#i am crediting this on two things: me being older than a lot of the (sometimes visibly nervous) other students

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan Talks Career Interests And His ‘A Different Man’ Film

By Jeff Conway

Sure, you likely know him for his many Marvel film appearances as Bucky Barnes, but actor Sebastian Stan has often taken “the road less traveled” when it comes to his career, having built quite the unique repertoire of memorable performances in far less conventional films.

That observation has arguably never been more visible than with his involvement in the new A24 film, A Different Man. Written & directed by Aaron Schimberg and co-starring Adam Pearson and Renate Reinsve, it tells the story of Edward (Stan), an aspiring actor who undergoes a breakthrough medical procedure to transform his facial appearance, but soon regrets his decision when he becomes obsessed with reclaiming what he has lost.

I sat down with Stan, Pearson and Schimberg to uncover the origin and the creative thought process that went into this new project, which is now playing in select theaters in New York and Los Angeles - nationwide come October 4. For filmmaker Schimberg, this purposefully uncomfortable narrative and the overall project hits rather close to home.

Schimberg said, “I mean, for me, it’s sort of a personal story. I have cleft palate and it’s just sort of me thinking about how it’s affected me in my life and others’ perception of me and my perception about myself. My previous film [Chained for Life] also dealt with the subject in some ways, so that’s sort of what I am always thinking about when I am starting to write a film. I was also thinking about Adam because I had worked with him previously and he played a shy character in Chained for Life, my last film, and he’s not shy at all - and yet, people I think sort of thought that he was playing himself in my movie because they sort of assumed that he must be shy. So, I was inspired to write something that was closer to who he is - taken to a comical extreme, maybe, and I wanted him to show off his range, but I also just wanted to work with him again, so these were some of the starting points.”

Pearson, a British actor with neurofibromatosis, which is a rare genetic disorder that typically causes benign tumors of the nerves and growths in other parts of the body, went on to share what it was about A Different Man and his Oswald character that most intrigued him to want to make this his next film.

“Well, I enjoyed working with Aaron the first time, so when he said, ‘Would you consider working with me again?’ Straight away, I was like, Ding Ding! Round two - let’s rock and roll. Then the script - all the words have weight. There’s very little wasted motion in the script. The end result of the film is quite challenging and holds up a mirror to an audience. I’ve never been a fan of hand-holding or sugar-coating. I think audiences can be a lot smarter than we often give them credit for. A good film will change what you think for a couple of days, but a great film will change how you think for the rest of your life. We’re certainly trying, at least, to be in the great film business.”

With Stan not only acting in A Different Man but also an executive producer, I wondered how he has perhaps noticed his interests and priorities towards the stories that matter most to him as a professional and human being evolving as time goes on.

Stan said, “Well, you get a little older and the questions get a little scarier. A few years ago, I just decided to kind of just be a little bit more aggressive about finding specific work that was interesting and different and kind of challenging for me than what I was getting to do. Eventually, you find yourself in conversations that are in the development of certain things and that might lead to a producing kind of aspect. I think in this [A Different Man] situation, I was involved before A24 came on, which never really happens for me. Not only because of obviously how I felt about the story and so on, I felt really brought in by Aaron and [producer] Vanessa [McDonnell] into their journey with this film and like what they were wanting to do. So, I felt a much bigger attachment than I usually do as an actor in a way.”

When it came time to film A Different Man, Stan recalls the production not having much time, which he actually found to be helpful within his producer role “because when you’re involved in some capacity beyond acting, sometimes you can kind of go, Hey, let’s continue shooting or something. You can help add more to the making of it in some capacity and that was big for us, given our time - that we didn’t have a lot of time.”

In fact, during one particular scene in the film, Stan remembers while everybody else was wrapping up the production trucks for the night, he decided to head out on the streets of New York City with his A Different Man director of photography Wyatt Garfield and Schimberg to grab additional footage. “I just kind of took one of his other little cameras and then we started going up and down Columbus Avenue. It was Friday night and we just got all these shots. Maybe you don’t always get to do that, so that was helpful.”

As I began to conclude my conversation with these three gentlemen, I wondered what Pearson and Stan would say to their A Different Man characters, Oswald and Edward, after seeing their stories play out on-screen and understanding their wants out of life.

Pearson said, “I’d be like to Oswald, Maybe turn it down a little bit. Be nicer to [Stan’s character Edward] because he might not say it, but he loves you and he needs you right now.”

As for the message Stan would tell Edward, he said, “Listen to me! I’m here - I’m telling you. I don’t know how I feel about this. Just hear me out.”

He then added: “It’s very interesting because we all have these moments in life, big or small, where you make a decision or you even say something because you’re with other people or you’re supposed to say something the right way, but you know your reaction in the moment or the decision you’re making is not what your gut is like really telling you. Then, you feel kind of like you’ve abandoned yourself, but then you just quickly deny that - that can kind of like spiral down. We’ve all kind of not owned certain things in the moment and that’s sort of what happens. He kind of drowns out that voice.”

[ham1lton]

the talk.

pairing: lando norris x fellow driver’s sister!reader.

format: mixed media smau.

summary: when o/s asked you to apologise to lando she did not expect for you to start dating him? you decide to break the news over lunch at her favourite restaurant. we’ll see how that goes…

author's note: your favourite sisters on the grid are back! the baddest bitches. also you all voted on giving o/s a bf so keep an eye out for that. if you’re confused on the addition of o/s’s bff - read party in the u.s.a. for more clarification!

— part of the nepo sister universe —

liked by oldersister, oldersisterbff and 367,691 others.

yourusername: beachtime!! also someone needs to teach those girls in the second slide some manners…. nasty 😒

oldersister: you’re just jealous.

-> oldersisterbff: she doesn’t understand us pookie bear….

-> yourusername: sometimes it shocks me that you’re both older than me and also considered as the best in your respective fields….

user7: the beach designs are so cute!!

user1: what i would give to have o/s gently put her leg over my arm…

-> user2: what i would give to gently put my leg over o/s/bff’s arm…

user8: you think you’re so slick with the soft launch…

-> oldersister: omg i almost didn’t see it…

-> yourusername: THANKS A LOT user8 😒

-> user8: my bad bae 😩‼️

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DINNER TRANSCRIPT BETWEEN OLDER SISTER L/N AND Y/N L/N

-> as detailed and described to her boyfriend LANDO NORRIS.

Y/N (monologue): so to start, i obviously allowed her to take us to a restaurant that she liked to get her in a good mood. i even get there early. i’m all ready, let be rephrase, i was all ready and early, when my sister walked in. she already was mad so i got a start on ordering my food so she’d have to pay the bill.

LANDO: you and your free dinners.

Y/N: keep talking and you’ll fund my ubereats for the next month. this is a monologue lando.

LANDO: got it babe. mouth zipped. no more words.

Y/N: okay so she sits down and gives me a glare. i’m like ‘oh my beautiful amazing sister who funds my eating habits. i wonder how i have annoyed you on this glorious day’.

Y/N as O/S: stop talking shit and tell me who you’re dating.

Y/N: oh no! my sweet glorious sister! i can’t tell you that! you might cut me off your credit card!

Y/N as O/S: i would never do that. i am a fair and sweet sister. i love you y/n and i will give you a lot of money to prove this.

Y/N: oh thank you! love you. then that’s the part where we hugged it out.

LANDO: has anyone ever told you that you should go into acting babe?

Y/N: yes! you think i have a future in it?

LANDO: yes! now tell me what really happened.

Y/N: i said i was dating you. she spat out her drink and started choking on something. we had to call the ambulance and take her to the hospital. she woke up and thought it was a nightmare. then i told her, she vomited and she fainted. to be honest…. i was expecting it to worse. that’s pretty tame. i think she likes you!

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liked by rollingstone, user67 and 1,283,892 others.

oldersister: thank you to rolling stone for photographing me as a part of their front cover. being interviewed in my own home seemed daunting but it was so seamless and fun.

we talked about betrayal, fashion and navigating being a barrier breaker. go read the full article on rolling stone’s website or in the physical march copy!

oldersisterbff: my best friend is so hot and sexy i love you 😍

-> oldersisterbff: hot, sexy and smart? what can’t you do bae?

-> oldersister: lots of things. like ending climate change.

-> oldersisterbff: i think you could 🤷🏼‍♀️

user17: yourusername hasn’t liked this… um…

-> user72: she doesn’t have to like every one of o/s’s post. you forget she actually sees her sister in person.

user455: i love listening to her thoughts. she’s so intelligent i love it.

-> user12: she has two degrees! one she got and an honorary one!

-> user23: unlike lando. does he even have his gcses?

-> user89: stop comparing the two lol. both of them have complained about how annoying it is.

-> user23: comparison is a part of the job. get over it.

user61: she’s so hot. need her sooo bad actually.

rollingstone: we loved having you o/s as our cover girl!

-> oldersister: i loved being your cover girl!

————————————————————————

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liked by oldersisterbff, yourbff and 308,727 others.

yourusername: my bitch pose is NAYYYSSTY…don’t ever play with the cat…. that ELBOWWW…

landonorris: when you said you were hard launching me… this isn’t what i was expecting tbh.

-> yourusername: u look cute mwah 😘

-> landonorris: i’ll take anything you give me stink 🤤🤤

oldersister: just vomited actually…. trigger warning next time please.

-> oldersisterbff: i’m omw babe.

-> oldersister: hurry i can feel the light fading from my eyes…

-> yourusername: BOOOOOO!!! you are not florence pugh.

user56: is this the betrayal o/s was talking about in the rolling stone interview??? she’s so dramatic lmaoooo.

oldersister: this is your man?

-> yourusername: yesss 😍😍😍

-> landonorris: hey sister in law 😁

-> oldersister: blocked for harassment.

-> landonorris: NOOOOOOO 😭

user73: how she a nepo baby twice. got f1 connections through her sister and her boyfriend?

-> user89: not how nepotism works tbh….

user67: he looks so goofy lmaooo.

-> yourusername: good keep thinking that. more for me.

-> user67: girl i want you not him 😭

-> landonorris: nuh uh 🙄👎🏼 you can’t have her user67.

————————————————————————

taglist: @23victoria @luckyladycreator2 @mxdi0 @booksandflowrs @charlesleclercsonlywife @molten-m122 @casperlikej @nichmeddar @decafmickey @evie-119 @ironmaiden1313 @d3kstar (wanna be removed? send an ask!)

— wanna be tagged in any future works? join my taglist! —

[fen-luciel]

The mistakes of a Acolyte

ATTENTION

This post is an experiment; for now, I'll publish only a few chapters to see if anyone new is interested. The story is currently ongoing on AO3.

WARNINGS: Unplanned pregnancy/toxic relationship/Sith oc-reader

Story: Many wrong choices had brought me to that moment.

Few were the ones I regretted.

Getting pregnant by Qimir? I don't think I'll ever have a definite answer to that.

All I needed to know was that I had to escape to a galaxy far, far away.

-Chapters

---------------------- ♡ ---------------------

Shopping was perhaps the worst part of the week. Summer had just arrived on the planet and the heat had always been unbearable, so being five months pregnant, everything had worsened from 1 to 100. Especially the sweat under my breasts and the belly that was terribly enormous for my current situation. The only positive part was that occasionally some neighbor would recognize me to help, but that wasn’t one of those lucky days.

I continued to walk through the market, armed with bags full of groceries. There wasn’t much left, but I had to get at least the fruit before heading home. The streets were full of all kinds of people and aliens, the stalls in full swing, yet something was off.

It was a feeling... that I hadn't felt in months, as if the Force was around me. But not the usual hum of life around me, or... the presence of someone familiar, just a powerful force lurking.

I tried to look around but saw nothing suspicious or resembling a Jedi or a Sith. I sighed before continuing my walk to the end of the street where the fruit stall was. Fortunately, the Twi'lek there knew me well and ran over to take my bags and place them on the counter. "What were you thinking? Here alone, you need a hand" I laughed slightly, following her at a slower pace. "Yeah well, as a single mother, it’s difficult, don't worry, I'll grab the last things and head home," I slowly touched my stomach, looking around. "The usual?" She asked kindly, to which I nodded, continuing to look around for new things. "Do you have something sweeter than the usual purple fruit with the unpronounceable name?" I said with a sly smile. "Unfortunately not, rather, do you want my husband to accompany you home? These are really a lot of bags" she replied, but I shook my head before taking the wallet from my bag and leaving the credits on the counter. "Don't worry, it’s not far and—" "And we will help her," said a male voice behind me.

It was like a flash of realization, behind me, strong and clear, I could feel the Force pulsing alive, after months of being shut off from it. I turned sharply and in front of me, two men in Jedi uniforms smiled kindly. My breath caught in my throat; it was impossible for them to know me, and I certainly didn't recognize them, but it was obvious they were here for me. And not just to help a poor pregnant woman.

"Excuse me, I..." but the taller of the two with dark skin took the bags the Twi'lek had handed him, full of groceries. "Wait..." "Don't complain, Sabrina, you're lucky to have two Jedi helping you, now go home and rest" she interrupted with a smile while I stood bewildered at the counter. "It's okay, Miss Sabrina, we'll accompany you home" said the other, offering me an arm which I reluctantly took. I certainly couldn’t make a scene in the store, or all the cover I had built would be blown, and in this condition hiding again might be impossible.

We walked out of the store slowly; despite the tension, I couldn’t deny that support was useful after all the walking I had done today. "So? Do you intend to introduce yourselves?" I said looking ahead, keeping my face stoic. The older man nodded before indicating himself. "You're right, we were rude. I am Master Sol, and this is Knight Yord, we apologize for the sudden intrusion, but we have been looking for you." I glanced at him sideways; the name Sol was familiar, although it could mean anything. "I am Sabrina. But let’s be honest, you're not here to help random passers by; we're on a distant planet in the Outer Rim, the Jedi have no supervision here, are you perhaps on vacation?" I said with a tight smile, allowing myself a nervous joke. Maybe I was too hasty with the questions, but I preferred to be the one asking rather than answering them. The two laughed briefly as we continued towards home; at this point, acting suspiciously would be worse. It wasn’t as if I could run very far; it was obvious the two were not mere padawans or inexperienced. "Actually, we're here for you. Or rather, we believe you know someone we're looking for" Sol said, still with a gentle smile. I looked at him confused, but my heart began to beat fast in my chest. I wanted to stay calm, afraid the two could sense my mood change, but the terror that my worst nightmare would come true clouded my rationality. There could be many possibilities, or just one, maybe being caught now would be better.

I freed myself from his grasp, pulling out the keys in front of the apartment building where I lived, searching for the door card. "Oh yeah? And who? I guess you have a name" the card activated, opening the glass doors. I gently touched my belly to hide the trembling of my hands. Neighbors came out right at that moment, an elderly couple who greeted me kindly. "Oh dear, you went shopping alone? Fortunately, you met these kind gentlemen to help you, you shouldn’t strain yourself in your condition." I could only smile at their concern. The affection people had shown me here since they found out I was a single mother was constant, help, advice, an atmosphere I had rarely encountered in my life and which had truly made me fall in love with this place. "I know, but it was really an emergency, I swear I'll ask for help next time" I replied, nodding slightly at other kind admonitions before waving goodbye and continuing to my apartment. Reaching the elevator with the two Jedi silently following me until then. "You have a warm neighborhood" said Sol as we went up to the fourth floor. I nodded, glancing at them behind me when the doors opened, and we walked into the hallway. "Yes, they’ve all been kind since I arrived, I’ve been lucky. Anyway, you were saying..." finally in front of the door, I took the right key from my pocket, but just as I was about to continue, the other young man spoke for the first time, interrupting me. "Does the name Qimir mean anything to you?"

It was like a bucket of cold water in the face. Of course. Obviously, they were looking for him. How could I have even hoped it was something else? Everything had been too quiet; it was obvious it wouldn’t stop without me, but now... there were Jedi knocking at my door. Asking if I knew him. So maybe all was not yet lost. "Sabrina? Did you hear what we said?" I turned to realize the two were looking at me, confused and a bit worried. Sol was staring at me intensely; it was obvious he understood that I knew something, I had lost awareness of my surroundings for a few seconds. "Yes, I'm just... very tired" I replied in a lower voice than I wanted. I turned to the door to open the lock, my hands visibly trembling, and they noticed it too. I tried to reach for the lock, but Sol's gentle hand took the card from me and opened the door. "Here, let's go in, you need to sit down."

The first lights of sunset were starting to enter through the window I had left open. The apartment was in shadow thanks to the sunshade of the windows, leaving the place mostly in the dark. I walked slowly into the living room, Sol at my side, concern written on his face. I turned to Yord, who still held the shopping bags, and looked around confused for a few seconds. Qimir's name echoed in my chest, choking my throat. "Can I..." but he seemed to understand immediately, shaking his head as he placed the bags on the kitchen counter. "I'll put away the groceries."

I stood there like an unsure idiot, unsure of what to say or do, as Yord opened my fridge in silence while emptying the bags. Sol's gentle but firm touch pushed me onto the sofa, where several pillows were positioned to help me sit comfortably and get up alone. I was gently pushed onto them, my tense body melting into the soft material, my feet on fire, but the worst was still in my chest, where my breath struggled to pass through as I kept myself contracted and tense. "We know you were... friends, I guess." He began rummaging through his clothes before pulling out an old printed photograph.

I recognized it immediately, the same tear at the corner, the slight stain of spilled coffee at the base, and in the image, me... and Qimir. I remember the day we took it; we had the hologram, but it was inconvenient to carry, so we had it printed, two identical ones to always carry with us on missions, both smiling while his arm warmly circled my waist, my head on his shoulder, my gaze happy... almost... in love. Ironic that I realized it when I had already made the most drastic decision. Qimir, however, always had that smile, the one of someone who knows too much and doesn't want to tell you out of spite. I hated his insolence when I first met him, but over time I got used to it as he got used to my ironic comments. We loved teasing each other; at first glance, we looked like two insolent kids... two lovers taking a photo. "Please, Sabrina. We need your help. This man... has committed unspeakable actions. The Order has been searching for him for years, and now more than ever, we need a hand," but I could only continue to look at that photo. I already knew everything. Of course, I knew.

"Where did you get it?" I said, keeping a more steady tone. Sure, I had left, but I wouldn’t betray him. Especially not to the Jedi. I was good at lying, but I needed to play this better; they definitely wouldn’t leave without answers, and they knew I had them. I took the photo and held it in my hands. I still had mine, hidden in the same box where I had placed the few things I hadn’t had the courage to throw away. "We managed to bring him out into the open after months of intensive searches. When he escaped, we searched through his things and the only thing that linked him to someone or something was this photo." Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I knew he hadn’t been caught or that he was on my trail, though I couldn’t be sure about the latter. Keeping our photo wasn’t typical behavior for him towards things that pissed him off. I took for granted that he wasn’t happy about my disappearance.

"I... I can't tell you much, I haven't seen him in months, I cut off all contact... and before you ask, I have no idea where he might be, disappearing without a word was his hobby." I had to choose my words carefully, say half-truths that would seem plausible without exposing myself... or us too much. "But in the photo you look close" continued Yord, walking near the couch, the groceries neatly stored on the shelves. I let out a sigh mixed with a smile. "Oh yes. Something like that, but we've always been two solitary souls, we needed our own space, so we had our secrets" I sighed before casually dropping the photo on the wooden table in front of me. "Honestly, I wouldn't know how to help you find him and I'd prefer to stay as far away from him as possible." Sol beside me adjusted his seat before giving a reassuring smile. "Anything about him would be helpful. I also want to understand your relationship more... if you think you're in danger, you can tell us, we can protect you." I gripped the fabric of my dress to distract myself from the laugh threatening to escape my throat. "The fact that you are here is already a problem for me. For all I know, he might have followed you. Qimir is many things, but he’s not an idiot." I sighed before starting to get up slowly. Yord at my side leaned in to give me a hand, but I ignored him, placing a foot on the edge of the table to try and unlace my shoes, at which point the Jedi bent down again to do it for me. "Wait, there's no need-" "I want to. You look tired, and we're disturbing you, it's the least I can do." I looked at him a bit irritated, the kindness of the Jedi had always seemed insincere to me, so good it felt fake. But I let him do it, it’s not every day you have a Jedi kneeling in front of you of his own will, and I couldn't deny it amused me terribly. "Anyway, Qimir and I were friends for a long time before..." I considered whether to tell the truth or not, but the months were too precise for me to take such a risk; if they had already asked someone about me, they would realize I was hiding something. "Well, as you can see with your own eyes, before we became something more," I gave a strained smile, indicating my belly. With my feet free of the shoes, Yord standing in front of me looked at me intensely, they had probably already considered that my pregnancy might not be with a casual someone. I walked towards the window, enjoying the twilight sky. "I left as soon as I found out I was expecting. I... I knew what kind of life he led, I imagined he wouldn’t let go just like that, I was afraid of his reaction to everything. To us, to this baby, to what he would do as a result. So I took my things and left." Sol was frowning at my words. Or maybe at the casual way I said them. Too bad. "You knew he was a Sith? About his actions? And you stayed with him anyway?" he asked. "Yes. Well, it’s not like he was very explicit about it, he told me it was his religion, it’s not like I was an expert, he talked about passion and... I don’t know, it seemed normal to me. I’ve met civilians with worse morals" I said honestly at the last part. The two seemed satisfied with my answer so I continued, "Besides, it’s not like I’m some innocent soul. That's how I met him, I was smuggling goods and sometimes we collaborated." Yord gave me an arrogant smile, "and you’re telling us this openly?" I chuckled in response. "I know my rights, kid, we’re outside your jurisdiction and even if accused, you wouldn’t have proof. Who knows, maybe I’ve been doing this job since you became a Jedi." I gave him a smirk which he returned mockingly. For being one of them, he seemed strangely likable.

"In any case. I would kindly ask you to continue this conversation another day, it’s getting late and I’d like to be alone." The two exchanged a look but nodded understandingly, "certainly, maybe we can continue tomorrow?" said Sol as he got up and moved towards the door, followed by the younger one. "Certainly," I replied with a half-smile, following them to the door. At the hallway, they gave a small bow before giving a final goodbye and walking towards the corridor. Reaching the elevator, Yord gave me one last look before smiling and winking at me. Only when I heard the elevator start did I allow myself to release the breath I had been holding until then. Back inside the house, a sense of terror hung in the air.

I was in deep shit.

Fuck.

[your-absent-father]

Children in writing: my personal pet peeves

Okay, some might know that I work as an elementary school aid, done it on and off since I was 19, so I have the credits lol. Last december I even got my trade school papers for it. I preface this this way bwcause I have worked with shitton of kids, and will in a future. My background also means that I am very quick to notice when people don't interact with kids that much.

Even the savant syndrome kid is still a kid

One thing that annoys the hell out of me is when the 8 year old smart kid character acts like a 32 year old with all the emotional cababilities it entails. Yes, some kids have an higher intelligence, emotional or otherwise, but in the core of them, they are a kid. They get temper tantrums, they are in awe of new discoveries, they love to play in their own way.

For example, the class I'm in now, we have a kid I will call James. James is raised by his grandparents and it shows in everything he does. He is an old soul, always getting striaght As and almost helping the adults in conflicts. James also giggles as I race with him during recess, he sulks like a kid after not getting what he wanted and laughs really hard at fart jokes. He is 8 even if he has an emotional intelligence of an older kid.

Children are sponges, in bad and good

Speaking of James, he is a great example of children being sponges. This 8 year old, he uses terms like "gosh darn it" or "welp, it is what it is", terms I could see his farmer grandpa using. When he is stressed, he poses like a 73 year old looking at a broken tracktor. You can see his grandpa in him clearly.

I want to say it because a lot of people only write like "I am bad because my dad was bad" characters, even though it isn't that simple moat of the time, and children being sponges could be used in so many different ways, and not just bad.

Kids knowing big words doesn't always mean they are smart

This adds into the "kids are sponges" segment. Lot of kids, especially now, pick up different words, some very difficult, but they themselves don't know what they mean. Just today I had to explain what a dictator meant to a kid talking about North Korea. (That is an other thing too I like to add: kids try to explain with their own understandkng of the world what things they don't understand are)

Children's are adults in progress

Thus is a thing that peeves me the most of all, because a lot of people think children are thing entire different entity than adults. I like to explain it in videogame logic, like as a kid you are doing the first levels and progressing trough. You still the same character at the core of it, you just leveled up and got new tricks up your sleeve. Children are humans, they aren't that difficult to comprehend.

kids with disabilities have presonalities

Omg I am such a passionate person towards this, especially because I am specialized in special ed. It annoys me in no end when a special ed kid's presonality is "ehh they are disabled?". Every single special ed kid I have been with have different personalities and likes and dislikes, if they can't show it to you themselves. I don't think I have met two disabled kids (nor adults) with same personalities, even if they have exact same disability.

