#and he is blue. and also very swift. this is what he is known for in fact.

[yourauthorjen]

| THE BEST DAY | — joaquin torres

MASTERLIST

| synopsis: | a dating couple, a bouquet toss, and a wedding. what could go wrong?

| includes: | joaquintorres x fem!reader, fluff, cliche, no use of, no use of y/n, teasing, wedding stuff, reader wears blue dress, really nosy relatives, manspreading

| word count: | 2.1k

| a/n: | inspired by the song the best day by taylor swift and like half a dozen bouquet toss reels on instagram. also i have limited knowledge on southern american wedding culture/traditions so if there is anything wrong please correct me!

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

IF YOU HAD known that an after party for a wedding could contain enough energy to fuel two Cirque Du Soleils, you would’ve worn sneakers instead of heels, jeans instead of a dress, and harnessed enough mental capacity to be tackled by Joaquin’s entire extended family before you even reached the reception tent.

You adjusted the soft blue satin of your dress, smoothing the fabric where it hugged your hips, feeling suddenly aware of the way it caught in the light. It was simple but stunning—a cowl neckline that shimmered with every step, and something you had spent eons debating on whether or not you should’ve gotten it.

But it was worth it, because you had barely stepped out of the car, before several aunties rushed over, each one of them in brightly patterened skirts and tops, all surrounding you and Joaquin in a flurry of hands and flower scented perfume wafted.

One by one, they pulled you into a hug, spewing question after question; and by the time one of Joaquin’s uncles managed to wrangle them away you had answered “are you going to get married?” one too many times.

Joaquin on the other hand, was no help whatsoever. He just stood there, all smug in his navy suit and open-collared shirt, cheeks flushed with pride. He looked devastating in the sun, and he knew it, too—but instead he just watched you get circled by half a dozen women who shared his nose, his smile, and his never ending enthusiasm for you.

But it wasn’t just the aunties that took an interest in you. Several of Joaquin’s little nephews and nieces had begun trailing after the two of you, half of them already covered in grass stains and mud, giggling and whispering behind your back with large, dutiful eyes.

One of the braver girls—probably no older than six, swallowed by a white dress full of pristine lace and an aggressively large bow—marched right up to you as you were nursing your champagne under the reception tent. Her shiny black shoes were scuffed to hell, and curls frizzed from the humidity as she stared at you with curious eyes.

“Are you his girlfriend?” she asked, pointing directly at Joaquin, who stood a few feet away, talking to his uncle.

You blinked in surprise, completely caught off guard. “Uh… yeah, I am.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you repeated, smiling a little. “Is that okay?”

She crossed her arms, cocking her hip to the side in pure judgment. “But you’re way too pretty to be his girlfriend.”

Your jaw dropped with half a laugh caught in your throat. “Oh my god.”

“And he’s like… medium-handsome,” she continued with a shrug. “But you’re, like, really, really pretty.”

Joaquin turned just in time to catch that. “Did you just call me ‘medium-handsome’, Alejandra Luciana Torres?”

The girl ignored him, still studying you like you were an exhibit. “Are you also smart?”

“I—uh—”

“She is,” Joaquin interrupted, marching behind you before resting a hand on your waist. “Very smart and way out of my league. So let’s all be cool about it, okay?”

The little girl tilted her head up at him with still narrowed eyes. “Then how did you get her?”

“Great question,” you said under your breath, sipping your drink to hide your grin.

“I have charm,” Joaquin told her, pressing a hand to his chest. “And skills.”

“No,” she said flatly. “You have bad haircut.”

A loud “OHH!” rang out from the other kids, and one little boy collapsed onto the grass dramatically, while Joaquin’s mouth dropped open like he’d just been slapped in the face.

“What? My hair is fine,” he cried patting his loose curls resting across his forehead. “Your just mad that I look this good without trying.”

“Okay, Mr. Medium-Handsome,” you teased, “Let’s go before you end up throwing a tantrum.”

He sputtered, “I— you— you’re lucky I love you.”

You snorted and cupped his cheek, giving him a quick sloppy kiss to shut him up. The kids however, weren't as impressed. Behind you, a chorus of 'EWWW!''s rang out as you pulled away, and Alejandra— Joaquin's little cousin recoiled with enough force to make a rubber hand snapped. A few other kids screamed, one boy slapped a hand over his eyes while another started shrieking: "She's got Uncle J's cooties!"

Joaquin on the other hand looked completely smug. "See told I could get her."

The kids scurried away, as you rolled your eyes and patted his chest. "God, you're such a dork."

The sun had just begun to dip when the music started pounding over the speakers, and the soft afterglow casted a gold shine over the venue. You were halfway to the drink table, reaching out for a glass of wine when Joaquin slowed beside you, eyeing the growing crowd with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

You raised your eyebrow at him with a suspicious look. "Joaquin, absolutely not."

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "What?"

"You're trying to convince me to dance, aren't you?"

"No..." he trailed off. "Well, okay, maybe I do. But y'know if you want to break a poor man’s heart—”

The words hadn't even left his mouth before you were already dragging him towards the sea of bodies, swishing their hips as Reggaeton blasted from the speakers, and cheers going up from the crowd. Music pulsed through your body, and Joaquin was already smiling. His moves were suave and easy, twirling you around like he’d done it a hundred times before. There was no resisting the way he moved with it, smooth and confident, one hand finding your waist, the other catching your wrist mid-spin.

Laughter bubbled out of you before you could stop it. It was impossible not to smile with him looking at you like that, especially with the scent of citrus and champagne drift in the air. Joaquin pulled you closer, cheek brushing yours for a beat, his voice low against your ear.

"Te estás divirtiendo?”

You blinked at him, caught between the rhythm of the song and the heat of his breath. “I have no idea what you just said,” you yelled over the music, laughing. “But I love you too!”

His grin was as wide as yours, shaking his head as he leaned in again. “That works.”

It didn’t take long before the layers started coming off. His suit jacket was the first to go slung somewhere over a chair between Suavemente and Chantaje. His tie was loosened, then vanished entirely, stuffed into his pocket after you pulled at it with a teasing smirk. And by the time he spun you into his arms again, the top few buttons of his shirt had popped open, sleeves rolled high up to his biceps, skin glowing under the lights and that ever-present grin stretched across his face like he hadn’t smiled in years.

His forearms flexed, and his face was flushed with a sheen coat of sweat. His hair was messy and fell over his forehead in a sweep, loose curls stuck to the back of his neck. You had barely noticed how long you’d been out there until he leaned down, your hips still swaying to the music as his lips brushed against your temple.

“Water?” he asked, voice warm against your skin.

“Please,” you breathed.

The two of you peeled off from the crowd, his hand slipping into yours as you made your way toward the drinks. You grabbed a glass of something cold and fizzy, pressing it to your cheek with a sigh, fanning your red cheeks.

When you glanced over at Joaquin, he was sprawled over his chair, legs wide open and hands tucked neatly behind his head. He looked far too pleased with himself, eyes half-lidded as he watched you with a lazy grin, shirt clinging to his chest from the heat, curls damp at the edges. It was infuriating, and you had to tear your eyes away from the beautiful sight beside you to keep your sanity.

Instead, you focused on the group gathering just several feet away from you, a swirling knot of women in heels and sundresses already jostling for position behind the bride. Laughter spilled from their circle, some crouching low with hands on their knees, others bouncing on the balls of their feet, all caught up in the buzz of anticipation.

“What are they doing over there?” you murmured softly underneath your breath.

Joaquin glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in with a lopsided grin. “Bouquet toss, you should go join them.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” he said, nudging you playfully. “Don’t you want to fight a bunch of strangers for symbolic flowers?”

“Hard pass,” you said, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, “Besides, I’m not that close to your family, I’d feel weird.”

But he was still watching you with a grin on his face like he knew something you didn’t. You narrowed your eyes at him, ready to fire back when suddenly a small thud sounded in your lap.

Your conversation halted, as your eyes widened at the soft bundle of roses and baby’s breaths now nestled against your chest. Your breath caught in your throat and your mouth turned into sandpaper, gritty and scratchy as you stared in shock.

It took you two tries before you could find your voice again, and by then the crowd had erupted like thunder. Applauds and wolf whistles sounded and several aunties squealed as they all rushed towards you.

You shot of from your chair and turned to Joaquin, eyes wide with horror, bouquet still clutched in your hands. “I— I didn’t—”

Joaquin looked stunned, before his mouth curled into a delighted, wicked grin. “Holy fuck.”

All eyes seemed to turn on you, digging into your back before then turning to Joaquin.

“Oh my God!” a voice shrieked as footsteps pounded towards you. “Mija! Oh my dear, I’m finally going to have a grandchild!”

Your jaw dropped as Joaquin’s mother stretched her arms out, eyes wide with joy as she swept you into a hug.

“I— no— no,” you tried, “It wasn’t—”

“You caught the bouquet!” his mother squealed, “This is a sign from the universe!” She turned towards her son. “You! I want two grandchildren with her pretty face and your eyes. Fate has already decided.”

“Mamá!” Joaquin nearly choked, eyes wide as he half-laughed, half-pleaded. “No one’s having any babies yet.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, mijo,” she said waving her hands around. “Your father and I made you after a wedding—”

“Nope!” Joaquin clapped his hands over his ears. “We’re done. No. Shut it down.”

You stood frozen, bouquet still in your hands, heart pounding from the sudden storm of attention. Around you, a chorus of aunts and cousins began chiming in.

“I give it six months.”

“Ya gotta put the ring on it soon, J.”

“I’m willing to put 20 dollars that their wedding will be at the end of this year.”

“But she’s too pretty to marry Uncle Joaquin!”

Joaquin’s dad—thankfully, mercifully—stepped in saving the two of you from anymore unsolicited advice. “Okay, okay,” he said loudly, grinning as he herded everyone back toward the dance floor. “Let’s give them some air.”

He winked at you on the way past. “Congrats, kiddo, you’ve just got 100 more people added to your wedding guest list.”

You exhaled like you’d just escaped a house fire, dropping into the nearest chair, bouquet still clutched like in your lap. “God,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “I just wanted a drink.”

Joaquin dropped into the seat beside you, his collar crooked, and hair messier than ever. He looked far too pleased with himself for someone whose mother just tried to spiritually marry him off.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging your knee with his.

“I’m alive,” you muttered. “Barely.”

He chuckled, leaning back with a lazy sprawl. “They love you.”

“They terrify me.”

A beat passed as laughter, music, and the buzz of energy still lingered around the tent like fog. You were about to close your eyes when he leaned in, his voice low, warm, a grin in it even before he spoke.

“You know…” he murmured near your ear, “I wouldn’t mind if we had kids someday.”

Your head whipped toward him. “Joaquin.”

“I’m just saying,” he said innocently, holding up his hands. “I wouldn’t mind seeing mini versions of us running around the house like maniacs.”

You swatted his arm—hard—and he winced with a laugh.

“Marry me first,” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest, “before you even think about that.”

Joaquin grinned, rubbing where you hit him. “So that’s not a no?”

You groaned and sank lower in your chair, pulling a napkin over your face. “I need three years and a gallon of wine before we talk about that again, so my answer is maybe.”

He laughed, soft and slow, then leaned over and kissed your cheek anyway—careful, sweet, and just enough to make your stomach flip again.

“Three years,” he whispered. “That’s a deal.”

[illwilledomen]

At the Riverbank

Steve raised his axe high in the air, and with a swift, clean swing, one piece of wood became two. He chucked the two small pieces into his pile, which had grown to a considerable size as he had worked through the morning. Winter was coming soon. The Stonemason family’s eldest daughter had just had a little baby, and Steve wanted to make sure they stayed warm. 

The soft trickling of the nearby creek beckoned Steve over to take a break. He did just that, throwing his axe aside and plonking himself down into the soft riverside grass. He closed his eyes and listened to the water for a moment. 

It was time to practise.

My name is Steve. I live in the village of Creek-in-Meadow. I like the colour blue. I am something called a person. 

Steve opened his eyes again and frowned. Other villagers could say so much more in an introduction, but Steve knew very few things about himself. 

He tried again, gleaning his mind for any information that he was certain was true.

My name is Steve. I live in the village of Creek-in-Meadow. I like the colour blue, and my favourite flowers are poppies. I am something called a person, and I am a Man.

No, he wasn’t sure if he was a Man. He didn’t really know what those were, or how they were different from Women. 

My name is Steve. I live in the village of Creek-in-Meadow. I have a horse named Butterscotch. I like the colour blue, and my favourite flowers are poppies. I am something called a person–

A branch snapped, and Steve shook himself awake. He looked around for the source of the noise. 

For a split second, he saw a pale, freckled face watching him from behind a tree, before disappearing with a frightened gasp. 

The water trickled on, and Steve carefully averted his eyes from the tree.

The face peeked out again. Steve slowly looked back, and once again the blur of white and ginger ducked behind the tree trunk. He decided to fix his gaze on the riverbank below them.

Steve felt a little nervous, but not scared. He had seen them before. Not all too much of them, they were awfully timid, but he’d known they were there.

“Hello.” Steve tentatively called out. “It’s a nice morning.”

The face slowly peeked out. It was rounded and thin, framed with fiery red hair, with big green eyes and freckles. Their nostrils flared with nervous breaths as they clung to the tree. 

“Do you live here?” Steve asked. The face didn’t respond, they only stared, flinching a bit when he spoke. 

“Um… My name’s Steve. I live in– I live in a village, and my favourite horse– My fa– Um, I have a horse.” Steve cursed himself for messing up his carefully planned introduction. “Do… Do you know what a horse is?”

The face seemed to have relaxed a tad, and moved out further from behind the tree. Steve could now see their hair was long, tied into a braid. They also wore a stained green tunic. 

“...You can ride them. Horses.” Steve swallowed nervously. “I don’t live here. I live in a village. In case you forgot.”

The face and body was now a person, standing with only their hand on the tree. They watched Steve curiously, their fear ebbing away slowly but surely.

Steve slowly looked back up, and this time they didn’t flinch when their eyes met. 

“My papa is a cleric. He’s not really– He didn’t get married or nothing, but he found me. I’m not a cleric. My profession is doing things for people. I, um, I like to help. I can make… I can make things too.”

Steve rummaged around in his pockets, before procuring a little wooden statue of a villager. Steve held it out for the visitor to see. “You see it? I made it.”

The figure craned forward, before they crouched down for a better look. They looked back at Steve with a blank expression, though Steve sensed no displeasure. 

“I can make other things too. Like houses. I am real strong. I can make things without getting tired. I dunno why, I was born in a funny way. That’s why my nose is small, see.” Steve pressed a finger into his nose. The figure furrowed their brows in intrigue. They lifted a finger, and pressed it to their own.

“Hey!” Steve grinned. “You’re like me.”

The person’s lips twitched with the ghost of a smile, and they nodded ever so slightly. They glanced to the side, a hint of trepidation in their movement, before they sucked in a breath and pointed to their chest. Out came a toneless, croaky voice, wavering and whistling as if it had not been used for a very long time. “A–leks.”

Steve furrowed his brows. 

“A… Alex. Name is Alex.”

“Oh!” Steve paused, and nodded in understanding. “Hello, Alex.” 

Alex sniffed, nodding back, before pointing at Steve. “Stefe.” 

“Aye! That’s my name.” Steve beamed. “Are you a person?”

Alex nodded. “Yes.”

“So am I. I didn’t know there was anyone else like me.” 

“Me as well.”

“Where’d you come from?” Steve bit back his questions though his mind was on fire. He wasn’t alone! He wasn’t alone!

“Nowhere.”

“Nowhere? Me too. I was found.”

“By village?” Alex glanced to the side nervously.

“Yes. And they are very nice to me.”

“Hm.” Alex trailed off, hunching their shoulders. “Good.”

“Do you want to meet them?” Steve asked, sitting up at the idea. 

Alex shrank back a bit toward the tree. They glanced to the side reluctantly and shook their head. “No.”

“Oh.” Steve hung his head. “Are you sure?”

Alex nodded their head vigorously, their eyebrows knitted together in a fearful expression. “I can’t.”

“Can I still see you, Alex? Outside of the village?”

Alex thought for a moment, before nodding. “Yes. Here.”

Steve’s smile returned. “Okay. Here. I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”

Alex nodded, smiling a bit themselves. “Tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Alex.”

“...Goodbye, Steve.”

The two departed, having arrived as halves and leaving as whole. They were not alone.

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part one)

Steve Rogers x f!Reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve is about to walk out of your life, causing you to let go of everything you two have, and everything that could be.

📝 yes, the title is inspired by Taylor Swift's upcoming song The Bolter. In my interpretation and in this story, it is meant to symbolize someone who runs from someone or something. A potential relationship. A loved one. And the choice is not easy, one that may bring a lot of remorse or catharsis? Anyhow - Steve IS a bolter. In the beginning, at least.

themes/warnings : language, angst!!!, pining, unrequited love, Steve is kind of an asshole for leaving (but we love him anyway)

word count : < 1k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist ▪︎ next chapter

This is it.

This must be what true heartbreak feels like.

Steve, your best friend and the unrequited love of your life, has decided to volunteer to return the Infinity Stones to their respective timelines. Very noble of him.

But he also confessed that he plans to stay with Peggy, now that he finally has the chance.

They can have the dance that was stolen from them, decades ago.

Steve can be with his true love it seems. And that person is just not you.

Well, fuck my life.

"Doll," he smiles ruefully, both of your hands encased in his, "say something."

Say something, he says. What is there to say - I'm in love with you, I want you to stay with me? Don't leave me? I want you stay - for Bucky, for Sam, for Nat. For everyone. For me?

What can you fucking say that will ever be enough? In the 7 years that you've known Steve, you've grown to love him. As a friend, as family. Then, almost inevitably, as the only keeper of your heart. And he knows this.

But he's still leaving. Because, at the end of the day, Peggy is the keeper of his heart.

To you, Steve has always been everything good. Golden boy perfection, with a heart that would put a saint's to shame. Sunshine, laughter, companionship, standing tall and unwavering in his ideals. His gleaming red, white, and blue tendrils snaking their way into the very fibres of your being and taking root.

But now, all you feel is empty. You were angry, when he first told you, days ago. You had almost screamed at him, told him how unfair he was being. You made a long, drawn-out case for Bucky. How he doesn't deserve this. But really, you were making a case for yourself.

Stay, you had said.

He simply smiled, without any mirth. Not like his usual on-brand Steve Rogers gesture of sincerity. He smiled and it did not reach his eyes. He was sad, or maybe he pitied you. And that made you even angrier.

Until minutes later, when you finally broke down, and sobbed quietly in his arms.

"I hate you," you muttered against the creases of his shirt.

"I love you," he said back, and you hated him even more for it. He doesn't get to say that to you, in that way. Not in the same way he would say to Peggy.

Now, right before stepping onto the platform that will cause him to vanish from your life, he says it again.

"You do know that I love you, right?" His smile is genuine, if not a little nervous. He hoped you would be as accepting as Bucky, and send him off with just a rueful look. A gentle, final word. A sweet farewell that he can take with him as a reminder of all the times you spent together.

"I know," you breathe, relenting. Steve does not like that your eyes are glazed over, empty. Like you're not taking him in at all. You take notice of the resulting sag in his shoulders, out of character from the dignified stride he sported as he was saying goodbye to the others.

A big part of you wants to remain indignant. So what if he's hurt or uncomfortable due to your coldness? It serves him right.

"Come here," he whispers, and it comes across a silent plea. Come here? Will you, please?

You take just one small step closer, but he is already ahead, wrapping his arms around your frame. Your stony mask breaks as your cheek presses against his chest, away from his view. His chest plate glistens from your tears, but you don't have it in you to wipe them away.

