#since I don't want to keep on working on the same thing

[saeist]

it was just a mission. something about gathering intel at some event. it's simple, you've done this multiple times but the main problem? your boyfriend is pretty hands on with these kinds of missions

it wasn't out of the ordinary that you would be sent out on missions with nagumo. you two are members of the order and maybe to the higher ups, it was way more convenient this way (not that you minded)

now here you are, in a bar at some skyline rooftop in tokyo, gathering much information you can about an upcoming grand ball happening in a few weeks

your boyfriend, who happens to be your work partner is seated beside you, casually having a great time at the bar

in work settings, you and nagumo maintained a professional relationship. not only that it helps with your work ethics, it also prevents potential problems that may come in your way with your relationship (in regards to the work place. you wouldn't want to bring problems into your own home, now would you?)

but sometimes nagumo may take things too far just like right now.

nagumo had managed to find an important figure for the event and as expected, he charms his way to get information out of her. you watch them like a hawk as nagumo basically impresses this woman so much that she's already spilling company secrets to him

in retrospect, nagumo could've gotten this information in millions of different ways and scenarios. he has done shit like this too many times to count but since you were his partner for this specific mission, where's the fun in doing things he'd usually do without you?

he takes a look around the bar. just for a second to check if you were already looking at him– you are

nagumo holds in his smirk as he turns his attention back to the poor woman who was now babbling on about her life and company secrets

"that's cool" nagumo nods along to whatever the woman was yapping about, "so you're like super involved with the process of the production? that's interesting" nagumo hums, his voice dropping an octave lower in order to sound seductive just to see your reaction

now, you aren't exactly the jealous type. you were an assassin, you were bound to get into situations like this. it's all part of the job but something about nagumo flirting his way through this mission was rubbing you the wrong way

was it the drinks? it couldn't be. you are basically trained to withstand alcohol consumptions no matter how much you drink

the woman was now wrapped around nagumo's finger with the way she was giggling like crazy. twirling her hair and all as she leans onto nagumo's chest

nagumo got her right where he wanted

nagumo pauses his little chitchat with the woman to steal a glance towards your direction. you aren't exactly looking right at them but your bloodlust and hostility was going off the roof that nagumo couldn't help but look over

when you feel his gaze, you only look at him with a neutral expression though nagumo sees right through it. your eyes don't lie. you wanted to kill both the woman and him at the same time. he can literally see how you wanted them dead on the spot

the woman, still oblivious to your presence nor what you meant to nagumo, decides to take it up a notch and place her hand on nagumo's exposed chest

nagumo's eyes widened as he tries to pry her hands off of him. oh fuck, he thinks to himself. totally not expecting the woman to be handsy

the woman caresses his chest as she stares at him like he was eye candy (he is). she couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his exposed tattoos. fuck. maybe i should've just kept it at bay from the start, nagumo thinks to himself. he then stiffens when he feels the woman brush her fingers against his tattoos. his hand flies towards her wrist to brush her off as politely as he can.

nagumo tries to keep his expression as casual and neutral as he can but how could he when he can feel your intense stare at the side of his face.

he's so fucking dead

you click your tongue loudly in annoyance. the glass in your hand cracked under your grip. you were too busy ignoring the simmering feeling to notice til you felt some liquid seep through your fingers. nagumo nervously looks over at your direction again, trying to telepathically tell you to calm down

"so nagumo, any plans for tonight?" the woman purrs, leaning back on him

okay. that was your last straw.

you slam the glass down on the countertop, breaking it into tiny pieces. you push yourself off the bar as you make your way to the car. the mission might as well be over with since nagumo basically gathered all the information you two needed

nagumo winces as the glass shattered. even scaring the poor woman who's all over him. she grumbles about how you were too drunk to notice that you were getting physical

"i'll be going to the bathroom for a bit, excuse me" nagumo chirps, effortlessly pushing the woman off of him as he catches up to you

he's definitely done it this time around

nagumo makes a face as he rushes towards the parking lot where you were likely most waiting in. he considers the mission done when he got every possible detail needed for the upcoming plans

now onto his next mission: how to calm your not so jealous, jealous girlfriend down

when he makes it to the parking lot where your car was parked at. he was pleasantly surprised that you were waiting for him. for a second there he thought he would have to take an uber back home

you were busy distracting yourself on your phone when you hear a knock at the window. without even looking up, you unlocked the car and waited for nagumo to get inside

"hi" he greets, sitting on the passenger seat, "have i ever told you that you look beautiful tonight?" nagumo smiles, leaning over to your side to peck your cheek

you don't spare him a glance. hell, you didn't even acknowledge him. instead, you start the car and get the fuck out of the parking lot

"whoa! someone's in a hurry" nagumo jokes, gripping on the grab handle tightly as you floor it through the streets of tokyo. you ignore him and grip the steering wheel tighter. so tight that your knuckles turned white

you can't tell if nagumo still couldn't get the hint with the way he was just sitting in the passenger seat like the passenger prince he is. your eyes flicker towards his direction for a second and there you see his infamous smile on his face

for some reason that just upset you further

so you took a sharp turn that the tires were screeching. nagumo yelps in surprise

"babe, i'm gonna throw up at this rate with the way you're driving!" nagumo whines, reclining the seat back so he could rest a little. he was already getting a little car sick

"then get out and walk home" you snap, slamming on the breaks. nagumo was thankful that he had his seatbelt on or else he would've already flew out of the windshield

"oh so you are mad.." nagumo murmurs, "like mad mad"

you never wanted to strangle your own boyfriend til now. you can't even tell if he's being serious or being a little shit (it's most likely the latter) but the icky green feeling in your stomach was basically controlling you and your emotions right now

your silence was the answer nagumo needed. he lets out a chuckle. you are so easy to read

"is my baby jealous?" he teases, nudging you a bit. you shake off his touch, not wanting him to touch you in any way shape of form despite being in the same car as him, "you totally are" he coos, laughing at your reaction

you grit your teeth in annoyance, "i don't know, am i?"

nagumo hums, entertained by this whole conversation. he has never seen you act like this so this was a first. who knew you'd be cute like this

"it was just for the mission, baby. don't be upset" he says, reaching out to pinch your cheeks

"it wasn't just the mission, nagumo. you let her flirt with you" you seethe, frustration and irritation bubbling inside you

nagumo leans back on his seat, tapping his finger on his chin as if he was deep in thought. "well, i had to get the information one way or another so why not make her believe that she was some hot shit?"

"so you think hitting on people even when you have an actual partner, that was beside you the whole time mind you! would be the perfect way to fish out information? wow" you retaliate, shoulders dropping as you stare at the empty road in front of you

nagumo winces at your words

"okay maybe the flirting bit was a little too much–"

"what the fuck? so does that mean you do this every single time when you need intel behind my back? all this fucking time?" you cut him off, turning to nagumo with hurt evident on your features

nagumo's eyes widens at your accusation. he would never!

"what? baby no! i would never do that to you!" nagumo argues, sitting up properly. the look on your face is something he never wants to see ever again. seeing the hurt on your face hurt him more than a blade piercing through his skin

"i mean that maybe this time it was too far! i would never do that to you. it just so happens that the woman was flirting with me even if i was just being nice! i'm sorry baby. for the woman and for the way i acted tonight. i'm sorry" nagumo apologizes sincerely

you don't say anything. you continue to focus on the road so you could get home in one piece. nagumo waits and watches for your reaction but when he notices that you aren't saying anything he sighs

nagumo carefully reaches out for your hand that was on the gear shift. he slowly intertwines them together and places your hand on his lap

"baby, i'm really sorry that i made you feel this way. it wasn't my intention" nagumo rubs his thumb across your hand, "i just thought it may be a little funny to see how you'd react if i let other people flirt with me–"

luckily you were already on your street by the time nagumo was rambling because hearing his words just now made you slam on the breaks

"jesus babe. if you want to kill me then just stab me in the heart instead of trying to make me fly off the car" nagumo groans as he lurches forward but the seatbelt that he was wearing prevented him from flying out

"you deserve it" you glare at him, shaking off his hand as you exit the car. nagumo follows like a lost puppy

by the time you finally get inside your shared apartment, you were still irritated with nagumo, who has not left your side since. he's been following you around the house. from the living room to the bathroom and now at the kitchen where you were making yourself some tea to wind down before going to bed

nagumo wraps his arms around your frame and rests his head on your shoulder as you boil water on a kettle

"... are you still mad at me?" he mumbles in your ear, watching you add your usual spoons of sugar on your cup

you huff, "is it not obvious?"

"sorry"

nagumo pouts and decides pushes his luck. he presses a soft kiss on your cheek, in attempt to make you swoon. usually on normal days, this would've worked

"that's not gonna work this time around" you grumbled, turning off the kettle as it goes off. you pour yourself some hot water as nagumo continues to hold you close to him

"what is?" nagumo decides to play coy. again, you were just so easy to read. this time instead of kissing your cheek, his lips ghost against your jawline. nagumo feels you stiffen at the gesture. he smirks, hands sliding down your abdomen before they rest on your hips

"still mad?" he purrs in your ear. you shiver when you feel him finally press his lips against your jawline and trail kisses along side of it. he then flips you around, your back is now pressed against the cold tiles of your kitchen island. you stare at nagumo with wide eyes. you were supposed to be mad at him!

nagumo leans in, slowly closing the distance between you. his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes like he was waiting for you to say something but instead he notices the way your breath hitches and your fingers twitching against the countertop like you were holding yourself back

"if you're still mad then let me make it up to you, baby" nagumo chuckles, hands rubbing random shapes on your exposed skin. you narrow your eyes at him, silently challenging him to bring it on. you aren't going to give in that easily

although all those thoughts go out the window the moment you feel his lips against yours. as cheesy as it is and no matter how long you've been dating nagumo, every time you two kiss its like time slows down and sparks fly

your hands immediately find their way around his neck, closing the distance. nagumo hums against the kiss, looks like he finally won you over

things take a turn after that and let's just say your tea is now long forgotten and maybe he may or may have not made it up to you

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 9)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3178

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Notes: ughhhh. i don't like this part. fml

_________________________________________

Annoyance courses through your veins when Rhys’ phone buzzes against the tabletop again. The devilish device has been blowing up with messages since before your tutoring session had even begun, as soon as Rhys walked into the room with a mumbled greeting, fully immersed in the device.

Each vibration has slowly chipped away at your feeble concentration. You quickly lost focus on studying, and you’ve had to re-read the same paragraph three times over, restarting every single time he received a new message. Not a single fact has clicked in your head, and the urge to collapse in defeat is all too tempting right now.

Rhysand is in no way phased by your unpleasant aura and blatant glares. His laptop is open, eyes glued to the screen as his fingertips fly across the keyboard. He has a paper due at nine in the morning, and although he’s known about it since the end of last week, between tutoring you, the Halloween party, hockey practices, and games, he’s up to his ears busy.

But he wanted to see you.

He’d spent all week thinking about you. During practice, he’d found himself glancing up into the bleachers, looking for you, hoping he’d catch a peek of you in that sinfully butchered jersey of his. That reminds him, he needs to get you a new one because you’re more than distracting in that scrap of fabric.

He’d searched for you the same way at the away game the Bat’s had this week, even though he knew you weren’t in the building at all, weren’t even in the same city.

And psychology is fucking ruined for him. He thinks about you the most when he’s sitting in class, staring at the lecture slides he should be copying down. It’s a good thing that the information comes so easily to him, otherwise he’s pretty sure he’d be fucked with the amount of time spent daydreaming about how your lips felt on his, soft, shy, intimate.

“You know, if I’m keeping you from something,” you finally say, snapping Rhys from his paper. It’s hard to keep the annoyance out of your tone but the surprise on his face, the way his brows knit together in confusion has a pang of guilt stabbing you in the chest. Clutching your pen in your grasp only helps a little. “We don’t have to do this tonight.”

You refrain from admitting that you really do need his help tonight due to the quiz you have coming up later this week. It’s the only night he’s available to tutor you, with his hectic schedule. Right now, his presence is more distracting than it is helpful, and from where you sit across the table, you can tell that he’s stressed.

It’s in the way that he runs his fingers through his jet-black hair, tugging on the roots when whatever he’s typed doesn’t make sense. You know this is his tell because it’s followed by the prominent clicks of the backspace key for each letter he removes. Clack. Clack. Clack.

You can fully see the exhaustion written on his face, the circles beneath his violet eyes, and how every so often you’ve caught him rubbing his fists into his eyes. The bruise on his jaw looks better than it had the last time you saw him, splotches of yellow-green dust the area instead of the deep purple coloring it was when the injury was fresh.

He must see your frustration on your face because his shoulders drop in shame.

“What? No, I’m here,” he insists, shoving his computer away from him. Yeah, maybe a break is what he needs. Shame crawls up his throat. He’s supposed to be your tutor, and he’s been so caught up in his own work that he forgot that he’s supposed to be helping you.

Rhys frowns when his phone jolts against the desk again. You take a calming breath, closing your eyes, but they still prickle with frustration. You’re just as frazzled as he is. If you don’t pass this quiz, you’re not sure there’s hope of salvaging your grade.

