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gold-onthe-inside · 14 hours ago

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with love, from reid

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: after a case ruins spencer's carefully planned valentine's date, he does his best to make up for it. but all you needed was him. and all the gifts in the world are nothing compared to yours. word count: 3.3k based on: Valentine’s Day Request - Spencer and his partner are separated for Valentines Day (maybe he went to go visit his mom or he was on a special assignment like in Minimal Loss and a storm grounded flights) but he uses every method possible to give his partner the most amazing Valentines Day ever. a/n: i'm so sorry for sitting on this request forever, but inspiration struck today i guess. hope you like it anon.

Spencer’s not like other guys. It’s the mantra you have to keep using to keep your head on straight. But being cheated on by someone you had been about to marry changes your whole perspective on things. Makes it harder to trust, even the most angelic man you’ve ever met. You have to take a deep breath every time he gets a call from JJ or Penelope, have to remind yourself that there’s a valid reason for every missed date, every morning you wake up without him. Because it’s scary how much you like him, how often you think about him.

The scarce amount of time you both get makes the little moments more important, and he knows it. In his head, he’s been building it up, down to the cardigan he would wear on the 14th. He’s calculated the exact amount of time it takes to get from Quantico to your hospital, chosen a restaurant within walking distance — something right up your alley with exotic food and a quiet atmosphere. He knows how many footsteps it’ll take to get there, how many topics you can cover, all of it, down to miniscule details. The flower arrangements that would wait for you both. The menu he had memorised in his head, knowing exactly what you would order. The average time it would take for you both to finish eating while talking. The train back to his apartment, where your favourite movie would be waiting.

If only he could control this unsub the same way. But they were no closer to finding the unsub on the 13th as they were two days ago. He’d been putting off the call all day, staring at his phone until Alex had pointed it out, unravelling the first stitch of his sealed lips. The seam split and he told her everything — the date he’d planned, the flowers he’d bought in advance, the reservation that was waiting for you. He receives the pat on the knee he’d been expecting from Alex, the promise that you’d be understanding (who would know better than her, really?), and her stern voice telling him to call you.

You can hear the regret in his voice when he calls, the tired fatigue that makes you smile sympathetically. “Did you get home okay?” he asked, scuffing the back of his sneakers against the floor, standing right outside the precinct, stars glittering above him, much brighter in Tennessee than in DC. It’s a whole nother date on his bucket list — going star-gazing with you.

“Yeah, just now,” you replied, and he can see you in his mind’s eye, taking off your boots and neatly arranging them in your rack, keys in a clay dish that an 8 year old had made for you, the crick in your neck that he wants to massage for you. “How about you? Any closer to finding your strangler?”

“No,” he huffs, leaning against the railing. There’s a slight chill in the air, but he can’t feel it, not right now. He just wants to hear your voice. “But that’s not important — I just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”

You huffed a small laugh, and he can hear you bustling around over the call, maybe changing into your pyjamas, or hunting for ingredients to make a quick dinner for one, and a frustrated ache builds behind his eyes. He wants to be there, with you, listening to old jazz music and making dinner and small talk. “I think I’m in less danger than the FBI agent hunting down a serial killer, honey.”

“You’re always in less danger than I am,” he grumbles, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lip. He closes his eyes, tilting his head back and picturing the dimly lit kitchen in your apartment, the scent of spices and the warmth of old vinyl records. “I miss you,” he confesses in a soft, almost broken tone.

He hears you pause, a palpable beat passing before you murmured, “I miss you too.”

“I wish I could be there,” he says. He wants to run a hand down your back, trace his knuckles over your cheek to feel the softness of your skin. “I had a whole night planned for us tonight.”

"I know, lovely," you murmured, leaning on the kitchen counter, phone pressed to your ear. "There'll be other nights."

He sighs. He hates having to cancel on you, especially now, when they’re already so rare. “Not like this one,” he mutters, and he knows you can probably tell by his tone that he’s pouting like a child.

“Why, because tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day?” you asked, talking while making a quick pasta.

He’s quiet for a second. Then — “Yes,” he admits in a near-whine. “It was going to be a special night.”

"Spence... Every day is Valentine's Day with you," you said, knowing exactly how cheesy you sound and running with it anyway.

Spencer’s just grateful you can’t see his face right now, because he knows he’s blushing a little, that he has an adorably smitten smile on his lips and he’s sure it would only embarrass him if you could see. “Sap,” he accuses lovingly.

"Said the man who collects ticket stubs of every movie we see," you retorted, grinning into the phone.

He sputters. “That’s — that’s — you’re not supposed to know about those,” he complained. “I keep those for myself, they’re a private collection for a reason.“

“Wow, what happened to what’s yours is mine?” you teased him, watching the pasta boil, and Christ, you felt like a lovestruck teenager right now, like those sickly sweet couples in Hallmark movies.

“That’s — there’s exceptions to that rule,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t you dare touch those. I’ve sorted them in chronological order, by the way — if one is out of place, I’ll know it was you messing around, looking over my things.”

You laughed into the phone, bright even with how tired you felt, because he brought it out of you, a glowing feeling in your chest that made the ache in your feet hurt a little less. It’s a sound that never fails to make his heart skip — the softest, most wonderful noise he’s ever heard. “I wish I was there,” he says again, his voice suddenly quiet and heavy with want.

"I know," you said quietly, watching the water grow cloudy as your pasta cooks. "But those women need you more than I do right now, Spence."

“Stop using logic on me,” he says, only half-joking, his expression serious even though you can’t see it. “I want to be selfish with you tonight.”

"Sweetheart, you don't have a selfish bone in your body," you replied affectionately.

“It’s not fair,” he complains, still playing the part of the pouting child in his mind, just whining and grumpy because he wants to be with you. “I was going to give you flowers, and take you out to dinner, and I was going to drive you home and kiss you so much—”

"We can still do that," you said, cutting him off before he could fill your head with ideas and then you could say goodbye to sleeping peacefully tonight.

“Not tomorrow,” he says. He’s almost definitely pouting right now, staring down at the pavement, his eyes dark under his lashes. “And it’s only Valentine’s once a year, I wanted it to be perfect.”

You fretted as you turned the gas off, putting off straining the pasta as you turned into the phone. “Why’s this so important to you, angel?” you asked softly.

It’s one of the things he loves about you — the gentleness with which you handle him, the way you ooze with care and curiosity instead of coddling concern. “This is our first Valentine’s,” he replies, slightly petulant. “And I wanted it to be good. Something you could look back on. I had it all planned out.”

Christ, you could cry with how much Spencer cared about you. You couldn’t remember anyone, boyfriend or not, who loved you this much. “You know it would’ve been perfect, regardless, right?” you asked gently. “You and me, that’s all I need. Even if it’s over a phone line.”

He’s quiet for a moment, just listening to you speak. “You deserve the best,” he says eventually. “You deserve flowers. And an elegant restaurant. And a movie. And a home cooked meal.” And me, he wants to add, but he doesn’t. “Not a phone call and the knowledge that your boyfriend is across the country.”

"Sweetheart, I get all of that from you even when it isn't Valentine's," you said, in that same gentle tone. "Besides, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were here when you could be catching a killer."

“Why do you have to be reasonable?” Spencer groaned, rubbing a hand over his face again because you’re being entirely too logical for him to fight with right now. “That’s not fair.”

You chuckled, crossing your arms and leaning on the counter. "We'll have a make-up date, I promise," you said. "Just how you planned it."

That seems to pacify him a little bit, because he lets out a soft sigh. “Okay,” he agrees, slightly begrudgingly. “But I’m in charge of planning. You don’t get a say in the matter.”

You fake a tsk, as if planning mattered at all to you. "Fine. Whatever you decide."

That makes a soft, contented sound form in his throat — one bordering on possessive. “That’s what I thought,” he says, and you can all but envision the smirk on his lips.

"Go find your killer," you chided him, grinning stupidly, but there's no bite in it.

He lets out an amused huff. “Yes ma’am,” he teases, before his tone softens again. “I miss you. I’ll try to come home as soon as I can, okay?”

"Okay," you replied. "Stay safe, please."

“I will,” he promises, because he knows how much the thought of him getting hurt scares you. “Don’t worry about me.”

You snorted quietly, like it was possibly to not worry about him on cases. "Bye."

“Bye,” he responds quietly, and he wishes he could kiss you goodbye, trace the line of your lips with his fingers and feel the pulse in your neck against his fingers. “Sweet dreams.”

"You too," you whispered before hanging up. Spencer stands there for another moment after the call ends, his phone still in his hand and his heart heavy, and he wonders if it’s possible for someone to actually ache from missing someone this much.

And then Morgan’s calling him inside with his newly minted nickname since dating you — ‘lover boy’ — to adjust the geographic profile and he’s unwillingly dragged back into the vortex that is his job. And he has to shove any thoughts of you to the back of his mind for the time being, the lingering ache at the edge of his chest a constant, nagging thing that he has to continuously push past to focus on the case.

The whole team is working hard to try and solve this, but progress is slow. Somewhere between analysing blood spatter patterns and doing his own research to figure out their unsub’s deal, he does his best to plan your make-up date, paranoid that someone would see him looking for places to take you and make his day worse. Eventually, tired of having to look over his shoulder, he bites the bullet and calls Garcia for help, even if it would no doubt get back to Morgan and the rest of the team.

And then he has to deal with Garcia’s excited squealing, her incessant questions about you both, her comments about how cute he is and how she needs to meet you. He keeps his head down and grits his teeth, because he knows she means no harm, and it’s a small price to suffer through just to have this night be perfect.

The first thing to arrive was a bouquet of tulips with your morning paper waiting outside your door, a pretty arrangement of red and pink that matched the outfit you were going to wear to work — the whole department had agreed to come in red, white, and pink colours — and you can’t stop smiling as you go to put in a vase with water.

He gets the picture texted to him in the middle of a briefing with Hotch and the team, barely able to restrain his smile as he checked his phone under the table.

You: They’re beautiful, thank you.

He’s oblivious to Morgan giving him an odd look as he texted you back:

Spencer: Only the best for the most beautiful girl in the world.

Spencer tucks his phone back into his pocket when the meeting ends, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Morgan. He knows he’s going to get bombarded with questions he doesn’t feel like answering, and for once he’s glad they have a case to work on so he can use that as an excuse not to interact with him.

The second arrival was a package sent to your office, because of course he had your shift schedule memorised, and you signed for it, grasping the brown paper package that was obviously a book back to your desk. There’s no reason for you to hide it, not in the sanctity of your own office, but it’s as if you’re back in school, your crush sending you a note that you unfurl under your desk, finding a hardbound copy of Persuasion, arguably your favourite Austen novel.

You do your best not to blush, picking up your phone to text him, chewing on your lip before flipping to the right chapter and sending him a direct quote.

You: There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.

Spencer’s in the middle of examining a body when you sent him the text. But as soon as he feels his phone vibrate, he pulls it out without a second thought, uncaring of the fact that Morgan and Rossi are looking his way. He has to hold back a smile because no, he won’t give Morgan any ammunition.

Spencer: You have my whole heart.

“You two are sickening, I hope you know that,” Morgan told him, a smirk on his lips.

Spencer’s head snaps up in alarm at the sound of his voice, and he quickly drops his phone in his pocket, face flushing. He’s silent for a minute, trying to regain his composure and come up with something to defend himself. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he replied weakly.

"Uh-huh," Rossi replied, masking a smile. "Can we look at the body now, or does your girlfriend have more input?" He wouldn’t be surprised if you did, to be honest, but he’d rather keep you out of this part of his world. He just shook his head, stepping closer to the slab.

Your last gift came in just as Valentine’s Day was about to come to an end, Spencer silently tracking into your apartment, 5 minutes away from midnight, cringing as he opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. You’re asleep, your breathing soft and deep, the soft, soothing sound filling the room. He kneels by your side of the bed for a moment, just looking at you: all loose-limbed and relaxed, your face soft and sweet against the pillow. He can’t help the little smile that tugs the corner of his mouth up, and he wonders how he got so lucky. Softly, he reaches out, fingertips gentle as he brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You flinched, startled awake, until you recognise Spencer's eyes blinking back at you. "Jesus Christ, you scared me," you breathed out. "You should have told me you were coming."

“I was trying to be quiet,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so only you would hear. His hand brushed the curve of your jaw, a soft, almost reverent motion. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You sink back into your pillows, shifting inside so he can sit on the edge. "I would have waited up for you if you'd called first," you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hip right against your knee, his fingers still trailing along your face, then resting on your thigh over the covers. “I tried to get home earlier,” he said, and he sounded exhausted, the stress of the case weighing on him. “But the team was debating something. And then paperwork...”

"You don't have to explain," you said softly, shaking your head, making a mess of your hair.

He watches you, his gaze lingering on the mussed locks on your head, the sleepy bleariness to your eyes, the pinkness to your cheeks, and he feels a surge of longing so strong it borders on painful for a moment. He loves you like this — soft and sweet and rumpled with sleep, and he wants nothing more than to curl up next to you right here and now. “I hate being away from you for so long,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you so much.”

"Should've caught your guy faster then," you said, shifting up to meet his lips with yours. "Happy Valentine's."

He returned your kiss, his fingers trailing up to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Happy Valentine’s,” he murmured against your lips, before he was kissing you again, harder this time, and you could tell he was tired by the urgency with which he held onto you.

"I realised something when you were away, you know," you murmured against his lips.

He pulled back slightly so he could look at you, his fingers still trailing along the back of your neck. “Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and studying your face with those sharp, intelligent eyes of his.

You nodded, looking at him with your own fond gaze. "I love you," you said softly. Plain and uncomplicated.

He had heard those words plenty of times in his life, but he’d never tire of hearing them from your lips. He felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he moved his hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Say it again?” he whispered.

"I love you," you repeated, your smile glowing in the dark, streetlights dancing over your ceiling.

He felt something in his chest settle at the words, at the reassurance that you really were here, and you were his. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your nose, the. corner of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. “I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “God, I love you so much.”

Your arms winded around him, his face burying itself in your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin, his arms wrapped around your waist. His hands slipped up under your sleep shirt, his touch warm and soft against your back, and he practically sunk into you, needing the closeness, needing to be surrounded by you.

"I know the day didn't go to plan," you murmured, "but this is the best Valentine's Day I've ever had."

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, like he couldn’t get enough of having you pressed against him, and he pulled his head back from your neck so he could look at you properly. “Me too,” he said, then reconsidered. “Well, the whole day was hell, but this… this is perfect.”

"Yeah?" you asked, pecking his lips.

He chased your mouth, kissing you again, lingering on your lips for longer. “Yeah,” he replied softly. “Being with you is all I need.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x blake!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 days ago

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Lights, Camera, Colombia

💫 Prologue 💫

Summary: Ten years after he quit the DEA Javi gets approached by a production company, asking if he would like to be involved in the production of a documentary about Pablo Escobar and the drug war. When he agrees, he meets you, one of the producers of the documentary and the woman who he will spend the next months working with on the documentary and travel back to Colombia, the woman who will get to know about the side of him that he never wants anyone to see, the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3k

Rating: G (for now)

Warnings: angst, kind of a meet cute, fluff, a look into Javi's head, mentioned character dead (I'm sorry), a little big of backstory

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Full Masterlist // Javier Peña Masterlist // Lights, Camera, Colombia Masterlist

There was a Colombian restaurant across the street form where Javier lived in San Antonio.

When he came back from work he would sit on his small balcony with a cold beer and just watch. It wasn’t much different from watching the boats on the Rio Grande back at his papa’s ranch. They had raided the place almost three months ago but now it had opened up again with new owner.

A little search in the DEA database told him everything he needed to know about those new owners, another raid already in progress within the next week.

The internet would have made his job back in Colombia so much fucking easier.

Sometimes he wondered how his life would be now if he hadn’t taken the job with the DEA all the years back. He wondered what his life would be like without the nightmares, without the urge to watch over his shoulder when he walked the streets at night.

His therapist told him what he had was PTSD.

And his therapist didn’t even know half of what had happened in Colombia.

After he emptied his beer he made his way back inside his apartment. It was a good apartment. Big living room, small kitchen, two bedrooms, one of which he used as an office/guest room. Not that he did get any guests. Ever.

It was the space where his computer stood on a desk his father had build for him when he went to high school. It was one of the few things he had taken with him from the ranch when he left Laredo three years ago.

He didn’t see any point in staying after his father died.

There was nothing left there for him, except the ghosts from his past.

And those were with him no matter where he went, so why continue to stay back in a town where he was reminded how lonely he was at ever corner?

So when the call from Steve came about the job offer in San Antonio he took it even though he never wanted to be involved with the DEA again. Not that he thought they would take him back anyway after what he had pulled, but things had changed.

It was around the time that he moved here that he began to write. Write about his life, his experiences in Colombia and about his thoughts. About how everything had changed him.

To a certain point he became numb to his own feelings. He saw so many people die in front of him that he was sure that something inside of him had died too.

He realised that after he caught his ex girlfriend Alice cheating on him back in Laredo just before his father died. He wasn’t sure if he just didn’t love her anymore or hadn’t loved her at all. They had been together for almost two years and he thought back then that she could be the one. Maybe.

He now knows that it would have never worked out between them. Not because Alice cheated on him (well maybe that was a factor too) but because he wasn’t sure if he was made to get married. Or be in love.

He wasn’t sure if he had ever been in love at all if he was honest with himself.

And so, in a never ending spiral of anxiety and self doubt his therapist, a woman in her sixties called Margery, told him to try to write everything down when it felt like the thoughts were getting too loud, or when he couldn’t fall back asleep after a nightmare.

And after a year he had written almost 100.000 words of something that Margery said could have people interested if he were to turn it into a book.

He still remembered her laugh at the look he gave her at hearing that.

But anyway…

When the offer of this documentary came in the first time, he never even entertained the thought. Writing things down about Colombia for himself was a very different thing from sitting in front of the camera and talking about it to a room full of strangers.

But then Steve had called and told him that he signed in on it.

It was a small studio in New York that had been working on several documentaries about the drug war before and once he watched a few of them he entertained the idea of participating.

Truth to be told he was getting bored. So why not try out something new?

He flew out to Miami to meet up with Steve and the producers to talk things through.

It’s where he met you for the first time. Well, sort of. You were on the phone from New York and called into the meeting to answer every question the both of them could have. Apparently your flight had been canceled, otherwise you would have been there too.

While he first thought his job would be to only have a few questions to answer in front of a camera he pretty quickly learned that this was not the case at all.

Originally the idea was for Steve and Javier to both go back to Colombia to revisit some places that were significant to them, and that had been significant for Pablo Escobar and to just speak about their memories about these places.

It would mostly be only them and you with your camera traveling through the country while the rest of the team followed to shoot some of the scenery and be on call should you need them.

But since Steve couldn’t just leave for six weeks, it would be Javier and you alone for the most time.

Something he was less than thrilled about. Going back to the place that gave him nightmares with a woman he hadn’t met before?

He never wanted to smoke as much as he did as they took their lunch break.

„So you gonna do it?“ Steve was sitting across from him in the restaurant of the hotel they had met up at. Javier would stay at Steve’s place tonight though to visit Conny and the kids and he would never admit it, but he was looking forward to it.

„Man, I don’t know,“ Javier sighed, rubbing his finger over the moustache he was still rocking no matter how much he got teased about it from anyone.

„Why? Not like anyone is waiting for you at home,“ Steve grinned and Javier rolled his eyes.

„Fuck you,“ he spat, making Steve laugh.

Steve didn’t know that he hit a nerve with his jest. Lately he had realised just how lonely he was. He never craved a typical family with a wife and some kids. He never was really lonely before because no matter how many people he pushed away, he knew that back in Laredo, on a ranch he grew up on was his father.

But ever since his father had died, Javier found himself questioning if this was it. If working his nine to five for five days a week, eating single microwave dinners and drinking too much beer in front of the TV would be his life until he just…. Died.

Would people even care? When would someone realise that he was truly gone?

It had been a topic in his latest therapy session that he was still processing. But Steve didn’t know that. He didn’t even know that Javier went to therapy in the first place.

„I’d go back. Would love to watch everything that somehow had to do with that fucker crumble,“ Steve said with a shrug, before he began to eat his burger.

Javier sighed.

What exactly was holding him back?

Steve was right, there was nothing and no one at home waiting for him and frankly, he hated his job. But somehow he had to make a living and there were worse things than spending eight hours a day in an air conditioned room.

But going back to Colombia?

„I think this could be good for you, Javi,“ Steve said, emptying his glass.

„How so?“ Javi asked.

„I think you never really got closure on what we did in Colombia. Yeah, you went back for Cali but… all the things that happened while we chased Escobar through the whole country? All the decisions we made? All the deaths? It’s been fucking awful. And I think going back to see that we actually did make a difference? That all those years we spent there were actually worth something? I That we helped the people? I’d fucking love to see that,“ Steve said and Javi looked at him before he leaned back into his chair with a sigh.

„Fuck, Steve. When did you become so fucking wise?“ Javi said with a small chuckle and Steve shrugged.

„Got a killer wife at home and a therapist I see regularly,“ he said and Javi was surprised to hear that. Part of him still was ashamed that he had to get help from someone, even though his therapist is slowly convincing him it’s actually pretty damn great that he took the leap of faith to talk to someone.

Mental health was not really something people talk about, especially men.

You're either a strong man, who can handle everything that life throws at you or your a fucking pussy if you couldn’t.

He never understood someone using the term pussy as an insult. Pussies were fucking powerful. Pussies could make men drop to their knees. They gave life, for fucks sake.

„You know I read that they’re turning Escobar’s home in a fucking waterpark,“ Steve said and Javier snorted.

„Seriously?“

„And a zoo. Apparently those hippos he brought there have been fucking like… well animals and now there are so many there, they have no idea what to do with them,“ Steve said with a grin, shaking his head, clearly amused.

„Think they have plush hippos so I can get Olivia one?“ Javier asked and Steve chuckled.

„Guess you gonna find out huh?“ He got up, slapping Javier on his shoulder.

„Think we still on some kill lists over there?“ Javi asked as he got up too, walking next to Steve towards the elevator, back towards the floor they had their meeting on.

„Probably,“ Steve shrugged and Javier rolled his eyes.

„I have some questions,“ you heard Javier Peña say once the meeting continued. You were sitting in the small meeting room of the production company you worked in. You were alone, everyone else already having gone home to enjoy their weekend.

You never minded staying longer, loving your work.

