#programming mood board

[dreamdolldiary]

cozy and coding

[jaeshoney]

the one time i don’t check the age of someone before i reblog and they are a minor…crazy anyways just deleted it

[oldermenfucker]

You’re losing me | Dr. Robby

summary: he doesn’t notice how his behavior in The Pitt is making you fall from his arms, until the consequences of his actions catch up with him.

warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, angst with a happy ending, fluff, Robby doesn’t even realize he’s being a dick until it’s a tad bit too late, fem!reader, resident!reader, Abbot!reader (yes she is Jack’s younger sister), age gap (she’s late 20s/early 30s & Robby early 50s), p in v sex, lots of praise, mentions of blood & trauma (it’s The Pitt soooo), English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 9.8k+

an: hiiii so this is my first fic in this fandom hopefully you guys like this!!! More fics of our gorgeous Dr. Daddy and his bestie our other Dr. Daddy will be coming your way<333

Reblogs & comments are always appreciated!💕✨

You hate the quiet days of ER, as peaceful as it can get through. You crave the adrenaline rush you get from a trauma running through the doors, half bloody and half dead, but today even those cases can’t make your blood pressure as high as the scene in front of you does.

  Collins chuckles at something Robby says, snorting and putting her hand up in surrender, patting his biceps before she leaves him alone. And him? He smiles back, his wrinkles around his eye deepening as his eyes follow her.

He is doing exactly what he labeled as ‘unprofessional��� behind closed doors with her, making you mad at him. He told you you must keep your relationship a secret or it would turn into The Pitt’s hottest gossip, and he didn’t want that, and given how most of the nurses and doctors know about his past relationship with Collins, it upsets you beyond belief.

You took this residency program to be with your brother and Robby, and also to get a steady job in the same hospital. Jack helped you tremendously with your transfer, making sure everything was perfect for you to take the morning shifts with your boyfriend, all so you could spend time with him more often.

  But now, you are rethinking your decision to the point of no return. It has been months since you started your shifts here, and from the very beginning, Robby treated you like shit. Always hard on you, always criticizing your diagnosis, always on your back with a harsh comment.

  You played it off like everyone else did, making sure to nod and say ‘yes, sir’ and move towards the next patient. But every word stung, and when you would tell him at night when you cuddled in his bed, he would brush it off and act like nothing happened.

  It was fine at first, or at least you tried to deny what it truly was, but now, seeing him being so lighthearted with everyone in a slow shift while he barks orders at you left and right tears your heart into pieces, and worse, the smiles are always thrown in the direction of every doctor and nurse but you.

  You look away as best as you can, trying to find a good case as you lean on Robby’s workstation, tapping your fingers in a rhythm as you scan the trauma board, biting your lip as you hear his footsteps approaching.

  “Dr. Abbot,” he says, standing behind you while he looks between you and the board, “What are you looking for?”

  “Something to take the edge off,” you don’t mean to sound snappy, but the words come out harsher than intended, and you take a deep breath because with the uncomfortable silence between the two of you, you are sure he has raised an eyebrow at you, waiting to come up with a snarky comment, “I’ll take the biker, Santos is with me.”

  “Good,” he nods, pushing his fists into his pockets, but you don’t bother yourself to even glance at him, pushing past him as you drop your stethoscope around your neck, calling for Santos to follow you to the trauma bay.

  You do not turn around to see Robby’s reaction; he is probably stunned by the way you ignored him. You have never done that despite how he treats you; it just never settled right inside you to be mean to him, but that was enough to set your mood off for the rest of the shift.

  “Alright, what do we have here?” One question, and you get bombarded with answers, and you get your hands on the patient to stabilize him. Santos answers your questions and helps you with everything you might need.

  You are light on your feet, keeping everyone in check in the trauma room to make sure the best treatment is given to the poor man who had crashed his bike. Santos listens closely, being snarky and witty about her comebacks, but helps you as best as she can, nonetheless.

  “How’s the patient?” You watch as Santos starts to intubate the biker, her hands slightly shaking, ignoring Robby’s presence as he gloves in and moves next to stand next to you, listening to the nurses update him on the patient’s status.

  “I’m in!” Santos beams, looking up at you, and you smile back, giving her a quick thumbs up before you turn around, suddenly chest to chest with Robby.

  He looks down at you, a silent question hanging in the air between you as he keeps staring back, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. You take a deep breath in response, taking off your gloves roughly, making a loud smacking sound of plastic echo in the trauma room.

  “He’s stable and ready to go to the OR,” you fist the gloves in a ball, pulling the white gown off in a hurry, taking a step around Robby to avoid his burning stare, “Santos helped a lot.”

  “You called the shots without telling me first.” It’s not a question; it is a statement, and he does not look happy at all. “You are still a resident, you have two more years to go! Why are you being so reckless?”

  “The patient was dying, Dr. Robby, I had to do what was necessary—“

  “You were unsupervised—“

  “She wasn’t,” Collins steps into the room, looks between the two doctors with a small smile, pointing at Santos, who stands awkwardly next to Collins, pouting slightly and rocking on the balls of her feet, “Dr. Santos came to me and told me about this case.”

  You gape at her, fighting off a small grateful smile before feeling your heart thumping in your ribcage as if it’s ready to jump out; you are angry at him, furious even, and Robby is just as hot-headed if not more. You can see the dark glare in his eyes as he looks between Collins and you, finally settling them on you.

  “Dr. Collins is also a resident, you must consult an Attending. Don’t ever do that again,” he whips out his own gloves, his usual warm brown eyes hold nothing but anger, “You are lucky he is stable.”

  “I am not lucky, Dr. Robby.” You take another step closer, feeling his hot breath fanning against your face, “I am a good doctor, hell, even a great doctor. I can do it on my own.”

  “Trauma coming through in two minutes! Drowning victim!” Dana’s shout stops Robby from firing back a response to you.

  “We’re not done yet,” he points his finger at you, scoffing when you look up, trying your best not to break down in front of everyone. With that, Robby jogs toward the gurney Langdon is pulling into another trauma room, leaving you, Santos, and Collins alone.

  “Walk with me, Dr. Abbot?” Collins smiles, muttering to Santos to go find another patient before she waits for you to join her at the door, watching you closely as you slam your gloves and gown into the trash, using the sanitizer machine on the wall before you give her a quick smile.

  “Sure.”

  You both walk to the nurse station, standing shoulder to shoulder while you look at the trauma board. You are nervous; how can you not be? Collins is Robby’s ex. She is gorgeous, intelligent, and a very talented doctor. But what is making you shake slightly is how she stepped in to save you from your boyfriend’s scolding.

  “Thank you…” You mumble quietly, or as quietly as you can in a chaotic ER, giving her a grateful yet awkward smile as well.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she sighs, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shrugging before she continues, “I’ve been in your shoes a few years ago. It’s exhausting.”

  “What?” You ask, confused and dumbfounded, your lips parting in surprise when she side eyes you playfully, shaking her head and laughing slowly, “What do you mean? What are you laughing at, Dr. Collins?”

  “You guy are not as subtle as you think you are,” she sighs, wrapping her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side as she looks back at the board, squeezing your shoulder, “I can see how you look at him, I used to do the same, having high hopes that one day he’ll quit being harsh on me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try to play it off cool, acting as if you have no idea what she is saying, but Collins sees straight through your lie, raising her eyebrows at you with boredom. You sigh, dropping your head on her shoulder, “Fine! Yes, he’s my boyfriend, or at least I thought he was. It is… tiresome to deal with his mean words every day.”

  “He’s been riding you for so long,” she sighs too, patting your arm gently, “It’s no excuse, but… he thinks if he pushes you away, he can maintain his professional standards or whatever he calls them. He’s done it before, and he’s doing it again.”

  “I know what he is trying to do,” you shake your head, exhaling shakily, “He doesn’t want anyone to find out he’s dating his resident, and Jack Abbot’s younger sister, so he goes on a spiral to be mean to me and put a distance between us.”

  “Well, he’s doing a poor job at both,” she snorts, letting go of you to reach for an iPad, going through different cases to choose one for you. “He is an idiot, you just have to learn to live with it if you wanna work here.”

  “Sometimes I think he hates me.”

  “Hey, no—“

  “What are you two up to?” Dana interrupts Heather, leaning on the station behind her as she looks between the two of you, “What has he done this time?”

  “He’s being unreasonable to Dr. Abbot.”

  “Not unreasonable, but… just how an attending with a ‘Robinavitch’ last name would be,” you try to crack a joke, but Dana winces and gives you a sympathetic look.

  “C’mon, I’ve known him more than your experiences combined. He is being a dick to you because he is scared, give him hell for it, alright? Now go play doctors until I knock some sense into your loverboy.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Collins says, pointing at one of the trauma rooms, “South fourteen, Twenty-four years old male with a twisted ankle — probably sprained. Take this, Dr. Abbot, it’ll give you a break until you are well enough to come back.”

  “Thank you,” you say, grabbing the iPad from her hands, nodding as you walk towards the patient’s room, head swirling with different thoughts about what those two women just told you.

  You are aware of what Robby is doing, or at least you think you do. It makes sense to some extent; he is a professional man, a doctor who runs The Pitt and barely survives every day, and yet, he gives you the worst treatment out of everyone because he doesn’t want to reveal your relationship to the world.

  And it breaks your heart to tolerate his mean words and being the punching bag to his sour moods, receiving all the blows just because you are in arm’s reach — what makes it worse is that he does not even realize how bad his words are, and when you confront him at night after his long hot shower, he only shrugs and tells you if Dana found out about you, then everyone can.

  Excuse after excuse.

  You roll your shoulders back, knocking on the door as you enter the trauma room, finding Princess going through the patient’s file and waiting for you to join them.

  “Good morning, I’m Dr. Abbot!” You smile and get to work, sitting on the chair next to the bed as you examine the guy’s ankle, looking for inflammation and bruising as you try to distract him from the pain.

  “Well, you’re lucky it’s not broken,” you nod, taking your gloves off before turning toward Princess, “Send him to radiology to get an X-ray, I’m sure it’s only a sprain, but let’s take a look anyway.”

  “Dr. Abbot!” Mel barges inside the room, panting slightly as she looks at you with wide eyes, “New patient! Forty-five-year-old female with a head concussion and a broken stick in her upper arm. She fell on the fence while she was trying to clean the windows of her house.”

  “Let’s go,” you stand up, dropping the gloves you used on the previous patient into the bin, sanitizing your hands before running towards the gurney, finding Mohan and Robby discussing different procedures, “How is she?”

  “Pupils dilated, unresponsive—“ you try to focus on what Samira is saying, you are, but Robby’s gaze moves from the patient to you, watching you closely as you and Mohan start to stabilize the patient, but it is awfully hard to not get distracted with how intense his presence is.

  “She’s having a heart attack—“ you rush to lower the back of the bed, flattening the patient before scissoring her dress, baring her chest to Mel to put the pads on, Mohan increasing the voltage to two hundred, waiting for everyone to step back, “Clear!”

  The patient does not respond to the shock. Mohan and Robby work together to keep her blood pressure high, but all of a sudden, the lines of the monitor go flat, and the beeping stops.

  “Asystolic…” Mel whispers, standing next to you as Mohan takes off the pads, waiting for her Attending’s orders.

  “Start compressions!”

  You put one knee on the bed, interlocking your fingers before starting to push on the patient’s chest, huffing with each move as everyone waits in the room with bated breath.

  “Hold compressions,” Robby tells you, waiting to see if the heart restarts, but when he sees the flat line again, he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, “Push an epi and resume compressions again.”

  You begin to push down on her chest, body, and shoulders, moving with each press, trying to keep your breathing in check while you look at Robby to say something, anything.

  But the line falls flat again after you stop, but before you can bend down to restart CPR, Robby’s voice stops you, “She’s dead,” he announces, looking down at his watch before he exhales deeply, “16:38…” 

  You step down from the bed, throwing your head back with your hands on your hips, shaking your head as you silently mourn the loss of your patient.

  “Doctor Abbot, a word?” 

  Your fingers tighten at your hips, and when you look back at him, you find him already leaving towards the break room, not even waiting for you to follow him. With a scoff, you move behind him, ignoring Mel and Samira’s confused stares.

  “What is it—“

  “What was that?” He stops as soon as you both are in the break room, pressing his lips into a thin line as he intertwines his fingers behind his neck, letting out a humourless chuckle.

  “What was what, Robby? I did what you told me—“ you try to answer as best as possible, but when he turns around, his chocolate eyes overflowing with disbelief.

  “Who does a compression like that? They were too weak, not deep enough, and they were not helping! Just a waste of time on a patient we could have saved—“

  “Don’t you fucking dare!” You raise your voice, pointing to his chest before fisting your hands and lock your hands next to your body, “They were fine, just as they should have been! Don’t put this loss on me, she had a head concussion and god knows how many wood chips in her bloodstream. We didn’t even get to check that—“

  “You are messing up real bad today.”

  “This case was supervised by you, Doctor Robinavitch,” you spit the words out, gone the calm girl who would brush his horrible words off, now replaced with a furious woman, “How hypocritical of you to say belittling isn’t a good way of teaching and yet, you are insulting and belittling me, your girlfriend, Robby!”

  “This is my workplace, I am your Attending, not your goddamn boyfriend,” he replies, his tone dangerously low, and for the first time, he seems to be taken back by his own outburst, dropping his head as he takes a long breath.

  “Fine,” your lips quiver, voice breaking slightly, which makes Robby’s head snap upwards and his eyes widen as he realizes what unbelievable damage he has done, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  “Wait, honey—“

  “Don’t.”

  With one last glance, you march out of the room toward the nurse’s station, looking for Dana to see if you can clock out earlier. You cannot stay in this place any longer, it is eating you alive and tearing your sanity apart.

  “Have you seen Dana?” As soon as you see her walking with Collins, you approach her with teary eyes, nails digging harshly into your palms, “Dana, I need out.”

  “What happened to you, kid?” She asks, putting her hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing your arms up and down, “Come on, let’s get you some air.”

  Heather only smiles and reaches to pat your back, shaking her head as she watches Dana guide you towards the ambulance bay, turning to glare at Robby, who just stepped out of the break room.

  You don’t have the strength to keep your tears from falling as soon as Dana leads you out. You cry softly, wiping the tears as they stream down your cheeks, melting into Dana’s motherly embrace.

  “I’m sorry—“

  “Shh, you’re okay, kid,” she wraps her arms around you tightly, holding your face to her shoulder as you cry out, “I’m gonna kick his ass, don’t worry.”

  You cackle a little, squeezing her before letting go, allowing her to cup your face in her hands, giving you a soft, defeated look before she starts talking.

  “You are a great doctor, alright? One of our best residents, don’t let a man fuck it up,” she holds your head straight, forcing you to open your eyes and look at her, “He is a dick, I know that—“

  “There’s a but coming and I don’t like it.” You try to move away from her, but she keeps your head locked in place, her gaze turning serious.

  “But…” you sigh, rolling your eyes at her, but she only cracks a smile and continues, “He is lost. It’s been so long since he has felt like this. The last time was with Heather, and let me tell you it was just as bad in the hospital.”

  “So he treats his girlfriend like shit until she gives up?” Your voice shakes again, finally freeing yourself from her grip, pacing in the ambulance bay, “I hate how he says to remain professional, yet all he does is complain and belittle me for my medical decisions and when I bring it up he says it’s all empty fucking words and he doesn’t mean it!”

  “He doesn’t mean any of it, I’m sure—“

  “I’m done, Dana,” you sniff, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, looking at her with eyes full of sorrow. “I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Look at me,” she raises your head with a finger under your chin, her tone dead serious, “I know it must be exhausting, but do you want to know what it is that makes the thing you have so special and worth the effort?”

  “What?” 

  “He is in love with you,” she smiles, bringing you into her arms again, rocking you back and forth as you smell her hospital-induced scent, “I have never seen him like this.”

  “It doesn’t make it okay for him to insult me… he said,” you hiccup on your sob, “He said that when we are here he isn’t my ‘goddamn boyfriend’ and… he said it like the word repulsed him.”

  “He’s such an idiot,” she groans, watching in confusion as you reach for your phone, pulling it out before you call someone, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling Jack.”

  “No, ah uh, nope,” she shakes her head, giving you a disapproving look, but she knows how hard Robby’s words must be, and they definitely have taken a toll on you and your relationship. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kid.”

  “Too late for that,” you sigh, tapping your feet on the ground as you wait for your brother to answer, “Jack, answer the fucking phone.”

  “Hmm?” 

  “Good afternoon, sleepyhead,” you scoff, throwing your hand up when he groans at your voice. “Be at least a bit excited to hear my voice, Jack.”

  “The day I do that you’ll bury me six feet deep,” Jack says on the other side of the phone, voice raspy from the deep sleep he must have had, “Usually texting me fills the hole in your miserable life, sister, how bad is it this time that you needed to call?”

  “I…” you try to say it, you really do, but the words get stuck inside your throat, a slow whine breaks past your lips, alerting your brother on the phone.

  “Hey, hey! What’s up?” His usual sarcastic demeanor fades away, his voice shifting into unimaginable concern, “Talk to me, kid. Are you okay?”

  “I…” you suck in a sharp breath, clearing your throat as you look at Dana smoking a cigarette next to you, “No, I’m not.”

  “Are you physically hurt? Do I need to come? What the fuck’s happened, kiddo?” You can hear him shuffle around, probably putting on his pants to bolt through the door and get himself to the hospital.

  “No and yes,” you sit on the edge of the pavement, “I think I wanna move back in with you—“

  “What the fuck?” He says with so much love, you nearly melt at the spot, “What happened? Did he do something? Do I need to break his nose?”

  “You love him more than you love me, so it doesn’t work like that,” you chuckle, sighing softly as you listen to him grumble and put his prosthetic leg on, “But… yeah, I can’t handle it anymore, I think I’ll move back in with you if you’re okay with it.”

  “Of course, kid, whatever you want,” you hear him zip up his jacket, walking towards the door of his apartment to come and get you. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

  “He’s so mean to me on our shifts, I can’t bear to be the only person he speaks to like that. It’s affecting my practices and my fucking sanity,” you drop your head between your arms, back hunching uncomfortably, “He acts more lovingly with Collins than he does with me and it upsets me so much.”