You’re arguably just as exhausted as Rhys. Your other classes are also on the verge of kicking your ass, and you can only blame it on the fact that you actually have a semblance of a social life this year and aren’t holed up in your dorm room 24/7 outside of your classes, studying your ass off. No, you’re hanging out with your roommates more, meeting new people, going to hockey games and parties, both of which are things you never thought you’d be into.

And trying to keep up this façade as Rhysand’s fake girlfriend isn’t easy. Amarantha seems like she’s everywhere. You can barely count the number of times last week Rhys messaged you about her. You meet up with him when you’re close and able, in the commons, the food halls, you even met him between the stacks of bookshelves in the library while she pretended to peruse the non-fictions, but you can’t be everywhere at once. It’s a lot. Just last night, Amarantha was at the hockey house when Rhys arrived home. She had sunken her blood-red claws into one of the freshmen who’d been invited over for a few beers with a small group of players. Azriel had warned him of the devil under their roof, and Rhys had showed up at your dorm with a sheepish smile and a box of cookies from the convenience store he passed on the way over.

If he didn’t have those sweets in hand—and if your roommates hadn’t gone to a movie that you wanted to see but couldn’t because of the amount of studying you had to do—you would have slammed the door in his face.

You spent the night studying alright, but it wasn’t the words in your psych textbook. You couldn’t help but examine Rhysand, who sat across from you on your couch, the way that his hair fell from his brow when his chin tilted down to his own work. The way that he held the chocolate chip cookie in his mouth between his teeth as he wrote in his notebook. The zip of excitement you felt when your fingers brushed against his rough ones in the cookie box.

Your cheeks warm at the memory. You swear you can still feel his touch, the sheepish smile he gave you when he pulled his hand away, letting you pick whichever cookie you preferred. You wanted to lean over and taste that soft smile against your lips. You managed to find the restraint, offering him a gentle smile in return before stuffing a bite of the chocolatey goodness in your mouth as you ripped your gaze from his.

“No, really,” you try to insist politely. “If you need to go, you should. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” It’s difficult to hide your cringe. You really do need his help.

Rhysand stares. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, and when he opens his mouth to ask what has you so on edge tonight, his phone pings with another message, and realization sets in like a boulder in the pit of his stomach at the way your gaze drops back to your book.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, snagging his phone from the table. It’s Cassian, again. His roommate won’t let the fuck up in the group chat, demanding mandatory attendance from every single member on the team at the party he’s hosting at the hockey house the night before team plays the Springview Wolves.

Rhys would be worried about the potential jinxing Cassian’s text puts into the universe if he didn’t know that this is the one superstition his defenseman has. The past two years, the entire hockey team had attended one of Cassian’s pre-celebration parties. It was the last party before their meet with the Wolves, who they’d then slaughtered in a 6-2 game. The following year, they’d beat them in nail-biting overtime with a snapshot that could’ve broken the plexiglass had Azriel missed. Safe to say that this party has become as much as a tradition as it is a superstition, and Rhysand needs to be there.

But right now, he needs to be here, focusing on you and the psych class you’re bombing.

“Look, if you’re too busy to tutor me I’d rather you tell me now so that I might have a chance at finding a new tutor before this quiz.” It’s difficult to mask the disheartened etch to your voice. Who are you kidding? There’s no way you’ll be able to find a tutor when the quiz is two days away.

Yep, you’re officially screwed.

“I’m not,” Rhys protests, shaking his head. Something about the idea of another person tutoring you has annoyance flaring in his veins. He silences his phone, something he should have done as soon as he walked over the threshold of the study room. “It’s just Cassian, anyway.” Rhys slides his chair around the corner of his table so close that your knees knock into each other. The touch sends a shockwave up your thigh and you try not to recoil at the surprising feeling. “Sorry. I’m done texting. Remind me what you’re working through, and I can help with any questions you have.”

You’re apprehensive to let this tutoring continue. It’s become very clear that Rhys has other priorities. He’s the captain of the hockey team for fuck’s sake; he probably has more on his plate than you think he does.

At your hesitation, he questions, “What?”

You shrug, feeling completely defeated. All you want right now is to crawl home with your tail between your legs and curl into a ball in your bed. You’ve pretty much accepted that you’re going to fail this class, tutor or not. There’s no way you’re going to admit any of this to Mor’s cousin right now, so you deflect, lamely. “I don’t know Cassian that well, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that likes to be ignored.”

Rhys rolls his eyes, and your breath hitches as the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. Sadly, a grin doesn’t break through, but it lights a fire under your ass. You want to see that smile, and you’ll do just about anything to make it happen.

It’s sad, almost, how much effort you’d put into earning that grin, but not apply that same energy toward studying.

“He’s going through our roster in the group chat, calling every single person out by name to make sure their schedules are cleared for the party we’re throwing this weekend.”

You catch yourself before your eyes roll into the back of your head in what might possibly be the most dramatic, epic eyeroll ever.

“Wow,” you feign an amused laugh. “That sounds dramatic.”

“That’s Cass for you,” Rhys says, amused. He crosses his arms and places them on the table. It takes effort not to watch the way his muscles pop beneath his t-shirt as he leans in closer. You’re only a foot away from each other. If you wanted to recreate the kiss you shared on Halloween, all you’d have to do is angle forward, tilt your head, and his lips would be on yours. You wonder for a fleeting moment if Rhys was as thrown over the kiss that night as you were. If he still thinks about it, can still feel the phantom sensation of your lips pressed together.

You remember that you shouldn’t be thinking about the kiss at all, and you sit back in your chair.

“You know,” Rhys starts, and you don’t like the telltale signs of a scheme that lines his tone. You almost groan out loud but settle on shooting him a warning look. “Since you’re my girlfriend—”

“Fake girlfriend,” you correct instantly.

Rhys rolls his eyes and tips back onto the back legs of his chair. “Fine. Fake girlfriend,” he mimics and you toss your pencil at him. He catches it against his chest and the smile you’ve been waiting to see finally cracks his face. Fuck, he’s gorgeous when he does that. You’re even gifted those pearly white, straight teeth of his. You’d keel over in your chair like one of his many conquests if it wouldn’t give him an ego. You almost miss the end of Rhys request with how entranced you are. “You should probably make an appearance at the party.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. Realization strikes you like a fist. Rhys all but preens in his seat. You blink as his words settle, frows knitting together. “Wait, no, I can’t.” His face immediately falls. Rhys’ face scrunches adorably and you’d really like to reach out and smooth the crease between his brows right now.

There are more than a handful of reasons that you should not show your face at the hockey house party, the most prominent being that you’re his cousin’s best. She doesn’t want you anywhere near him, and you can’t break that promise even more than you already have.

Well, I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. His words echo in your head and you shove them away as quickly as they arrive.

The second reason you shouldn’t be going to his party is that you’re barely even friends, you’ve somehow been sucked into a mess of a situation, pretending to be his girlfriend in exchange for tutoring. Tutoring that right now isn’t helping improve your grade at all.

“Why not?” He challenges. “What if Amarantha shows up?”

“Because I have other plans,” you answer plainly. You don’t need to give him a reason. You press, “I can’t be your buffer between Amarantha forever, Rhys. You’re a big boy; you can fight your own battles.”

He looks awfully like he doesn’t want to fight his own battles, with his lips pressed into a pout. If you thought that he was distracting before, this is an entirely new level of diversion. A much better kind, to be honest.

“You’re seriously not coming to the party?”

“No,” you respond, packing up your things.

“But what if she corners me and tries to kiss me or give me a hand job or something?” He asks.

Your eyes almost bug out of your head. “Then you tell her no, Rhys,” you state. “It’s really that simple. And don’t guys enjoy hand jobs? When was the last time—” He opens his mouth and you shake your head. “No, nope, I don’t even want to know.” You glare until he shuts his mouth, but the amusement lingers in his eyes.

He huffs. “Those nails are sharp,” is all he offers.

You wince. Amarantha does keep her nails long and pointed at the tips, crimson red, like blood. You almost look down to admire your own hands but catch yourself at the last second. You do not need to be thinking about how your fingers might look like wrapped around Rhys’ eight inches.

Your cheeks burn and Rhysand raises a brow in question.

He must read the plea on your face because he thankfully changes the subject. “What could you possibly have going on that’s better than free booze, good music, and seeing yours truly?”

“Wow, Rhys,” you scoff. “Your ego is unbearably suffocating tonight. Did you get your dick sucked recently?” You ask sweetly, then busy yourself by turning to a fresh page in your notebook.

His answering grin is fucking smug.

The muscle of your jaw twitches with how tightly you clamp it shut.

“Hoping it happens at the party,” he answers, suggestively.

You fake gag. “No way.”

“Didn’t say it was going to be from you,” he teases. “But if you want to, you’ll know exactly where I’ll be.”

Gods, this boy and his fucking filthy mind. You certainly haven’t forgotten that he’s your best friend’s cousin, but the fact that you’re his cousin’s best friend has either slipped his mind, or he doesn’t care.

Either way, this isn’t a good situation to be in.

You divert, pulling your focus back to the books splayed out on the desk. Studying. Right, that’s what you need to be doing instead of whatever…this is.

“I told you; I can’t go.” You try and reach for your pen that’s in Rhys’ grasp but he pulls it out of reach, ignoring the glare you send his way. Fine. You search your backpack for a backup but come up empty. Ugh.

“Can’t, or won’t?” He shoots back.

“Both,” you sigh, checking the time on your phone. It’s well past nine o’clock in the evening, and you really thought that you’d be back at the dorms already, curled up on your bed with your laptop overheating on the sheets as it played a movie. “Can we get back to studying?”

“In a second,” Rhys assures. Why does he want you to come to the party so badly? Besides the obvious. Amarantha surely can’t be that much trouble. She is a little bit of a nightmare and you could see how Rhys wants her to take the hint that he’s moved on, but if he’s that worried about her in the first place, why doesn’t he tell her that she’s uninvited? Or make the hockey team aware that she’s not allowed in the party? Why is flaunting you around the only answer? “What if I said please?”

“That wouldn’t magically cancel my plans.”

“What plans?” You frown. You wonder why he’s pushing this so hard.

Studying for this quiz is going to be impossible. You and Rhys might as well pack up and vacate the room so that people who are actually trying to study can use it. You’re almost positive that the group lingering by an overcrowded area of the library keep shooting you scathing looks every time you open your mouth.

“Gwyn is turning twenty-one and since Mor and I don’t turn twenty-one until next year, we’re planning on ordering in and getting a little tipsy at the dorms.” Rhys gives you that seriously? look that makes you glare. “Not that I care about your opinion, like, at all, but is there something wrong with that?”

“Only the fact that you’re ditching a party whose halls aren’t patrolled by snitches?” He explains, and he would think that the resident assistants live for getting college kids in trouble. “It’s the dorms! How freshman of you.”

“Whatever, Rhys. Some people don’t want to drink until they can’t see straight in front of a bunch of strangers.”

“I’d be your eyes for you,” he winks, as if what he said was comparable to a knight in shining armor defending a princess.

“Good,” you retort. “Because I’m about three seconds away from gouging them out if you keep hassling me about this. Come on, I really need to study.”

Luckily, Rhys relents. His shoulders fall and the feet of his chair meet earth again.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, and cranes his neck to see what you’re reading about. “Let’s get you nice and ready for your quiz.”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @w0nderw0manly @bbykaixx @marina468 @taechvita @marigold-morelli @esahintzkanen @miakxn @ssmay123 @webvics

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me ��� the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the teeth, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the T.V.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

[ablobwhowrites]

I saw your post about the Poppy playtime: New Home Sweet Home Au and I really like the concept!

Since the release of Ch4 I wanted to request… how would the 17 toys react to seeing the doctor, Harvey Sawyer now in a robot (like in the fan arts) just showing up at the door when Reader goes to open the door.

I can imagine the chaos that would happen.

Especially when the doctor simply requests to live at the house with them.

(thanks for liking the au. Hopefully I can keep cooking with this one. Might make more I don't know)

The doctor forced to live in the garage or something like that.

When y/n opened the door they just kinda froze up looking up at the doctor a doey who was coming out of the living room just quietly ran back in the living where most of the smiling critters where and he just whisper yells that the actual doctor is here and everyone freaks out quietly. Cause like they would be all scared out of their minds because what do you mean the doctor of out side and at the literal door.

Doey immediately plans to protect everyone. He did it at the safe haven, he can do it again. The smiling critters well panic but dog day is the same as doey wanting to try and protect the house and the other toys inside. As most of the toys are afraid of the doctor cause like how the fuck is that guy alive and if he's out than what about the prototype? But it's almost impossible for the prototype to escape cause limitations.

And doey quietly trying to reach out to grab y/n and close the door but it's to risky as they don't want to make their presence known. As they are scared that the doctor will kill them after everything especially trying to kill him as I like he's was the main reason that most of them exist especially that he contributed to making the toys alive and was the head scientist and worked with the prototype. But y/n reluctantly let's him in but just because it's the morning and they don't want the neighbors to see him. Y/n makes a deal that the doctor can live here but the toys can decide where he sleeps and thats ends up to be the garage or attic or any of the rooms that is away from the other toys and y/n and the doctor if fine with that but y/n wants to give him a second chance but doey doesn't. He just wants the doctor away from everyone else and no where near them or y/n.