When he pulls away to look down at you, his heart breaks. He cradles your face in his hands as you look up at him through wet eyelashes, and it's almost enough to make him consider staying.

But then you say, "It will all be okay, Steve." You gingerly pry his hands from your cheeks, giving them a comforting squeeze. "We will be okay."

You look behind you, where Bucky stands watching the exchange, and he offers an encouraging nod.

You take a step back, mustering everything that you possibly can, all the love you have for Steve, to give him one last genuine smile.

"Go get your girl."

Read part two here.

The way I was making myself upset while writing this - god I love angst!!! ~~~

I was gonna keep going, make it even more brutal, but I'll save that for the upcoming parts. It will have some Bucky x reader as well 🖤

God Bless America('s ass).

oh, and let me know if you wish to be tagged!

[ebsmind]

My Little Treasure | president!Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : being the presidents mistress isn’t easy. even when another woman comes out saying she’s having an affair with him.

word count : 8.5k (the longest ive ever written BE PROUD OF ME)

warning(s) : this is purely based off of shonda rhimes SCANDAL sjiwiejdj, angst, longing (kinda? idk), cheating/infidelity (nellie deserves better), reader pushes her feeling aside, timo being called nico’s personal bitch AHAHAHA, murder (mentioned in case), non accurate descriptions of politics and law stuff, like 2-3 mentions of vomit , use of Y/N (I tried not too but I just couldn't), tbh there’s not a lot of nico x reader IM SORRY part 2 will make up for it, heavy makeout session, smut kinda? idk but next part will be smutty TRUST, getting caught by timo (what the hell Timo), VIOLENCE aka just a slap in the face, one flashback spicy scene and i think that's it!

a/n : LISTEN LISTEN before i say ANYTHING i just wanted to say that i know nico isn’t american but im currently hyper fixated on him and only him and i just started watching scandal again SO I HAD TO so please if you don’t like the “accuracy” don’t read it! this is FICTIONAL but yeah here we are! this closely follows the first episode from season 1! this is a long oneeeee! i’ve also changed the names of Abby, Quinn, Harrison, Huck, AND Cyrus (you’ll see who I change him with 😏) I also go along with the case that’s happening so this is semi like a mystery but not? idk how to explain but you’ll see as you read. send me something in my inbox if you want me to elaborate on anything about the side characters! i definitely want to turn this into an au so send me something so i can write about it or talk about it! here’s the mood board! this is also my second time writing anything spicy so please bear with me, this whole fic idea really had me out of my comfort zone so it isn't my best writing but I still wanted to get this out!

The clicks of your So Kate’s are heard throughout the law firm. Everyone knows it’s you, just by the way you walk. It’s swift and carries determination, you are on a mission. You present yourself with a sense of purpose to your colleagues. Scratch that, they’re family. Despite them technically being your coworkers, you would do anything for the four of them. From saving Gwen from her violent ex-husband to Kurt, a soldier who had served in the United States CIA’s top secret, off the books, B-613 program who ended up being dumped on the streets to beg for food, you saved them and they were all you had. 

You step into the standard-sized conference room, and the extensive window along the back wall displays an orange-to-blue hue. The sun is setting and making it known that the end of the day is near. You first make eye contact with Blair, the senior associate at the firm. She stops her conversation amongst everyone and before she can greet you, Kurt, who is sitting at the very right end of the table, utters, “Perla Schmitz killed herself, channel 5.” 

You make no time to strut to the table and grab the TV remote, which had been sitting next to Blair. You don’t need to change the channel once you press the power button on the remote, it’s all you watch in the firm—across the 55’ inch screen, displayed in bold lettering ‘Perla Schmitz (26) found dead in her home’. You take a second to yourself. Perla had been caught cheating on her husband, who was a very conservative congressman, but that wasn’t the icing on the cake. The guy she was having an affair with? He murdered her husband, brutally. 27 stab wounds to the chest, his head almost decapitated because of how much force was used to slit his throat. If someone were to ask you, you’d say she had it coming. 

You turn to the group and raise a finger in the air as you start to speak. “We knew this was coming, let’s not pretend that she wasn’t the one cheating on her husband.” 

Perla came into your office late last Friday night, around 11:25. You had stayed longer than you originally wanted to, needing to finish up some paperwork that had to be done for one of the previous clients you had. What a way to bring in the new year, but you weren’t complaining. 

“Exactly! I knew she didn’t have enough willpower to continue her life. She took the easy way out, man.” You take a seat at the left end side of the table, parallel to Kurt while Neil, another associate and close friend of yours finishes his veracious remark. You decide it’s best to tell Neil and everyone else to drop the topic, but before you can open your mouth, the firm doors open. The 7-foot ebony-colored wood doors reveal a man with black hair and blue eyes, maybe mid to late 20s. The first thing you notice is how his eyes tear up before he speaks, not how he’s covered in blood. 

“I-…I didn’t kill her I swear! She was my best friend, we were gonna get married!” 

Your irises scan over the pinned evidence on the whiteboard, it had been approximately 18 hours since the 6’2 blood blood-covered man had walked into your firm. Sully St. James comes from an extremely well-respected family. His father was a Veteran from the Vietnam War. Sully himself had done two tours in Iraq and received the Medal of Honor. Having someone as well respected as him, show up to the front door of your firm, asking for help wasn’t new but you were determined to help the man not get convicted as the killer in his girlfriend’s murder case. You needed time, but the US attorney general David Rosen was stubborn. 

“Okay! So, according to Sully, he had just come home from the bar down on 9th St, called SOST, he then walked into the bathroom where the crime scene is, saw Paige’s body on the ground,” Blair points out and before she can finish her sentence Kurt cuts her off. 

“Paige suffered from 2 bullets to the chest and 1 to the head. This wasn’t a freak accident, someone wanted her dead.” Kurt crosses his arms and moves up from the far end of the table. He was correct, but your gut couldn’t help but wail that Sully was not the cause. 

Blair continues to explain the approximate details, “Here’s the weird part, Sully calls the police but before they can get there he flies, and he flies here.” She takes a step away from the whiteboard and makes eye contact with you. She can sense what you’re already going to say. Blair knows you, and she knows you like the back of her hand. 

“My gut tells me that he didn’t do this. Something is missing. I need more, all of you need to try to find something, anything! Anything that can clear this man’s alibi. He said it himself that he loved her and that she was his best friend. I believe him.” You step up from the chair you were sitting in and start heading towards the conference room doors when your cell phone starts to ring. Grabbing it out of your left pocket, the name “Timo Meier” is displayed across the screen. You huff in response. 

He needs you right now and you know if Timo were to tell you to head to the White House as soon as possible you would and it wouldn’t end in a way you would like. Yet, you still manage to press the green button, confirming the call. 

“What do you want.” You’re busy and Timo knows it. This isn’t some ‘Oh hi! How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you in a while phone call. Timo didn’t have time for that, being the White House’s Chief of Staff to Nico Hischiers personal bitch, he never had time.

Timo sighs, you can already picture him, sitting at his desk, elbow resting on it, his thumb and pointer finger trying to relieve his throbbing headache. Timo did so much for the President of the United States and somehow that included calling you on a random Tuesday afternoon. 

“He needs you to come in. Something happened and we need you to make it go away.” Timo lets you take a second to respond. Already sensing that the situation was substandard, it had been months since you had last spoken to Timo and maybe even half a year since you’ve seen Nico. Physically. It wasn’t that you hated him, you could never. It was the fact you left your position as the White House Communications Director for yourself. Everything you did was always for Nico and never not you and when the realization of that hit you, it was time to go. It’s time to separate yourself from some fantasy that only ever works out in the books. The feeling of two hands wrapped around your throat finally caught up to you. 

“I’ve got a client sitting in my conference room Timo.” 

“Look, I know, I know, but this isn’t something that needs to be out in the public. Make it go away. Please. If not for him, for me.” He’s desperate and you know it. If you were to tell him that the only reason you were about to agree was because you held him in such high regard, you’d never hear the end of it. So, you keep your reply as simple as needed. 

“Okay, I’ll be there in 45 minutes. I need to let Neil know.” 

You spot Timo before he spots you. He’s sat on a bench, perhaps getting some proper vitamin D. You watch the way his foot taps every other millisecond. Being cooped up in a mediocre-sized office in the White House can make someone feel insane, you’ve been there. 

As you get closer, you examine the navy blue suit that he’s dressed in. It’s his favorite one, he has 3 more pairs of it because he wears it so much. His tie has gold accents on it, it’s from his wife. You had helped her pick it out for him since you had seen him a lot more than she did. His eyes are heavy, he’s needs a vacation, a long one to be exact. You’ll let Nico know if you ever see him again, maybe he can pull some strings for him even if it’s a nice (long-awaited) expensive dinner.

You walk up the concrete steps before reaching Timo, the only thing grabbing his attention is the click of your heels. Once he realizes that you have walked up to him, you open your mouth to greet him. 

“What.” Timo giggles, he’s knows you mean business but he can’t deny he misses your presence around in the White House even if you were telling him off half of the time. 

“Well, hello to you too.” He stands up and gestures to start walking with him. You obey and within a second you guys stride across the walkway that overlooks the White House. 

“What do you need me for Timo? I don’t work for him anymore.” 

“He needs a favor.” You scoff at Timo and choose not to say anything.

“You still came. You came when I called.” His words hit you like a bus. It stings. Both you and Timo know that whenever the President needs anything from you, you’ll be there in a heartbeat. You’d do anything for everyone you love. You were loyal. That’s how it always had been and why Nico wanted you there every step of the way. He knew that he could turn his back and not expect a knife to be plunged into it. 

“Her name is Vanessa Wyatt. She works in AIDE. She claims to have had an affair with him. I need you to make it go away and fast.” Timo places his right arm on his abdomen, in response you hook your left one into his right and walk side by side with Timo. 

“Is it true?” You try to show no reaction but green envy begins to boil in your stomach.

“No, of course not, but I need you to shut it down.” 

“I need to see him.” You don’t think about your reply until after it leaves your mouth. Both you and Timo come to an abrupt stop. He takes a step back and faces you. 

“No, I don’t think that’s possible.” 

“You want me to shut her up? Then I need to look at him in the eyes and know he’s not lying.” Timo knows that you're serious. You always are. 

“The President’s schedule is packed. He has no time to see you.” He’s straightforward, Timo doesn’t have time for negotiating but luckily for you, you’re a persuasive person. You tend to always get what you want even if it means overstepping some boundaries. 

“He wants my services but here’s the thing Timo, I do not work for him anymore! So, tell him to make time to see me if not you’re just gonna have to find someone else to do it for you. You know where to find me.” 

After giving Timo a faint smile, you turn to walk away. As one foot goes in front of the other, you can’t help but feel that some part of this story is true making your heart ache.

By the time you get back to your office, you get a phone call from Timo, confirming that Nico managed to get out of a meeting so that he could talk to you. With that, you grab your coat off the coat rack and start heading towards the conference room to let at least Gwen know about your abrupt departure. 

“Hey Gwen, duty calls at the White House, I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Anything new?” Gwen knows you’re talking about the case and before she utters anything new she’s found, she strides to the door and closes it. 

Knowing that Sully is just in the room next door, she lowers her voice, “Kurt managed to get into Paige’s email and I’ve been reading. I found one where she emailed a friend. She was supposed to meet up with a friend at the embassy party together but never showed.” 

You nod your head to show that you understand but it’s not enough information to be able to explain why Paige was murdered so, you request more information. 

“Who? and Why?” Keep it simple. 

Gwen takes about a second before she replies, “A girl named Ariel, and I don’t know why.” 

“Find out why. ‘I don’t know’ is not an answer I’m gonna take.” That sentence leaves your mouth as fast as lightning strikes the Earth’s outermost crust. 

To other people, your reply would’ve been seen as impolite but to you and everyone at the firm, it was just that ‘I don’t know’ wouldn’t get you anywhere in a case. Especially when so much is at stake.

“I won’t be long Gwen. Tell Blair and she’ll go interview the friend.”

Once you arrive at the White House you are led to Timo’s office. It’s nice and spacious, with a window that overlooks a garden. Nellie’s garden. A sour taste forms in your mouth. The garden is small, not as big as Jacqueline Kennedy’s garden but Nellie insisted she needed her own. You were told moments ago that she’d be attending this “meeting” and as much as you dislike it, you can’t help but feel empathy for Nellie. She was nothing but nice to you when Nico hired you as the manager for his campaign. It sucked most that you went not even a month later you started sleeping with her husband. 

The combined noises of clothes rustling and heavy breaths consume the aura of the small hotel room. It’s unbelievable how an innocent dinner between two ‘colleagues’ can turn outright sexual within two hours, but you weren’t complaining. Maybe it was the two glasses of cabernet sauvignon that your unconscious level of operation had convinced you to drink. 

Nico places open-mouthed kisses from behind your ear, down to the spot on your breast that the black lace push-up bra doesn’t cover. The white ironed shirt, that had been covering your bra, had been tossed over your head about 15 minutes ago and the black midi skirt was currently being tugged down your hips. As for Nico, all to go was the baby blue dress shirt he wore, and the black tie. Which had been taken off right when the two of you entered the room. His dark navy blue pants remained on the list of clothes that needed to be discarded.  

You take a second to admire Nico’s disheveled hair. The thought of pulling it with your fingers when he whispers sweet nothing’s into your core flashes across your mind. Nico cuts off that thought once his lips make contact with yours. It’s messy and filled with need. The months of longing stares, mainly from him, were finally catching up. You take notice that your black skirt is now pooled at your feet. You take a step out of them, in a haze, the action bringing you closer to Nico. He steadies you by placing his hands on your hips. His fingertips graze the matching black lace panties you paired with your bra. He smirks into the kiss at the thought of you planning it out. 

Nico takes small steps, notifying you to do the same but backward, and guides you to the small light wooden desk against the wall opposite of the bed. The back of your thighs hit the desk and with a swift motion, Nico grabs you at the waist and sets you to sit on top of it. A quick gasp escapes your naturally pouty lips and with that, Nico gets on his knees. 

Timo snaps you out of that thought fairly quickly, “Well hello, long time no see!”

He’s being sarcastic, but you waste no time to get to the point. 

“I was told Nellie was going to be here. She knows about this?”

Timo nods, acknowledging your words, and replies, “It’s not like how it was during the election. The isolation of the White House bonded them, their marriage is as strong as ever.” 

Before you can react to Timos statement, Nellie comes barging into the room. 

“Y/N!” 

You fake a smile, deep down you could never hate Nellie. No matter how hard you try. “Nellie, hi! How are you doing?!” Faking your enthusiastic response, you can’t help but feel guilty. It wasn’t hard to read Nellie, so you could tell she missed your presence around in the White House. Once Nellie reaches you she engulfs you in a heartwarming hug. She rubs your back and soaks in the moment, reminiscing an old friendship.

You’re the first to step away and once you create a small fragment of distance, Nellie answers your question.

“I’m doing well! It’s taking some time getting used to you not being here but I’m managing. How’s the firm?”

“We’re doing well over there. It’s been busy but I like being occupied…can never get enough of it.” You chuckle at the tiny comment you make and Nellie goes to carry the conversation but comes to a halt when the double doors to Timo’s office open once again. 

You told yourself, on the drive over to the White House, that you would keep things strictly professional but Nico always managed to make that very hard. Not only that, you still deeply cared for the man and he did the same as well. But the moment you saw his face everything you had prepared yourself for had expeditiously faded away. You can’t even process the moment, that he’s here and physically in front of you until he’s shaking your hand. 

The last time you saw Nico was at a charity gala in late June. Five months after you left. You only managed to stay for an hour until everything felt overwhelming. Your chest felt like it was being compressed by an unseen entity, and bile was rising in your throat. Nico had tried his best to talk to you but with Nellie by his side and her pregnancy rumors, he couldn’t. It broke his heart when he saw the tears in your eyes. You’d felt betrayed but also knew that being the President’s mistress meant that you never came first. Even if he lied to you and said that you did. 

“Y/N, It’s good to see you.” He’s keeping it simple. He can’t show too much vulnerability, there are still two people in the room. 

“Likewise, Mr. President.” You drop your hand first from the handshake and look closely at Nico. He shaved two days ago, you can tell by the stubble sitting on the lower half of his face. It has just grown enough to the point where if he could get on his knees in front of you, you’d feel it scratch your inner thighs. 

“Shall we take a walk?” Timo kindly suggests. 

The three of you decide to chat in Jacqueline Kennedy Garden. With the company of two secret service members but you don’t mind. 

It may be January but the pansies are still in season. You walk up and admire the some that are purple. You notice that in the outer part of the petal, they’re royal purple, but towards the center, they’re light purple - almost a lilac color. That would be a nice color for a wedding. You’re too busy admiring the flowers that don’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching until the person has already reached you. It’s Nico. You don’t even need to look to know it’s him. He clears his throat before starting the conversation with you. 

“I know you have your hands full with the Sully St. James situation so, thank you for doing this, for me.” He turns to look at you. God you’ve missed him. 

Timo walks up behind you and the president, the two secret service agents aren’t too far behind. He pulls out a beige file folder and speaks. 

“Her name is Vanessa Wyatt.” You take hold of the folder and open it up. 

“I know.” 

“Well if you let me finish- anyways, she’s 25. I’ve heard rumors that she might be talking.” Timo states and looks off into the distance. It’s nice and sunny outside, but not even for it to take the edge off the cold. You take a look at what she looks like. She must be new, or at least got hired after you resigned. She’s cute but looking at her makes you feel nauseated. You push that feeling aside, it’s best at what you do. 

“But you can’t fire her. At least not without a shit show going off.” Both Timo and Nico nod. Nico has yet to say anything. You find it odd but push that thought aside. You know Nico wouldn’t do this. 

“Look, she hasn’t gone to the press, so best shut it down before she opens her mouth.” Timo’s phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call. It’s just you and Nico. A part of you doesn’t want to ask him the long-awaited question but you still do it anyways.

“I have to ask, did you do it?” You look up at him for the first time after reaching the garden. All you see are his eyes, they’re identical to the color of the way he takes his coffee. 

“No. I would never do that.” Nico pauses but doesn’t break the eye contact. You’re starting to feel light-headed. Your heart wants to believe him but there’s someone in your ear screaming that he isn’t telling the truth. 

“You’ve known me for a long time. Most of my time has been spent with you. You know I would never, ever fall for some girl. You know there’s only one girl I truly love.” He accentuates the last sentence. Only you know he’s talking about you. It’s a secret embedded between the two of you. You feel warm, not the bad kind, but the warm and comfy kind. He knows you need reassurance, he knows you think he’s lying, and he knows that if he did do it, it would be unforgivable. It feels like time is passing by slowly, you’re lost in his pools of melted chocolate-like irises. He never once, looked away. He’s telling the truth. 

“We’re due to be back now!” Looking back, you see Timo. He’s about 15 feet away, but he’s walking towards both Nico and you. 

“I’ll handle it. Consider it handled.” You look away. A burning sensation hits the back of your eye sockets. You feel like crying but you won’t let the tears fall.

Once Timo reaches you he wraps his arms around you and the President’s shoulders. 

“The band is back together!”

One hour. One hour is how much time you had given Gwen to find anything and everything about Vanessa Wyatt and boy did she find something. 

Gwen walks beside you, to your left. The pace you’ve set is fast, it wasn’t like you had all day. You had a firm to run and a man’s destiny in your hands. Vanessa Wyatt was just a fork in the road. You had a plan and with enough convincing, she’d end up on a bus to Wisconsin in the morning.