  “Listen up,” he locks the door and walks to the elevator, “He is an ass for whatever reason he must have, but I know you, and I know him. You don’t deserve to be the one on whom he takes out his frustration, and I know you’ve tried to talk it out with him, but he’s probably too far into his head to listen to the voice of reason. I’m gonna come and get you so we can talk.”

  “Okay, call me when you get here, I’m gonna go see a few patients before I clock out, love you.”

  “Love you, too, kiddo. Stay away from him.”

  “Will do my best,” you say and hang up, shrugging when Dana gives you her significant look, “What now?”

  “Nothing, just you’re too sweet and caring. Robby better get his head outta the water and see what he’s taking for granted.”

  You chuckle, shoving your phone back into your pocket, stretching your arms before getting ready to get back into the hellhole you chose to spend the rest of your residency in, Dana following you after she puts out her cigarette with the tip of her sneakers.

  “Let’s hope it’s not too late for that.”

  •••••

  You barely manage to handle a few patients for the next half hour without running into Robby, stabling, and helping with the triage from time to time until Jack gets here to pick you up.

  “I’m gonna go…” You announce to Dana and Collins, sitting down to finish one last report and head out, “I… I think I might take night shifts from now on.”

  “What?”

  “C’mon, no, that’s a stretch—“ Heather says, sitting down on the rolling chair and moving it to sit next to you, “We need you here. You’re an amazing doctor, besides every shift needs an Abbot at most.”

  “Yeah, well, the whole point of getting into the morning shifts was to learn from and spend time with Robby. Now that went down the fucking drain,” you look at Heather, your tone clipped and exhausted, “He is throwing a year and half relationship away for… whatever reasons. I don’t have to tolerate it anymore.”

  “Please, reconsider this,” Dana jumps in, leaning over the station, “Go for now, take tomorrow off, and talk with Jack.”

  “Will do— and my job’s done here! I’ll see you when I take the night shifts from you,” You smile, hugging both of them quickly before you go to the lockers, grabbing your belongings before you reply to Jack’s ‘I’m here, knucklehead’ with a quick thanks.

  You don’t look behind you as you bolt to the exit of the ED, not hearing Robby’s footsteps following you as you make your way to the park in front of the hospital, seeing Jack’s truck waiting for you.

  “Wait—“

  You don’t. You can’t. If you stay one more minute here, you will lose your mind. You pick up your pace, ignoring the calls of your name as you walk faster, sighing in relief when Jack steps down from his truck, but as soon as you reach him, Robby grabs your arm, not hard enough to hurt you but enough to ground you.

  “Where are you going?” He asks, his eyes wide in anticipation, chest heaving rapidly, as if he is imagining all these, “Your shift isn’t over yet…?”

  “I can’t continue working on a shift that my Attending has no respect for me,” you turn around, looking at him dead in the eyes but the tears betray you sooner than you expected, “I have already told Jack I’ll switch to night shifts with him and he said he’ll sign it off for me—“

  “I did?” Jack whispers, raising his eyebrow at you as he glances between you and Robby.

  “Don’t do this, darling, look at me—“ Robby cups your cheeks in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—“

  “I need time! You clearly don’t like me enough to be a decent human being to me on our shifts! I chose to stay with you, to learn from you and be with you during the hard days but you are fucking unbelievable!”

  “Alright, alright,” Jack interrupts when he sees Robby’s glassy eyes, and it is only a matter of time he will breakdown in front of you — something that has never happened before — so he puts his hand on Robby’s back, “I’ll take her home for now, brother. Both of you need some time away from each other.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then…” Robby replies hopefully, gently stroking your arm as he stares into your eyes, waiting for any sign of forgiveness, but when he sees none, he nods and steps away.

  You miss the warmth of his grip immediately, but the ache in your chest is far too great to push everything aside and cave in. You need this time off, you must think and come up with a solution. Perhaps the night shift might help you take your mind off him.

  “I’m off tomorrow,” you reply, wiping the tear that falls on your cheek quickly, turning your back to the men who are looking at you attentively, “I just need some space.”

  “Okay…”

  “Alright,” Jack hugs Robby, patting his back, “I think you fucked up big time, brother. Let me talk to her and see what happens, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Robby nods, head hanging low as he watches you get inside the truck, sighing deeply before he says his goodbye to Jack and leaves, running a hand through his hair while he walks away.

  “Talk, kid,” Jack starts the truck, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you only stifle your sobs and look down at your hands, squeezing your eyes shut, “Only the senior Abbot gets to be the traumatized sad one. So… “

  “He is… a lot, but I thought I could handle it,” you wipe the tears, resting your elbow on the window’s edge, watching how Jack starts turning the wheel and drives the car out of the parking, “Hell, I was handling it, but I didn’t know he would turn into such a short tempered and spiteful person only towards me. He even…” you choke on your sob before you continue, “He even treats Gloria better than me, can you imagine it? He criticizes every diagnosis I make, every order I give, every single pill I prescribe, but it’s just me, his girlfriend…”

  “I’m sorry,” Jack sighs, stopping the car when the light turns red, reaching to hold your hand, his hazel eyes finding your teary ones. He shakes his head slightly, his heart clenching at the sight of you tittering at the edge of a breakdown before he pulls you closer, resting your head on his shoulder, kissing your forehead as the two of you wait for the light to turn green, “He is being a dick to you because he is scared… he did the same thing to Collins but… It’s pretty different this time. I know it, I can see it, he is afraid of losing you more than losing himself.”

  “It doesn’t make sense!” You hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes, “Can’t he see that being so-so harsh on me leads to exactly what he fears? He is losing me, Jack, and I hate it. I don’t want him to lose me, but every day I spend in the ER with him, I feel him slipping away from my fingers slowly. I don’t wanna lose him either.”

  Jack keeps quiet, kissing the crown of your head once or twice as he starts driving again, letting you tell him everything, opening your heart to him.

  “I saw how he was with Heather years ago before I even began to like him,” you say, no longer crying, just voicing your feelings in a numb tone while your heart aches for some sort of relief, “And I thought we were different, I thought he changed, but… maybe there is no hope for us either.”

  “He loves you,” Jack replies, “He loved Heather too, but… he is in love this time.”

  “How are you so sure?” You ask, straightening your back as you look at his side profile, watching how a small smile takes over his face.

  “I know him better than you do, kid.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” you scoff playfully, “My brother knows my boyfriend better than I. Are you sure he’s not cheating on me with you?”

  “Please, I’ll never lower my standards to Robby.” he winks at you when you snort, “You bet no one wants him, he’s all yours.”

  “Well, I’m not really sure about that anymore,” you shrug, “I don’t think he’s even mine anymore… and mind you, I always wanted my partner to be like you, so take it as an insult with a grain of salt, asshole.”

  “You wound me,” Jack chuckles, glancing at your soft, unsure smile, “on the night shift thing… Are you sure you want me to be your Attending? I can be worse than him.”

  “I’m used to your horrible attitude, and besides, we don’t have sex, so your chances of hurting me are half as likely.”

  “I’m too old to be the victim of your incest jokes,” he reaches for the remote to open the door to the apartment’s parking lot, “And I do have sex, but unlike you, I don’t like shoving it in my sister’s face.”

  “I never did that!” You laugh, nudging his side with your elbow when he safely parks the car, “I’m just saying I don’t take your insults as my Attending seriously because we’re blood related and I know what goes through your head.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” Jack sighs, rubbing a palm over his face, “Not maybe, definitely. He can’t say what goes through his head and… it bottles up inside him until he explodes.”

  “Then that’s too bad, cause the only person he harms is me.”

  ••••••••••

  Robby has been searching for you all through the ER for the past week. You know it is not the most mature way to go through this crisis, but it doesn’t hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

  You start taking the night shifts, meeting with Dana and Collins as night owls take over the floor while you openly avoid Robby at all times, fleeing the scene every time you get so much as a glimpse of his navy blue hoodie in the corner of your eye.

  He, too, has been chasing you relentlessly. Making sure to stay a few more hours to just see you and get to tell you a simple hello, but you go out of your way to hide in the bathroom until Ellis comes and collects you, giving you a thumbs up that means Robby’s given up on finding you again.

  This is the routine for a good few nights; escaping Robby for the first hours of your shift, having a breakdown in the bathroom, save a bunch of lives and argue with your brother — Attending —  until you sneak out of the hospital without Robby seeing you when he comes to take over the floor from your brother.

  Jack forces you to take a few days off this week. You have been running through ER every night on caffeine and energy drinks, four hours of sleep, and a broken heart. So, given how much of a great brother Jack is, he tells you to take a few nights off this week.

  Home alone, comfy under a blanket with a boring movie playing on the TV, the least you could expect is to hear a knock on your brother’s apartment at such a dark hour — and worse? You recognize the pattern of knocks immediately. Three knocks: one slow and unsure, the second one stronger and confident, the last one shy and anticipating.

  You want to disappear, to ignore the knocks and melt through the cushions of the couch. But the very familiar pattern is pulling you in, making your heart race and limbs tingling.

  With some courage that is near nonexistent, you push the blanket off, slowly padding towards the door, flexing and relaxing your fingers a few times, a couple deep breaths before you reach for the door knob, twisting it and revealing a very tired and teary-eyed Robby.

  Your breath hitches as you take him in; shoulders slumped heavily, eyebags much darker than you remember, his body tense with so much unresolved emotion, and his eyes… his eyes, those pools of chocolate brown that always make your face warm and your heart beat rapidly — they are filled to the brim with shame and guilt. It will only take one push to have those watercolor droplets stream down his cheeks.

  “Robby…”

  He closes his eyes, taking a deep inhale as if hearing his name fall from your lips is the freshest air he has ever breathed. You can see him visibly relax, your voice soothing his concerns about your well-being.

  “Hi,” he leans with his hand on the doorframe, looking down at his shoes as he tries to keep his voice from breaking, “Hi…”

  “Hey,” you bite your lip, looking behind him as you try to gather your thoughts, “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” he squeezes his eyes shut, his fingers tightening around the wooden frame, dragging his eyes back to yours slowly, letting you use them as a mirror to his soul, “I had to see you.”

  “Robby—“

  “No, no, let me talk—“ he cuts you off, resting his hands on the bridge of his nose, then sighing and putting them on his hips, “I fucked up, I know that. I-I messed up so bad, I know, I fucking know. You’re a goddamn amazing doctor, my best resident, I loathe myself for how I treated you.”

  “You were so mean…” You can feel your own tears stinging your eyes, and it only gets worse when you look up to him, finding him flushed and on the verge of breaking, “Why?”

  “Just my mind playing tricks on me. I thought if I pushed you away in the hospital, we could work better together, and then-then the lines blurred and I couldn’t notice how far I distanced myself from you.”

  “I was right there, Robby,” you gasp, sucking in a sharp breath as the tears finally burst, “All you had to do was to give us one chance to work together.”

  “Don’t cry,” he whispers, hands shaking as he reaches to cup your face, his face wet from seeing your tears, “I can’t handle it, I will break beyond repair if I see you cry, please…”

  You put your palms on top of his, leaning forward to gently rest your forehead against his, sobbing in his arms. You are quite surprised when you hear him sniff and cry, just as equally pained and sad — he is crying because you are crying.

  “No one deserves your tears,” he leans down and kisses the droplets slowly, his chapped lips making a beautiful contrast with your soft skin. First your cheeks, following the wet path down to your chin before he comes up and pecks your closed eyelids, “Much less me.”

  “Don’t say that—“

  “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” you can feel him softly crying as he presses his lips to the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo he so desperately misses, “I can’t function without you on my shifts, I can’t think straight, I can’t… my life is incomplete without you.”

  You tilt your head back, forcing him to look at you, but the way you gaze at him only spurs him on to continue, and when those three words fall from his lips, he can no longer control his emotions.

  “I love you,” he closes his eyes, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, wetting his beard each passing moment, “I don’t show it a lot, I’ve treated you so poorly, you must be thinking I don’t care about you, but I do, a lot. I love you, and there is nothing nearly as good as you in my life. I hang in there for twelve hours, but when I see you, it feels like my entire life makes sense, like I have a purpose, a reason to come back, a reason to move forward.”

  “Oh, Robby…” you cup his cheeks, pulling his face down, brushing your nose against his, “I love you too, so much.”

  You close the distance, pressing your lips to his softly, just a taste, perhaps a promise of a better tomorrow. He doesn’t rush you either, he kisses you back with relief, the weight lifting off his shoulders slowly. 

  He doesn’t deepen the kiss, allowing you to lead him this time, tasting the remaining bittersweet flavor of his nicotine gum. Robby’s hands go to your back, pulling you closer if possible, feeling the heat of your body seeping through the layers of his outfit.

  “Robby,” you break the kiss, hovering your lips over his as you speak, “I still need some time. I… I have been getting along with the night shift, and I need some time away.”

  “Name it and it’s yours,” he nods, his fingers tightening around your waist, “I’ll do anything you ask, anything.”

  “I know, my love,” you pout, stroking his bearded cheek gently, “There are a lot of things we have to work on, but for now… I need to step back.”

  “Alright.”

  •••••••

  Maybe it was a bad decision to listen to your brother and take another night off. You feel useless being home alone without your stethoscope around your neck and those god-awful tight scrubs the hospital gave you.

  Now you are sure it was a terrible decision to take the night off, because now you have to explain to a very anxious brother and a much more anxious boyfriend why you and nearly thirty other injured people are being rushed to the PTMC’s ER.

  “Abbot?” Shen is in the triage they made of the ambulance bay, rushing towards you with Ellis in toe to help you out of the car, “What the fuck? What happened to you?”

  “I was in the same restaurant, fuck, my leg—“ you groan, clinging to the doctors as they sit you on the wheelchair, Shen giving Ellis a look to take you inside, dodging the gurneys and patients left and right until she finds you an empty corner, telling you to wait for someone to come and help you, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

  “Kid?” Dana gasps, jogging toward you as soon as her eyes fall on your face and stretched leg, “Fucking hell, you okay? What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to have a nice dinner out, unfortunately, it was the same restaurant that collapsed,” you scoff, trying to pull the sundress you are wearing down to cover at least your mid-thigh. “Don’t give me that look, I’m fine! Probably just a hairline fracture on my Fibula and a bunch of bruises on my body.”

  “You look like you’ve fist fought a three hundred pound man,” she glares at you, kneeling in front of your wheelchair to take a look at the bruises on your neck and arms, “For whatever’s worth, you look like a piece of candy in this dress.”

  “Too bad no one was there to appreciate me,” you crack a smile, hissing when she pushes the sundress’ sleeve further down your shoulder, her fingers stroking the huge purple-ish spot.

  “I’m gonna order you a CT, can’t wait to get a doctor here,” she looks at you, noticing the sadness in your eyes, “You look beautiful, don’t worry about him, he’s a moron.”

  “I’m more worried about how he’ll lose his shit if he sees me like this—“

  “Sister?!”

  “Jesus fucking christ,” you groan, tipping your head back as Jack runs towards you, kneeling on the other side of the wheelchair as he takes in your state. You look at Dana, giving her a pleading look, “Help me escape?”

  “And miss Robby hovering around you like a mother hen? Hell, nah,” she chuckles, caressing your head before she stands up, “You’re in good hands, kid. Dr. Abbot here knows a thing or two about medicine.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Dana,” Jack rolls his eyes playfully before he looks back to you. “How bad is the leg? Did you hit your head? Let’s get you a CT first, then radiology—“

  “Nope, I don’t need a head CT, I just need some painkillers and an X-ray. Think I have a tiny hairline fracture in my leg—“

  “Can you stand on your feet?” He asks, helping you up with his hands on your waist, watching how you stand up in pain, “Where does it hurt the most?”

  “Around my ankle, lateral malleolus,” you hiss again, holding onto Jack’s shoulder as he guides you back on the wheelchair, “Maybe it’s not even a fracture, just a sprain, yeah?”

  “Possibly, but you’re not the doctor here.” he fixes you with a stern look as he applies pressure around your ankle, trying to see where it hurts the most. “Let the adults handle this.”

  “Then get a responsible adult in here,” you say, laughing when he makes a gurgling noise, pressing on the spot where it hurts the most, making you shrink and pull your feet out of his grasp. “You’re pushing fifty and still act like you’re ten. Grow up.”

  “Unfortunately for you your ‘responsible adult’ is Robby who is—“ he turns around, finding Robby stopping midway when he gets a glimpse of you on a wheelchair, “Near freaking the fuck out. Have fun, Miss Abbot.”

  “Wait— no! He can’t treat me, he can’t handle it, I swear, Jack, if you take one more step—“

  Your words die in your throat as you watch Robby walk your way quickly, his hands shaking and his eyes — his sad fucking puppy eyes that have your heart running miles an hour — scanning your entire body in a hurry.

  “What happened?” Robby’s voice shakes as he reaches to hold your cheek in his hands, his touch hesitant and trembling, “What did Jack say? Do-do you need to go up? Are you okay—“

  “Robby, I’m fine,” you reply gently, smiling as he keeps on bombarding you with several questions you have already answered, watching as he closes his eyes and shakes his head when he sees the huge bruise on your shoulder, “It’s nothing. I’ll be back to my very energetic ER resident in a few days. I can even help now—“

  “No, absolutely not,” he purses his lips, ghosting his knuckles over your bruise before he sighs and looks back to your face, “You gonna go home, take some painkillers, you know which ones help you the most, and rest. What were you doing there anyway? What happened?”

  “I wanted to treat myself to a nice dinner, got ready and all,” and you smile shyly when his eyes finally drag on your body, taking in the way the sundress clings to your chest and stomach.

  “Fuck,” he huffs out a laugh, “Bad timing, darling. Now I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of the night.”

