#yes i’m delaying on purpose

[undertheopensky]

Just found the last Maiamai!

…slightly disappointed bc I’m running out of things to do

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

#what i love about this is that to bertie it's a foregone conclusion that it's Their Car#it isn't 'you should take the car' it's 'why on earth would you take the train? we've got a car you know!'#the employer-employee relationship has become the thinnest possible fiction for married behaviour#and honestly this is making me feel a lot better about the spinoza thing. like. to bertie being mindful of jeeves is just normal.#why WOULDN'T he take the car. it's easier. bertie might not have remembered to tell jeeves to take the car#if jeeves hadn't told him when the train was leaving but it isn't because bertie doesn't care. he just assumes jeeves would take the car.#the guy had to order the spinoza. we know we don't see a lot of the conversations they have and basically all they do whenever there isn't#any plot going on is talk to each other about daily news literature history whatever jeeves is reading.#so it seems a lot more likely that we just didn't see that bit of communication happening than it is for bertie to forget briefly about#the book he wanted to give jeeves and then decide oh well let's hold onto it until christmas. because that doesn't make any sense - that's#a level of unthinking that's more about 'well who cares' than about 'i had a very busy few days and was at my aunts place so i couldn't#pick up your book'#the same in regards to bertie interrupting jeeves - because he (iirc) usually only does it when Something Is Going On#he likes hearing jeeves talk about poetry! he asks about his family! but he doesnt want to hear about jeeves aunts while he's In A Situatio#(and honestly. 1) jeeves sometimes has very bad timing. see the bicycle story. the 'cheesewright is going to crush you like a fly' thing.#the 'that's a lot of money you're owing and captain biggar is not patient' thing from RFJ. he just gets a little carried away#2) having started tally ho (thank you for recommending it btw!) this is so incredibly stressful. like. i have been underestimating#just how stressful the situations bertie gets into are. jeeves must have nerves of steel. we know that bertie does not.#and if i had to deal with not even an unwanted engagement but just a situation like 'this guy's fake moustache might fall off after#i went to some lengths to smuggle him in' and someone tried to talk to me about their aunt i would also think that This Is Not The Moment.#Can't You See Everyone Here Is An Idiot And I'm Somehow Responsible. this is the most stressed i've been in my life. (i am having a lot of#fun aside from and during the stressful! it's just stressful af) so really bertie should get a break for that#very long story short this is absolutely married behaviour

tags from @noandnooneelse

While we’re on the subj. of Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit, this earlier scene drives me insane too, because speaking in just black and white, contractual terms, Bertie, you literally DO have the option? You’re the only one who has an option in this situation. You have the power to tell him he can’t go, you are literally his employer. And then he offers Jeeves use of the car to go to London, even though Jeeves never would’ve asked! Married behavior! Married behavior!!! This is the sort of negotiation spouses have with each other, we are fully out of the realm of master/servant now

[aweina]

౨ৎ. MANSPREAD ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. established relationship. dry humping / heavy petting. begging. no reader orgasm ( boo ! ! ). cocky to submissive mikey + 1.8k words.

mike cannot seem to keep his legs closed. literally. sitting next to him was a total hassle. his legs covering every perimeter of leg space he could reach — leaving your knees buckled together and tucked in whatever corner you’re forced into.

you’ve mentioned his bad habit before, in which he mumbles an indolent “sorry” and then the next day, continues to do the same thing he’s half heartedly apologized for. at this point, you’re not sure he was doing it to press your buttons or his permanent restlessness has caught up with his memory.

then playful slaps on the knee became another idea. a quick sting to his skin kept his reactions stunned, buckling his knees together from your sharp touches. each slap garnered a short cry and a sudden flinch like some invisible string tied his legs together.

it worked, but only for a few days.

now mike catches your wrist halfway from making contact on his knees, gently tugging you down in the corner of the linen couch with a delighted chuckle. either that or he tosses you a knowing glance when you come by the couch, a raised brow and his hands protecting the caps of his knees — glancing his soft hazel eyes towards the tiny empty space beside him.

what a total ass.

all your solutions to stop his leg spreading habit seemed to do nothing for mike. instead, it made him even more repulsive — the spatial width between his legs could nearly reach the arms of the couch, leaving your poor body folded to regain any left over space. then his arms spread along the plush pillows — his rough hand would ever so often teasingly tug at your ears or play with the loose strands of your hair, pulling the ends while playfully twirling it in his finger.

in the corner of your eye, you swore there was a smug smile etched onto his face.

yeah, he’s totally doing this on purpose.

you thought a bit harder after that day. re-enacting different scenarios in your head without it resulting in some unneeded argument — nearly burning abby’s lunch in the process. but like a flash of light, it suddenly hit you. if mike was going to rob you of personal space, why can’t you do so to him?

“um … are you okay?” abby glances up at your blank eyes in concern, the chicken that was supposed to be golden brown violently sizzled from the bubbling oil, grimly layered under a blanket of black charcoal.

“o – oh, yes i’m fine abs.” you assured the smaller schmidt, transferring the hot pan away from the scorching stove — your inner victory delayed by your own clumsiness.

to salvage her burnt meal, you both shared a box of fresh delivered pizza for lunch.

but now it was that time.

it’s nighttime, mike was comfortably splayed on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels. as it always was, his legs covered every crevice of the couch — body propped completely in between the plush cushions. the gray baggy sweatpants he changed into clung to his frame well — heavily ruffled on the parts you would love to get an eyeful of. his shirt was slightly damp from a warm shower, the gentle curl patterns in his brown hair glistened under the colorful glow of the television.

mike catches your lingering gaze, a pleased smile on his face.

“you’re not going to sit down?” he slurred a quip, patting down on the other end of the couch — seized by his thick thighs.

he refrains from teasing you for your blatant staring, but instead, for your multiple failed attempts to get him to stop his obnoxious leg spreading.

“oh yeah i will.” you mocked his sluggish tone, going to get yourself a cold drink before you make your way over to the couch.

blocking his view from the blaring screen, you purposely bent down in slow motion — distracting him from his vacuous browsing to simply put your drink down. mike quirks a brow at your little act, but still makes no effort to scoot over, barely moving a muscle.

then your body began to engulf his vision, fluorescent light spilling in the sides of your shadow. confusion knitted into his brows until suddenly, the air in his lungs were punched out from an added weight. the heavy crash of your body made mike rasp a curse, making him pathetically adjust himself after being nearly sunken in the folds of the aged couch — one hand clawing at the cushions for some stability.

“r – really? on my lap?” mike managed to breath out, holding your waist steadily with his free hand — your body felt so good flushed against his.

the innocent attempt to adjust himself ended up with him grinding on your ass, eliciting a low groan from his lips.

gosh, he’s too loud.

you hurriedly fish out the remote from his weak grasp, changing the channel to something that could hopefully muffle the pathetic noises that spill from mike’s mouth. abby’s room was still nearby the living room, the lights off and the door completely shut.

“well … you never give me room on the couch, so i think this is fair.” you explained leisurely, tossing the remote to the side as you grappled onto his spread knees, lifting off some weight to rub slow, shallow circles over his clothed cock.

mike fought back a needy whimper, biting his lip until fleshy pink turned paper white. the cooling sensation of his damp hair did nothing from how much his body was burning up. both his hands cling desperately onto the handles of your waist — kneading and lightly grazing his nails in your soft skin.

a throbbing warmth brushed against your clothed clit, mercilessly constricted by the confines of his sweatpants. you fought back a whine yourself, desperately tugging at the gray fabric with sealed lips. every steady brush of your soft flesh made mike see stars, the urge to lift his hips and grind harder into the curve of ass sat heavy in his lust hazed mind. yet his obedience seemed to glimmer brighter than his deviant instincts.

“ha ha- harder – ngh – please go harder.”

he sounded so sweet, so needy. you couldn’t deny him when the pool of his sticky precum oozes through the gray fabric — gossamer strings that weaved your dripping arousal with his own.

“s – stay still then.” you whispered, now fully pressing your weight against his hard cock — your back against his panting chest.

mike does what you ask, gluing his hips down to the cushions.

his heartbeat was racing against time, pumping all the hot blood that rushed down to his cock. his warm breath fanned the back of your neck, sending electric waves down your spine. his touches were sweaty, latching and kneading anything that pertained to softness. the open mouthed kisses he planted on your bare neck blossomed into purple hues, the drag of his teeth and muted whimpers coercing you to absolutely destroy him.

your hips rocked faster on his cock, the throbbing imprint tucked between the curve of your ass. his grip felt extra tight on your hips, reddish crescent marks decorating your flushed skin. mike throws his head back on the couch, his usual deep groans replaced with airy sighs. he closes his eyes, the same stars dancing in his eyelids — your heady scent making it harder for him not to hold you down himself and hump his cock against your pussy.

he’s so close, he can feel it.

“might cum – ah fuck.” mike warns with a high-pitched whine, the blasting audio from the television really doing him a favor.

you can tell too. his cock hasn’t stopped throbbing ever since he’s accidentally grind against you. his seeping precum never seemed to stop, only staining against the seat of the couch. he was like a horny teenager, so desperate to get off and trying so hard to compose himself. not like the asshole who was taking up all the space on the couch.

this was a great plan after all.

with one hard press against his cock, a spill of scorching heat nestled into your clothed pussy — eating through his soiled fabric and coating your covered folds. with no restraint whatsoever, mike’s deep groan vibrated the dimly lit living room, mindlessly bucking his hips lazily over your cunt like he could possibly pump some cum along your walls. the stars that whirled under his lids dispersed into a warm, satisfied feeling all over his usual restless body.

the very last minute, your hands flailed over his panting mouth — looking over to the direction of abby’s room. he seems to realize how loud he was, eyes widening as he hastily grabs onto the discarded remote, amplifying the volume to a considerate tone. not too loud to wake her up but definitely loud enough to cover the after effects of your intense heavy petting.

the light in her room remains untouched, her delicate footsteps nonexistent. she’s still asleep, thank goodness.

still both hazy from your lustful highs, mike drops the remote and snuggles into the crook of your neck — taking in your addicting scent while admiring the love marks he gave you. his cock softened under the soiled fabric, the sticky feeling making him furrow his brows. but then he realizes one thing, the sudden flinch of his body made you alarmed.

“i – i’m sorry. you didn’t get to cum.” mike sheepishly apologizes, fiddling with the waistband of your soiled shorts.

you shook your head with a relieved sigh, leaning back to gently kiss his stubble jawline — combing your fingers through his soft curls, dried on the top but the ends damp with sweat.

“i’m fine, baby, but you can make it up with one thing.” you mumbled in the base of his ear, a playful smile on your face.

in the corner of his eye, he can see the curl of your lips — the sight earning an eye roll.

“i already know what you’re going to say, but let’s hear it.” mike’s voice was baritone next to your flushed face, completely contrasting his previous whines and whimpers.

“give me all the space on the couch for now on.” you laugh when mike groans, still pulling your body closer to his despite this new ordeal.

“okay fine.” he defeatedly mumbles into your shoulder, his rough hands tracing over your bruised hips to your neglected chest — reaching under to knead your soft skin for his own enjoyment.

the moments of comforting silence were therapeutic, not even the continuous dialogue and sound effects from the bulky screen could ruin its peace. there was something still ticking mike off, he didn’t want to ruin this sweet moment but he couldn’t help it.

“are you sure my lap isn’t good enough?” he pleaded, a glint of hope in his hazy eyes — the couch being his only source of possession where he could splay himself comfortably.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes in the back of your head.

“no.”

it was an attempt.

he huffs in defeat, now kneading at your chest for some comfort.

“okay.”

�� aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave you (Pt. 74)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A planned vacation with Namjoon might not offer the respite you hope it will; Something is wrong with Jin and he just wont say what.

Tags: Hurt/comfort, Harmless Sickfic, So much fluff, Light angst, Brief smut, brief mentions of intercrural sex, slick, implied d/s, Mommy kink, mommy tae, Brief daddy kink too 🥺, clothing control, implied omegaspace

W/c: 20.0k

A/n: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out <3 the last couple of weeks have been...not great! Here it is! I will repay you guys with my hiatus by giving you possibly the longest bily chapter ever! The heat arc will take two more chapters! No idea how long those will be but i greatly enjoyed making this chapter the fluffiest little bundle of scenes I could. i did not hold back- i think we've all needed a bit of softness.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

You excuse yourself to change. But you find yourself pacing back and forth in front of the mirror for a moment. Struggling with your fancy dress that’s for tomorrow night’s dinner, hanging it up with a huff. Unsure why you’re so stressed, why you’re so anxious. An animal in your chest that just won’t stop clawing at your breath.

You knew what you were agreeing to going on this vacation with Namjoon. A solo vacation just for the two of you sends a very very pointed message. This is a sexy vacation- a private suite and a private onsen only means one thing and now at the precipice of it you feel- you feel-

Namjoon knocks, but you tell him you need a minute trying not to sound scared. You don’t even know why you feel scared; you’ve had sex with Namjoon before, and taking him is no longer quite as daunting of a task as it once was. But you feel unsettled and out of your depth here. Intimacy and romance are so much harder without your pack around you to reassure you to egg you on.

You need to call Tae.

She picks up on the second ring, “Pup!” she sounds happy and bubbly even through the phone. You even hear a bit of relief in her voice. “I’m doing my nails upstairs because Jin and Jungkook are being loud; did you get to the hotel yet? How are the flowers?”

“Tae” you hiss, keeping your voice down. “Did you think I’d spend the whole weekend lounging in lingerie!? You didn’t even pack me a bathing suit!” You whine. Still pacing.

“Well, I was actually hoping you’d spend the whole weekend getting your lingerie torn off of you by Namjoon but-”

“Mommy” you whine, and she quiets.

“It’s at the bottom, the dark red one with the flowers.” You find it, if only because it’s a bright oxblood in the mess of pastels. It’s dotted with pale yellow flowers and crossing straps that are supposed to tie around the slimmest part of your waist several times. It’s very Tae. Strappy and sexy and so tiny. The triangles are so small, it might as well be lingerie too.

“Tae- this isn’t going to fit me.”

“Yes, it does” she quips. “I measured.” You flush. You’re sure she did actually measure, probably during one of your morning preening and grooming sessions that you have a habit of spending mostly in omegaspace, an eager puppet to her hands. The idea that you’d been so far down, so trusting that you didn’t even notice warms your cheeks.

But Tae chose this for you, your alpha chose this for you and your other alpha. Tae does often know best. She knows what Namjoon likes.

Your heart rate slows a little.

“Tae- this is just a mess of strings,” she giggles, and you know just from the sound of it that she did this on purpose.

“Come on, live a little.”

“I know but- but-” you sit on the toilet, and she hums.

You wait, sensing that she’s yet to speak. You can hear Namjoon in the other room, starting to pace. You swear you hear him talking too. The hushed grumble as he talks to someone over the phone to someone.

“I’m sorry, I should have packed you something more modest. I just thought you’d want to- I don’t know, tell me off if I'm wrong but- Don't you want to explore a little? You don’t always have to know what you want, You don’t always have to want it- you can have both. Being wanted and being treated delicately- it's not one or the other.”

Your breath hitches, and you wonder how she managed to hit it right on the head. You do feel delicate- you've felt delicate the whole day.

“You can wear skimpy clothes and Namjoon will just be happy he gets to look at you. He still won’t do anything unless you say you want him to. He’s well-behaved like that.”

“Mommy-”

“You love feeling cute, you love feeling wanted. Let him want you pup, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“You’re just saying that because you like to give Namjoon a hard time.”

“It’s a love language” that does get a giggle out of you. She sounds satisfied, her voice a purr, but she still apologizes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“You didn’t, I just panicked in the moment.” You pause, and Tae doesn’t fill the space with chatter. “I feel so innocent around him, so- not like this. Not that it’s dirty to dress this way, just…” You trail off.

"The pack alpha loves you, he’s gonna think you’re stunning no matter what. You could walk out in nothing and he’d still probably ask before he looked at you.”

“I kinda want him to look at me,” You admit, confess. “I kinda like making him have to restrain himself.” You have no reason to be nervous.

Tae’s voice is a purr, “There’s my girl. What do you say?”

“Thank you mommy.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl for the pack alpha?” Her voice is a dark pur.

“No mommy.”

"Perfect."

