#DO YOU KNOW. DO YOU KNOW THE DEPTH TO WHICH I APPRECIATE THIS

[transmutationisms]

hi caden! you and your mutuals have been so helpful to my understanding of the world :3 thank you. I’ve been stewing on a few ideas that feel connected but I’m struggling explain their connections in a way that isn’t just “this thing has similarity to the others.” I’m thinking about how discussions ‘fast’ fashion and sustainability in the garment/textile industries share similarities with ‘media literacy’ v literacy, and then also AI moral panic.

my first thought was that a lot of critiques around fashion are superficial, which I know you’ve talked about. even subcultures that claim to be radical in politic still fall victim to the belief that a person’s values can be determined by their clothing (and therefore also their body.) and I see this same rhetoric in discussions about sustainable v fast fashion, wherein people claim you can ‘read’ a garment to determine its means of production. but like even if a garment is well-produced with high quality fabrics, that tells us very little about the working conditions of the person who made it! And people seem very resistant to actually admitting that expensive garments are just as irresponsibly produced, because it’s the whole of the clothing industry as an international phenomenon that is predatory.

I have a gut feeling that this is similar to what’s happening with AI, where people think their judgments of something’s quality is tantamount to criticizing its production. It doesn’t really matter whether ai is producing slop or not, and if anything that conversation feels like a distraction from the practical reality of how it gets used. if it’s being used to train drone programs that determine if a civilian looks or moves like a ‘terrorist’ (like Lavender), then that system is bad because the human parameters are bad. But instead people want to bellyache about the moral superiority of ‘writing good’ AKA writing convincingly. And it just makes me sad when people’s solution to this artificial problem of AI slop is to say “hey everybody just needs to get really literate right now”, as if critically reading the commodity (whether an AI essay or a sweater) is going to actually do anything about what these tools are actually being used to do, which is entrap people in poor labor conditions, poverty, and kill them. and then somehow the result of this rhetoric about literacy is that sufficiently literate people only read or purchase good commodities?? When actual literacy is necessary to navigate these predatory systems and mitigate risk? Like I think media literacy is just the commodity fetishism replacement for literacy, and it misses out on why literacy is actually useful

anyway sorry for ranting, I’ve tried to explain this many times and I would really appreciate any critiques or clarification you can offer. thank you Caden!

yeah i mean ia the problem with ai is not really on the consumer end, it's a product like any other that can be useful or not in different contexts, the actual labour and production issues are the things people should be concerned about & that applies to literally any production under capitalism but is definitely rhetorically elided in specific ways wrt the tech industry right now. i'm really not the person to ask about ai or fashion in detail to be honest, they're not industries i understand in a lot of depth or frequently buy new stuff from lol but i do agree the way people talk about them is very detached from actual labour concerns and instead tends to just focus on moralising consumption to make the speaker feel better for being Smart etc

as far as commodity fetishism im not sure i directly see the connection to literacy? it's more to do with the way a commodity is 'read' under capitalism as an already existing object with an exchange value determined by the market & without any of its real history of being produced, transported, etc by human labour. i think you csn see the earlier version of this concept eg in how marx talks about estranged labour in the paris manuscripts, compared to the formulation of fetishism in eg kapital. but i also think the fetish concept is flawed & applied asymmetrically & relies on a notioj of 'fetishism' that is bound up in colonial anthropological ideas -- would always recommend j lorand matory's 'the fetish revisited' on this

[amelikos]

Thinking about the portrayal of ancestry in Horizons.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

[todayisafridaynight]

Throwing in fun (not fun) facts to contribute esp bc I was tagged in the essay: (Sorry in advance this is literally my career and special interest AND I just got back from a training conference about this SO obv I am going to talk too much. Disclosure: These statistics are from peer-reviewed sources AND the National Children's Alliance. The NCA IS an American association, though, so take this all with a grain of salt bc we're applying it to someone whose bg is not American lmao. This is an essay for funsies. CW: discussion of and stats about CSA, Child Abuse) Relevant to the Jo stuff is also that victims of one/any kind of abuse are statistically much more likely to subsequently face overlapping abuse, so knowing he comes from a home where abuse and potential neglect was actively occurring sets Jo-boy up for some sad statistics. I am looking for my notes on the stats for that but it's something stupid high, I wanna say over 30 or 40%.

Additionally, 47%~ of CSA victims are revictimized. Abysmal statistic but mostly just an interesting note if this IS the case/if we choose to interpret Jo this way bc of the other things mentioned in Masu's ask, specifically if we're viewing his unhealthy and ultimately traumatic relationship with Ikumi as a potential example of that revictimization (similarly, coming from a like background, it may have been revictimizing for Ikumi if she had ever experienced something like CSA, as well. It's one of those cases where they both got hurt even if neither of them were at fault for "playing house" as Jo calls it).

Seconding/Adding on to Masu's thoughts about Jo's behavior being as self-destructive as it is because of the compounded trauma of his life, victims of adolescent abuse "engage in health-risk behaviors such as substance use, physical fighting, and risky sexual activity," in far higher numbers than non-victims. We know for facts that adolescent Jo checks at least 2 of those 3 boxes, and that he still puts himself in unnecessary danger as a full grown adult (the Heian Tower fight, and Hoshino's Office fight): An interesting and well-written cycle of trauma and abuse on RGGs part, tbh, but also so narratively telling about how he saw/sees/continues to see himself as more an object than a person. (Love your notes on that btw, it rings very true. I could write an essay on that alone tbh.)

Another weird little thing I notice from both a Doyalist AND Watsonian perspective: Jo's disclosure of his father's abuse would classify as what we call an "accidental disclosure" in the field even though it's clearly intentional that he shares it with Ichi - it's offhanded and markedly unimportant in the story he's telling. He says it passively in a literary sense, as well: "The only thing waiting for me at home was my father's fists." Like homie, that's the most roundabout way you could have said "My dad beat me." Interestingly, up to 50% of [specifically CSA] victims do not state outright that abuse occurs, but disclose it accidentally/offhandedly; and in general, accidental disclosure is more common among people who have also delayed disclosure. Up to 66% of admissions from victims of child abuse come delayed if they come at all.

I think it's a very in-character remark of him to make, but statistically, it lines up with other victims of abuse as a whole. I think it's also just cool that from the Doyalist perspective, writing his lines in this way was intentional. It's part of the whole "Everything Jo says sounds like it could mean more than one thing" thing. He speaks poetically - it's intentional not just for the character but for the writer.

Okay, I'm done for now I'm sorry I just wanted to throw some added stuff into the convo bc I love applying my everyday usage of adolescent-focused trauma care and pysch shit to blorbos and seeing what sticks. Anyway, I also have a shit ton of thoughts on Masumi Arakawa as an abuse survivor but THATS another essay I won't dig into now. If I am still in your good graces after this long ass spiel I will consider it not only amazing but perhaps even cool as hell.

[ continuity of this ask ]

[dividedskylane]

the saddest thing that can happen to me when i'm reading a book is when it turns out to be not good, but with enough moments of brilliance scattered through that i keep reading it — and don't even feel like dismissing it as just plain bad would be fair. sigh

[azems-familiar]

Not me seeing your latest reblog and going 'okay before I rb this myself' *puts on Lelesu fan hat and waves Lelesu flags and hollers from the sidelines everytime she appears in a fic* (I have a Corrain set too dw)

i appreciate that a lot!! really, i do. and i do, logically, know that the people who care about the stories i craft do like her; however, when i used to try harder to ingratiate myself in the established ffxiv community here on tumblr, i found that she got very overlooked - and i'm pretty sure that's because of a mix of reasons including her being a lalafell, in a straight-passing relationship, and having "boring" ship stuff going on. (the reason i say this is from observing various fandom trends, and also from experiences i've had with other ocs of mine in other fandoms, the things that tended to make people appreciate them vs not appreciate them.) and the other stuff i mentioned in the tags just kind of combines with that, and that plus my "controversial" opinions about parts of the msq and certain characters (yes i'm talking about the ancients/ascians/hydaelyn here) leaves me feeling kind of isolated from much in the way of community.

and like, it is what it is, of course. i've made some really good friends here who i'm super grateful to have! but the thoughts stick around.

[floral-hex]

okay, so lil steroid shot seemingly hasn’t done much for my breathing, but it did give me a bit of… uh… *squints at side effects* insomnia and sore butt

[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe2

[drewswife]

summary — interviewer!reader and Drew at an award thing and its flirtyyyy

pairings — interviewer!reader x Drew

warnings — lots of banter, fluff, drew being a flirt. use of y/n sorry

The air crackled with excitement, a symphony of flashing cameras and murmuring voices. You, a seasoned interviewer, adjusted your microphone, a practiced smile on your face as you scanned the red carpet. Tonight was the night of the prestigious Golden Reel Awards, and the atmosphere was electric.