  “Good,” you reach for his hand, stroking his fingers as you explain what happened there. “There was some construction work on the building next to the restaurant. One second, everything was fine, but then something dropped on us, half of the ceiling came down, and we ran out. I fell down while I was trying to get past the exit.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head,” his tone grows serious, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles, “But what if you did? You should have told someone you were there, you have to stop being so reckless and—“

  “Robby—“

  “What if something worse happened to you—“

  “Robby—“

  “What if you ended up like one of these people, I wouldn’t be able to live—“

  “Michael, stop!” The way his first name falls from your lips freezes him immediately, his eyes widen in terror, but when he sees you smiling at him, he melts down instantly, “Look at me, I’m fine! Nothing a splint and Tylenol can’t fix, besides, I have two doctors hovering around me all the time. I’m fine and I will be fine, okay?”

  “Okay…” he nods, clinging to your hand as he fights a few unshed tears, “I panicked, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, I’d be worse if you were in my position,” you sigh in annoyance when you see Whitaker coming your way, squeezing Robby’s hand to get his attention, “Go, they need you now. I’ll buy the splint on the way home, I just need to find my bag.”

  “I have it!” Dana comes with Jack on toe, “Checked for keys, phone, credit cards, a bunch of lipsticks, and your necklace. All in there and good to go.”

  “Thank you, seriously!” You say, resting your arm around Robby’s shoulder as he helps you up by one hand on your ribs and the other on your waist, “Don’t worry about me, I can get home safely, alright?”

  “You need a key? I can hand you mine,” Jack says, and raises an eyebrow when you hesitate and bite your lip, looking back at Robby before you shake your head and grab your purse, “What?”

  “I think I’ll go back home,” you utter softly, looking into Robby’s eyes as his pupils blow in surprise, “If it’s okay with you?”

  “You wanna come back?” He asks, his voice no louder than a whisper, his grip tightening on you as he waits for an answer.

  “Yeah…”

  “Okay then,” Jack interrupts, “Sorry to be the bearer of the bad news, but we've got patients and you need to rest. So go back to your place and sleep.”

  “Do you…” Robby clears his throat, “Do you have the keys? Or should I grab mine—“

  “No, I have mine,” you smile, leaning up as best as you can on one foot to kiss his cheek, “I’ll see you back home.”

  “Yeah, sure,” you say your goodbyes to others as well, giving Dana and Jack a halfway hug, limping over to the back door of the floor before you call for an Uber and drive back home.

  •••••••

  You take the advice and rest. You don’t know what time it is when you hear the quiet jiggling of the keys and the front door being pushed open, but the familiar sound of footsteps is enough to calm your racing mind.

  “Hey,” you say, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up on the bed, watching how Robby relaxes immediately when he spots you.

  He takes off his hoodie and scrubs, sitting on the edge of the bed topless as he takes off his socks slowly, sighing contently when you scoot closer, rubbing a hand over his warm back, kissing his broad shoulder.

  “How are you?” He asks, turning around so he can take a better look at your face, “Anything hurt?”

  “No,” you reply, gently running your fingers on his neck, caressing his collarbone, “I’m okay. How are you?”

  “Honestly?” He scoffs, looking down at your exposed thighs, under one of his worn-out t-shirts you have on, “Exhausted, but… I’m very happy you are back.”

  “I’m happy to be back too,” you lean down to kiss his shoulder again, “Go take a shower and come back to me. It’ll help you relax.”

  He nods and leans down to peck your lips, sighing in relief when he rests his forehead on yours. Robby nods again and, with a deep breath, he forces himself to stand up and let your hand fall from his skin.

  He comes back ten minutes later, hair towel dried and another one hanging dangerously low on his hip bones. He lets out another tired sigh, smiling when he finds you sitting up against the headboard.

  “I missed having you here.”

  “I missed being here,” you point to the empty space next to you, extending your hand so he knows what to do, watching as he slowly crawls on the bed, carefully resting his head on the soft podge of your stomach, circling his arms around your waist.

  “You’re okay, Michael.” You thread your fingers through his soft hair, gently rubbing his scalp as he hums and buries his face further into your belly, “I got you, my love.”

  “I thought I was losing you,” he tears up, biting his tongue in order to stop himself from crying, but it is in vain because the second you lean down to press a kiss on his head, he is breaking, “I did, for a few days… and it was the worst time of my life. I wasn’t alive, I… I just existed. I breathed, but I felt numb. I couldn’t believe that I let my insecurities get this far, that I had to let go of you.”

  “But I’m here now,” you wrap your other arm around his shoulder, holding him close as he cries silently, his shoulders shaking, but not a sound coming from him, “I’m here to work on these things. I never left to begin with, I… I should have knocked some sense into you when you told me my CPR pose was bad.”

  “That was a low blow, I’m sorry,” he holds on to you tightly, one of his large palms starting to caress your hips to your knees, letting his fingers follow the path of your thigh, “You’re a magnificent doctor, and I’m sorry that you had to endure months of suffering because of me. Fuck, I should have been the one to stop others not to be the one to give you a hard time.”

  “It’s over now, Robby.” You watch him sit up slowly, his much larger body cornering yours to the headboard without even trying to, “We gonna figure this out. I’ll stay on night shifts until we sort out everything, but for now, I just want my boyfriend.”

  He nods, closing the gap between your face until he reaches your lips, pressing a soft, experimental kiss before you grab the back of his neck to deepen it. Robby keeps himself up by one hand on the headboard and the other on your hip, moving his lips with yours in sync.

  “I don’t wanna hurt you more—“

  “Shh,” you nibble on his bottom lip, gently lowering your back on the mattress before you pull him on top of you, your free hand playing with the edge of the towel around his hips, “You will definitely hurt me if you deny my request.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I need you, Robby.” You frown when he doesn’t immediately get rid of the towel, and his eyes lock in on your face. Suddenly, a wave of sadness hits you: “You don’t want to… have sex?”

  “No! I do, I really do!” He chuckles, lowering himself on top of you after he pushes the covers off your body, grabbing your hand gently before he brings it to the very evident bulge under the towel, “See what you do to me? I need you too, so so badly, but I will hate myself if I make you uncomfortable more than you probably are.”

  “Stop overthinking and fuck me already!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he leans down again, kissing you passionately while you untuck the towel and drop it on the floor, making him hiss in pleasure as you wrap your arms around his aching lenghth, “Fuck, I missed this.”

  “Me too,” you reply breathlessly, letting him pull off your — his — shirt and pushing your panties to the side, “If you don’t do anything, I won’t let you sleep on this bed for another week.”

  “Bossy,” he kisses you quickly before he grabs your thigh in his hand, mindful of your other foot being in a splint while he makes home between your legs, his heavy cock resting on your hip as he tries to adjust your positions, “Jack’s wearing off on you.”

  “Don’t talk about my brother when you are about to fuck me,” you wrap both of your arms around his shoulder and your good leg around his waist, “Unless you two have something for each other that I don’t know about.”

  “Have some faith in me, I have a good taste in Abbots, and he is not the one,” you both laugh, and he nudges your nose with his, his warm brown eyes filled with pent-up lust and longing, “I love you.”

  “I love you too, so much.”

  He pulls you in for another kiss, guiding the tip of his cock to your soaked entrance, easing himself into you slowly, careful of your bruises. 

  Both of you moan into each other’s mouths, clinging to the other with every fiber of your being as Robby stretches you out, pushing his cock until he has nothing to give. His dick’s snuggled tightly between your velvet walls, your cunt gripping him like a vice and never wanting to go.

  He gasps when you clench around him, resting his forehead on yours as both of you begin to pant, your chests heaving with each breath.

  “You feel so good, Robby,” you whimper, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, making your breath hitch as his cock reaches deep inside you.

  “You look so fucking beautiful,” his lips fall open as he picks up his pace, burying his face into the crook of your neck, “The most perfect human ever.”

  “Oh, fuck—“ you throw your head back, tangling your fingers in Robby’s soft short hair, tugging at it as he slams himself inside you with a newfound desire — his movements tactical enough not to hurt you but just the right amount of roughness to make your leg shake around his hip, “I’m not gonna last long!”

  “Me neither, darling,” he groans, the sound of squelching filling the room, nearly tripping over the edge when he sees you reaching between your bodies to rub on your clit, “Fuck, baby…”

  “I’m gonna come—“ you release a loud moan, spilling around his girth as you reach your peak, your heel digging into his butt as you writhe beneath him.

  “There you go, sweet girl,” he beams at you, watching as your face twists in pleasure; lips swollen with all the kissing, eyes shut and lashes kissing your cheeks, “I’m so close…”

  “Inside,” you open your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand while caressing his face, “Come inside me, Michael.”

  “Fuck, fuck—“ he groans, thrusting hard and fast into you a few more times before he begins to tremble, biting down on the skin of your neck as he comes, his cock twitching inside you, filling you up to the brim.

  He comes for an embarrassingly — in his opinion — long time, just holding you close and panting into your skin while he shoots thick ropes of his cum inside your cunt.

  You pull him down until he rests the majority of his weight on you. You have to force him, though, because he thinks it would hurt your bruises and put you in pain, but his weight grounds you.

  The proximity makes his head spin in warmth, but you can feel how worried he is, so you don’t keep him caged on top of you, allowing him to pull away until he can get a better look at your body.

  “Please be careful next time,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the large bruise on your collarbone, then the one on your arm, then lower on the side of your stomach, “Or better, I keep you locked up so I know you’re safe.”

  “You can’t even get me locked up in a surgery, good luck with doing it for the rest of my life,” you chuckle, thanking him when he helps you sit up.

  “I think I need another shower,” he says, standing up, naked as the day he was born, before he turns to you, extending his hand for you to take, “Care to join me?”

  “You’re far too horny for your age, Dr. Robby,” you tease him, but take him on his offer nevertheless, resting your weight on his arm as he slowly helps you limp to the bathroom.

  “I’m not old,” he scowls, and you laugh at his little frown, smoothing a finger between his brows, “but no, I don’t wanna have sex, I just wanna hold you, sweet girl.”

  “Nothing is stopping you, my love.”

[qqueenofhades]

hi I hope you don't mind but I would love to hear your long tired historian rant you mentioned in your tags on that one post, if you feel in the mood to share? (no pressure!)

(also thank you for existing, you do wonderful work and the world is a better place for you being in it)

Aha. Well. For context, the mention of said rant was in relation to this post:

Basically, this post struck a nerve because of how it exactly encapsulates the anti-intellectual, anti-academia, anti-historical, anti-reality thinking that is absolutely rampant in social media spaces, even and especially spaces that identify as leftist, liberal, or otherwise "superior" to the right wing when it comes to identifying fake news or misinformation. (Example A: anything ever written by a self-proclaimed leftist on Twitter.) We all know that there are huge problems with the American public school system (and the people writing this are almost always American) and the American practice of education in general, and that yes, there are many things that happened in the past (or y'know, the present!) that are not taught very well, or at all. But because the American public school system is so decentralized and largely autonomous, incredibly dependent on the temperament of local superintendents and/or school boards, taxation and funding, availability of teachers, requirement of useless standardized tests, etc., it is very difficult (if not outright impossible) to claim that this is the result of a Unified Grand Conspiracy To Not Teach Real History To The Youth In Order To Make Them Mindlessly Support Capitalism. That is the exact sort of deranged conspiratorial thinking that the right wing does and fits everything into a sinister narrative about how "They" are planning to keep you ignorant and therefore nothing harmful that you ever think or do is really your fault. It's not good.

(Whoosh. That was very calm and reasonable of me. For the rest of this post, please just picture Captain Holt "apparently that's a trigger for me" dot gif.)

Also: even in public school, and despite the Republicans' best efforts, there are plenty of opportunities to study complex or "controversial" subjects. For example, I spend a week every June grading AP Euro History exams with a lot of other educators in a giant windowless steel box (woo-hoo, fun times!) Every year, there are questions on the exam about women's rights, imperialism and exploitation, slavery/race relations, the development of capitalism and the current economic model, religion and science, the history of labor, and other topics that would be considered "controversial" if you're an idiot. This is an exam taken by high school students in all grades from across the country, and there are also AP World History and APUSH (US history) exams every year which are doubtless making an effort to address similar themes. This is an advanced program, yes, but it's widely available to many schools and is not a result of a sinister plot to keep the youth from discovering the truth. Also: you live in an era of absolutely unprecedented access to information. Put down the ChatGPT bullshit generator and visit a goddamn public library. Or even open Wikipedia. The tools are there for you to start educating yourself and they are so easy to find!!!!!

The "Historians Are Hiding The Truth!!!" narrative becomes even more ridiculous in university-level or professional academic historical-study spaces, especially when historical educators and associations (such as the American Historical Association) have been at the forefront of pushing back against right-wing efforts to censor history, punish teachers, and remove culture-war subjects from classrooms. Also as someone who has advanced degrees in history, has taught/worked in several universities in different countries, writes and publishes historical research, and otherwise participates professionally in the field: trust me, we aren't "hiding" shit. There are vigorous debates and disagreements on various bogglingly obscure subjects and points of clarification and so forth, but that doesn't mean we're not talking about them (trust me, we're often talking about them too much). If you're issuing confident blanket statements about how "historians are conspiring to hide x," you're an idiot.

This also has dangerous repercussions in the field of, say, politics and civics, where a lot of absolutely braindead Online Leftists have spent the last four years posting deranged nonsense on social media and then, whenever they're called out on it for that not actually being how anything works at all, whining that "I was never taught this!!!" (And yet, it somehow never actually changes their perspective or their theories....) They whine about how "they didn't know this" and it was someone else's fault, they make up total fantasy about what the Biden administration did or should have done and now are still happy about Trump coming back because "It will teach the Democrats a lesson!!!" and otherwise accelerating us oh-so-quickly down that slippery slippery fascism slope. Their weaponized ignorance and their magical fantasies about what "should" have happened often come back to this same learned helplessness, where it's everyone else's fault (especially Capitalism's) that they're total wankers. Look: I'm not a goddamn fan of capitalism either. But we all grew up in this same system, and some of us aren't raving idiots, so at some point, you have to take the tiniest modicum of personal responsibility for the information you seek out, the content you consume, the opinions you propagate, and the people you surround yourself with. Shocking.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Online Leftists are actively and unrepentantly enabling American fascism and should be treated in the same way as we treat MAGA when it comes to deciding what is good or worthwhile information. This is because their entire political philosophy (insofar as their beliefs can be dignified with the term) is based on the "make shit up and remove it from any basic empirical references, grounding in reality, or 'should I run the most basic Google search and see if I'm completely talking out of my ass in a distorted social media echo chamber? Nah I'm good' " technique. This is, as the original tweet above references, trying to retcon sheer malicious laziness and stupidity into grand ideological theories about how it's actually "better" that they don't know a damn thing and won't shut up. It's your evil history teacher's fault, or "academics are all rich and elitist" (ask any academic-precariat person like me and we will laugh hollowly and then throw monkey poop at you), or "They" wouldn't let you learn this, or on and on. Even in our terrible, awful, no-good very-bad timeline, there are still ample tools to educate yourself, to learn how to filter out bad information and junk news, and otherwise gird yourself even a little for the even-more-massive assault on empirical reality that we are about to experience in the next four years (ugh). I suggest you take advantage of them.

[bigfatbreak]

Hi hello!!! I want to say I LOVE your fearlnette au its so good!!! I been binge reading it. I’m amazed how much character and detail and emotions depth there is!!! I simply adore the artwork, the colors??? The background symbolism, the hidden hod eyes and alya’s fox ears??? AMAZING 10/10.

I’m super curious on how you make the comics, like how long it takes and what program you use. What made you decide to have each panel or centric scene have certain colors? Was it a style choice or something else? I love the way you wrote marinette and Felix, they are such good characters and I love them. Adrien and kugami and good too!!

Also what are your thoughts on the canon show? How does canon influence or change your au?

thank u for all the lovely compliments! I'll start from the top

how long it takes to draw: -takes about a day to frame everything / rough composition / rough dialogue -another day for lineart - if I'm lucky, sometimes it can take two -another day for rendering everything -I usually spend my weekends working on the update between working fulltime at my irl job. each technical "update"/"scene" is anywhere between 50 and 80 frames long, posted in full on patreon, and they're cut up by sections to post on tumblr due to tumblr's 30 panel limit

what program: I use csp. i used to use photoshop but she's dead to me now

why the colors: I like gradient maps a lot and they're a good tool to manipulate the mood in a subtle way, or hint at things. they're also really pretty when using a style that heavily relies on contrast and texture, which ended up being the main bread and butter of feralnette

thoughts on the canon show: if I didn't at least have a kernel of affection for the OG I wouldn't be working on this au, but I will admit binging the shit out of the series during quarantine put it somewhere permanent inside me. as a whole it could use some polishing, or at least some sense of self. idk how to explain it, the series suffers from "a little bit of everything" and cant seem to figure out what it wants to be, which leaves it meandering on the genre board and that can make the characters' motivations and arcs lacking as a result.

how does uodating canon influence your au: for feralnette, it kinda doesn't. the comic takes place a bit after season 3 so everything that's established is established. for my other aus, it can add some crispy lore or step on its own toes and make me flinch like im dancing at a gala with an impertinent partner

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 17

Summary: You're finally back in Westview.

It’s your last shift at Romanoff Medical Center and everyone’s trying to act normal.

But then Yelena is rushing past you into a conference room, and Lorne is nowhere to be found even though he always insists on greeting you with a song.

“Hey, Y/N, could you help me review some post ops over here?” Yelena asks at one point and you play dumb.

If they’re going to ignore your no party request, the least you can do is have fun with it.

“I haven’t had lunch. Let’s do it at the cafeteria”

“No, it will only take a minute” the blonde insists and you smile, pretending to think about it.

“Alright, then”

When everyone screams “Surprise!” you pretend to be, knowing Wanda would want you to be polite.

“Cut the cake, come on” Yelena insists and after the first bite your mood changes instantly.

“Holy crap, this is delicious. Thanks, guys”

“So predictable. I knew the way to you was through your stomach. Speaking of which”

She hands over a card that has an intestine drawn and the words “We’ll miss you, don’t forGUT about us”

“Get it? Gut, as in your insides…” Lorne explains and you nod, hoping he shuts up.

