#no luck with the other two though...it is what it is :(

[gyaruhana]

please do one where Thanos starts off as your unlikely ally in the games, protecting you from danger and helping you survive. Over time, his protectiveness becomes obsessive, and he begins eliminating anyone he sees as a threat to keeping you by his side even as you start to notice his unsettling behavior you can’t escape his grasp🙏

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong - yandere bf

Synopsis: In an attempt to escape from Thanos, you join a game promising money that will help you escape him. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have joined the game.

A/N: I may have combined this with two other requests bc they were all so similar so.. i hope thats okay !!

Warning: yandere thanos, choking

If you had told your younger self you’d be in a game of death with 45.6 billion won up for grabs, you wouldn’t believe it. And yet, it’s true. After the tragedy that was Red Light, Green Light where many people met a rather unfortunate fate, you realized it’d be in your best interest to find someone you can trust and form an alliance with them.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend, Thanos, happened to also be a part of the games and had been watching you from a distance since he spotted you in the first game. You had originally wanted to get away from him because he was nothing but toxic though now it seems Thanos was one step ahead of you. That, or you just had terrible luck and Thanos decided to come here on his own accord. 

You didn't have time to think about it though because he suddenly got up and left his little group behind to make his way straight to you. He didn't seem happy at all. Perhaps it was because the last conversation you two had was an argument that was left off on a bad note. 

“Where have you been? Were you avoiding me? That makes me really fucking mad, you know,” he says as he grabs your wrist so you can't just walk away from him. Not like there was anywhere to go now. You were stuck with him here. 

“I was just taking some time for myself,” you respond defensively. You really just wanted to get away from him which is why you were here in the first place. Your original plan was to win some money and then disappear so you'd never have to deal with Thanos and his crazy behavior again. It was suffocating to be near him.

“Time for yourself? Don't fucking lie to me,” he says as he brings you closer to him. Nothing about him was gentle. Not his touches, or his kisses, or anything. “Well, you've had your time. You're not leaving my side now,” he continues as he looks down at you with a glare. He wasn't leaving any room for you to defy him. In his eyes, you belonged to him. You were his property and that meant you couldn't go rogue and do what you want. 

“You don't get a say in that,” you say as you lean back slightly to try to create some distance between the two of you. He lets out a bitter laugh before grabbing the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair, and forcing you closer. “Yes, I do. In case you forgot, you're stuck in a death game with me. Do you really think anyone else will help you? Nobody else here gives a fuck about you. The moment they get the chance, they'll let a bullet go through your head,” he says as he looks down at you with a slightly crazed look. 

You'd like to make a counter point but he’s not exactly wrong. A lot of the people here didn't seem to be trustworthy. Not like Thanos was any better but he probably wouldn't purposely kill you if you didn't piss him off, right? As much as you didn't want to, you realized you didn't have much choice. Unless you want to make an enemy right after the first game, Thanos was your only hope of surviving the rest of the games.

“That's better. Just keep your pretty lips shut and let me do the talking,” Thanos spoke with a slight smirk. You didn't respond to that knowing that you'd likely make some sarcastic quip that would piss him off if you did. You didn't have a choice this time. You couldn't run away to another country. You had to give in just this once.

You'd soon come to regret that decision. 

Somehow, Thanos had only gotten worse. He was always right next to you, no matter what. Either his hand would be over your shoulder or he'd have a tight grip on your waist. When it was lights out, he'd force you to sleep in the same bed as him. He'd kiss you all the time too but it was always rough with teeth clashing against each other and his tongue shoved down your throat.

You didn't notice it got worse until it was far too late. 

The moment of realization was during the third game. The game was called ‘mingle’ and it was simple enough. A number would be called out and you'd have 30 seconds to form a group of that number before getting inside one of the fifty rooms. 

Everyone stood on a circular platform in the center of the room and, per usual, Thanos had his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him as he spoke to his other stupid friend. The platform began to spin slowly as a childish song played. When the platform came to a sudden stop and a number was called out you formed a group and ran into a room. 

It was all going fine as you planned strategic moves and managed to keep on surviving. At least, it was going well. Until the last round when the number 2 was called. 

Thanos had immediately taken your wrist and dragged you towards a room, leaving behind his idiot friend without a second thought. However, the room was quickly stolen by two other players. You thought Thanos would just go to the next room over but that was not what happened.

Instead he pushed open the door and immediately grabbed one of the guys by their hair. He didn't think twice before he forced him out of the room. The other guy made an attempt to help but Thanos slammed him against the wall, his hand going around his throat as he choked him. The look in his eyes was far more scary than you remember. You could hardly process what was happening before the guy was punched in the face and pushed out of the room. 

Thanos pulled you in just before the door closed and locked. The sound of gunshots rang out soon after as Thanos huffed in annoyance. He looked guilt free despite the fact he was very much responsible for the death of two people. Actually, now that you really thought about it, he had killed other people in the previous games too.

Fuck. You were beginning to regret your choice of becoming his ally. You'd have much rather found someone else who could protect you from him because he was clearly fucking crazy. Crazier than he used to be. You thought he was just a manipulative, toxic bastard. You didn't think he'd be truly capable of murder. 

“Fucking dickheads,” Thanos mumbles under his breath with annoyance before glancing at your face. The corner of his lips quirked up when he noticed your expression and he wandered in front of you. “What? Something wrong?” He spoke though he already knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You killed those people,” you said as you looked up at him with a combination of fear and disbelief. He laughed in response before reaching a hand up and grabbing your face. “For you, baby. I fucking killed them for you,” he said as he looked down at you with a smirk. He found your expression such a turn-on really. The idea you were afraid of him meant you'd submit to him and that's all he wanted.

“You're fucking crazy.. crazier than I thought,” you spoke as you tried to step back and create some distance between the two of you. In response, he slammed you against the wall and got very close to you. 

“You're only just realizing this? You don't realize when I snapped the ankle of that bastard who looked at you so he'd lose? You didn't realize when our ‘friend’ and I returned but he had a bleeding nose?” He spoke as he got into your face with a dangerous grin. Well, when he said it like that, it became abundantly clear he had been killing and hurting people left and right since day one and all for you. You just had been too caught up in his behavior towards you that you didn't notice how he acted with others.

“Mm. Fuck, I love that look on your face. You're so afraid. Good. Because you're going to learn that you're mine forever, yeah?” He spoke as he brought a hand to your throat and squeezed it tightly. He let out a laugh as he choked you like it was the funniest thing in the world before slamming his lips to yours in a rough kiss. 

It was then you realized that, no matter how hard you tried to escape, you were his now - you always have been - and you will never taste freedom on your tongue again.

[thebestsetter]

If Isagi knew his old teammate had invited him to hang out just to talk shit, he would have thought twice about coming.

"I mean, c'mon dude!" Tada, one of the players from his old team, said "You scored an excuse-me goal like that with pure luck and nothing else!"

"Excuse-me goal...?" Isagi muttered, clearly confused about what his friend meant

"Yeah! You used up all your luck on that one, not gonna lie"

If it had ended like that, Isagi would have still managed to accept it.

People have different views about his plays, so it's okay for him to think it was pure luck. He's probably just too stupid to even understand what Isagi did, even if he explained it to him.

Isagi would be just fine if his teammate didn't say anything else.

If only Tada had stopped there.

"And don't even get me started about your sudden relationship!" He said, smirking at Isagi "(Name), isn't it? Japan U-20's manager who trained the Blue Lock team for a while?" He nudged Yoichi with his shoulder "She's hot, bro. Man, you're just way too lucky! This amount of fortune should be illegal or something!"

Luck? Luck?

Isagi was dumbfounded. He didn't even react to what the guy said.

The beginning of your relationship wasn't based on his luck. If anything, it started because of how unlucky he is.

Because honestly, he doesn't want anyone to know that you two met because he entered the wrong restroom.

The restrooms were still being built in the blue lcok facility and all, so there weren't any signs indicating which was the female's one and which was the male's. Therefore, it was a 50/50 chance of entering the right one. The men's one.

Also, most people on the facility were men. There were basically only 2 girls: you, a manager who had already worked on Japan's U-20 and was just curious about the Blue Lock project, and Anri, Blue Lock's official manager. What was the possibility that he'd enter the wrong bathroom and see any of you two there?

It seemed pretty high, actually.

And he hates this story because not only did he enter the wrong bathroom, he managed to convince you this was the men's one and that the other one was for the women.

Let's just say you both ended up bounding over restroom trauma.

See? It isn't a cute, movie-like love story.

Luck? There was no way he got with you by being lucky. He fought for you.

He was the one who suggested you should be Blue Lock's manager for a short period of time. He was the one who had to build up courage to ask for your phone number after training with you for weeks. He was the one who dedicated the last goal of the match to you, all sweating and smiling.

Luck? Be for fucking real. Isagi knit the threads of fate himself until all he could see in it was your name and face.

But, sometimes, he thought about your relationship deeper. Because if he met you through his mischance, why does it feel so great to have you in his arms?

According to the dicitionary, bad luck is "an unfortunate state that results from unfavorable outcomes". When he looks at you, though, arms stretching towards him, he doesn't see any "unfavorable outcome".

Was it really bad luck, after all? Or was it all his luck dressed up as misfortune?

"Isagi? You good there, man?" Tada asked, waving his hand in front of Isagi's face

Yoichi finally smiled, looking at his former teammate after snapping out of his daydreams.

"You know what? Maybe I am, indeed, very lucky"

You know what they say: unlucky in cards, lucky in love.

But when Yoichi comes home, seeing you in his jersey, cooking for him and watching one of his old games, he can't help but wonder.

Maybe he's lucky in both.

[apiptosis]

I still have no clue how Tumblr works but here's part 3

The third member to meet Danny is none other than our resident Demon brat.

It was rare that Damian could truly relax. In the league he had to constantly be the perfect heir, the perfect assassin. When his mother got him out it was just as hard when he had to compete with four adopted brothers, Gordon, Brown and the infamous Cassandra Cain.

It was difficult to find someone who could understand him and what he had been through and still put up with his bulshit. Damian was man enough to admit that his own attitude did not help him so when he found someone who would, whom he could let down his walls with, he grasped on with both hands.

"You seem to be thinking quite hard there Damian." A soft voice drew him from his thoughts. Damian looked her deep in her eyes freely let her peer at his thoughts. He knew she would not pry unless needed but he freely gave this.

"Just reminded myself how fortunate I was to have you." Damian admitted while they sat at their impromptu picnic.

It was rather rare for them to have dates in Gotham but today was a rare time where it was possible. The smog that always filled Gotham was almost completely absent today here in the forest at the edge of the Wayne property and perhaps most importantly, his father was off world with Cain and Grayson.

While most of the public believes Batman has a 'no metas allowed' rule, it was most certainly not true. What is true however is that his father is an overprotective idiot at times and would hover/spy onto their date.

"Dam-"

Whatever Raven was about to say was interrupted by a small sonic boom from just outside of the property that had both of them on their feet, their little picnic forgotten.

All too soon they found the source. A behemoth of a man was playing with a giant dog?

"Drop the stick boy!" The green beast dropped a log for want of a better word. "Good boy, wanna go again?" The beast gave a bark like artillery fire, tail waving like rotor blades. The man pick up the log and launched as though it was a javelin with a "Fetch Cujo!"

With one last artillery bark the beast bound after with great speed.

The man let out a deep sigh as he fell back into the shade of the nearby tree. "Man I wish I had more off days like this. Mhmmm, people? Hello there. Didn't think there would be people this far out. I'm Danny."

The man, Danny, waved as he lazily greeted them from where he lay on his bag in the shade. Danny lay so openly and without care that they could easily observe him.

Danny was very obviously a meta, his lazy smile with far too many sharp teeth, elfin ears and skin that was almost paler than Raven's. Most glaring was his height at seven and a half feet and shoulders nearly half as broad. (see Drake I can learn your freedom units)

"Damian" "Rachel" they introduced themselves.

"You two out on a date? It's one of my rare days off so I was planning one myself but unfortunately my girlfriend's dad needed help so she's out of town with him and her brother." Danny offered up freely. There was no hostile intent as far as Damian could tell. 'His intentions are true and there is no amniosity. His mind is well protected though.' Raven shared with telepathy.

"I take it your job is rather taxing?" Damian prodded.

Danny snorted "Nah man, I'm a university student, Aerospace engineering. The degree is kicking my ass but that's due to the amount of stuff I have to do. It's like they are afraid that I will have free time because I swear some of my projects and tests aren't for engineering.

Last week I had to write a chem exam and yesterday I had to submit a project that I'm pretty sure was a business model in disguise. If my luck holds out I might get a psych test next week. Ugh I'm already half dead, now their trying to get me to fully dead."

That was... concerning. It sounds like danny was possible rogue material and the university was trying their best to keep him from actually going rogue.

"So your taking a break and playing with you dog?" Raven asked.

"Yeah, Cujo is a sweetheart but it's hard to play with him here since people keep attacking him when he's in his large form." Danny explained as the dog bounded back without his stick. Worryingly there was a bit of blood on him. The dog had obviously been in a fight.

"Again buddy? Why can't they just leave you alone. Let's see what it's this time." Cujo dropped a finger on the ground with a very familiar green ring.

"He's a rescue I suppose but he was originally a guard dog and he was trained to disarm people when they attack him so I keep having to stash away guns and the like. With how crazy some people are I really should be prepared for things like this."

The ring seemed to sluggishly work it's way off of the finger before shooting straight for Danny.

"Daniel Fenton of -"Danny swiped the ring out of the air and held it in a tight grip. "Nah ah, I already have one green magic ring and I don't want a talking one on top of that!"

Danny rummaged through his bag before pulling out his thermos that smelled like coffee and chugged it like he was drakes long lost twin and managing to seal it into the thermos.

"There, I'll figure out what to do with that later."Sigh."well I guess we can talk at a later time but after that I'm heading home. Cujo shrink!"

The massive beast of a dog deflated like a balloon till it was the size of a small dog, happily trudging sfter it's owner as they hiked in the direction of Gotham.

With a glance to Raven, he confirmed that she was just as bewildered by the interaction as he was. Eventually they returned to their date, no use in letting odd encounters ruin their day, but Damian kept the name in the back of his head for now.

Later that night Damian found himself in the watchtower, going for the terminal so he could research this Daniel Fenton. He would have done this at home but Drake hogged the bat computer, nou doubt pinning after his coffee crush.

Along the way he found a small congregation of heroes trying to drown out Guy Gardner but also had to listen to his report as his hand was quite bandaged and missing a finger...

"On my patrol I nearly got Final destinationed by a flying log and then I got attacked by a green beast that wouldn't go down no matter what I thew at it. To make matters worse it was able to bite off my ring!" Guy complained incessantly.