Then you saw him. Drew. He was walking towards you, a perfectly tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders, a confident smirk playing on his lips. Your heart did a little flutter-kick, a reaction you absolutely refused to acknowledge professionally.

"Drew, fantastic to see you!" you began, your voice smooth and professional, despite the sudden heat rising to your cheeks.

He chuckled, that low, rumbling sound that always seemed to send a shiver down your spine. "And you, y/n. Looking as radiant as always." His eyes twinkled as he leaned a little closer, a playful glint in their depths. "Though I'm sure that's just the camera lights, right?"

You rolled your eyes, a genuine laugh bubbling up. "Oh, absolutely. It's all smoke and mirrors, Drew. Unlike your undeniable charm, which I'm sure is 100% authentic."

He feigned a wounded expression. "You wound me! But I'll forgive you, seeing as you're the only one who truly appreciates my artistic genius." He winked.

The interview was a delightful dance of witty banter and thinly veiled flirtation. You asked about his upcoming projects, his inspiration, and he answered with a charming mix of sincerity and playful evasiveness. Every now and then, his gaze would linger, a silent question in his eyes that made your stomach do a little flip.

"So, Drew," you said, towards the end of the interview, "any predictions for tonight? Feeling lucky?"

He grinned, that dazzling, movie-star grin that could melt glaciers. "With you here, I'm always lucky." He then leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a low, warm tone. "And who knows, maybe if I win, you'll let me buy you a celebratory drink?"

You felt a blush creep up your neck, but you met his gaze, a challenge in your own eyes. "We'll see."

As the cameras flashed around you, you knew one thing for sure: win or lose, tonight was definitely going to be interesting. And a part of you, the part that wasn't the professional interviewer, was secretly hoping he'd win.

🏷,@spencerreid66 @starrii-sturns @drewsstars @chrepsi

[cherrystaineddoll]

𝓙ournaling tips 🧁☆

don't let social media be your only archive

first off, why should you start a journal?

not only is journaling a fun hobby that will keep you away from your phone for a while, it also helps you with getting to know yourself more, understanding your feelings and working on them. it is a way to keep your thoughts and memories written on paper forever for you to reread once you're older, and maybe you'll laugh at what seemed so important back then. personally, i have kept journals and diaries ever since i knew how to write, and trust me, it's worth it.

there isn't a specific way in which you should or shouldn't journal: after all, it is your space, and you get to choose how to organize it. but if you're feeling lost and don't know how to start, i can give you some ideas.

first off, pick out a journal and decorate it. you can paint it, cover it with stickers or fun colored paper, mark it with lip stains, or whatever you want. just have fun with it, and make it cute, that way you'll be even more inspired to write in it.

and now.. what do you write?

✩ the basics.

❥︎ " about me" page. who are you? what are your favourite traits in yourself, and what do you want to change? what do you like doing? what are your favourite things? your fav movies, books, shows, songs, etc. what makes you you?

❥︎ bucket lists. places you want to visit, things you want to do this summer, things you want to accomplish in a specific time, a to do list for each month and year, things you want to do with your friends, books to read, movies/ tv shows to watch, experiences you want to have, etc.

❥︎ wishlists. whether it's products, clothes, or non material things.

❥︎ quotes. things that speak to you, that motivate you or that you think resonate with you, who you are and who you want to be. scraps of some of your favourite books, poetry, a movie, or maybe just something you found on pinterest.

❥︎ goals and dreams. write down everything you want to achieve, even your wildest dreams that you think are unrealistic. plan out your dream life, you dream house, the person you want to be, and start to think of it as something that is not so impossible after all.

❥︎ affirmations. little daily reminders to keep you positive and motivated.

❥︎ letters. a letter to your future self, to your younger self, to your future kids, or to people in your life (friends, family, or even people you despise) to whom you can't say these things directly. maybe one day you'll send them.

❥︎ your playlists. your favourite artists, favourite songs of the moment, favourite lyrics, or your receiptify.

❥︎ movie & book ratings. after you watch or read anything, try to write a very detailed and in depth review of why you liked or disliked that specific thing, give it stars, etc.

❥︎ people you care about. a little intro to all your favourite people: friends, family, or even your pet. why you like them, how you met, your favourite traits about them.

❥︎ dreams. as in the dreams you have when you're sleeping. writing them down helps remembering more dreams in the long run, and you can also try to analyze them to find out your fears and ambitions through your subconscious.

❥︎ compliments. things that people said to you that warmed your heart, positive things you think about some people that you haven't said to them yet and compliments you wish to receive more.

❥︎ things that make you happy. every day, or week, try to find some things that made your day a bit better, even if it's small or "meaningless" things, try to practice gratitude and appreciate more the little joys in life.

❥︎ the people you look up to. whether it's someone you know in real life or a celebrity, write down what you admire about them, what aspects of their life or personality you want to include more in yours, and why they inspire you. or if you're jealous of someone, try to understand what is it that they have and you don't, to know what you really want.

❥︎ questions to your future self. it can be a couple months from now, or 10 years. just imagine how fun it will be to answer them once it's time, and look back on what the past version of yourself wanted to achieve and how they imagined you.

❥︎ habits. things that you wanna let go of, and others that you want to implement more into your life.

other than doing all the fun little pages, another thing that you should try doing is just writing down all your feelings. it doesn't necessary need to be a daily thing, i mean sure, you can do daily reports of things that happened, drama etc., but mostly just write when you need it, even if it's repetitive. especially when you're upset, writing down what made you sad and how you feel in that moment really helps you to feel better. whenever i'm anxious, or sad, i take out my little bedazzled journal and i start writing until my hand hurts about everything that's going wrong in that moment, and once i'm done i usually feel much more relieved. things that are left unsaid or unwritten only create a burden on yourself that becomes really hard to get rid of after a while, so it's important to let it all out when you need it. it helps you to organize all the messy thoughts in your head and remember how you felt in the past, so you can find patterns and connections that lead to the same feelings, to understand better their roots and meaning and start a healing journey.

other than just writing down everything you're feeling whenever you need it, to do a deeper analysis on yourself, especially those parts that you keep hidden and refuse to acknowledge, you can try doing shadow work. by answering some questions, you can bring out the truths that maybe you've ignored all this time because it felt easier to do so than facing them, and once you do, you can begin to understand yourself to a deeper level

some prompts☆

❥︎ who are you when no one is watching?

❥︎ what parts of yourself are you afraid to show others, and afraid that they will discover them? why?

❥︎ what are your biggest fears?

❥︎ what is the biggest lie you have told yourself? and the biggest lie you've told someone else?

❥︎ what are you ashamed of in yourself?

❥︎ what are you avoiding?

❥︎ how do you deal with your emotions?

❥︎ what do you need to let go of?

❥︎ what makes you feel jealous?

❥︎ what are your best and worst qualities?

❥︎ what are your core values?

❥︎ what makes you feel good?

❥︎ what is your definition of success? and failure?

❥︎ how do you define love?

❥︎ what would you do and who would you be if you weren't afraid or anxious? if there wasn't anything holding you back?

❥︎ what traits do you judge in others? why? do you think some of those traits reflect something within yourself?

❥︎ what patterns and behaviours from your parents/caregivers do you replicate in your own life?

❥︎ how do you respond when you make a mistake or fail at something?

a reminder: write for yourself, and not as if someone else was going to read. i promise that your journal won't think you're a loser if you talk about you emotions freely. i struggle with that too sometimes, but it's important that you remain honest with yourself, or the whole thing loses its purpose.

i hope that this helped with starting out your healing journey through journaling, but remember that ultimately it is up to you to decide how to organize it and go through with it!! after all, it is your personal journey

[lacy-oh-lacy]

i genuinely need you to write something for rio vidal plzzzzzz i’ll take anything but your writing is perfect so id love for you to write something *cough* dominant jealous rio *cough*

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉'𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝑨/𝑵: Omg thank you, Anon. You're too sweet 𖹭

𝑪𝑾: Fem!Reader, Dom!Rio, Jealous!Rio, Soft domming, knife play, biting, magical G!P, possessiveness

Contrary to all common sense, the quickest way to find yourself on Death’s radar was not through an act of death itself. Not by losing your life or taking another's…

No, it was through her girlfriend.

A stranger's lingering gaze or a friend's pda never escaped Rio’s attention, and a repeat offender, like oh say… that coworker of yours you were talking to at that very moment…

Well, they managed to make an enemy out of the force of nature that could usually pride herself on her indiscriminate apathy.

Rio lurked in the shadows outside your workplace, eyes darkening as that fool made you laugh.

She wasn't even two minutes late to pick you up, and already that snake was curling around you. Unbelievable.

You didn't think anything of it, Rio knew, but she could see in that man's eyes every disgusting thought he was having about you.

It made her sick, it made her burn.