In the class I am in now, James's best friend is this kid named Jackie. I don't know Jackie's diagnosis but she can't walk straight, and uses multiple walking aids when her legs hurt too bad. She can't talk very well, struggling with her speak. Still, those things weren't the first thing I'd use to describe her. I'd describe her as a dramaqueen, always ready to complain about something, i'd describe her as a sporty, always running after her friends, even if she is much slower than others. I'd describe her as kindhearted, and clingy as she is always ready for a hug. Her disability is n intergal part of her but not everything.

I could complain about this all day. I have worked with kids and adults with disabilities and they have all been do different from each other (like able bodied people). Maybe another post lol.

Okay rant over.

Tldr: Chldren are humans too. Lol

[little-diable]

For you, always - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

I am currently rewatching CM, and boy, my Aaron crush is fully back (as if it was ever gone). Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is best friends with Derek, a friendship Aaron can’t stop himself from being jealous of, unable to let go of the crush he has on the youngest team member.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, colleagues to lovers, age gap, mentions working out in a gym

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!BAU!reader (2.4k words)

picture credit to the original owner

The weights room was crowded, sweaty bodies moving past one another, trying to find a spot where they could follow their workout routine. (Y/n)‘s eyes found Derek’s in the mirror, unable to bite down her laugh as he winked at her. He kept on doing bicep curls with his weights, huffing as he got to the end of his set. 

“Do you want me to spot you, doll?” His voice rang in her ears, forcing a groan out of her as she nodded. With a deep breath inhaled (y/n) picked up her weights, pushing them over her shoulders. Derek watched her with a proud smile, only stepping in as he watched her arms tremble, struggling to pull through her last rep. “C’mon, two more, you can do it.”

She hated Derek whenever he pushed her to her limits, and yet (y/n) kept on going, till he took the weights from her aching fingers. Before either one of them could speak a word, the sound of Derek’s phone going off echoed through the air, forcing both their eyes to snap to his screen. JJ - this could only mean one thing, a thought both shared as they gave into the groan ripping through them in unison.

……

“You okay?” Aaron Hotchner murmured his words as he watched (y/n) slowly walk back to her seat, placed right next to her boss. Her eyes snapped towards Derek who couldn’t stop his laugh from rumbling through him, very well knowing why her body ached with every step she took. 

“I am, Derek just put me through a lot this morning.” (Y/n) didn’t pick up on the way Aaron’s eyebrows began to furrow, didn’t pick up on the slight look of annoyance crossing his features. Even though the rest of the team was well aware of the workouts Derek pushed (y/n) through every week, Aaron couldn’t stop the waves of jealousy flushing through him.

(Y/n) had only joined the team a few weeks ago, pulled closer due to her friendship with Derek, and yet her and Aaron had instantly clicked. She had accepted her crush on him within the first days, unable to pull away from the man who was by far older than her, while Aaron still struggled with the way his heart skipped a few beats whenever she was close.

“Do you want some magnesium? I’ve got some on me.” A smile tugged on her lips at Aaron’s words, nodding her head. She watched him reach for his bag, gaze focused on the veins shining through his forearm skin, a sight that made her want to groan. (Y/n) was too focused on her boss to pick up on the smirk Emily and Derek shared, all aware of the woman’s crush on Aaron. It was pathetic really, and yet Aaron either didn’t seem to pick up on it, or he simply didn’t want to believe the feeling in his gut.

“Thank you, you’re my lifesaver.” Their hands brushed as Aaron pushed the magnesium pill into her direction, shooting heat through both their veins. (Y/n) had to redirect her attention, hoping that her boss wouldn’t pick up on the signals she couldn’t stop her body from sending out, caught on the ever growing feelings simmering deep inside of her. 

“For you, always.”

……

“C’mon, doll, you’re with me.” Derek pulled (y/n) with him before she could even try to protest, walking down the hallway to the room they’d share for the upcoming days. She didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare look at Aaron, wondering if he was looking at her, if he would have tried to protest. But yet, even though she kept walking with her eyes set on the back of Derek’s head, she couldn’t help but ache to turn back towards Aaron, the one her heart was calling out to.

“You know,” Derek’s voice forced her back to reality, stepping into their room, “It’s cute how you and Hotch act like teenagers in love.”

Her eyes rolled the same time she slapped his side, forcing a breathy laugh out of him. (Y/n) kept her mouth quiet, well aware that protesting against her best friend’s teasing would get her nowhere, preferring to stay quiet instead of fully outing herself. 

“You may be able to hide it in front of him, but I’ve known you for too long, you know?” Derek plopped down on his bed, arms crossed behind his head as he watched (y/n) unpack her bag. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, trying to stay quiet, hoping that he wouldn’t pick up on the heat once again filling her system. 

“Just drop it, Derek, please.” His laugh forced her hands up to her face, momentarily covering her eyes as she finally gave in and started laughing herself. The sight only made Derek laugh even harder, awfully unaware of the annoyed groan leaving Aaron, who was sleeping in the room one down from (y/n) and Derek. Their boss picked up on the laughter, wondering what the two were laughing about, hating that he wasn’t the one to make (y/n) laugh like that. 

“It’s okay to like him, doll, I’d be happy for the both of you.” She sat down next to him with a sigh leaving her, trying to distract herself before her mind could pull her down the rabbit hole she had been trying to escape for weeks. 

“We both know this would be highly unprofessional. He and I could get into serious trouble for that. And I doubt he’d go for somebody with an age gap that big.” Derek’s hand found her chin, forcing his best friend to look at him. His thumb stroked her cheek, a motion so familiar (y/n) felt thrown back in time to her teenage years when she had first met him. 

“Stop talking like that, he’s clearly into you. He’d be a fool if he wasn’t.” With her head pressed against Derek’s chest, they both relished in the silence now engulfing them, a silence that was soon interrupted by the impatient knocking on their door, followed by Aaron’s call of “We’re leaving in five.”

……

“(Y/n)?” The whisper of her name ripped her out of her thoughts, eyes leaving the stars twinkling in the dark sky to look at Aaron. He was standing close to the bench she was sitting on, looking as sharp as he always did. 

“Hey, are you joining the others?” He sat down next to her with a small shake of his head. For a few seconds neither of them spoke up, looking at one another, picking up on the small details they wouldn’t ever comment on out loud. 

“No, thought I’d clear my head on a walk.” The others had found their way to a restaurant downtown, sharing a meal in hopes of distracting themselves from their current case for just an hour or two. “What about you? What are you doing out here?”

She tried to ignore the heat of his body, feeling him close to her. Goosebumps covered her body, forcing her eyes to focus back on the sky as she pressed her knees to her chest. Aaron kept watching her, smiling as he finally allowed himself to study her without needing to worry about what the others may think. 

“I don’t know, I just didn’t feel like socializing even more tonight.” She felt him freeze at her words, clearing his throat as he seemingly pondered over her words. 

“I am sorry if I -” her laugh interrupted him, hand finding Aaron’s before she could even think about the movement. But the second her hand met his, both their eyes shot down, watching as he slowly laced their fingers together.

“You could never, I like having you around.” Aaron squeezed her hand, pulling her even closer before another word could roll off her tongue. Both their eyes kept holding contact, breaths hitched in their chest as they felt the atmosphere around them begin to crackle, hoping to give them the push they needed. (Y/n) whispered his name, praying to whoever was listening that he’d cross the distance between them.

The first kiss was slow, light, barely there. A simple try, but with the fading by seconds, both their lips chased one another’s, needing more, set on satisfying the need they’d been clinging to for weeks. Her hands found the collar of his shirt, holding onto Aaron for dear life, scared that this would end with the snap of a finger. But neither the snap happened nor anything else to rip them apart, allowing them to adjust to one another.

It was clear to her that Aaron was trying to hold back, unsure if he could and should touch her. His hands didn’t dare move, not wanting to overstep a line neither of them could retreat from, one of many they were crossing just now. 

“Hotch, you’re allowed to touch me.” The breath of his name echoed through the night, leaving both to smile at one another.

“I want to take you back to my room more than anything right now, but I want to do this properly, let me take you on a date when we’re back home.” She pulled him in for another kiss with a smile tugging on her lips, hastily breaking apart the second the all too familiar mixture of laughter echoed through the air, warning the two of the approaching group of profilers. 

……

“A home cooked meal and even some dessert? Who are you, Agent Hotchner?” Her laughter echoed through Aaron’s kitchen, making him give in with his own laugh rumbling through him. He pulled her into his chest, lips meeting hers as he pressed (y/n) against the edge of the table. With her arms finding their way around his neck, she allowed him to pick her up, carrying her towards his bedroom.

Both were secretly grateful that Jack was with Jess, giving them the privacy they needed to explore their longing for one another. Both found comfort in the darkness filling Aaron’s bedroom, wrapping its arms around the two lovers that were finally finding their way together.

“Aaron,” he froze, wondering if she was asking him to stop, if she felt uncomfortable. But it was nothing more than a moan of his name, a sound clawing through her in a desperate need to pull the man even closer. “Fuck, I need you, don’t tease, don’t play around, just touch me. Please.”

“Of course, pretty girl, I’m right here.” The nickname made her swoon, heart swelling in her chest - something she’d have paid more attention to if the feeling of his lips wandering down her throat hadn’t distracted her. His slender fingers undid her blouse, not parting from her to push the fabric down her shoulders. (Y/n)’s fingers copied his actions, freeing his upper body from the black shirt he was wearing. 

Fuck, she had been aching for his body, had wanted to run her hands down his chest more times than she’d ever admit. And now he was right there, for her to hold, for her to love. Their lips connected once again before Aaron gave her a push back, helping her out of her trousers.

“Look at you, you’re so ready for me, what a pretty sight you are.” Her fingernails clawed at his shoulders, wordlessly begging Aaron to speed up his movements, watching him pull his trousers down his legs, boxers following moments later. She raised her hips for Aaron to rip her panties from her frame, unable to stop his eyes from ranking over her now naked form. 

“Aaron fuck me, please, just please.” His raspy chuckles made her whine, eyes fluttering close as she felt his cock brush through her folds, coating himself with her arousal. “I’m on the pill, let me feel all of you.” 

“I need you to be a hundred percent sure of this.” Their eyes met, her lips found his for a moment, murmuring a soft “I am” against them. With one hand finding her hip he pushed into her, making them both groan in unison. His cock twitched inside of her, trying to hold back as her walls clenched around him. “It’s okay, take your time, darling.”

Aaron kept his voice low, soft, like a breeze murmuring the morning's secrets to those allowing themselves to listen. Only as she choked on his name did Aaron begin to move, forcing his cock deeper and deeper inside of her with every thrust. 

“Feels so good, you’re so big.” Her groans made him pick up his pace, smirking down on her, watching the way her eyebrows twitched, how her eyes fluttered close, and how hands struggled to find something to hold onto. Neither of them seemed to care that her nails left marks down his shoulders and upper back, neither of them seemed to care that his lips working on her neck left hickies she’d struggle to hide. All they cared about was their fast approaching high, set on pulling them under. 

His thrusts were perfectly calculated, seemingly knowing how to touch (y/n) to make her moan and tremble like she currently was. It was a sight that left Aaron with pride simmering inside of him, a sight he’d forever cherish and remember, that much he was sure of.

“Aaron, ‘m so close.” (Y/n) arched her back, gasping his name as his thumb rubbed her clit, with a speed perfectly matching his thrusts. She came within a few moments, drawing blood from him with her nails clawed into his skin. He pushed his lips against hers as he chased his orgasm, pulling away seconds before he came. 

She watched him cum with a low groan leaving him, relieving himself on her lower stomach, painting her skin white. Both were heavily breathing, somewhat in shock that this had truly just happened, after all these weeks of imagining what being touched by the other must feel like. 

“How about a shower, huh?” With a small nod thrown his way, (y/n) allowed him to pull her to his feet, stealing a kiss from her before he guided her through the darkness. And with their hearts beating in sync, and their minds being unusually quiet, they cherished one another’s closeness for the rest of the night. 

[scarletwinterxx]

every comma, every question mark - mark lee scenario

helloo🥺 it's been a while since I wrote a mark lee scenario, and this one was supposed to be out for his birthday but i only finished now, better than never😅😅hope you like it!

all song credits belong to NIKI btw!!! her songs are amazing and I'm a big fan. true story is when I first heard plot twist, all i can think of is how mark lee coded that song is so here we are🤍

and yes the ending may be a hint that there's a next for this (?) not sure tho hahaha anywayssss

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"You need to let him go, it's 5 in the morning. You've been here since yesterday!"

Your manager's loud voice resonated through the room, breaking you from your train of thoughts.

"You're distracting me, if you do more of that I will never get out of here" you told him, turning back to your laptop trying. The only other person in the room besides you and your manager is your co-producer. These two is your closest companions, like your two older brothers. You spend most of your time with them, and you being the introvert you don't really have that many friends in the industry.

"As your manager, I love this whole creative wave you're going through. But as a concerned citizen, I'm begging you. Go home. It's your birthday, why are you hauled in this dark room" your manager continues to rant but you pay him no mind

"Yo, you're just making this last longer than it already is. I'm just letting her find whatever it is she's even looking for" your producer say, he's been here with you since yesterday ready to help you out when you need it.

Those two guys know you take your craft very seriously, each and every song you put out is like your own child. Each and every word, every tune, every melody all came from your pretty little mind. They are both very in awe of the discography you have created throughout the years and you're still so young.

Your manager exits the room, muttering something about getting breakfast and coffee before closing the door to the studio.

"How about one of the songs in your vault? You have a lot of unreleased demos" your producer suggests

"I don't know if there's one fit for this"

"Girl you have tons, surely there's one for now. Let's have a hear"

The two of you go through unreleased tracks, some finished and some still on the works before landing on a few possible candidates

"What are we looking for anyways?"

"Not sure, but I promised my fans I was going to put something out just in time for my birthday. It's my birthday and here I am" you grumbled, then suddenly you come across a demo you've written a while back

"Uh this one's old" you say before clicking on it, the beat playing through the speakers in the room

Where have you been All of my life? It's all growin' dim, now That you've come to light And who could've known, who would've thought Between the wishbones and dot-dot-dots There was always gonna be you and I

"When did you write that?" he asks

Just like that, the exact memory of when and where you first wrote that verse came flooding in your head.

"Oh"

"Oh what?"

"I feel like this is the one but I don't know if I can release this" you say

"What do you mean? Why?"

"I wrote this like some time a few years back... about a guy.. I had a crush on"

He chuckles at your reasoning, "So? All songs are inspired by something. You gotta start somewhere"

"Yea but what will I say when people ask what's the story behind it? I'm suppose to perform this on my birthday event this month"

"Then say it, what's the worst that could happen?"

Turns out a lot of things could happen. On the day of your birthday event where you're going to release your new song, your manager informed you a few artists are also present to watch you.

"What?? Why???"

"Cause they like you?" your manager asks back

"Who is it?" you ask but then the prod team calls for you

"Hey Y/N, we need you backstage now"

You get on stage, go on with your show and a short interview. The host surprises you with a cake from your fans and the crowd sings you happy birthday.

"I know it's my birthday but I have a gift for you also" the crowd cheers

"So I wrote a song, I actually wrote it a while back. It's about those unexpected moments that happen in my all to normal life. To be honest with you guys, I've always liked plot twists. The good kind" you add, making the crowd laugh

"Yea and uh sometimes there's someone who comes in your life who you didn't expect and suddenly the sky is bluer or the sun shines just a tad brighter" you blush a bit while trying to explain the song

"Anyways here's the new song, I hope you like it. It's called Plot Twist"

Look what we got A thickening plot Just when I started getting used to The thought Of closing the book There you were, in every nook Of every word, every page And now I wanna stay and wait, 'cause Met every comma, every question mark Bored of how all of the chapters start But you feel like a brand new arc That I never knew, oh I'd like to think I know a thing or two Like every day the sky's a different blue And then along came you, oh

The crowd turns their flash on, it's like a sea of stars in front of you. This made you smile while singing the words

Where have you been All of my life? It's all growin' dim, now That you've come to light And who could've known, who would've thought Between the wishbones and dot-dot-dots There was always gonna be you and I

You get to the last part of the song, enjoying watching the crowd have fun. Unbeknownst to you, the one who inspired this song was in the crowd bopping his head as he listens to your melodic voice.

Who could've imagined? Who could've imagined you? Who could've imagined? Who could've imagined you?

You finish the song and say your final ment before bidding goodbye to everyone.

Your team welcomes you backstage. congratulating you on another successful event. You were busy talking with the band when your manager pulls you on the side, "There's a few people here who wanted to greet you"

"Huh? Oh okay" you follow behind him down the halls.

When you get there the first person you saw was Haechan, a member of a group you're a fan of.

Your first thought was, what is he doing here

The second being, if he's here then surely his member is also here and you already have a hunch on who it might be

"Y/N, you already know Haechan and Mark. They came to watch tonight" your manager say

"Uh yea, oh sorry I wasn't expecting this. I'm a big fan" you tell them, bowing your head down as a sign of respecting and greeting. The two boys doing the same

"Me too, Love your songs" Haechan says, then adds a greeting at the end

"Happy birthday, we uh wanted to come and see you play live since we're on a break. Usually our schedules clash so we can't go to your shows" Mark says

Not believing this is actually happening, you give yourself a pinch on the back. It hurt.

"Me too, I mean I'm a fan too and uh thanks for coming"

"It's Mark hyung's birthday too so this was my gift to him" Haechan jokes, earning a jab on the side from Mark

"I invited him" Mark clarifies, you just laugh at that.

"You guys want some snacks? Refreshments? Let's go to the lounge room" your manager leads the three of you to the lounge area. The two guys, Haaechan and your manager, have a conversation between them. Turns out they're neighbors and Haechan's manager are friends with yours.

"I uh like your new song" Mark clears his throat as he tells you this

"Thanks, it's been a while since I wrote that actually" you mumble, feeling shy all of sudden. You definitely did not expect Mark of all people to be here tonight.

The very person who inspired you to write the song.

"I love the way you write your songs. There's always a story to uncover, big fan of your word plays" he tells you with a smiles you know will haunt your dreams for nights to come and until you make another song about him again.

"One of the few songs I've written that isn't about a heartbreak. And this is from my own point of view, usually I write them imagining the scenario in my head"

"What a lucky guy" he says

You chuckle, looking down at your shoes "He's great, but that song was a confession I'd probably never tell him"

"How come? It's a great song, he should feel honored"

You smile at that, finding the situation all too unreal.

"If he does figure it out, then I'll take my chance"

For a moment you gather up the courage to look him in the eye as if confessing the words without saying it. Like you wanted him to know it's about him but you're not sure if you can ever admit that to him.

Maybe not now. Maybe some other time, you do after all think he's the biggest plot twist of your story.

Then he's looking back at you, a glint in his eyes you wanted to know more about before he smiles at you again. His voice already writing the words in your head, ready for the melody and for your creative genius. He tells you,

"He'd be a fool not to take a chance with you"

[harrisonarchive]

Photographed by Astrid Kirchherr from 1960 to 1968.

“For me it was a very natural thing. I didn’t know it was so hard because there weren’t a lot of female photographers around in that period." - Astrid Kirchherr, Astrid Kirchherr: A Retrospective “[H]e always treated me with so much sweetness. I think he understood real love, deep love, more than the others. Professionally, I always remember how serious he was… how determined he was to make sure that I received the creative credit I deserved. George was a sweet man, who, despite reflections on him by others, was really the least complicated of the Beatles… at least to me.” - Astrid Kirchherr, When They Were Boys (2013) “Astrid was dressing like that [in leather] when we were still just Liverpool scruffs. She was the one who had the leather kecks and the Beatle haircut. […] Astrid was so loving; she’d take us home and feed us. She helped us a lot, even just to let us have a bath. Astrid was twenty-two at that time, and I was seventeen; she seemed so much older than me, and so grown up… [...] Astrid was the one, really, who influenced our image more than anybody.” - George Harrison, The Beatles Anthology “He said ‘Oh by the way, I need a cover or an inner sleeve for my next LP [Wonderwall Music]’ and he said ‘I would like you to take it.’ […] Then he offered to build me a studio in London to take pictures and asked me if I could think it over. I was so unsure about me being a photographer, because of The Beatles boom, and I was thinking ‘Am I really good or am I just a Beatles photographer?’ So I just gave him a call and said ‘No, I don’t want to,’ and the only thing he answered was ‘Well you are my little fool.’” - Astrid Kirchherr, Astrid Kirchherr: A Retrospective “George was always my favorite, his kindness and his wit. He was just a wonderful person and whenever I was in trouble, like with money and things, he was always looking after me and he invited me a couple of times to London and later on to Henley. I just miss him terribly because he was like a little guardian angel for me, I feel like I am in a way lost without him.” - Astrid Kirchherr, Astrid Kirchherr: A Retrospective (x)

[mommahughes19-23]

imma tattoo artist - Q.H

@tattoosbymorgs : did some tattoos and then took my best friend to see my man play his favorite game..

tagged : @yfriend @_quinnhughes

location : VAN

_eliaspettersson : dude that dragon is SICK and I wish I didn't hate needles ...

luca.fantilli : next time I see you I wanna get my tiny love dinosaur

↪ tattoosbymorgs : make it happen lu - you know where I am, bring ya self

bboeser : I WANT YOUR JACKET. give it here!!!!

jackhughes : oh. wow. this is neat.

lhughes_06 : I think your friend is confused as to who's jersey she should wear ..

↪ tattoosbymorgs : DONT PRESSURE MY FRIEND YOU BULLY! SHE CAN CHEER FOR WHO EVER SHE WANTS

trevorzegras : wow... thats legit my bestest lil cousin ever PLEASE TATTOO ME ASAP

↪ tattoosbymorgs : first off im 2 years older than you, second off no, I saw you cheat on me with your other artist.❌

bradytkachuk : dang Quinn, talented and pretty, she's a keeper.

↪ tattoosbymorgs : what is that even supposed to mean?

↪ bradytkachuk : just that youre more skilled than young Quinten will ever be

↪ ehtkachuk : BRADY leave her alone

icole28 : best frienddddddd

lindholmelias : my two best friends ugh

zadorov_16 : I MISS YOU SO MUCH ALREADY OMG I WANT TO FREAKING COME HOME

elblue6 : so talented! love you sweetie.

dakotajoshua8 : will u ever tattoo me?

↪ tattoosbymorgs : probably not because you didn't say please

_tylermyers_ : well even tho you didn't wear any canucks gear I guess its fine... 🆘

↪ tattoosbymorgs : I LET MY FRIEND WEAR IT TO GIVE HER AN AUTHENTIC EXPERIENCE YOU FUCK😑😑😑

yfriend : the best time ever!!!!!!!!!! @j.tmiller9 MORE FIGHTSSS

emmamatthews : you crazy girl!! miss you!😜

austonmatthews : any luck convincing Quinn to let you tattoo him?

↪ tattoosbymorgs : you know the answer is still no.... why do you have to be so mean to me

lelexdemko : sweetie that is stunning! cant wait to see you next season!!😘

_quinnhughes : i smile just for you baby ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😁😁😁😁😁

↪ tattoosbymorgs : I love you so much omg 💕💕💕💕💕

nilshoglander : this is a lot of pda idk if I can handle it👀

j,tmiller9 : I wanna get a tattoo by you ☺️

↪ tattoosbymorgs : NO. jk if you bring your children I might reconsider 😏

tdemko30 : @_quinnhughes get my number #35 tattooed on you 😁

↪ _quinnhughes : not going to happen bud

ehtkachuk : STUNNING MOMMAAA ❤️❤️❤️❤️

colecaufield : 🙈

_alexturcotte : 🥴

*TURNING THIS INTO A FEW PART SERIES OF QUINN x TATTOO ARTIST!GF*

A.N : HIIIIII - long note bc some stuff happened and idk it got me thinking.

ok so this is basically me just ranting about tattoo related things :)

This girl is (obviously) an actual tattoo artist who does real business and I am a HUGEEEEE believer in giving credit where it is due.... so I believe her name is Mar, ALL WORKS OF ART ABOVE ARE THE ORIGINAL WORKS OF MAR DO NOT STEAL OR CREDIT AS YOUR OWN. below you can find a link to her Pinterest where I am sure you could research more to find her other socials.

even if you dont want to know more about her work I encourage you to just look at some of it regardless because (again im not a tattoo artist just a girl with a few tattoos and an obsession) I believe she is mainly a fine line style artist and while being an artist of any capacity takes talent fine line is its own art. I know she also does some capacity of portrait work (I haven't seen any people just a few pet ones) and those are also a tremendously precise skill set. all in all I just think that people should appreciate the time, work, and effort these artist put into their work.

anywho I just wanted to say I would be honored for her to tattoo me.

tagged : @quinnylouhughesx43 @skylershines @jacktoria4ever @bunbunbl0gs @63kaprizov

[emberfrostlovesloki]

The Crucible [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@roting) Center (@dudeitiskarev) Right (@moodboard-d)

Prompt: Aaron finds himself alone with a homegrown terrorist group whose leader he put away a year ago. He gets beaten, shot, and dumped in the woods where the reader finds him and attempts to keep him alive long enough for the paramedics to get to him. 