Suddenly it made perfect sense why Danny was so upset but accepting of people attacking Cujo. How many times has this happened to him? How many times had the guy patched up his dogs wounds because people attacked him. How many of those time was it a hero who attacked Cujo? Damian could feel for both Danny and his dog.

"Sounds like you attacked a dog playing fetch and got upset when you couldn't hurt a dog for playing. Neutralizing an attacker's weapon is the bare basics of any guard dog's training." Damian found himself snapping at the man. Superman nodding along with him.

"Robin is right, while I am very concerned about you losing your ring, I am also concerned that you would attack a dog for playing fetch. I do the same with Crypto." Superman chastised Guy sternly.

[mclarengf]

il faut que je te dise quelque chose

a new years party? i bet absolutely nothing will happen.

[1.1k]

note: happy new year yall!!! i hope 2025 brings u all a lot of happiness and good luck x

“i’m gonna do it.”

lando looked up from his phone, “what?”  i haven’t been listening to you at all.”

you pouted at him before repeating yourself, “i’m gonna kiss him tonight. at midnight. for real.”

“wait, oscar?”

you flicked him square in the forehead for his stupidity.

“who else, dummy? i’m gonna sit him down and tell him how i feel, and then, if he somehow feels the same way, i’m gonna kiss him.”

he barks out a laugh and tells you, “about time!”

you liked oscar, and lando was the only other person who knew it. ever since he figured it out in miami, lando had made your life miserable, constantly teasing you if you blushed after oscar complimented you, or if you lost your train of thought when he walked in the room.

“anyway, are you done yet? max wants to know when he should pick us up.”

some of your friends in monaco are throwing a new years party tonight, and you and lando, your closest friend here, are getting ready for it in your apartment. 

well, you’re getting ready. he’s dressed already, in a simple button-up and jeans, and has been tapping at something on his phone for the past 20 minutes— something which looks suspiciously like jetpack joyride. 

you tell lando you have to finish doing your hair, but will probably be done around the time max gets to your place if he leaves now. 

“alright,” he slaps his knees as he stands up, “you have to tell me how it goes, yeah?”

he claps you on the back before leaving to the kitchen, probably to start his night of drinking. 

—

the party was loud. whoever was dj’ing had to have hearing damage, because anyone else wouldn’t be able to be in such close proximity to the bass-boosted speakers.

it was about an hour til midnight, and annoyingly, you still hadn’t seen oscar. that’s why you were now making the rounds trying to find him, sliding past groups of people you didn’t recognise and briefly saying hi to the ones you did. 

you were trying to navigate around a stupidly placed configuration of chairs when you bumped into someone.

“i’m so sorry-“ your apology died on your tongue when you saw who it was.

“oscar!”

he greets you with a hug and a quick kiss to the cheek, “how’ve you been? i haven’t seen you since the championship party!”

you smile up at him.

“i’m good! i’ve been a bit busy at home, so i haven’t been able to do anything else. how are you? you look good!”

you take a step back from him to take the sight of him in. he must have arrived a while ago, if his sweaty hair and the drink in his hand are anything to go by.

“you look beautiful, by the way.”

you’ve never been able to handle his compliments well, not when he always tells you like he really means it. 

you manage to keep your composure enough, though, and stutter out a ‘thank you’ before returning the sentiment. 

“you look really good, too.”

he smiles shyly at the ground, then gestures to a nearby booth so you can continue your conversation. 

as you make your way over, he places his hand on the small of your back, subtly guiding you through the small crowd in between you and your destination. the feeling of his hand on your skin burns, desperately drawing your attention. you try to ignore it though, for fear of blushing so hard that oscar will be able to see it, despite the strobing lights.  

wait, why is oscar staring at you? shit, is it that obvious already? 

you press a hand to your cheek as you sit, trying to feel how warm you actually are, but before you can properly judge your temperature, oscar picks up your talk where you had left it, and the two of you fall back into easy conversation. 

you talk about lots of things, in a way you can only comfortably do so around oscar, and you only take notice of the time again when the people around you start chanting down from 60.

“so, oscar, i was thinking…” you trail off, taking another sip of your drink as you consider how to word your confession.

he looks at you attentively, waiting for whatever you’re about to say. 

“i wanted to tell you that-“ you cut yourself off and sigh. this isn’t working. 

maybe you should just wait til another time. there’s no need to rush anything, you suppose.

35… 34… 33…

oscar has a strange glint in his eye, but you brush it off as being his amusement at your evident speechlessness. 

“nevermind!”

you try to smile like nothing’s wrong, but you’re cursing at yourself on the inside for being such a pussy. 

28… 27… 26…

you decide to switch the topic.

“shouldn’t you find some girl to kiss at midnight?”

he shakes his head, and this time it’s his turn to drink before he talks. 

“nah, i’m happy staying here with you. it’s nice.”

you melt at the thought of oscar being content to spend his new years with you over everyone else at the party. now, if only you could tell him how you’d like to spend the rest of your life with him over everyone else in the world, you’d be very happy.

17… 16… 15…

you spend the last fifteen seconds of your year internally debating whether you should still kiss oscar. i mean, if it’s a new years kiss and he has no idea about your feelings, then it’d be fine, right? 

you almost don’t realise it’s turned midnight because you’re too preoccupied, playing a mental game of eeny meeny miny mo to solve your dilemma. 

the time is brought to your attention, though, when oscar places his hand on your cheek, says, “i’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” and brings you close for a new years kiss.

you could swear you feel fireworks exploding in your chest when your lips touch, and it only takes you a second to realise what’s going on before you respond eagerly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

you could die happy now, you think. his lips are so soft, and they fit with yours perfectly. you don’t even mind the taste of jack and coke on his tongue. somehow, it all blends together into one thing— oscar. 

everything is oscar, oscar, oscar. 

when you part, you’re slightly dazed from how passionate the kiss was.

“so, what were you gonna tell me?” 

although his cheeks are also flushed, and his pupils are slightly blown, oscar’s still got a cheeky grin on his face as he catches his breath. 

you roll your eyes, knowing full-well by this point that he knew just as much as you did, the whole time. 

“happy new year, oscar.” 

he raises his glass and tilts it towards you for a cheers.

“happy new year.”

you clink your drinks together, and as he slings an arm around your shoulders, you think, this year may turn out really well. 

[judesmoonbeauty]

Wrapped In Wicked Romance Part III:

Nica Schwartz - Chapter Two

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Nica: Nica Schwartz, from Germany.

Nica: My birthday’s March 2nd. My family’s my younger brother Ring, and my ability is that I can charm someone when I hold their hand.

Nica: My special skill…is I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue.

Sitting on a terrace, Nica pointed to the tip of his tongue that slightly stuck out with a smile,

Even though he carried the air of a smooth-talking charmer, I couldn’t help but be captivated.

Nica: I hear that those who can tie a cherry stem with their tongue are skilled kissers.

Nica: Wanna give it a try?

Kate: No, I don’t.

Nica: Man, what a let down.

(….Enough!)

At Nica’s suggestion to get to know each other, we went to a nearby cafe and started chatting—

(It startles me when he occasionally says things like that.)

Nica: So, what did you do before you became a fairytale keeper, robin?

Kate: I was a mail carrier, so I’m pretty knowledgeable of London’s alleyways.

Kate: I had to walk a lot to get things delivered quickly.

I remember it only being a week ago that I worked normally,

It feels like such a distant memory now, so I took a sip of my tea.

That’s when a worried look flashed onto Nica’s face—

Nica: I’d think that such a sudden change in environment must’ve been hard.

Kate: Huh….

His fingers touched my hand that was resting on the table.

Nica: Because you were working hard and then were unlucky enough to bump into Crown, right?

Nica: Even though you didn’t do anything wrong…..you simply witnessed it.

The rings on his beautiful fingers touched mine, and coldness of the metal seeped into my skin,

(No one’s ever told me that..…)

My body became hot and my nose started to sting.

Kate: ….Sure, it might’ve been bad luck that I met them at that exact moment on that day,

Kate: But I also think that it was somewhat inevitable.

Nica: Are you saying it was fate?

Oddly enough, it didn’t feel uncomfortable when he played with my fingers and poked them.

Kate: Because I met Crown, I now understand all the evil things taking place in this country,

Kate: If I hadn’t met them then I’d have just kept living without knowing any better.

Nica: ….What a strong robin.

The finger stroking my ring finger stopped at the base of it.

When I looked up, his cat-like, almond-shaped eyes pierced me.

Nica: But, I don’t want my girlfriend to see such a filthy world.

Nica: Since we’re a couple for today, I want you to only look at beautiful things.

I couldn’t bring myself to look away from the eyes that were piercing me.

Kate: ….For example?

Nica: Something like this….

Kate: Oh, wow!

Just as the fingers that played with my hand let go, a huge bouquet of flowers appeared from behind his back.

Kate: Where did you hide this….No, actually, when did you buy this?!

Nica: Aha, are you surprised?

(We haven’t been apart since we came to town.)

I was handed the beautiful bouquet, and the soft scent of the flowers tickled my nose, but -

(There’s an even more pleasant scent besides the flowers?)

The moment the wind carried the sensuous fragrance, the mystery was solved.

Nica: Wow, it’s really windy today….robin, you good? Your face is red.

(This is Nica’s scent….)

The sweet, sensual scent of ylang-ylang belongs to him,

Kate: It’s nothing….I’m just so happy about the flowers, thank you.

Nica: Bitte. [You’re welcome.] They suit you.

It felt like I was being tethered to Nica, so I hid my face with the bouquet.

Nica: Well, since we’re on a date, I have to make you happy.

Kate: But I’m plenty happy already…….

Nica: Are you starting to have fun with me?

Nica said proudly as he straightened the collar of his jacket, and smiled —

Nica: Let’s go do something fun.

Kate: That was so GOOD!

Nica: I’m glad you liked it.

After that, he took me to the theater to watch a play.

(I never even told him that I like going to the theater.)

Although it reminded me of how well-informed he is, I was glad he we went together…..

(Nica’s a very smart and wonderful person.)

Holding the bouquet I walked alongside him all day, completely attached to him.

Thin Lady: Oh, aren’t you the one from before?

(Oh, here we go again…)

I feel somewhat displeased at the woman calling out to him, even though I’m not his girlfriend.

However, I recognized the woman.

(She used to come to the theater quite often with her husband.)

I happened to see the pair fighting several times in the box seats on the second floor,

(I remember hearing about him getting his hands on other women, or something like that.)

While concerned over how thin she’d become, Nica whispered in my ear.

Nica: I was told things weren’t going so well with her husband.

Just as I was starting to feel a little sad about the truth being connected in such an unexpected place, the woman approached us.

Thin Woman: After talking to you, I realized that I can’t stay with him.

Thin Woman: But when I begged him for a divorce, he became violent….I don’t know what to do anymore.

(How terrible….)

When she covered her face, I saw her arms dappled with bruises, making me grimace in anger and disgust.

But Nica gently took the woman’s hand,

Nica: I can only listen to your story, I’m not able to solve the problem, but

And dropped a kiss on the back of it as if to comfort her.

Nica: There are lots of people who’ll think your attractive once you’re free.

Nica: It’ll be okay, be brave.

(Nica…)

Watching the situation,

Thin Woman: Yes…..that’s right.

She nodded to herself repeatedly like she was trying to convince herself of Nica’s words, and then Nica let go of her hand and slid his arm around my waist.

Nica: Well then, take care.

When I was about to leave the area at his urging, something caught my eye,

The woman was glaring at me extremely angrily.

(D-did I do something?)

Nica: Robin.

When he called out to me, I stopped looking at her and started walking —

Kate: ….Nica?

Looking up at him, the corners of his mouth had curled up.

Just as I was going to ask why he was smiling —

???: KYAAAAAA!!!

A scream came from behind, signaling that our happy time as a couple was now at an end.

[Master List] [Bitter End] [Premium End]

Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @drachonia

If you are 18+ and wish to be added to my tags list, please comment below specifying the IkeVil suitor, or for all translations.

[ceratedfish24]

I think the first time Scott did something kind to Etho he didn't even realize it was a big deal, just reflexivly did it and immediately thought nothing/forgot about it, and Etho is left standing frozen eyes wide like oh snap I'm interested in this guy now. So Etho starts watching Scott from a distance now and notices how Scott keeps doing these kind things for other people and that's how he falls in love.

YES!!! YES! YES! YES! Scott is so kind to everybody he meets, and Etho is so used to fighting for his life and becoming a product of by his circumstances, whereas Scott is so stubbornly kind, refusing to let his hardships corrupt his loving nature. It happens when Etho is scoping out the competition right before 3rd Life, and Scott is going around introducing himself to everyone. Right after Etho finishes a playful stare down with Bdubs, this pretty boy comes right up to him, an enemy to be, offers him a smile, and wishes him luck in a game they’re both about to compete in. Immediately after, Grian calls Scott over to make fun of him, which means Scott didn’t really get any time to think about Etho’s reaction. “You can’t be nice to the competition, Scott! We’re going to war! Stop making my game friendly!” Etho just watches him go… He can’t actually be that friendly, right? Well, he really was, and he continued to be.

Scott excitedly congratulates Grian on his win. He defies the Boogeyman Curse instead of going after his teammate. He sacrifices himself for Pearl. He has no resentment towards Martyn after Limited Life. He teams with Gem, a new player who may be in need of guidance. He treats Cleo’s win with all the seriousness and excitement of a full-length season’s win. He negotiates and reaches out to Etho, who has never done anything for Scott or grown close to him or proved himself to be a good teammate for other people.

And, on top of all of that, Scott does really well.

At first, Etho assumes that Scott is just really kind to people he’s close to, such as Jimmy, Cleo, and Pearl, but then Scott extends his kindness to Etho in Limited Life, making polite conversation with him despite them being on different teams and having so much more time than anyone on Etho’s team. Then, in Secret Life, Scott humors him even though he knows that Etho’s trying to distract Scott from pursuing Bdubs during the infamous game of tag. At the time, Etho couldn’t explain why he found himself stumbling over his words, as he found himself so distracted by how the light reflected in Scott’s eyes. Finally, Wild Life is what tears Etho open like a gash in a place he already knew was tender. Etho isn’t oblivious, at least not to his own feelings. He’s known that he’s felt something for Scott for a long time, but a crush isn’t exactly an optimal in a death game.