Harley kinda just had a bed, blanket and a bookshelf as the room he stays in is mainly a spare room and less used guest room. But y/n tries to be nice and put up some posters and some plushies and books in his room but Harvey kinda keeps it bare and does read the books while in his room. Even though the toys don't trust y/n being around the doctor and at least mommy long legs or one of the toys go up with y/n to make sure Harley doesn't try anything funny but mostly Harley doesn't come out of the room. Only at night to take some things to tinker with them (mostly y/n's stuff) but returns it after tinkering with it (he is a control freak. As he realizes he has no power now and isn't able to see everything around him) he does try to be "nice" as he does want a place to live but he's weak and feels vulnerable, having to take refuge in y/n's house and he wonders if he could take you back with him to the factory or to find a something more have you in his grasp (he very much Is delighted by you and your abilities back at the factory and wonders if he could perhaps make you into something greater but doey and the rest of the toys ain't letting that happen if he even tries it) plus picky piggy isn't allowed in the kitchen at night anymore cause she literally had eaten almost all the groceries so now theres a lock on it that stays on until morning.

(that's it for my yap session, I glad you guys like my little silly au. But if you want more please don't feel shy to request any ideas for this or any other fics or stories. Please stay safe and drink water!)

[shanefuckingscott]

Building a life for with you. 🦾

Sevika promises a better life for you, she'd fight in every battle in Zaun, but can she win the battle between herself? 🦾

Warning: Angst with comfort at the end, Sevika being a jerk, Reader addicted to shimmer, horrible writing, barely proofread

🚫Men and Minors DNI🚫

This all started when Silco died. Sevika was rarely at home, even when he was alive, but still, she made it up to you in ways she can. You understood her job, you were there with here since day one. When she was with Vander, fighting on the bridge, and till she met Silco, you were there to support her. Everytime she comes home late with cuts snd bruises, she reminds that she's doing this for you, to have a better future, for your freedom.

Lately, she's been coming home once every week. She probably slept in Silco's office again, and you know she's trying her hardest to keep things running, while still finding a resolve for the other Chem-baron's turf wars. When she came home, you greeted her with her her favourite food for dinner, but she barely looked at it, and just went to bed. You, of course, being concerned for her well being, you follow her, and rub her back. "Is everything all right?" You ask with a hint of worry in your tone. She scoffs "Yeah, never better" You hear the sarcasm in her voice, and you go to her face, and kiss her, "Babe, please, take a break. Just this once. I need you home, I miss you, and every time you get home lately, you barely notice me, you don't talk to me, so please, can you just, talk?" you plead, you were almost in tears, seeing your girlfriend like this, your situation, everything feels like it's falling apart.

"Look, please, cut me some slack. I'm busy everyday dealing with everyone, just please get off my back just this once." That hurt. That hurt more than it should have. Maybe it was because you're sensitive. You try to understand her line of work as best as you can, but even you were only human. "I understand..." And with that, you get off her, and she's already snoring. She doesn't know, but you slept on the couch that day.

You could feel a rift between you and Sevika's relationship getting bigger and bigger by the day. She comes home with a new arm, with someone's blood on her, and she just casually mentions Smeech and her got into a fight, and wanted no more questions. You try your best, your absolute best to keep you too from falling apart. You try to make Sevika's day a little better, cooking for her, giving her space, preparing her lunch that she never eats, she comes home with the food already spoiled, and just leaves it for you to clean. Every night, she doesn't know, but you're not next to her. Or maybe she does. Maybe she just doesn't care. She hasn't said 'I love you' to you in weeks, she hasn't smile, hugged, or even kissed you.

The last straw was when she came home drunk after some fight with a piltie, and her girlfriend. She had bruises everywhere, she even had bitemarks on her. She looked like shit. You rushed to ask her if she was okay, and what happened, but she just pushed you away when you tried to give her a hug, and she just walked passed you. That was your breaking point. With tears in your eyes, you ask "Do you still even love me at all?" You were trying to hold your tears in, and stop them from spilling, much to no avail. So you're just wiping your face, not looking at her. "I'm not in the mood for this." She just says, not caring. And that was it. You lost your Sevika. You even wondered if she even was yours in the first place. Maybe you're just someone that keeps her grounded once in awhile, but as much as you love her, you were wondering if she felt the same anymore. Or at all. Everytime she was in the house, it felt like you were talking to a brick wall. And that’s when it dawned on you, that maybe she doesn't care about you as much as she says she does. You saw her lunch spoiled again, and you cried. That was it.

While she was in the bathroom, you were already fixing your things as quickly as possible. She probably wouldn't care if you were doing it infront of her. You hide your things, and you pretend to read a book in your bed. She just looks at you, and then she proceeds on doing what she's doing, and she lays in bed, facin gaway from you. You could gear her sigh, and you were trying your best not to cry. You were both quiet for a bit, until you finally decide to break the silence, and the tension between you two. With a different tone of voice, you just calmly ask her, "Do you still love me?" she doesn't respond. "Do you still love me, Sevika?" your eyes starting to wet, but you were met with no response again. The tears are now running down your face, but you try your best to cry silently, as you put the book down, you finally lay in bed sniffling, and till you just say, "Goodnight, Sevika. I love you." And that was the last thing heard from that night.

When Sevika woke up, she was just about to make a quick trip to the bathroom, and then head to work. When she notices the lack of your presence. She tries looking for you in the kitchen, in the bedroom again, in the bathroom, the living room, and outside. You weren't there. Where were you? She went back to the kitchen, and saw a note on the refrigerator she failed to see earlier. It wrote,

"My love, I've been with you through everything, I was with you on your worst days, and I was with you on your best days. There's no doubt in my heart how much I loved you. And I still do, but lately, I've been feeling that maybe you don't love me too. I know you always say, 'Everything I do, I do for you' which I appreciated, truly, but lately, I feel like our relationship is only one sided now, and it hurts. I trycto give you th love you want, and now, I just realized that maybe the only way you'll love me too, is when I'm far away from you. I'll miss you very much, every single day. I'll miss the days we were happy together, the days that you were happy with me. I hope someday, you find someone that'll make you as happy, as you made me these last few years.

– Sincerely, yours Y/N"

Sevika didn't know she could feel this hurt. She can't. She knows she's been pushing you away, she knows it's her that didn't value your efforts, she knows it was her that made you feel like you weren't important. She knows how hard you tried to keep you both together. She knows she fucked up. And now, you're gone.

The whole morning, she couldn't think straight while she was working. All she kept thinking was you, where have you been? It was like you had planned to leave, that's what hurt her the most. The note was true, you stuck around, when everything was going bad, and supported her. You were there. And now things are resolved, it was like you were one of her problems that had goe on their own. But you weren't. You're the whole reason she fights every single day, even though she failed to show you. She wants you back, she needs you back.

For the past few weeks, she's been looking for you everywhere, asking around, but she's not hearing from you. All she does is drink, and go home. Every night, before she falls asleep, she silently cries, and misses you. She smells your pillows before she falls asleep, and she hugs them. It was the only thing left of you. It was as if you were never there. Although your smell still lingers. She misses your presence. She misses the homecook meals you make her, she misses when you would greet her from work. Your face, when she comes back. Your smile, just, you as a whole. She misses you.

She feels regret of the times she let you sleep alone, the times she didn't say 'I love you' to you. The times she was tired from work, and she couldn't see what you were making her, but she knows you're right behind her, cleaning her wounds. Kissing her back, and then getting up, to give her space. It gets so hard every day, where she doesn't see you on the couch, reading your favourite book. She doesn't see your face smiling at her everytime you see her. She knows she's not the perfect lover, but she still wondered why you stick around. All of the things she didn't appreciate when you were there, she longs for now. She'd kill to hear your voice, to smell your scent, and to see your smile again.

A month goes by, she had a haircut, because you weren't there to tie her hair up for her, she quit smoking, and she got a new piercing. She's still actively looking for you, though. Everytime there's a rally, she always looks around to find you, but you're never there. The house that used to be a home for her is just a place where she sleeps now. She spends most of her time, drinking, gambling, taking care of the chem-barons, and or looking for you.

Until one day, your friend came up to Sevika. She told her where you're staying, she told her that you got new apartment. But that wasn't the reason she came to her. She said she hasn't heard from you in awhile, and you weren't answering her calls, and opening the door when she knocked. She got worried, and she had a hunch of what was happening, so she immediately went to Sevika. When Sevika heard the news, it was like her stomach dropped. She stopped to process everything she learned about you. But then she snapped out of it. "Take me to her."

When she got to your new apartment, it was much smaller than your old house together. She knocked at your door, to get no answer. She knocked again harder, but you still weren't answering. At this point she's getting more worried than ever, more worried than she's ever been. You leaving was one thing, since she knows she'll find her ways to you. But she was worried you died. She's now panting, her heart was racing. She's calling out your name, while knocking loudly. She went to peak to the window to you room, her heart stopped.

You were right there, with empty vials of shimmer in your hand. Some were scattered on the floor. You were laying there, it was like you were just asleep. "Fuck" she days to herself. She knew that shimmer was bad, and she was also addicted to it once. But, she never expected to see you resorting this. She knew she was the only one you had left, since you had no family, but she didn't know you were suffering this much. It was all so heavy in her heart, as it was on yours. But she couldn't think of her self right now.

She bursts the door open, and pics you up. She listens to your heartbeat. It was faint. She couldn't keep herself from crying any longer, as she carries, and takes you to Silco's medics. "Please, help her, do anything just don't let her die!" She orders, she was worried about you. She typically wasnt the one to cry, but all she could think about was you getting back to her, and it hurts her to think that there was a chance that you might not. She clenched her heart, when the doctors took you away to pump all the drugs out of your body. When they took you away, and she was all alone, she had an outburst, and she didn't leave until they tell her she could see you again.

You were now stabilized, but you were left in a coma, due to you overdosing. Sevika cries, day and night, waiting for the day you wake up. She doesn't drink anymore, she doesn't smokke. She makes sure she's with you at times where she doesn't have work to do. She talks to you in your coma, hoping you can hear her pleading for you to wake up, and apologizing to you for not being a good lover. She tells you about her day. She often talks about Jinx, and Isha, while you're out. What she had for lunch, and she tells you how much she misses your cooking. She falls asleep on a chair and rests her head on your bed.

When you finally woke up, your head felt heavy. You blink for a moment, when u feel weight on your leg thighs. That's when you see her. You heart beats fast, and it can actually be seen and heard on the machine. Sevika woke up worried, when she saw your heartbeat spike up, and her eyes go to your face, and she freezes. You woke up. She goes to hug, and kiss you, she's telling you sorry a million times, but you don't have the energy to hug her back, so you just smile. And suddenly, tears start rolling down your face, and Sevika stops as she hears you sniffle. "B-Babe! I'm so sorry about everything, I shouldn't have done that to you, you have no idea how much I regret everything I did to you, I want to be better, for us, for you, I know I'm not a perfect—" You kiss her.

For the first time in a while, you both feel genuinely happy again. Together. The kiss lasted for a while, and admittedly it was one of the best kisses you had your whole relationship. You both pull back to catch your breaths, but she pulls your face closer to hers, and whispers "I love you." You guys cry together the whole night in the hospital, after the nurses give you a check up. She's right beside you, re-telling the stories she shared you in your coma. You saw her smiling again, and your face is filled with joy. She's happy to see your smile too, and admitting that it was the first thing she misses about you.

Who knew one of you and Sevika's best dates would be in a hospital, but you wouldn't change a thing about it. You wouldn't change a thing about her. You're happy as long as she's hapoy, and she's happy as long as you're happy. The whole night was an emotional roller coaster of laughing and crying together, but ever since that night, you felt tour relationship with Sevika get stronger, and you're now alot closer.

After a few months, you both swore off drinking, smoking, and taking shimmer all together. Except that time she finally became a council. You both share a drink together to toast her achievement. And you're right there by her side, like you said you would. It was one of the many things Sevika loves about you. You both kept your promises to each other. She may not be the perfect girlfriend, or the perfect person, but she knows she's gonna get married to one.

Sevika proposed to you on your anniversary, now that she's given you the thing you thought was impossible, but everythings possible with Sevika. The freedom, the better future, the world she said she'd build for you. But she just now realized, she was building it WITH you.

And you lived happily, ever, after.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Yes, it's all cheezy, I couldn't keep hurting myself, or you for too long. heh.

[energ00n]

Hey, Jazz anon here. Before I begin, I just wanna say I'm sorry. I was way too confrontational in my original ask because I was angry at the time, and as such I think it muddied my original point about tactness I was trying to make lol.

I'll try to keep this as short as I can, but I'd also like to go in more depth than my original ask so that I hope my point is better understood.

The point I was trying to make is that the writing choices we make in our narratives will always be indicative of the real world since we are real people writing from our own experiences. It doesn't matter what the setting is, or that "they're robots!," especially if we are dealing with a character that has parallels with the real world like Jazz. As such, it's very easy to fall into stereotype pitfalls when writing since everyone has been exposed to media that pushes stereotypes. I think we should ask ourselves why we are putting an unequivocally black character in a situation that is similar to real-world stereotypes of black men being used as an obstacle or road block in a relationship.