Coming Saturday Aug 31 at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[patscorner]

one shot idea ! kk always liked y/n but was always nervous to make move so she sneakily starts leaving flowers in y/ns locker 🙈🙏🏽

yes ma'am🫡

Locker Of Petals

Summary: see request

wc: 1802

Pairing: kk arnold x teammate!reader

Contains: kissing, wingman Paige, angst if you squint

(first time writing for wcbb, cut me some slack)

______________________________

Kamorea doesn’t know when she knew she fell. She didn’t know when she started to notice the little things, like the way the jersey hugged your torso or the way she’d catch herself staring at your arms a little too long. Maybe it was the way your presence lit up every room you walked in or the way she’d catch herself looking for you at parties, praying you’d show up.

KK didn’t know if you felt it, but she had a hunch. From the way she’d look for you and already find you looking at her, to the way you seemed brighter around her, how your eyes lit up when she saw you. She seemed to convince herself that you were straight, even though she never asked, and you’d never mentioned anything about dating anyone.

But she knew she’d fallen and hard. Every single thought she had contained a bit of you. Whether she was eating dinner with her family or she was driving to practice, she was always thinking about you. And with you, she was even more of a mess, stumbling on her words, struggling to maintain eye contact, or messing up her shots because she heard your voice.

But to her, there was nothing she could do because she thought you were straight, as most people did. You were straight passing, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Sure, you’d had your fair share of boyfriends, who didn’t hit right, and you’d never felt that spark. But the first girl you’d kissed, you knew you didn’t like men.

KK knew she liked you, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t had your eyes on her either. You’ll admit, you noticed the way her arms flex during warmups, the way you smile extra wide when she’s in her dancing moods, the way you always seemed to navigate to her when you guys were in public settings.

You two weren’t subtle either, the team noticed the tension, often teasing you two or purposely leaving you two alone. The internet noticed too. They had compiled clips of you both staring at each other for a second too long, or being too close and whispering to each other. They noticed how everytime KK was live, you’d either be in the chat, or she’d request you to join, which you never refused. They noticed that after a good shot, or a game winning buzzer beater, you two were the first to make physical contact, hugging, chest bumping, or dapping each other up.

Either way, it didn’t matter because you both were oblivious to the feelings the other felt towards you, stupidly seeing the actions as platonic. It was painful for your teammates to watch, Paige and Nika ear often being talked off by both you and KK. Finally, Paige was fed up.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” she asked KK. KK scrunched her face and shrugged. “I don’t know if she likes me… or people like me.”

Paige raised her eyebrows. “People like you?” KK sighed. “Yeah, you know…” Paige shook her head. “You’re fucking stupid.”

KK rolled her eyes. “Very fucking helpful, P. Thank you! I feel so much better now!” she spoke sarcastically. Now it was Paige’s turn to roll her eyes. “Come on, bro, if you don’t see she’s gay, you’re the blindest fucker alive.”

“Spell blindest, Paige.” KK scoffed. Paige shook her head but ignored her comment and continued. “You’re missing the point, KK. Ask her, please. For mine and Nika’s sake. If I’m kept up for another night listening to you whine and bitch and complain about it, I will ask her for you.”

KK groaned and fell back on the couch dramatically. “But what if-”

“Do it.”

“P, come on, how do I kn-”

“You don’t. And you’re not gonna find out by sitting here and crying about it.”

KK shook her head, but she knew Paige was right. She was only delaying the inevitable. She was only hurting herself by waiting.

She sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

Paige perked up. “Seriously?” KK rolled her eyes. “I said fine, didn’t I?”

Paige scoffed. “You do not get to give me attitude, I’m helping you out. “Yeah, yeah. How should I do it?” KK asked.

Paige smirked. “Don’t worry, I got an idea.”

Over the weeks, KK found a way to leave your favorite flowers in your locker every day. She’d do it when you were in the bathroom, or she’d sneak into the locker room during practice. Every day, you got a flower, and every day, you grew even more curious about who it could be. You’d asked the team once, but they all denied it. You knew it had to be one of them, but you weren’t interested in confrontation.

Finally, KK grew tired of waiting for you to put the puzzle together, so she decided to give you the missing piece. Her.

It was just another practice for you guys, and you’d gone to your locker to grab your water bottle. You opened your locker and smiled as the flower you’d grown so familiar with fell to your feet. You picked it up and put it on the bench behind you, continuing to rummage through your locker, resuming your search. A voice echoes from behind you, startling you.

“You ever figure out where the flowers were comin’ from?” KK piped up. You jumped, putting your hand on your heart as you turned around to face KK, who was standing near the entrance of the locker room. “Jesus, KK, you scared the shit outta me.”

She chuckled. “Sorry. But, did you?”

You looked at the flower, then back at her and shook your head. “Nah, they’re really sweet, though. I just wish whoever left ‘em would talk to me, y’know. Kinda curious as to what they mean.” You spoke, turning back to your locker.

KK was speechless, stunned by your beauty. Even though you were sweaty and stinky, KK couldn’t help but admire you. Your loose hairs sticking out of your ponytail and your legs veiny from the running you were doing.

You noticed KK’s silence, and turned back to her. You watch as her eyes trail back up your body, until they finally meet your eyes. You both grow warm under the intense eye contact, looking away immediately.

“Sorry.” KK mumbled, rubbing her neck as she walked over to sit on the bench behind you. You shook your head. “It’s okay.” You whisper back, turning around so your back was to the locker.

Silence fills the air as you and KK stare at each other. Finally, you clear your throat, breaking the deafening silence. “So, did you need something?”

KK takes a deep breath. “Uh… yeah, I kinda had to talk to you about something.” You don’t say anything, which gives her the go-ahead to continue.

“Uh, yeah. So I was thinking maybe we could hang out sometime. We could go watch a movie or like, I don’t know, eat dinner, y’know just us, or-or not. We totally could invite the team if you want, like it doesn’t have to be just us if you're not-” You laugh lightly, amused by her flustered state. “KK, calm down. I’d love to go out with you.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?” You smile. “Yes, really.”

She stands up and gives you a hug, embracing you tightly. You aren’t surprised by this movement, as you and KK often shared intimate, ‘platonic’ hugs. What you were surprised about is that when KK pulled away, she stayed wrapped in your arms, eyes glancing at your lips, then back up at your eyes.

“Can I kiss you now?” she whispers. You smile and nod. “Please.”

And with that, her lips interlock with yours as you sigh into the kiss. You wrap your arms around her neck, deepening the kiss. KK groans as you swipe your tongue against her bottom lip, inciting a make-out, and she places her hands on your waist.

KK pulls you against her as she sits on the bench, placing you on her lap without once breaking the kiss. You moan into her mouth at her actions, your tongues dancing together.

The kiss becomes more heated, but it’s interrupted by a throat clearing. You look up quickly, but KK knows who it is, and she buries her face into the crook of your neck with a groan. You laugh at her reaction, smiling at the blonde grinning widely at you.

“So sorry to interrupt, but I’m glad I did before you guys fucked on the very public team bench.” You laughed nervously as KK lifted her head up and turned to Paige.

“Shut the fuck up. We were not going to fuck, P.” You fake pout. “We weren’t?”

KK eyes widen as they shoot to yours. “Oh! Uhm- I mean we can lat-” “I do NOT wanna hear you guys reschedule your fuck-sesh, as long as it’s not in here, I do not care. Just- talk or whatever and come out so we can start these drills.” and with that Paige closed the door.

You laugh lightly, before getting off of KK’s lap. “I assume that means you’re the one who’s been leaving these flowers?” you say, picking up the flower, playing with it between your fingers.

“What..? Me..? Noooo…” KK says sarcastically, smiling as she stood up in front of you. “Whatever makes you say that?” she says, her voice darkening. She steps towards you, closing the space between you.

You feel your face grow hot as you recognize the lack of distance between you. She’s so close that you could smell her minty breath and even though she was just practicing, she looks so good. It’s undeniable that KK is attractive, anyone with eyes can see that. Her brown skin glistened under the lighting on the court, and her face of concentration was one you could stare at forever.

You looked at her in her eyes and shrugged. “Lucky guess.” Your voice matches hers, laced with seduction. She smiles. “You may be right.” You grin, taking a step so that you’re looking down at her.

You hum lightly, leaning down to peck her lips lightly. KK sighs into the kiss, and you smile at her reaction. She’s whipped. You break the kiss, but instead of pulling away, you rest your forehead on yours.

“Let me take you out.” KK whispers looking in your eyes. You nod before pulling away and closing your locker.

“Okay. Now, let’s go before Paige comes back and yells at us.” You smile, grabbing her hand and leading her out.

KK couldn’t help but feel her face burn. She’s liked you for so long, and finally, she took the leap, and landed head over heels.

All because of your locker of petals.

______________________________

taglist: @bueckerslover @wintersstan @breeloveschris

[thoughtfulbearpanda]

February 2024 Pick a Card

Piles 1 -> 2 -> 3

Hi there! This is a timeless reading, so remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. Remember that you have free will and nothing is set in stone. Yes, this is intended for entertainment purposes but if any serious topics that come up in these readings that you find yourself resonating with, please seek aid or professional help if you are inclined to do so. Also, if anything in this reading is triggering for you don't feel the need to continue reading; please prioritize your mental and emotional health.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

PILE I

Okana Oracle: Reconcile, Grandma's Baby Lenormand: Whip & Heart, Tarot: 6 of cups rx, 2 of wands, 4 of cups, the Tower rx, 9 of cup rx

What I see you going through in the month of February pile 1 is you walking away from something. With the 6oc rx coupled with the 2ow there may be a decision you will have to make, and this decision could lead to you letting go of past connections, I’m getting ‘leaving the nest' for some of you. Some of you could be moving away, beginning your own chapter of life solo; some of you could be traveling overseas in the month of February, or just simply moving out of house and getting your own place. 

There is also this aspect of fear, not really knowing what you’re getting into, there is the sense of naivety. This could be towards a new job, maybe a change of career path or change in career studies for those who are still in school. This could be a small few of you but some of you may be weighing the decision to drop out of college or school. College/school/work may no longer be as exciting for as when you first started and you may be thinking about just calling it quits, but are delaying this decision because you may not have a backup plan and/or you don’t want to disappoint your loved ones. It’s like ‘I no longer enjoy this.’; ‘What if there is more for me out there?’; ‘What will my loved ones think?’; ‘What if I don’t have a back up plan and this ends being a mistake?’

Life is not full of easy choices. Every day we are proven that life is short. For those who resonate with the school/college message, I am not here to tell you what you should do BUT do what you believe is best for you. College is not for every one, but if dropping out is an option you are considering than have a back up plan ready for when you do. Figure out what you are going to do afterwards. Don’t just dive into this particular decision blindly.

I see you going through transformation pile 1. Some of you may have felt like you lost your spark, your joy, your purpose in life. I see you gaining that back in the month of February. You are going to start making decisions that make YOU happy, that bring YOU joy. February is the month where you consider how to get closer to your ultimate goal in life, and how you can rediscover your sense of purpose.

Shadow Message: Reconcile - “love yourself for only then can you love others” -> What is something that you find yourself struggling to let go of? What is this thing that is depleting you? Is it a job? Is is friends? Family? A partner, past or present? Do you find yourself pouring so much of yourself into this thing and/or person (people) that you barely have enough to pour into yourself? To whomever this resonates, it is time to take a look at your current attachments and come to terms with whether it is healthy or if you are simply a victim of codependency. Is this thing or person feeding off of you? If so, then it is time to cut the cord on that. Do some 'spring cleaning'. For some, it may not even a person or a job. Sometimes it just simply clearing out the old within your space, getting rid of old clothes, trinkets, furniture etc., to make room for the new. Find what is weighing you down emotionally, spiritually, mentally; find what is depleting your happiness and take the necessary steps to rid yourself of it.

Message(s) from the Ancestors: Whip & Heart - 'Sacrifice' & 'Love' -> Whip: "Everyone must pay. Nothing worthwhile or lasting was ever achieved by simply wanting it to be ours...sacrifice and work move things further than desire alone." Love: "There is an infinite supply of love for us to draw on, whether from platonic or romantic relationships, living or dead...but if we often lose ourselves in the need to nurture others, hiding in them to avoid being in ourselves...we must learn to love ourselves so deeply we find joy in solitude instead of heartbreak."

Final Messages:

"What is past is gone, what is hoped for is absent, for you is the hour for which you are."

"Wisdom outweighs strength."

"A snake that you can see does not bite."

"You cannot blindfold a man and expect him to ferry you across the river."

"Whoever stands in the need of honey should not be afraid of bees."

~additional messages: unexpected good fortune, generosity, possible travel, changes, postponement, disappointment and opposition

**PROVERBS 15:13 and DANIEL 10:6 for some of you**

PILE II

Okana Oracle: Grit & Confide, Grandma's Baby Lenormand: Rider rx & Clouds, Tarot; Page of swords, Queen of wands, 9 of cups, 7 of swords rx, & ace of wands Rx

The month of February is going to be very abundant for you pile 2. I see you socializing and being so vibrant and free, being the talk of the town. I'm getting 'social butterfly'. This month is going to be raining down blessings for you with the 9oc here. I see you filled with so much gratitude and happiness. Wishes will be coming true for you in the month of February; whatever you have been wishing for, praying for, hoping for, it will come true. I see you getting that dream job, dream car, dream house. Whatever you've been wishing for, you will be receiving it this month. Some of you could be starting a new project or job, and I see you being so excited about it. You have this eager, 'go getter' energy.

With the QoW here, a feminine figure could be significant for some you. This person could be mature, or just has a lot experience and wisdom under their belt. Who knows how to work a room, use their charm and charisma to achieve their goals. I see this person being some sort of a mentor figure to you this month. Someone that will help you harness this vibrant, off the walls energy that you may have. I see you shadowing this person, soaking up all the knowledge that she has to offer. *Be sure to take head from whatever advice this person gives you*

For some of you, there could be some snakes in your mists. In the month of February you may find yourself being on the receiving end of a lot of 'evil eye'. I see you being highly favored in the month of February, and with that comes with a lot of jealousy and attempts at sabotage. You may end up encountering a lot two-faced people; those who smile in your face but are quick to pray and revel in your downfall. Some of you may be up for promotion or have been promoted - BE CAREFUL. Be wary of those who are quick to befriend and try to get into your circle. It's like that saying 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer' - that is the mentality of these haters toward you. Just know that secrets don't stay buried and will eventually come to light. Karma never misses, so whatever these potential sabotagers have planned will back fire. You are protected by the Divine and your Ancestors.

The month of February, some of you may find yourself consumed with the drive to get something started. There may be an idea/project that you are trying to get off the ground to this point where you are obsessing over it. You are trying and trying and becoming more and more frustrated because it's not going the way you planned. With the ace of wands rx, you are being called to take a break. Step away from the idea/project and allow yourself to breathe. When we are so hyper focused on something, it can become easy for use to become consumed by to the point where we forget why we started said project/idea; and in some instances lose our passion fro what we do. That's why in moments of frustration we need to take a step back, put on pause on things. If this resonates, Spirit is prompting you to take a look out where you are, how far you've come, and remember why you started. Stop and smell the roses. Allow yourself to look at it from a different perspective.

For others, there could be a whole idea that you abandoned completely because it never got off the ground, someone may have told you that idea is not good, or maybe you felt like it could never be. Maybe it's time to revisit that project/idea from a new, fresher lens.

Shadow Message: Grit & Confide - Grit: "when a needle falls into a well many people will look into the well, but very few will go down after it" -> Take a look at yourself this month and ask yourself 'Am I biting off more than I can chew?', 'Am I involving myself in projects or places that do not pertain to me?', 'If I am doing all these things: why?' If you find yourself spiraling or just taking on so much, unnecessarily, maybe it's time to take a step back from it. It's good to have drive to have that grit/conviction but not to the point where it is at your own detriment. It can be easy, being caught up in 'the grind' and all but we also have to remember to take breaks; Confide: "all things are good to eat, but not all things are good to say" -> February is looking to be an abundant month for you, but remember to not get caught up in the high. You may be on the receiving end gossip, but try not to perpetuate the same behaviors as your haters. If find yourself engaging gossip with others ask yourself 'Is it true?', 'Is it kind?', 'Are these people doing the same thing to me behind my back?', 'Will they go back an twist my words to said person?', 'Why are they trying to get me involved gossip to begin with?'. Remember: Karma. Never. Misses.

Message(s) from the Ancestors: Rider rx & Clouds - 'Intention' & 'Denial' -> Rider rx: "Don't be hasty, Baby. Before taking action, we must be clear on our intention. And be certain our actions align with that intention." Clouds: "Clouds can be information that is hidden and outcomes that are uncertain...we must know truth before we know miracles, and what is before we know what can be."

Final Messages:

"Not to know is bad, to not wish to know is worse."

"Fire surrounded by elders cannot burn you."

"Luck at times will visit a fool, but it never sits down with him."

"Truth cannot be hidden forever beneath evil."

