#tired of life being one never-ending game of catch-up. I just want to do things without needing a gun to my head

[a-concert-just-for-me]

no yeah I’m getting def getting reassessed for adhd because this ain’t it, chief

[bunnwich]

HELLO! Do you have a summary of how you portray Leona's personality in your stories? I'm a big fan of your Leona and Yuu stories and I've read them multiple times www /gen I always feel like you just nail how he would act and say things and you inspire me to work on my own fics and get better at writing scenarios with him. Than you in advance ily🙏 🦉anon

How I Portray Leona in General and in Romance

HI ANON! So I've gotten this question a few times and someone in my discord asked me basically the same thing so I'll share with you what I wrote a few months ago about Leona and the general way I write him. (it's quite funny bc a lot of these things come up in Chapter 7 when we see his dream. I AM CURSED WITH APOLLOS'S GIFT OF PROPHECY WITH THIS MAN ISTG)

I hope this is helpful?? I would like to point out that the way I write Leona is fully based on my biases and life experiences. And that a big part of fandom is projecting what you wanna see in characters while still making them feel like the same character we know in canon, yk? Good luck with your fic writing! And thank you!! mwah mwah.💚 --

So Leona takes himself as a direct person, BUT he hides A LOT. He purposely misdirects people to get a reaction out of them. (Ex: pretending to be incompetent to anger someone) or he's playing with them. HE LOVES GAMES. Everyone is a chess piece, he has to feel in control bc that’s all he has ever had over everyone else; his wits. He’s a dickhead. He will say offensive shit to scare people off.

It’s a test to see who sticks around. He has no reservations when it comes to this. You take him as he is. And despite how some people write him he’s kinda silly? Like dad jokes. Why does he joke so much about eating people, who knows? (He says shit like Namby-pamby ffs) Why are you a 40y/o in a 20 y/o body?

I HC he purposely talks casually and gruff to distance himself from his upbringing. (I like to mix proper language and slang with him bc it feels right? Also lots of animal puns, and nicknames. HE'S CORNY AF)

In general, I don't think Leona is an entirely romantic person in canon, however in my timeline, I do HC that he, like Scar has this “want vs need problem” with connection to others. He thinks it's just praise he wants (or to be king) BUT he NEEDS TLC. What was Scar MOST jealous of at the end of the day?? Mufasa’s connections, a ✨queen✨, a family! BEING KING DID NOT MAKE SCAR HAPPY!! He needs to be needed and in Chapter 2 novella, he admits he HAS to numb himself to not care. I feel like this is something he constantly battles with. Yeah, he's lazy but it's partly bc he’s tired. He’s burnt out.

On the surface, he projects 100% nonchalance. He wants you to think everything he says is just "off the cuff", but it's not. He plans everything!!! He’s a mentor, big bro, caretaker. He is not the best at comforting words but he enjoys being a leader bc people appreciate him and look up to him. Something he never got at home.

Leona and ✨Romance✨

He fools himself into thinking he has the upper hand at first and keeps his distance keeping an eye on the object of his affection. Why would you catch his eye? Well, his greatest strength is picking up on OTHER STRENGTHS. Chessmaster. He is a mentorrrr and caretaker lowkey, he wants others to NEED him and rely on him. HE WANTS YOU TO NEED HIM.

At first, he would place himself in your path, trying to be helpful in a very tsundere type way. But he would still be causal and keep ruffling your feathers to gauge how you feel for him. He guards his heart pretty heavily. And more and more he is slowly collecting info about you he would find more ways for these meetings to happen until he realizes: "Oh shit, I’ve caught feelings." This one is the winner. He’s the king of nonchalance but also...he’s a very overly sensitive person. No doubt he’s freaking out a little, he doesn't wanna screw this up. But, he’d never show it.

I do think he wants to be challenged and given some pushback (insert manga panel about "something being harder to get and therefore is better"), He wants to WORK for it, to prove himself to you that you SHOULD choose him. He wants to impress you. It makes him feel alive. A person who keeps him on his toes.

And once this ”game” of cat and mouse starts to happen. He might start to let his guard down if you are shown you can be trusted with his VERY VERY delicate feelings, that you DO accept his flaws, treat him differently than all others, and see past his gruff demeanor. It is a test of sorts. He is testing that you can “handle” him. MORE GAMES.

He’d let you set the pace though. He won't be the first to give in. To kiss you or confess first. But he would fall first HARD. He’s not been given much one-on-one attention in his life so he would crave that time with you. Physical touch is a big one, but he would not be pushy. He'd tease your boundaries and become addicted to your time together.

But yeah, this push and pull goes on for a while, all the while he’s gauging how you react to this. Memorizing it all.

He’s def one of those texters who erases their sentence like 5 times when they are nervous bc he is cookin' up the RIGHT response to endear you. (Not in a sappy way of course more in a: “I know you miss me, mouse.” snarky sorta way.) Though he can be self-deprecating on bad days. He’ll act confident, though soften up behind closed doors.

I think once he realizes that you have picked up on his simpery and there's no going back...all bets are off. He doubles down, no longer ashamed of hiding it. (Assuming at this point the person has reciprocated these feelings too!) He wants to be yours and he’s not subtle. Someone to be by his side.

Then you get the REAL simp Leona, who lowkey mumbles the sappiest shit to you in his native language when he holds you, (bc he’s still embarrassed to be vulnerable, though this will fade over time) He’ll be your biggest supporter, and wants you around him as much as you can be.

This just keeps going until you're married. Congrats you now have a lion to take care of forever.🦁 Hope this helps!✨

[deepspacenova]

Zayne’s insomnia + Sylus being the perfect cure HCs

Zayne x Sylus (x Reader)

Reader is third wheeling in like, this whole list (but somehow I feel like many of us won’t mind). Inspired by the replies in this post with @leighsartworks216 where we spiraled about Zayne + Sylus… dynamics that made my brain go into full HC mode.

[I also have some HCs for Zayne x Caleb (x Reader) if you, too have the same need to be sandwiched between these men as I. ]

Sylus taking care of day to day Onychinus business when he starts to notice traces of Zayne around the house at night: a medical tome left open on the coffee table, a glass of ice water (but mostly ice) on the counter, one of Zayne's rings on the end table;

Pretty sure he understands, Sylus ventures out of his office more often. Each time he sees Zayne, he looks more exhausted but the one time Sylus raises a brow at him, he’s brushed off with an, "I'm fine.";

Sylus, of course, takes it as a challenge and makes it his mission to become the biggest tease. I mean, he's king of pushing the limits of your self control, so Zayne’s cinder block wall exterior is the ultimate challenge and he’s set on tearing that shit down brick by fucking brick;

It starts with touches. Brushing Zayne's hand, playfully squeezing the back of Zayne’s neck when he walk past him on a business call, using his evol to pull Zayne's books, phone, snacks out of his hands;

But then there's Sylus' words. And when it comes to those, Zayne's a goner. He's used to you being forward in your affections with him but he can't help but clear his throat at Sylus' double entendres and flirty quips, or feel heat in his abdomen when Sylus uses his drawling rasp;

"You’re always so tense, Z. Want me to loosen you up?";

"Those medical texts aren't doing anything to put you to sleep. Maybe you need something that penetrates deeper... into that overactive mind of yours.";

"I know you're the doctor, but maybe you need someone else to prescribe your... treatment tonight.";

It’s not long before it becomes a subconscious thing for Zayne — seeking out Sylus whenever he jolts awake at night. Zayne's very adamant that it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb you in bed though (sure baby boy);

But there's something about Sylus’ ruthless teasing and the mind games they play that has him tired out within an hour of even the worst of his nightmares;

And he'd never admit it out loud but sometimes, Zayne falls back asleep imagining the satisfaction he'd get from finally silencing the Onychinus leader's teasing by stuffing his cock down his throat;

Of course Sylus can tell when Zayne’s frustration and tension finally snaps. His new favorite thing is seeing Zayne try to resist him before he gives up and crawls back into bed;

Sylus knows exactly how to wear him down. Sometimes, it’s pulling the book from Zayne's hand with his evol, only to say "Careful, doctor. Grabbing it like that might get you into trouble,” when Zayne reaches over to snatch it back;

Sometimes he sneaks up behind Zayne, kissing the back of his neck while his Evol tugs Zayne's hips back against him;

Cut to Zayne, pants pulled down to his ankles, legs over Sylus's shoulder, getting the best fuckin blow job of his life. Sylus holding onto his thighs, refusing to let the doctor hesitate to squeeze around his head. Zayne's hand in Sylus's hair, pulling and tugging and trying to keep some semblance of control;

Zayne throwing his head back against the couch, breath choked in his throat, hand tight in Sylus's hair to keep his nose pressed to his stomach, but then Sylus pulls off of him. It's frustrating, it draws unexpected noises from him. And Sylus just smirks and says he promised to tire him out, kissing all up his hip and legs; (credit to @leighsartworks216 for these pieces of genius).

On particularly bad nights, Zayne goes to the balcony to catch his breath and some cold air to calm himself down. One night Sylus, effortlessly smug with the phone at his ear, at work, uses his evol to force Zayne to his knees. "Handle it today," he says to the person on the phone, "you know how I like to put men in their place.";

Speaking of, Sylus loooves edging Zayne. Leaving him a panting, writhing mess, pulling away just when Zayne’s hand tightens in his hair or his breath hitches in his throat. “I said I’d tire you out, but I never said I’d make it easy.”;

For a guy who doesn't say much, Zayne's vocal and very demanding in the heat of the moment - which wakes you up sometimes.

Knowing all about Sylus' scheme to tire Zayne out, you love sliding into bed hand pressed to his chest, "Doctor Zayne, your heart is racing, maybe we need to do some tests?" Sylus chuckles darkly, watching Zayne’s eyes flutter between both of you. The idea of you both teaming up to tire him out finally makes Zayne’s control slip;

The best time of day is twilight, a few hours before you and Zayne start the day, as Sylus is ending his. The three of you fall into bed, Zayne's body is exhausted and his mind is quiet. Barely keeping his eyes open when his fingers twine with yours. Sylus pulls you close from behind, his hand on top of both of yours. Sylus smirks at both of you, proud of himself. "The only nightmare you two are allowed to have is me."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Childhood friends to lovers w modern Jace and he’s just really protective over you. When they go out to a party, he’s just begging you to not start anything with any guys, and he’s lowkey mad at you for wearing something revealing. You end up really drunk to the point where Jace has to take you home and you’re just rlly touchy and bold, confessing things you would never say if you sober. And he’s just being flirty back and teasing you abt the stuff you’re saying about him. Idek where this is going but like eventual smut. 😩 Ty, your works are so good.

I love college modern!Jace. To my eyes, he is always part of the hockey team and friends with Cregan. This is how I see modern!Jace

Sorry, I didn't do smut because consent when drunk is not valid consent (you know what I mean?) but everything else is checked!

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Jace sat on your bed as you finished getting ready in your bathroom. He played with the ears of your purple giraffe plushie, smiling when he saw the friendship bracelet still tied to its neck. 

‘’Do you know if Jason is gonna be there tonight?’’ 

‘’Lannister?’’ 

You hummed and Jace grimaced. 

‘’He’s a fucking asshole and only want you for sex. Don’t talk to him. Okay?’’ 

You rolled your eyes in the mirror, tired of Jace disapproving of every guy you talked to. He wasn't trying to make all guys seem bad; he just knew them and their intentions better than you. He was looking out for you.

And you trusted his judgment. 

‘’Yes, dad,’’ you replied sarcastically as you came out of the bathroom. 

Jace’s head lifted when you came into view, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the top you were wearing. To his eyes, this was a bra — with a longer bodice. While you looked really good in it, guys at the party will think the same and oggle you in ways that would make Jace want to punch them.

‘’Eh, is there a second shirt that goes over this one?’’ 

You frowned at his question. ‘’No. Why? What’s wrong with my shirt?’’ 

Jace took a few seconds to think of a way of saying that your shirt was showing a lot without sounding like he was calling you slutty. ‘’Aren’t you gonna get cold? It’s nearly November.’’

You shrugged, grabbing your phone and dorm keys. ‘’I’m fine. You always give me your jacket when I get cold.’’ 

‘’Right. But maybe you should take a jacket with you? In case I’m not available to give you mine.’’ 

‘’Not available?’’ Your lips curled into a mischievous smirk. ‘’Jacaerys Velaryon, are you planning on leaving with a girl tonight?’’ you teased, poking at his chest. You’ve seen him kissing girls at parties, but he never left with any of them. 

He ignored your question, clearly not wanting to discuss his romantic life. ‘’Let’s go. Cregan is already on his third beer. I need to get my revenge on air hockey before he gets too drunk.’’ 

You laughed, slipping your phone into your small purse. ‘’Can I play too?’’ 

‘’We’ll see,’’ Jace said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of your dorm. 

It’s not that he didn’t want you to play. You’ve played with the boys before. It’s just that your shirt was not ideal for playing air hockey. If you leaned on the table, everything would be exposed and he didn’t like the idea of his friends looking at your tits. 

The music was loud at the frat house, plunging everyone into the ambiance. You were sipping your second drink and dancing with your friends after watching Cregan annihilate Jace at air hockey. Jace seemed distracted, his eyes scanning the room instead of focusing on the game. Maybe he was searching for a girl?

Shaking off the thought, you headed to the kitchen and made yourself another drink. You should be happy if he found someone he liked, but the truth was, you were secretly jealous. He had been your best friend since kindergarten, you should have dibs on him.

You put the caps back on the bottles and reached for your glass, but someone snatched it away.

‘’Hey! Give it back!’’ 

‘’No more drinks for you,’’ Jace said from behind you, pouring the contents of your glass into the sink.

‘’It’s my first drink. Okay, maybe my second…or third.’’ A giggle escaped your lips. You were a lightweight when it came to drinking, a fact you always seemed to forget. ‘’I think I’m a little tipsy.’’

Jace raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. ‘’Tipsy?’’ He shook his head and suggested you head home and watch Grey’s Anatomy.  

You pouted, not wanting to leave the party just yet, but the thought of watching Grey's Anatomy with Jace sounded nice. He was always so invested in the episodes and characters, but it was a secret. If his teammates knew, they would never let him live it down.