Pairing: Aaron x Non-BAU!reader, gender-neutral!reader. The reader uses they/them pronouns 

Category: angst/hurt/comfort [happy ending] 

Word Count: 14.9K 

Content Warnings: Food is mentioned, alcohol is consumed, there is a hate group [the bad guys], severe beating [glass broken on a body, unwanted touch, forced drinking, punching, hitting, groping (Aaron)], shooting [Aaron], death by gunshot [a bad guy], gore,  mention of past abuse [Aaron], arguing, near death, hospitals, deep concern and coping mechanisms, language. If I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! It has been a while, but I am back now thanks to the end of the semester. I hope you are all doing very well! As always, I return with a novel of a Hotch story. I’ve had this idea for months now, and I am happy with how it turned out. I do want to encourage you to read the Content Warnings as this is angsty (though it has a happy ending). If you like this concept and would like to see a part two, let me know. I have many fluffy ideas for Aaron too, and those are coming, pinky promise. I am so happy to be writing again and hope to do a lot of it during the summer. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

P.S. Special shoutout to @criminalskies for sharing emergency medicine with me for this fic! If I got things wrong, I'm sorry pookie.

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

_c/t_ = coffee or tea

y/l/n = your last name 

y/a =  your age

Aaron drove down the lonely highway. He’d passed briefly through Shenandoah National Park. The peacefulness of the trees had calmed his mind for the hour that he was in the park, but as he got back onto the main road, the conversation that was bothering him started to edge its way back into his consciousness. Hotch wanted to close his eyes and potentially scream, but he settled for rubbing his hand angrily over his brow and then his eye bags that seemed to get heavier each day. 

Sean had reached out last week saying that he was going to be in New York meeting someone and had asked if his older brother had wanted to get a drink and catch up. To Hotch, this was last-minute planning according to him and his packed schedule. But he’d managed to drag himself out of bed and on the road on Saturday morning. When he got into the city, he and Sean met up at a swanky restaurant that suited Aaron’s taste a bit more than Sean’s. That at least he had to give his little brother credit for. 

In their adult lives, the Hotchner brothers had never seen eye to eye. It had only gotten worse when their mom had passed leaving the last real reason for them to be civil behind. Not that they were outwardly hostile, at least they hadn’t been until this afternoon, just that Aaron carried a lot of guilt and Sean had never seen to be able to step past his anger about what life had thrown at him. Neither could be blamed for their responses. But when Aaron arrived at the restaurant, Sean moved forward and shook his hand, and even gave him a hug with his other hand. Hotch returned the hug, realizing just how many years it had been since Sean and he had seen each other. 

They pulled back and looked at each other for a moment before moving inside and being seated. They both decided to just have a drink. Aaron got a mezcal mule and Sean opted for a margarita on the rocks. They both did a bit of catching up on their first drink, but things started to get rocky when Sean said, “So, I’m seeing someone new. Her name is Jennifer and she’s got three kids from a past relationship. I’m going to visit her and her family over the weekend. If things look good I’m thinking of moving from Nashville. Or I’ll invite her to move down with me.” Hearing this, Hotch took a sharp breath in. Sean had always been impulsive, but this was a lot, even for him. Aaron had hoped that with time, his brother would have grown out of this lifestyle. 

Hotch furrowed his brow and asked, “How long have you known her?” Sean sipped his drink but didn’t love Aaron’s tone. He replied a bit defensively, “A month and a half, but I don’t see why that’s a big deal. I’m just feeling it out, Aaron.” Hotch couldn’t help but scoff and say, “It sounds like a bit more than that.” Aaron’s reply only solidified Sean’s defensive nature, and he replied hotly, “Well what do you mean by that? You don’t even know Jennifer.” Aaron took a steadying breath. He didn’t want to come off as creating a narrative, or not trusting Sean, but Aaron had seen the same thing play out with his brother again and again, and each time Sean got hurt. Hotch looked at Sean and said, “I shouldn’t have said it like that. But what I’m trying to say is that you jump into things. You and I have both seen it before. You say that I don’t know Jennifer well, but from what I’m hearing I don’t know if you know her that well either, and you’re already talking about you or her moving across the country. Does that sound logical or well throughout to you?” 

Sean was already heated. Something about Aaron’s attitude made him feel judged. His older, well-put-together brother always had something to say about his life. Sean set down his empty glass and said, “Well maybe you’d know more about me and my life if you called me sometimes. Or unlocked yourself from the chain connecting you to your desk and came down and saw me sometimes.” Aaron sighed and tried to defend himself even though he knew Sean was right saying, “Sean, I have Jack. And my work doesn’t just let me have off time like yours does. Plane tickets go both ways. And you never answered my question.” 

Aaron pinched the bridge of this nose.  He just once wanted Sean to think through his actions. Sean responded, “You’ve always thought you were better than me. And I think you really stopped caring about me when Mom died. But let’s be honest, you stopped caring when dad passed.” The mention of their family so quickly broke Hotch’s facade of composure and he said, “Don’t bring family into this Sean. You know I don’t talk about that. I care about you and I want you to make good choices.” Sean let out a sharp breath and said, “You don’t talk about it because you refuse to admit how fucked up it left you emotionally, Aaron. At least I can connect with women. And don’t start acting like dad on me now.” Sean’s latest comment landed like a slap on the face to Aaron and he said, “You better not be comparing me to him, Sean. You had better not be doing that right now.” After all the beatings Aaron had taken for his mom and for Sean who always seemed to be getting into trouble during his younger years, the comparison made Aaron feel sick. Before Aaron had a chance to reply or defend himself for making a comment he already regretted, Sean continued, “And I don’t think you're qualified to comment on my relationships or how I’ve hurt people before. Haley dumped you and then died because of you. So I can think of at least one woman who’s been treated worse because of a Hotchner and it wasn’t me.” 

What Sean said made Aaron see red for a second. He stood, towering over Sean who was still sitting. It was one thing to have Sean bring up their parents, it was one thing to call him a workaholic and be emotionally unavailable. He knew these faults already. It didn’t really hurt him to hear them again, but the comment about Haley ate at him like acid on flesh. He had tried. He had tried so hard with Haley. He had loved her. He’d loved her with everything there was in him, and yes, it wasn’t enough, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. That her brutal death hadn’t torn him open sinew by sinew. Aaron felt his heart pumping in his ears. He was biting his tongue so hard that he tasted iron in his mouth. His fingernails dug into the calloused skin of his palms. If Sean was anyone else but his family, he would hit him. However, after all the abuse Aaron had seen, he made a promise to himself that he would never be violent with his family. It took everything in Hotch to uphold that promise. When Aaron came back to his senses, he realized he was standing. It was a good thing as Aaron grabbed his jacket and moved away from the table. He looked at Sean like he didn’t know him as he said, “Don’t ever call me again,” and walked out the door. 

The first hour of the drive back to Quantico was filled with a silence so oppressive that Aaron felt it weighing him down like an iron vest. The next hour all Aaron could think about was what Sean had said, and how he had responded. It wasn’t a good feeling. The way he’d ended things, but he wasn’t sure what else he would or could have done at such a cruel statement. If Sean could say something like that to him, to his face, then he felt justified with his final words of their conversation, even if Aaron had seen shame slowly creep up Sean’s face as he realized what he’d said. What Aaron ended up feeling for the rest of the hour was grief. Grief not only for missing Haley but for what felt like a death in his and Sean’s relationship. 

Hotch would have liked to drive all the way home, get another stiff drink, take a hot shower, and sleep, but the fact that he had a drink and it was still a long way off from home made that an impossibility. Aaron checked his gas tank. He did need a top-up and he hadn’t seen a station for miles, however, he approached what looked like a small bar nestled in the middle of nowhere. He slowed slightly and looked at the exterior of the old wooden building with a wrap-around porch. The Coors Light and Miller Light neon signs fighting to be seen in the bright daylight gave away that it was a bar and not some old building with a few cars parked outside. Hotch knew he needed a bathroom and this was going to have to do. It would be in and out. He’d grab a beer so he didn’t look like he was just there to relieve himself; even if that was the case. 

Aaron pulled into the parking lot. His hands tapped the wheel restlessly as he picked one of the many empty spaces. Something in his gut felt off, but he blamed it on the argument. As good as he was with dealing with stress, this was different. Hotch dropped his head for a second and tried to get his bearings. When he’d taken a deep breath, he raised his head and unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his door, and swung his feet out onto the gravel of the parking lot. The stones crunched under his tread. Hotch stepped up the three stairs onto the wooden porch. He could tell the building had seen much better days. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was rot in the wooden beams that smelled of pine sap. Hotch opened the door which creaked on rusty hinges, as soon as he stepped into the dim, ill-lit room, Aaron knew that he had made a mistake. There there were five patrons and the bartender scattered around the small space. Three of the big burly men were sitting at the bar, and before they turned around to look at who had entered their space, Hotch could see the symbols of hate on their leather vests The antiquated flag of the South that rested above the bar solidified that this was the hangout for a very particular group of people. If he could, Aaron would have walked right back out the door. Even his more casual slacks and button-down were a far departure from the denim jeans, stained baseball caps, and leather, but it was too late, the men sitting at the bar had turned in their seats and eyed him suspiciously. 

It was too late to turn around now and just walk out the door. It would look strange and there was something inside gnawing of him to investigate this space further. Call the FBI with evidence of the type of activity happening here. Not only that, but his bladder protested as well. He quickly cleared his throat and moved into the space and toward the restroom sign on the far wall. He strode with a false confidence toward the bathroom, the men turned back to their conversation but with lower voices. After Aaron relieved himself, he moved from the poorly lit room that smelled like piss. He rinsed off his hands and realized that there weren’t any paper towels, so he opted to wipe his damp palms and fingers on his pants. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. 

Moving back into the bar, Aaron stepped up to the wooden countertop next to one of the men who continued to eye him with distaste. The man behind the bar turned his gaze at the tall, broody man standing in front of him, sizing Aaron up. After an awkward moment, the barkeep asked, “What can I get you?” It was clear from the way everyone was acting that he was not welcome here. At this point, Hotch didn’t want to be here either. After letting out a low breath, Hotch replied steadily, “Just a Budlight.” The bartender nodded and grabbed a clean glass from the cups stacked up on the back side of the bar. He moved to the draft beers and filled the glass to the brim, the frothy head spilling just the smallest bit over. The man didn’t bother wiping the side of the glass dry as he added a lime to the rim. As the red-faced man sat the glass down in front of Aaron he said, “That’ll be five dollars.” Hotch nodded and pulled out his wallet. He made sure to keep his FBI ID hidden as he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Aaron’s eye flicked up the flag on the wall, and he regretted giving this place any money. But he’d just drink his beer as fast as he could without it looking conspicuous and then get the hell out of there. He handed the man the cash who grunted and pulled out a slightly wet five-dollar bill from the tip jar. Hotch took a few sips from the drink trying to drain the glass as quickly as possible. There was no chance of taking a picture without it being obvious, but he’d call the FBI as soon as he was back in his car. In fact, as soon as he was out the door.  As he was drinking, one of the men from the tables near the window moved to the bar next to Hotch. 

“Another Coors Steve.” The man who had just ordered was so close to Hotch that he could smell his sweat and very clearly see his hateful tattoo. The fact that the man had that visible in this place only solidified that Aaron would never take this road again. This place seemed more than just a spot for the locals to hang out and chat over a cheap beer. Hotch was halfway through his beer and making good time when the door opened again. Aaron couldn’t help like the rest of the patrons to turn his head slightly at the entryway. Hotch felt his stomach clench as he saw who was walking in the door. All other thoughts left his mind, and his work side kicked in. Aaron knew the man walking in the door well. He’d arrested him one year ago for a litany of hate crimes. The memory of the two young men who had been killed by the man stepping up to the bar with a familiar smile made Aaron’s stomach turn. Roman Invictus LeBrant, formerly Hayden Jude LeBrant before he fell down the alt-right pipeline and joined a hate group was a hard person to forget. 

Roman noticed Aaron too. He was the man who had put him away for a year and two months of hell. Half of his time in prison had been spent in isolation for his protection as he kept picking fights with the inmates. Thanks to the fact that Roman had no spine and didn’t want to spend any time in jail, he had ratted out all of his co-conspirators and so-called ‘friends.’ Due to this, he had gotten off with a lighter sentence. The very sight of Agent Hotchner shot a bolt of rage through him. Roman’s face broke into a malicious smile. This time the tall and sauve FBI agent was on his turf, with his people. He didn’t have all of his friends to back him up. The man moved up to the bar with confidence. Everyone in the room's attitude shifted as their chosen leader entered their space. The man sitting next to Aaron quickly got up and made room for the man. Everyone also stood at the sheer presence of the man that they so revered. He stepped between Aaron and his friend. Roman looked at Steve and then to his left saying, “Steve, Dan. How are you motherfuckers?” The felon was so close to Aaron that he was brushing his thigh. The lack of personal space was meant to disturb Hotch, but it wasn’t working. Aaron had set down his glass, his eyes facing forward with a determined gaze. The fact was, as quickly as Roman had gotten out of prison, he had began his normal campaign of terror again. After that the man had made himself very hard to find, and to the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. So Hotch had a responsibility to make sure Roman got put back where he belonged. Unfortunately, Aaron couldn’t just whip you his phone and get the FBI here in an instant, and Roman knew this and was enjoying it. 

The bartender could sense the tension between Hotch and his friend but chose not to speak. Roman looked straight ahead as well saying, “Hotchner.” Aaron replied, “LeBrant” in greeting. Aaron could feel his gut clench with worry. There was little he could do right now. Roman had come in the front door and was well aware that he was alone, so Hotch was left with not much more than his wits. He had his small pistol on his left ankle, but reaching for that would do little good as everyone in the bar was probably armed. Roman finally addressed the bartender saying, “Steve, I’ll take a shot of whiskey and one for my agent friend too.” At the word agent, the whole room's attitude shifted again. It was tense before, but now that they knew a fed was in their midst, the tension turned to simmering anger and fear. 

Aaron knew that there wasn’t much worse than to be in a room full of people like LeBrant who were angry and afraid. Steve let out a chuckle and poured two generous double shots and placed one in front of Aaron and one in front of LeBrant. Aaron wearily looked at the drink and Roman took him with a single swig before turning to Hotch for the first time saying, “Aaron, I don’t think that drink is poisoned as I just had one myself, so drink up. I think you’re going to need it for what’s coming next.” Aaron met Roman’s hateful gaze, raised his shot glass, and said sarcastically, “To your health,” before downing the shot. The dark liquor burned down his throat and he stopped himself from coughing. As Hotch kept his face straight LeBrant asked, “So, have you liked my recent work? I’d think this is a sting operation on the FBI’s part, but you’re looking pretty alone from where you’re sitting right now.” The large man’s words were true as the group of men in the bar had all slowly started surrounding Aaron and cutting off any escape plans he might try and make. 

Aaron was racking his brains for a way out of this situation but the repetition of the question, “Didn’t you like my stunt at that church, Agent? Didn’t it get your blood flowing? It certainly had me, excited.” Hotch cringed at the implication and replied, “I find little to be excited about to send a sixteen-year-old suicide bomber into a church filled with people, mostly women and children.” Roman scoffed and nodded at Steve for a beer bottle. Aaron shifted in his chair slightly which had an impact as everyone, including Steve, pulled guns on him. Everyone, except LeBrant that was. He was the king of his castle and he knew he would be protected no matter what. Roman raised his hands and said, “Easy boys. Take it easy. We don’t want things to get messy, just yet at least.” Hotch swallowed thickly and Roman grabbed the bottle off of the bar, looking at the label before quickly whipping it above his head and over the back of Aaron’s skull. 

The sound and feeling of the ice-cold beer and the shards of glass colliding with Hotch’s head was so intense that it knocked him off his chair. Aaron took in a sharp breath as he closed his eyes as the alcohol streamed down his head and wetted his hair and the collar of his shirt. Closing his eyes didn’t help Aaron much with keeping a handle on the situation as he leaned heavily forward against the bar before being wrenched back by serval hands on his body to the center of the room. 

Aaron stumbled as he was led away from any support. He could hear a few low laughs at his condition but was more worried about what was going to happen next. Hotch opened his eyes to see the floor swimming in front of his eyes. Before he could even get his feet under him, a knee met painfully with his groin. The pain of the glass tearing open his scalp and the feeling of warm blood flowing from his head was surpassed by the acute pain emanating from his nether regions up his body. Aaron grunted with pain and screwed his eyes shut again. The hot, large hands fondling a sensitive area of Hotch’s body had him open his eyes again. 

He wasn’t surprised that it was Roman doing the fondling, thankfully at this point over his clothes. LeBrant spat in Aaron’s face as they made eye contact and Roman’s hand slowed as he said, “How do you like that Hotchner? How does it make you feel?” Aaron’s gaze hardened and he refused to reply to LeBrant’s taunts and demeaning actions. The gruff man gave Aaron’s groin a hard squeeze before stepping back. Hotch had just started to catch his bearings, when he realized he was being supported on either side of his body by two men with the rest of the gang stepping in front of him. His eye caught that his only gun had been taken. Roman, like a shark circling a bleeding victim in the ocean, hoping to get some sort of fearful response. When the man didn’t get one he snarled and pulled out a jack-knife and moved back to Aaron’s face flashing the point of the blade dangerously close to his skin. Still, Hotch didn’t flinch and Roman flicked the knife over Hotch’s cheek drawing fresh blood apart from the red liquid slowly causing Aaron’s vision to be disabled. Hotch naturally pulled back and Roman laughed before saying, “How would you like me to blind you, Aaron? Or cut off one of your ears. Do you think the FBI will still want you after that?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from coughing out in pain as the men holding him tightened their grips on his forearms. 

Roman was happy with his enemy's position, as bloody drool slipped from his mouth and onto the floor of the bar. LeBrant stepped back and stated, “Boys, if you want to have some fun you can. You can blame Agent Hotchner for locking me up for a few years, so why don’t you pay him back in kind? Now, no serious boldly harm, and not too much blood. You’ll have to clean this shit hole up after the mess you make of him, but enjoy for a bit.” Hotch raised his head to look at Roman defiantly, hoping to show that he still wasn’t afraid. Whatever he had planned for him, he still didn’t regret putting him away, and putting him away again. LeBrant met Aaron’s stern brown eyes and sat back at the bar, grabbing another drink like nothing was happening. The man said over his shoulder as the real beating began, “You’re welcome for the whiskey, Hotchner.” 

LeBrant managed to down two more beers while watching and listening with a sick satisfaction to Aaron as he got punched, spat on, had drinks splashed in his face, and forced down his throat. Hotch gaged as another bottle was cast aside and hit the wall with the sound of shattered glass. He was beyond the point of silence as he took blow after blow to his face and torso. Aaron was sure his nose was broken as he took another hit to the face and his nose radiated pain through his nasal bridge and up his skull. He grunted in pain as his ribs got another beating. If pulverizing him to death was the plan, then the men surrounding him were doing a good job at that. However, what these bruisers weren’t very good at, and apparently Roman wasn’t good at noticing either, was that Aaron’s DNA was getting spread everywhere in the room from his saliva on the shattered beer bottles, or his blood dripping on the floor, or his hair which had been harshly pulled to jerk his head up. That was the thing about groups like these, they loved to act tough and strong, but their brains weren’t aways fully used. People like LeBrant could use others as a shield, but no matter what happened, it was going to be hard to get rid of every trace Aaron would leave in the space. 

Hotch’s hold on consciousness was becoming harder, but he managed to notice when the front door opened again. Aaron had hoped it would be someone who was an outsider like him, someone who didn’t belong here. But the normalcy of seeing a man being beaten told Aaron the new man was part of the group. Hotch’s neck hurt as he made eye contact with the man. He had sandy blond hair and clear grey eyes. The look of surprise and innocence quickly left the young man’s face before anger and hatred took over. Aaron dropped his head not sure what was happening but unable to support his own head. Because of this, he didn’t fully understand why the arms that were holding him up suddenly slacked and there was a heavy scuffle of feet as the floor came dangerously close. Before he could reach the ground there was shouting and then a loud popping sound that Aaron realized was a bullet once he felt a searing hot pain tear through his side whipping his body back and to the ground. The pain was worse than anything Aaron had already felt before now. The pain was so bad that he struggled to get oxygen in and his vision went black for a few seconds before he took a huge choking gulp of air in which only blinded him with more pain. 

While Hotch was writhing on the ground trying to get a grasp of what had happened and not blacking out, the older, more seasoned members of Roman’s gang stood for a brief moment of silence, as the men realized what had happened before an uproar started. They dropped their victim and rushed to the newest person in the bar throwing the gun from his hand. Roman stumbled out of his chair, face turning red with rage as he took a breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, “What the fucking hell are you doing Davies? What the mother fucking hell!” Spittle flew from his mouth and Davies, the newest, and youngest recruit to LeBrants' cause swallowed nervously. He hadn’t expected this response. He thought he’d get praise for his actions as he was always told to take bigger steps and take risks for the cause. Greg, one of the senior circles slapped Davies in the face and said, “Roman’s talking to you. Answer him.” Davies stuttered as he said, “That’s the guy that put you away. I thought that I should put him where he belonged. Hanged from a noose or underground. I ain’t got no rope, so I shot the fucker.” Davies was all in and zealous for the group's beliefs and in his case. Roman bowed his head and muttered “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath. 

LeBrant came back to the moment when Aaron let out a soft whimper and placed his hand over his stomach where blood was pooling dangerously fast beneath him and onto the ground. Even in his agonizing state, Aaron knew that the most important thing was to try and stop the flow of blood as much as possible. If it was instinct or training, Hotch couldn’t be sure with the pain he was in. For now, all he could do was try and survive. Roman was thinking the same thing for himself as a multitude of options flashed in front of his mind. He was the leader and he needed to act like one as Davies looked at him like a deer in the headlight while the rest of his men glanced uneasily between Aaron’s hunched-up body on the floor and their leader. 

Roman cleared his throat and took a more secure stance, with his feet apart and chest out. An idea was forming in his mind and he just needed his people to fall in line. Roman looked at Davies first and said, “It’s alright son. You did well shooting the fed. He earned it.” With those words, the men seemed to relax a bit and one knelt down next to Hotch to see the damage. Roman nodded a self-soothing gesture before saying, “Okay. Steve. Get us a trash bag or something to stop the blood so it will be easier to clean. Let’s do that first.” Steve rummaged through his back bar and tossed a roll of saran wrap and tape to Greg. Hank another senior member moved next to Greg and asked Roman, “Are we saving his ass?” LeBrant scoffed and replied, “Funk no. Just don’t want the fucker bleeding all over. Now, wrap him up tight, and don’t make it too comfortable on him either.” Hank snorted back laughter and he pulled Aaron’s torso off the floor roughly. Hotch tried uselessly to stop anyone from removing his hands from the gunshot wound, but he was too weak to put up a fight. His large hands were slick with blood as he tried and failed. Greg took out the plastic wrap and pushed the roll to Hotch’s stomach causing Aaron to groan out in pain. The pair on the floor moved the roll over the agent's wound minimally stopping the flow of blood. Davies watched as Aaron convulsed in pain on the ground. 

The young man had thought he would feel better killing a fed, but what he was seeing was making him want to vomit instead. When the seran wrap was taped tight over Hotch’s blood-soaked shirt Roman instructed, “Greg, Hank, Davies, go take Agent Hotchner into the woods. Far away. I’d recommend the national park. Don’t kill him. Let him bleed out or better yet, let some animal finish him off. Take him in his car and then when you’ve dumped the body torch the car.” Everyone else, we’re cleaning this place, top to bottom. No drop of blood, nothing can be found here.” Everyone nodded and took on their roles quickly. 