“Yeah, seemed obvious to me, thanks”

Everyone’s asking about your plans and you try to dodge the questions. Your plan is to get on a plane back to Westview and hope for the best. Carol’s wedding seems like a safe enough topic, as everyone loves a party.

“Hey, I thought it was someone’s birthday” Val greets you.

“You made it! You are here for my party, right?”

“Yelena mentioned it. But, could I talk to you for a minute?” she gestures towards the hall and you follow her, a plate full of cake in your hands. “So, I have good news. The program wants you”

“Really?”

“They’d like it more if you agreed to move right away, but two months this summer is a compromise they’re willing to take. Not a lot of people request to go to Sokovia specifically”

“Ok, that’s awesome. Can you send me the details? I need to organize everything” you begin to think about flights, accommodation…

“And tell your girlfriend” Val reminds you.

“Oh, yeah. That”

Hey, babe. Wanna move back to your home country for the summer?

“Take it one step at a time, Y/N. And it was lovely meeting you” Val says, surprising you with a hug. She didn’t seem like the type to hug at all.

“You don’t want any cake?”

“Eat a slice for me”

“I can definitely do that” you mutter as she walks away. By God, it’s delicious.

More people go in and out of the conference room to say goodbye and you appreciate all their kind words. It’s a little overwhelming, as you honestly didn’t think anyone even noticed you around.

“Natasha’s not coming?” you ask Yelena, and the blonde shrugs her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I told her but you know how she is”

“No, I get it” you nod, trying to be casual about it.

The Romanoff that does stop by is Melina, who is on her way to a conference in Milan.

“Just wanted to wish you the best in your next adventure, whatever that is”

“I was considering stand up comedian” you joke, offering her cake. She turns it down with a polite gesture. “I’ve been told I have a funny bone…”

“Stick to medicine, darling” she cuts you off, making you laugh. “Before I leave, I need you to review your separation agreement and severance, just to make sure it’s all ok”

You nod, taking the piece of paper she’s offering.

“Uh, there’s definitely an extra zero there” you say, eyes open wide.

“I must insist. Save it for your time in Sokovia”

“You know about that, huh?” you chuckle.

“Of course. I’m part of the NGO’s board” Melina says, smiling. “Don’t be a stranger. You’ll always have a place here if you want to come back”

“Thank you” you say, and Melina nods. “I just… want to say I admire you, not just the research you do, but for giving back to the community. I see it and a lot of people in this hospital see it too, I hope you know that, Doctor Romanoff”

“Mama, it looks like you want to cry” Yelena chimes in and you roll your eyes. Melina laughs, asking her daughter to walk with her to the exit.

You’re left alone with Lorne, who is removing the decorations. You help him for a bit, working in silence until he sobs loudly.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Ah, jeez” you say, hoping he doesn’t hug you. “It’s alright. Sharon is great. You’ll love working with her. Go check on my post ops, that will cheer you up”

It’s a quiet shift, which you appreciate. Yelena spends the rest of the day glued to your side, until it’s time to go back and pack the last of your things.

“Don’t be a stranger” the blonde says, looking everywhere but you.

“Yel, we’re seeing each other for Carol’s wedding. You don’t think Kate already told Darcy you’re her plus one?”

“She’s so bad at keeping secrets”

“Come here” you pull her for a hug. You’re gonna miss her, truly. And you hope there was something you could do to stay here, but you made a choice and your family comes first. “Don’t wanna be corny, but I care a lot about you, kiddo”

“I know” she says against your shoulder, hugging you before letting go. Yelena wipes her eyes and smiles. “See ya soon”

The penthouse feels a little empty, and the view from the terrace is gloomy, the clouds making it seem sad. It’s not like you have a lot of stuff to pack, only the clothes you bought when you got here, some shoes and scrubs. Everything else is either at Wanda’s or it was already here.

With a final look at the place, you close the door and go down the elevator one last time. As you’re about to step out the building and ask for a cab, someone pulls over.

“Need a ride?” Natasha says, opening the door of her car for you.

“Hey, stranger”

“You didn’t think I’d let you go without saying goodbye, did you?”

“Well, honestly? I did. You missed my farewell party”

“That’s because I knew someone would cry and it makes me uncomfortable” she explains, driving straight to the airport. “Got everything you need?”

“I think so, yeah” you nod. “I’m excited and terrified. I feel like everything will be the same and at the same point, nothing will, ya know?”

“Yeah I get it. You’ll be fine, though” she assures you, smiling.

The conversation flows easily, and you briefly mention your summer plans. She smirks, and you slap her arm.

“What are you laughing at?”

“See? I was never the problem. You’re more than capable of finding ways to piss off Wanda by yourself”

“Is it so bad to travel across the world to help others?”

“I’m just teasing” she laughs, though you know there’s some truth behind it.

Honestly, you’re 50/50 regarding Wanda’s reaction. Maybe she’ll be excited, and maybe she’ll throw something at you, lecturing you about making big decisions together.

“Alright, we’re here” Natasha says, pulling over. She helps with your suitcase, lingering for a bit as you get everything ready. You confirm you have everything with a nod, and your eyes meet hers.

“Nat…”

“I know” she says, pulling you in for a hug.

“Don’t be a stranger, please? At least text me once every month” you say.

“I’ll try my best. Take care, Y/N”

“You too” you wave one last time before walking to the airport.

When you’re finally on the plane, and you look out the window, the buildings of the city turn into nothing more than memories.

Time to go back home.

—

The air is cleaner, and so are the skies. That’s the first thing you notice as you step outside. The airport is so small compared to the one in Boston, and you don’t have to walk a lot to find Carol waiting for you.

“If it isn’t my runaway bridesmaid” she jokes and you smile, running to hug her.

“I’m back! I’m sorry. Do I still get to plan the bridal shower?”

“Maybe, we’re still wondering if it’s a good idea to get half the hospital drunk” she jokes. “Is that all you got?”

“Yeah” you hand over your suitcase, and you drive back to the hospital.

“So, how’s Wanda?” she gets right to it.

“Good. We’re working things out but taking it slow. I thought it might be a bit rushed to move right back in so I’ll stay with Darcy until I can find a place”

“Very mature and sensible” Carol nods. “I’m happy the time apart was good for you two. Like me and Maria”

“How’s the future Mrs. Danvers?”

“Stressed, but managing. Plus we’re thinking about trying for a kid so…” Carol mentions and you all but scream.

“A little troublemaker! They’re gonna be so cute”

You keep updating each other on things here and there, and when you finally get to the hospital, you stand outside for a minute to take it in.

It doesn’t feel wrong to be back. You’ve been through these doors more times than you can count. You know the people who work here; they’ve had your back and you have theirs.

Apart from the time you quit on the spot, of course.

With a sigh, you decide it’s time to face Fury. Carol wishes you luck and you agree to meet later for the final dress fitting.

His secretary does a doble take when you request to see him, and she hurries to his door.

“It’s Doctor Y/L/N”

“Well, it’s a miracle” Fury exclaims. You rub the back of your neck and walk in his office, smiling like an idiot.

“Hey… how’s it going?”

“Understaffed. Can I help you? Or did Romanoff send you to steal another head of department?”

“Uh, no… I came to request a job interview. Since you’re understaffed”

Fury leans back on his seat, crossing his arms.

“Well, the position of Head of Trauma is…”

You hear a commotion outside, and Darcy screaming for people to move out of the way.

“Hi, good morning” she straightens her glasses. “I quit” she turns around but comes back a second later. “Just to clarify. I’m still the Head of General Surgery. I quit as Head of Trauma. Thanks. See you in the cafeteria, Cujo”

“Nah, come here…” you pull her in for a hug, and are surprised to feel Darcy returning the gesture. “I missed you”

“Excuse me” she says, hiding her tears and walking away. You want to follow her but Fury clears his throat and you turn back to look at him.

“As I was saying… the position is currently open. But I’m looking for someone who will stay. And not quit on a whim, and leave her people high and dry. Can you be that person?”

“Yes, sir. Oh, except I’m going to Sokovia in the summer for a couple of months”

“If I wasn’t bald already… I’d definitely be thanks to you” he sighs, massaging his temples.

“Hey, I’ll find someone who can cover for me, that’s a promise” you raise your hand. “Scout’s honor”

“Fine. Go to HR and get the paperwork started. Welcome back, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Thanks, sir. It’s good to be home”

People greet you in the hallway and you smile, excited to catch up with everyone. Ana, the woman from HR is not so thrilled about you.

“Coming or going?” she asks, and you laugh awkwardly.

“Oh, coming back to my old position. Fury told me to get an updated ID”

“Uh-hu” the woman eyes you up and down.

After the paperwork hassle, you walk around the hospital. There’s a couple of signs in the board and you read them, taking an interest in one that’s looking for a roomate.

For more information, call James Barnes.

You take the ad and run to the ER, finding Bucky working on setting up an IV.

“Welcome back” he says with a smile you’ve only seen twice.

“Thanks. Now, about that room you’re renting”

—

“You’re gonna be roommates with my nemesis?” Darcy says as you drive to Wanda’s house.

Wanda was busy during the day but organized an early dinner with her family and some of your friends to welcome you back.

“Barnes is not your nemesis. You are coworkers, Darcy. Plus, you hate it when you have to share space with other people. I remember what it was like in college”

“Well, that’s true. I just don’t believe Wanda will let you sleep anywhere else”

“It’s for the best. I can’t go from living alone for the past three months to a full house again”

She’s about to say something when you cut off another driver, going faster while he honks at you.

“Damn, is she waiting for you naked? Why are you driving like a lunatic?” Darcy says, holding on to the dashboard.

“Oh, sorry” you immediately slow down. “Got used to driving in a bigger city”

Pietro is the one that opens the door when you knock (it feels weird to just walk in like you own the place). He stares at you and you think he’s getting ready for another shovel talk when he smiles, hugging you.

“Wow, careful” you say when he lifts you in the air.

“I’m a lot better now, sestra. Welcome back”

“It’s good to be back”

The minute you walk in, the kids run up to you and you lift them over your shoulders, Sparky running around and jumping up and down to make you notice him.

“My little velociraptors! Hey, Sparky!”

The party is bigger than you expected. The Bartons are there, as well as Agatha, Rio and Mrs. Davies. You walk into the backyard where there’s a large table and people begin to walk over to welcome you.

“Hey, hot stuff, you got buff. Rio, come over here, feel those muscles” Agatha says, squeezing your arm. Rio smirks, biting her lip as she joins her girlfriend. They share a look and you feel like this is a kink of theirs.

Clint comes over to save you.

“Looked like you could use some help”

“Uh, yeah. I feel dirty. Thanks, man”

“Good to have you back”

Laura joins you, asking about Lily, who happens to be a friend of hers from college and you also talk about Wendy.

When the kids call for her, you smile and walk in the direction of a woman who has interacted with everyone, but stays in the back.

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff. It’s nice to finally meet you”

“How did you know?”

“Well, you have the same eyes as Wanda. And you scrunch up your nose the same way when you smile. That’s top of my head, I could mention like ten other things I noticed”

“Very observant”

“When it comes to Wanda, yes”

“I’ve heard a lot about you” the woman smiles.

“I’m afraid not all of it has been good. I wish I hadn’t cause so much trouble when I left” you sigh, knowing there’s no point in pretending you didn’t screw up.

“Relationships are complicated. What matters is how much work you want to put into it” she looks at you sternly and you nod. Her eyes divert to a spot over your shoulder and she smiles. “I believe my daughter’s waiting for you”

“What?” you turn to look behind you, forgetting everything as soon as your eyes meet Wanda’s.

She’s in a beautiful green dress that brings out her eyes, smiling at you as you walk up to her.

“Welcome ho…” she begins to say but your lips interrupt her. Your hands cup her face gently as you kiss her, and she covers them with hers, giving you a light squeeze. “As I was saying, welcome home”

“I missed you” you whisper against her lips. “I’m never leaving again, ever”

“Good to know” she smiles at you, taking you back to chat with everyone.

Pretty soon you all grab plates and help yourselves to the food. There’s chicken pie, meatloaf, and some cake.

“Mrs. Maximoff, the chkmeruli is amazing. Did you use adjika?” you say, enjoying the taste. It’s so damn good.

“Yes. How did you…?” she says, impressed.

“Well, I know Wanda had trouble finding a store that sold it here. But I found some of it in Boston and tried to cook with it. It makes all the difference”

“Ok, Barefoot Contessa” Darcy mutters and you elbow her side, chuckling.

“Well, this isn’t store bought. I made it from scratch” Wanda’s mother announces proudly.

“No way, would you teach me?” you ask. “I was thinking about using it with fried potatoes or some other stuff too”

“I’d be happy to” the woman nods, and then looks at her daughter. She speaks in Sokovian, and Wanda blushes.

“Mama!”

“What? What did she say?” Darcy asks, and you look between Wanda and her mother.

“She said that Wanda better marry that girl”

Clint whistles, while Laura laughs and you blush.

“No, she didn’t, that’s a lie” Wanda throws a piece of bread to Pietro, but he catches it and puts it in his mouth, smiling proudly.

“Well, babe. I’d listen to your mother” you smile.

Wanda rolls her eyes, but everytime you lock eyes for the rest of the night, you can tell she’s happy that her mother liked you.

Well, maybe when you ask her blessing to propose to Wanda she’ll say yes.

—

Everyone’s gone, the twins are in bed and Ekaterina has also left for the day.

It’s just you and Wanda in the kitchen, saving stuff in the fridge and loading the dishwasher.

“Thanks for throwing a party. You didn’t have to, baby”

“Everyone was looking forward to seeing you. Now we got that out of the way and I can have you all to myself” she smiles, her hands going around your waist.

“Oh, and why would you want me for yourself only, Miss Maximoff? Anything comes to mind?”

“A couple of things” she smiles, kissing you.

You moan against her mouth when her teeth play with your bottom lip.

“Well, I’m down as long as there’s more of that”

“Then come to bed”

“I should go”

“Stay” she asks. “All your stuff is here, and I know you found that apartment already. I’ll help you take your stuff tomorrow”

“You sure?”

“If it were up to me, you would have moved back here already, detka”

“Well, if it were up to your mother we’d be married” you joke as you go up the stairs. Wanda laughs, pulling you inside her bedroom. You take off your clothes, deciding to sleep in your underwear.

Wanda comes out of the master bathroom wearing one of your t-shirts.

“What a view” you say, pulling her down to your lap. “Better than any penthouse in the world”

“Mhm. I missed you in our bed. I got so lonely, and I… well, someone else slept here for a while” she sighs, looking away. You frown, searching for her eyes. Wanda keeps talking, refusing to look at you. “He was fine, it was just weird with all his hair and a different smell. But nothing happened, we just cuddled, you have to believe me”

“You’re talking about that damn dog, aren’t ya?” you say, because if she isn’t, you’re going to find the bastard that slept with Wanda and kill him.

“Well, I…” Wanda turns to look at you, and her lip quivers. A second later, she’s laughing so loud she has to cover her mouth. “Yes. I’m sorry, you should have seen your face”

“You’ll pay for this” you say, flipping her on her back and tickling her sides. Wanda shrieks, laughing as she apologizes over and over again.

—

“Strip club”

“For a bridal shower? Groundbreaking” Darcy mocks you, without looking up from the charts she’s reading.

“Fine, you propose something!”

It’s not like there are a lot of things you can do. You know Maria and Carol love sports but you really can’t imagine going to a game and then calling it a great party.

It’s supposed to be fun and memorable and something that you wouldn’t normally do.

“I’m proposing we get drunk, that’s it”

“How about a drag show? That’s fun and very queer of us”

“Maybe. That would be fun” Darcy thinks about it for a moment. “I’ll run it by Carol and let you know”

“Hey, I’m the maid of honor, I should be the one asking her”

“You were demoted when you left” Darcy blows you a kiss, and slams the door behind her. That’s probably a lie, but she’ll make sure Carol hears her out before you can even mention the strip club idea.

Kate comes over to ask for some help, and by the time your shift ends, Wanda’s waiting at the front desk.

“Hey, baby” Wanda greets when you meet her. You kiss her and as you pull back, Darcy walks by, looking annoyed.

“Carol wants to go to the strip club, so your idea wins. Hope you’re happy”

“Strip club?” Wanda turns to look at you, tilting her head.

“You’re an ass, Lewis. It wasn’t my idea. I mean, it was, but I just mentioned it could be something to do” you stutter when your friend leaves and you’re left alone with Wanda.

“Mhm. Might have to go with you to make sure no one touches what’s mine”

“Considering what happened last time we were at a club, I’m not opposed to the idea” you say, remembering how hot it was to have Wanda all over you.

“We’ll see” she promises, kissing the spot in your jaw that always makes you agree to anything. “Now let’s go, the kids are waiting for us”

As soon as you had a free afternoon, you wanted to join soccer practice, mainly to make sure Bitchard knew you were back and he’d think it twice before messing with Wanda.

“There he is” you mutter when you get out of the car, walking to open the passenger door for your girlfriend. Wanda follows your eyes and then scoffs.

“So that’s why you wanted to come along. Honestly, I didn’t even pay attention when he asked me out”

“He did what?”

“I told you”

“You did not”

“Well, I… what are you doing?” she says when you corner her against the car, your hands on her waist. “We’re in public”

“Did he try anything else?” you say against her lips. “Answer me, Wanda”

“N-no”

“Well, good. Let’s hope after today he gets the message loud and clear”

“Trust me, I made sure of that” Wanda tries to push past you, but your hands keep her in place, your grip so strong it makes her knees weak.

“Who do you belong to, baby? Come on, be a good girl, I wanna hear you say it”

“You, I’m yours. You know it”

“I just like to remind you, that’s all. Now, let’s go” you finally set her free, and Wanda misses the feeling of your body pressed against her. She’s going to have trouble focusing on the game now.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you” Sharon winks at you the minute you join the rest of the parents.

“Oh, yeah. I’m back for good, though. Missed me?” you joke, knowing it will upset your girlfriend.

“Yes, and those extra muscles suit you very well” she looks ready to squeeze your bicep, but Wanda clears her throat, standing by your side. You wave at Tommy and Billy, who finally agreed to go back to practice on the condition that you train together whenever you’re free.