His arm was around you, leading you out of the frat house and into the cool night air. As you walked back to your dorm, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for Jace’s presence. You didn’t know many guys who would offer to take their drunk friend home without any bad intentions.  

‘’You’re a good person, Jace,’’ you said, his jacket over your shoulders. ‘’Always looking out for me.’’

He chuckled, pulling you closer when a group of drunk guys walked by. ‘’What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?’’

You didn’t respond. 

Once you were at your dorm, you set up your laptop and settled into your small bed. It was a tight fit, but you and Jace made it work. 

The episode started where you left off. 

‘’Who do you think is better? McDreamy or McSteamy?’’ you asked as Derek appeared on the screen. 

‘’I don’t know,’’ Jace responded, lying comfortably against your pillows. ‘’Mark is eye-candy, but I think early seasons McDreamy was peak.’’ 

You nodded, laying your head against Jace’s shoulder. ‘’Same. I have a soft spot for brunets. And curly hair.’’

‘’Derek doesn’t have curly hair…’’ 

‘’But you do and it’s cute.’’ 

‘’You think my hair is cute?’’ Jace repeated, teasing you.

‘’It’s so curly and bouncy. And soft too.’’ You twirled one of Jace’s curly hair around your finger, your fingers lingering as position caused your chest to press slightly against his. ‘’And you smell very good. Except when you play hockey. You’re stinky.’’

Jace laughed, the sound vibrating through your body. ‘’Good to know. I’ll make sure I shower before seeing you.’’ 

You smiled, your fingers still playing with his hair. ‘’You’re so pretty.’’ 

Your last compliment took him by surprise, his cheeks flushing. Had you not been intoxicated on alcohol, tonight would have taken a different turn, but Jace was respectful. He would never make a move without your sober consent.

‘’Eh, thanks. Let's...let's continue watching Greys.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard@domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9

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[bitchinbarzal]

Unsent Texts | M Barzal

summary: syd steals mat’s phone to uncover how your break up really made him feel.

-

You weren’t supposed to be thinking about Mat tonight.

You were supposed to be having a normal, drama-free dinner with your best friend, Sydney.

But the universe had other plans.

Because somehow, in the middle of drinks and half-finished appetizers, Sydney accidentally unlocked Mat’s phone. And now? Now you’re staring at hundreds of unsent messages—all of them to you.

It had been months since you and Mat ended things. At first, it was unbearable—learning to sleep alone, getting used to waking up without hearing his voice, forcing yourself to unlearn the way you fit so easily into his life. But you did it. You moved on. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You didn’t check his Instagram anymore. You didn’t avoid places you knew he’d be. When people mentioned his name, you smiled politely, like it didn’t twist something deep in your chest.

And you definitely, definitely didn’t still have a note in your phone filled with messages you were too afraid to send.

But it was there. Just sitting in your drafts, filled with late-night thoughts and regrets:

• I miss you.

• I saw your post-game interview today. You looked tired. Are you okay?

• I hate that I still think about you this much.

You could delete it. You should delete it. But you never did.

Sydney had mentioned casually earlier in the night that Mat was at their house before she left to meet you. It wasn’t unusual—he was always around since Matt and him were practically attached at the hip. You brushed it off at the time, convincing yourself it didn’t matter.

But now, here you were, holding his phone in your hands. Because he had left it at the Martin’s house, and Sydney—being Sydney—grabbed it, meaning to bring it back to him later.

And now you’re staring at your name on his screen.

And a message.

“I keep typing these, but I never send them. I don’t even know if you’d want to hear from me. But I miss you.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Y/N?” Sydney says softly.

You don’t answer.

You just scroll.

Because it’s not just one message.

It’s dozens.

No—hundreds.

Unsent texts, stretching back months.

• I saw something today that reminded me of you. I wanted to tell you but… I didn’t know if I should.

• I don’t even know why I’m typing this. Maybe just to pretend like you’re still here.

• I miss your laugh. I fucking hate that I miss your laugh.

• I hate that I let this happen.

Your chest tightens. Because you had done the exact same thing. You had unsent messages too—ones you never dared to send, ones you forced yourself to delete because you thought Mat had already moved on.

But he hadn’t. Not even close.

“Y/N,” Sydney says again, more serious this time. “What are you gonna do?”

You shake your head, gripping the phone tighter. “I don’t know.”

Because there was only one real option.

You could pretend you never saw this. Put the phone down, walk away, let the past stay buried.

Or You could type a message of your own.

And this time, hit send.

Before you can make a decision, the restaurant door swings open.

And suddenly, there he is.

Mat.

Wearing a hoodie, damp hair from the cold, looking like he rushed here the second he realized his phone was missing. His eyes lock onto you immediately. Then flick down.

To his phone.

In your hand.

And you watch it happen—the realization, the panic, the sharp inhale when he realizes exactly what you’ve seen.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Sydney coughs awkwardly. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

But neither of you even notice her get up.

Because Mat’s eyes are locked on yours, his whole chest rising and falling like he’s bracing for impact.

And then—quietly, hesitantly—he asks, “Did you read them?”

Your throat is dry. You can barely breathe.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I did.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. He swallows hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was gonna delete them,” he admits. “I just… never could.”

You exhale shakily. “Neither could I.”

His gaze snaps to yours, wide. Disbelieving.

And suddenly, the air between you is charged with something new. Something unfinished. Something that, for the first time in a long time, feels like hope.

The restaurant feels smaller now. Like the walls are pressing in, like the air is thinner, like you might suffocate under the weight of everything you never said.

Mat stares at you, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, you’ll disappear.

And maybe he’s right.

Maybe you should disappear.

Maybe you should walk away right now and leave him with nothing but his own regrets, the same way he left you.

But you don’t.

Instead, you whisper, “Why didn’t you ever send them?”

Mat exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “Because I was a coward.”

You blink, not expecting him to say it so bluntly.

“I thought about you every day,” he continues, voice low, hoarse. “Every fucking day, Y/N. But I convinced myself you were better off without me.”

Your throat tightens. “And now?”

His lips part, but he hesitates. “Now…” His gaze drops, flickering to the phone in your hands. “Now I just want to know if you ever thought about me too.”

You inhale slowly. “I did.”

His head snaps up.

“Mat…” Your fingers tighten around the phone. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

His face crumples—like he wasn’t expecting you to say it, like he’s spent months convincing himself you had moved on completely.

And maybe you had tried. Maybe you had told yourself that he was just a chapter in your life, that you had turned the page. But standing here, seeing the desperation in his eyes, knowing that he never stopped thinking about you either?

That changes everything.

“Do you still love me?” The words are out before you can stop them.

Mat inhales sharply.

Then, quietly, without hesitation—

“Yes.”

Your breath catches.

His voice is raw, almost broken. “I never stopped.”

You swallow hard, hands shaking. “Then why did we let this happen?”

Mat exhales, stepping closer, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he’s allowed.

“Because I was stupid,” he admits. “Because I thought I had all the time in the world to fix it. But then you were gone, and—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I didn’t know how to get you back.”

You stare at him, your pulse pounding.

“And now?” you whisper.

Mat’s throat bobs. “Now I’m standing here, praying that I haven’t lost you for good.”

You don’t overthink it. You don’t let fear win this time.

Instead, you take a shaky breath—and hit send.

Mat’s phone vibrates in your hands, and when he looks down at the screen, his breath catches.

Because there, sitting in his messages, is the first text you’ve sent him in months.

“Come home.”

He looks up at you, eyes wide, glassy, disbelieving.

“Are you sure?” he whispers.

You nod.

And then, before either of you can think twice, Mat pulls you into his arms, gripping you like he’s afraid you might disappear.

And this time, You’re not going anywhere.

[jupiter-esque]

could u write karma with a s/o that doesn’t get into trouble? Kinda like an opposite like they’re still outgoing but the type to never skip and only wanting straight A’s and are kinda sensitive in contrast to him? (🫶🫶ur writing is so cute idk if you still write for karmaa aaa!!😭)

Note: I will NEVER stop writing for karma 😤😤😤

Honestly?

He doesn't even really notice you at first.

Another student in class-E, just like any other.

Obviously that is until you managed to score higher than him in maths during exam season.

It started off as a miniature rivalry, very one-sided might I add.

He'd come to you smirking by the end of the next exam with a mark higher than yours only to be surprised when you smile widley and congratulate him.

Every. Single. Time.

Huh?

You're not supposed to do that, your eyes are supposed to burn with determination and annoyance. You're supposed to snatch that paper from his hands and wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

Clearly not.

Its not even a fake smile, there isn't even a hint of malice in your eyes.

It's almost as if you're happy for him.

You don't even know him, not properly at least.

This really changes perspectives for the assassin so now he's shifted into doing everything in his power for your recognition.

Which doesn't seem to be very hard to gain as he notices that you're a bit popular in class.

Not entirely popular, but if students come up to you they'll only get a sweet greeting every time as if they're a long-time friend of yours.

You're basically Koro-sensei's golden child. Wide sparkling eyes every time you put your hand up in class to you answer his questions, he could weep at how adorable you are.

Everyone comes up to you for anything really.

Help with homework, a quick check in, or just to talk. You're always so easy to talk to, so gentle all the time.

Even Itona will quietly chat with you in a corner.

You're just so...approachable.

In Karma's eyes that's unfair. He needs to catch your attention and now.

Maybe to prove something to himself or just boredom, he doesn't need a reason.

So now he's the one asking for homework help. He can answer the questions in his sleep, you know it too.

He's still gonna play dumb, tap you on the shoulder and muster up his best clueless look.

Even in class, Karma has "coincidentally" managed to switch seats to be your desk partner.

You didn't hear it from me but maybe an octopus-like teacher has something to do with that.

Anyway.

Now that you're basically knee to knee with him in class, this allows karma to charm his way into your every day life.

Constantly stealing away your time with anything he can possibly think of.

He'll do this thing where he just wraps his arms around your shoulders and sultry whine into your ear.

"_____, help me please?"

He'll even throw in a pout.

Nagisa has to pry him off of you.

You don't even ask why he's suddenly around you nearly 24/7, you're just glad to be of help really and though you think he's a bit strange he's quite sweet.

A well known charismatic (possible) sadist, but sweet.

Class trip? He's sitting next to you on the bus.

Getting ice-cream? He already knows your favourite flavour.

Study session? You'll need to work together, being the two top students in class it would only be sensible to partner up for academics. This lead to him coming over a lot and vice versa, need to keep those grades up you know.

Spending the weekend at home? Don't be silly, you're flying to the country of your choice on a whim with a certain red-haired 'friend' of yours.

Having rich absent parents really does come in handy sometimes.

But this whole game is tiring him out.

You've gotten close, yes. He's flustered you plenty, yes. But you haven't confessed to him at all!

It's infuriating.

He wants you to like him at least, because he's teetering on the edge of obsession for you.

Because 'friends' don't hold hands all the time, they don't hug longingly or stay up late thinking of the other.

It'll all click in to place when he just goes red in the face, kisses your cheek once and just spews his feeling out like a flood.

"I like you."

"...Oh."

(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ )

Coughing, he'll look away and pretend like nothing happened while trying desperately to renew his previous charm.

can the ground just open up and swallow him already, oh god.

“I…like you too.” you shyly smile

karma.exe has stopped working

[fayelero]

Thinking about Nagi Seishiro who’s a simp for good girls.

In a non sexual way.

Not the loud, showy kind. But the quiet ones—the girls who tuck their hair behind their ears when they concentrate, who say “thank you” to waiters, who put effort into little things no one else notices. Girls who remember birthdays, who tie ribbons neatly, who fold his hoodies and stack them in color order even though he never asked.

You.

Nagi had no idea how someone like you ended up in his life. He wasn’t used to sweetness. Not the real kind—the gentle, heart-piercing kind that you gave so naturally. You didn’t love loudly, but in the way you touched his wrist when you passed him a drink, in the way you looked at him like he was worth loving, like he wasn’t just a genius on the field but something tender and human, too.

At first, he didn’t know what to do with it.

He was used to things being easy. Win the game. Get praise. Sleep. Repeat.

But you weren’t a game. You were effort. You were a lesson in patience, in paying attention. You were the first thing he wanted to understand.

And now? Now it shows in every little way he tries.

Like how he scrolls through your messages three times before replying because he wants to say the right thing. Or how he started sleeping on the side of the bed closer to the door—not because he cared where he slept, but because he read somewhere that men do that to “protect” the one they love, and the idea made him blush for hours.

He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s everything.

“Was thinking about you the whole time,” he mumbles, half-asleep, when you greet him after a game. His hair is still damp from the shower, and his fingers are fiddling with the hem of your shirt—not tugging, not pulling, just touching, like he needs to remind himself you’re real.

You smile—soft and a little shy—and he watches it happen like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Because it is.

Your smile is why he does things he never imagined himself doing. Like holding your purse without complaint while you try on clothes. Like learning how to braid hair because you once joked that your arms get tired. Like saving voice notes you leave him, listening to them on the bus when you’re not around, heart thudding when you giggle in the background.

He’s quiet. But his love is loud in the way his hand always finds yours, even in his sleep. It’s loud in how he learns to cook your favorite dish, watching a YouTube video on repeat just to get the sauce right. It’s loud in how he stares at you like you put the stars in the sky, how he looks at your lips when you speak like he’s memorizing your every word.

And when you doubt—when you hesitate, fingers curling nervously around the sleeve of his hoodie—you feel it most. The intensity.

Because he’s suddenly closer, hands cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away worries he hasn’t even heard yet.

“You know I love you, right?” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, but his eyes—God, his eyes—are burning with something so deep, so overwhelming you feel it in your chest.

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re the only one I care about like this. The only one who makes me want to try.”

And it’s true—you can feel it in how gently he holds you, like you’re the most fragile, precious thing he’s ever touched. You can feel it in the quiet way he breathes out, “I don’t want anyone else.”

In that moment, you realize—this boy, who once claimed everything was a pain unless it was easy, loves you with the kind of effort that moves mountains. The kind of love that chooses you again and again, every minute, in every mundane task, in every sleepy morning and game-worn night.

And as you smile—because how could you not—his gaze softens like warm sunlight catching on snow.

“There,” he whispers, “that smile… I think about it all the time.”

And suddenly, being a good girl doesn’t feel so quiet anymore.

Because to Nagi Seishiro, you are everything.

