promises a good fight," Montserrat purposely said loud enough for Rafael to hear. He turned around to see her, Olivia and Amanda giving him the same look.

"She's nothing," he said, almost waving the other woman off. "But I will be needing every last iota of evidence you have."

"You got it," Olivia said, but the look on her face told Rafael she had a lot more things to say, starting with the bail money. "Now about that—"

"Send me the paperwork," he said quickly on his way out.

Olivia was dumbfounded but nowhere near defeated. She ushered Montserrat out of the bench so she could get out.

"Someone's in trouble," Amanda remarked with a light smile. Montserrat hummed as the two followed after their Sergeant.

~ 0 ~

As of late, it seemed like Rafael felt like he was either running from women or to them. If it wasn't his family then it was Monsterrat and when it wasn't either side, it was Olivia. Right now, he spotted his mother coming at him from the opposite end of the hallway.

"We have to talk," Lucia came with a direct mission.

"Uh, okay — I'm a little busy right now."

"You're always busy! You don't think this is important?"

"Claro que si, of course I do—"

"Barba…" Olivia walked right up to the two, unknowingly stepping into their argument. Montserrat and Amanda weren't too far behind. "$100,000 for a homicide? Are you kidding me?"

"We're lucky we didn't get R.O.R.," Rafael said fast before Olivia went on about something else from the case. "Sergeant Benson, this is my mother, Lucia Barba."

The introduction certainly left Olivia dumbfounded but Lucia was more sharp than ever. "Oh. Benson...he talks about you. You drive him a little crazy."

Olivia met Rafael's look, unsurprisingly he wasn't embarrassed by the slip. He wouldn't be him if he wasn't. "Just doing my job. I'll give you a moment." She backtracked from the pair until she was beside her detectives again.

"Who's that?" Amanda asked soon enough.

"Mom."

Montserrat's eyes widened. "Seriously?" She had yet to see pictures of Rafael's family and now she had the first live shot. Despite being very far away from her, Montserrat felt a series of nerves hit her. Calm down! This is not about you right now! She couldn't hear what they were talking about but she just knew it had to do with the senior center Rafael had scoped out for his grandmother.

"We should go," Olivia pulled Montserrat out of her thoughts. "We need to get everything in order."

"Yeah," Amanda said as she followed Olivia down the hallway.

"I...need to go to the restroom first," Montserrat said when the idea struck her. It was stupid and probably unprofessional but right now she didn't care. Lucky for her, no one questioned that excuse.

She slowly, very slowly, walked for Rafael. She only heard the very last bits of his conversation — sounding very much like bickering — before Lucia left.

"Bye, ma," Rafael waved his mother goodbye and sighed.

"Not good, huh?" He heard Montserrat behind him.

He turned to find her just a few steps away from him. Right now, he would want nothing more than to be able to hug her. Professional lines were a nuisance at that moment.

"Whatever she said—"

"They're visiting," he cut Montserrat off. "It's all I asked and if they do that then...then maybe they'll see it's best."

"I know," Montserrat nodded. She absolutely hated that he still felt like he had to justify himself to her, like she was going to judge him. "Give me a call later," she smiled at him.

"Detective Novak, are you being professional right now?" he quirked an eyebrow at her. Montserrat laughed and suddenly, his pain lessened.

"You're a smartass," she shook her head as her laugh subsided.

"I have been told…" he bobbed his head side to side.

"I'll see you later," she flashed him a last smile before taking off. She hoped their small moment would be enough to lift his spirits a bit. Sometimes it was a pain having to follow the rules of their secret relationship.

~ 0 ~

Trial began and with all its markers on the spot. The housekeeper of the Briggs went up first and while she did good, the fact that she always had a disdain for Charmaine tainted the jury's perspective of her. It was the doctor who attended Walter's first heart attack who managed to do more damage to Charmaine's reputation.

But truth to be told, and he had mentioned it Montserrat already, a lot of his mind wasn't occupied with the case. He was honest with her one night about the probability of actually getting conviction. As always, she tried reassuring him that he was doing the best he could. He had other things on his mind and they were just as urgent.

After another trial date, Rafael was set to visit the facility with his mother and grandmother. He took his grandmother still abiding by the deal they made to visit as a huge win. As soon as they were in the facility, Catalina was taken for her own personal tour of the place. As far as he could see, the facility was fine. It was clean, the patients were very well attended to. It was lively enough to where no one seemed bored, or worse - no one would feel trapped.

Somehow, Lucia didn't see it that way. In fact, it turned out they were on completely opposite pages. "Look, I know what you're thinking. I should take her in to live with me…"

Rafael shook his head at her as soon as she started with that mindset. She thought he was blaming her for the situation. "Absolutely not—"

"Other people put their families in places like this. We do not put our family in places like this!" Lucia exclaimed.

"That's not what this is about," Rafael stopped them in the middle of the hallway. "I promise." It was their cultural mindset that their elderly family members shouldn't, under any circumstances, step foot in a senior center and that honestly wasn't the best way to think. Of course there were going to be situations where a senior center was the only option and it shouldn't be viewed as something bad.

They spotted Catalina talking to one of the employees not too far from where they stood.

"I understand what you mean but we also have to be realistic that sometimes we just can't handle it all," Rafael tried to explain but was already Lucia fervently shaking her head. "You are single handedly keeping a charter school alive. You only go home to sleep. How are you supposed to take care of her?"

"I could retire—"

"No, you couldn't," Rafael leveled his mother with a sharp look. They both knew that, like him, Lucia was very dedicated to her work. She had long hours just like her son. "Mira, it's not so bad. Maybe she'll like it."

The two walked to meet Catalina after she let the employee go. "It smells," she complained.

Rafael sighed. "They're cooking lunch, abuelita."

"What are they cooking, skunk?"

"Mamá,"he turned to Lucia for some help. Luckily, she at least tried to help.

"Rafie has gone through a lot of trouble to arrange this for you…"

Catalina still didn't seem pleased enough. "I didn't ask him to. Why should I move after 40 years?"

"Because here, nobody has to carry groceries up six flights of stairs, abuelita." Rafael tried to step closer to her but she looked away from him, an action that stung more than she thought. Still, he continued to try and show her it wasn't all that bad. "They have activities. Mira, movies. If you fall down again, pasa cualquier cosa aquí - anything - you just push a button."

"If I fall down at home, I bang on the floor…" Catalina made a show of hitting the ground with her cane. "Mrs. Rivera hears."

It was like he was talking to a wall. He glanced at his mother again. "Mamá?"

Lucia seemed to feel some sympathy for him in the matter. "We'll think about it."

"I'm just trying to help both of you," he said in case they hadn't gotten that. It honestly felt like they hadn't, especially with the way his grandmother was looking at him. "Bye. I have to go. I have some work to do before court tomorrow."

"Good, go help somebody else," Catalina coldly said, waving him off to leave. There was hardly anything else to say after that.

~0~

Later that night, without really thinking about it, Rafael ended up calling Montserrat. He felt completely terrible after she made it clear that she was on her way to his place. He was aware of the many times he had called her this week and forced her to drop what she was doing for him. He wasn't used to it and he shouldn't be. Montserrat didn't have to do anything yet here she was.

She showed up at his door with a bag over her shoulder. "I'm here until tomorrow."

"You don't have to…" He sighed as she walked in.

"Oh, don't even bother with me," she let the bag drop beside the couch. She came back for him and tugged him with her to the couch. The back of her knees were leaning against the armrest of the couch. Her hands were soothingly running up and down Rafael's arms. "I'm here now," she said, her voice gentle. "And I don't want to hear any of that nonsense that I don't have to be here. Need I remind you of all the times you've been here for me?"

"You don't have to complicate your life because I can't solve my family issues," he barely turned his head away when Montserrat cupped his face and forced his gaze back.

"You're used to doing things on your own but you don't have to anymore. I'm here to help. I can...build arguments with you, remember?" she smiled at him and hoped she would get one in return. "You say I have a big mouth, I might as well do something productive with it."

"I said that?" A ghost of a smile may have played at his lips.

Montserrat hummed with a slow nod. "Yes, you did."

"I didn't mean it…"

"Mhm, sure…" she leaned closer, her hands still cupping his face, "And I never mean it when I call you a smartass." That made him laugh. "There we are," she planted a kiss on his lips. "I think some dinner is in place…"

"I'm not very hungry," Rafael said as she tugged him for the kitchen.

Montserrat stopped and looked back at him. "If you're saying that then you really feel bad. Let's wait a bit and you can tell me what happened."

Usually he would put up some protests but tonight Rafael was just too tired for such a thing. He let Montserrat bring them back to the couch and sat down together. It only took one more time of her asking what happened for him to spill everything.

His grandmother had hated the facility and more than that, she was angry with him. She had the idea that he was trying to lock her away. Lucia hadn't said the same thing but she wasn't exactly defending him either. He didn't blame her — she was stuck in the middle with her son and mother on opposite sides. None of it was easy and it was taking a toll on him.

Montserrat couldn't say it out loud that she was seeing it all on his face. She had never seen him in a state like that and she would've been quite angry if it wasn't his family responsible for it. They weren't trying to argue. They just didn't see eye to eye.

"I'm really not that hungry," Rafael said an hour later when Montserrat suggested ordering out. He felt incredibly guilty when he kept turning her offers down. "You should go home, have a night with Kara or something."

"I am not going anywhere," Montserrat repeated. "How about we turn in early?"

"You don't have to—"

"Stop," she touched his arm. "Let me be here with you. Please."

The concern on her face was touching and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. So, he did. His hands found the sides of her face while he kissed her soft lips.

"C'mon," she whispered in-between kisses.

He protested no more afterwards. They got up together, collected Montserrat's duffel bag on the side and headed for the room. Rafael only let her go so she could get changed in the bathroom and he in his room. He'd never felt so worn out when he climbed into bed.

Montserrat returned ten minutes later with her bag. She retrieved her phone from the bag before letting it drop on the floor. "Just texting Kara," she said as she made way for the bed. She left her phone on the night stand then got into bed.

"Thanks for being here," Rafael murmured later on. She had draped an arm over him. He had practically retreated into her body. All he felt was her and all he smelled was her. Nothing else would make him feel better.

Montserrat moved her other arm over his head and let her fingers find his hair. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Silence ensued afterwards. The lights had been turned off. There were no movements and the only noise was their collective breathing.

"Do you think I'm being unfair to her?" Rafael suddenly asked. One of his arms had wrapped around her waist.

Montserrat would've shaken her head if they weren't so close to each other. "No, of course not."

"It feels like it. Maybe I pushed too much…"

"You didn't, it's just hard for both sides."

"She's lived in the same apartment for 40 years. I get why she doesn't want to move. As ruddy as the place is...I spent a lot of my childhood there. After school when my mom was still working...we used to make desserts."

Montserrat smiled. "The sweet tooth." Her fingers were still threading through his hair.

"Yeah…"

"What would you bake?"

"Everything." Rafael didn't think he'd ever remember something so vividly the way he was right now. It was like everything he'd tried making with his grandmother was fresh in his mind despite it being more than 20 years ago. "I liked the chocolate cake the best."

Montserrat lost against a laugh. "Oh, of course. Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey, it was delicious!"

"I bet it was—the pictures say it all."

There was a slight silence before Rafael spoke again and when he did, it was a complete change of topics. "Did you do any of that stuff with your grandmothers? Or grandparents?"

Montserrat hummed. Her fingers stopped running through Rafael's hair for a second while she thought. "I mean...my grandmother in Slovakia — Zofie — didn't really bake. She cooked. I learned how to make Kapustnica from her."

"And what's that?" Rafael asked.

"It's soup, basically. It's got mushrooms, sausages, pork, potatoes and all this other stuff. We always had that for Christmas whenever my grandparents came to New York or we went to Slovakia."

Mm, sounds interesting," Rafael said, making a mental note to bring up that precise soup for their next Christmas.

"The soup, yes, grandma Zofie, though?" Montserrat shuddered, making Rafael chuckle.

"What?"

"She can be kind of mean when she's teaching," Montserrat explained, "I may not remember my maternal grandmother that much but I know that she was a lot nicer when it came to cooking and baking."

"Yeah, and what did she teach you?"

Montserrat had to think for a couple minutes before something came to mind. It was hard remembering a woman she hadn't seen in over 20 years. "Umm, I'm pretty sure she's the one who taught me how to make carrot cake."

"You've never made me carrot cake," Rafael accused. Montserrat didn't have to look at his face to know he was frowning.