Well, if the shades of purple littering your neck didn't clue him in to the fact that you were taken, she was beyond willing to do it herself.

Under the cover of darkness she shifted her attire with a thought, striding over in a new, clean-cut suit that made his own look like ratty hand-me-downs.

You perked up as soon as you noticed her and it made her heart leap. Your bright smile, your appreciative eyes taking in her new look…

He could never make you glow like that.

“Hey, Baby.”

Rio couldn't help a quick smile reserved only for you as she joined you under the streetlight, arm wrapping around your waist. “Hello, my love. Sorry I'm late, work was murder.”

She turned to face your companion, with a cold and withering stare. A look that could take years off a life.

“Who's your friend?”

You could never truly estimate the depths of Rio's jealousy but you knew that look well enough to know you had to get her out of there.

And you knew it well enough to not be surprised by the intensity she brought to the bedroom that night.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I missed you today.”

Rio replied in her softest tone, someone less attuned to her might not have even heard the boundless resentment living within it, “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

Leisurely, she traced her knife from your jaw, down your neck, applying a spine-tingling pressure just short of breaking skin.

“Yeah well, that new guy I work with is pretty fun.” You said breathily, not biting. Her blade caught on the collar of your shirt, lingering above your hammering heart, and Rio laughed.

Never before had such stubborn brattiness looked so good on someone, but you were just something else… teasing her even with a knife to your chest…

She cut through the fabric in one rough slash. “Careful, Lover. Wouldn't want to shorten such a fun man's life span, would you?”

“You wouldn't do that.” you challenged

“Try me. I'd do anything to keep you.”

The sincerity of the statement should have frightened you, but it was intoxicating. To be the object of such devotion from Death herself was a head-spinning high that no drug, spell or new lover could match.

“You'll always have me, Rio.”

There was a pain to the look she gave you in return, a wound behind her eyes, but she found a smile for you before she circled behind you.

“I’d better.” She breathed in your ear, pulling the tatters of what used to be your shirt from your body.

The tip of her knife traveled down your spine, barely grazing your skin on a trail to your skirt, which she skillfully cut open, baring you to her completely.

“My pretty girl…”

Her hand smoothed over your ass-cheek with near reverence before disappearing between your legs.

You gasped, skin aflush, but all too soon you realized she wasn't done playing with you yet.

“Please.” You whimpered as her fingers slid across your folds, just short of where you needed them.

“Say my name.”

“Rio, please, I need you so bad.”

She drew a lazy circle on your clit and your breath hitched, “Well how can I say no to that?”

A tingling warmth followed her hand on your back as she pushed you forward, forcing your chest onto your dresser and you into a bend.

You barely noticed the hardness of the surface against your breasts. You couldn't concentrate over the thought of being so exposed to her, and even that died with your last remaining brain cells as you felt the tip of her cock against your entrance.

She could've gone right in, you were wet enough for her to, but she slowly dragged up and down your slick folds, cock head catching on your clit every time and setting your nerves ablaze.

“Rio.” You whined.

“So impatient.” She laughed. “Don't worry, Baby, I'll take care of you.”

With that she pushed through your centre, slowly and gently sinking inside of you, savoring every blissful moan you let out.

She very nearly lost herself as you jerked against her but she resisted the rough thrust you were so clearly asking for. Your pathetic, little mewls, music to her ears.

She bottomed out inside of you, letting you adjust, letting you enjoy being filled. Then quicker than you could process she pulled out and slammed back in.

You cried out, but Rio wasn't slowing down this time, pounding you again and again with deep, unapologetic thrusts.

“You're mine. You hear that? Say it.”

“I'm yours, Rio.” You choked out, voice bouncing with her pistoning hips.

“Yeah, you’re mine. My good girl.”

She leant forward, her breasts flush against your back, as she sank her teeth into your shoulder, leaving behind a delightful sting.

Rio wasn't usually one for quickies but tonight she'd make an exception. There was a desperation inside of her stronger than mere lust. She had to see you cum.

She twisted her arm around your hip so she could work your clit, rubbing in a frenzy. “Tell me you want me.”

“Want you. Need you.”

“Then cum for me Baby, I know you can do it.”

Rio was nothing short of amazing. The concentrated skill on your clit and the near supernatural speed of her thrusts unraveled you like only she could.

Your mouth fell open and your walls clenched around her in a strangling hold as lust threatened to burn you alive.

“God! Rio!”

You came all over her and right on cue she emptied her cock inside of you, filling you to your very core with what felt like neverending ropes of cum, trapped inside of you by her refusal to pull out.

“I'm never gonna let anyone else do this to you, baby.” She breathed out, mouth returning to your shoulder to lick over the bite mark she left. “Never, for all eternity, I'm yours, and you’re mine.”

[teaboot]

Sorry if this comes off as rude, or too personal, but how do you still have the mental strength to be like you are, after everything you've gone through? Like, not to make suffering a competition, but from what you've shared, it seems like you've had to deal with so much more than most, and yet you're still able to create, engage in the things you love and enjoy, and even wish better for the people who'd only want the worst for you. As someone who hasn't been able to do any of those for a while now, or feel anything beyond a sticky sense of resentment, I'd appreciate the words of someone who's been in shit miles deeper, if that isn't too much trouble. Sorry if this whole thing sounds weird, and thanks for being one of the weird funny guys on my dash, you've given me lots of laughs when I've needed them.

Oh, wow. Uh.

I think first off- not to minimize my experiences cause my therapist says not to do that- but I have a LOT of friends and loved ones who have been through much worse and are also doing good now, so that kinda helps. Knowing that if they got through things, I can too, and they don’t think less of ME for struggling.

Secondly… I think I used to not be so happy about life. I was really angry, really sharp and ascerbic, and when people who met me matched my energy, they’d be sharp and ascerbic back. And so I’d trap myself in this place where life ALREADY sucked, and then everyone around me was awful, so I’D be awful, and it would turn into this absolute mire of bad feeding bad.

And then one day I think after a long good cry in a public toilet, I just felt… better? Not BETTER, because I still had all my problems, but I think I was riding that post-cry high you get sometimes and the sun just looked brighter, and the annoying kids around me were just… less aggravating. The dumb teen boys being idiots were less “stupid morons with no depth who don’t care and can’t think” were just… regular old dumbasses having fun. And then I said hello to someone with a smile, and they smiled back, and we had this great conversation I never would have had otherwise, and I figured out that people are kind to you when you’re kind first.

Which seems obvious, but like… it’s hard to see anyone else when you’re hurting. And so when people are cruel or rude to me, I just think… wow. People probably see you being an asshole and treat you like an asshole. You probably see your own bad attitude reflected back at you everywhere you go, just like I did, and you probably have no idea. Every stranger you meet is a rude bitch who hates your face, and you’ll never be able to go anywhere that isn’t full of tense, defensive, cranky bastards until you figure out that YOU are causing the bulk of it. Like a dog trying to run from the shit on its tail.

And the idea of living your whole life where nobody is happy to see you, nobody truly enjoys your company, everyone is walking on eggshells and waiting for you to snap on them…. That’s a pretty sad and painful way to live your whole entire life.

So like. I try to treat people kindly, and in return I get to see happy people wherever I go. I try to make them laugh, and listen to them talk, and once they do they aren’t frightening or annoying or strange anymore.

most people, at least.

So like… I don’t think “look on the bright side” is the right answer, but maybe… find something good to believe in, and hold on.

I believe that people at large are good and kind or at least trying their best, and that those who can’t or aren’t are… sort of pitiable.

They don’t know where their pain is coming from, and they can’t make it go away, and it’s been like that so long they probably think the whole world is just LIKE that. So they never really get to experience the good things. And that’s… kind of like a hell, I think, in a way.

I don’t believe in karma. I don’t think I’m religious. I just think that we all want similar things, and we all fear similar things, and the ways we go about getting to or running from those things is different.

….if any of that makes sense.

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 5: Unspoken Connections

Three weeks into your new position as ATEEZ's assistant, you had settled into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural. What had initially seemed like a daunting task—managing eight alpha idols' complex schedules—had evolved into something that felt almost instinctive. You'd quickly learned each member's habits, preferences, and needs, sometimes anticipating them before they even voiced them.

"Coffee," you said, placing a steaming mug beside Hongjoong as he hunched over his laptop in the studio, deep in composition mode. He'd been there since before dawn, working on tracks for their upcoming album.

He looked up, momentarily disoriented as he surfaced from his creative focus, before his eyes softened with appreciation. "How did you know I was about to look for some?"

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. "You get this specific crease between your eyebrows when you're caffeine-deprived and trying to work through a melody."

Hongjoong's eyebrows rose slightly, an impressed smile spreading across his face. "That's... remarkably observant."