And this project? Well this was very close to your heart. Growing up with the knowledge that your father had been killed because he was one of the patrol officers at the Mexican borders that regularly found the coke that the cartels tried to smuggle into the states, left you to grow up with a hatred towards everything responsible for taking your father from you when you were just four years old.

You were very passionate about this project and would do almost anything to have one of the DEA Agents that have been involved the most in taking down not only Pablo Escobar but the Cali Cartel too in your documentary.

„Go ahead. I’m sure I have answers for all of them,“ you said with a smile and heard the men on the other end of the line chuckle.

„If I agree to this, I need to reach out to some of my contacts beforehand. There is the possibility of me still being on kill lists and that would endanger you and your crew,“ Javier Peña said and you did a little happy dance, because it sounded like he was on board.

„Of course. If you feel better, I could also arrange for some kind of security…“ you began but were interrupted.

„No. I would…. I would handle that myself. I just like to be prepared beforehand. I hope you have no problems with me carrying a gun throughout the whole thing, because there’s no way in hell I can go back there without one,“ Javier said and you nodded.

„Understood. I took extensive shooting classes and I have a gun license too. If you can handle the part of me actually taking a gun to Colombia, I could carry one too,“ you said.

There was a pause.

„I’ll think about it,“ he finally said and you nodded.

„Talk me again through the timeline,“ he said.

„The overall time we would spend in Columbia would be six week. We would fly out to Bogota to meet up. I have a few locations lined up that I would want to visit. I would send you those via email and I would love it if you have some locations that are significant to you too that we could add. Overall I am thinking about three weeks in Bogota and three weeks in Medellin. We would fly out to Medellin, spend time there to go through all the locations and then we would drive back to Bogota. I am currently working on getting the permit to film at what used to be Escobar’s hacienda.“

„Are they really turning it into a waterpark?“ The other man, Steve Murphy asked. You smiled to yourself.

„Oh yeah. Apparently it got a lot of traffic after Pablo died and people took everything they could find from there. I am also trying to find out how much money was found on the property,“ you said, hearing the man chuckle on the other line.

„It would be just the two of us,“ Javier said again. You nodded.

„Yes. The crew would travel with us, and be on call. They will shoot scenery from all the places we visit, but going through those locations and talking? That would be just the two of us and my new travel sized camera,“ you said.

You had tried the camera out on your nieces third birthday party some weeks ago and were pleasantly surprised by the picture and sound quality.

You could hear murmuring on the other end of the line and you pursed your lips, your feet nervously tapping on the floor.

„Fine. Send me the whole plan via email and I will look into it and get back to you with any suggestions. When would we leave?“ Javier asked and you threw your hands in the air in a silent cheer.

„Middle to end of may. We would have to be back by mid July because I have another job I need to be here for. Interviews would happen sometime in August for a release of the documentary before Christmas.“

„Sounds good to me,“ Javier finally said and you felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders.

You had a vision for this project, and you were now so much closer to getting your vision.

„Thank you Mr. Peña. It’s…. I am looking forward to officially meeting you in Colombia,“ you said.

„Me too. And please call me Javier. Or Javi. Mr. Peña makes me feel fucking old,“ he said.

„You are old, Mr. Peña,“ Steve Murphy said and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you as you heard what sounded like a slap on the other line followed from an Fuck you Javi.

„Noted, Javier. I will send you the schedule and legal will send you the contract.“

„Please also send me your ID and gun license so I can take care of the permit for Columbia,“ Javier said and you nodded.

„Will do. Thank you so much for agreeing to do this,“ you said.

„No need to thank me,“ he said.

„Do you have any more questions?“ You asked.

„Not right now. If I do I’ll get back to you. I do have you number,“ he said.

„Perfect. Well then, have a great rest of the day,“ you said.

„You too,“ he said before they all said goodbye to you and the call disconnected.

You jumped up and did a little happy dance, feeling so fucking relieved that you had one of them on board for this. With the extensive research you had made on them you had to admit that you would have loved to have Steve Murphy on too, but with him having a family that was waiting for him at home, you could understand that he didn’t want to spend over a month apart from them.

Javier Peña was a little mystery to you.

You knew from your research that he had left Columbia just weeks before Pablo Escobar was killed, only to be sent back after to take down the Cali Cartel. Something about the whole thing didn’t seem right to you and you had the hope that spending time with him would lead to answers to that question.

From your research you also knew that he had a… let’s say unique system on how to get information. You had actually reached out to some of the women he got out of Colombia after finding out about him using prostitutes for information on the cartel members.

Something an ex CIA agent with the name William Stechner had told you when you had met up with him weeks prior for the possibility of having him on the documentary too.

An idea you had pretty quickly got rid off after meeting him.

There was something about the man that left you uneasy, and the thought of spending one on one time with him for too long was not your idea of a great work environment.

Yes, you wouldn’t meet Javier Peña before Colombia either. But except for Stechner, every single person that you had talked about him had only good things to say about him. So you were going with your intuition and would trust those people.

That meeting Javier Peña would end up changing your whole life?

Well that was something you hadn’t anticipated in your documentary (or life) plan.

next chapter

Taglist (please send me an ask if you want to be added to the LCC Taglist, I only have a taglist for this series, not for all of my works)

@pasc4lfuzz// @kirsteng42 // @imdreaminghere // @greenwitchfromthewoods // @theorganasolo // @inept-the-magnificent // @maried01

#lcc series #my fic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal characters #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #narcos fanfiction

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coquitokisses · 17 hours ago

Text

Oh, baby! | Dean Winchester

Pairings: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: reader had a one night stand with Dean and they find out she’s pregnant

Word count: 1.4k

A/n: I gotta be honest, this is from a fanfic lmao, which is supposed to be a crossover of Teen Wolf and Supernatural, but I haven’t published it yet and I’ve been wanting to write something about Dean for a whileee so I decided to just edit this lil thing I had and post it here cuz why not?

“Hey, Cas, you’re back.” You smile sweetly at him once you saw him as you made your way to the library to help Sam with research

“Hi, y/n.” He replied with a small smile that soon turned into a confused frown

You noticed. “Everything okay?”

“How do you feel?” He asks

“I’m fine.” You replied, not understanding his sudden worry

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Cas, why? What’s wrong?” You questioned feeling a little alarmed by the way he was asking

“It’s just that I feel another presence.” He said

“Another presence?” Sam took his eyes off the laptop to look at Castiel

“What do you mean another presence?” Dean’s voice was soon heard throughout the library

“Is it bad?” You ask

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “It’s inside you.”

“Inside me?!” You were so confused right now “But what is it? Is it bad?”

“Is she okay?” Sam asked somewhat worried after hearing Castiel’s words

“She’s fine,” he replied and then looked at you “Can I?” he raised his hand

You nodded giving him permission to do whatever he had to do. Castiel put a hand on your forehead and then began to lower it down your body, but without actually touching it, until it reached your belly.

“Can I?” he looked at you, you just nodded

He placed his hand on your belly and that’s when he realized what was the presence he was feeling.

“It’s a baby,” he said, removing his hand

You almost choked. “I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

“A.. baby?” Sam was dumbfounded

“Wait, wait, are you sure?” Dean looked at Castiel

“Very sure,” the angel nodded

“It can’t be...” you put one of you hands on you chest. “Oh my God..”

“Are you really sure?” Dean asked again

“Yes, Dean, I am one hundred percent sure that I feel a baby’s presence.” Castiel snapped back

“This isn’t happening.” Dean ran his hands over his face “This is.. this is simply not happening.”

“Please don’t tell me you guys…” Sam looked at you both

“Sam, just shut up for a minute, okay?” Dean replied

“I- I need to get some air.” You muttered as you walked backwards like three steps and then turned around heading to the stairs

“Y/n wait!” Sam called out but you ignored him

You got out of the bunker and you took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down and not have a panic attack.

“This can’t be real..” you murmured to yourself

You raised your hands to your belly and you’re just standing there in shock.

Of course you wanted a family, but you knew that it was probably not going to happen due to the fact that you’re a hunter and you’ve been hunting basically your whole life. You knew how your life was gonna end. And you made your peace with that. Kinda.

Worst thing about all of this is the fact that Dean is the one who got you pregnant. You two used to hate each other, but throughout the years, you’ve learned to tolerate each other and well, you’ve basically been working with them since they had to deal with the angels pretty much.

He’s always had a crush on you and you knew it, but it wasn’t really that serious. He usually just flirted with you and most of the time you just ignored him.

Until a few weeks ago, while you guys were finishing up a case that Sam decided to let you two handle so you could work on your communication and your anger issues, because the week before that, you have to admit that you were both butting heads every five minutes, and it was driving Sam insane. So he sent you both to deal with a shapeshifter case in Wyoming and with a little assignment to work on your issues and stop behaving like kids. His words.

And you did worked your issues out. You just didn’t think it was gonna be by having sex, but hey, you weren’t complaining at all. He was perfect. And it was the best night you’ve ever had in a while.

And here are the results of that hook up.

It’s clear to say that neither of you are prepared, mentally nor physically prepared to have a kid.

And besides, how were you gonna raise a kid together if you can’t even get along for more than two days?

You got on your car and decided to go for a ride, just to clear your head. And while you were at it, you bought like two boxes of pregnancy tests just to be one thousand percent sure and because you would believe it more once you see it yourself.

You got something to eat after that and decided to use the bathroom at a gas station so you could take the pregnancy tests.

While you waited on the results, you were walking around in the small bathroom, thinking what the hell you were gonna do.

After a few minutes of talking to yourself internally, you decided to take a look at the four pregnancy tests.

“Oh god..” you muttered under your breath seeing the plus sign on the tests

(…)

After a while of just driving around, you finally decided to get back to the bunker. Once you open the door, Dean’s head turned to look at you immediately.

“Where were you?” He asked, leaving the book he was reading on the table

“I was getting rid of the little creature,” you replied

“Y/n.” Dean gave your a stern look

“I’m kidding.” You rolled your eyes. “I went for a ride and to get something to eat, anything else you want to know?”

You walked to where he was and put your hand inside the pocket of your jacket.

“In case you thought Castiel was lying...” you took the pregnancy tests out of your jacket pocket and placed them on the table. “It’s quite real.”

Dean looked at the tests in front of him realizing that this was really happening. He did believe Cas, but seeing the positive pregnancy tests, definitely made his mind finally fall into the acceptance that this was real. Very real.

Dean sighed. “Look, I know you’re not completely happy with this situation, believe me, I’m not either, but..-

“But we already did it and now we have to take responsibility, I know,” you said taking off your jacket “What I’m still trying to figure out is how you and I are going to raise a baby”

“I don’t know either.” He sighed

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” you pulled out a chair so you could sit and then you brought your hands to you face

“I know...” Dean said in a soft voice and leaned a little so he could look at you. “Hey,” he gently took you by the wrists, removing your hands from your face. “You’re not going to be alone, I’m not going for a pack of cigarettes and never come back.”

That made you laugh a little. “I know you won’t.”

“I’m just.. scared.” He admitted “Scared to raise a kid, scared that I might turn out like my dad and I don’t want that..”

“You’re not going to be like your father, Dean.” You said softly “And I’m scared too, like, I’m gonna be carrying a baby inside of me for the next nine months, I’m terrified that I won’t be a good mom.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You smiled a little. “That’s kinda comforting.”

“I think we can make it work if we make the effort.”

“We hate each other.” You roll your eyes

He scoffs. “Speak for yourself, I don’t hate you, sweetheart, like, at all.”

You chuckle. “Don’t lie to yourself, you only wanted to get in my pants.” You joked

“Well yeah, but I don’t hate you.” He shrugged

“I don’t hate you either, you’re just.. very annoying.” You said

“You are too.”

You roll your eyes. “Right.”

“In all seriousness,” he started saying “I think we should give it a try.” He looked into your eyes “And you know, we would also be getting out of this life and finally getting a normal one.”

“That does sound nice.” You nodded

“It’s up to you, babe.” He said

You could see in his eyes that he was dead serious about this. He wanted this. He wanted to give it a try with you.

And after a few seconds of thinking, you finally responded.

“Let’s do it then.” You said and he smiled “But we’re not getting married.”

“I’m fine with that.” He said with a shrug which made you smile

main masterlist

A/n: I think I can make this into a small series, should I? 👀

Likes, comments and reblogs will be appreciated! <3

divider creds @hyuneskkami

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #jensen ackles #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #fluff #sam winchester #castiel

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someonegoood · 13 hours ago

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BRUISED HEARTS ✫ jeon jungkook

CONTAINS: boxer!Jungkook x reader, fighting turned bonding, emotional vulnerability, healing together, SOULMATES AU, mention of violence, past trauma, shared pain, fluff & angst, unexpected connection, fighting against fate....

NOTE: thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it!! this work hasn’t been revised, and english isn’t my first language, so please bear with me!!!! your feedback means a lot to me! 😊THIS IS A ONE PART STORY.

my main masterlist! ❀

From the moment you’re born, your soulmate exists somewhere out there—a thread tying two lives together, invisible but unbreakable. Yet, the connection remains asleep until your eighteenth birthday. That’s the moment everything changes.

The moment the clock strikes midnight, your body becomes linked to theirs. Every ache, every wound, every sharp sting of pain—they feel it, and so do you. A scraped knee burns against your skin. A broken bone sends you crumbling under the same pain.

It’s an unspoken law of the universe: soulmates share pain, but bleeding wounds always belong to the one who truly endured them.

For some, it’s proof of an unshakable bond, a guiding force leading them to their other half. For others, it’s a cruel twist of fate—linkedto a stranger’s suffering with no way to stop it.

And for you? It starts with a split lip the day after turning eighteen, stealing the breath from your lungs.

A sharp sting on your lip, the dull ache blooming across your face. You scramble out of bed, stumbling to the mirror, fingertips ghosting over the swollen skin. There’s no explanation. No accident from the night before. No memory of falling. And yet, the pain lingers deep in your bones.

And that’s when it hits you.

Your soulmate is hurt. And you have no idea who they are.

That was a year ago.

At first, the pain was relentless. It happened again two nights later—an ache in your ribs, enough to make you suffer with every breath. Then a bruise on your knuckles a week after that. It was slow at first, little reminders that somewhere, someone was fighting battles you couldn’t see.

You tried not to think about it too much. Tried to convince yourself it wasn’t your problem. But then the injuries worsened.

One morning, you woke up with bruises scattered across your face, purple and aching. Your mother screamed when she saw you.

"What happened to you?" she demanded, rushing over with wide, frantic eyes. You blinked at her, still groggy from sleep.

"I—I don’t know."

"Don’t lie to me!" Her voice cracked as she cupped your face, fingers trembling. "Who did this to you? Did someone—did someone hurt you?"

Tears burned at the back of your throat. "No one hurt me, Mom. I swear. It just… happened."

"That’s not possible," she whispered, her hands falling to her sides. "This isn’t normal."

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. "It’s the soulmate bond."

Your mother exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Oh, sweetheart..." She pulled you into a hug, holding you tighter than she ever had before. "You need to start covering them. People will ask questions."

So you did.

From that day forward, you mastered the art of makeup. Layers of it over bruises, carefully chosen clothes to hide what foundation couldn’t. Some days, the pain was just a dull ache. Other days, it felt like your body was breaking under the weight of wounds you couldn’t see.

You had to.

Now, the pain is back. It comes in waves, occasional bruises appearing on your skin like echoes of a fight happening miles away. You thought it was over, that maybe your soulmate had finally found peace.

But the fresh aches tell you otherwise.

Jungkook’s life has always been a battlefield.

He grew up fighting, not just in the ring, but for survival. There was no softness in his world—no warm hugs, no soothing words, no gentle hands to catch him when he fell. His parents were there in surname only, too preoccupied with their own lives to notice the boy slipping through the cracks.

So he learned early: no one was coming to save him.

Pain was temporary. Weakness was unacceptable. And anger? Anger was the only thing that was his.

He was fifteen the first time he stumbled into an underground fight. It happened by accident—one of the older kids at school had mentioned a place, a ring hidden near a park on the outskirts of the city. No rules, no questions, just fists and money exchanged under flickering lights.

Jungkook hadn’t gone looking for a fight that night. But when he saw it—the raw brutality, the way blood stained the concrete floor, the way the crowd roared with every brutal hit—something inside him clicked.

For the first time, he felt something real.

The next time he went... he wasn’t just a spectator. Now, years later, fighting is the only thing that keeps him steady.

“Why do you keep doing this?” his coach, Seokjin, asks one evening after a particularly brutal match. Jungkook sits on the locker room bench, wrapping his bruised knuckles with practiced ease. His jaw is swollen, a cut on his cheekbone still fresh, but he barely flinches.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at his hands, flexing his fingers. “Because I need to.”

Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not an answer. You have talent, Jungkook. Real talent. You could go pro. Make something of this. But instead, you’re out there throwing punches in illegal rings for what? Money? Bragging rights?”

Jungkook lets out a humorless laugh. “It’s not about money.”

“Then what is it about?” Seokjin presses, voice softer now. “Why do you need to fight like this?”

For a moment, Jungkook hesitates. Then he exhales, leaning back against the wall. “Because if I stop, I have to feel everything else.”

Seokjin doesn’t push him after that.

Two years ago, Jungkook turned eighteen, expecting something—anything. But no pain came. No sudden ache, no phantom injuries. Nothing. At first, he waited, convinced that maybe his soulmate just hadn’t been hurt yet. But days turned into weeks, then months, and still, he felt nothing.

Soulmates were supposed to share pain. If he felt nothing, then maybe soulmates weren’t real. Maybe he was alone in this world.

One night, during a rare outing with his friends, the topic comes up. They're sitting at a bar, laughter mixing with the low hum of music. Taehyung leans back in his seat, tipping his drink toward Jungkook with a knowing smirk.

"Still no sign of a soulmate?" he asks.

Jungkook scoffs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You know the answer."

Jimin, ever the romantic, frowns. "That’s... kind of sad, man. Doesn’t it bother you?"

"Not really," Jungkook lies, taking a slow sip. "Means I don’t have to worry about someone else’s pain."

Taehyung hums. "Or maybe it means they don’t exist at all."

Jimin shakes his head. "That’s not how it works. Everyone has a soulmate, Jungkook. You probably just haven’t—"

"I don’t believe in that crap," Jungkook cuts in, sharper than intended. "If I had one, I’d feel something. Anything. But I don’t."

The table falls silent for a moment. Then Taehyung raises his glass in a mock toast. "Well, soulmate or not, at least you can still drink with us."

Jungkook clinks his glass against Taehyung’s, forcing a smirk. But deep down, something unsettles him. A quiet thought he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

If soulmates are real, why hasn’t he felt anything?

The underground fights are ruthless. There are no rules, no referees to step in when things get too rough. It’s just fists, blood, and the roar of a crowd hungry for violence.

Jungkook thrives in it.

Tonight, he moves like a predator in the ring—sharp reflexes, calculated brutality. Every punch he throws is precise, every hit he takes with gritted teeth and unwavering focus. He’s fast and relentless. He doesn’t just fight to win, he fights to feel something. To punish himself for things he won’t say out loud.

And somewhere, you feel every single one.

Your body jerks awake with a sharp gasp, searing pain tearing through your ribs. Your vision swims, the force of a punch nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. You clutch your side, fingers pressing against skin that remains unbroken but throbs as if bruised to the bone.

You barely make it to the bathroom, bracing yourself against the counter as your legs tremble beneath you. Another hit lands, this time to the jaw, and your head snaps to the side as if an invisible fist just struck you. A choked whimper escapes your lips, swallowed by the silence of your empty apartment.

Whoever your soulmate is, they are fighting for their life.

And losing.

The next morning you tend to your aching body, carefully putting ointment over bruises that aren’t really yours. The motions are familiar, practiced. Once done, you take your dog for a walk, hoping the fresh air will clear your mind.

But the moment you get to the park, he takes off.

“Wait—Soo!” you call, but he doesn’t stop. He runs between trees, disappearing into the distance. Panic rises in your chest as you chase after him, heart pounding.

You finally catch sight of him slipping through a half-open door of an old shed. A strange chill creeps up your spine.

You hesitate before stepping inside, your voice trembling as you call, “Soo?”

The dim light reveals punching bags, weights, and a massive ring in the center of the room. The scent of sweat and metal lingers in the air. A gym—hidden, secure.

And then, a sound. A faint, almost imperceptible.

Your heart jumps. You whip around, breath shallow, eyes scanning the room. The space seems unnervingly still, the only movement coming from the dim, buzzing fluorescent lights above. But there’s nothing else. Nothing... until another sound. This one louder.

A figure steps from the shadows, taller than you expected, broad shoulders cutting through the low light like a figure from a dream. The knot in your stomach tightens, but you can’t look away.

You know who it is.

Your heart races, but not from fear—no, it's something else, something far more primal. It’s like your body recognizes him before your mind has a chance to make sense of it. A fleeting sensation of familiarity, as though you've seen him before… in a dream, or maybe in another lifetime.

His eyes catch yours—intense, almost possessive—like he’s been waiting for you too. His lips part, but he doesn't speak. His presence feels like a weight in the room, pulling the space around you taut, making everything feel infinitely closer. You swallow hard, a lump in your throat, unable to find the words, but a strange tug at the back of your mind tells you he knows you.

But how? Why does it feel like this moment was always meant to happen?

He steps closer, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick air in the room. There’s a quiet intensity to his movements, as if he's waiting for something, calculating your reaction. Your breath quickens as your pulse races in your ears, the distance between you shrinking.

"Soo?" you ask again, your voice trembling, unsure whether it's out of fear or something else entirely. You can’t quite place it, but something inside you stirs, a flutter deep in your chest, as though you’ve been waiting for him all along.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze holds yours, unreadable, before a small, knowing grin tugs at his lips. His silence speaks volumes. There’s something in the air, a strange recognition, an unspoken connection. It feels inevitable, even if neither of you understands it.

Jungkook stands frozen, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, and something deeper—a recognition he can’t shake. He’s drawn to you, inexplicably, even though every instinct tells him to stay back.

Jungkook thinks this can’t be real.

His mind spins with a whirlwind of confusion and something deeper, a recognition he can't shake. He’s always been cautious. Always kept his walls high. After all, the world had taught him that letting anyone in just leads to pain. But here you are, standing in front of him, and there’s a familiarity in your eyes—something that speaks to him on a level he can’t even begin to understand.

Why now? Who are you?, he thinks.

His eyes follow your every movement. Every part of him wants to know you, to understand why everything about you feels so... right. But the voice in his head urges him to retreat, to protect himself from whatever this connection might bring. He can’t afford to trust anyone again—not after everything he’s lost.