“You’re acting as my witness. Just shut up and listen to what I say. Do not engage with her.” Both you and Gwen had been following Vanessa around Easy Potomac Park for approximately seven minutes. You took immediate notice that she was accompanied by her dog, a golden retriever. Gwen had whispered something about it being adorable, to you it was an amazing conversation starter, a way to get in, and a vulnerability point for Vanessa. 

Vanessa’s quick to take a seat on a bench, overlooking the Potomac River. You waste no time to walk up to her and Gwen follows suit. “What a cute dog! Golden Retriever?” 

Vanessa takes the bait like a fish dumb enough to take a worm that’s on a fish hook. You’ve already got her right where you want her and you’ve only spoken six words. 

“Yeah haha! His name is Thomas Jefferson, like the President, it’s lame I know! But it suits him surprisingly.” The thought of how naive she is crosses your mind. Was she like that with Nico? You take a seat next to her before carrying on the conversation.

“Vanessa, it would be a mistake to think that there will be no consequences to you telling lies about the President.” Her face falls almost immediately. Gwen gives you a look. Almost like she was surprised herself, she was least expecting you to mention the so-called “affair” this early on in the conversation. To your dismay, Vanessa doesn’t make an effort to start running away yet. Stupid girl. Rather instead she questions you. 

“I never told you my name. Who are you?” She finally turns to get a good look at you. Vanessa notices the pale, off-white pantsuit that’s on your body. It fits you to a tee. 

“My name is Y/N.” You pause for a brief moment then continue your lecture to the younger girl, “And I want to make it clear that I’m not here in an official capacity. I’m here because I’m a

concerned citizen.” Vanessa looks away, tears threatening to fall on her plump, pinky cheeks. She isn’t wearing anything to keep her warm besides a thin coat. 

She mutters another question. “What do you want?” 

Your response leaves your mouth rapidly. “I came to warn you. A girl like you can’t win something like this. In, employment your face will be everywhere. And by everywhere I mean tabloids, newspapers, social media, local news. People are going to associate you with a sex scandal. All kinds of information about you will become available to the press in a heartbeat. For example, the 22 sexual partners you’ve had? What about that case of gonorrhea? Oh and let’s not forget your mothers two year stay at Bedford Hospital.” Everything you say comes out nonchalantly. You pause and take a look at the younger brunette, waiting for a response but she says nothing. You take it as a sign to continue. 

“That’s what I thought. It’s information like that, that could ruin everything for you.” Both you and Gwen take notice of Vanessa. The tears that were threatening to fall, are now halfway down her cheeks. Gwen’s heart breaks for the girl but deep down knows it’s for the best. You, however, could care less. Situations like this, never end up good for the woman involved. 

“He said he loved me. He gave me this dog.” Vanessa manages to utter while shaking her head. Her world feels like it’s falling apart and you stand at the altar watching it happen. 

“You see, it’s lies like those that could hurt you when said to other people. People not as nice as me. Here let me give you some advice, hand in your resignation, pack a bag and your dog, get out of this town, maybe in Wisconsin, and start over. Never look back.” 

You’ve managed to move closer to Vanessa. It’s not a lot but you’re still testing the waters. If you were to ask Gwen, she’s still surprised that Vanessa’s still sitting there. Personally, Gwen would have fled a long time ago. The younger brunette to your right, takes a deep sigh and begs, “Why are you doing this to me?” I’m a good person!” You get the urge to laugh in her face. It doesn’t matter if you’re nice or not, people love to ruin people. She should’ve known this by now. A girl this naive should not be in a town like this.

“You want to know who was also a good person?” You question her and continue, “Monica Lewinsky. And she was telling the truth. But she still got destroyed.” You say it casually and Vanessa doesn’t appreciate it, in the next millisecond, she grabs her dog’s leash and hurries away. Gwen is still standing, she’s shocked, to say the least. 

Turning to Gwen, you start to state, “If you get subpoenaed in front of a grand jury, you can testify as an officer of the court that I was working on my own. I didn’t blackmail or threaten her. If you don’t get subpoenaed, then this never happened.” You walk in the other direction from Vanessa. Gwen takes a moment to follow suit and once you hear Gwen’s footsteps, you take your cell phone out of your coat pocket to dial. 

“It’s handled.”

You are typing away on your keyboard, answering some emails when the doors to your office fly open. It’s Blair and she’s rushing in. You can tell her her brain is going 100 miles per hour when she cheers, “Paige is a whore! She’s a whore!” You shake your head and smile in return, expecting her to say more, and that she does. 

“I had Kurt hack into her message log and she had HUNDREDS and I mean HUNDREDS of text messages with this guy named Tom Henderson. And I know what you’re going to say ‘Go interview him then’ We’ll that’s what I did while you were gone doing god knows what!” She’s starting to get off track but you don’t mind. Blair was a chatterbox at heart. 

“Good news is that Tom spilled his guts the minute I went to ask questions, but he has an air-tight alibi. He was working as a bouncer at a club at the time of the murder. There has got to be like 100 witnesses.” You nod your head and before you can tell Blair anything she continues, again. 

“Oh my god! How could I forget?! Henderson claims that Sully knew that he was sleeping with  his girlfriend.” With that, you waste no time to get out of your chair, and before you can even take a step Neil comes strutting into the room. 

“Even worse news, the gun found in the murder has Sully’s fingerprints all over it. It gives him means.” A small “fuck!” leaves your mouth and you dash towards the double doors that connect your office and another. Pushing open the door, you waste no time to start interrogating Sully. 

“Did you know Paige was sleeping with Tom Henderson?!” You point your finger at him like a mom scolding her child. Sully replies stupidly, “What?”

“Did. You. Know?” Accentuating every word in the question causes Sully to get irritated.

“I hired you! You can’t come in here and talk-” Sully’s cut off by Neil almost immediately. You let him overpower the situation by walking away. Your mind is running, trying to think what the possibilities could be.

“Yes, she can! She can do whatever the hell she wants! Without her, you would be in jail right now!” Things are starting to escalate quickly between you three. Blair is just observing what’s happening. You decided to ask one more time even though you hate repeating yourself. 

“Did you know Paige was sleeping with Tom?” The tone that you ask him is softer, things are starting to get real and if you don’t get to the bottom of this, Sully could be going to jail for 20 years to life.

Sully answers your question, “Yes, but I didn’t kill her!” Your mind shuts everything out once he answers your question. Neil and Blair start conducting a plan that you have no care for right now. Deciding to walk away from all the chaos, you manage to bump into the one person you least expect. Vanessa, with Gwen following behind. 

“Oh, what the hell!”

“I want you to give him a message!” You stare Gwen down, scolding her with your eyes for even letting Vanessa in, in the first place. 

“That is not appropriate.” You take ahold of Vanessa’s upper left bicep, Gwen the other, and quickly guide her out of the firm. She tries to go with a fight but your grip doesn’t let her escape. You open the front door to the firm, giving Vanessa access to leave but she makes it clear that you hear what she has to say. “Not appropriate? You came to me and I know he sent you! I know you can give him a message! I’m telling the truth! I am!” 

“This conversation is over. Please leave.”

You’re barely coming down with your high from the previous chaos when David Rosen, the US attorney general walks into your building. 

“Times up, Y/N. I have a warrant.” He’s holding up white papers, stapled together. He’s here to take Sully into custody but luckily for you, David arrived earlier than expected. 

“I still have 40 minutes.” You bark at David, taking a look at your watch. Turning your back to him, you reach the conference doors.

“You can wait in the lobby by all means.” You suggest to David. Maybe he’ll listen to you once and for all. 

“Fine, but in 40 minutes I want Sully St. James in custody.” He huffs out. 

Meanwhile, you try to find Gwen. Once you see her in the conference room you have her call Blair, to let her know that you’ve officially been invaded and time is running out to find Sully a viable alibi. 

Blair, Neil, and Kurt walk through the front doors exactly 7 minutes before David is supposed to be arrested. Blair comes in hot, Neil and Kurt trailing behind her. She’s holding a flash drive and gives you a rundown of what that flash drive material contains. You take no longer than 3 seconds to head your way to the conference room where Sully St. James is currently seated. You tread the water lightly, not wanting to anger him when approaching the situation. 

“We don’t have much time, Sully,” you start with, “the police are here so I need you to listen.” Blair, Kurt, Neil, and Gwen slowly enter the room with you. Most of the time, when debriefing with a client, there’s always someone else with you. In this case, all of them. 

“We were able to verify your alibi.” Sully’s reaction doesn’t surprise you. Confusion shadows over his face. Almost like he didn’t even know how or who verified his alibi. 

“You were?” He looks around the room after he questions you. All eyes are on him and everyone can tell that he’s realizing that his secret is no secret anymore. You nod in response to his question. 

“That’s.. that’s a good thing, right?” He’s playing dumb and you’re catching along. You open your mouth to start a lecture. 

“Sully, you’re the most decorated hero since the Vietnam War, you come from a family of well-respected soldiers, you make your living giving speeches for the conservative right, and you’ve said over and over, that Paige was your best friend. Not your lover.” Your eyes never leave him during the duration of your speech, but when they do you signal Blair to turn on the TV and plug the flash drive into it. Once she does, a video starts to play. It’s from a security camera at an ATM, that so happened to be next to the bar Sully had been seen at before the murder. In the video, Sully St. James is seen standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, pacing. He’s waiting for someone. Just on cue, a man in his mid to late 20s is seen approaching Sully. Once he gets his hands on Sully, he kisses him with passion. Almost like lovers who are reuniting for the first time after months of being apart. The room is silent up until the video shows the two grown men kissing. Sully’s breath starts to pick up, he’s infuriated. 

“Paige knew, didn’t she?” You already knew the answer to that but still needed the clarification. You were never one to go based on assumptions. Sully doesn’t respond so you continue, “She knew you were gay, the two of you had a deal.” Sully speaks up for the first time in 3 minutes. 

“You can’t show anyone that.” Disregarding what he said, you ask, “I need the name of the man that you were kissing.”

“Over my dead body! I serve my country. I honor the uniform! I am a conservative man. Everything I stand for is anti-gay. I am the deacon of my church! They’re talking about me running for Congress one day. I’m a hero. I can’t be gay.” His demeanor starts off hostile but then shuts down and he manages to whisper the last remark. 

“But you are. This is who you are.” You point to the TV which had been paused at a time frame where Sully and his secret lover were engaged in a kiss. “This is your alibi. Let us help you.” You walk over to the couch that Sully is seated at and crouch next to him. You and Sully are the only two who have spoken a word so far. Everyone else is watching the scene unfold in front of their eyes. 

Sully stands up straight and looks ahead of him. With one small word, he answers you. 

“No.” You stand, but before you can mutter a word he turns around and heads out the conference room doors. You don’t pay attention as to whether everyone follows you but you follow Sully out. Demanding him to wait but to no avail, he doesn’t listen. Once he opens the firm’s front doors, he is met with David Rosen. 

The bright ceiling lights are the cause of the forming headache across your temples. To say that everything that happened in the past 28 hours is ridiculous would be an understatement. Neil and Blair are at the police station with you. By the time Sully St. James had his mugshot taken, you got a text message from Gwen. You managed to mutter an ‘I have to go’ and frantically left. Having left instructions for Neil and Blair just in case anything happened with Sully. 

Being told, by Gwen, that Vanessa Wyatt was in the hospital and she was going to see her was just the cherry on top. You wasted no time to get there as fast as you could. It was 7 pm by the time you entered the hospital door, exhaustion hitting you like a ton of bricks. Getting into bed sounds much better than having sex. 

Gwen is standing outside of Vanessa’s hospital room when you get there. You greet her then immediately ask, “What happened?” You take a look at Gwen and she genuinely seems worried for the girl who’s in the hospital bed, clearly sedated. 

Gwen explains, “She slashed her wrists. There’s no press lurking around but one of the nurses told me her dad’s flying in from Michigan.” 

You double-check with Gwen, just to make sure that there is no possible threat. “No nurses or doctors, about anything?” Gwen shakes her head, her ponytail moving along with her head, and responds shortly. 

“Just to me.”

“Good stay with her.” You turn to leave, regretting to have even come in the first place. A simple phone call would have been fine. Before you take a step Gwen takes ahold of your upper arm and blurted your name. 

“Y/N! You told me to trust my gut when I first got hired, and now my gut is telling me that she is telling the truth-” You cut off Gwen to share what you think. 

“She’s not.” You keep it short and sweet. Nico told you that he didn’t do it and you believe him. Your heart believes him. He said he loved you and you were the only girl he’s ever loved. 

“I know the President, Gwen. He wouldn’t do this.” You’re starting to become stern since Gwen is being persistent about something that could never, ever possibly be true. 

“I just find it weird that she was going on and on about how there’s this secret room off the Oval Office where they’ve met, and I’ve read about the White House. There is a little room.”

You waste no time to state the obvious. “If you read it, she read it. People are crazy Gwen. They love to get fixated on famous people and stalk them.” 

“But I don’t think she’s crazy.” If you didn’t have any love for Gwen you probably would’ve smacked her for continuing to run her mouth. Since you do care for her deeply, you demand her to tell you why she thinks that. “Why?”

“Okay, she tried to take her life but she didn’t want to die. She called you right after she did it because she wanted him to find out she was hurt and come see her. She thought he would do that.” Gwen rambles everything out in one go as if she’s already rehearsed this conversation in her head. 

“Gwen-”

“She was going on and on about how she thought he’d come to see her and call her some stupid little German word.” You start to doze off but your ears perk up like a dog that hears a siren from a mile away when she mentions the word German. 

“What?” 

Gwen’s face scrunches up and tilts her head to the side at your remark. She’s questioning you and doesn’t even need to open her mouth. 

“Repeat yourself.” You try to tell yourself that you heard something completely different. How pathetic. 

“Oh! He’d call her a German word, she said it means treasure or something. Why does it ma-” You cancel out the rest of Gwen’s sentence and scurry away. Your legs start working independently and lead you down the hospital corridor. Gwen calls out your name in response, but you pay no mind to it. The pit in your stomach is probably the size of a football and it doesn’t help that bile is rising in your throat and everything feels hazy. Betrayal wasn’t something new to you but coming from someone who expected the same loyalty from you was gutwrenching.

Sometimes you think it’s crazy how much authority you still have in the White House because you simply do not work there anymore. Nonetheless, it comes in handy, in instances like these. Rose, the President’s Secretary, leads you the way into the Oval Office in a matter of seconds. It didn’t take much convincing, just a quick “It’s an emergency”. Once Rose opens the first of 3 doors that connect the Oval Office to the White House, you step inside. Walking up to the set of couches that sit in the middle of the room, to set your purse down, you notice Nico isn’t at his desk. Matter of fact he isn’t anywhere in the room. With that, you question Rose about Nico’s whereabouts.

“Where is he?” You expect her to go into detail, whether it’s a meeting or at dinner with Nellie. But Rose never does. Instead, she gives a simple answer. 

“It’ll just be a moment.” With that, Rose walks out and shuts the door behind her. 

It doesn’t take long for Nico to come walking through the door, Timo trailing right behind, but when he does, you notice his attire. He’s wearing a bowtie. Which only means he has something important going on. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Disregarding his question, you plea to him with your eyes. He notices the quiver of your lip and how tears threaten to leave your eyes. Nico senses something is up. 

“We’re gonna need the room, please.” He demands Timo. Nico’s eyes never leave yours. Almost as if there is a magnetic pull to the two of you. Timo stands there dumbfoundedly and questions the President. 

“But, Nico you have to give that toast to the President of Mexico in 10 minutes. Maybe this could wait until after?” Nico’s eyes finally leave yours. He turns to Timo and repeats himself. 

“I said we need the room,” Nico demands almost instantly. That being so, Timo lowers his head, and his hand reaches to the door handle so he can close the door behind him. Once Nico hears the click of the door shutting fully closed he whispers your name. You take no time to finally repeat the word you know Gwen was talking about. 

“Schatzli, huh?” The word rolls off your tongue as if it’s venom. It makes you want to curl up into a ball and never be seen again. Nico turns to you and you repeat the word of endorsement like it’s a chant. You’re angry and Nico knows it. With that, Nico points up ahead. There sits a security camera that overlooks the majority of the room. Watching your every move. Nico knows he can’t have a conversation about Vanessa knowing he’s being recorded. Good thing he was a smart man. During the first week after his inauguration, he managed to find out that the camera doesn’t record past his desk. So the pair of you had rendezvous against the large crystalline window that overlooks Nellie’s garden and a patio. Countless times. 

Nico guides you to stand in front of the window with a simple, “Come here.” To that, you obey. As to why? You don’t even know the answer to that considering all you see is rage. You reach him, keeping your distance but still out of the security camera’s view. Disgust and humiliation still sits on your face, never intended to leave soon. 

Nico is the first to speak amongst you two. “You left me.” He can’t even look you in the eye when he finally admits the truth. A man who lies is always a coward. 

“Because you are married! You said you wanted to dedicate yourself to your marriage! I wanted you to be a better man and be the man that I campaigned for-” Nico cuts you off by slowly taking steps towards you. You don’t need to be a genius to know what he’s doing. 

“Do not touch me.” You planned for it to come out stern but ended up sounding like a hurt duckling. But that you were. The look in Nico’s eye confirms that he was not listening to you. Instead of him pleading for you to hear him out, he steps even closer. Once he reaches you, his hands rest upon your hips. His body aching to make contact with yours. Your body is pressed up against the large window with another step. Nico’s eyes stare down at you, faces only mere inches apart. The pair of you already know where the next thing leads to but you’re not letting him go that easily.

Before his lips can make contact with yours, you push at his chest to get him off of you. Putting all force you can conjure into the shove. You turn around and before you can think your right hand makes contact with his left cheek with a hard smack!

“I believed you! You clouded my judgment! I wanted to believe you because I love you and THIS is what you do to me? She tried to kill herself! Did you know she’s lying in a hospital bed because she slashed her wrists open? I destroyed that girl-” Everything happens too fast and you can’t even see through the tears that started falling just moments ago. Nico finally dared to walk up to you and kiss you. His right hand has ahold of the back of your neck. While the other is on your upper arm, keeping you in place. It takes less than a second for you to come to terms with what’s happening. As mad as you are at Nico, you couldn’t help but feel the need to return the kiss. Your internal dialogue screams at you to stop. To step away and never talk to him again. 

The kiss is slow and passionate, Nico doesn’t want to rush into anything further because he knows you won’t hesitate to take a step back and slap him again. You had the balls no one ever did. Before Nico can gain access to your mouth with his tongue, one of the doors is swung open. 

“I just want to let you know that we can hear you yelling.” By the time Timo shuts the door, Nico and you have created a small fragment of distance away from each other. The satin pinky nude lipstick you wore, transferred onto Nico’s lips. Your hair is a bit disheveled and the pair of you are out of breath. Timo was a smart man so it didn’t take much for him to recognize what was happening behind closed doors. Timo clears his throat before he speaks. 

“Mr. President, I recommended you go wash up.” Timo puts his hands in his pockets and refuses to look you in the eye. 

“Timo-”

“No. You have lipstick on your mouth. You have a toast to give. Go. Now.” With that, Nico obeys and leaves the room, not even looking back towards you. Timo and you bask in a moment of silence. You stand there like a doe who has yet to learn how to walk. The feeling of embarrassment is an understatement to say at least. In times like these, where Timo puts his foot down, it makes you feel like a child being scolded for writing on the wall with markers. 

Timo walks up to the President’s desk and admires the picture he has of the three of you. It was the day of Nico’s inauguration, the picture was taken right after Nico’s speech. Timo wishes things could go back to the way they were. 

“Oh mein gott,” Timo mutters under his breath. After the past two years of knowing Timo, you’d expect that he knew about the affair. 