Scott, so willing to grant Etho a place on the Gs, smiles and shrugs and tells Etho that he doesn’t care if Etho’s “not a good teammate”, and Etho’s heart bursts in his chest. He’s been given a chance that he doesn’t feel as though he’s earned from someone who doesn’t know him all that well. Everything that’s been buried deep in his chest finally erupts to the surface and he wants to grab Scott and get him somewhere safe and warm. He wants to hold this man’s hand and be as close to him as physically possible, but he can’t. They’re in the middle of a death game. Etho isn’t about to dump all of his years of internalized yearning onto Scott in the middle of a death game. They can talk afterwards.

Except, of course, Etho manages to create a more urgent matter to talk to Scott about after Wild Life. If they were a mainstream pairing, there would be two hundred fics about that kill by now.

[buckets-and-trees]

Sending some delicious brisket your way!

LISTEN. STEVE'S BOYISH GRIN IS TOO POWERFUL, BUT IMMA PUT IT IN WHENEVER I CAN NOW THAT THESE TWO ARE SO OPENLY DEVOTED TO EACH OTHER. I DON'T MAKE THE RULES, I JUST ENFORCE THEM.

You write the political talk sooooo well but also it’s not boring lol! I’m seriously so impressed!

THANK YOU!!! There's a reason that I showed only an aspect of debate prep, and not any actual debating though. Also why most of the talk around issues is with "normal people" or in their informal strategy sessions. I know traditional political rhetoric is more dry, more serious, and not conducive to fiction OR to my writing style! What I've written definitely comes more from influences of political commentary I've seen on TikTok, through podcasts, my recent rewatches of The West Wing and The Newsroom, and in conversations I myself have had with people. I'm mildly informed, I know how to do some research, and at the end of the day it's gotta be engaging and mean something to ME as the writer, or else I know it's not going to be good to anyone else.

Part of writing this now is also a direct response to how I was feeling before the US election and now in the wake since. I don't want to preach at anyone, but I do have my own convictions, and part of those convictions are that there are more people in the mild than on the extremes of the political spectrum when we sit down and have real conversations.

And.... yes. Good luck with the next chapter. 👀 You know you're directly responsible for helping me plot some of the political drama coming up! 🫣 But thank you for reading and thank you for always being such a support while I'm swimming through all of this!

Red, White & True: Kansas City - Interview Broadcast Day [9/13]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7.6k Summary: The campaign rolls through Kansas City to make a pitstop to watch with the rest of the country as your interview with Oprah airs on Sunday night primetime television.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened. And in case you missed it, this is who I mentioned in a post that I cast to play the role of Jake, our fearless campaign manager.

Previous Chapter | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The savory aroma of slow-cooked meat and smoky spices envelops you as you step out of the campaign SUV and onto the sun-baked sidewalk in front of Arthur Bryant's Barbeque. The iconic Kansas City establishment stands before you, its red brick facade and neon sign a beacon for barbecue lovers from across the nation.

Steve emerges from the vehicle behind you, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the restaurant. "I've been looking forward to this all day," he admits, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

You can't help but smile back, feeling a flutter of excitement in your own stomach. You’re beginning to believe butterflies will never stop hitting you when he smiles at you like that.

After days of campaign events and press conferences, this small detour feels like a breath of fresh air. There will still be conversations, meeting strangers, taking questions, hearing from the people, and press capturing everything second of it, but part of these kinds of stops at least feel slightly more organic. You feel like the conversations, at least, are more real, and you get to know people for who they really are in the places they actually go on a regular kind of day. The fact that it involves world-famous barbecue is just a bonus.

It’s also one of the rare days you both get to be dressed down and casual. Steve even wears a dark blue baseball cap to help lower his profile of being recognized even more.

As you approach the entrance, you and Steve reach for each others hands, fingers locking, natural as anything now.

The moment you step inside Arthur Bryant's, you're hit with a wave of nostalgia. The no-frills interior, with its simple tables and chairs, feels like stepping back in time. The walls are adorned with photos of famous patrons and news clippings, a testament to the restaurant's rich history.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a warm smile approaches. "Captain Rogers, Mrs. Rogers, welcome to Arthur Bryant's," he says, extending his hand. "I'm Jerry, the manager. We're honored to have you here."

Steve shakes Jerry's hand firmly. "The honor is ours, Jerry. We've heard amazing things about your barbecue."

"Well, we hope to live up to the hype," Jerry chuckles. "Why don't I give you a quick tour before we get you set?"

As Jerry leads you through the restaurant, pointing out photos of past presidents and celebrities who have dined there, you can feel the eyes of other patrons on you. There are whispers and a few excited waves, but for the most part, people seem content to let you enjoy your visit.

Jerry brings you to the counter where the magic happens. The smell of smoked meat is even stronger here, making your mouth water and your stomach growl audibly. Steve glances at you with an amused smile.

"Now, what can I get for you folks?" Jerry asks.

Steve's eyes light up as he scans the menu board. "I think I'll have the burnt ends sandwich and some fries," he says.

“And you, Mrs. Rogers?”

“I want a brisket sandwich,” you reply.

“Only the half?” Jerry asks.

“With sides of the cheesy corn, baked beans, onion rings, and cole slaw,” you add.

“Atta girl!” the man grins. “This one knows how to order!” he calls out to the others around. “She’s got my vote!”

You laugh at Jerry's enthusiasm, feeling a warmth spread through you at the easy camaraderie. Steve grins and shakes his head. "I think I've been outdone," he says good-naturedly.

Jerry chuckles as he starts preparing your order. "Well, Captain, maybe I’ll swing my vote to you by the time we hit November. Now, what can I get you to drink?"

"Sweet tea for me," you say.

"Make that two," Steve adds with a smile.

As Jerry busies himself with your order, you and Steve take a moment to look around the restaurant. The dinner crowd is starting to filter in, and you can see a mix of curiosity and excitement on the faces of those who recognize you.

A young woman approaches hesitantly, her phone clutched in her hand. "Excuse me," she says, her voice slightly trembling. "I'm sorry to bother you, but would it be okay if I took a picture with you both?"

Steve responds with a warm smile. "Of course, we'd be happy to."

The young woman's face lights up. "Thank you so much! I'm Emily, by the way.” She hands her phone to a nearby friend.

You and Steve position yourselves on either side of Emily, smiling warmly as her friend snaps a few photos. As Emily checks the pictures, her excitement is palpable.

"Thank you again," she says, her eyes shining. "I've been following your campaign. It's really inspiring to see people I feel like I relate to running instead of just old white men."

“Well, technically Steve’s a very old white man,” you tease.

Steve gives you a mock glare, and Emily laughs.

“No, I guess what I mean is people who seem like people and not just politicians,” she clarifies. “I felt like that about Charlie Young before, too, and so I’m glad he’s your running mate.”

Steve's expression softens. "That means a lot, Emily. What issues are most important to you in your day to day life?"

Emily takes a deep breath, considering her answer. "I'm about to age out of my parents' insurance, and I'm worried about how I'll afford coverage on my own."

You nod sympathetically. "We'd love to hear more about your perspective if you’re willing to share."

Emily glances at her friend, who nods encouragingly. "Well," she begins, "I'm 25 and I work as a teacher's assistant. The pay isn't great, and the school district doesn't offer health insurance for part-time employees. I've been looking into private plans, but they're so expensive. I have a pre-existing condition, and I'm worried about how I'll manage my healthcare costs once I'm off my parents' plan."

Steve listens intently, his brow furrowed in concern. "We believe that access to quality, affordable healthcare is a right, not a privilege. No one should have to choose between their health and their financial stability."

You nod in agreement. "We've been hearing similar stories across the country. It's clear that our current healthcare system isn't working for many Americans, especially young people just starting their careers."

Emily smiles gratefully. "I’m not asking for hand outs - I’m working, but it needs to not feel like it’s impossible to afford to live.”

Steve nods, his expression serious. "Absolutely, Emily. You shouldn't have to struggle to afford basic necessities like healthcare while working hard and contributing to society. I want us to implement solutions that work for all Americans, not just those at the top. I think we start by simplifying the process and expand subsidies under the Affordable Care Act to make coverage more affordable for young adults and low-income workers, but next steps will involve looking to other countries who have better healthcare systems and adopting what we see is working. Detractors say that some of those other systems don’t work for everyone or they’re not perfect, but what we’ve got here isn’t much to write home about as it stands."

"And it's voices like yours that help shape our policies and remind us why this work is so important," you add.

Emily beams, clearly touched by your words. "Thank you for listening. It means a lot when I know it must be so busy for you both. Isn’t your Oprah interview airing tonight?” she asks.

“Yes, we’re just here to grab a bite and to pick up some food to take back to the campaign staff while we watch later.”

“Well, thanks again, and good luck tonight,” she says.

As Emily rejoins her friend, Jerry calls out that your order is ready. You and Steve thank him as he hands over your loaded trays.

"Enjoy your meal, folks," Jerry says with a wink. “We’ll work with your guys to load up your catering to-go boxes, y’all just enjoy.”

You and Steve thank him and then scan the bustling restaurant, looking for an open table. The dinner rush is in full swing, and most tables are already occupied. Your eyes land on a table in the corner where four men, all appearing to be in their seventies, are engaged in animated conversation over their half-eaten meals.

Steve catches your eye and nods towards the table. You both make your way over, trays in hand.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Steve says, his voice warm and friendly. "Would you mind if we joined you? Seems like all the other tables are taken."

The men look up, their eyes widening in recognition. There's a moment of stunned silence before one of them, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes, breaks into a wide grin.

"Well, I'll be damned," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of a Southern drawl. "Sure we’ve got a space for Captain America and his peach of a wife!”

As you and Steve take your seats at the table, you can feel the energy shift. The men are clearly excited, but there's also a hint of nervousness in the air.

"I'm Bill," says the man with the Southern drawl, extending his hand to Steve. "These are my buddies Tom, Frank, and Joe. We've been coming here every Sunday for the past 20 years."

Steve shakes each of their hands in turn, his smile warm and genuine. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm Steve, and this is my wife," he says, introducing you by name.

You smile and greet each of the men, feeling a sense of ease settle over the table.

"So, what brings you folks to our neck of the woods?" Frank asks, leaning forward with interest. His weathered hands cradle a half-empty glass of iced tea.

"We're just looking for the best barbecue in the country," you explain, unwrapping your brisket sandwich.

The four men all laugh heartily, and you grin before you take your first bite. Your eyes widen in appreciation. “Oh, wow. This is incredible.” The meat is tender and flavorful, practically melting in your mouth.

"Best in Kansas City," Tom nods proudly. "Been coming here since I was knee-high to a grasshopper."

As you enjoy your brisket sandwich, Steve takes a bite of his burnt ends, his eyes closing it seems to fully savor that first mouthful. "This really is something special," he agrees, reaching for a napkin.

"You've got to try this," he says, holding his sandwich across to you. You smile and lean forward for a bite, letting him feed you, hoping that not all eyes are on you.

“Mmm, that’s good, too,” you hum. “But if you offered so you could try a bite of mine in return, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

This garners another round of laughter from the men along with some hoots and some ribbing, and Steve just smirks and shakes his head at you.

“I’ll share my sides, though,” you say with a teasing smile, pushing your tray closer to the middle.

Joe, who's been quietly observing until now, clears his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, Captain, what made you decide to run for office? I mean, you've already done so much for this country."

Steve sets down his sandwich, his expression thoughtful. "Well, Joe, I've always believed in serving my country, in whatever way I can. After everything that's happened in recent years, I felt like I could do more good by working within the system, trying to bring people together and address the issues that matter most to everyday Americans."

Bill nods, a wistful look in his eyes. "It's refreshing to hear, I'll tell you that. Feels like politicians these days are more concerned with having an office than serving the people and a lot of us old-timers are worried about the direction the country's headed."

Steve’s brow furrows. "I understand those concerns," he says thoughtfully. "The world is changing rapidly, and it can be unsettling. But I believe in the resilience and spirit of the American people. We've faced challenges before, and we've always come through stronger."

Bill nods slowly, a pensive look on his face. "That's true enough - and when you say it, we can believe it because we know you’ve got old experience in those bones, too. But it feels different now, doesn't it? Like we're more divided than ever."

Steve nods solemnly, wiping his hands on a napkin. "You're right, Bill. The divisions in our country are deep, and they're not going to be healed overnight. But I believe we have more in common than what separates us. We've been crisscrossing the country, meeting people and hearing their stories. We all want safe communities, good jobs, affordable healthcare, and a bright future for our children and grandchildren."

Frank leans forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That's all well and good, Captain, but how do you plan to actually bring people together? Seems like every politician says that, but nothing ever changes. It feels like people aren't even speaking the same language anymore when it comes to politics."

You take a sip of your sweet tea, watching Steve carefully as he considers his response. You can see the determination in his eyes.

Steve leans back in his chair, his eyes scanning the faces of the men around the table. The warm glow of the restaurant's lighting casts a soft hue on their weathered features, each line and wrinkle telling a story of years lived and experiences gained.

"You're right, Frank. It does feel like we're not speaking the same language anymore. But that's exactly why I'm running as an independent candidate," Steve begins, his voice calm but filled with conviction. "I'm not beholden to either the Democratic or Republican party. This isn't just about wearing a different color tie or having a different letter next to my name on the ballot. It's about fundamentally changing from a battle for political power between red and blue to calling for consensus to see action that matters to the three hundred and thirty-four million people who live in our country."

He pauses, reaching for his sweet tea. "I believe we need to start by listening to each other again," Steve continues, his eyes meeting each of the men's gazes in turn. "Really listening, not just waiting for our turn to speak. That's why we're here, sitting with you gentlemen, sharing a meal. It's why we make these stops at local businesses and community centers across the country."

You nod in agreement, swallowing a bite of your brisket sandwich before adding, "We've found that when you sit down with people, break bread together, and have real conversations, you often discover that we're not as different as the headlines make us out to be."

Tom, speaks up. "That's all well and good, but how does that translate to actual policy? How do you bridge the gap when it comes to the big issues?"

Steve leans forward, his elbows on the table. "It starts by voting for policies, not parties. When we focus on specific issues rather than partisan loyalties, we often find more common ground than we expect. For example, take healthcare. Most Americans, regardless of political affiliation, agree that healthcare costs are too high and that something needs to be done. The disagreement is usually about how to solve the problem, not whether it exists."

He pauses to take another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "We just spoke with a young woman over there named Emily who's worried about affording health insurance. That's not a red or blue issue - that's an American issue."

Joe nods slowly. "I can relate to that. My grandson's in the same boat."

"Exactly," Steve continues. "So instead of getting bogged down in partisan debates, we need to look at what's actually working. What can we learn from other countries? What innovative solutions are individual states implementing? We need to be willing to try new approaches and admit when something isn't working."

Frank leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "That sounds good in theory, Captain, but how do you get Congress to go along with that? They seem pretty set in their ways."