But the pull is too strong.

All of a sudden, a high-pitched bark echoes through the gym, breaking the tension in the air. The sound is so unexpected, so out of place in the heavy silence, that it startles both Jungkook and you.

Jungkook jumps, muscles tensing, eyes wide. The bark throws him off balance, and in his haste to step back, he bumps into something hard. The sound of metal crashing to the ground sends a jolt of adrenaline through him.

He stumbles, trying to regain his footing, but as he does, his shoulder brushes against yours. The unexpected contact makes both of you freeze.

A sudden wave of warmth rushes through you, more intense than any shock you’ve ever felt. It’s like a spark, an undeniable connection surging between the two of you.

You flinch, your breath catching in your throat.

"Auch..." you mutter under your breath, the word slipping out instinctively, and just like that, something shifts in the air. It’s subtle, but you feel it. The pull between you and Jungkook intensifies, and for the first time, the weight of the moment settles around you, overwhelming, undeniable.

Jungkook stands still, eyes wide as he processes the surge of emotion, the inexplicable bond between you. His breath falters for a moment, the realization dawning on him.

This is what it feels like.

You and Jungkook stand there, breathless, a shared understanding passing between you. Neither of you needs to speak because you both know.

You’re soulmates.

“Soo?”

That fluffy little dog. The one that had barked, causing the sudden, chaotic moment between you and Jungkook. The dog now stands quietly at your feet, as if it, too, understands the truth, playing its part in this strange, inevitable moment.

Jungkook looks between you and your dog, his confusion turning into something deeper. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes narrow, taking in the shift in your expression. Something clicks in his mind, a strange understanding flashing in his gaze.

His gaze flickers down to the dog again, and then back to you—realizing something that had been hidden in plain sight all along.

You take a deep breath, and the words rush out before you can stop them.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice soft but filled with genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to intrude.” Your gaze flickers down to the dog at your feet, still looking up at you with that familiar, innocent expression. “I was just looking for Soo.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He looks at you, his eyes softening, taking in your apology. Then, after a long moment, he steps a little closer, the distance between you still feeling palpable.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says, his voice low but firm, like he’s already decided what he’s going to say. “But don’t get this twisted. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

His words hit you like a slap. For a moment, you’re stunned into silence. You can’t breathe. You thought the connection between you was undeniable, but now, it feels like he’s put up an unscalable wall between you.

“I don’t want this… whatever this is. I don’t need anyone to complete me, and I sure as hell don’t need you or anyone else to make sense of things.”

You open your mouth, but no words come. How do you fight against a rejection like that?

Jungkook turns away, the finality in his movement clear—this conversation is over. He doesn’t look back. The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating, leaving you standing in the aftermath of a connection that never had the chance to bloom.

Jungkook leans back against the cool metal of the bar, the bottle of beer in his hand nearly empty. His friends are scattered around him, the night still young, but the mood feels different tonight. The conversation from earlier keeps replaying in his mind, echoing in his thoughts.

“SO YOU REJECTED HER?” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and teasing, his eyebrow arched as he takes another long sip from his bottle.

The others look between them, all clearly waiting for Jungkook's response. There’s a lightness in the air, but it feels forced, like they can’t tell if this is some sort of joke or if Jungkook is dead serious.

“I didn’t reject her,” Jungkook mutters finally, his voice rough, as if the words don’t sit well in his mouth. "I just told her the truth. She was… looking for something I don’t want."

Jimin leans forward, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “So, Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want a soulmate?” He shakes his head, laughing lightly. “That’s rich, man.”

Jungkook’s eyes flash with irritation, and for a moment, the teasing vibe shifts. It’s not fun anymore. Something darker flickers in his gaze, something that says he’s not in the mood for jokes.

“I never asked for this,” Jungkook snaps, his tone harsher than he meant. “I’m not looking for someone to complete me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve been a little gentler with it,” Namjoon adds, his voice calm but firm. “You’re not the only one with baggage, you know. But she... she didn’t deserve that cold of a response.”

“Did she do something?” Taehyung asks, his tone softer now, more thoughtful. “Remember the ring. When you’re boxing... she feels it.”

“Stop,” Jungkook mutters, the frustration and guilt creeping into his voice. He doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to deal with it. His jaw tightens, and a frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“She can’t handle me,” he finally says, his voice low, almost like a confession. “No one can handle all of this. I’m not gonna drag her into my mess.”

“She's already in it, man,” Taehyung shoots back, his words cutting through the tension. “You don’t get to decide that for her. She’s already shown she’s not backing away. She’s in this whether you want her to be or not.”

Jungkook falls silent, the weight of his friends' words sinking into him like a stone. He doesn’t know how to respond. The truth stings, but it also feels impossible to ignore.

A few weeks had passed since the encounter, and the tension still lingered in the air. It wasn’t easy to shake off, and you decided it was best to avoid him and that gym altogether. The thought of crossing paths again felt unbearable, especially when everything remained so raw, unresolved.

So, you made a conscious decision to stop walking past the gym—you started taking a different route home after university, deliberately steering as far away from the gym as possible.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had thrown himself into training. The big fight was approaching, the culmination of months of grueling preparation, and he needed to be at his best. But no matter how hard he trained, no matter how many rounds he sparred or how relentlessly he hit the punching bag, his mind kept drifting back to you.

He tried to concentrate on the fight, but all he could think about was the last and the first time he saw you—the pain in your eyes, the way he had pushed you away when he should’ve reached for you.

The night of the fight finally arrived, and the gym was buzzing with energy. The crowd outside had already begun to gather, their anticipation filling the air.

In the locker room, Jungkook stood, sweat dripping from his body as he tightened his gloves. His coach gave him one last pep talk, but Jungkook wasn’t really listening. His thoughts kept wandering back to you—wondering if you were still thinking about him, wondering where you were.

The bell rang, and the fight began.

Sitting on your couch you felt an odd pull deep in your chest, a force was gently tugging at you, calling you back to the gym. You tried to ignore it, to push it aside, but the feeling only grew stronger. Something inside you told you to go to the gym, so, against your better judgment, you followed that pull.

When you arrived, the crowd was already thick with excitement. The atmosphere was electric. You pushed through the sea of bodies, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. And then, you saw him.

Jungkook in the ring. He was a force of nature—each punch landing with precision, his body flowing like a dancer, but there was a raw intensity in his movements. He wasn’t just fighting his opponent; it was as though he was fighting everything inside him—the hurt, the frustration, the things he’d been trying to bury.

And then, it hit.

The pain. Sudden and sharp, like a knife piercing your chest. You stumbled back, clutching your stomach as the world spun around you. The pressure in your chest was unbearable, each breath harder to take than the last. You wanted to ignore it, push through it, but the pain only worsened.

You gasped for air, your body trembling, and with each punch Jungkook landed in the ring, the agony seemed to ripple through you. You pressed your hand to your stomach, trying to steady yourself, but the pain wouldn’t stop. You accidentally trip over a rock and fall to the ground, hurting your ankle.

And that’s when he felt it, a particular pain in his ankle.

Jungkook’s head snapped to the side, as though something had reached him through the chaos. He searched the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the sea of people, until it landed on you. His heart skipped a beat. There you were, clutching your chest on the floor, barely able to stand. His world tilted.

Ignoring the shouts from his coach and the crowd—he leaped out of the ring, pushing through the crowd as though nothing else mattered. His pulse hammered in his ears, and all he could think about was getting to you.

The crowd around you parted as Jungkook pushed through. You felt him before you saw him, his presence like a magnet pulling you toward him. His hand steadied you, his touch warm and strong as you struggled to stay conscious.

You looked up just as he reached you, kneeling in front of you, his hands hovering around you as if he wasn’t sure what to do. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with panic, and something inside him snapped.

“I knew you were here,” he breathed, his voice rough. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“I…” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, the pain still gripping you. Somehow, being near him made it feel a little less suffocating.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his voice shaking with urgency. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

You couldn’t find the words. The pain still gnawed at you, relentless and all-consuming. You trembled, barely able to stay on your feet, your knees buckling.

“Hold on,” he whispered, his voice tight with panic as he scooped you into his arms. “I’ve got you.”

The crowd murmured, but it was a blur. All you could focus on was Jungkook’s heartbeat, thudding in his chest as he rushed you toward the back exit. His touch was gentle, yet desperate—his focus solely on you.

Once outside, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the door and called out to the driver, his voice strained with worry. “Get in the car,” he ordered. “We’re going to my place.”

You wanted to say something, to assure him that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The pain still gripped you, leaving you numb.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Jungkook murmured, glancing over at you before turning his attention back to the road. “I’ll take care of you. We’ll figure this out.”

When you arrived at his place, he didn’t let go of you. He helped you inside, his hands gentle as he guided you to the couch. His eyes never left you as he checked your pulse, your temperature, doing everything he could to make sure you were okay.

“I’m here,” he whispered, sitting beside you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His words were the only comfort you could feel as the pain started to slowly subside, bit by bit. You didn’t know how long you would stay here, or what would happen next, but there was one thing you were certain of: he wasn’t going anywhere.

The bathroom was small, the smell of antiseptic filling the air, the light flickering overhead. Jungkook stood at the sink, his shirt off, revealing the bruises and cuts from the fight. His movements were sharp, purposeful as he cleaned the cuts on his arms, his jaw clenched against the sting.

You sat on the edge of the tub, your body still sore from the pain that had brought you here. Jungkook had insisted on helping you, leading you to the bathroom, tending to your bruises with a professionalism that made it clear he was used to this kind of care.

You winced as he applied pressure to the bruise on your side. His touch was gentle but distant, his expression unreadable. The quiet movements filled the air, but there was an unspoken tension between you.

You didn’t know what to say, or how to bridge the gap between you. This wasn’t how you imagined the night would go—here you were, two people in silence, tending to each other’s wounds. You remembered how he had carried you, how you’d felt his worry despite the coldness he tried to show.

You said your name softly, breaking the silence. “Sorry for all this… for everything. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

“Jungkook,” he replied shortly, his voice clipped, almost dismissive. “It’s fine. Just… be careful next time.”

You nodded, feeling the sting of his coldness, but understanding. He was protecting himself. The sharpness in his tone hit harder than you expected.

“I should probably go,” you murmured, standing up slowly, mindful of the pain. “You’ve done enough. I—”

Before you could finish, his voice stopped you.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, his tone softer now but still holding that edge of distance. “It’s late. You shouldn’t be out alone.”

You didn’t argue. You couldn’t. You just nodded as he grabbed his jacket and slid it on, movements slow and deliberate. You left the bathroom in silence, walking to the car without another word.

When he pulled up outside your apartment, you hesitated. You didn’t want to make things awkward, but you felt the need to say something.

“Thanks for… helping me tonight,” you said quietly. “I didn’t expect any of this, but… I appreciate it.”

Jungkook didn’t look at you. His eyes remained fixed on the rearview mirror as he nodded. “Get some rest. Stay safe.”

You gave him a small nod, feeling the weight of his words. You hadn’t expected more, but still, something in the air felt unfinished. A moment of hesitation passed before you reached over, picking it up slowly. Jungkook’s eyes flickered to you, his face hardening immediately.

"I should probably have your number, just in case something like this happens again," you said, trying to make it sound casual, though you felt your heart racing. You didn’t want to push him, but you also didn’t want to leave things hanging.

He didn’t immediately respond, and you could feel the conflict inside him. He was clearly reluctant. But after a long pause, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before nodding curtly. "Fine," he muttered, a mix of frustration and resignation in his tone. "But don’t expect much from me."

You held his gaze for a beat, then typed in your contact information. As you handed the phone back to him, you caught a glimpse of the hesitation in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, just took it from you without looking at your face. His fingers gripped the device a little too tightly, as if holding on to something he didn’t want to let go of.

"Good night," you said softly, opening the door.

"Yeah," Jungkook’s voice was quieter than before, and for a brief second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. "Get some rest."

You closed the door behind you and stood for a moment on the sidewalk, watching his car pull away. The night felt unusually quiet, almost too still, and as you walked to the entrance of your apartment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

He shook his head, trying to silence the thoughts. He knew he wasn’t supposed to care. He had made that decision a long time ago—no soulmates, no attachments.

But as he drove away, the uncertainty waved at him.

The next morning you sat on the edge of your bed, your phone pressed to your ear as you spoke with your mother. The concern in her voice was unmistakable, but you tried to keep the conversation light, not wanting to worry her too much.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, the words heavy with worry. “I saw the bruises on your arm when we last talked. Have you been getting enough rest? Are you eating?”

You glanced down at the fading bruises on your wrist, the reminder of the hectic few days that had passed. You hadn't told her about Jungkook yet—didn't want to add fuel to the fire of her concern. She’d only worry more if she knew about him.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you said, forcing your voice to sound reassuring. “I’m just a little clumsy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Her sigh on the other end of the line was audible, but she didn’t press further. “Alright. Just take care of yourself, okay? And if you ever need me—”

“I know, Mom. I will. Love you,” you interrupted, hoping to end the conversation before she could say anything more. You needed the distraction, the escape, from everything that was weighing you down.

“Love you too,” she replied, and you could hear the concern still lingering in her tone before she hung up.

Soo followed you, tail wagging, oblivious to the storm of thoughts that were swirling in your head. You smiled weakly at the sight of him, kneeling down to pet him before you prepared to leave. “I’ll be back soon, Soo. Be good while I’m gone,” you murmured, trying to shake off the weight of the night.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. As you reached for the door to leave for your uni classes, a notification caught your eye. . You checked the screen, your stomach tightening as you saw the name that popped up.

Jungkook.

i don’t know how to make this easier for you, just stay safe

don’t get too close to me

It was cold, but there was something deeper in it, something that pulled at you despite the detachment. His words were sharp, but the underlying care was unmistakable, even if he couldn’t bring himself to show it fully.

You bit your lip, a mix of emotions washing over you. He wanted to protect you, but at the same time, he was pushing you away, keeping you at a distance. It was always the same—Jungkook’s confusion, his walls, his inability to be vulnerable.

There was no easy answer, no simple way to make sense of him, of what you were supposed to do with all of this. You ran your fingers over the edge of your desk, then typed a short reply.

i’ll be careful, but don’t push me away!!

i won’t disappear :)

You hesitated, staring at the screen for a moment, then sent it. What were you even expecting in return?

With a new sense of energy and warmth you turned to leave, Soo’s wagging tail following you out the door. As you stepped into the cool morning air, a sense of possibility filled you. Whatever this was between you and Jungkook, whatever he was trying to say, you felt a spark of hope that it wasn’t over.

The gym was nearly silent, save for the rhythmic hum of the overhead lights and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath Jungkook’s heavy steps. His fists were clenched, shoulders rigid with frustration as he stormed inside. The sting of his loss still burned in his chest, but the anger coursing through him had nothing to do with the fight itself.

Seokjin was already there, arms crossed, watching him with the kind of knowing gaze that made Jungkook’s skin itch. He didn’t need a lecture right now. He needed to hit something, to drown out the mess in his head with exhaustion.

"You lost," Seokjin said, his voice even but edged with something firm, something disappointed. "You weren’t focused. You let your emotions get in the way. You let her get in the way."

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His pulse roared in his ears at the mention of you.

"I told you I don’t need anyone’s help," he bit out, his voice rough with frustration. "I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what to do. I’m fine on my own."

Seokjin let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. "It’s not about needing help, Jungkook. It’s about what you’re doing to yourself. You’re pushing everything away—everyone away. And for what?"

Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. He hated this. Hated feeling like his insides were unraveling. Like no matter how fast he ran, the past—the pain—was always a step behind, waiting to sink its claws into him.

"You don’t get it," he muttered, shaking his head. "You don’t know what it’s like to feel like everything’s slipping through your fingers, no matter what you do."

"Then stop running," Seokjin snapped, stepping forward. "Face it. Face her. Face yourself. Because this? What you’re doing now? It’s not working."

The words hit harder than any punch Jungkook had taken in the ring. His breathing stuttered, his vision blurring at the edges as something sharp lodged itself in his throat. He turned away before Seokjin could see the cracks forming.

"I’m done," he muttered, voice tight. "I don’t need this."

"Jungkook—"

But he was already moving, shoving open the door and stepping out into the cold night air. His pulse pounded in his ears, hands still curled into fists at his sides. He didn’t know where he was going.

All he knew was that if he stayed, if he let himself feel any more than he already did—he wouldn’t be able to stop. And that terrified him more than anything.

You had just finished your last class of the day, your mind still tangled in the mess of notes and half-understood lectures. The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but it wasn’t just from studying—it was from everything. From the lingering thoughts of Jungkook, from the conversation with your mother, from the way your chest felt too tight lately.

And then you saw him.

Jungkook was walking down the street, head down, shoulders tense, his whole presence brimming with frustration. His eyes—dark and stormy—barely flickered as people passed him, lost in whatever war was raging inside him. But beneath the anger, beneath the cold detachment, you saw it.

Something broken.

He didn’t notice you at first, his mind too consumed by his own turmoil. But as you caught up with him, you called out his name softly, trying not to startle him.

"Jungkook?" Your voice was gentle, but it broke through the fog in his mind. He turned sharply, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and sadness.

"What do you want?" His voice was harsh, sharp, like he was ready to lash out. "I’m not in the mood for any of this."

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t back down. Instead, you stepped closer, your tone steady, insistent. "You’re not going anywhere like this. You need to calm down."

"I don’t need your help," Jungkook snapped, his fists tightening at his sides. "Just leave me alone."

His jaw clenched, but before he could argue, you grabbed his wrist—not hard, not forcefully, just enough to ground him. His body was tense, radiating frustration, but he didn’t pull away. Maybe because deep down, he was too exhausted to fight anymore.

You shook your head, not willing to let him push you away. "No, Jungkook. You’re not fine. I’m not letting you do this alone. Come with me."

Before he could argue further, you guided him toward your apartment. You didn’t care about his anger, his desire to fight. You cared about the pain behind it, the way he was falling apart, and you weren’t going to let him suffer in silence.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, thick with unspoken tension. He moved stiffly beside you, every step heavy with something neither of you were ready to name.

Once inside, you guided him to the couch. He sat reluctantly, his eyes still dark with frustration. You disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, returning with two glasses of water. He took his without a word, staring at the liquid like it held answers he’d never find.

"Why do you care?" His voice was quieter now, but the edge was still there. "You don't know me at all."

You sat down next to him, close enough for warmth but not enough to make him retreat. "You’re human, Jungkook. You’re allowed to be angry, to make mistakes. But you don’t have to go through it alone."

Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, doubt, maybe even relief. His fingers curled around the glass, but he didn’t drink. He took a deep breath, as if he was allowing himself to finally feel the weight of everything he had been pushing down.

"I don’t know what to do anymore," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel lost. And it hurts."

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned forward, placing your hand gently on his. The contact was small, but it seemed to ground him, his shoulders slumping just a little as he let the tension leave his body.

"Just be here," you said softly. "Just for tonight. Let yourself feel it. You don’t have to have all the answers."

Jungkook exhaled, his head tilting back as he closed his eyes. It felt like a weight was lifting from him, just a little. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself lean into the moment, let the anger and the frustration subside, replaced by something quieter—something softer.

"Thank you," he whispered, barely audible. "I didn’t think anyone would be here for me like this."

As the silence stretched between you, the weight of the day slowly fading, you glanced at him, feeling a quiet resolve settle in your chest. His shoulders were relaxed now, his eyes softer than you’d seen them before. You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth in your heart spreading through you.

You watched him, your resolve settling. His walls were still up, but there was a crack now, a glimpse of the person beneath all the anger and resistance.

"You're not alone, Jungkook," you said, voice soft but certain. "I’m your soulmate, anyway. No matter how much you fight it, I’m here."

His eyes snapped to yours, something shifting between you in the dim light. It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t an argument. Just the truth—unshakable, undeniable.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. But then, barely there, the corners of his lips twitched, something small, something real.

And for now, that was enough.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

Jungkook was sprawled on your couch, flipping through channels with the kind of bored impatience that made you roll your eyes. His hair was still damp from his shower, a few strands falling into his eyes, but he didn’t bother pushing them back.

You were on the floor, leaning against the coffee table, scrolling through your emails when a notification popped up. Your brows furrowed as you opened the message.

You are invited to the wedding of Kim Namjoon & Seo Yuna…

Your eyes widened. "Jungkook."

"Hm?" He didn’t look away from the TV.

"You got an invitation to Namjoon’s wedding."

That made him pause. He turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Namjoon? Hyung is getting married?"

"Yeah. And it says we’re invited." You lifted your phone, shaking it a little.

Jungkook’s jaw tensed as he sat up properly. "He invited both of us?"

"That’s what we means."

His lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he processed the information, his fingers tapping against his knee.

"You don’t have to come," he said after a beat, voice a little too casual. "It’s not like anyone expects—"

"I want to," you interrupted, tilting your head at him. "Unless you don’t want me to go."

Jungkook hesitated, eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. A few months ago, he would’ve found a way to push you away, to make it seem like he didn’t care. But now, he was different. Softer in ways he didn’t realize.

Finally, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just… a lot. Weddings, relationships—" He stopped himself, then sighed. "But if you want to go, then we’ll go."

You smiled, setting your phone down. "Then it’s settled."

Jungkook shook his head, mumbling something under his breath, but you caught the way his lips twitched, the way his fingers absentmindedly reached for yours as if it was second nature now.

Neither of you said it out loud, but the truth hung between you like a quiet understanding.

This wasn’t just about a wedding. It was about showing up—for each other.

Jungkook had spent months resisting, convincing himself that fate was something he could outrun. That having a soulmate was a burden, not a gift. But somewhere along the way—between the quiet moments where you stood by him without expecting anything in return, between the nights where you saw the parts of him he kept hidden from the world—something shifted.

He stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting you.

It wasn’t sudden, but gradual, like ice melting under the warmth of the sun. He still wasn’t perfect—still stubborn, still rough around the edges—but the walls he’d built weren’t impenetrable anymore.

Now, when you reached for him, he didn’t pull away. When you said his name, he answered without hesitation. And when he looked at you, really looked at you, he didn’t see a mistake.

He saw home.

A few days later, both of you were seated in the venue. It was breathtaking—golden chandeliers casting a soft glow over the polished floors, tables adorned with white roses, and a string quartet playing something elegant in the background.

Jungkook had been fidgeting with the cuffs of his black suit since the moment you arrived, but he looked effortlessly handsome, the dark fabric hugging his frame in all the right places.

"You clean up well," you murmured, adjusting the slightly crooked tie around his neck.