And his love is anything but silent.

a/n : idk :( I have no ideas of writing those times

[draculasfavoritewife]

Wild Honey

Summary: Gale is one stubborn son of a bitch, but if anyone could get him to open up, it's always been you.

Pairing: Gale Hawthorne x fem!District 12!Reader

Warnings: ANGST. Idiots miscommunicating and falling out. Heavy tension, sensuality, and implied smut at the end. Also by far the most sexually charged eating scene I have ever yet written, SO sorry everyone, that really deserves its own separate disclaimer lmao. Ye have been warned.

I would like to preface this by saying I know Gale stans sometimes receive hate, and while I do not condone his more problematic actions, I do deeply understand why he is the way he is -- most of my favorite characters in any franchise have done morally challenging things, but I will always fall in love with a survivor, and most times in dystopian fiction survival is messy and comes at the cost of someone else's. It is also worth mentioning that I was watching Hunger Games during one of the most difficult periods of my life a year ago, when a loved one's life was hanging in the balance and Gale became the comfort character I turned to in order to cope. He will always hold a particularly fond place in my heart 🖤

tl;dr -- If you don't like Gale Hawthorne, feel free to not read. No reason to be mean to anyone :)

*Takes place during Catching Fire

He hasn’t been the same since she came back.

That much is clear to anyone two degrees north of blindness. But it could be anything, really. His work in the mines is draining on both body and soul, the added responsibility of being the Everdeen family’s sole provider as well as his own would exhaust anyone.

Yet Gale Hawthorne is probably the only one who could still be standing tall at this point, his proud stride never faltering, shoulders broad enough to hold up all of Panem if he had to. 

The man’s just tired, people say.

Tired and angry at the world, let him be. 

What else is new?

Gale has been wearier than a young man should be and angrier than most could know for as long as you’ve been part of his life.

It’s not that. 

No, it’s the sadness darkening his gray-blue eyes and the new tightness in his full lips that you see setting in whenever he looks at her. Whenever her eyes dart away to seek out Peeta’s instead, or stare straight through him at the phantoms of horrors he would never quite understand. You see him reaching out more often, trying anything and everything to bridge the yawning rift that has opened up between him and Katniss ever since her return, and see how with each misplaced gesture, every time he tries to be soft, another piece of him turns to stone inside. 

And it breaks you, to watch and know you can do absolutely nothing about it. 

You’re surprised to find him hunting alone the next time you go out beyond the fence; you would have assumed she was with him as she usually is. You’ve known Gale at least as long as she has, but perhaps the fact that you don’t rely on him for sustenance has made the two of you less likely to travel together.

And besides, whatever complicated relationship the two of them had, you had never wanted to insert yourself into that mess. 

But for whatever reason, today he is alone, anger and something deeper sharply visible in the movements of his nimble fingers as they field-dress a wild turkey on the floor of the small clearing you’ve emerged into, his brow furrowed and mouth harsh. 

You say nothing for several minutes as you pull your bow and quiver from their stash, testing the pull of the string, fiddling with a crooked fletching on one of your arrows. Your relationship has always been different from what he has with Katniss — you would be lying if you said you weren’t sometimes jealous of how much time she gets him to herself, but you also doubt that he talks to her the way he does to you.

There are pros and cons to not needing him in the same ways. 

“What?” he snaps when you’ve stood there too long; he knows you’re too efficient to need that much time to prepare your gear. 

You shoulder your bow, staring down at those heavy eyebrows, long ebony lashes, and the rainy-sky eyes that are still stubbornly avoiding yours.

“I don’t know, Gale. You tell me.” 

He sighs, long and annoyed. “You’re gonna stand there all day if I don’t, aren’t you.” 

You give a noncommittal noise and make a show of leaning against a tree to keep watch for Peacekeepers while he finishes his work. 

The thanks you get for that is little more than a grunt. “Well don’t get comfortable, I’m almost done. And keep up — I still need more than this or we’ll have a lean few days.” 

“When have I ever not kept up with you, Hawthorne?” You raise your eyebrows at him, playfully miffed. 

There it is, the cocky smirk that pulls one corner of his pretty mouth slightly higher than the other. “That a challenge, Spark?” 

You roll your eyes in mock disdain of the nickname he’s used forever (“because you’re small, but I know you’ve got a blaze in there somewhere” he’d half-teased). “Why, are you gonna try and run away from me?” 

It’s his turn to shrug. “How badly do you want to talk, I guess?” He’s loading the bird’s carcass into his satchel, wiping off his hunting knife and preparing to head out. 

A quick grab and you’ve shouldered the bag instead, ensuring he can’t abandon you now without also abandoning his prize. “Pretty damn badly, I guess.” 

Gale huffs a breath out through his nose. “God, you’re stubborn.” 

“Look who’s talking.” You brush past him, aiming for a deer trail that takes you through some hidden haunts that usually yield rabbits and even some bigger game on occasion. “Now come on, spill. You’ve been acting more pissed than usual, and that’s saying something.” 

“Hm. Very funny.” He easily lifts his own hunting gear once more and falls into step behind you. “Hunt first. Talk later. I’ll be even more pissed if we scare off our dinner.” 

You turn and give him a brisk nod, grinning to yourself when you face forward again. 

It may not sound like much, but that was practically a promise that he will talk to you eventually. 

And you’re nothing if not patient enough to outlast him. 

The times the two of you have hunted together, your ambition and his tenacity tend to be a deadly combination, and as luck would have it, a rare buck deer had crossed your path today, resulting in an even more substantial promise of survival than the turkey. As the two of you worked quickly to prepare the carcass for packing it out, you could feel the tension ebbing away between you, could tell by the way Gale’s strong shoulders relaxed and his jaw unclenched that the immediate worry of ensuring his mother and younger siblings had enough to eat this week had faded.

He would never say as much out loud, but you know it keeps him up at night when they do go hungry, can imagine how he must pace the floors of his house at night, cursing himself for falling short of the herculean standards that the loss of his father set upon him.

He should be able to sleep somewhat peacefully tonight, knowing they will survive another day thanks to him. 

“That was a good shot,” he says after a while of working in silence, and there’s a deep-running warmth threaded through his tone. “You really slowed him down.” 

You shove his shoulder, making him laugh and then scold you for jostling him with a knife in his hands. “Not so shabby on that killing shot yourself, Hawk-eyes. You’ll have food for awhile.” 

“You’re not getting away without some of it,” he insists. “It’s as much yours as mine.” 

And because you know refusing Gale an act of service is a surefire way to start an argument and guarantee his sullen silence again, you agree that you’ll take a sizable portion back to your family when the two of you head back. Placated for the time being, he finally lets his tongue run — about how he’s managing in the mines, what his siblings have been up to, how even in the midst of his exhaustion, he still lives for the end of the work week when he can escape to the forest again. There are new themes of thought that surface and submerge like fish between his words, murmurs of rebellion, thoughts of standing up to the Capitol at last, but they are hushed and quickly moved on from. 

No matter how much you might support him, he doesn’t want to worry you too much yet. 

“What about you and Katniss?” you finally prod, trying to ignore the familiar jolt of envy that tastes so sour on your tongue whenever you say their names together in the same breath. 

He stills; when his eyes flicker up to yours again they’re guarded and cold. “What about me and Katniss?” 

“Well, she’s conspicuously not here with you.” You flick flyaway hairs away from your face in irritation, the damp air making them cling to your skin. “Don’t be like that, Gale. I’ve been your friend long enough to not deserve your cagey act anymore. Let me in. Please.” 

He stares up at you for so long from his position kneeling on the forest floor, you standing over him, pleading him with your eyes to let someone else shoulder part of the heavy load he carries for once. And you’re struck by those traitorous thoughts again in the silvery silence — how unreasonably lovely he is, with that sharply angled jawline, and those softly curving lips, that thick dark hair you’ve always secretly wanted to tangle your fingers in as he leans down, your name on his tongue and a teasing glint in his melancholy eyes — 

“I think I made a mistake,” he finally mutters. “I know I can’t understand fully what she’s seen or who she is now, but is it completely wrong of me to just wish things didn’t have to change?” 

The man who means more to you than anything has never looked more lost and uncertain than in this moment of admission, and you sink to your knees in front of him, suddenly overtaken by a wave of softness that takes a second to fully process. “I’m sorry, Gale, I am. We all change, and I know how it feels to wonder if someone still cares or not.” You shake away your own uncertainties you’ve been having ever since she came back and he’s been chasing her attentions around.

“It’s only natural to want to pick up right where you left off, I get it.” 

His gaze sharpens, though the rest of his face remains calculated and unreadable. “Have I been ignoring you lately, Spark?”

It seems like a genuine question, as if running back through the last few months in his mind he now acutely senses your absence from them. 

You reach out, trailing the tips of your fingers ever so lightly down his cheek. The gesture isn’t novel, you’ve used it to comfort him before, especially when you aren’t sure how much physical contact he wants on a given day, but something feels different about it today, some electric shiver passing between you that makes his mouth twitch and causes you to pull your hand away as if shocked. 

“I need you too, Hawk-eyes,” you murmur, almost under your breath. “I need you.” 

To your dismay, the intimate moment abruptly ends; he tears away from the echo of your touch and is on his feet again in an instant, eyes now pale and hard as ice as he smolders down at your upturned face. 

Reeling with confusion and hurt, you try to understand what just happened. “Gale, wait! What did I —?” 

“It’s that damn word,” he half-snarls, but you hear the raw pain bubbling beneath his attempt at anger. “Need. My family needs me, the District needs me, Katniss needs me to be there when she can’t find what she needs from anyone else. Everyone needs me, Spark.” 

You stare wordlessly into his face, silently begging him to help you understand. His eyelashes glimmer with droplets from the mist and maybe something else, the anger draining away as quickly as it had appeared. 

“I would just like to be here because I’m wanted for once.” 

He’s gone in only a handful of long strides, the undergrowth rattling in his wake. 

And you’re left alone in a space all at once too cold and quiet, wondering what the hell it will finally take to make it through those impenetrable walls and at last touch his solitary wounded heart. 

The sun has sunk lower in the sky by the time you find the fallen tree beside the stream and discover its unexpected bounty. You’re not too far from where you left the deer, knowing neither you nor Gale can pack it out by yourself, but far enough away to give him space if he goes back there first. 

He and his prickly attitude leave your thoughts momentarily, however, when you see the bees returning to the gutted form of the dead tree. Where there are bees there might be honey, and your mouth waters at the distant memory of that sweet, energy-filled delicacy. You swiftly fall to the work of building a small, smoky fire and holding the billowing branches underneath their main entrance, waiting for the buzzing to slow and finally fade out before carefully peeling away some of the cracked wood and extracting your prize, leaving a piece behind of course for the hardworking insects to enjoy themselves. 

Wrapping the majority of the honeycomb in leaves that you know are safe to be in contact with food, you settle at last in a spot looking over the water, ready to enjoy a taste of your labors.

Closing your eyes, you let the first drop of sun-warmed sweetness land on your tongue, and the sound of appreciation that escapes your throat is shamelessly suggestive of something else.

So you freeze for a second in horror when Gale’s familiar voice rumbles through your senses. 

“So is this your little secret, or were you planning to share with me?” 

You compose your thudding heart and suddenly hot face, glancing up at where he now towers over you, arms crossed over his broad chest and a wicked smirk on his handsome face. By the high-tilted eyebrow that asks a sensitive question without really asking, he definitely heard you, and he wants you to know that. 

So you hold eye contact with him, even as the thick honey continues to drip down, painting your tongue in cloudy golden shades of wildflower sugar.

And to your gratification, you don’t think you imagine the way his eyes dart away ever so briefly, or how his own tongue runs across his lower lip. 

“I was gonna share,” you finally say, your own voice coming out slow and sticky after swallowing. “But I didn’t know where you’d run off to.” 

“Hm. I’m not convinced.”

He lowers his tall body to the ground beside you, reaching for your piece of honeycomb, and because he seems to have let go of his earlier flash of annoyance, you let him take it, gaze now glued to the entrancing picture of him as he opens his own mouth and lets the sweet amber substance drizzle between his parted lips, tongue lifting to capture any stray drops that threaten to escape. 

“Don’t be selfish,” you tease, but it comes out strangely heavy, and something kindles deep in your chest as his eyes slide sideways to pin themselves to yours.

It’s an oddly incriminating image almost, though you couldn’t name why, to see him stare you down like that with fresh honey glistening on his lips and fingers; he, however, doesn’t seem to feel any such sense of indignity. 

Without a word, he holds the waxy section out once more, his free hand coming up to your face so that his thumb gently coaxes your lips apart again. 

“You want more?” he asks, a silky hum. 

You have no idea if he’s even talking about the honey anymore, but you nod anyway, too breathless at how close he is, how much bigger he is than you. 

So he complies, trickles the comb’s gleaming goodness into your mouth with an intense focus that you can hear in the roughness of his hot breath as it washes across your skin. His chest is inches away from yours, one of his muscular thighs resting between your legs. You’re aware that your own breathing is turning shaky, and you gasp softly when a splash of honey rolls from the corner of your mouth and starts running down your face. 

Gale is quick, but not quick enough, and though his other hand catches some of the rogue rivulet, he can only watch as the rest rolls to your chest, landing on the stretch of exposed skin right at the tops of your breasts, a single drop of gold hovering just above the scooping neckline of your black shirt, daring him to take some sort of action to solve the predicament he has caused. 

His eyes move up from the now very rapid rise and fall of your chest to your widened, startled gaze.

You look like a wild animal he’s surprised on the hunt, and he now finds that he fiercely hopes whatever comes next doesn’t spook you away. 

“Can I?” he whispers, honeycomb now forgotten and set aside. 

You nod your assent, keeping your focus fixed on his face. 

A hand approaches your body with all of the steady patience you’ve seen him exercise when stalking his prey, and the touch of two fingers to the delicate skin below your collarbone is warm and gentle. His hands are beautiful too, broad and long-fingered, the veins that hint at his great strength clearly delineated in the low-slanting sunlight.

You watch like a fascinated outside observer as those work-roughened fingers swipe the honey away, a shiver fluttering across your flesh as you feel the way he smoothly follows the swells of your bust and the dip between. 