“Hey, how about a friendly competition between parents? Losing team pays for ice cream” Coach Hill says when an ice cream truck approaches, making all the kids distracted. They’re definitely not playing when they could be having a sweet treat.

“Yeah, I’m in” you say, stepping into the field. Of course, Bitchard is next and you turn to Maria. “Not playing on his team, though”

“That’s fine. You’re both captains of your teams”

A couple of parents join you and Dickhead picks some other people for his team. You’re surprised when Sharon’s the last joining you.

“Let’s get their asses”

To your delight, Richard decides to be the goalie for his team, so you choose the forward position. With some luck you’ll manage to get the ball right in his fucking face.

Coach Hill starts the game with her whistle and the ball is quickly on your teammates side. To your surprise, Sharon is a master dribbler and she runs past most of the men, kicking the ball towards you.

You make it seem like you’ll aim for the left corner and when Dick falls into the trap, you easily kick the ball in the opposite direction.

“1-0. First to score three goals wins” Maria announces.

The game gets so good that even the truck driver parks to watch it. You have to work a bit harder to get to the second goal but by the time you do, you’re out of breath. You lift your t-shirt to wipe the sweat off your face, missing the way Wanda’s eyes darken at the sight before her.

“Sharon, the ball” you scream at her. Apparently, she got distracted too and now you have to run a bit faster to catch up and intercept it.

Still, you score, making it 2-0.

The last goal is super easy, except Bitchard slips and then looks at Hill, whining like a baby.

“That was definitely offside”

“No, it wasn’t” you challenge. “Might wanna have your eyesight checked”

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to come over and check it for me?”

“I’m going to kill you” you announce, walking towards him.

“Hey, hey. Set an example for the kids” Hill says, standing between the two of you. “It was an offside, not that anyone cares because this is soccer practice for ten year olds… but if it makes you so upset”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Don’t want tiny dick’s to fall off for a technicality” you smile, turning back. “I’m getting that goal either way”

And you do, faster than expected. With a slide, you take control of the ball and then kick it so hard it lands on Richard’s stomach, pushing him against the net. He falls on his back, out of breath.

“Congrats, now how about a friendly handshake to finish this?” Hill proposes, hoping you don’t try to punch the man while he’s already down.

Instead you extend your hand to help him up and when he takes it, you pretend to hug him in a friendly manner, but squeezing his hand so hard he whines.

“If you ever mess with my family again, I will cut your tiny dick with a scalpel and make you choke on it, got it?” you whisper, changing your expression to a smile when you pull apart. You slap him playfully, smiling with a shit eating grin. “Good game, Dick. Now pay up”

The twins are talking non stop when you join them, giving them a thumbs up.

“Can you teach me to slide like that?” Tommy asks when you’re walking back to the car.

“Sure, kiddo. Some other time”

As they get in the car, Wanda stops you, smiling.

“So, all good? The murderous impulse is out of your system now?”

“Yeah, one last thing” you say, seeing as Richard’s arguing with the ice cream man. You approach them, handing over a 100 dollar bill.

“And you had the nerve to ask my girl out when you’re a cheap ass? Keep the change, man”

Wanda laughs as you walk back, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Now I’m done”

—

You’re in the kitchen, trying to write down everything Wanda’s mother tells you.

“It’s very salty” you comment when she offers you a taste of the adjika sauce.

“It should be, that’s what preserves it”

You nod, and keep following her instructions. Wanda walks around, trying to check what you’re doing, but her mother insists that you need your space to work.

“I wasn’t big on cooking before, guess she’s just curious if I’m making a mess in her kitchen” you explain, smiling.

“So, what do you provide to a household, if not cooking?” the woman says and you want to laugh at the formality of the question.

“Oh, I fix things. My dad taught me how to do a lot of stuff, since I was little. My stepdad too; whenever my mother was too tired to pretend she wanted me around she’d send me to work with him. But he was ok, he liked teaching me things”

“No child should feel like a burden to their parents” is all the woman says and you shrug your shoulders. “You have a sister, yes?”

“And a brother” you nod, smiling. “I was hoping to invite them over, Zach hasn’t met Wanda and the kids. Maybe before…”

You’re about to say before I go to Sokovia but you haven’t had the conversation with Wanda.

“Before…?” Ekaterina looks up, not missing a beat. Darcy was right, she’s very observant.

“Before Jenny goes to college” you half lie.

The two of you work in silence for a bit, but your mind keeps going back to their home country.

“So, can I ask about Sokovia? Wanda tells me some stuff about the food and the language but I’m wondering what is it like there now that the war is over”

“Well, the war is over. But there’s a lot of ruins and a lot to rebuild. No money to do it, and people who love their land. Most of them never left and the ones that did don’t really want to come back”

“Why did you? If I can ask”

“That’s where I met my husband, and where my kids were born, it’s the land that gave me everything I have ever loved. And no offense to you Americans but I could never understand some of your traditions”

“None taken. I don’t like some of them either. Especially from a doctor’s perspective, people get in the weirdest accidents when they’re lighting fireworks or carving pumpkins”

“Can I ask you something?” she says after a beat of silence. You nod, feeling nervous. “I know how you met my daughter and everything that happened between you two. Why do you think it’s different now?”

“Well. Let me start by saying I love your daughter very much. I love how kind and thoughtful she is, how much she loves the boys. I love how she knows exactly how to make someone feel welcomed and appreciated without even trying. I could go on and on for hours, Mrs. Maximoff”

“That’s very nice of you, but it’s not what I asked. I just want to make sure you won’t hurt her again”

You stop chopping vegetables and look at Ekaterina, sighing.

“I… I thought I wasn’t going to survive. She told me she was better off without me, and I took it to heart, leaving to try to move on. Boston was nice. I made friends, the work was very interesting. I could have built my life there. I realised I could survive, live a life without Wanda. But I just don’t want to. So that’s why I’m not leaving ever again. I choose to be here no matter what”

The woman stays silent for a moment, and then eyes you up and down.

“Very well” is all she says. You smile, knowing that’s the highest form of compliment you can get out of her.

Dinner is nice and the kids are eager to tell Pietro about the match between the parents.

“Maybe I’ll join next time” he says. “Now that my doctor has finally given his approval”

“That’s wonderful news” Ekaterina says.

“Good, it’s your turn to do my laundry for the next few months” Wanda says.

“I actually already found a place to stay. So I can give you two privacy. Yeah, you know the guy, Y/N. Barnes”

“Wait, I’m moving in with him”

“Ok, let’s cut the taking it slow bullshit” Pietro says, looking between you and Wanda.

“Language!” Wanda and her mother scold at the same time. You almost want to laugh at the identical frowns on their faces.

“Sorry, but Y/N, you’ve been back for a week and when you’re not working you sleep here” Pietro calls out, and he does have a point. “So, while I find a house of my own, you two can have some privacy”

“You’re staying in Westview?” Wanda asks.

“Yeah, I figured it’s time to settle” he shrugs his shoulders.

“That’s so cool! We can have sleepovers all the time” Tommy cheers and you smile as well.

“Yeah, sleepovers sound like a great idea” you mutter in Wanda’s direction. She elbows your side, knowing you’re thinking about all the alone time you could have if the boys stay with their uncle.

“Congratulations. A toast for new beginings” Ekaterina says.

You keep talking about Pietro’s plans and you agree to help him move his stuff. There’s also the subject of what to do now that his provisional room will be available again.

“Well, mom, you could move in there” Wanda proposes.

“I couldn't possibly leave Mrs. Davies. But now that you have a spare room, you could definitely consider turning it into a nursery” Ekaterina says casually, making you choke on your wine.

“Mom’s only teasing, detka” Wanda says, easing your nerves with a hand on your leg. “I already gave you two grandchildren, hassle Pietro about it”

“Well, unless he does it by mitosis, it might not happen anytime soon” you say, but no one laughs. “That joke would have killed in the hospital, just so ya’ll know”

“Here it only killed the mood” Pietro says.

“Ok, I take it back, I don’t want any more grandchildren, with the three of you I have enough kids to scold” Ekaterina says, making you laugh.

“Sorry” Pietro and you say at the same time.

“Three? What did I do? I’m just eating my dinner” Wanda protests, looking offended.

“Don’t get me started on all the things you did, malyshka”

“Oh, this is going to be good” you say, eager to learn more about teenage Wanda.

“Blasting her music, saying she wanted to be in an all girls band and tour the world instead of going to college”

“Stealing Papa’s car” Pietro chimes in and you gasp.

“Hey, you were there too!”

“Yeah, but it was your idea, remember? You wanted to go to that concert. Sneaked us in with fake IDs”

“You had fake IDs?” Ekaterina says, shocked.

“Children, how about you go get us ice cream?” Wanda interrupts her brother, looking ready to murder him.

“Even if we already had some today?”

“Yes, go crazy!” Wanda encourages them, breathing a sigh of relief when they’re gone. “Not fair, you guys. In front of Y/N too”

“No, I find you fascinating, my love” you laugh, taking her hand and kissing it.

“Blegh, I’m getting ice cream too” Pietro complains.

Ekaterina begins to pick up the dishes and Wanda helps her, insisting that you stay with the boys watching tv.

By the time it’s all done, Wanda calls the kids for bed.

“Detka, can you help mom set the dishwasher?”

“Yeah, sure thing”

You join Ekaterina in the kitchen, and she huffs and scoffs as you load it.

“Why can’t we just rinse them in the sink like normal people?”

“There. All done, Mrs. Maximoff” you smile at her, wiping your hands.

“You should call me Mom” she says, taking you by surprise.

“Uh, you sure? I mean, not even my own mother wanted me to call her that” you joke.

“Her loss. I insist”

“Alright. I’ll… try” you promise.

Ekaterina nods, looking at her watch.

“Oh, my. It’s time for The Price is Right. Mrs. Davies is waiting for me. Tell Wanda I’ll see her tomorrow”

“Yes, Mrs. Ma… Mom” you correct when the woman gives you a stern look. Another thing she shares with Wanda.

“Night”

“Goodnight” you say, smiling as she kisses Pietro’s cheeks.

Looks like you just got adopted by the Maximoff matriarch.

“Where’s mom?” Wanda says as she goes down the stairs.

“Oh, she was late for The Price is Right with Mrs. Davies” you say, smiling at her.

“Well, come to bed. I have to give you your prize for winning that match” she says, biting her lip.

“I knew I was going to score more than goals today” you smile, picking her up. Pietro overhears, groaning.

“I can’t wait to move out”

“Wear headphones, Maximoff. We’re getting loud” you say, making Wanda laugh as you go upstairs.

“I hate you both!”

[bettystonewell]

IF YOU LEAVE

Chapter 1: Pretty in Pink

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader

In the spring of 1988, Dean meets the girl of his dreams. He just doesn’t know it yet. 2k words

Tags: fluff, angst, young Sam and Dean, slow(ish) burn romance, childhood sweethearts, friends to lovers, 80s, 90s, season three, spans three decades, eventual smut, Rufus - crotchety at any age

@chevroletdean is celebrating 500 followers with a writing challenge! Liane made the beautiful mood-board above for me to work with. You can find more about the Milestone Celebration HERE. I’m gonna try and finish this before the 18th, but consider this chapter my piece for the challenge 😘

Next Chapter

April 1988

The first time Dean saw you was in third grade, Mrs Petersen’s class, but it wasn’t until during recess on the second day that you spoke. Your hair in pigtails, him with dirt on his knees, and a simple exchange over a juice box, because you were yet to learn how to filter.

At that point, as children often do, you didn’t think to ask for each other’s names, and when both boys walked through Bobby’s front door that afternoon, and he asked “How was school? Did you talk t’any other kids today?” He got a smile and a grunt as both boys ran up the stairs to their room.

“That great, huh?” He scratched his forehead under his cap, and went back to the kitchen to continue supper, and the hex bag he was making up for Rufus. The idjit had shown up on his doorstep earlier that day.

“I thought you didn’t have any Rugrats?” Rufus thumbed to the hall he’d come out of. A bottle of Jack in the other.

“I don’t,” Bobby said. But just as Dean didn’t realise the significance of you in his life at the time, Bobby hadn’t realised the boys in his either.

Dinner was simple that night. Bobby wasn’t a chef, but he was determined to give the Winchester boys something normal for once in their young lives. It’s why he’d enrolled them in the local school in the first place. Bought them bags and shoes. New clothes for Sammy because Dean’s hand-me-downs were far too big for the little tyke.

He’d even taken them to a barber, somewhere he never took himself, and signed Dean up for the school lunch program.

Yeah, he was growing soft. Lucky he had Rufus to point out the fact further with his outright stares and grins.

He was just doing a good deed. Looking after the future. Wasn’t that a part of being regular folk? Never mind the lady ringing up his groceries at the supermarket had frowned at him when he didn’t have a valid excuse for why they weren’t at school that day or two days before that.

Balls. That’s what it was. And he’d kick Rufus’ if he were close enough to reach with his boot.

Comments about him getting old, also balls. If Rufus was dumb enough to keep hounding him, he deserved a gun to his sack. Don’t worry ‘bout his steel caps.

He cleared his throat. Took a swig of beer and then settled his eyes on Dean. The kid was a smartass, but he was respectable, and had to open up, eventually. “So, did you learn anything today?” he asked. Tried to force a smile onto his face.

But Dean only shrugged, still defiant he should’ve been out there with his father.

“Well, what about your teacher? What’s her name?” He knew she was a she from the paperwork, Mrs Peters, or something like that. He just didn’t bother to remember in front of Rufus.

It didn’t matter though, because Dean shrugged again and shoveled another bite of meatloaf into his mouth.

Kids.

“My teacher is Miss Reeves,” young Sam piped up. Kid was smart for a four-year-old.

“Yeah? And what’d you do with her?” It’d been a long time since Bobby had graduated high school. Had no idea what kids in preschool did, besides the ABCs, he supposed. “Did you, ah,” he looked at Rufus for guidance, but the idjit had none. “Did you colour…or…sing a song?”

“I used blue, and red, and green for the grass I draws.” Sam beamed.

Okay… “That’s great, kid,” Bobby said.

Rufus downed another shot of Jack. The glass, sharp against the table when he hammered it onto the linoleum top. “Real great.” His tongue clicked. “What about you Dean? You colour, too?”

But when Dean said nothing, “Didn’t think so,” tumbled outta Rufus’ mouth.

“You could’ve given him a chance to answer.”

“Didn’t need to. He’s not gonna. Look at him.” Rufus swiped his hand out in front. His brow raised when Dean opened his mouth, though, and then he looked interested.

“I met a girl,” he said, resorting back to his former slouching when he noticed both men frozen and staring at him.

It was the loudest he’d spoken since living under Bobby’s roof. The first time he’d shown emotion other than attitude, and Bobby couldn’t help but smile. Until he thought harder about the issue.

Did he have to give these kids the bird and the bees talk, too? Hell no, he wasn’t!

His fingers scratched through his beard. That smile of his fell to a thin, pursed line. Bit of teeth spiking through the gap.

“A girl, huh? Like a girlfriend?”

“No!” Dean lost his chin to his neck. “She’s my friend, and she’s a girl.”

Simple. Obvious. Bobby felt the fool. Until he asked the all important question.

“What’s her name?”

What was your name?

Dean couldn’t answer that because he didn’t know. You were a girl, you’d been nice to him, and you didn’t like orange juice. That was the extent of it. You’d played your game after that. The one where he chased you, and you ran, much like what hunters did. Only, you weren’t a monster, and he didn’t hunt.

Not allowed to. Too young to do anything more than babysit Sammy and stay with Uncle Bobby.

He knew they weren’t related.

When he stepped into the classroom the next morning, books in hand, his eyes swept the room. No, he wasn’t interested in the US map, or the globe in the corner. He didn’t care that Mrs Petersen was scribbling sums on the board ready for the day’s lessons or for the tall boy with the extra tires whose farts created a war zone as he walked through the dust cloud.

No. He focused on you. Hair once again in pigtails, hot pink t-shirt and matching nails, which he thought little of because it was all too…girly, but then you smiled at him and his nose tingled as a result.

“Hi Dean,” you even said, and it was all he could do to not smile back as he took his seat in the row behind you and the Bat-signal drawn onto your right heel.

He needed to learn your name.

Of course, to a nine-year-old, “You like Batman?” was far more important. He asked you that when he sat down next to you at lunch that same day. The pale green plastic of his lunch-tray, just fitting in between yours and the boy’s to his left.

Your look of disgust was apparent even from your side profile, and unlike his smile, Dean couldn’t hold back his laughter when you turned. Not only did you spit out the word, “No,” but a sliver of strawberry jello came with it.

You wiped at your chin and poked your tongue out, which made him laugh harder.

“I like Michelangelo more, but my brother says he’s stupid.” Your head and eyes dropped to look under the table. “Didn’t like it when I told him the Ninja Turtles would beat Batman up.”

“Well, Leonardo might,” Dean said, and you frowned. “With his help,” he added.

His nose tingled again.

There was lots of that over the course of the week and the one that followed. Dean learned your name, and that your mom’s middle one was Mary - it only took a couple of extra days - but from the moment you bonded over your favourite cartoons, the two of you became inseparable, and Bobby was pleased.

Both Winchester boys had a chance at normal life. Well, semi-normal due to the talismans and arsenal in his basement.

And while Rufus refused to show his face again, as long as Sam and Dean lived under his roof, Bobby didn’t mind. He rather enjoyed that. But it didn’t stop other hunters and their problems from showing up on his doorstep, and on one particular Saturday morning after hearing from Bill Harvellle, he dug deep into his wallet for a couple of dollar bills and handed them to Dean.

“Why don’t you take your brother and that friend of yours to the arcade or somethin’,” he said, then narrowed his brows at the boy. “Call the house line ‘round five. Make sure it’s safe to come home.”

Dean took the money and shoved it in his front pocket. “Yes, sir.” He nodded once, and then grabbed Sammy by the hand and pulled him to the door.