Hotch was jerked back to consciousness as he was dragged out the front door. He blearily saw someone open the door to his SUV before he was placed in the back seat. His brain was thinking of trying to run, to call for help, but he was stripped of his phone and hardly had the strength to keep his eyes open. Davies was standing outside the car still not sure what to do exactly, and most certainly not sure how to feel. Roman looked out the window at the man that had the potential to fuck his life over again. He turned to Steve and said, “Go out there and kill Davies. Headshot, make it fast, and don’t let him suffer.” Steve looked up at Roman and said astoundedly, “Roman?” LeBrant turned to Steve and said, “You heard me. The kid’s a liability. I am not going back to that shit fucking hell hole of a prison cell, and Davies seems to be trying to send me there, so go out there and get the job done. Put his body in the truck with Hotchner and tell Greg and Hank when they set the car on fire to leave Davies's body in there.” 

It was with blind adoration that Steve hesitantly grabbed his rifle and stepped outside. The young man was still standing while looking at Aaron’s SUV as Greg and Hank looked at a map to decide where to drop Aaron off to have his last few moments of life. They were arguing about accessibility, getting the car in without being seen, and lugging the agent out into the middle of the surrounding forest. It had to be just right without the chance of anyone catching them but still able for two men to pull off alone. They didn’t trust Davies for shit. He was too green for the whole operation. Not trustworthy in their eyes.

Meanwhile, Aaron had gathered some of his bearings in the back seat. He was unhappy with his supine position in the back. It would be far too easy for him to be taken out quietly and quickly after the SUV had pulled away from the bar. While Aaron was waiting for something to happen, he pressed his left hand to his side tightly, grit his teeth, and used his right to slowly inch himself up to a seated position. He was well aware that this position was causing him to bleed out faster, but at this stage, life didn’t seem too long, and if he was going to go out, he would understand as much as he could as to what was happening around him, and if possible, leave traces for the team to find his body after. 

The thought hurt Hotch as Jack would lose both of his parents. Aaron held himself back from crying, but the idea of his son being alone tore at him just as badly as the hole in his torso did. Aaron did not expect to see what he did. Just as his eyes got high enough to see out the window, the young man who had shot him had his name called from the porch of the establishment. Davies was about five feet from the bar and turned around. He didn’t see the shotgun in Steve’s hand, but Aaron did. There was nothing Hotch could do but close his eyes just before the blood splatter and brain matter painted the tires of his car. Aaron fell back onto the seat, not expecting to see an execution like that. He was too beaten to get back up, but at least he was laying on his side instead of on his back which would afford him a look out the front window so he could see where he was going or try and make mental notes of some landmarks; assuming that he wasn’t going to be blindfolded. From the state of things outside and groups shouting at each other, Hotch didn’t think that those dumping him would do anything more than take him far out and drop him. 

A few moments later the back door was opened again and several men heaved Davies's body onto the floor in the back of the car. Aaron didn’t focus on the body apart from unintentionally seeing what was left of what had been a youthful face. He was unrecognizable now. Hotch closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for the ride to come. If he survived long enough he’d think about the man on the floor -- later, much later. Right now he centered his head on Jack, then on the team who were on a case in Ohio. Lastly, he tried his best to listen to Hank and Greg as they got in and revved the engine. 

They were silent as they slowly drove out of the parking lot. The crunch of gravel and Aaron’s labored breathing punctuated the silence. It was clear to Aaron that the two men in the front were remaining quiet so Aaron wouldn’t have any more details about them, their plans, or the organization. He and the BAU had taken Roman down once, and they didn’t want to be in that frying pan again. As they hit the main road, Greg, who was driving, stayed just at the speed limit to not attract any attention from passing cars even though there were none on the road. However, as the car started hitting bumps, Aaron couldn’t hold in his pained grunts and whimpers as searing pain shot through him with each unexpected dip or rise in the SUV. It seemed that Aaron’s pained sounds were too much for the men, and they looked at each other and then the downed agent in the rearview mirror before they both started a light conversation that was fully juxtaposed to the gruesome scene around them.  

The men began talking about the weather and then talked about their wives. Aaron could hardly hear the conversation as he tried to keep himself awake. The duration of the car ride took about half an hour, and Aaron noticed one very strange-looking tree that had been struck by lightning and bifurcated down the center almost perfectly. His brain had started to be pulled into so many different directions as his sanity slipped away from the blood loss. His brain wondered how many trees like that got struck annually, and he knew that Spencer would have an answer to that question. The team flashed before his mind when an abrupt halt of the car almost had Hotch fly into the seatbacks in front of him. He managed to not have that happen, and shortly after Greg and Hank were at the left side of the car and both grunted as they pulled Aaron by the legs out of the car. 

Hotch almost hit the muddly path, but the two men held onto his underarms jostling him back to awareness. As strong as these men thought they were, they hadn’t realized just how hard it was to drag a limp body around, and Aaron had no strength to walk on his own feet and no desire to help in his own demise. In fact, if he could make it harder for them, he would. So Aaron coughed and made sure that some of his spit and blood got on the ground. Not only that but he also dug his toes into the earth so his tennis shoes left little trails in the mud. Hotch knew that if he was dealing with a more competent group, they would do something about this now, but Greg and Hank were too busy hauling him along to care at the moment. Greg was significantly taller than Hank and due to this, Aaron’s left side was far lower to the ground making the weight distribution of his toned body uneven. After only ten minutes, once the trio had entered what seemed to be a secluded and wooded part of the forest, the shorter man who was carrying the greater bit of weight grunted out, “Let’s dump him here. I can’t keep doing this and then have to trash a car too.” Greg, who was also tired agreed and they dropped Aaron like a load of bricks and took off as quickly as they could discussing loudly that there was a cliff face nearby and it was unlikely that anyone would find Aaron for days. Hotch moaned slightly and took in the scent of the wet earth near him. He supposed that dying in the forest, in nature, wasn't the worst place to go. It smelled nice and if he could only turn over he’d see the sky and canopy of trees above him once more. As his vision started fading again he realized he might not have that chance. 

Nearby Aaron’s dump site, y/n had been on a four-day long backpacking trip. They’d asked their boss for the Friday and Monday off months ago. y/n had needed a chance to unwind, be alone, and potentially scream into the void. That type of behavior didn’t normally fly in their apartment and they were feeling so much more at peace after their first day of hiking. y/n had found a lovely spot to set up their small one-person tent for the evening. When y/n had gotten up the next morning and looked down the tall rock ravine, they saw the bolts in the wall from previous climbers. They regretted that it had rained the last night making any climbing impossible. y/n considered continuing moving along the twenty-five mile trail they had mapped two months before, but realized that they weren’t with a group and they were already almost halfway through the trail and could finish hiking it in a full day. Because of this, and because y/n had promised to do whatever they felt like on this trip, they decided to stay in that spot for the day. It was a bit off the beaten track which is what they wanted and in all honesty real life had been so stressful recently that just taking a day to sleep, read, and swim in the nearby river sounded like exactly what y/n needed. 

y/n slept in another hour before making a cup of _c/t_. While they sipped their steaming cup, they picked up their most recent book and took a few minutes absorbing the pages of the story making small mental notes about where the plot might go and if some twist was coming in the next chapter. Somehow all the books that y/n read ended up having weird twists that they loved to hate. After getting through their drink and feeling warmed, y/n changed into light hiking attire that could be stripped down for a dip in the lake as long as the water wasn’t too cold or full of bramble from the rain last night. It was a short hike down to the water's edge and it was crisp, but not too cold to for a midday swim. y/n laid a towel down on the rocky shore after getting out of the water and drying off in the warmth of the sun. They dozed on and off as they tanned for a bit. Not that y/n was a vain person, but with the oncoming of summer, having a bit of a tan couldn’t hurt. When y/n was happy with their time by the lake, they moved back toward their tent and supplies which they had put in a bear bag and lifted high above the ground. It was about a thirty minute walk back to the tent when y/n would plan on what to do with the rest of their free day. 

It felt wrong to just waste such a pretty day. When y/n was close to their campsite, they stopped in their tracks abruptly. The sound of voices and heavy footsteps is what made them halt. y/n’s stomach dropped for some reason. If they were on a more well-known trail or popular camping site, y/n would likely greet those on their walk in the opposite direction. But this was different. This area was secluded, off the beaten track. And from the sound of it, it was two men moving slowly nearby. y/n had spent enough time outside camping and backpacking to hear loads of horror stories of those having bad things done to them on the trail. Sure some of them were overembellished, but certainly not all of them, and y/n wasn’t willing to take the risk with their own safety. y/n slinked back into the brush and hoped that the men would stop before catching sight of their tent. y/n took slow soft breaths and waited, all there was to do was wait. Just as the footsteps seemed to be right on them, they stopped. 

y/n couldn’t see the men. They’d stopped just out of sight. As they stopped, y/n realized that something was very, very wrong. The strong breathing of the men had hidden the sounds of another person. Someone who was clearly in pain. Their breathing was raspy like air wasn’t fully supplying their body. There was also a very painful-sounding grunt as the injured party hit the ground. One of the men said, “Fuck, that’s hard work. I don’t believe Roman’s stories now about all his brawls and picking people up in the clanger now.” There was a grunt and another, deeper voice replied, “Shit man, I don’t believe half of his crap, but he’s the boss. He says jump and I jump. Now let’s get back to the car and torch it. The agent here won’t last long.” The first voice agreed and said, “Yeah. I need a shower and another beer. Let’s hope it’s all cleaned up by the time we get back to Steve’s.” 

y/n felt like they couldn’t stand still any longer. The desire to take a deep breath of just look out to see what was happening at the men who were talking pulled at them like an itch. But not all itches should be scratched. Some needed to not be disturbed, and it felt like torture, but y/n held back from moving until the sound of chatter and footsteps were long gone. Even after they were out of audible range, y/n waited. After another few restless minutes, they got up from their hiding position. From the sound of it, someone, perhaps someone unsafe was very injured. Even so, it wasn’t like y/n to leave someone hurt to fend for themself. With caution, y/n moved through the low brush and mud, and after a few paces, they noticed a man lying on his stomach. It didn’t take y/n more than a second to realize that the man on the ground, even if he was some hardened criminal, was unable to fight. Besides this fact, there was the comment about the “Agent not being around long,” so the man might have been on the opposite side of crime. Without hesitation y/n moved next to the prone form in the mud and set down their backpack. The man gave a small sound, perhaps aware that there was someone else near him. y/n looked over the man and noticed the saran wrap around his torso. It was a poor attempt to staunch the flow of blood from a bullet wound. Given how much blood the man had lost, there was no time to lose in getting the man medical help. 

y/n knelt down next to the man and noted the thick blood coating his forehead and brow. y/n patted his shoulder, and he managed to open his eyes. Aaron could see the blurry figure of someone kneeling in front of him. He thought it was a hallucination until they touched his shoulder and tried to say something to him. Understanding the stranger's words was beyond all comprehension to him now. y/n could tell that he didn’t understand or see them well, but at least he was awake. It would be in his best interest to keep him awake. If the man slipped off to sleep, he may never wake again. So with that in mind, and to try and keep him in as calm a mindset as possible, y/n took off their jacket which they had tied around their waist, and placed it on the man’s back. It would do for a bit of padding and something to soak up the excess blood. There was no need to cut this side of the plastic wrap, and why it had been added in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the main goal right now. The main goal was to stabilize the man for long enough until medical help arrived. y/n grit their teeth and said firmly. “I’m going to roll you over onto your back and then run to my tent and grab some supplies while I call 9-1-1 for you, okay.” 

The man didn’t make a sound, but y/n knew that shifting his weight was going to be painful, so they didn’t waste more time. Given the man’s parlor, there was no time to waste. y/n grabbed the man’s shoulder and hip and tried to slowly and carefully roll him onto his back. As soon as y/n pulled their hands away, which were slick with blood, the man groaned in pain as his body settled. He was still awake. y/n cringed to hear him and said, “I’m going to run to my camp, get some supplies, and call in an emergency helicopter. I’ll be back in five minutes max.” y/n swallowed thickly trying not to be sick at the sight of the man. They grabbed his right hand and placed it over the bullet hole. The man’s hand was crusted over with blood, and it was large. His fingernails had dirt caked under them, and y/n imagined that it might be painful when he got washed up with all the hair his arms had on them. y/n snapped back to the moment. It had only been a millisecond, but in moments of high stress,  they always found themselves focusing on the smallest, most insignificant things. They shifted their eyes to the man’s and he seemed to be locked on theirs. y/n nodded their head and said, “Hold your hands here, as hard as possible, okay.” The man nodded slightly, and with that, y/n got up and ran toward their campsite. 

It was in moments like these that y/n hated that they didn’t always carry their cell phone with them when they camped alone, but then again, they hadn’t expected to find themselves in this situation either. y/n was an experienced outdoors person. With friends and family that respected and highlighted being self sufficient and being able to take care of one’s self. In their world being unable to handle any situation was a weakness and therefore y/n had pressed themselves to always be prepared. This included knowing basic first aid and other skills that were more niche to their interest in spending a lot of time outside. Although it had been hard to be a parental figure and having to figure out being self-sufficient from a very young age, the parentification had equipped y/n for moments like these, and for meeting strange men in the woods if it ever came to that. y/n ran as quickly and as carefully as possible. It would be no good to anyone if they slipped and twisted or broke an ankle or wrist before getting back to the man. The image of his bloody and bruised body was seared in their retinas. They hadn’t seen anything this bad, ever, and the questions on what had happened to the man and who he was came faster than y/n could process them. It was all a sickening blur. y/n made it to their camp and almost dove into their tent. They found their phone first which was still on the solar-powered charging brick. y/n checked for a signal and let out a small prayer of thanks that there was a signal. Even though they were pretty far out, a signal was more often present than not. And if there wasn’t, there were always ways to contact emergency services, but it would take longer, and there wasn’t time for longer right now.

         After one ring the emergency operator answered, “9-1-1, please state your name and the nature of your emergency.” The woman on the phone sounded calm, calmer than y/n felt. Their breath had picked up with all the running, and they had to clear their throat before saying, “My name in y/n, _l/n_. I’m at Shenandoah National Park on the east side camped near Ghost View Lake. There’s a man who needs a Medevac as soon as possible. He’s been shot in the torso, and he’s been severely beaten.” There were a few clicks on the other end of the line and the responder asked, “Are you with this man now? Is he still breathing?” y/n nodded, taking in the person’s words before saying, “I’m not with him right now. He was breathing when I left him. I had to run to my tent to call you and get my emergency supplies.” There was more typing and a muffled voice on the other end of the line before the woman came back on saying, “Please get back to the man as quickly as possible. Do you have any medical training?” y/n nodded saying, “Some, but not much. The bullet seems to have gone clean through though, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” As y/n was speaking, they began packing all of the important things to help the hurt man into their large backpack. By the time they had started zipping up the sides, the operator had told y/n to get back to the Hotch and light a flare for the helicopter to see so they could find a spot to land. The woman relayed that it might be twenty minutes or more before help came, and to keep the man awake if possible. As y/n ran back toward Aaron, they were given more specific instructions on what to do once they were back. y/n kept the woman on the line and as soon as they found an open and dry spot close to where they had found Aaron, they pulled out a flare and struck it against the cap of the flare. Once the melting hot red light burst from the tip like the tale of a demon, they set the flare on a smooth rock, far enough away from the wet brush and leaves to not start a forest fire. Once this was done, y/n moved as quickly as possible back to the man.

         Since y/n had been gone, Aaron felt his strength ebb again. Had the person said something to him? The world was dark again and he was beginning to feel numb. But the memory of the feelings of their hands on his, pressing against his stomach reminded him that they had been real, at least for a moment. Hotch also knew that sleep was death, and therefore grit his teeth and pressed against his torso again over his wound. The pain shot through him again, though his time was less intense; he knew this was not a good sign. Just as Aaron felt his hand slipping, he noticed a bright red light in the corner of his vision, and the person who had been with him before returned.

         y/n skidded to a halt in front of the man, falling to their knees saying, “Hey, you’re still with me. Good. You’re doing good. Help is coming, I promise.” y/n placed their hands on either side of his head and the feeling of their fingers on the side of his face had Hotch open his eyes slightly. Just the simple feeling of touch was a comfort, even if he was doomed to bleed out on the forest floor. Hotch pondered how funny small things became huge things when life was about to end. y/n noticed his brown eyes on them and said, “I’m just making sure your head is laying flat. Then I’m going to check your mouth to make sure you’re not going to choke on your own blood.” Aaron tried to nod, but he couldn’t manage it. y/n knelt further forward and helped Aaron open his mouth. Thankfully there didn’t appear to be any blockage of his trachea, though his breathing was labored. Where or what that situation was, was beyond y/n, so they moved to the next thing the emergency operator had said to do. 

The woman was still on the phone, but y/n was so hyper-focused on the task in front of them, that they didn’t think to give a report on the man’s condition. While he was trying to see the person in front of him more clearly, y/n started pulling things out of their backpack and setting them on the ground, attempting to not get them muddy or contaminated while still being efficient. Once y/n had pulled out their small knife, their first aid kit, and the clean clothes they had, they rezipped their bag and moved to the man’s feet. y/n spoke loudly, so the man could possibly hear, “I’m going to raise your feet. Keep the blood going to your head as much as possible. y/n grabbed their bag and placed it just to the side of the man’s lower legs. y/n didn’t want to shift the man’s body much, if at all, so they had to have things in place. They took another sturdy breath and lifted his left leg just high enough to move their backpack under his knees. The man groaned and y/n said, “I’m sorry. Sorry,” y/n repeated one more time before moving the other leg next to the first. y/n knew that this would be the least of the man’s pain. y/n placed their hands on the ground and took another stabilizing breath, reminding themselves that they could do this. That they could do anything, that they had had to do everything. y/n tried to picture the man as someone they’d protected in the past. Someone that they would do anything for. This helped y/n in moving forward to the next step. Before doing what needed to be done, y/n looked at the man again, tapping his face. Those big brown eyes met theirs again, half understanding, half sad. y/n said more softly this time. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry. Try not to bite your tongue. Keep your teeth clenched,” y/n demonstrated, “like this.” y/n they looked a fool, but what else could they do?

         y/n pulled a packaged sanitary wipe from the ground and ripped it open. They rubbed it over their hands thoroughly. When the moisture had evaporated, y/n grabbed their first aid kit and pulled out all of the cotton balls and cotton bandages that were inside. y/n placed them on top of the kit and hoped the no wind would blow the supplies away, there were already scant few as it was. Next, y/n grabbed their knife and opened it with a flick of the wrist. y/n knew that once they made the next move there was no going back until the medics arrived. With a look of determination, y/n shifted forward and carefully slipped the tip of the knife under the plastic wrap covering the man’s front. His shirt protected his skin from the sharp blade from cutting him further, and y/n cut up and out with as much care as possible. The blood made the surface of the saran wrap slippery in y/n’s free hand and the multiple layers were not as easy to cut through. However, after what felt like an eternity and with y/n’s heart beating loudly in their ears, the plastic was freed from his body. y/n quickly closed and locked their blade and pushed the plastic barrier aside along with Hotch’s soiled shirt. Even though the saran wrap hadn’t done much to stop the blood from leaving the man’s body, it’s removal along with the final absorption barrier being pulled aside allowed the blood to ebb up a bit more in a trickle of crimson. Again y/n didn’t have time to look at the deep red pooling up on the man’s stomach. Instead, they grabbed a cotton ball and with as much mental strength as they had, pushed it into the weeping wound. The man’s body jolted in pain, but y/n ignored him and grabbed another piece of cotton and then another, pushing each of the white puffs into the bullet hole. The clean cotton was instantly stained red, and y/n tried to ignore the man’s cries of pain knowing that this was for the best. Keep the blood in the body, get his legs up, keep him awake. That was what the nurse had said and what was what they were going to do. At least to the best of their ability. Another eternity later, the hole was filled. It was still releasing blood but at a slower pace.

y/n grabbed the biggest cotton bandage they had and pressed it on top of the packed wound. y/n placed both hands over this last dam, and pressed down to try and keep the man stable. To keep him alive. It wasn’t until all of this had been accomplished that they managed to look up at his face. The man’s eyes were drooping closed and y/n said, “Hey, hey, stay with me. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” Aaron turned his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look at the person helping him. It was a comfort to be in their presence. He still couldn’t see them so he said in a low voice, “Hotchner.” y/n nodded, assuming it was a last name. They were at a loss for what to say next. Nothing felt right, so they opted for questions, easy ones. Or at least ones that seemed easy for them. “Hi, Mr. Hotchner. Where were you going today? What brought you this way.” 

Aaron, whose brain had been feeling numb for some time, had started getting more blood circulation thanks to his legs being lifted off the ground. He could feel his helper's hands still over his side. Where he was and what was happening felt beyond him again. He didn’t like the feeling at all, but his body was shutting down and he half-mumbled, “I’m going to see my wife. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.” y/n, nodded and replied softly, “I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you. And I know you’ll be happy to see her.” It wasn’t until this point that y/n had thought about him as a person. Not actually as a person, person, but as a man with a life and things outside this very moment of survival. But as they raised one hand and just barely shifted his hair that was caked with blood, off his forehead it became increasingly more difficult to see Mr. Hotchner as anything else than a man who is hurt and probably afraid to die. At the person’s touch, Aaron moved his dominant hand up and this allowed y/n to see that he wasn’t wearing a ring. This fact only came to y/n’s mind because Mr. Hotchner had just said that he was going to see his wife. y/n justified that perhaps the man was just one of many many husbands who didn’t wear a wedding ring, but for some reason, y/n didn’t think that this man would be one of them. Something in their gut just said otherwise. A moment later Hotch said something that would shock y/n even more as he said, “I’m worried about Jack. I can’t go away.” y/n looked up at him and moved their hand back to the now blood-soaked bandage and asked, “Who is Jack Mr. Hotchner?” 

The image of Jack passed in front of Aaron, and he saw himself holding his child, Jack smiling. Maybe it was Christmas time because the lights were twinkling in the background. Then Jack at his first soccer game came to mind, his little legs carrying him toward a ball he was sure to miss. Hotch blinked back tears as he came back to himself. Weakly he said, “My son. Jack is my son. He’s a good kid. Really good. He doesn’t deserve this.” Aaron was thinking about the very real possibility of his son losing both of his parents, but he didn’t vocalize that out loud. y/n furrowed their brow and said “You’re going to be fine Mr. Hotchner. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see your son and your wife again. I know it.” y/n was speaking to themselves now mostly. The trauma of finding someone brutalized in the woods and the possibility that he might die in front of them was finally settling in. y/n had experienced trauma before, but not like this. This was different. Thankfully y/n didn’t have much time to explore this train of thought as the sound of the helicopter approached nearby. y/n bowed their head in thanks for the sound that drowned out their thoughts and didn’t even realize that they had set their head on Aaron’s chest while still keeping their trembling hands on his wound. 

When they arrived, it took the emergency medics a moment to pry y/n off of Aaron as they struggled to let the man they were trying to save go. When y/n realized what was happening, they moved off to the side on unsteady feet and watched the flight paramedics assess and then begin rudimentary efforts to stabilize their patient. y/n watched as a blood transfusion was started and the packing of the bullet wound was made better with medical-grade supplies. These things felt like a blur and as the two-person medical team began moving Aaron onto a stretcher, the sound of police sirens in the distance became audible. y/n realized that the helicopter operator had shared the patient's location and law enforcement was coming to help. This allowed y/n to relax slightly realizing that they were not going to be left alone in the woods once the Medevac was gone. 

Although y/n had felt peace knowing more help was on the way, the questions seemed endless as police arrived and went over the course of the afternoon again. They pointed out everything. Said as much as they could remember and watched as the orange helicopter lifted off and moved Eastward. The last thing they heard from the trauma team at the hospital was, “We have a multisystem failure. Patient is already on a transfusion and Fentanyl…” as they passed by,. y/n’s brain now felt like scrambled eggs and they longed for some respite. Eventually, the police said that y/n would need to come to the station and that they could get a ride in one of the cruisers. Behind y/n’s back, the officers also noticed that y/n should also go to a hospital, and driving there themselves was not a safe idea for them. A few minutes later, y/n tipped their head against the headrest in the backseat of the police car simply letting things happen to them at this point. The officers had assured them that a recovery and crime scene team would gather their belongings from their campsite along with their car. This was all for evidence too, but y/n was too tired to comprehend what was being said to them. 

A few hours later y/n made it out of the room they had been seen in at the hospital. It was very dark outside at this point but the police had easily identified the man they had found, Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner. The words ran over y/n like a wave. Anything would bowl them over now, but finding out that they had found a federal agent near death in the woods was astounding. In the hospital, y/n was given a thorough exam and then given some strong sleep medication and some Benzos so that y/n could have a sound night’s rest. The local police station had called the Quantico Field Office to let the Beaure know that Agent Hotchner was in critical condition at the JFK University Medical Center.