That is to say, I don't think you're racist. At all. I don't know why you said that I accused you of racism since even in my original spiteful anon I specified that I didn't think you were intentionally leaning into negative connotations about a black character. I just wanted to make you aware, but I admit, it was a poor explanation.

I'm going to address a couple quick points here that I have seen:

-"you just don't like jazzop!" No? Jazzop is unironically one of my favorite ships right now, which is why I want it to be portrayed well.

-"the AU isn't about racism" That's true, it's not. But that doesn't take away Jazz's blackness either, so I don't really see why the setting would change that.

- "Why did you not bring up Megatron?" I originally considered doing that in my original ask, but I was mainly too lost in the jazz sauce to include it in my original ask. But you said it yourself: Megatron is black, and as such, we should also be writing him with the same tact that Jazz deserves. I could divulge into the way that black men are similarly written to be hyper possessive in fiction, which also rubbed me the wrong way, but my ask is getting way too long and I think that it all ties back to educating yourself on common harmful tropes directed at black people.

I really hope this doesn't come off as pretentious because that was the furthest thing from my intention. Also sorry if I scared you with a freakishly long ask, I just wanted to have a dialogue properly. Thank you

I just woke up and my brain my be straying but I do commend you for coming back to expand upon your point. However you’ve still yet to answer my question: What tempting Jazz did to Orion?

If you’ve read my work beyond a few words, you’d know by now that this “love obstacle” doesn’t exist. Do you see your partner/crush having friends as an obstacle? Are you projecting? Jazz doesn’t “steal Orion’s away” (Doesn’t count if you turn off your brain and read everything through 3-word tropes). Not once did he take the initiative. It’s Orion who understandably wanted to hangout and catch up, it’s Orion who wanted to borrow the visor and took it before Jazz answered, and it’s D who suddenly views Jazz as an opponent upon sight. The whole thing wasn’t about Jazz being a home-wrecker, it’s about D and his emotional constipation, his insecurities.

Now that you actually mentioned Megatron, it’s extra ridiculous. Megatron, not TFO Megatron, MEGATRON, has been perceived as an angry possessive mf for years before TFO came along but the only thing you got out of it is this how we’re badly portraying black men. At this point I have to ask why are you so obsessive with racial stereotypes to such an uncomfortable degree? Did you think the movie was racist for making Megatron so aggressive and eventually became the villain too? You had to have because I’d start thinking you’re playing pick and choose.

I think I’m slowly seeing how you view things anon and it’s… pretty gross. You view them as their races before they’re characters. You diminish characters’ personalities, motivations and values just because they’re black-coded, you wouldn’t have a damn issue if I flip the table and draw SG!Orion being grossly possessive. To your own logic, black-coded characters should never be intense or have strong emotions, they should all be mild-mannered and I think that has a much more disturbing implications.

I want to clarify there’s a time and place where characters can really be used to harm folks of the minority group, like shit, I’m Asian, I know how it goes. But is this really the one? Really?? This AU? This AU even before I actually delve into its actual topic of racism in the story?? Dang.

I’ve said it a hundred times and I’ll say it again, I do not like cheap tropes, leave alone racist stereotypes. And you’re sitting here accusing me of not only tactless writing but also indulging in this ugly thing that’s not even a part of my culture. It’s not fun. You didn’t directly call me a racist but really, if you can conclude that Jazz was being portrayed as a picture of racial stereotypes from the handful of time he’s actually appeared, I can easily take how the previous ask pinned me as someone ignorant to my racism. Easily.

I think it’s high time we parted ways, anon. Clearly my story isn’t for you and I personally don’t want you around. I hope you’ll find a different media you’re more comfortable with

[nameless-jamie]

PR Disaster

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Jamie Tartt was a nightmare to work for on an average day. But on a day when he was desperate? He was unbearable.

Y/N had spent the last twenty minutes trying to get through her emails while Jamie sat across from her desk, relentlessly attempting to convince her to do something insane.

“Come on, love,” Jamie pleaded, drumming his fingers on her desk. “It’s just one night. Just a little thing. Barely even a date.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend at a charity gala.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

Jamie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/N, you have to.”

“Oh, I have to?” She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. "M'not getting paid for this so I don't have to do shit, Jamie."

"Don't be difficult, babe. I beg you!"

“Let me get this straight. You, a fully grown man, need a date to some fancy event, and instead of—I don’t know—asking out one of the many women who throw themselves at you, you come to me, your freaking assistant?”

He sighed dramatically. “I can’t take some random girl. That’d make it worse.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Worse than what?”

Jamie slouched lower in his chair and sighed. “Some wanker journalist wrote a whole article about how I’ve ‘lost my edge’ since I’ve been single. Said my game’s sufferin’ ‘cause I’m too ‘unfocused.’” He made air quotes, looking deeply offended. “He said I'm too horny for the pitch or some shit. Like, I can’t be single and good at football at the same time. It’s bullshit.”

“That does sound like bullshit.”

“Right?"

"Too horny for the pitch, is my favorite thing anyone has ever said about you, though." Y/N laughed, wiping a small tear out of the corner of her eye.

"Y/N be fucking for real right now. The plan is, if I show up with a girlfriend, it shuts everyone up. And if I take you, it don’t get messy. No expectations. No awkward post-date texts. Just you lookin’ dead fit in a fancy dress and me lookin’ like a man not in the middle of a public downward spiral.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like you’ve thought way too much about this?”

Jamie grinned. “Because I have.”

She exhaled slowly, staring at him for a long moment. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Best ones usually are.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

"And if the press wants us to kiss it wouldn't be awkward because we already did that once!"

"Jamie, that is still a fucking accident. We don't talk about that!"

"I mean I want to talk about it—" Jamie couldn't finish that sentence before a pen was thrown his way.

"Pick me up at 7. Go away now!"

The night started when he picked her up for the gala, in a freaking stretch limousine.

Y/N opened her door.

Jamie’s brain short-circuited.

She stood there in a dress that was so—fuck. It was tight in all the right places, dipping low at the neckline, hugging her waist like it was personally designed to ruin his life. Her legs? Glorious. The slit in her dress? Criminal. Her makeup? Perfect.

He actually forgot how to breathe.

Y/N tilted her head. “Jamie?”

He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to speak. “Huh?”

Her lips twitched. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking like a fucking teenager. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, you look—” He gestured vaguely at her, struggling to find a word that wasn’t fuckable. “Good. Nice. Decent.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Decent?”

Jamie winced. Fuckin’ idiot. “Nah, not decent. I meant, like, proper good. Like, unfairly good. Like—fuck, what’s the word—illegal?”

She laughed, and Jamie swore it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Well, that’s good to know,” she teased. “Considering I’m supposed to be your date.”

Right. The fake date. The one that wasn’t real. The one where he definitely wasn’t supposed to be thinking about how he wanted to keep her locked in his car all night so no one else could look at her.

Jamie exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Get it together, Tartt.

Y/N gave him a knowing smile. “You ready to go?”

Jamie didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he just opened the car door for her, staring straight ahead as she got in—because if he looked for even a second longer, there was a very real chance he’d be showing up to the gala with a boner.

And that was definitely not part of the plan.

Y/N soon realized that the problem wasn’t the gala.

The problem was Jamie.

Because he was apparently way too good at fake dating.

For someone who was supposedly just trying to fix his reputation, he seemed very committed to the role.

He kept his hand on the small of her back all night, his thumb moving in slow circles against the fabric of her dress like it was second nature. He leaned in close every time he spoke to her, his breath warm against her ear. And worst of all, he kept looking at her like that. Like she was the only person in the room.

He also seemed to be having the time of his life making up a fake relationship history.

“Oh, yeah,” he told an interviewer from The Athletic. “She played hard to get at first, but I wore her down.”

“She pretends to be annoyed by me,” he added later, “but really? She’s obsessed.”

Y/N had to bite her tongue multiple times to avoid strangling him.

But then came the real kicker.

“She makes me a better man. I mean fuck— have you looked at her. She is not going to her own flat tonight, am I right love?”

Y/N nearly choked on her champagne.

What the fuck was he playing at?

She was fully prepared to murder him the second they got into the car.

But before she could, the event photographer asked them to pose for a picture, and—

Jamie pulled her in, his hand sliding around her waist, fingers brushing the bare skin at her side.

Her breath hitched.

And then—

Jamie fucking winked.

The camera flashed.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, a journalist called out:

“Jamie! One more shot—how about a kiss for the cameras?”

She froze.

Jamie, however, seemed thrilled by the idea.

“Oh, yeah?” He turned to her, smirking. “What d’you reckon, love? Give the people what they want?”

She stared at him, genuinely considering murder.

But the cameras were waiting. The journalists were watching. And it's not like it would be their first one...

Jamie—the absolute menace—was already leaning in, his lips curling into something dangerously close to a real smile.

She had two options: make it awkward as hell by shutting it down, or commit to the bit.

FUCK, she was his freaking assistant. And she's totally into him. But that wasn't important right now. If she did not kiss him the press would know that Jamie Tartt brought a fake date or worse they would think that his own girlfriend hates him. If she kisses him though, the PR disaster after that would fucking suck.

Fuck it. With a deep breath, she reached up, placed her hand on his chest, and let Jamie close the distance between them.

It was barely a kiss—a soft press of lips, just enough to make it convincing. But Jamie’s hand tightened on her waist, just for a second, and her fingers curled against the fabric of his suit before she forced herself to pull away.

The cameras loved it.

Jamie did too, judging by the way he looked at her afterward.

“Not bad, love,” he murmured, his lips still inches from hers. “Please tell me that one was an accident too. Or else I might have to take you home with me tonight.”

She just rolled her eyes and shoved him. Idiot.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to absolute chaos.

Her phone had exploded.

Twitter was going insane.

She clicked on the first headline that popped up.

"Jamie Tartt Goes Public With Stunning Mystery Girlfriend at Charity Gala—And We Have ALL the Details"

She scrolled down, her horror growing with every paragraph.

"From the way he looked at her to the way he kept a protective hand on her waist all night, Jamie Tartt was absolutely smitten. Sources tell us that he was completely devoted to her the entire evening, barely paying attention to anyone else. And let's not forget the viral moment when he told reporters, 'She makes me a better man.' Our hearts? Melted."

“Oh, for fuck sake. I knew it.”

She stormed into Nelson Road, phone in hand. “Jamie fucking Tartt!”

Jamie, who had been laughing with Dani, turned at the sound of her voice. “Mornin’, love.”

She marched up to him and shoved her phone in his face. “Do you know how many people think we’re actually together?”

He barely glanced at the screen before shrugging. “Yeah. Bit mad, innit?”

“Mad? Mad?” She scrolled further. “People are already speculating about a wedding! I just got an email from Vogue asking if we’d do a couples photoshoot and a fucking interview!”

Jamie grinned. “Vogue, yeah? That’s kinda sick. Let’s do it. I can tell ‘em about how you snore when you fall asleep on the couch.”

“I do not snore.” She gaped at him. “Jamie. This is not funny.”

“Babe, you do,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, "And it’s a little funny.”

She groaned. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You love me, remember? You make me a better man.”

“You fucking prick. You even liked a post that said, ‘Jamie Tartt and his girlfriend are the it couple of the season’!”

Jamie shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause we are.”

Her jaw dropped. “We are not.”

Jamie tilted his head, a playful glint in his eye. “You sure about that, love?”

She refused to answer.

Jamie must’ve noticed her hesitation because he leaned in, dropping his voice. “Just say the word, and I’ll post a proper ‘soft launch’ photo of us on Instagram.”

She shoved him away.

But later, when she caught him scrolling through a fan edit of them kissing with that smug little smile, she had the sinking suspicion that Jamie had no intention of letting this fake relationship die anytime soon.

And worse?

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to. She had to clear the air, though...And the PR of all of it was going to be a fucking disaster.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

He Canceled Hot Girl Summer 🔥

18+mdni

Series Master List

Brunch with the ladies…|

“She was talking about, my man my man my man, whole time mind you, her man had downloaded Grindr in order to see hole and I only found out because he matched with Autumn and asked if he was down to fuck. Whole time even after I told her and sent the screen shots that Autumn sent me when he figured out who the dude was, she had the nerve to say and I quote ‘Aaliyah don't be jealous bitch because you can't keep a man even as a whore’, mind you she only made her goal for that week because I invited her to do a double with me.’” Aaliyah is busy telling a story about her acquaintance that she sometimes works doubles with.

The table erupts in laughter, and for once in five months, you feel alive. It's been forever since you left the house without worrying about Omari. Johnny had insisted that you go and have a girl's day with your friends, and he was gonna have a guy's day with his mini-me. Sure, you were apprehensive about the whole ordeal, leaving Omari with his father while you went to therapy, or got your hair and nails done was one thing. Each little outing would be done and completed within three hours. Brunch with the girls, though? That was damn near an all-day thing. You four would meet at some ritzy ditzy outdoor place and order bottomless drinks and food. Trade dating stories about your sex lives, talk about family drama as if you four didn't all grow up within walking distance of each other, complain about missed connections and give opinions on flavors of the week. Then after the bill was fought over because one of you always wanted to treat the other three, you'd all stumble out, find some boutique or mall and make questionable clothing purchases, only to find yourselves back in an open patio restaurant for an early dinner, trying to chase away a brunch time hangover.