He catches the tremor he caused and pulls away, looking back up at your face even as he licks the honey from his fingertips, and you wonder what’s running through his mind, and if it’s nearly as incendiary as what that simple action sends through yours. 

“Alright?” 

It’s a one-word question that leaves his mouth as something like a purr, though you sense the true concern behind it.

He worries he’s gone too far, and he’d never forgive himself if he pushed you into anything you didn’t want, no matter how small. 

He cares about you too much for that. 

“Yes.” You blink and gather your scattered thoughts. “Better than alright. Gale…?” 

He leans even closer, bringing your faces only a mere breath apart.

The blue-gray eyes have gone as feathery soft as mist in the early morning, and the sight makes your chest ache with something you cannot quite name. 

“You didn’t get all of it. I’m still sticky.” 

Gale searches your expression for confirmation, wary of his next move. “You know what you’re asking?” 

Your hands are on his chest now, and you can feel that despite his much more outwardly collected demeanor, his heart is beating just as hard as yours. 

“I want your help,” you tell him firmly, and you feel the way that simple word, want, finally pierces his armor, makes him twitch like the bite of a gnat. 

So he bends down, and the moment his mouth connects with your chest, time stops. 

It’s a lightning strike, crackling through your entire body. 

His lips are cool, chilled by the evening air, and they’re every bit as perfect as you’ve always imagined. You could stay there forever in the mesmerizing trap of his kiss, but the addition of his sultry tongue, sweeping a slow track along the path his fingers had gone only a few minutes before, is what fully unravels you, sending his name from your own mouth in a whine and prompting one of your hands to slide up his neck and into his hair — and it, too, is everything you’ve dreamed of, dense and wild and begging to be tamed by your grasping desperation. He growls in surprise at the unexpected sensation of your fingernails, but you feel rather than hear it, the vibrations of his voice thrumming deep inside your body. 

You know the entire exchange must only take a few minutes, but it seems like an eternity that he’s there, sucking the honey trail from your skin, his still-sticky fingers leaving behind more prints that he also endeavors to remove. You pull his body closer to yours, until it seems you breathe one breath, share one heartbeat as he rocks you back and forth with the barely restrained desire to push you over until he can cover you completely. 

But it can be deadly to lose concentration in the woods, especially so close to nightfall, and regretfully the pair of you pull away in unspoken agreement, staring at each other and trying to understand fully what just happened. 

“We should get a move on,” Gale finally huffs. “That deer won’t carry itself.” 

Temperamental, taciturn Gale.

Always concerned with the practical side of things. 

No more words are exchanged between the two of you as you pack up the day’s yield and slip back into the somewhat relative safety of the Seam. The meat is stored away at Gale’s house (he knows you’ll come back for your share, or else he’ll find you and force you to take it) and at last there is really nothing more left to do, so you step out the door and into the lengthening shadows. 

When you look back, however, he’s still standing there in the doorframe, and there’s a tentative curiosity written across his face, a reluctance to have this be goodnight and goodbye until his next free day. 

And you could lie and say you don’t feel the same way, but you and Gale have never lied to each other. 

“What?” you tease, echoing his demand of much earlier. 

He opens his mouth, then closes it again and shrugs helplessly. “I…I don’t know, Spark. Where do you want…this…to go?” 

You ponder that, taking in the familiar sight of him with warm fondness. He looks tired, shoulders slouched and face smudged with gray dust from the mines, but there’s something different there tonight, a fragile hope behind his resting sullen expression, some aura about him that pleads with you not to leave him alone tonight. 

Even a man as strong as Gale Hawthorne has his limits. 

So you give in to temptation. 

“The washtub at my house is bigger, you know. And we both could use a hand cleaning up.” 

He steps down from the threshold to follow you back to your home. 

You know what you’re really offering to him. 

And so does he. 

When you wake with first light, he’s already long gone. Only the dip in the other side of your worn mattress remains to suggest another body was actually there. 

You’re not surprised, and not really hurt. He has his job to get back to, after all, a family to feed and a whole village to look after. But you wonder briefly, after having watched him fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you and his face hidden in your chest, long eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses against your flesh, what it would be like to watch him wake up, too. 

You imagine his eyes are even prettier then, hazy with sleep and not yet hardened to withstand the day’s toils ahead. 

Last night feels like a strange dream of lukewarm water and skin on skin, sporadically interspersed with starkly clear images of his well-muscled form and those clever hands traveling across the width and breadth of yours. When you close your eyes you can still feel his heavy weight on top of you, pressing you deeper into the mattress, and you feel oddly empty and untethered now in its absence.

Only the dark blossoms his mouth left behind on your body and a selection of new — but not unpleasant — aches tells you that what you shared was in fact as real as this morning. 

What it means going forward, you don’t know. 

But you don’t regret a single moment of it. 

As you dress and prepare to head out for the day, your mother’s voice calls you into the main room. “One of the younger Hawthorne children brought you something — said it’s from your friend.” 

You see it there on the table, a folded scrap of rough paper and a single daisy, still fresh enough to mean he probably cut it on his way back to his house. 

A small smile creeps across your lips as you unfold the note. 

Spark — 

I don’t want this to be just a one-time thing. At least, not if you feel that way too. 

Sorry I had to go. I wish I could have stayed. 

You may not need me to survive, but you made me realize something. 

I need you. 

— Gale 

Hastily re-folding the paper, you tuck it away into your shirt pocket, close to your heart. 

Stubborn Gale Hawthorne. 

He’d never been much of a talker, so you know just how much those simple three words at the end of his message really mean. 

For the man who needs no one to admit he can’t go on without you?

He might as well rival the old poets in their epic declarations of love. 

Gale is much like the wild honey that started all of this, you realize, as you snatch a piece of the comb on your way out into the harsh world beyond. Once you manage to get past his defensive sting, there are so many intoxicating flavors to taste within. 

And whatever he still needs to work out with Katniss…. 

He doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing. 

[filmbyjy]

HIDDEN LOVE

SYNOPSIS > park sunghoon was the most good looking and respectful man you’ve ever met at the age of 13. ignoring the fact that you had a loud and obnoxious older brother, park jongseong, as his best friend. with things going by in your life and a heartbreak at 17. what happens when you coincidentally reconnected with your past crush on someone 5 years older than you?

SEVEN – nice to others

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

WC: 1.5K words

a/n: she's back after *flips calendar* a week! i do apologise. i wanted to release other writings that i have in my inbox. it just so happens that it was a sunghoon one. anyways, this is a decently lengthy filler chapter so enjoy!!

you were stupid. however, park sunghoon was way more stupid. why did he just randomly told you off for almost having a high school relationship? he isn't your brother. you had groaned into the pillow once more. you should get some sleep. it's a long day ahead as there was school tomorrow.

you didn't know as to when you had woken up but you were dead tired. you needed more sleep. the alarm went off and you had turned it off. once again, back to being stuck in school for a few hours of education.

after showering, leaving the house and taking the bus, you had made it to school. the class was alive with students chattering with their friends. you had seen your best friend, rei, coming into class.

"hey, rei! did you have a good rest over the weekend?" you had asked her but she ignores you and choses to walk past. she settles down right on her seat in front of the desk.

you were disappointed and quite sad but you didn't let that waver you. instead, you had tapped her shoulders and ask her once again. "rei, are you okay? did something happen?" she ignores you. now you were sure she definitely was purposely not listening to you.

just as you were about to ask her again, the teacher walks in and everyone was ordered to stand and greet him. guess you'd have to ask her on the way to lunch. studies were never your thing but after that incident in middle school with sunghoon, you had been listening well and doing better in high school. it was for sunghoon after all.

"we will be having a school's sports day for our class and we need participants for hurdling. which one of you have yet to sign up yet?" the teacher voices out. he looks around the class and hums.

"(name). you have yet to sign up. i'll put you into vaulting. go practice for it after school and during PE." he says. you had sighed under your breath in distaste. you had raised your hand.

"sir, i can't do vaulting. can i just take running?"

"we have too many signing up for it. maybe if you give me a good reason as to why you don't want to jump then tell me."

"m-my legs are too short?" you say as if you were second guessing yourself. the whole class erupts in a laughter and you were embarrassed. you had slumped your shoulders over.

"not a good reason. you have to do this no matter what. our class is routing for you."

you had groaned quietly at the teacher's words. the bell rings and it was finally lunch. you had tried to catch rei but she was leaving with another classmate.

"rei, wait." you had ran up to her. "let's talk and get our usual lunch together."

"i don't want to." she says. it seemed like she was upset. you didn't know what to say. you had watched your best friend walk away. instead of going to the canteen. you had retreated into your class and ate lunch alone.

why was she reacting this way? did you do something wrong?

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

there were loud cheers from around the stadium. Decelis High was holding their sports day at Nosferatu College. the college that both your brother and sunghoon attended. you had prayed and prayed that you wouldn't see them.

you were watching other classes play against each other in the 'tug of war' game. rei seemed so happy cheering for them. they were neck and neck. then one tug sent the other class fly into the losing end. everyone cheers. then you had noticed myung jaehyun (myungjae) was in the winning class. ah, she liked him and you had hurt him by rejecting him. was that why she stopped talking to you?

she notices that you were looking at her and she looks away from you. you had turned away and started to walk somewhere else when myung jaehyun runs after you.

"hey." you smiled a little.

"hi."

"i saw your name on the list. you're going to play vaulting, hmm?"

"yeah. not exactly looking forward to it."

there was an announcer telling the people who chose vaulting to start signing up. it was your turn and you couldn't run away from it.

myungjae sighs, he scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "good luck out there. i umm sorry for taking the rejection so badly."

you had shook your head. "it's not your fault. i probably should've let you down gently instead of being mean." he holds out his hand.

"friends?" you took his hand and shook it.

"friends." the announcer calls out again and myungjae pats your back.

"go out there and win for your class." you gave him a small smile one last time and turned around to walk towards the registration booth.

"okay, next." you heard the person say. here you were face to face with jay. he was shocked. there was a look of mischief flashing across his face.

"oh my god? turn around." he says. you had rolled your eyes. he wanted to see the number you had and confirmed with your name on the list. you had whined.

"fuck off, oppa. you're so annoying." jay laughs. he laughs so hard that he bangs the desk and wakes up the person beside him. it just so happens to be sunghoon.

oh hell nah. why did it have to be park sunghoon...

there was a strange look in sunghoon's eyes. almost like a glimmer of happiness that you were here but you didn't want to assume it was. jay smacks sunghoon's shoulder.

"dude, are you seeing this right? my little sister is doing vaulting." jay laughs once more. you had folded your arms, annoyed by your older brother. sunghoon tries to get your brother to quieten down as he was being quite loud. once jay's laughter dies down a little, he turns his attention to you.

"it's hot out. did you wear some sunscreen?" he asks. you had hummed at his words. he gestures for you to lean forward and steals jay's cap before placing it right on your head.

"be careful, okay?" he sweetly says. jay almost mocks sunghoon once you had nodded and left.

"acting like a big brother to her. how sweet." jay says. sunghoon lightly pushes jay away.

20 minutes later, you were in line to do vaulting. each girl before you had made it over the first line. you were nervous. finally, it was your turn and your classmates had gathered around to cheer for you. you had breathed in and started running. just before you had jumped, you had stopped. everyone around still cheered for you so you could jump over the pole. you had went back to the starting line.

i can do this. it's not that hard. just jumped over and we're done.

you had breathed in and out once more and just run. you had jumped and you genuinely thought you made it over but you fell over and scraped your knee. you hear everyone gasping and two people scrambling over to you.

"get on my back," jay instructs. you don't move. sunghoon's back really good to lay on...you were just saying...

you don't get to say anything as sunghoon helps you up on jay's back. hmm, how were you going to be able to get on sunghoon's back...you had to think.

start an argument with jay as he carries me! 'you're so smart'. thanks brain. 'thank you, (name) :D'

as jay was bringing you over to the station, you had started to squirm in his arms and jay huffs. sunghoon had just followed along making sure you were okay.

"stop moving."

"you're hurting my legs." you groaned. jay rolls his eyes.

"i'm not even touching your legs."

"you are and it hurts!" you whine once more.

"too bad, now just deal with it."

"my fragile hea-" you were midway whining and complaining.

"sunghoon, you carry her." jay tells sunghoon. he passes you over to sunghoon. you had climbed over to sunghoon's back and he easily carries you.

let's go. i'm so smart. now, i get to be on his back :3

he carries you over to the medical station and looks around for the medical staff but they weren't around. he looks around for a disinfectant and a bandage. he lightly blows on the injury after disinfecting it and placing some ointment. he then places a bandage right over it.

"your ankles might be swollen for a bit. stay here. i'll get jay to look around for the nurse. you might have to be in an ankle brace for a little." sunghoon explains. you hummed. he looks up at you.

"are you okay? you look like you're going to cry."

"i'm okay. i think. thank you, sunghoon oppa." he smiles a little.