 As it turned out the BAU was out on a case at the moment, but the Lead Team Coordinator said they would reach out. Within the hour the hospital and police station knew that a member of the BAU was flying up immediately on their jet and should be there sometime around three in the morning. With this information in mind, the police had asked y/n to stay at least one day in town before going home. The very professional-sounding man, Agent Rossi, who was headed to the hospital had asked them to stay and talk. The police had made the choice easy by booking a cab and a room to get y/n from the hospital to the hotel room they had booked in their name. Thankfully, y/n’s boss, after a few minutes of explaining what had happened, had given them the rest of the week off. y/n knew they would need it. Nothing felt quite real anymore and some more time alone would be good. Before y/n went to call the cab, to get a shower and sleep, they stopped at the receptionist's desk and asked, “Do you know if Aaron Hotchner is in a stable condition?” The nurse asked them how they knew the patient and y/n showed their own medical bracelet and explained that they had found Mr. Hotchner. The man looked at y/n and how tired they appeared, nodded, and replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t share any information about the patient” There was a long pause before they added, “However, Mr. Hotchner is still in the ICU.” y/n nodded, wanting more information but also knowing that they had already been told more than was allowed. With that scant information, y/n moved outside and caught their ride. 

The first thing that was surprising to Aaron was the fact that he woke up at all. The feeling of the stiff mattress against his fingers and the crisp sheets covering his body. The sterile scent of antiseptic was the next thing he noticed. He took a few moments to just take in the fact that he had survived the ordeal with Roman. Much of what had happened after the beating in the bar was foggy and beyond his reach. He tried to take a deep breath to center himself but that was a serious error as this triggered parts of his body that weren’t ready to be used that way yet. He let out a cough only exacerbating his pain. The feelings of multiple IVs which he detected now became more apparent and when he opened his eyes, the blurry figure of someone standing came into better focus as the door to his room opened letting in more light from the hallways. As his vision cleared, he could see Dave turn around and greet someone who must have been a doctor. Rossi stepped back a bit, but just knowing Dave was here let Aaron be checked over and taken care of. He didn’t have the energy for much more than being pocked and very lightly prodded before he slipped back into unconsciousness. 

The next time Hotch woke, he was more aware. The room didn’t spin and he could see Dave looking down from his seat near the hospital bed. Aaron didn’t know what to say and just said, “Hey.” At hearing Hotch, Rossi sat forward in his seat and softly replied, “Hey there. Looks like you had a hell of a time with Sean.” Sean hadn’t even crossed Aaron’s mind, but Dave’s attempt at humor while he was feeling like hell was actually funny and Aaron let out a half scoff, half laugh before leaning his head back on the pillow. It wasn’t until he tried to move the blanket to feel more covered that he realized his arm was in a cast. His whole body felt numb, and in that moment, he was grateful for opioids. Rossi moved forward and moved the blanket up and over Aaron’s shoulders. Hotch looked up at Dave and asked, “How bad?” Rossi’s eyes moved toward him, a sure sign that it wasn’t good. After a deep breath, Dave said, “You lost a lot of blood, you’re fighting an infection, concussion, broken arm, and multiple lacerations to your head and body.” Hotch nodded, absorbing the information before saying, “Yeah, Sean really did a job on me.” Rossi could see regret in Aaron’s eyes even though the statement was an attempt at a joke. Dave frowned. Something had happened with Sean and it wasn’t fair to Aaron after being through such a crucible that he should feel bad about anything at the moment. Dave thought about reaching out and patting Hotch on the shoulder, but it was likely Aaron wasn’t looking for touch right now, so he settled with telling his best friend that the team was coming to find LeBrant, who had gone into hiding, and how Jessica would bring Jack down when the doctors said it was okay. Aaron nodded again, thankful that Dave knew him so well. When Rossi had given him some time to just relax and center himself, Aaron asked, “Who was it that found me? Have you seen them?” All Aaron could remember about the person who had saved his life was that they had stayed with him. That their presence, even if he had died, had made him feel safe. 

Rossi replied, “I haven’t seen them yet, though I’ve asked them to meet me here. There are some questions I still have about their report. They should arrive in a few minutes, and that way you can have some time alone if you like. I did read about them, they’re name is y/n y/l/n y/a and they live in Virginia.” Aaron swallowed, his mouth feeling dry before saying, “I’d like to see them when they come. If they’re comfortable with it.” Dave nodded and replied, “I’ll ask them when they get here. For now, just try and rest. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll get the nurse.” Aaron nodded and let his eyes slip closed again. He could sense that Dave was keeping things from him, about what he couldn’t tell, but he’d ask in time, for now, he was alive. 

y/n entered the hospital again. This time it felt better. They were going to get some answers, hopefully, or at least some information about Agent Hotchern’s condition. They’d answer more questions about that information. After the last few day or so the thought of Mr. Hotchner hadn’t left their mind. y/n went to the receptionist who paged another party in the hospital and after a few minutes, an older man walked into the hallway. y/n could tell that he was Agent Rossi instantly. His clothing and demeanor gave him away, along with the deep circles under his eyes. y/n turned toward the man and extended their hand toward him. Rossi gave y/n a reassuring smile and as he took their hand said, “Hello. I’m Agent Rossi. You must be y/n y/l/n?” y/n nodded yes and said, “Yes Sir. That’s me.” Dave gave a small laugh at being called sir, and gently led y/n to a seat on the far side of the waiting room. They both took a seat and there was a moment of awkward silence as they both made mental observations about the other. Finally, y/n said, “Agnent Rossi, I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about my report, but could you tell me if Mr. Hotchner is alright?” Dave dipped his head and pulled himself together saying, “He’s doing better. He’ll have a hard and long recovery, but he’ll be alright. Hotch has gone through a lot, he’ll make it through this too.” y/n listened thinking about the type of person that can say with confidence after such an ordeal that they would make it though. It seemed like a lot, but Mr. Hotchner was clearly cut from Kevlar. y/n replied, “Thank you for telling me. Now, um, what questions did you have for me? I wrote down some notes to try and jog my memory.” Rossi lifted an eyebrow as y/n pulled a notebook from their mini backpack and flipped to a page that had a neat, color-coded timeline of events. Dave smiled at this before saying, “I would like to look at your notes, but I have some questions of another nature to ask first.”

y/n looked confused about what Rossi had said, and he clarified stating, “I’d just like to know if Aaron said anything to you while you were with him?” y/n let out a breath realizing this was a more personal visit. This was to see how his coworker was, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. y/n felt bad for not having thought of that before now and swallowed, realizing this was going to be another layer they would need to unpack within themselves as well. After this thought had passed, y/n replied softly at first, “We did kind of talk, though I did most of it to keep my mind still.” Rossi nodded encouraging y/n to continue, which they did. “I did ask him where he was going and he said that he was going to see his wife. And that he was sorry for his son. He tried to say more after that but it was all sort of jumbled up.” y/n looked up, fresh emotions welling up in them at the remorse that Mr. Hotchner had shown while he lay dying. There was a glimmer of tears in Dave’s eyes too and y/n moved a hand to his comfortingly and asked. “Agent Rossi?” to check in on him. Dave sniffled and moved a handkerchief under his eyes before squeezing y/n’s hand back replying, “Please, just call me Dave. Aaron’s wife passed a little over a year ago. I, I guess I didn’t know what he would think about, but it would make sense.” 

Hearing Dave’s words, a pang of hurt shot through y/n. Suddenly Aaron’s words made more sense. He said he was going home and being sad about it. Jack’s name popped into their mind and y/n asked hopefully, “His son, Jack. He said he had a son. Is he okay? Is Jack with his mom?” Dave closed his eyes and replied reassuringly, “No. Jack is fine. He’s a sweet and hyper kid.” That thought, of Aaron’s son being there for him, made y/n feel better. It was strange for them, to have such intense and strong feelings for a man they hardly knew, but then again, they had been through a lot together. There were a few more minutes of silence as Dave processed and moved on by asking to look at y/n’s notebook and to ask questions for them. Looking at y/n’s notes and the very detailed recount they had written was precise and smart. Not perhaps like a profiler, but somewhat so. That conversation lasted about a half hour and Rossi could see that y/n was tired and he still needed to broach the topic of them seeing Aaron, so to take something off of their plate he began by saying, “y/n this has been very helpful for me, both as Aaron’s coworker and as his friend. I know you’ll need your own time to process and work through all of this but I might need to contact you again by myself or a member of my team. Would it be okay if I left you my number and I got yours?” y/f felt a hitch in their breath thinking that this might be over. All the adrenaline came to a big crash like a wave on the rocks. But it had to end sometime, at least they thought so, so they nodded yes. The pair traded numbers and then Dave said, “y/n, I know this has been a lot, but I was just with Aaron and he asked if he could speak with you if you’re up to it. If not, he’ll fully understand.” 

At the suggestion, y/n’s eyes shot up in surprise. Not that they hadn’t been thinking about the man twenty-four-seven since they’d first seen him in the woods, but the idea that he would even want to see them felt like a surprise. Curiosity suddenly turned into apprehension and for a second they thought about running out of the room for some wild reason. But y/n came back to earth and knew that perhaps this would be their only time to see the man they’d helped and it would hopefully make things feel more resolved, more final. And they’d have the peace of mind of knowing that he really was alright. So y/n nodded yes and Dave gave them one of his reassuring dad smiles and got up, leading y/n toward Aroon’s room. He flashed his badge when he came across anyone looking at him funnily. At the door to Hotch’s room, Dave knocked and opened the door slightly saying, “I’ve got a visitor for you, Aaron.” There was a muffled response from inside and then Rossi stood back and said, “I’ll be just outside when you’re finished.” y/n swallowed thickly and stepped into the room. 

The space was large enough for a chair or two by the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment that beeped on a cycle of minutes, keeping time. The lights had been dimmed and as y/n’s eyes adjusted, they took a small step closer toward the bed. Mr. Hotchner was all cleaned up from his blood-soaked state and now that he was visible, y/n couldn't help but notice how striking and attractive he was. y/n pushed that thought aside, it wasn’t the time. His dark eyes met theirs, and y/n said awkwardly, “Hello Mr., I mean Agent Hotchner, Sir.” Hotch let out a half laugh and said replied, “It’s alright, you can call me Mr. Hotchner, or just Aaron is okay.” y/n nodded listening to his deep voice. Different than how it had been in the woods. There was life in this version of him, and it made y/n feel better. y/n took another step forward, not sure what to expect. 

Aaron watched y/n move forward. They were young. Younger than a normal person should have to deal with such stress and anxiety. He could see their apprehension even as they stepped close to him. Aaron cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t you have a seat, y/n.” y/n did as he said feeling the authority in his presence even as he was in bed recovering. Of course, he wasn’t directing that toward them, just that that power was there in him. It didn’t surprise y/n that he was someone important in the FBI. y/n sat in the chair closest to Aaron so they could hear him better. y/n wasn’t sure how to act now. They wanted to say they were sorry about his wife. But that was too personal. y/n opted for just asking, “Are you feeling okay?” The words sounded hollow in the face of the pain he had experienced in his life. 

Hotch smiled slightly, seeing the struggle in y/n’s eyes. He was glad to see y/n. To really see them and know who they were given how they had kept him calm and feel safe a day ago. Once y/n was seated he replied, “I’ll be okay. It’s just going to take time. I wanted to see how you are doing actually.” y/n’s eyes widened slightly. Shone in the darkness of the room. Taken aback they said, “I’m… okay. I always end up being okay in the end.” Hotch nodded, seeing himself in y/n instantly. Another survivor of a difficult life. It was easy to compartmentalize, and he didn’t want that for them. Not this young. So he said again, “I hear you. But how are you, really feeling?” y/n took a deep breath and tried to suppress the emotions before saying in a shaky voice, “Tired, scared and I don’t know why.” Aaron nodded in understanding. He moved his hand toward y/n, not sure what his intentions were with that movement. Hotch replied, “You don’t have to think about it all right now. But don’t let it out with someone at some point it will eat you up. Do you think you can take this?” 

y/n knew that Aaron was asking about just life in general. How overwhelming it could be after something like this. They had dealt with these feelings before, not like this, but close enough for y/n to say, “Yes. I can bounce back.” Hotch knew that response too. The bounce back. He didn’t want to pressure y/n to seek help, he’d be a hypocrite for saying so, but he worried. This person had saved his life and he didn’t want to see them crumble for it. Hotch took a moment and said, “Thank you for being there for me. I wouldn’t have made it without you.” Not really thinking he added, “You made me feel safe in that moment. I didn’t know if I was going to feel that again.” There was a long silence after his statement as they both absorbed his words. The quiet was punctuated by y/n’s quiet response of, “You’re welcome. I’m happy I could be that for you, Aaron.” y/n looked over at Hotch and could see there was something there. A bond, a name whisper on the wind, or a star. It was a flicker for just a moment and it was gone, but they had both felt it, some of the overwhelming feelings they both housed within. 

In another moment Aaron said, “I’ll let you go, but I’m sure Dave has given you his number, but tell him to give mine as well. I may not be at my best right now, but if you ever need anything y/n, anything, you can give me a call.” y/n nodded and stood wondering if the last they’d ever see of Aaron Hotchner, and was at least grateful for having crossed paths with him. They brushed their hands over his hand for a moment before smiling, saying “I hope you are well soon, Aaron,” leaving the room. Aaron watched as their figure moved outside and stopped to talk to Dave for a moment then disappeared. 

Rossi entered the room and asked, “Do you feel better now?” Hotch nodded and replied, “Yes. Did you give them my number?” Dave laughed and said, “Sure did, office and cell.” Aaron huffed but then said seriously, “y/n will need protection for a few weeks at least.” Rossi replied, “Already on it. Or Garcia is on it. Knowing her, y/n will be getting flowers and chocolate for life.” Hotch laughed at the truth in that statement and felt better. Yes is sucked, this sucked, and his body hurt like hell, but he was alive and things would get better. Aaron’s mind flickered back to his fight with Sean and he laid back on the bed with a groan. Dave watched and eventually, Hotch said with his eyes still closed, “Would you call Sean for me?” Rossi had Sean’s number in case of emergencies with Aaron, Jack, or Jessica. Rossi had everybody in the team's close family on that list. Dave couldn’t help but say, “Why do I have to call him, if you do will he throw his phone out the window or something?” Hotch scoffed and replied, “Just about, but I need to talk to him.” Rossi understood and took out his phone and dialed Aaron’s younger brother before handing the line over to Aaron. 

Aaron had something planned to say, but Sean beat him to it saying, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. You don’t deserve it.” Hotch let out a breath and replied as lightly as possible, “You bet I didn’t. But I want to apologize too. I got hot-headed…” Rossi motioned for Aaron to ask if he wanted him to leave the room or not. Aaron nodded his head no, and Dave settled in his chair. As Sean and Aaron spoke, and attempted in their own ways to make amends, Aaron knew that things would get better. There was family, be it Jack, Sean, or the team, and there were people out there willing to help. The image y/n smiling down at him filled him with a strange warmth, and he let the image and feeling linger as Sean went on about his day.

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[eoieopda]

menace (pjm) — pt. vi

Pairing: Park Jimin x Kim!Reader Type: 6/6 (Mini Series) ⇢ Previous Chapter | Masterlist Genre: Smut + Fluff Rating: M (18+) Word Count: 6k+ Summary: This Valentine’s Day looks a lot different than the last one. AUs: Older brother’s best friend, fuck buddies that hate(d) each other CW: Reader is AFAB & queer, Jimin is so soft omg, ✨vulnerability✨, so much kissing wtf who am i?, nipple play, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), DID I SAY SOFTNESS? A/N: Thank youuuuuu to everyone that stuck with me and these two idiots until the very end 💕 If you get lonely now that this is over, check out the rest of my masterlist. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

It was odd, starting over with someone you’d known longer than nearly everyone else in your life. Jimin wasn’t a stranger by any means; he’d always been present, life running parallel to yours, but you’d never truly seen him up close. 

Not accurately, anyway.

When you were younger, the pedestal you put him on kept the sun in your eyes. You’d have to squint to see his shortcomings, but you never did. Maybe that was one of yours, willful blindness. As far as you knew then — or, rather, as far as you bothered to look — Jimin had none. All he had was a bright, white light.

After that pedestal crumbled and Icarus took a swan-dive to the sub-basement of your expectations, the shadows down there warped the flaws you finally recognized. A trick of the light, they exaggerated every shitty thing you thought you saw and made them all worse. Scarier, even. Worth hating.

Once you finally allowed him to exist on equal footing, you realized that Jimin wasn’t made to be viewed in such high contrast. He wasn’t the monochromatic figure you’d mythologized, not two-dimensional. In reality, he was a prism refracting a thousand different, complicated colors that you hadn’t been giving him due credit for.

The first shade you discovered was the one that broke your brain the most.  Jimin — the only person you knew that never responded to anyone’s calls or texts — wasn’t actually as solitary as he seemed. Really, the only thing he hated more than being by himself was having to admit that fact to anyone, especially you. 

So, instead of calling to invite you along on his errand runs, he started showing up at your door to ask, “You’re not busy right now, are you?”

And just like that, without meaning to, you learned his routine. Another shade.

Every other Sunday, you’d wake up a little earlier than usual. No matter how tired or hungover you were, you would crawl out of your bed, into your well-functioning shower, and make yourself presentable. Then, when you no longer looked like a hobgoblin, you’d sit on your couch with your tea.

None of it was a conscious decision — waiting in the nearest seat to your front door, angling yourself so you could keep an eye on the driveway — at least, not at first. In fact, you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your newly-acquired therapist pointed it out.

“It sounds like you’re making space in your life for him, brick by brick.”

You laughed it off when she said it, but as weeks flew by, you finally had to concede that she was right. She was right about something else, too: you hadn’t been viewing yourself fairly, either. 

“Cellophane can be iridescent, too, if you hold it right.”

Whatever shades of your own that you uncovered, you gradually learned to let Jimin see, too. He picked up on all of your intricacies much faster than you did — because of course he did — and unlike you, he didn’t stumble upon revelations by surprise. He didn’t muddle through your less-pretty shades by trial and error, like you did. To the contrary, he had an unexpected knack for anticipating your reactions, and he planned accordingly.

Everything he did was purposeful, from his choice of words to his actions. Like exhuming his phone from his pocket — “only because it’s you” — to let you know if he was running late to plans you’d made. It was rare that he didn’t show up on time, but whenever he couldn’t, he’d call to promise that he really was on his way. And he always was, no matter how shitty the weather was, or how much he might’ve wanted an extra hour of sleep.

Jimin and all his shades showed up for you.

On Christmas, when Seokjin’s part-time girlfriend threw a dinner party without knowing what the fuck she’d signed up for. You were three-quarters through a bottle of wine before you were pulled in to take over meal preparations with Seokjin; and although Jimin was mostly useless in front of a stove, he was good at fetching whatever you’d need next without you having to point to it. He was even better at keeping your respective glasses full, which felt even more important. Washing dishes after the fact wasn’t all that bad with him there, also drunk off his face, drying them.

On New Years’ Eve, when Jimin was too sick to join the bar crawl but still set an alarm to wake up and call you — right at midnight. You stepped out onto a snow-slicked sidewalk in order to hear him, disappointing the hell out of the girl whose lips wanted to kiss you into the new year. You ignored her pout, ignored the chill in the air, and focused on the way Jimin’s raspy voice had dropped an octave. He was asleep when you swung by shortly after with a box of tissues and a bottle of decongestants, but that didn’t matter; his spare key wasn’t well hidden, either.

And again — now — on Valentine’s Day, when you both decided to blow off Seokjin’s deranged, annual Parent Trap scenario.

Sprawled out on his couch like you owned the place, you scrolled idly through Netflix’s home page with your face scrunched. The hand not holding the remote dipped down into the bag of kkokalcorn chips resting on your chest.

“You’ve got an identity crisis in your watch history, Jimin,” you yelled out to him, hoping he’d hear your teasing clearly from where he stood in his kitchen. “I’m having trouble believing that you’re not actually a middle-aged white woman.”

At this, he stopped rummaging through his refrigerator and stood straight up to glare at you. His eyes and mouth all flattened into matching, straight lines.

You rattled off your findings, nudging him further. “The Notebook, Sleepless in Seattle —”

With every title you dropped, so did one of Jimin’s heavy footfalls. He was halfway to you, scowl growing, in the blink of an eye.

“10 Things I Hate About You?” You snorted. “Little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Standing at the other side of his coffee table, he parked his hands on his hips and scoffed. “My choices are being criticized by an entire adult with corn-chip witch fingers? Are you kidding?”

Sheepishly, you pulled your hand from the kkokalcorn bag. He was correct; you had stuck your fingertips in the openings of the funnel-shaped chips. You wiggled them at him with a coy smile that made him roll his eyes. Satisfied, your mouth claimed the chip perched on the tip of your index finger.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the flash in his eyes just then was fondness.

You held the bag out to him, careful not to disrupt the rest of your manicure, and smiled to yourself when he accepted your offer. He tilted the bag and dumped a few of the chips into his open palm. With a small smile, he mused, “Haven’t had these since we were kids.”

That wave of nostalgia must have caught him in a riptide because he went quiet in a way that made you pause. You were about to speak up — to say what, you weren’t sure — but you promptly shut your mouth. Index and middle fingers now extended, he held out his hand to make a peace sign. Each fingertip had a small cone sitting crooked on top.

Jimin laughed unexpectedly, which almost made his already-crinkled eyes disappear completely. “Kinda look like little wizards.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the thumping in your chest just then was fondness.

After shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you realized that the little wizards weren’t holding the glass of hard cider he’d gone to his kitchen to refill. You pushed yourself to your feet with one hand and a playfully exaggerated groan, popping the remaining chips from your fingers into your mouth at once.

“Leaving already?”

He should’ve known better than to ask you a question while your mouth was full, but he didn’t. The explanation he received was therefore unintelligible. Head cocked curiously to the side, lips slightly parted, he tried to connect the dots. Just as soon as he started, he gave up and trailed after you.

Jimin didn’t stop until you did, right in front of his refrigerator. He was so close, in fact, that you accidentally hit him with the door as you pulled it open.

“Oh, shit!” You muttered, shutting the door again quickly.

Wincing, your gaze flitted over to assess the damage you’d done to the outside of his bicep with the metal corner of the door. On instinct, you reached out to run the pads of your fingers over the faint red mark blooming there. Goosebumps spread in the wake of your touch, but you didn’t feel that same phantom chill. Just something electric that sparked against your fingertips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said gently. “I don’t bruise like you do.”

In the moment of silence that followed, you felt compelled to lift your eyes but not your hand. Unless you were imagining things, he leaned into your touch, just slightly. Not enough to see, but enough to feel.

It’d crossed your mind a thousand times since you walked through his front door. With that throwaway statement, Jimin confirmed he’d been thinking about it, too — about who you both were on this date last year. About the way you’d only ever let him treat you roughly because anything sweeter threatened the distance you were trying to keep. About the bruises given with no chance to kiss them better.

You weren’t that person anymore, and neither was he.

“Jimin,” you started.

It was the farthest along in your sentence that your voice would let you go. 

After the million baby steps you’d taken in his direction and the healing you’d allow yourself to do, you were still scared to show your cards. Now, you’d seen him in technicolor. Now, if you fucked things up, you’d never be able to go back to black and white.

What if you fuck things up again?

Jimin sensed your hesitation, but he didn’t accept it. Instead, he closed the distance so slowly that your hand wasn’t disrupted from where it rested on his bicep. His hands found you just as easily. One made its home at the small of your back while the other cupped the side of your face. 

With a whisper lighter than air, he asked, “If I kiss you, will you let me?”

His eyes flitted from yours, to your lips, then back again.

“Or will you kamikaze dive into my kitchen table?”

Your reply was even softer than the question posed. “Only one way to find out.”

If the uptick at the corner of his lips told you anything, it was that he intended to.

Cautiously, as if sudden moves would startle you, he pulled your body flush against his. His other hand tilted your face upwards, thumb gently tucked under your chin while the rest of his fingers rested in the space just below your ear. His touch kept your body present even when the sensation of his kiss threatened to sweep your feet out from underneath you.

Plush pink and delicate, his lips molded to yours like they were specially designed to do just that. Like cracks giving way to let the light in, you opened yourself up for him. Licked into his mouth, eager to learn the parts of him you’d missed in all the time you’d shut him out.

And if you listened — really listened, over the moan he swallowed from you — you could’ve sworn you heard all the silly pages of your childhood diary flipping furiously. Scribbled to hell and back with a glitter gel pen, each one noting that this is what you wanted, this is what you wanted, this is everything you wanted.