You hadn't done this in months. It was like breaking through an endless wave of depression and depersonalization. You didn't feel the immediate tug of motherhood. Instead, you felt like…well you again. Loud, fun, flirty (the cute guy at the bar had sent you and the girls drinks all because you smiled so pretty at him), and most of all like a whole person and not some milk dispenser.

Your name cut through the laughter and huffs as the girls all calmed down. Rosette was beaming at you from behind her glass. She waits until the table is quiet before she begins, “So tell us all about John and how he's been these past few weeks?”

You shift in your seat as everyone stares at you, “what is there to tell?” You sip your mimosa and sigh, it's been so long since you've drank but Johnny had insisted you do that. He'd taken the liberty to research the best formula for Omari and said in that sweet Scottish accent, that his mini-me would be fine for a day without milk from the source.

“Well one, you aren't sleeping with him, right?” Aaliyah snarks. She raises an eyebrow, “Just wanting to make sure.”

“No…we aren't doing that. Truth be told, I like having John around. My only issue is that he's an NDA soldier, and suddenly, all the cameras and the privacy film on the windows make sense.” You sigh. Just as expected, the girls all stare in shock. “He wants us to move somewhere else, safe and secure. It was an argument, really.”

“Well you aren't married to him, so you don't need to.” Jay sips her drink with a frown, “He isn't trying to make you stay out in the middle of nowhere, right?”

“Some little village out in the highlands, an hour or so from his own family.” You snort, your eyes don't miss how everyone cringes. You all have the same experience, growing up in some middle of nowhere commune, land bought by four well decorated and wanted black-ops soldiers that wanted to hide their families. Homeschooling done by your mothers, every outsider vetted carefully, the small town didn't really trust you all but accepted your strange clan.

It's Rosette that places a hand on top of yours, “It'll be fine, I'm sure if you explain your reservations, he'll understand.”

“Other than that, he and I have been fine.” You quickly change the subject, “He has started taking me and Omari out to do what he explains is his idea of family activities. You know the zoo, aquarium, and picnics at the park.” You strategically leave out that for the past two weeks, he's been staying at your place. He takes night duty with Omari and only wakes you to breastfeed so you don't wake up with sore and swollen breasts.

You leave out that Johnny speaks with your mom as much as his own. While he doesn't particularly enjoy speaking with your stern father, he does, and he's respectful. Sure, the girls know that he pays for your hair and nails, but they don't ever need to know that he helps regulate you after a hard therapy session. Holding you close in a tight hug, whispering that he's got you and that you aren't failing your son and that you are indeed a good mother and an even better woman. Calming your fears that your family will only see you as irresponsible for making Omari without being married.

Your three best friends don't need to know any of the emotional episodes you have when your hormones become too much, and Omari demands all of you. When you feel wrung out with nothing to give him and it's Johnny who has been picking up those pieces. They don't need to know that he has planted himself into your life as much as his son's and that you've let him practically move into your apartment.

“Adorable that he's doing daddy duties.” Rosette smiles.

‘Yeah’ you think. ‘Adorable’. You clear your throat and grin at Rosette and look to Aaliyah, "How did that double date go the other week with Kyle and Simon?”

Rosette sighed dreamily, “Other than Aaliyah trying to fight the chef and getting the four of us banned from that restaurant. I think Kyle might be the one.”

Jay snorted, “How did that happen?” She places her arm around Rosette and glances at her “And you sure you want the other military guy to be the one?”

Aaliyah only shrugged and didn't even look like she was ashamed. That was your best friend though, “Look, he asked for medium well steak, and they brought that man well done steak, and he was just gonna suffer through it silently. I wasn't about to let anyone eat that dry ass steak and then pay for it? Fuck out of here!”

Rosette still had heart in her eyes, twirling her hair around her finger. She had recently dyed the end of her locks a pretty shade of deep red. “I can overlook him being in the military. He likes me for me, warts and all.”

You smiled at her, “Get to know him a bit longer, we gotta make sure it isn't dick-matism”

Chapter 6: The Soap Chapter 🧼

Johnny had settled into his new life as a dad. Sure, when he started his leave, he didn't expect to be a dad. When he looked at Omari, stared into his pretty blue eyes, brushed his fingers through his curly hair, and held his tiny little hand; well, Johnny knew he had to be better in all aspects of his life. The mother of his son had done such a remarkable job without him for a year and four months. He wants, no, needs to take care of them both and give them a good life.

He still felt a pang of sadness and anger at himself for sneaking out and not staying to at least leave you his number or Instagram. Often, his mind would wander back to the night you had both made Omari. He thinks about the wild night you shared. The way your eyes stared at him as if you didn't want to be anywhere else but with him, drinking and bar hopping, playing pool, and taking shots off of each other. He replays in his mind the kiss that broke the damn. That moment was frozen in his psyche, engraved in his mind as a core memory. He was tipsy then, too smitten by you to understand that he had found what he teased and secretly envied Price for having.

Having Omari Malachi- God willing, you let him change both of your last names - MacTavish - just made him want the whole thing all at once. Him always being in the line of danger made him want to speed run everything and break his Captain’s record of getting married in four months. If you had him, he'd get married at the court house and deal with his mother's and sister's ire later.

He's on base with Omari, his little bairn strapped to his chest. The past two weeks he's been staying off base with you and his wee one, crashing on the couch and taking night shifts and then more often just taking the brunt of the work with Omari, insisting that you rest. Every cry his son let out was met with him picking him up and setting him right, and if he could swing it, done without having to wake his Chuilein.

Most of the other soldiers on base and in the hallways stop and give him a double take. There's a sense of pride that swells in his chest as he catches the way people stare at his son. People stare with shock because there's no way Soap is carrying a babe on his chest! He gets to Price's office and hears the gruff sound of Simon talking.

“I've never actually been told before that my mask wearing was a sign of anxiety and complex ptsd…the woman is a pain in my ass.” He is complaining, which is a rare thing that he seldom does.

Instantly Johnny knows who he is talking about. His friend is referring to the date he was swindled to go on by Kyle the other week. Shaking his head, he knocks on the door and when he enters, it's to his Captain and Lieutenant looking over papers. “From what mah lassie says,” Johnny grins widely, “Aaliyah actually likes ye or she would've charged ye for the hours after the agreed upon date ended.”

Price chuckles at the glare that Simon sends him before looking at the squirming baby strapped to his chest. His mustache twitches and lips pull into a smile, “So that's him, huh?”

“Yeah,” He pulls Omari out of his wrap and promptly drops him into Simon's lap, “Meet mah boy Omari M MacTavish.”

Upon getting put in Simon's lap, Omari immediately goes for his mask. His chubby little fingers are trying and failing to grip onto the fabric. He squeals and settles on patting his face and trying to eat the mask instead by placing his mouth on Simon's cheek.

“How did she come up with the name Omari?” Simon asks. He's careful with the boy, squishing his cheeks. “Don't try to eat my mask…it's my second skin.” To which Omari only doubles down and babbles away.

He plops down in the open seat next to Simon with a shrug, “She said she picked it ‘cause he looked like an Omari an’ Malachi got pushed inta being his middle name.” He smiles at his son, “an’ he looks like an Omari.” His eyes trail over to the papers on the desk, “aren't we on leave? We have like three more weeks left?”

Price sighs and shakes his head, “Laswell needs us for an op, so we may need to cut it short.” He at least looks apologetic, “estimate on moving out is next week.”

Johnny feels his blood run cold because it's currently Monday, and he's got a week or less to make sure his girl and son will be okay. He thinks back to the argument that he and you had three days ago. He had finally sat you down and told you what he did, how his missions were dangerous, and that he's made enemies in high places. That part, he was surprised that you took well, you didn't flinch and really only sighed with resignation. It was when he asked you to move out to be near his family, to let him set you and Omari up in a small village, that you snapped and told him no. The conversation devolved into him being a bit more stern than he wanted and you raising your voice. He tried to explain that your second floor flat wasn't safe, that he would feel better moving you somewhere more secure, and it would keep his nerves from being shot when he was gone.

“John, I'm not letting you just show up and tell me that I need to let your choice in a high-risk career dictate my life.” You had said when the argument calmed down. You had been telling him repeatedly that you weren't leaving your very public job, you weren't going to be in some little village, and you definitely were not just going to do whatever he said.

“Steamin’ Jesus, that's gonna be a fun one.” He runs his fingers through his hair and notes that he needs to give himself a cut. “Chuilein may actually murder me.” He gives his captain a pleading look.

Simon grunts, “You said that she was okay with your work. So I don't think she's going to kill you.”

“She's gonna kill me, but not fo’ the reason ye think.” He reaches over and pulls Omari into his arms, “She's got some important event next week with her boss an’ some client an’ I already agreed that I'd keep Mini for the week while she travels.”

Price raises both brows in shock, “What exactly does she work as?”

“Some type of assistant at a talent agency.” He says, “Captain, how do you tell the Missus when you have ta ship out?”

Price laughs a bit before leaning back in his chair, “I usually take my wife out to do something fun or a nice night in before we ship out. Make some good memories in case things happen.”

It's a sobering thought that puts his new life perspective. He looks down at Omari and frowns. He doesn't plan on dying and leaving his family anytime soon. “Thanks for the advice, Captain.”

Seemingly not pleased with his dad and the change of mood, Omari starts babbling and squealing. Patting his face and giving him a gummy smile. Johnny sighs with a smile, “ So like…I also kinda wan’ tae ken what do I have tae do ta make sure Mini and his mam will be safe and taken care of if somethin’ happens ta me?”

Price and Simon both look at each other. They know that Johnny had gone through a quick and rushed lifestyle change. He declines going to the pub more often, opting to be with his son and his girl (as he puts it). He most recently started the habit of staying off base and where he normally would have had a short fling by now, which obviously didn't happen. He by no means is awkward, normally just saying whatever he wants and laughing off any and everything. Seeing him actually act like a dad was the same as seeing him rapidly mature, almost overnight.

Simon shrugged his shoulders, “You should elope with her. That way, you get on base housing, she doesn't have to move far and she is in a secure area while you're gone, and she's entitled to all the support a spouse married to a serviceman gets.”

“Now Simon, why would you-” John begins.

“That's a solid idea. I'll phrase it just like that, and she'll have no choice but to go along with it.” Johnny is smiling. Sure, it won't be traditional. It may even come off as ‘odd’ but he would get to be married to his Chuilein. Both her and his baby would be safe, and should anything happen, he knows his widow will be okay.

John only sighs. He knows that's going to create a row in the young man's life. While he hasn't met the woman that has his sergeant's heart, he does hear about the off the wall way she acts. So he leaves Johnny to the very bad idea and the lesson he's about to learn about trying to talk a woman into marriage.

Johnny spends the rest of the day hanging out in Price's office until he leaves with Simon to go figure out lunch. Omari hasn't napped yet, and he's pleased because that means his Mini-me will sleep through most of the night. Conversation, as always between him and his lieutenant, flows naturally up until Simon says something that's somewhat out of character for him.

They ended up off base in some shitty little restaurant that actually serves decent food. Omari has taken a full liking to playing with the salt and pepper shakers, fighting tooth and nail when his dad tries to wrestle them away.

“Johnny?” Simon says after taking a long sip of his beer.

“Yeah?” He doesn't really take his eyes off his son for too long.

“Don't go saying this to anyone…but I actually enjoyed the date that Kyle roped me into.” Simon mumbles.

This takes him off guard, “wait, really? I thought ye hated it.”

“Yes I hated the fancy place Kyle picked out trying to impress his bird…hated the food, and almost hated the alcohol.” He takes a deep sigh and drinks the rest of his beer. Then hurriedly, his mask is pulled back down onto his face. “It was after Kyle and Rosette left…”

Johnny nodded his head following along, “So ye didn' like the date but liked what the idea of the date?” He was a bit confused.

Simon huffs, and Johnny can tell that he's uncomfortable with whatever emotion he is feeling. His friend is tapping the table with his index finger and is staring at him like he's supposed to just know what's ailing him. It takes a moment, but he thinks over the conversation, and he thinks about what he's heard about that double date from his girl. Then it hits him.

“Simon…mate…did you sleep with her on the first night?” He asks and leans in close. He covers Omari's ears to shield him from his words.

Simon only grunts, “I did…after she told me that I should either see a therapist or get a vice stronger than cigarettes and liquor, because I fuck like I have trauma issues…that's where the comment about the mask came from.” He looks away from Johnny and doesn't say much more.

“Jesus…she's a piece of work, want me to say somethin’” Johnny feels incredulous.

Simon still won't look back at him, “Hm…I want you to convince your bird to convince Aaliyah to go on a second date with me.”

Johnny only blinks, completely and utterly thrown from a loop…because what? He shakes his head and smiles, “I'll see what I can do.”

a.n: so yeah this was the Johnny Chapter! Next Chapter we will be doing something different. Also I know my other stories haven't been updated (sweats) but I'm in a writer's block and for some reason I'm only able to write comedy or romance right now. Angst just isn't happening the way I need it too and I'm sorry yall 😔.