"It's my job to notice things," you replied, though you both knew it went beyond professional responsibility. There was something about the eight of them that made you unusually attuned to their needs—a connection you couldn't fully explain but had stopped questioning.

"Well, thank you," Hongjoong said, his fingers briefly brushing yours as he took the mug. The fleeting contact sent a familiar warmth through your hand that you studiously ignored. "What would we do without you?"

"Probably forget half your schedules and subsist entirely on ramyeon," you teased, earning a chuckle from the alpha leader.

"Sad but true," he admitted, taking a sip of the perfectly prepared coffee—just the right amount of sugar and a splash of cream, exactly how he preferred it.

---

The mid-morning sun streamed through the windows of the main house as you moved through the living room, tablet in hand, finalizing the week's schedule. The past three weeks had transformed your relationship with the space—what had once felt like an intimidating mansion now felt almost like home. You knew which floorboard creaked near Seonghwa's room, which chair in the dining area was Jongho's favorite, and which cabinet held San's secret stash of chocolate.

"There you are!" Wooyoung's voice rang out as he bounded into the room with characteristic energy. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I've been right here for the past hour," you replied, glancing up from your work with an amused smile.

"Well, I didn't think to look in the obvious places," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Anyway, you're a miracle worker—how did you manage to reschedule that conflicting interview? The production team said it was impossible."

"Nothing's impossible with the right combination of polite persistence and creative solutions," you replied, trying to downplay your achievement. In truth, it had taken several hours of negotiations and a promise of exclusive behind-the-scenes content to convince the production company to adjust their filming schedule to accommodate ATEEZ's sudden comeback preparation timeline.

Wooyoung's eyes widened dramatically. "That's it. I have to marry you. I can never manage my life alone now that I know what efficiency actually looks like."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks despite knowing this was just Wooyoung's typical exaggerated banter. Over the past weeks, you'd grown accustomed to his playful flirtations, which he dispensed as freely as his bright smiles.

"I'm pretty sure your future spouse would have something to say about that arrangement," you replied, playfully swatting his arm with your tablet case.

"Details, details," Wooyoung dismissed with a grin before dropping down onto the couch beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "Seriously though, thank you. That schedule conflict was stressing me out."

"That's what I'm here for," you reminded him, though you were touched by his genuine gratitude beneath the dramatic declaration.

Wooyoung's expression turned suddenly serious, unusual for him. "You know you've become indispensable to us, right? And not just for the schedule management."

Something in his tone made your heart beat a little faster, and you found yourself struggling to maintain eye contact with the alpha. There was an intensity in his gaze that belied his typically carefree demeanor—a glimpse of the alpha nature that his playful personality often concealed.

"I just do my job," you replied, aiming for lightness but hearing the slight tremor in your own voice.

"No," Wooyoung said, shaking his head. "It's more than that. You... fit with us. In a way that's hard to explain."

The moment hung between you, charged with something neither of you was willing to name. You were saved from having to respond by Yeosang's timely entrance into the living room.

"There you both are," he said, his observant eyes taking in your proximity on the couch and the slight flush on your cheeks. "Y/n, the stylist called about the concept photos. They need final approval on the selections."

"Right," you said, perhaps too quickly, rising from the couch. "I'll call them back now."

As you moved toward the office, you felt Wooyoung's eyes following you, the weight of his unfinished sentiment lingering in the air.

---

You've developed a unique relationship with each member over the past three weeks. Seonghwa had become a steadying presence, often joining you for quiet morning coffee before the chaos of the day began. Your conversations ranged from books you both enjoyed to thoughtful discussions about the industry, his alpha presence calm and nurturing in a way that contrasted with the others.

Yunho had appointed himself your unofficial gaming partner, insisting that you needed breaks from work and dragging you to the entertainment room at least twice a week for what he called "necessary stress relief." His competitive nature was matched only by his genuine joy when you managed to beat him, making it impossible not to laugh along with his enthusiastic reactions.

Yeosang had slowly opened up to you through shared quiet moments—passing you books he thought you might enjoy, occasionally commenting on your work with insightful observations. Just yesterday, he'd left a small potted succulent on your desk with a note that simply read, "It reminded me of you. Resilient." The gesture had touched you more deeply than you cared to admit.

Jongho, despite being the youngest, often took on a protective role, making sure you didn't overwork yourself and occasionally bringing you healthy snacks with mumbled comments about "maintaining energy levels." His strength and seriousness were belied by moments of unexpected gentleness that always caught you by surprise.

San had become something of a confidant, his perceptive nature making him quick to notice when you were stressed or overtired. He had a talent for appearing with exactly what you needed—a quiet moment, a silly joke, or sometimes just silent company as you worked through a challenging task.

As for Hongjoong, your relationship with the leader was perhaps the most complex. His alpha presence was authoritative but never domineering, and you'd fallen into a comfortable working relationship that was punctuated by moments of connection that sometimes left you breathless—a shared glance of understanding across a crowded room, the brush of fingers when exchanging documents, late nights working side by side in comfortable silence.

But it was Mingi who had perhaps surprised you the most.

---

"Who's that?" Mingi's deep voice came from just behind you, making you jump slightly. You'd been waiting in the lobby of KQ Entertainment for the members to finish their recording session when an unfamiliar alpha producer had approached, asking about ATEEZ's schedule.

"Lee Taejun, a producer from another entertainment company," you explained quietly as the man retreated to check his phone after you'd informed him the members would be at least another thirty minutes. "He wants to discuss a potential collaboration."

Mingi hummed thoughtfully, his tall frame moving subtly closer to you in a way that had become familiar over the past weeks. Whenever unfamiliar alphas were around, particularly male ones, Mingi seemed to gravitate to your side, his protective instincts evident in the way he positioned himself—never imposing, but clearly present.

"Did Hongjoong-hyung approve this meeting?" he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"Yes, it's on the schedule," you assured him, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth that radiated from his proximity. Despite wearing your scent blocker faithfully, you found yourself increasingly sensitive to Mingi's presence—like your omega could sense something you couldn’t.

He nodded, satisfied with your answer but making no move to create more distance between you. "Just checking. Some of these producers can be... persistent."

You bit back a smile at his protective tone. "I can handle persistent producers, Mingi. It's part of my job."

"I know you can," he replied, his voice softening. "You can handle pretty much anything. Doesn't mean you should have to do it alone."

The simple statement caught you off guard. Over the past three weeks, you'd noticed Mingi's protective tendencies, but this explicit acknowledgment of them was new. You glanced up at him, finding his expression uncharacteristically serious, his dark eyes intent on yours.

"Thank you," you said quietly, meaning it. "But I'm okay, really."

Mingi's serious expression melted into a warm smile that made your heart stutter embarrassingly. "I know. You're probably more capable than all of us combined. Still doesn't mean I can't look out for you, though."

Before you could formulate a response, the elevator doors opened, and the rest of ATEEZ emerged, bringing with them a burst of alpha energy and animated conversation. Mingi's attention shifted, but he remained close to your side as the group approached.

"Recording's done!" San announced triumphantly. "And Jongho absolutely killed the high note in the bridge."

Jongho ducked his head modestly at the praise, though a pleased smile played on his lips.

"That's fantastic," you said, genuinely happy for them. The past week had been intense with comeback preparations, and this recording session had been particularly important. "Right on schedule too, which means you actually have time for lunch before the meeting with the choreographer."

"See? This is why we need you," Wooyoung declared, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Always thinking about our stomachs."

"I’m glad I have redeeming qualities," you replied with a laugh, acutely aware of how Mingi's eyes tracked Wooyoung's casual touch.

"There's a new place nearby that supposedly has amazing jjigae," Yunho suggested, already pulling out his phone to check the location.

As the group discussed lunch options, you felt a subtle shift in the air beside you. You glanced over to find Mingi still watching you, a contemplative expression on his face. When your eyes met, he didn't look away as he might have in your first days working together. Instead, he held your gaze with a quiet intensity that made your skin tingle.

There was something in that look—something you'd been noticing more frequently from all of them—a question, perhaps, or a recognition that neither of you was quite ready to acknowledge.

---

The development of your bond with Mingi had been one of the more unexpected aspects of your first three weeks. Initially, he had seemed the most reserved around you, despite his normally outgoing nature with the others. You'd attributed it to shyness after the awkward first-morning encounter when you'd seen him shirtless, but gradually, you'd come to realize it was something else entirely.

Mingi's initial distance had given way to a subtle but unmistakable protectiveness that manifested in countless small ways. He was often the first to notice when you were overworking, insisting you take breaks with a gentle persistence that was difficult to refuse. He had a habit of appearing with water or tea when you'd been talking for too long during meetings. And most notably, he seemed to have an almost preternatural awareness of your presence, his eyes finding you across rooms, his body gravitating toward yours in crowded spaces.