"He who wakes up early in the morning receives bundle of blessings."

~additional messages: good luck coming to you, harmony, property, achievement, love, dark-haired woman who is strong, helpful and attractive, warning of loss of friendship

**EXODUS 24:15 for some of you**

PILE III

Okana Oracle: Harmony & Reconcile, Grandma Baby Lenormand: Fish & Mice, Tarot: 10 of swords, 2 of cups, Knight of wands, 5 of pentacles rx, ace of swords rx

Are some of you in a relationship, pile 3? Or is there someone on your mind? Cause with the 2oc here there is a potential for love to blossom for you in the month of February. You could have met this person or will meet this person and you guys hit right off the bat. The knight of wands indicates that you and this person will 'click' so fast, and so unexpectedly. This person could be a fire sign; they could be someone who is vibrant, and has a lot of energy and passion to them. They could be 'go-getter', someone who acts before they thinks, who likes to dive into things head-first. And it doesn't necessarily have to be a romance either. This could be someone who you will end up having a genuine bond and connection with. This person could be a bit of foil to you if you are more on the shy side, or this is someone who will match your energy.

Some of you may have dealt with betrayal in the past, like been backstabbed by a person/people that you've trusted. This has possibly resulted you in having trust issues, you questioning the motives of those who try to get close to you. This connection coming in is going to help you heal those wounds. This connection coming is someone you can trust and they are going to prove that to you. They will be patient with you. Maybe this person coming in has probably dealt with same thing, and this connection will be healing for both of you.

For others of you, you may have fallen on hard times in the past pile 3. Some of you may have dealt with a lot of spiritual warfare. What I mean by that, is that you may have been feeling empty spiritually. Doubting your religion, your ancestors, spirit guides, or even the concept of spirituality itself. *With everything that has been going on in the world, I can understand* Maybe you've hanging on to this concept of religion or spirituality in hopes it will make your life better because that's what you've been told, only to be met with disappointment after disappointment. Maybe recently you've had one too many disappointments and began to question yourself: 'Am I doing something wrong?' 'Why isn't working?' 'Am I just playing myself for a fool?'

I see you starting to come back to that pile 3, because you can't ignore the call forever. I see rekindling your relationship with the Divine, with God, your Ancestors, whomever you believe in. That tarot deck that you've put away? You're dusting off and getting back into the swing of things. That altar that you abandoned, walked away from? I see resetting it and familiarizing yourself with your guides, with your gifts. And honestly, sometimes walking away is needed pile 3. It's okay to take a break for a while, reconnect with yourself, ground yourself, and find your way back to it eventually.

Shadow Message: Harmony & Reconcile - Harmony: "where there is life, there is always hope" -> You could be dealing with bouts of loss or despair in February. Have you lost all hope of being happy? Content? Have you lost hope in ever being able to trust again? Have you become a glass half-empty, glass half-full kind of person? It's time to confront those doubts, pile 3. Time to challenge those negative beliefs you've become accustomed to. Make the effort of bringing harmony and positivity back into your life; Reconcile: "love yourself for only then can you love others" -> It is time to heal pile 3. Heal those wounds. Hanging onto that hurt is giving the person who hurt you more power over you. What is something you have trouble letting go of? Is it the betrayal? The backstabbing? Is it becomes you should have saw it coming? Are you ready to let it go? Are you ready to move on?

Message(s) from the Ancestors: Fish & Mice - 'Gifts' & 'Fear' -> Fish: "If we give birth to what is within us, what is within us will save us. If we do not give birth to what is within us, what is within us will destroy us." Mice: "If we feed fear, we will be eaten alive."

Final Messages:

"You can kill the identity of a man on earth, but you cannot kill his spirit."

"Respect begets respect."

"Even as the archer loves the arrow that flies, so too he loves the bow that remains in his hands."

"The path to wisdom is a lifelong commitment."

"It is the one who lives in the house that knows where the roof leaks."

~additional messages: friendship, success, business meetings, reliable friend, conflict, love, affair, worry and fear

**JONAH 1:17 for some of you**

That's all I have for you! Thanks for reading! Stay safe, stay blessed!

Asé

[sassenach77yle]

|| COUNTDOWN || SEASON 1 EPISODE 04 || THE GATHERING ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

Rupert surveyed Jamie critically, with an eye to the oatstraws in his hair and the stains on his shirt. I saw his glance flicker to the oatstraws in my own hair, and a cynical grin split his face. “No wonder ye’re late, laddie,” he said, digging Jamie in the ribs. “Dinna blame ye a bit.” “Willie!” he called to one of the men outside. “We need some clothes, here. Something suitable for the laird’s nephew. See to it, man, and hurry!” Jamie looked around, thin-lipped, at the men surrounding him. Six clansmen, all in tearing high spirits at the prospect of the oath-taking and brimming over with a fierce MacKenzie pride. The spirits had plainly been assisted by an ample intake from the tub of ale I had seen in the yard. Jamie’s eye lighted on me, his expression still grim. This was my doing, his face seemed to say. He could, of course, announce that he did not mean to swear his oath to Colum, and head back to his warm bed in the stables. If he wanted a serious beating or his throat cut, that is. He raised an eyebrow at me, shrugged, and submitted with a fair show of grace to Willie, who rushed up with a pile of snowy linen in his arms and a hairbrush in one hand. The pile was topped by a flat blue bonnet of velvet, adorned with a metal badge that held a sprig of holly. I picked up the bonnet to examine it, as Jamie fought his way into the clean shirt and brushed his hair with suppressed savagery.

The badge was round and the engraving surprisingly fine. It showed five volcanos in the center, spouting most realistic flames. And on the border was a motto, Luceo non Uro. “I shine, not burn,” I translated aloud. “Aye, lassie; the MacKenzie motto,” said Willie, nodding approvingly at me. He snatched the bonnet from my hands and pushed it into Jamie’s, before dashing off in search of further clothing. “Er … I’m sorry,” I said in a low voice, taking advantage of Willie’s absence to move closer. “I didn’t mean—” Jamie, who had been viewing the badge on the bonnet with disfavor, glanced down at me, and the grim line of his mouth relaxed. “Ah, dinna worrit yourself on my account, Sassenach. It would ha’ come to it sooner or later.” He twisted the badge loose from the bonnet and smiled sourly at it, weighing it speculatively in his hand. “D’ye ken my own motto, lass?” he asked. “My clan’s, I mean?” “No,” I answered, startled. “What is it?” He flipped the badge once in the air, caught it, and dropped it neatly into his sporran. He looked rather bleakly toward the open archway, where the MacKenzie clansmen were massing in untidy lines.

“Je suis prest”

he replied, in surprisingly good French. He glanced back, to see Rupert and another large MacKenzie I didn’t know, faces flushed with high spirits and spirits of another kind, advancing with solid purpose. Rupert held a huge length of MacKenzie tartan cloth. Without preliminaries, the other man reached for the buckle of Jamie’s kilt. “Best leave, Sassenach,” Jamie advised briefly. “It’s no place for women.” “So I see,” I responded dryly, and was rewarded with a wry smile as his hips were swathed in the new kilt, and the old one yanked deftly away beneath it, modesty preserved. Rupert and friend took him firmly by the arms and hustled him toward the archway. I turned without delay and made my way back toward the stair to the minstrels’ gallery, carefully avoiding the eye of any clansman I passed. Once around the corner, I paused, shrinking back against the wall to avoid notice. I waited for a moment, until the corridor was temporarily deserted, then nipped inside the gallery door and pulled it quickly to behind me, before anyone else could come around the corner and see where I had gone. The stairs were dimly lit by the glow from above, and I had no trouble keeping my footing on the worn flags. I climbed toward the noise and light, thinking of that last brief exchange.

“Je suis prest.” I am ready. I hoped he was.

Cap 9 The gathering ~outlander

[joyful-enchantress]

Loki’s costume at the end of S2E6 was perfect.

Yes, every part of it, down to those slippers.

And here’s my unsolicited (and delayed) thoughts on the matter.

First, let’s talk about his robe. Not only was it utterly beautiful, down to the draping and the deep, rich shade of green (and I mean come on, would we expect anything less?), its style was incredibly symbolic.

If you look at previous Loki ensembles, especially the ones that include a horned helmet, there is an air of grandeur and finery about them. The exquisitely stitched, buttery leather; the shiny gold trimmings and metal armor accents; the dramatic, billowing capes and overcoats. Even the silhouette of these looks is broad and structured — one might even say severe. Everything about these past looks screams “Look at me; I’m important” and reinforces Tony’s own observation in The Avengers that Loki is a “full-tilt diva” — he longs for the respect and attention that he deserves (and has been denied almost all of his life) and that longing is reflected in his clothing. They are reminiscent of the royal palace in which he was raised. They allow him to be battle-ready, because he’s had to fight and claw for every scrap of love and attention he’s managed to get. They represent a broken prince. A warrior cloaked in royalty. A would-be-king.

Now, compare that to his robe in Loki S2E6. It isn’t flashy. It has a soft silhouette. The shade of green is deeper and richer than we’ve seen; more earthy. An earthy shade of green which, in my opinion, is a nod to Yggdrasil, the cosmic tree that he will weave the branches of the multiverse into. The gold trimming across the front is subtle and understated - I even missed it at first and didn’t realize there was any gold trimming on the robe at all until I got a closer look later. It is simple. The draping is reminiscent of the robes worn by Buddhist monks. His robe reflects a Loki that has more wisdom and humility, and who has realized that being a good king — a proper god — means he will spend his life in service to others. It is the robe of a man who is confident and self-assured and knows exactly what kind of god he needs to be.

Now let’s talk about the slippers. I noticed that they got quite a bit of flack immediately after the finale aired. And I get it — they’re an odd choice, especially when we are so accustomed to the dramatic boots and finely-crafted and statement-making dress shoes he typically dons. For similar reasons as the robe, they are symbolic and fitting for Loki’s development into a wiser, more humble character. Don’t get me wrong, these loafers are still impeccably stylish, and no doubt they are of the finest craftsmanship, because this is still Loki we are talking about here. But they have a purpose, and that purpose is to get him to his final destination. These simple slippers barely even protect Loki’s feet, showing us a kind of vulnerability that we’re unaccustomed to seeing from Loki. He isn’t guarded in this moment; he’s open, connected to his purpose, and sure of himself. The shoes aren’t for battle; they aren’t meant to impress. They are meant to serve.

Now, about what is, quite possibly, my favorite feature of the costume. The horns. These iconic horns which we’ve associated with Loki from the very beginning take on an entirely reimagined look in the finale. First of all, they are bigger than any set we’ve seen resting upon Loki’s brow. So big, in fact, that they weren’t actually a physical part of the costume Tom Hiddleston wore. So big that they would likely hinder his performance if he actually had to bear their weight on his head.

In addition to their size, the horns are made of the same temporal-infused material from which both HWR’s talisman and the citadel at the end of time are constructed. Gone are the opulent golden horns that glisten and shine with the grandeur of royal finery. These horns are dark and heavy. They symbolize the unfathomable weight of the burden that Loki bears in his godly endeavor to save the multiverse. The golden temporal material that runs throughout the horns like veins is reminiscent, to me, of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of mending broken things with gold. And in a way, Loki is a broken thing that has been healed and mended throughout his personal journey of self-acceptance and friendship, and is now more beautiful than he ever has been. More humble. More selfless. More godly.

In addition to the horns, the cape, too, is the largest we’ve seen Loki wear. And while at first, this dramatically oversized cape may seem to stand in opposition to the humility that the rest of the outfit encapsulates, it works. It works because, like the horns, it is symbolic of the burden Loki has chosen to bear. This cape would be unbearably heavy; it would make even the most basic movement difficult. And on top of its sheer size, his cape even becomes torn into strips that are woven into the timelines themselves, literally securing his burden — his service to the multiverse — around his neck.

Lastly, I want to talk about the way this outfit manifested. There’s been a common thread throughout this discussion about the humility and selflessness that this ensemble puts on display. And while that’s true, we’re talking about a relative level of humility and selflessness, when compared to Loki’s previous tendencies. This is still Loki we’re talking about here. He’s got a flair for the dramatic. He’s nothing if not intentional about the way he presents himself. And the way he marched down that gangway like it was his own personal runway, while his clothing fell away in shreds and tatters to reveal this completely fresh but familiar look, was completely on-brand for him. It was theatrical. It was glorious.

His outfit at the end featured accessories that were heavy and larger than life. Those parts were a burden.

It wasn’t short on the style and drama that we’re so accustomed to seeing from Loki. It was glorious.

And every part of it, down to his humble shoes, was fit for purpose.

One look at this finale costume and you know, without doubt, that Loki is burdened with glorious purpose.

A/N: If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading my unsolicited thoughts on this beautiful piece of costume design! Also, apologies for the delay in posting. I know some of you have been told this post was coming since the night the finale aired, weeks ago. Thank you for your patience with me as I gathered my thoughts and found the time to organize them and type them out.

🏷️ @peachyjinx @acidcasualties @muddyorbsblr @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @tallseaweed @give-me-a-moose @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @maple-seed @loopsisloops @gigglingtiggerv2 @simplyholl @superficialdomina @mischief2sarawr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @wheredafandomat @liminalpebble @ladyofthestayingpower ++

[mynameismckenziemae]

All of Me

Part 6

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: A fun day at the beach and even more once you get home.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, teasing, orgasm delay/denial, getting aroused in public, femdom kind of?, mutual masturbation, use of ‘good boy’, use of ‘yes ma’am’, idk probably more. Lmk if I missed anything

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Do you guys know each other?” Bradley asks, nodding to Jake as the teams finish divvying up.

“Kind of. We’ve met in passing on base,” you lie.

“He’s single, good looking-What? I have eyes,” Bradley scoffs when you give him a look. “He met Drew at a boys' night and was really good with him. He’s a little young for you, Grandma, but that’s never stopped you before.”

“Oh, whatever,” you laugh, but consider his words. One of the biggest reasons you were hesitant to date was Drew and he’s already fond of Jake.

You don’t dwell on it as the game begins.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

The Southern California sun is hot and your coverup is stripped off 15 minutes into the game.

Even though his gaze is hidden by his aviators, you can feel Jake’s eyes raking over your exposed skin and the same modest top you had on earlier. He turns his head away when fix your strap with a snap.

“I’ve got Roo!” Drew calls before the final play. “Jake, cover my mom. She’s pretty good for a girl.”

He giggles when you narrow your eyes at him.

Bradley gives you a nod before you take off running when he yells hike.

Jake’s hot on your heels until you take a sharp left as Bradley throws the ball.

“Shit,” is all you from behind you as catch it and take off.

You turn around right before the end zone to face him. “That’s a tie,” you grin as you step back over the line.

Jake just gives you a smile as he bends at the waist to catch his breath.

“I told you she’s good,” Drew pants as catches up and slaps Jake on the back. “No worries.”

“Thanks, bud,” Jake laughs as he straightens and looks at you when he says, “Yeah, she is good.”

“Roo said to let you know the food is ready and that I should hurry back or he’ll drink the only grape soda!” Drew says hurriedly, already running back towards Penny’s where the rest of the group is already inside.

Bradley doesn’t even like grape soda. The wannabe matchmaker did this on purpose.

“I think I’m gonna take a dip in the water first,” Jake says with a sigh .

“But it’s freezing,” you say, turning to look at him. His eyes are on your ass where your shorts have ridden up from your run.

“Exactly,” he replies with a grimace looking down at his obvious erection. “I feel like a teenager again. I was okay until you took your shirt off and started running around.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, not sorry at all.

“No you’re not,” he laughs.

“No, I’m not,” you bite your lip as you look him over, wanting nothing more to jump his bones.

“Fuck, you’re just making it worse,” he groans, looking over your shoulder at the house before giving you a quick kiss. “I’ll meet you inside.”

You make your way back, laughing when you hear him curse at the frigid water.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Another round of football, swimming, and s’mores by the fire has the time passing quickly.

“Can I go watch a movie with Elsie?” Drew asks, stifling a yawn after finishing his second s’more.

“Sure, as long as Pen says it’s okay,” you tell him, brushing his hair off his forehead.

He looks so much like Andy that it hurts.

“She did, I asked her first,” he says, eyes searching for someone. “Jake, do you wanna come with me? Bob’s in there too.”

“Oh bud, he-“ you start but Jake’s already standing.

“Sure,” he gives you a wink as follows Drew inside.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

You plan to check on Jake but get distracted talking to Nat and Callie.

“She’s not the only one who fell asleep,” Bob smiles at you when he brings a sleeping Elsie outside 45 minutes later.