He huffed, feigning annoyance, but you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched. "Yeah, well, you look—" His gaze flickered over you, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Nice."

"Nice?" You raised an eyebrow. "That’s all I get?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it. His fingers ghosted over your wrist before he slipped his hand into yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Fine. You look beautiful. Happy now?"

Before you could tease him, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as Namjoon and Yuna made their grand entrance. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Jungkook straightened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

"Do weddings always feel this… intense?" he muttered, eyeing the scene.

You grinned. "It’s just love, Jungkook. Try not to look so scared."

His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he let you pull him toward your table, where some of his friends were already gathered.

Throughout the night, you caught glimpses of something new in him. The way his shoulders eased when you leaned into him, the way his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on the back of your hand, the way his lips twitched in amusement when you forced him onto the dance floor despite his protests.

And then, somewhere between the speeches and the first dance, he leaned in, his voice quieter, more certain than before.

"I don’t know when it happened," he murmured, eyes locked on yours. "But I stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting us."

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling between you.

Jungkook wasn’t running anymore.

Instead, he was here—standing beside you, hand in yours, finally accepting that maybe, just maybe, fate had been right all along.

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eraserbread · 12 hours ago

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who else is up thinkin about older married!satosugu? because i am.

older married!satosugu have been together for yearssss, heading toward 15 with half of those in marriage.

when suguru and satoru signed their wedding papers all those years ago, they were totally fine with the thought of never sleeping with a woman again. after all, they get everything they need from each other -- including an active and very satisfying sex life.

living abroad, it's easier to exist as a same-sex couple. especially financially. it's one of the reasons they married as a real estate broker and university professor.

only one issue: satoru lectures at your university, but its not where he meets you. it's at a bar that his husband helped sell, that they also own half of -- hear me outttt

the second you offically become theirs, it's like your shoulders became weightless. you stopped paying for rent, could work enough just to pay down your car note, and had endless tutoring access thanks to your boyfriend, satoru . suguru works from home most of the time, which makes it a little too accessible to be around them. they owned a beautiful home in the city, a five minute walk from campus. suguru's kitchen is magnificent and always stocked. they just can't keep you away.

the best part is, undoubtedly, the sex. i mean -- they know how to be and talk to each other so well, but their sacred, mutual mission was always you in the bedroom.

sometimes suguru would hold you back as satoru fucks you so deep and passionately. he'd kiss over your ear and speak in a tone so sweet you'd dream about it, but is talking to satoru the entire time.

"-fuck, you see the way she's swallowing you up?" suguru's voice trembles out of his throat, fanning gojo like oxygen on flames.

"'s molded exactly to our shapes, baby." satoru hisses, lean muscles in his stomach working as he drags every single inch out of you. it leaves you open and empty, pulling a broken moan from your throat.

satoru looks you directly in the eyes, sliding the side of his hand through your sensitive, puffy folds. in the excessive moisture, you can hear it, and it drives him crazy.

"clenchin' every time we talk." he chuckles so cruelly. "whining to us from both lips, how fucking needy."

#just sum slight #thinkin about expanding this into some oneshots hmm #jjk fanfic #sugusato #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gego #gojo x geto #goge #getou suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x gojo satoru #for the bisexuals <3

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ch33z3grits · 1 day ago

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Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: Camille tries to push away her feelings as she navigates her hesitation surrounding her engagement. Terry lays the foundation for the most important part of his plan so far.

warnings: 18+ mdni, dark romance, manipulation, obsessiveness/possessiveness, stalking, angst, mentions of blood and violence, fluff

word count: 7700

a/n: as promised, posted a day early 🙂‍↕️ (only roughly edited tho lolll) lmk what y'all think of the new POV 👀

Camille’s song: You Right-Doja Cat | Terry’s song: I Luv Your Girl-The Dream

Pt. Four

Camille

Camille woke up feeling refreshed, an undeniable excitement flowing through her. It had been about a two months since she started rotating between Aston and Terry, and the difference in her energy and happiness was stark. And it was all thanks to Terry, the man who made every week vibrant for her. He had a way of making each day feel full of purpose—whether it was high-energy and spontaneous, or laid-back and easygoing. He knew how to balance it all, and Camille found herself eagerly anticipating whatever he had in store next. One day, he was patiently showing her how to swing a golf club as they entertained his clients at Top Golf. The next, they were hunched over case files, dissecting old archives over a quiet lunch. He had a way of seamlessly blending work and play, of making everything feel interesting and engaging.

On other days, he would take her to community events, like mentoring young Black men eager to get into law. Or they would spend hours tracking down secondary sources to support a particularly tricky case. With Terry, even the most mundane tasks became something she looked forward to.

And with each passing rotation, Camille could feel herself slipping further into the pull of her crush on him, which she still refused to fully acknowledge. It wasn’t just his gorgeous face, his sharp intellect, or his easy confidence that captivated her. It was the way he made her feel valued and understood. She felt safe in his presence. And, there was an almost cherished feeling that washed over her when he looked at her, as if she were more than just a colleague to him.

Now, of course, she knew that wasn’t the case. He had plenty of people fawning over him in the office. Especially Stephanie, who hovered around him, doing whatever she could for his attention. Stephanie’s beauty and sex appeal was unmatched in the office. So Camille knew that she didn’t stand a chance. Besides, she couldn’t be with Terry anyway. She needed to finally get her father’s acceptance and protect her family’s financial security. A one-sided crush couldn’t get in the way of that.

The best part of finally feeling rested was that Camille had the energy to dive back into the things she truly loved. The first thing on her list was the early morning yoga sessions led by her best friend, Kali, every Saturday. The classes were always a space where they could reconnect.

Camille and Kali had met during their freshman year at a Black Student Union meeting. They quickly became inseparable, their bond growing stronger with every shared experience, every late-night conversation, and every laugh that made their sides ache.

When Camille moved to Houston three years ago, she was gripped by a crushing homesickness that left her feeling isolated and making friends seemed impossible. It didn’t help that her job at the time was draining her spirit. Each day felt like a struggle to just get through.

She poured her heart out to Kali about how difficult it had been to adjust. Without hesitation, Kali packed up her life and moved to Houston a month later. When Kali’s father, who raised her by himself, passed away the following summer after a battle with lung cancer, Camille became Kali’s rock. She stayed at her apartment for weeks, helping her with chores, managing her commitments, and comforting her through the grief overall.

Through all the highs and lows of their twenties, they had always been there for each other, whether it was celebrating achievements or pulling each other out of the darkest moments. But as time passed, life got busier. Camille’s career demands intensified, and the frequency of their interactions dwindled. Weekends that used to be filled with laughter and long talks now felt like rare treasures.

So, Camille had been counting down the days to this Saturday, eagerly anticipating the chance to spend time with her best friend again. It had been too long, and she was ready to pick up where they left off, to feel that comforting sense of sisterhood again.

Camille got to the studio right at 7 AM, jumping into Kali’s arms as soon as they saw each other. “Bitch, I’ve missed you soooo much,” Kali shouted as Camille pulled away. “We have so much to catch up on. Especially whatever this tea is you could only tell me in person.”

Camille hadn’t yet told her, or anyone for that matter, about Terry working at her firm and the feelings it brought about for her. It was the kind of thing that she was too afraid to discuss over the phone, just in case Aston was in earshot. Since they hadn’t seen each other since Chloe’s wedding, she had nearly three months of stuff to tell her about.

She buzzed with anticipation as the class came to a close. As she wrapped up her yoga mat, Kali waved bye to her last client before turning back to Camille. They squealed, hugging each other once more.

“Cammie, I’m just so happy to see you! It’s about fucking time that Aston gave you a damn break,” Kali scoffed. Camille sighed. Kali had witnessed the entirety of Aston and Camille’s relationship. She was there for her when Camille first found out about him cheating. She was her shoulder to cry on when she went through the heartbreak. When they got back together, she was very vocal about her dislike for him. And she still can’t stand him, even all these years later. It’s gotten to the point that Aston and Kali aren’t allowed to be in the same room, due to Kali throwing a drink on him at Camille’s graduation party. Camille had to beg him not to press charges and Kali had to promise to skip future functions that included him, unless it was their wedding.

But it worked out for Camille in the end. She never had to worry about Aston tagging along to their outings, so she could be as unfiltered as she wanted to be around Kali. No code switching. No tone policing. Just her being herself.

They chatted about minor things as they walked to a nearby coffee shop. They wanted to have their matcha lattes in hand and start their walk in the park before getting into the juiciest updates in their life. Once they got to the park, Kali immediately got down to business.

“Alright, Cam,” Kali said, sipping her drink. “What’s got you glowing?”

Camille smiled shyly. “I kinda have a new boss now. Working with him has been such a relief. I still get cases from Aston, but I don’t work with him as much–”

“Thank. God,” Kali cheered, making Camille playfully roll her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Camille started again. “But that’s kinda the problem. My new boss has been…somewhat of a distraction for me. You remember the guy I danced with at that last club we went to for Chloe’s bachelorette party?”

Kali’s eyes lit up. “That fine ass nigga with the braids? Who looked like he was gonna fuck you in front of everybody?”

Camille’s cheeks heated up. “Yes, him,” she nodded. Kali gave her a look. “What about him?”

Camille sucked in a breath, “He’s my new boss.”

Kali’s jaw dropped, stopping in her tracks. “That man who owned the club? He works with you?!” Camille nodded, biting her lip. Kali slapped a hand over her mouth, bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Omgggg, Camille! I fucking love this for you!” she shouted, prompting other park goers to look their way. Kali calmed down a bit before grabbing Camille’s hand, pulling her close. “Please, Camille. Please tell me you’re fucking him,” Kali whispered excitedly.

Camille's eyes widened with a mix of disbelief and shock. "Kali! Don't say that! I'm in a relationship," she protested, her eyes scanning the park for anyone who might know them.

Kali wasn’t deterred by Camille’s protesting. Instead, a sly grin played on her lips. “Yeah, and I absolutely hate the relationship. But that nigga from the club?! I’d support that ‘til the day I die.”

Camille groaned, her fingers running through her hair. “I really wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” she muttered.

“Too late, I already did," Kali shot back with a shrug, clearly unbothered. “Now tell me more. Are you at least going to try to take him to bed? Has he tried to make a move on you?”

Camille shook her head quickly. “Not at all. He’s been very sweet about the situation. He pulled me aside to tell me he would keep everything between us. He’s been nothing but professional.” She tried to keep her voice even, despite her cheeks warming from Kali’s lewd suggestions.

Kali’s shoulders slumped, a disappointed frown curling on her lips. “So he hasn’t given you any hints? Nothing?!” She raised an eyebrow.

Camille chuckled softly, shaking her head again. “No, Kali. He’s just been a perfect boss. I’ve been working on some of his cases for over a month now, and honestly, it’s been amazing. Everything’s interesting, there’s no pressure, just the best balance.” She smiled, the words coming from a place of genuine satisfaction. Camille’s stomach dropped as an amused, knowing look crossed Kali’s face.

She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with a teasing glint. “And how do you really feel about him, Cam?”

Camille shifted awkwardly, looking down at her hands, and mumbled, “I think… I think I have a crush on him.” She couldn’t help but shrink into herself, afraid of what she had just confessed.

Kali’s laughter rang out loudly. “So there’s still hope! Y’all are gonna fuck, I just know it!”

“Kali–”

“Yeah he’s just frontin’ ‘cause y’all are at work, but that man was all over you at his club. You give him the green light and I’m sure he’ll have you folded like a pretzel in no time.”

“Kali…please. I’m engaged. Can we please respect that?” Camille’s voice trembled slightly, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her cup. Kali rolled her eyes in the dramatic way only she could. “Camille, it’s never too late to back out of that arrangement. I want you happy more than anything. And I don’t know… maybe your new boss is like a wake-up call or something? I mean, a stranger you had so much chemistry with coming into your life again? That could be your way out. Or at least a little opportunity to get back at Aston?” Her eyes searched Camille’s face for a reaction.

Camille’s fingers froze on the cup, her heartbeat thumping in her ears. She stared back at Kali, unsure of how to respond.

Kali’s eyes softened, though her voice still held a firm edge. “I get it, okay? You’ve made a commitment to your family, and I respect that. But an arranged marriage is a big deal, Camille. You have one life. You can’t just walk down the aisle because it’s expected of you.”

The silence between them stretched out as Camille struggled to find her words.

“I’m not saying you should act on whatever you’re feeling, or that it's all about getting back at Aston,” Kali continued, her voice lowering. “But maybe it’s time you started thinking about what you want, and not just what Mr. DeWaterson wants. His world won’t end if you don’t go through with it. And if it does… I don’t give a fuck. You’re my friend, not him.”

After a few beats, Camille spoke, her voice low. “I don’t know if I can just walk away from it, Kali. It’s been planned for so long... My family, his family, everything... I’ve spent years trying to make this work in my head.” She shook her head, her voice cracking slightly. “But when I’m with my boss—his name is Terry by the way—it’s like... I’m able to escape reality and hope for something different. Something more loving, more passionate…,” Her eyes met her friend’s. “But like I said, he’s only been professional. There’s no chance of us getting together. I mean, he’s already sleeping with someone at the office. I can’t–”

“Wait, what?!” Kali nearly choked on her sip of matcha. “He’s that out in the open with it?”

Camille paused, thinking over the interactions he’s seen between Stephanie and Terry. There really wasn’t anything sexual about them. Stephanie definitely liked him and flirted with him all the time. But he just reacted with a cool amusement, nothing that really hinted at something going on outside of that.

“Well…no. I haven’t seen him do anything that hints at that. But Aston said he saw–”

“Fuck him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s probably jealous of him and doesn’t want you to get too comfortable with him,” Kali stated with a definitive nod.

Camille’s heart began to race again. Was Aston just making things up? Was he lying to make sure I keep Terry at arms-length?

“Kali, I don’t think he would do that–”

“Camille? That you?”

The deep, familiar voice called out, washing over Camille like a wave. She froze in place as her mind scrambled to determine where it was coming from.

A tall, muscular figure jogged towards them. Though his face was momentarily obscured by the distance, the deep baritone of his voice, the bronze sheen of his skin, and the way his perfectly sculpted six-pack glistened in the sun made it unmistakably clear. It was Terry.

Camille’s gaze swept over him as he got closer, everything seeming to move in slow motion. Sweat trickled down his torso and his ocean-blue eyes crinkled at the corners. His full lips parted, a flash of white teeth widening with recognition. The sight of it all sent an unexpected flood of heat to Camille’s core.

Terry came to a stop right in front of her and Kali. His presence seemed to fill the space between them, his masculine scent drifting into the air. Camille snapped out of her daze, blinking rapidly.

“Hey, Camille,” he said, licking his lips.

Camille cleared her throat, fighting to regain composure. “Terry,” she managed to say. “How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. How ‘bout you?” Terry’s voice was smooth, his words rolling off his tongue with effortless ease. His eyes traced every curve and line of her figure in a way that made her skin hot. She suddenly felt aware of every inch of her skin, regretting the choice of just biker shorts, a sports bra, and an open hoodie.

She shifted, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “I’m pretty good,” Camille replied, her voice catching slightly, betraying the flutter of nerves she felt.

They stood there, locked in a moment that stretched on too long. Their eyes held each other’s, the air thickening between them with an unspoken charge. The silence grew heavier, each second stretching taut like a wire ready to snap. Just as Camille opened her mouth to speak, the sound of a throat clearing beside her shattered the bubble between them.

Both Camille and Terry’s eyes snapped to Kali, who stood there with a smirk on her lips, clearly amused by the tension in the air. Camille's cheeks burned with embarrassment, but a part of her couldn’t help but feel relieved. The moment had been too electric and she was grateful for the interruption.

"My fault," Terry chuckled, the rich sound of his laugh wrapping around Camile like a blanket. He extended his hand toward Kali. "I’m Terry. You look familiar."

Kali, smirked and took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “I’m Kali! Yeah, I was at that club with Camille that one time,” she said with a playful gaze that flicked to Camille, her lips curling into a bright, teasing smile. Camille felt a chill of dread settle in her stomach. Please don’t embarrass me, she silently pleaded.

Terry’s eyes lit up, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. His grin spread wider. “Oh shit, that’s right! I’m sorry y’all’s night had to end like that," he said, his tone laced with playfulness and a touch of sincere remorse.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Kali replied breezily. "I think something amazing came out of that night. Right, Camille?" She glanced at Camille, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Terry’s attention shifted back to Camille, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, word?" he chuckled. "You’ll have to tell me about that." His eyes locked with hers, making her gulp.

Kali continued with a sly grin. "Are you visiting from New Orleans?"

Terry shook his head with a light chuckle. "Nah, I only check on that place sometimes. But I don’t live in New Orleans. I work here now, with Camille."

Kali’s smile broadened. “Really?! What a lovely coincidence—”

“Right,” Camille quickly interrupted, her voice almost too sharp. “It’s just crazy how small the world is.” She shot Kali a glance, her eyes filled with an unspoken warning. Kali merely smirked, unfazed by the stare. “But don’t let us hold you up from your run,” Camille added, eager to wrap up the conversation that she knew her friend would take too far.

“Nah, y’all not holding me up,” Terry said with a relaxed shrug. "But I’ll let y’all get back to y’all’s girl talk. It was nice meeting you, Kali." He flashed them both a grin before turning, jogging past them to continue on the trail.

Both Camille and Kali stood in silence for a moment, their eyes following his retreating form. Kali was the first to break the stillness, her teasing smile returning in full force as she glanced sideways at Camille. “That little moment y’all had? Oooo, bitch! I thought he was about to turn you every way but loose.” She let out a mock swoon, dramatically fanning herself.

“Kaliiii,” Camille whined as she resumed her walk, trying to brush off the flurry of emotions that had hit her all at once. Kali, unrelenting, fell into step beside her.

“Did you see how he looked at you?” Kali’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone. "Girl, he would devour you if you let him." "Ughh, not this again," Camille groaned, her mind spinning. But, was he looking at me like that? Or was Kali just being funny? She couldn’t quite shake the image of his gaze locked on hers, how it had made her feel exposed, yet... alive.

"Okay, okay, I’ll give it a rest," Kali sighed dramatically, making a show of looking away. But her smile didn’t fade. “But... I think you should try to entertain Mr. Terry. Who knows? The universe might be giving you an out from becoming Mrs. McCoy.”

They continued their walk, abandoning any discussion of Terry for other updates in their life. But in the back of her mind, Kali’s suggestion echoed. Was Terry’s sudden reappearance a sign? A chance at real love? Her mind kept circling back to Terry, the way he’d looked at her, the tension between them. Was she making a mistake, choosing to put her family’s expectations and her fiancé’s needs above her own desires? Her chest tightened with uncertainty, the thought of her impending wedding now feeling more like a weight she wasn’t sure she could bear.

Terry

Terry sat in the parking deck of Watkins & Glen, patiently waiting for the arrival of a particular colleague. Terry knew if he came to the office at the early hour of 6 AM on a Monday, only two people would be there: him and Aston. Terry couldn’t believe he showed up at that time every day. No wonder he wasn’t moving up the ladder. His ass-kissing was too obvious.

To keep his mind occupied, Terry thought about how getting closer to Camille these past two months had been absolute bliss. Each moment alone with her was intoxicating, as though it was just the two of them, suspended in their own little universe. She captivated him so effortlessly. Her curiosity, the way she dove into everything with passion, it was all alluring. He found himself lost in the grace with which she moved, always so composed and beautiful, yet there was an unspoken vulnerability that made her even more magnetic.

Her shyness had slowly dissolved, giving way to a new, playful side of her, one that seemed to emerge more and more as they spent time together. It was in the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, in the subtle teasing that had become a part of their easy rhythm. Every time Camille smiled at him, his heart stumbled, driving him further into his obsession.

And Camille, she was falling for him too. He knew it by the way her breath would catch when he was close. Sometimes, when she thought he wasn’t looking, he would catch her staring at him, her eyes soft with affection. And her voice—oh, her voice. It took on that sweet, innocent tone when she spoke to him, like she couldn’t help but let the warmth slip through.

But beyond all of that, what made his heart swell the most was the happiness that seemed to radiate from her more and more each time they were together. He had become her quiet gardener, nurturing her little by little, seeing her blossom with every passing rotation. A flower he was allowed to water, watching her unfold more beautifully with each moment they shared. And for Terry, that was everything.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he caught a glimpse of a familiar Porsche Cayenne rounding the corner of the deck. It reversed into a spot right next to the elevators. Terry’s jaw clenched as he saw Aston open the door of the car.

He had often thought about just killing him to speed up his plan. Tear out his throat or rip out his lungs. Let dogs feast on his remains. It would save Terry a lot of time and energy. But he had no idea how Camille would react to Aston’s death. Terry didn’t think she loved Aston. At least…not in that way. But he couldn’t risk her slipping into a depressive episode. Especially if he wouldn’t be able to properly comfort her. So he refrained from causing him any physical harm. But, Terry was more than willing to cause psychological harm.

He got out of the car, shutting the door softly so Aston wouldn’t notice him yet. He quickly approached the elevator, Aston’s back still turned. Quietly, he peered over his shoulder as Aston looked at his phone. He was already checking betting apps. Terry smirked.

“Morning,” he spoke. Aston’s body jerked, turning to face him with wide eyes. Genuine surprise flickered across his face before quickly being replaced by that fake ass smile he always pulled. “Terry, morning…I didn’t even hear you.” The elevator softly dinged and Terry smoothly stepped past him, making his way inside. “Yeah your head was pretty stuck in your phone so I’m not surprised,” Terry returned, barely containing the smugness in his voice. He didn’t miss how Aston’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly with irritation. God I just want to knock his fucking head off, Terry thought as the elevator doors closed. “I get it though! I used to be on the apps all the time.”

Aston blinked, confused and a tad bit embarrassed as he looked at Terry. “What do you mean?” Terry just smiled and gestured to his phone. “The betting apps. I used to be on those all the time. But now…” Terry paused, letting the silence stretch to add to Aston’s anticipation. “Now, I prefer the stuff that gets you real money.” Aston tapped his finger lightly against his phone, trying to interpret what he was saying. Terry could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Well, the parlays I’ve hit are pretty huge,” Aston stated arrogantly. Terry nearly rolled his eyes. But instead he just shook his head with a chuckle. “Nah, man. I’m not talking about the $2000 here, $6000 there. I’m talking about the shit that could be a down payment for a house.”