"Scuse me, but you're always the one drinking coffee or alcohol," Montserrat retorted, "That doesn't exactly leave much room for carrot cake." Rafael's response was to hold her tighter. Montserrat laughed softly and pressed a kiss on his forehead. "Okay, tell you what, I'll make some carrot cake when I get the chance this week."

Rafael agreed. "Can I make some suggestions?"

"Sure, why not," Montserrat shrugged and listened to his 'suggestions' about what to add and what not to. She let him talk and talk until he eventually drifted off. In another situation she would've loved to point out that he practically talked himself to sleep. But things were too grim for that and she herself wasn't too happy.

She couldn't bear to see Rafael spiral the way he was. This wasn't him and the fact it was his own family doing this broke her heart. She couldn't be angry with them but she couldn't not not feel something alike either. There had to be something she could do.

She shifted enough to reach for her cellphone on the nightstand and was extra careful not to wake Rafael up in the process. She turned the brightness screen all the way down to avoid that altogether. She found Kara's number and opened up a new text.

'I need Caroline's number.'

A few minutes later, Kara responded.

'Sure thing! What for?'

Montserrat hesitated to answer. She looked down at Rafael sleeping but still shifting every now and then. It seemed like even his dreams were going to be against him tonight.

'I need to ask her for a favor.' She typed the response and waited anxiously for the number.

#ocappreciation #fd: svu #svu #rafael barba #rafael barba fics #rafael barba imagines #svu fics #svu imagines #law and order svu #rafael barba x oc #svu x oc #svu ocs #law and order svu fics #law and order svu imagines #oc: Montserrat Novak #fic: dare to forget me

[being-of-rain]

I’ve listened to 5 of the New Series UNIT box sets now! Tbh a lot of my opinions have been what I assumed they would be, based on reviews I’d read and my opinions of the authors... I don’t know if that means I was too biased, but oh well!

Once again what I intended to be some stray thoughts turned into a lot of rambling, so I’ll put them under a read more. Spoilers for the UNIT stories involved.

Extinction- Fun action romp. The Nestene using 3D printers for an invasion is a pretty obvious one really. The series was mostly interesting for me because I got to know the new team, I love a good team in a monster of the week type series. Honestly I haven’t warmed to Josh a lot; not because he’s particularly unpleasant (though sometimes he can be annoying), but mostly because of the tropes he fills. Quippy action hero white guy (who’s only stopped from being the main character by not being from the TV show proper), and mandatory straight love interest for a character who Really didn’t need it. I don’t think Sam isn’t the sort of character that would usually endear himself to me, but again circumstances shaped my emotions; I sort of followed him over to this range from the very good Ninth Doctor Adventures finale, and he made a nice change to Josh (sorry Josh, he’s really not TOO bad, just not my cup of tea). Plus, UNIT’s international troubleshooter is very cool role. Shindi is an interesting character- again I don’t usually have much interest in extremely militaristic characters, but his flashes of being reasonable, understanding, and even caring made a nice change to the usual military. Jacqui was a great character for a UNIT series- but in this box set and number 3, the writers seem much more interested in the problems she could cause for UNIT rather than the fact that she might actually be right to cause them! She argues with characters a few times that UNIT shouldn’t be working so hard to keep the public in the dark on things, to the point that they drug the country’s water supply. And uh... Yeah, solid point. But no one bothers to give a counter-argument, even Kate barely deems it with a response, it’s just part of her duties. That’s a militaristic organisation for you I guess.

Shutdown- Yikes. I had no idea what they were even going for with the alien species of this one, until I listened to the behind the scenes where they explain that they wanted to do an ‘Ancient Aliens Inspired This Ancient Culture’ trope but with Asian cultures. Firstly, that trope sucks. Secondly, doing that trope but Orientalism-flavoured does not make things better! And they don’t even end up with interesting villains. For the series’ attempt at making an original alien species to base a whole box set around, they’re sooo dull. What, they’re like ninjas so they can be invisible and move fast? Is that it? They do realise that this means nothing on audio. And I didn’t even realise until I read on the Tardis wiki that they were linked with the aliens in The Diary of River Song series 1, something I’ve listened to a few times. Not to dunk on every aspect of this set, but who signs off on the box set titles? Because ‘Extinction’ is generic and doesn’t hold any special meaning in the story, and I don’t even know why this one is called ‘Shutdown’.

Silenced- My favourite of the first 4 sets, inevitably! It’s a really cool sequel to Day of the Moon. I can’t blame it for not trying to tie in the Silents of those episodes to the futuristic church of the Silence, that was never very clear on TV, and you can just assume that even if some Silents could travel off-world with the Tardis-like travel devices, not all of them could escape. It was interesting that at the end of the set, I think some Did escape again? If I remember rightly. Anyway, any 4-hour story where the characters keep forgetting the entire plot could’ve got very dull very quickly, but it was done so well that it was great to listen to the entire time. Like I said, I might be biased, but my favourites were John Dorney’s episodes. He’s such a good writer.

Assembled- I large part of why I love the Silurians is that they’re not generic bad guys. But despite that, I knew going in that they probably would be in this set, so I didn’t let it bother me. Also, I knew beforehand that Jo got a line or two about “political correctness,” so I tried not to let that bother me either (I don’t know if that line is as out of character as I think it is, or if I just immediately get red flags from anyone using it). So considering both of those things, it was a really pleasant surprise when Jo makes such a strong argument for peaceful negotiation with the Sea Devils, and actually succeeds! That was great characterisation for her. ...But despite that, she did come off as a bit daft in the fourth episode when she goes to try and negotiate with the Silurians, and after talking to them announces “you’re radicals!” as if that hadn’t been made extremely clear already. Maybe she was just thinking that they still might make a better government than the current British one. It surprised me that in a set that was advertised so much as ‘the one with the original UNIT characters,’ none of them appeared in episode 3, but in hindsight I guess I should’ve felt lucky that I got 3 other epiosdes with them, considering how often Big Finish hinges all the advertisement of a set on characters or villains that only appear in 1 episode.

Encounters- I really enjoyed this one! Like I said, I love a good monster of the week series with a good team, so having four episodes that featured mostly just Kate, Osgood, Josh, and Shindi was great. The Dalek one was enjoyable, if mostly because seeing those four characters with no other backup made a nice change. I double checked to make sure it came out before the TV episode Resolution, because the Dalek mutant being on a rampage reminded me of that. The spooky halloween one is one of my favourite episodes yet. I just love a well done spooky halloween ep, and with a fun setting and a really cool threat too. Even if I don’t quite understand what happened- was it aliens or demons? Either way, very fun. I enjoyed the Sontaran ep more than I thought I would, I liked how the Sontarans and UNIT worked together for a bit, that was a new take on the Sontarans that fits a UNIT spin-off very well. I kinda wish the UNIT characters treated the Sontarans a bit more officially though, like with official recognition and alliance, because they know that strong adherence to their military protocols is a weakness of the species, and I like it when UNIT are shown to be smart with their knowledge of alien species. The infernoverse (or infernoverse-esque, I guess) ep was tons of fun. I even enjoyed it despite the fact that it was mostly based around a very heterosexual premise, with a distinct lack of classic homosexually-charged mirror universe villains. (sigh) oh well. I guess I’m too much of a sucker for mistaken identity comedies. But someone needs to write a story with another another infernoverse, this time with evil gay Kate and evil gay Osgood.

#my thoughts #big finish #unit #kate #osgood #sometime I need to write some fic with these characters #hmmm I might be doing fictober coming up...

[mrsblackruby]

If someone doesn’t want to interact with someone who likes or stans billy, they don’t have to? Just ignore their posts if you don’t like it. We are all entitled to our own opinions but that doesn’t mean posting screenshots of other people’s tweets is gonna make a difference. Half of what people have said isn’t even that bad. Honestly if it bugs you that much don’t even bother looking under anti-billy. and can you tag properly? i don’t want to see this shit under the nancy or max tag.

My response to this ask is the FINAL part in my case 4 Rat-man lol 😂 Which is a series that dives into Billy’s character on my blog lol.

I made a podcast response to this ask because there’s is a lot to criticize in this reaction to my 5 part series calling out harassment of BLACK Billy Hargrove fans in the Stranger Things fandom. I’m calling out fandom racism and bullying. I also made a podcast response to this ask because I’m chaotic!That’s my best quality! The intention of my 5 part series calling out harassment was not to end online harassment but call out and encourage those who saw it not to participate in the harassment. If I wanted to call out harassment/start a discussion about the problems I face as a black Billy Hargrove fan why would I just ignore an echo chamber online that degrades me/ my fandom and calls me racist for liking a fictional character? I talked about a lot in my five part series and it’s has little to nothing to do with people just not wanting to interact with Billy Hargrove fans. It’s baffles me how you can’t see how more than half the things I critic in that series is just inexcusable treatment of others fans in fandom. If you don’t mind let me elaborate…

I hope you enjoy my voice if y’all choose to listen.

https://otter.ai/s/-5VbiKtNSxqrRM865HRhxA?t=0s

This podcast is only 30 minutes so consume it with that fact in mind if you choose to listen If the quality of the audio has problems while using headphones try listening without headphones

The first 4 mins and 30 seconds is the introduction so if you just want my response to this ask you can skip that. My response to this ask is somewhat directed towards this person but somethings build on a larger discussion. Mostly because it looks like this is a newly made account so I doubt this person will even see this post. I also want to make it clear I could give less of a shit if people don’t like Billy as a character or don’t want to interact with his fans. What I do care about/ don’t like is when people bully/ make false notions about people they don’t know on the internet because those people like a fictional character! P.S. if the asker does see this I like ur username. I mean the name maxgayfields Accuracy, bitch! Accuracy! no disrespect meant at all. I’m open to respectful criticism!and obviously this post is for those who care about / take interest in the issues I discuss. Also Billy/ Harringrove fans you are truly loved 💕in my heart! Take care of yourselves🥰

My case 4 ratman is on my blog links will be listed below ⬇️

My case for RATMAN INDEXED

Stand alone post: Me reading to much into the politics of Billy Hargrove/ Harringrove

THE 5 PART SERIES ON HARASSMENT: #1. #2. #3. #4. #5.

Below ⬇️ is The script to my podcast for anyone who’s hard of hearing or who just likes to read! Because otter is so bad at transcription. I kinda adlib somethings in the audio that won’t be on the script but this should still give you a pretty good outline of my argument let me know about grammar mistakes I will fix them.

Introduction

I could talk about Billy Hargrove 4 days

He is my comfort character and I find great joy in talking about his character.

I also recognize and encourage that we all be aware there are much bigger problems in the world around us

that we should be focused on organizing and educating ourselves on.

I like engaging in the discourse around Billy because it gives me a break from all the chaos in my life at the moment.

The community is hilarious and very engaging

I find I’m able to relate to a lot of people in it on a personal level

However Even with all these pros there are still cons

I feel I should call out a problem when I see one and make resources available for those who do not want to directly contribute to fandom toxicity

I honestly understand that a lot people can’t handle the conversation because of how heavy it gets(I tagged my post for that reason) but that doesn’t mean the conversation shouldn’t be brought to light

I know not everyone has the capacity to challenge online harassment and no should have to challenge online harassment because it shouldn’t happen

But since it does I’ve decided to make a case for Billy and combat abuse as best as I can

so those who actually care for marginalized community members in the Billy fandom on tumblr will have more tools available to themselves

I’m aware my post will not stop harassment. Individual action is nothing in scale to a big system like that.

But since I have nothing better to do I wanted to make an argument available for Billy antis who struggle to understand Billy fans/ black Billy Hargrove fans in particular.

End of introduction

Okay now where should I begin with this ask

Not all the behavior I criticized was harmful. I even made it clear in my series that I’m not making a moral condemnation of anybody for the post they’ve made on tumblr. (Was anybody murder no this is not that big of a problem) I’m just criticizing people’s posts. Remember everything can be held up to scrutiny, even my arguments. Especially if they are accessible online however. I would not have crossed tag if a majority of the things I criticized weren’t me just calling out inexcusable behavior in the fandom. If you struggle to see how more than half of what I talk about is a problem I encourage further reflections on my argument.

We should allow and encourage marginalized people to call out something that makes them feel uncomfortable and speak their mind. Telling me to just shut up and leave the internet instead of being less cruel to each other Isn’t gonna solve anything. Especially cuz I don’t plan on leaving the internet anytime soon. And I’m not at fault for consuming something accessible to the public. Which means it can be criticized by the public. But people who go out to harass, antagonize, and be little Billy fans. Are at fault for creating a toxic internet environment by creating false notions about people they don’t know online because they like a fictional character.