Steve nods, acknowledging the challenge. "You're right, Frank. Changing the culture in Washington won't be easy. But I believe the American people are ready for a different approach. If we can build a broad coalition of voters who demand bipartisan solutions, we can put pressure on Congress to work together."

"And," you add, setting down your fork, "Steve isn't just talking about compromise for the sake of compromise. It's about finding common ground and building on it. For example, both parties agree that we need to improve our infrastructure. So let's start there and create jobs while we're at it."

Bill nods slowly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I like the sound of that.”

The conversation eases from there to the two of you learning more about the four men and the lives they’ve led in Kansas while you eat. Once you’re finished - Steve having cleared both your trays when you’d had your fill of the collection - you take a picture with these men as well, and with Jerry and some of the staff by the counter before you leave.

When you and Steve step out of Arthur Bryant's, the warm evening air envelops you. The sun is setting, casting a golden glow over the city streets. You can still taste the smoky flavor of the barbecue, and your stomach feels pleasantly full.

A small crowd has gathered, word having spread of your presence at the iconic barbecue joint. There's a mix of excitement and curiosity in their faces as they call out greetings and words of encouragement.

Steve pauses to shake a few hands and exchange brief words with some of the gathered people. You follow suit, touched by the warmth and genuine interest of the Kansas City residents.

"Thank you for coming to our city," an older woman says, her eyes shining. "It means a lot that you're taking the time to visit places like this."

"We're honored to be here," you reply sincerely. "Thank you for your hospitality."

As you walk towards the waiting SUV, the ever-present security detail for your public outings moves seamlessly around you, a constant reminder of the enormity of what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Steve opens the door for you. Just before you step in, you turn back to wave at the small crowd, and Steve waves at them, as well.

Inside the SUV with the door closed, the calm quiet is nice. Steve's hand finds yours again, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. "That was something, wasn’t it," he says, a contented smile on his face.

You nod in agreement. "The food was incredible, but the conversations... that's what makes these stops so special."

"It really is," Steve replies, his voice thoughtful. "Every time we do something like this, I'm reminded of why we're doing all of it. It's about the Emilys and the Bills and the Jerrys."

As the SUV pulls away from Arthur Bryant's, you both settle into a comfortable silence, processing the events of the evening. Steve's thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, a now-familiar gesture that never fails to sooth you and make you feel more connected to him. "You know," he says softly, "I was thinking about what Bill said. About how things feel different now, more divided."

You turn to face him, seeing the thoughtful expression on his face. "What are you thinking?"

Steve's brow furrows slightly. "I've seen this country go through a lot of changes, faced a lot of challenges. But there's always been this... resilience, this underlying unity that pulled us through. I wonder sometimes if we've lost sight of that."

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. "I don't think we've lost it completely. It's still there, just buried under a lot of noise and frustration and fear. What we saw tonight - people coming together, sharing a meal, having real conversations - that's the spirit of America that's always been there."

Steve nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're right. And that’s the job now - uncover that spirit again, remind people of what we can accomplish when we work together."

You shift back to get more comfortable in your seat again, but keep holding hands as you look out the window.

"Are you nervous about the Oprah interview airing tonight?" you ask, breaking the quiet.

Steve chuckles softly. "A little," he admits. "It's one thing to have these intimate conversations with people like we just did, but knowing millions will be watching..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “And the revelation about our marriage…”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You were amazing during the interview. Honest, authentic, just like you always are. People will respond to that."

He turns to you, his blue eyes filled with warmth. "We were amazing together," he corrects gently. "You went with me when I climbed out on that limb of truth.”

“I was feeling the need to set the record straight, too,” you reassure him. “It felt like you were reading my mind.”

He lets out a breath that apparently he was holding. “I couldn't imagine doing any of this without you now."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words. Even after all this time, he still has that effect on you. "Well, good thing you don't have to," you reply with a soft smile.

As the SUV winds its way through the Kansas City streets, you both fall into a comfortable silence, watching the city lights flicker to life as evening overtakes the afternoon.

The weight of the campaign, the responsibility you've taken on, settles over you like a familiar blanket. There’s the mantle of potential presidential job ahead, but then there’s things like the motorcade. To come on this very small outing to get food, there were three SUVs - the one the two of you are riding in, one ahead, and one behind - and eight Secret Security men and women, plus two campaign staffers who had come to make sure things went smoothly in and out, pick up the food, and pay for everything, and Steve is only a candidate.

If he becomes president, it will only grow - more security, bigger motorcade, four years of responsibilities and obligations and opportunities and being scheduled every waking hour of the day.

As you contemplate the enormity of it all, Steve's voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks softly, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your hand.

You turn to him with a small smile. "Just thinking about how much our lives have changed. And how much more they would change if we win."

Steve nods, understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes I still can't believe we're here, doing this."

"Do you ever regret it?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Deciding to run?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "No," he says finally, his voice firm. "It's not easy, and there are days when I feel the weight of it more than others. But then I think about the people we meet all day, every day.”

“Your big heart is a sucker for people,” you tease him good-naturedly. “If only you were more surly and selfish.”

Steve chuckles at your teasing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're right, I am a sucker for people. But you're no better, Mrs. Rogers."

As you continue to banter, the SUV turns onto a tree-lined street in a quiet suburban neighborhood. The sun has fully set now, and the warm glow of streetlights illuminates rows of well-maintained houses. Each home seems to tell its own story - some with Halloween decorations already adorning their porches, others with children's bicycles left haphazardly on front lawns.

The SUV slows to a stop in front of a charming two-story house with pale yellow siding and white trim. A wrap-around porch extends across the front, complete with a porch swing gently swaying in the evening breeze. The lawn is neatly manicured, with vibrant flower beds lining the walkway.

"Home sweet home, at least for tonight," Steve says with a smile as he opens the car door. “Tell me you’re just as eager as I am to meet Jake’s family.”

“I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since we found out!” You step out of the car, walking quickly up the front sidewalk.

No one knew Jake’s sister lived in Kansas with her husband and four kids until Elsa brought up whether the team should watch the interview together at the hotel or in groups in a few of the suites when Jake said that wouldn’t be necessary - that his baby sister had insisted she wanted to host the full traveling staff in her home for it.

As you approach the front door, it swings open before you can knock. A petite woman with Jake's same dark brown eyes and infectious smile emerges, her face beaming with excitement.

"Welcome! I'm Kathy, Jake's sister," she says, extending her hand. "It's such an honor to have you both here."

Steve shakes her hand warmly. "The honor is ours, Kathy. We can’t thank you for opening your home to us."

You follow suit, greeting Kathy with a smile. "It's wonderful to finally meet you."

Kathy ushers you inside, where the aroma of freshly baked cookies mingles with the scent of coffee, and the rest of your team begins to file in behind you. The living room is cozy and inviting, with overstuffed couches and chairs arranged to face a large flat-screen TV. Campaign staff members are already scattered around the room, chatting animatedly and nibbling on chips and cookies.

The house is alive with domestic energy, a stark contrast to the usual hotel suites and conference rooms you've grown accustomed to. Children's laughter echoes from somewhere upstairs, and you can hear the distant chatter of voices coming from what you assume is the kitchen.

Kathy's husband, a tall man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, emerges from the dining room. "I'm Tom," he introduces himself, shaking your hands. "We've set up a spot in the dining room for the barbecue spread.”

“Sorry for descending on you with all this chaos, Tom,” Steve apologizes.

“Oh, please, we’ve got four kids from four to sixteen, this is hardly new for us. Bring this kind of feast and you’re welcome any night of the week,” he insists.

Steve heads through to the dining room with Tom, but you make your way to the kitchen instead. Your eyes land on Bucky who’s in close conversation with campaign spokesperson Lisa and one of the new speechwriters.

They look up when they notice you.

“Where’s Sophia?” you ask. You don’t need her in this moment, but you’re so used to her finding you whenever you arrive at a new location if she isn’t already with you that it’s strange you haven’t seen her yet.

With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Bucky informs you, “She’s out on the back porch with Sam.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise and ask, “Alone?”

Bucky just smiles slyly and confirms your suspicions - he's trying to play matchmaker. You had wondered if you were only being hopeful at seeing signs of a potential spark between them, and now you’re glad it wasn’t only you seeing things happening there.

“Hang on,” Lisa slams her water bottle down on the counter. “Sam and Sophia?”

Bucky nods, “Mhmm.”

“No! Not yet!” she blusters. “We’re still three weeks out from election day! This is your first campaign, Barnes, so believe me when I tell you we need to avoid as many campaign crushes coming together as we can for at least another week - two if we can manage it - if we want to keep this operation running like a well-oiled machine! We want people pining as long as we can, not working through the awkward is this crush lasting after the campaign phase in the final days.” And with that, Lisa’s already rushing out of the kitchen, no doubt on her way to need something from one of them.

You shake your head, amused by Lisa’s reaction. As much as you understand her perspective from a campaign management standpoint, you can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Sam and Sophia. After all, you know exactly how difficult it is to navigate feelings in the midst of such an intense, all-consuming experience.

But you wonder how Lisa’s timeline translates to you and Steve because this isn’t a campaign crush? You’re married to the someone you’re building a relationship with on the campaign trail.

Because you have developed strong, deep feelings for Steve. You know they’re real. You know he has feelings for you. You’ve said things to each other indicating you both know this isn’t only a marriage to have a President and potential First Lady campaigning for the White House any more. But what are the next steps, and is there a too soon to take them on the campaign trail? The past week has been wonderful, spending time so effortlessly together as you can, routinely sitting right next to each other without question, holding hands, Steve’s arms often around your shoulders. There hadn’t been more kissing like your night alone in Brooklyn, but there had been more chaste kisses exchanged, and easily.

In a matter of hours things would fundamentally shift given what the rest of the world was going to learn about your marriage from the interview, so it would probably be smart to maintain whatever you were now and ride out whatever the fallout might end up being, and not add any more complexity to the situation.

“She’s right,” the other woman in the room says, bringing your attention back to the moment with Bucky and the speechwriter. “I’ve seen so many campaign crushes peak too soon, and it’s painful to watch,” she laughs - but do you detect it’s a little nervously?

Jake enters the kitchen with a broad smile.

"You made it here!" he exclaims. "I see you've met the family. What do you think of my little sister's humble abode, Mrs. Rogers?"

You return his smile warmly. "It's lovely so far. Your sister and her husband really are so great to host all of us."

Jake chuckles. "Yeah, Kathy's always been like that. Heart of gold. You should see her at Thanksgiving - she insists on inviting every stray and lonely soul in the neighborhood."

You arch an eyebrow. “Jake, I have this suspicion there’s a big softie under your campaign manager persona to rival your sister.”

“Sure, of course,” he admits, “but people can’t know I have a marshmallow heart up front. When the staff are afraid and want to impress me, they set the bar high and only keep climbing from there.” He points at the Bucky and the speechwriter, “I will deny it if you spread that nasty rumor.”

You all laugh.

“Will you two make the rounds?” Jake looks at Bucky and the speechwriter. “Let people know dinner’s up and that I need to talk to everyone about five minutes before the interview starts to air? Living room.”

Jake's request sends the other two off, leaving you alone with him in the kitchen. He turns to you with a more serious expression.

"How are you holding up?" he asks, his voice lowered. "Big night."

You take a deep breath, considering your answer. "I'm okay. A little nervous, I guess. It's one thing to do the interview, but now that it’s done but finally going to be out there for better or worse..."

Jake nods understandingly. "It's natural to feel that way. But I want you to know, you and Steve both knocked it out of the park. The footage I've seen is powerful stuff."

You feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "Thanks, Jake. That means a lot."

"And I do mean it," he continues, leaning against the counter. "You know I don’t get paid to bullshit anyone. The honesty, the vulnerability... it's exactly what people need to see right now.”

You smile gratefully at Jake's reassurance. "I just hope the public sees it that way."

Jake nods confidently. "They will. Look, I've been in this game a long time, and I've rarely seen candidates connect with people the way you and Steve do. This interview is just going to reinforce that."

As you're about to respond, Steve enters the kitchen, a plate of barbecue in hand. "There you are," he says, smiling warmly at you. "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

Jake straightens up, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "Just giving your wife a little pep talk before the big show," he says with a wink. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit. Don't forget, living room in about fifteen minutes."

As Jake exits, Steve moves closer to you, setting his plate down on the counter. You grin, familiar now with how much food the super soldier can pack away.

"You okay?" Steve asks softly, his blue eyes searching your face.

You nod, grin softening to a smaller smile. "Jake says we’ll be fine, but I can’t help a few nerves still."

Steve reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "We're in this together. Whatever happens, we face it as a team."

His touch and words calm you, as they always do now. You squeeze his hand back. "You're right."

Steve smiles, then glances at his plate of barbecue. "Want to help me out with some of this?"

You laugh, eyeing the heaping plate. "No way. I’m saving the small bit of room I’ve got for one of Kathy’s cookies."

The two of you chat with campaign staffers as they filter in and out of the kitchen and Tom and Kathy - who comes through with a plate of her cookies - until it’s time to congregate in the living room.

Once everyone is packed in on all the furniture, extra chairs that have been brought in, and even some pillows and cushions on spots of the floor, its crowded but cozy, and it seems like it would be wrong to have any of the team in the other room for a night like this.

Jake stands in front of the tv - which is already on but muted until the interview goes live - and clears his throat. The room falls silent, all eyes turning to him. The excitement in the air is palpable, a mix of nervous energy and anticipation.

"Alright, team," Jake begins, his voice carrying across the crowded living room. "Before we dive into the interview, I've got some news to share." He pauses, building the suspense, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I just got off the phone with our polling team," he continues, his eyes scanning the room. "We have official data as of an hour ago, and I've got to say, the numbers are looking good. Really good."

A murmur of excitement ripples through the group. You feel Steve's hand tighten around yours, his body tensing slightly beside you.

Jake holds up his hands, calling for quiet. "Now, I don't want anyone getting ahead of themselves, but..." he pauses again before his face breaks into a wide smile. "Our latest poll shows that Steve has gained four points in the last week alone. This puts the Rogers-Young ticket just three points behind our closest competitor."

The room erupts in cheers and applause. You see Sam clap Bucky on the back, both men grinning ear to ear. Campaign staffers high-five each other, their faces beaming with excitement. You feel a surge of elation course through you, and you turn to Steve, who's wearing an expression of disbelief and joy.

“However,” Jake cuts into the celebrations, “no one can coast, especially after tonight. In tonight’s interview, Captain and Mrs. Rogers shared some information about their relationship that is going to dramatically shift public perception of their marriage. There are about a dozen people who already know, and I’m going to tell you now so that you have the next twenty minutes or so to wrap your head around how you’re own reaction.”

The nervous excitement in the room turned to trepidation within less than a second.