Tag list: @evergreenlake @royalty-cashinout @leahnicole1219 @gxuxhdjdu @daft-queen @vmaxis @curiouslittleprincess @lucienofthelakes @flairenragebelmont @gazsluckyhat

[sufferu]

~ You Know!!! For your ficlet idea for Julius sitting on Subaru and forcing him to concede and cry and say he's not a knight. This could be a pretty interesting alternate route for you to use your OTHER idea of:

“Subaru begging for mercy before Julius was satisfied with the duel and therefore he plans to force him to work ask as a servant for the next three years.”

Like it would be so villainous and insane and the worst part would be that the Emilia and her camp agree with it!

Emilia BTZ I: Your a disgrace Subaru. Did you really think someone as pathetic as you could ever be MY knight! Ha! Get real! And on top of that you have the nerve to humiliate me in front of the entire kingdom! Enjoy being Julius's slave. Have a nice life.

Emilia BTZ II: I didn't mean any of that, but at the same time I don't want you to get hurt. Please for your sake stay with Julius and the Anastasia camp. They will protect you better then I ever could.

Julius BTZ I: What a low beast. How revolting. It seems like I'll have to show you your proper place in this world DOG! You can be my practice dummy and while your at it why don't you shine my shows like a good little servant...

Julius BTZ II: I know I was a little mean to Subaru, but now that he can't be a knight and is in my care, I'll make sure to watch over him with my life! This could actually be pretty fun! I'll spare with him, let him play with my spirits and show him how to properly use his gates. And maybe tease my 'little servant' from time to time. Heh.

Anastasia BTZ I: (Laughs in Ojou-sama) Guess Julius-kun found himself a little pet. How adorable. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I train you to be a good little mutt ohohohho ~

Anastasia BTZ II: Subaru has suffered more then any person should. This cannot stand. Since Julius and I managed to take him from Emilia, I'll make sure to TEACH him to behave himself like a functioning member of society. It won't be easy and I'll have to be hard on him every now and again But one way or another he'll learn not to run headfirst into danger or taunt a Sin Archbishop or pet dangerous rabbits. Natsuki Subaru will be SAFE!

Subaru: Proceeds to SUFFER and have a terrible time 100x more then he ever did in canon or main BTZ. lmao

Like we'd just be just speed running this thing. This man ain't lasting three years lol.

I like the way you think! :D

One small correction: in this version of events, Anastasia wouldn’t be able to rely on the “Subaru now owes Julius a debt” story because Subaru only surrendered after like a full half-hour of Julius loudly ordering him to just give up already, for fuck’s sake. INSTEAD, she’s got the much more convincing argument of “Lady Crusch is literally planning to go fight the White Whale in five days, and also my knight just managed to subdue Subaru while also diffusing all the lethal tension aimed his way, all in an — albeit humiliating — but fully nonviolent fashion. Let us take him in instead.” And then Subaru ends up as Julius’ servant because Julius knows Subaru a lot better than anyone else in the Anastasia Camp, and also making him someone’s subordinate is a very convenient way to keep him under control.

I think I’d also like to add another layer to Anastasia’s whole deal, speaking of. Namely:

BTZ I Anastasia: Oh, look, you broke that very expensive vase. I guess that means I’m adding more time to your sentence. You’re never going to make up for all the damage you’re causing all of us, you useless piece of junk.

BTZ II Anastasia: Subaru, you don’t have to worry about your security in our camp, we’ve already made up our minds about keeping you with us until the Witch Cult has been taken care of. The whole “payment” thing is genuinely just a convenient excuse so that nobody asks any questions. You accidentally breaking that vase — or anything else you manage to mess up — none of that is going to result in us throwing you out on the street. It’s alright, calm down.

Also, in addition to your notes on Emilia, Julius, and Anastasia, consider:

BTZ I Ricardo: Why did Julius drag this useless stray into our camp? I am not at all happy with this worthless newcomer. You better stay out of our way and just — hole up where nobody can see you, or I’ll beat you bloody.

BTZ II Ricardo: As a fellow father, I am going to do everything within my power to do right by Subaru’s dad and keep Subaru safely out of harm’s way. If I have to make him a little afraid of me in order to get him to listen to good sense, then so be it.

BTZ I Pearlbatons: We’re a bunch of children and we’re still more competent than Subaru is, isn’t that funny? Also, we enjoy torturing him when nobody is looking for basically no reason, and he can’t tell anyone because nobody would believe HIM over US~

BTZ II Pearlbatons: Subaru is here!! Lady Anastasia managed to convince the other camps to let him stay with us! We’ve got to be at our absolute best to make sure nobody takes him away. Also, it’s really fun to play pranks on him, he’s always so noisy—

BTZ I Royal Knights: We all remember that duel between Julius and Subaru as one of the most laughably pathetic things we’ve ever seen in our lives. It’s become a running joke that we keep referencing and now it’s spread as an idiom throughout half the kingdom. Subaru is never going to live that humiliation down.

BTZ II Royal Knights: That fucker lasted a full half-hour. Subaru went up in a duel against Julius that was so one-sided that he literally ended up being sat on at the very start of it and he lasted a full half-hour. I would have just thrown in the towel after five minutes. Now every time we’re talking about someone with an absurd amount of determination in the face of odds entirely stacked against them, we pretty much have to reference that whole event. He might not be a knight but I kind of HAVE to respect Subaru after that display. …And also worry slightly, because if he displayed that level of tenacity against a witch cultist instead of just turning tail and running he’d be turned into paste pretty quickly.

Also — and this is the really funny part — this version of BTZ would end up being WAAAY better for Subaru in the long term lmao. Becuase you’re absolutely right: he’s not making it through three full years without cracking, not THIS time. It’s just too much, too fast, with too few carrots to push him to keep up the act. And that means everyone else would figure out that he’s miserable a LOT sooner. Like — I’m gonna say this whole thing lasts two months.

(And the breaking point would look significantly different than canon!BTZ, but I can’t spoil that too much…)

[mimipolo]

Kim seo-wan x reader

THANKS FOR THE RESPONSES I was gonna do it anyway cause well I can

Anyways enjoy‼️

dk

Its been a while since you've seen Kim seo-wan. Help, it's been a while since anyone's seen him. You had carefully held your tongue for a week, keeping a careful eye out for him whenever you left your apartment, the study hall, the food stalls, the gaming rooms. But after a week of careful observation and no sign of him you were growing confused and increasingly worried.

And so you find yourself knocking cautiously at the door of the Kim household. You're not surprised to be welcomed in my his mother, a small, gentle woman with gorgeous eyes, he definitely got it from her. The only thing out of place was the melancholic smile she gave when she realised it was you.

"Good evening Mrs Kim it's been a while hasn't it? I haven't seen Seo-wan around recently did he move out?" she chuckled with a slight bitterness that immediately had you on edge.

"It has been a little while hasn't it?..." her features soften at your tense expression, it just hurt to see the kind lady look so stressed.

"Why don't you come in for a bit?" she's opening the door wider for you to enter and guiding you to the living room and preparing tea.

-

You already knew something was off, it was unlike Mrs Kim to invite you in when Seo-wan wasn't around and that's saying a lot as you weren't particularly close to begin with, but apparently you've taken a mark in his mother's good books.

"Seo-wan's a hard working boy... always studying." you nod enthusiastically you could begin to imagine otherwise. "Of course, almost too much." she chuckles again, the same bitter one she had at the door as she nods her head.

"You're right dear, too much..."

Everything seemed to tilt on its axis when she explained the situation, it was like hearing about a completely different person. Schizophrenia? You just couldn't begin to imagine, not him. But that was the problem you never would have that it'd strike him of all people. And the worst of it was the all consuming guilt for not picking up on any signs, and I'm sure as his mother she was feeling that responsibly a million times worse.

"The hospital he was transferred to...it's a good place right Miss?" a hopefulness relaxes her features as she nods and you let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding.

"I wouldn't be allowed to visit right?"

"Unfortunately, I had asked knowing you'd eventually come to ask but it was a firm no from doctors."

You nodded understandingly, mostly aware of how visiting rights in hospitals, especially mental hospitals work. Turns out all that studying actually did something for you. You can't help the way your face warms slightly when she recognised you'd eventually come around to ask about the guy. Were you that predictable?

"If you don't mind...could you please keep this a secret for us. Just for now, you know how people would react... I don't want them to look down on him when he returns."

Your eyes involuntarily furrow on how she forces herself to believe in a "when" your hoping for it too, praying. There's a moment of solidarity between you two, being in on the truth of Seo-wan's where abouts.

"Of course."

_

For several months the three of you kept the secret of Seo-wans mental illness. At times Mrs Kim would come visit you with tea and mooncakes which you were eternally grateful for. You'd listen to her talk for hours about him and his childhood, though it hurt to hear her talk about him in this past tense like he'd never recover from his delusions. For some reason you had a ridiculously strong belief he'd soon return, he would.

-

You had ran out of eggs and you were desperately craving a French toast. Some may question the random craving at such a late time but you really needed your fix. Throwing on your coat and grabbing your phone you left your apartment and walked up to the elevator.

Broken? Seriously? What a drag.

Begrudgingly you turn to take the stairs, your floor was on one of the highest stories in the complex so the elevator is always the ideal. A few flights the stairs your gaze flickers up upon hearing someone slowly ascend the stairs. You're already moving to one side of the stairway out of politeness when you recognise the familiar head of hair and round glasses. The person in question lifts their head stiffly as your steps slow to a halt in front of them. Their eyes are widening as they lock eyes with you, eyes you hadn't seen in months.

"Seo-wan?"

Part 2 should come out reasonably soon don't quote me 💔

Tag list: @kimseo-wan @keimitchy

[bitterbutblue]

TASE WHEN WILL U DO MIYABI????????? PLEASEEEEEEEEE BRO PLEASE I BEG YOUUUU

miyabi ?

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IM SO SORRY FOR DYING OMF i have hit crash out after crash out after crash out but guys can u tell i havent played passt like. like the fucking sons of calydon because i have no idea what any charcater is liek BUT HERE IS A MIYABI FIC BECAUSE I LOVE HER DESIGN

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

There is a reason why one is 'falling in love'. To fall is to be in an uncontrolled state where you barely understand the actions around you, let alone your own actions. When you fall for someone, you don't process what you're doing, nor do you process what exactly it is you are feeling. All you can really take note of is that she stands there, barely even a smile on her face and you are going insane. She looks beautiful in all her glory, she stands doing nothing yet to you it is the entire world and more and you just wished she'd look at you. Things are fine between you two, or so you tell yourself. You keep your laughter, your slight banter, but you still notice the way the corner of her eyes crinkle slightly when she finds your joke amusing but doesn't want to give you the satisfaction. You notice the little ear twitches whenever someone is annoying her slightly, and you notice how she treats everything with too much care in the world and that has you feeling ways you never thought you could.

It's maddening because you are watching yourself from afar, losing control and slipping into this state where all you want is for them to call you yours, and she will never look at you the same way. You can never do anything to make her look at you that way without ruining what is already perfect to her- the perfect dynamic. It's five in the morning and you can only stare at your phone at the text that has been on delivered since you got off work and you swallow. You mean something to her that is less than what she means to you. To you, she is a star, a star in the night that is dying but you believe will still shine bright even after the universe eventually collapses into itself. To her, you are a colleague.

The worst part is knowing what could have been, what could have been if she had just decided to look at you at a specific time during a specific day. Some nights you have dreams where she confesses her love and you think of the theory that dreams are parallel worlds and how you wished that wasn't true because if it was, what are you doing wrong in this world where she won't love you back? It hurts to think, it hurts to love and it hurts to breathe now in her proximity but you will still fight alongside her.

"And is that all?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"And we're sending Miyabi with her again, correct?"

"They do the best together, it's only rational to send them together."

Yanagi pushes her glasses up slightly, scanning the room before her eyes land on your zoned-out form. She lets out a tsk in disappointment.

"Are you even listening?"

You let out a soft hum of acknowledgement.

"Yes."

The response is quiet, a bit too dull for Yanagi's liking given your usually more upbeat personality. She huffs softly, not wanting to open that can of worms this early in the morning. She makes a mental note to buy you a warm drink later, maybe that would cheer you up a bit. Miyabi's eyes dart towards your figure, her calculating glare softens always around you but not in the way you wanted. You want to exit the room because it is getting too suffocating to have all the attention on you now.

"I'll be there, don't worry."

She finds you already standing in the rain, a battle axe in hand as you gaze upon the city that slowly falls into ruins each day. Miyabi can't quite decipher the look in your eyes as you scan the remains of the hollows, ethereals that creak and moan out of a mind that can now only comprehend destruction and corruption beyond imagination. She sees them as targets, you've always seen them as lives.

"Are you okay?"

"Why do we do this?"

Your voice is strangely soft, given the steely gaze in your eyes. Something about the sight of you standing in the rain, sopping wet hair laid flat against your forehead as you run a hand through your hair to push it out of your eyes, a pained look that she can't understand.