“That doesn’t surprise me with all the fresh air he got today,” you reply, stifling a yawn of your own. “Have a good night.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“I’m gonna head out, guess Drew’s already asleep,” you find Bradley before heading in the house.

“Me too. I put his bag in your car already,” he replies, hugging you.

“Thanks again Roo,” you say, squeezing him before pulling back. “For everything.”

“Any time,” he gives you a smile as he heads to the Bronco.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

You head inside quietly after saying goodbye to everyone else.

The sight you walk in on has you stopping in your tracks.

They’re both asleep; Drew against Jake’s shoulder and Jake’s head resting on his.

You quietly pull your phone from your pocket and capture the moment but the shutter sound of your camera has Jake’s eyes blinking open.

You can feel a crack forming in the solid fortress constructed around your heart when he smiles down at Drew’s sweet, sleeping face.

You are fucked.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Drew doesn’t rouse as Jake carries him to your car nor when he gets him buckled in.

“Thanks,” you murmur as he closes the door softly. “He’s getting too big for me to carry.”

“No problem,” his eyes flick to your lips like he wants to kiss you, but he hesitates, looking to the backseat.

“Let me walk you to your truck,” you giggle, taking his hand; he’s parked next to you.

You pull him around the tailgate and press him up against the rear driver’s doors; glancing to make sure you and Jake’s hidden from Drew’s line of sight. Then you kiss him.

A low rumble leaves his throat at the touch of your lips. It gets hot and heavy fast; he can’t think to do more than anchor himself to your hips in a tight grip as one of your hands pushes into his hair, the other sliding down his chest to palm him over the thin fabric of his swim trunks.

You swallow his needy groans as you move your hand slowly up and down, going faster the more desperate he sounds.

“Reese,” he gasps, pulling from your lips. “Slow-ah, I’m getting close.”

“Not until I say so,” you remind him, your hand keeping the unrelenting pace.

A strangled noise leaves him and his fingers grip your hips even tighter as his head falls back against his truck window at your words.

“I-I’m not gonna be able to stop if you keep going like that,” he rasps.

You keep going, reveling at the tortured look on his face before leaning in to whisper, “You can cu-“

“Mom?” The sound of Drew opening his door has you jumping apart. “Where are you?”

“I’m coming,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just saying goodnight to Jake.”

“Okay,” you can hear him yawn. “Night Jake.”

“Night bud.”

You let out the breath you’re holding when the door clicks shut.

“Goodnight Jake,” you whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before stepping away. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will,” he nods, giving you a smile through the pain.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Getting a sleepy Drew into the house is a process, but after a few tears and a trip to the bathroom, he’s down for the night.

Jake’s texted you by the time you crawl into bed.

Jake: I made it home.

Reese: Us too.

Jake: Drew fall back asleep?

Reese: Yeah. I made him go to the bathroom and brush his teeth. He wasn’t too happy with me 😂 I’m not sure if he was even fully awake.

Jake: God, he’s cute. Fell asleep halfway through telling me about last night's boys' night.

Reese: What’d they get up to?

Jake: …you know I can’t tell you that. I already betrayed their trust by telling you about the Padres game.

Reese: 🙄

Reese: I was gonna FaceTime you while I masturbate but now I don’t know.

Jake: Fuck.

Jake: Fuckkkkkkk.

Jake: Still can’t do it. Sorry.

You laugh as you open your bedside drawer to find your vibrator before pressing the FaceTime button.

“Hey,” his flushed face greets you almost immediately.

“Hi,” you smile. “How are you doing?”

“I’m miserable,” he admits and his breath hitches when your hand holding the toy comes into view. “I’ve been hard since you left.”

“Poor thing,” you coo as you set your phone up on the nightstand so he can see more of you. “I guess you can touch yourself while you watch. But I want to see you.”

He releases the breath he was holding as he scrambles to set up his phone too.

As he does that, you slip the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing off, leaving you naked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he pushes down the sheet, fisting himself with a grunt. His cock is an angry red and already dripping precum.

“So are you.” You turn on the vibrator and trail it over your nipples, gasping at the echoing sensation it causes between your legs. “Go slow,” you warn him softly. “I haven’t decided if you can cum yet.”

His eyes fall close as his body shudders but he obeys and slows his strokes.

As much as you want to drag this out, your arousal is already coating your thighs as you bring the toy down your body and you press it straight to your clit with a gasp.

“Fuck,” he rasps as he watches with rapt attention.

“Fuck,” you agree as you turn up the speed, already feeling the tells of an orgasm approaching. “I’m already close. You’ve had me worked up all day.”

“Really?” He asks, surprised. “Never would’ve guessed. You’re so composed.”

“I’m g-good at hiding it,” you explain, eyes falling close and gasping as welcome your first orgasm.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Jake’s eyes are shut tight when you’re able to open yours. He’s breathing heavily and has a tight grip on the base of his cock as he fights his own release.

“Good boy,” you whisper, smiling at the way he jerks. “Watch me again and I’ll you cum with me after this one.”

He groans as if he’s in pain but his eyes flicker open.

Just a hair-trigger away from spilling, he doesn’t release the tight grip on himself; a punched out sound leaves him as he watches you gasp and writhe through another.

“Okay, okay,” you pant as you come down. “I want you to cum with me this time.”

“Yes ma’am,” he breathes, hesitantly releasing himself with an already fucked-out expression.

“Oh, I like that,” you moan, clenching at his words as you tease the vibe over your swollen clit again.

“I’ll remember that,” he says breathlessly. “God, you’re perfect.”

You just smile.

“Reese, baby, I-I’m close,” he rasps, fully fucking his fist now. “I’m gonna-“

“Cum for me,” you rush out as you toe the edge. “Now.”

“Fuck! Reese,” he groans, hips jerking as rope after rope of cum coats his fist.

You’re unable to suppress the cry that leaves you when fall over the edge too.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Wow,” Jake chuckles.

“Yeah,” you smile as you lift your pleasure-heavy lids. “Wow.”

You prop your head on your fist, sleepy as you watch him wipe his hand and chest with tissues, wishing you were there to instead lick it up.

You talk for a few minutes and make a plan to have lunch in your office come Monday-to help his iatrophobia.

That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Night Reese,” he murmurs, smiling at your slow blinks. “Sweet dreams.”

“Night,” you say whisper as sleep pulls you under.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

A/N: 🥹 me while writing Drew and Jake snuggling. Reese can deny it all she wants but she’s falling for him. Also, Jake reacting to be called a good boy? 🥵

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[nahoney22]

Hey I just hopped onto the bad batch fan wagon and I absolutely love ur blog! <3 I was wondering if I could request a little something about tech x reader who lost a limb/arm during battle or on a mission and he makes her a robotic prosthetic and routinely does maintenance or upgrades on it and each visit brings them closer until they realize they love eachother?

Optimisation

Tech X F!Reader

word count: 2.8k

When you lost your arm,you almost gave up hope. No longer feeling like yourself, you didn’t know what to do. But, when Tech introduces you to a prosthetic, both of your relationships take a turn for the better.

warnings: fluff and slight angst, friends to lovers, mentions of anxious and emotional reader, loss of limb. Reader is a little reluctant at first to having a prosthetic and is standoffish. Talks about feelings. Subtle cutesy glances and touches etc. female reader. Not proofread.

authors note: I’m so sorry for the delay. Lost in my inbox 😭 enjoy. Also notices you said ‘her’ in the request so assumed it was female reader??? Anyway, enjoy! 🤍

Your mind was swirling in a sea of thoughts. Most churned with memories of the mission that had forever changed you and some thought being nothing at all.

Perched on the edge of a small cliff, your gaze swept over the picturesque landscape, offering a fleeting moment of respite.

The loss of your arm had been an abrupt, harrowing experience, a fragmented blur that you could scarcely piece together. With one arm gone, a pervasive sense of uselessness had crept into your existence. You questioned your relevance in the squad – what purpose did you now have? How could you possibly help anyone?

Suddenly, a voice disrupted the chaotic maelstrom of your thoughts. You didn't turn to face him, but you recognised it was Tech.

"Ah, there you are," he remarked as he approached, standing beside you, his presence felt more than seen.

"Here I am," you mumbled, not particularly interested in conversation. It wasn't that you harbored any ill feelings toward Tech or your comrades for that matter; you were simply weary of being treated like fragile glass. Tech however, in his own characteristic manner, had always been rather direct in his approach.

"I'm here to assess you," he stated matter-of-factly.

Your brows furrowed in mild confusion, and you turned your gaze toward Tech, who was engrossed in his datapad. "...For what?"

"Just an annual routine check," he replied, raising his eyes from the screen. "But, given your recent loss of limb, it's essential to make this assessment more comprehensive."

You heaved a heavy sigh, momentarily glancing away. This was the last thing you felt like dealing with, but deep down, you understood it needed to be done. You pushed yourself to your feet and turned to face Tech, who began to examine you, asking questions about your health and emotional state. Your responses were typically laced with bluntness and sarcasm, which seemed to go over Tech.

Yet, his examination was momentarily halted when he noticed you involuntarily flinch as he approached the space where your arm had once been, now left hauntingly vacant.

Tech observed your flinch and remarked, "You're flinching, yet you have nothing to flinch for."

You responded with a deadpan stare, then shifted your gaze to where your arm used to be, saying with sarcasm, "Oh no, where did that go?" This earned you a disapproving frown from Tech.

"I will note that down as sarcasm," Tech said, inputting data into his device, while you rolled your eyes in response.

"Are we done now?" you inquired, eager to be done with the examination.

Tech nodded, replying, "Yes, for now. I want you to come find me in a few hours. I have an idea." His words held a hint of mystery, leaving you curious. Before you could inquire further, Tech had already turned and left. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret for your earlier tone, but you were indeed worn out. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but wonder what he had in store for you.

As the hours passed, the rest of the squad departed for a supply run, and though Wrecker had offered you the opportunity to join them rather enthusiastically, you weren't quite up to it. Not just yet. But Tech had stayed behind so instead, you decided to explore Tech's request.

"Hey," you called out as you entered the Marauder's cockpit. Tech had his back to you, but he swiveled the pilot chair around to face you. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw what he held in his hands – a prosthetic arm.

"What's that?" you inquired, feeling a surge of nervousness.

"I've created an arm for you," Tech replied in his usual matter-of-fact tone, seemingly unaware of the reluctance evident on your face.

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, and your palm grew clammy. "Oh, Tech... I'm not sure about this," you admitted, hesitating.

Tech lowered the prosthetic arm and arched an eyebrow at your apprehension. "But you are evidently unhappy about missing an arm, yes? Having a new one should be a suitable replacement."

You were torn. Undoubtedly, you yearned for your arm, but the idea of an artificial one felt invasive. Tech finally picked up on your reluctance, reading the uncertainty in your eyes.

"I suggest you take a seat, and we can discuss this together. It's just a prototype for now. Once we secure more income from Cid, I can enhance it," Tech reassured, adopting a more empathetic tone.

You silently took a seat across from Tech, perched on the edge of the chair as he scooted a bit closer. "I took the liberty of assessing Echo's cybernetic as a base plan," he explained.

"Are you going to give me a scomp link too?" you questioned, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"That is a choice that is up to you," Tech replied, very gently rolling up your sleeve to assess the area. "Would you like one, similar to Echo's?"

"Is it bad if I say no?" you muttered, apprehension evident. Tech glanced up at you briefly and then shook his head. "Like I said, it is primarily your choice."

With efficient precision, Tech attached the prosthetic arm. You couldn't bring yourself to look at it. "Inform me on how it feels," he requested.

You remained in silence, feeling the weight of this sudden change press upon you. The experience felt unnatural, and you weren't prepared for the emotional shift it brought. Tears welled up in your eyes, and your throat tightened.

"You need to speak for me to—" he began to say, but then stopped as he saw a single tear slowly roll down your cheek. "Is it hurting? Uncomfortable?" He asked, panicking slightly.

You sniffled and confessed, "No, I... I don't know. I don't know how to feel, how it should feel."

Tech clicked his tongue as the realisation dawned that he might not fully comprehend your emotional state. He considered what Hunter might do in this situation and then carefully reached out, placing a somewhat awkward yet comforting hand on your knee. "If it's too much, we can revisit this another day. I should have been more transparent during the assessment earlier."

Wiping away a tear, you looked at his hand on your knee and then up at him, a mix of gratitude and regret in your eyes. "I'm sorry. You put in so much effort—"

"This was actually relatively straightforward," Tech assured with a hint of fondness, acknowledging his own exceptional skills. "But after twenty-two rotations of you missing your arm, I should have waited a bit longer or offered you this solution earlier."

This time, you managed a smile and watched as he carefully removed the prosthetic. As he packed it away in its case, you said nothing more. However, when you stood to leave, you hesitated and turned back to him.

"Tech?"

"Yes?" he responded.

"Can we try again? Maybe tomorrow?"

He turned to you and offered a faint, reassuring smile. "Of course. Come and find me whenever you are ready.”

Late in the evening, much later than anticipated, the following day, you mustered up the courage to face Tech. Wearing a sheepish smile, you found him alone in the cockpit. "I must say I wasn't expecting you to show up today," he greeted you as you took a seat across from him.

"I have to admit, I wasn't sure if I was going to show up either," you confessed. "I had to psyche myself up."

"Very well, let's get to it," Tech replied, reaching for the prosthetic arm that he had tucked away under a control panel. You quietly observed that he had been clearly tinkering with it today as it looked slightly different from the last time you saw it – this time it had a hand.

"May I?" Tech gestured to your sleeve, and with a nod, he rolled it up. You glanced away as he manually attached the prosthetic, still not fully comfortable with looking at the stump that remained. It was a bit fidgety this time, but you felt no pain.

"Now, how does it feel?" Tech repeated the question from yesterday. Slowly, you turned your attention to the new addition to your body.

"I don't know," you admitted.

He raised an eyebrow. "Can you enlighten me about the weight? Is there a perfect counterbalance, or...?"

You attempted to move the arm, but it was just a small, feeble motion. Deep in concentration, you struggled to get your brain to sync with your new limb. This time, Tech noticed your disappointment. "A simple alteration will do the trick, I assure you."

"Don't worry, I trust you," you reassured him softly, causing Tech to pause at your words.

"You do?" he asked, sounding somewhat surprised as he turned his attention to you.

You nodded, your sincerity apparent. "Well, yeah? Of course, I do. I'm... I'm very grateful for you doing this. You didn't have to."

A warm smile graced Tech's face as he fidgeted slightly with his tools. "No, but I wanted to. You've done a lot for us since you joined our squad. It's only fair that I give you something in return." He leaned in to assess the arm once more, ensuring the measurements were precise.

As Tech's deft fingers worked on your new arm, you couldn't help but feel something different. The proximity was unusual yet not unwelcome, and you found yourself intrigued. Has he always been this handsome? Breaking the silence that had fallen between you, you asked, "Have you always been good at this kind of stuff, or do you have expertise in other areas?"

Tech replied quietly, "I've always been good at everything. But statistics and data have always been what I've excelled in the most. This isn't second nature to me, so don't worry. You're in good hands."

"I can tell," you responded softly. This time, he looked at you, and the proximity between your faces caught both of you off guard. His eyes searched yours as he tried to decipher your thoughts and feelings, while he felt a strange fluttering feeling in his chest, “you've always been good to me.”

He gulped but he held your gaze a moment longer before turning his attention back to his work. Tech cleared his throat once more and tried to refocus on the work at hand, yet the distraction had left its mark. "I see that some of the measurements are a little off, so I will have to a-alter it again," he explained, sitting up and looking at you. The subtle stutter in his words caught your attention, and you found it surprisingly endearing.

You nodded in agreement, your heart racing a bit faster than you'd anticipated. "That's fine."

As the prosthetic was removed, you stood up, and to your surprise, so did Tech. The closeness was undeniable, and your breath hitched as you looked up at his tall, slender frame. Was he always this ridiculously handsome? Was it merely a fleeting feeling because of his help with the new arm, or had there been something underlying all along?

You intended to thank him, but in that moment, you caught him looking at your lips. Or so, you thought you did. Was the lights playing tricks on you or were you that delusional? But as the awkwardness lingered, Tech quickly realised his gaze had strayed and cleared his throat. "Same time tomorrow?" he suggested, avoiding direct eye contact.

You took a step back, creating some much-needed space between you, and nodded. "Uh, y-yes, sure." Your own stutter surprised you, and to avoid any further awkwardness, you retreated to your bunk. What on Kamino was happening?

Tech had worked miracles in just a few days, tirelessly devoting every waking moment to helping you adjust to your new prosthetic. And today was no exception as he had you practicing with various types of equipment.