“You didn’t know? He tells you everything.” You scoff. Nico and Timo are close. Like brothers, who manage to piss each other off all day every day but that doesn’t get in the way of Nico telling Timo every personal detail that goes on in his life. 

“He didn’t tell me this.” He shakes his head and looks down at his feet. 

You wipe a tear that cascades down your left cheek and  quickly mutter, “Because it didn’t matter.” In disbelief, you walk towards the couch, reaching for your purse. Feeling the sudden need to get out of the one place you do not wish to be at. Timo tries to grab at your wrist, tries to talk you into staying but you’re too fast enough for him to get a good grip. Once you reach the door, you adjust your purse and push the straps up against your shoulder blade. You take a deep breath, fighting the urge to stay. Alas, your right hand makes contact with the gold door knob and you twist and push the door open. With every last bit of courage you have, you step out of the Oval Office with your head up high. You’ve got a man to get out of jail.

[writingsonsaturn]

all of the girls you've loved before

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐: the ending is a little rushed, and this is so not proofread but NEW SERIESSS, love you enjoy

wc - 2.7k

content warning: fem!reader, cheating (not from tim), fluff, talk of blood (reader is a blood analyst)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You and Tim have known each other since you moved into the neighborhood when you were twelve, you had moved right across the street. He saw you one day outside helping your mother bring in boxes from a moving truck, he noticed the way your hands shook with the heaviness of the box but instead of dropping it, you fought through and continued carrying it inside. When you had walked back outside you ended up noticing him too, the way his hair lightened in the sunlight, his thin body shaking with nerves as the pretty girl he was staring at for far too long walked up to him and asked him a question.

“Do you know how to fix a pipe?” your voice flowed through his ears like honey soothing a sore throat, “oh um, no i don’t but i could ask my dad” he responded with a shake in his tone, although he hated interacting with his father he would at least try his best and ask for you. “Thanks!” you smiled and then asked him if he wanted to hang out sometime, explaining you just moved here from a couple states away and needed a friend, “yeah, that would be really cool” he agreed quickly, very quickly.

In no time the two of you became inseparable, spending endless days together with no regard for anyone else who wasn’t inside the little bubble the two of you had made. 

During the high school years, the crush you developed for Tim only grew stronger and stronger, during the classes you two had together he would always insist on sitting next to you and nearly every time he would never take no for an answer. The teachers found it easier to just succumb to his demands then argue with him over it, he would say a very polite ‘thank you’ and trot his way over to the desk or seat right next to you. You would always roll your eyes and say “it wouldn’t kill you to not sit next to me you know, it only makes their lives harder” and he would snap back with a “i work better next to you” and with that you would smile and turn your head back to the teacher with a warm feeling in your face.

Although one day, Tim came to you in a panic freaking out about not knowing what to wear. 

“Wear to what?” you questioned, confused why Tim of all people was freaking out about what to wear.

“Cindy agreed to go on a date, now hurry up, which shirt looks better” he rushed, holding both

shirts out in front of him with an impatient look.

You chose the shirt on the left, it was black with a blue vertical stripe on it. Biting back the sheer shock and hurt you felt in your chest and mustered up enough faux happiness, “now get out of here, and go get the girl” you said with a tight-lipped smile.

From there on out you tried your best to shove the feelings for Tim deep, deep, deep down into the deepest pit you possibly had in your body. You eventually also found yourself a boyfriend, you loved him deeply, and enjoyed his company. Cindy, Tim, you, and drake had double dates every week or so. Drake and Tim would talk about football while you and Cindy would groan about the upcoming physics test and how the homework was just absolutely destroying your social life.

Cindy and Tim broke up after junior year, they both wanted different things and felt neither of them wanted to take a chance at a long distance relationship. Tim would be heading into the military after graduation and Cindy was going to study abroad in Germany for a journalism degree. However, you and Drake were going decently strong, he had football scouts watching him at a couple of games and you were getting a full ride scholarship to an ivy league college.

That was until Drake cheated, the cliche of a football boyfriend cheating on his not so popular girlfriend had prophesied. You were completely and utterly distraught to say the least, Tim came over after you hadn't shown up at school that day and wouldn't pick up any of his calls. Your mom answered the door with a saddened look, “Hey sweetheart” you mom whispered “she’s not doing too well.”

Tim internally freaked out, considering any and all possibilities, the worst one being that you’re dying, obviously. Your mom must have seen the way his heart practically fell out of his jeans because she quickly explained what happened, “oh my, she didn't tell you?’ with a scoff she continued “Drake cheated on her, he was, i assume at a house party, and someone snapped a photo of him kissing another girl” her tone was sad, with a hint of anger, that someone had the audacity to hurt her little girl.

Tim nodded and stepped inside, taking off his shoes and walking upstairs to your bedroom. He pressed his ear against the door trying to get a sense of what he might be walking into, but heard nothing so with a light knock he entered your bedroom, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting to walk into but you sitting on the ground with a small blanket covering you and your knees tucked into your chest wasn't it.

“Oh, Y/n” he sighed and sat right beside you on the ground, you sniffled in acknowledgement and looked at Tim with red, wet eyes. 

“How can someone just do that?” you croaked.

“I don’t know, honey” Tim replied, wishing on every star that he could take your pain away and punch it into Drake’s skull.

You leaned into Tim’s chest, silently sobbing and asking questions you knew Tim wouldn’t be able to answer. Every time he would just hold you tighter and tighter, almost morphing your body into his until you cried yourself to sleep.

He stayed there for a generous amount of time before carrying you to your bed and tucking you in, and wishing you sweet dreams before leaving and going back into his own bed.

After a couple weeks of consoling you and getting you back into your groove he went and talked to Drake, confronting him in the school parking lot after football practice. He wanted nothing more than to beat his face in with a baseball bat but he figured you wouldn’t be very happy bailing him out of jail, so he opted for a stern scolding instead.

“What’s up, Drake?” Tim huffed out, walking over to Drake's car. “Oh, hey Tim” Drake said with a tone way to cheery for this situation, “Listen, what happened at the party was nothing but a drunken mistake, and besides, Y/n wasn’t giving anything up anyways” he explained “you know how us men are, we need intimacy” Drake ended with a small smile, assuming Tim would understand and bro hug him.

Tim however only became more heated, looking at Drake with red in his eyes, “so what you’re saying is, Y/n was just someone for you to get your rocks off with, and she wouldn’t give it to you so you decided to cheat on her?” Tim tried to put together Drake’s motives but couldn’t for the life of him understand the shallowness of that concept.

“Exactly, bro” Drake sighed in relief, thinking he got through to Tim, “you’re a real piece of shit, you know that Drake?” Tim growled. “Y/n did nothing but care and love you, and you drop the moment she doesn’t fuck you?” Drake’s face dropped, quickly realizing the predicament he was in. 

Tim walked up to him, nose inches away from Drake’s, “If I ever see you even breathe near her ever again, you will be on the floor faster than you can even registar what is happening, do you understand me?” Tim ended his sentence with a push and walked back to his car feeling somewhat better.

Tim sat in the driver's seat for a while, contemplating what to do next. He decided it would be nice to take you out to your favorite restaurant and go over college majors with you as you had been needing help figuring out what you should do for the field you were wanting to step into. 

As senior year came to an end Tim and you parted ways but always kept in touch, it was hard sometimes but the two of you did your best.

He would send you letters asking how college was, and you would send letters back asking if he was still a little twig or if he had finally built up muscle. Worry was always something you carried everytime a letter would be late or you wouldn’t hear from him for a while, but thankfully all was always okay.

When he got out he decided his next course of action would be to go into the police force, telling you it was the closest thing to the military a civilian could get and you supported him through the training academy. You had gotten your degree in forensics and now work in the lab as a blood spatter analyst, and he was a rookie.

You and Tim were absolutely stoked to be able to work in the same precinct, even opting for carpooling every now and then when you were too tired to drive. You also figured out way before Tim did how big of a crush Isabel had on him, she smiled so wide when he walked in and would constantly talk to him and invite him to get drinks after work. 

“You know she likes you right?” you teased, looking at Tim with a smirk as you ran tests in the lab. “Who? Isabel?” he asked obliviously, not quite catching onto what you caught onto months ago, “God Tim, yes!” you whisper-yelled “she makes googily eyes at you every time she’s looking at you.”

“You really think she likes me?”

“Oh my god, you are such a dude, of course she likes you!”

“Should I ask her on a date?”

“Yes Tim. Ask the poor girl on a date, she’s been waiting”

After you lit a fire under his ass, he quickly asked Isabel on a date and their relationship flourished from there. You on the other hand only had a couple of boyfriends off and on, none of them could make you very happy, and you would feel bad for leading them on. Never knowing why you weren't ever satisfied by good men.

One day Tim came up to you in the lab, very secretly and locked the door while looking at you. “Hey, i need womanly advice” Tim said, almost scared even the wind would pick up on his voice. 

“Alright, hit me” you smiled finishing up your email, “which ring do you think Isabel would like best?” your eyes flashed to the screen Tim was pulling up. The images showed two sets of princess cut diamond rings, one wearing a silver band while the other wore a gold band. Tim was smiling ear to ear waiting for you to react, you studied the rings hard before deciding Isabel would most likely prefer the silver band over the gold band.

“Thank you, Y/n” Tim looked at you before hugging you tightly, “I mean it, thank you” he finished by giving you a last squeeze before leaving. Your heart felt oddly heavy, holding emotion you weren't quite able to explain away, the world was dimmer.

Tim’s wedding came and went, you attended and gave a very long, tearful speech. Telling Tim how proud of him you were and how glad you were that he had found Isabel. It still stung, although you weren't entirely sure why, Tim’s heart has never been yours to hold and keep safe.

Then, Isabel started to delve into drugs, Tim would come to your house nearly in tears every other night thinking Isabel was cheating on him. You would comfort him, trying to reassure him that she wasn’t cheating on him and her job was just hard. She just needed extra support, you thought.

Your heart ached for Tim when the two of you found out Isable was using, you also hurt for Isabel, occupational hazard completely turned her life upside down. You did your best to be there for Tim and stayed up to date with any possible sightings of Isabel, but you never caught wind of her whereabouts.

Fortunately, one day when Tim was riding with his new rookie, Lucy Chen, he ran into Isabel, who was inside a convenience store. He came by your lab after it had happened. 

“She looked bad, Y/n” Tim’s voice cracked, looking more sorrowful than he’s ever looked before. 

“I'm so sorry, Tim, that’s so awful” you hugged his slumped frame, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll find her again, I know it” you pulled away smiling at him lightly. 

He gave you a forced smile, telling you he would take you to lunch after your labs came back, you wished you could give him more but there was really nothing else you could do for him. 

After a couple of months and a really sloppy secret op, Isabel was finally able to get the help she needed and was willing to go into rehab. Tim was ecstatic to see her looking so much like her old self again, and he understood when she said she no longer wanted to be with him, that she felt she couldn’t move on with him still in her life.

Tim was just happy to see someone he loved for so long doing so good. 

He lived the single life for a while, getting back on his feet and his mental health back into a good position. 

Rachel was a short fling, but you were sure Tim loved her. 

You strongly disliked Ashley but that's neither here nor there.

Then he finally opened his eyes and saw you.

You were who he’s been waiting for his whole life, the one who saw him at his most vulnerable, while also seeing him at his most fulfilled. It took him too long to notice but he finally did, every long night chat that he always came to you for, all the times he needed to cry on someone's shoulder he would go to you. He was finally going to tell you that, and he hoped to the highest of powers you would feel the same.

After his shift he walked over to your lab, knowing you, you would be working later than you should be. He let out a nervous breath, and opened your lab door. 

“Y/n? You in here?” Tim’s voice echoed off the plain walls.

“Over here!” you called from the back of the room.

Heavy footsteps made their way towards your voice, they were fast paced, almost nervous. “Hey!” you exclaimed with a big smile stretching from ear to ear, you were sitting on the floor with files spread out around you, looking like your office had been paper bombed. 

“Hi, Y/n” there was a quiver to Tim’s voice, one that made your stomach drop, you didn’t know what Tim was about to tell you but whatever it was, it’s causing your anxiety to mix with his.

“Are you okay?” 

“Perfect.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” you laughed nervously.

“I'm in love with you” Tim finally spit out, swallowing his fear and looking into your now wide open eyes.

“What?” your mouth was agape as you asked, your heart nearly exploded with eagerness and relief. 

“I'm in love with you, and i want to take you on a date” Tim repeated, with more confidence this time. “Okay” you stated simply.

“Okay?” His voice was laced with a bit of confusion and happiness. 

“Tim, i’ve been in love with you since we were in middle school and instead of hitting me with a dodgeball you took a hit for yourself because you just couldn’t bring yourself to tag me out” You laughed out, getting up from your paper tornado you've made around your office.

Tim pulled you into him with one hasty movement, “I wish i’d noticed sooner” Tim had a slight frown adorning his face.

“Every dead end street, led you straight to me, You noticed when it was the right time” you said quietly, wanting this moment to last forever. 

“So, where are you taking me on our first date?”

[venussaidso]

Hades can be a possible Ashwini-coded character as well because I remember a viral tweet from years ago (which must be deleted because I can't find it) fancasting Ashwini Moon Benedict Cumberbatch and possible Ashwini native Tom Hiddleston as the Disney version.

link to thread

Also from his facial features alone, he reminds me of Ashwini Suns Peter Capaldi & Al Pacino and Ashwini ASC B.J. Novak. He just has those nodal eyes.

Ashwini Sun James Woods voiced Disney's Hades.

He has those eyes as well. Of course, not every Ashwini native will inherit nodal eyes. I mean, just look at Cumberbatch. He's got those cat eyes from his Punarvasu Sun, but the fancasting of him as Hades may be due to the Ashwini energy these fans have unconsciously picked up on.

edit: it's been almost six years already.

Ashwini Sun Peter Capaldi looking like Ashwini Moon Hugh Grant btw!

Ashwini is commonly symbolized by horses, known for its speed, unpredictability, tricky, and quick-witted nature. Disney Hades' rapid mood swings, his energetic scheming, his swift decision-making, and fast-talking personality captures the speedy essence of this nakshatra. Also, his ability to switch from *sunshine* charming to downright menacing in seconds mirrors the extremely charming and dualistic nature of Ashwini, which further connects to the "con-man" archetype. I mean, Hades quite literally works to scam Hercules in the animation story.

Ketu = detachment, isolation, and the hidden. Hades, being the ruler of the Underworld, is literally detached from the world of the living, governing a realm that most avoid out of fear. Another Ketu characteristic is his apathy, sarcasm, and plain disinterest in Olympus' social order — aligning with Ketu's nonconformist and outcast vibe. Also with Ketuvians, they're never outcasts because it's cool. They deeply don't care, and they can't help that they don't care even if they try to, which is sometimes devastating. But anyway, Hades vibes with nobody but himself.

The combination of Ketu with the fire element can manifest an explosive temper and impatience. He embodies this with his frequent fiery outbursts. His blue flames can symbolize Ketu's spiritual fire, which burns away illusions and reveals the truth beneath.

I'm certain James Woods' Hades highlights Ashwini because of this Hades' restlessness. Ashwini influence brings a desire for adventure and freedom due to the Mars rulership, Ketu heightening the Mars influence from its sucking receptivity alone. Hades is frustrated with his confined role in the Underworld, wanting power beyond his realm. I made a post with Ketu nakshatra characters being power-hungry, but I didn't mention more on how this is just simply related to these fire signs' quest for liberation. So the internal poverty of Ketuvians also indicates inward suffering & obsession (due to lack), which is why they may embody very destructive power-hungry tendencies. It's due to the unconscious, authentic desire for liberation, manifesting in all the wrong ways.

Mula Moon Lena Headey as the fearsome, power-hungry Cersei Lannister.

Dhanistha Sun Susan Egan voices Meg in Hercules, and Hades uses her as a tool to get what he wants. Their dynamic echoes this post I made regarding some Mars nakshatra x Ketu nakshatra duos I've seen. Often the Ketuvian is behind the actions of the Martian, who works as their footsoldier for something grand.

even the way he talks is that of a con-artist.

More fancastings

Magha Moon Bob Odenkirk as Hades.

Bottom three are all possible Ashwini natives. Tom Hiddleston, James Woods, Hugh Grant etc.

Speaking of Magha nakshatra, Magha Moon Cheyenne Jackson played Hades as well.

Someone fancasted Mula Moon Gerard Butler as Hades too.

Mula Sun Ralph Fiennes also played Hades!

This reminds me of the film Meet Joe Black, starring Brad Pitt, with Mula Sun, who plays DEATH himself.

Anthony Hopkins, the star of the film, who has Mula Moon, plays a man who Death guides to the afterlife through friendship.

Like Hades of Greek myth, the realm that Hela rules is the Underworld. In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Hela is portrayed by Ashwini Moon native Cate Blanchett.

In Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Hela Lokidottir had been voiced by the Ashwini Moon native Nika Futterman.

[067supremacy]

Summertime in Jackson 18+!

Dom! Ellie Williams x Fem Reader

On a hot day on patrol, you decide it would be fun to tease Ellie. She makes sure you remember the rest of the day….

Warnings: Dirty talk, Fingering, strap-on sex, very light degradation, Dom Ellie, Fem Reader, squirting

Ellie Williams Masterlist

"Fuck, " you groan out while wiping the sweat from your forehead. You usually enjoyed patrol with Ellie, but this heat was almost unbearable. You look over to your partner, who rides her horse with grace. Ellie holds on with one hand while the other rests on her hip, just above the handgun in her holster.

The thoughts on your mind were the last you should have while outside of the comfortable walls of Jackson City, but she looked so good. Ellie wore her famous converse and washed skinny jeans; the best of all was your girlfriend had put on a tank top to deal with the sweltering heat. You thought this wasn't just for her sake; she knew what this does to you, the sight of that tattoo you love so much on full display, glistening as a light coat of sweat had covered her arms. You do the best you can to hide your attraction, but the throb you feel is hard to ignore.

Ellie flexes her arm as she holds on to the reins tighter. This action alone was enough to send your thoughts into overdrive; Ellie turns to look at you and gives you a sweet, innocent smile. If only she knew the rampant sexual images rushing through your mind right now.

"I love this," Ellie says to herself, but loud enough for you to hear it. She looks up to the sky and takes a deep breath. Her hot skin shines in the sun; you loved it too. This is the kind of moment that you cherish permanently.

"I love you," Ellie speaks again; this time, her eyes are solely focused on you. Only Ellie could make you go from sexual thoughts to heart-melting cuteness. You always felt her love, every day without fail; she would make sure it was known. Ellie wasn't exactly keen on being overly affectionate in public, but when it came to you, she hated the thought of others trying their luck. It reminds you of a time not long ago when such an event took place, a person Ellie had been assigned with for patrol had quite the track record with the females of Jackson. Much to Ellie's annoyance, he had made a few lasting comments about you, but for your sake Ellie simply ignored them. A night of celebration took place; the annual festival was a time where everyone could get together and let loose. The same person assigned with Ellie had been loitering around you and Ellie for the night; all it took was the time of Ellie going to get a drink and back to your location for him to make a move. Raged with jealousy, Ellie made it her mission to cuss him out with every bad word known to humankind, but that wasn't enough in her eyes; a swift jab to his nose was enough to satisfy her. But something that always sticks about this certain time is how frustrated Ellie was when you returned home. She made sure you knew who you belonged to that night, more than once,,, over and over again.