"don't worry, kid. you'll be fine. just be strong. it's nothing too serious."

just then someone else falls and it catches sunghoon's attention. he ruffles your hair and runs to help out. you had watched the whole scene go down. he allows the girl to put her arms around his neck as he leads her towards the medical station.

he's always so nice to others and not just me...

i wish he'd pay attention to me more

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[joodles98]

can we talk about the leon and eternatus parallels more 😭. it's as clear as how hop and gloria/victor are zacian and zamazenta. and how deeply we were robbed. the game sets us up meeting raihan in literally the first cutscene, as leon's rival and DRAGON TAMER, and leon gets intertwined with the most omnipotent and dangerous dragon ever known, in the very city that celebrates dragons (raihan's city! his domain!), and you're telling me raihan got sidelined in that story............... what da tuna

where to start

leon, and his main character energy, gets to the energy plant first because he's the hero, right? and believes it's his job. and he feels guilty for not piecing together rose's plan sooner. he's the hero who'll stop this! that's what everyone says and what he's convinced himself. but at what point does he realize he has more in common with this destructive, confused, untamable, "villainous" thing, than he does being a hero? and that he might actually lose, upon that realization? is he thinking he's been a fraud this entire time?

the dragon with world-ending power appearing the moment leon's "world" falls apart—realizing he's been betrayed and misled by rose, someone he had trusted for so long. his match being interrupted, the thing that tethers everything sensible in his small grandiose life as champion. all those years away from home, time he spent building galar into what it is today alongside rose, time he could have spent with hop, sonia, raihan, the weight of being a cultural symbol of strength and prosperity, all for this?

eternatus and leon both being handpicked by rose, and essentially kept dormant and isolated until it was time for their "true purpose." (you could say rose's other pawns, bede and oleana, were discarded once their usefulness had run dry.) ...only for rose to realize leon and eternatus were never really in his control. the hubris to try and contain things of such power. lol

i want to get into leons mind at that moment. sometimes i think him trying to catch eternatus was his last resort in trying to subdue it. all the theories of how every champion has a master ball, what happened to leon's? we jest about him throwing a pokeball, but genuinely i think he was unprepared. clearly.

i don't leon realizes the gravity of the situation until he sees eternatus, which is already too late. he's been running around the region since the gym challenge started subduing unruly dynamax pokemon from rose's experiments. what's one more? but this one's different. it's otherworldly, its skeletal appearance makes it look barely alive, despite it's clear exertion of power. it's hard to read. is it confused? angry? scared? all of the above? eternatus is mysterious, and terrifyingly strong, just like a certain champion. no one but themselves really know the extent of their own strength and power, and maybe not even completely. there's pieces in the games, but it's clued a lot heavier in twilight wings, of just how tired leon really is.

all that to say, we get to see eternatus crash out once it's awakened in a changed world and feels repressed and used, in desperate need of rest and freedom, and maybe even something like real trust and safety. i wonder what that means for leon ......... :(

last thing i'll say: even though hop is connected to zacian, and stopped the darkest day, i think he might struggle to view himself as a "hero," even after that. the champion's supposed to be the hero, right? then, what does that make leon? hop can't even beat his rival, he didn't make it to the champion match, he just wanted to help his brother even though he doubted what much of a difference he'd make. maybe if it wasn't for gloria/victor he'd feel too cowardly to do anything at all. leon was supposed to be the one to stop this, they were just supposed to help! maybe everyone's been in the wrong place for a long time. poor kid

i lied. one more thing to say:

not to make this turn into post #439574 rewriting the darkest day, but it would have been interesting to see raihan and sonia, or maybe even raihan and piers, trying to assist leon before the young trainers have to step in. i think it would have solidified the vibe that leon/much of the cast were once Protagonists and Rivals of their own story, and now it's time for a new generation. i also think that would have emboldened the narrative of the Power of Friendship behind how hop and gloria/victor succeed where leon doesn't, in trying to defeat eternatus alone. (since we see in the post-game, how leon's tournaments are team based double battles, which i think exemplifies his changed mindset and openness to connection, now that he no longer is an isolated champion, and maybe starts learning its okay asking for help)

yeah

[jojosbingsu]

omgg i loved your jojo headcanon so much 🥹🩷! i was wondering if i could request the same thing but with maki instead! have a good one boo, love ya 🫶🏻!!!

Boyfriend Maki

Admin: Ellie

Genre: Fluff, Wholesome

Pairing: gn!reader x Maki

Word Count: 2.26K

Notes: Hello anon~! Thank you for your request! ^0^ I hope you enjoy my thoughts on boyfriend Maki. :) Please feel free to request again or leave your thoughts and opinions through the request box! Requests are always open and I’m always open to hearing feedback on my work~

You have never met someone who flirts as much as Riki does. This guy absolutely LOOOOOVES to flirt with and tease you because it makes him feel good to see you blushing over something he’s said or done. He’s subtle about it in public so you don’t get embarrassed around others but when you’re alone, he’s a flirt machine who lives his life for the sole reason of seeing you flustered. Even when you’re separated, he will text you cheesy pickup lines when he misses you or give you a quick video call to tell you he wanted to see your face for a few minutes.

Touching isn’t his primary love language but he sure does love to just hug and hold onto you. He feels the most comfortable when he’s relaxing on the sofa with his arms wrapped around you or when his head is resting against your shoulder, chest or back. Whenever you’re facing the opposite direction, he will give you a back hug and just lean into you to find comfort and feel more connected to you for a little while. 

That being said: Cuddles are almost mandatory. If you’re staying the night together, he won’t sleep comfortably unless he’s able to snuggle up close to you and wrap an arm loosely around you. If it’s cold or raining outside, you can almost guarantee he will find his way to your place. He will either want to cuddle close with you or just lay with his head in your lap while you’re busy with whatever else you’d like to do. 

Napping on your lap like a cat is another habit Riki has. When you’re busy playing a game or speaking with your friends, you’ll find your incredibly adorable boyfriend laying down with his head on your lap to catch a quick nap when he’s feeling tired. Running your fingers through his hair or caressing his face is a great way to help him fall asleep much faster. He will sometimes reach to pull one of your hands towards his chest to huge onto until he’s drifted off to sleep.

Riki’s primary love language is spending quality time with you. There’s nothing that makes him happier than just simply having his alone time with you, even if you’re not really doing anything besides lounging lazily on opposite ends of the couch together. As long as you’re with him, he’ll be the happiest guy in the world. His favorite activity to do with you would be going out on adventures or cooking with you! Riki is quite the chef these days, so he would love it if you’d be his second in command and help him whip up a yummy meal you guys could share over a nice at-home dinner date. 

Adventures with Riki would include going on road trips to places neither one of you have ever visited before or taking a simple hike through the woods to find a waterfall you could share a picnic in front of! Adventures could also be simple things like making a trip to the mall because he’s on the hunt for a specific teddy bear he saw a commercial for or going on a hunt for your favorite candy and making multiple stops along the way to find it. - There are no real rules or guidelines for what an “adventure” would be with Riki. Perhaps he would want to take you to an amusement park and label it as an adventurous date for you two! Whatever the case may be, make sure you’re prepared to be out all day!

PDA with Riki is almost non-existent. He loves you dearly and isn’t afraid to make it known that you’re HIS partner, but he doesn’t believe in showcasing “special” relationship moments to the public. Holding your hand or hugging onto you like a clingy monster while you’re out together is fine but you’ll never catch him smooching you in front of anyone else. To him, that kind of thing is special and private and he wants to keep those moments all to himself. He will call you by pet names in public to display affection, but physicality is saved for more private, intimate times where you’re away from the rest of the world. 

Very openly possessive over you. He tries not to sound like he views you as property by any means but he does absolutely try to make it abundantly clear that you are HIS partner and you’re not looking for another one when he feels that someone is being touchy or clingy with you. “It’s my job to fawn over you like that” is something you’ve heard many times before with a sulk coming to rest on his face when someone has struck his nerves the wrong way. He will sometimes clear his throat and glare at people when they’re making him uncomfortable with the way they look at or speak to you. 

He is forever talking about you when you’re not together. If he’s with his friends, he finds a way to mention you about 60 times in conversation just simply because he loves you and he adores sharing information about you with those he’s close with. Though he loves to mention you to his friends, it’s his family that never hears the end of stories about you. He really wants you to have a good relationship with his parents, so he’s forever running to them to gush about how much he loves you! He never forgets to make sure they know just how much you love him too, though! He always mentions how you’ve done something for him lately that made him feel special, such as baking him cookies or helping him sort through old clothes to get rid of when you had a free weekend to spend with him. 

Giving you gifts is something he does on a regular basis. Almost every time you see him, he’s got something new for you! Whenever he sees something that reminds him of you, it’s coming home with him immediately and you just have to have it. He loves to get you nice smelling candles he thinks would set a relaxing mood for you or soft plush blankets that are decorated with your favorite cartoon characters.

Impromptu nerf battles + water gun fights. Let’s just be honest - Riki is a little kid trapped inside of his teenage body. He still has a heart full of childish wonder and joy, so you had better be prepared to get shot with nerf darts or water droplets at the most random moments in time. Whenever you show up to his house, already be prepared with your own nerf gun because he’s planning to get you from a window as you approach the front door. You have to beat him to the punch or else you’re losing the battle almost instantly. If you’re relaxing on the couch, keep an eye out because he’s absolutely planning something nefarious and you’ll want to catch him before he’s able to ensnare you in his nonsense. 

A complete wuss. He is the embodiment of "weenie hut junior" clientele. This guy is terrified of bugs and rodents of all kinds, so you had better hope none ever find their way into your living space. Riki for sure will NOT help you get rid of it. He will be the main one standing on a countertop screaming his lungs out. Your neighbors would think someone is getting killed because of how loud and hard he would scream if a bug or some kind of outside rodent suddenly approached him while hanging out at your place. Count him OUT, he's not dealing with it. You would have to call another friend or some sort of professional to deal with the issue because Riki would stand there screaming that it's trying to kill you. "GET AWAY FROM IT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? OH MY GOD IT'S GOING TO BITE YOUR FINGER OFF GET OVER HERE!" - He would trip major balls over it and end up embarrassing himself.

Always tries to play it off like he wasn't scared. "I was just messing with you! What do I look like being afraid of a bug smaller than my thumb nail?" -> Would become so embarrassed and flustered when you laughed at him and teased him for his behavior. Always has to find an excuse that makes him seem like less of a wuss. "No, I cried because my tummy hurt, I didn't even notice the grasshopper in here..." (sweating nervously because he doesn't know if it's gone yet)

When you guys don’t spend the night together, Riki has made it a habit to send you really sweet morning messages so you have something nice to wake up to in his absence. He’s always wishing that you have a great day and makes sure he reminds you of how much he loves you and how excited he is to see you again. He sometimes sends you photos of his outfit of the day before he heads out as well because he knows how much you love receiving photos of him. 

He likes to take you out for breakfast dates! He thinks going out for breakfast before splitting up for the day is a great way to make sure you both start off the morning on a positive note. He loves quiet mornings in the cafe with you before his day gets busy. He feels like you’re always giving him the strength he needs to keep a positive attitude about his busy schedule, often feeling as though you’re the reason he ends up having a good day. Your morning pep talks really seem to do wonders for the cutie pie and he will forever express his gratitude for your kindness. 

He sends voice notes of him crybabying from time to time if he thinks you’ve taken too long to respond to his messages when you’re separated. Of course he’s never actually mad or accusing you of anything, he just likes to complain and catch your attention. Sometimes you’ll tease him over the voice notes and it opens the door for him to tease you back, which we’ve already established is like his NUMBER ONE favorite thing to do to you. 

When you DOOO spend the night with Riki? Expect to be pampered. This guy makes it his mission to make sure you’re extra comfortable before going to bed when you’re with him. He will run a nice bath for you to relax in (he will sometimes join you in the tub so you can both enjoy the time of unwinding together), he will do skincare routines with you, stock up on your favorite snacks, and make sure he already has the comfiest and softest pajamas picked out for you to wear. 

Breakfast in bed when you stay the night with him! He wakes up extra early in the mornings after you’ve stayed the night at his place so he can prepare a nice breakfast for you to enjoy in bed. Sharing a lazy breakfast with you brings him a lot of comfort and peace. He feels like moments like those spent in bed sharing a meal are special and irreplaceable. He looks forward to surprising you with something different each morning and he finds it to be a very romantic bonding activity just for the two of you. 

Riki is the best when it comes to reassuring you and providing you with comfort when you need it the most. I feel like he’s probably one of the most open minded people you could ever meet, so he would always be understanding when you want or need more from him. He’s always ready to reassert his love and admiration for you. Most of the time, you don’t really have to ask for him to reassure you that he loves you and isn’t upset with you for any reason but if the time comes, all you have to do is say that maybe you feel a little emotionally distant from him and he’s quick to fix it. 

Aside from being the best at reassuring you, Riki also has stellar communication skills and habits. He never hides what he’s feeling from you and he makes it comfortable enough that you never have to hide your feelings either. If something is wrong, he will immediately speak up about it so you can clear the air as soon as the bad feelings hit so there is no animosity between you two. He allows space for you to do the same thing and is always ready to apologize when he knows he’s overstepped a boundary. 

Overall; Riki is a very sweet, tenderhearted and sometimes childish boyfriend. He likes to spoil you with candles and blankets, he pampers you with breakfast dates and warm baths, and he is very emotionally attached to you! He prefers to keep your relationship private (not hidden by any means) from the general public but he boasts about you nonstop to friends and family. He is a very loving guy who just wants you by his side all the time. He tries to make you as comfortable as possible and he’s always ready to make changes so you can both grow positively as a couple and as individuals. He's still learning how to be a good boyfriend, so he does sometimes slip up and make mistakes but it's no big deal. He's always taking accountability for his mess-ups and he's willing to learn from his mistakes so he doesn't make the same ones over again.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

In Bed

Headcanons around their sex life. This one is rated maybe R, though it isn’t smut. Proceed accordingly.

When overly excited, Rio is an oil fire, devouring, all-consuming, barely letting Agatha breathe, let alone think. She doesn't actually have to play by mortal rules about stamina or exhaustion, and so things normally end when Agatha is too sore or too tired to continue. Sometimes Agatha has to resort to magic, uses it to please her inhuman lover until she runs out of energy for even that, collapses and sleeps like the dead.

What Rio really prefers, though, when she can sit still for it, are sweet things, soft caresses, butterfly kisses and murmured adoration. That’s not Agatha’s strong suit, but she’s more than happy to do it, because it gives her the thing she likes most of all—control. She takes her time with it, until she has a melted, mewling puddle of Death begging her for release.

And then there are the times when Agatha wants it rough, punishing, maybe even a touch demeaning. She could just ask, of course, but where’s the fun in that? She prefers to live dangerously, she likes the thrill of making Rio angry, riding the line between getting what she wants and getting stabbed by a frustrated supernatural being.

The easiest way is flirting. She picks out some pretty girl in town, smiles at her in a way that leaves her head spinning and her cheeks flushed, until Rio drags her favorite girl away to get exactly what she deserves.

Afterwards, while Agatha is basking in the sore afterglow, her head on her lover’s thigh, Rio complains, “I feel like this is only encouraging you.”

“Nooo,” Agatha says, looking up, enjoying the view. “I’ve definitely learned my lesson this time.”

She can only laugh at how dramatically Rio sighs, a sustained burst of air. “I really do hate when you flirt,” her lover sulks.

“But think of how you get to punish me for it.”

“Mm. Punish,” Rio picks up her knife, twirls it one-handed. “If I stabbed you, you might actually stop.”

“But then how would I have any fun?”