Aston laughed in disbelief, “What kind of stuff gets you that kind of money?” Got him, Terry thought, fighting a smirk. “Between you and me,” he lowered his voice, leaning in just enough to make Aston feel like he was getting an exclusive secret. “I host some underground poker shit on the side.” Terry watched his eyes widen, his mouth opening subtly. “Woah…really? Terry, you just don’t seem like that kind of guy.” Terry shrugged nonchalantly. “That makes it even easier for me.” Terry took a few steps back to lean against the elevator's walls. “But, you should see some of the stuff I’ve walked away with. One night, I made three hundred grand.” Aston’s pupils widened. He tried to find words to react, but the elevator dinged. Terry would make sure he had the last word. “But like I said, I host. So let me know if you ever want to play.” He smiled, patting Aston’s arm before stepping out of the elevator.

Terry knew he had him. Aston was a man choked by his addiction, and it was only a matter of time before he took the bait. And take it, he did. A little over an hour later, with the office still empty for the most part, Aston came knocking. A soft, hesitant tap at the door. Terry’s lips curled into a sly smile as he greeted him, his eyes glinting with a mix of satisfaction and cold calculation. I’ll let him bring it up, Terry thought. Let him think he's still in control.

Aston awkwardly coughed, swinging his arms nervously as he approached Terry’s desk. His eyes were shifty, and just the slightest bead of sweat slid down his forehead. He was nervous, desperate. Damn, he must need this money more than I thought. He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick that only deepened Terry’s amusement. The guy was unraveling right in front of him.

“So, uh…” Aston’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke, betraying his nerves. “About those games you were talking about? How do they really work?”

Terry leaned forward, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing just a bit as he studied Aston.

“It's pretty simple,” Terry said, his tone casual but low. “I host them every Thursday night, just me and a few other guys. You send a deposit to lock in your spot, and you’re in for four games. All winnings remain confidential. No IRS. No paperwork. Everything under the radar. Real simple.”

He paused, letting the words sink in, watching Aston’s eyes flicker with a mix of curiosity and unease.

Terry’s voice dropped an octave, darker, heavier.

“But—” He began, fixing Aston with an intense stare. “Anything that goes on there, stays in there. Understand?”

Aston shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, his eyes flicking away to the floor. The words settled in the air, adding to his unease.

“Yeah,” Aston muttered, his voice tight. “Yeah, seems straightforward enough…how much is the deposit?”

Terry let out a soft, humorless sigh, his eyes never leaving Aston’s face. “$30,000,” he said flatly. “And you gotta put up another $50,000, at least, to play.”

Aston’s face drained of color. His eyes went wide, as if the numbers hadn’t fully registered. He took an audible breath, his hand coming up to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“That’s…that’s a lot man…” Aston trailed off. He was visibly rattled now, his composure slipping away. Terry smirked, watching the man squirm.

“Yeah, bruh, no pressure. I know it might be out of the budget for an associate.” Terry’s tone dripped with sarcastic sympathy. Aston’s expression visibly changed. His jaw tightened, his nostrils flared slightly, his gaze hardened. There it was. The envy, the bitterness. Terry could see it clearly.

Terry leaned back in his chair, letting the silence stretch for a few moments, savoring the tension. He had him.

“No,” Aston said, his voice more relaxed, but with a razor-sharp edge. “That’s not a problem. I’ve got more than enough to cover that. I’ll even send it today.” The words came out through gritted teeth, a mixture of pride and barely-contained frustration.

Terry’s smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Perfect.

“That’s great, man!” Terry said, his tone suddenly light and jovial. He slid a notepad and pen across the desk. “Just write down your number, and I’ll send you all the details.”

Aston paused for a fraction of a second, but he wrote his number down anyway. As Aston slid the notepad back, Terry’s eyes caught the brief flicker of hesitation in his gaze. But it was fleeting, gone before it could become a problem.

Aston turned to leave, his body language still tense. But just before he opened the door, he paused to look over his shoulder back at Terry. “And Camille… she won’t find out about this, right?”

Terry froze, the name making his heart beat just a touch faster, but his face never betrayed him. He kept his expression casual, his voice smooth.

“Nope, not at all,” Terry said, his words dripping with casual assurance. “Not from me. Not from you.” Aston nodded, his lips pressed thin as he stepped out the door.

Camille

Camille took her time walking through Watkins & Grant. Not only was it Monday, it was the start of a two-day rotation with Aston. She was ready to dive into the day’s work, but if she were honest, she’d much rather be working with Terry. Despite her newfound enthusiasm for the job, working with Aston was still…draining. His demeanor had softened since her rotations began. He was less snippy and wasn’t as strict with deadlines. But his animosity towards Terry had only grown, a simmering resentment that Camille couldn’t ignore. Initially, she’d thought his sharp comments and tense glances were the result of him still grieving over not making partner, a bitter disappointment he hadn’t quite come to terms with.

But as the weeks passed, she realized his feelings had shifted into an intense, unrelenting jealousy. Aston’s eyes would narrow into icy daggers whenever Terry entered a room. Whenever the team celebrated one of Terry’s achievements, Aston’s hands remained firmly by his sides. It was as if his pride couldn’t bear to acknowledge Terry’s success. And every time Camille spoke about him, even in passing, Aston couldn’t help but drop snarky comments. His disdain was impossible to miss, and though Camille was determined to focus on work, she couldn't shake the discomfort it caused her. But outside of that, Aston was still pretty pleasant. So she just let the whole envy thing roll off her back.

Camille pushed open the door to Aston’s office, expecting to greet him with a simple “good morning.” But as soon as she stepped inside, her words caught in her throat. Aston was sitting at his desk, but he looked nothing like the put-together man she was used to. His usually sharp appearance was now disheveled, as though he’d been awake for far too long. His eyes were unnaturally dilated, the pupils wide and unblinking, while his leg bounced erratically beneath the desk. His hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he was completely unaware of her presence.

A wave of concern washed over Camille as she took in the scene. “Aston?” she called out gently, her voice tinged with worry. “Are you doing alright?”

His head snapped up in an instant, his gaze locking onto hers in a way that startled her. He had a frantic, almost fearful look. But he quickly wiped his hand across his face, as if trying to reset his expression.

"Morning, Millie," he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and forced a strained, dry laugh. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Camille didn't buy the forced cheerfulness. She took a step closer, setting her bag down on her desk slowly. "Are you okay? You don’t look so good," she asked, her concern deepening.

Aston waved off her concern with a flick of his hand, his smile stretched thin. “Me? Oh, I’m doing great!” he said too quickly, too brightly. “I mean, my stocks went down a little, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

She nodded slowly, but her suspicion lingered. Aston was obsessed with his stocks, always checking the market, always fretting over numbers. But there was always something that told her that there was more to it than stocks. Something more risky that had him far too invested and far too tense. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

At that moment, their finances remained separate. Camille paid her half of the rent, her share of the groceries, and contributed to other household bills, but there was no blending of accounts, no pooling of resources. She never had the intention of opening a joint account with him. There was something about the idea that didn't sit right with her. Whatever financial turbulence he was navigating, she hoped it would be sorted before their wedding day.

Aston, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere, cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "You ready to get started, babe?" he asked, his tone brisk as he passed her a thick stack of papers. Camille glanced down at the pile, already estimating that it was at least 150 pages. She nodded as he continued. “Great. I need you to proofread these contracts. Can you do that by COB?”

Camille flicked through the papers, her brows furrowing as she flipped page after page. She could feel the weight of the task sinking in. Who could possibly get through all of this in a single day?

“That’s a pretty tight deadline...,” she breathed. Aston’s face fell for a moment, a brief flash of disappointment. But he quickly masked it, offering a small, almost apologetic smile.

“You know what, don’t even worry about it,” he said. “Just do the best you can.”

Camille returned a small smile, but her mind lingered on the sheer volume of work. She let out a quiet sigh before sinking into her chair.

“Oh, by the way," Aston’s tone shifted, a strained undertone creeping back into his voice. "I can’t go to lunch with you today. I’ve got a meeting across town that’ll run from 11:00 to 3:00." His words were casual, but there was a subtle edge to them, as if he were trying to brush off a reason he didn’t want to share.

A cold knot twisted in Camille’s stomach at the change in his voice, but she pushed it aside, choosing not to press. "Okay," she murmured, her eyes focusing on the highlighter in her hand.

Around 10:40, Aston sprang from his chair with urgency, his movements frantic. She couldn’t help but watch, her eyes following him as he muttered a hurried “bye” under his breath, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Something’s not right, she thought, the feeling settling into her gut. The thought crossed her mind before she could even stop it: follow him. Her eyes narrowed as she mulled over the possibility. But that would be crazy, she reasoned. What good would it do to sneak after him? Whatever she found out wouldn’t change anything anyway. And yet, the nagging curiosity to uncover just a sliver more about this mysterious meeting gnawed at her.

But before she could dwell on it further, the blare of her phone ringing pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced down, surprised to be getting a call so early on a workday. Terry’s name flashed across the screen, making her heart skip a beat. A smile instantly tugged at her lips as she scrambled to answer the call, her fingers fumbling with the screen in her haste.

“Hello,” she said, doing her best to sound casual, though her voice betrayed the excitement bubbling inside her.

“Hey, Camille, sorry to call right now. You got a minute?” Terry’s voice washed over her, rich and smooth. She felt an instant flutter in her stomach.

“Yeah, sure! What can I do for you?” she replied, her voice coming out girlier than she intended.

“I left a file I need for this presentation I’ve got in the top drawer of my desk. I won’t be able to make it there and back in time. You think you could drop it off?” he asked.

Camille hesitated, torn between her professional obligations and her personal desire to see him. Helping Terry would mean taking time away from her assignment, something that would surely upset Aston. But the thought of seeing Terry, especially after missing their usual morning exchange, was hard to resist.

“Of course! Just send me the location,” she breathed, her voice catching slightly, a soft smile creeping onto her lips as a deep chuckle echoed in her ear.

“Thanks, Camille. I appreciate it. I’ll send a pin now.”

“Okay, see you soon!” she said, her voice practically bubbling with excitement. Slightly embarrassed at how eager she sounded, she quickly hung up the phone, grabbing her bag with haste. She made her way toward Terry’s office, the joy of hearing his voice still hanging in the air.

But before she could reach the door, Camille was stopped in her tracks. Stephanie appeared out of nowhere, stepping directly into her path with a forced smile plastered on her face.

"Hey, Camille. You know Terry’s not in the office now, right?" Stephanie’s voice came out with an odd, strained edge. Camille blinked, taken aback by the abrupt question.

“Oh, yeah. He just called me! He left something in his office and wants me to bring it to him,” Camille replied, keeping her voice polite. She moved to step around Stephanie, but Stephanie sidestepped, once again blocking her path.

“Really?” Stephanie said, her tone dripping with a sickening sweetness. “I can do it for you if you’d like. Aston mentioned that you had a lot of work to do.” The suggestion hung in the air, as if she were doing Camille a favor. Camille’s brow furrowed, her confusion deepening. Why would Aston mention that to her?

Camille let out a weak giggle to break the tension. “That’s alright, he’s already expecting me,” she said, her voice firm but laced with the tiniest edge of irritation.

Stephanie’s smile faltered just a fraction, the expression slipping for a moment as she frowned slightly, her eyes flickering with something Camille couldn’t quite place. But after a beat, she stepped aside, finally allowing Camille to pass.

Weirded out by the whole interaction, Camille quickly walked through Terry’s office, grabbed the file and made her way towards the elevator. The feeling of Stephanie’s unblinking stare burning into her back the entire time.

That was odd, Camille thought, as she slid into her car. She grabbed her phone, pulling up the directions Terry had sent her. The map loaded slowly, and she took a deep breath, letting it steady her as she clicked her seatbelt into place. Once the directions finally pulled up, she reversed out of her parking spot and navigated the car out of the parking deck, her thoughts drifting as she hit the road.

Twenty minutes later, Camille pulled into a packed parking lot, her eyes scanning the area until they landed on the only figure outside. Terry stood near the entrance, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the morning sun. He wore a deep purple shirt and well-tailored black slacks, and for a moment, Camille was entranced by the way the colors seemed to highlight the goldeness of his skin. She sighed softly, a wistful smile tugging at her lips as she gazed at him from a distance, glad she made the drive.

I can’t have him, she thought, her heart aching slightly, but it doesn’t hurt to look. To admire. She pulled into a parking spot adjacent to him and watched as he turned toward her car, his smile confident and inviting. She didn’t want to acknowledge her feelings for him, but in moments like this, it was impossible not to.

“Hey,” he greeted as she stepped out of the car and made her way over to him. She gave him a bright smile. “Hey!” she replied, passing him the file. “This is the one, right?”

He smiled down at her, grabbing the file.

“Yes ma’am. Thanks for taking the time to come down here,” he spoke. “I owe you.” Camille’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. “Don’t mention it, happy to help,” she replied softly, trying her best to not giggle like a schoolgirl. “Have a great presentation,” she said, turning back towards her car.

“Hold up,” he called. Camille brought her attention back to him. “McCoy got you that busy? I was thinking I could treat you to lunch after this? It’ll only take an hour.”

Camille hesitated, chewing on her lip. She really had to get back to work. Terry fake pouted, tilting his head. “Please, Camille,” he pleaded softly. “Like I said, I owe you one.”

Her chest tightened. He really wants me to stay! She thought. And Aston would still be gone by the time I got back…

“Okay,” she said, “Since you asked so nicely.” It’s just a harmless lunch. “I’ll just grab my phone out of the car.

She reached down into her purse as she walked back towards her car, her fingers brushing through the clutter in search of her keys. As she rummaged, her hand brushed something sharp. An unexpected jolt of pain shot through her, forcing her to yank her hand back. It felt like a scalpel had sliced her skin. A deep gash ran across the pad of her index finger, and bright red blood began to bead up, dripping down in fast, heavy drops onto the dark asphalt below. She stared down at the wound in confusion, the sharp sting still pulsing through her hand.

“Huh,” she muttered softly to herself, not fully processing what had just happened. “I must’ve cut myself on my key–”

Suddenly, a new, much sharper pain pierced through her neck, cutting off her train of thought. It sank deep, the sensation burning through her like fire, making her yelp. A split second of agony. Then, as quickly as it had come, the pain was replaced by an overwhelming, mind-numbing euphoria. Her senses were flooded with a pleasure and delight that seemed to drown out everything else. Every nerve in her body seemed to hum with a strange, fulfilling electricity she couldn’t comprehend.

Her vision blurred, the world around her tilting to the side. Her legs felt weak, and she stumbled, her body swaying like a leaf caught in a breeze. She had to fight to keep her balance, but it was a losing battle.

Although her strength faltered, firm arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, steadying her body. The warmth of the figure against her sent another strange thrill through her, though she couldn’t focus enough to make sense of it. She could feel the strength of the mystery person, his body solid and real against hers, but the haze of pleasure and confusion made it hard to think.

"T-Terry?" she whispered, her voice coming out weak and shaky, her boss’ name the only thing slipping through the fog in her mind. She reached up, her trembling hand brushing against the chest she was pulled into in a futile attempt to ground herself in something familiar. But the world was slipping from her grasp too quickly, her vision swimming in and out of focus. Before she could say another word, everything went black. The strange sensation she was feeling was her only comfort as darkness consumed her.

Stephanie’s song: Streets-Doja Cat

Stephanie

From the concealed safety of her car, Stephanie watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as the scene unfolded before her. Terry, the man who had her completely under his spell, suddenly and violently sank his teeth into Camille’s neck. The act was so swift, so shockingly predatory, that it left Stephanie frozen. Camille, with a look of confusion, had pulled her bloodied hand from her bag. Then, moving with unnerving speed, Terry was behind her. His teeth punctured her skin with an animalistic precision. Camille yelped in pain, but the sound quickly faded as her eyes fluttered and began to droop. Her body swayed as if she was in slow motion, and she crumpled in Terry’s grasp.

When Stephanie had first decided to follow Camille nearly thirty minutes ago, she had envisioned a confrontation, a way to make her intentions clear. She could see how Camille had developed a crush on Terry. The way she always looked at him coyly. How she would act so clueless to get him to treat her like some fragile puppy. It was a constant reminder that he didn’t belong to Stephanie, even though he's what she craved most. Terry and Stephanie weren’t a couple, but that would change. She would make sure of it. Stephanie could admit it without shame: she would do anything to have him. And that included scaring off the paralegal who had feelings for him. She had to mark her territory, to make Camille understand that she had no place in his world.

But this… this was beyond anything she had ever anticipated. The man she lusted after, the man she wanted with a ferocity she couldn’t control, was something more than human. Some sort of… supernatural creature. Stephanie’s pulse quickened, her chest tightening, but instead of revulsion, an overwhelming wave of attraction surged through her. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the way Terry’s strong arms wrapped around Camille’s collapsing body, how his mouth moved with such raw intensity against her neck. The sight stirred something dark and primal inside her, making her pussy throb.

God, that’s so hot, she thought, her breath catching. That should be me. The raw power, the dominance in the way he held Camille, it wasn’t terrifying—it was an erotic fantasy come to life.

In a daze, she reached for her phone, her fingers trembling with excitement. She quickly pressed record, capturing the moment as Terry’s fangs withdrew from Camille’s skin, leaving behind two circular wounds. He blinked down at her in shock, his eyes flashing with panic. In a frenzy, he licked the blood from the puncture, as if to somehow erase the evidence, before he swept Camille up in his arms, cradling her against him.

Stephanie’s lips curled into a sinister smile, her heart racing. She stopped recording and sank lower into her seat, knowing that the shadows of the car would keep her hidden. The weight of the discovery settled over her darkly.

I know your secret, Mr. Richmond, she thought, her mind spinning with possibilities. Let’s see how I can use it to my advantage.

------------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree @solunaseira @hotebonynearby @key05marie @moebuttta @winorlosetogether @nohatingpplbczhtingpplr

#terry richmond #terry richmond smut #aaron pierre #aaron pierre smut #rebel ridge #terry richmond fic #terry richmond x black character #aaron pierre fic #aaron pierre x black!oc

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deltarogers · 2 days ago

Text

FEELINGS

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x Best Friend!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve always thought of him as an older brother, but something changed…you’re not sure when.

WARNING: Vulgar language, man receiving head, female receiving head, mutual pining, just overall filth, MDNI, 18+, NOT PROOFREAD YET!!

A/N: I’m back from my hiatus! I’m writing for Marvel, so if you guys have any requests, message me or send them to my requests box!

You’re not exactly sure how this happened. The feelings.

That’s what you tell yourself, at least. You damn well know how this happened.

Steve Rogers had been there for you since you’d become an Avenger. He was always someone you looked up to, and someone you went to for advice. Not to mention, he’d taught you everything you know about fighting.

You two were as thick as thieves, much like Clint and Natasha. You were best friends, he was like the older brother you never had, only physically being a few years older than you.

Until two nights ago…

Stark was throwing a celebration party for the Avengers, inviting a lot of a-list celebrities and high end individuals, thus the nice occasion.

Steve knew you didn’t like parties. So, he opted to stay with you most of the night, making you giggle, while regulating how much you drank. He didn’t want you to be hungover the next morning.

All would have gone smoothly if you hadn’t noticed the same woman trying to talk to Steve over and over again, only to get shooed away by him.

“Steve, go talk to her, she seems interested” You spoke and he raised a brow “You need to put yourself out there, Natasha and I have been trying to find someone for you, and this woman is begging for your attention.” You urged and he sighed.

“Alright, but no more drinks, and go find Peter, I’m sure he could use a friend” He suggested and you rolled your eyes, going off to find the younger boy, who should be in bed; not at this party.

After talking to Peter for what felt like hours, he finally had to go home. Thank god. He was sweet, but all he ever did was talk.

You’d most definitely disobeyed Steve, having a few more drinks. You weren’t drunk, but you were tipsy, and you had to use the bathroom, so you went searching.

Walking through Tony’s house wasn’t hard, but finding the bathroom in your semi-drunk state was proving to be a challenge.

That’s when you heard it.

The sound of…moaning? Who on earth was having sex at a Stark party?

Okay, that’s not a surprise. But the voice you heard crying out sounded familiar.

It was coming two doors down from where you were standing, and you wanted to investigate. You were nosey, and drunk. You admit it, you were drunk.

Upon reaching the door the sounds were coming from, you realized it was cracked open, a little too much. And so, you peeked.

What you saw nearly sent you into shock.

There Steve was, leaned back on the bed as the woman from earlier sucked him off. His head was thrown back, so he couldn’t see you, and neither could the woman, since she was faced away from you.

That’s when Steve looked up, and his eyes immediately caught yours.

Oh fuck, you thought to yourself, and you wanted to move, but you couldn’t, you were mesmerized by him.

“Oh fuck!” Steve groaned out, as if he could hear your thoughts.

His hand had that woman’s hair bunched in it, as he helped her suck him off. And his eyes stayed locked onto yours, a smirk pulling at his lips.

What. The. Fuck.

You almost couldn’t believe that this was real. He was just, looking at you, while he was getting head.

You regretted peeking, especially since he came, thrusting up into her mouth as his eyes burned into your soul.

That’s when you came to your senses and pulled your head away, rushing down the hall and towards the front door, searching for your keys frantically.

Thor noticed and gently grabbed your arm. “Y/n…I don’t think you need to be driving home like this” He said “Are you alright?” He added.

“I’m alright, I promise…would you mind driving me?” You asked, and he nodded his head. You grabbed all of your things and turned as you walked out, spotting Steve one last time before the door blocked your line of sight.

And now, two days later, you were pacing in your office, having told Natasha what occurred. You couldn’t hold it in any longer, especially when she asked you why you’d been avoiding Cap.

“I don’t know what to do, Nat!” You nearly cried “I’ve always seen him as family, but now…I don’t know”

Natasha sighed and shook her head “I would just- act like you don’t remember” She said “For now, until I can figure something out” She added and sighed.

“You can’t ignore him, he’s been worried” She mentioned “It’s only been two days, you can say that you drank too much and you were feeling terrible” She said. “It’s not a good lie, but coming from you…he’ll believe it”

And so, that’s what you did. You lied to him the next time you saw him.

“Hey Cap” You said as you made your way into the kitchen to get coffee.

“I’ve felt like shit the past two days” You said “I had way too much to drink, Thor had to drive me home I was so drunk” You joked and he looked to you, his brows furrowing in worry.

“You should have listened to me, sweetheart” He said and patted your head. “How’s your memory?” He asked. Why would he ask- oh. Oh.

“I can barely remember anything…I just remember talking to Peter and then being at home” You lied straight through your teeth.

With the way he was looking at you, you swore he knew you weren’t being truthful.