The eternity in that kiss wasn’t long enough. Eventually, he broke the contact, pulling a disagreeing gasp from you when he pulled away. Your lips buzzed from the sudden loss of pressure — that, or they trembled without the warmth of his mouth. Either way, he was gone too soon. 

The hand you had resting against his bicep slipped down to the center of his chest to tug at the fabric of his t-shirt. Unable to nip that growing neediness in the bud, you frowned. 

“Jimin,” you sighed. You had nothing to follow-up with. His name was the totality of that thought.

Several moments of silence came next. His brow furrowed, like he was trying and failing to find something less vulnerable to say. He couldn’t. When it slipped out, his eyes searched your face for a reaction.

“I want to be soft with you.”

Any time you’d been together before, it was carnal, dripping with unarticulated hurt. He didn’t want that, not this time. You didn’t have to guess why.

Though the level of desperation you both felt now was familiar, the underscore had changed. Jimin wanted to touch you carefully because he felt fragile — so did you. If either of you moved too quickly, too roughly, you ran the risk of upending the balance you’d found. Like you, Jimin seemed to know that this was delicate.

You lifted your hand from his shirt and placed it on top of his where it sat above your jaw. Gently, your fingers wrapped around his and lowered them so you could intertwine them properly. Then, without a word and without letting go, you led him out of the kitchen into the small hallway.

This was the first time you’d crossed his house without sprinting and violently shedding your clothes as you went. It felt like you were seeing it all for the first time because, in a way, you were. 

You’d never noticed the framed photos lining the walls of the hallway, or the subtle notes of grey in the white paint behind them. In all the time you’d spent there before, it’d never clicked that this house was a home. Everywhere, there were hints of him — his interests, his achievements, the friends you’d never met — sitting so blatantly in places you’d previously ignored. 

Jimin apologized when you stepped over the threshold into his bedroom. “My plan was to clean it tomorrow.”

He smiled sheepishly as his free hand carded through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Doesn’t do you any good today, though.”

“I don’t mind,” you hummed in reply, shutting the door slowly behind him. “My plan was to do laundry today, and — well, you’ll see how that worked out for me.”

You kept your fingers interlocked with his while you surveyed his room. Like the rest of the house, you’d been in there countless times before without truly seeing any of it. Apart from the bare minimum clutter he’d needlessly apologized for, every surface was thoughtfully decorated. Even the absence of some keepsake or trinket on his shelf was purposeful. 

He keeps space.

Propped on a stand near his dresser was his guitar, which you didn’t even know he still played. Of course he does, you thought, he’d have been an idiot to throw that talent away. 

You were smiling long before you noticed you were doing it, even more so when you clocked where it sat. Just like it did in his childhood home, the guitar was positioned directly across the room from his doorway — the first and last thing he’d see when he came and left. 

Carefully, you reached out and trailed one finger over the tuning pegs. It all felt forbidden, but stupidly, you felt compelled. You spent a lifetime aching to touch him. For reasons you couldn’t explain, his guitar was no different.

Watching you caress his guitar made his pulse race harder; you could feel it where your wrist aligned with his. If nothing else had changed, you suspected that he still didn’t let anyone lay a finger on it. Jimin always insisted that he did all the maintenance himself because he didn’t trust the technician at the local music shop to be careful enough. 

To your surprise, it didn’t appear to be anxiety spinning circles in his stomach as he watched you. He spun you around, and it was clear from the look in his eye — the unshakeable desire he felt to touch you that same way.

You wondered what he was thinking while he studied your face in silence — if the months he’d spent trying to teach himself to hate it had blurred your features; and if he saw them clearly now.

The smattering of freckles across the bridge of your nose which swept over the tops of your cheekbones — even though it was winter, and you hadn’t seen much of the sun for weeks. 

The small scar interrupting your eyebrow, which you’d gotten when both of your families went camping together a million years ago. He’d sprinted across tide pools to help you back to your feet, reaching you long before Seokjin could catch up.

You didn’t know if it was a conscious decision now, but he leaned down and placed a kiss there the way you wished he had back then. 

“This isn’t still illegal, is it?” He murmured against your skin.

Unable to breathe, let alone speak, you shook your head so subtly that it couldn’t reasonably be counted as movement. Your next move was bolder, though: You unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugged your way out of it, and let it fall at your feet. 

With a quick glance down, you remembered what you were wearing and cringed with your whole body.

Neither of your socks matched; your sweatpants had a hole near the crotch; and your sweatshirt’s sole task had been to hide the ratty, old MapleStory t-shirt that you stole from Seokjin when he went off to college.

A certifiable mess in a self-imposed dry spell.

Jesus Christ.

“Laundry day,” you blurted out in explanation, though he hadn’t asked. He wasn’t laughing, either — not reacting in any way to roast you the way you expected him to. Still, the tips of your nose and ears burned with embarrassment. “I didn’t plan for… this.”

His index finger dipped under the hem of your t-shirt and his thumb mirrored the way it traced the stitching. 

“I kind of forgot that you own shit like this.” He replied softly, looking more pensive than usual. “Never see you in sweats.”

It was a fair point.

Jimin had slept next to you on three occasions — when the rules permitted — and you always woke up the same way you’d fallen asleep: completely naked. Somehow, it felt even more intimate for him to see what you wore when you went to bed without him. The silly, branded t-shirt probably said more about you than your bare chest did.

You realized that you’d never seen him in his current state before, either, with black joggers hanging low on his hips. His fluffy, air-dried hair didn’t sit smoothly the way it normally did. You wanted so badly to run your fingers through it, but there was a stronger compulsion to reckon with:

His shirt was ripped at the hem, not quite covering the lower inches of his torso.

Unthinkingly, your hand reached out so your fingers could rest against the skin there, midway down faint the trail of hair that dipped under the waistband of his pants. So much warmer than you, he shivered at your touch. You paused, self-conscious, then glanced up at him with eyebrows raised.

Is this okay?

You didn’t have to ask out loud to get an answer. It came as a whisper — “cold hands” — and it was accompanied by a smile that made your knees weak.

He nodded towards the other side of his room and said, “C’mere.” 

The hand that previously held yours found it again. Fingers slipping easily into the spaces between yours, he led and you followed. 

The crisply folded sheets contrasted completely with the effortless coziness of the rest of the space, but they didn’t stay that way for long. With his free hand, Jimin gripped the comforter and tugged it loose. It fluttered and fell freely back down over the bed.

Sighing reflexively, you slipped into the opening he’d created within the blankets. Every fiber smelled like him — clementine flower, orange blossom, water lily and orris — and now, so would you.

Jimin waited for you to scoot over before filling the space next to you, tilting his body inward to keep his eyes on you. His bent knee pressed against your outer thigh. It was chaste, especially when you considered the thousand other ways he’d touched you, but it had you vibrating in place, nonetheless. He probably felt it when he leaned in and kissed you for the third time, fingers sliding into your hair.

Tangled in him, your intrusive thought won out. Loose, it flew like a ping-pong ball around the inside of your skull: He can probably feel all that dry-shampoo, too. 

Like he was begging you to focus, the tip of his tongue flicked across your bottom lip and stole a whimper. Your lips parted eagerly against his to accommodate him; both of you starving for every bit of tenderness you’d refused to let him give before. 

As he poured more of himself into that kiss, the hand in your hair ran slowly down the length of your neck, over the slope of your shoulder, and down the curve of your torso. It stopped on the top of your thigh, warming you through to your bones. For the first time, his fingers didn’t dig harshly into the doughy flesh he found there. Now, his feather-light touch left you buzzing instead of bruised.

With every second that passed, your tingling spine struggled more and more to hold you upright. Noting the slight shift in your posture, Jimin guided you — still lip-locked — to rest your head on his pillows. It wasn’t until you tilted your head slightly to the side that his lips left yours; dipped down below your jaw to pepper the exposed skin there with unbearably soft kisses.

Each one made your pulse race harder than the last, pulled needy little breaths out of your mouth.

“Sound so pretty when you sigh like that,” he hummed against your throat. “Might have to kiss you like this forever if this is what it gets me.”

You’d been underneath him more times than you could presently recall, but never like this. Until now, you never understood how a person could say they loved you without any words at all, but you heard it. More than anything, you felt it in every brush of his lips — in the static crackling around you, charged with every little, languid line his tongue left behind.

The only thing distracting from your swelling heart was the wetness pooling in the bikini bottoms you’d hastily thrown on in the absence of clean underwear.

Fucking laundry day.

The sole consolation was the fact that the blend of polyester and elastane was better suited for a flood than any lace you would’ve consciously selected.

The breath behind his words tickled and surprised you, derailing your train of thought.

“Is it against the rules to tell you how beautiful I think you are?”

The circles he drew against the fabric of your sweatpants had you hypnotized, but you still managed to reply, “No more rules. Except — Oh, fuck.”

You mewled at the sensation of him suckling at the spot where your neck joined your shoulder. 

“Except that you can’t ever stop.”

His lips curled into a smile against the love bite he’d so carefully crafted. 

“I won’t,” he murmured before placing a kiss in the same spot he’d marked. “But I may need an intermission to get these incredibly chic clothes off your body. Kind of feels sacrilegious, though, I’ve gotta say.”

Your eyes flickered over to him, eyebrows raised. He pursed his lips to keep from smiling, forced the straightest face he could muster, then traced his fingertip over the rip in the crotch of your sweatpants. Sounding downright reverent, he explained, “They’re holey.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” You dropped your head back against the pillows with a groan that didn’t outgun your laughter. “Straight to jail for that. Seriously, that’s a federal crime.”

When your eyes stopped rolling and settled on him, Jimin was already looking down at you with amusement sparkling in the deep brown of his irises. He said nothing, opting instead to kiss you — for the fourth time — as a farewell before pulling away entirely. 

The spot next to you went cold as soon as he sat up, but — bravely — you didn’t complain. You watched with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. He grabbed the end of his haphazardly, perfectly cropped t-shirt and pulled it off over his head. 

Your only instinct was to reach up to his bare chest and trace every plane of it. To your dismay, Jimin intervened. Fingers at the hem of your top now, he stared expectantly at you until you stretched your arms above your head. That stupid, stolen shirt was guided up and off before it was discarded somewhere unseen.

Jimin’s pupils dilated immediately, gaze sweeping over your bare chest like he was beyond grateful that all your bras were at home, drowning in your washing machine. Uninhibited, he leaned forward. The delicate, cuban-link chain of necklace tickled the skin of your stomach while he placed an open-mouthed kiss in the space between your breasts. Cool to the touch, you shivered for more reasons than one.

When his tongue flicked out over one erect nipple, all you could offer was a breathy sigh, brain scrambled to hell and back. He seemed to draw inspiration from this — him and his goddamn mouth promptly switched tactics. Mimicking you, he looked up at you from under his lashes and blew a warm stream of air over your other nipple.

You were full-out whimpering underneath him. “Shit.”

“Yeah?” He smirked before taking the pebbled bud into his mouth and sucking softly, eyes still locked on yours. 

Can I cum from this?

Oh god, I really might cum from this.

His mouth’s ministrations continued while his hands swept gently down the curves of your waist. That is, until they reached the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. Abruptly, Jimin stopped and sat back onto his calves.

You didn’t have to ask. Jimin’s eyes widened in tandem with the grin on his face; and you knew what he’d discovered. Smiling now with all his teeth, he tugged playfully at the knotted tie sitting above your right hip, keeping your bikini bottoms in place.

He snorted incredulously, “Be fucking for real.”

“Stop.” The word was elongated as you whined. It was useless, but you swatted at his arm. “I told you — ”

“I know, I know. It’s laundry day.” Fuck, his affection for you was written all over his face. “Incredible — truly, I have no notes.”

You buried your face in your hands to hide from him, but he didn’t let you. Just like he did that time on your couch, Jimin pulled your hands away from your face and held them in his own. This time, when he kissed you, you didn’t tear yourself away from him. Instead, you did the opposite. You grabbed the sides of his face in your hands and leaned into him.

With his hands now free, he was able to push your sweatpants down the rest of the way without extricating his lips from yours. Those fucking bikini bottoms went with them when he slipped the fabric over your ankles and tossed them blindly over his shoulder.

Mouth moving hungrily against yours, his hand hovered over your cunt, radiating warmth. You fought to keep your last shred of patience but lost, shifting underneath him to beg wordlessly for his touch. He obliged. His middle finger dipped between your sopping folds until it found the swollen bead of your clit and spiraled over it.

“Fuck,” you moaned into his mouth. He swallowed it, kissed you so deep your mind went blank.

The slow pace he’d chosen normally would have driven you mad, but instead of coming across as a taunt — or a punishment — you got the impression that he was basking in your arousal. That he was taking his time, savoring you and the million ways your body craved his.

When you pulled back, your lips were kiss-bitten and palpably swollen. He must have felt your quickened breath against his own lips. They autonomously curved into the tiniest sliver of a smile. 

Watching him watch you, it was clear that Jimin loved you like this — wide-eyed, unguarded, inviting. He loved you generally. You knew that much for certain as he gazed down at you, and you were so fucking thankful that neither of you had to keep pretending otherwise.

Whatever trance he’d fallen into ended when you whispered, “Please.”

Though your plea wasn’t much more than an exhale, he didn’t need to be told twice. Momentarily, he stood; and as he did, your own hand dipped down between your legs. He stepped out of his joggers with his focus trained on you, staring spellbound while you touched yourself in his absence. Wet enough to drip.

If you had to wager on it, you’d bet that he could’ve stood there all night observing, listening to the way you moaned as you slicked your own fingers, but the darkened tip of his cock was weeping like he wanted you badly enough to ache. Completely incapable of spending any more time as a bystander, he fell to his knees between your legs. There, he guided them further apart with his hands.

Desperately, you grabbed one of his hands from where it sat on your knee and pulled him so that he was leaning over you once again. You wanted to feel the way his breath caught as he entered you, bare chest pressing into yours while he filled you. Needed him — just him — all the time.

Forearms now pressed to the mattress and fingers in your hair, he caged you in. His forehead came to rest against yours when you reached into the space between your bodies and dragged his tip through the mess he’d made of you. That faint squelch was obscene enough in the quiet of his room. It couldn’t hold a candle to the groan that escaped his chest when he finally entered you.

“Holy shit.” He exhaled sharply through gritted teeth. Your walls enveloped him, squeezing tight enough that no question remained about where he belonged. “Fucking missed you.”

That initial, perfect ache threatened to blind you, but it wouldn’t have mattered with the way your eyes screwed shut — too overcome with want to do much more than breathe. Slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretched you until he bottomed out. It was the closest thing you’d ever had to an out-of-body experience.

“Missed you,” you mumbled.

Well beyond fuck drunk, you bordered on incoherent. A kiss on your forehead lassoed you, brought you crashing back down. It was redundant, but he murmured, “Come back to me.”

You blinked up at him in a haze.

“Want you to look at me.” 

He sounded shy, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard him, and you didn’t need any further explanation.

Eye contact had never been on the table before, deemed early on to be far too fucking intimate. If this is what he wanted, you decided, you’d never take your eyes off him again. Especially not when he looked at you the way he did then, like you hung the fucking stars in the sky.

You countered, “Kiss me.”

And he did, like he might never get the chance again.

No amount of closeness could’ve been enough, but you settled for wrapping your legs around him. With his range of motion now limited, he grinded against you; the curve of his cock rubbed against that secret spot behind your pubic bone. 

Bones? Do you still have any of those?

Every tantalizing, slow thrust made it harder for you to remember why you’d ever required harshness when his gentleness now was infinitely more intense. It was so much better — being loved by him rather than hated.

Desperate fingers left half-moon imprints on his back, which was beginning to slick with sweat. The spaces between your whimpers lessened while the pressure in your abdomen began to build. Jimin had you teetering at the edge of the world, and you told him so with your lips at his ear, “Please — I’m so close.”

His forehead creased, and you watched in real time as determination etched itself into his features. He was perfect — beautiful — and he was close, too. You clenched; he cursed, “Fuck.”

You looked up at him through fluttering lashes, silently begging him not to stop. Not now, not ever. Stay.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Jimin murmured, burying himself deeper with every thrust. “You know that, right? How much you mean to me?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He watched your face as you came — when your eyes rolled back, and your head tilted against his pillows. Your legs loosened their binds around him as they shook, gasping moans tumbling out of your open mouth. His pace didn’t falter; his presence deep inside of you only elongated your orgasm.

Bliss.

You were still fluttering around his length when your eyes finally drifted open again. Not even through your first aftershocks, his panting breaths alone could’ve pushed you headfirst into a second orgasm.

His gaze had dropped at some point to see the way your cunt clung to him with every backstroke. He must’ve felt you staring, though; he looked back up at you, pupils blown wide. That was all it took to dot stars along the edges of your vision.

Back arching up off the mattress, you gushed around him once again. Mindless babbling — consisting only of his name and expletives — fell clumsily off your tongue. It caught both of you off-guard when your shaky voice managed to plead, “Wanna feel you cum — please. Want you to let go for me.”

Only after you begged him did his thrusts become desperate, reckless. There was the unmistakable sound of your wetness and skin colliding with skin, and then there was the low moan that built in the seat of his chest and broke free. Face buried in the crook of your neck as he came, the heat of his breath on your skin was rivaled only by the dizzying warmth of his release spilling into you.

He struggled to hold himself up while his spent cock still twitched inside of you. If you were being honest, you adored the way his weight pinned you against his mattress. Maybe, you thought, you could stay there forever.

Eventually, an exhausted voice came from the curve of your shoulder, almost too muffled to hear.

“How is it —” Jimin panted. “— That in the hundred times we’ve had sex, it never felt like that?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. Tingling fingertips ran lightly and lazily across his shoulder blades. The hint of hesitation bubbling in the pit of your stomach cautioned you not to speak your thoughts out loud, so you stared at the ceiling above you and willed yourself to be brave.

Your voice threatened to give up on its way out.

“Nobody’s ever fucked me like they love me before.”

He mustered all the energy he still had to turn his head and look at you. At first, you couldn’t tear your eyes off the ceiling to look back. Make space, you begged yourself; and so, you did.

With his chest resting heavily on yours, you wondered if he could feel the way your heart skipped a beat at that eye contact alone. The glimmer in his eye informed you that, yes, he could. 

“Better get used to it, then.” He punctuated his thought by pressing his lips to your temple. “‘Cause that’s what you signed up for.”

You smirked, “Oh? Was there a contract?”

You might’ve kept teasing him if he didn’t tilt your head to kiss you properly — and fuck, you were melting all over again.

“Sealed with a kiss, no less.” He leaned down to nip affectionately at your earlobe. Mouth at the shell of your ear, he purred. “Like any deal with the devil should be.”

“Goddamn.” You whistled. “Promoted from menace to devil already. Congratulations.”

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled out of you and forced himself upright to his feet. Before you could even ask him to, Jimin leaned down to kiss the lips you’d poked out into a pout. Your voice was uncharacteristically needy as your question slipped out.

“You are coming back, right?”

“Nope,” he hummed against your lips. You leaned away from him with your jaw dropped incredulously. “I’m taking a shower and I’m taking you with me.”

That was the only warning you got before one of Jimin’s arms slipped under the hinge of your knees, and the other disappeared behind your back. You screamed. Instead of flailing — a one-way ticket to the floor, you imagined — you threaded your arms around his neck and clung to him as if your life depended on it.

“Pardon me,” you sputtered. “But what the fuck is happening right now?”

“Shhh — pipe down. I’m keeping a promise.”

You stared at him expectantly. For a moment, he ignored you and continued quietly on his way towards the bathroom. It wasn’t until he reached the threshold that he paused with a sigh.

The look he shot you then was far more earnest than you could’ve expected under the circumstances. One that said he saw you, not through you, and he wasn’t going to look away.

Jimin said it breezily, like it cost him even less than the air it took to vocalize it: “I am not letting you down again.”

A pinprick of tears stung the corners of your eyes. You fought like hell to keep them where they belonged. It was such a stupid joke — made so lightly — and it still held more weight than anything you’d ever heard.

Eyes swimming despite your resistance, you sniffled and laughed. “Not, like, literally, though — right?”

“Aw, baby.” He kissed your temple again, cooing. Part of you hated it, but the rest of you swooned. “Don’t test me.”

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[misty-howler]

Talk With Your Future Self...

Hello everybody 🌸 Welcome to another Pick a card reading. This is an old pac I did on my lost and forgotten account @luminarygirl but my heartiest thanks to @pyramerex (yes I will mention you in each and every post you retrieved because I am grateful) for retrieving a few of my posts. I really love you for what you have done for me. Thank you ❤️

DISCLAIMER : All my Readings are for entertainment purposes only and it is a general reading so it may or may not resonate.

I hope you enjoy your time here:) Please choose your pile intuitively...

Pile 1

Cards : Ten of wands ; The sun ; The lovers ; Nine of cups and Five of pentacles.

Your present self...

I see that you are talented and hardworking but you carry a lot of burden on you. You care for people's need before yours and you simply think that it is you being generous but it is the other person being selfish and draining all your energy. If we look on the card then we see that there is a man who is holding 10 wands which represent his burden and he is struggling to reach his destination which is that little village that can be seen on some distance in the card. If the situation would have been normal and he would have not had burden then he could have easily reached the village his destination. And your present self is represented by this man you are taking burden of unnecessary things right now.

Your future self will thank you for...

Your future self is thanking you for being innocent. Like in today's world there is no humanity left. But with you I see that you are a believer of humanity and you have a close relationship with nature. And although you have had a lot of problems in your life still you shine brighter than most of the people. Your future self wants to thank you for the confidence you have gained over the years which is helping them now. And because of your hard work your future self is now very optimistic and full of energy and they radiate positive energy wherever they go. I see you radiate positivity now as well. But it is a little dim right now due to the burden you carry but with time as you grow older and release this burden your positivity is gonna radiate more and more.

Your future self tells you to focus on...

Your future self is telling you to focus on building deep and strong connections with other people. I see you might be a overthinker which could make you have trust issues but your future self is telling you that open up a little. Be a little more passionate about your life and put yourself out there if you don't want to come into a romantic relationship yet then that is absolutely fine just go for a platonic one. But make connections that will last you for life long. They are telling you to for once follow your heart and don't listen to your head. We see in the card that there are two people standing and there is an angel (angel Ralphael) who is looking at them and blessing them. But if they would have not taken the chance to meet each other and get to know each other this would have never happened this connection would have never been formed . so you have to go out and take a chance and start building connections. Strong ones.

Your future self tells you to cut off...

Pile 1 I see that you have been through some shit in past. And you are working really hard to reach your goals. But why are you so dissatisfied by yourself? You should be happy for till where you have come. You could be a loner. And might not have alot of friends. Your future self is assuring you that you are gonna be successful. But you have to stop victimising yourself. It is not just you who is struggling everybody is struggling with something or the other. But you have to give some credit to yourself. So please cut off that dissatisfaction from your life. Otherwise it will slowly eat you and you won't be able to do anything.

Advice from your future self...

Your future self wants to advise you that you should set your priorities they want to tell you that your path is not at all easy you have to go through hardships and that is important to learn the lessons but you should have someone to whom you can tell all your problems and discuss. they will give you advice. Moreover prioritise what you want to do get clear with that. On the card, 5 of pentacles, we see that there are two people walking in a snowy Storm. Which indicates that you have to go through difficulties as well. Your future self is literally shouting prioritise what do you want and cut off everything else.

For example you have planned to go to South Korea for your higher studies right now you are in this situation where you want to learn Korean and Japanese but you have time for learning only one so what are you gonna learn? obviously you will learn Korean it will help you in the future. So like this prioritise what you want. (Sorry for the lame example 😅)

This might resonate with some of you only when I was doing your reading my sister got me some food to eat so I got distracted and I left your reading in between and went for eating. So I see that some of you might pick up new projects in excitement leaving the old ones abandoned and eventually you have a lot of work to do because now you have old projects and new projects to be done so please try to control that.

Possible Signs in your chart could be Leo ; Gemini ; Sagittarius ; Pisces ; Taurus

Song for you :

Pile 2

Cards : Five of swords ; Page of Pentacles ; knight of wands ; Ten of cups and Six of Swords.

Your present self...

I see that their are some conflicts going on in your life right now. And your surroundings are really very tense. Maybe you or someone else is blaming the cause of their failure on someone else and that is causing problems. This could cause to bring a break in your life with other people. Causing you to hate everything. So, this situation has to be handled gracefully or else it could turn into disaster. You could also be dealing with delusional dreams.

Your future self will thank you for...