Jake continues, “There’s superstitions - or expectations - that there’s always some type of news that will break weeks or days before an election that has a significant impact on the narrative of the campaigns for public perception and tip the scales for who wins - it’s called the October Surprise. This might be it.”

You hold your breath and Steve holds tightly to your hand.

“Some of you have idly asked questions or made comments about the Rogers’ quick engagement and marriage and accepted the statement that they realized if they were going to get married, they needed to do it before the filing deadline to officially get Steve on the ballot. Others have noticed and wondered why we always book them separate rooms. I said the directive to our advance coordinator came from me, that it simplified things if one of them had an earlier departure time than the other.

“The truth is,” Jake explains, “that I said Captain Rogers needed a wife if we were going to have any chance of winning with him running as a third-party candidate without a prior political career. Theirs was a politically arranged marriage, and they met the day of their wedding.”

There are gasps and murmurs immediately around the room.

“I know you will have questions. Elsa is giving the same news to our team back at campaign HQ in DC,” Jake says. “I’d like everyone to watch the interview before you ask any questions or make any statements or decisions. If you’re in this room, I’m betting you’re giving your blood, sweat, and tears for more than the semantics around their marriage, and I think what you’ll learn from their conversation with Oprah will answer most of your questions. Deal?”

There’s still some tension in the air, but the consensus is there.

“Then, here we go,” Jake says. “Remember, as with everything else on this campaign, only Lisa makes statements on behalf of the campaign, and that includes texts from your family and friends who want an inside scoop from you tonight while they watch with the rest of America.”

The television is taken off mute, and within moments, the program begins.

Watching the interview is an out of body experience. You remember every moment, reliving it as it plays out on screen. The ninety minutes seem to stretch on forever, and yet when it’s all over and done, it feels like it can’t have been more than five minutes.

Everyone says it went well. You think it went well. Steve feels like it went well. The team has a few questions - mostly for Jake about strategy and messaging moving forward. Steve says he’s more than willing to answer questions, but Mike - one of the policy advisors - seems to speak for everyone when he says, "I think we're good, Cap. We all probably need some time to fully process this, but the interview spoke for itself. You two were honest and open. I'm still 100% behind this campaign and what you stand for.”

There are nods and murmurs of agreement from the rest of the team. The tension that had filled the room earlier has dissipated, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

Jake claps his hands together. "Alright, team. Let's all get some rest and we'll regroup in the morning. Elsa and Peter have already been working on strategy ahead of tonight, and they and Lisa will already be working tonight and with the first wave of morning shows bright and early. Dump questions and thoughts into the Slack workspace to your directors as needed or straight to me. We’ll meet in the morning discuss our next phase and handling the positive and negative reactions we expect moving forward."

As the group begins to disperse, you and Steve make your way to Kathy and Tom to thank them for their hospitality.

"It was our pleasure," Kathy says warmly, pulling you both into a hug. "We're honored to have been a part of this night."

Tom nods in agreement. "You're welcome back anytime you’re in Kansas. And for what it's worth, I think you two make a great team, arranged marriage or not."

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thank you, Tom. That means a lot."

Behind them, there’s a smaller TV on behind them, muted, but showing pundits already discussing the interview.

Jake approaches. "The SUV is ready when you are," he says. "I've arranged for you to have a later start tomorrow morning. I figure you both could use some extra rest after tonight."

Steve nods gratefully. "Thanks, Jake. We appreciate it."

Sam, Bucky, and Sophia are all with you and Steve on the ride back to the hotel.

There are six or eight of your team who arrived ahead of you, and you cross paths with them on the way to the hotel bar. They invite the five of you to join them, when you meet Steve’s eyes, you can see he’s feeling as drained you, and so the two of you encourage everyone else to go and make your excuses to go upstairs.

In the elevator, Steve drapes an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his side. You melt into him, wrapping both arms around his strong chest, and inhale his scent - smiling at the tinge of barbecue smoke that mingled in and still lingers from earlier in the day.

As the elevator rises, you feel the tension of the evening finish melting away. The warmth of Steve's body against yours is comforting, and you allow yourself to fully relax into his embrace.

"What a night," Steve murmurs, his voice rumbling in his chest.

You nod against him. "I still can't believe we actually did it. Told the whole world."

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor. Steve keeps his arm around you as you walk down the hallway to your rooms. When you reach your door, you both pause, and he moves away from you just enough to clearly look at you.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his blue eyes searching your face.

You take a moment to consider the question. "Relieved, I think. And a little scared. But mostly... hopeful?"

Steve nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I feel the same way. The weight has been lifted, but now we're stepping into uncharted territory."

You lean against the door frame, looking up at him. "No more hiding, no more pretending. It's all out there now."

"For better or worse," Steve agrees, his eyes never leaving yours.

Steve's hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. You move to close the gap between you, cup your hand around his neck, and press your lips to his. There’s heat in the kiss, but it’s soft, warm, promising.

The kiss deepens as Steve's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You sink into his embrace, fingers threading through his hair, falling further into the kiss.

When you finally part, you're both a little breathless. Steve rests his forehead against yours, a soft smile on his lips. "I've been wanting to do that all day," he murmurs.

You can't help but smile back. "Me too."

For a moment, you both just stand there, savoring the closeness. Then reality creeps back in - you're still in the hallway of a hotel, with your security details positioned nearby, trying to be as discreet as they can in a long hallway which translates to almost zero discreetness.

Steve seems to realize this too. He straightens up, though he keeps one arm around your waist. "We should both get some sleep," he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You nod, but don't release your hold on him. "Probably," you agree.

For another moment, neither of you moves, but then you hear the elevator ding again at the end of the hallway and break apart as it opens, a few staffers stepping out.

As the staffers approach, you and Steve exchange a look that speaks volumes. The moment has passed, but the lingering warmth remains.

You exchange a few words and offer polite nods as they pass by. Once they're out of earshot, you turn back to Steve with a small, almost shy smile.

"Goodnight, Steve," you say softly, reaching for your room key.

He catches your hand gently before you can insert the key, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Goodnight," he murmurs against your skin.

With one last lingering look, Steve reluctantly lets go of your hand and steps back. You slip into your room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Leaning against it, you take a deep breath, your heart still racing from the kiss and the intensity of Steve's gaze.

You move through your nightly routine on autopilot, your mind still buzzing. As you climb into bed, you can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring. The world knows the truth now, and there's no telling how they'll react.

But as you drift off to sleep, it was such a good day that you find yourself feeling more excited than anxious.

Twelve hours later, you would not believe how wrong you were.

next part: Kansas to Tucson

I gave you a little calm before the storm.

Plus some seeds of Sam & Sophia! 🥰

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[ckret2]

If Bill views Dipper is as the prepartum snack Mabel failed to eat and would might forget about him entirely if he disappeared, why he wasted two pages in the TBOB just to tell the reader his miseries? Or dream prank him with "spoilers" of the "author’s identity"? Shouldn't he have simply ignored his existence and talked about more relevant things?

He thinks Dipper is lame, that doesn't mean he's unfunny.

From Sock Opera, it's obvious that Bill was hanging around the Mystery Shack household in between Dreamscaperers and Not What He Seems, primarily to ensure that nothing would prevent the portal from opening. Even though Dipper himself is a sweaty nothingburger, he does hold one of the journals but (unlike Stan) doesn't know that the journals hold the key to inviting a beloved relative home, so by sheer luck he's got the biggest odds of disrupting the portal's opening (which he nearly did). So even though Dipper's lame, Bill had to keep an eye on him.

And as long as he HAD to pay attention to the loser with the journal, of course he was gonna fuck around with his dreams. Bill's an asshole and Dipper's right there, practically begging for dream pranks. What was he supposed to do? Hover 10 feet away and let him get a peaceful night's sleep? Come on.

As for why he spent time in TBOB talking about him, I've actually got an elaborate theory about the meta plotline behind TBOB. Mainly: it makes no sense for Bill to casually namedrop a bunch of people from Gravity Falls (the Pines family, Soos, Wendy, Pacifica, Gideon, Blubs & Durland...) without explaining who they are, when he does explain who a bunch of other people in the book are, UNLESS Bill has reason to believe that the reader is already familiar with the folks in Gravity Falls.

The general fandom assumption is "Bill knows that the reader is an IRL fan of the show Gravity Falls," my personal headcanon is "Bill knows that the reader found Journal 3 after Ford tossed his journals into the bottomless pit," but in either case the result is the same. Dipper's the main character of the show, Dipper's the writer of 50% of Journal 3: therefore, Bill knows that the reader is very familiar with (and probably interested in hearing about) Dipper. And Bill's goal is to do WHATEVER IT TAKES to keep the reader's interest.

So for Bill's purposes, Dipper is a relevant thing! Not relevant to Bill's interests, but relevant to the reader's interests. So sure, he can gossip about the kid for a while.

[silurisanguine]

Possible unpopular Caterina Dellamorte opinion.

I don't see what she did as abuse in the way many now write her. She has been demonised as a monster and I think that is unfair. Did she perhaps push too hard sometimes? Yes.

Was her training any different than any other Crow? No.

Every Crow goes through brutal training in order to be the best at what they do and maintain their well earned reputation. Caterina had two family members left of the most important House in the Crows after the rest were killed in a war of succession. She'd managed to hold the title of First Talon not only to stay in charge but to protect what family she had left from those who would take it all from her.

She old guard. Lived through the worst of it. Seen what the Black Shadow did to House Arainai and other Crows that pushed their luck.

She's seen what can happen to other Houses... ones people no longer remember the names of. She doesn't want that to happen to Lucanis and Illario. So she trains them hard.

Trains them like a trainer hones the skills of an Olympic athlete to become gold medallists. Like a Shaolin Monk trains an initiate to become a living weapon. Like specialists train spec op soldiers to withstand conditions and situations most others wouldn't. It's painful, harsh and brutal.

But needed. They will become trained assassins...Master assassins. Because they have to be the best, they have to survive and stay on top.

Because there is no alternative.

They are both Dellamorte's. Even if they wanted to leave they'd be hunted down as leverage by other Houses or anyone the Crows have made enemies of.

The only way either of those boys could leave is if they abandoned everything including their name and that wasn't going to happen, they were kids.

And they wanted to be Crows. Was her punishments for failure harsh? Yes. But we have to realise they are of the setting. This isn't a contemporary story.

We also have no idea what Illario was like as a kid either, but if he was as flippant about training as he is about doing jobs as an adult, then we can guess what he was like as a teen.

Did she fail in the way she treated Illario like he wasn't as good? Yes no doubt there, she is partly to blame for some of Illario's issues. But not all of them.

Lucanis though, I see as the quiet one, the one who wanted to do well, to please his grandmother, the only family he has left and that's why he becomes favourite, because maybe he was present, willing and enthusiastic.

It's why sometimes she pushed him too hard and he failed. She's fearful and yes I do think she did fuck up with sending him to bed with no food... but that was a standard punishment at one point, as was using a cane.

Does anyone think a naughty step was around then or would have worked for a family dedicated to assassination??? Plus all Crows go through pain and torture resistance training. Rook would have too. Many seem to forget this aspect. Rook calls Viago's training torture. Lucanis says that he hated her once but grew to understand and respect her cruelty as a way to prepare him for the life of a Master Assassin. Her training saved his life countless times and probably saved him in the Ossuary. He wouldn't be here without what she did. And we see how in Lucanis mind prison His idea of her that holds him back. Spite words it as - both tenderness and terror. rage and relief. Fear of disappointment. She is an icon to him. She survived other Houses trying to wipe her House out. She's formiddable and he admires that even if it scared him as a kid.

She is there in his mind prison because he fears being a disappointment to her, now he is an Abomination. He admires her and doesn't think he's good enough to take her place as First Talon. That's no longer hate. That's admiration. He's not the teen, fearing disappointing her. He's the adult understanding her training made him as good as he is. Yet he fears he failed her by what he became through no fault of his own ( though there is probably a part of him that feels he failed because he was caught). But we do not see Caterina reject him once on his return. She never gave up looking for him once she knew the body returned was not his. We do not see her call him an Abomination. We see her call him her grandson. We see her name him First Talon. Because he is fit for the role. The only one who could be. Often the ones who don't want to lead are the best suited for the roles and she knows it, has known it all along. Illario would never have made a good First Talon. That job involves delegation, empathy and understanding of a situation. He is analytical, keeping logbooks and understanding responsibility - already perfectly suited to the role. Illario jumps head first into things and only thinks of himself, how being First Talon will be good for him. Lucanis would be doing it for the good of the Crows and Antiva. Caterina has failings. That is not in question. She should have been more there for Illario. Nurtured his good points rather than let his bad ones fester. But we do not know what he was like, only how he is now. But she is not a monster and her tough upbringing of Lucanis and Illario wasn't abuse.

[natthehorsewitch]

A story in manifestation

Let me tell you a story about witchcraft and manifestation:

On November 9, my beautiful Jake (Del Mar WSS) was found deceased in his stall. The day was filled with grief and tears, phone calls no one should have to make to his insurance, trying to organize a necropsy on a holiday weekend, and then trying to find transport for his remains to the university so he could get the necropsy done.

Jake’s breeder (we’ll call her K) was in disbelief when I called and told her the news but she (from over an hour away) managed to organize transport for Jake AND get the necropsy started on a Saturday of a holiday weekend (have I mentioned it was a holiday weekend?) During one of our many phone calls back and forth this day I had made a joke about Kyle, Jake’s full brother from this year and how I could buy him now. (She’s produced two horses I’ve called in love with on sight and they were Jake and Kyle. And both times I was unable to buy them right away because life).

After all the chaos was over and I was at home the breeder called me and told me that someone had flown from Texas to California to look at Kyle and she was sending her trainer to look at him the following Thursday and organizing a PPE for him. Nothing was expected to pop on the PPE and nothing really did. There was apparently one anomaly that our vet didn’t think was a big deal. He’s only 5 months old there’s a good chance he’s going to grow out of it. (I personally think rads on baby babies are pretty pointless as so much can change as they grow.)

Ok. Well, if it’s meant to happen it will, I thought. Over the next two days, in my grief I became physically ill at the idea of Kyle going to another home if I didn’t throw my hat in the ring, so I did. I told K I was interested and I would match the offer and waive a PPE. She of course refused to sell him out from under these folks (because she’s a good and moral person which is why we are friends). The trainer came out and seemed to like him as well and was impressed with my friend’s breeding program. At this point, there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t sell. I went to check out her other babies last Saturday and there was no zing with any of them except Kyle. Kyle was so much like his brother but not like him at all, but the most attractive thing: his brain works the same way as his brother’s. They weren’t the same horse but they were similar in the ways that mattered to me. That caused me to buy Jake in the first place.