"Tech, I think I've got the hang of it. I don't need to hold a holopad every five minutes," you protested.

"Repetition leads to full optimisation. So, do as you're told," he instructed, his gaze fixed intently on you through the rings of his goggles.

"Yes, sir," you replied, playfully rolling your eyes. You both avoided addressing what had happened the other day when you caught him gazing at your lips. Nevertheless, your attraction to him had grown, and he had become more than just a friend in your heart.

Spending so much time together, you had picked up on each other's quirks, likes, and dislikes. You had a genuine camaraderie, and you both had fun in each other's company. Tech made you feel normal, and it wasn't just the feeling of a comrade giving you an arm; it was the warmth of a friend, and perhaps something more, offering you some hope and happiness.

"What are you thinking about?" Tech asked, interrupting your reverie.

"Honestly?" you asked, your new prosthetic arm flexing up and down as your fingers tapped absently at a datapad, giving you an air of importance. "You."

Tech had picked up some tools as he continued to monitor your progress with the prosthetic. He was working on other projects simultaneously, but your words caught him off guard, and he stumbled slightly, dropping the tools to the floor. "Oh, well, is that a recurring thought… or something new?" he asked, his response laced with awkwardness as he fixed his clumsiness and pushed his goggles up his nose.

You shrugged, your nonchalance masking the true depth of your feelings. "I guess it's new... I'm just enjoying your company." Your heart pounded with a meaning that transcended the words. "And I don't know where to start on how to repay you for the arm."

"Nothing to repay," Tech replied sincerely, his voice a touch shy. He added, "I suppose,” he pauses for a second, hesitant for the first time in a long time, but goes ahead, “being in your company is enough for me, too."

Much like the other day, and sometimes throughout the days in between him fixing your arm, you both find yourself looking at each other. Really looking. Your eyes meet and it’s as if words were slowly being exchanged over, expressing how both of you were feeling in that moment.

However, Tech grappled with his feelings, unsure how to express them. He wasn't well-versed in emotions, and these thoughts about you were entirely new to him. He questioned if these inclinations were normal, the desire to kiss you, and the mere notion felt alien because he had never encountered such thoughts before. His brain was designed for well, anything but this. Not for pondering if a girl liked him.

"Have you ever felt scared before?" The question caught Tech off guard, making him think deeply.

"Yes, yes, I have actually," he admitted, surprising you. You raised a curious eyebrow.

"Mind telling me?" you asked gently, watching as his knee began to bounce restlessly.

He shifted his position and turned slightly away from you, an uncharacteristic shyness creeping over him. "It was quite recent. To be more precise, it was the mission in which you lost your arm."

You whispered a soft "oh" in response, feeling a mix of emotions as he continued to speak.

"You've always been a strong presence in this squad. Although you might not be as intelligent as I am, you're smart. You're well-trained in combat, you're good to Omega, and you're good to all of us," he explained, focusing on a small task in his hands rather than looking at you. "I feared that with you losing your arm, you would feel at a disadvantage. I suppose I was scared of you losing yourself. That's why I created the arm."

Tech's confession left you somewhat speechless, and his avoidance of eye contact spoke volumes. "You really care about me?" you asked, seeking confirmation.

He stilled, and you could see him swallow hard. "I do. Though, I feel that I care about you more than just a comrade. More than a friend." His words were careful, yet they carried a depth of meaning that you understood. He loved you, and you felt the same way.

With tenderness, you leaned closer, your new arm raising to gently turn his head to face you. There was a small gasp at the touch, but as he looked at you, his gaze focused once more on your lips.

You closed the gap, your lips pressing softly against his in a tender kiss. It was brief, but as you pulled back, Tech surprised you by dropping his tools to the floor once more and cupping your cheeks with both hands, bringing your lips back to his.

In the tender embrace of your kiss, your fingers lightly trailed along the contours of Tech's cheek, eliciting a soft sigh from him. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs tenderly stroking your cheeks as he whispered softly between your lips, "I believe that I… love you."

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine as your kiss deepened. Your arms found their way around his shoulders as he used one arm to pull you across and into his lap, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw with a gentle caress. "I believe that I love you too.”

Masterlist

More Tech Works

Tags and those who I think may like : @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz z @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @zoeykallus

[lovelynim]

Fabi dearest Fabi congrats on the incredible milestone, you deserve every follower and many more! For the request *makes funny face* can I please ask something with Dr. Zayne x Lee!Reader, maybe reader is having a health checkup but Zayne's touch tickles too much. Or something. 🙏 🥹

Ginnyyyyy!!

Thank you so much! ~ Eheh, I kinda expected you to ask something with dr. Zayne (I'm also the one to blame for it). Now, I wonder how this one will turn out (and let's hope it's all cover by our insurance!)

“Do you still have trouble sleeping at night?” Zayne asked in his usual cold, serious voice tone as his eyes went through page after page, carefully reading the results of your exams. Regardless of it being his working hours, you couldn’t help but wish he was a little sweeter - you two were dating, after all.

You let out a sigh, crossing one ankle over the other and resting your hands on the examination table to support your body as you leaned back. “Not anymore, doctor,” You looked up to the ceiling. It would be better to avoid the small talk - you didn’t need Zayne reminding you about how you needed to keep personal feelings outside the hospital and blah blah blah. Boring.

“But are you getting 8 hours of sleep?” Zayne looked up from the pages in his hands, raising one eyebrow as he waited for your answer. Busted.

“W-well, most of the days, yes, I think,” you let out a nervous chuckle and Zayne simply shakes his head slightly in disapproval.

“Your exams show nothing to worry about and it seems your condition is stable so far,” Zayne explained, carefully arranging the pages on top of his desk before picking the stethoscope up from around his neck.

You straighten your posture as soon as you notice he is approaching you and, for some reason, you feel a little nervous. It’s just another run out of the mile check-up, you tell yourself inside your head, trying to shrug off the feeling of uneasiness.

Zayne places the earpieces on his own and looks at you, seemingly puzzled. “Is there something wrong?” He asks, standing inches away from you.

“...no, doctor,” you hesitate for a moment, looking back at him in the eyes.

As if trying to figure you out, Zayne delays himself for a couple more seconds before wrapping one arm around your body. “Then, excuse me,” he warns, moving the chestpiece inside the back of your clothes and holding it against your bare skin.

The coldness of the metal makes you gasp and flinch, but as you attempt to move away from the stethoscope, Zayne gently squeezes your side, making you jump back into the cold object on your back. “Stay still and breathe deep,” Zayne instructs, his voice close to your ear.

You press your eyes shut and feel a faint heat reaching your cheeks.. Was he teasing you on purpose? Or just being painfully oblivious like he always was? As you try to follow his instructions and stay still, your body can’t help but tremble a bit - half because of the coldness on your back, half because Zayne’s touch against your side is making you stay on the edge.

“Is something wrong?” Zayne mutters softly, breaking the room’s silence, “your heart is beating… really fast.”

You let out a shaky sigh and a nervous smile take place on your lips. Of course I’m nervous, you dumb doctor, you think before looking at him.

[anamericangirl]

What’s a good reason to not take my own life? I’ve been feeling this way for years. Been to multiple treatment programs. Seen by several different therapists. Anti-depressants. I frequently go outdoors to exercise. Try to fill up my life with being optimistic about my (admittedly nice) job, hobbies, travel, and volunteering. And yet I’m still no better than I was 5 years ago and I have no hope about a happy future. “Your family will miss you.” Ok, and? I think it’s selfish to tell people in pain to continue living like that because some people might temporarily feel sad. They’ll eventually move on. My friends too, especially the ones who are happily married “to their best friends” and having babies and are so happy that they forget I exist.

Hey anon I hope I am not too late! I am just getting out of a hurricane and was without internet access for several days so i apologize for the delay.

But there are so many reasons not to take your own life. In fact, I can’t think of a single reason why you should.

I know it’s tough right now and trust me, I know that depression makes it all feel pointless and worthless and can plague you for years but even though if feels like forever I promise you these feelings and this depression and your circumstances are TEMPORARY. And it would be a tragedy for you to take your life over temporary circumstances and not see what is possible on the other side.

Yes your family and friends will miss you but you should stay because your life has purpose and meaning! Therapy and anti-depressants are good and I’m glad you’ve been trying those things because that means you don’t actually want to die - you just want the pain to stop. And that’s completely understandable and also manageable!

It’s great that you’ve been continuing to exercise and do volunteer work because those things can definitely impact your mood, but they aren’t the source of true joy, peace and happiness. Now I’m a Christian so I’m sure it won’t surprise you for me to say this, but what you are looking for and what you need can only come from God. I urge you to put your faith and trust in him and give him your burdens.

The devil has a hold on you right now, don’t let him win!

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” - Isaiah 41:10

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. - Jeremiah 29:11

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” - John 10:10

“Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.” - psalm 55:22

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. The righteous person may have many troubles, but the LORD delivers him from them all.” - psalm 34:18-19

But now that I’ve gone on my spiel, here are some reasons I think it’s good to keep living. Not all my original thoughts but ones i agree with.

1. You matter

2. No one else is you.

3. Your younger self

4. Your next favorite song.

5. Warm blankets.

6. Thunderstorms

7. The fact that you’re in control of your future.

8. Experiencing new cultures.

9. Making new friends.

10. Road trips.

11. Sunsets and sunrises.

12. Reading good books.

13. Learning a new language.

14. Adopting a pet.

15. Fresh baked bread and cookies.

16. Getting packages in the mail.

17. Autumn.

18. Pumpkin spice.

19. Drinking coffee in the morning.

20. Beaches and being able to sink your toes into the sand.

21. Stepping on crunchy leaves.

22. Recovery.

23. Falling in love.

24. Rain.

25. Petting puppies and kittens.

26. Drinking water.

27. Trying something new and loving it.

28. Your favorite artist putting out new music.

29. A new season on your favorite TV show.

30. Planting a garden and growing your own vegetables.

31. Farmers Markets.

32. Trying out the newest local coffee shop or restaurant.

33. Karaoke

34. All of the people you have yet to meet.

35. Horseback riding

36. Stars.

37. Ice cream.

38. Ice tea.

39. Scented candles.

40. Learning something new.

41. Museums.

42. Going to the movies.

43. Hearing your favorite song come on the radio.

44. Learning to make a new recipe.

45. Your life is precious.

46. You are enough.

47. Random acts of kindness.

48. God looked at the world and thought it needed you.

49. Your story could save someone else.

50. Looking back on this time in 10 years and realizing you made it.

There’s an endless amount of reasons to stay alive and I hope some of them resonate with you.

But if you are desperate please reach out to the suicide prevention hotline at 988. If you are outside the US then you can find the number for your location here.

Please know that I am praying for you and please reach out to me again if you want to. I would love to keep up with how you are doing 💜

[katerina-marie]

Don't Go Slowly, Tell Me If You're Lonely (Series)

Chapter 1

Gojo Satoru x Reader & (past) Geto Suguru x Reader

Your relationship with Geto Suguru came to an end somewhere between the day of his betrayal and the day of his death. Your relationship with Gojo Satoru began somewhere in the midst of it all, even without you realizing.

WC: 6.2k

Content: Canon Divergence, Gojo x Female Reader (referred to as such but left descriptively vague), (past) Geto Suguru x Female Reader, Geto's canonical death, friends to lovers, angst, eventual happy ending, fluff later, reader is a sorcerer (left vague tho sorry), SFW (may change in later chapters idk), no use of y/n. More notes below.

Chapter Count: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6 (Final)

Notes:

Product of an angsty Suguru Tik Tok. I have roughly five or so more chapters thought out for this, but that is subject to change as none of it is written yet. Canon events are loosely followed from Hidden Inventory and JJK0, but future events (Shibuya/Kenjaku) will not happen.

I've taken liberties with JJK canon/timeline for this fic. While not explicitly mentioned in the story, reader, Gojo, and Geto are all 20/21 with Nanami and Haibara being a year younger when the hidden inventory arc starts. There would only be 5ish years between HI and JJK0, and then another year or two between JJK0 and present day JJK where Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara are at the school (their ages stay the same and I’m sorry cause I know that wouldn’t fit with the changed timeline, but they will most likely only ever be mentioned through conversation in this story).

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

Chapter 1: Don't Go Slowly, Tell Me If You're Lonely (For the Sake of Understanding)

September 

“Suguru?” 

The dial tone was constant and unyielding, just as it was with the previous four phone calls. 

Unanswered. Ignored. Avoided. Did it happen gradually, the pulling away of a boy who sat nestled in every major part of yourself? You could recall your last conversation, only a few days prior, and it was stilted in a way they hadn’t ever been before. 

“Suguru?” 

His reply was delayed, as if the distance that separated the two of you actually affected how quickly your words reached him. There were currently hundreds, maybe thousands of miles in between each of your current locations on Earth—missions and curses…they never gave consideration to lovers or their quarrels—and for the first time, the distance felt detrimental and significant. 

“Hm, yes?” 

“I said, ‘I love you,’ and hopefully I’ll be home in three or four days. We’ll spend that evening together, yeah?” 

In the silence, all you could think was ‘he’s slipping, he’s slipping, he’s sl — ,’

“Sure, I’ll see you then.” 

Had his voice always been so tired and hollow? Had he always felt so distant and uninterested in the words coming out of your mouth? You were used to his rapt attention and soft affirmations in your conversations, always letting you know that he was focused on you. So when, in the last year, had Suguru become a shell of himself? You should have known, and your conscious would tell you that your level of intimacy (‘girlfriend’ felt like such a lackluster term for what you were to him, but your relationship hadn’t progressed further yet to earn you any other title) demanded you be aware of the moment things began to crack and crumble. All you knew was this: that there was the murder of a girl with a purpose that had been determined years prior—whose fate had changed under his watch—along with the brief but insurmountable amount of time that Suguru believed his best friend was also dead. 

Gojo Satoru. A close friend he was to you, once maybe out of obligation to your partner in the beginning, but there had been enough time to have built a friendship of your own over the years. Surely, now that you took a second to consider the situation, he would know what to do. 

“Satoru,” you mumbled, “I should call, Satoru.” 

And yet, the dial tone remained unrelenting. The A/C unit of your hotel room hummed under the bottom edge of smoke-beige curtains, and the muffled slam of a door down the hall caused you to jump from your seat on the edge of the bed. The phone remained tightly clasped in your hand and it pushed just hard enough against your ear that pain began to erupt from where the post of an earring dug into your skin. 

“Suguru?”

——————————————

Your phone rang an hour after leaving the hotel room to begin your journey home. It was in the middle of a foreign airport, your clothes were sticking to your skin after the rushed shuffling through security, and Shoko had just told you that Geto Suguru was currently wanted for the murder of 112 people and his subsequent defection from jujutsu society. 

“Is he…does anyone know where he is?” The question slipped out quietly as you dropped into a black leather seat and dragged your suitcase in front of you so you could lean your elbows on it. You took a quick glance up at a screen and tried to decide if “Gate 7” was truly flashing in the top right corner or if it were the building tears in your eyes that were starting to blur the number into a different shape entirely. 

“No, he hasn’t been located, and he’s not responding to our phone calls either. Not even Gojo’s. Have you—,” 

“No.” You let out a wet laugh and the man in the seat next to you cast a long sideways look in your direction before getting up and moving a couple seats away. Did you look so distraught that the idea of possibly spending hours on a plane next to you was so unappealing? Another stare from a woman in the seat across from you and the tear-drop shaped spots appearing on your pants convinced you that you were better off not knowing. 

“I’m so sorry,” Shoko began, and for the first time, her voice brought none of the comfort and healing it usually did. “We debated telling you and waiting until you touched down back home, but Gojo figured you’d…”

Shoko trailed off without any other indication of what considerations for your feelings were taken into account during their discussion, and all that you could respond with was a shake of your head and a hushed “no, no.” You couldn’t decide if you were grateful to know immediately of what had transpired instead of being surprised with the news upon arrival home, or if you were appalled at their thought that sitting trapped in a plane with hours to despair at the unbelievability of it all was the better suited alternative.

A flurry of sudden motion and shuffling around you jolted you back into awareness, and you realized with a sudden panic that your plane was beginning to board. Your only connection to what was going on was about to be severed. You stood with the others and began the slow march to line up at the terminal. 

“Shoko, I’m about to board my plane but please—,” A sob cut you off, and you knew that you were further from finishing that sentence than you were from the one person you yearned to be beside at that moment. A heavy ache settled in your stomach at the thought. Suddenly, there was a realization that some great reconciliation was to be made in regard to who Suguru was to you before this point and what he would be now and going forth. In no possible scenario did you see yourself emerging totally unscathed. 