"I love you too," you reply with a bright smile in return. You and Ellie continue the route for more than half a day. It was a struggle both in terms of the heat and how good Ellie looks. She caught you a few times staring and made a show of everything. She knew what she was doing, but two could play at that game. You had also made a wise choice in clothing; something that was a little known fact to you was Ellie loved the sight of you wearing her clothing. And today, you picked up her blue, ripped sleeves, button-up shirt. Every now and then, a button would "seemingly come loose on its own." you notice that Ellie can't quite hide her love for your chest much longer.

Ellie signals to check a block of buildings to your left, which hadn't been checked for a while. They were safe from what you could remember, so decided to make it your mission to leave her red-faced, this time with no relation to the heatwave. Ellie's reason for checking the buildings was entirely innocent and in the name of keeping Jackson safe; you readily agreed because this also happened to be the site of your first time with Ellie, ammunition that would come in handy in just a few minutes.

After the pair of you had secured two buildings, you enter the third and final building. The very one you couldn't wait to tease Ellie with. The second floor was upon you; your handgun is firmly gripped at the handle. "Clear!" Ellie shouts from across the dusty corridor before making her way to your position. You sharply turn the corner into the room you knew so well. As expected, empty and clear. Ellie arrives and instantly recognises the place, but can't put the pieces together. "Do you remember this place, babe?" you ask seductively in her ear, giving a light nibble to Ellie's lobe for good measure.

Seeing Ellie shiver on the spot brings a cocky smirk to the surface of your face. You still can make her weak after all this time together; it's a heartwarming gesture, but right now, you still had to get her hot and bothered.

"Is this,,,, where we first, " you don't let Ellie finish her sentence; another thing Ellie loved was when you were direct. This was the perfect time to be that.

"Where we fucked, El. You fucked me right there; I can still feel your teeth digging into my neck, you know." throughout your filthy tirade, you had taken your rightful place on her tattooed arm, curling one of yours around hers and using your free arm to stroke the tattoo. You can feel her breath get heavy; Ellie closes her eyes and attempts to compose herself, them kissable lips strain as she keeps from biting her bottom lip. Ellie almost snaps when you whisper in her ear again. "I want you, Ellie. Right now."

"But I suppose I'll just have to wait until we get back to Jackson," you say while turning to leave the building; just before descending the steps, you take a look over your shoulder to see Ellie still standing in the same spot. "Are you coming?" You giggle to yourself as when she turns to look at you, as hoped, her face is bright red.

The ride back to Jackson was torture for the both of you. Barely a word is spoken, rarely do your eyes connect to one another. The tension can be felt for miles, but the tension lies between the two of you; as you enter the safety of Jackson, Ellie makes eye contact with you; her eyes are sealed with lust. Excitement builds within you as she grabs your hand and hurries you back to her place. You witnessed this side of Ellie three times before, and each time led to multiple hours of stimulation.

The destination of your pleasure arrives shortly after, still with no words spoken and a tight grip around your hand; she throws the door open and slams it behind her, with your body immediately being pinned against it. The kiss she gives you is rushed, full of need and pent up aggression that she would likely take out on you. The feeling of being trapped between Ellie and the door with her knee pressed against your center is otherworldly. You use the friction to rolls your hips sharply; the contact gives you some relief, but with the way you're feeling, it had to be Ellie, and it had to be more.

"You think that was funny, huh?" Ellie rasps out between a flurry of kisses. "Teasing me like that, wearing my shirt. Begging to get fucked? You're mine." Ellie growls in your ear; this ruthless, animalistic Ellie makes you wetter than you thought possible.

"Look at you, riding my leg. So fucking needy." it's true; you are needy for Ellie's touch. She takes both your hands in hers and pins them above your head; you could easily get out of the situation but submitting to Ellie is your role in this; it's what you loved, and most importantly, it's what she loves. She begins to mark your neck with her teeth, something that would often need to be covered after sex with Ellie, not that you were complaining.

"Ellie, please." you manage to breathe out, to which she chuckles. Ellie loves the way her name rolls off your tongue; it's like silk to the ears, a wonderful nectar that she soaks up every time.

"Come on; you can do better than that, princess. Beg for me." every word rings through your ear and wraps around your brain, the lengths you would go to for this girl weren't possibly known yet. If Ellie asked you to do something, there was no thought behind it; you did it.

"Fuck,, please Ellie, do something, anything. I'm yours, all yours." and that was enough for her; that's all she needed to hear. The confirmation of you being hers flicked a switch as your two hands above your are trapped under one of her hands . Ellie sloppily works at getting you undressed, she opens your belt buckle. She undoes the button of your jeans and dips her hand into your underwear.

Her fingers meet your already sensitive bud and massage it just the way you like it. Your moans are a delicious treat for Ellie, who only increases her speed. You struggle to stand as Ellie continues her pleasurable assault on your clit. You pulse with even more need than before, and when Ellie's fingers leave your clit and rub along your wet slit, you know exactly what you need. You need Ellie inside of you.

"So wet, fuck." Ellie mumbles to herself. On the inside, a proud feeling runs through her body as she has this effect on you. Ellie feels your juices run down fingers, and her arousal peaks, how she needed to taste this, and that she does. Ellie pulls her hand free from your jeans and sucks on her fingers that are coated with your cum. Ellie moans to herself at the blissful taste; in rapid succession, she spins you around, so your front meets the door; she shimmies your jeans down your legs along with your panties followed with her shirt and your bra which is thrown in any direction. Once you kick off the jeans, she instructs you to hold on to the door frame. Ellie gives your ass a harsh slap before giving the handprint an open-mouthed kiss. You jerk at the action, only getting more wet if that's even possible.

She stands behind you; her dominant presence looms over you; the excitement you felt earlier was finally here and Ellie couldn't wait to have you screaming her name. A quick kiss to your cheek and the usual wait for your authorisation is followed by a single digit gliding through your slick folds. The molten heat emanating from your core is addictive to Ellie, her drug that she needs a fix from. Pressing her own stiff nipples on your back, she finally enters the digit into you. Your body shudders at the spectacular feeling; after a full day of wanting her, it gave you relief but not enough; now you needed to finish.

Ellie Starts slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion of her finger and builds the rhythm every ow and then until the lewd sound makes it known you are ready for more, her middle finger soon enters you as well; the delicious stretch makes you coo and moan Ellie's name the way she loves. Ellie encourages you to let out any noise that you like, regardless of whether people could hear. In her mind, the world just consisted of the two of you. No one else is present.

Ellie's wrist works overtime as she pumps into you at a furious pace. Your satisfying moans don't deteriorate her efforts, as this is what she lives for. You scream your pleasure when Ellie tangles her left hand in your hair and yanks it back; with your neck now exposed, she scrapes her tongue along the side, making you weak at the knees.

"Scream my name, babe." Ellie says directly in your ear before nipping on the crown. You didn't really have a choice when she curls her long fingers into the very spot that made your toes curl.

"OH FUCK, ELLIE." you scream out, much to Ellie's satisfaction. All this build-up had you on edge already. A few more accurate curls of her digits inside of you made you crumble on her fingers. A burst of wetness coats her hand as you fall limp on her shoulder. Ellie subtracts her hands from your core and rubs your clit lightly to bring you down. It takes a while, but your senses come back, you feel charged up, ready to go again; luckily for you, Ellie had something special already planned. Carefully, Ellie walks you to the bed on jelly legs; she lays you down and admires your perfect body. "Fuck, you look so hot, baby." Ellie husks above you.

For a short while, Ellie had disappeared; you lay waiting in wonder at what she had up her sleeve. It flicks like a light bulb in your mind at what the surprise is, but before you can give it any thought, Ellie returns with a large thick toy connected to a strap. It had been a while since you had seen this toy; the last time gave you much pleasure and countless mind-bending orgasms. But Ellie was new to it at the time, now with some experience behind her, she knew this would make your night. She strips herself of the clothing she wore and secures the strap with full intent on making you know who owns you. Not that you needed reminding, but Ellie sure thought so.

Ellie crawls up your body, making absolutely sure to kiss every available patch of skin she crosses along the journey. Ellie licks her lips as she passes your wet hole; with a swipe of that talented tongue, you writhe against the bed; as much as Ellie would love to lick your sacred area; she was so ready to pound you with the toy she has attached. So continues her journey, a shy smile arrives on her face as she meets yours. A reassuring kiss to your lips reminds you of the loving, gentle side, but that side was quickly overturned as the toy breaches your entrance.

"O-oh fuck, Ellie." you stumble along with your words, the sheer size makes it hard to adjust, but Ellie has time for that. Small kisses plaster your face as she instructs you to breathe. Eventually, you relax around the strap, and Ellie can push forward until the entire toy is inside you. You moan uncontrollably, swear words and Ellie's name are the only words you know right now. Spurred on by your reaction, she drags out slowly and pushes back in at a slow pace. It doesn't take long for you to become accustomed to it. Her thrusts get harder every few pumps of her hips. To get the best angle, you curl your leg to rest on Ellie's bare ass. Soon she is driving into you with reckless abandonment; Ellie groans and grunts in your neck as she places loose kisses wherever she can. Her hands get placed in yours, and she controls them at either side of your head once again, assuring herself of the dominant nature of your sex life.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" you chant over and over again. Each rough thrust hits the spongy patch deep inside of you. Ellie is skilled with the strap; she makes it seem like an art form the way she can give you pleasure. And you hadn't even given her stamina the credit it deserves. Despite the girl dripping from head to toe with sweat, and her body burning with exhaustion, she keeps pounding into your pussy.

Ellie has a change of heart of all a sudden. She sits up pulls the strap out of you, making you groan at the feeling of being empty. "ELLIE!" you shout in frustration, but she was already grabbing you at the hips and turning you around. She places you on your hands and knees, a sight that makes her mouth water. She looks down at the strap to see it covered in your juices. Knowing it's wet enough to reenter automatically, she pushes forward and instantly starts a blistering pace. You take the pounding like the champion you are; every thrust is heard with the connection of yours and Ellie's skin, something that loved to hear. Your moans continue to scream out; at this point, everyone in Jackson could probably hear you, but you couldn't care less as long as Ellie kept fucking you; it was worth it.

She watches the way your ass bounces back in against her; it was like a brand new fascination had been discovered for her; she pulls your hair into a ponytail and slaps your ass with the freehand before harshly grabbing your hips to make sure she had a good grip. Through all of the energy she was using, Ellie was heavily breathing, and keeping up the pace was now impossible; just out of luck, your pussy tightens around the toy, making it hard to drill into you, and your liquid bursts out once again.

You mumble incoherently as your brain tries recover. Ellie had well and truly fucked you. You held a delightful pain; it is dull and just enough to not create any comfort, just the reminder Ellie hoped you would feel. Ellie pulls out of you and unclips the strap. She straightens your position on the bed and brings you into her sweaty side, still panting like she had run a marathon.

"Are you okay, princess? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Ellie asks innocently, the concern evident in her voice. You were too tired to respond; you cuddle into her side and get comfortable. That's all the answer. Ellie needs to know that you were satisfied with the outcome.

"I love you, sweetheart." Ellie whispers into your temple while placing the softest kisses possible, allowing you to get the rest you deserve.

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

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[vikspretty]

windows of opportunity

in which lance is a disaster romantic and misses every opportunity to ask you out

masterlist

pairing: lance x reader

tags: fem! reader, disaster romantic lance, blue paladin lance, oblivious reader, oblivious lance too, reader isn't a paladin she just, like, helps(?), very very tiny bit of angst, happy ending, fluff, mutual pining, flirty banter, no use of y/n, lance calls reader ‘pretty’ as a nickname, cheeky little taylor swift reference if you squint.

notes: as a huge hopeless romantic, missed opportunities with a happy ending and mutual pining but thinking the other doesn't reciprocate is my obsession. i also know i said the first one would be keith but then i thought of this and it fit lance more i think.

wc: 2.3k

“Rise and shine, work hard, carve out your name, Take aim, pull the trigger, hit the bulls eye for fame, Know the value of faith, an' family, and don't you complain, Open wide, your windows of opportunity" — Kate Denson's "Windows of Opportunity”

To say that Lance liked you was an understatement. He was obsessed. Not crazy obsessed, but obsessed in the way that you consumed his every thought.

Luckily this didn't extend to during fights, but even then he would still be acutely aware of where you were at all times, making sure he could hear your voice over the comms, often talking over Coran just to flirt with you.

You were no different. Having known Lance since before joining the Garrison, your feelings for him have come and gone repetitively. Each time you'd confide in Pidge, declaring that you were over him after seeing him treat someone else the same way he treats you, claiming that he'd only ever see you as a friend, he'd do something that would make you retract anything bad you'd ever said about him.

Yours and Lance's feelings were obvious to everyone and it bewildered them how you both thought they were one sided.

The kitchen was quiet, Hunk, Keith and Pidge holding conversation while each did their own thing: Hunk baking, Keith tracing his blade and Pidge on her computer. Peaceful.

"What if I say something and she thinks I'm weird and never talks to me again?"

Keith and Pidge immediately groaned while Hunk remained silent, watching as Lance walked past all three of them, interrupting their conversation and train of thoughts. He threw himself onto a chair at the table across from Pidge who had already gathered her things and gotten up to leave. "Nope, not dealing with this again," she said as she left.

"She already thinks you're weird, I'm surprised she still puts up with you," Keith says from the spot next to where Pidge was. Lance glared at him in response, ignoring him.

"I think you should just try. If her face when she looks at you is anything to go off, I'm pretty sure she likes you too." It was a usually useless statement that was many times returned with "You're lying," or "I would've noticed." This time however, Lance turned to face Hunk and instead said,

"I was on my way to ask her out just now but she was training with Shiro and was in a zone and I didn't wanna disrupt that cause- where are you going?" Lance cut his rant off with a question directed at Keith who was leaving the kitchen.

"To train," was all he replied with.

"So you're finally going to do it? Why are you in here then?" Hunk asked.

"Yeah I am. I'm sick of wondering if she feels the same so I'm just gonna ask. I've never had a problem with it before so why should I now?"

From there, Lance vowed to himself that he would ask you out as soon as possible. He didn't want to spend any more time not being able to call you his than he had to.

You heard your name being called from down the corridor as you made your way to the showers. Training with Shiro was one thing, training with Shiro and Keith was another when you weren't out in the field anywhere near as often as them. It also didn't help how Keith had mentioned he had come to you two to escape Lance's apparent rambling about you. It had thrown you off and to make up for it and stop Shiro's teasing, you had put even more effort in than you normally would.

Turning around, you saw Lance running to catch up to you. Despite wanting to turn and make a run for it to the showers to avoid any embarrassment, you stopped and waited for him to meet you.

Huffing slightly, Lance met up with you and stopped to take you in. You were beautiful. Even when you were clearly sweaty and exhausted. He had to shake his head slightly to keep his thoughts from turning dirty. "Finished training?"

"Yeah, was just heading to the showers, wanna join me?" you said with a smirk, knowing that your question could be taken a couple different ways.

Recognising your signature smirk you used whenever the two of you would 'harmlessly' flirt, Lance played along. "Of course."

"Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Lance froze up briefly. He had wondered if Keith had overheard him say that he was going to ask you out and had opened his big mouth to you. You quietened his thoughts by following up with, "You look like you wanna say something. If its to tell me I smell, I know, Shiro and Keith are not easy opponents."

"Yeah you do stink, but I hope you kicked Keith's ass." Lance joked. "Anyway, I just wanted to ask you the best way to ask someone out." Your smile dropped for a second before replacing it with a forced one. You knew he didn't like you and he wasn't yours to lose so why should you keep someone else from experiencing what you could only dream about.

"Oh, well, it depends who it is. Personally, I like when it's done in a way that shows the person really knows me, like with trinkets or using inside jokes as a way of showing their feelings rather than just saying it. Allura though, she'd probably like to be taken somewhere nice, so when you ask her out maybe do it on a planet with a nice skyline or sunset or something." You knew it had to be Allura he was planning to ask out. He'd been flirting with her ever since you all met her. It was only a matter of time. You felt the unwanted tears build up - you had to get away, and fast. "Oh look, we're at the showers, thanks for walking with me and good luck on asking Allura, I'm sure she'll say yes." You were out of sight in seconds.

Lance stood facing the door speechless and confused. Where did Allura come into this? Why were you so quick to leave? He had only asked how to ask someone in hopes to lead up to him actually asking but instead his window of opportunity had closed before he even let it open.

His next window was clear. He had his speech planned out, knew exactly what he wanted to say and how. Now was the perfect opportunity. You were the only one on the bridge, sat in his seat seemingly just relaxing. Why you were doing that here instead of in the lounge he didn't know but he decided to ask later.

You hadn't noticed Lance's presence until you head a "Quiznack" be muttered under his breath as he tripped over his own feet, luckily managing to catch himself. You sat up and turned to face him. "Finally falling for me, Sharp-shooter?" you joked, internally cringing at the use of the word 'finally'.

If Lance had noticed your slip up, he didn't mention it. Instead, he rounded to the front of the chair you were in and dropped to sit on the floor facing you. "You wish. No. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"How did it go with Allura?" Truthfully, you didn't want to know, but you were sure you'd hear about it from one of them soon enough so why not get it out of the way.

"How did what go with Allura?" The confusion on his face was obvious.

"You were gonna ask her our remember? You literally asked me how to do it like two days ago." You mirrored Lance's confusion.

"Oh." Silence. "Oh! No! I wasn't planning to ask her out! I actually wanted to ask you-" his voice, which was already turning very quiet was cut off by you sitting up and squinting at the window.

"What was that?" You asked yourself aloud. Lance mistook that as a question for him.

"I said-" he was cut off again when you quickly got up and ran to the window.

"Quiznack!"

"What?"

"Alert everyone. Get to your lions. Now."

At that, Lance looked outside to see multiple Galra ships appearing. He groaned internally. To you the groan was about having to go out and fight. For him, the groan was because yet another window of opportunity had shut.

Keith really just wanted to lay down. Not necessarily sleep as that had never come easy to him, but he was exhausted. Instead he had to listen to you whine about how Lance doesn't share your feelings. When he had asked why you were coming to him about this you had said that everyone who wasn't Lance was busy and she didn't want to bother them. At that moment he wished you hadn't found him sat in the lounge. As much as he cherished you as a friend, he was quite frankly sick of hearing about Lance. When there was a knock at the door of his room, of which you had followed him into and immediately flopped onto his bed mid rant, Keith rolled his eyes and opened it. He was glad it had at least got you to be quiet since you also wondered who it was.

"Hey have you seen, oh hi pretty, Keith have you seen-" Lance stopped talking. When he'd said hi, he wasn't thinking, it was natural instinct. When he realised you were laid out on Keith's bed, his brain caught up to his mouth.

You, on the other hand, were blushing. It wasn't the first time Lance was calling you pretty. In fact it's what he called you 90% of the time. But it was the timing. You had just been complaining about how he doesn't think of you except from if he has to or if you're talking with him then he calls you pretty, offhanded. You were going insane.

"What's up?" Keith asked Lance, aiming a sly smirk at you as if he could tell you were going crazy over both seeing the person who was the main character of your rant and at the name said person had called you.

"Actually I was looking for her but if you guys are busy..."

Keith took this opportunity to both get rid of you so he can lie down and also get back at you for talking his ear off. "No, no, please, take her, I'm sick of hearing about you."

Lance ignored Keith's comment, turning to you, "Can we talk?"

Your eyes went wide as you sat up, your heart immediately dropping. Had you done something wrong? Had he overheard you talking about how much you liked him? Was this the end of your guys's friendship? You'd rather have him as a friend than nothing at all. You just nodded and said bye to Keith as you left his room.

The door closed within milliseconds of you leaving the room. It was just you and Lance now. Alone. "Come on," Lance smiled and started walking to his room.