I immediately went home and did a manifestation meditation. I did a meditation where I envisioned I owned Kyle and what that would look like. Then I wrote his name and birthdate and my name and birthdate on a bay leaf, both sides. Wrote his name on a black chime candle (he is black). And lit it.

I prepared a jar, cleansed with with dragon’s blood incense, and in my cauldron mixed lotus (lock opening) rose (luck) star anise (luck) dandelion(wishes, also represents Hecate and it was her night!), a “fortune” mixture I was given (Haven’t the foggiest what was in it but I needed some “Fortune” and thus it made its way into the spell), and some of his brother’s hair. I put that mixture in a small jar with a small piece of green aventurine and tiger’s eye. I sealed the jar with the wax from the candle over the cauldron, burned the bay leaf and used it to light the remnants of the spell herbs and hair on fire. Then I let the candle burn all the way down and placed the jar near my token of Epona and my hematite horse carving on my altar. I did all this with him in my mind, envisioning him coming home to me.

By Monday I still hadn’t heard. I charged a citrine shaped like a moon. I carried Ehwaz, Jera and Uruz in my pocket with the citrine. And Monday night I came home and did a repeat of the spell (sans hair though because that’s now a precious commodity), put my tokens around a black chime candle carved with his name and my name to charge them and let the candle burn all the way down.

Yesterday, I carried my tokens again and K called me around 10am to tell me that against all odds, the buyers mysteriously passed on him and did I want to work out a deal. I did and I signed a contract and now I own Kyle!

Everyone: meet Kyle (registered as Divination WSS because how I got him was ~ m a g i c k ~)

I was thinking about changing his name to Death Valley WSS (the breeder’s name theme is places in California and his sire’s name begins with a D) but that gets mixed reviews and my mom is absolutely against it and he’s her grandchild now .

If you read this whole thing, please comment because you deserve a cookie.

alt text for all photos: photo of a black colt with three white socks

[deluxewhump]

Wishbone

cw: pet/slave universe, otherwise nothing

His new master, a man of only twenty-nine and still somewhat of a mystery to him, turned to him with an expression of bemused curiosity.

“Did you save this for something?” he asked, holding a piece of chicken carcass in his hand.

It hadn’t occurred to Carlo that the wishbone thing was perhaps not universal until this very moment. He’d done it without thought, more concerned with putting all the dishes away correctly on the first try. But now that Max was asking, it seemed ridiculous he’d cleaned, washed, and left a piece of bird clavicle on the windowsill to dry in the spring sunshine.

“It’s the wishbone,” he said. From Max’s unchanged expression he knew this was not a helpful bit of information and that he’d have to explain himself. “You save the wishbone, dry it out, and then you can… uhm, two people can each make a wish and break it. Whoever gets the longer piece of bone gets their wish. It’s just an old superstition, it’s—”

Stupid, he was going to say, but Max had taken the dried fork of chicken bone between his thumb and forefinger as an upside-down V. “Like this?”

Carlo took the other dry end, yellow as parchment, and nodded.

“And we just… pull?”

“At the same time.”

“Count us down from three then. Pull on one.”

Carlo counted backwards and on one gave a tug. The brittle nexus of bone at the top strained and snapped, and each came away with their portion. Upon comparison, it was clear Max had gotten the longer end, either from luck or a more confident pull at the count of one. Carlo smiled graciously, which he always remembered to do upon losing anything. He’d been distracted by Max’s sudden nearness, their knuckles almost touching, his indistinct but alluring stranger-smell that he was beginning to smell on his own clothes now as he used the same detergent, the same shampoo, that he’d forgotten to even make his wish. Perhaps fortune always favored an wishmaker over an abstainer.

“Can I tell you my wish, or is it like a birthday wish type of thing?” asked his new master with a hint of a smile that narrowed his eyes.

“I—don’t know.” As many wishbones as he and the cooks Erik employed had snapped between them over the years, it had never come up. He tried to guess which answer this man might want, if there was one.

“I’ll tell you if it comes true, how’s that?” Max said, and gave him his end of the wishbone. They looked like an archaeology find in his palm, broken but with the whole they had once been plausible and obvious. He thought of his life in similar terms, pulled from the cushioning flesh and tendon he’d come to rely on, left high and dry to be suddenly and irreparably snapped into two pieces. He was immediately a little ashamed of the cliche. Erik would say ‘life as a snapped wishbone’ was only appropriate for the imagination of a middle class child of divorce. You’d win a sixth grade poetry contest with that champion of a metaphor for sure, Lo, he’d say dryly.

Intending to throw away the bones, he found himself instead watching from the kitchen window as a spring wind shook the blossoms of the apple trees in the backyard. Max told him the hard and sour crab apples they produced were technically edible, but that as a boy he’d stabbed them onto sharpened sticks and flung them as far as he could instead, imagining he was operating a trebuchet mid battle.

One of the bones was poking into his palm. Half subconsciously, he’d been tightening his grip to feel the needling bite of it and letting off when the sensation grew too sharp. It left a white indent in the skin, turning red as blood returned to the spot. He tossed the pieces in the trash beneath the kitchen sink. At the vast kitchen island behind him, Max was talking on the phone with a colleague— or a friend, it was sometimes hard to tell, but Carlo felt his gaze anyway and turned, confirming that his new master was watching him. It was a gentle gaze, though. One that asked only what are you thinking about? When Carlo met his eyes, he looked away politely.

[wonyowonyo]

Straightforward - 𝐈

< ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ >

The cool breeze of wind travels as it blows the fallen leaves and dances with green grass. The bright sun shines as it illuminates everything. A typical morning for everyone as it starts yet another day for their lives.

Through the school hallway two figures can be seen walking their way to their classroom. They both stopped as they reached the room which indicated their class name. They were two girls wearing their standard school uniform while carrying their bags.

One girl who was drinking milk as they walked would slide the door open for the both of them as they both walked inside and to their respective seats which were in-front and behind of each other. They both settled down putting their belongings before starting to chat with each other like they usually do.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Whatttt?!!"

"Minju you broke up with Hyunjin?!!"

The mentioned girl then proceeds to put her finger to her friend's lips as she shushes her.

"You're too loud Yuri."

Minju said with a tint of panic in her voice as she glanced around the classroom making sure no one heard her friend's outburst. She proceeds to take a sip on her box of milk.

"That jerk was seeing another girl while dating me."

Minju said as her expression turned from blank to one that is mixed with anger and disgust. She remembered the day she saw Hyunjin with another girl while holding each other's hand being lovey dovey. Later that day she proceeds to confront him about it and breaks up with him.

"Wahh, what a jerk he is. Minju you are really pretty but your luck with boys is shit."

Yuri said as Minju just furrowed her eyebrows clearly still frustrated by the past events. Still fuming with anger Minju unintentionally gripped the milk box too hard which caused some of its content to ooze out and drip into her table. Minju silently curses and huffs in frustration due to her carelessness.

Fortunately the milk only spilled into her table and not on her uniform which would've been bad. Minju would put the box of milk down before a hand would suddenly appear from her side. Though she can't see much, the hand seems to be holding a handkerchief. Minju looked up as she was greeted by her male classmate, Y/n L/n who was also staring right back at her. He proceeds to reach out his hands again signalling her to take the handkerchief.

"Oh! Thank you..."

Minji bowed her head slightly as an expression of gratitude before taking the handkerchief from his hands and used the handkerchief to wipe the mess on her table. After finishing, Minju continued to drink her milk unaware that the same boy was still standing there.

The boy then proceeds to clear his throat getting both girls' attentions

"Um... Minju-ssi?"

Minju glanced to his way as she raised her eyebrow

"Y/n-ssi? what's up?"

"I heard that you broke up with your boyfriend, is that true?"

Minju hesitates to answer as Yuri proceeds to answer the question for her.

"Yeah, she's hurting right now. Back off now will ya. "

Minju ignored her friend's burst of brattiness and looked at her friend with a perplexed face.

'Did she just say I'm hurting'

The male ignored Yuri as he spoke and looked straight into Minju's eyes.

"Then..." . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Minju-ssi I really like you, Please be my girlfriend."

In an instant, Minju spat out the milk she was drinking due to the shock. The milk splashed her friend Yuri which was in-front of her, which earned a yell of annoyance from the said girl as milk dripped from her face. Minju quickly turned her head into the boy's direction showing the most bewildered face she could produce.

"...What?"

She questioned what he just said, surely it was just a prank or some joke of kind right? But then who in their right mind would joke like that from someone they're not even close with.

"I said I like you and I want you to be my girlfriend."

Minju calmed herself before speaking up.

"You're not really my type, sorry."

Y/n felt an arrow piercing his heart after what Minju just said. The words echoed out of his mind for a second, he quickly recomposed himself after the blunt rejection.

"Okay..." . . . . .

"But they say that your 'type' and the person you fall in love with are different. If I'm not your type then...

...I will try to make you like me. I won't give up."

He told Minju with the look of determination plastered across his face. Minju, flustered by the boy's determination, couldn't mutter a word of response as she just looked at his mouth open agape. Even her friend Yuri was surprised by the sudden display of determination from the boy.

"Well then, If you will excuse me I shall take my leave now."

Y/n would proceed to walk away leaving the two girls puzzled, especially Minju who was just staring at the boy's direction.

"Hey, were you close with Y/n?" Yuri asked curiously.

"No... We've never really talked."

Minju said as she looked back at her friend while answering her.

"By the way you should wipe the milk off your face."

This refuelled Yuri's anger as she remembered what her friend just did to hear earlier.

"Yah! Kim Minju! Why did you spit the milk into my face?!"

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[jakedustry]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

in which Sunghoon swears he will be back on time, that his friends aren't more important than you, so you believe him, and let him go out on New Year's Eve, refusing to be a controlling girlfriend who doesn't let him out of the house, but you regret it soon enough when you watch the fireworks set off by yourself because your boyfriend isn't home on time.

wc 1.3k

warnings reader is called controlling by his friends, broken promises, angst

↪ izzy adds... oops, we've got some angst here

event m.list

“Baby, I’ll be back in an hour max. I promise.” You sigh, looking into your boyfriend’s eyes. You hesitate, glancing at your phone to see the time. “Okay,” you mumble, even though you aren’t happy about it. You don’t want to control his life and forbid him from seeing his friends, but you also don’t want to be alone either. “I’ll just hang out with them for a bit and will be right back,” he assures you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You smile, watching him take his jacket and with one last “I love you,” before the door shuts behind him. 

Sunghoon sits in the empty park, his friends around him, laughing over a memory of their trip from last year. Honestly, it felt great. He loved you, with his whole heart, and loved spending time with you, but it’s been so long since he got to hang out with his friends, he needed this. “You were so annoying back then,” Heeseung comments, and Sunghoon has to agree. Riki gasps, but ends up laughing too. “Well, at least I didn’t make it my whole personality having a girlfriend waiting for me at home,” the youngest alludes, making him roll his eyes. “That’s true,” Jake, his best friend, nods. “I thought I’d kill Sunghoon when he spent the whole night talking about her instead of going to sleep.” 

“You guys are just jealous I have a girlfriend unlike you.” 

“Yeah, and where did that get you?” A scoff leaves Jay’s lips, and it makes Sunghoon frown. What was that supposed to mean? “What? I know you guys are thinking the same thing,” he raises his head in defense when he notices all six pairs of eyes on him. “I mean…” Heeseung clears his throat. “You mean?” Sunghoon hisses, and it makes the two exchange a look he can’t read. Whatever the fuck was going on at the moment wasn’t to his liking at all. 

“Well, you know, it took you hours to convince her to let you out with us today,” Heeseung exaggerates. “Come on, guys, don’t be like that,” Jungwon tries to interrupt them before it can turn into a fight, but no one seems to be listening to him. “It’s been forever since we’ve seen each other.” 

“I was busy,” Hoon argues. “It’s not her fault.” 

There’s another look of exchange between the two eldest. 

“Guys, don’t,” Jake shakes his head too, but he has no luck either. 

“And that time when you took her to Sunoo’s birthday party with you and she made you leave early because some girl was apparently all over you?” 

“Well, she was all over him,” Sunoo joins, slowly shutting down again when he receives a glare from Heeseung. 

“Since when do you have a problem with my girlfriend?” Sunghoon asks confusedly, trying to make sense of the whole conversation. Neither of them ever mentioned anything about having something against you, so it didn’t make sense for them to start now. Sure, he had been spending more time with you than with them lately, but that wasn’t your fault.  “We don’t,” Jungwon assures him immediately. “They had too much to drink and don’t know what they are saying. Trust me, Hoon, we think she is great for you.” 

“Yeah, it’s annoying that we haven’t been out in so long, but that isn’t anyone’s fault,” Jake nods. “We’re glad you are here with us now,” he pats Sunghoon’s back in an attempt to calm him down. 

“Guys!” Riki interrupts them, regretting ever teasing him about it in the first place now that he sees what he caused. “You know what we should do? Play,” he says the first thing that comes to his mind, pointing at the empty basketball court ahead of them. Their eyes follow his finger immediately, and it takes no time for them to move. 

The smell of seven sweaty guys isn’t something anyone would adore. But it seems like no one pays any attention to it as they run around, laughing loudly at Riki’s failed attempt at scoring. It wouldn’t have been all that funny if he wasn’t so cocky about it before the ball left his hands. 

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s because we’ve been playing for so long! I’m just tired,” he tries to excuse himself, but it only causes another wave of laughter to leave the boys’ mouths. 

“Okay, let’s take a break then,” Jungwon shakes his head at the youngest. 

Sunghoon sighs, running his fingers through his hair to get the sweaty strands off his forehead. “I’m never playing with you again,” he mumbles, frowning when the foul smell of sweat reaches his nose. 

“You’re saying that now,” Jake laughs, sitting down on the ground. “I’m glad we got to hang out today, guys,” he proclaims, looking up at the sky. It makes Sunghoon scoff. He is being too sentimental for no reason. 

“No, I agree,” Jungwon joins in, and it’s soon followed by agreement from all of them. “To another year together,” Heeseung laughs, raising his hand as if he were throwing a toast. The rest of the guys follow him, holding up fictional glasses to play along. 

“To another year together!” The seven voices echo through the park, and Sunghoon doesn’t think he could be happier at the moment. 

That is until his smile fades away as Sunoo starts counting down the seconds until midnight, and he realized just how much he has fucked up. 

“10…9…8…” Sunoo starts, the others slowly joining. But Sunghoon doesn’t. He’s screwed. He needs to get home in approximately…5 seconds. He squeezes his eyes shut, cursing himself out as he quickly looks around, trying to find the fastest way to your apartment. 