"Do what?"

"Fight."

That throws her off. She knows why she fights- she knows her drive. To stop this corruption from spreading, to stop more people from having to turn into these monsters that stand before them or have these monsters hurt more people. It's simple. So why are you asking her this?

"You know why."

She watches you clench your jaw, the tensing of the muscle is a small move but she still catches it and she feels her heart stutter for a moment as you let out a shaky sigh.

"Why do you pick me for all your missions?"

Miyabi raises an eyebrow.

"You know why."

She doesn't say anything as you pick up your axe, just keeping her gaze on your face as you reel your arm back, ready to fight.

"Let's finish this last one, Hoshimi Miyabi."

The full name sends a chill down her spine that she hasn't felt in a while- the same chill when she first encountered an ethereal, or when she first came hand in hand with death and met its followers. It's a foreign feeling, unwelcome. She tries to shrug it off but watching as you leap through the air, swinging a weapon of destruction through the masses like it's nothing, she feels a pang of uncertainty. Your movements are second nature to her, having fought by your side for years now. Yet this time it feels foreign, it feels different. It feels out of sync, and she feels... distant. Your moves are erratic, they follow no pattern and she recognises none of the timings. Everything just feels off. She feels out of place for the first time fighting alongside you.

Each swing and thud, each dodge and parry only amplifies the feeling of her gaze on you and you are going mad. To fall in love is romanticised, to be loved is often yearned for. To have to go through a one-sided love is some pain you never thought could hurt so bad and to know that she has an eye on you makes it worse because how can someone be so close to being everything you ever wanted but also be so distant at the same time? In the heat of the moment, you get distracted. A moment of zoning out, and a harsh thud is delivered to your chest, knocking you off your feet and sending you tumbling to the ground, searing pain against your sides as you roll across the gravelled path to a halt. Grunting, you try to force yourself up, hand shakily reaching out to take your axe but you hear a roar.

"ENOUGH."

Her voice is cracking from how loud she shouts at you from across the field, and you finally let the axe go. You don't even notice that your vision has gone blurry and that you can feel your lungs burning from the inside out as Miyabi rushes to your side.

"Seriously, what is going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me!"

Her voice trembles in a way you've never heard before and you refuse to look up at her.

"Just keep going, Miyabi, we're almost done." You mumble, pushing yourself up to your feet, but she gently pushes you down once more, leaving you sitting on the ground.

"You are in no place to fight right now."

Swallowing, you dig your fingers into the gravel beneath your palms, the small rocks digging into your skin and between your fingernails as you huff out softly. The rain was pouring now, you can barely see five feet ahead of you but you still sense her next to you. She is next to you, she is worried for you. But not in the way you want her to be.

"I can fight."

"Not now."

"You need me to carry on." You finally look up at her, and you really wished you hadn't because the look in her eyes has you wanting to scream into a void with no voice.

The look- it's worry. It's worry and you don't want her to worry for you because wouldn't it be so much easier if she just didn't care for you? You love her because she still cares for you. You love her because together you two can fight as one unit. You love her, you love her and she only cares for you because you are essential to her as a unit.

You are daylight, Miyabi, and I am the night that follows. We need each other to act as one, but we will never be together, truly side by side.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

I am unabashedly requesting for rindou and Inui light-hearted cute funny HCs in a world where Bonten Rin has a huge crush on Inui (crushing on him since tenjiku times)

what are some of the things a secretly lovestruck Rin would do? He has to keep his feelings for an oblivious Inui at bay but he at the same time wants to see Inui as much as he possibly can

(if this req is too weirdly specific pls feel free to disregard this!!!!!! I love ur stuff as always mwah)

That sounds cute! Here's how I think bonten Rindou would act while crushing on Inui!

Honestly Rindou is pretty bad at hiding his crush, he blushes and get's flustered pretty easily. The only reason it hasn't been discovered by Inui yet is because Inui is so oblivious. 

Rindou keeps turning up at Inui and Drakens bike shop with 'problems' but they're like the smallest and silliest problems possible (he's actually just coming up with excuses to see Inui but he's not very good at it).

Brings Inui lunch often, normally with excuses like "they accidentally gave me extra" or "I packed too much today" Inui finds this a little odd but doesn't question it because free food.

Walks past the bike shop often, one time Inui waved at him and he almost walked into a street light in shock. 

Sometimes Rindou accidentally goes round there when Inui's not working and then he has very awkward interactions with Draken instead. 

One time Inui brings up how he wanted to beat Rindou and Ran up after he got out of juvie but then he immediately regrets mentioning it because he thinks it's probably weird to bring up now? Meanwhile Rindou is just thinking like "wow he knew I existed even all the way back then". 

Normally they talk about their weeks or random things while in the shop together, with Rindou browsing or waiting for Inui to finish whatever small problem he has now. Both of them enjoy these talks a lot. After awhile Rindou doesn't need the excuses anymore because it's accepted that he just takes his lunch breaks in the shop to hangout with Inui.

Rindou plans for ages on how to casually see Inui outside of the bike shop (his main plan is to invite him to see a movie together but he always get's too nervous). But then one day, when Rindou is mid rant about not having a good gym partner, Inui volunteers. Which really throws Rindou off for a sec but he quickly agrees and they become gym buddies. 

Rindou absolutely tries to show off his strength and flexibility to Inui.

During one lunch time hangout, Inui accidentally drinks from Rindou's bottle of water and Rindou stops functioning for a sec because indirect kiss!???

Rindou thinks he's being so secretive with this crush but literally everyone can tell aside from Inui. 

One time when they're walking past the shop together, Ran makes a comment to Rindou like "you sure do like going into that shop don't you?" and Rindou, who's panicking just goes "I've never been in there before" (this happens seconds after Inui waved at Rindou and Rindou waved back. 

Sometimes Rindou will leave anonymous gifts for Inui like a bouquet of his favourite flowers (he had to pay Koko for that information).

And finally, Rindou may not know it but he has already confessed to Inui. One time when they went drinking together, a drunken Rindou told Inui how much he loves him. Inui just smiled at him and said "you're drunk". Rindou may have forgotten that incident but Inui remembers it and wonders if he'll get to hear those words again from Rindou some day...

[brookediamonds]

I Love You, I'm Sorry (Part Two) | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Part 1

Summary: Axel has given you time and space after your break-up, waiting for the perfect time to get to know you all over again. But of course, there's push back.

Word Count: 3k Warnings: none, angst, fluff

gif is not mine

A few weeks have passed since you broke up with Ian, the disappointment outweighing the sadness you felt by the situation as a whole.

You were lucky you had your friends by your side when ever you did start to feel that ache in your chest.

Worried you might have overreacted, Sam and Tory reminded you that under no circumstance should someone place money on any situation with anyone. It was evil.

When you began to enter the room with your big smile and bubbly energy again, your friends knew you were okay. Axel knew you were okay.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Axel had been keeping a close eye on you lately since your last interaction with Ian.

He was looking for the right time to approach you and see where things fell between you two. While things between still somewhat remained the same, he felt just a little bit of hope for a second chance with you.

And you felt the same.

You just sat down at the table with Tory and Robby, waiting for your other friends to join you for lunch.

All at once, Miguel, Sam, Hawk, Demetri, and their girlfriends trickled into the group, Axel sneakily coming in to sit next to you.

"I think I want to throw a party for my 18th birthday," Moon says catching everyone's attention.

"Oh my god, yes," Yazmin agrees with her best friend. "You need a theme."

"Oh, this should be good," Tory chuckles looking over at Robby.

"When would you do it?" You ask picking up your phone to check your calendar.

"Probably next Saturday, my birthday is that Thursday," Moon responds. You press the date she's referring to and smile when you see it's blank.

"We don't have practice that Saturday," you enlighten your team. They all let out a cheer, relived they could enjoy a day to relax and have fun.

You turn slightly to your right seeing Axel quietly munching on one of his mandarin oranges.

"Think you'll go?" You ask, bumping your shoulder lightly with his.

"Will you be there?" He questions back. You feel a turn in your stomach, your mind hoping he was interested in your attendance.

"Duh," you reply like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Probably not then," he gives you a small smirk popping another slice of orange into his mouth.

"Ha ha," you mock him. He laughs at your response, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat.

"Yeah, I'll go," he shrugs nonchalantly. In the back of Axel's mind, he swore he saw a look of relief in your eyes when he confirms he would be going to the party.

And he would be right. You had spent the last few weeks working up the courage to mend things between you and Axel, now felt like the perfect time to burry the hatchet and start new.

The time's you had dissociate mid conversation with your friends, they had come to believe it was you becoming saddened by your recent break-up when it fact, it was you thinking about Axel.

You didn't care about Ian, or what he had done, he meant nothing to you. Unbeknownst to your friends and Axel, he was merely just a distraction from what, or whom you really wanted.

Which was the tall, moody boy sitting next to you.

"You should probably eat some of this," Axel places a piece of his Cutie mandarin on your plate. "You've been looking kind of tired at practice."

You narrowed your eyes at his accusation. "I do not!"

"Do too," he says cockily making you scoff and cross your arms over your chest defensively.

"Conversations with you are tiring," you shot back, taking the small piece of the orange fruit and tossing it into your mouth.

"No they're not, you love our conversations," he pesters placing another slice of the cutie in front of you. You roll your eyes taking the food.

"Oh yes, highlight of my day, honestly," you respond sarcastically, a smile tugging on your lips.

"I know," he grins finishing off his clementine, wiping his fingers off a napkin.

You pretend to focus back on Moon who was explain the details about her party, trying not focus on the soft blush sitting on Axel's face and the warmth enveloping in your chest.

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

The next few days were interesting to say the least, you and Axel found yourselves talking, not bickering, more than usual.

And even when you would have your normal banter, it always ended with both of you laughing light-heartedly. Your friends seemed to notice this too.

You're sitting against the wall inside the small dojo of Miyagi-Do, your melting latte perched next to you, with your eyes slumped shut.

"Tired, are we?" You hear, making you pop one eye open you see Axel smirking to himself as he shuts the door, walking into the small place.

"No!" You blink your eyes repeatedly trying to wake up from the nap you were almost achieving. Taking a long gulp of your coffee, you wipe your mouth as Axel moves to stand in front of you.

Axel raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Uh-huh. That totally convinced me."

You huff, stretching your legs out in front of you. "I’m not tired."

Axel crouches down to your level, resting his arms on his knees. "Prove it."

You take another long sip of your drink, the ice falling to the lid as you finished your caffeine to give you some extra strength.

"Fine, move," you order him, slowly standing up from your spot. He chuckles, reaching his right hand out.

You stare at his outstretched hand for a second before taking it, letting him pull you up effortlessly. The moment lingers just a second too long, his grip firm, thumb barely grazing yours before he lets go.

You're not sure if it's the coffee, but your heart flips in your chest at the small moment, you let out a throat clearing cough to shake off the nerves.

"Don't go soft on me now, Kovačević" you tease him playfully. You both get into your starting positions across from each other.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he gives you an evil grin.

Without hesitation, you lunge at him, aiming a light jab at his side. Axel dodges easily, chuckling. "That’s it? Now i know you're really sleepy."

You scoff, feinting another punch before spinning to sweep his legs out from under him. But Axel being quick, hops back just in time, grabbing your wrist mid-movement and twisting you around effortlessly.

In seconds, your back is against his chest, his arm loosely wrapped around your middle.

"You were saying?" he murmurs near your ear, his voice smug.

Your heart stutters, but you refuse to let him win. Using his slight distraction to your advantage, use your free arm wrapping it around the back of neck, and jumping up to wrap your legs on either side of Axel's hips to throw you two forward and roll up back on your feet with Axel on the ground.

"Awake enough for you now?" You smirk looking back, down at him

Axel stares up at you breathless, still taken back by the way you fight with ease. It's one of things he admires about you.

"I think that nap really did the trick," he smiles up at you goofily. You laugh, lending him your hand so he could stand up, but stubborn like you, he didn't go down without a fight.

Axel pulls you down to fall on top of him, and rolls you on your back so he could be above you. The both of you erupt with laughter, knowing the take downs could go on for hours.

As you began to calm down, you notice Axel's expression slips into a serious one as he stared at you.

"I-I'm sorry," he stutters. You tilt your head in confusion.

"For what?"

His colorful eyes are unable to meet your own, he sits up in his place, wrapping his arms around his bent knees.

"I'm sorry for how I handled things after the partner skills competition," he looks back at you. "We lost because of me."

You sighed sitting up as well. "It was both of our fault's, you and I had opposite upbringings in karate and somehow it all got messy and we miscommunicated."

He nods in agreement. "Well, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," you give him a sincere smile. As the silence overcomes you, a tension lingers in the air as you both stare at one another.

Before either of you can say anything else, the doors slide open revealing Sam and Miguel staring back at you both amused.

"We've been looking all over for you guys!" Sam spoke first.

Miguel smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. "Should we give you two a moment?"

You rolled your eyes moving to stand up, Axel following suit.

"We were just talking," you chuckled wiping your hands off your leggings.

"You two? Talking?" Sam raises her eyebrows.

"Apparently it's something people do," Axel fakes a gasp as all four of you begin to trail out of the small home and into the backyard where everyone else was.