Telling me to ignore a problem I call out is interesting to say the least

I’m entitled to stand against harmful and degrading opinions

Any opinions people have they are entitled to have

For example racist are going to hold and spread their racist opinions

But I’m not just gonna let racist commun among each and talk about why they hate black people because they’re entitled to their opinions. I will fight back. Let it be known I don’t tolerate that behavior

What I’m not gonna do is never question people opinions because they are “entitled to them” or allow opinions that are accusatory to towards another group of people or degrading to just be online without resistance

There’s no problem with me calling out statements made available to the public and hiding people's identities to curb harassment just to discuss the ideology or behavior a certain post might be contributing to.

Yes! There are much bigger problems in the world. This is still a problem though.

There are people who are facing evictions, there’s a global pandemic, and there’s a looming climate crisis

However Online harassment and degrading your fellow human beings on the internet is still a problem…that creates a hostile environment for many Billy fans… and it’s not a problem to call that out and bring attention to it.

This is a problem sadly I wasn’t even able to bring attention to all of it

There’s harassment campaigns on Twitter for anyone whose a Billy Hargrove fan

People literally call Billy fans racist, homophobic, abuser because they Stan a fictional character.

Let’s not even talk about Reddit

In the anti tags I should not go in there and see people wish death on fans of a character there’s no excuse for that even if it is your “opinion”

I should not go in anti and see a community of people, making degrading and belittling remarks towards real human beings. If I do see that in the anti tags that is called homing an environment, to where people make crude assumptions, bully,and make fun of people you don’t know on the internet. That's called harassment.

Sadly it is an internet phenomenon that’s not going away anytime soon

It not okay and I’m gonna let it be known I stand against it.

If you don’t want to interact with Billy fans that’s okay… I respect and understand your boundaries. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do… but you don’t need to go make mocking images of Billy fans… all you need to do is kindly communicate your boundaries, not belittle people in the process.

Once again a lot of those fucking “opinions” were calling all Billy fans racist… When you do that you start calling victims of a racist society,and organizers against a racist society, racist! And you do this all on the b.s. notion of them liking a fictional character. Yeah that’s your fucking opinion but it’s a hurtful misrepresentation of entire community made up of varying people.

I get where you are coming from with the cross tagging. It was probably the thing I was most hesitant about doing…however I didn’t go in any tag degrading anybody or any character… I only called out harassment. I know the person who asked the question doesn’t say anything like this but if you think me calling out the racism I face as black Billy Hargrove fan is offensive. I truly struggle at understanding why that is…I get the cross tagging thing for real though. I want antis to stay out of the Billy tag. Even though I see antis in the Billy tag all the damn time. I hope to not make it a habit. I only wanted to put my argument out there. I only did it to call out harassment so the wider st community on tumblr could see it because it’s not acceptable behavior. Also people who use the anti Billy Hargrove/ Harringrove tags probably use the other tags I added as well. I just wanted it to be as accessible as possible.

My intention was not to end harassment of Billy fans online …even though I want that to happen there’s no way my 5 part series on tumblr was gonna do that… my intention was to tell the people on tumblr who care about black Billy fans, Billy fans who are queer, victims of abuse, people around the same age as Billy was portraying in the medium, and any other Billy fans that can see themselves in Billy’s story. That engaging in what I critic will not be creating a safe environment for those fans and if you don’t want to do that stop and be nicer.

I’m very aware that some people will not care about what I talk about because people out there are racist, people out there don't care about victims of abuse, the mental state of other people in the fandom. I expect those people to continue making the internet a toxic place for everyone. But if you do care about marginalized Billy fans my post was for you. I believe you have every right to not like Billy as a character. However keep your fire and fury towards Billy and not the fans whose one crime was liking a fictional character. If you care about not being the direct cause of someone’s degradation…my post was for you.

I also want people making the posts I critic to know they aren’t fighting any problems they are creating one… no hate I don’t know who you are and you can legit grow from this… you just made some mean post on the internet delete them apologize move on if u don’t want to participate/aid in this behavior again. Online harassment is a large systematic issue meaning tumblr will always allow space for these toxic environments. Someone is going to be mean on the internet. Do you want it to be you?

Also Don’t you see how you responded to my post because it made you uncomfortable and instead of me saying just fuck off I tried to create a safe environment where I respect your personhood and we can start and introspective dialogue.Unlike those others posts I have not made a moral judgment on u I have only tried to commit to a dialogue.

I find it interesting to talk about Billy Hargrove and dissect the politics of his story arc of his character. I’m hoping to have the opportunity to do so without people calling me racist against my own race for liking a fictional character or abusive for liking a fictional character. Or any other crude assumptions they have no way of knowing based on what character I like.

Btw Yes Billy’s story arc is flawed but what media isn’t. Yeah I’m a Billy fan who likes to talk and defend this character. Ur telling me you don’t have any weirdly specific interests. Aren’t you on tumblr?

All in all, don’t get mad at people who call out bullying on the internet especially when they don’t come for anyone’s personhood, they stay respectful… even though the people they have called out have made belittling comments towards them. Don’t get mad at people for criticizing how humans position themselves online or how they treat other human beings online. Especially when I didn’t make anyone a target I was criticizing the position in certain posts. Also there’s no reason to come for the people who like Billy as a character because you don’t know the people who like Billy. Just come for Billy the character if you don’t like him. I was very kind and respectful because I realize antis are flawed human beings so see and understand Billy fans can be flawed human beings as well.

(Hopefully this is the only podcast response I ever have to do. But, Hey! let me know if you found it helpful tho… cuz if I ever do another I will up the quality.)

Be kind 2 yourselves.

#billy hargrove #stranger things #podcast #tw harassment #tw racsim #anti blackness #obvi this is 4 people who care guys #🤦🏿‍♀️ #srry for the rant #vent post #sorry 4 my fucked up voice #are some of y’all even aware that how u conduct yourself on the internet is contributing to cyberbullying? #sometimes we need to think/ critic before we make a -joke- #because what might we actually be saying #that’s all #i’m telling y’all #it may not be targeted harassment #but it still fits the definition of harassment #online harassment #if you didn’t read my entire series don’t assume you know my entire argument #it’s okay not to read all my post if you can’t or don’t want to Just don’t assume you know all my points #it’s also not like I’m not allowed to post things in other tags on the internet especially when it was relevant lol #also some of the shit I talk about in my -5 parter- was definitely targeted cyber bullying #billy is a rat and i’m proud to call him my son🥲 #I didn’t cross tag since this is just an ask and response #before u say it yes👍🏿 I have nothing better to do next question! yep I know I’m weird for finding this interesting next question 🤩 #btw the reason I don’t talk about Reddit is because I don’t want to host a conversation about the harassment there #let me have fun w/ fiction and love my rat man #long post #okay I feel better now after saying my peace

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

[yesimwriting]

Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

--

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

--

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

--

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone imagine #grisha #Grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #shadow and bone netflix

[studiojeon]

bitterness in goodbye | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. sadly, you can't read this as a stand alone (meaning: feel free to check the previous parts ♡)

| summary | - You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

warnings: none (?) i mean chaeryeong insults jungkook which is an atrocity in itself but-

contents: we diving into the angst my friends. jungkook is an innocent, kind hearted soul, i promise. oc's got the feels (out oct. 1) for jk. idol!jungkook × student!reader.

author's note: I EDITTED THIS FROM MY PHONE DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING ANNOYING THAT IS? also, thank u for the amount of support i've been receiving lately, i appreciate everyone lots. feel free to ask away or suggest anything btw, i would love to write for any prompts you guys come up with. 💞💗💖💘💓💕

words: 1.57k

playlist: honey by halsey

Four weeks later, the receptionist of your apartment complex hands you over a cardboard box with the hoodie Jungkook and you had talked about that day on the Han River. Jungkook kept pestering you to please please please send him your address for confidential purposes, which you knew had to do with his determination to literally provide anything that catches your eye right away. You assumed it was a sensitive topic for the boy whether people had purposefully taken advantage of his money before, so you didn’t dare to say anything when the man asked you for your size literally two hours after he dropped you off, scared to either reject his solidare intentions or piss him off for bringing unwanted memories back. In  your defense, your personality type keeps oscillating between INFP and INFJ so it’s only natural that you take extra care to make sure those around you have as much peace of mind as possible in your presence. 

As pretty and comfortable the piece of soft clothing is, an important factor is missing, something that you can’t recreate buying two of the same size and color, and that is Jungkook's escence and how good it looks on him in comparison to anyone else in the world. Meaning, you didn’t like it as much as you thought initially would. And it absolutely did not have to do with the fact that your short stature made you look like a toddler who stole their dad’s jacket.

Still, in order to show Jungkook how much you appreciate his gift, you bring it to work the next day, and the rest of the days after that, with the excuse that with winter rolling around you needed something to keep you warm in the office. Jungkook doesn’t miss the opportunity to confirm your assumptions regarding your appearance whenever he barges into your office randomly throughout the week, arguing that ”you look so adorable” and doesn’t stop for two weeks more, until he gets used to seeing you wearing something you shared with him. Which doesn’t help ease your growing romantic feelings for him whatsoever.

Because yeah, you liked Jeon Jungkook, just like every human being with eyes and sexual desires, except, you didn’t just like him in a superficial way, and that’s where the problem with him resides. Though you are sure everyone has fallen in love with the endearing boy at some point - especially the excluded and invalidated women of society - you can’t help but place some blame on you for allowing yourself to be swooned so goddamn easily. Your mom had said to you at some point to be wary of the way some men would talk to you when you grew up, their intention usually being getting inside your pants, which has happened to you more times than you'd like to admit. And with the argument that she knew you better than anyone, she claimed you would comply right the second someone talked sweet to you; you despised the fact that was the case with Jungkook (and Jungkook only), although he had never shown any sexual innuendos. What your feelings could do to your relationship with Jungkook and your rather chill lifestyle scared you to death, shiver me timbers and all that shit, having romantic feelings for someone else is embarrassing, especially when your chance with them has been scratched out the second you laid eyes on them.

Jungkook sits on your couch, legs spread on your thighs as you two pretend to watch some series on netflix. “I don’t buy for a second the act you’re putting on right now.” he speaks randomly after staring at your deep-in-thought state for a few minutes and laughs when you snap at him for not letting you overthink in peace. “What’s going on?”

Truth is, you don’t fucking know. A few hours before he arrived at your place (you had to pick him up at the dorm and sneak the both of you through the subterranean parking lot, because god forbid someone saw Jungkook arriving at some chick’s dorm on a saturday afternoon) you swore you would be able to conceal whatever emotional turmoil you had going inside of you without compromising your regular behaviour around the man, but when push comes to shove, it’s impossible to keep yourself from wondering how far you could go before that special someone found out what was going on inside of your head.

Jungkook’s phone rings in his pocket with some annoying tone he had downloaded illegally from youtube the same day the company had handed over the device as a gift for him (you still were a little bitter over how they neglected the rest of the staff but you also knew it was kind of impossible for the human kind to just gift a-thousand-dollar-phones to almost five hundred people out of solidarity). “Hyung?” he picks up, still wary of your unusual behaviour, concerned eyes looking at you. “No, uh- i’m with Yugyeom right now.” and your heart shatters into a million pieces.

You have been suspecting for a while that Jungkook is being hesitant to introduce you to his social circle. Although, you’ve tried your best not to take it personal, it is getting harder to resist the urge to ask him what the fuck is up with that. The fact that Jungkook had to lie about the person he was hanging out with broke your ego; he could’ve just said he was with a friend, right? You suddenly feel like you’re fifteen again, when the guy you liked would love you in the dark but pretend he didn’t know you in the light. 

Holding your tears back, you gently push him off and make your way towards the bathroom in the most nonchalant way you could. This is your fault for falling for the nice popular guy in the first place, you remind the reflection staring back at you. Still, as bad as it hurt, there was no way you were going to cry over a stupid boy, let alone when he was literally sat on the next room. He can go fuck himself if he thinks he can just toss this behind as if nothing ever happened.

You text Chaeryeong instead.

“chaery bom bom: i swear to god i gonna throw hands the next time i see the bitch.

chaery bom bom: like who the hell does he think he is? fucking squidward looking asshole.

chaery bom bom: he ain’t even that cute bub, you’ll get over him. i know jinyoung wouldn’t treat you like this”

You sigh. Chaeryeong has been enamored with the idea of you and his former company colleague from GOT7 since the day she met the guy (which was somewhere around ten years ago), and although he was all that, you didn’t like his quiet and cold aura, it intimidated the fuck out of you (Jungkook was the entire opposite of that).