“Hoon, are you okay?” Jay asks, ignoring the count down and turning toward one of his friends instead. “I need to go home,” he answers, the desperation in his voice making Jay’s eyes widen. “My girl is waiting for me. Oh god, I should have been back hours ago,” he panics. 

The fireworks go off before Sunghoon can blink, and it feels like his whole world crumbles in front of him. 

“I– I have to go,” he only spares his friends a mere look, and before any of them can ask what’s going on, he is running away. 

“Baby–” Sunghoon’s voice breaks as he slams the door open and his eyes land on your figure. He regrets everything. 

You don’t turn around, keeping your eyes on the fireworks outside as you sit in front of your window, trying your best not to cry when you hear his voice. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. You don’t move a bit then either. “Please, baby.” He sounds desperate. It’s obvious he knows damn well what he did wrong, but for some reason, that hurts you even more. Why would he stay out so late if he knew he would have to apologize when he came back? 

“Sunghoon, not now,” you mumble, keeping your back turned to him. You don’t want to—you can’t turn around. 

It feels like daggers are pushed into his chest when you finally speak up. “I think I’d prefer to be alone for a while.” No. No, no, no. He opens his mouth again, but closes it after an empty breath leaves his lips. He can’t leave you alone. Not now. “Please.” 

He knows it’s wrong, that he should run to you, hug you and never let go again. But your pleas make it impossible for him. So he turns around, one more apology leaving his mouth before he walks out, sliding to the ground right behind your door. 

He never meant for this to happen. He didn’t want to hurt you, especially not on New Year’s Eve when he knew how important it was for you. 

He sighs, resting his head on his knees. It’s not until he hears your muffled cry through the door that it hits him too. He fucked up so bad.

✧˖°. izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @nxzz-skz @bamgeutsz @hmusunoo ✧˖°. want to get notified? join taglist here!

[helloalycia]

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

two / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when a creepy fan gets too touchy with Skye in a meet and greet, she starts to see him everywhere and you're not too sure if it's true or if she's just stressed from work.

warning/s: mentions of substance abuse, mental illness and poor mental health, stalkers and just the general gist of everything bad that happens in the film.

author's note: okay so this was long overdue but it’s finally written and will be two parts, just something that came to me a few weeks ago. Hope you like it!! it’s set around the same time in the film, before Skye’s comeback tour, but there's no smile demon, and it’s loosely based around what happens in the film but not exactly that (it will make sense when you read it lol, enjoy!)

"Do I look okay?"

I hummed, half listening to Skye, unable to tear my eyes from my laptop.

"It's not too casual? I didn't feel like dressing up today," she continued. "Especially because I'll have to dress up after and it's just too much, y'know?"

"Uh huh," I agreed, admittedly still looking at my laptop screen.

"You're not even listening."

"If I wasn't listening, I wouldn't be replying," I answered, scrolling through a spreadsheet.

There was a pause and then I let out a yelp when a cushion hit me in the face. I moved my hair from my eyes as I looked up in the direction it came from, realising Skye had thrown it. She was stood in front of a mirror, arms crossed and looking at me with disapproval.

"What was that for?" I asked with raised brows.

"You're ignoring me," she said with a frown, before dragging her feet towards me and flopping on the couch.

I sighed, looking over at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, I've just gotta sort this damn spreadsheet. One of the interns got into and saved over the top of it and now March doesn't have any content planned."

"First world problems right there," she said sarcastically.

I gave her a knowing look. "That's your social media content calendar in case you forgot. Do you want fans to come to your tour or not?"

At this, she began to chuckle, sitting up straight. "Okay, sorry. Sounds annoying. But still. Do I look okay?"

I rolled my eyes playfully before setting my laptop down on the coffee table and taking an actual look at her. She was wearing a long sleeved jumper with a pair of jeans. Unlike her usual eccentric outfits, this was toned down, though her jewellery was still more than an average person would wear, as expected from her.

"You look beautiful, Skye," I reassured her with a smile, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "Very comfortable."

She relaxed, a smile creeping on her lips. "Thanks. That's all I wanted to hear."

I chuckled before kissing her hand and letting go. "Shouldn't you be going now anyway? Your meet and greet starts in ten."

We were at a charity event where she was holding a meet and greet and then performing for free afterwards. I was with her to support her as her girlfriend but also for work as her social media specialist.

"Yeah, I'm going," she said with a wave of her hand before standing up. "You coming?"

I shook my head as I grabbed my laptop and got comfortable on the couch again. "I've gotta sort this and do some other bits, but Tara is with your mum and Joshua to get some content for your Instagram."

Tara was a member of my team who I managed, and the one who would handle the in-person content for behind the scenes stuff, like meet and greets.

"Okay, good luck with all this," she said, motioning to my laptop, before flashing me a hopeful smile. "See you after?"

I nodded in agreement, glancing up at her. "See you then."

And with that, she left for her meet and greet whilst I got back to work.

I wasn't expecting anything to go wrong – it was a simple meet and greet, one Skye had done many times – but then I got a call from Tara.

"Hey, Tara, what's up?" I asked, balancing my phone between my shoulder and cheek as I worked at the same time.

"Hey," she said quietly and distractedly. "Erm, there's been a little incident."

I paused. "Incident? What sort of incident?"

There was some chatting in the background, but she must have moved away from it as it faded. "It's Skye. There was a fan who got a little too touchy. He started saying some weird things and wouldn't let go of her and security had to escort him out."

I furrowed my brows, concerned for Skye's wellbeing. "What? Is she okay? Is she hurt?"

"I think she's okay, but she seems shaken," Tara explained sympathetically. "I thought I'd call you to let you know. Mrs. Riley said not to but– well– it seemed like you should know, Y/N."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the mention of Elizabeth, Skye's mother and manager. I'd known Skye as a friend for a few years and we'd been dating for the past year which meant I'd experienced her mother's unconventional style of parenting firsthand. I'd never seen eye to eye with her, but acted civil as she was technically my employer. But now, as Skye's girlfriend, it only gave me more to clash with her about.

"Thanks, Tara, I appreciate you calling me," I said gratefully. "Is she still with you? Skye, I mean?"

"She finished a few minutes ago, left to go get ready for the show. She should be on her way to you now."

I exhaled deeply. "Alright. Thanks. I'll check in. Speak later."

She said her goodbyes and all I could do was wait for Skye to return. She'd been through a lot over the past year, with her recovery and recording a new album and now preparing for the tour... a lot. And she was heavily overworked and the last thing she needed was a creep making her feel uncomfortable.

Eventually I heard the door to the dressing room opening and stood up, seeing her return.

"Hey, darling," I said softly, approaching her. "Tara called and told me what happened."

She frowned, glancing at me, saying nothing. It broke my heart and I couldn't help but pull her in for a hug, wrapping my arms around her tightly. She returned the gesture, hiding her face in my shoulder.

"I'm sorry it happened," I said quietly, rubbing her back.

"He really creeped me the fuck out," she admitted, trembling.

"It's disgusting, people like that," I said with a scowl. "I'm sorry you had to experience it. But security dealt with it, right? He's gone?"

She nodded.

"Good." I pulled back to get a better read of her expression. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay to do the show? You don't have to. They'll understand."

She sighed, looking down and rubbing her forehead. "I'll be okay. I can't cancel just because of one little hiccup."

I shook my head, taking her hands and intertwining our fingers. "It wasn't a hiccup, Skye. You were assaulted. That's a lot. You can have a break if you need it."

"It's okay," she reassured, swallowing thickly and looking up to meet my gaze with her dark eyes. "I'm okay. I just needed a minute. But you're here and I'm here and everything's okay again."

"Skye–"

"Please," she cut me off abruptly, before breathing out slowly. "I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

I hesitated, not liking when she did this. She'd always push down her true feelings if it interfered with work, and it never sat right with me. But she also never listened when I pointed it out.

"Okay," I gave in reluctantly. "If you're sure you can do it."

She offered me a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I can."

I chewed my lip as she let go of my hands and walked further into the room, heading straight for the mini fridge. When she pulled out a bottle of water and began to chug it like it was the last drink on earth, I knew she was compartmentalising. One of her coping mechanisms after rehab was to drink water when she felt like having an actual drink, and this was no different.

But as usual, she got her way and the show went on without a hitch. Any mention of the creepy fan was no more and everybody moved on, including her.

At least, until a few days later.

We'd just gone out for some lunch together, making the most of one of the rare moments she had free, and were walking around to stretch our legs when she froze suddenly.

I stopped walking, noticing she had, and looked to her. "You good?"

She blinked, eyes fixed ahead with a sense of panic. "It's him."

I quirked a brow, looking ahead to see what she was looking at. "Him? Him who?"

Her hand on my arm tightened slightly. "From the meet and greet. The fan."

I rested my hand on hers as I looked again, eyes searching the pedestrians ahead. There was a group of people crossing the street, some others hanging by a hot dog stand and some more just idly walking by. But I couldn't see anyone who was acting suspicious or paying much attention to Skye, especially not someone who matched the description security had told me about.

"Skye, I can't see him," I said carefully, glancing back at her. "Are you sure–?"

"He's right there!" she exclaimed, stepping back shakily and tugging me with her. "He's right fucking there!"

I looked again, still not able to see him, but a few passers-by were certainly paying attention now. Worried someone may recognise her and that it could make everything worse, I grabbed her hand and began pulling her away.

"Okay, c'mon, let's go," I said quickly, leading her away from that side of the street and around the corner.

We took refuge under a flower shop's canopy and she started to glance over her shoulder, paranoid, hugging herself with discomfort. I frowned and placed a hand on her arm, rubbing it gently.

"I'll call the driver to pick us up," I said, already pulling out my phone to get her out of here.

She nodded, leaning into my side, and I hugged her with my free hand as I made the call. Once it was arranged, she exhaled shakily but didn't step back.

"You didn't see him, did you?" she asked quietly, half embarrassed and half upset.

I shook my head, glancing around once more. "No. But I believe you, Skye. If you say you saw him, you did."

She sighed, saying nothing else. I didn't let go of her until the driver arrived and took us back to her place. When I tried to speak to her about it, she didn't have much to say and it only worried me further.

—

It happened again, at the end of the week. I thought we'd heard the last of her crazed fan, but apparently not. I was working from home at my place when Skye called me in a frenzy.

"Hey, darling," I answered, smiling at the sight of her caller ID.

"I need you to come over," she said in a rushed tone, sounding distressed. "Please, Y/N."

My smile faded. "What? What's wrong, Skye?"

"I fucking saw him," she said with a broken voice.

I straightened up, pushing my laptop to the side. "What?"

"The fan, he was there, outside my building," she explained. "He's fucking following me, Y/N, I know he is! I saw him there when I came home and he's fucking there and I don't know what to do. Please, come here, I need you."

"Okay, I'm coming, don't worry," I said quickly, noticing she was getting worked up. "Did you tell reception? Security?"

"Yes, but they say they can't find him and I know what I fucking saw," she replied with a frustrated voice.

"Okay, stay in your apartment and lock the door, I'm on my way," I promised, worrying.

"Okay, please hurry," she muttered.

I quickly got ready before making a beeline straight for Skye's apartment. All I could think about was how stressed out this whole thing was making her. I believed her, I did, but why hadn't he been noticed by someone else by now?

Before I headed straight up, I spoke to the receptionist and security team downstairs in her building, but they claimed there was no sight of the fan, nor anyone who seemed suspicious. That certainly didn't help with my unease and I knew it would only worsen things with Skye.

When I headed up, I knocked first to let her know it was me before letting myself in with the spare key she gave me.

"Skye?" I called out, locking the door behind me.

"In my room!" she called back.

I took my shoes off before going to her bedroom, opening the door to see her sitting on her bed, duvet pulled around her like a safety blanket.

"Hey," I said softly, stepping in and closing the door behind me.

She opened her duvet slightly, hinting for me to get in, so I crawled in beside her and leaned back against the headboard. She attached herself to my side, holding me tight with a pout on her face, trembling ever so slightly. I held her close, kissing the top of her head.

"I spoke to security and reception on the way up," I started gently. "There's no immediate threat. You're safe here."

"I told you, I know what I saw," she muttered rigidly into my chest.

"I'm not doubting that," I spoke, choosing my words carefully. "But... are you sure it's the same guy? Not a lookalike? I know you've been stressed out and–"

Suddenly she pulled away from me, fixing me with a teary glare. "Fuck you."

Realising I'd definitely not said the right thing, I turned to face her and rested my hand on hers. "No, wait, I just wanna make sure, Skye, that's all." She sucked up a breath and wiped away a tear as she glared at the door. "Hey, I just want to make sure," I repeated, eyes flickering over her face with concern.

She swallowed hard, jaw tensed as she looked to me. "I know it's him. I couldn't forget. He's scaring me on purpose."

I nodded slowly, believing she thought she was seeing him. But I couldn't be certain he was actually there. Still, I couldn't say that without her pushing me away, so I said nothing.

"Stay tonight," she said quietly, looking down at my hand on hers and playing with it mindlessly. "Please. I don't wanna be alone."

"I will," I promised, noticing her fatigue. "Have you slept, Skye? You look tired."

She scoffed. "It's hard to sleep when I've got a fucking stalker."

"You're safe here," I reminded her, before squeezing her hand. "Have a nap, c'mon."

She sighed deeply before giving in with a nod, lying down, head in my lap, which was her signal for me to play with her hair. I pushed her blonde hair from her eyes, stroking it gently how she liked. She let out a relaxing breath as I did, eyes fluttering closed.

"I want my security increased," she spoke after a moment, half asleep. "Please."

I hummed, finding her hand under the duvet with my free one and holding it. "I'll talk to your mum about it."

She nodded and fell quiet once more, eventually dozing off. Meanwhile, I tried to think of what we could do because clearly the issue wasn't resolving itself.

—

As promised, I made it my priority to speak to her mother about her security. Elizabeth Riley wasn't my favourite person, but I had to remind myself that we still had the same thing in common: Skye's safety.

So, whilst Skye was stuck in rehearsals at her dance studio, I went on a search for her mother. Thankfully, Elizabeth never strayed too far from her daughter when it came to work, so it didn't take me long to find her chatting to her assistant, Joshua, in one of the hallways around the building.

Approaching them, I stopped between them and watched as their conversation came to a halt when they noticed me.

"Y/N, hey," Joshua greeted with a warm smile. "It's good to see you."

I returned his smile. "You too, Joshua. Sorry to interrupt. I was actually hoping I could have a quick chat with Elizabeth?"

My eyes fell to the older woman, who glanced at Joshua with a knowing nod before looking to me with a small smile.

"Sure thing, Y/N," she said nonchalantly, before adding to Joshua, "Get that merch order rectified, Joshua, thanks."