Shoko was silent for a moment before offering some reassurance you didn’t really hear and then muttered a quick goodbye. Between that minute and the next, you had boarded the plane, stowed away your suitcase, found a seat next to the window, and picked a spot in the sky to stare at lest the environment around you remind you of how trapped you were. 

“Suguru?”

——————————————

“Suguru!” 

Screaming your boyfriend’s name from across a crowded street wasn’t what you had envisioned when you thought of your return home, even after the news had broken. But time hadn’t let you attempt to catch up before it decided that the person you treasured most in the world was to continue unraveling on a schedule you had no hope of following.

You had barely taken your first steps out of the airport onto paved sidewalks when your phone rang again. The ringtone could only play its first few chimes before you had it up to your ear with a breathless reply already on its way out. 

“I found him.” 

Shoko sounded neither relieved nor any more worried than she had when the two of you had spoken hours earlier, but you didn’t have a chance to question her further before she set your whole being on edge. 

“Suguru confirmed the reports, and I’ve called Satoru already.” 

For a split second, dread filled your limbs and you stumbled in your step that took you from a standstill to a sprint. Why did the thought of Satoru confronting your boyfriend offer anything other than utter relief? 

“Where are you? Shoko, please tell me where you are, and I’ll be right there!” 

‘Right there’ had you struggling against the hold Shoko had on your shoulders as you watched from a distance as Suguru and Satoru stood opposite each other. People weaved in and around the two, unaware of the danger, the devastation, of the complete dismantling that was occurring just beside them. 

“Suguru! Suguru, Suguru, Suguru!” Your screaming seemed to have no effect on him, and you would have lied and told yourself that he just couldn’t hear you, but the disdainful stares of the oblivious people all around kept you from denial. 

Suguru remained placid as he stood and took the brunt of both yours and Satoru's desperate calls to bring him back. He looked so much like the boy you had fallen in love with, but then again not at all the same. His hair was different. Half of it laid unbound against his neck, though the piece that framed the left side of his face still hid the corner of his eye. You stared at him, and you weren’t sure if you were trying to commit every inch of him to your memory or simply beseeching him to spare just a glance in your direction. Had his cheeks always been so gaunt? Did the delicate skin under his eyes always bruise purple like they were now? What else had been missed in the last year that could be counted and added to this moment? 

Before you could damn yourself further for missing the signs of Suguru’s slow deterioration, the raising of Satoru’s arm had your whole existence narrowing until it was just the two of them in frame. The sound of your heartbeat thudding in your ears faded. The warm feeling of panic that had started in your chest, radiated down your arms, and made your fingers feel numb blended in with the shuddering of Shoko’s chest against your back. All the background noise—the clack of dress shoes on concrete, the whir of car engines flying by that also shuttered the view in front of you, to the incessant wailing of your boyfriend’s name—suddenly ceased as two of Gojo Satoru’s fingers began to close in on one another. 

“Satoru!” 

One day, Gojo Satoru would be brave enough to remember what it felt like to hear you lament his name. He could recall fondly and effortlessly how his name and the one of his best friend could slip so seamlessly, interchangeably, from your lips. But now, when he swore you were moving your mouth though nothing else but his name came out, it would haunt him in his dreams, his memories, and everything in between. 

“Satoru!” Urging, demanding, and shrill. 

Do it, do it, do it. 

“Satoru!” Pleading, shrieking, and broken. 

Please, don’t do it. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.  

Satoru’s fingers remained a hairsbreadth apart, and Suguru’s back turned as he walked away with nothing more than an unaffected wave over his shoulder. Shoko still trembled, Satoru’s face crumpled, and your heart and mind had broken into pieces that scattered far beyond your reach.

All the while, there would be a day upcoming when all of this would have to be condensed into something that was capable of being understood.

Today was not that day. 

——————————————

December 24, Years Later

Did your footsteps have to echo what your heart was chanting? 

Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 

Your walk to the communal lounge of the Jujutsu High-Tokyo campus was different, in some ways, from usual. Familiar stone scraped at the bottom of your shoes. Acrid smoke still hung in the air, and pieces of wood and rock falling to the ground could be heard echoing from where buildings and walls were left in ruin. The fading orange of a winter sunset was dipping below the remaining trees, leaving behind a night that was dark and dreadful and devastated. 

Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 

And then you were here, at the door you had to open and walk through before any number of questions you had could be answered. With a deep inhale, you took your first step forward to pass over the threshold and the room that was full of people, though couldn’t be considered noisy, went silent. 

Principal Yaga stood in a corner to the right with a cell phone at his ear. Nanami sat at a table with his spotted tie loosened around his neck and his suit jacket thrown over the back of his chair in an uncommon show of haggard exhaustion. Behind him, Shoko was washing her hands in a sink where the water swirled with something pink. You jerked your head to the left to avoid having to process the sight further, but what you looked upon instead didn’t spare you any relief. 

The underclassmen, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki, hovered around a loveseat where Okkotsu sat slumped with his head in his hands. All four of them were covered in varying degrees of debris, bandages, and scant traces of blood. It made you feel a little better to think that’s all Shoko had been washing off in the sink. 

What didn’t help ease the knots in your stomach was the way Okkotsu never raised his head to acknowledge the entrance of your presence—a contradiction to his normal deferential behavior—but also how the rest of the eyes in the room all looked at you with varying degrees of emotion. None were malicious, but unnerving nonetheless. 

Pity, unsureness, sorrow, regret, and condolence—,

Your sharp inhale was enough to make a person or two flinch, but no one else moved and you were left to contemplate whether fleeing to solitary misery would hurt less than receiving answers about what had happened tonight.

Before you could decide what to do, the door to the back of the lounge slid open and Satoru stepped inside. His bandages around his eyes were off, and he was looking at you in a way he never had until now. How you were supposed to interpret that look and what it could even mean…well, you didn’t have the slightest clue, and that would be the final blow to your being. 

You had already lurched back to reach for the door when Satoru called your name, and you were slow to turn around to face him. When you did, he used his head to nod to the garden through the door of the lounge in a bid to get you to follow him before exiting the room the same way he came. You took a deep breath and gave a helpless search around the room before following after him into the night. Someone had the grace to close the door behind you. 

The two of you walked a few steps into the garden, and while it did nothing to ease the turmoil you were feeling, the vastness of the night sky and coolness of the air was preferable to the atmosphere in the lounge you were just in. When you and Satoru finally came to a halt, you weren’t close enough to touch, but if you tried, your fingertips would just miss the fabric of his uniform. You waited for him to speak, swallowing once, twice, a third time to try and clear the tension out of your throat. Your hands began to tremble, and a stinging burn rushed up through your nose to prick at the corners of your eyes. 

With only a whisper of clothing as a warning, Satoru’s hand reached out to cup the back of your neck and draw you into his shoulder, his arms capable of closing the distance between you without requiring him to step nearer. His other hand settled between your shoulder blades while yours loosely gripped the fabric at his ribcage. The embrace only lasted another second before he was pulling away with a gentle squeeze around your arms and letting his own drop to his sides. 

“You’re aware of what led up to all this tonight, correct?” Satoru asked, gesturing vaguely to the campus surrounding you both. There was no preamble from him and you watched as his eyes flicked between yours.

“Yes,” you nodded, “I was there in the city with everyone, Satoru. I saw you leave, and once everything finished I stayed after to check on everyone from Kyoto before coming back here.” You let your eyes wander around over Satoru’s shoulder, and you could just faintly make out a persisting plume of smoke in the distance. 

“He was here,” you continued, no more asking him a question than you were stating what you already knew, “and this was him?” Even though it was meek, your voice didn’t crack. 

Satoru hummed out an affirmation, not needing to clarify what you said in order for him to know that you were referring to the damaged state of the school as a result of Suguru’s presence.

“Alright,” you started, firm and as prepared as you could make yourself in this moment, “where is he?” 

Satoru carried on without acknowledging the question you asked. “Some of the damage is from him fighting Maki, Panda, and Inumaki, but most of it is from his fight with Okkostu and Rika after the others became too injured. I arrived just at the end.” 

It was here that you started to feel like you were listening to his words from somewhere outside your body. There was an outcome that you were waiting to learn of, and you knew you either needed to ask a question or make some kind of noise or movement to prompt him to go forward. But really, your head felt like it was full of static and you couldn’t begin to piece the words together to make them sound even remotely coherent. 

The end, the end, the end, the e–,

“The end?” You asked on an exhale, stunned when you saw Satoru’s chin quiver just once. You realized then that you hadn’t ever really taken the time to study the world’s strongest sorcerer. Did the blue of his eyes always reflect even the dimmest of light, or was there something else that caused them to swim as they did now? He stood rigid, but then again Satoru always held himself up to his full height, unbothered by the weight that sat on his shoulders and unencumbered by the threat of a physical blow. Maybe now that you could notice, as you saw how his head hung slightly and weariness lowered his stature, it was apparent that the time Satoru spent constantly guarding his person never allowed for the same courtesy to his mind. You wondered if the vulnerability of it, of how he sacrificed himself to the heavy weight of emotional torment, was what eventually managed to dim the spirit of the person in front of you right now. 

“Suguru’s dead. ” 

One day, you’d look back and wonder if you already knew what was going to come out of Satoru’s mouth. The news had the ground beneath your feet tilting in different directions in a way that threatened the contents of your stomach, and it did expel the air from your lungs in a pained-sounding moan. But it didn’t send the electrical current of shock through your body that you were waiting for. You’d suspect that you were aware of it from the moment you set foot on campus, that the tension in the air and the stiffness of everyone in the lounge had been direct indicators that the worst had occurred. Perhaps you knew, but needed Satoru to deliver that blow in order for it to land. 

You struggled to find a way to think past the roaring in your ears, so you tangled your fingers together in order to dig your nails into the skin on the backs of your hands. When the pain didn’t register and the blood welling up underneath them didn’t scare you into looking away, you fixed your gaze up on Satoru’s eyes in a desperate attempt to pull yourself out from inside yourself. They were wide in concerned alarm from whatever he saw on your face.

“God, so…,” you heaved a breath and closed your eyes to try and focus on getting your thoughts into something more than garbled syllables, “so that’s why Okkotsu looks the way he does…in there? He, uhm, he ki—,” 

“No.” Satoru pulled his bottom lip under his teeth and rolled his head back to look up at the sky before returning back to you. Did he feel the same trepidation that snaked under your skin and knocked at your chest? Did your eyes reflect back to him the pleading that was going on in your head? To who, though? Certainly, the time for bargaining was long past. “No, Okkotsu didn’t kill Suguru. He wounded him…badly. But Suguru was able to retreat in the haze of the smoke and I…he…”

He what? Suguru? Okkotsu? If allowed, the endless possibilities of “what if” would steal whatever peace remained from you, and if closure wasn’t something granted to you, you would respond in kind. 

 “What, Satoru? He what? You have to be clearer. You have to tell me, for the sake of my own understanding.” 

The sliding of the lounge door caught your attention and interrupted whatever Satoru was going to say next. You glanced over, watching as Nanami stepped out from around the door, shut it, and leaned back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Satoru giving him the faintest nod and you wondered if he had asked him to come out here. The reason wasn’t quite clear to you yet, but you stared at him, trying to figure out what part the blonde-haired sorcerer was about to play in all of this. 

Ever present Nanami, stoic as he was strong, but soft spoken and never cruel for cruelty’s sake. Always maintained rigid self control and composure, even in the face of his best friend’s death. He was steady and stable, easily beat against but never yielded, made to never move under such intense pressure. 

The thought had you turning back to Satoru, perplexed about what Nanami’s presence might be implying. What was about to come out of Gojo Satoru’s mouth that made him think he wouldn’t be enough for you? Or—in an even worse consideration—that he was about to become too much for you. 

“I found Suguru after his fight with Okkotsu in some obscure corner of campus,” Satoru whispered, and you dared not move or breathe as you waited for his next words. “I found him…and I killed him.” 

You had to hold a hand up to your chest, right between your breasts and over your heart as it began to rise and fall with the rapidness of your breaths, if only to ensure that it kept beating as every second ticked past the next. You felt your mouth drop open, felt your throat vibrate with some wounded noise, and watched as Satoru held out his hand to you, immense regret tightening his features, along with glistening tears clinging to the tips of his eyelashes. What hurt more though was the memory of Satoru’s arm reaching out like it did now, some years ago on the day Suguru left, his fingers trembling as they inched towards each other in his best friend's direction. You wondered—painfully, regrettably—if that’s what Suguru saw too right before it all went dark, and the sight of it was enough to send you staggering backwards. Someone caught you with large hands curling around the tops of your shoulders and—,

Oh, that’s what Nanami was for. 

Taking advantage of your friend behind you, you wilted backwards against Nanami’s chest and sobbed, neither of you unnerved by the ugly gasping of it. The hand that wasn’t still clutched against your body in the hopes of keeping yourself sealed shut shot up to grasp at Nanami’s forearm in an effort to abate the buckling of your knees. Because in front of you, the honored one stood a few feet away from you with eyes made empty and full of loss, and you struggled to reconcile which one of you were owed more the space to fall apart. Perhaps it was you both, as grief in situations like this happened to be a great equalizer, and you considered, as your friend stared at you with pained hopelessness, that maybe—certainly—Satoru was entitled to his own moment of sorrow in front of you. The thought lent sturdiness to your stance and you pushed forward off Nanami and used the momentum to propel yourself into Satoru. You worried briefly that maybe the two of you wouldn’t make contact, that he wouldn’t allow you into the space of him, but your arms landed around his neck, your chest met his, and his hands pushed you past any remaining distance. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice shaking and hands hovering infinitesimally over your hips before they settled against you. All you could do was shake your head against his shoulder. There was no question about how equally wounded Satoru was. Where you now mourned the forever plans that once existed in the bright eyes and easy laugh of a man since gone, Satoru had the honor of shouldering the burden of knowing he was the one who snuffed those plans out, though the fault could be no more placed on him than it could you. Did he wonder as he waited for you, whether you would blame him for the duty in which he owed the world protection from people like Suguru? Where he would always be the one to know what it was like to take away the life of his best friend, did he worry about how you would look at him once you knew? Did you confirm his fear when you fell away from him? For a time, did Satoru bemoan the physical loss of Suguru and wonder if he would have to do the same for you when you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes anymore? Satoru might have been the one who made you something akin to a widow, but Suguru’s choices and decisions were what put the two of you here, who really held responsibility for the damage inflicted on the two people he had valued most. 

You squeezed Satoru a little tighter and then tilted back some so you could peer into his face. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you said, shaking your head at him when he opened his mouth to protest, “at least not to me.” A weak smile pulled at your lips as you did your best to reassure him and the spasming of his grip at your waist. You didn’t have the energy to explain to him the depths of emotion that swirled around in your head. How you didn’t blame him, but regretted the situation Suguru thrust the two of you in. How you would never leave him to carry this alone, but that you would need time before looking at him didn’t make your heart throb with painful memory and imagination. Or how the two of you would be forever connected by the loss of someone so important to each of you in vastly different ways, but that you wanted nothing more than to flee from his presence now. 

So you moved away from him, trailing a hand down his arm because you could and because you didn’t know what else to do for him. You kept stepping back, already turning to retreat back the way you came and ready to seek solace in the privacy of your room. To do what, you weren’t sure. To cry, you guessed. To distract yourself enough that you didn’t replay every single second of the last few years over and over in your head so you could pick every word and touch between you and Suguru apart. Whether that was for the sake of your own memory or to try and figure out that which couldn’t be solved was unbeknownst to you. In the depths of your grief, maybe you would wonder what the last moments were like for Suguru. Did he think of you? Consider what he had done to you and to Satoru? What were the last words to come out his mouth? Were they for you or for—,

You whirled around from your spot halfway back to the lounge door and caught sight of Nanami placing a heavy hand on Satoru’s shoulder. 

“Did Suguru say anything to you?” Your voice carried out clearly on the emptiness of the night, but Satoru didn’t turn in your direction, nor did he hardly move. “Did he…did he have anything for you to tell me?” 

Satoru was still until he eventually twisted his head towards you just enough so he could look at you from the corner of his eye. They were guarded, maybe the slightest bit afraid, and you held your breath in anticipation. 

“No.” 

You deflated and were unsure how to feel about his answer. You had hoped, thought, that maybe having Suguru’s last words for you would bring about some relief for the burning heartache that had started at some point in the last hour—the last couple of years—but you had also been hesitant to receive one more thing to occupy the scant emotional bandwidth you had left for everything that Suguru was. It would be one more thing to keep you up at night. On the other hand, the fact that your lover had left the world with nought an expressed thought or word for your condition left a blistering bitterness to swell within you. Insignificant were you not, but maybe to Suguru, in his last moments on Earth, you were to him. And that thought was enough to tip you into the realm of excess, surefly filled and overflowing with enough contemplating and pondering and general overthinking to last the rest of your life. 