“I’m just glad you’re okay…I thought you were upset with me” He said and laughed a tad.

“I could never be mad at you, Steve” You said with a sweet smile.

Steve isn’t exactly sure how this happened. The feelings.

At least, that’s what he told himself. He knew damn well how this happened.

And it wasn’t two nights ago.

He’d developed feelings for you prior to that. You were always so supportive of him, you stayed by his side, not to mention that pretty face of yours.

So, when you told him to go off with that woman at the party, he took that as his sign that you didn’t feel the same way about him.

He went off with her, allowing her to flirt, pretending that it was you. That’s the only reason she ended up sucking him off, because he was pretending she was you.

Steve was more than surprised to find you watching them, but he didn’t mind. This was perfect.

He honestly wouldn’t have cum if he wasn’t looking directly at your face.

He nearly scrambled after you when you left. He didn’t want you to go, but you’d left with Thor by the time he came back.

And now here he was, in the office. He knew why you were avoiding him. He just hoped he hadn’t scared you, or came off as weird.

When you told him it was because you had felt sick, he partially believed it. He could sense the tension though.

Just two days after you’d told him you were fine, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you. He hated how distant you seemed now.

“Y/n. My office” He said sternly one morning, noticing how everyone became dead silent at the prospect of him angry.

You looked the most shocked, tensing up before nodding and following him to his office.

“What did I do, Captain?” You asked meekly and Steve huffed.

“What has been up with you lately?” He asked once the door to his office shut behind you. “And don’t tell me you don’t know” He said, stepping closer.

“I- fuck…Steve, don’t make me do this” You plead with him and he quirked a brow.

“Jesus fine, I have…feelings for you, Steve” You finally admitted. You’d been harboring that for longer than you thought. “I tried to push them away, and then at the party…when you…” You trailed off and huffed.

“I feel the same way…I just wasn’t sure if you did so that’s why I went off with that woman and-“ Steve rambled and you cut him off by pulling him by his collar towards you, pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss.

Steve let out a guttural groan at the feeling of your lips on his. He moved his lips against yours, pressing you up against the nearest wall.

When you pulled back for air, your eyes met his and he nearly melted. “My girl” He muttered and you were pretty sure your knees gave out, but Steve had one arm wrapped around your waist, preventing you from quite literally sinking into the floor.

Steve trailed kisses from your jawline and down to your neck, leaving a few marks as he went along, much to your dismay.

“Steve, please…” You muttered and he hummed against your skin, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“I think my girl deserves a reward” He muttered “As an apology for me forcing her, what do you think?” He asked and you nodded your head profusely.

“Alright…I won’t make you wait” He said and helped you out of your pants and panties, kneeling down in front of you while you were still pressed to the wall.

“Hold on” He said and moved you, your legs now being over his shoulders. He held you up while also pressing you against the wall in a sitting position.

He didn’t warn you, he just dove in, his tongue swirling around your folds, finding your clit almost immediately.

“F-Fuck! Steve, oh my god!” You cried out immediately as he began to suck and lick at your clit. He had no mercy, devouring you like you were his last meal.

He was moaning himself, gaining some sort of pleasure from the sounds of yours.

It didn’t take you long to get close, gently tugging at his his long hair. “Steve, I’m close…” You warned, but he only sped up, which made you throw your head back, crying out his name as you finally came.

Your hips shook against his face, your legs too, as he lapped up your juices and rode you through your high.

Steve finally placed you down, only having to catch you. Your legs were way too numb after that to be standing properly.

“Shit, what are we going to tell the others?”

TO BE CONTINUED…?

A/n: I have ideas for a Part 2 if you guys are interested!!

#x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america #marvel #captain america and the winter soldier

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jxnisnotfunny · 3 days ago

Note

i wanna corroborate with @egg-emperor's tags rq

ofc not that i've seen this cus i'm not on twitter anymore, but still

lemme be clear: as much as julian probably doesn't like hearing it (believe me, i like julian, so i don't mean this in a personal way), mike pollock is NOT a morally upstanding person. he's shown his true colors many many times over the past couple years alone, perhaps even longer ago than that, and it's 100% understandable why fewer and fewer people like him anymore. HOWEVER... despite his continued reprising of the role of dr. eggman, pollock should NOT be made synonymous with dr. eggman. other people have voiced him in the past, and other people can (and at this rate, probably, hopefully will) voice him in the future. pollock is NOT eggman just because he's voiced him for years. there's no need for anyone to start discourse with julian just because he's diehard horny for eggman and everything about him.

besides, truthfully, as much as i don't respect him anymore, it's not a detraction of pollock's talent. he's still good at what he does no matter what he does or how we feel about him, and there's not much anyone can do about that. same goes for my opinion of sean chiplock, who voices kinger in the amazing digital circus. from the allegations against him... yea no i don't like him. but his performance in episode 3 was, honestly, phenomenal. i loved it. and that's fine!

i don't skimp details: it's absolutely younger, more inexperienced, stubborn people who are trying to define "social justice" on twitter, but all it ends up being is policing without a goal, because they don't understand what to direct hate at and what not to. they're wasting their time and energy, yet are also too lazy to do any proper research on the topics that deserve attention.

-------------------------

not fandom-related, but quick ramble

i say this especially given the rightful disdain against usage of generative ai, in part or in full, in art (i.e., art theft, replacing human artists, and heavy energy usage). i've seen COUNTLESS times - not even just on twitter but on bluesky as well, and heaven knows i love bluesky, but some people there are still culpable - where people have jumped the gun at the mere mention of... not even just gen-ai, but ai as a whole. immediately sounding the alarms, fearmongering left, right and center, calling for protests and boycotts... without looking at any of the details.

some ai CAN be used as tools to help artists make their jobs easier. it's just gen-ai that's really a big issue, since some average people are using it to replace learning to draw, and ESPECIALLY since big corporations are starting to get their slimy hands on it instead of giving jobs to real people qualified for acting, editing, or motion graphics, just to save money they don't need to save. but some people refuse to understand that or look into it, and thus we're stuck having to hear buffoons fume about things that don't matter.

i still remember very vividly when youtube rolled out an option to allow videos you upload to be used for gen-ai, but they clarified in the linked support article that it was disabled by default because it's against youtube TOS to enable it by default. however, some people just. didn't read it. outright. and that day i saw someone hollering at bluesky to take action even tho there was no action to be taken. only reason i knew this post existed is cus one of my friends reposted it, having also not also read the support article, and i immediately frowned in real life.

I really feel like people forget that fandom is a fun hobby and not some sort of like, activist group.

Like, one of my hobbies is wildlife photography. If I follow a bunch of wildlife photography accounts and it's the only thing I see on my dash, am I in an echo chamber? No, I'm just engaging with my hobby.

It's really not that deep lmao is that person okay

Honestly the growing trend of forcing accountability, activism, virtue signalling and moral hunting in every single space is exhausting and crippling and it will eventually succeed in a massive cull of fandom spaces and creators. It already has, even, we've seen 'purges' of creators and content in certain fandoms and from a majority of websites and in revised policies.

That said, per your example, your internet space is allowed to be curated any way that you want it to. This blog, for example, is vastly different to my other account, where you will not find even a speck of political content. Not even a whiff of discourse. Its all cat pictures and the occasional shameless thirst over a man's thighs and probably an unhealthy amount of astronomy. They are both my spaces, they have just simply been curated very, very differently, and with two different intents.

"Isolated" (by content) spaces are not bad. Even in regards to some "negative" aspects. Some people are very, very set in their ways, and cannot or will not change. In such cases, its simply best to allow them to box themselves into their hate and not have a wider outreach.

#jxnisreblogging #long post

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inseobts · 9 hours ago

Text

TRAITOR pt.2

law x traitor!reader

PART 1 ⤳ PART 3 (coming soon)

words count: 2.6k

tags: series, enemies to lover(?), traitor reader

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

It’s easy to forget you’re lying when they make it feel real.

The Heart Pirates aren’t just a crew, they’re a family. They bicker like siblings, tease each other relentlessly, and somehow, without meaning to, you’ve been pulled into it.

You should’ve kept your distance.

But how could you, when—

“Y/N! HELP!”

You barely have time to register the shout before something massive collides with you, nearly knocking you over.

“Bepo—” you gasp, struggling under the weight of the massive mink currently clinging to you “You cannot use me as a shield... what the hell is going on?”

Shachi and Penguin sprint around the corner, looking absolutely murderous. Ikkaku follows close behind, arms crossed, her glare laser-focused on Bepo.

“There you are, you traitor!” Penguin points an accusing finger at the trembling mink still latched onto you.

You blink “Okay, wow. Let’s pause. Why is Bepo a traitor?”

Shachi glares “Because someone ratted us out to the Captain.”

You sigh, already piecing it together “Did you guys try to smuggle alcohol into the infirmary again?”

“… No.”

“You so did.”

Bepo��s ears flatten, guilt all over his face “I had to tell him! He was going to find out anyway!”

“You snitch!” Shachi wails.

“You idiots,” you correct, prying Bepo off you before he suffocates you with his fluff “Why do you always try to hide stuff from Law? You know he’s just gonna find out and punish you worse.”

“It’s about the principle of it,” Penguin grumbles.

You sigh, rubbing your temples “What was the punishment?”

Shachi pouts “No dessert for a week.”

You stare “That’s it?”

“That’s everything, Y/N.”

Bepo nods solemnly “They’re suffering.”

You shake your head, barely suppressing a laugh “You guys are so dramatic.”

Ikkaku crosses her arms “You’re laughing now, but if Law ever finds out about that thing you did, you’re not getting out of it so easily.”

Your breath catches.

Just for a second.

And then you force an easy grin “Which thing? I do a lot of things.”

Ikkaku narrows her eyes playfully “The one with the—”

“Shh!” You slap a hand over her mouth “Don’t tell them, it’s supposed to be a secret!”

The others immediately light up with interest.

“Oh, now you have to tell us,” Shachi says eagerly.

“I am so telling the Captain,” Penguin teases.

Bepo nods sagely “This is karma.”

You groan, regretting everything.

Despite moments like these, you don’t forget why you’re here.

Deep beneath the Polar Tang, hidden in one of the ship’s most secure rooms, is one of the reasons you really joined this crew.

The copies of the Poneglyphs.

You don’t know how Law got his hands on them, but you do know that your real crew, the one you actually belong to, wants them.

And you’re the one who has to steal them.

The thought makes your stomach twist.

Because despite everything, despite the mission, despite knowing you’re a liar.

You don’t hate being here.

You don’t hate them.

You should’ve. It would’ve made this easier.

But you don’t.

Some weeks later you meet the Straw Hats, and you immediately know you’re in trouble.

Not because they’re enemies, or because they’re a threat.

But because of Zoro. You've met him years ago, and even if your real crew was always subtle that no one actually know them, he knows you're a well known pirate between the bounty hunters, even without a specific crew name on it.

You see it in his face the second his eye land on you. That flicker of recognition... subtle, but unmistakable.

You know that look.

It’s the look of someone who remembers you.

He just doesn’t know from where.

And that’s a problem.

“You look familiar,” he says bluntly, eyes narrowing slightly “Do I know you?”

Your mind races. A dozen different excuses flash through your head, but none of them are good enough.

So you go for the simplest, most believable one.

“You probably saw my bounty poster,” you say smoothly, forcing a grin “I’ve got a pretty face, after all.”

Shachi and Penguin snicker behind you.

Zoro eyes you for a second longer, clearly unconvinced, but Luffy claps a hand on his shoulder before he can question you further.

“Zoro, stop being weird,” Luffy says, grinning at you “She’s cool, right, Law?”

Law, who has been watching the exchange carefully, nods once. “She’s one of us.”

The words shouldn’t make your chest tighten the way they do.

But they do.

And that’s dangerous.

The Kid Pirates are even worse.

Because Kid is loud, brash, and aggressive—but he’s also smart.

And he watches you.

Not like Zoro, who’s trying to place your face. Not like Law, who looks at you like you matter.

Kid watches you like he’s waiting for you to slip up.

Like he knows something’s off about you, but he just hasn’t figured out what yet.

“You don’t fit,” he says one night, after too many drinks.

You tilt your head, keeping your expression neutral “Excuse me?”

Kid leans forward, propping his elbows on the table “You’re a little too smooth, a little too good at blending in.” He smirks. “Like you practiced.”

Your fingers tighten around your glass.

“I’ve always been good at adapting,” you say, keeping your voice casual “That’s what a good pirate does, right?”

Kid hums, unconvinced.

And you realize, with a slow sinking feeling—

He’s not going to stop watching you.

The deeper you fall into this act, the more tangled it gets.

Zoro recognizes you but doesn’t know from where.

Kid doesn’t trust you but doesn’t have proof.

Law believes in you, and that’s the worst part of it all.

Because when the truth finally comes out...

This new alliance between the three is a sign for you, a sign that it's time to make a move and get away before someone finds out who you are.

You knew the time was coming. You knew.

But now that it’s here, a sick feeling settles in your chest.

Because you don’t want to do it.

It’s not supposed to be this hard.

You’ve done this before. You’ve infiltrated crews, stolen information, betrayed captains who thought you were theirs. It’s always been simple.

Get in. Get what you need. Get out.

But this time—

This time, it’s different.

Because you’re attached.

Because when Law smirks at you in that rare, teasing way, it makes your chest tighten.

Because when the crew laughs and drags you into their stupid antics, you enjoy it.

Because when Bepo whines about missing Zou, when Shachi and Penguin bicker like children, when Ikkaku rolls her eyes at all of them...

It feels like home.

And now you have to rip it apart.

You tell yourself you’ll make it quick.

One night. One chance.

Slip into Law’s office. Get informations and the Poneglyph copies. Get out.

The submarine has weak points, small openings where the sea meets steel, barely noticeable unless you know where to look. And you do.

A quiet escape. No blood. No confrontation.

That’s the plan. Fast and easy, right?

So why does it feel like a mistake before you even start?

You wait until late, when most of the crew is asleep, their laughter from dinner still lingering in the halls.

Law is in his office, like always.

You hesitate outside the door. Just for a second. Just long enough to remind yourself—

This isn’t real. They were never yours.

You push the door open.

Law doesn’t look up immediately, focused on some report in front of him “You should be asleep.”

You smile, stepping closer “So should you.”

He exhales through his nose, amused but tired “What do you want?”

You want him to make this easy.

You want him to be cruel, to be distant, to remind you why you don’t belong here.

But he doesn’t.

He just leans back in his chair, looking at you like you matter. Like you’re his.

Your chest tightens “Just… wanted to check on you.”

A lie. A stupid, obvious lie. But Law doesn’t question it. Instead, he rubs his temple, sighing “You’re always worrying about me.”

“Someone has to.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You swallow “Why not?”

“Because…” He hesitates, fingers tapping against the desk “Because if you care too much, it’ll be harder to leave.”

Your heart stops.

For a second, you think—does he know?

But then he looks away, staring at some distant point, jaw tight.

And you realize—

He’s not talking about you, he's talking about himself.

Not you...

Himself.

Law is the one who doesn’t want you to leave.

And that’s when it hits you... He trusts you. Completely.

Even now, when you’re standing in his office, pretending to care while planning to betray him—

He still trusts you.

Something in your chest aches.

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t...

But when he finally looks back at you, exhaustion clear in his golden eyes, and says “Stay a little longer”

And you do.

You sit with him. You don’t steal anything. You don’t run. You just stay.

And for the first time, you think... Maybe you don’t want to leave at all.

You keep telling yourself this is the last night.

You don’t want it to be, but you’ve known it for days now.

Law trusts you. The crew… they think you belong.

And that’s exactly why you have to leave.

Because once you’ve broken through their walls, once you’ve made them care about you, there’s no going back.

No matter how much they make you laugh. No matter how much you start to care about them.

You’re not one of them. You’re just a pirate with an agenda. A thief. A liar. And if you’re not careful, you’ll lose everything.

The night now feels different.

You slip through the ship’s corridors, the quiet hum of the Polar Tang weirdly comforting as you move.

You can hear Shachi and Penguin arguing somewhere above deck, their voices muffled through the metal walls, and it almost makes you smile. Almost.

Law is in his office again. Alone. The perfect time.

You reach for the door, your hand already knowing the cold steel of the handle. But just as you touch it, your pulse quickens—an unease settling in your gut.

Something feels… off.

You hesitate, fingers still resting against the handle. It’s nothing. You’re just overthinking.

But before you can turn the handle, you hear it—the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Quiet but sure.

Law.

You freeze for a moment and then you start casually walking towards him.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You look up at him, trying to mask the panic in your eyes “Just passing by.”

Law eyes you, a soft, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips “You know, if you keep trying to lie to me, it won’t work. I can tell when you’re lying.”

You swallow, forced to keep your face neutral, even though the tension in your chest is nearly suffocating “You don’t know me that well...”

He steps closer, not threateningly, but with a quiet sort of presence that makes your heartbeat rise “I think I know you better than you think.”

The distance between you two is closing quickly, and you feel a small, dangerous thought flutter in your mind—What if I never leave?

But you shake it off. This has to happen.

You step back, hand sliding into your coat pocket “I think I’ll take a walk. Clear my head.”

Law studies you for a moment, his golden eyes narrowing “You’re not very good at hiding things, you know that?”

You don’t know how to answer that. You don’t know how to lie when it’s getting harder and harder to look at him “I’m going to get some fresh air now”.

You’re standing at the edge of the Polar Tang, staring into the horizon. The sun is setting, painting the sky in oranges and purples.

Tonight, the mission becomes more urgent. The Straw Hats, Kid, and Law’s crew are all moving forward, and you’re running out of time. You know you have to finish what you started.

But how can you betray them?

How can you betray him?

You can’t keep pretending anymore. The lines are blurring. You’re starting to get too close, and you’re terrified of what will happen if you don’t leave soon.

The weight of it is heavy on your shoulders.

But there’s another reason you’re hesitating.

You’ve been hiding your power from them.

Law’s crew doesn’t know what you can do. And you’ve been careful to keep it that way. Because if they knew—if they saw what you could really do—things would change.

And they would fear you... they would all fear you. It happened before. When you’ve used your abilities to their full extent, it’s left a trail of broken minds and empty memories. You can make someone forget an entire conversation, erase their last few hours, manipulate their desires, twist their thoughts—it’s all within your grasp.

And once you start, you can’t stop.

You don’t want to be the monster they think you are. You don’t want them to see you as a tool for their own ends.

So you keep it hidden. You’ve been careful. But now…

Now, you’re feeling the pressure, and it’s getting harder to hide.

You’re walking back to your room, lost in thought, when you hear footsteps behind you.

It’s Law again.

He’s been following you for a while now, and you can feel his eyes on you. You don’t turn around immediately. Instead, you continue walking, your heart pounding.

“You’ve been distant lately.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it—like he’s trying to read you.

You stop, then turn to face him, trying to keep your expression neutral “I’m just tired. There’s a lot going on.”

Law’s gaze narrows. He doesn’t buy it “You’ve been acting weird ever since we got back to the island. What’s going on, y/n?”

For a moment, the weight of the situation crashes down on you. He’s too perceptive. He’s too close to figuring it out.

You take a step back, trying to distance yourself from him, both physically and emotionally “It’s nothing. I just—”

“I’m not asking you to explain everything,” Law interrupts “But if something’s wrong, you can talk to me. We’re... crewmates. I trust you.” He hesitated at that word, as if he wanted to say something else—something much deeper—that scared not only you but himself as well.

You two always had some sort of relationship that started as casual and continued that way, without really talking about your real feelings, as if it were a given.

Anyway his words hit you like a punch. You can’t breathe for a moment.

He trusts you, he likes you.

And you’ve been lying to him this whole time. You’ve been using him. Using his trust to get what you need.

But what if he’s right? What if you do need to tell him?

No. You can’t.

You can’t risk it.

You force a smile “I’m fine, really. Just… need some time to think. I’ll be okay.”

Law doesn’t look convinced, but he nods, though the worry in his eyes lingers “If you say so”

You watch him leave, feeling the weight of his words on your shoulders.

And then—just when you think you might break—you hear the voice in your mind.

It’s your old crew.

The ones who know you better than anyone else, or at least that's what you think.

It’s time. You don’t have much choice now, you have to do it NOW.

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zourrystylinson · 23 hours ago

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28th february fic rec!

so very excited for the 28op drop!!!!

i miss you, i'm sorry (2K) by leivol6

Louis spends some time with zayn in his hotel room after his LA show. they smoke. they fuck.

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love of my life (80K) by likelarry | @likelarryfics

Harry is 36 and recently divorced after he's finally come to terms with his sexuality.

Louis is the 28 year old who helps him find his way and is everything Harry has ever dreamt of.

The one where Harry struggles to really accept who he is and Louis is there every step of the way.

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wildflower (112K) by blueskiesrry | @blueskiesrry

“You look like a wildflower,” Louis comments, shielding his eyes from the sun, the crinkles near them even more prominent in this light.

“What?” Harry’s words stumble over a surprised laugh.

“With your hair all fluffy like that.”

Harry’s fingers automatically find their way into his hair as he silently curses the humidity out on the water.

“He kind of does, doesn’t he?” Elizabeth adds.

Louis tilts his head to the side, smile softening and blurred around the edges. “Our very own long-stemmed wildflower.”

or: a 1950s hollywood story spanning half a decade where harry and louis are constantly growing towards, away from, & around each other and everything harry wants are things he can’t have.

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Tattoos and Temptations (67K) by refusethyname | @gonebylouist

“Love,” he drawled, the word dripping with sinful allure, “I’ve got tattoos that are older than you,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, his breath warm against Harry’s lips.

Harry tilted his head, a teasing smirk of his own tugging at his mouth despite the rapid beat of his heart. “What can I say, I like experienced men.”

Louis chuckled low in his throat, a sound that sent heat rushing through Harry’s veins. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hand sliding up Harry’s back to tangle in his curls. He tugged lightly, just enough to tip Harry’s head back and expose more of his neck.

“You’re the one winding me up.”

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Can we please get back to Loving (5K) by umbroshirt

Harry's mad and Louis doesn't know why.

Or, the silent treatment fic I thought of the second Written All Over Your Face came out

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Remember Me Before You (293K) by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything

Desperate to find a new place to live after he comes home to find his boyfriend cheating, Harry moves into a loft with three strangers.

A New Girl AU.

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Fragments of Forgotten Lives (160K) by freakingmeout | @freakingmeout28

Louis has been missing for over a year, but the first thing he remembers is waking up just a few weeks ago. Everything before that is a blur - no memory of where he’s been or who he was. Now, trying to rebuild his life in Manchester, he finds solace in therapy and a deepening connection with a fellow survivor.