You spray on some perfume just to have an excuse as to why you randomly ran to the bathroom when Jungkook’s inquiring eyes stare as you sit back on the couch, which is exactly what he does. “You done with your call?” you ask, bitter.

Jungkook frowns, a bit taken aback by the sudden question but still unaware of the way his words had made you feel, not even sensing the hostile change in your mood. “Yes, it was one of our managers. He was wondering if I could come back to reshoot some...-thing.”

Okay, now you kind of understand as to why he lied in the first place and to say you feel guilty is an understatement. “I supposed he backed down once you mentioned you were hanging out with Yugyeom.” playfulness makes its appearance on your tone and Jungkook rolls his eyes at you, tongue poking on the inside of his slightly red cheeks.

“Sorry for that” he moves closer and cuddles your arm, like a sad guilty puppy. “It’s just- I don’t want them asking questions''.

You understand. He is a very reserved and private person after all. It took you a bit to crack him open yourself. Plus, you kind of share that trait with him, you’d hate it too if people were constantly on your nerves for the people you decide to hang out with. 

And that’s all it takes to forgive him. Not very cash money of you.

“You better not pull that shit again, though” you shift in his hold and he looks up at you. One look into your eyes and he knows what you mean. “I’ll kick you out.”

After nodding, Jungkook resumes his concentration on the series you picked out for him. Due to your short attention span, you are very picky about what you invest your time in, especifically with audiovisual pieces of media, so Jungkook trusts you whenever you recommend something on very rare occasions. As a matter of fact, Jungkook was busy attacking your kitchen counters for snacks (which you didn’t have) when you mentioned Money Heist. “Munch on some grapes instead” you suggested to soothe his disappointment.

You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fic #bts imagine #bts smut #jjk fic #jjk smut #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #idol au #idol!jungkook #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fluff #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook boyfriend #jjk boyfriend

[messers-moony]

Comics 2 | A.G

Paring: Aidan Gallagher X Fem!Reader

Summary: Aidan meets an unusually pretty girl at a library while trying to find a textbook for school

Warnings: Cursing

Years later, Aidan and Y/n were now twenty-five. All these years and Aidan hadn’t seen her since he gifted her the comic book when they were just twenty. All these years later and he still loved her.

He left a bookmark in there on purpose, one with his number, but yet, she never called. It made his mind wander. Why wasn’t she calling? Maybe she wasn’t fond of calling, but even then, she never texted either.

A certain feeling of defeat lingered in his heart. Maybe she didn’t like him like that. Her words were stuck in his mind; they lagged in his head like a broken record every time he was to fall asleep.

“ Y/n L/n. Remember it. “

Why was he to remember it? She was a comic book artist, for Christ's sake, not an upcoming actress. As far as he knew, there would never be a significance to her name. A new Netflix show was in the making, another one based on comic books.

Of course, Aidan got the call. The call was a producer begging him to audition for the leading role. He would be perfect for this role, swore the producer. Aidan was hesitant but did it anyway.

Aidan wasn’t the only one in the audition room, of course, but he was only here because of the pleading the producer did. He auditioned, and that was that. Within a week's notice, they would notify him.

On his way home, he stopped by a library, the very same library he met the girl at. Sighing, he walked to the comic book section and picked up the series of comics. There were five in the series, and he bought all of them.

He walked home with a backpack filled with his belongings and now new comic books. Walking into his apartment, he unzipped his bag and took out the first comic. The male ignored who wrote and illustrated it. It didn’t really matter. Did it?

The brunette read through the first comic and was hooked almost immediately. He read through them relatively quickly, and when he finished, he was agitated. The books were completed on a cliffhanger, only leading him to assume there had to be a sixth book soon.

Three days went by, and Aidan couldn’t help but reread the comic books for a more thorough analysis. The more he read, the more he saw how similar he and the main character was.

Everything down to the hair, the dimples, the smile, and the eyes were the exact same. The mannerisms being almost identical scared him. But he realized why the producer begged him for this role. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said Aidan was the perfect candidate for it.

He finished the series a second time and stared at the cover. That’s when he realized it and then began to scold himself for how dense he could possibly be.

“ Written and Illustrated by Y/n L/n “

We’re the words written across the top of the book. That’s why the main character was so similar to him, because the girl who wrote it knew who he was. She was observant, hella observant.

Within a week's notice, as promised, Aidan got a call saying he got the role and they would fly him to New York to begin filming. He’d be leaving in a month, probably the least amount of notice he’s been given before filming a show.

Nonetheless, the month went by faster than you could blink, and he was on a plane to New York. The set was much bigger than he imagined and made his way to the producers.

“ Aidan, you came! How wonderful! “ The producer from the phone exclaimed happily, “ My names Alex. I’m so ecstatic you came. “

Alex put his hand out to shake, which Aidan accepted politely, “ I assume you’ve read the comics by now? “ A familiar voice queried.

“ I have, actually. “ Aidan replied, turning around to be met with the dyed-haired female, “ I told you, remembering my name would come in handy. “ Y/n winked.

Aidan snickered, “ Why make your main character almost exactly like me? “ Aidan questioned, fully serious, “ Because Gallagher, you’re intriguing. You also seem to attract the best audience. Not to mention you always put on a show. “ Y/n said with prominent confidence.

The way his last name rolled off her tongue almost made him faint. He adored her and wanted her to be his. Now that she was here, he’d do anything in his power to make her his.

“ So you’re using me to make your show popular? “ The male joked, “ No, don’t take it the wrong way. I used you because you’re hardworking, and you put everything into your role. You, my love, are perfect for this role. “ Y/n responded, and Aidan’s cheeks flushed at the pet name.

“ Now, I must be going. However, I will see you on set tomorrow, I presume? “ She questioned with a soft smile, “ Yeah. Definitely. “ Aidan breathed as she left.

A hand was laid upon his shoulder, “ You are completely head over heels for her, huh? “ A male voice spoke in his ear, making him jump, “ Jesus Christ Robert, where did you come from? Why are you here? “ Aidan heaved as his hand was on his heart.

“ I’ve actually earned myself a role as well as Elliot Page. I’ve never seen you so entranced. “ Robert commented, “ She's been stuck in my head for years. “ Aidan murmured.

Robert had a face of curiosity, “ We met like five years ago at a library, and I talked to her for only two hours, but by then, she had me completely wrapped around her finger. “ Aidan explained, and Robert raised an eyebrow, “ She moved the next week, and I hadn’t seen her since. “

“ Well. Better make your move soon. I’ve seen guys eyeing her up all day. “ Robert replied as he walked off.

Months later, Y/n was right. Aidan was absolutely perfect for the role without even trying. Granted, the character was practically him, but he excelled in making the role his own.

Y/n and Aidan had gotten quite close throughout those months. They seemed pretty fond of each other. She was confident, intelligent, and caring. He was thoughtful, kind, and sweet. The pair made a loving match.

However, the girl's heart was guarded, she had been let down so many times, and she didn’t want to ruin the friendship she had acquired with the famous male. Aidan, in his free time, had been working on an EP. The title and main song on it was held close to his heart.

After a couple of dates and a lot of convincing, she gave in. Aidan Gallagher had now achieved the girl of his dreams, Y/n L/n. She was everything he wanted and so much more. He was captivated by her and made sure he showed the world.

Every chance he got, he posted her everywhere. His fans absolutely adored her, possibly even more than he did. Saturday lives his fans spent begging to see the admirable female when she wasn’t present. It honestly made Aidan quite jealous.

Regardless it made Aidan’s heart feel unbelievably full that both he and his fans loved her as much as he desired. Mornings were spent holding each other with subtle morning kisses. Nights were spent eating take-out and playing the original Mario kart after many arguments that it was better than the newer versions.

Filming was almost complete, and Aidan’s stay in New York was coming to a very prominent close. A day neither lover was looking forward to. His home was in Los Angeles, and hers was in New York. There was no changing that.

“ Do you really have to go? “ Questioned the teary-eyed female, “ Unfortunately. “ Aidan sighed.

They both stood in JFK Airport as close as they could before having to depart. Aidan’s hands held her tear-stained cheeks, and she moved stray strands of hair from his forehead.

“ I promise, I will come back for you. “ Aidan pledged to, and she sniffled, nodding, “ I’ll move in with you if you want. “

Y/n looked up slightly guilty, “ I don’t want to be the reason you leave your hometown. You grew up there. Your entire family is there. I would feel awful taking you away from them. “ She admitted, “ I would be living here willingly. Plus, there’s more opportunities acting-wise here, believe it or not. Hollywood isn’t all it’s made out to be. The United Nations is also home to New York. It’d be closer to everything. “ Aidan explained.

“ If- If that’s what you want, then I wouldn’t hesitate. “ Y/n smiled softly.

Aidan pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, “ Then this isn’t really goodbye, is it? “ Aidan’s whisper left a hot breath lingering on her lips, “ No, it isn’t. “ Y/n replied.

“ Stop your crying then. I hate seeing you cry. I will come back. “ He muttered softly, wiping her tears and kissing her forehead, “ I love you. “

“ I love you too. Be safe, please. Text me when you get on and when you land, okay? “ She requested, “ Always. “ Aidan simpered.

Gently he let her go and walked away with a tiny wave. Now there were only two things left to do. Pack up all of his stuff and play one last show in Los Angeles before leaving his home.

The male pack quickly when he arrived home, way too excited to live with his new partner. His show was scheduled for that night. Tonight he’d be playing his brand new song, the main song on his latest EP, the one he held close to his heart.

Nerves ran through his body like no tomorrow as he stepped up on stage. Screams were heard throughout the entire venue, making him smile brightly.

“ Hello everyone. “ Aidan greeted, getting screams in response, “ As you all may know, I will not be living in LA for much longer. New York seems more like home now than it’s ever seemed, so after this show, I’ll be getting on a plane to my new home. “

“ While I’ll play your favorite’s such as songs like Blue Neon and Fourth of July, there’s a new song at the end I’d love for your feedback on. I hold this song very close to my heart, and I hope you all will as well. So let’s get this started. “ Aidan informed with a gleeful smile present on his lips.

Aidan began strumming the guitar and singing the all too familiar lyrics. Applause was given in between each song, only encouraging his love for music as he continued to sing— his fans sung along with him giving Aidan a sense of love and commitment.

Finally, the last song was due to play, “ I call this last one, Comics. “

#aidan gallagher x reader #aidan gallagher #aidan gallagher imagine #Aidan Gallagher x y/n #Aidan Gallagher x you #five hargreeves #number five #number five x reader

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Got it. What about Inuit, Yup’ik and Inupiaq stereotypes? Are there a lot of harmful ones to avoid? I do know you shouldn’t make eating meat their entire personality, but what else?

Okay, this is going to get dark, so if you need to blacklist any content warnings (mine are tagged as "[insert content here] mention", do that before reading and if you need me to tag anything specific, please tell me and avoid this post until I get to it.

And again: Disclaimer that simply having an eskimo coded character fall into these stereotypes is not inherently racist or wrong. Keep this in mind as writers of color, and thereby Native writers, often get a lot of shit for writing our experiences as we feel them. Not to mention, yelling at someone trying to do justice to a dark topic, even if they don't succeed, is a shitty thing to do. Some of these have subtextual backing in canon. Remember that although we are looked down on for crimes, wrongs, or unpleasantness we're assumed to have commited, it's the members of our community who suffer most for it. There is value in understanding the pain that comes from the community that's supposed to protect you, and I don't believe the writers of the series had any malicious intentions toward us for writing characters that fall into any of these stereotypes. Recognize the nuance or get off my blog and find someone else to back up your discourse.

I'm going to use the term Native in this context. Natives come from many different cultures and cannot be assumed to be the same, but many of these stereotypes are used against more than just Inuit, Inupiat, and Yup'ik peoples. This is why I find it to be the most appropriate term in this context. I will add my understanding of where these stereotypes came from and why they're harmful, but I am only one person and a full understanding of the topic requires more than one point of view.

"Natives are drunks." The United States used alcohol on Natives the same way Britain used opium on China. They introduced it to us and blamed addiction on our own "weakness of character." This assumption of alcoholism carries with it assumptions of untrustworthiness. For a real life example: I was on a grand jury (a jury that decides whether a case is worth taking to court) years ago and one case was an older Native man accusing his brother of physically assaulting him. For some reason, a nearly all-white jury was deemed to be a jury of this man's peers, and two or three white men violently insisted that it shouldn't be brought to court because it happened at a party and therefore it was just some alcoholics from the village wasting a judge's time. Eventually, after some discussion about how no alcohol was mentioned, it was decided the case should be presented to a judge. I would also like to point out that the Native man in question was entirely sober, well put-together, spoke more cohesively than other cases that day, and had a bad limp.