Joshua nodded obediently before flashing me another smile and leaving us be. I watched him leave and looked back to Elizabeth with a serious expression.

"What did you need?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice. I didn't blame her, since we rarely went out of our way to interact unless necessary.

"It's about Skye," I spoke quietly, in an urgent tone. "You know the whole thing that happened with that crazy fan at her meet and greet last week? It really freaked her out."

"Yes, I know, I was there," she said dismissively. "It was a lot, but it was taken care of. Nobody's seen the guy since. Clearly security scared him off."

I ignored her dismissal and responded, "Skye thinks she's seen him this week."

She lifted a brow, skeptical. "Thinks?"

"She's seen him," I corrected myself, realising how it sounded. "When we were out for lunch. And again, yesterday, outside of her apartment building."

She hummed, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "And did he approach her?" I shook my head, and she continued, "Did you see him?"

"Well, no," I answered, a little sheepish, "but she's really upset. And understandably so." I straightened up, meeting Elizabeth's stern gaze. "She wants more security. She's being stalked."

Definitely not reacting how I expected to, she sighed deeply like this was a minor inconvenience at most. "Y/N, if she's the only one who's seen him, she might be seeing things."

"With all due respect–"

"Skye is stressed out right now," she cut me off, adamant. "There's lots to worry about with her comeback tour. I love her, but she's got a lot to balance and that unfortunate encounter at her meet and greet may have startled her. If nobody else has seen him, you included, how likely is it that he's there?"

I pressed my lips together firmly, unsure how else to respond. Admittedly, a small part of me could see where she was coming from and I hated it.

"Her security team is great as it is," she finished decisively. "I don't think she needs more."

I swallowed thickly, feeling a little helpless, especially as I imagined telling Skye her mother's response. "She's really scared, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth motioned to me casually. "Let her know she's okay then. That's what you're there for, isn't it?"

And just like that, I was reminded why I heavily disliked her.

"She's safe, Y/N," she told me with a knowing look. "There's no stalker. My daughter is just tired. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."

I clenched my jaw slightly as she walked away without a care in the world. Or, at least not for her daughter.

Dreading what was to come with Skye, I tried to distract myself with my own work, finding a spare table and chair to sit at with my laptop. I wasn't sure what I was going to tell her, but it definitely couldn't be that her mum didn't believe her.

After her rehearsals were over, she found me at my laptop, still sweaty as if she'd come straight to me before showering.

"Hey," she called out, making me look up.

She sat at the edge of the table and looked down to me.

"Hey, Skye," I greeted with a smile, trying my very best to hide my nerves. "How were rehearsals?"

"Alright," she answered with a shrug, wiping her face with her sweat towel.

"And your back?" I asked considerately. "You didn't overdo it, did you?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "No, I didn't. You don't have to ask every time you know."

I gave her a knowing look, since she definitely knew that I did. After she pushed herself too hard at rehearsals a month ago and was stuck recovering for a few days after, ice pack glued to her back, I couldn't let her do it again.

"I took it easy," she promised, pushing herself off the table.

Believing her, I nodded and let it go.

"Did you talk to my mum about my security?" she asked after a moment, and I internally panicked.

Buying myself a few more seconds, I stood up to look at her properly, though the hesitation was still there. Enough for her to notice anyway.

"She doesn't believe me," she said instantly, expression hardening. "Of course she fucking doesn't."

"No, that's not it," I found myself saying without thinking. "She just... thinks you have enough security already, that's all."

She clenched her jaw and looked away, but her frustration was still present in the way she squeezed her sweat towel into a fist.

"Skye, you're safe," I tried to reassure her, taking her hand and feeling her grip on the towel loosen. "Everybody is looking out for you. And if anyone dares get too close, they'll know about it."

She didn't speak, her head clearly running a mile a minute. She had a faraway look in her eye that concerned me, so I lowered my head to meet her gaze.

"Hey, I'll stay with you at your place," I said softly. "Until you feel at ease. I don't mind."

Her eyes flickered between mine, unreadable, then she nodded. "Alright. I should shower. See you after."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she already let go of my hand and walked away, not in the best of moods. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, knowing I could have handled that better.

—

"...no, I want the one with chocolate in it."

I glanced at Skye with an amused smile. "Seriously? You told me you hate the one with chocolate in it. You said it always melts on your fingers when you're eating it."

She scoffed playfully, picking up the trail mix packet from the shelf. "Yeah, but the two minutes where it doesn't melt is my favourite."

I sighed as I grabbed the one without chocolate in it. "Yeah, and then you'll just take mine and I'll be left with the melted one."

"What's your point?"

I quirked a brow as she stared at me, waiting for an expiation. Letting out a quiet laugh, I rolled my eyes and nudged her slightly before taking the trail mix from her hand.

"Fine, idiot, let's pay," I said, realising some things just wouldn't change with Skye. And as much as I pretended to hate it, I didn't.

She grinned with satisfaction before the two of us went to the front of the convenience store, joining the short queue at the till.

"Wanna walk back to your place or call the driver?" I asked Skye as we stepped forward.

She glanced outside the shop window, probably looking at the weather. "It's not too bad out. Let's walk."

I hummed in agreement, patiently waiting until we reached the front of the queue. As I was paying for the few bits we picked up, including the trail mix I would definitely not get to eat, Skye was already walking outside to wait for me, lingering.

"Oh, can I get this gum too, sorry?" I said quickly, before the order went through, taking some gum off the display stand.

The cashier nodded and was putting it through the till when we both heard shouting from outside the shop. I furrowed my brows, looking out the window, only to widen my eyes when I realised it was Skye. She looked like she was yelling at someone in the distance, but I couldn't be sure.

"Shit," I muttered to myself, before tapping my card quickly, paying.

"Do you want your rec–"

"No, it's fine, thanks," I said quickly, grabbing the bag before almost tripping over my own feet as I left the store.

"...I'll call the police, you psycho!" Skye was shouting across the street, earning judgemental looks off several bystanders.

"Skye!" I exclaimed, standing in front of her and holding her shoulders to get her attention. "What are you doing?"

She was trembling as she glared ahead, and I tried to follow her stare to see who she was yelling at, but other than the confused pedestrians staring at us, there was nobody.

"Hey, what?" I asked worriedly, looking back to her and searching her watery gaze.

Her eyes met mine, terrified. "It's fucking him."

I swallowed thickly, realising she was still talking about this stalker who only she ever seemed to see.

"I fucking saw him," she repeated, looking across the street again.

I frowned, rubbing her arms gently before feeling eyes on us. People were starting to put two and two together, no doubt recognising Skye, so I quickly laced our fingers together and led her away.

"C'mon, let's get you home," I told her calmly, but inside I was extremely concerned for her wellbeing.

She didn't speak, though her eyes were darting around, paranoid. When we reached her apartment building, I gave a heads up to the security there before leading her up to her apartment and settling on the couch with her.

She was leaning on my shoulder for comfort, my arm wrapped around her as I tried to find the right words. But there was no way to say it without making her feel like I was ignoring her.

"Skye," I started gently, softly. "Do you think that, maybe, you might be imagining this fan?"

She tensed up before pulling back slightly, fixing me with a glare. "You think I'm crazy?"

I widened my eyes slightly. "No, no, not at all! But I just–" I paused, trying to express my thoughts better without upsetting her further. "I haven't seen him. Nobody has, except you. And it was a scary thing what happened at the meet and greet–"

"You weren't even fucking there," she cut me off with a scowl, hurt in her expression as she stood up.

"I know," I said with a sigh, before standing up too. "I just mean, you've been working very hard and not getting enough rest and maybe you're–"

"Fuck you," she interrupted, gaze running over me with irritation. "You don't believe me."

I frowned. "Skye–"

"No," she snapped. "You think I'm fucking hallucinating!"

I winced at her words. "That's not–"

"Get out," she decided, crossing her arms sternly.

I stepped forward in an attempt to make amends. "Skye–"

"Now!" she shouted.

Swallowing hard, I let out a disappointed sigh. This was the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. Especially because she looked so hurt and betrayed and I'd never been on the receiving end of that before, not from her.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm just worried."

"About the wrong thing," she retorted, avoiding looking at me.

I closed my eyes, internally kicking myself, before reluctantly leaving her apartment.

[gachagon]

Love your Eden’s Garden analyses my dude. Seriously, you’ve tackled aspects of certain characters I hadn’t even considered. I agree about Eloise being one of the blackened, girl is hiding nerves of steel behind a thin layer of shyness. I also think she’s gonna be connected to Desmond as the thing he guards and trusts the most (in reference to what was described in his blackmail). Upon further analysis, Desmond strikes me as someone who wants people to trust him, but has issues trusting others, outside of maybe Eloise. In a nutshell, he wants people to trust him without him putting his trust in other people. That’s his hypocrisy, in my mind at least.

I’m also gonna keep an eye on Grace in the chapter(s) going forward, in addition to Diana and Kai. Her silence after Eva’s execution speaks volumes. Mayhaps she’ll be going through a character arc? I feel like even SHE thought that execution was way too cruel.

On to my questions though! Out of curiosity, with what you’ve said about students’ deaths being linked to their hypocrisies, who do you think is the least hypocritical in the cast? By extension, who do you think is most likely to survive and/or die, at least within the next chapter or two?

Thanks so much lol I'm glad people ave enjoyed my thoughts so far and I've loved hearing everyone else's opinions and theories as well this whole week!

As to answer your question, I've got to say I think the "least" Hypocritical student so far is actually a controversial opinion of mine since I've noticed lots of people don't like his character T_T

It's Kai Monteago. (Note: I have NOT done everyone's FTE's yet but I'm gonna watch each one for this update soon!)

Now, this does not mean I don't think Kai lies or is a hypocrite, just that I think out of everyone on the cast so far he's the one who's the most honest about how he actually feels.

If Wolfgang is the most Hypocritical person because he hides everything he's feeling and doesn't let anyone know what he's actually thinking, then I think Kai is the least hypocritical out of the student body (minus Damon & Diana bc I think they're both being set up obviously as the protag and antag) because he's so honest about everything about himself and doesn't actually feel the need to hide his own insecurities, worries, fears, and anxieties.

Whenever anything goes remotely bad, Kai is always the first out of the cast to admit he didn't actually trust anyone, he's also the only one who's outwardly always wary of others and nervous. He just doesn't like thinking about the potential for someone murdering him or someone winding up dead. But it's pretty clear just from how he acts in his FTE's, trial, and body discovery that he not only doesn't trust anyone there but that he's not afraid to admit that openly when shit hits the fan.

For Kai, it seems like he's fully aware of the situation and thus knows that just agreeing with whatever the rest of the cast is talking about will keep him safe. He obviously is still a bit of a hypocrite because he's judging the ones who openly admit to not trusting other people, but he's also the first of the cast to always admit he had reservations about trusting them to begin with.

In a way, I can't exactly say Kai is a bad person because of his hypocrisy. He's only been an Ultimate for like 1-2 years, which is way less time than most of the student body. All of this is very new to him, he reminds me of Makoto in that sense where he was someone who would've never thought they'd be an Ultimate, or someone who became one by chance. Even the story he shares of how he became The Ultimate Influencer makes me believe that it really was just dumb luck that he got his title.

And he's only really falling in line because he obviously sees the way everyone treats you when you don't agree with the majority opinion, even if that majority opinion is rooted in rationality. In a way, it makes sense that Kai would act this way because he's an Influencer and has to deal with widespread groupthink about himself daily lol Any small action he did in the outside world was scrutinized and judged by an invisible audience, so now when he's in a situation like this he just goes with whatever will make the most people like him.

Though I can definitely see Kai breaking out of that kind of mindset the more he becomes friends with other people, and now that Wolfgang is gone, I definitely think the rest of them will act more freely instead of looking towards a leader of sorts. This is also why I think Kai will be the "support" character for Damon that we thought Eva would be. Kai is the one person left now who's wholly honest about himself, meaning he and Damon can become friends quicker that way and potentially work on investigations.

Also the two of them have very similar talents in the sense that "anyone could do this". But their ideas about their talents are swapped. Someone mentioned earlier that they think Damon might hate being a Debater or that he has some kind of insecurity rooted in the fact that he's a Debater. And I kind of agree. Where as Kai is wholly proud of his title as the Ultimate Influencer, Damon is very insecure about being seen as the Ultimate Debater and makes up for it with a big ego.

He doesn't let anyone look down on him for being an internet personality, and doesn't let lies about his past or things people wouldn't know about anyways (like the scandal he mentions in his FTE) get to him. But Damon flounders when someone even remotely challenges the idea of his talent being "useless" to society. In truth, the both of them are like foils and will probably be paired more often especially since they share a room together.

[brair908]

Asterism

Regulus Black x James Potter

summary: A moment between James and Regulus in their solitude of the astronomy tower.

a/n: Hello everyone, my name is Briar! This is my first ever fic, so I'm a tad nervous posting it. Please let me know what you think! And please feel free to send any requests for future fics! Thanks for reading 🫧

---

“I love you.” 

James and Regulus were lying on the chill concrete of the astronomy tower. Here, in the silence of the night, they could almost convince themselves they could rearrange the stars, so that rather than stiff concrete, they are lying in a soft, warm bed, leisurely giving each other warmth in a way that's inveterate yet deeply meaningful. They could construct an arrangement so that the stars align in such a way as to give them a destiny in which they are headed toward a long, blissful life together, not one where they are destined for nothing but a tragically anticipated severance.

“You shouldn’t.” Regulus' response is nothing but routine. 

They’ve had this same conversation endless times, but still he cannot bear the thought of James, someone so kind, so gentle, loving someone like him,

so surreptitious, so rotten. 

“Well, I do.” James said matter-of-factly, grabbing Regulus’ hand with a touch so gentle it never ceases to shock him. Regulus holds his breath for the eventual harsh shove away or some sort of harmful act that may come from having the leverage of someone’s hand. He feels guilty because, as expected, it doesn't come; not with James, never with James.

So he closes his eyes, selfishly reveling in this awe-inspiring feeling that, by some stroke of wicked luck, has now become recurring and steadfast. Gentleness was something Regulus had never felt; he had never even dared to dream of before James.

“Thank you.” 

Within those two insufficient, whispered words are all the endless poems, speeches, and feverish declarations he wishes he had the nerve to speak. Though he knew there was no point, this, whatever this is, wouldn’t last long. Nothing good ever seemed to, not for Regulus.

And James, ever-understanding James, squeezes his hand. Because here, as the perseverating wind blows, the concrete of the astronomy tower almost a touch too chill for most, they could make all the asterism adjustments needed.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Leave a comment and let me know what you think! Looking forward to making friends on here :) - Briar♡