When Harry, a stranger to Louis but someone from his forgotten past, recognises him on the street, everything shifts. Despite the amnesia, something about Harry feels familiar, like a lifeline. As fragments of his lost memories begin to resurface in vivid, unsettling nightmares, Louis clings to the comfort Harry brings. Together, they embark on a journey to uncover the truth of his missing year, unlocking hidden secrets, unspoken bonds, and a past that refuses to stay buried.

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[series] such a beautiful dream (112K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

“I had a sex dream about Harry.” Louis slapped his free hand over his mouth after the words slipped out.

Zayn paused, his hand freezing as he was about to take a bite, his head snapping up to look at Louis. Louis could relate, it’s how he’d felt that morning after he’d woken up. He’d laid in bed for fifteen minutes trying to figure out what had happened, why it had turned him on so much, and then patiently waiting for his erection to go down.

“Like… my Niall’s Harry? Harry Styles?” Zayn clarified, his face bewildered as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. “Do you even like Harry?”

“His last name is Styles?”

or Louis woke up after having a sexy dream about his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend resolved to never think about it again. He hardly knew Harry, so what difference would it make? But when they are thrown together only a few days later, Louis had to admit, his subconscious might have been onto something.

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I Could Fall In Love With You (55K) by tippitytap

If Louis were asked to describe Harry's role in his life, the answer would have always been quite simple: best friend.

Since last year, the answer might have also been: housemate and co-parent to the cats.

What Louis didn't think would ever happen was that the answer would one day change to: the man he was falling deeply in love with.

or: Right at the beginning of a nationwide lockdown might be the worst time to fall in love with your childhood best friend and housemate. But if Louis knew one thing, it was that Harry and he would always find a way through life together.

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I Can Pull It Together (6K) by louislittletomlintum | @louislittletomlintum

Harry's eyes drifted to where Louis’ arms were slung over the back rim of the spa, exposing his underarms again. This time his fine hair was more apparent, wet from the spa and curling a little where some droplets of water hung.

Harry wanted to lick them.

He blushed almost instantly when the thought came through his brain, hoping it wasn’t obvious and that the general heat on his face would disguise his embarrassment. He’d never thought anything like that before.

or the one where Harry accidentally discovers a new part of Louis he really, really loves.

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Le Sol De La Chambre (60K) by Fandom_Larry

Louis owns a boudoir business. Harry wants some pictures. What happens when an innocent omega ends up posing for an overly handsome alpha? They end up on the bedroom floor.

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💸 -> visual of my wallet after this 28op drop

stat time!

1,095,493 words read (-35% than last month)

19 fics read (-21% less than last month)

19 authors (-5% less than last month)

feel free to send me an ask if you have read a fic ive recommended! i'd love to talk about the fic with you <3

#28th appreciation #fic rec #larry fics #hljournal #tracking happily #monthly fic rec #tracks in the am #tracking home #february fic rec #larry fic rec #hlficlibrary #larry fic #ao3 feed larry #larry stylinson #1dficlibrary

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raayllum · 3 days ago

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Aaravos' Treachery: A Secret Third Thing

Because we still don't know what the Archdragons believed he betrayed them over, and I wanna talk about it. Let's go!

Aaravos' Crimes

So Aaravos has a lot of crimes in arc 2. In arc 1, he'd mostly been contained to felling Lux Aurea / corrupting the Sun Forge and helping to orchestrate a war, but arc 2 really rounds out his roster. We get canon confirmation he gave humans dark magic (4x07, 7x07), he burns Katolis to the ground, kills dozens of people either directly or indirectly, manipulates and lies to people, admits to cannibalism, aids in filicide, inverts the Moon Nexus and tries to permanently corrupt the Sun. Because it's all just another wipe out Wednesday to him, I guess.

However, we still don't arguably know what his most important crime is, which is what Zubeia calls his treachery. In fact, we know a lot more about what doesn't fall under that umbrella, so let's start first with what we know the Archdragons (minus Sol Regem) knew, and imprisoned him over.

4x04 Lore Dump

And yes, he was a Star. A startouch elf, one of the Great Ones, respected and loved by all until we uncovered long-hidden treachery. Hundreds of years ago, before Avizandum was King of the Dragons, the Dragon Queen Luna Tenebris mysteriously died. Luna lacked a suitable heir, and the Archdragons fought bitterly over who should ascend in her place. As the conflict swirled and escalated towards inevitable violence, the great leader of the Sunfire elves, Queen Aditi, stepped in to broker peace. The Archdragons trusted this wise and kind leader and agreed to abide by whatsoever she decided. But before she could bring peace to the world, Queen Aditi went missing. Chaos and confusion erupted, and war threatened to tear Xadia apart as now the elves suspect the dragons had killed their queen. But truth came from an unexpected source. A young human girl uncovered a great secret of history. A dangerous deceiver was revealed.

For a thousand years, Aaravos had been pulling invisible strings like a puppet master. Every great crisis the world faced seemed the work of some ingenious and powerful leader, but in each case it was secretly Aaravos, whispering in their ear.

The implicit messaging we also get is that Aaravos had primarily been manipulating humans, as we've only seen him directly whisper in the ears of humans and human leaders. That the Great Treachery cannot be that 1) Aaravos was likely involved in killing Luna Tenebris and 2) that he'd eaten/killed Aditi because as of the end of S7, the Archdragons still don't know these things. So if the Great Treachery had to do with humanity... why would the Archdragons care, especially when pre-Orphan Queen, humans had certainly never helped them before.

Well, 7x03 sheds some significant light on the topic.

The Mage Wars

A thousand years ago, humans were entirely expelled from the east and send on-masse to the west (1x01). The known treachery that the Archdragons discovered also spans a thousand years, aka everything post-exile. This matches up pretty perfectly timeline wise with what Aanya says in 7x03:

The West wasn't barren at all. Before the Mage Wars, the land was the same as all of Xadia, full of life, full of riches, full of magic. In the new lands, the humans who rose to power were those who knew how to its magic. The mages became warlords. The mage warlords waged bitter, bloody battles for control of the lands they claimed. Their armies scoured the land for magic and bled it dry, and they hunted the magical creatures to extinction. When one mage rose to power, another was quick to dethrone them.

The wars only stopped when there was nothing left to fight for. All the magical resources were consumed or destroyed, and magic all but disappeared from the West.

So the 1000 year timeline — the 'beginning' of Aaravos' treachery according to the Archdragons (even if we know it likely goes back even further) — lines up with the expulsion and the beginning of the Mage Wars in Xadia, which seemingly lasted centuries. If it lasted for 700 years, it'd us to the Orphan Queen, who would've grown up in the violence and possibly established Katolis having a hereditary monarchy (Harrow and Ezran's royal line) over the mage warlord system.

We also know thanks to 7x03 that the Staff of Ziard indicated power and passed from hand to hand in the violence. And we know thanks to 4x03 that Ibis and the Archdragons know something about the staff as well, as Ibis says things like, "I'm going to destroy it before it can do anymore harm," and "if you wish to return that staff to its true owner, you pose a greater danger to this world than I can allow."

I'm afraid this can only mean one thing.

I think most of us probably surmised that part of what was revealed to the Archdragons, though, was likely dark magic. It's something we know most Xadians to feel very negatively about, and had already wrecked havoc on Xadia historically pre-exile. We can also see that 4x04 and 3x01 ("It was a gift from one of the Great Ones") just with the Staff alone paints a pretty clear picture that this is what they learned. But I sat here like if this was all they learned, why not just say so? Feels like it'd be pretty easy to quickly communicate.

So there had to be something else, and I think that's

Aaravos was Encouraging Humanity to Attack Xadia

When we cut to the collection of human leaders, they've taken shape to resemble the Pentarchy formation. However, all their markers are entirely put on the Xadian side of the border, not the human side.

We also know that the Mage Warlords would have an incentive to go where there was magic. They'd consumed everything on their side of the continent, but the East still had plenty. Xadia was already weakened at this point too, thanks to infighting amongst the elves and Archdragons, and no clear appointed dragon monarch. It would've been ripe for the picking. Aaravos could've brought humanity together against their common enemy, stating that if they united their armies, they could take Xadia successfully (which would also make the archdragon killing spell make a lot more sense).

If not for Avizandum, maybe, which would also explain why he was chosen to be the new dragon monarch as opposed to any of the others.

That was always his favourite sport: stomping on ants and calling himself a conqueror. [...] Protect Xadia? Ha! Avizandum wants an endless war. He loves to provoke and destroy human armies, it makes him feel big and powerful.

defending the border alongside an army of elves in the 1x01 intro against an army of joint humans, in a place (the lava border) that looks exceedingly similar to the Mage Wars background. Hm.

As of S3, Xadia was likewise weakened: Avizandum was dead, Zubeia was sick and dying, Domina and Rex had retreated to their domains. Aaravos then found himself a human mage he could make a king and then turned Viren into a warlord, leading 4/5 human armies on war against their shared enemies.

And now, as of S7, Xadia finds itself in a similarly weakened state, with the Archdragons flat out gone, and little Zym set to inherit the monarchy. If Aanya's brother turns against her, wielding Project Sun Ruby rather than just dark magic to go to war against Xadia... History would be repeating itself. Again. (Cause the Cycle is going to cycle, am I right?)

Getting humanity into the place, mindset, and power in which to launch a full scale invasion would definitely count as betrayal to the Archdragons no matter which way it was sliced, after all. Depending on what the Orphan Queen discerned from the cube — its link to Elarion could've been it (+ the staff), even if she didn't find the book itself or hide it there — it might've been enough to worry her that the violence unfolding in the west would take the east, and she went to the warn them. Luckily they listened and managed to trap Aaravos, with the Orphan Queen stepping in to lead Katolis and dismantle the war effort from the other side of things, since Katolis is the largest kingdom and holds the border.

"Confusion and chaos erupted.... the first step in the long slow spiral to chaos."

None of this answers why, exactly, Aaravos wanted to conquer Xadia — or why he's wanted to at any real point, in terms of it tangibly helping him against the Cosmic Council — but I do think it's likely that this is why and what the Archdragons consider his hidden treachery to be, and why it concerned them so.

As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.

#tdp #tdp aaravos #aaravos #tdp meta #the dragon prince #deep lore dive #the archdragons #the mage wars #predictions #analysis #the orphan queen #analysis series

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rubylace · 6 hours ago

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PART 1. FIRST SUMMERS

m.list

pairing: musician!jay x reader (f) updated hybe idols . yeonjun txt, yunjin lsrfm, nagyung fromis9

genre: coming-of-age, new adult, personal growth, sexual tension, fams dynamic, lovehate

wordcount: 37k (the longest I've ever made istg)

warning: harsh words

a/n: I'm using his real identity, to stay realistic bc it also has to do with his favorite lover - guitar. so don't put it to heart the bad side fyi I dare not be jealous ok love ya 𖹭

A car nearly hit you as you practically floated across the street in a daze after leaving the attorney's office. All these years, you’d tried so hard not to think about him. Now, he was all you could think about. Flashes of him invaded your mind. His dark hair, his laughter, the strum of his guitar, the deep sadness and disappointment in his gorgeous eyes the last time you saw him 9 years ago.

You was never supposed to face him again, let alone own a house with him. Living with Jay was not an option, even if just for the summer. It was probably more like there wasn’t a chance in hell that Jay was going to agree to share a house with you. Whether you liked it or not, though, the beach house in Newport was common property now. Not yours. Not his. Fifty-fifty.

“What the hell was Ameryn thinking?” You’d always known she cared deeply about him, but there was no way you could have predicted the extent of her generosity. He wasn’t even related to you, but she’d always thought of him as her grandson. You picked up your phone and scrolled down to Nagyung’s name. When she picked up, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Where are you?” you asked.

“On the west side. Why?”

“Can you meet up? I really need to talk to someone.”

“Are you okay?”

Your mind went blank before slowly filling again with fragmented thoughts of Jay. Your chest tightened. He hated you. You’d avoided him for so long, but you was really going to have to face him now. Nagyung’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine, where are you again?”

“Meet me at the falafel place. We’ll have an early dinner and talk about whatever is going on.”

“Okay. See you in ten.”

Nagyung was a fairly new friend, so she knew little about your childhood or teen years. You taught together at a local charter school in Providence. You had taken today off to meet with your grandmother’s attorney, the smell of cumin and dried mint saturated the air inside of the fast food Nagyung waved from a corner booth, a piled-high styrofoam container of tahini covered chicken kabobs and rice already planted in front of her.

“You’re not gonna get anything to eat?” she asked with her mouth full, a dollop of yogurt sauce coated the side of her mouth.

“No. I’m not hungry. Maybe I’ll take something to go on the way out. I just needed to talk.”

“What is going on?” your throat felt parched.

“Actually, I need something to drink first. Hang on.” The room felt like it was swaying as you made your way to the refrigerator by the counter and returning from purchasing a bottle of water, you sat down and let out a deep breath. “I got some pretty crazy news today at the lawyer's office.”

“Okay…”

“So, obviously you know I went there because my grandmother passed away a month ago.”

“Yes.”

“I was just meeting with the attorney to go over her estate turns out she left me all of her jewelry and half of her summer house on Aquidneck Island.”

“What? The beautiful house in that picture on your desk?”

“Yeah. That’s the one. We’d always go there a lot in the summer when I was younger, but in recent years, she’d rented it out. The property had been in her family for generations. It’s older, but it’s beautiful and overlooks the water.”

“Y/n, that’s amazing. Why do you seem so upset?”

“Well…she left the other half to a guy named Jay Park.”

“Who is that?”

“He was just a boy I grew up with. My Ameryn took care of him while his parents worked. Jay’s house was on one side, mine was on the other, and Ameryn’s was in the middle.”

“So, he was kind of like a brother to you?”

“We were close for many years.”

“From the look on your face, I get the feeling that something changed?”

“You’d be right.”

“What happened?”

There was no way you could handle rehashing it all. Today had already been too much for you to absorb. You would give her a shorter version.

“Basically, I found out he was keeping something from me. And I freaked out. I’d rather not get into it. But let’s just say I was fifteen at the time and having a really hard time handling my hormones and my issues with my mother. I made a rash decision to move away and live with my dad.”

Swallowing the pain, you said, “I left everything behind in Providence and moved to New Hampshire.”

Thankfully, Nagyung didn’t pry as to what the secret was. That wasn’t the issue you needed to talk about today. It was more important for her to help you figure out your next step than for you to be opening old wounds.

“So, you basically ran away from it all rather than dealing with it.”

“Yeah. Ran away from my problems…and from Jay.”

“You haven’t spoken to him since?”

“After I left, there were several months where there was no contact. I felt so guilty about the way I handled things. I did eventually try to see him and apologize once I came to my senses, but by then it was too late. He didn’t want to see me or talk to me..”

“..I can’t say I blamed him. He’d moved on, got in with a different crowd and then eventually moved to New York soon after graduating high school. We just completely lost touch, but he stayed in contact with Ameryn apparently. She was like a second mom to him.”

“Do you know what’s become of him?”

“I haven’t looked him up. I’ve always been too scared to find out.”

“Well, we need to take care of that right now.” She put down her fork and dug inside her purse for her phone.

“Whoa? what are you doing?”

“You know I’m a self-proclaimed professional stalker.”

Nagyung smiled. “I’m looking him up on Insta. Jay Park, you said his name was? And he lives in NYC?”

Covering your eyes. “I can’t look. I won’t look. There are probably hundreds of guys named Jay Park out there anyway. You probably won’t find him.”

“What does he look like?”

“The last time I saw him, he was 16, so I’m sure he doesn’t look the same. He has messy hair, though.”

He was really cute. You can still see his face like it was yesterday. You could never forget it. Nagyung was reading aloud information for the different Jay popping up on Instagram. Nothing stood out until she said, “Jay Park, New York, musician at BAM Acoustic Guitar.”

Your heart dropped, and to your surprise, you could feel tears trying to fight their way through your eyelids. The emotions rising to the surface so fast were unsettling.

It was as if he’d come back from the dead. “What did you just say? Works where?”

“Just In Time Acoustic Guitar? Is that him?” The words wouldn’t come out, so you stayed silent, pondering the name it was the same one he’d always used even as a kid playing guitar on your street corner.

“That’s him,” you finally conceded.

“Oh my God, Y/n!”

Your heart started to pound faster. “What?”

“This guy is…”

“What? Tell me,” you practically yelled before downing the rest of your water.

“He’s gorgeous. Absolutely freaking gorgeous.” Covering your face, you said, “Please don’t tell me that.”

“Take a look.”

“I can’t.”

Before you could refuse again, Nagyung shoved the phone in front of your face. It shook in your hands as you took it. From what you could see in the one photo, he was beautiful just like you remembered, but at the same time, really different. Grown up.

He was wearing a gray beanie and had a fair amount of chin scruff that he was never able to grow when you knew him. In the profile pic, he was leaning into a guitar and looked like he was about to sing into a microphone. The look on his face was intense and gave you the chills. When you went to click on the other photos, it wouldn’t let you in because his profile was set to private.

Nagyung reached out for the phone. “He’s a musician?”

“I guess so,” you said, handing it back to her.

You muttered to yourself. ‘He used to write songs for me.’

“Are you going to contact him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I guess I don’t even know what to say to him. Whatever is meant to happen will happen. I’ll end up having to talk to him eventually. I’m just not gonna be the one to make the first move.”

“How exactly is this housing arrangement going to work anyway?”

“Well, the attorney gave me a set of keys and told me that another set was sent to Jay. Both of our names will be on the deed. Ameryn also set aside some money to be used for house repairs and maintenance to the property during the off season. I’m assuming he’s been made aware of all of the same info.”

“You don’t want to sell the house, right?”

“No way. There are too many memories, and it meant so much to Ameryn. I’m going to use it this summer and then maybe eventually rent it out if he agrees to it.”

“So, you have no idea how he plans to use his half? You’re just going to show up there in a few weeks, and if he’s there, he’s there, and if he’s not, he’s not?”

“Pretty much.”

“Oh, this is going to be interesting.”

*****

At 24, you was single again and starting a new life in Newport for the summer. Your teaching job in Providence afforded you summers off. Your hope was to find a temporary job for the season, but for now, you just wanted to enjoy a few weeks of relaxation.

Returning from downtown Newport with your bag of crustaceans one night, you noticed that the front door to the house was wide open.

“Did I forget to lock it? Was it the wind?” your heartbeat accelerated when you entered the kitchen to find a tall, leggy chick with short, cropped platinum blonde hair. She looked was stocking the cabinets. You cleared your throat.

“Hello?” She turned around before covering her chest.

“Oh my god. You scared me.”

Walking over to you smiling, she held out her hand. “I’m Yunjin”

With fine features, high cheekbones and that pixie cut, Yunjin could have been a model. You was the complete opposite from her physically with your long and dark hair, and curvy figure.

“I’m Y/n. Who are you?”

“I’m Jay's girlfriend.”

“Oh…I see. Where is he?”

“He just went to the market and the liquor store.”

“How long have you been here?”

“We just arrived about an hour ago.”

“How long are you staying?”

“Not sure really. We’re just gonna see where the summer takes us. Neither of us were expecting this development..you know, the house.”

“Yeah, I know.” You looked down at the French-manicured toes peeking out of her heels.

“Do you work?”

“I’m an actress, actually on Broadway. Off Broadway for now. I’m in between jobs, but I’ll probably be going back and forth to New York for auditions. What do you do?”

“I’m a middle school teacher. So, I get the summers off.”

“Oh, that’s really cool.”

“Yeah. It’s fun.”

“Where does Jay work?”

“He works from home right now. He sells software. He can work from anywhere. He also performs. You know he’s a musician, right?”

“Actually, I don’t know much about him anymore.”

“What happened between you two anyway? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“He’s never told you anything about me?”

“Just that you grew up together and that you’re Mrs. A’s granddaughter. Honestly, he never mentioned you at all until we got that letter from the attorney.”

Even that was expected, it made you sad. “That’s no surprise.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Did you guys ever date?”

“No. It was nothing like that. We were just good friends, but we drifted apart after I moved away.”

“I see. This whole thing is a little weird, right? I mean, inheriting a house like this out of nowhere?”

“Well, my grandma was very generous, and she loved Jay very much. My mom is her only child, and she loved Jay like a grandson, so—”

“Your grandma left the house to you and not your mom?”

“Mom and her had a bit of a falling out some years ago. Thankfully, they made amends before she died, but things were never really the same again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.”

Yunjin opened her arms to pull you into a casual hug. “Well, I really hope we can be friends. It will be nice to have a girl around to shop with, check out the island.”

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“I hope you’ll have dinner with us tonight?” You wasn’t ready to face him. You needed to make up a story and get out of here. “Actually, probably not tonight. I’d better be leaving.”

“That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?” a deep voice you hardly recognized interrupted you from behind.

“What’s that?” you asked, swallowing nervously and refusing to turn around to look at him.

“Leaving,” he said louder. “That’s what you’re good at.”

Your breathing was ragged, but it was when you turned around that you nearly lost it. Jay was standing in front of you, and you swear it was like the boy you’d left behind had been swallowed up by a lean mass of muscle.

He just looked so different from what you remembered years ago. The anger on his face was transparent and somehow made him even more incredibly hot. It just would have been better if it weren’t directed toward you. His skin was a beautiful shade of bronze that complemented the natural golden streaks in his dark hair.

The smooth face you remembered was now rough. A rope and barb wire tattoo wrapped around his bicep. He was wearing camouflage cargo shorts with a tight white ribbed tank that hugged his chiseled chest. An indeterminate amount of time passed as you just took him in. Even though you was too stunned to say anything, your heart was screaming.

You knew deep down your reaction wasn’t just because of your physical attraction to him. It was because despite all of the changes, one thing had stayed exactly the same. His eyes. They reflected the same hurt that you remembered from the very last time you saw him. His name finally managed to roll off your tongue. “Jay…”

“Yes.” The deep, throaty sound of his voice vibrated through you.

“I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I have?” he sneered.

“Well, I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

“You’ve overestimated your significance to me. Of course, I was going to come. This is half my house.”

His words stung. “I didn’t say it wasn’t. It’s just, I hadn’t heard anything from you.”

“Interesting how that goes.”

Clearly uncomfortable with the sparring, Yunjin cleared her throat. “I was just asking Y/n if she wanted to have dinner with us tonight. Maybe you guys can catch up.”