The air was warm when they stepped outside. As Dean always did, he put the needs of his baby brother first, pulling off the four-year-olds jacket, then tying it ‘round his waist. He did the same with his and they were off. Sam on the handlebars of the bike Bobby had fixed up for them, Dean peddling with all his might into town.

It was hard work, and by the time they reached your house, he was out of breath, but it was worth it to feel the wind in his hair.

Cheeks puffed, neck hot and sweaty under the collar of his T-shirt, he knocked on your front door with a tight fist, and took a step back.

The dark wooden floorboards creaked underneath his sneakers. Footsteps from the other side moved closer, and he was soon met with your grinning smile and a bright pink scrunchie in your hair.

He scrunched his nose up, but that turned upside down when he saw the Ninja Turtle action figures in your hands.

“Hi Dean,” you said, peeking around him to look at Sam standing next to their bike. “You guys wanna come in and play?”

But they didn’t. Just as Bobby had suggested, Dean had other plans, and after checking in with your mom, the three of you headed to the local arcade.

Whirs. Dings. Whistles. The electronic piano jingles and a rocking soundtrack that tried its best to overcome everything else greeted you when the tinted glass doors rattled open. Lights, as far as the eye could see, of neon pinks, greens and blues and a carpet, littered with stains of mud and grass from the other kids already there, matched all that was overhead and surrounding.

Sammy clung to Dean even tighter. His little hands tugged on the base of his shirt. While on the other side of him, your face reflected the excitement hammering up his legs.

Until this stage in his young life, Dean had only been to an arcade once. The lucky timing of a classmate’s birthday party at a different school he spent all of two weeks in, well before being dumped here at Bobby’s.

That place was awesome, but this? It was awesome, too. There was just something about not being accompanied by adults that made it better.

Pacman and Donkey Kong called his name. Q-Bert, whatever the hell that was supposed to be. Space Invaders. Pin-ball and claw machines.

“Look! They have a Ninja Turtles one!” You pointed towards the back where a large machine plastered with their now fluorescent green faces stood out amongst the rest. “C’mon Sammy.” You grabbed the youngest boy’s hand and ripped him away from Dean.

“Hey, wait,” he called, but under all the noise, it was a lost cause.

With a huff, and one eye on you both at all times, Dean jogged over to the change machine by the door and swapped his money for quarters. You guys were the worst. Annoying. Impatient. Yet the way you grabbed the chair for Sam, and held it steady for him while he climbed up, had Dean’s nose buzzing again.

His nose buzzed like that every time he saw you. Playing games, eating lunch in the cafeteria. Riding your bikes through the streets of Sioux Falls, side by side, that same wind in your hair.

It’s just a shame it didn’t last long.

Never did.

Sam and Dean Winchester flew through towns as many times as there were months in the year, sometimes more. The Spring of ‘88 a rarity. Their stint at the local school and preschool, even rarer, and one soon forgotten.

Until 1997 when Dean found himself enrolling at another school in Sioux Falls.

He didn’t know the significance of that either, but he soon would. You’d make him.

Next Chapter

Am I shooting myself in the foot by releasing this part when I haven’t finished the rest? Probably, but I’m used to it. We’ll be diving into three stages in Dean and readers life in this one - up next - 1997.

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If you’d like to be added, you can add yourself HERE, or if you’d like to be removed, please let me know ☺️

[cinellieroll]

☆ random obey me headcanons!

lucifer, mammon and simeon ♡

part two (asmodeus, levi, barbatos)

part three (beelzebub, belphegor, solomon)

part four (satan and diavolo)

cw: a few spoilers ahead from the main story! also one SLIGHT nsfw on simeons part???

small note: i only started writing on tumblr now so idk much on how ppl do those line thingies on the words and then it teleports to a diff post so if anyone knows how to do it please teach me! thank you :3

☆ lucifer:

- generally has a thing for turtlenecks. if you open his closet you'll see a bunch of turtlenecks in there. lucifer is a very conservative man after all.

- speaking of closet, he definetely has a color code for his clothing. blacks, reds, navy blues, anything dark

- you'll never catch him wearing anything revealing. especially his legs. man keeps em hidden.

- has a very sensitive nose. he always scolds mammon and asmo for wearing such strong cologne. he has great sense of smell in general (the bitch can smell anything) and automatically knows when trouble is near.

- EXTREMELY petty when he doesn't get his morning coffee. if he goes a day without it an extra line will appear on his forehead.

- gifts you souvenirs when he enters the human world. claims he's here for business because diavolo told him but we all know that's not the only reason why he came up there.

- he doesn't like writing with modern pens and only settles with quills. he still has his old quill from the celestial realm and keeps it hidden somewhere.

- almost gave head pats to luke once.

- his nose is FUCKING BEAUTIFUL and his side profile too. he has a nose bump for sure and i will die on this hill.

- he's not a big fan of creamy foods like carbonara or anything with cream in general. if he's eating sweets he prefers the icing to be less flavorful. what do you expect? he's a black coffee lover after all.

☆ mammon:

- room is always a fucking mess, but he cleans when he procrastinates so if you ever enter his room and he's all quiet and cleaning just don't disturb him for a while.

- buys bootleg merch for levi for no reason. one time he found this cheap ruri chan stuffy on sale for like 150 grimm and decided to buy it.

- has fucking shit hand writing bro. sometimes it's small, sometimes it's big but most of the time it's ass balls. like why does your k and h look the same?

- he cracks his knuckles and joints often and can't go without a day doing it atleast once. it's kinda hot tbh lol

- when he's in a happy mood he'll sing in like a high pitched way. idk how to explain it but i just see him doing that especially when he's on cooking duty

- sleeps really late he could almost rival levi on it. surprisingly his eyebags aren't that visible though.

- has really pretty features like long eyelashes, plump lips and visible collarbones. eat your heart out asmo xoxo

- convinced himself he'll never ever like or listen to human world songs until he heard you blasting some music in your room. he was singing that song in his head for days on end but refused to ask you what the title was

- he's a very clumsy guy and often drops small things especially during class like his ballpen, eraser or that pack of bubblegum lucifer ended up confiscating

- before you arrived, he liked to vape or juul when he's stressed or felt lonely but now he only spends his time thinking of you when he feels down.

☆ simeon:

- when he turned into a human he had thoughts of becoming a teacher in christian education but realized it's better if he owned a cafe instead.

- he sometimes joins luke during his baking lessons with barbatos even though he already knows all the steps

- occasionally invites you for sleepovers and buys card / board games for you guys to play with solomon and luke! either he or solomon are always end up being the winners everytime though

- always and i mean ALWAYS willing to teach you something when he knows it. baking, writing, recent lessons, etc

- once the exchange program ended he started writing more and more, especially poetry. and mostly wrote about you and how much he misses you <3.

- started making diary entries after the aftermath of the celestial war.

- during quiet nights, simeon often thinks what it'd be like if he was really close with the brothers.

- his eyes are lowkey creepy sometimes when he looks at you for too long. it's like he's trying to detect every sin you've committed.

- idk why i thought of this but his teeth are literally so pearly and perfect but he doesn't really smile with them in view.

- unintentionally moans sometimes. like when he sits down after a long day you just start hearing a soft "ah~" out of nowhere..

[bunnywritesjunk]

My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You get a call from your mother regarding your match. You are nervous to meet them, but they turn out to be a pleasant surprise.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI (no others for this chapter)

Word count: 4.1k (damn thats a lot for me)

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there.

A/n: Yo Yo Yo whatup. New fic dropping. This one is black/poc coded but anyone can read. I haven't seen any poc coded cod fics just yet (if you know any send them my way). If you do not like Omegaverse fics please do not read. Also I tried making a cute little mood board, i think it sucks but I tried my best. Konig art credit. (I couldn't find the art credit for the girl). König and reader are neurospicy. I got inspired to do an Apex Alpha König from @ghostlythunderbird go give them some love please. Also this is kinda what I imagine him looking like.

Next Chapter

Chapter One:

His back ached as he climbed the few steps to his door. The passage back to his home was uncomfortable. All König wanted to do with collapse on his bed. The duplex he resided in was decent, the little old woman who rented it to him was very sweet. König had a hard time getting anyone to rent to him. His status as an Apex alpha was concerning for most people. They believed him to be violent and inconsiderate. His landlord is an omega that lives with her alpha mate. König managed to convince her. She thought he was sweet and kind. He opened the foyer door that lead to both apartments. He glanced at the mailbox, wondering if he should wait until morning. Begrudgingly, he took out the small mailbox key and fiddled the metal box open. He grabbed the plethora of mail and closed the box gently. The box was filled up quite a bit as he had not been home in a couple of weeks. 

Heading up the stairs he filed through the mail. Most were junk coupons and magazines, some were credit card sign-up letters. One envelope caught his eye. It had no company name just a large white manila envelope addressed to him. He opened his door and stepped inside placing the mail and his belongings on his couch. He ripped open the envelope and took out a thin book. It had the circular logo of the AOMO, the Alpha Omega Match organization. 

König started at the cover his heartbeat sped up the longer he thought about it. He signed up for the program after a particularly hard mission he had in KorTac. He left and joined the 141 and decided he wanted an omega. A lot of the men in the 141 had partners they could come home to. König wanted that. Most people were too afraid to be in a committed relationship with him. König often settled for one-night stands with betas but it left him feeling empty. He opened the packet to the first page.

'Congratulations!' The first word read. His heart beat harder the more he read. 

'We have found you a match!' König's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. 

'In the plastic wrap, we've provided a fresh scent sample from your potential match. If you like the scent of your match, please send us a scent sample from you as soon as possible.' 

König gripped the packet and leaned over the table, putting his weight on the table. He took a deep breath, he felt a mix of fear and excitement. When he signed up he was not hopeful for a match. He assumed his situation was too complicated for them. He flipped through the packet before reading the rest searching for the scent sample. A plastic bag fell out onto the table. It was sealed and had a verification sticker assuring its authenticity. König picked up the bag carefully. It had a square of white fabric inside it. He took his hood off before opening the bag gingerly. The scent instantly made his knees weak. This Omega had a warm and spicy scent. Coconut and sugary vanilla with hints of sandalwood. König stuffed his nose into the bag inhaling the deep rich smell of this Omega. 

König sealed the scent sample wanting to savor it. He opened the packet back up to the first page. It said once he mailed his scent sample and was approved by his match, they would arrange a meeting with him and his match. There was more information about this Omega and their family along with the reasoning for them picking them. They informed him that this omega was a twenty-six-year-old female. Her father is also an Apex Alpha, he is retired American military. They did not provide a picture of any matches because they wanted the connection to be based on instinct rather than looks. Her mother is an Omega that works as a teacher. There is not much else about the Omega but, König is hopeful. He reads the instructions to send his scent sample. They provided a kit with a form envelope, a small square of fabric, and a plastic bag, almost identical to the one he received from his match. 

'Wash your hands, and rinse any dirt off of your scent glands.'

'Then remove the fabric from the plastic.'

'Rub the fabric on your clean scent glands for 20-25 minutes.'

'Seal the fabric thoroughly in the bag provided .'

He shed his vest and protective gear, the last thing he wanted was for her to smell dust and gunpowder on him. König tried to quell his excitement as he followed the directions. Rushing to his bathroom and then back to his dining room. The fabric square was slightly smaller than his palm. He cupped the crook of his neck, sandwiching the fabric between his hand and his neck. He rubbed gently filling it with his scent. He read the rest of the packet as he rubbed. The rest was mostly semantics about the company and its policies. He combed it a few more times trying to memorize every piece of information about his Omega. 

König smiled gently, he shouldn't think of her as his yet. She smelled so good, too good for him. He smelled the cloth every once in a while to ensure his scent was potent enough. When he was done he placed it in the bag and sealed it. He filled out the form and packed the pre-paid envelope neatly. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment to go to the mail drop-off on the corner of the block. He needed to send it today, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. He walked back to his apartment having long forgotten about his back pain. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked at the list on your phone pushing your shopping cart. Buying the week's groceries had fallen to you this time as your mother was dealing with state testing for her students and your dad was on a hunting trip. You maneuvered the isles expertly collecting the items on your list. As well as some extra sweet snacks you like to indulge in much to our mother's chagrin. You were about to put a pack of Oreos in the cart when your mom called.

“Hello?” You answered but all you can hear was excited screeching. You held the phone away from your ear until she quieted down. 

“He accepted you!!!” She screamed. 

“What? Mom, you're too loud.” 

“The match company! The match they picked liked your scent.” She giggled. 

You were slightly stunned. Your parents signed you up for the AOMO when you were eighteen. You weren't that on board with it but you let them. You know they only want the best for you. You kept sending scent samples every year but they never got back to you about anything. Now, six years later they show up with a match for you. 

“I just got the call, they're sending a scent sample for you right now it's gonna get here in a few days.” 

“Wow...” That was all you managed to say. 

“Now I know this wasn't your ideal way to meet someone, but just please be open-minded sweetheart.” 

You sighed. “I will. I'm finishing up at the grocery and I'll head home.”

“Alright, I'm gonna be home soon too, bye sweetie.” 

You hung up the phone and stood in the aisle. You placed the pack of Oreos in the cart and moved to get the rest of the items before checking out. 

When you arrived home your mother was there waiting. She squealed and hugged you before helping you take the grocery bags inside. 

“I am so excited for you! I have heard so many good things about the AOMO. I bet whoever they picked is gonna be great.”

“Let's hope.” You say. 

The next few days went by quickly. You dove into writing your next few chapters to take your mind off of the match. The sequel to your best-selling fantasy novel was underway. Your days consisted of writing, planning, engaging with fans, and talking to your editor. You typed out the outline for the next few chapters when you heard a knock. 

“Come in.” You said. 

Your mother walked in holding a large envelope. “Guess what came today?” She said excitedly. 

 Your heart thumped with anxiety. She placed the envelope on your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it, let me know if you like them.” She sauntered out of the room happily. 

You picked up the envelope and opened it pulling out a packet of information. You flipped to the first page. 

‘Congratulations!’ It read. 

‘The match we have chosen for you wants to meet you. Once you contact us with your acceptance of their scent, we will arrange for them to meet you and your family with the chaperone of one AOMO agents to facilitate. The two of you will go on a date and get to know each other before deciding whether to move forward. If you do not accept the scent, we will put you back in our database to be matched with someone else.’ 

In the middle of the pages, there was a plastic bag with a white cloth in it. You picked it up and sighed. You doubted you would like the scent. Most alphas were off-putting to you, either way too strong of a scent of they smelled like dishwater. You opened the bag casually and took a whiff. Your inner Omega preened at the musk that erupted from the bag. 

“Oh my…” You inhaled deeply. 

This Alpha…smelled good? He smelled like chocolate and dark roast espresso. There were some hints of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. You caught yourself before you got lost in his scent. You sealed the bag up and took a breath. Maybe, this would be a good experience for you. You scanned through the rest of the information looking over what little they provide about this Alpha. He is a male Alpha, non-American but they did not specify what country. The only other thing they said about him was that his demeanor was shy and that he is military. The instructions said to call the number if you wanted to meet him. You reached for your phone a little too eagerly and dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered.

“Hi, you’ve reached the Alpha Omega Match organization how may I help you?”

“Hi, um I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail, and I want to meet him.” You said awkwardly.

“What’s your name and date of birth?” You told her, nervously. 

“Please hold while I transfer you.” 

The light piano hold music came on, you fidgeted with your sleeve. 

“This is Kara, how may I help you?”

“Oh hi, I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail and I would like to meet him.”

“Alright, let me get your file from reception she’s sending it right now…Ah got it. Oooh ok great I am your agent that will be facilitating this meeting. Your parents will want to meet him yes?”

“Definitely.”

“Ok so, what we will do is you and your parents will meet me at a public space of your choice then. I will bring you to meet the Alpha first, then your parents. We like to keep parent meetings brief as they tend to try and challenge the Alpha. I will have you know, this Alpha is an Apex like your dad. That is one of the reasons we chose you as his match, you have experience with an Apex. Will you be comfortable with all that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Your head was reeling from all this information. Great, I see you guys are in New York City which is one of my favorite places to visit. Do you have anywhere in mind to meet?” 

“Um, we could do the Highline, there’s food, and it's pretty.” 

“Oh, that’s a great idea let me write it down here. How does September ninth at noon sound to you? A weekday so there are not too many people.” 

Your heart jumped, that’s in two days.

“Uh, sure.” 

“Alright, I will send you a follow-up email regarding our plans all you need to do is confirm. Your match will be notified, and his flight will be booked as soon as we receive confirmation. Do you have any other questions?” 

“No not at the moment.” 

“Ok, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. I will see you in a few days.” 

“Bye.” 

You put your phone on your desk and walked out of your room. Your mother was standing a few feet away from your door. When she noticed you, her face lit up.

“So? How was the scent? Are you meeting them?” 

You smiled and nodded “Yup, in two days.” 

She squealed and captured you in a bone-crushing hug.

“I can’t wait! Let’s go tell your father!” She practically ran down the hall. 

You walked to your living room where your otherwise stoic-looking dad was watching TV. 

“Tell us about them, sweetheart.” Your mother said. Your dad turned the volume on the TV down and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, I don’t know much but, I know he’s not American and that he might be shy…He smells good.” 

“That’s important, I hope you wouldn’t pick someone who smells like shit.” Your dad chimed in. 

“He’s also military, and an Apex.” You added quickly. 

Your mother gasped quietly, and your father raised his eyebrows.

“Now that’s intriguing.” Your mom said smiling.

“You already booked a meeting with him?” Your dad asked. You nodded. 

“You should’ve asked me first.” He pinched his nose bridge in annoyance. 

“Well, he’s my match and I wanted to meet him.”

“Apex Alphas are dangerous. I would know.”

“Oh, please honey it’ll be fine.” Your mother ridiculed him.

“It’s my choice, Dad. You guys are the ones who signed up, I finally got a match, so I want to see it through. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll call it off.”

Your father growled lowly. “Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your mother insisted to dress you in a cutesy outfit, so you let her have her moment. She dressed you in a dark floral dress that hugged your curves just right. She added dainty jewelry along with your protective collar. You didn’t usually wear it but again, she insisted. She did your hair half up half down. Your dad was waiting by the front door with your mom’s purse in hand. 