It had evolved into something beyond professional courtesy, beyond even friendship, though neither of you had put words to the change. There was an unspoken understanding between you—a connection that seemed to require no explanation.

---

That evening found you in the main house's kitchen, preparing tea while reviewing the next day's schedule on your tablet. The members were scattered throughout the house, enjoying a rare evening with no official schedules. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were discussing production details in the living room, their voices a low, constant murmur. Wooyoung and San had disappeared to the game room with Yunho, while Jongho was in the home gym. Yeosang had retreated to his room with a new book after dinner.

Mingi's deep voice suddenly broke into your concentration. "You're still working?"

You looked up to find him leaning against the kitchen doorway, his tall frame silhouetted by the hallway light. He'd changed into comfortable clothes—loose sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt that did little to conceal his broad shoulders and defined arms.

"Just finalizing tomorrow's schedule," you explained, trying not to let your eyes linger on how the soft fabric clung to his chest. "There's a last-minute addition to the photoshoot concept that I'm trying to accommodate."

Mingi pushed off from the doorway and moved into the kitchen, the space suddenly feeling much smaller with his presence. "It's almost 10 PM. The schedule can wait until morning."

"Says the man who composes until 3 AM," you countered with a raised eyebrow.

A smile tugged at his lips. "That's different. That's creative work—it comes when it comes. You're doing admin work that your brain needs to be rested for."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his logic. "Is that your professional opinion on administrative efficiency?"

"Absolutely," he replied with mock seriousness. "I'm an expert in all things schedule-related, as evidenced by how often I oversleep and miss breakfast."

The teakettle whistled, and you turned to pour the hot water into your waiting mug. You felt rather than saw Mingi move closer, his warmth at your back sending a shiver down your spine despite the steam rising from the kettle.

"Chamomile?" he asked, his voice closer to your ear than you'd expected.

You nodded, trying to ignore how your pulse quickened at his proximity. "It helps me sleep."

"Good choice," he murmured, reaching past you to open a cabinet above your head. The movement brought his chest briefly against your back, his arm extending alongside yours. For that fleeting moment, you were effectively surrounded by him, his alpha presence enveloping you in a way that made your omega instincts stir despite the blocker.

He retrieved another mug and placed it beside yours. "Make one for me too?"

You nodded, grateful for the simple task to focus on rather than the lingering warmth where his body had pressed against yours. As you prepared a second cup of tea, Mingi leaned against the counter beside you, close enough that his arm occasionally brushed yours.

"You know," he began, his tone conversational but with an underlying seriousness, "you've changed things around here. In a good way."

You glanced up at him, curious. "What do you mean?"

Mingi seemed to consider his words carefully. "It's hard to explain. Everything just feels more... balanced, I guess. Since you arrived. The house feels more like a home."

Something about his phrasing—the house feels more like a home—sent a warm flutter through your chest. "I'm glad," you said softly. "I've only been trying to do my job well."

"It's more than the job," Mingi said, echoing Wooyoung's words from earlier that day. His eyes held yours with an intensity that made it difficult to look away. "You must know that by now."

The implication hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning neither of you was quite ready to articulate. What exactly was the "more" that both Wooyoung and Mingi had alluded to? And why did it feel so significant, so charged with potential?

You handed him his tea, your fingers briefly touching his around the warm ceramic. The simple contact sent a jolt of awareness through you that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the alpha standing before you.

"Mingi," you began, not entirely sure what you wanted to say but feeling the need to address the tension that had been building between you—between you and all of them, really—over these past weeks.

"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted gently, his deep voice soft in the quiet kitchen. "I just wanted you to know that we—I—appreciate you. Not just for what you do, but for who you are."

The simple sincerity in his words touched something deep within you, making your chest ache with an emotion you weren't ready to name. "Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a silent exchange that seemed to communicate more than words could. Mingi's eyes dropped briefly to your lips before returning to meet your gaze, the question in them clear despite remaining unspoken.

The sound of approaching voices broke the moment, and you both stepped back slightly, creating a more appropriate distance as Hongjoong and Seonghwa entered the kitchen.

"There you are," Hongjoong said, his eyes moving between you and Mingi with a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. "We were just discussing the schedule for next week's variety show filming."

"I've got the preliminary timeline here," you said, grateful for the professional topic as you reached for your tablet, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of Mingi's presence still beside you.

As the four of you discussed the upcoming schedule, you couldn't help but notice the subtle glances exchanged between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, the way their eyes occasionally drifted to where Mingi stood perhaps a bit closer to you than strictly necessary. There was an awareness in those glances, an understanding that spoke of conversations you hadn't been privy to.

Later, as you made your way back to the guesthouse in the cool night air, you found yourself reflecting on the strange tension that had been building over these three weeks. It wasn't merely attraction, though that was certainly part of it. There was something deeper at play—a connection that defied explanation, a pull toward these eight alphas that went beyond rational understanding.

You reached up to touch the scent blocker behind your ear, a habit that had become almost unconscious. For the first time, you found yourself wondering what might happen if they knew—if the barrier between your omega nature and their alpha senses were removed. The thought sent a shiver through you that wasn't entirely from fear.

As you entered the guesthouse, your phone buzzed with a message. Opening it, you found a text from Mingi:

Sleep well. Don't stay up working on that schedule. It can wait until morning.

The simple message, caring but not overstepping, made you smile despite the confusion swirling in your mind. Whatever was happening between you and the members of ATEEZ—whatever this unspoken connection was building toward—it couldn't be rushed or forced. For now, it was enough to know that in just three short weeks, you had found a place where you belonged, even if the full nature of that belonging remained undefined.

You sent a quick reply:

Already in bed. Tea worked its magic. Goodnight, Mingi.

Setting your phone aside, you settled into bed, knowing that tomorrow would bring more of the same delicate dance—professional boundaries maintained while something deeper and more complex continued to grow beneath the surface, unacknowledged but impossible to ignore.

---

The next morning, it took less than five minutes in the main house to realize that something was different. The normal morning chaos was present—Wooyoung complaining loudly about being woken up, Yunho raiding the refrigerator, Seonghwa preparing breakfast with practiced efficiency—but there was an undercurrent of energy that hadn't been there before.

"Good morning," Hongjoong greeted you as you entered the kitchen, his eyes lingering on yours a moment longer than usual. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," you replied, accepting the coffee mug he offered. "Is everything okay? Everyone seems a bit... tense this morning."

Hongjoong hesitated, exchanging a quick glance with Seonghwa before responding. "We received some news late last night after you left. The company wants to move up the comeback date by two weeks."

You blinked in surprise, immediately calculating the implications. "Two weeks? That's going to compress the entire production schedule."

"Exactly," Seonghwa confirmed, flipping a pancake with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "Which means we're all going to be under pressure for the next month."

"I'll rework the schedule today," you promised, your mind already racing through the adjustments that would be needed. "We'll need to prioritize the final recording sessions and choreography refinement."

"See?" Wooyoung said, appearing in the doorway with his hair still rumpled from sleep. "This is why we need you. Anyone else would be panicking right now."

You smiled despite the challenge ahead. "Oh, I'm panicking internally. I just hide it well."

"No, you're not," San countered, coming up behind Wooyoung. "You're already solving the problem in your head. I can practically see the schedule rearranging behind your eyes."

You couldn't deny it—your mind was indeed already mapping out solutions, contingencies, ways to make the compressed timeline work without burning out the members. It was what you did best: creating order from chaos.

"Well, whatever happens, we'll handle it together," you said with more confidence than you felt. "That's what teams do, right?"

"Right," Hongjoong agreed, though something in his expression suggested he was thinking of a word other than "team."

As you took a seat at the kitchen island, accepting a plate of pancakes from Seonghwa with a grateful smile, you couldn't help but notice how the members seemed to orbit around you this morning—Mingi taking the seat beside you, his leg occasionally brushing against yours; Jongho appearing with fresh fruit he silently added to your plate; Yeosang placing your tablet within easy reach after charging it overnight.

Small gestures, casual touches, attentive glances—all conveying something that went beyond professional courtesy or even friendship. There was a possessiveness in these actions, subtle but unmistakable, as if each of them was staking a small claim on your attention, your presence.

And despite your best efforts to maintain professional boundaries, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at their collective attention, the rightness you felt surrounded by these eight alphas who had somehow, in just three weeks, become essential to your life in ways you were only beginning to understand.

Whatever challenges the accelerated comeback schedule would bring, whatever complications might arise from the unspoken tension building between you and the members, one thing was certain: you belonged here, with them, in this strange new life you'd created. The how and why of that belonging might remain mysterious, but the fact of it was becoming more undeniable with each passing day.

As conversations about the day's schedule flowed around you, punctuated by Wooyoung's dramatic complaints and San's teasing laughter, you found yourself studying each member's face, wondering if they felt it too—this sense of inevitability, as if all of you were being drawn together by forces beyond your control or understanding.