As you passed Sam, she reaches a hand out to grab your arm, holding you back.

"What is going on?" She whispers over for only you to hear.

"Nothing," you shrugged glancing back at the boy you were just talking to. "We...worked things out."

Sam gave you a skeptical look, her eyes flicking between you and Axel, who was now casually talking with Miguel near the sparring mats.

"Worked things out?" she repeated, her tone dripping with curiosity. "So does that mean—"

"It means," you cut in, shooting her a knowing look, "that we’re not at each other’s throats anymore. That’s all."

"Finally!" the brunette cheered. "I have been waiting for this."

"Waiting for what?" Tory approaches you and Sam.

"For her and Axel to finally realize they're meant to be together," Sam sing songs.

"Oh, that, right," Tory nods. "Took you guys long enough."

"Okay, I have no idea what you two are talking about," you interrupt. "We just started getting along."

"Right, right," your two friends share a knowing look with each other as you stayed in denial.

Before you could respond, Sensei Lawerence called everyone over to start warm-ups.

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

After a successful Thursday practice, your team talked amongst themselves, packing up their stuff for the night.

You toss your gym bag onto the bench, pulling out your water bottle to take a sip when you see Axel walking towards you.

"Did you finish the history assignment Ms. Webber gave us earlier?" You asked as he placed his bag down next to yours.

"Nope," Axel sighed remembering the unfinished paper waited for him after this. "I have to finish it when I get home."

"Same, it was a lot of questions," you complained setting your water back down.

"FaceTime me later, maybe we can work through it together," the boy offers. You smile with a nod.

"Yeah, that'd be great," you agreed.

"You gonna head out?" He asks seeing you slip your shoes on.

Before you can respond, you realize you forgot something back on the sparring deck.

"In a little bit, I forgot my jacket outside," you say tossing your phone on to your bag. "Wait for me?"

Axel gives you a small smile reassuring you he'd still be there when you get back. As you stepped into the backyard, he sees your phone light up, a few texts popping up on the screen.

He's fast to ignore it, but when multiple messages start stacking he's curious to see who was trying to get your attention.

Axel's jaw clenches when he sees the name: Ian Matthews.

Ian Matthews: will you pls just hear me out?

Ian Matthews: i really, really like you

Ian Matthews: pls give me another chance,

His brows furrow, and something inside him twists uncomfortably. Why was Ian still texting you? And more importantly, were you answering him?

Axel hears you come back inside, oblivious to his change in demeanor.

"Okay, I'm ready," you say picking your stuff up.

His fists clenched as he quickly looked away, trying to act like he didn’t see anything. But the words were already burned into his mind.

Was that why you’d been in such a good mood lately? Had you forgiven Ian? Were you actually considering giving that idiot another shot?

Was everything happening between you two all in his head?

You walked to your cars in silence, thoughts and questions racing through Axel's mind while you pondered about Moon's party.

You had to dress cute, since things are finally heading in the right direction with Axel, you looked forward to what Saturday night could bring.

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

"He's acting weird," you explain lowly to Sam and Tory as the three of you sat in the library during your free period.

"Like stalker weird?" Tory grimaces making you shake your head.

"No, like he's been really short with me and won't even look at me," you frown, strings beginning to pull at your heart.

"Something had to have happen," Sam spoke quietly. "Did you reject him on accident or insult him? You guys do play around a lot."

You think back to the last few days filled with the laughter and heart to heart conversations you hadn't had with him yet.

"We joke around, but I haven't said anything below the belt," you exhaled tapping your pen along your workbook.

"Well tomorrow is the party, maybe you can talk to him then," Tory suggests.

"I guess," you mumble unsurely. You didn't want to wait until the party, this whole day he's been ignoring you and you hated it.

The girls give you a sympathetic look before going back to work on their schoolwork. Just as you glanced up to the double doors, you see the familiar auburn haired boy saunter into the building.

Your heart sped up as you watched him walk into the psychology row of books, but began to ache as you remember how he looked away when you smiled at him this morning.

You had been looking forward to hanging out with Axel all week, especially since things between you two had finally started feeling easy again.

But instead, he was being cold. Distant. Like you had done something wrong. And you weren’t going to just let that slide.

Standing up from the table, you let Sam and Tory know you'll be right back, and head towards section Axel was in.

Quietly walking between the cases of books, you find the tall boy flipping through what you assume is the novel he's looking for.

"I didn't know you took psych," you spoke up, making Axel jump slightly. He gives you a sideways glance with a silent nod.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his silence, crossing your arms. "Okay… so we’re just not talking now?"

Axel sighed, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf. "Didn't say that."

"You kind of are saying that," you countered, stepping closer. "You've been weird all day. If I did something, just tell me."

Axel contemplated back and forth with what he wanted to say, his gaze still not meeting yours. "It’s nothing."

Your stomach twisted at the dismissal. He was never the most open person, but after the past few weeks, you thought you had broken down some of those walls. And now, here he was, shutting you out again.

"Fine, forget it," you scoffed turning to walk away, but before you can take another step, Axe's hand shot out, gently grabbing ahold of your wrist.

"I saw Ian's texts on your phone," he admits. You face him once again, glancing down where his fingers rested around your hand. "Last night after practice, I didn't mean to, but he was blowing up your phone."

"Yeah," you recall Ian's millions of texts before you finally blocked him.

Your words didn't help, while you waited for Axel to get to the anecdote, he thinks you don't see a problem with your ex propositioning a second chance.

Axel groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Look, I just, if you’re giving that guy another chance, then fine, whatever. It’s your life. I just thought—"

He cuts himself off releasing your hand making you frown.

"Thought what?" You inquire. Taking a step closer to him, Axel avoids your gaze. "Thought you and I have something?"

His natural blush had risen to his cheeks, a feature of his that you adored.

"We do," you confirm softly. Axel finally looked at you, his brows furrowed, as if trying to figure out if you were messing with him.

"You mean you—" he hesitates making you laugh.

"Blocked Ian the minute I got home," you finish for him. "Dude never stood a chance."

Axel blinked, clearly processing your words. "Oh."

"I don't think I've ever seen you jealous before," you tease him. "It's kinda hot."

Axel scoffed with slight eye roll. "I was not jealous."

"You were so jealous," you smirk up at him. "You like me."

He crosses his arms over his chest unable to hide his sly grin. "Shut up."

"You so do."

"Do not."

"Do too."

You stood toe to toe with him as he shook his head in defeat.

"So what if I do?" He taunts back at you. Biting back a smile, you gaze up into his sea foam blue eyes.

"Prove it," you dare him.

Axel leans down capturing your lips with his own, placing a soft hand on the side of your face.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you melted into the kiss almost instantly, your hands gripping the front of his hoodie to steady yourself.

Your lips are eager like his to finally touch, your chasing his mouth when he begins to pull away.

"That proof enough for you?" He murmurs, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

"I don't know..." you faked an innocent look.

Axel raised an eyebrow slipping his other free hand around your waist. "No?"

You grinned, tugging him down by his hoodie again. "Might need you to prove it a few more times."

He chuckled, shaking his head before leaning in once more. "I can manage that."

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

(A/n: I'm sooo obsessed with Axel in the new trailer, like my mans is so distraught, cue the meme "STAY AWAY FROM HER. GET A JOB." @ Terry Silver and Wolf. Anyway, loved the trailer, it was a piece of art. Part 3 will soon be in the works.)

[hasufin]

So, I have this theory about that.

Okay, every few months my bank tells me my credit score.

It's really fucking good. I pay off my debts, I have a regular job, &c. And I've been doing all this since I was a teenager (my parents got royally fucked in the 80s because they didn't have good credit, on account of it being the 80s, so they taught me how to do this stuff)

Right, so my credit score is aaaallllmmoooost as good as it's theoretically possible to be. The only reason I don't have a perfect score is that I have chosen to not have store-specific accounts and to not up certain limits which I don't need.

And those last few points aren't special. I'm not going to magically get access to anything for having a literally perfect score. I won't be offered any better interest rates (on loans I don't want), extra perks, or lunches with rich assholes to pitch my startup idea. So my credit score is great.

Does my bank tell me "Hey! You're doing great! Keep up the good work!"?

No. They tell me "Here are the things you can do to improve your score! It needs to be higher!"

And that's the entire message of our whole economic system. We are constantly sold

anxiety

as if it were a valuable commodity. We're told that no matter what we do, it's Not Good Enough.

And you and I, we actually have a threshold where we know we'll be better off. A point where we can be secure. Because we've got real anxiety about our money, not just the packaged stuff airdropped on us.

But rich people? They're given that same set of anxiety about money and they don't know what to do about it. They've got this hole they're trying to fill, and they can't ever fill it. Nothing is enough. Nothing makes a dent, because the hole isn't real and they're just shoveling money around at random.

And the richest people? They're often the ones who were the most vulnerable to the money anxiety. They're the ones who bought the idea that you need MOAR MONEY to feel better, so they dedicated their lives to getting that money, and it never helps but they keep trying because they don't know any better.

Seb when he discovered empathy and decided to raise bees

[maviescafe]

THOUGHTS ON CALEB

We have him for a while now and I've been thinking…

The memories aren't release in chronological order but with Caleb I think we have a detail that the others LIs doesn't have: the bionic arm. I wonder if Infold will divide the memories in before and after it like we see in Painful Signal.

First let's understand Caleb as a person, we now know that he is the typical popular guy wherever he goes, smart good looking and social but he doesn't care about reputation, he focus on being a reliable person and have the skills necessary to escape whatever traumatized him and MC, keeping they both safe from what hurt them. His mentality is not great for someone perceived as perfect, never been and we can't pinpoint when this started but we know that he was an experiment when he was 9 or 10, maybe Josephine took him later? If the nickname Donor 002 appears in his anecdote refers to him, maybe it is possible that he was left in the lab, there is no information about his parents and if they were alive at the time. MC entering his life is also unknown but the fact that he knows she forgets, and remembers her every time makes it possible that his protectiness comes from this, and the Chip makes it 100x worse/intense. He struggles with nightmares to a point he can't even sleep, aside from a candy and soda it doesn't seem he eats like never, he is a great cook but doesn't seem like he eats, he is a buffy dude he should be eating a lot. If he goes through the day only eating Apples....

He is lonely, doesn't share anything with anyone and it's not a liked figure in the Fleet despite him being a Colonel. He knows he is just a weapon and plans to stay like this, if he can make EVER only focus on him, even if it means to be hated by everyone he will do it. But I wonder how much he knows about MC's Core and if the Spatium Core will be used to modify him. At the same time he is ready to drop everything and fly her anywhere, maybe even another planet, if she admits to only wanting to be with him!

His relationship with MC is complex, he is a complex person as much as her and with so many secrets. but one of the things he is sure about is his feelings, through the cards he is constantly saying he knows what he is doing and he is sure about his feelings but he struggles to make the move they both are waiting for (kiss counting: 2, throughout the memories we have available). It hurts seem him stuck and unable to make a move or even address feelings when they clearly have feeling for each other!

The nickname doesn't help, I know it's from a lovely place but he keeps calling Her pipsqueak (it's cute, I'll admite but he need to let it go of this name) because MC thinks he still sees her as a child, unless he changes the nickname or stop calling her that and acknowledge her as a adult she won't step forward and won't allow him to approach either. Maybe he can't let go because he doesn't want to walk away from the time he perceives as the best of their lives, when he "could" protect her if anything happens. Who knows...

Unfortunately here is where we in the Global side will loose some nuances about Caleb and MC, since English doesn't have a direct translations or transliterations for the world Gege BUT we have a reference that allow us to understand what it means. Gege (Mandarim) is translated as older guy in a respectful way and flattering way that also happens to be a form to call your older male sibling, the same works for Oppa (Korean) and Nii-chan (Japanese) but what is it for? So, we know that in Asian languages there is a word called Honorific, a noun that is used to imply and express respect for another person. It's common to refer to someone they know as Gege (older guy friend) or Jiejie (older girl friend) and it's doesn't mean the one expressing and the one receiving are related by blood, in fact it's common to address anyone older like this because it's a respectful way to refer to them. . Unlike us that don't speak Mandarin, we only use honorific in a formal environment rather than day to day life, for us using the person name in any occasion is enough.

The Colonel is a persona, he need this hat to achieve his goals! He is willing to became the villain and do anything he judges necessary to protect her, doesn't matter if she agree or not he is ok if it's to keep her safe. Kevin, Viper, Professor Lucien and the mysterious girl (Evil twin? Where this girl come from?) all know he is protecting her so maybe MC isn't the only target EVER has eyes on… unlikely. Maybe they're waiting to get something or someone (I'm deeply worried about Sylus after knowing they're after the Fountain of Atei and they're heading to the N109 zone)

Skyhaven isn't the incredible place that seemed to be, it's dangerous and EVER controls the place, the Torino Chip seems more than just a modification or enhancement, could it be Lemurian technology or something that Onych was working on, Protocore doesn't seem to be involved in this particularly. But the Farspace Fleet now has the last piece of the Spacium Core, what is stoping them to go to the Hunters Association and get the others pieces…

[glitterhearth]

apologies