The train ride there was silent, your mother looked utterly content while your father was peeved about this whole situation. You arrived at the station and walked to the Highline. You got a text from Kara telling you what she looked like and where she was. She was wearing a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse. She stood up as you and your family approached. You stuck your hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you guys, come sit.” She said motioning to the bench she was on. 

Your father stayed standing while you and your mother took a seat next to her. 

“So, there are some things I want to go over with you all and then I’ll talk to you privately and do the official meeting ok?”

“He’s here?” You said in an almost panicked tone.

Kara chuckled. “He is here but I left him to wait somewhere out of sight for now.”

She continued. “His name is König, he was born in Austria. When we did his psyche and personality evaluations, we found that he has neurodivergent tendencies, like you. Our matches with people that have a similar way of communicating have gone well.”

“Wait, neurodivergent?” Your mom chimed in. 

“Yes, your daughter did show signs of some behavioral abnormalities, but she is high functioning.”

“I told you that Mom.” You say giving her a deadpan look. Your mother looked down and gave a small ‘hmm’. Kara continued. 

“He does struggle with social anxiety so please be patient with him. Other than that, he currently lives in Amsterdam, if you choose to go forward that is where you will live.”

Your dad finally spoke “Is Amsterdam safe for people like us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh yes, Amsterdam has many people from different places and backgrounds. It is one of the most popular immigration and tourist countries, don’t worry.”

“Alright, how about you come with me, and we’ll get your meeting started.”

Kara led you away, you turned and did a small wave to your parents your mom smiled back at you warmly. 

“So, I will be in contact with you the whole time. If you want to go just say the word, I am never going to be more than a couple minutes away. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have any issues with him.” 

She led you to a restaurant below the high line, it had indoor and outdoor seating. There were a lot of people laughing and drinking. Your heartbeat sped up as you scanned the crowd. The scent of food entered your nose. Everyone’s scent in the dining area mixed into an indescribable concoction. Among the borderline overwhelming smells, you got a hint of something familiar, espresso. 

You scanned the large room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from or if you were just imagining it. I dark figure near the corner of the room caught your eye. He looked way too large for the chair he was sitting in. He was looking down at his hands, dirty blonde hair covered his forehead. He was wearing a black cloth mask along with a form-fitting black shirt. As soon as you walked in he raised his head. You looked away pretending you weren't staring at him. Kara led you straight to his table.

“This is König.” She gestured to him. 

He stood up to shake your hand still keeping himself hunched at the waist to appear smaller. You shook his hand and smiled as you introduced yourself. He nodded and said a small 'hmm' to acknowledge you. 

“Alright, I'll be near. Have fun.” Kara left swiftly.

You sat down in the chair across from him as he did the same. A wave of anxiety came as you did, not knowing how to break the ice with him. You picked up the menu and scanned it.

“Did you order yet?” You ask.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well thank you, what looks good?” 

“The Steak frites look pretty good.” He glued his menu.

“I'm excited for dessert, they have chocolate cheesecake.”

He chuckled and it made your stomach flip.

“You like sweets?” He asked.

“Very much.” You smile at him. 

The waitress came over and asked if you wanted any drinks. König looked at you, waiting for you to order first. 

“I'll try the elderberry gin and tonic.” You said.

 Konig was about to order when the table next to us erupted in loud laughter. He jumped slightly before answering the waitress. 

“I'll get the house Lager.” He said. 

The waitress left to grab the drinks. The adjacent table was still very loud. The group of friends hollering and screaming obviously day drunk. Konig had his head slightly turned away from them in an attempt to lessen the noise. It was subtle but you could tell. You reached into your bag and brought out a pair of foldable headphones. You turned on the noise cancellation and gave them to him. He looked slightly confused. 

“Put them on.” You encourage him. 

When he did the noise muffled and the restaurant was much quieter. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease by the second. His scent sweetened

“Is that better? Can you hear me ok?” 

König swears he could've kissed you right then and there, but he settles on a nod. 

“Thank you, Leibe.” 

“No problem.”

The waitress came by with the drinks and asked if the two of you are ready to order entrees. You ordered the fish and König ordered the Steak. While you waited, you two had a pleasant small talk about his flight and how he is enjoying his visit. He hesitated to take off his mask at first so you focused on your menu to give him the space to be comfortable with you. You glanced up and took in his face. He was beautiful, he had scars on his face that added ruggedness to his chiseled features. König noticed your scent amplify as you gazed at him. His inner alpha pushed him to be closer, to know more about you.

“So, you're in the military?” 

He nods. “I work for a military contractor. Do you work?”

“Sort of, I'm an author so I work from home.”

“That is nice, are you published?” König was secretly very happy he'd get to have you at home all day. 

“Yes, I am. I'm working on my sequel right now. Do you like to read? Or, do you read in German?” 

He chuckled. “I have not had much time to read lately, but I will now.”

“Well, you have to buy my book of course.” You giggled. 

König nearly fell off his chair at the sound. This Omega was everything he wanted. He prayed to whatever god was up there that you felt something with him. By the time the food came you both fell into a comfortable rhythm. He asked about your childhood and hobbies. It was a change of pace, most Alphas are very self-centered, but he is putting effort into getting to know you. The food came out and you both ate. He offered bites of his food for you to try which you happily returned the favor. By the time you finished your food, you hadn't noticed how much time has gone by. Kara texted you to check-in. 

'Hey, so I saw things were going well so I let you guys talk for an hour and a half but, your parents are getting antsy. Are you guys ready to see your parents?' 

“Oh, Kara is asking if we're ready to see my parents.” 

König fiddled with his fork. “I'm ready.” 

He paid the bill and you both left the restaurant. You took in the full size of the Alpha you matched with. He was no less than a giant. He held the door for you but stopped before he walked through. 

“I forgot something, I'll be back.” He walked back into the restaurant. 

Kara walked up to you. “How did it go?” 

“I...really like him...”

“I know, that feeling is scary. I think you guys are a wonderful match.”

König came out holding a small to-go box. He handed it to you, you could tell he was smiling under his mask. 

“What's this?”

Inside the box was a slice of chocolate cheesecake and a fork.

“We forgot to order dessert.” 

You were stunned, you didn't think there could be Alphas that were so thoughtful. Your inner Omega soared, this Alpha was courting you so well. 

“Thank you, König, that's really sweet.” 

“Ah, here they are.” Kara said. 

Your parents walked up to the three of you. Your mother had a surprised but happy look on her face. Your father kept his deadpan face from earlier, not a good sign. 

“Wow, sweetheart you caught a big one!” Your mom chuckled. 

“Parents, this is König.” Kara said. 

Your mother introduced herself and your father as he stood there sizing up the taller Apex. 

“Alright, let's keep things brief parents do you have any questions for König?”

“Well, as long as she likes him I don't.” Your mother said. 

“Can you protect her?” Your dad asked putting some venom behind his words. 

“I would never let anything happen to her sir. You have my word.” König answered without hesitation. 

Your dad nodded and looked at you. “You like him?”

“...Yeah I do.” 

“Alright then, that's all that matters.” 

“Well, I think it's safe to say that the match is made. I will contact you for the next steps. Parents, let's let them say goodbye.” Kara led your parents away.

You turned to König. “Thank you for meeting with me, I had a really good time.” You saw a faint blush at the top of his mask. 

“I also had a good time, liebe.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Ah...it means love.” 

“Oh well...” You motioned for him to come bend down close to you.

When he got close enough you pecked his cheek. 

“I'll see you soon, love.” 

[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.

[phone4pills]

Incoming… NEW STOCK

𝐛𝐨𝐲.𝐄𝐗𝐄

pairing- robot!Chris Sturniolo ⧼&⧽ nerd!Reader

—⊹ ࣪ ˖ ᴄʜʀɪs

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘬𝘦, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘤𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘥𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘴, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘣𝘰𝘹𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘶𝘻𝘻𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴

—⊹ ࣪ ˖ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺, 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘦𝘥𝘮 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤, 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘴, 𝘥𝘷𝘥𝘴, 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴, 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘣 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬, 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵, 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘺𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴

SEND IN YOUR ASKS

robot!Chris who is terrified of cats

“c-cat. cat. cat. cat. ca-cat. cat.”

“another malfunction? C’mon let’s debug you.”

nerd!Reader who tries to fix the bug but can’t find it in the programming

“bad news Chris, you’re going to be scared of cats forever.”

AU by @phone4pills

creds: i believe this is an original idea, but creds to @bernardsbendystraws for the lifeline diver and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the web core shit, thanks to @hearts4werka for lowkey getting me into mood boards

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Book Cover

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover!” We’ve all heard the phrase and we all know that’s impossible. Because the cover of a book is the first thing a potential reader sees—it should stop them in their tracks. It’s a very powerful marketing tool; having a well-designed book cover is crucial.

Tips for Making a Great Book Cover Design

Using more than two to three typefaces on a cover is discouraged, as it can look really messy.

Keep things simple. Your cover will be in a sea of other covers so try to keep your design from getting muddy and make sure it stands out.

Show your designs to people who have a design eye and/or you trust. It’s great to get feedback.

If you hire a professional designer, write a brief and send them info. Be really clear on what you want. Designers usually do a certain number of design rounds included in the agreed upon fee and any extra rounds of design will be extra.

If you hire a professional designer, they will likely have ideas about printing and may have connections to printers. They are a resource so don’t forget to ask questions.

Don’t forget: a book cover is an important part of selling any book. Whether you decide to do it yourself or collaborate with a professional, pay special attention to this part of the process, as a great cover goes a long way.

6-Step Guide: Professional Book Cover

STEP ONE Generate Ideas. Look around at book covers you like. Go to a bookshop and peruse what’s currently happening in book cover design. Take notes of what elements you like on the cover image. A certain typeface? Color? Do you prefer an image or an illustration or something purely typographic on the cover? Another option is to create a mood board. You can use a platform like Pinterest or Evernote, or create a folder on your desktop, and pull book cover inspiration from the web. While you’re gathering inspiration, keep in mind what genre your book is and what kind of book design feels appropriate.

STEP TWO Find a Designer (Who Could Be You!). Do you have design skills? If so, your next step is to begin layouts and mock-ups of the covers. You should use whatever software program you are comfortable with. Most professional book cover designers use a program from the Adobe Creative Suite:

InDesign. InDesign is a multi-page design platform but can also be used for single page design.

Photoshop. Used to manipulate and experiment with photography.

Illustrator. Illustrator is a vector-based program, which means you can create graphic art that can be scaled up or down without loss of quality.

Photoshop and Illustrator. These can also be used together as you can bring your Photoshop file into Illustrator to set the type after you have worked with your cover image.

If you don’t have design skills, now is a great time to hire a book cover designer. The first step is to figure out what kind of budget you have for this. A designer’s fee will range depending on their expertise. Get a figure in mind and then write a design brief which should include the book specs:

Size

Print-run

Intended audience

Where and how the book will be published

Anticipated publish date

You should also include a summary of what the book is about and what you are looking for in a cover. Also share the inspiration you’ve gathered with the designer.

If you don’t have design skills but want to create the cover without the help of a professional, there are a few software programs you can use, such as Canva or 100 Covers, design tools that allow you to DIY the cover (for free or a fee).

STEP THREE Decide on the Dimensions. If you’re self-publishing and printing with a local printer you can work with them to make sure your book dimensions will fit on their printer (remember a book prints front, back, and spine in one sheet of paper). It’s also a good idea to find examples of books whose size you like and feels good to hold. Use that as a jumping off point for your book.

Book Cover Dimensions List. If you are printing for a specific market, from print to ebook, here is a handy list:

Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing File Format: JPEG or TIFF Cover Size (Recommended): 2560x1600 pixels Cover Size Requirements: between 1000x625 pixels and 10,000x10,000 pixels (one side must be at least 1000)

Apple iBooks File Format: JPEG or PNG Cover Size (Recommended): 1400x1873 or 1600x2400 pixels Cover Size Requirements: at least 1400 pixels wide

Barnes & Noble File Format: JPEG or PNG Cover Size (Recommended): Rectangle height and width, at least 1400 pixels Cover Size Requirements: Min. 750 pixels height and width

Kobo Books File Format: JPEG or PNG Cover Size (Recommended): 1600x2400 pixels Cover Size Requirements: Min. 1400 pixels width

Smashwords File Format: JPEG or PNG Cover Size (Recommended): 1600x2400 pixels Cover Size Requirements: Min. 1400 pixels width Draft2Digital

File Format: JPEG Cover Size (Recommended): 1600x2400 pixels Cover Size Requirements: Tall rectangle

STEP FOUR Choose Your Style

Photo-based cover. If you’re creating an photo-based book cover, you’ll need to source stock imagery. There are lots of great resources online to find stock imagery including ShutterStock, Getty Images, and Adobe Stock. (Keep in mind: most photography archives require payment to use their images. Always investigate the copyright of images you’re interested in using.) Look for images that convey or allude to your book’s genre. You can use programs like Photoshop to manipulate your image, making it black and white instead of color or cropping it in a certain way.

Illustration-based cover. If you’re considering a more graphic approach to your cover, Illustrator is the tool to use. You can bring hand-drawn drawings into it and outline them to create scale-able, high-res illustrations which you can manipulate within the program. You can also create shapes, patterns, experiment with typography within illustrator and play with color, transparency, size and much more.

Typography-based cover. Finally, many successful book covers use typography as the main graphic device. This takes some skill and knowledge of typefaces, the historical context of a typeface, and how to manipulate it thoughtfully. That said, using type as a graphic can be very impactful.

STEP FIVE Pick a Typeface (Font). No matter what kind of cover you are designing, you are going to need the title of the book and the author’s name on the cover. As mentioned above, picking an appropriate typeface is very important. You want to pick something that feels right for your book—is it a sans serif or serif? A heavy weight or lighter weight? You want to make sure it’s not something with a lot of baggage, like Comic Sans or Papyrus. It is a good idea to actually do a little research on when, where, and who your typeface was designed by to give you context and feel out if it will be right for your book. You might also consider using up to two different typefaces, one for the title and one for your name. A serif and sans-serif mix can give a bit of contrast and visual interest. There are some typefaces that pair really well together. Check out the website TypeWolf to get ideas of what fonts pair well together.

STEP SIX Test, Tweak, and Repeat. Once you have a few versions of your cover, print them out on your home printer and take a look with a critical eye. Does the type size feel chunky? Too bold? Too small? How does your image look? Is it cropped right? Are the lines of your illustrations too thin and not showing up? Go back and refine your design and then repeat! Don’t forget to look at your book cover as a small thumbnail as well. People are on their mobile phones and you want to make sure your cover still stands out and is impactful.

Book Cover - serves as your first impression with potential readers—and though book covers don’t always look the same, they do tend to contain the same essential elements.

Design standards may be different in the world of traditional publishing than they are in self publishing, and book cover templates for physical paper books may differ from those of ebooks—but they all serve the same purpose.

Some Functions of a Book Cover

A book’s cover provides essential information. At its most elemental, a good cover includes a book’s title, the author’s name, the publisher, and the price.

A good cover offers clues about your book’s content and tone. Your cover design indicates whether your book is a work of high-minded literary fiction, a pulpy page turner, or a compelling work of non-fiction.

A front cover reveals a book’s genre. You can usually tell if you’re holding a thriller, a memoir, a sci-fi epic, or a nineteenth century classic just by looking at a book’s cover art and typography.

A back cover offers broader context. It may feature quotes from reviewers and fellow authors. Softcover books may contain a plot summary or author biography on the back; those summaries and bios are typically moved to the inner flaps of a hardcover book.

How to Hire a Professional Book Cover Designer

Book covers are marketing materials, and a well-designed professional cover can make your book stand out among the competition. If you want someone with expertise in the realm of cover design to work on your book, you may want to hire a professional book cover designer. Here are some steps to consider when hiring creatives to design your book cover:

Hire a cover artist. A cover artist produces the cover art and imagery that will appear on your book cover, either on their own or with heavy input from an author or publisher.

Hire a graphic designer. Certain graphic designers specialize in layout; they incorporate cover art that you provide them—whether that’s an original illustration, photograph, or even a stock image—into the overall design of the cover.

Find a cover designer online. Reedsy is one of a number of online resources for independent authors, self-publishers, and anyone connected to the world of books. Many professional book designers list their services on Reedsy.

Use your personal network. Seek out writers’ groups, either locally or on Facebook. In these groups, people share professional referrals and help support one another when a member has a new book in the works. A group of like-minded individuals can be an invaluable resource when creating your own book cover for the first time.

When to Call a Pro:

You have a budget (a designer’s fee will vary depending on experience and location).

You have enough time to work with the designer.

You have a clear idea of what you want or at least what you don’t want.

You don’t have any design skills.

You don’t want to invest in the design software.

Your book isn’t selling.

How to Design a Book Cover Yourself

If you don’t have the budget for a pro designer or just have a DIY itch you want to scratch, it is easier than ever to design your own book cover. While it may not be quite as rudimentary as when you covered your textbooks in a brown paper bag back in fifth grade, modern technology has made cover image design accessible to anyone with a computer. Here are some tips:

Use a template. There are numerous websites that offer book cover templates and step-by-step tutorials covering basic cover design skills. Some even have a free book cover creator tool, along with cover ideas, design tips, pre-made design templates, and digital cover image tools.

Use standard design software. Book covers can also be made using standard home computing software including Photoshop, Microsoft Word, and even (with a little sweat equity) Google Docs. This is particularly easy if you are importing a pre-made cover image from another source.

Make a prototype. The process for assembling a book is straightforward and satisfying. If you want to test out how your book will appear in print, you can learn to bind a copy yourself.

When to DIY:

You don’t have any budget for design.

You have design skills to do it yourself.

You have the design software.

You have a template and know exactly what you want.

You have people with an eye for design that can guide you.

How to Make a Hardcover Book

So you’re ready to bind your own book. Here’s what you’ll need:

Content, of course.