Catching Mingi's eye across the table, you saw in his gaze a reflection of your own thoughts—questions, certainly, but also a quiet acceptance of whatever might be unfolding between you all. He offered a small, private smile that sent a flutter through your chest, and for that moment at least, questions didn't seem to matter quite as much as the simple truth of your connection.

Next>>

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[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: What's Your Future Spouse's Best Personality Trait? ✮⋆˙

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

If you enjoyed this reading, get your own personalized paid reading here!😊🦋

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MY MASTERLIST🫶🏻

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⊹₊⟡ Pile I

4 of Cups + 9 of Wands + 8 of Cups?! Babes, your future spouse has been through the wringer. they are a tough cookie. This is the kind of person who’s faced rejection, disappointments, and emotional letdowns that could make even a main character in a tragic romance novel say, "Damn, you good?" 😭 But instead of being bitter, they’ve built a fortress of emotional resilience around themselves. The 9 of Wands is telling me this person has been knocked down 100 times but got up 101, they don’t give up on life or love, even if they’ve been burned before. The 8 of Cups confirms that they’ve walked away from things that no longer serve them (toxic exes, dead-end jobs, situationships that made no sense, all of it). They’re not the type to dwell on "what could’ve been." Instead, they cut their losses and move forward.

This is someone you can depend on. When life gets tough, they’re not crumbling into a puddle of existential dread, they’re standing tall, supporting both of you. They know how to handle loss, hardship, and setbacks without bringing negativity into the relationship. Instead of complaining, they’ll problem-solve and protect your peace.

Okay, now let’s talk about the Knight of Cups, aka, the walking romance novel protagonist. This person is charm on legs, but in a deep, thoughtful way. They’re not love-bombing for funsies, they actually feel things intensely and express love with heartfelt actions and words. while they are romantic, they also have a depth that makes them super self-aware. They know real love isn’t about grand gestures alone, it’s about emotional connection. So while they might not be showering you with gifts every five seconds, best believe they’ll know exactly when you’re feeling off and how to comfort you without even being asked.

They’ll write you long-ass texts about how much they love and appreciate you🥺. They’re the type to listen to your late-night yapping and actually remember what you said. They have a poetic way of expressing love, even if they don’t try to be poetic, they just naturally speak in soft boy/girl energy. MY TYPE MY TYPE MY TYPE😭

This person doesn’t do "surface-level love." They love in a way that FEELS SAFE, like you can fully be yourself without judgment. No breadcrumbs, no mixed signals, just pure, heart-centered love. Your future spouse is giving "strong but soft" energy. They’re emotionally intelligent, resilient, and romantic, and they don’t play about their love life. They will love you deeply, protect your peace, and keep the romance alive—all while being a grounded, stable, and emotionally evolved partner. ✨ You won’t have to second-guess this connection. They’re mature, romantic, and strong-willed—a whole package deal. 🥹

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⊹₊⟡ Pile II

Okay, listen, this person does NOT make impulsive decisions. The 2 of Wands + The Hanged Man combo? This is the chess master of life. They calculate everything, they analyze their next steps like they’re planning world domination, and they don’t move unless they’re absolutely 100% sure it’s the right decision.

They’re not the type to rush into things, whether it’s a relationship, a career move, or even a casual Friday night out ("What’s the vibe? Who all is gonna be there?", yeah, they need to know first 💀). The Hanged Man energy tells me that they take their sweet time weighing all the options, and the 2 of Wands? That just screams "I’ve got a vision, and I’m making it happen." They strategize, they plan, and when they commit, they COMMIT. They won’t be the type to rush into things, but the second they decide, "Yeah, this is my person," it’s game over for everyone else.

What this means for you? No confusion, no mixed signals, You will always know where you stand. They will plan your future together, And I mean, really plan it. This is the person who will randomly say, "Hey, do you want to move to Paris in five years? I’ve already looked into real estate options. They don’t do dumb drama, If problems come up, they handle them maturely and efficiently (and probably before you even notice). They are your safe place, Because their whole aura just screams "I got this, don’t worry." This person is unbothered and calm 95% of the time. They have this aura of serenity and wisdom that makes you feel so at peace when you’re around them. But that 5%? That’s when they see someone messing with you, and suddenly, you realize... oh, they could actually destroy a person if they wanted to. 👀

You will feel SAFE and protected at all times, They’re not aggressive, but they are calculating AF. Anyone who disrespects you? They’re already mentally plotting the most strategic way to make that person regret their existence. You get the best of both worlds, A partner who is peaceful and chill, but also deadly if necessary. It’s like dating a hot mastermind who meditates but could also lead an army.

They will never embarrass you with childish fights, They know how to shut down drama with just one sentence ("That’s an interesting perspective. Too bad it’s wrong.") and keep it moving.

WHEW the most FICTIONAL PARTNER EVERRR. This is the type of love that makes people jealous because it’s just so stable, deep, and fulfilling. This person is smart, protective, emotionally intelligent, and devoted, honestly, what more could you ask for? 😭They are the calm before AND after the storm, the architect of your dream life, and the silent but deadly protector who will love you with the power of a thousand well-thought-out strategies. And let’s be real… dating them is basically winning at life.

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⊹₊⟡ Pile III

This pile is the MOST romantic of all three.

Ohhhh, you are about to marry someone who does NOT play when it comes to their goals.This is giving "I put in the time, I put in the effort, and I get RESULTS." Since they’re naturally hardworking and disciplined, they approach relationships with the same level of commitment and strategy they bring to their personal goals.

They’re not the kind of person who gets discouraged easily. If something takes time, they understand that’s just part of the process. They trust the grind, and they know that as long as they keep working, keep improving, and stay consistent, they will get to where they want to be. (The type to be in the gym every day, rain or shine, because discipline > motivation💀.) They’re insanely reliable, if they say they’ll do something, THEY WILL. They probably have a strong work ethic, career-driven, passionate, maybe even a little obsessed with self-improvement.You will never have to second-guess if they’re serious about you, because once they decide to invest in something (or someone 👀), they are in it for the long haul. This is the type of partner who builds an empire with you. This person has BIG main character energy, they embrace life with open arms and are always down for an adventure. They don’t get stuck in endless “what-ifs.” Instead, they’re like "Screw it, let’s do it."

Okay, so here’s the fun part, this person? Totally the type to act all logical and practical, but deep down? THEY ARE A SOFTIE. 😭

Hey do romantic things without realizing it, You’ll casually mention something you like once, and BOOM, two weeks later, they surprise you with it (and play it off like it’s no big deal). Sir/Ma’am, just admit you’re obsessed already.🤓 Their love language is thoughtful actions, Expect things like fixing something before you even ask, getting your coffee just the way you like it, or remembering the exact way you like your blanket tucked in at night. It’s the small details for them.

They have that “quiet but deep” love, They’re not the type to scream “I love you” in public, but the way they look at you, protect you, and always think of you first? UGH. Heart-melting levels of devotion. They are soft for YOU and YOU ONLY, The world sees them as chill, independent, and maybe even a little reserved… but the moment they’re with you? They turn into human teddy bear.

They’d never admit it, but you are their weakness, and honestly, That’s HOT.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 21

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 20 | Series Masterlist | Part 22

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.4k

Chapter Summary: Bucky shows you something after the doctor looks you over.

Chapter Warnings: Aftermath of physical assault, tension, mention of violence and threats, inner turmoil, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and I feel like this chapter is short. Thank you again for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky rubbed your back, occasionally whispering sweet words when you didn't speak. After your exhausting cry fest, you resorted to sniffles and sighs. You wanted to hide away, which seemed cowardly. It was only fair after what you went through, but you also wanted to face the world. You were torn, and it was tiring.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered when your eyes slipped shut. “I know you're tired, but I need you to try to stay awake for me, okay?”

“And for Dr. Cho,” you said. It was probably good to stay awake in case you were showing any signs of a concussion. What sort of questions would she ask? How involved was she in Bucky’s world? “Where's Curtis?” you asked. You owed him a thank you at some point. Ray and Steve, too. Messed up situation or not they deserved a bit of your gratitude, right?

“He’s waiting to bring her up.”

“I’m surprised you didn't have Ray bring us back,” you commented. You were used to him being the one close by, and Bucky didn't seem to bring a lot of his other men around his place. At least not that you were aware of.

“Between you and I, Curtis isn't a huge fan of most of my friends. The less time he spends with them the better his mood is.” If you didn't know any better, you’d say Bucky sounded amused. You were also curious why Curtis still worked for him if he didn't like the crowd he ran with. “But he’ll go to the club with me later. He deserves to get the first hit in since he pulled that bastard off of you.”

Your stomach turned, but you felt better knowing he wouldn’t force you to go to the club considering he didn’t even want to say Clark’s name. “What are you going to do to him?”