"Natives are child abusers/molesters." This one actually links to the first stereotype mentioned, and a lot of what I've said on this blog about how abuse perpetuates. There was a lot of physical, mental, and, yes, sexual abuse in the US run schools, especially the Christian ones and boarding schools. (I've heard people mentioning that the priests would more often target the boys because they couldn't get pregnant.) When one gets regularly exposed to this sort of thing, they come to accept it as normal. This normalizing of abuse is bad enough for the one person, but it also affects the way they interact with others when put in similar situations as the abuser. They're hurt and traumatized and weren't effectively told that it was wrong and they shouldn't have been put through that, so they perpetuate it on people as vulnerable as they were when it happened. Movements have started in hopes of bringing awareness and getting help for these people before they can carry out the cycle further. Abuse between adults is also a tricky issue because the ways people are taught to give or not give consent are counterintuitive to cultural norms around verbal and nonverbal communication. See: the "they didn't say no" argument.

"The Stoic Native." There are a number of reasons one culture might emote less than another, especially around people they don't know. This doesn't mean that we don't feel or are too strong or brave to feel. Our emotions are our business and we don't owe anyone an explanation.

"Natives are part of the land." For some reason, a lot of non-Natives have trouble grasping that Indigenous Peoples are human beings in our own right. A lot of media portrays us not as people in the same sense that the outsiders are, but as extensions of the land or the spirits of the land. It's true that generations upon generations of living somewhere means the land will change to reflect the people, but that is due to the influence of people living there and how their culture says to interact with it. This trope reduces us to symbols of "a simpler time" or just as often white people's ideas of nature conservation. It's dehumanizing and infantalizing, ignoring our cultures and civilizations, treating us as either innocent martyrs for someone else's cause, or pests that are done away with once the land is developed.

"The Native Princess." Sometimes the only way non-Natives can see us as people is by pushing cultural norms and forms of government they're more familiar with onto us. Naturally, this means assuming that our civilizations were as successful as they were because they were like the non-Native author's. This is especially gratuitous in the case of Inuit, Inupiat, and Yup'ik peoples because we don't have anything resembling a monarchy. Yeah, this one is explicitly in the text so I can't expect much to be done with it

"Native women are always available to men." I don't know what it is about cultures that consider themselves more "advanced" seeing ones they consider "primative" where women have more autonomy in the relationships they have with men and fewer restritions on their bodies. I don't know how they misinterpret "she can do that here" as "she's there for the taking" but it's so gross and I would like it to stop. Sexuality being more open and not inherently sinful doesn't mean the women don't have standards or won't turn anyone down.

"Natives are broke and/or homeless." This is just the typical racism mixing with classism to make something even uglier situatation. The result is a lot of treatment you see non-Native POC get, such as being followed at the store because they expect you to steal something.

There are more, I'm sure, but these are the ones I get the most. Note that again, it's not inherently bad to write a Native or Native-coded character who drinks or has a lot of partners or is particularly connected to their homeland or poor, but take care to handle it with some sensitivity. Understand that there are implications to these things and real harm can be done by legitimizing racist stereotypes.

#response #eskimo on main #rape mention #this is a heavy one guys so take care of yourselves

[tsukibraun]

Pragma Love; Jean Kirschtein x reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

type: series, blurb

summary: you and jean slowly develop feelings for each other over time, but you both quickly learn that love isn’t as easy as you thought

warnings: feelings of worthlessness (you get better in the end tho cause you’re a legend, obviously)

listen to: Crush- Yuna, Usher

part 1/2

read part 2 here!

Self-worth is a tricky thing. You have to know when to be humble and when to humble others. You have to be able to determine what’s just a small flaw in someone’s personality and what’s them trying to walk all over you. You have to have enough love and respect for yourself without becoming a complete narcissist. You have to know what type love you deserve and how to reject the love you don’t like. And when someone tries to challenge your worth, you have to be ready to honestly defend yourself.

This is something you’d struggled with for a long time. It wasn’t easy being able to discern people’s intentions or to come up with a reason for why they treated you the way they did. Yeah, sure, this person could just be a total jerk, or you could’ve done something to deserve the harsh treatment. Maybe you really hurt them without realizing; maybe they’re just reacting that way to defend themselves. They could be a bad person, but what if it was the other way around? You never wanted to assume anything about anyone, but in recent years you’ve learned that sometimes that’s what you have to do.

That was the first thing you noticed about Jean. You witnessed the fight he’d had with Eren in the lunchroom one night. They both retaliated back at each other, but there was something different about the way he was doing it. Eren was clearly angry and wouldn’t let someone challenge his opinions, but Jean- Jean was beyond confident. He wasn’t threatened at all by Eren or his opinions; in fact, it seemed Jean knew he was right, at least in his head, and didn’t mind letting someone know that. He was confident in himself, like he knew he’d come out as the victor; but even if he didn’t, you had a feeling he wouldn’t be too bothered by it. He seemed like the type to just be proud of making his point.

At that time, you couldn’t imagine getting into an argument like that with someone. If they disagreed with you, even if you were clearly right, you would just let it go. ‘There’s no reason to put up a fight’, you’d say, ‘they have a valid reason to think what they think’. Even if they persisted after you clearly would not retaliate, you’d either end up agreeing with them to get them off your back or just sit and take it. Confrontation wasn’t an option and must be avoided at all costs, even if you weren’t the one that started it.

That was the first thing Jean noticed about you.

You were very quiet and laid-back; you often didn’t say much when you guys were in groups. You would just sit back and listen, quietly laughing at jokes from time to time. You weren’t quiet forever, though. After a couple of months you started to open up more; not too much, but it was progress. Little by little you would start to engage in group discussion, agreeing with someone, cracking a joke, or adding to the conversation in general. He thought it was so weird. You clearly had a lot more to say but you just...didn’t. You always bit your tongue and let someone else say it, or just let the idea disappear entirely. He didn’t pester you at first, though. He wanted to see how you would come out on your own.

There was one night, though, where he was really irked by your shyness.

It was late the night before an expedition. You guys were supposed to be asleep by then, but the night before a mission is always a restless one. While some scouts were responsible enough to get some shut eye, you, Jean, Berdolt, Reiner, Mikasa, Eren, Sasha, Krista, and Ymir had other plans. All of you sat in the lunchroom, making casual conversation. It was simple things, like games you would play as kids, things you hated, funny stories from before you became scouts. Eventually, though, you began to discuss your current reality. At first it began with the EDM gear, talking about improvements, how hard it was to use, what you liked about it, etc. Then you came to the topic of Titans. Many different things were talked about here, but there was one question that made everyone tense up: If you could only save your family or fellow cadet, who should you pick?

Ymir asked this question, of course, smirking at the change in atmosphere. This was a very sensitive question for many reasons, but you didn’t think too much of it. Everyone is different with their own experiences and reasons for why or why they wouldn’t do certain things. Eren was the first to answer. “What kind of question is that? You’d save your family, obviously.” No one answered for a while, each person contemplating their answer. “Do you guys seriously have to think about this?” Eren pestered. Finally, Jean answered. “As much as I can’t stand you, Eren, I’ll have to agree with you on this one.”

Everyone else began to give their answers and it started a small debate, but you were still thinking. Jean wondered if you were just gonna sit this one out again, and honestly the idea irritated him. But to his surprise (and everyone else’s) you gave an answer. “I’d save the cadet.” Everyone went quiet and stared at you, somewhat because they were shocked you answered, and somewhat shocked of your answer. Eren in particular didn’t like it. “Are you serious? You’d pick a soldier over your own family?” The tone in his voice made you anxious, but you still decided to explain yourself.

“Well, it’s not like I don’t love my family or anything but...in most cases, the cadet is more important...in practical ways at least. I’d obviously try to save my family afterwards but-“

“How heartless are you?” He interrupted. You felt a lump form in your throat as you predicted the confrontation that was about to ensue. “How could you say that? A soldier is more important than your mother, then? Sister? Father?” You gulped, trying your best not to freak out in front of everyone. You took a couple seconds to make sure he was done before speaking again. “Well...I don’t really view you all as just soldiers,” you trailed off looking at your feet, “I do care about all of you. I don’t hold the people I care about one against the other. I care for each of them all the same.”

“So, in this certain scenario, although I would never want my family to die, saving the soldier is more practical. They’re an extra set of hands, skill, thinking ability- we all know how devastating it is to lose a soldier. Everything becomes incessantly harder. What if they were really needed for future fights? What if they were an important asset? And, if I were able to save them, they could help me possibly save my family.” You finally looked up for a second, seeing everyone’s reaction to your words. You immediately looked somewhere else so you could finish your point.

“Saving a cadet isn’t just saving them, it’s also saving the rest of us. If I were to go after my family, what other things would I miss? More Titans coming? A retreat?A change of plan? And even if I did save them, it’s another liability.” You finally looked Eren in the eyes, seeing his clenched fist and strong glare. “Unfortunately, in this world, we can’t always go after what we want. Sometimes we have to go after what we need, even if that means losing something we want. Our decisions don’t just affect us- they affect everyone.”

A long silence followed the end of your tangent. This was the most you’d ever said in one go, and they didn’t quite know how to take it. They didn’t know you had such detailed thinking, either. They shared glances with each other before some began to speak again. “You know,” Berdolt said rubbing his chin, “when you put it like that, I can see your point.”

“Yeah,” Krista agreed, “I’m not sure I would do the same thing, but I can see where you’re coming from.” Eren scoffed. “You guys are delusional. The only reason you’re agreeing with her is because you pity her.” You straightened up, palms sweating. He could be right; you saw the looks on their faces when you were done. They could just be trying to keep you from feeling dumb. Before you could say anything else, Jean came to your defense. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, cocking his head to the side and leaning forward.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Eren continued, “the girl never says anything!”

“And so what if she doesn’t,” Jean asked, “she’s not bothering you. Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t-“

“Then leave her alone,” he interrupted, “She’s allowed to have her own opinion just like the rest of us. If you’re gonna get that pissed about it, maybe you should go to sleep.” Eren quickly stood up, ready to fight with Jean again, but Mikasa quickly stopped him. You looked between the two of them not quite sure of what to do; you decided not to say anything more to Eren since you had clearly made him upset. Instead, you quietly tapped Jean’s arm and gave a quiet “Thank you.” He gave you a small smile. “Don’t mention it. You know, though,” he said leaning closer to you, “you really need to learn to stick up for yourself. You can’t be so quiet all the time or else stuff like this is gonna keep happening.” He was so close you swore he could hear your unsteady heart rate; still, you returned his word with a small smile and nod.

Ever since then, you two were close.

It wasn’t necessarily a closeness that was outwardly established between you two, it was just there. If he saw you getting anxious, depending on the situation, he would invite you over to where he was. If not, he would give you a certain look, similarly to asking if you were okay or telling you everything was okay. You sat close to each other during meals; if one of you had a smaller portion than the other, you would give a piece of your meal without saying anything. You made sure you were in eyeshot of each other, whether that be on an expedition or simple training. It wasn’t an obsessive thing, just comforting.

Being around Jean made you open up more. Slowly, you began to be okay with showing others who you were. You began to talk louder, laugh more, speak your mind (with tact, of course), and stand your ground. It wasn’t to Jean’s level, but it was there. You noticed other small differences, too. If you needed help with something, you weren’t afraid to ask for it. You could come into a conversation without overthinking it. You began to speak to other people first instead of waiting for them to speak to you. You could walk up to a group of people without feeling like you were intruding. You were able to really live, now. And it was with his help.

The more you came out of your shell, the more Jean absolutely adored you. Sometimes he would be the one to sit back and observe; he would watch you talk and laugh with everyone and be completely infatuated with you. Your laugh, your smile, your humor, your kindness, your little mannerisms; the more and more he was with you, the more he realized he was in love with you. Completely in love with you. So much so it actually started to hurt.

Although he loved being around you, knowing that any of the cadets could have a chance of sweeping you off your feet frustrated him. Since you came out, everyone noticed your charm. The boys had complimented you a couple times, to which Jean told them all to shut up. He wanted to tell you how he felt, and he eventually would, but he had no idea when. He had to use tact like you did so you wouldn’t be too shocked and reject him, but he wasn’t quite sure how. Although you two were close, he had no idea what you wanted in a guy, especially not how you’d want to be confessed to. You didn’t seem to want much from anyone, but there was a part of you he didn’t know yet; the romantic part- that part of you with anyone was completely closed off. He didn’t want to ask you, either, because it was clearly something you weren’t too comfortable talking about.