Rio studies her, brushes her hair back with an unnervingly gentle touch. “Someday, Ags, you really will go too far with this game.”

Agatha takes that hand in hers, presses her lips to the back of her lover’s knuckles. “Only you. Only ever you. In my heart and in my bed.” She meets Rio’s eyes, unblinking and huge. “All right?”

”…does it have to be flirting?” Rio says, but she’s softened, caught, staring only at Agatha.

Agatha’s smile curls at the edges, her eyes light with equal parts mischief and malice. “It does work so well, though. You get positively vicious. And,” she simpers, does her best attempt at doe eyes. “I do make it up to you, don’t I?”

Something in Rio’s eyes catches, oil lit aflame. “…sometimes. Eventually.”

Agatha’s cheeks heat and she actually has to fight the urge to look away. “…I really can’t, I’ll—“ she stops herself from saying ‘die’ at the last possible second, that would really get Rio going. “Never walk again.”

Rio considers that. “I’m feeling kind of unsatisfied, though. And I do have this knife…”

“Goddess, whoever taught you to say things like that is a monster,” Agatha says with appreciation. “Can I just—with the magic?” She holds up her hands, crackling with purple.

Rio shrugs, pretend-indifferent but doing a bad job of it, because she’s looking at Agatha like a starving man looks at a three-course meal. ”Not what I’d prefer, but—“ she lounges back, looks down at the woman she loves. “All right, Agatha. Satisfy me.”

And of course, Agatha does.

Eventually.

[lovelybucky1]

rivals/enemies to lovers Anakin fic and their tension is 10000000x high all the time like😫😫😫

thank you for the ask!!! inbox open for cillian murphy and anakin

warnings: gender neutral!reader, pushy anakin, semi-public, mentions of masturbation, inappropriate use of the force, teasing, enemies to lovers, 18+ minors dni

masterlist

Anakin Skywalker might be the most infuriating person you have ever had the misfortune of meeting. The praise he constantly received for his skills during his padawan years combined with the title of "Chosen One" that is often bestowed upon him did terrible things for his ego.

He struts around the temple with so much arrogance that you can practically smell it on him. He's rude and demanding, often making some of the younger Jedi do his bidding just because they listen to him.

If they weren't scared of Anakin, they were bowing at his feet to kiss his boots. Everybody knew what Anakin was capable of, and they treated him like a god because of it. But not you.

To you, Anakin was nothing but a spoiled brat in an adult's body. He tried to enchant you, to get you under the same spell he had everyone else under, but you refused. You could recognize talent, but you would rather die than contribute to his inflated ego.

For some reason, your refusal to kiss his ass made Anakin obsessed with you. He knows you hate him, you make it obvious. Anakin has taken this hatred as a challenge; he wants to break your resolve.

Anakin is like a fly, always buzzing around your head at the least opportune times. During training, he always volunteers to be your partner. He always sits next to you at meals and during meditation. While meditating, he invades your mind just to pester you some more. At night, he appears in your dreams and you wake up pissed off at him.

This is a game to Anakin. One you despise with your entire being, but its one he never seems to tire of. It's escalated a bit over time; at first it was just teasing jibes and general annoyance, but now his remarks have a flirtatious edge to them and that makes you even angrier.

"If you were that desperate to get into my arms, you just had to ask," Anakin smirks as he looks down at where you fell against his chest. Training with Anakin is never easy, he plays dirty just so he can get you into positions such as these.

"Get the fuck off of me," you huff, pushing him away.

"What's got you in such a bad mood?" he asks, knowing full well that it's him that has you so irritated.

"One of life's greatest mysteries," you say as you get back into a fighting stance.

Training technically ended an hour ago, but Anakin kept taking you down and you couldn't leave without a victory.

"Come on, you can tell me. I can keep a secret."

You run at him, extending your foot to kick him in the shoulder but he grabs your ankle and flips you over, sending you falling face down onto the mat. You grunt when you hit the floor and roll onto your back, only to find Anakin standing over you, looking impossibly tall.

"You're my fucking problem."

You get up, swatting Anakin's hand away when he offers it to you.

"Me? What have I done to you?" he asks.

Catching him off guard, you hook your ankle around the back of his knee and bring him to the ground. He could have fought back, but he goes down easily. You stand in front of him as he kneels in front of you, not looking any less smug despite his position.

“Why do you continue to train with me if you hate me so much?” he asks.

“You choose me, asshole.”

“I don’t force you to be my partner. You could have anyone you wanted.”

You glare down at him. “I like beating the shit out of you.”

“Have you ever beat me?” he asks with a smirk. “Y’know, sometimes I get a feeling that you like me.”

“Like you?”

“Yeah. You’re always hanging around me, you dream about me, you even think about me when you meditate. That sounds a little like obsession to me.” He walks forward a bit on his knees so he’s close enough to rest his cheek against your thigh, and for some reason you don’t stop him.

“Those are all things you do, Anakin. You put those thoughts in my head.”

Anakin chuckles. “Maybe so, but I know you also think about me at night,” he rises to his feet, once again towering over you. “in bed, under the covers when you can’t get to sleep.”

You gasp, trying to cut it off before he notices but it’s too late. Anakin is close, too close, his chest mere inches away from yours.

“I didn’t put those thoughts in that pretty head. That’s all you. Your desire,” he takes ahold of your wrists and pins them at your sides. “Your dirty secrets.” His gaze is intense and it makes you want to squirm away from it.

“You’re a fucking pig,” you spit, trying to wrestle your way out of his hold but there’s no use.

“And you can’t admit what you want,” he says. “Come on, you can tell me. I promise I won’t tell a soul.” Somehow Anakin sounds earnest and you feel compelled to confess.

“I don’t like you,” you say.

“I don’t want you to.”

“I hate you.”

“I like it that way.” He looks at you expectantly. “But…?”

“There’s no but, Anakin! I’m not attracted to you,” you huff.

He rolls his eyes and smirks. “How about I tell you some things first, and then it’s your turn?” You give him a blank stare in return; he continues anyway. “I hate you. I think you’re a stubborn little bitch who hates me just because you’re jealous. You’ll never be as powerful as I am, and I know that irks you like nothing else. I hate the way you talk shit about me every chance you get to make yourself feel better. And most of all, I hate the way you pretend you don’t want me to fuck you in all the ways you fantasize about.”

You gape at him, feeling embarrassed and angry that he just exposed you so blatantly. You wrench your arms out of his hold and this time he lets you, which makes you even angrier.

“You fucking-”

“Tell me you don’t want it,” he challenges. You stare back at him. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you.”

There is a moment of silence; Anakin waiting for you to deny and you waiting for him to ridicule you.

Anakin steps forward and grabs your hips, pulling you flush to him. You don’t fight back.

“Nothing to say?”

“Fuck you.”

“You gotta say please if you want it so bad,” he grins.

“I hope you choke.”

In a flash, Anakin has you down on the mat, flat on your back. Your legs are spread and he’s slotted between them, leaning up on his elbows to look at you. His nose is only inches away from yours, and it’s making your blood boil.

“Don’t I feel good on top of you?” He does, and he knows it. “Just say yes, baby. I’ll fuck you right here, just how you like it.”

You grit your teeth. “Yes.”

[lxkeeeeee]

➤ socmed au.ᐟ | scaramouche smau masterlist | repost masterpost

𖤐 fake it till we make it.ᐟ | what happens when scaramouche, your rival since the first year of highschool, had some annoying admirers on his back? easy—he (fake) dates you to shoo them off. nothing can possibly go wrong with faking a relationship with the guy you hate, right?

𖤐 in hindsight | You are a singer-songwriter. Music has always been a part of you, it's a part of your identity that no one can ever take away. However, there's always a catch: you are diagnosed with a chronic illness that puts your life on a timer. Those who have heard your countless melodies have grown to notice that the notes on the sheet played a gloomier tune. Would the snarky and capable medical student you've met be able to bring life back into these melodies? Even as your life begins to seep out of your own body? A reboot/rebranded version of Autumn Leaves.

𖤐 blurred lines | You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.

𖤐 my dear y/n | you and scaramouche were once lovers, both of you being each other’s first loves in middle school—all the way to your junior year. but after growing apart & growing up, you two broke it off quite calmly, brushing it off as an inevitable outcome. but, what’ll happen now that you two are at the same university, coming across one another (too) frequently? will you two even be as close as before? friends? enemies? lovers?

𖤐 raised the bar.ᐟ | yn thought she finally escaped the perpetual doom of placing 2nd after she graduated high school. but alas! the leaderboard has her name printed under another’s! a name she thought she’d never get to see again. better luck next time, i guess.

𖤐 stuck with you | after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

𖤐 keep my heart | you find plenty of guys around you attractive, but there is only one you’re willing to make the first move on: the guy you first saw during your older brother’s soccer game. spoiler: he's a player from your rival university.

𖤐 just a hater | in which you major in astronomy and scaramouche is the biggest astronomy hater (in your eyes). what happens when someone confesses their feelings for you, and you not knowing how to handle affections, suddenly blurt out that you are already taken. by who? well, scaramouche of course.

𖤐 how (not) to fall in love | your best friend is tired of being single. she wants to fall in love. she wants to become like the female leads she's watching from romance movies. so being the supportive and kind best friend you are, you decided to help her! except that the guy she has her eyes on happens to be your long-term crush from your middle-high school days. surely, you're not the one who will fall for him... right?

𖤐 sweet melody | THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

𖤐 UNDERST☆ND | when the famous streamer Scaramouche, reveals being in a long term relationship with a mysterious person, no one thought he would be married to the famous idol, YN.

𖤐 camera flip, heart leap.ᐟ | IN WHICH—you, although faceless, are a very famous streamer known as KUMI. you were streaming as usual, playing games and interacting with fans. but when you're about to exit the stream, you accidentally pressed the wrong button that led to you opening your cam and showing your whole face to your audience. this wasn't supposed to happen, no ! so you panicked and quickly ended the stream. numerous screenshots circulated on twitter, which broke both the fans and the internet. this reached a certain someone, SCARAMOUCHE, your rival in streaming. when the said boy saw the trending photo, he almost fell off his gaming chair. because—lo and behold! KUMI was actually [name]?! now who is this [name] in his life, if you may ask? she's the girl that scaramouche has been admiring from afar in real life! quite shocking, right? have i told you that he’s also been sending you anonymous love letters? oh well...

𖤐 always an artist, never the muse | you, an artist who lost her skills, chose practicality over passion. you try to avoid anything that has something to do with art, not until you met a naturally gifted artist who's living a life you wish you had.

𖤐 how you get the girl.ᐟ | breaking up with kuni was one of your biggest regrets yet (however, you'll never actually admit that to anyone). but was it really a wise decision to keep in touch with him even after you broke his (and your) heart?

𖤐 how haters are born | YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

𖤐 how haters die | YOU WERE under scrutiny of the one and only justsofamous for years and years before finding out who he is. constantly having to question your self-worth was a bigger downhill slope than the time you were begging your friends, crying and pleading, for them to go to a concert with you of an artist they all hated except you. but now that you're pretty much going through the motions of retracing your self esteem and your (extremely ironic) relationship with this guy who harassed you and then picked enough apples to win your heart, you started to consider moving in with him after he offered it enough times. only that, once you actually did...things started falling apart again for the two of you.

𖤐 that's that me espresso | You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

𖤐 of all people... | When you, a student who finds her best friend admits the terrors of high school. A best friend who've you'd hated ever since he left. Of all people, why was he the one to make you swoon, a person you swore to hate?

𖤐 behind the lens | tbw

𖤐 just playing the part | tbw

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 6)

Summary: Sam and Max's plan to get their siblings invited to a party may have worked but Sebastian Monroe is a dangerous man and they may have just put not only their lives but their families at risk too...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: Uh oh...

_________

Two Weeks Later

Reader POV

“Damn,” said Dean, shaking out his arm after you’d tossed him a football in the backyard. “I’m going to need your arm workout and no, I am not joking.”

“Oh my god, did I tell you the dance choreographer wanted me to learn to do a handstand so I could sing, upside down? I shut that shit down so fast,” you said, Dean gently tossing the ball back to you. 

“I’m sure you could do it. But I don’t blame you for not wanting to,” he said, catching the ball one handed. “Do you get a lot of say in that stuff? Dance moves?”

“That would require me to be able to dance,” you laughed, clasping both arms around the ball when he threw it back.

“She’s right. God awful dancer when it’s not choreographed. Miracle she can fake it as well as she does,” said Eric from the patio table, glancing up from his phone. “It’s four by the way.”

“Ugh. Why’d we say yes to this stupid party?” you asked. Dean shrugged.

“This guy donates a bunch of money to the Wolves charity every year. Plus Emma said it’s not a bad idea to go to a charity event together. Apparently it helps the public not think of me as such a scoundrel.” You tossed him the ball one last time, clasping your hands behind your back.

“I mean you are the big bad playboy corrupting the virtue of the sweet princess of pop,” you said, batting your eyes, twirling your hips. You grinned when he frowned, his eyes like a predator sizing up his prey. “I think the media is right about you. Such a bad influence.”

“Oh keep it up, princess, and I’ll tell them you ain’t innocent in the slightest.”

“Someone put me out of my misery,” groaned Eric, rising to his feet. “I’m getting dressed and going over protocols with the team. We’ll head out at seven.”

“Ain’t it kind of early to get ready?” asked Dean as you tossed him the ball one last time. Eric only laughed and headed inside, Dean cocking his head at you. “I know girls take a long time to get ready but three hours?”

“Shower. Shave. Makeup. Hair. Plus I told Sloane I’d help do her hair and pick out a dress,” you said, Dean humming. “I’m sure there’s a college game on you could watch for awhile.”

“I got some game film I can review,” he said, a heavy sigh in his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around him, Dean ditching the ball to return it. “It just never ends.”

“You love football, though,” you said, Dean nodding. 

“I do. But every year it’s getting to be more and more. I know you understand the pressure of it all. I just…I’m tired. I want to have more of a life outside my job,” he said, sliding his hands down your arms, taking your hands in his. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, Dean sharing the same sad smile you wore. “Me, I can have less tour dates and not put out an album every single year. I can make more wiggle room for myself. But I know you can’t. And sometimes I worry when I watch you play, pushing your body so hard.”