You didn’t mean to shiver at the frost in his eyes, but you did. How could a look be so cold? “I’m not sure you want the details,” he replied. You weren't sure you wanted to know either. “What I can tell you is that he’s going to suffer and wish he was dead.”

You shivered again. “How am I meant to get used to this lifestyle?” you asked. You followed the rules of society like a normal person, but Bucky made his own rules. He wasn’t afraid to use his influence or violence to get what he wanted in life. He was almost shameless in it and how he manipulated people around him. That wasn’t you. It could never be you.

“We. How are we meant to get through this,” he corrected you. “And we do that one day at a time,” he said, like it was so simple.

“Aren’t you already used to this?” you asked. It was the life you imagined he grew up with thanks to his dad.

“I’m used to my lifestyle, but you’re out of your depth and I’m not used to this as being part of a couple. I’ve been selfish in how I’ve tried to ease you into this,” he said. You tried not to gape at him since he hadn’t eased you into anything at all. “But you’re home now and we’ll figure this out.”

“Does figuring things out mean you brush off what I ask for? Like going to work tomorrow?” you asked. It wasn’t wrong of you to want a normal day. Weren’t you owed that much?

He sighed, but it wasn’t out of annoyance. “I wasn’t trying to brush you off, Kotyonok. You went through something terrible tonight, and I thought staying home to rest and relax was the better option.”

You pondered his words. Maybe he wasn’t trying to control you now that you were home. He was concerned for your well being. “We have to find common ground,” you whispered. It was already going to be a life sentence being by his side, and you couldn’t live your life as a prisoner.

“Is that really a discussion you want to have tonight?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you glared. “I’m not saying that to insult you or dismiss your feelings. I just think tomorrow might be a better time to discuss it so we can both process everything.”

You didn’t want to say he was right. So much of what you had been through was because of his actions, but he was frightened by what happened, too. “I do want to say that Natasha offered to teach me self defense, and I think I’ll take her up on that.”

“You want Natasha to teach you?” he asked.

“Yeah. No one ever put their hands on me like this before and I want to be able to defend myself if it happens again,” you explained, hearing Bucky’s swift intake of breath. Maybe he could keep you safe, but you needed to help yourself however you could. “Natasha or one of her girls teaching me will be better than some guy.”

If some guy put you on your back the way Clark did who knew how you’d react. The way Bucky’s eyes darkened he didn’t want another guy touching you either. “As long as I can teach you how to use a gun and a knife.”

“A gun and a knife?” you asked before his phone went off.

“That should be Curtis and Dr. Cho. I’ll be right back.”

Turning your gaze toward the ceiling once he left you alone, you tried to quiet the sudden screaming in your mind. You wanted answers from Clark, from Zemo. You also fought the urge to tell him to quickly come back. Why was his presence suddenly soothing when you were still so upset?

You sat up when you heard footsteps followed by a gentle call of your name. “Hello. I’m Dr. Cho.” The gentle but strong voice matched the demeanor of the woman who entered the room. Bucky followed a couple of steps behind, and Curtis lingered in the doorway. “I understand you've been through quite the ordeal this evening.”

“She was attacked,” Bucky snarled, moving beside you again as the doctor set her bag down. “That’s a lot more than just some ordeal.”

“Bucky,” you whispered. The doctor meant no offense or harm.

“Of course. My apologies.” To her credit, she didn't look the least bit afraid or put off. She was either used to Bucky’s antics or used to difficult patients. “Can you please tell me your name and date of birth?”

You answered the question easily, but didn’t say anything else as she checked your heartbeat and blood pressure. She wasn’t your normal doctor, so it wasn’t like she had access to your medical records. Did she?

“And can you tell me what happened tonight?”

Your eyes flickered to Bucky and Curtis. Both were watching you with a mixture of anger and sympathy. “Well…” It took a moment to really begin. “Cl… A man was waiting for me when I got back to my apartment. I told him to leave, but…”

“Breathe,” Bucky whispered, taking your hand and silently urging you to continue whenever you were ready.

You wanted to breathe normally and not think about Clark or anything else.

Dr. Cho didn't take her eyes off you. “Would you prefer to speak with just me?” she asked, cutting Bucky off with a single glare when he opened his mouth to argue. “I know you didn't put your hands on her. I just want her to be comfortable.”

“It's okay,” you said. Even if you wanted to speak to the doctor alone you knew Bucky would hover nearby. “He grabbed my wrist and yanked me back hard enough that I fell to the ground,” you continued, showing her so she could look it over. “I may have hit my head when that happened.”

She turned your wrist over, looking for swelling or tenderness as you tested your mobility. It didn’t hurt as much as it had earlier, which had to be a good sign. “Have you been experiencing any nausea? Trouble thinking? Sensitivity to light?” she asked, getting a small flashlight to check your eyes.

“No, I think I’m okay,” you replied.

“Did anything else happen?”

“He choked me,” you said above a whisper, skipping over the fact that he put a hand on your thigh. Nothing had actually happened.

“Everything he did to you, I’m going to make it a hundred times worse,” Bucky said through his teeth.

Curtis took a step into the room at that point and your nerves crept up when you glanced at Bucky. His nostrils flared and his metal hand curled so tight so you hear the gears turn. You squeezed his hand in the hope that it would ease some of the tension. Maybe it was to soothe the both of you.

“Breathe,” you whispered.

Anger remained on his face when he took a deep breath. You didn’t think he’d fully calm down until he took his aggression out on Clark. And what about Zemo, if he was really involved?

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” the doctor said, handing you a tissue before she checked your throat. When did tears fill your eyes again? “Are you experiencing any chest pains? Difficulty breathing?”

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

“And the man who did this to you, is he-”

“I’m handling it,” Bucky said, leaving no room to argue.

The doctor barely concealed a sigh, the only crack in her cool demeanor. “Understood,” she whispered, finishing her exam. Maybe she was aware of some of what Bucky did, but didn’t approve. “No broken bones or anything of that nature, but you may feel sore tomorrow. Do you have any allergies?”

“I’m not allergic to pain meds if that’s what you're asking.”

“Well, I recommend you rest tomorrow. If you start to feel anything out of the ordinary, I want to know right away so we can take you to the hospital if necessary.”

You sighed. If the doctor was telling you to rest, there was no way Bucky would let you out of the penthouse for work. “I’ll rest tomorrow.”

“And could someone please get her a snack and some water? I’d like to make sure she can keep food down,” she said.

“I’ll get it,” Bucky offered before Curtis could move.

Dr. Cho leaned in a little once Bucky left the room. “Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything at all?”

Her voice was quiet, casual, but there was something in her eyes that said she wasn’t just asking about this incident. Was she trying to help or was this a sick test to prove your loyalty? With Curtis nearby and being in Bucky’s penthouse, you wouldn’t risk it. “I just want to get some rest and recover from what happened,” you answered.

The doctor nodded after a minute. “If you do want to talk-”

“I got your favorite,” Bucky announced, deliberately inserting himself between you and Dr. Cho. “So, she’s okay by your standards?”

“Yes, overall,” she said after a moment. “But I want to make sure-”

“I’ll make sure she can keep food down and I’ll call if anything changes,” he smiled, nodding over to Curtis. “He’ll show you out.”

You furrowed your brows. Why was he dismissing her so swiftly after making such a fuss over having you looked over? “I appreciate you taking the time to come here. Thank you.”

The doctor gave you a smile as she packed up. “You’re very kind,” she said, daring to look at Bucky again. “I’ll be expecting a call if anything changes.”

Bucky’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “My girl is a lot stronger than she believes herself to be, but I take her health very seriously. If something changes, you’ll know.”

Tension spiked before the doctor gave you a nod and brushed past Curtis. The man quickly turned to follow her, leaving you and Bucky alone once again. “Do you have a problem with Dr. Cho?” you asked.

“No, I don’t. She’s one of the best doctors there is. I think she has patched us all up at some point,” he answered, bringing the snack to your lips and smiling once you took a bite. “But she’s similar to you in a sense that she has a good heart, so she isn’t always comfortable with some of what goes on.”

That could’ve been why you sensed that she wasn’t just asking you about this evening. Maybe she was looking for a way to help. “Do you trust her?”

“I trust that she’ll do what she’s told,” he replied.

You had trouble swallowing the next bite at those words. People were under his thumb whether they wanted to be or not. “From the little I know of her, she seems like a good doctor.”

“Always seeing the best in everyone,” he smiled. That wasn’t going to change. “Can I show you something now that you’re home that’s kind of important? I can carry you if you can't walk.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I think I can manage. What would you like to show me?” you asked. If he pulled his pants down…

He made sure he had the rest of the snack and water in one hand, helping you up with the other. “Do you remember how I said last night that I didn’t want you wandering into the den because I was having it redone?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You hadn’t gone off to explore anyway since you went to the living room and ended up riding his thigh.