Arriving in his room, Lance's nerves began to pick up. This was his chance. Again. He promised to himself that this is it. He wasn't going to let another interruption keep him from telling you how he feels.

Being in his room alone with him was nothing new, so why did you feel so nervous. "Come sit down, pretty." Lance patted the spot next to where he had just sat on his bed. You plastered a smile on your face and sat down.

"What's up? You never ask to talk, you usually just... do."

Lance let out a snort at that, giving you a pointed glance. "Oh and you don't?"

"I never said that."

The light hearted joking relaxed you - it's what you were used to between the two of you.

Your previous nerves about what Lance had to say dissipated as the two of you continued to joke together a little longer.

"Lance. You didn't come find me just to hang out. I know you. What's up?"

He had been putting it off, nerves creeping up the closer he came to confessing and so he sought comfort in your company as it was. Lance nodded and cleared his throat, turning to look in your eyes. "Every time I've tried to talk to you about this, something interrupts me: you rushing off to the showers, then the galra finding us. And then you thought I asked Allura out which is crazy because yeah she's-"

"Lance." You cut him off, not wanting to hear about how the princess of Altea was perfect and dreamy. "Come on."

"As I was going to say, before someone rudely interrupted, again-"

You laughed and stuck your tongue out at him quickly and jokingly.

"Hey! Anyway, yeah Allura is cool, I mean, she's a princess. But she isn't you." He paused, but realised how that could be taken, he continued, "I don't want Allura... I want you pretty girl. And it has taken me way too long to finally tell you. There have been so many missed windows of opportunity, and I refuse to miss any more. It's you. It's always been you, and I'm sorry I led you to believe otherwise."

You were speechless. A confession wasn't even on the list of things you had expected to come from this talk. The smile that grew on your face was unstoppable. Not trusting yourself to let out a happy squeal, you threw your arms around the man who had just told you he chooses you.

The sudden force took Lance by surprise, but he was fast to wrap his arms around your waist and fall back onto his bed, pulling you down with him. You lifted your head to look Lance in the eyes. Lance took this as his chance to finally make things official. "Will you be mine, pretty?"

The smile you didn't think could grow any wider, did. "I will always be yours, Loverboy Lance."

notes: i low-key kinda don't like how this ended up but i tried. it's also only slightly proof-read because i wanna move on to a keith fic now. also, if you saw this before, i reposted it cause i wanted it after my masterlist stuff so its still the same just reposted. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. i also may make a taglist so let me know if you wanna be on it!

@cafekitsune made the dividers here!

thank you for reading!!

[ririsasaki]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Loki x Reader Slight Angst + Fluff

Summary: Loki is imprisoned for life, and you, his childhood friend, decide to visit him.

Inspired by the song It’s Nice to Have a Friend by Taylor Swift.

Note: It’s written in third person, and the pronouns at the beginning are she/her. It switches to the pronoun you after a while.

Word Count: 1.6k

Pacing around in his small cell, Loki was seething. His head still couldn’t get around what had happened to him. Imprisoned for life. How? How could Odin dare? Well, he thought miserably, staring into the opposite cell, I suppose he did always favor Thor. The thought stabbed him deep in the heart. He was always shoved aside. Always second. Always alone.

The thought of staying in this small, public yet private area for the rest of his four thousand years of living was painful. He didn’t want to stay here. Why didn’t his mother do anything? Bringing him books was nice, he supposed, but wouldn’t she try to save him, at the very least? Because she’s not… his thought trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to think that. He loved her. He truly did.

It was the middle of the night, he could sense it, even if the dungeon was underground and had no windows. A distant patter of someone scurrying across the landing caught his attention. Man, it was hard, trying to fall asleep under these blazing lights. He swung his legs off the bed with little enthusiasm, sighed deeply, and walked towards the large window that exposed him to everyone who looked.

He wasn’t surprised when he saw the veiled shadow walk hurriedly, as if wanting to get something over with. What totally normal was, because no one liked to be here anyways, prisoner or not. What did surprise him was the flash of [h/c] hair that flew behind them, her steps marching toward his cell. His cell. A flash of memory flew past in his head, remembering. No, it can’t be. She wouldn’t… not after this…

Once she came to a halt in front of his giant window, he put on a tragic version of his signature smirk. But of course. He should’ve known. It was just another person about to rant how bad of a person he was. Just another being, about to tell him just now terrible and unworthy he’d been. But the person in front of his cell did neither. After a while of silent staring, she took her cloak off, revealing the one person he’d wished not to see: you.

You looked at him with tragedy glowing in your eyes. You’d never wanted to see him there, never. You knew of his familial troubles, but never knew he’d take it this far. It hurt, to see him like this. Imprisoned and lost. With no one’s support.

His heart also skipped a beat. How long had it been since he’d seen you? He couldn’t remember. He only knew that it was a lot longer than he wanted it to be. He doesn’t enjoy hurting people, especially not you. You were the only friend he had as a child, and never turned away from him, even after knowing he was a Frost Giant. You didn’t care about what being he was. You cared only about him. You were his sole glimmer of light in his realm of darkness. You led him out of sadness and misery. But he betrayed you. He left you, without thinking twice. Or maybe he didn’t think at all.

‘Why are you here,’ he asked, his voice determined but with a slight hint of longing, ‘Have you come to gloat? To mock? You’re just like the others, aren’t you? Just here to see me break, to see me fall.’

You stared back into his blue eyes but doesn’t say anything. This certainly wasn’t what she expected him to say when she decided to visit him.

‘Well?’ he hissed, his voice laced with venom and a sliver of guilt, ‘Say something!’ His voice raised.

You merely looked back at him, looking away when he half yelled at her. Guilt filled his entire being. He couldn’t- Why was he-

When you glanced back, your eyes were shining with unshed tears. You opened your mouth, your voice about to break. ‘I came,’ you whispered hoarsely, ‘because I missed you.’

These words hit Loki with a pang. I missed you. They echoed in his head, awakening every nerve and bringing out all the guilt that he hid away. His breathing became ragged, shallow. Before he could properly react, however, you pressed on.

‘You were gone for a year, I thought… I thought… I thought I lost you,’ you said, tears falling freely from your eyes. Every bat of your eyelids poured more down, until they collected at your chin and dripped onto the dungeon floor. Shakily, she steps through the barrier and leaves very little space between them. She stared up at him with her [e/c] eyes.

‘I was so worried,’ she said, taking his hand in her own and pressing her forehead against his chest. ‘I missed you,’ she repeated, fully leaning into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Oh, how you missed his scent, his clothes, everything. He had meant so much to you. How many nights you’d curl up in his old room and cry. How many times hearing his name brought you new tears.

Slowly, his head came around. Tears were welling up in his eyes, too. He loved you too… But would he ever be able to love you like he did before? Before… a feeling of regret washed over him. If only he didn’t let go. If only he didn’t fling himself off the Bifrost… then maybe everything would’ve been alright…

His arms crawled up your back, holding you close. The emotions flying around his head was making him dizzy, unsure of what to do. Only two words made it past his mouth: ‘Don’t go.’

It wasn’t just an order. It was a plea, only found in the most desperate people in the world. Now he understood what people meant when they said that the most hurt people smile the brightest. Because they know. They know that everything is over. That everything will finally be alright.

You hugged him tighter. ‘I won’t,’ you told him quietly, your words slightly muffled by his clothes, ‘I won’t leave you. Not ever. I’ll stay with you, even after you go to Valhalla.’

Loki’s tears fell down his cheeks, his heart swelling. How he’d missed this. How he’d missed your voice, your soft body pressed to his. The gratefulness he had in himself was barely describable through words. In that moment, he felt like the happiest man alive. He was so damn glad you were there. Always there.

‘I never meant to hurt you, or any of them,’ he said softly, one of his hands coming up to pat your head. You nodded, showing your agreement. ‘Why,’ he gulped as he pressed on, ‘why don’t you… hate me like the others?’ Your answer didn’t come late.

‘Because I know you better than they do. I know you didn’t mean it.’ Your voice was soothing, like the fireplace in winter. ‘I know you’d never do something like that. Never. I know that it was him that forced you.’

His heard clenched when you mentioned Thanos. ‘That madman…’ his voice quivered, ‘He tortured me to the brink of insanity. Took pleasure in watching me break.’ You pressed further into him. ‘I know,’ you repeated, ‘I know. And therefore I love you.’

His heart skipped a beat again. Looking down at you, he asked, his voice barely a whisper: ‘Do you know, or even have the slightest idea, what I’ve become?’

‘You’re the exact same as before, just… you know. Tortured and broken.’ You were uncertain when you said this. You knew he was sensitive on this topic. You knew him so well.

‘Do you know what I’ve done?’ he asked, his tone sinking drastically, as if he didn’t want to know the answer.

‘Well, yes.’ You replied again, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

‘Do you know,’ he was fully shaking by now, ‘what monster lives inside me…?’

You lifted your head, staring into the depths of his eyes. The only things you found were sorrow, fear, and guilt. Choosing your words, you said:

‘Yes, and it’s a monster that was born out of darkness. And before that empty darkness, there was a heart, a source of light and warmth that lit up the whole place. You see, hearts need to be fed with love, otherwise they die away. That’s exactly what happened to yours.’ You traced your index finger over where his heart was, drawing a shaky breath out of him.

‘Without the heart, the place was submerged in darkness, and out of that darkness grew a monster. Something people despise. But all that it’s trying to do…’ you trailed off, bringing your hands off his waist to hold his, ‘is to not let anyone else grow a new heart in that blank, because it’s afraid that if it ever happens, it’ll be broken again.’ A second of silence reigned between you, your breathings heavy. Finally, he spoke.

‘Will you… grow me a new heart…?’ he asked, his eyes filled with plea, ‘Will you fill that unbearable blank?’

You answered without hesitation. ‘Yes, of course. And I’ll make sure it’ll never be broken ever again.’

Loki’s eyes glowed as you said this. It was as if someone had taken off the invisible weight weighing him down. He sighed in both relief and gratitude, bending down to kiss you. You returned his kiss, hungry for him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered against your lips, his breath mixing with your own. ‘The pressure killed me. I couldn’t bear-‘ you shushed him, closing the distance between your lips once more. His heart lifted, rising up into his chest. It was just as you described. Your love and care made a new heart bloom in his chest.

‘I’m so damn glad I have you,’ he whispered again, his eyes closing, feeling you. ‘I must thank you. For everything. You made me feel… alive.’

You smiled. ‘But of course. It’s nice to have a friend, isn’t it?’

Hope you enjoyed it!

Tags: @vbecker10 @simplyholl @mischiefmaker615 @lokisgoodgirl

Tell me if you want to be in my taglist!

[loversmantra]

cardigan.

synopsis. when you are young they assume you know nothing. but...

content. gojo satoru x gn!reader. fluff. pet names (he calls reader baby). they hug. yeah.

wc. 965

listen to. taylor swift, cardigan.

message from noe. this is oooooold as fuuuuuck, but i lowkey cooked in the old version so i thought i'd rework it for my glorious blue eyed king. i guess i was in love with this song back then? i kinda like this and i also kinda hate this. eh. (repost from my old blog... shhh.)

There’s nothing quite like being in love with Satoru, you’ve come to realize.

Hurricane of a boy. Snatched you from the comfort and safety of what was familiar, took you away without you seeing anything coming.

There’s nothing quite like him, like the tenderness of his touch and the tenderness of his words, like the feel of his skin and the taste of his mouth, so human, so him. Sometimes you wonder how exactly it started, when exactly you allowed yourself to get swept away, blown away by his radiance, never to be the same again. You don’t particularly care to remember; all you care about, all that mattered was the now, the present, the reality of what it was to love him and be loved by him.

Many times, you’ve heard the same phrase. Young love… isn’t wonderful?

You don’t know. You’ve never known anything else. It sounds bitter, and you hate bitter. You like sweet things. You like Satoru.

You hate the venom that drips from their mouths, relentless, eager to tear you down, all because they’ve grown up and grown old, all because they’ve lost an age they’ve wasted. Their venom never reaches you. You’re thriving. With Satoru, you’re thriving.

He likes to call you at night. That’s when he’s the most restless, his mind racing a mile a minute, his thoughts howling so loud even he gets swept up by the strength of the wind. He likes to hear your voice, to help settle his thoughts, and you like to hear his, to soothe you to sleep. Sometimes, he wants to see you, and your phone is bombarded with texts begging for pictures.

show me your cute little face baby i miss u :(

You didn’t expect, however, to see Satoru climbing through your open window.

With a jerk and a barely repressed cry of fear, you slide off your bed, landing on the floor with a loud thump. Satoru snorts and reaches out his hand to help you up.

“Falling for me again?” he teases. You scowl, but take his hand, nonetheless.

“What are you doing in here, ‘Toru? It’s, like, two am.”

Satoru smiles. It’s a crooked imitation, far from the real thing. He’s showing too many teeth to be honest. He walks off to inspect your desk. There’s nothing to see there, but you let him, only because you can tell he has something on his mind.

“Can’t I want to see my beautiful partner?” he says, light and airy, like he can ever hope to fool you. The desk clearly isn’t enough of a distraction; he comes back towards you soon enough. You sit on the bed and bring him down with you, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Well,” you breathe, “you’re seeing me now. What’s up?”

He doesn’t answer. For a guy who can’t shut up, he’s always quietest in the moments that matter most. But you don’t rush him. He can come to you at his own pace, ask for comfort in his own way. Tonight, he simply wraps his arms around his shoulders, rests his cheek on your head. Takes a deep breath. Lets it out. His shoulders relax.

“Satoru,” you start, cautious, gentle, “what’s wrong?”

Satoru simply shrugs. Like how he feels isn’t a big deal. Like he isn’t consumed by the love he feels. Like he isn’t sick of hearing he’ll grow up and grow out of it.

“Just tired,” he settles for saying.

But you know what he really means. You’re tired, too.

Young love is fleeting and uncertain. Your youth is precious, and you shouldn’t waste it, you should enjoy the best years of your life before they’re behind you. Seventeen is a very inconvenient time to be in love, you’ll see how foolish you were when it’s too late.

They’re ruining what they’re telling you to enjoy, and the bitterness is making you sick. You hate bitter. You like sweet things.

“We don’t need them, ‘Toru,” You look up at him, to find him already staring down at you, his jaw slant. “We don’t need anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that. Still pretty annoying, though.”

“I know, but…”

You trail off, lost for words. You don’t know what to tell him; you’re hurting, you’re fed up, you can’t take this off his shoulders. Satoru seems to sense your distress, because he pulls away, facing you and dropping his hands on your shoulders.

“You’re right, we don’t need ‘em,” He starts lightly. You give him a look, and he smiles. Less teeth. So much sweeter. “All I need is that cute little face, baby.”

You roll your eyes and lay back on the pillow. Satoru fumbles with your CD player for a moment and lays down next to you. The low sound of a guitar fills the room. His arm comes up to wrap around your waist, his nose against your cheek, his warmth inside your chest. The wind howls outside.

Calloused fingertips stroke your cheek, and soon you hear Satoru’s voice again. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Of course, ‘Toru,” you reply, eyelids heavy. “I love you too.”

“I know. I just… needed to remind you.”

You peel your eyes open. Satoru’s admiring you, still caressing your face with his fingers.

“You don’t need to remind me,” you say, and his eyes drop to your lips. “But I appreciate it.”

The taste of him is your safety. It’s familiar, sweet, real. No bitterness in sight. Just the warmth you feel in your chest, meeting the warmth in his.

All those things no one could ever have, because he’s yours. And you love him, you love him, you love him.

There’s no point in hating those who are bitter. You’re thriving.

With Satoru, you’re thriving.

LOVERSMANTRA © 2025, all rights reserved. do not translate, crosspost, or copy. steal my work and i'll steal your kneecaps. bitch.

[shadyvoxtruth]

How ShadyVox Threatened Myself & Others For Years

My name is Martin Billany but I am also known as LittleKuriboh in the YouTube sphere/Yu-Gi-Oh fandom.

I am posting this here for posterity in case all of my other posts elsewhere about it are removed. Also because there has never been a single unified place to find all of this information presented in sequence.

Patrick, also known by his pseudonyms of ShadyVox or Scratch21's Matt Robinson or Blake Swift, spent the better part of 2019-2023 both threatening me and manipulating a group of real victims.

A brief history - for those who don't know, Patrick/ShadyVox and myself were heavily involved in the "abridged series" world in the late 2000s/mid 2010s. I myself started the whole abridged parody nonsense with Yu-Gi-Oh Abridged, and Patrick would follow suit by doing a Yu-Gi-Oh GX Abridged. We met through content creation and formed a friendship through it. Not best friends or anything, but friendly enough.

Patrick would later leave the abridged series stuff behind and start over making music, working in original animation for popular internet channels, etc. Stuff he was genuinely very good at. It was a strong choice to move away from parody content, as it likely would have held him back at some point.

At a certain point in 2018, I received a communication from him that requested I remove certain YouTube comments on my videos that featured him. These comments were demanding to know why Patrick was following various right wing channels and were calling him alt-right, etc.

I agreed to remove the comments because I considered him a friend and automatically assumed there was some big misunderstanding. As it turned out, he was subscribed to a few channels that caused me to confront him.

I was emotional and upset, admittedly. Things politically were at a fever pitch and I had been swept up by it. I have included screencaps of our conversation.

Later I would apologize to him for my outburst and try to make amends. You're probably wondering why I would include this since it doesn't seem to involve Patrick threatening me, and it seems if anything to suggest I got upset at him.

That is because I truly believe this is the moment Patrick decided he was going to find some way to come after me. I believe that Patrick had spent a lot of time creating a mask for himself, and had worn it very well, and the moment someone saw through it for even a moment he decided I had to be dealt with somehow.

At this point - mid 2018 - Patrick and I were not close. We hadn't worked on anything together in half a decade. We really only kept in touch in a cursory fashion. So I imagine this interaction stuck in Patrick's craw something awful.

I was, however, closer with the person Patrick had worked in conjunction with on his abridged series, X. These days X is my best friend. Back then, I don't know how close we were. But definitely closer than either of us were with Patrick.

One day in 2019, entirely out of the blue, Patrick messages me privately to inform me that X once slept with a girl who was 17 when he was in his early 20s.

My own spouse was sexually assaulted before I met them, and as a result I have a no tolerance policy on anything that even could resemble assault. So I immediately ended my friendship with X.

And as I was doing so, Patrick told me repeatedly that I was overreacting.

As you can see, by Patrick/Shady's own words, this was a long time ago. Just under a decade or so, by my count.

And most importantly, Patrick had been aware of this for the whole decade or so and chose this very moment to tell me that this happened.

I want you to keep that in mind, especially the fact that when I said I was ending my friendship with X, Patrick's actual response was "it was a long time ago, he's gotten better."

It was painful to end my friendship with X, but I did. I told him that if he could provide satisfactory proof that what Patrick had said didn't represent the facts of the situation, I could be his friend again. Until then, I cut off all communication from X.

A week or so later I received specific evidence that pointed to a situation wherein Patrick was intentionally misrepresenting what happened, or the alleged victim's story. The alleged victim VERY specifically disagreed with Patrick.

You'll note that I'm not including screen caps of these conversations - that is because the alleged victim, and other involved parties, DO NOT WANT to be part of any of this and have needed actual therapy because of Patrick's behavior in the past. Not just here.

Anyway.

I returned to Patrick/Shady and told him there had been a misunderstanding. I wanted to clear the air and give him a chance to say something along the lines of "oh okay, obviously I had my facts wrong." I mean, as you yourself have just read - he said himself that this was a long time ago. Maybe he got some wires crossed.

This is how Patrick actually responded:

The screenshots were taken on different dates, hence why his twitter icon looks different suddenly.