He had no idea what to do, which was a pretty rare occurrence, at least when it came to women. Either way, he was going to tell you. He just had to figure out when.

Meanwhile, you were completely ignoring your feelings for Jean. Although you were a lot more open with everyone, there were certain parts you kept from them, even from yourself. You noticed the butterflies in your stomach, a different type of longing for his presence, him popping up in your head at random times. You knew how you felt about him, but you continued to lie to yourself. “It’s nothing,” you’d say, “I’m just overthinking it.”

You’d noticed him staring at you with a certain look in his eyes; the way he’d smile at you, the way he’d purposely brush your hands together when walking by, him being more protective and watchful of you- it was little stuff, but clearly different than what it’d been before.

And you absolutely loved it.

You didn’t notice, but you began to do the same thing. Smiling at him if you saw him sleep, fussing at him if he ever got hurt, making sure he had everything he needed at all times, fixing his collar or hair when it was a mess; everyone else saw it except you.

One day you���d have to come to terms with how you felt, but until then, you’d deny the feelings every change you got.

***

uh...hi!! this is something pretty different from what i normally do 😅 i’m not too comfortable writing stuff like this but i’m trying my best! hopefully this was a nice introduction to this series. anyways, if you read all of it, thank you sm!! i can’t tell you how much i appreciate it. take care and stay safe!<333

#jean kirschtein headcanons #jean kirschtein scenarios #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein x reader #aot jean #jean aot #attack on titan jean #jean kirschstein gif #jean kirstein #attack on titan season 4 #aot headcanons #attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan scenarios #aot #idk what i’m doing #I’m sorry if this is bad #hurt/comfort #jean fluff #angst #uh yeah that’s it

[1234-angelika]

Sabotage

an:Hey y'all! I got a little behind because school comes first but I should be caught up now. This is the second installment for the Happily Ever After series for Matt. As always, enjoy!

words:1.1 k

warnings:divorce, arguing, yelling (though it is written),

summary:"Life ain't always beautiful but it's a beautiful ride."-Gary Allan.

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

Six months. That’s how long it had been since Matt had come into your life. Over these past six months, the boys had been picked up by Matt or Kristy, alternating, so they didn’t need to have contact with each other. You and Matt had had coffee a couple of times but, since it hadn’t been that long since his divorce and he never asked you on a date, you didn’t want to assume anything.

The early morning sun shone through your curtains at the same time your alarm decided to sound. Monday’s were your favourite day of the week, a symbol of a fresh start. You woke up more excited than before. Because it was a Monday, it meant that Kristy and Matt switched custody today. You had known Kristy for years, but you hadn’t met her family, her husband or her new boyfriend; up until six months ago at least. You took a shower and got ready, dressing up a little because you knew you were going to see Matt today. Breakfast and coffee were next on your list before you headed out the door. On your way to work, you went through the drive-through and picked up coffee and treats for your co-workers.

Upon your arrival, you unlocked the doors and started to set up for the day. Your co-workers arrived not long after and thanked you for the coffees. You chatted together while setting up until the first kids arrived. After that, the stream of kids coming was pretty consistent. And since today was the custody switch, you were doing a favour for Kristy, which had become routine every two weeks. You had all the Simmons children at the daycare— Jake, David, Chloe and Lily—instead of just the boys. All the children were under four so, it was a bit of a handful on top of your regular teaching duties but nothing you couldn’t handle.

The morning started off slow. Independent play was the first hour, allowing the kids to wake up and get used to the classroom after the weekend. Next, you moved on to art. You and your co-workers covered the tables and set out the art supplies for the kids to have free rein. Art time had less of a time constraint, so most of the morning was spent doing art. Two hours in, which was a record for the class, Chloe and Lily got bored and started throwing paint at each other. Their activity ignited a chain reaction which led to a paint throwing extravaganza from the entire class. After cleaning the kids up, you led them to the nap room and tried your best to put them to sleep. The children who didn’t fall asleep had quiet time in the room.

While the kids were out for nap time, you cleaned up the mess that used to be your classroom. After carefully taking the artwork off the tables and putting it on the drying racks, you removed the table coverings while your co-workers cleaned up the art supplies. It was a quick process because you could focus all your attention on the mess and not be divided between cleaning and the kids. After nap time, the kids played outside for half an hour and then came in for lunch. During lunch, you were so busy opening things for the kids, you didn’t have time to eat your own lunch. You had only managed a few bites.

Reading time was next. You offered independent reading or group storytime to give the kids the option. Some chose independent, and some chose group storytime. You cycled through a few stories before shifting into a work period: some printing worksheets, some math, and some spelling. The work period passed quickly; you and your co-workers circled around the classroom, offering help if any kids wanted or needed it. After their work was done, the children had playtime until their parents picked them up, the options of playing inside or heading outdoors.

Around five, which was the norm for almost all of the parents, most of the kids got picked up. At this point, you let your co-workers leave for the day. After all, you were the one doing the favour, not them. It wasn’t till around five-thirty that Matt walked into the classroom. You greeted him with a smile, and he offered a dazzling smile back. Just as Matt was about to sign the first sign-out sheet, a very pregnant Kristy stormed into the room. Before they even began their exchange, you felt the tension in the room rise, a sure-fire way of detecting an impending argument.

You took some toys for the kids into the nap room and ushered them in there. They didn’t need to be on the front lines of their parents’ argument, whatever it was. You played alongside the kids, the fight not spilling into the adjoining room until the voices got raised.

“What are you doing here Kristy?”

“I’m here to get my kids.”

“My duration starts this week.”

“I don’t want my kids around you.”

“Why not?”

“Because of your relationship with their teacher!” She thundered, the anger seeping into her voice. “You’re thinking of screwing Y/N.”

“What are you talking about Kristy?”

“I found your notes in Jakes backpack….”

“What note are you talking about?”

“The pro’s and con’s list.”

“It’s really not your business Kristy.”

“It became my business when I found the paper in my sons bag,” pausing for a breath, she then continued. “Not to mention the fact that their teacher is a friend of mine.”

“Why can’t I find someone? You started dating Alex a week after we separated. We hadn’t even finalized the divorce.”

“So?”

“So, your point is moot. And, the judged ruled fifty/fifty custody for us. That means, if you try and deny me the kids, I could call the police.”

“Would you really?”

“Try me.” Matt said, frustration and determination in his tone.

With a huff, she stomped out of the classroom. You heard her footsteps recede, and then a knock against the door sounded through the nap room. A tired-looking Matt stood on the other side of the door. You gave him a small smile that he managed to return, although it looked tough, and it definitely presented as more of a grimace. The boys seemed to know to gather their belongings and get ready for home. You walked over to your desk, picked up the girls’ things, and handed them to Matt.

“So Y/N…”

“Yes Matt?”

“Now that you know about the list and my plans, what would you say to a date wth me?” He asked while helping his kids with their jackets.

“Sounds lovely Matt. When were you thinking?”

“How about now?” He asked, not really making eye contact with you.

“Perfect.” You answered with a grin.

taglist:

@multixfandomwriter @myescapefromthislife

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #happilyeverafter #hea #matt simmons #matt simmons x reader

[winterscaptain]

through and through.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: this is our ajf minimal loss fic! as (usually) usual, its more fun if you read the rest of the series, but this one stands on its own just fine. lemme know what you think!!

words: 5.8k warnings: canon-typical violence, death, and injury, language, aaron Flexing on These Hoes™

summary: the septarian sect ranch situation is hard enough with the memories of waco. the knowledge you’re in danger, along with reid and prentiss, has aaron on edge. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Everyone just stay calm!” 

Nancy turns, assuring you with a naive and placating smile, “I’m state police. I’m an officer of the state.” 

Stupid. Stupid!

“Well, there’s nothing we can do right now.” Emily, ever the voice of reason, assures from behind you. 

“We just have to calm down.” Your useless attempt at de-escalation is overrun by gunfire. 

“I can talk to him.” Lunde turns to go, and you reach for the back of her shirt, trying to pull her back. 

You manage to get past the goons in the front, while they stop Emily. There’s only one chance. “No, Nancy! Wait.” 

As you run after her out of the tunnel to the main level, you give her more and more space. The noise and smoke is a little overwhelming and you almost lose her in your confusion and distraction. Cyrus shouts to cease fire, but it’s in vain. The gunfire echoes around you, and you can’t help but think of Aaron. 

What if I don’t come home? 

She rushes to the front of the building, by the window, and addresses Benjamin. “Mr. Cyrus, let me talk to them.” 

You catch up to here in the chapel, reaching for her arm to pull her back to safety when something stops you. You can’t feel it at first, but when you watch Lunde drop to the ground, you know. 

Fuck. 

Hitting the deck right away, you put pressure on the gunshot wound that’s torn through your left shoulder. You breathe deeply, fighting the panic you know will only hurt you more. The shock still numbs the pain and when you look, it seems through and through. The back of your blazer is ripped through, and there’s a hole in the wall behind you. 

That’s a comfort. 

The last thing you needed was a .223 round bouncing around in your chest. You’re grateful enough it didn’t tear your arm off entirely.

You crawl around the corner and press yourself against the wall. With a groan, you remove your blazer and tie it around your shoulder as best you can. You chance a glance at Nancy, but she's already gone - unseeing eyes turned toward the ceiling, her hand limp on the carpet, blood blossoming across the chest of her teal blouse.

Damn it.

Cyrus’s men shout around you, and it feels more and more like an active warzone with every passing second  

“Man down, man down! We can’t stay here!” 

“Hold your fire!” 

You breathe as deeply as you can, tucking your arm to your belly and closing your eyes. The gunfire slowly ceases, the movement around you becoming only a little less frantic. 

Aaron will know. He’ll find us. We’ll be okay. 

Your shoulder twinges. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and you only hope you go into shock soon for the sake of your pain tolerance. 

Aaron, please. Please hurry. 

+++

“Morgan.” JJ bursts through the glass doors and unmutes the television in the corner. 

“What’s up?” 

She increases the volume, and they hear, “... a routine question and answers meeting by Colorado Child Services has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Septarian Sect.” 

Morgan stands, ready to leap into action. “JJ...That’s not the ranch were -”

“They’re still inside.” 

Derek’s voice rockets across the office as he calls for Hotch, who immediately ends his call and leaves his office, leaning heavily on the banister. Derek tells him you’re still in there, with Reid and Prentiss. 

“...at least three child services members are still trapped inside the compound.” 

No. 

Aaron swallows heavily, 

Keep your head, Hotcher. It’ll be okay. 

Phones start ringing all at once. Everyone looks to Aaron, and he’s already back in his office, grabbing his things. He flies back out, blazer slung over his shoulder and go bag in-hand. “Wheels up. Now.” 

+++

You watch as they haul Lunde’s body out of the way. Someone helps you to your feet. You’re feeling pretty dizzy. 

“Can I have some water? Please?” You know for certain you’re in shock now, and keeping your blood pressure and volume high enough is the only way you’ll make it out alright.

“We’ll get you what you need after we take you back to your people.” 

There’s always been a little part of you that believes in the nugget of humanity in people. Today, it might just save your life.

Emily rushes to you as you step down into the basement. Reid hovers, nervous and watchful. Emily’s voice is steady. “We need water and medical attention.” 

“First aid kit is in the corner.” Cyrus points and Reid jets off to grab it while Cyrus continues giving direction. Someone hands her three bottles of water, and she sets them by your side.

Emily’s hand flutters over your forehead, as if checking you for fever. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Through and through. Just gotta stop the bleeding.” You know you’re slurring your words a little bit, but it’s not as bad as it could be. 

“I prayed this day would never come, but it has.” Cyrus shoulders a rifle. “God will see us through.”

Fuck. 

Cyrus’s eyes linger on you and Emily a little longer than is comfortable, but that’s the least of your worries. Spencer returns with the kit, pulling out packing gauze and wrapping. 

Emily helps you with your blazer and shirt, leaving your shoulder exposed to the mountain air. Spencer packs your wound while Emily starts wrapping the gauze around your ribs and shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

You put a hand on her arm. “I know. Thanks.”

+++

Hotch comes to a screaming stop in the SUV, his suit jacket long gone in the Colorado heat. He immediately makes assignments. “Dave, I’m making you lead negotiator.”

“Me?” Dave asks. 

“Why go to the students when I have the teacher?” Aaron’s eyes are probing and hold all the respect in the world for his dear friend. 