“I’m incredibly lucky I’m the least sacked QB in the league. I’ve had only one surgery and that was cause I broke my toe like an idiot on a coffee table. I don’t want to be like these guys that stay in too long and wind up with so much pain at forty. Or worse.” 

“I guess the thing to ask yourself is, do you want to keep going? Or could you walk away and be satisfied?” you asked. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. 

“All I know is I used to put my head down, bury myself in the game. All I looked forward to was getting to the season, the start of a game, feeling that rush. This year…I’m looking forward to being done with work and games way too much. It’s like I’d rather be somewhere else…with someone else,” he murmured.

You nodded, squeezing his hands. “Nothing to decide today.”

“I know. Go get ready. I can occupy myself for a few hours.”

“Damn,” you said when it was nearly seven. Sloane looked down at herself alarmed, glancing back worried. “Sloane, you’re fucking hot.”

“I’m forty two,” she scoffed, smoothing out the floor length gown. “I’m not hot.”

“Hell yeah you are,” you said, Sloane tucking a strand of freshly curled hair behind her ear. “Eric’s going to fucking drool.”

“He better not,” she mumbled, taking a breath as she put her leg up on a chair and hiked the skirt portion up. She opened up her clutch sat on the end of the bed and slapped a very small thigh holster on her right leg, a smaller than usual gun inside. 

“Right. Cause really hot women packing heat are total turn offs for him,” you said, adjusting the strap that ran across your shoulder. She pouted and you handed her the clutch. “You said you could work with him tonight. We’re only bringing two of you inside and we wanted our best.”

“I can. He’s good about not speaking about anything but strictly work lately,” she said, sitting on the bed. “Does he seem…different to you?”

You knew why she was asking. Eric had told you he needed a few hours a week off for therapy a few weeks back. You practically jumped for joy that he was going to get some help to work through some things. Then it all shattered when he said it was related to his dad and needing to address some stuff he did to him as a kid. He didn’t share more but you had a feeling that had as much impact on him as his days in the military, probably more.

“It’s hard to tell with him,” you said, trying to respect his privacy. Plus, it actually was difficult to see a difference. Eric held everything close to the chest. Sometimes too much.

“Yeah. There’ll be no issues working together this evening,” she said, forcing a smile. You wanted to offer some reassurance that he was trying and maybe someday things between them could change. But honestly, you had no clue if they would work things out.

“Good. Well, let’s go see the boys.” A moment later you were coming down the stairs, Dean and Eric wandering out from the front hall in their tuxedos. Eric had always looked handsome when he dressed up but Dean?

He was walking sin in the tailored outfit, showing off his large shoulders and trim waist. You could feel the heat in your cheeks when he stared like he wanted to devour you then and there.

“Wow,” said Dean, a growing smile on his face, eyeing you up and down. It was a fairly simple dress. Black. One shoulder and a thin strap on the other. Form fitting up top before it became loose at the hips. It probably didn’t match black tie standard one hundred percent but it’d been sitting in your closet for two years and you finally had an excuse to wear it.

“Wow yourself,” you said, tugging on the lapel of his jacket. “Put you in one of these and you’d never imagine you spend literally every single day in flannels, henleys, and black tees.”

“Strange considering I’ve seen you wearing those clothing items a lot more yourself lately,” he teased, grinning down like a cat staring at the mouse it’d cornered.

“Oh, just a coincidence,” you said, Eric clearing his throat. You rolled your eyes, getting a roll in return. “You look nice too, Eric. I know you need the compliment on your appearance or your ego will bust.”

“Why did I take this job,” he mumbled to himself, staring at Sloane as she walked ahead for the front door. “You look beautiful.”

Sloane stopped dead in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at him, his gaze shooting to you. 

“I know you’ve wanted to wear that dress for awhile,” he said to you, Sloane rolling her eyes and walking outside. Eric closed his eyes when she was gone, Dean slapping his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m sure my hyper observant protection agent didn’t catch the way you said that straight to her face and then pretended to say it to your boss.” Eric shrugged him off and grumbled on his way outside, harshly pulling the door behind him. “Damn. I was hoping they’d have some kind of fairytale moment or shit. He looked like he wanted to fuck her over the kitchen table.”

“I don’t know. We’ll just…wait and see what happens,” you said, holding out your hand. “Ready to go?”

“One sec,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. He slipped something elastic over your wrist, beaming when you stared down at it to find it was a friendship bracelet, like the kind from when you were kids. This one was black, gray and white, the LA Wolves colors. You turned it over when you felt a few square beads, expecting to see DEAN.

Your heart skipped when you saw MAX with a few beads separating it from SAM. You glanced up Dean, his green eyes flittering down to where he’d removed his jacket, right sleeve pushed up. 

Dean had always had Sam’s initials tattooed on his forearm. You remember that happened at some point in college, not too long after Sam went missing. The initials right below it were new though, his skin tinged a light pink from where the tattoo was still fresh.

“Is that-”

“Max’s initials? Yeah, looks like it,” he said, a coy smile crossing his face. You held out a finger, Dean humming it was alright to touch. A thick swallow was audible as you traced over the delicate skin, black ink soaked into the creamy canvas of his body.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, Dean’s face falling.

“Sweetheart, I’m-” he said as he wiped at your eyes, mascara coming away on the back of your hand. You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“Look what you did you sweet man,” you laughed, a few tears falling free. “Dean, you didn’t have to put his name on your body.”

“Brothers go on the arm. It’s kind of my thing,” he said, your bottom lip wobbling as a swell of emotion hit you. “Are you mad?”

“No,” you croaked out, squeezing your bracelet. “I wish they were with us.”

“Me too,” he said softly, wiping his thumb under your eye, stopping a tear from falling. “Y/N.”

You met his green eyes, thumb stroking your cheek with a barely there touch.

“You understand you’re my girl, right?” You nodded, Dean’s head tilting slightly, eyes scanning down to your lips slowly and back up just as lazily. “So. Am I yours?”

You held a finger to his lips and turned towards the front door, pulling it open, Eric and Sloane both leaned against an SUV.

“We’ll leave in thirty,” you said, pulling the door shut again, finding Dean with a raised eyebrow. “I need ten to fix my makeup. The other twenty is to show you exactly how much you’re mine.”

Dean POV

I stepped outside while Y/N used the bathroom, the brisk air doing wonders for cooling me down after what I could only describe as the most intimate handjob I’d ever received. It was the one thing that stuck out to me about sex with Y/N. Every other partner I’d had, it was about release, pleasure. With Y/N though, it felt different. A good different. Yeah, it was about the pleasure there too but it was…comforting in a way, joined together. 

Once Y/N had let go of her fear of it, intimacy turned out to be one of her favorite things in the world. And it was becoming one of mine too. She just made me feel safe. Whole again.

“Told you she’d cry about the tattoo,” mumbled Eric in my ear, hands clasped behind his back. “Surprised you didn’t get down on one knee yet.”

“We understand what we are to each other,” I said, adjusting the sleeve of my jacket. “The time for that’ll come eventually but I don’t think either one of us is in a rush to get there.”

“Ready!” exclaimed Y/N, rushing outside barefoot, the skirt of her dress bunched up in one hand, heels in the other. “How late are we?”

“Oh, only forty five minutes,” said Eric, Y/N jumping in the backseat when he opened the door. “Clutch?”

“I’m the purse tonight,” I chuckled, patting my pocket where her phone, a lipstick and extra hair tie resided. 

“Good. I usually get stuck with it,” said Eric, patting my bottom. “Let’s move it kiddos.”

“Hopefully this party doesn’t suck,” said Y/N beside me as we drove up a long driveway thirty minutes later, lips pursed.

“You hate parties,” Eric chuckled from the passenger seat.

“I hate parties where people ask me to sing at their kid’s sweet sixteen which is like, almost all the time,” she said, my hand reaching over and interlacing our hands together. “Sorry. That sounded bitchy.”

“It sounded like that’s really annoying to have happen all the time,” I said, the car slowing down behind another luxury SUV. “We won’t stay long, just a few hours. I know we have to do this for me.”

“Hey,” she said, voice firm. My eyes flickered to hers in the dark space. “We both have more money than we know what to do with. I’m perfectly happy to waste an evening if it means sending some of that money to a good cause. You getting some good press out of it is a bonus.”

“I ever tell you how wonderful you are?” I asked, heart swelling up as she blushed. “Want to go show off your reformed bad boy, sweetheart?”

“You were never bad,” she said, pecking a kiss on my lips. She grinned goofily and wiped them off with her thumb. “Lipstick.”

“You can take it off if you promise to put it back later,” I said, Y/N’s eyes flirting down to my groin, a wicked smirk on her face. “Down girl.”

“I’ll play with you later,” I said as we stopped. Eric slid out of the passenger seat as I opened the back door. I exited and held out a hand, helping Y/N down in her obnoxious skinny little heels. They looked like a death trap to me but she danced around on stage for three hours in them so if anyone knew how to work them, it was her.

Damn she was sexy in that dress. Almost as sexy as those red flannel pajama pants she wore last night. And that cozy blue sweater on Thursday. Or that-

“Stop staring at her,” said Sloane, pushing on my back so I’d move and she could slip out of the backseat. “You’re like a puppy obsessed with her.”

“Be nice,” Y/N chided, taking a step forward, letting me follow her lead. Eric and Sloane fell in place behind us, the driver staying with the car and driving off towards where the cars were being parked. 

A man in a nice suit opened the front door for us, revealing a grand hall that made Y/N’s house look like a starter home. 

“This guy is loaded,” I whispered in Y/N’s ear as we found ourselves quickly surrounded by people when they caught sight of her. There must have been three hundred people at this thing.

“Here we go,” she mumbled before putting on a big smile, immediately getting asked to be in a selfie with a woman in her twenties.

For the next thirty minutes it felt like we were bombarded, stuck not ten feet past the door in a never ending line of people wanting to talk to Y/N. Yes, some people were football fans but a vast majority were there for Y/N, some nervous, some practically jumping out of their skins.

“Damn dude, you’re beyond lucky,” said some guy to me as his wife took a picture with Y/N. 

“I know I am,” I responded, Y/N giving me a flash of a smile.

“She needs a break,” whispered Eric in my ear. I stepped forward and cut off the next gaggle of women that wanted to approach. 

“Excuse me, I need to steal Y/N for a minute,” I said, taking her arm and leading her down the large open hall.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a glass of champagne off a servers tray. She knocked it back and I started to scan the room in search of water for her.

“Hi,” said a teenage girl in a light blue dress, approaching slowly. She seemed out of place at the event filled with adults in designer clothes. “I’m Cecilia Monroe, Sebastian Monroe’s daughter.”

Ah she was this guys kid. That made sense. “Nice to meet you. We haven’t met your father yet. We’d like to thank him for his numerous donations to the Wolves charity over the years.”

“You have a lovely home,” said Y/N, the girl blushing, clasping her hand over her wrist in a failed attempt to hide her friendship bracelet. Y/N caught it and smiled. “Did you go to the tour this year?”

“Uh yeah. My dad got VIP tickets,” she said shyly, suddenly straightening her back. “I’ll be on the veranda. Please come find me when you’re through with my dad. It’s very important.”

She scuttled away, Y/N raising an eyebrow.

“I think you have a superfan,” I chuckled, Y/N biting her lip. “You think she’s a problem?”

“No. She’s a fan clearly but I don’t know,” she said, waving for Eric and Sloane to join us from where they stood together by a table of appetizers. 

“You two good?” asked Sloane, their eyes finding the young girl and watching her leave.

“Keep an eye on that girl,” Y/N said, nodding as Cecilia went through open back doors outside. They both readied themselves but Y/N shook her head. “Just watch her. This might be a Denver situation.”

“Denver?” I asked, Eric frowning. 

“Fan in Denver was being abused by her parents. Subtly asked Y/N for help at an event. Smart kid actually,” said Eric. “Sloane and I can try a soft approach with the girl, get a feel for if something is up, relay we can keep her safe .”

“This guy does have a lot of private security,” said Sloane. “If something’s happening, she may feel safer knowing we can protect her in the interim.”

“Let’s go talk to the girl,” said Y/N just as a man in a very nice suit came striding down the hall towards us. “I think that’s our host.”

“Eric, Sloane, go see what’s up. We can fend for ourselves for awhile,” I said. They scuttled away as the man greeted us, holding out a hand and shaking mine firmly.

“Sebastian Monroe,” he said with a pleasant enough smile. “And you two are the power couple my teenage daughter will not stop talking about.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot. We said hello to her earlier,” said Y//N with a fake smile, staying close to my side when the men looked like he was going to reach for her hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Dean Winchester,” I said, taking my hand back, the other wrapped around Y/N’s waist. The man only smiled though, like we didn’t need to introduce ourselves. “I’ve heard you’re a Wolves fan.”

“Oh not anymore than anyone else,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Although a signed jersey by you would certainly go for big bucks at our next charity auction.”

“We’ll have to make that happen for sure,” I said, not enjoying the way his gaze traveled down Y/N’s body. I’d seen it plenty of times tonight but his seemed the most sleazy of all. 

“Speaking of the auction, where are the tables? I’d love to donate,” said Y/N.

“Right side of the veranda, sweetie.” Y/N hummed, giving me a look to join her as soon as I could. “Boy, if I was ten years younger.”

I couldn’t hide my annoyance, Sebastian flashing me a smile. “Oh no. Please go ahead and tell me what you’d do if you were ten years younger.”

“Easy kid. Half the population would bone her if they could,” he said, sipping from the glass in his hand. He took his turn to eye me, a curious look on his face. “You know, I could be inclined to offer another sizeable donation to the Wolves charity for those kids if I could get one of those signed jerseys myself.”

I bit my tongue, both of us aware of the clear message. Refuse and good ol’ Sebastian stops donating a million dollars each year to kids in poverty.

“I’m sure you got one around here somewhere we could fix up,” I said. Sebastian threw an arm over my shoulder and I hide my cringe. 

“Good man. Come on. I got one right in my game room.”

Reader POV

There wasn’t really anything you wanted from the silent auction but you had found a general donation slip at the end of the table and jotted down your agent’s information. You’d looked around for Eric and Sloane or the girl when you finished but hadn’t found any of them which probably wasn’t a good sign. You frowned and walked over the railings edge, looking around the dim yard for any sign of them.

“Bruschetta?” asked one of the servers. 