But yes. His response to me explaining that the alleged victim disagreed with his stance, was to insist that the alleged victim must be lying and that I should be absolutely infuriated.

After he'd tried to tell me that there was no point in being upset about this information that he had sat on for the better part of a decade.

Patrick continued to scream at me via dm, repeatedly requesting that I give him my phone number so we could talk about this. I assume this is because he didn't want any kind of text evidence of what he was going to say to me, or what he was doing.

He would later, mid-conversation, tell me that he was deleting all of his dms to me. Not sure why. It doesn't remove them from my side of the conversation, so I still have access to all of them. I have not shared the entire private message thread yet, because it's sensitive and involves people beyond just myself. But if the dms ever do need to be made public entirely, I have them.

I ended up blocking Patrick during this very conversation because he had begun screaming at me, behaving extremely unhinged and in a frightening manner. I honestly think he had hoped that I would initially try to defend my friend from his accusation, in which case he was going to fly off the handle then. But because I had genuinely believed him and removed my friend from my life, only to then learn Patrick's story didn't hold water, he had no choice but to lash out now. When it didn't make any sense to suddenly be irate about a thing he had told me about, and had literally just said "it was a long time ago."

Within 24 hours, Patrick had sent me a threatening email saying he was going to expose me for everything I was doing. I have attached the highlights of the email, parts that don't involve other people's names.

Some of the references in this email - specifically about how I've associated with others and ignored people calling me out for it - are related to a podcast I was on, alongside Patrick. Until recently I had indeed tried to move on with my life after a number of the people involved had revealed themselves to be toxic. I had made efforts to separate myself from those people. It had been years since I'd really had any direct connection to any of them.

I do indeed regret not speaking out about it sooner.

Having said this, Patrick himself was equally as guilty for not speaking out - and had in fact spent a significantly larger amount of time talking to/working with the people in question.

As such, I believe a lot of this is some form of bizarre projection on his part.

I ignored the email because I was a) worried that he had suddenly snapped, and b) I didn't think any of the content warranted a response.

A day later, I received this email from Patrick where his tone has changed entirely:

As you can see, this is more in line with the reality of the situation. He is apologizing profusely and insisting I didn't actually do anything wrong, and that he was the one in the wrong.

You'll also note that he signs this particular email "Patrick." That is because it is his real name, and I believe he was possibly appealing to my humanity and the part of me that might still have seen a friendship worth salvaging. Otherwise I could not tell you why he signed his real name - he typically hates using it.

I still did not reply because at this point I was confused and scared and wanted him to leave me alone. And to that point, he had specifically stated at the end of his email that he was the problem and he would not "involve himself in my life any longer."

The police were contacted and they told him to stop. I had hoped that my part in all of this was over.

Later that very month, Patrick announced on his ShadyVox twitter account that a new GX Abridged was coming out for April Fools.

When it is posted on April 1st - less than a month after he had sent his email saying he would remove himself from my life, and not long after the police have visited him - the video contains many references to our conversations, and specifically the fact that the police got involved.

Yes, after being told by the police to stop - and after writing an email that insisted he knew he was the real problem and would be getting help - he decides to make a mockery of the situation publicly, in a manner that nobody else will understand. Except the people it is targeting.

The tweets about this video are the only thing remaining on Patrick's twitter account, as he had purged it some time ago.

(An aside - I do recall someone attempting to call Patrick out for being toxic previously on twitter, and his response was to spam them with the words "PROVE IT. PROVE IT. PROVE IT." until they gave up. I would include screenshots of this, but like I said - he purged his entire twitter except for this specific GX Abridged video he'd thrown together in a week to respond to the fact that the authorities had intervened to get him to stop)

One other important element of this video - which is where, I believe, this whole thing veers into genuinely disturbing territory - is that it is interspersed with garbled footage intended to look like some sort of creepypasta/vhs effect. At the end of the GX Abridged video, it is clear that Patrick is using this video to allude to some upcoming song tracks he is producing.

Songs that are tailored to threaten me in cryptic, indirect ways that very few people pick up on.

But I'll get to those later.

During 2019, Patrick reaches out to actual victims of the toxic individuals from the podcast I used to be on more than half a decade before any of the stuff chronologized in this post. He tells them lies, and demonizes me to the point that it convinces them that I am still both defending/supporting the toxic individuals, and actively mocking their victims in private.

I am aware of this because Patrick tweets about it - before deleting the tweets entirely. He even attempts to throw popular abridging group TeamFourStar under the bus, which I assume was merely out of spite because they had absolutely nothing to do with any of this.

I wish I had screengrabbed the tweets when they were still up, but there is still remaining evidence that they did exist.

Here is someone posting on Reddit about it - he only references one tweet, but this was around the time Patrick was posting and then immediately deleting what he'd said. I honestly can only assume - but I think he was fishing for people to latch on to what he was saying and contact him privately.

Not to mention the fact that the police had specifically told him to stop, so that was likely in the back of his mind also.

Here is someone replying to a since suspended twitter account that was discussing what Patrick was saying about TeamFourStar. Obviously I have no clear way to prove it, but please know that I have no reason to make that much up and point to a random ass tweet.

I imagine Patrick (not the suspended person in the above screencap) realized the best way to not seem directly to blame or involved at all was to remove any and all posts he'd made. Admittedly it would have worked if I didn't have the dms and these emails.

Speaking of emails, I received a third one in late 2019 - as you can see, Patrick's promise of leaving me alone forever didn't even last a year.

You'll note that he's speaking as though the second email never even happened. He's also just plain lying through his teeth for a significant part of it, but I think it's most important to note that this email requires you to assume the second email never got written.

He has gone from pages and pages of "of course it wasn't your fault, I'm the problem, you're good, I'm bad" to "I told you..."

Also, I think the words "You tried to damage me" should be highlighted here as it reinforces my theory that all of this was about me insulting him for all the right wing channels he'd subscribed to. Which, to me, was barely even a thought in my mind at this point.

So I choose to ignore this email also. Because y'know, why would I even humor responding to the guy at this point? I decide that I will only speak on any of this if it becomes public conversation. Until then, anything that happens would be because of Patrick's actions.

I do let my friends know about all of this - including TeamFourStar, who through this entire thing have been blameless and didn't even do anything to Patrick to begin with. And every time Patrick does something, I make sure people in my circle are aware and to be cautious.

Meanwhile Patrick alludes to all of this indirectly in the songs he posts to his YouTube channel. Yes, a situation that involves actual victims and one alleged victim that Patrick hadn't spoken to in years. He chose to make reference to all of this in videos where he raps, amongst other things.

There are a number of songs that feature references to this, it's mainly these two that I want to focus on

Birdy Boy is a song that is explicitly referencing Patrick's issues with me, without actually going into any details about what the issue is.

It is so clearly about me that people pick up on it - and rather than confront the issue or have a dialogue, Patrick decides to pin the comment about it to the top of the comments page.

Of course, if Patrick made any attempt to directly describe the issue or explain himself, it would likely result in the police becoming involved once again.

So he sticks to singing about the whole thing.

This next song is the most upsetting one.

Patrick/Shady writes a song called "Joker" about a psychotic individual murdering someone who "used to be funny." This is, specifically, the song that he teases at the end of the GX Abridged Episode 21 video he posted earlier in 2019 for april fools.

He has teased it multiple times on his twitter, and elsewhere, with the words "Coming Soon." The very same words he used to title his third threatening email.

Here is the email, placed next to some lyrics from the song Joker.

He is seemingly very specifically trying to threaten me without anyone noticing, in plain sight. I was unable to watch the video in full until after all of this stuff came out into the public. It was only through reading people's responses and the lyrics that I realized what he was doing.

Again, at this point I am doing and saying nothing publicly. Just watching this behavior and waiting.

Meanwhile in 2021, a videogame based on the web series TOME gets fully funded and Christopher Niosi - the creator of TOME - reaches out to the voice cast to see if they'll return. I myself was the voice of Nylocke, one of the main characters, and Patrick was the voice of THE main character.

As such, I told Christopher no and explained my reasons.

And here is Christopher's response.

Please pay careful attention to the fact that Christopher Niosi flat out says he already knew Patrick was doing this stuff - it isn't just me imagining it.

As a result of this interaction, I do not reprise my role as Nylocke and Christopher Niosi chooses to just recast every single character. Please note that he could have just recast Patrick, but did not. As a result, I feel responsible for all of the original cast losing out on work. It hurts to think about. But at least I feel like I did the right thing.

One member of the TOME production staff takes it upon themselves to reach out to Patrick personally. They discover that he is planning to write more songs/raps that target me. They ask him nicely to stop. He insists that he has to do this. Y'know, make vague allusions to extremely sensitive topics that he lied about in the form of song. Has to do it.

The member of production staff tells Patrick he should seek professional help.

Patrick ignores them.

Patrick continues to engage in behavior that, while not openly hostile or even specifically targeting anyone, is very clearly intended as mockery at best and a threat at worst until 2023 when all of this comes to a head.

In August of 2023, the real victims that Patrick has manipulated make a callout post aimed at myself and TeamFourStar. It specifically cites Patrick's testimony and the songs he has posted. They have been misled, but their anger is understandable.

Within a week, it becomes apparent to all sides that this is Patrick's fault. The person who posted the callout takes it down and apologizes to everyone. Not just me. They apologize to TeamFourStar, and to X.

And only then do I speak publicly about what Patrick has been doing.

I share all of the screencaps I've posted here, and give context. It's all a little muddled as at the time, my cat was dying of terminal cancer and so all of my posts are somewhat scatterbrained and aren't in chronological order. But it's still remarkably clear to everyone that Patrick has manipulated this whole thing, starting in 2019.

And that's only the stuff I feel comfortable sharing.

Since the callout post first dropped in 2023 and I began pointing people's attention toward Patrick, Patrick himself has been entirely silent. He has dropped off the internet with nary a word in defense. Not a single person directly associated with what happened has attempted to dispute my description of events.

This isn't my word versus his. It is my word versus silence.

I have it on good authority that Patrick is alive and well. I am grateful for that much. My attempts have not been to hurt him, but to defend myself. My efforts have not been to hunt him down and crucify him, but to make people aware of what transpired - and what could have easily been undone by Patrick/Shady just choosing to stop.

Instead a number of victims, and people who never did a thing, experienced a considerable amount of trauma as a result of his thoughtless and spiteful actions.

Patrick is a remarkably talented individual, and it makes me sad I have to be the one to show people who he is. I genuinely think all of this could have been avoided. It's so meaningless. It's just pain on top of pain.

And Patrick stood in the center of it all, not just pulling people's strings but practically uprooting them and then acting like he didn't do a thing.

I'm not expecting an apology, and I'm not asking for his cancelation, whatever shape that would take. But I do think it's important that people know this happened, that he chose this.

He did this for almost no reason to a person he considered a friend, who worked on videos with him.

It just seems like the responsible thing, to make sure people are somewhat aware that he could do this to them if they aren't cautious and careful and super aware.

I'm sorry to anyone disappointed and hurt by all of this information.

Believe me, I understand.

[greenerteacups]

Can you pretty please share why You Would Have to Lose Your Mind would be your song for Draco? It’s one of my favourites ever and I have it on repeat these days—admittedly, I think of falling in love to it

Thank you SO MUCH for the free license to be pretentious and over-analyze song lyrics about my blorbo! Here's my case (and here's the song, which is beautiful and destructive, please listen). I'm gonna go through this line by line.

That dream you dream of falling out of the blue, child Like a stone, think I've been dreaming with you

We open on imagery of powerlessness, specifically the powerlessness of freefall — a "stone out of the blue" tells us the subject is hurtling, fully out of control, towards a swift-approaching painful end. So already the subject being addressed is someone not in control of his fate, and who is on a very steep downward trajectory. But it's also a "dream of falling," so it's not actual danger (yet) — if anything, it's a fear of that kind of powerlessness, and the anxiety of what happens to you if you give in to the fall. In my mind, Draco's first core character conflict is a contest of security vs. risk — the desire to give in and change vs. the ingrained fear of what happens if he yields to the fall. A "dream of falling," if you will.

We were never forced to love You would have to lose your mind

I think this captures the idea pretty well in two lines: love is a choice, and you have to succumb voluntarily to the fall. That doesn't mean you have total agency over it, and you can't always help the way you feel, but you can help what you do about it. And "you would have to lose your mind" describes both the feeling of falling in love and the danger that Draco's realistically contemplating if that happens. You want to betray everything you've ever known? You'll have to lose your mind.

When Icarus was falling Burning and blinded He was born and buried along with his pride

The imagery of falling gets reused here in a new context: Icarus falls only because he flies, and because he had the hubris (courage) to take the risk of approaching the sun. Because Icarus is at heart a proud man, and in a sense, his pride condemns him to always seek the things he wants, no matter the cost. He's taken the place of the stone from the first verse, but now he's "burning and blinded," which both describe the feeling of love pretty well; "burning," as passion, and "blinded," for the sort of myopic hyper-concentrating force of love on the object of desire. I fucking love an Icarus metaphor.

Woke up in the bed last night Her features were golden And the walls, they were crowded with symbols of lust

No comment! Leaving this here for consideration. Moving on:

And then, an emperor returning Dragging his sword from the guerre Cutting the snow on the ground We were never forced to love You would have to lose your mind

Which underscores, for me, the looming threat in Draco's life. An emperor returning from the war, cutting the "snow on the ground." Snow presents a chilly counterpoint to the fire imagery in the previous verse: it's the cold of death, of decay, of winter, when the sun vanishes. "We were never forced to love / You would have to lose your mind" appears again in refrain, but juxtaposed with this emperor/death metaphor, it becomes a new statement of vulnerability. It re-emphasizes the extent to which love is a choice, and frankly, it's kind of an insane irrational choice, because it subjects you to the threat of harm and fear for the beloved. And yet: you still dream of falling.

Anyway, that's why I think it fits.

[mo-racca]

Portland Row as Taylor Swift’s “Lover” House

art I made for @lewkwoodnco as part of the @savelockwoodandco secret spectre event!

explanation under the cut (spoilers for the show and books!)

So I coordinated each room in the Lover House to a room in Portland Row. I tried to match it to what we know of PR’s layout from the show and book as best I could while staying within the constraints of the Lover House layout. Here’s a key:

Then I found a locklyle moment for each room and chose a coordinating lyric from the song Lover to go with each. Here's an explanation of the scenes and lyrics I chose:

Lucy's Attic

Lyric: "all's well that ends well to end up with you" Moments: - Lockwood gives Lucy the necklace before the Fittes Ball (Ep. 6, "You Never Asked") - Lockwood patches up Lucy and tells her he believes her about the skull (Ep. 4, "Sweet Dreams") - Lockwood welcomes Lucy to Portland Row (Ep. 1, "This Will Be Us") My Thoughts: there's so many moments that occur in the attic and notably, the scenes I chose span nearly the entire season and highlight the ups and downs of their relationship. I thought this lyric did a good job of enscapsulating that and representing all these scenes.

George's Room

Lyric: "my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue" Moment: Lucy making heart eyes at Lockwood as he shares the plan to get Mary Dulac's book and the bone glass (Ep. 6 "You Never Asked") My Thoughts: I mainly chose this lyric because this is the "blue" room in the Lover House and the lyric has "blue" in it. But I also think that the two lines can apply to both Lockwood and Lucy very well.

The Forbidden Door

Lyric: "there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear" Moment: Lockwood shares with George and Lucy what's behind the forbidden door (Ep. 8 "Not The Eternal") My Thoughts: This may not be a locklyle specific moment, since it involves the entire trio, but I think Lucy plays a big part in why Lockwood is able to get to a space where he can feel comfortable sharing this with both his friends. This is another fairly straightforward lyric pick. Lockwood's is a very mysterious person to Lucy especially prior to him letting them into Jessica's room.

Lockwood's Room

Lyric: "and i'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you" Moment: From his bedroom window, Lockwood sees Lucy talking to Kipps and he gets jealous (Ep. 6 "You Never Asked") My Thoughts: I think this one is pretty self-explanatory!

Sitting Room/Living Room

Lyric: "have i know you twenty seconds or twenty years?" Moment: The very first moment Lockwood & Lucy see each other (Ep. 1 "This Will Be Us") My Thoughts: I think this moment has such a "love at first sight" feel and the lyric perfectly encapsulates that.

Library

Lyric: "can i go where you go? can we always be this close?" Moment: Lockwood and Lucy's first proper chat with each other (Ep. 1 "This Will Be Us") My Thoughts: Lockwood is basically telling this girl he's only known for a few hours that he knows she's meant to be a part of the team. He's already so committed to her! And if we go based off of the book, Lucy feels the same way: "it already pleased me to think of walking into darkness with Lockwood at my side" (The Screaming Staircase, Ch. 7).

Kitchen

Lyric: "and at every table, i'll save you a seat" Moment: Lockwood apologizes for his recklessness at the Winkman auction (Ep. 8 "Not The Eternal") My Thoughts: I picked this lyric more because of the room being the kitchen than for the scene I pictured. Even so, I think the way Lucy accepts his apology in this scene has the same sort of domesticity that this lyric has.

Basement

Lyric: "swear to be overdramatic and true" Moment: Lockwood gives Lucy a tour of the house (Ep. 1 "This Will Be Us") My Thoughts: This entire scene is just Lockwood being dramatic and over the top to try and impress Lucy.

Main Entry & Front Door

Lyrics: "this is our place, we make the rules" & "take me out, and take me home" My Thoughts: You could say that these two lyrics are like the thesis statement of the drawing! Portland Row is Lucy's home as much as it's Lockwood's because, really, Lockwood and Lucy are home to each other.

I had a lot of fun making this, so I really hope you enjoy it!

[cinnamonbear22]

oblivious love (c.s x reader)

chapter two

go read the first part ;)

tw

fem!reader, fluff ?

i was slightly startled awake from the faint snoring next to me which, i wasn't used to sharing a bed. my eyes peaked over next to me to see chris on the other side of the bed, sleeping on his stomach with his arms sprawled as well as his legs.

my eyes admired his hand that was near me, the sunlight exposing the veins that were still prominent even when asleep. the beams had also showed his jagged, bitten nails and the tiny scar that goes across his thumb from an accident that happened when we were children. it wasn't even noticeable, but i'll always notice it.

my hand carefully made my way up to his, my fingernails traced along each finger of his gently to see if he would wake up, but he didn't. what was i even doing right now..?

i knew i was going to get hurt later in the day, when i would see the girl he told me about last night at the party. i can imagine it in my head, the scenario playing out like a movie scene. he was in my bed now, sleeping on the other side next to me, yet it was going to be looked at as nothing. he thought of this as nothing, just something friends would do. we've known each other for so long it would always just be nothing to him.

regret filled my body as i started to pull my fingers away from his limp hand, but suddenly, his hand squeezed my fingers so they weren't able to move. my breath got stuck in my throat, i thought he was dead asleep... "what are you doing?" his voice was extremely groggy and his tone seemed dazed.

"i-i didn't think you were up" my heart pounded at the sudden movement he had just shown, which still had me in shock.

"i woke up a little bit ago" he didn't pick his head up from speaking into the fluffy pillow.

"you sounded like you were asleep" i murmured and he relaxed the grip he had on my hand, but i quickly pulled it away.

"why are you doing that?" he whined, reaching around the bed for my hand but he couldn't find it. "come on" he seemed slightly agitated.

"chris i don't think the girl you like would appreciate you cuddled up in bed next to me holding my hand" i stared at the floor as he laid still for a moment.

"i think she'd very much like it" he snapped back causing me to furrow my brows. this girl had to of had some weird kinks...

"you're so weird" i groaned and swatted his searching hand.