“Apparently, she already has plans.” You turned to him.

“Why do you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because you’re holding a bag that smells like dirty snatch?”

“It’s fresh seafood.”

“Doesn’t smell very fresh to me.”

“God. We haven’t seen each other in five years, and this is how you act?”

You turned to Yunjin. “Is he always this rude?” Before she could answer, he cracked, “I guess you bring it out in me.”

“You think Ameryn would be happy right now with your attitude? Something tells me she didn’t leave us this house so that we could fight with each other.”

“She left us both this house because we each meant something to her that doesn’t mean we have to mean anything to each other. Anyway, if you cared so much about what she thought maybe you shouldn’t have run away.”

“That’s a low blow.”

“The truth hurts, I guess.”

“I tried to contact you, Jay. I–”

“I’m not talking about this now, Y/n.” He said, speaking through gritted teeth. “It’s old news.”

It was unnerving to hear him to calling the name like that. Aside from the very first day you’d met, he’d always called you Patch or Patchy. Hearing your name come out of his mouth felt like a slap in the face for some reason, like he was trying to emphasize how much you’d grown apart.

Jay went from hot to cold as he shut down, heading back outside to retrieve the groceries from his car but not before slamming the door behind him. You shuddered, looking over at Yunjin whose eyeballs were moving back and forth from side to side in confusion. “Well, that was a nice start,” you joked.

“I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen him act like that toward anyone to be honest. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Believe it or not, I probably deserve it.”

The only thing worse than the rude reception he’d given you was his blatantly ignoring you during dinner and for the rest of that night. That hurt more than anything he could have ever said to you. You thought the evening was horrible, lack of sleep assured that the next morning was even worse. Apparently, Jay found a way to take out his anger by taking it out on Yunjin.

Let’s just say playing guitar wasn’t the only talent he’d fully developed over time. Yunjin's moaning in the middle of the night as Jay pounded into her woke you up in the middle of the night. The walls literally shook, it was impossible to go back to sleep after that.

You tossed and turned your thoughts alternating between rehashing Jay's words to you from earlier to imagining what that scene in the other room actually looked like.

You used the opportunity to admire his stature and the flawless skin of his defined, shirtless back. Black gym pants hugged his beautifully round a**. You never realized how incredible his a** was. Your physical attraction to him really irked me under the circumstances, but that didn’t stop you from checking him out.

Squinting, you unsuccessfully tried to figure out what it was. He startled you when he suddenly turned around and met you with an incendiary stare. “Do you always ogle people when you think they can’t see you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “How did you know I was standing here?”

“I could see your reflection in the window, genius.”

“You didn’t even flinch. I didn’t think you noticed me.”

“Clearly.”

“Are you trying to make me hate you or something? Because you’re doing a pretty damn good job.”

Jay didn’t answer your question. Instead, he just turned back around toward the window.

“Why do you do that?” you asked.

“Do what?”

“Say things to piss me off then shut down?”

He continued to speak to the window, “Would you rather I just continue to piss you off? I’m trying to get my anger in check with you, Y/n. You should be happy I know when to stop unlike some people.”

“Will you at least look at me when you’re talking to me?”

He turned around and walked toward me slowly then leaned his face in. You could feel his words on my lips when he asked, “Is this better? You’d rather me in your face like this?” you could practically taste his breath.

Your entire body felt weak from the close contact, so you backed away. “I didn’t think so,” he snarled. You walked over to the refrigerator and opened it, pretending to look for something. It annoyed you that your peaceful mornings were a thing of the past.

“You always get up this early?” you asked.

“I’m a morning person.”

“I can see that so bright and cheery,” you said, sarcastically.

“Some of us need sleep, though.”

“I slept just fine last night.”

“Oh, I know after you traumatized me. You must have passed out after all that screwing could you two have been any louder last night?”

“Well, excuse me. If I can’t f*ck in my own house where do you expect me to do it?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t do it. Just be more respectful.”

“Define respect.”

“Doing it quietly.”

“Sorry. I don’t f*ck quietly.”

As much as you hated that answer, you somehow felt that those words would be repeating in your head later tonight.

“Forget it. Clearly, you don’t know the meaning of respect.”

“Respect you? Why? Because you’re not getting laid? Why don’t you hook up with some salty dude down at the dock? Maybe then you won’t care so much about other people’s business.”

“Salty dude?”

“Yeah. You know, the guys that live on the boats the ones who sell you that nasty fish you were eating last night.”

You just shook your head and rolled your eyes, refusing to dignify that comment with a response. He surprised you when he suddenly lifted the carafe. “Want some coffee?”

“Now you’re being nice?”

“No, I just figured you’re sticking around for some reason. It must be the coffee.”

“This is my kitchen.”

He winked. “Our kitchen.” Grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, he asked, “How do you take yours?”

“Cream and sugar.”

“I’ll take care of it while you go put on a bra.”

You looked down at your b**bs which were hanging freely beneath your white t-shirt not expecting to run into him this early, you hadn’t thought to put one on. Too embarrassed to acknowledge the fact that he’d noticed, you went back to your room and got dressed when you returned he was back at the window drinking his coffee.

“Is this better?” you asked, referring to your dress. He turned around and gave you a once over.

“Define better. If better means I can’t see your tits anymore…yes, it’s better. If better, means you look better, that’s debatable.”

“What’s wrong with this?”

“It looks like you sewed it yourself.”

“Actually, it’s from one of the shops on the island. It is handmade.”

“Out of a potato sack?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe?”

He snickered. “Your coffee’s on the counter, raggedy ann.”

Your inclination was to try to come up with a comeback but then you realized that was probably what he wanted, you needed to kill him with kindness instead of showing your anger. “Thank you. That was nice of you to make it for me.”

You took a sip and immediately spit it out. “What did you put in this? It’s so strong!”

Instead of answering you, he just started to crack up. His laughter resonated through the kitchen and as much as you hated that it was at your expense, it was the first time he’d laughed. It took you back in time for a moment and served as the only real reminder that the smoking hot a**hole in front of you used to be your bestfriend.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s a bit strong. What is it?”

“It’s coffee fusion, actually.”

“What does that even mean?”

Jay sauntered over to the cabinet and took out a can and a package. “It’s my own recipe. Cuban coffee mixed with this one.” He pointed to the black packaging that had a white skull and crossbones on it.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s coffee. I order it online. Nothing else is caffeinated enough for me.”

“That’s why you wanted to serve it to me, wasn’t it? You knew I’d hate this concoction.”

He simply let out that raspy laugh of his again, except this time, he was laughing way harder than before. Yunjin entered the kitchen, wearing a long black t-shirt that must have been the one he wasn’t wearing.

“What’s so funny?” Jay's mischievous eyes peeked from behind his mug.

He snickered. “We were just having coffee.”

Yunjin shook her head. “You didn’t drink his mud, did you? I don’t know how he likes that stuff.” You reminded yourself of your plan to kill him with kindness. Taking another sip of the coffee, you nodded.

“Actually, at first taste, it was pretty strong, but I actually think I really like it.” It was disgusting.

“You’d better be careful. That sh*t is potent. Jay is immune to it, but the one and only time I drank it, it kept me up for like four days.”

Jay laughing. “Apparently, we kept Y/n up last night.”

Yunjin turned to you. “Oh, sh*t. I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, you said, “It’s no big deal. I got used to it after a while.”

“Was that when you decided you wished you could join in?” he cracked.

You wasn't going to respond to that. The more you looked over at his smug expression, the more determined yoi became to finish the entire damn mug of coffee to spite him. “I’m really surprised at how much I’m actually liking this,” lied.

Yunjin chose to ignore Jay's earlier comment. “What do you say after breakfast we head to town, Y/n? I’d love it if you could show me around the island.”

“Alright. That would be nice.”

She walked over to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. “You want to come with us, babe?”

Jay said before finishing off the last of his coffee and putting the cup in the sink. “No. I have sh*t to do,”

“Okay. Just the girls then.”

The coffee had turned you into a spaz. As Yunjin and you walked around Newport that morning, she kept having to tell you to slow down. Apparently, in her heels, she couldn’t keep up with you. At one point later in the afternoon, you stopped to rest your legs. Yunjin and you sat on a wooden bench overlooking the dozens of docked sailboats as the sun shined over the water.

“So, how did you and Jay meet?” you asked.

“I was in the audience at this club called Showbox in Seattle, Jay was performing there that night. He was eyeing me the whole time he was singing and after the show, he came to find me. When he said he was thinking of me while he was singing the last song, I nearly died. We’ve been inseparable since.”

Your face felt hot. You wasn’t willing to admit to yourself that it was jealousy. The thought of them connecting so intimately while he was in the middle of performing made you uncomfortable for some reason. Maybe because it reminded you of the songs he used to write for you. You’d think nothing would bother you after having to endure their f*cking last night.

“What kind of music does he play now?”

“Well, he does some covers of artists like Drake, but he also writes a lot of original stuff. He mostly plays clubs, but his manager has been trying to get him a music deal. Of course, the girls all go crazy over him. That part has taken some getting used to for me.”

“I’m sure it’s hard.”

“Yeah. Big time.” She tilted her head. “What about you? No boyfriend?”

“I just got out of a relationship.” You confide in her as if she were just a normal friend to you.

On the way home, you passed Yeonjun’s on the Beach, a restaurant that was known for live music at night and really good food. A sign out front read, Temporary Summer Help Wanted. Since there was a university just over the bridge, a lot of the students went home in the summer, leaving some of the local restaurants in need of temporary wait staff. You stopped short in front of the entrance.

“Do you mind if I go in and inquire about this?”

“Sure. I’d actually like to check it out, too.”

Both Yunjin and you had waitressing experience so you sat down and filled out applications, by the time you walked out of there, we each had a job. The manager basically told you could work any night you wanted. The extra money and flexibility was impossible to pass up, Yunjin was particularly happy that he’d told her it was no problem if she had to suddenly cancel a shift in the event she got called back to Manhattan for an audition. You were each going to start tomorrow.

That night, Yunjin thought you should celebrate new jobs over dinner and drinks on the upper deck back at the house. It hadn’t dawned on you how peaceful being away from Jay all day had been. When you walked in the door, butterflies started to swarm in your stomach again as soon as you smelled his cologne.

Jay was standing in the kitchen drinking a beer when Yunjin ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Jay was tall over six feet but Serim wasn’t that much shorter than him. Next to both of them, you was basically a midget. He cleaned up nice, Jay had changed out of his camouflage shorts from earlier into dark jeans and a gray shirt with black stripes that hugged his chest. He’d done something to his hair that you couldn’t pinpoint. She ran her fingers through his hair then kissed him.

“I missed you. Guess what? We both got jobs at this restaurant on the beach.”

“Did you tell them you could get called back to New York anytime?”

“The guy said it didn’t matter. He said I could basically just work whenever I want.”

“Really. That sounds a bit shady to me. But whatever. You sure he doesn’t just want in your pants, Serim?”

“He said the same thing to me,” you interrupted.

“Well, then it can’t be that.”

It took you a bit to realize that he’d just insulted you. Yunjin intercepted before you could muster up a comeback.

“It’s mild out. How about we all have dinner on the upstairs deck tonight. We could barbecue that steak I have marinating in the fridge.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her you don’t like red meat, so you just kept quiet. He would probably think you was looking for an excuse not to have dinner with them. Kill him with kindness. “I’m not that great of a cook, but I can make a big salad.”

Jay smacked the counter. “Great. I’ll start the grill while Y/n tosses her big salad.” He started to walk outside when you yelled after him.

“You know what Ameryn would say to you right now? She’d tell you to go wash your dirty mouth out with soap.”

He turned around and lifted his brow. “Soap wouldn’t cut it.”

After chopping up lettuce, carrots, red onion, tomatoes and cucumbers, you dressed the salad with homemade honey mustard vinaigrette. You carried it upstairs where Jay and her were already sitting down at the table. She had poured three glasses of merlot, and Jay was sipping one as he looked over at the waves, which were rough tonight.

Once you started eating, Jay wouldn’t look at you or make conversation. You filled your plate with salad and bread, and it took a while before anyone noticed that you wasn’t eating anything else. Yunjin’s mouth was full when she said, “You didn’t even touch the steak.”

“I don’t really like to eat meat.”

Jay chuckled. “Is that why you can’t find a man?”

You dropped your fork. “You’re a prick seriously I don’t recognize you anymore, how were we ever best friends?”

“I used to ask myself that all the time before I stopped giving a sh*t.”

You got up from the table and went downstairs. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Yunjin in and out slowly to calm yourself down, she came up quietly behind you.

“I really don’t get what’s going on between you two or why he refuses to talk about it.”

“Are you sure you guys never dated?”

“I told you, Yunjin. It wasn’t anything like that.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“I think he should be the one to explain it to you. Honestly, I don’t know. Anything that happened before that is irrelevant now. He’s pissed because of how I handled something or just running away, that's how i survive. Let’s just go back upstairs and try to have a nice dinner.”

Back on the upper deck, Jay was stone-faced, pouring more wine into his glass. A part of you wanted to slap him across the face, but another part felt guilty that you had caused so much anger in him. He said he didn’t care, but you refused to believe he would be acting up like this if he didn’t.

You touched his arm. “Will you just talk to me?”

He whipped his arm away. “I’m over it. I’m not talking about anything.”

“Will you do it for Ameryn?”

His head flipped up, and his eyes darkened. “Stop f*cking bringing her into this. Your grandma was a wonderful woman. She was the mother I never had. She never turned her back on me like pretty much everyone else in my life. This house is a representation of your mom, which is why I’m here.”

“I’m not here because of you. You want me to talk, but what you don’t seem to understand is that I don’t have anything to say about anything that happened almost a decade ago. I’ve erased it all. It’s too late, Y/n. I don’t care if you and Yunjin become friends, alright? But don’t bother trying to get through to me because we’re not gonna be friends,”

“..you put me in a sh*t mood, and I don’t want to spend this whole summer in a sh*t mood. We’re roommates. Nothing more. Stop pretending there is something more to it. Stop pretending to like the goddamn coffee. Stop pretending everything is just great. Cut the sh*t and see things for what they are. We don’t mean anything to each other.”

He got up and took his plate. “I’m done, Yunjin. I’ll see you in the room.”

Yunjin and you sat in silence, listening to nothing but the sound of the waves crashing beneath you. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“Please. Don’t, okay? He’s right. Sometimes, you can’t fix things.” Despite the complacent words that had come out of your mouth, a tear fell down your cheek.

taglist: @rikizm @sumzysworld @xylatox @morganaawriterr

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bullshit-tqia · 3 days ago

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No, I haven't given up on the comparison. You just don't understand logical principles and you are just trying to moralize the comparison. so I don't see the point in repeating what I've already explained.

But sure, I'll explain!

My family's connection to Zurich is the only definitive name of an area my family lived in. My family, within 3 generations, migrated from Switzerland to what's Austria today, and there was a death certificate of an ancestor's mother in Britain. One year afterwards, there was a marriage certificate from the church in Jamestown in 1627. I'm not entirely sure if his family moved there before his mother's death - as it was common for fathers to take custody of their children at the time. So I rely on what is definitive, the marriage certificate. One of the law schools I applied to is in the area and I hope that's the school I go to because it would be amazing to live in the spot that my ancestors lived in exactly 400 years ago.

From there, the next generation moved south, into the Carolina colony. They lived in the Albemarle Sound, which at the time was a mixed-race community of poor white farmers, escaped black slaves and freemen, escaped Irish servants and freed servants, and Native Americans. The rebelliousness and mixed-community of Albemarle inspired the split of the Carolina colony and the people of Albemarle participated in Bacon's Rebellion - which is a key point in American history. This is because The governor of Virginia spread propaganda that black people were inferior to whites to create discord between the white and black rioters. He did this to protect the institution of slavery and indentured servitude.

The generations following moved even further south, but one branch of my ancestry settled in New Bern and the other in Greenville, North Carolina. They stayed there up until my grandmother moved to the city after giving birth to my mother. Meaning for a good 350+ years, my family stayed in that one spot. This region of NC is very interesting because it was the first part of the confederacy to be retaken by the Union. This is why one of my ancestors volunteered for the Union Army and helped the Union keep New Bern, Beaufort, and the Hatteras Inlet. I love Hatteras by the way. My favorite place on Earth. I once flew a friend from California over who bragged about Californian beaches - until he came to the beach my family has gone to for generations. He said south of the Hatteras Inlet is the best for swimming and relaxing, with no pollution, little to no people, and beautiful nature.

Here's a picture I took in January, this is in between two villages on the islands. No houses, no people. But there was a corpse of a heron.

My family then moved further south into South Carolina. Around this time, more of my ancestors arrived at the Charleston Harbor and moved into the outskirts of Charleston. There are three splits here, one family stays in Charleston, one settles north by the Edisto River, and the other moves to around Orangeburg, which is by Columbia. This is where my family founded a town.

These families stay in the area for generations, but urbanism does hit. So my family by the Edisto River also moved to Orangeburg, the family on the outskirts of Charleston moved to the city and the family that founded the town moved to Columbia. Then the war hits.

All three cities are destroyed, and my family's records disappear for a few generations. I assume that they lost everything because of the shelling of Charleston and the burning down of Columbia and Orangeburg, so my family there has nothing left. Up until my great-grandmother on my father's mother's side, do I know where they were. She lived on the border of NC and SC, roughly near Charlotte, but over an hour away by car. My grandmother told me a story of Charlotteans stumbling upon my grandmother's farm, homeless during the Depression. They would work on the farm for a bit before leaving, likely to Wilmington, a port city.

My family in Eastern NC split during the Depression, some moving to Wilson, the heart of tobacco country. Others stayed in the area. World War 2 is how I know where my great-grandfathers lived before becoming part of the army. One lived in Horry County, where Myrtle Beach is, the other in Greenville, and the other in Jacksonville, NC.

My great-grandfather stayed in the army, so he moved around a lot. My grandfather on my dad's side was born in Florence, South Carolina. My grandmother was born in Columbia. On my mom's side, my grandma was born around Greenville, and my grandfather was born in Jacksonville, NC. My grandfather actually lived in Germany during his high school years in West Berlin, even during the Cuban Missile Crisis. But from there things are simple. My grandma made sure all her kids were born in Columbia, and my mom was born outside of Greenville.

Lol

As a psychology student, I'm interested in how you say in your bio that you'll debunk transgender identities through logic. As someone who has written essays approved by college professors about transphobia, gender dysphoria, and gender identity, I would like to know what's your main argument against transgender identities (trans women, trans men, non-binary people, and so on).

You can refer to me in any way you want. He, she, it, they, I don't care. My identity isn't important, only my arguments and knowledge are. Let's talk about it.

-📚

I’m going to assume you’re a B.A. in psychology, not a B.S. in psychology-which is an important distinction. Most psychology majors are B.A. majors.

But also, I graduated college so you saying “approved by college professors” doesn’t mean much to me. What does "approved" mean, I got consent to write about 'XYZ' for my term papers sometimes, is that what "approved" means? I also wrote essays and got A+’s on them. I don’t see myself as an authority on the history of the U.S. South or Southern legal history. I graduated college feeling like I didn’t know enough to ever consider myself as an authority on the topic. I felt like I knew nothing. Which is why I’m going to law school.

My arguments against transgenderism are based on the “treatment” of gender dysphoria. I think gender dysphoria does exist, but I don’t think it is biological in nature like many trans theory states. This is why the distinction between a B.A. and a B.S. matters. A Bachelor of Arts focuses more on the humanities, so reading and interpreting studies through a linguistic and theoretical lens, while a B.S. focuses on conducting research and interpreting studies through a quantitative and objective lens.

In logic, it is very important to point out assumptions in people’s arguments. Many arguments for transgenderism are based on assumptions, things assumed to be true, but not things proven to be true.

For example, the fact that transwomen have “female” brains.

This study (very narrow in sample) compares the white/grey matter content of female, male, and transwoman brains.

The graph corresponds with the amount of white and grey matter in the brain, meaning that the more "female" a brain, the more grey matter it'll have, and the more white matter a brain has, the more "male" it is.

0 is female, 1 is male, -1 is super female, and 2 is super male. This study looks legit at first until I point something out.

There's only one person that was slightly below 0 in this graph in the transgender woman violin plot, half of the men meet the "obscure brain sex zone" and a little less than half of the women also meet this "obscure zone," and the majority of transgender women meet this zone.

More of the transwomen stretch into the "super male" zone than into the "super female" zone. Only one did, while a little over half of the females did.

This is supposed to prove transwomen have female brains? It seems like it does the opposite. Because of the obscurity, none between 0-1 really matter as they overlap. It is the extreme cases that matter the most. No males go below 0, no females go above 1. Many transgender women go above 1, but only one went below 0, and just barely. This can be doubted based on this one person's brain was mismeasured.

And the key assumption is, what these scientists ignored and simply assumed was true:

How does an increase in grey matter in a male's brain lead to gender dysphoria? What is the connection between grey matter and transgenderism?

Sure, they pointed out that 1 male fit into the "female" range, and that was only after meeting a prerequisite: identifying as transgender. As for the "cisgender" people, it's never specified if they included lesbian and gay men.

If they tested for that, could we have seen even more overlap? And if gay men dipped into the "female sexed brain" and lesbians rose into the "male sexed brain" then the whole study is bullshit based on these gay men still identifying as men despite having "female brains" and lesbians identifying as women despite having "male brains." But we don't know this because they didn't test for it. If it is true, then something else leads someone to identify as transgender and white matter & grey matter have nothing to do with it, but to me that is already established as the majority of the people sampled overlap each other.

The primary differences seem to be based on the influence of testosterone and estrogen in the body. None of the trans-identified men were on HRT. This is based on their natal hormone levels.

Another assumption is that in the womb, trans-identified people were exposed to more testosterone/estrogen in their brains while their body was exposed to more estrogen/testosterone. This is an assumption because:

We don't even know if this is possible, how does testosterone/estrogen begin to collect and localize to one place

How come we have never observed this in any other body part, it is the excess of androgens/insufficient androgens that cause intersex conditions, not a localization excess of estrogen in their genitals or something like that

Why haven't we tried to observe hormone flux in the womb and do long-term studies on their gender/sexuality first before assuming that HRT/SRS would fix everything?

If there is no biological basis for transgenderism, then why are we trying to fix it through biology?

If it isn't like my fucked up & misaligned teeth, something observable, then why are we assuming that the solution is just as observable as inverting a penis or stitching on a flesh tube?

If it is not something objectively measurable, how can we truly determine who is trans and who isn't?

Correlation ≠ Causation

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