“Because the teacher is emotionally involved!” Dave cants his head toward the compound, and Aaron’s eyes follow, as if searching for you. Dave’s eyes stay steady on Aaron - watching him look for you. “And so is the Agent in Charge.”

With a defeated sigh, Aaron cops to it. “I know I am. This is a unique situation.” At Dave’s squint, he continues. “We have three agents who could affect the outcome on the inside.” His voice is low and riddled with tension. The concern radiates off of him in waves, and he can only hope it passes as concern for the whole team. 

In truth, it’s almost all for you. He can’t explain it, but he knows something isn’t right.

“I can’t be objective. I know them too well.” Dave does everything he can to pull Aaron from direct control, but he knows it's a lost cause. More than one part of him knows why. 

Aaron’s jaw tightens, and he’s more intense than before when he replies, “This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of our team as Cyrus. That’s why you’re the best man for the job.” 

“Assuming they’re still in a position to make moves.” 

The thought is near-unbearable. He softens, taking another approach. 

“I know how bad this is. That’s why I want you doing the talking.”

“Alright.” 

Aaron claps Dave on the shoulder, and it’s a silent thanks. Before they can move, there’s more commotion around the back of the FBI staging area. 

Goddamn it. What now?

“...I’m sorry sir, I’m under direct orders from the FBI.” 

Dave and Aaron share a glance, and Aaron leads the way to the argument. 

“I’m the Attorney General of this state.” 

He can’t help it. A smirk crosses Aaron’s face. 

Lawyers. Alright. I can do lawyers. 

There’s also a part of him relieved that he can offload some of this stress into some kind of altercation. An opportunity to flex his Juris Doctorate never hurts. 

“I demand to know why I wasn’t told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Septarian Ranch -”

Alright. That’s it. 

Aaron turns, an insulting kind of disbelief on his face. Steadily and without haste, he approaches. “The only thing that you’re in the position to demand is a lawyer.” A spike of anger strikes his chest. 

He knew about this raid. He knew and he failed to tell us. 

And now his people are in trouble. 

You are in trouble. 

“Who the hell are you?” The overblown AG turns on Aaron. 

Big mistake. 

“I’m Aaron Hotchner. Unit Chief. I’m the guy who’s gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” 

And it’s not an empty threat, dipshit. 

“You can’t talk to me like that.” Was that a smug smile on his face? 

Aaron steps up to him, nearly nose to nose. The adrenaline and anger and fear floods through him and leaks through his words. “Get off my crime scene.” 

Hard brown eyes stare down weak blue ones. Aaron wins. 

+++

“Then leave us alone.” Cyrus’s voice belies no tension as he paces. Your eyes follow him, much more alert now that much of the bleeding has stopped and you have some water in you. Emily strapped ice to your shoulder about twenty minutes ago. You might end up with a little nerve damage, but it's better than bleeding to death. 

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Benjamin.” Dave takes a breath, delivering the information steadily. “One of the police bled out on the way to the hospital. So let’s just stop this before things get worse.”

Aaron’s brows, already low, get even lower. Derek, hovering behind Rossi, takes note. The tension in his unit chief is different and he doesn’t know what it is. 

“Please,” Dave continues, “just put down your guns and come out.”

A buzzing takes over Aaron’s senses for a moment, and he shakes his head to rid himself of it. He reaches down for a bottle of water, downing half of it before he puts it back down. 

“Now, the four child service workers…” That catches Aaron’s attention, and he snaps to. “One of them is dead. It wasn’t us.” 

You bite your lip, watching Benjamin pace near the door. That phrasing will do nothing but panic your team, and you know it. Tipping your head against the wall behind you, you throw out anything you can. 

I’m alright, Aaron. We’re okay. 

Aaron’s head drops and he wets his lips. He closes his eyes, doing his best to keep himself from running straight for the compound. 

No. Please. I’ll get what I get for wishing it’s someone else, but please let it be someone else. Anyone else.

What if it was Prentiss?

What if it was Reid? 

Guilt floods him and he pushes the thoughts aside. 

Dave keeps his voice clear and even. The depth of Aaron’s gratitude and respect is ineffable. There’s nobody better for the job. “I need a name to inform the family.”

“Her name was Nancy Lunde.” 

Aaron nearly collapses in relief, pushing away the guilt as it rises in his sternum. 

“One service worker was shot in the same altercation, but we have provided medical care and the wound is non-lethal.” 

Say my name. Say my name, please. 

He doesn’t, and you grind your teeth together. 

Dave nods, glancing at Aaron. “Okay. Now, please, Benjamin, send out your wounded, including the injured service worker. I promise they’ll be taken care of.”

“With enough supplies, we can tend to our own.” 

“Okay, I’ll need a few hours to put them together. I’ll bring them up myself at first light.”

You can’t hear what Dave says on the other end of the line, but Cyrus’s lack of reaction can only be a good thing. 

“You should get some sleep.” Emily, sitting next to you, checks over your wound again. Spencer’s on your other side with his eyes closed, but you know he’s not sleeping either. 

Closing your eyes, you reply, “I can’t.” Nevertheless, you reach for her hand. She slips her fingers into your palm. “Mm. Your hands are warm.” 

“Well, yeah. I didn’t get shot today.” She’d usually jostle you with a jab like that, but she knows better - obviously. 

+++

When first light comes, you open your eyes. You’re not sure, but it was likely you got at least a couple of hours of sleep. There’s a lot you don’t remember from the night before, but you know they shuffled you up to the chapel at some point. 

Probably a good thing. 

The ice has melted and your arm is all wet. You check your dressings and find them working well enough. They’ll still have to be changed, but you can’t deny the effectiveness of Emily’s instruction and handiwork. 

A car door closes outside. Emily stirs, immediately reaching for a nearby bottle of water. She hands it to you after she takes a couple of sips. Shuffling around Spencer, you take it with your good arm and drink as much as you can. 

Wait. Didn’t Spencer say you could do a transfusion with coconut water?

Do I even need a transfusion? 

Yes. 

Oh. Thanks. 

A knock on the door startles you out of your half-delirious thoughts. You’re grateful for the distraction. The feeling increases tenfold when Dave walks into the chapel.

Aaron’s nearby. It’ll be okay. He probably put Dave on this himself. 

“The children, and our guests.” Cyrus gestures to you, proving to Dave that everyone is in fact, relatively, alright. 

You turn your head (ouch) and meet Dave’s eyes. Looking back down, you’re satisfied he knows you’re alive. 

“I was hoping you’d let me take the children,” Dave says. 

Benjamin shakes his head. “Nah. They’re our protection.” 

We are, too, dumbass. 

The two men chat for a moment. Your heart feels like it grows three sizes as you listen to Dave do what he does best. 

It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. 

You have to believe it. 

After Dave leaves, they make you stand off to the side while they pour wine for everyone present. Emily starts whispering, and you know she’s profiling the adults. It’s probably smart, but all your energy is focused on remaining upright and ignoring the throbbing ache in your shoulder. 

+++

Dave jogs back up to the staging area and assures them you’re all okay. He relays your condition to Aaron, “...but it looks alright. Well-dressed and not bleeding through.” 

Aaron nods. So that’s what the feeling was. You’re alright, but it’s still wrong. He shoves down something else that scares him a little. 

That’s a problem for another time. 

Is it a problem, though?

Yes. 

“He’s too calm. It’s - It’s like he was waiting for this to happen and now that it has, he feels vindicated.” 

Aaron rounds the table and comes to rest at Dave’s side. They’re in full strategy mode. The opportunity to stretch their abilities is welcome, but they both wish it was under better circumstances with lower stakes. 

His hands flutter uselessly at his sides. Restless energy still rockets around his limbs and he hates it. He hates feeling so deeply out of control. 

“I have a signal!” 

Derek, Dave, and Aaron flock to their headphones, tuning in just in time to hear Cyrus inform the congregation they have all ingested the poison together. 

+++

Emily’s eyes shoot around the room, and you know what she’s thinking. 

The profile didn’t indicate mass suicide…

This doesn’t fit

He continues to deliver his sermon and you tune out, focused on the faces of Cyrus’s followers. Right now, they’re more revealing than he’ll ever be. 

+++

“This doesn’t fit.” 

Dave voices Aaron’s thoughts exactly. It quickly devolves into discussion of a breach, and Aaron brings a hand to his forehead. He’s ready to go. 

“If we go into there, people are going to die.” 

Aaron’s hand flies out to the  side. “People are already dying.”

Rossi’s eyebrows raise, and Aaron tries to keep his hackles down.

+++

“What do we do?” Emily whispers. 

Spencer shakes his head. “Nothing.” 

“We have to do something,” you hiss. “These people just took poison.” 

“Cyrus just told them he did and I think he’s bluffing.” 

Emily’s brow crumples. “Why do you think that?”

Spencer’s following observations make sense - the notes, the watching armed bystanders. It’s strategically sound for Cyrus to weed out the weak in his congregation. 

After a moment, Cyrus admits it was a test of faith. “...Watch each other for signs of weakness. You are your brother’s keeper.”

+++

Frustrated, Aaron runs his hands through his hair. “Tell ‘em to stand down.” 

The tension is getting to him, as is the lack of sleep. Dave made him lay down overnight, but he never once closed his eyes. He was worried about Prentiss. He was worried about Reid. 

He was worried about you. 

I almost got all of them killed. 

Step it up, Hotchner. You chose Dave for a reason. 

Listen to him. 

+++

“...well into its second day, the standoff at the Septarian Sept ranch has now been taken over by the FBI. There was much speculation in regard to hostages…”

Aaron hovers behind JJ, completely tuned in to the news. This could be disastrous. 

“...But anonymous sources inside the state attorney general’s office have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the Septarian Sect ranch.” 

This is disastrous. 

Everyone reacts, but Aaron walks away. He can’t face this right now. There’s too much to do, too much to think about. 

Don’t do anything stupid. 

He only hopes you can hear him, somehow. 

Please don’t be a hero. 

+++

Cyrus enters, all bluster and confidence. 

Shit. Something happened. 

“Which one of you is it?”

You all just stare at him. He pulls a gun from his waistband and you jump a little. The movement twinges your shoulder, and you let out a small wince. 

“Which one of you is the FBI agent?”

Spencer is the first to speak. “Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?”

Yikes, Spence. Question for a question. 

Wait. Maybe it will work. 

Something in you tells you to keep your mouth shut, and you do. The last thing you want is to screw up whatever Spencer’s cooking up. His brain moves a lot faster than yours. 

Don’t do anything stupid. 

“God will forgive me for what I must do.” 

You can feel your eyes widen as Cyrus raises the gun to Spencer’s head. You’re completely frozen, as if something’s physically holding you in place. 

Don’t be a hero.

You’ve been shot, idiot. Your shock response is all over the place. 

No, it’s different. 

Yeah. Sure. 

You roll your eyes at yourself, but quickly cover it by crinkling your face up in what you hope looks like confusion. 

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Cyrus looks at you and you shake your head, doing your best to look like a deer in headlights. “One of you does,” he says. “Who is it?”

Before you can open your mouth, Emily jumps in without hesitation. “Me. It’s me.” 

Spencer looks at her like she’s grown a second head. Cyrus lowers the gun and you take a breath. You don’t have much time to recover, though, as Cyrus snatches Emily by the hair and drags her out of the room. 

Your breath catches and you leap to your feet with Spencer. The dizziness doesn’t phase you, but your concern for Emily certainly does. 

Don’t cry. 

Don’t be a hero. 

There’s a gun to your head and you do your best to relax. You raise your good arm into the air, as if you could be a threat with a half-inch hole through your shoulder. 

Shit. 

+++

Between your gunshot wound and now listening to Emily getting the shit beat out of her, this is a bad day for Aaron. 

Someone else hauls you by your bad arm into another room, and you can’t help but yelp. They need to listen to Emily now, so you do your best to stifle the urge to cry out. You’ll answer all the questions as quietly as possible. 

They need to hear Emily. 

Aaron, please have ears in there. 

+++

Aaron very nearly throws the headphones off. He’d know your voice anywhere, even raised in pain. The overlapping cacophony of anguish breaks his chest wide open. 

“We gotta go in.” He stands and removes his headphones, unable to listen any longer. 

Rossi shakes his head, still tuned in. “We’d be risking the lives of everyone in there.” 

+++

You can hear Emily through the wall, and you bite your tongue until it bleeds. The man (who still has a hold on your arm), throws you into a chair. You let out a small wail, but cover your mouth with your good hand before speaking. “Please, I -”

“Did you know?”

“No. No.” They need to hear Emily. 