"do you want to go get breakfast?" he asked, peaking his dull blue eyes over my shoulder scanning my face for a reaction.

"sure" i looked back up at him, which he was now grinning ear to ear.

he jumped over me off the bed, his bed head was extremely messy and slightly tangled, and he stared down at me from standing up. "come on" he cocked his head to the side to indicate me getting up.

"the bed is so cozy though" i pulled the blankets back up to my chin and softly rested my eyes. "five more minutes" quickly i had felt cool air hit my exposed skin, the warmth of the blanket being ripped right off of me. "come on..!" i groaned and tried to curl myself in a ball to preserve heat, but in a few swift movements from chris, i was being picked up and carried out of bed. "stop!" i hit his arm repeatedly but it looked like i had no effect on him.

"alright you're up now" he set be down on the floor of my room. "don't pout" he mocked my face and i nudged his chest. "get ready" he began to walk out of my room, my eyes lingered on him as he shut the door.

i went over to the temporary dresser i had put all my clothes in and pulled out a pair of loose fitting jeans, and a white tank. i wasn't going to get fully ready, i wasn't up to it. plus i would be getting ready for hours tonight before the party.

i put my hair in a little updo, considering i have major bedhead as well. i sprayed a light layer of perfume, grabbed my phone and headed out towards the main area.

chris was already ready and standing in the kitchen, and he was writing a note on the counter with a sharpie.

'sorry matt took the car, brb, (y/n) + chris' and he ended the small note with a smiley face. i looked around him to see the time on the stove, which it was still a little early for the other two to be up. chris tossed me matt's keys over the counter, "ready?" he asked, his hair was mostly hidden underneath a backwards cap while he was in baggy jeans and a graphic t-shirt.

"mhm" i hummed and looped the keys around my finger before following him outside to the garage. he held the door open for me and i walked out in front, and he lightly jogged around to the drivers side of the car and opened up the door for me. "thank you" my eyes looked up at him before sliding into the seat, and he shut the door gently. he opened the garage and slid into the passenger seat, pressing another button on the garage door opener that was sitting in the car that seemed to have open the gate. "where are we even going?" i asked him as i started to reverse the car out of the driveway and into the street. he pressed the buttons again to close up the garage and gate.

"uh," he hummed in a thinking manner, rubbing his mouth with his brows knitted together. "i'll tell you where to go" i felt his eyes looking at me but i was focused on the road to look back over.

he turned on his music as we drove through the somewhat busy streets with slight bickering here and there because he would give me directions last minute. but after fifteen minutes we arrived at a little diner, where the parking lot only had a few cars and looked a little dead.

he jumped out of the van as soon as i parked, not even giving me a chance to turn off the car. he ran around the front, and i couldn't help but to laugh a little. he swung the door open for me, offering his arm like a gentleman. "m'lady" he talked in a goofy accent, making me laugh a little more.

"you don't have to open every single door for me" i stopped the car and took off my seatbelt, grabbing the arm he offered me and got out of the car.

the warm breeze hit my skin as we walked across the parking lot while both my hands gently held his arm as we walked into the restaurant. of course once again, he held the door open for me and let me walk in first.

he quickly snatched my hand up again the second we walked into the restaurant, looking from side to side. "you could've got stolen" his fingers lightly drummed against the back of my hand, and i couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"you were right behind me" i looked up at him as he was looking around the rest of the diner. "i don't think anyone would snatch me"

"right" he scoffed and a hostess came to greet us. chris of course was extremely polite while speaking to her, and she showed us a booth.

we sat on opposite sides of each other, the waitress pouring us two cups of coffee from the pot she was holding and said she would be back soon to take our order. "i dare you to drink this without putting anything in it" i tapped my fingers along the mug, his eyes looked down and back up at mine.

"that's disgusting" he curled his lips, wrapping both his large hands around the mug as if he were warming them.

"you're disgusting" i nudged him with my foot under the table, and he rested his face in his hands with an admiring look in his eyes. "stop staring at me"

"how could i not" he said in a goofy tone, still holding his head up with his hands. "did you sleep good?"

"yes, very good" i began to pour some sugar and cream in the hot coffee, stirring it gently. "did you?" i looked up from my cup and he was still staring at me.

"of course" he finally stopped gazing and picked up a menu. "what are you feelin'?" despite having my own menu, he still held up his for the both of us to look at.

"uh," my eyes scanned over all the choices, everything seemed appealing. "i don't know" i bit my lip and looked over at him. "what are you getting?"

"probably some pancakes, bacon, sausage, the whole sha-bang" he was nodding his head as he listed off the choices.

"the whole sha-bang?" i giggled a little at his word choice. "what if we share this?" i pointed at the stack of five pancakes with the two choices of sides.

"you don't want your own?" he looked back at me with a confused look.

"you know i'm not going to be able to finish a meal by myself, i always end up taking it home" i looked at the menu again as his eyes lingered on me for a second.

"well you have to eat, i'm making sure you eat a lot if we share" he sounded like he was assuring himself more than me.

"don't worry i'll eat" i sat back in my seat since we had decided.

"what sides do you want?" he bit his bottom lip while studying me.

"you pick"

"no, come on i feel bad if you don't" he sighed in a stressful manner and i couldn't help but giggle.

"i'll seriously eat anything you choose" i gently hugged my torso while he looked like he was under pressure. "i literally cannot choose it's all up to you"

"okay fine" he grumbled and set down the menu, shaking his head slightly.

"why are you in such distress?" i laughed and he lurched forward towards me over the table.

"because i feel bad and want to make sure you get what you want!" his eyes widened as his body was almost halfway over the table, and he bounced right back in his seat. his reaction made me laugh more, his legs started to bounce a little.

"you're already hyper and it's still early" i softly kicked his leg to try and get him to stop bouncing in his seat.

"what can i say," he paused before grinning. "you make me full of life" he said sillily earning another kick from under the table. "stop playing footsies" his foot stepped on mine to try to get me to stop.

"ouch," i fake winced, pulling my feet back and exaggerated my frown.

"did that actually hurt?" he sat up and leaned his elbows on the table now, a look of concern in his eyes.

"it hurt so bad" i sarcastically placed my hand over my heart and tilted my head to the side, acting as if i were truly in pain.

"drama queen" he played with his hands on the table and the waitress came back, ready to take our order. chris ended up ordering for us anyway, doing all the talking and whatnot. seeing him switch from being a little hyper to super polite and sweet will always make me happy. fifties music filled the air of the diner as well as the smell of breakfast foods and coffee. light chatter among the other tables was to be heard while me and chris sat in a comfortable silence waiting for our food.

but of course that didn't last long, and we ended up talking for ten minutes straight until our food got brought out. chris immediately grabbed the silverware while thanking the waitress, unwrapping the napkin that held the forks and knifes for me. "thank you" i smiled gently and grabbed them, looking back up at him. he started to cut the large stack of pancakes on his side into little pieces, almost as if a baby were going to eat them. he then flipped the plate around so the cut pieces were on my side, sliding me a bottle of syrup. "i can cut my own food" i opened the syrup and started to drizzle it on my side of the plate.

"i like doing it for you" he cut his side up in much larger sections, and started to scoff down the pancakes.

"christoper!" i lightly scolded, covering my smile with my hand since i had food in my mouth.

"what?!" his cheeks were filled like a chipmunk as he chewed obnoxiously just to annoy me. the rest of breakfast he ended up eating most of the pancakes and sides, plus everything i couldn't finish. i didn't really feel guilty for not finishing my portions since he did easily. "did you eat enough?" we both looked at the cleared plates in front of us.

"yes, yes, thank you for finishing mine" i laughed a bit while looking back up at him, which he had syrup dripping down his chin. i grabbed a napkin at the end of the table and reached over, dabbling his chin while he resisted slightly. "i might have to pull out the mom trick for this one" i pulled my hand back and licked the tip of my thumb, his eyes watched as if he were in a trance.

with my other hand i reached back over the table and held his chin with my thumb and pointer finger, and using the thumb with saliva i began to wipe off the sticky syrup that was stuck on his chin. "don't do this to me" he quickly licked his lips and watched me attentively.

"what? i'm not even doing anything" i got the last bits off his face before removing both my hands and wiping them off with a napkin.

"you are so naive" he folded his hands on the table and we strongly locked eyes for a few moments before the waitress came back.

"could i offer any dessert?" she asked while taking the empty plates. i looked over at chris since i wasn't much prepared for this question.

"yes please" he answered immediately but his eyes shot over to me, almost as if he were asking for reassurance. i nodded and smiled at his gentle blue eyes before he turned his attention back to our waitress. "could we just do a vanilla shake please? two straws" he held up two fingers as he spoke. she jotted down the ticket, and left to go put the order in.

"a shake at..." i pulled out my phone to check to time. "nine thirty-eight in the morning?" i laughed a little and he just shrugged. when checking my phone i had also noticed a few text from nick and a missed call from matt. "your brothers are trying to contact me"

"what are they saying?" chris asked, folding his hands back on the table.

"i don't know," i opened my messages to see nick spamming me asking where i was, and why i didn't come to his room last night. "is it okay if i call them back real quick? is it rude if i call in here or should i go outside?" my finger hovered over matt's number.

"just call them here" he pursed his lips and without hesitation i called back matt. the phone rang only once before he picked up.

'hey' matt didn't sound fully awake as he answered the phone.

"hi matt" i laughed a little at his sleepy voice, chris started leaning across the entire table to eavesdrop on the conversation.

'did you take my car out this morning? i haven't been downstairs to check yet but nick told me there was a note or something'

"yeah, i'm sorry i didn't ask you. chris wanted to get breakfast" i pushed back chris's forehead since he was so close to my ear, trying to pick up on every word.

'no no it's okay, don't be sorry' he yawned loudly with a slight groan. 'you're still coming with us to the event tonight right?'

"yes of course" i started to twirl the ends of my hair with my finger nervously, feeling chris’s eyes burn through me.

'when will you be home?'

i don't know why, but i smiled at the fact that he said home, as if it were my home too. "within the hour i think" chris now began to pout since i pushed him away, he crossed his arms like a child and slouched in his seat.

'okay cool, do you think you could help me with an outfit? i have no idea what to wear'

"awe matty b still asking me for fashion advice” i bit my lip from laughing because he wasn't so fond of the nickname we all gave him as children. “of course”

'thanks' he chuckled over the phone, making me laugh as well. chris's brows were furrowed together as he stared daggers through me, but i stared right back. 'what are you going to wear?'

"yesterday me and nick got a little black silk dress" my fingers still twirled around my hair, chris pursing his lips gently as he watched.

'i'll wear black too so we can match'

"both of your brothers said the same thing" i smiled as chris almost jumped out of his seat.

"said what?" he tried to get my attention but i ignored him.

'seriously?' matt's voice was dull over the phone.

"seriously." i repeated him. "you three figure that out i'm staying out of it" my eyes darted at chris and he still had a pouty frown.

'chris will most likely kill us just so he could match with you' matt chuckled and so did i. i looked back up at chris who was still giving me those childish eyes.

"you think he would?" i mostly said that to tease chris, and to really grab his attention i placed my foot on top of his and nudged his shin lightly.

"think i would what?" chris's eyebrows shot up as he gritted his teeth.

'i know he would, i don't think i'm even going to attempt to argue with him'

"that's cute" i covered my smile with hand, looking at chris with every intent of keeping him on edge.

"what is cute?" he tapped his foot underneath mine making both our legs bounce slightly. "alright," chris swiftly reached over the table and took my phone right out of my hand. my jaw dropped at how quick this all happened. "sorry, we have to go be back soon, goodbye matt" chris spoke quickly on the phone before hanging it up, tediously staring at me.

"you are absolutely insane" i stared at him with shock as he still kept my phone.

"you're insane" he shot back at me, kicking my foot off the top of his. "how am i supposed to act when you're talking about me in front of me?"

"how do you know i was talking about you?" i tilted my head as i rested it in my hands now.

"you said something and then touched me like i was supposed to listen" he argued, but i wanted to push it further.

"what if i just wanted to touch you?" my lips slightly tugged upwards in a cocky manner, seeing that i could get him riled up without even doing much gave me a surge of confidence.

"you are really an inexplicable person" he scoffed, rubbing his mouth with a little smirk plastered on his face. as i opened my mouth to say something, the waitress set down the vanilla shake in front of us with two straws. "thank you" chris looked up at the waitress as she walked away. "do you want the cherry?" he asked as he picked it off the top of the whipped cream.

"you can have it" i smiled before pinching the straw closest to me and bringing it up to my lips.

"watch this" he spoke with the cherry in his mouth, and i silently waited for him to show me whatever it is he wanted me to watch. after about twenty seconds he stuck out his tongue with the cherry stem tied in a knot. "impressive huh?" his words were mumbled since he spoke with his tongue out.

"you show me this every time you have a cherry like it's something new" i took another sip of the shake, and his face saddened a little. "but, as always, it is extremely impressive" i praised him so he still felt the validation.

he took the cherry stem out of his mouth and set it on a napkin, and he took a sip of the shake. "this is absolutely amazing" he threw his head back after tasting the shake, causing me to giggle at his reaction.

i bent my head back down to take another sip, and he did at the same time as well. both our faces were so close together, his eyes were softly gazing at me through his dark lashes. i tried my best not to smile, but it was inevitable. "stop it" i leaned back into my seat, crossing my arms in an embarrassed manner.

"i can't help myself" he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. he pointed it up at me and i heard the camera shutter sound effect.

"chris stop" i immediately felt embarrassed with the camera being pointed at me, trying to cover up my face that was now probably red.

"oh come on you look so pretty" he cooed as he focused on his phone, rapidly snapping pictures. i couldn't tell if he was messing with me at this point. he then reached out across the table holding his phone with the front facing camera, getting both of us in the shot with the shake. he started to record as he set up his phone against the napkin dispenser. "alright watch this, you only see this in movies" he talked to himself on the phone and he looked at me, holding onto the cup and leaning into his straw. i looked at the camera and giggled as he was taking a little sip. i of course took a sip too at the same time so he wouldn't be mad, i looked at the camera still as he looked towards me. i ended up moving my eyes up to meet his, and we both started to laugh again. "i've always wanted to do that" he stopped recording and smiled down at his phone with the shot he got.

"you're so corny" i leaned back into my seat trying my best to hide the blush that began to spread across my face.

"could i post this?" he showed me a screenshot he took of the video where im looking towards the camera, smiling with the straw close to my lips and he was sipping, gazing admirably at me.

"i don't care" i examined the photo more, even more butterflies seeing the way he looked at me when i wasn't looking at him. "but don't you think that might stir stuff up? i'll probably receive fifty threats within a minute" i bit my lip as he just shook his head.

"don't even worry about that" he was on instagram now, posting it on his story and tagging me. over the years, i grew a small following because of the boys. i would be in a few videos or tik toks they made considering that i was with them most of the time back when they only lived in boston, and i guess their fans are fifty-fifty about me. i never read the comments, or looked at my direct messages because i knew if i did i would just hurt myself.

i tried to stay off of social media, but i did like posting here and there, and of course i still kept it to keep up with the triplets while they’re back and forth.

at the end of our meal, this ended up snatching the check before i could even get a chance to take out my wallet. he repeatedly told me that he was okay with paying, yet i still felt guilty since he did let me splurge yesterday. when leaving the restaurant, he held open all doors for me as well as the drivers side, and we were finally back on our way home.

part 3 for the party orrr..?

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

speaking of brave!

companions react to finding some horses? i dunno it seems neat!

A/N: Gosh, I wish we had horses in-game. It would be literally epic 😫 It'd be like Fallout 4 met RDR2 and that would be heaven for me 😍

I hope y'all enjoy this react!! Thank you for the request! 💙

Cait - Is wary at first, but once F!Sole tames and wrangles one for her and she realizes it can facilitate her running into battle and making swift attacks, she is all for it. F!Sole teaches her to ride and she ends up loving it, blazing into gun fights with a sawed-off shotgun in one hand and her reins in the other.

Curie - Does not really want to ride it, but she is exceedingly excited about the fact that this is a new specimen for her to examine. She starts on her research immediately, and she is the one that has the idea to experiment in breeding the optimum horses. Naturally, her project ends up attracting the attention of multiple important factions in the Commonwealth.

Piper - Is honestly super excited about it once her Blue shows that it's possible to train them and ride them. She immediately finds one that she names Harper, and she loves traveling the Commonwealth via horseback with F!Sole and her horse. However, they're not super big fans back in Diamond City, and they end up making her keep her horse outside of the city because horse manure has a suspicious way of showing up at the homes of people that Piper doesn't like.

MacCready - Is at first scared of them. Honestly, he stays a little afraid of them even after F!Sole starts breaking them. He prefers to have full control over where he's going and giving part of the control over to an animal that could kill him is a little scary. After he rides a few times, he overcomes the fear and actually likes it, but he has to have the most tame, docile horse that F!Sole breaks.

Deacon - Thinks they're cool, but still prefers to travel on the ground. However, when he gets the idea to pop a Stealth Boy while sitting on the horse's back, he has to try it. When somehow only known to the powers that be and Deacon that it works, Deacon can be found mysteriously appearing all over the Commonwealth with his pompadour riding a palomino.

Codsworth - Thinks that it's quite dandy to have a horse! He knew that Mum and Sir could never have one in their old home but it is good to see Mum having the opportunity to enjoy equine companionship now after the war. It is also quite a breathtaking sight to see the horses running across the Commonwealth. It would bring a tear to his eye if he were human.

Hancock - Cannot deny the rush of giddiness he feels when he sees them. He's always dreamed of riding a white horse around Goodneighbor and the Commonwealth. It fits well with his patriotic self-image. As soon as they find a white horse, he instantly claims it. However, trying to break the wild-spirited thing proves to be a true challenge indeed.

Danse - Is honestly intrigued after he finds that they are not some sort of threat. If it's Pre-BB, he wants to share the discovery with the Brotherhood in order to facilitate ground travel. However, if it's Post-BB, he ends up growing extremely invested in helping to care for them and train them with F!Sole. He ends up strangely really taking to rancher life.

Preston - Is very interested and excited. Similarly to Curie, he wants to try to breed them, but his motivation is to supply the Minutemen. With Curie's impeccable science in breeding the best traits in the horses that F!Sole finds, within the next several years, the Minutemen are supplied with the best mounts to patrol the Commonwealth.

Valentine - Finds it nostalgic in that Nick sort of way. He thinks that it's a good idea to use them for riding and breeding, but he also thinks it's nice to have wild ones riding across the Commonwealth. It adds a charmingly Western feel to things with the untamed steeds racing throughout the wilderness and through what remains of a life gone by.

X6-88 - Insists that they are unreliable and untrustworthy when it comes to riding them or anything else. They are too large and too skittish. However, deep within himself, he tries desperately to crush the strange desire to ride one. When F!Sole offers him a black one with a white star on its head, practically forcing X6-88 on its back, he tries to deny the happy feeling within himself. However, it becomes hard to find him at a time when he's not on his horse after that.

Dogmeat - Chases them when he first sees them. However, when F!Sole scolds him, he stops, realizing that these animals must not be for chasing. But if they're not for chasing, then why do they run?! He ends up befriending the ones that F!Sole brings to her self-built breeding farm that she plans and creates with Curie, and he believes that maybe they're big, giant dogs.

Strong - Immediately wants to eat it, having never tried horse meat. However, when he finds out that they are for riding and traveling with, he does not like it. Feet are for traveling. Animals are not for traveling.

ADA - Thinks it's a wonderful find especially since it will make travel easier for her human mistress. However, F!Sole soon realizes she needs to invest in some assaultron legs for ADA so she can actually keep up...