So you turned away from Satoru and Nanami and walked back through an empty lounge and out the door from which you came earlier in the evening. The night was still dark and devastated but relatively silent, the noise of utter ruin having mostly ceased. But your shoes still scuffed against stone and tiny pebbles skittered away from under feet, skipping and tumbling with every step you took. 

Suguru, Suguru, Suguru.  

——————————————

“You were lying.” 

Nanami’s tone was no more judgemental than it was inquisitive, but nothing about him seemed to press Satoru for answers that he wasn’t yet ready to give—or understood himself. He did lie. He wouldn’t deny that. But under no circumstances was he prepared to tell you what his best friend, your other half, had told him in the minutes before his death. They replayed tortuously in his head as he tried to make sense of it all. Satoru would have to speak them to you one day, and the fear of doing so brought the same panicked apprehension he had felt as he watched you try and hold yourself together as he had told you about Suguru’s death. As he waited for you, he had imagined every which way your face could have pinched and drawn up in enraged despair as you threw yourself against him to beat as his chest, to wail in his arms as you cursed his existence before finally retreating in a similar fashion as how you did just moments ago, but perhaps with less acceptance and  a goodbye that would prove final in its anger. You hadn’t reacted that way, of course. You had fallen against him in sorrow and with a barely concealed need for comfort as much as you were ready to give it to him, and he had been filled with desperate relief at the feeling of you and how you hadn’t shied away from him. But maybe that was to come later one day, after Satoru spent time considering what was said and implied by Suguru’s words, and felt brave enough to share them with you. Surely then you wouldn’t have the same patience for him as you did tonight. 

“I was.” That was all he said back to Nanami, refusing to elaborate on the specifics of something he owed to you and couldn’t yet come to terms with himself. Thankfully, Nanami simply nodded and glanced in the direction of your departure. 

“I’ll check on her in the morning,” he offered, betraying no emotion or thought to the idea, but Satoru had a feeling it had something to do with how you had done the same for Nanami when, a few years ago, death had come for Jujutsu High and taken Haibara with it. Neither man said anything else as they departed, Nanami heading your direction towards staff lodging and Satoru leaving to walk aimlessly along crumbling corridors. His head spun, and he remembered. 

Satoru had heard Suguru before he came upon him, dragging his shoulder against stone walls and mumbling nonsense to himself until it came to an abrupt halt as he spotted Satoru a ways in front of him. It was painful to take in the sight of his best friend, covered in blood and viciously mangled, but looking so achingly familiar. But the ensuing conversation, a mindless back and forth of words that meant much and nothing at all proved that the person in front of him wasn’t the same as he remembered. 

“Tell me, do you have any last words?” Satoru had asked, a simple opportunity given to the man sitting in front of him, yet he cursed the universe for his lot in life, the unfairness of it all bittering the taste of his mouth and landing heavy in his chest as Suguru spoke back to him. 

“She's yours now, it would seem.” 

Satoru couldn’t ever say he had been rendered speechless before, but he choked on his own spit as he recoiled from Suguru’s words. He grit his teeth as he felt his face scrunch in anguished rage. 

“God, Suguru! You can’t just—that’s not something you—!” What came out in a fit of bewilderment was followed by more jumbled sputtering before Satoru could mind his tongue again. “You don’t just say that! You can’t pass ownership of her like an object. Not like this, not ever!” 

Suguru just chuckled, out of breath and clearly fading, and leaned his head back against the wall. “Doesn’t make it any less true.” 

“It does!” Satoru shouted, panic and desperation lacing his tone,“She doesn’t want me! She would want you to come back, to make amends and live your entire life trying to repair what you broke. You don’t get to decide our future for us!” 

“Consider it a dying wish,” Suguru said calmly, and Satoru wondered if anything else someone could ever say would hurt as badly as that (a picture of you flashed unbidden in his mind). 

“She would rather have you—I would rather have you!”

“You haven’t exactly said ‘no’, Satoru.”

His words pinned him in place and Satoru was stunned into silence. His friend’s dying delusions were no better for his psyche than considering what Suguru implied would mean for him. Satoru had never let himself think so far, to entertain a thought about his best friend’s girlfriend in any other way except strictly platonic. Sure, no one could ignore your beauty, and a couple times Satoru had silently envied what Suguru had and he did not—intimate companionship, physical comfort and pleasure, and the eagerness for a future with someone, all that could be had with a friend but on levels not belonging to such a term. However longed for, it was never with you strictly imagined, just a simple yearning for something of his own. 

“No,” Satoru managed, “not like this. Not without her consent, and certainly not in place of you being alive.”

Suguru made a motion similar to a shrug, or what one would look like if half of his shoulder wasn’t missing. “If you insist.”

“Do you not have anything to say to her? To leave her with?” Satoru beseeched on your behalf, hoping Suguru would tell him anything else to pass on to you other than his attempt to give you to him. Satoru would get his last words with Suguru, and it was all the same too much and not enough. He wondered if you would feel the same.

“What’s there to say?” Suguru said, his voice light, as if the discussion was more about the weather or something else equally mundane. “‘I’m sorry’ seems pointless without action behind it, and there will be none. ‘I love you’ is nothing she hasn’t heard before, and I would call into question the truthfulness of those words in light of my actions if I were her.” It was then that Satoru finally spotted a hint of regret and sorrow on Suguru’s face, but it disappeared only a moment later. “She would not want me as I am now, and there is no going back. The damage resulting from my choices is something the two of you will wrestle with, both individually and together, I suppose. Hence, why I said what I did.” 

Satoru would laugh at the absurdity of it all if it didn’t pain him so badly. Instead, he walked towards Suguru and dropped into a crouch to get eye-level with his friend. His head lolled toward him.

“Damn you for that, Suguru,” he said, “but you’ll always be my best friend.”

Shock fluttered over Suguru’s face before amusement wrinkled his eyes and a tired laugh shook his body. His eyes slid shut and as Satoru stood and willed his arm to move, he desperately wished he could be anywhere else. 

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

I hope I didn't ramble too much and that this made sense! The next chapters shouldn't be as thought/monologue heavy. I can't promise an update timeline, but I will do my best to not take too long. I am writing in the breaks between chasing my toddler around, so patience is appreciated:)

Cross-posted on ao3 as well.

Thanks!

[dxckgrxsonx]

I humbly request more shenanigans from the photo-buddies, I looooove them 😂🤩

they're absolute children your honor. i love them endlessly.

**

He looks tired.

There’s a slight delay to everything he does. A barely there pause before he answers a question, laughs at a joke. Your heart reaches out through your ribs when you watch him yawn for the third time in a few minutes, desperate to offer something in the face of his exhaustion.

“You don’t have to stay with me, Jay. You can go home, I’m almost finished.” You drop an undignified amount of ramen noodles in your shopping cart before carrying on down the aisle. At your side, Jason yawns again. “How long have you been awake?”

“Too long.” Comes his reply. You think he keeps it vague on purpose. “I’m not leaving you here, it's the middle of the night and someone might steal all your ramen noodles.”

You slant your head towards him, grinning, “They could try. I’ve fought people for less.”

A soft smile lifts Jason’s mouth, only at the corner, but it’s enough to make you feel weightless, enough to let you breathe. You think that there’s nothing that you wouldn’t do to make him happy. Even if it did mean sacrificing your noodles.

“Yeah that’s true." Jason says. "Remember the time you shouted at that guy for twenty minutes when he took the last box of mac and cheese?”

Nudging him in the side with your shoulder you laugh, “That was not a good night for me. And between you and me, that guy was a massive penis.”

“You mean, that guy has a massive penis, right?”

Coming up at the end of the aisle is a display full of Christmas wrapping paper rolls. Clocking the colourful tubes of cardboard you reply, “Yes Jason, that’s exactly what I meant. The guy that stole the last box of mac and cheese had a big fucking dick.”

“Thanks! I knew you thought it was big.”

Grabbing the first roll of wrapping paper you can reach–one with glittering Christmas trees–you swing around and smack Jason on the top of the head. His eyes narrow immediately and there's a quick, sudden drop in your stomach.

“That wasn’t me.” You defend, abandoning the cart of food. “I was possessed by the spirit of Santa Claus and three hundred different coloured Christmas trees.”

Arming himself with dual tubes of wrapping paper, Jason bounces on the balls of his feet, “I’m about to give you an early Christmas gift.” He declares, approaching you with all the talent and skill of a vigilante.

“I will fuck you up, Todd.” You warn, unable to keep the delighted smile off your face. “It’ll be real embarrassing for you.”

Using one of the tubes to block your sudden advance, Jason uses the other tube to smack you straight across the backside. The tube of wrapping paper warps under the impact and when he holds it up, the whole thing flops to one side, Santa’s face bent in the middle.

“Well done, Jay. You’ve just killed Father Christmas.”

Jason laughs, full and loud, eyes crinkling at the corners, “No, your ass killed Santa, I’m totally innocent.”

“You know, if you wanted to spank me, you could have just asked.”

Shrugging his shoulders Jason launches the wrapping paper back into the stand without taking his eyes off you. His aim is perfect and the tubes slot smoothly alongside the others. Raising an impressed eyebrow you turn your head to place yours back and as soon as Jason is out of your direct line of sight he strikes.

His palm meets your ass in a deafening crack and you jolt, hand flying back to protect yourself from another potential hit.

“Motherfucker!” You yell across the store. “I bet that’s left a handprint.”

“Send me a photo when you get home.” Jason says, smirking. “I’d love to see my handprint on your ass.”

**

[myfandomprompts]

Dubious Headlines | Aemond Short Story (Part 1/3)

Aemond x Reader Modern!AU Masterlist

Synopsis: In a world where Dragon Incorporation is the most powerful firm in town, Rhaenyra Targaryen's last announcement sends you, a journalist, to interview the younger sons of the family. However, you did not ask for any of this.

Viserys Targaryen was sick, and had for many years bequeathed all of his shares in the care of his children. But everybody knew that the Targaryen was a drama family, and that strife was ever present between the different siblings. Lately, the eldest, Rhaenyra, had made an announcement in which she said to intend her branch of the company to take a whole other direction, putting the other branches managed by her brothers and sister in a difficult position.

“Y/N, where are Mathilda and Sam?”

You raised your head from your computer to look at your boss, M. Vander.

“Uh… I don’t know, I have not seen them all morning. Covering the charity event maybe?”

The man looked around desperately, thinking. “Ok then," he decided, eyes darting at you. “In my office please.”

You looked bewildered. You swore that if you he gave more work because Sam and Mathilda had run off again…

“I need you to go to Dragon Incorporation and interview Aegon Tagaryen,” he announced as he sat behind his desk.

You internally cursed. As if you did not have enough work already. “What? Why me? I cover cultural events, I am not…”

“You did hear about Rhaenyra’s announcement right?” he interrupted you.

“Yes, but since when are we interested in gossip, sir?”

“It’s not gossip. It’s gathering impressions on the changes that might have an influence on the citizens of the city. I’m sorry but you are the only one available that is competent enough Y/N.”

Please, anything but this.

“I- I don’t think this is a good idea sir, Mathilda is the one who usually interviews them I-”

“Y/N, I know you will manage perfectly. Take care of this please.”

You deeply inhaled as he dismissed you, nodding and got out of the office.

The reason why you dreaded the interview, except for the fact that it was absolutely not your area of expertise, is that Aegon Targaryen, second son and head of the communication department at Dragon Company, had such a reputation that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. As a journalist, you were usually one of the firsts to learn what was new in town, and Aegon was definitely in the top 5 of the most scandalous things you had seen. Besides the accusations, the trials, the complaints and the police reports that most of the other agencies tried to hide from the public, he was also clearly a man that just did not care about his actions. He liked doing interviews, though, you had seen a draft of Mathilda’s interview with him once. You could not emphasise enough how much she had to remove in order for it to be decent to be published.

You had called your friend on your way to one of the many locations of Dragon Inc., taking your sweet time.

“I am so gonna kill them. They owe me big on this one, being absent today of all days. I hate them.”

“So you managed to get an appointment with him? With Aegon?”

“Uh…. No, I didn’t, not really. I kinda hope that I would just show up and that he would be absent. This way I won’t have to do it at all!” you sighed as you climbed the stairs that led to the offices floor.

“Y/N…Vander will be mad if he realises that you delayed this on purpose.”

“Trust me, if I am not the one who does the interview, he will have no trouble sending someone else, and be a hundred percent more satisfied with them, a clear win for both of us the way I see it.”

You were on the third floor, near the CEO’s office. As you walked through the corridor, you did not see the man who had just exited the elevator, almost bumping into you. He watched you warily as you continued talking loudly over the phone, not bothered at all if you were heard. Who was that woman?

“You are not that bad at interviews… Just go in there, ask the questions and get out, easy.”

“No it’s not! I’m used to report on cultural events, not… whatever this is! Gods I really don’t want to do this, Mathilda told me awful things about him...”

The man was walking behind you at a safe distance, now amused at your ranting. From what he gathered, you were a reporter. Were you here for his brother?

“Yeah, I read the papers too… Are you there yet?”

You were now before the door on which the shining plate of “Aegon Targaryen, Communication Director” was displayed.

You sighed. “Yeah… I’m standing at the door,” you breathed out, looking at your feet, defeated. “Maybe I could just… invent an interview.” Behind you, the man silently laughed at your unprofessionalism, comfortably leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you talk to the door. He was enjoying this far too much.

“You are stalling again… It will be alright. Hang up, and call me when you’re finished.”

“I guess you’re right, I should just, rip the band aid off. Ok… Talk to you soon.”

You hanged up, nervously fidgeting with your phone and puffed. You were staring at the door, gathering the courage to knock. As seconds passed without you moving a muscle, your silent observer then decided to have a little fun. “Can I help you?”

You jumped, startled at the sudden voice so close to you. Arms crossed over his chest, a man was staring at you, the ghost of what you thought to be a smile on his lips. How long has he been there?!

“Oh god you scared me!” you gasped, clutching your hand over your chest. Then you realised how odd your behaviour must have been. “I’m so sorry I was just… umh.”

He arched a brow, waiting for your response. You cleared your throat nervously.

“I came to see Aegon, Aegon Targaryen. I’m Y/N L/N, journalist at The Westerosi.” you smiled awkwardly before extending your hand to him. He looked at you for a moment before taking your hand.

“Aemond Targaryen,” he said as you shook hands.

Of course. You had recognised him at once, a beautiful lilac eye on one side and another piercing prosthetic blue eye on the other, a chiselled jaw line, silver-haired, and so very tall. There stood Aemond Targaryen, the most mysterious of the Targaryen’s siblings. You knew him to be quite intimidating from the pictures you have seen of him, but you did not expect the effect of seeing him in the flesh would have on your body as you let go of his hand. His whole demeanour screamed power and poise. You tried to control the feeling that crept up from your neck to your stomach. You cleared your throat, his intense gaze on you. You nervously fidgeted with your phone again.

“So is he…” you pointed to the door, “Is he in there?” you asked, your voice unsure.

“Yes.”

Aemond simply crossed his arms again, watching you look at the door like if it was an insurmountable obstacle. You were clearly not a fan of his brother.

“Would you like me to knock for you perhaps?” he asked.

“No no! Thank you, I perfectly know how to knock!” you tried to joke as he raised his brow higher. “I just, uhm…”

But then an idea came to your mind. Aemond was the most secretive of his family, never giving interviews, never appearing at social events as much as the others, and he was just there. You didn’t really know if he was as vile as his brother seemed to be, but you knew that if you brought back an exclusive interview of Aemond Targaryen, your boss would be delighted, and might even overlook the fact that you had been… unable to talk to Aegon. You had to take your chance. You turned around to face him.

“Actually, do you have a moment? I am gathering information on the recent changes that occurred in your company. Would you mind answering a few questions…?”

That is an interesting turn of events.

He seemed to pounder the proposition for a moment, and you were certain that he would throw you off, that you had overstepped.

“Very well,” he stated, his face letting nothing appear as you widened your eyes in disbelief. “What do you drink?”

You were so taken aback that you forgot to speak properly.

“Dr-d-” you stammered, “What do I drink?” you repeated.

“Yes. Coffee? Tea? I can have you brought anything you want.”

This man was unsettling. You had to put yourself together. ��Uh... no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Mh.”

His eye was scanning you, and you couldn’t help but fidget on the spot, clearing your throat as you felt naked under his gaze.