“Well, it was pretty much done. Before I beat the shit out of the guy following us this morning, I had one last finishing touch done,” he explained, slowly walking you down the hall. “Are you feeling okay? It doesn’t bother you to walk?”

“I’m fine,” you said, almost forgetting that he had already beat someone up today. It seemed so long ago. “But I don’t understand why you’re showing me this if I should be-”

He pressed a finger to your lips. “Close your eyes, Kotyonok. Please.”

Taking a breath, you let your eyes close and gasped when his lips touched each eyelid. You let him take your hand and guide you forward. And wasn’t this how it had been since the beginning? Doing what Bucky wanted even when you fought it?

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the brightness in the room. Your heart swelled as you looked around, the warm glow making you smile. Books lined the walls, and the couch and chairs were tailored to your comfort and style. There was even a nook by the window and blankets.

“You…” You blinked away the sudden tears.

Bucky’s face fell. “I promise I’m not trying to overwhelm you. I only wanted your day to end on a good note for you.”

It was meant to be a good day, and a wonderful time with your friends. “You built me my own library?”

“I wanted you to have a sanctuary in our home. A space just for you,” he explained, running a hand along the back of the couch. “None of my men are allowed in here and I have to ask permission before I come in.”

Your mouth fell open. Was he serious? “So, if I want to be alone and I come here, you can’t come in if I say no?”

He nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you want.”

You could hardly believe it. Was this space truly your own? “It’s beautiful,” you said, taking another look around. For a second, you felt like you were living in part of Beauty and the Beast. “Thank you.”

Bucky beamed at you, almost as bright as the light in the room. “There’s one more thing,” he said, setting the water and snack down. He pressed a discreet button by one of the shelves, which opened to reveal a metal door.

“Is that…”

“It’s a panic room,” he said, pressing four numbers into the keypad before that door slid open. “When I had the penthouse constructed, it was one of the first things I had put in. Can never be too careful, right?”

You slowly looked around. “So, you redesigned the room connected to the panic room to give to me?” you asked.

“I told you your safety matters above all else,” he said, holding a hand out for you. You took it after slightly hesitating. The fact that he gave up what was likely one of the safest rooms in the entire penthouse in order for you to have a sanctuary made your head spin. “I had the combination changed to your birthday.”

You took a look inside, your mouth falling open again. You weren’t sure what to expect, but the space looked like another small den. It had a couch, a television, a fridge and microwave. It even had a bed.

“You really are prepared, aren’t you?” you asked.

“Prepared, yes, but I had nothing to lose before,” he said, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. He barely grazed your skin, almost testing to see if you’d flinch. “I have everything to lose now.”

“Am I really worth that much?” you asked. More than the power he wielded, more than his wealth?

He leaned in and your heart raced, but you didn’t feel trapped. Not this time. “You’re worth everything and more,” he whispered.

“Boss?” Curtis called out from the hall before Bucky could kiss you.

You dipped your head down, both of you letting out a breath. “I should finish my snack and get some rest,” you said. You needed it. “But, really, thank you. This is very special to me.”

It didn’t make up for what happened, but maybe it was a start of something new. You didn’t want to dwell on that tonight. You were too emotional, too tired, too vulnerable.

“I want you to be happy here,” he whispered, opting to kiss your forehead since your lips were out of reach. “I should see what Curtis wants.”

“Oh, I want to say something to him,” you said, pulling away from Bucky before he could stop you. “Curtis?” you asked, spotting him just outside of the den.

The man leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping me tonight,” you said. He looked stunned. Did Bucky or the others not express gratitude toward him? “I don’t know if I can ever repay you for that.”

“Nothing to pay me back for.” He cleared his throat. “Just doing my job.”

You smiled softly. “Do you like brownies? It isn’t much, but I do make a decent batch of brownies and it would be a small token of gratitude.”

Curtis and Bucky both looked stunned. “You’re offering him brownies?” Bucky asked, glaring at the other man. “I haven’t had her brownies yet.”

“I like brownies,” Curtis said.

You smothered a giggle when the dangerous man pouted. “Oh, don’t pout. I didn’t say you wouldn’t get any. Curtis just gets the first try,” you said, poking Bucky’s arm. “And maybe I haven’t had a chance to make them because you’ve been so busy tailoring my schedule to your liking.”

“I like her, boss. She’s a keeper.”

Bucky breathed through his nose. “Why the fuck did you call for me?”

“Thor’s getting antsy.” He rolled his eyes. “Wants to know when you’re heading over.”

“I can’t leave you by yourself and I don’t want to drag you to the club,” Bucky said.

You knew he wouldn’t leave you alone and there was no way he would leave Curtis or Ray or another man there with you, at least not tonight. “What about Natasha? Can she come over? If not, maybe I can get a nap in the club office.”

“But-”

“You said for them to shut the club down, so it’s not like music or the lights will bother me. And this way I’ll be close by,” you said. And it wasn’t like they’d beat Clark up right in front of you.

“Maybe,” Bucky said, flexing his fingers when his phone went off. “If that’s Thor…”

You could hear his teeth grind as he read the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s Zemo,” he said, your stomach dropping. “And he wants to talk.”

How long before Bucky answers Zemo? And what do we think of the library? Is he leaving you at home or taking you to the club? ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[subjectsix]

KIP'S BIG POST OF THINGS TO MAKE THE INTERNET & TECHNOLOGY SUCK A LITTLE LESS

Post last updated November 23, 2024. Will continue to update!

Here are my favorite things to use to navigate technology my own way:

A refurbished iPod loaded with Rockbox OS (Rockbox is free, iPods range in price. I linked the site I got mine from. Note that iPods get finicky about syncing and the kind of cord it has— it may still charge but might not recognize the device to sync. Getting an original Apple cord sometimes helps). Rockbox has ports for other MP3 players as well.

This Windows debloater program (there are viable alternatives out there, this one works for me). It has a powershell script that give you a little UI and buttons to press, which I appreciate, as I'm still a bit shy with tech.

Firefox with the following extensions: - Consent-O-Matic (set your responses to ALL privacy/cookie pop-ups in the extension, and it will answer all pop-ups for you. I can see reasons to not use it, but I appreciate it) - Facebook Container ("contains" Meta on Facebook and Instagram pages to keep it from tracking you or getting third party cookies, since Meta is fairly egregious about it) - Redirect Amp to HTML (AMP is designed for mobile phones, this forces pages to go to their HTML version) - A WebP/AVIF image converter - uBlock Origin and uBlacklist, with the AI blacklist loaded in to kill any generative AI results from appearing in search engines or anywhere.

Handbrake for ripping DVDs— I haven’t used this in awhile as I haven’t been making video edits. I used this back when I had a Mac OS

VLC Media Player (ol’ reliable)

Unsplash & Pexels for free-to-use images

A password manager (these often are paid. I use Dashlane. There are many options, feel free to search around and ask for recs!). There is a lot that goes into cybersecurity— find the option you feel is best for you.

Things I suggest:

Understanding Royalty Free and the Creative Commons licenses

Familiarity with boolean operators for searching

Investing in a backup drive and external drive

A few good USBs, including one that has a backup of your OS on it

Adapter cables

Avoiding Fandom “wikias” (as in the brand “Fandom”) and supporting other, fan-run or supported wikis. Consider contributing if its something you find yourself passionate or joyful about.

Finding Forums for the things you like, or creating your own*

Create an email specifically for ads/shopping— use it to receive all promotional emails to keep your inbox clean. Upkeep it.

Stop putting so much of your personal information online— be willing to separate your personal online identity from your “online identity”. You don’t owe people your name, location, pronouns, diagnoses, or any of that. It’s your choice, but be discerning in what you give and why. I recommend avoiding providing your phone number to sites as much as possible.

Be intentional

Ask questions

Talk to people

Remember that you can lurk all you want

Things that are fun to check out:

BBSes-- here's a portal to access them.

Neocities

*Forums-- find some to join, or maybe host your own? The system I was most familiar with was vbulletin.

MMM.page

Things that have worked well for me but might work for you, YMMV:

Limit your app usage time on your smartphone if you’re prone to going back to them— this is a tangible way to “practice mindfulness”, a term I find frustratingly vague ansjdbdj

Things I’m looking into:

The “Pi Hole”— a raspberry pi set up to block all ads on a specific internet connection

VPNs-- this is one that was recommended to me.

How to use computers (I mean it): Resources on how to understand your machine and what you’re doing, even if your skill and knowledge level is currently 0:

This section I'll come back an add to. I know that messing with computers can be intimidating, especially if you feel out of your depth. HTML and regedits and especially things like dualbooting or linux feel impossible. So I want to put things here that explain exactly how the internet and your computer functions, and how you can learn and work with that. Yippee!