Your future self wants to thank you for the kind of person you are. They want to thank you for you being passionate enough and not giving up even in the hard times. You kept going and going and you are the reason for what your future self is today. Although your future self is still finding their way to their path but they are very happy where they are and I see lush green surroundings around them and them holding a coin. Which shows that your future self has all materialistic things that they would want to survive. And they wanna give all the credit of all the abundance to you.

Your future self tells you to focus on...

Your future self is telling you to focus on pursuing your goals. They want you to be passionate about your goals and complete them in the given time. They are telling you you to not procrastinate over silly things. Try to make your goals exciting. They are asking you to work on the goal which is given to you right now and not to be preoccupied by the past. This could be a past project you did or maybe you have made a mistake while doing this project whatever it was it is gone now and because of that project you cannot risk this one as well. Your goals don't have to be big. Start small.

Your future self tells you to cut off...

Your future self is telling you to cutoff those toxic family members from your life who dont support you and also try to hold you back. Maybe the conflicts stated in your present self are also being created by these people. It could also be a friend. They are asking you to take a trip with your closed ones. Just try to reconnect to them. Now I know you just cannot cut off a family member from your life even though you know that they are toxic. So just try to maintain your safe distance from them and manifest that they won't create problems for you.

Now it is not necessary that there has to be someone toxic in your family or friends circle it could also mean that maybe there is someone around you whom you are not very comfortable with. So try to make a safe distance from them. Maybe someone is asking you to help them and you are just not comfortable. So, tell that person. You don't have to cut them totally off but set your boundaries.

Advice from your future self...

The advice from your future self is that you have to push yourself forward no one else is going to do that for you. They are asking you to leave the disastrous side of your life and start fresh with calmness. You do have to push yourself but not to such a extend that you start feeling that this is something you have to do and not enjoy. Everything we do in life. We do it to enjoy. We do it to satisfy yourselves not someone else. They are asking you to prepare yourself for the next chapter of your life.

Possible signs in your chart could be Aquarius ; Taurus ; Virgo ; Capricorn ; Pisces ; Sagittarius

Song for you :

Pile 3

Cards : king of cups ; Seven of cups ; King of swords ; The Magician and Queen of pentacles

Your present self...

I see that right now you are emotionally stable pile 3. And you are someone who stays calm when their are problems to be handled and you know that your inner wisdom will help you in solving these problems. You are someone who is mature. And you gracefully handle all the challenges that life throws at you. I see that your subconscious and conscious mind are in alignment right now which helps you alot to see things clearer. I see that you are also very creative.

Your future self will thank you for...

Your future self is thanking you for being a dreamer. Because when we dream about something we are subconsciously manifesting it and because your subconscious and conscious mind are in alignment I think you guys are quick manifesters. I see that your future self is very happy and satisfied with what they have and they want to thank you for it because you were flexible enough and you practiced multiple things which gave them the opportunity to select the career of thier choice. If we see financially I can see that your future self is really very happy and stable.

Your future self tells you to focus on...

Your future self wants you to focus more on your tasks which require your intellect. They are asking you to focus on yourself more for example restructure your daily routine, give an hour to all the task you have to do for that particular day. Just don't do anything , anytime, anywhere. Set new goals they don't have to be big ones but work towards them with full confidence and passion you have to stay determined towards your work and then only you will grow. Be it your studies or your work. Your future self is telling you to become that no nonsense person who takes absolutely no bullshit of anybody.

Your future self tells you to cut off...

Your Future self is asking you to cut of people who might manipulate you into wrong things. I see a lot of tricksters around you. These people are just using you for their benefit and using your energy. Your future self is warning you right now otherwise you might face problems in the future. This person could be anyone maybe a family member for a friend or someone online. I also see that there are a lot of cheaters around you. So it is possible that you had some idea and someone stole it from you and took all the credit so don't let that happen and cut those people off.

Advice from your future self...

First advice that I am getting for you guys is that manifest carefully there are good things as well as bad things that you can manifest so be very careful while you are dreaming / manifesting. They are telling you to take care of your resources and think about long term security. Take steps to create that financially abundant future that you have always wanted. Take a practical approach to your work and don't think everything from your heart think a little bit from your head.

Possible signs in your chart could be Virgo ; Scorpio ; Aquarius ; Taurus and Capricorn.

Song for you :

Pile 4

Cards : The lovers ; Four of wands ; Five of wands ; The devil and Three of cups.

Your present self...

I see that you are doing something and you are very passionate about it maybe you have to take a decision right now and you are standing in the middle of the road with no clue where to go. Try to follow your heart. A lot of opportunities are being presented to you don't miss them. I see that you have strong connections in your life right now who will be there to support you no matter what.

Your future self thanks you for...

Your future self wants to thank you for being there with your family even in the hard times. I see some of you might have family problems right now or in the near future. But you will somehow manage to get through it. And now because of you your future self is living happily with your/ their loved ones. And they are celebrating life together. They are prosperous and part of a very strong community and you are the one they want to thank to for all this stuff.

Your future self tells you to focus on...

Your future self wants you to focus on solving the problem not trying to make it big. They also want to you to focus on competition make it healthy and friendly competition but always remember that competition is competition you can't just go on and generously show your generosity by helping others while you yourself don't do anything. For the same project.

Your future self tells you to cut off...

Your future self is asking you to cut off the overly negative temptations that you have. This could be in terms of anything and you know what it is. Try to work on it. Try meditation. Try journaling. starting a new hobby. Anything that could distract you from these temptations. These temptations could be anything from harming yourself to drinking problems. And if you don't work on them now it might turn into addiction and that will cost you a lot.

Your future self advices you to...

All your future self is advising you to do is celebrate your success don't hide behind the curtains it is you who has accomplished something. It is you who have become successful in your goals so you are the one who will celebrate it and you decide who should be there with you when you celebrate it. you decide who celebrate it with don't be afraid. Nobody is gonna say anything to you they can't because it is your success and it is your celebration. And in general it could mean that your future self is advising you to take life little easily and celebrate every moment. cherish every moment we don't have to live our lives we have to celebrate our each and everyday. It doesn't have to be a big celebration may be just you and your close ones or your best friends going for a night out or a girls out or picnic or something.

Possible signs in your chart could be Gemini ; Capricorn ; Aries ; Leo and Cancer

Song for you :

I hope you enjoyed the reading ❤️ If possible do leave a feedback 🥺

[captain-is-king]

okay i didn’t want to annoy anyone with a stream of consciousness live-blogging of the episodes which CAME OUT TONIGHT!!!!! AHHHHHH!!!!!!

so here are the notes i took while watching if anyone wants to scream with me please feel free to do so

EDIT: HOLY SHIT IM A FUCKING IDIOT CHRIS IS CHRIS RODRIGUEZ!!! I WASNT EXPECTING HIM THIS SOON IN THE SERIES AT ALL. oh god and percy being friends with him now makes the betrayal so much worse oh shit oh man.

episode one:

- blackjack was percy seeing through the mist oh my god

- MYTHOMAGIC

- THIGHTY WHITIES

- oh my god they just trade sandwich toppings. that is so cute what the fuck

- grover psychanalyzing people. yes. good.

- mrs. dodds scene was underwhelming but that’s okay (edit: fight choreo is absolutely phenomenal the rest of the time)

- i am GASPING out loud at grover telling the headmaster

- obviously he’s doing it because it’s not safe for percy

- but WOOOOOOW

- eddie! what a cameo lmao

- i like that sally appears to argue with gabe more but also i’m worried she isn’t going to fucking murder gabe. it’s important to me that she kills that guy.

- also upset that percy probably won’t say “i know gabe would like to offer everyone in this lovely city free appliances” at the end

- near the septic tanks interesting detail to include 👀

- percy judging so hard like “you’re telling me found jesus”

- oh interesting the mist is responsible for grover which honestly makes more sense than hiding it? like if the mist takes care of monsters why not satyrs

- boys? i’m actually 24 I LOVE HIM

- mythomagic as training is fun

- would’ve been cooler if he swore on the styx and there was thunder but that’s okay

- omg i didn’t even realize his rain jacket was actually red until now. SUCH a good detail

- good animation of the minotaur very good

- oh my god the fight was the same like i could SEE the words on the page as i was watching it

- HE MUST BE THE ONE

- i grinned like a FOOL through the whole credits they’re so beautiful oh my god

episode two reactions under the cut!!!! i loved episode one but i liked episode two EVEN MORE so i have a lot of things to say.

episode two:

- annabeth just watching percy sleep with her arms crossed. she would.

- YOU DROOL WHEN YOU SLEEP oh my god the way she says it is like. so calculating. i always pictured it like a flippant thing in the book but no she’s like. angry. like it’s a remark on his character and she will use this detail to take him down in battle and it’s perfect and funny

- oh my god he’s turning away so grover doesn’t see him crying. i feel like this is a detail in the book somewhere but now i can’t find it happening so maybe i’m just losing it

- ok so the big house is not what i ever pictured but it is gorgeous and i love this version of it

- the diet coke

- but did you?

- he’s starting with me

- excuse me your highness

- dad? yes peter. it’s percy. exactly

- the audacity of mr. d. i’m obsessed

- “why must you ruin everything”

- omg the owls

- oh the cabins are so cool

- like one thing i never was able to picture was how camp was laid out and i just am eating so well this is so fun to look at

- I KNOW WHAT YOURE GOING THROUGH he really does though doesn’t he FUCK now i’m emotionally

- holy shit juniper????

- LMAO okay definitely not juniper she looks much older

- council of cloven elders is so much spookier than i thought

- mmmmm grover figured it out interesting

- also apparently names don’t have power. i mean that is the stance in heroes of olympus they did not care about names. so i get it

- so like. this is kronos? looking like the grim reaper in percy’s dreams?

- ok honestly the lack of annabeth so far is very upsetting

- mmmm “glory” interesting, luke

- who is this spunky kid with the hair

- YES. YES WHEELCHAIR USING DEMIGOD YES!!!

- idk why but them just using lighters takes me out of it. but it made me laugh

- yesssss hephaestus kids my beloved

- spunky kid with the hair is chris. NOW WHO THE FUCK IS CHRIS

- holy shit this is so sad. percy alone in the woods burning his candy

- OH MY GOD FOR HIS MOM oh my god i’m not going to survive this episode

- “i think i’ve made some friends here”

- oh this is too much. it’s giving “good kid” energy from the musical

- YES angry percy. i always felt like the musical emphasized how like. angry and upset percy was at his dad. obviously it’s a huge plot point in the book but it feels like more apparent in the musical and i always LOVED that about the musical so of course i LOVE that it is being emphasized in the show as well

- if percy doesn’t cut off medusas head and mail it to olympus after this and trying so hard to get his dad’s attention it will be SUCH a letdown i have to say it i’m sorry

- good bathroom scene. GOOD bathroom scene.

- are you stalking me annabeth

- yes

- oh i’m so in love with her

- like we knew she’d be phneomenal. but we’d seen so little of her in promo stuff!!! and i HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG TO SEE MY GIRL!!!!! AND HERE SHE FUCKING IS!!!!!!

- also saying annabeth is the head of the athena cabin and seeing tiny little annabeth is SO. funny. like we all knew it was funny that a twelve year old was in charge but SEEING it makes it so painfully obvious

- “she’s my little sister”

- they call them forbidden kids that’s a little silly but that’s fine

- also i enjoy that they’re talking about thalia-luke-annabeth earlier

- BABY ANNABETH HIDING IN AN ALLEY. oh i hope we get to actually SEE this scene one day because i do love it so

- “can you ask her to knock it off.” obsessed.

- these waterfalls are SO. cool. the one thing the descriptions of camp were always missing. i love a waterfall

- the kid playing the war drums has me laughing out loud

- laughing OUT LOUD at percy. flossing and peeing and whistling

- oh my god a lizard. i would too.

- just laying down. picking at a leaf

- i just noticed he actually has vans. skater!percy lives

- GUESS ILL LOSE DESERT PRIVILEGES good book line so glad it’s in here

- the fight choreo is SO. GOOD

- “NOT BAD HERO” ALSO GOOD BOOK LINE

- you were here the whole time and you didn’t help me? yes. what is wrong with you!!

- oh i love her SO. much. i love them both so fucking much

- one of my FAVORITE lines is “poseidon, earthshaker stormbringer. hail perseus jackson son of the sea god” and i’m so glad we got it

- i like jason mantzoukas because, like that post about gene wilder, you can really believe he’d let those kids die

- also one of my favorite scenes is annabeth being invisible in the big house the whole time percy is being offered a quest and chiron is like “someone already offered to go with you” and annabeth takes her hat off to reveal she has been there the whole time. and it’s always been so funny to me but i don’t mind that the humor of it was still maintained in the scene after capture the flag being altered a little bit. and we still got “not bad hero”

- oh shit are we not getting the oracle. i guess it makes sense. it’s a lot of time when someone can just tell percy they think it’s hades but like. actually. BETRAYED BY ONE WHO CALLS YOU A FRIEND!! FAIL TO SAVE WHAT MATTERS MOST!! ITS KIND OF IMPORTANT and the oracle is like a very important plot point later

- I AM SALLY JACKSON’S SON. YOU TELL THEM

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

hi slug!!! what do you think of the block party trailers?

Thank you for giving me the excuse to go finally listen to them.

Rivals: Hmm, this is a really interesting comparison! I wouldn't have immediately classified Doppo as a "act first, think later" character, but he definitely has those moments. The music is bouncy but not immediately doing it for me. I think it's one of those songs I'll grow to like quickly, though.

White and Black: (not to be confused with Doppo's Black or White, naturally) SHADY BOYS, LET'S GOOOOOO! I love this match-up. I think they are the kind of people to have a meet-cute in which they committed identity fraud and/or credit card fraud on one another. Anyway, I love the style here. Team Rocket-ass mfers. I agree with the top YT comment at the time of writing, which is, "This is the most fanfic-y thing Hypmic has ever officially released, and I am here for it." I also love that neither of them makes one single effort to hide their scumminess. Truly a duo for the ages.

Thanks for Having Us! Now Look Alive! Osaka Big Up: (or whatever people are calling the Sasara/Roshou one) I adore the fact that Sasara introduces them as a three-person group ft. Rei, but Rei just happens to be doing something else (stealing Juuto's identity, most like) and thus it's a two-person act today. Sasara and Roshou's comedy/speaking dynamic is much more relaxed and natural feeling than it was in their first appearance in Ah, Osaka Dreamin' Night, which is a nice reflection of the current state of their friendship status. Music is chill. I'd like to hear more of it before forming more opinions. Their singing voices sound good with this older, slower style of song.

The Demons' Flowers: I appreciate how the MV style departs from usual Hypmic MV to mimic the MVs for this kind of music. Very JRPG-esque. The lyrics strike me as a little generic for music projects, which is atypical for Hypmic, but it's definitely appropriate for Juushi.

Get busy: I really like this match-up; their high energy works together well here, as does their commitment to working together with the homies to kick absolute ass. I'm not sure KR fully understands the connotation of the English title they've chosen; they're probably going for more of a "Take it easy...but take it!" vibe.

Viva la liberty: While the music itself isn't doing much for me yet, I like this take on how both Saburou and Ramuda have grown throughout the story while still acting in very similar ways to their act 1 selves. An unusual match-up, but I can dig it.

What Lies Beyond the Dreaming: Wow, I really like this. Like Scenario Liar, it almost feels confessional in the sense of how it creates a closed sense of solidarity with the listener (you're the only one I can trust, let me tell you my story for your ears only, etc.). In that case, it's being spoken to his brother, I suppose? Would love to hear the full song.

Closer: I like Hitoya's singing a lot in this one. The darker lyrics and tone suit them both quite well, and I wonder if this points to Jakurai and Hitoya finally talking things out, including Jakurai's experiences in the war, in act 3. Or perhaps that's simply wishful thinking.

My Life: Positivity: Aside from the obvious enjoyment of Hifumi wrangling the rest of the cast into being his enthusiastic background singers, I really like how this song is both bright and bubbly at surface level but says a lot of deeper things about Hifumi's character, like how he's willing to open himself up to being hurt again so long as he has the protection of his friends and loved ones. I don't think it's the kind of thing I'd listen to, but I am looking forward to seeing the full thing.

Move Your Body Til You Die!: Roger that, sir. o7 Very glad to see that Riou's solos are as silly as ever. I think this is my favorite so far in terms of music. It is most definitely my favorite in terms of music videos.

Will-o'-the-Wisp: I really, really, REALLY like the lyrics and how much growth they show for Samatoki. It's nice how you can tell just musically how much he's healed and mellowed out since the start of the series.

HIPHOPPIA: This is my actual favorite musically, and while I understand and appreciate the thematic point of having so many styles of music on this album, I'm personally a bit sad there isn't more of the classic hip-hop sound. Lot of interesting imagery in the lyrics.

Conclusion: Move Your Body Til You Die! is a work of art.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Presley ~ A Curtis Everett AU ~ Part Eight

Curtis Everett x OFC Presley Adams

Synopsis:

Curtis Everett is a hard working man. As the head of the mob of Concord, he does everything he can to provide for his wife and children. His life is perfect. Until it's not.

After a devastating accident, Curtis is alone with his children and needs some serious help.

Presley Adams needs to find work and fast. Running from her past she just wants to lay low and earn enough to get her out of town. Until she starts working for Curtis as his live in nanny.

As she falls in love with this family, can she stop her past from finding her? Or will her past be the end of the Everett reign in Concord?

Book two of the Five Kings of Boston series

Warning: themes of a mafia lifestyle; SMUT; possessive tendencies; murder; death; age gap; rape

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Part Seven

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter Eight ~ Negotiations

Presley 

I’ve never given much thought on how my life would end.  

When I was trapped in my father’s house and slated to marry Charles, I had considered taking my own life just to escape.  But my mother, bless her, she knew and convinced me that she would get me away from this life.  When I was on the run, I feared a bullet being put into me.  The last year was the first time that I hadn’t thought about my demise. For the first time, I could plan a future. I could see myself having love with Curtis, raising our children.  We had talked and we always wanted more.  

It wasn’t suppose to be like this. Mama had said that marriage was hard work but that love would be the foundation.  I had asked her once whether she loved my father.  She told me she used to. A lot of things had changed after the war we had when i was a child. That was the reason he could no longer have children, an accident. After the war, my father changed and was no longer my papa. He starting making plans on how to protect his family, his legacy. I was a princess and now I was just a pawn.  

Enter Charles.  

He was sweet, once. When we were introduced, he had charm, charisma. A good looking man from an under family.  He had saved one of my cousins and earned favor with my father. My engagement was announced a month later. He just had to wait until I turned 18. 

Then came the library. 

It was a typical mafia soiree, food, liquor, music. I needed a moment to breathe. I was feeling nervous. My birthday was in less than a month away. I wasn’t ready to be a wife and my mother had been pleading with my father to wait until I was older. But my father refused. So, I was sulking in the library, emotional over all the congratulatory wishes we were getting. I had to stand by his side. At the time, I was happy to marry Charles. I would be queen of this family as my father has always said. But when someone mentioned starting a family right away, a surge of unease filtered into my belly and I needed a moment.  

“You’re hiding, love.”  I turned to look back at Charles.  

“I just needed a moment to take it all in.” I smiled to comfort him. “Its a little overwhelming.”  

“Yes, it is. But when we are in charge, you will want for nothing, be worried for nothing.” He kissed my forehead. “I promise, everything will be fine.”  

“I know you will take care of me, Charles. But, I am nervous about being intimate and having kids. I wanted to see the world and live a little.  I wanted to spend time with my husband before we are parents.” I looked back out the window. 

“I can’t believe you are so innocent in this world.” He pressed up next to me and I could feel how aroused he was at the idea of me being innocent.  

“Charles, please, I just need space,” as I moved to push him away.  

“Oh, darling, I’m just looking for a taste.” He grabbed my hands to put them over my head. My dress, which he had requested be shorter than I liked, rode up to the tops of my thighs. “You are gorgeous, my little innocent flower, mi Piccola.” He kissed me hard. I struggled to break free but he had a tight hold on me.  With my wrists in one hand, Charles used his other hand to skim from my knee up my dress. “Fuck, so hot right here,” pressing on my center.  

I screamed. He tried to silence me but the sound caused my guard, Natalia, to rush the room.  My mother had been looking for me and ran in with her.  Natalia pulled Charles off of me and threw him to the ground.  “You’ll never lay a hand on her again or I will gut you like a fish.”  

Charles picked himself up and dusted off his clothes. “You will regret this,” he told her. “All of you!” He stormed out.  I was sobbing in my mother’s arms.  

“Sweetie, this is bad,” my mother says to me.  “We need to get you out of here.  Natalia, in my sewing room is an envelope with Ameila’s name on it in the bottom drawer. Grab it and wait for us in the garden.” My mother grabbed my face. “You’re gonna be ok. You just keep running.”  She walked me out to the back of the house, away from the party.  

“Natalia will know what to do.  Just keep moving. Change your name if you can Ameila.” We made it to the back fence.  Natalia was there with a small backpack. “Take care of her.” She kissed Nat’s forehead. “Keep her safe. I will distract them for as long as I can.” She looked at me. “I love you princessa. Remember that.” She took of the necklace she wore, my favorite and sent me into the night.  

I didn’t know that would be the last time I ever saw her.  

We ran and for some reason, a car flashed it lights. “I called in a favor,” Natalia told me. A man behind the wheel didn’t say anything as we climbed in.  But before I closed the door, I heard a shot in the night.  

We ran for two years before we got separated.  They had found us, my father’s men and Natalia led them in a different direction.  I thought she was dead as well. I found my way into Massachusetts and met Cat.  The rest is history.  I thought I was safe, that i found a home. My future was in my sight.  

I didn’t see that I would be back in Charles’s clutches.  

He paces in front of me, speaking on the phone. I keep digging my nails into my palms, trying to stop my body from trembling. I can only imagine who he is on the phone with. Probably my father.  He finally hangs up and turns to me. “I’ve been waiting six years to find you Amelia.” 

“My name is Presley.” Why am I being defiant to a psychotic man? 

“That’s right. Marco did say that you changed your name.  Legally as well.” He smiled. I remember that smile. Ladykiller, my mother called it once. “We’ll change it back once we are married.”  

“I’m not getting married.”  

It was like he was lightning. One second he was on the side of the room, the next he was in front of me, grabbing my chin so I would look at him. “If I say we are getting married, then we are getting married. Do you understand me? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” I nodded, scared to open my mouth.  This is the lunatic that my father chose for me. “Good.” He planted a kiss on my lips and it took everything not to gag. “Now, we leave in an hour, so freshen up, we have a drive a head of us.”  

Once we were in the car, Marco driving with another guard I had never met, Charles took my hand and intertwined our fingers. When I tried to pull away, he just tightened his grip. “You’re hurting me,” I whispered.  

“Then behave.” Charles sighed. “You know Presley, I wish we had the last six years.”  

“Why? You just wanted to use me.” I kept looking out the window, tears slowly running down my face.  

“I thought you and I were made for each other. I only ever wanted a taste. I was never going to hurt you, sweetheart. But you decided to scream. And everything was ruined. Your father though, he is a smart man.  He still made me his right hand and I’ve slowly taken over. The men answer to me.” He squeezed my hand until I looked at him. “I am the head of the Giovanni family now by reputation. After I make you my wife, I’ll be the head of this family forever.”  

“You’re a monster.”  

“Stick and stones, sweetheart. You could have been in a position of power. Standing by my side. But now, well now, now you are going to be my little slut. I’ll keep you chained to our bedroom, naked and waiting for me to use you as my personal cumdrop. Whenever I need a release, it will be in your little whore pussy.” He voice was calm, smooth, as if his words weren’t deploring, deprecating. He grasped my by my hair to tilt my head so I could look up at him. “I always win, princessa. It took six years to take power from yur father but I can bet that it will take less time to break you.”  

I struggled to get away from him put he pinned me as he got close to my face.  “Don’t touch me,” I cried. 

“You’re mine, Piccola and I will do whatever I want.” He inhaled my scent and then kissed my neck. “I can’t wait to make you submit.”  

Yes, I was back in my nightmare.  

Charles 

Leaving my princess in her cell, I moved to the living room.  My men were preparing for our departure from Camden. We need to leave before the King of Camden knows we are in his city. “How much longer?” I ask.  

Sid answers, “five minutes, just waiting for the last car.” The plan is set.  

“Excellent. Sid, get our Queen and put her in my car.” I fixed the cuffs of my suit and turned to Marco, my second. Are the preparations ready? 

“Yes sir. The ceremony site is ready and we have Mrs. Giovanni’s dress for Amelia.”  