“We will be more comfortable in my office. This way.”

Without a glance back at the door you had almost walked in, you followed him to another corridor, and inside a luxurious office. He sat behind his desk, tapped something on his phone and invited you to sit. You did as ordered, thanking him and taking out your pad containing the questions meant for Aegon.

You tried not to be disturbed by the unfaltering stare the second Targaryen son was giving you as you asked question after question. You had quickly rephrased some of them to be more suited for him instead of Aegon, and you thought that it was playing out quite nicely for an unintended interview.

He listened to you attentively, answering each of your questions as concisely as possible, and you could not be anything but impressed by how eloquent he was. You considered it a shame that his family did not use him more in public.

At one point, a beautiful woman that you gathered to be his assistant, entered the room, carrying a hot cup of coffee in hand. Her presence made you stop as she lowered herself to put the cup down next to Aemond, her low cleavage making you regret the fact that you had not taken off your blazer. He thanked her and as she left, her eyes looked at you from head to toe with a sufficient smile before walking her heels to the door and closing it, but not before giving the brightest smile you have ever seen to Aemond. You guessed that being this handsome and rich might have that effect.

He seemed unfazed though as he took a sip of his coffee nonchalantly. You could not help but stare at his throat as he drank the hot liquid, his Adam’s apple slightly pulsating at the movement. You were forced to clear your throat again, snapping out of your trance as he put down the cup.

“So, how would you describe your sister, Rhaenyra, in simple words? How do you see her as a member of your family and as an eminent member of your firm?”

He let your question hang in the air for quite some time, before biting the inside of his cheek and sitting back on his chair. He clearly did not like this one.

“Next question,” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t like that question, so next please.”

You dropped down the pen that was ready to write to look at him with surprise. “You do realise that this interview is about the subdivision of the company, started by your sister.”

“Half-sister. And I understand perfectly. Please continue.”

You hold his gaze for a moment, unsure.

Very well then. “Have you ever considered, as head of the financial branch, to invest in other areas than the one you are currently involved with? Have you ever thought of sponsoring events or… celebrities for instance?”

As he answered your question, relieved that he did not seem crossed by the previous one in any way, you could not help but notice the way he licked his lips as he took another sip of coffee, his tongue slightly peaking out. At this moment, you had completely lost track of what he was saying, and by the time he had finished talking, you internally congratulated yourself for recording the interview on your phone. How very professional of you.

It seemed that your temporary distraction had you more disturbed than you thought as you saw the next question originally written for Aegon on your pad: How does the fact that you work in the same company as your wife influence you r decisions?

This was obviously not a question suited for the man sitting across from you, so you took a moment to try and adapt it to him, but it seemed that you were incapable of coherent thoughts right now.

“Are you involved with anyone?”

The question had left your lips faster than your brain could think. Not that you apparently owned a brain right now by the look of it. You cursed yourself. Big mistake.

You could see how the question had caught him off guard as you blushed and fiddled with your pad, apologising profusely at once.

“I’m so sorry, don’t mind the last one, it was meant for your brother…!” you stammered before realising that it sounded worse. You quickly found the next question, your body heating up.“Where do you see the company in ten years time?”

He had taken a bit more time to answer this one, watching how flustered you were and how your cheeks had reddened, making your skin so appealing to him that he could have sworn that he felt its warmth from this distance. Your nerves were all over the place, but it calmed down as the interview came to an end, taking control of your body again. You thanked him and stood up to shake his hand, promising him to keep him updated.

“Thank you very much for your time, M. Targaryen. I will take your secretary number and notify you when the article will be published.”

He left his place from behind his desk in order to accompany you to the door as you retrieved your coat, bringing with him the sweet scent of sandalwood and coffee. You had to get out of here.

“I look forward to reading it. When you see my brother, please tell him I said to behave.”

Oh. Aegon. It had completely escaped your mind. You undoubtedly felt like you had no obligation at all to go see him now, having obtained the interview of his quite private brother… But you could not tell him that. Instead you just nodded, hoping that he would not accompany you to his brother’s office.

“I will. Although I don’t think I will need anything more from him. I feel like I have everything I need,” you said, tapping on your pad.

“That is a relief. This way you won’t have to… invent an interview. I’m sure your skill lies elsewhere.”

You blushed at this, realising that Aemond had heard a good part of your conversation on the phone. You did not move as he stared at you quite pleased at your reaction.

“I would never… I mean, it was only a joke,” you tried. “I take my job very seriously. It’s just that I am more used to deal with people from other backgrounds.”

“Mh,” he nodded, reaching for the doorknob behind you. You exhaled in relief, the prospect of freedom one move away, but he paused again and did not open the door right away.

“By the way, the answer is no.”

You turned your head to him, almost bumping into his chest. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I am not involved with anyone at the moment.”

You tried to recall when in your life you had been as short of breath as you were now, stuck between the door and the man whose gaze made you feel like the weakest thing on earth. You tried to reply but nothing came, and as you bit your lips in anxiousness you tried not to notice how his eye had quickly lowered to the movement.

He only smirked and opened the door, stepping aside to allow you space. You swallowed as you quickly passed him, hands clutching at your coat in tension.

“Have a good day Miss L/N.”

And then he closed the door, leaving you to face the pretty assistant studying you from behind her desk, clearly annoyed at you, for whatever reason. You rapidly took the contact you needed from her and exited the building, welcoming the fresh air and grabbing your phone, calling your boss right away. Your lungs were on fire.

“Is it done?”

“Well, not exactly. I managed to have much better.” You were overselling it, but it was a miss or hit situation.

“What did you do Y/N?”

“I had obtained a meeting with the one and only Aemond Targaryen! He answered all of the questions on the subdivision, and even managed to get the intel you could not have if it had been with Aegon. This is good for us! You know he rarely gives any interviews.”

You were met with silence.

“Y/N…”

“Listen, I promise you to do the best article I have ever written on Dragon Inc. You will not be disappointed, I swear. Give me a chance Vander.”

“Y/N, how do you think Aegon Targaryen will react if he learns that he had not been consulted first?”

“Do we… really care about that, sir?” you asked, slightly appalled as you considered it.

“He is the main correspondent with our newspaper. Mathilda has always gone to him when we needed insight on Dragon Inc!”

You swallowed. This would not stop you, you had to make it work.

“All due respect sir, if you wanted that kind of interview, you should have sent her, not me. I managed to have an exclusive one and I believe in what I have gathered. You should too.”

Your boss went silent again, and as you saw this as a good sign, that we would be considering it at least, you continued.

“I will send you a draft tonight, and I’ll prove to you that this paper is worth publishing. I can assure you that Aemond’s Targaryen’s insight will raise the reader's interest much more than Aegon’s.”

Some more seconds of silence.

“Very well. I don’t like this, but I trust you Y/N, you have rarely disappointed me. I expect it before tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Then you quickly texted your friend, summarising your encounter with the one-eyed Targaryen before you jumped in a taxi and went home, reading over your notes.

Yep. Aemond Targaryen would not leave your mind any time soon.

Your boss had been happy with the draft, and now you were at your desk, writing the actual article. You had taken your time in scolding Mathilda and Sam, blaming them for forcing you to take on a task you knew would not have you so riled up, but your friends had only sympathised with you, and you had not been able to stay mad at them for long.

By noon the article was finished, and you had to wait for tomorrow’s paper for it to be published. You had managed to progress on your other projects in the meantime, but now it was dark outside and you were the only one left in the office. Again.

The piece of paper next to your keyboard with Aemond Targaryen’s contact information, was now becoming more and more difficult to ignore as you were soon to go home. All day you had glanced at it, hesitating between sending your completed interview to him now or waiting for him to discover it with everyone else in the morning.

Taking a deep breath, you finally took the piece of paper, typed the e-mail address and attached your article to it before thinking of something personal to write.

Nothing came as you simply wrote the most formal of e-mails, giving him the time of publication and thanking him again. As you pressed send, you sat back into your chair and stared at the screen as your mind began to imagine him receiving your e-mail, how his brows would knit together while his eye would dart over the lines you had written.

Shaking your head, you cursed yourself for losing yourself in such thoughts before shutting your computer down. You needed sleep.

Aemond Targaryen had looked your name up as soon as you had departed from his office, curious to know more about the woman who had forsaken his brother and dared ask an interview of him, Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

He stared at the screen with interest as he browsed The Westerosi ’s archives online, seeing the several articles you had written over the years, mostly about city events or local cultural activities, smiling each time he read your comments about this or that particular representation. Now he was having dinner with his family, listening to his mother’s complaints about his eldest sister again, when he felt his phone vibrate. He could not ignore the satisfaction he felt when your name appeared on the screen next to an e-mail, and wasted no time reading what you had sent him. You had done a good job, he liked that you remained factual in your writing, and he could not help the disappointment he felt when he saw the few lines you had written to thank him in your message. As he put down his phone again, he remembered how you never seemed to miss anything that happened in the city. He counted on that.

-0- Part 2

A/N: Any resemblance to a particular book/movie was unintended, I realised it afterwards. (Oops)

[justin-chapmanswers]

Hello Mr.Chapman!

I wanted to bring this to your attention with the newest episode! I loved it, it was very good! however, there was this one scene that rubbed me and a bunch of other disabled people in the community the wrong way.

The scene with bot and telling Cabby the wrong information about them and then asking Cabby to not write anything down felt very off,, as someone who suffers bad memory loss from amnesia and such and tends to write things down to remember really threw me and a bunch of others off! i’m really hoping you and the team can bring this up and talk about it and listen to us on this topic! it would mean a lot to me and the other disabled people in the community ❤️

Hello!

Sorry for the delayed response to this conversation, we've all been traveling and I just arrived back home. But yes! Received a lot of questions regarding this here on Tumblr (as well as positive messages that I super-appreciate but of course this deserves to be addressed first), and I definitely want to hit on it before I get swept away again.

Thank you (and everyone!) for all of your messages regarding this topic. I have been reading and ingesting so much of this conversation and am very glad for everyone who's spoken up on the topic. I understand there had been debate regarding what's right and what's wrong with this angle of the Bot-Cabby story, and Cabby's depiction as a whole, but I'd like to put all the comments on the side of "I don't see it that way because xyz" to the side for the purpose of this post (although I appreciate your perspective as well, especially those who personally connect to the material).

I do want to start the dive-in with a sorry to who felt overwhelmed by this conversation as a whole, because clearly elements within the writing could have been tweaked and we wouldn't be needing to have this conversation. But absolutely a good one to have, anyway, because the show's history has been far from perfect in this regard. And, even more-so, want to say sorry to anyone who felt personally hurt by anything in the episode that read as ableist. While this was far from any intention, it certainly lead to plenty of hurt.

I figure I'll try to lay out as much of this conversation as I can, so it's clean and transparent all in one place, but of course feel free to keep the conversation going. It shouldn't end with me, whether that's more asks here or in your own circles.

I'll start with intentions within the writing regarding the more common talking points of the episode, and then hit on where things could have been corrected in execution. As Anonymous noted earlier, there's the segment where Bot presents Cabby with incorrect information. Understandably, leading a lot of people to feel uncomfortable with how this affects Cabby, who has difficulty with information. On my end, this was never really desired for this to come across as good normal healthy behavior. With the queer narrative in mind, Bot is insecure and uses this as a device to cope with their stress over being put under a microscope while they're still learning to feel confident. And have a Bow file in front of them. Hence Bot rejecting open-communication about Test Tube, offered by Cabby early on, to continuing to make outlandish claims about themself, as well as opening up authentically with true statements once they felt that safety and connection that they've needed. Starting the two off in a really rough place, and eventually getting the two to hear each other a little better and start communicating more healthily.

But does that make it any more comfortable to watch when you have Cabby's history in mind? Probably not. Perhaps out of all criticisms that had been laid out, this is the only one that I had not considered coming up in the many months since this episode's been written, until episode release. No excuse, that's on me. I think a lot of it was softened in my head by the fact that Bot had been completely unaware of all Cabby goes through, and that when Bot finally gains some insight, they soften up towards Cabby. I've seen others levy that note in these discussions, but ultimately it's not my place to say. I completely see now why this can be discomforting, especially in its presentation as being doing in such a light playful manner, no matter whether or not it was intended to be seen as a flaw that is fixed in the context of the episode.

There's also the other note that Anonymous mentioned here, regarding Bot telling Cabby to not write anything down. Intentions aren't too different are exciting, all very similar to last time regarding queer insecurity, Bot not understanding Cabby's situation, and the goal for the episode being to show they start in an unhealthy place and land in a good one. I think where a lot of that falters, were that to be the right starting place for the story at all (and understandable if you argue that it shouldn't have been) is not giving Cabby more support before the end of the episode to show that Bot understands them as much as Cabby gets to prove she's gotten to understand Bot.

There was initially space given to that in the episode but to try to tighten things a bit, we figured it'd be okay to hold onto that since there's still time to explore that. But I've given the advice before, even within the II team, to make sure that these types of issues conclude within the context of the episode as to not give any wrong ideas as-to what the takeaway should be. Unfortunately, I overlooked my own advice this time around. I do like the moments given to Bot and Cabby to show that they have learned to support one-another after learning about each other on an intimate level, but I think it's important to vocalize what these understandings are more explicitly.

Aaaaand also in general I've been wishing that I had made that moment a little softer, were it to be there at all. Between script completion and episode release I'm always poking holes in what I've written, especially as I watch it go from page to screen and things may get adapted in ways I didn't (but often should have) anticipated. That line in particular I've found to be pretty harsh in vibe for a while now, so we're on the same page. If it had to be a beat, I think something softer and more communicative could have been helpful. I do think it's fair for Bot to want to put up boundaries, but it could have been an open dialogue on the subject.

The thought then was that while Bot has discomfort with Cabby, due to their difficult history, they would offer Cabby an alternative accommodation via a more healthy form of communication and repetition that could then work as a compromise. But yeah, completely see why that's also a point of iffiness too, as the files are the intended accommodation. This was all less intended to be another finger-wag at Cabby's files in the way that was presented before Cabby returned to the game, but more-so to highlight how difficult the subject is for Bot. But the way that this could ignite both side of the coin should've been accounted for.

On a similar note, there was another point brought up in a separate ask-

"did she really have to us her file as a ramp? i hope that this isn’t going to go into the direction of ‘oh she’s cured now!’"

Similar to above, it's another case of me mentally prioritizing the story of Bot for their concluding-ish episode and their bond with Cabby, as opposed to Cabby as an individual. I had a visual in mind for a very long time of the Bow file crushed at the end of Bot's journey without any intention of it reflecting on how Cabby uses files, but rather about Bot feeling more comfortable in their robotic skin and others understanding them as an individual.

That is to say, no, there was never any intention that this would indicate that Cabby is done with using her files to collect information for better-navigating their life, and for her broader love of information-gathering. it is just to say, whether correct or not to implement, that they understand Bot's boundaries and see why having a Bow file for Bot can be seen as distasteful, now that they better understand who Bot is. Cabby still has the files, and there's always been every desire to continue to shed light on her story and perspective in the future. And now, with more consideration.

An aside, I suppose, but I do love Cabby. One of my favorites, always has been. In every episode I've written with her in which she is a notable character so far (10, 11, 14), I've wanted to lean into exploring how Cabby navigates difficult social scenarios in which, no matter how strained it may be at the start, we land in a place of others learning to see the plentiful good in her and/or show that they're willing to stick by her side wholeheartedly. With the Indefinite Islanders, Yin-Yang, Bot, etc. I say all of this to try to clarify that I've never had any intention of vilifying Cabby, and I'm really sorry to all of those who connect closely to her who feel as though I was trying to make her out to be a bad person. Again, although the intention was never negative, it's the outcome that matters most- so I am sorry.

And I'm not looking for anyone to write to me "great, all good now, all forgiven" or anything. I'm just looking to continue an important conversation. I know even before the episode's release, there's been plenty of this discussion here on Tumblr, which I am appreciative to have been able to look through and analyze as thoroughly as I can to understand every angle.

But yes, thanks for bearing through this long block of text. If anything comes across as messy, apologies, running on two or three or so hours of sleep, but I am happy to hit on anything that needs clarification or other elements later after work. I don't see myself making any big posts like this again soon, but at the very very least I'll read over what's sent in the ask box as always.

While I'm good with any and all continued conversation, my only request is that you all please just go easy on the rest of the crew. It's been a very emotionally-intense last few weeks, and a lot of the team is just in an overwhelmed state at the moment for a thousand different reasons. They're all trying their best to do and handle everything. But it can be a lot, especially when it's dealing with the Internet, and when it's thousands of voices screaming in your direction all at once. Thank you!