“Tribulation breeds resilience,” the man says, dropping close to you. His thumb digs into your wound. It’s too much and you internally apologize to Aaron as you let out a sob. “God rewards the resilient. He rewards those who cleanse themselves of evil.”

“Please -” 

He shakes you and man does it hurt. The pain shoots from your shoulder to your fingertips and zings all the way down your back. You’re hot and cold at the same time and don’t have the energy to fight it anymore. You break down, and sound falls from your mouth as the man continues to preach at you, all the while tweaking and twisting and squeezing your shoulder. 

+++

“He’s got them both.” Aaron stands, his palms pressed flat to the table. Hearing you in that kind of pain ignites something white-hot in his chest. He hurts for Emily, too, but at least she’s still able to talk. 

“I can take it.” Emily’s voice rings clear through the headphones, and they all freeze.

“Wait - Wait. Listen to what she’s saying.” Dave gestures to Aaron, who reluctantly tunes back in. 

“I can take it.” 

Derek scoffs. “She’s antagonizing him.”

“She’s not talking to him.” Rossi remains firm. 

Aaron’s hands get lost in his hair, restless and frustrated and useless. He takes a breath and ignores the sting behind his eyes. “She’s talking to us. She’s telling us not to come in.” 

He knows Emily. She’s just as smart as she is strong and wouldn’t antagonize Benjamin on her own. 

There’s a particularly vicious commotion and Emily falls to the ground with a sharp groan and a cough. 

That’s it for Derek. He throws his headphones off and starts to pace. Aaron’s the only one who leaves the headphones on. Even then, his eyes mist up and his jaw is so tight he’s almost afraid his teeth will shatter. 

+++

You slump back against the chair. “I’m sorry she lied to you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The words choke out of you with a gasp. Your shoulder screams and the pain is truly breathtaking. 

Emily will forgive you for throwing her under the bus - you know you’d forgive her if the situation was reversed. 

Cyrus throws the door open. “The agent’s going upstairs. The other two are clean.” He looks at you with a certain degree of contempt and you keep your eyes on the floor. 

Don’t do anything stupid. 

Don't be a hero. 

Why those two phrases keep echoing around in your head, you have no idea. Nevertheless, they’re both good reminders. 

You’re returned to Spencer and slide into a chair. You tip your head back against the wall and listen to Cyrus question him. 

Why didn’t Spencer get beat up?

Not that you wanted Spencer to get beat up, of course, but it all seemed a little inequitable. You’d already been shot - isn’t that enough excitement for one day?

“On the next call, you should test them.” 

Oh, how I love you, Spencer Reid. 

He continues. “Test the negotiator. Make him prove he isn’t a liar.” 

This would only work if they had ears in the building. If Spencer has faith, so do you. Tears prick at your eyes and you think of Aaron. 

Please tell me he didn’t hear me. Please tell me they only had ears on Emily. 

You’re still the baby of the team, the newest, the youngest. You know that’s why Aaron watches out for you so carefully. He’s just protecting you. 

At least, that’s what you choose to believe. The other option is ridiculous, absurd, and nothing but wishful thinking. 

Don’t be a child. 

Spencer has Cyrus right where he wants him. You suppress a smile and hope it passes as a grimace. 

“What about you?” Cyrus turns on you and you’re proud when you don’t flinch. “What do you think?”

You shrug with your one good shoulder. “It’s a good idea, and the offer to exchange a child for information is a show of good faith. I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.” 

+++

Dave and Aaron share a glance. 

“They’ve got him.” 

A swell of pride crashes through Aaron’s chest. It’s just because you’re his youngest agent - the most time, the most potential. He has to keep you safe, he reasons. It’s the right thing to do. 

That’s not the only reason. 

He shakes his head, but the thought has its claws dug in deep. 

+++

As Cyrus reads the list of names, Emily appears at your side again. 

She looks awful - half her face painted with red and purple bruises, with more blossoming under her collar. You almost laugh aloud when she asks, “Are you okay?”

“Emily, you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

She huffs. “I didn’t get shot. Just a little beat up. We’re good. It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

Spencer’s mouth presses into a thin line. You both know she’s lying. “I’m so sorry.” Moments later, he relays the information for both your ears and your team outside. 

Cyrus looks at you, and you almost think he’s going to let you go, but his gaze slides past you. Spencer approaches him and they speak in hushed tones. 

When they’re through, Cyrus gestures to Emily and a pair of goons. “Take her back.”  

Emily looks only the slightest bit alarm as she’s taken back upstairs by the arm. If Spencer’s in, and Emily’s out, where does that leave you?

You elect yourself Reid’s shadow, silent and always right off his shoulder. Cyrus doesn’t seem to mind too much and if he does, he doesn’t show it. 

+++

“Drugging the food isn’t an option because of the children. We’ll have to go in.” The whiteboard marker twirls between Aaron’s fingers as he thinks. 

Indeed. Rossi, from his place in the corner, says, “The best time to hit them is when they’re least mentally prepared.”

“3am. Biorhythms are at their low point, then.”

“We need a diversion,” Derek notes. “Something that plays into his expectations.” 

Humvees, then, are clearly on the docket. As are bright lights and all the flash and glamour of federal law enforcement. 

Hotch and Morgan begin to volley, both men processing and paying close attention. 

“The plan depends on our people separating the diehards from the followers -” 

Derek interrupts, finishing Aaron’s thought. “And delaying Cyrus’s diehards from reacting to our assault.” 

“No, that’s not my main concern. They know what they need to do.” 

“So what is your concern?”

“Letting them know when we’re coming. The whole thing hinges on them being ready for us at 3am.” A thought comes to him then, and he reaches for a sharpie and a lid. Maybe your weird understanding of each other will come in handy, or Spencer will be looking for those signs he alluded to with Cyrus. 

Either way, it’s the only option. 

+++

Downstairs with Spencer, something catches your eye. 

Wait a minute. 

You’d know that blocky, left-hand slanted lettering anywhere. Aaron. 

Spencer sees it, too, and you share a glance. You offer him a little smile, and he nods, understanding you completely. This might just work. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Cyrus startles you a little, and you step closer to Spencer. Your wound dressing has yet to be changed today, and the heat radiating off your shoulder has made you a little jumpy.

Just my luck to survive all of this and die of an entirely treatable infection like a sickly Victorian child. 

 “You don’t have to be a part of this. You can go.” He addresses the both of you, and bite your tongue again. You have to trust Spencer’s plan, and you know he has one. 

As you suspected, Spencer says, “I would prefer to stay. Somebody needs to tell your story.” 

“I’m glad it will be you.” Cyrus turns his gaze to you, and you nod. 

“I’ll stay.” 

He softens a little, and calls someone over. In what feels like seconds, you’re sitting down while gentle hands clean and re-dress your wound. It hurts like all hell, but you’d rather do this than throw the whole damn arm out. 

As you sit, Cyrus’s plan becomes clear. Explosives seem to pass from hand to hand without hesitation. 

Where’s Emily? 

+++

Aaron has no idea how long he’s been staring at the compound. He’s wound tighter than a spring, his body all straight lines of stress as Rossi approaches him. 

Finally, Aaron says, “I know I can’t go in there.” There’s too much at stake, too much on the line, too many emotions. He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind in a place he won’t acknowledge, that he would prioritize you. 

So, he can’t go in there. 

Dave nods. “I’m going.”

“If something happens to Prentiss or Reid or…” he trails off, unable to speak the thought aloud. “I - I don’t know.”

Dave looks over at him, understanding all the things he can and can’t say. “You’re not alone.”

+++

You can feel a shift in the air as 3am creeps nearer and nearer. Outside, inside, it’s all alive with activity and anxiety. You hug your arm to your chest, nursing a bottle of water. With fresh dressings, you feel a little cleaner, a little safer, but you know it’s an illusion. 

“Something’s wrong.” The goon’s observation brings Cyrus to the front window, and even over his shoulder you can see the humvees advancing on the compound. 

Nice work, team. 

“They lied to us,” he whispers something to his shadow. While Cyrus grabs his firearm, the shadow opens the door. The gunfire startles you, and you look to Spencer. 

Tell me it’s gonna be okay. 

His eyes are steady on yours and he nods almost imperceptibly. We’re going to be fine. 

Some of the lights go out and your eyes dance around the room. 

Aaron, this better be part of your plan. 

“It came from inside the building.” 

“Check the fuses.” 

The rapid discussions fly around you, but you keep your eyes on Spencer as much as you can. He’s spitting verses at the men around Cyrus, stalling. Luckily, Spencer could talk about nothing and everything forever. 

You knew that would come in handy one day, even if it drives you up the wall outside of life-or-death hostage situations. 

“...I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Cyrus smacks Spencer with the butt of his rifle, and Spencer doubles over. You can’t help him - not with one arm and certainly not without a weapon of your own. 

“You cannot convert my brothers.” Cyrus hits him again, and Spencer drops to the floor, and you crouch beside him, the very picture of fear. Oddly, you’re less afraid right now than you were before. “No one had to follow. God could have stopped me.”

There’s a breach, and you cover Spencer with your body as bullets fly past you from all sides. Cyrus goes down, and so does the detonator. 

“He just did.” 

You almost snort as you rise, but you rapidly remember time is of the essence. 

“You alright, kid?” You’re not sure if Derek’s talking to you or Spencer, but you nod anyway. 

Spencer, too, responds in kind. “Fine. Where’s Emily?”

“We got her out of here.” 

The breath you’ve been holding since she disappeared again leaves you, but a heavy throb of your shoulder replaces it. 

The girl you’re here for in the first place, Jessica, rounds the corner and you have a sinking feeling you know exactly what she’s going to do. Nevertheless, Derek calls out to her. “Sweetheart, come with me. We need to get you out of here. Come on. Let’s go, right now.” 

You snag Spencer’s sweater in your hand and follow him to the door. You watch as Jessica takes in Cyrus’s body, clocks the detonator, and then reaches for it. Spencer leaves your grasp.

You’re hot on his heels and it’s only then you have another fleeting thought of not making it back home. 

“Run!”

Derek’s behind you. You only hope it’s enough time. 

The explosion rocks you to your core and for a moment you’re not sure whether you’re alive or dead. When the ringing in your ears cools off, Derek has his arm around you. The smoke covers everything. Your eyes burn, coughs rattling through your chest and wracking your shoulder. 

You hear your last name, as well as Derek’s and Spencer’s. It’s Emily. 

She’s scared. 

Derek helps you straighten, and guides you down the steps. “We’re alright!”

You still can’t talk for your coughing, but you hear Emily’s relieved, “Oh, God.” 

She meets you in the middle while Aaron waits at the bottom of the stairs. He’s watching you. Emily touches the side of your face and you lean into it. You’re a little on the outside as she gathers Spencer into her arms. 

There’s something going on by Aaron, but you can’t quite hear it yet. Whatever it is, it’s over before Aaron’s hand is extended toward you. When your fingers meet his palm, he brings you close, careful of your shoulder. His hand meets the back of your head, and you press your face into his neck, blocking out as much as you can.

You don’t exchange words. There’s no need. 

He tucks you under his arm and you pass Jessica’s mother, watching the burning compound with bewildered eyes. 

+++

You sleep on the plane, your head resting against the window. Just as you suspected, you developed a small infection on the last day in the compound, but it’s nothing two weeks’ worth of antibiotics can’t fix. 

Hotch sits beside you, pretending to read something or another. His eyes keep tracking the same line over and over again. The moments where he thought he’d lost all three of you to the explosion plays back in his mind again and again and again. 

You can hear him thinking and you crack an eyelid. “Hotch.”

He immediately turns his head, ready to get whatever you need. Frankly, you look miserable. “Yeah?”

“We’re fine.” 

An eyebrow raises. 

“Fine. I’m shot and Emily’s beat to hell, but we’re alive.” You reach for his sleeve, running your fingers over the fabric. “I think you saved my ass, by the way.”

You pull your hand back. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Something in me kept telling me ‘Don’t do anything stupid!’ ‘Don’t be a hero!’ and I’m certain it can be attributed to your undue influence on me.”

The corners of his lips turn up just the tiniest amount. “Maybe so.” He slips his blazer off and drapes it over you. “Sleep. You need it.” He sees you about to interrupt him and cuts you off. “If I see you in the office at all before next week…” The empty threat speaks for itself. 

“Trust me. After my near-death experience, the last thing I want to be looking at is you.” 

Liar. 

“The feeling is mutual. You look terrible.” He smiles for real this time and you return it. A whisper passes through his head, and he pretends he doesn’t notice. 

Liar. 

+++

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