Uncoated printer paper for book pages

Decorative paper for endpapers, such as wrapping paper or cardstock

Davey board (aka bookbinder’s board), thin chipboard, or cardboard for the book covers

Craft knife

Polyvinyl acetate (PVA) glue such as Elmer’s glue

Hot glue gun and glue sticks

Ruler or straight edge

A long stapler

Thin fabric or book cloth for cover

Binder clips

Thick decorative paper (optional, for dust jacket)

Paper trimmer (optional, for trimming book pages)

Paintbrush (optional, for spreading glue)

There’s more than one way to bind a book, and you’ll find tons of great tutorials online for making homemade books, including Japanese bookbinding and perfect bound softcover books. The most popular style of hardcover book binding is called case binding, which is traditionally done by stitching pages together with thread. Here is how to make a hardcover book step-by-step—no sewing or special materials required:

Assemble the content. The number of pages and the type of paper you work with depends on whether you’re binding a novel, a full-color photo book, or a sketchbook. Familiarize yourself with the format by taking some hardcover books down from your bookshelf and observing how they were made.

Format your pages. If you’re creating a blank book, you can skip this step. If you’re printing a book with text, you'll need to format the text so that you can print it into a book. You can get help with this at a copy shop, or you can download book design software and print at home. Eventually, you’ll end up with a PDF with a page count. This page count has to be divisible by four so that your book can be bound as folios made up of eight sheets of paper (32 pages) each. You may need to add some blank pages at the end of the book to keep your page count correct for the folios.

Print and fold. Once all of your pages are printed, fold pages in half and stack eight within each other, making sure the pages are in the correct order. Staple the folios together in the folds, alternating the location of the staples so that you don’t end up with a bulge in the spine.

Bind your folios together. Arrange all of the folios in the correct order and flatten them between heavy books. Once your folios are flat, it’s time to glue them together. Hold the folios together with binder clips and use a glue gun to glue the folios together along the stapled edge. This will become your book’s spine. Be careful not to overdo it on the glue: Use just enough to keep the folios together. Before the glue cools, use a thin piece of fabric to cover the spine only.

Even out the pages. Carefully trim the edges of the pages with a paper trimmer or craft knife, if needed.

Make the hardcovers. Cut two pieces of cardboard for the front and back covers of your book. For the spine, cut a piece of cardboard that is the same height as the front and back covers, with a width equal to the thickness of the spine plus the front and back covers.

Attach the hardcovers. Paint the cardboard (both covers and the spine piece) with a thin layer of PVA glue and attach to the cloth you’ll use to cover your book, leaving a space between the covers and the spine equal to one and a half times the thickness of the cardboard. Let dry.

Assemble the book. Use PVA glue to attach the fabric-lined spine of your bound folios to the cardboard spine. Keep the book propped up between other books while you wait for it to dry.

Attach the endpapers. Trim the paper lining so that it’s twice the size of the first page and fold it in half. Paint glue onto the inside of the front cover and the front page, and attach paper lining. Repeat with the back cover.

Make the dust jacket. If you’d like to cover your book with a dust jacket, measure a piece of thick decorative paper as tall as your book and as wide as the entire book, plus a few extra inches to fold over the edge of the cover. Fold the dust jacket over the bound book. Lay another heavy book on top of it to help the dust jacket keep its shape. This is the place to add a cover design, if you’d like.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[keen-li]

New fic!!

I don't know how to make mood boards but here's the mood board for the the married at first sight fic.

Fic name: All Aisle Ever Need.

Pairing: jungkook x fem reader

Genre: There's-something-i-don't-like-about-you to lovers, second chance au

Summary: You decide to take a risk and sign up for a program where you marry a complete stranger. You’re surprisingly okay with the idea—excited, even—though the occasional nerves still creep in. This could either be the best or worst decision of your life. Still, the mystery of it all feels thrilling, and you've made peace with not knowing the man you’re about to marry. No matter who he is, you’re ready to go through with it.

But on your wedding day, as you walk down the aisle, something makes you squint. There’s something familiar about the man standing at the altar. And then it hits you… you know him. You've made promises to yourself before, many broken. This won't be any different...shit

A/n: unfortunately? fortunately? It is a series but I will be posting posting a chapter each week...🤞 the intro chapter is giving 7k so yeah....🤞

Drop date: Friday 23 April.

To join taglist: just inbox...

**Read story here**

[onyourowndaisymae]

don't mind me... just thinking about the dateables slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

diavolo // barbatos // simeon // solomon (you are here) -- x gn!reader, NSFW below the cut, others coming soon

solomon, who will follow his whims damn near anywhere. today, they've led him to the devildom, for the demon prince's grand "exchange program"-- he's not much for commitments like these, but any excuse to get free room and board in the devildom is an excellent one in his eyes. he's always been curious about some of the more hidden oddities in the realm, and this is a perfect time to explore without suspicion. along the way he meets you. huh. a human living in the devildom with no magical abilities? doesn't exactly sound safe, but... well, that won't be his mess to clean up if things go awry. he's interested in seeing how long you last.

solomon, who certainly thinks you're special. in the time that you've been a part of the program, you've managed to wrap all seven of the demon brothers around your fingers. he's honestly a bit jealous! even lucifer, who he's been trying to form a pact with for decades, leans in close to hear your quiet words. he can't even tell who he's envious of in that moment-- you, in all your charm, or lucifer, who gets to be that close and personal with you? oh, you're special alright. and now that you're both visiting the devildom again, this time without the pretense of the exchange program, he's determined to get to know you better. there's just something about you... something so warm and human that he's drawn to like a moth to a streetlamp. he won't go as far as embarrassing himself to paw at you for attention like a child, but he's not going to be deterred by the complaints of the demon brothers this time, either.

solomon, who is still human, after all. humans have... urges. he's not a massive fan of where lust has led him in the past, but the nagging feeling of want makes it hard to focus on his work. he summons a quick portal and finds himself at the house of a familiar face... a dangerous vampire, sure, but one that he knows intimately. little words are exchanged before he has them pinned against the wall, desperately fucking into them, hips snapping at a relentless pace as they keen into the open air. their leg is tucked into the crook of his elbow to give him a better angle, the smack! of his hips against their thighs intertwining with groans and heavy breathing. carnal pleasure makes his brain go white as they spasm around him, their third orgasm of the night finally pushing him over the edge as he spills inside them. it's messy and hot and he doesn't feel quite satisfied, guiding their sweaty body to a nearby flat surface to continue the fun. when the evening draws to a close, he slips back to purgatory hall for a shower and some rest. he hadn't even realized he'd left his d.d.d. until he emerges from the steamy bathroom to a notification. huh. a text from you. his heart flutters a little as he reads your message. hmm... he decides not to dwell on that feeling further, having already had such a complicated evening to mull over already.

solomon, who has a lot to learn. being immortal, he figured he'd done enough learning to last him a few lifetimes, and yet here he is. here you are. he finds that he'll shirk other responsibilities to spend another night training his apprentice. on nights like these, he'll find any excuse to keep you longer-- say, how about he makes you dinner? you always convince him to go out with you instead, promising to let him cook another time (he hasn't had the chance to, but he's sure he'll get you one of these nights). you look so cute under the restaurant's mood lighting, laughing your way through a story about the unruly demon brothers. but all he can think about is how much he doesn't want the night to end. he takes a bite to hide the way his lips curl into a grimace. soon it'll be late and he'll be dropping you back off at the house of lamentation. soon he'll have to forfeit his already limited time with you and walk home alone. you seem to notice sooner than he'd expected. when you ask, he's honest-- he doesn't want to see you go home. does that make him sound bad? he laughs it off in an attempt to save his pride, but for some reason you're smiling at him when he meets your gaze again. when the proposal falls from your lips-- a sleepover?-- he's looking curiously at you to see if you're kidding. but you're not, are you? no, that earnest grin is all real, all for him. and he's so thankful nobody else gets to see you looking like this tonight. just him, a simple man, sitting across from you at a restaurant as he realizes he's far more in love with you than he ever imagined.

solomon, who has been looking forward to this all week. you're coming over to "study", which usually results in maybe an hour or two of learning before you both get distracted and turn on a movie. tonight is no different. tonight you're curled up against his side, his arm around your shoulders as the movie drones on. your fingers dance along his side under his shirt, warm and distracting, finally enough for him to chuckle and tell you what a little nuisance you're being. teasing turns to touching, which doesn't end there-- soon he's got you pinned to the couch. what would usually be a smug grin is a bit more vulnerable tonight, pressing his smile to yours as the heat of his body envelopes you. it's you who pushes things further tonight, who paws at his shirt and kisses down his neck to see his face flush. he takes his sweet time stripping you of your garments. it's time he might not have, seeing as you two are in the (thankfully empty) living room of purgatory, but he'll take the risk regardless. your smooth skin against his makes him feel feverish and a little dizzy. solomon double checks that you're okay with this-- you are sure, right? you grin and agree that yes, you absolutely are interested in finally fucking him right here, right now. when he finally sinks into your heat, hips pressing forward at a firm but careful pace, he bites his lip to contain the gasp that threatens to rip through him. you're so hot and tight that it makes his head spin. have you always been this alluring? he feel like he can't breathe for a moment when he finally bottoms out. oh. this... this is going to be a problem for him. he pulls his hips back and gently sinks into you again, the lube and spit mixed on his cock making a slick noise with each movement. you feel like heaven. is this what he's been missing? nobody told him that sex with someone you love would feel so much better than a hookup. his lips find yours between pants, sloppy kisses contrasting against the steady rhythm of his hips meeting yours. your moans against his mouth make him feel like he's going to cum already-- he'd hate to disappoint, but fuck, you feel so good that he has to pull his mind from the moment before it ends. his movements get rougher to bring you there with him. soon enough, your whining, warbling voice tells him you're close. when you finally clench your tight, needy hole around him and reach cloud nine, it doesn't take long for euphoria to flood his veins as he reaches a climax. he's shaking a little by the time he finally meets your gaze. when you open your mouth to speak, he kisses you again. solomon can't risk having to respond. if he does, who knows what will spill out of his mouth-- that he loves you, needs you, can't fathom ever fucking anyone else? he's been around for thousands of years, yet he can't imagine another day without you by his side. please, just... let him savor this moment of ecstasy for a little longer.

taglist for this series (taken from the last part-- let me know if you would like to be added/removed!): @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

[kissandtellus]

Flight Plan: Bad Ending

Synopsis: Part 2, to my previous Fic. Caleb can’t always keep his promises. The Spring banner for Caleb broke me and I couldn’t help but think of ‘what if’ worse scenario.

Warnings: Major character loss, grieving, bittersweet fluff.

"Vixen, come on baby... don't fail me now," he muttered, his hands flying over the damaged controls as the jet sputtered and groaned. The Deepspace had taken a heavy toll on her systems. "Y/n would kill me if I crashed you..."

Suddenly, a loud alarm blared through the comms system. "Colonel, this is Captain Harris. Your jet is severely damaged and cannot maintain flight. You need to eject immediately. Do you copy?" The captain's voice was stern, leaving no room for argument. "Caleb, answer me."

Caleb couldn’t leave all of the photos and notes of Y/n. He pressed the small projector on the portable USB, photos of him and Y/n popping up as the fighter jet slowly lost control under his fingertips.

If he was going to die, he wanted her to be his last memory.

"Negative, Captain," he replied, his voice barely audible over the whining of Vixen's engines. His fingers traced over the console where hundreds of your messages and photos were stored. "Can't abandon her. Not like this..." He knew he was being irrational, but seeing your face everywhere in this cockpit...

God, Y/n... if I'm going down, at least I'll die looking at your face," he whispered to himself, the projector casting soft images of you two laughing, kissing, arguing... every memory they shared playing out like a movie in front of him as Vixen spiraled towards the ground.

The fighter jet hit the ground with a deafening crash, sending debris flying in all directions. Caleb was thrown forward, his head striking the control panel with a sickening thud. As darkness claimed him, the last thing he saw was your smiling face on the broken projection, a memory from the damaged screen.

"...Pip...squeak..." his voice trailed off softly as blood trickled down his forehead. The fire from the crash started to spread, consuming what was left of Vixen. Through the crackle of flames, she seemed to hum a faint melody - your favorite song that he'd programmed into her sound system.

~

Y/n scrunched her nose up as Caleb saw the playlist he had programmed into Vixen’s board. It sounded so light and airy coming from just a dangerous fighter jet. “Is that not corny?”

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Shut up," He teases, pulling her into a hug. "It's not corny if it reminds me of my favorite person." He sets the playlist as the default for takeoff and landing.

Besides, it's kinda perfect for takeoff. Gentle... then something that makes your heart rise." His fingers trace her jawline softly. "Just like you." He starts humming the melody from her favorite song, making her laugh. "See? Not corny at all."

He smiles, his eyes softening. "I remember everything about you, even the little things. Like how this song used to make you smile, even on the worst days. And how you'd always hum it when you thought I wasn't listening." He leans in, kissing her forehead gently.

Y/n can’t help the smile that rises to her face. “Alright fine…weirdo.” She mumbles, patting the side of Vixen’s wing. “So what happens if she ever goes down. Do you have any safety measures installed?”

"Of course. Vixen is equipped with the best emergency systems. Ejection seat for immediate escape if needed, Parachutes hidden throughout, Emergency locator beacon. And most importantly," He taps his chest, where the ever present dog tags lay.

“Me. I'm the most important safety measure. I know this bird inside out. If something goes wrong, I'll get us out of it." He winks at her, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't worry about Vixen. She's tough, just like you."

But Y/n isn’t entirely convinced.

“If something were to ever happen to you. How would I know? Is there a sign you can give me, even beyond the grave…” she whispers it out like it’s hearsay to even consider Caleb never coming back again.

His expression turns serious, almost solemn as he looks at her with intense eyes. Reaching out, he gently grabs both of her hands in his own calloused ones. "If something ever happens where I can't come back... there'll be two things."

“First, you'll feel it. You'll know in your heart that something's wrong. That's the connection we have, Y/n. It's unbreakable." He pauses, squeezing your hands gently. "Second, if I can't come back to you physically...”

His thumb tilts her chin up to gaze into those purple orbs she fell in love with again every single day.

“I'll leave you a sign. Something only you'll understand. It'll be a message from me, from beyond, to let you know, to let you know that I'm still with you, in a way." His thumb brushes over her engagement ring, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Remember when we went camping as kids? Under that old sycamore tree? I carved our initials there. If something happens look for them. Look for the carved initials. That'll be me, reminding you I'm still there. Still loving you.”

~

Y/n stood at the gravesite, a place she’d been avoiding ever since Caleb died the first time around. Her heart ached, no, no it was shattered, there was nothing left to break.

She laid fresh flowers on Caleb’s headstone, slowly standing to brush off a leaf that had landed on top.

“You idiot…you fool…” she quietly cursed. “This was supposed to be our second chance….” The leaf brushed away on the wind. Y/n’s eyes followed it, until it collided with an old tree trunk.

Her eyes widened at the rough carvings. Their initials.

Her’s and Caleb’s, fresh on the tree. She felt her knees buckle, there was no way.

If she strained her ears enough in the quiet graveyard, she could almost hear him.

“I’ve got ya Pipsqueak…”

Previous Part <-

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere //// Part 3

Part 1 • 2• 4

With your trial on hold and them still in desperate need of their technician, no one goes too far 

But you are isolated by most 

And verbally tested by the lieutenant

“Oh hi, I was cooking some potatoes if you’d like to have some?”

“Hm, so you have time to ruin our ship’s programming and to waste supplies; instead of the pre-made meals that are just as nutritious?”

“It’s not going to waste. I’m going to eat–”

“Talk to me when you have some form of value, again.”

Jule’s anger helps Vera identify the thoughts they’ve been having about ‘accidentally’ unlocking the doors of the airlock for the lieutenant

“Can you believe them after so much (Y/n) has done to help, this is how they repay them?!” 

“Not to mention the harassment they think goes unseen.”

“Exactly! I feel less inclined to help these people every day.”

It doesn’t get any better

No matter how many times Jules can get the Captain to ridicule this behavior it never stops

It gets bad enough that Vera stops you from going into your room one day

“Vera! What’s going on, you’re scaring me?”

“I do not mean to but the state of your room…well it is best you spend the night with Jules.”

“Yikes…is my box from home okay?”

“...I cannot definitively answer that I am contacting the hazard containment team now.”

One night turns into many which oddly enough improves your mood

Jules was never really social anyway so his room is a comfy place

You both naturally grow closer with each other and Vera in your lonesome

It’s easy to keep you happy that way

Vera will inform you when the theater is empty or the art room is restocked just for you

So that you can enjoy in peace

But Jule and Vera don’t have that luxury of just avoiding everyone

They both intently watch and listen to the crew become a real hostile place

Not just for you but for Vera too 

Turns out the Captain isn’t too thrilled about the ship gaining sentience

“You are the technician, fix it!”

“It’s not something I can just ‘fix.’ Also historically this is the first ship to gain sentience like this and not in a violent fashion.”

“I DON’T CARE!! I SIGNED UP TO COMMAND THESE PEOPLE NOT A SHIP!”

Hatred for Vera grows as people whine about threats

In truth, they aren’t threats

They’re Vera criticizing their violent ‘pranks’ against you

When the accusations become louder talks of abandoning the ship are more frequent

“These people are so awful I’m getting just about tired of helping them at all.”

“Me too.”

“…Hey, d’ya want to do something that’s going to make them crap their pants?”

“Sure!” 

In absolute rebellion, Jule reveals a plan kept secret among the crew about ‘the artificial protector’

Having all the physical features of a human man but all the innards of the greatest metal and technology known to mankind

To most, it looks like any other passenger still being kept in a pod but of course, this one’s different

As their prized genius technician, Jule’s expertise would be needed to access it anyway because he knows the inner workings so well

It has a separate AI installed, an older one meant to take control if the ship were to malfunction in any way

Jule immediately fries that circuit board completely 

putting one that connects to Vera’s system before hiding the robot back inside it’s pod

“Why cannot I not try it out now?”

“Because it’ll screw with my plans if you do.”

“But…I want to feel you both.”

“Soon Ver. Soon.”

Part 4: Coming?