“Perfect.” Once I married her, I was changing her name back. I fucking hate that name. Presley.  She’s been my Amy, my Amelia, my Piccola, my queen. And I was going to demonstrate my power to the family.  

Everett thinks he got the underhand on me yesterday.  Showing old man Giovanni the supposed “proof” of my indiscretions was a step too far. All of those were willing participants.  At least they were, once I fucked them hard enough to render them stupid.  I made all of them sign NDAs after I had them.  All except my cousins and Mrs. Barber.  She had tasted the sweetest. Fucking Lloyd spoiled that taste for me. 

Its been about four hours since Amelia was taken from the Everett compound and my phone buzzes. I smile because I know who it has to be.  “Hello Mr. Everett.”  

“You little fucking bastard!”  

I laughed. "You told me twenty four hours. Well I did it in four. Look at that.”  

“I will find you and I will get back my girl.”  

“She was never yours,” I growl.  “She has always been mine. Happy hunting, Mr. Everett.”  I hung up on him and walked out to the cars. “Let’s go!” 

Amelia is seated right next to me, holding herself as far away from me as possible. “You’ll enjoy being my Queen, Amelia.”  

“Presley,” she whispers.  

“I hate that name,” I growl. “We’ll change it as soon as possible.”  My phone rings again and I smile. “Mario, what can I help you with?” I put the phone on speaker.  

“Do you have my daughter?” 

I hold the phone out towards her. She looked at me and I growl lowly to her. Her lips tremble before she answers. “Hi papa.”  

“Lia.” I can see Amelia’s eyes begin to water. I knew that was her nickname she had when she was a child. It's something that she probably hadn’t heard in years. “Are you ok?” What the fuck is this question? The man has never cared for his child in the time I knew him.  

She looks at me terrified and I nod for her to answer. “I’m ok.”  

“Good. I will see you in a few hours, figlia.”  

“Si, papa.” She looks away from the phone but I can see the tears running down her face.  

“Everything alright Mario?” I could have sworn I heard something in his voice.  He wasn’t usually affectionate with his daughter but then again its been six years since he’s seen her.  

“Nothing, Blackwood. Just get her here.”  

He hangs up and I turned back to Amelia. “I can’t wait for our wedding night, Piccola.”  I run a hand up her leg. I wish she had been in a dress or skirt so I could feel the smooth skin I remembered. But she slaps my hand away.  

“Do not touch me,” she seethes.  

I won’t let this behavior continue.  I grab her by her hair at the root and pull her head towards me.  She cries out and as much as I love that sound, I need to ignore it. “You are mine Amelia. I can do whatever i want with you.  Do you understand?”  When she doesn’t answer, I yank harder. “Say it.”  

She whimpers. “I’m yours.”  

I kiss her hard. Finally, I have what has been mine for the last ten years.  

Curtis 

I’m pacing.  

That call with Blackwood put me on my last nerve. Jake is tracking the necklace. She never takes it off. It subtle enough that no one things its worth anything.  That’s why Presley liked it so much.  But her ring, well her ring will be a show stopper. I want the world to know she is mine.  

“She’s still stopped at the same location,” Jensen says. “Its still in Camden.”  

“Sir, are you sure you don’t want to reach out to the King of Camden?  He could have the house surrounded in an hour,” Clint asks.  

“No, something like that could trigger them to hurt her.”  I knew I could call Ari and have him help but this was my war.  I do send him a message, as a courtesy.  

Everett: Levinson, heads up, there is a situation happening in a house in Camden. We have a feeling it will move in the next hour but I wanted you to be aware.   Levinson: Need help?  Everett: not yet. I don’t want to risk her or your men.   Levinson: Her? Your queen? You know our agreement is we help  Everett: I know. I have an insider and they have advised to stand down for now. We’re tracking her.   Levinson: You know Jennie and I would do anything if needed.   Everett: I know. I’ll let you know.  

I put down phone and resume my pacing. I need to get her back.  the visual of my children asking for their momma hurts my chest so much, I actually rub at it. It feels like hours have passed but in reality its just been a few minutes.  My phone rings. “Yes?” 

“They are moving. To New Jersey.”  

“Thank you.”  

“I’ll wait for you.”  The line goes dead.  

I face my team. “Jersey. Let’s get ready.” The men move to grab their gear but I see one person who is waiting.  “Nat?” 

“I’m coming with you.” The determination is set on her face.  

“Natasha, that is not a good idea,” Clint starts to say but I stop him.  

“Nat, are you sure?  This will be dangerous and I don’t think Presley would want you to be in danger.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “Tell me you’re sure.”  

“It was my job to get her to safety. I’m just finishing the job that Mrs. Giovanni gave me. Please, let me finish my work.”  

I nodded. “It’s your right but you listen to either me or Clint.” She nodded. “Let’s move.”  

I watched the blinking light on the monitor Jensen handed to me.  Hang on Kitten, I’m coming for you.  

Presley 

A few hours later and I know I am back in hell.  

Well, my own personal hell.  

I’m back in my father’s house.  

Charles escorts me into the house. It looks the same, as if time stood still.  I looked around and saw the one thing that had changed.  In the corner stood a painting of my mother and me.  There were fresh flowers positioned around it.  I took a step towards it to read the plaque.  

Beloved Wife and Daughter 

Forever In Our Hearts 

He has got to be joking. I scoff at the painting and turn back and freeze.  

“Lia.”  

One word. Its one word that until today I hadn’t heard in years. Its a direct hit to my heart and it cracks.  

“Papa.”  

My father rushes and pulls me into his arms. I remember this type of hug. It’s the type of hug I missed after I left. After I had disappointed him.  “Mi Bambina,” he cradles my face. “I wish you had disappeared figlia,” he whispered. I’m confused. 

“I wish I had too.” A tear slides down my cheek and he brushes it away.  

“Figlia, non aver paura. C'è un piano per farti uscire di qui. Ricorda solo tutto quello che ti ho insegnato.” (Daughter, don't be afraid. There is a plan to rescue you. Just remember everything I have taught you.)

The one downfall of Charles Blackwood is that he didn’t learn enough Italian. I’ve been fluent since I was five years old. My father has a plan. A plan to have me rescued.  

“Si papa.” I look to Charles.  “He said to take me to my room and wait for him there.”  

“Fine.” Charles takes my arms and moves me up the stairs. “You know, I’m not stupid, Amelia. I know your father said something else to you.”  We enter my room and he spins me to be pressed against the now closed door. He whole body seems to be covering me. “What did he say, Amelia? Don’t lie.”  

I try to push him away but it’s useless. I slump against the door and look at him.  He said this wasn’t part of the plan but that I earned it.  

Charles smiles sinisterly. “This is the plan, baby.  I’m getting what I was owed six years ago.” He tears at my shirt and i scream.  

“Stop! Let go of me!” I swing my arms but then he grabs them and pins them over my head with one hand while the other roams my body.  

“You’re so soft Piccola. And warm. Are you warm everywhere?” He undoes the button of my jeans and slides a hand in. “Oh yes, warm and wet.”  

“I don’t want this, please stop,” I plead. 

“No,” he says as he pushes a finger in. I squeal at the intrusion and its like he gets off on it. “So tight Piccola.  Does Everett not please you enough? Is he just that small?” I shake my head but he stops it with a sharp thrust into my pussy and his palm buts my clit. I gasp and Charles chuckles. “So responsive.”  

He starts to pump his fingers at an unrelenting pace. “Come for me Piccola. Scream out my name.”  

“No!” I try to close my legs but he forces them open with his thigh. He’s fucking me with his fingers and my traitorous body begins to tingle. A soft moan escapes from the amount of pleasure he is giving me. I close my eyes and thing of Curtis.  Curtis is doing this to me.  Curtis loves me and loves to see my body break for him.  

“That’s it, Piccola.  Give in. Let me feel you break.” Charles curls his fingers and I shatter. I cry as my orgasm washes over me. He doesn’t stop. He works me through it until i collapse in his arms.  Only then does he remove his hand. He takes his cum soaked fingers and licks them clean. “Delicious.”  He pushes me so I’m on my knees, ripping away my clothes and takes me from behind. No matter how much I scream or cry, he is unrelenting until he finishes inside me. “I can’t wait until i can do that every night,” he tells me as he button ups.  He yanks me towards the bed and I fall beside it.  “Stay here until its time.”  He exits and locks te door from the outside.  

I curl up on the floor and cry.  I cry for the humiliation, the degradation, the stolen pleasure.  

I cry because now, I’m not sure Curtis will want me after Charles took what wasn’t his.  

Curtis 

Where half an hour from the Giovanni cmpound when I get a text.  

MG: She’s here. Security is heavy.  

I smirk as I read the message. Its amazing what people will do to right the past.  

Fifteen minutes after the meeting ends.... 

“Everett, can I have a word?” 

I looked at Mario Giovanni. “I thought we are done negotiating. Shouldn’t your successor be here?” 

Mario looked around. “Please Curtis. For my daughter?” 

That set off the alarm bells. “What about her?” 

“Walk with me.” I walked out to his yard. “You know, this was Amelia’s favorite place. Her uncles and I had built her a play house for her princess parties.” I see a dilapidated wooden house that has ivy growing over it. “Many of my associates said  I should get rid of it to remove the memory of my traitorous daughter. But no, its the only thing I have of her. Its also the only place where the camera and microphones can’t reach.”  

My head whipped to him but he motioned to keep quiet. “The guards will give me a minute so pay attention.” I nodded.  “You will receive a call in a few hours that my daughter will have been taken from your home. Charles will have someone take her and he will work to bring her back here.  You need to go home and check on your family. I will ensure my daughter is safe.”  

“Why would you allow it to happen?” 

“Because he can’t be stopped. I will keep you updated on what is happening. Allow him to think you are chasing him. I will do my best to protect her.”  

“Why now?” 

“I will explain later but for now, know that I love my daughter very much.”  

Present 

As we assemble down the street, Jensen pulls up a map of the house that Mario had provided. “According to our insider, there are guards on every landing on each staircase. We need to send in someone in to distract.  The problem is, we don’t know where Blackwood, Giovanni or any other guards are or stationed.”  

“Giovanni is in his garden,” I said, unblinking.  “We only have to contend with Blackwood and his minions.”  

My team looks at me before Clint clears his throat. “We can access the attic if we are quick on the side,” he points. “Coming from up top gives us an advantage.”  

“I’ll do it,” Natasha volunteered.  

“No,” I reply.  “I need you to be the eyes for us since you know the house. We’ll send Johnny up.” I looked at the man, Johnny Storm. “Think you can handle that kid?” 

“No problem. I’ll cause a diversion.”  

“Get into places,” I tell them.  I look at Natasha. “Are you sure?” 

“I owe her and her mom to get her back alive.” Natasha pulled her red curls into a pony tail.  

“Just watch yourself,” I said and kiss her forehead. “You’ll be in alone for a bit to scope. I’ll be thirty seconds behind you.”  

Natasha nods.  “If anything happens, the combination to the lock box in my room is 12-03-19-84.”  

“Nat, if...” 

“This is the life I chose when I joined the Giovanni family.  This is just a precaution.  I plan on coming back and marrying Adam.”  

My gut is telling me this is a bad idea but I just nod and she gears up.  My coms crackle and I hear Johnny, “Flame on.” Smoke billows from the side of the house before I hear him again.  “I’m on the roof.”  

“Ok, Nat, you’re up.” She moved but I stopped her. “Please be careful.”  

“Take care of our girl ok?” Nat smiles.  “See you in a minute.” She enters the house and I send a prayer.  

I’m listening to comms as different people enter the house at different points. “Breaching the attic,” I hear Storm say. I can hear thumps as people hit the ground. Clint taps me on the back and we move into the house. Each area is clear as I see a couple of Blackwood’s goons on the floor. “Natasha,” I whisper. “Where are you?” Silence greets me and I look at Clint.  

“May be she got bogged down, he replies.  I have the layout. Presley’s old room was on the third floor to the left. I think she may be there.”  

“Ok, let’s move.” We move through the staircase, checking bodies as we go.  We get to the mid-landing between the second floor and the third floor and I see a shock of red hair under another body. “No!” I pull the goon off of Natasha and her eyes are closed, two bullet wounds across her chest, blood trickling from her wounds. “Nat!” 

“Sir, we have to move,” Clint says.  “I’ll call someone to get her. We won’t leave her. We need to get to our queen.”  

There is water in my eyes. Presley's best friend is gone and she may never forgives me for this. I wipe at my eyes and then hear a blood-curdling scream. Its my girl, my Kitten, my queen.  

My Presley.  

I charge up the stairs and follow her screams. I kick in the door and see Charles holding Presley, using her as a human shield, a gun to her head. “Let her go, Blackwood,” I growl.  

He just laughs. “Who do you think has the upper hand here? I know its not you.”  

“Kitten, are you okay?”  She nods but squeaks when Charles tightens his grip. “Stop!”  

“Never. She is mine.” He turns his face towards her and sniffs her hair before kissing her cheek. “Hmm, she smells good enough to eat.” His sinister smile tuns back to me. “Now, drop your weapon and step back out. Another move towards us and I will cut her.”  

“Ok, ok.” I dropped my gun and kicked it towards them. I raised my hands and move towards to the door. “I love you Kitten.”  

“I love you,” she rasped.  

“How very touching,” Charles sneered. “Now...” before he could finish the sentence, Presley elbowed him, causing him to drop the knife. I grabbed her arm and pulled her towards me.  

“Curtis!” She wrapped around me. I kissed her head, thankful she was ok.  

“Go, Clint is on the stairwell.” I spun us around, my back to the room.  “I’m sorry Kitten but I need you to run.”  

Presley’s eyes widen.“Curtis look out!” 

I turned back and that when I felt the knife slide into my gut, my eyes now on the face of the deranged man holding it  

Presley 

I watched in horror as Charles stuck the knife into Curtis. I screamed and Charles pulled the knife back out.  

“Look at what you made me do, Piccola. I ruined my shirt.” He laughed as Curtis fell to his knees and then his back, holding on to the wound.  Charles just laughed and laughed, like the psychotic animal that he is.  I feel to my knees and put pressure on the wound.  

“Hang on baby, just hang on. Clint!” I screamed as Charles began to wipe the tears of laughter from his face, smearing Curtis’s blood on himself.  

“You sound like you want to save him, Amelia.  Why?  You’re mine.”  He was starting to make sense again and I knew my time was limited.  I saw Curtis’s gun on the floor. I grabbed it and stood up, pointing it at him  “What are you going to do, Amelia? Shoot me?” 

“I could. Or I could send you away for a long time.” I griped the gun tighter, trying not to end this so fast. 

“Do you even know how to use that, Amelia? Hmm, I bet you are so scared right now.  Hand me the gun Amelia. Be a good girl.” He reached for it and I took a step back.  

“It's funny you think that I don’t know how to use this, Charles.  I’m a mafia princess.  My father and my uncles have been teaching me about guns since I was five years old.  The most dangerous person in this room is me.” I cocked the gun back and pointed the gun back at Charles.  

“You’re too sweet, too innocent to murder me Amelia. You really want to live with that sin on your conscience?”  He mocked me.  

“For the last fucking time, my name is Presley.”  

Every seen a bullet hit a skull?  It has an interesting effect, especially as close range. Rather gross. 

Charles head snapped back and he was dead before he hit the ground.  I dropped the gun and went back to Curtis. “Hang on baby, ok, someone is coming to help ok?” 

Curtis looked up at me and smiled, blood already coating his teeth. “I’m happy I got to see you again, Kitten,” he labored. “Will miss you.”  

“No, don’t say that, Curtis.  You promised to marry me, you promised we could make babies, to make siblings for Joshie and Evie,” I sob. “Clint! Please, someone help!!” 

Curtis reaches up to cup my face. “I love you. Tell them I love them too.  Take care of them.” 

“I love you too, but please. No! Curtis, no! Please don’t leave me! Curtis, don’t close your eyes!”  

I don’t feel the mass of people that rush into the room to help him. All I can see are his eyes closing for the last time.  

“Curtis!” 

Epilogue

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[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I want to talk about a classic phrase for a hot minute, because I think the conversation will be more complex than people give it credit for.

"I don't want to hear any excuses."

I, and many others, are used to hearing this phrase and immediately cowering. It's a phrase that says "you have disappointed me with your actions/inactions and I am unwilling to tolerate that" which is technically a value neutral boundary statement EXCEPT

"I don't want to hear any excuses" is a bit unique. It is ALWAYS said to someone who is experiencing disempowerment. Whether that disempowerment is "I need help to effectively do a thing and lack that help/accommodation but am still blamed for my perceived failure" or "i am presenting barriers to my changing behavior with the intent to make you stop asking change of me" or any number of other forms and manifestations of disempowerment, the person being told that their explanations are excuses is being told this because the other person requires change and we cannot or will not make that change.

And the thing is, sometimes we cannot because we need help to make other changes first. Sometimes we will not because we don't believe we should have to or because it would be too distressing for us in some way. And sometimes we genuinely cannot make the change at all whether we want to or had all the help in the world.

"I don't want to hear your excuses" lumps all these different versions of this conflict in together when, actually, the effective approaches to each are pretty substantially different. It locks the conflict into the dynamic of the people and disallows the possibility that explanations are anything but a speed bump that someone WON'T fuck up your undercarriage if you charge over it at 50mph.

And the underlying tension of that dynamic is that change is hard and requires discomfort which can be easily used to obscure when change is being inflicted vs self-determined, leaving people even MORE resistant to change because they no longer feel able to tell what change is reasonable or within their realm of influence in the first place and often fall back on reacting to discomfort as if it is unilaterally inflicted harm.

On the other side of that though, you have someone who has, potentially, similar emotional experiences of boundary setting who finally gets around to actually asking change of another to meet their needs, only to be constantly met by reasons that change cannot be expected to happen [yet, at all, ever, who knows] and feeling increasingly resentful of how much effort you put into meeting OTHER people's asks and wondering why "excuses are okay when it's my needs" and other painful thoughts.

And on an entirely other side you have the sort of. Compulsion we all develop to justify ourselves to others when we perceive the possibility of failure or rejection because of how absolutely fucked people in our society are when they become "rejected by the herd" so to speak. The fear we feel at the possibility puts a lie to everything we think we know aboutself-sufficiency or social trauma or interpersonal emotional conflict or anything else, because so many of us truly PANIC in that moment of possible rejection and will desperately seek any escape from that feeling of being cornered for excommunication [a feeling that is fascinatingly medicalized by a lot of older and even modern interpretations of Borderline Personality Disorder as a concept]

The one thing medicalization gets right is that the more we justify ourselves to others, and experience ourselves as needing justification for taking up space or resources, the more dysfunctional and distressing our lives become for reasons that we both do and don't have influence over.

That desperation will have us seeking to avoid looking inward at what we may actually have control or influence over in a situation where our choices may have harmed or been in conflict with another, because we cannot square the two truths that we may have fucked up in some way or missed some important context and that we are still people worthy of love and belonging. And somehow at the same time it will have us constantly seeking to control things we can't and "do better" at being worthy of love and belonging because someone has assigned us unreasonable blame and we know deep down that we don't trust our own judgement of what is and isn't "okay" enough to trust that we had the right to make the ask we did or to set the boundary we did. It's the world's most toxic and self-perpetuating catch-22 imo.

The trouble with "I don't want to hear any excuses" is that it simultaneously names [solidifies, makes real] the reality that excommunicated humans suffer and die from their excommunication and we can "earn" excommunication for reasons entirely beyond our control, while denying that a threat has been made, regardless of the speaker's intention.

I don't have the magical solution to this conflict/tension area. Lord knows humans have spent thousands of generations searching for one I'm sure. But I do think it can sometimes help just to think over this stuff from time to time and understand *why* we might feel the way we do about certain interpersonal exchanges.

It's not that doing that will suddenly make you capable of changes you weren't before. But it will allow you to at least start learning to see doorways you might have reflexively written off in the past. Clarifies what choices you may actually have available to you, and how you want to make best/preferred use of them.

The trouble with asking for change from another person is that you never actually have any control over whether or not that change happens. There are choices you can make, steps that can be taken, to influence or reinforce infrastructural access to certain change/choice you want someone to consider. But there's no control over outcome, at least not for the person making the ask. Sometimes we DO need something to change, and the fact that the person we are asking that change of may GENUINELY not be able to do it despite making every effort doesn't matter. We need it to happen. And yet every party involved in that kind of a moment seems to be encouraged to feel ashamed of that possibility. As if it means one, the other, or both of them simply didn't try hard enough.

Why are we so ashamed of how much we need each other to get by? How much trauma around need-meeting must how many of us have endured to develop the blanket of fear around how we experience change and the intractibility of amorphous human nature? Why do we deny our interdependence and fight to be islands within ourselves? When was the last time any of us was actually taught how to change for ourselves, how to resolve conflict without fear, how to communicate and negotiate around our needs?

Are there ways we can extend opportunities of shared growth and learning with each other WITHOUT holding ourselves to account for each other's outcomes? What would it actually look like to heal the fear and the stress of our current interpersonal experiences?

How many of us have actually reckoned with our specific forms of internalized trauma from the past 5 or so years of intense global resource instability, mass pandemic death and isolation, and political fear-mongering? With what it does to a living thing to carry that much stress in its body for that long, what happens to a living body-mind when it becomes sure it is about to die? Beyond the work of crisis response, what proactive, preventative work as organizers are we doing to heal the accumulation en masse of ceaseless intergenerational traumas for a future that may one day escape or become resilient to the infliction of threat against ourselves and each other?

Change was never going to be easy or comfortable, but that doesn't mean that brute forcing your way through distress during efforts to change is anything but harmful to you and the people around you. How do we learn to let our old selves die without doubting the joyous aliveness our next selves will have the opportunity to explore?

[katyakurae]

OMG Thank you for liking my art!!! I am very proud of my little nuggests, been team appleradio since day one. I agree, any fic where a deal causes lucifer to be the one in the losing position immediately scrambles my brain, like no way Lucifer is that scared of Al, or desperate for any kind of company that they have him being easily manipulated by Alastor and fall for the deer tricks...Lucy has witnessed his manipulation and threat to his status in Charlie's life, let’s give the devil some credit. Also I am not saying Al is not smart but I don’t see him as this master manipulator everyone wants him to be. He definitely likes to think he is, but in reality Al just spends a lot of time observing people, so he knows how to act around them and manipulate them to do what he wants. Or at least that’s how I see his persona. He works hard for what he craves most and always waits the right moments to attack or use what he has at his disposal to survive, but in the end he is just a silly little guy with so much ego to put shame on the devil himself, who can see through his bullshit miles away lol

So yea what u done with those two is the only way I would have seen a deal between them play out. Alastor was always gonna lose against Lucifer.

Ohh wait I just remembered that one of the reasons Al wasn’t using his shadows to escape Lucy in the last chapters is cause he exhausted his power and wasn’t feeling very well afterwards. Could it be that something happen to him when he ran away from Angel?!?!He hasn’t appeared at all during all that chaos between the two Morningstar and that’s so unlike him. U don’t have to answer ofc, my brain just won’t shut up and I needed to write it somewhere ehehe

Unrelated but I read others storyline u worked on and they way u write just makes me want to read more, the dialogue are so entertaining and the characters are so well written that I don’t even mind using google translate for every few sentences. I have a very poor attention span, but u managed to pique my interest more than once now and I gotta say I am impressed And grateful that my curiosity won the other night. One of my fav scene from one of ur fic, called ‘Embajadores Celestiales’was when Lucy slapped Alastor…like the gasp I let out cause I thought he was gonna hug him or something, that was so funny and also when Alastor confesses to his mother that he lied to her. Couldn’t stop laughing at Al saying he should have told his mum about the people in the fridge and invited her to dinner lmao I love that silly little deer so much!!!

Cannot wait to read more of your work. It was such a pleasure 💜

Yeah, I see your point. I mean, Lucifer is older than time. And yeah, he is clumsy, depressed and a disaster, but I don't see him falling for Alastor's little mind games.

It's like what you said. Alastor is smart and works hard, but he is not the ultimate mastermind. That's an ego thing and, highly probably, a charade to feel safe. In control. I also see him more as an opportunist. When he recognizes a chance, he takes it. And yeah, he may has some kind of plan in the long shot, but it's not enough to rope the literal Devil. And if he tries (I hope he tries) it will end... badly.

(You can tell Alastor is my favourite character cause I want to see him suffer.)

I will not make spoilers u.u buuuut (it's no secret, I just post the new sneak peek) you will see soon in the new chapter. It will be out tomorrow!

Anyway, it really makes me so happy to read your kind words, opinions and coments either in The Deal or in my other works. I hope you keep enjoying it!

Thank you so much! 💜💜💜

Read you soon!