“No thank you,” you said without looking.

“I must insist,” he said. You rolled your eyes, ready to give it to this guy but something seemed familiar about him. He handed you one on a small napkin as you kept staring. “Take a bite and smile, pretend it’s really good.”

You’d had more than a handful of dangerous fan interactions over the years but this felt…different.

You did as he asked, faking wide eyes at the average at best food. “Who are you?”

“Do not make a scene,” he said as you finished off the food. “I need to get to your bodyguards.”

“Are you trying to protect that girl? Cecilia?” you asked as you played along and took another piece off the tray.

“What? No. I don’t have time for this,” he said, stepping in front of you, your gaze narrowing. “Do not ask questions. Just get me and Max the fuck out of here.”

“Max?” Your heart skipped a beat, the food falling from your hand as you understand where you’d seen him before. “Y-You’re Sam.”

“We’re watched. Get your guards to get us out. Don’t get caught or we’re dead,” he said, turning away and offering a couple nearby food from his tray. You swallowed, instantly putting on your performer’s smile. The one you wore that time you had food poisoning during a concert and were throwing up between songs back in the summer. The crowd had no fucking clue you felt like shit while you gave them the show of their lives.

Time to act your fucking ass off. 

You walked past Sam without a second glance, wishing you could ask him all the questions swirling around in your head. Tell him he was going to be okay. Give him a damn hug and tell him he was safe now.

But you wore that damn smile, all while your blood was boiling. You’d had a lot of dark fantasies about what you’d do to the person that took Max. In recent weeks that’d turned to include Sam too. 

It turned out the monster was a hundred feet away from you inside some fucking mansion.

“Y/N,” said Sloane, appearing through a set of open doors in the house, catching your arm a little roughly. “Stay in public.”

“I need to talk-” She shot daggers at you, shutting you up. 

“Stay in public for the love of god or Eric will kill me,” she said, loosening her grip. “In forty five seconds I need you to be the biggest distraction in the world. Do not go in any rooms with anyone. Your fame will keep you safe but only if there are people around to witness it. Eric has eyes on him. Do not ask questions. Understand?”

“Sam’s on the veranda,” you whispered, Sloane nodding. Cecilia must have told her and Eric about your brothers.

“Go give us a shot to get them out of here.” You nodded and slipped inside, heart thumping away in your throat. Max was with with Eric. Wherever he was, he was with Eric. He was safe. And Sam should have been with Sloane by then. They were both safe.

As long as they got them out of this house and into the damn car before anyone could notice. Before all those private security guards seemingly on the edge of every room could stop them. Your driver was fast though. They just had to get the boys in the car and they’d be alright.

So you needed to be a distraction. A big fucking distraction and buy them time. You froze in the middle of the hallway, watching Sebastian leave a room with Dean by his side, horribly annoyed from the looks of it. An idea sparked in your mind, one you hoped Dean forgave you for someday. 

Yeah, you knew how to cause a big fucking distraction alright.

Dean POV

“You son of a bitch!” screamed Y/N. Normal people could scream loud. A goddamn professional singer that could belt out ballads while running? The whole house went silent at her ear piercing shriek. Even the string orchestra stopped playing. I stared at her as she climbed on top of a table in the center hall, my eyes going wide. “You fucking cheater! You’re a fucking cheater Dean Winchester!”

“Excuse me?” I said, a hundred already with their phones out with even more people piling into the house from the veranda. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t sweetheart me!” she screamed again. What the fuck was happening? “You’re a cheating bastard! You swore you were different!”

“Y/N, get off the table,” I said gently, very aware of the many phones that were facing us, even some from the freaking staff and private event security. Y/N only backed away when I reached for her, fury in her eyes so visceral it felt like it burned. “Y/N what-”

“I know what you did with her! By the fucking cherry blossoms? Our cherry blossoms? You think you can sleep around on me? I’m the motherfucking Princess of Pop! The world fucking loves me!” 

Something was wrong. Besides the fact I hadn’t cheated, Y/N wasn’t one to scream at people from tabletops. She wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t on drugs. And we had no fucking cherry blossoms. Except for the fact it was the code to get in her house. 

Trust. She was asking me to fucking trust her right now in front of three hundred people while she tore down my reputation.

If my girl was losing her shit, well damn I was going to play right along.

“Oh get off your high fucking horse!” I shouted, Y/N flinching for a brief moment like it’d stung. “I never made you promises. We aren’t even fucking exclusive!”

“What?!” she shouted back as Sebastian came over, clearing his throat.

“Perhaps if you two could-”

“This bitch is a moron for thinking I’d ever want someone like her. Of course I’m dicking around with you! You really think I want some goodie two shoes like you?”

“Man whore!” she shouted.

“Fucking prude!” I screamed back, praying to god Y/N knew that every word out of my mouth was a lie. “No wonder no one wants to date you. Getting in your pants wasn’t even worth it!”

“Funny since getting in yours just takes a smile. I’m surprised you haven’t contracted every disease known to man you pig!”

“At least I get some! You’re wound up so tight surprised anything can fucking fit up there!” Fuck, I was really going to hate myself in the morning.

Y/N was halfway through screaming back at me when I felt both my phone and Y/N’s go off in my pocket.

YOUR BROTHERS ARE SAFE. HOST SECURITY KNOWS WE GOT THEM OUT. OUR SECURITY & FEDS ON THE WAY. ETA TEN MINUTES. DON’T TRUST LOCAL COPS. CORRUPTED. HOST IS BAD GUY. STAY AWAY FROM HIM AND GUARDS. DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO TO STAY IN PUBLIC. 

“What the fuck does brothers safe mean?” I asked, tossing my phone to her. Y/N caught it one handed, her whole body relaxing momentarily before tensing again, her rage suddenly on it’s true target.

Sebastian Monroe.

“Our brothers were here,” she grit out. She ripped off her heels and hopped down onto the floor, stalking over to Sebastian slowly like he was her prey. Her face darkened and I swore she looked ready to tear someone’s throat out. “Our baby brothers were in this fucking house! As your servers! Not of their free will! No. No, they were being watched. Forced. Last I checked, our baby brothers were kidnapped and they didn’t get un-fucking kidnapped.”

She gripped her heel tight in her left hand, right clenched so hard I saw the bone against the skin of her knuckles.

“I don’t care if you weren’t the one that took them. But you kept them and I’m going to fucking destroy you for it,” she growled, approaching him as my brain tried to catch up. 

“Y/N what are-”

“I saw Sam! And he was scared and said they’d kill him if he got caught talking to me. They’re safe now but Sam and Max were forced to live here. By him.” Her head turned towards Sebastian, his own head glancing at his security team. “What the fuck did you do to our brothers?”

It clicked for me what she’d been saying, what the text meant, why Y/N had acted so out of character. So full of hatred. But I barely had a chance to feel that same hatred. 

Because in the blink of an eye, one of Sebastian’s guards grabbed at Y/N and her fist shot out, connecting with the man’s jaw. He seemed alarmed at her strength and fell back, another guard trying to get their hands on her.

“Get off!” she shouted, kneeing another guy before flipping him on his back. But there were too many of them and I rushed forward, yanking her behind me just as Sebastian got in my face.

He eyed me up and down, smirking at me. “Oh you two just made a big mistake.”

He clasped his hands together loudly as his guards surrounded us, turning his attention to the rest of the party.

“Let’s give the love birds some privacy to sort out their issues,” he chuckled. “And maybe keep an eye on the open bar, hm?”

He spun back around and leaned in close, the stench of cigars and alcohol on his breath. 

“Get your brothers back here or I’ll fuck her up so badly there won’t be anything left to bury.” He gripped my shoulder, too forcefully. “And then I’ll bury you alive in the woods all the while the world will think you got in a drunken accident on the way home. After all you had a very loud and public argument tonight. With the friends I have in certain positions of authority…I can make even you two disappear like nothing.”

Y/N gripped the back of my suit jacket tight, a slight tremble in her hand as she listened to him speak.

“Get those boys back and get those guards back in the next ten minutes or I start cutting off pieces of the damn princess of pop.”

________

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to @pickonerain! You've been an absolute star to me and seeing as you love Sherry, here's her little addition to the story 😇

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Divergence

It was not like Claire and Leon to hide from you, but somehow they had ended up right at the other end of the room, far away from the counter, out of sight. They seemed deep in conversation, their expressions grim, and Leon was gripping his porcelain cup so tight you were afraid it would shatter to bits in his hand.

Curiosity—or rather, nosiness—got the better of you, and you scooted closer to the couple, pretending to sweep the area so you could listen in more easily.

“This was why you wanted to meet me, Claire?”

“Isn’t it important enough? I don’t get why you’re being so defensive!”

“I thought you wanted to catch up over coffee, not use me for one of your schemes!”

“Use you? Are you even listening to yourself? How does bringing down that son of a bitch count as ‘using you’?

“Chief Irons probably had a good reason, and all these rumors—”

“Rumors? There’s cold, hard evidence! We just need that one missing piece—”

“No! Forget it.”

“What?”

“I’m not getting involved.”

“So, this is it, huh? You go your way, and I go mine?”

“I…”

“I’m embarrassed I even called you a friend.”

Kicking out her chair, Claire threw down a couple of bills on the table before storming out in a fit of rage, slamming the front door behind her. 

Before you could even react, Leon had beaten you to it. “Don’t look at me like that,” he chided, though he had ducked his face away, red with shame. “I know you heard everything. You weren’t exactly being very stealthy.”

“That was never really my strong suit,” you admitted. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest,” he said, motioning to the seat beside him, still unable to look you in the eye.

Spying his half-finished drink on the table, now cold, you resisted the urge to get up and fix it, knowing there were other things he needed more in that moment. So, you continued to sit with him, and even though you did not exchange any words, you breathed together, content with sharing in each other’s company until he was ready to speak.

“Do you think I’m naive?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Maybe I’m scared that I am,” he confessed, his voice small and tired. “What if I’m wrong? What if Claire’s wrong?”

Cradling his cheek in your hand, you caressed it softly. He didn’t protest, but leaned in indulgently, nuzzling his nose against your palm like a deer. Then, something clicked internally and he broke away, straightening up in his seat as though he had not just given in to his desires a moment ago. However, this time, his face was angled towards you, waiting.

“What does your gut feeling say?” you put forward. “I’d trust that.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath as he stared off into the distance, gathering his thoughts. “A snake oil salesman—that’s one way of putting it.”

“Chief Irons,” he clarified. “Whenever I get close to something nasty, he throws me off scent.”

Another hunter—a more seasoned one, you observed.

“I guess you have your answer.”

He collapsed into the backrest of the armchair and exhaled, as though a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I’ll figure it out,” he stated, mostly to himself.

“I know you will,” you said encouragingly.

He had chosen the more difficult path, but at least he had made peace with it and was no longer in denial about Chief Irons’ deception. That was definitely a step in the right direction.

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

Once again, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. It felt nice like this, as though your very thoughts and beings were connected.

“I want to know more about you,” he professed out of the blue. “But somehow, you always manage to steer the conversation back to me.”

You gulped, fiddling with your hands. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” he murmured. “Your backstory, your favorite color, what do you do outside of work…” he trailed off.

“I’m not used to talking about myself,” you spelled out.

He grinned cheekily, as if the battle had already been won. “Don’t worry, I’m a good listener.”

And so, you yielded to him, letting things unfold as they should. Hours passed while you shared tales and secrets over cups of spiced tea with sweet milk. The flavors of cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg swirled around your tongue, bringing to mind the warm, inviting breeze of a coastal town near the Red Sea.

“There’s many names for it,” you explained, circling the rim of the cup with your finger lazily. “But I know it as Shai Adeni.”

Leon nestled his chin in his hand, propping his elbow on the table as he gazed at you, captivated. “Incredible.”

“Hmm?” You were not sure if he had registered what you had just said.

Reaching out, he cupped the back of your neck, pulling you close. His heated breath moist against your flushed skin, and the scent of his cologne was dizzying. “You’re—”

The door chime jingled.

Both of you jolted, separating yourselves away from each other in a flash, as your eyes fell upon a little girl standing shyly by the entrance. She was dressed in a school uniform, her hair neatly swept back with a headband into a braided bun.

“Hey there,” you greeted, brushing your hands against your apron as you stood up, shuffling past Leon towards her. “Would you like something to drink?”

At this, she nodded enthusiastically, following you to the counter to grab a seat. As you infused white chocolate into milk with a good dollop of citrus, you exchanged looks with Leon, who held the same concerns as you.

Sliding over another high chair adjacent to hers, he gently opened with, “Hey, I’m Leon. You got a name, pumpkin?”

She wrinkled her nose and grimaced at the nickname. “Sherry,” she replied timidly.

“Nice to meet you, Sherry,” Leon said, shaking hands before he continued, “So, it’s really late, huh? Do your parents know where you are?”

She twiddled her thumbs, swinging her dangling legs back and forth on the chair. “They don’t care,” she said finally. “They’re busy.”

“What do your parents do?”

“They work at Umbrella. They’re making important new medicine,” she revealed proudly.

“Sounds like a tough job,” Leon empathized.

After sprinkling the glittery icing sugar on her drink, you set it before her with a flourish. “Voilà, your Yuzu Meringue, Miss Sherry.”

She giggled at your performance and slurped down the foamy surface. “Mmm!”

“Good, huh?” Leon gave her a side smile.

“Tell you what, Sherry,” you began, “when you finish your drink, my friend Leon here will take you home, okay?”

Her nose was dusted with powder and the cup was still covering half of her face as her eyes darted towards the man.

“He’s a good cop, you’ll be safe with him,” you reassured her. 

Scribbling down your shop’s telephone number on a piece of scrap paper, you handed it to her. “Keep this, you can call me anytime you need to.”

Taking it, she pursed her lips and nodded reluctantly as she stuffed it away into her pocket. “Can I—” she paused, “can I come here whenever I want? You and Leon are nice.”

A pang of loneliness hit you. You sensed it from the tone of her voice and what was left unsaid. It didn’t seem like she had many friends and you wondered about it.

“Please?” she begged, interrupting your thoughts.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you!” she squealed, running over to give you a quick hug before taking Leon by the hand.

Turning to you, a rosy hue spread across his face as he smiled meekly. “So… uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow, as usual, Leon.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune