#looking. looking at old blogs and going 'I miss doing this' brother I still can.

[polarfarina]

Okayyyyyy I miss making Danny phantom fan stuff you got me

[endlessthxxghts]

Best I Ever Had

Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k

Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!

A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)

masterlist | notifs blog

It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town. 

Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason. 

He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you. 

You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction. 

And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it. 

You are worth it. 

Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.” 

And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you. 

“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?” 

“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up. 

“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you. 

You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of. 

“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.

Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you. 

The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts. 

And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements. 

“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter. 

“I said—” 

He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm. 

“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you. 

Well, apparently not everyone. 

You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.

You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back. 

The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips. 

Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him. 

You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines. 

You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him. 

The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music goin’ unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life. 

Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.” 

He scrambles without looking back.

“Oh my God, baby.”

“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”

“Just one more second, baby.”

“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you. 

“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take. 

A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now. 

“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom. 

Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming. 

You can do so much better than that.

“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless. 

Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself. 

Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking. 

“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”

All questions must be answered. 

Fuck. 

“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you. 

You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?” 

Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics. 

You quirk your eyebrow at him. 

“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure. 

You’re silent for a beat. Then—

“You’re lying.”

Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries. 

Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here. 

You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.

“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”

Joel audibly gulps. 

Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it. 

“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him. 

“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to. 

You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout. 

“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him. 

“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you. 

Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”

You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming. 

You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze. 

“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”

“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again. 

Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend. 

“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”

His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces. 

Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest. 

“For what, baby?” Joel responds with a kiss into your head.

“Did I go too far?”

He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.

“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”

A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”

“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss. 

You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks. 

Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?” 

“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”

I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Not sure if you've closed or open requests but

How do you feel about writing a Yan! Slime? Could be platonic or romantic up to you! Idk slimes are cute :3

(also I'm permanently gonna low key stalk ur blog since again yummy yan fics hope you don't mind me staying- /hj)

CW: Wholesome, romantic, stalker monster love ahead ❤️ proceed with caution❤️

Accidently pushed post whoops done now lol

The five year old boy burst through the bushes, tumbling awkwardly and unskillfully before slowly popping up onto his feet and swinging his stick sword forward. His sibling, (Reader), high stepped carefully over the branches of the bush their brother had just crashed through. (Reader) nervously held their own sword, following their older brother into the woods.

"Jay, can we please go back?" (Reader) whined, trying not to cry nervously as they "explored" deeper into the forest.

"Don't be a baby!" Jay chastised, raising his arms high above his head. "How are you gonna be a monster hunter if you're too chicken?!"

(Reader) grumbled, dragging their shoes in the dirt. "I don't wanna be a monster hunter.. I wanna go home! I'm hungry!"

Jay opened his mouth, and raised his fists, ready to say something when something moved nearby, plopping loudly into a pile of dry leaves. His big, childish eyes went wide with fear, immediately losing all confidence and hiding behind (Reader), holding his thin stick in front of his face defensively. He was too scared to speak, trembling into (Reader's) back.

The younger of the two felt a surge of strength, needing to protect their beloved big brother, so they gripped their weapon with both hands, scrunching up their chubby little face to appear tough. They stomped over to the bush the sound came from, holding their breath, unlike Jay who was hyperventilating. (Reader) removed one pudgy hand from their stick, and swiftly pushed back the little branches, exposing a tiny green blob.

Jay released a high pitched scream and took off running back home, dropping his stick.

The glob was vibrating, and (Reader) was instantly filled with sympathy, assuming the little ball of goo was shaking with fear. "Hey, don't be scared." The four year old cooed, dropping their 'sword' and sitting on their knees to be closer. "I'm sorry, I thought you were a monster." (Reader's) cheesy grin showed off their missing front teeth.

Whatever the green thing was slowly went still, and (Reader) could feel it looking up at them.

"My name is (Reader), and I'm," they looked at their fingers, focusing on holding up the right number, before practically shoving their fingers in the glob's personal space, "four years old!"

The goo reached forward, forming a little nub of a hand, touching (Reader's) fingers. It was surprisingly warm. (Reader) opened their hand so it could roll onto their palm.

"Burrrrble!" The thing happily gurgled, looking quite pleased despite it's lack of a face.

"Burble? Is that your name?"

"Prrrr?" It patted their hand, not understanding the question. (Reader) laughed, feeling ticklish.

"I'm gonna be your best friend!" They decided, cupping the slime with both hands, still giggling over the sticky tingling the little guy caused. "I'll visit you every day, and we can play together everyday after school!"

And (Reader) kept their promise, visiting every single day, for years. The two friends grew up together, Burble learning to speak (Reader's) language over time as (Reader) brought their homework into the woods to have more time with Burble while they studied. Jay kept Burble's existence a secret, but never got over his fear of the creature, so he kept his distance from the two while they played.

Burble had a difficult time not praising (Reader) for their heroics, because if they did it would reveal that Burble had been watching them at school. Living alone in the woods was isolating, especially as a monster, their presence frightening off animals of all species. At first it was just because of how lonely they were, wanting to leave the forest to be with (Reader). They turned Burble down, reminding them how dangerous it would be, now no longer the naive child who didn't understand that slimes were monsters. But, no one would know if Burble attached just a little piece of themselves inside (Reader's) backpack, just to hear their voice while they were away.

Fourteen years later, Burble had been practicing in secret, forming their naturally round body into a humanoid form, trying to perfect their appearance before they revealed themselves to (Reader). It happened so naturally, Burble falling in love with their one and only friend. They wondered if (Reader) could ever feel the same. (Reader) was just so perfect; they were kind and strong, preferring pacifism, but quick to throw themselves in danger's way to protect the ones they love, just like when they first met. Even at school, (Reader) would stand up for those being bullied on a regular basis, gaining a reputation for standing up for those too scared to protect themselves. And they never bragged about it!

The green slime learned so much about (Reader) through the way they interacted with others at school, and fell deeper in love everytime they opened their mouth. (Reader) was an angel on Earth.

(Reader) trudged into the forest behind their home, exhausted after field hockey but refusing to take even a day off from visiting their best friend. It was surprising, learning that Burble was less of a pet and actually a sentient being with thoughts and feelings, but that was even more exciting, being able to communicate with a species not known for their intelligence. Burble rolled onto view, now a very large blob the size of (Reader) if they tucked in their arms and legs.

"(Reader)!" They happily gurgled, jiggling up to the high school senior. "How was your day?"

"Same old, same old." (Reader) lied, still wearing their gym shirt because their original clothes got soaked with milk after they stood up to Cody, the biggest dick they ever met.

Burble knew this, however, and was fine with (Reader) lying, knowing they were just being humble. It made their non-existent heart swell. (Reader) pulled out a bunch of classwork, and a brochure slipped out from a folder. "What's that?"

"Oh, that's a pamphlet for a university. Admissions are coming up, so I've been looking around."

The green color lightened almost to a sick looking yellow. Burble hadn't heard anything about this! What did they mean?!

"Burble, you okay?"

"Does that mean you're leaving?" Burble's voice shook, wobbling their jelly body.

"Yeah, if I make it in, but that's still half a year away, so we have time-"

Burble cut them off. "Don't go."

(Reader) sighed, placing a hand on top of their friend's smooth body. "I can't stay with my parents forever. I want to go explore, meet new people, hopefully get a career a have a passion for."

"Then take me with you!" Burble shouted, heating up under (Reader's) hand, the yellow intensifying.

The now yellow blob lunged at (Reader), morphing into a humanesque shape, creating a beautiful face that looked to be on the verge of tears. Burble held (Reader) to the ground, trapping (Reader's) body with their arms and knees.

"Burble, what the hell?" (Reader) wasn't angry, or nervous, just confused, not understanding what had gotten into their childhood friend.

"You can't leave me alone, (Reader), please!" Burble was incapable of forming tears, but their body ached like they were sobbing, rumbling instead of heaving as they didn't need to breathe. They slammed their face onto (Reader's), knowing what kissing was from a picture book (Reader) had shown them as a child, but not quite understanding how to actually do it. Their newly formed lips moved against (Reader's) timidly, easily holding down the struggling human. Burble broke the kiss so (Reader) could gasp for air. "I love you, (Reader), please don't leave me!"

A hurricane of emotions ripped (Reader's) mind apart, struggling with accepting what was happening. Their first kiss was taken by their best friend, who was still holding them tightly against the dirt ground.

"Let's.. let's talk about this later.. I need to go home." (Reader) stuttered, overwhelmed by the emotions they never felt before rampaging in their skull. Burble sunk lower, melting over (Reader's) body to better prevent their leaving.

"No.. not until you promise not to leave me." Their voice was barely a whisper, begging for (Reader) to love them back.

"I-I won't leave you. We'll figure something out.. You've just gotten too big to hide and-" Burble's weight was heavy on (Reader's) ribcage. "we'll figure something out."

Satisfied, Burble sat up and rolled off of (Reader), slowly changing back to their natural green hue. "You promise?"

"I promise." (Reader) face a sad smile, still incapable of fearing their dear friend.

Burble smiled, barely maintaining their shape as they allowed (Reader) to leave. They trusted (Reader), even if (Reader) didn't accept their confession at that moment, there was no way they would break their promise. And, if for some reason they did, if someone like their nervous brother fear mongered (Reader) into abandoning Burble, they would always be able to find them. The green slime collapsed back into a ball, happily listening to (Reader) through the tiny piece of themselves still hiding in (Reader's) backpack.

"Please come back soon.."

[feyhunter78]

The Floret Flower

Description: Cregan has fallen for the flower maiden who smiles so sweetly at him, if only his honor would allow him to act. Also, PSA I'm not gonna be using the gifs of the HOTD casted character, he just kinda looks really young to me and it icks me out. We are fancast Cregan only girlies on this blog (no hate to the actor!!! Just my personal preference)

“Go on, taste the sun.” The words echo in his mind, spoken to him by an old washerwoman as he traveled South. Her words had an air of mysticism and promise about them, one he found much easier to believe every time you crossed his path in the Godswood, ducking your head shyly, a bashful smile on your face.

A radiant, radiant being you are, with the grace and beauty of a flower maiden, brimming with life in a way he knows can only be brought to fruition in the South.

“Lord Cregan, good morn.” You say sweetly, flowers woven in your hair, a gown of light blue adorning your figure. It has been many mornings of you greeting him. Of you hanging upon his every word, fussing over him when exhaustion shone on his face, and the pleas, and arguments of noblemen echoing within his skull. The smell of death and ashes is thick in the air everywhere but the Godswood, everywhere but where he saw you.

It would not be difficult, throw you over his shoulder, get to his horse and ride for the North. It would be a long ride, and you would surely fret and cry, but there would be enough time on the road for him to reassure you. To soothe you and assure you that he had done what was best. It would not be safe for you, not a delicate flower such as you. Ever since he has taken control of King’s Landing, its men were like beasts, prowling for any unattended maiden to take as a bride. His own men could barely find the time to wrangle their southern brothers into a more honorable way of going about satisfying their needs.

“Lady y/n, are you alone? Where are your guards?” He asks, glancing around for the very men who were supposed to be watching over you.

You scrunch your eyebrows and look around as if you had not even noticed they were missing, keeping your voice light as you approach him. “Oh…well, I am sure they are around here somewhere.”

He bites back a heavy sigh of frustration. These King’s Landing guards were utterly useless, he would need to assign some of his own men to you. “They should be near you at all times, it is not safe for a lady to wander the Keep unaccompanied.”

You cross the remaining space between you and him, and look up at him, smiling brightly, standing far, far too close. “Well, I am not unaccompanied now, am I? Not since you are here to protect me.”

Gods damn him, he cannot resist your smile. “You are right, My Lady, but still—”

“Your guards must be near you, to protect you.” You say, pitching your voice down in an attempt to imitate him. “It is unsafe for a maiden of your virtue to walk amongst these war-fed beasts.” Cregan stifles a laugh, but you hear it and your expression changes, a victorious light in your eyes. “I knew it, I knew I could make you laugh!”

His chest warms at your words, had you really been attempting to find ways to make him laugh? Him? The man who stormed into your home and seized control with bloodied hands, whose allegiance was to the very side you were against, not only due to family ties but personal ideals as well? “I am honored that you would dedicate even a moment of your time to my amusement.”

You cast your eyes downwards, and he cannot tell if it is a demure act or a bashful one. “You have been so kind to me, it is the least I can do.”

“You are easy to be kind to, My Lady.” He says truthfully, delighting in the way you take his proffered arm without delay.

“As are you, My Lord.” You look up at him and the sun hits you perfectly, a halo around your head, your skin glistening, your lips stained a tantalizing reddish color from the berries he knew you had eaten earlier. He knows all that you eat, drink, your movements throughout the Keep, who you speak with, who you did not speak with, it is all known to him. Obsessive his sister Sara would say, she would tease him mercilessly for his over interest in you, but he cares not.

Taste the sun. By the gods old and new, he wants to. He wants to taste you over and over again, wants to steal the sun and bring it back North with him.

“Is that so?” He cannot help but poke and prod, desperate to hear you sing his praises once more.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I see what you are doing, Lord Cregan, if you wish to hear your virtues tolled there are plenty of bards around that would do so.”

“You have caught me.” Cregan relents, smiling softly down at you before smoothing his expression once you both near the entryway back inside the Keep. He cannot be seen as showing you favoritism, not when there may still be cravens and traitors about. He will not have you marked as a weakness of his, a potential target.

“It seems you cannot escape my notice, in words or actions.” You say teasingly, your breasts pushed up tantalizingly as you press yourself against his arm, body turned towards him, your head tilted up to meet his gaze. “I am simply too astute.”

You do not make his mission easy, no, even though he is sure you have not a single impure thought in your mind, his is swimming with them as he feels his head dip down, his eyes flickering to your lips.

Before he can lose his grip on his honor and kiss you senseless, he is saved by a pair of passing noblemen, and he straightens up, putting distance between the two of you. “That you are, Lady Florent, it is honorable for a lady to possess a good sense of such things.”

You give him a quizzical look, followed by a slight pout, and unhook your arm, clasping your hands together before you instead, putting on an air of polite indifference. “I thank you for your kind words, Lord Stark.”

You walk in silence, footsteps echoing on the marble floor, until finally Cregan spots your familiar door. “My Lady, this is where I shall leave you.”

You nod and break away from him, your skirts sweeping across the floor with your quick movements. You reach for the door handle then pause, your back still to him. “Do you find me unpleasant, My Lord?”

“Unpleasant?” He echoes, unable to fathom how you would come to such a conclusion.

“Or is it that you find me shameful to be seen with?” You turn on your heels with your words, tears shining unshed in your eyes.

“Lady y/n I—do not understand, where have these thoughts sprung forth from?” He says, taking a step towards you, arms outstretched as if to collect you in his arms and hold you close to his chest.

“You turn from me, close yourself off from me whenever others appear. Have I shamed you? Am I hideous? Do you find myself, and my house that lowly, that you cannot stand to be seen in my presence?” Your words are harsh, but your tone is soft, your bottom lip trembling.

Cregan grabs your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head. “No, no, Lady y/n, it is nothing of the sort, please, banish such thoughts from your mind.”

You look up at him, tears collecting on your cheeks, a heartbroken expression that feels akin to a knife through his chest on your beautiful face. “Then what is it?  Because I cannot deny my feelings any longer, and I do not wish to be made a fool.”

Go on. The words echo in his mind, and he grips the chains around his will tighter, he cannot break, not now.

“Tell me the truth, tell me you do not desire me, and I shall abstain from your presence.” You say, gaining strength from anger as he stands silent.

Taste the sun.

“Speak, Cregan Stark, deny me or take what is being offered.” There is no room for argument in your tone, he must make a choice or watch you smile in the arms of another.

The chains slip from his grasp, and he cups your face, crashing his lips to yours.

I wanted to make this smutty so bad, but the inspo was simply not there today

HOTD TL: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305, @solkara, @simpinonyouz, @lorarri

[delphi-shield]

— 「 FAKE IT TIL YOU MAKE IT 」

fake dating/christmas party/hurt/comfort ❄️ leon secret santa ❄️ gift for @mydarlingclaudia

MERRY CHRISTMAS MISS CLAUDIA i'm your secret santa! i've wanted to write og4 leon for this blog for a while and when i got you for secret santa i was like IT'S TIME lmao. i hope you enjoy and i hope you have the best christmas!

wc: 5k

summary: leon's in a bind. he thought he would have a love life by christmas, but the holidays have rolled around and he's still single. you'll pretend to be his date for just one night, right?

content: fake dating, real dating, coworkers, christmas parties, mistletoe, lots of late night conversations, lots of self-doubt, secret loser leon, technically post-re4. divider from @/strangergraphics

Over the past year, you've discovered that Leon's really good at pitching a fit when he doesn't want to do something - or, at least, when he thinks he doesn't want to do something. He'll bitch and moan about being tired, about how he just wants to stay in and have a 'chill date' with some old movie. No amount of assuring him that he would have fun once he got there would make him stop dragging his feet. That very night, you’d been waiting for him at the door with arms crossed, already decked out in your Christmas sweater, cheap reindeer antler headband affixed to your head.

Leon lets out a quiet puff of laughter when he slouches into the room, looking considerably less festive than you. He takes in your appearance - your tacky sweater, your headband, the way you pout and tap your foot impatiently. How, exactly, was he supposed to take this seriously?

“What, no one let you play any reindeer games?” Leon quips, taking his sweet time putting his shoes on.

You roll your eyes. When you finally manage to get him out the door, he has a blast. You know it, he knows it - this part is just mandatory torture, a bonding experience he loves to put you through.

"We go, we say hello, we leave." You assure him. “We don’t have to stay long.”

Leon might buy that at this moment, but you know the second you step through the door, you won't be leaving that Christmas party until the very end. Two hours in, you would be ready to go and Leon would be having the time of his life. You would be tugging at his sleeve, checking on him:

Ready to go? No, sorry, hun. Let me finish my beer and we can go. 

Like clockwork. You weren't even sure he knew that he did that.

The Christmas music on the radio doesn’t do much to assuage his mood. He’s pouting the whole drive over. As soon as he pulls up to the house, he repeats the same mantra:

"We get in, we say hello, we leave." His hand smacks against the steering wheel to emphasize each point in the plan. You already have your door open, swinging out the side and marching up the freshly shoveled sidewalk.

"The decorations are so cute," you coo, crouching down to examine a particularly adorable light up gingerbread house - and to give him time to catch up.

Leon guides you up from the ground with a hand hovering behind your back. He herds you further down the sidewalk, still eager to get this over with. By the end of the night, you would be the one begging him to leave, but for now, you let him grouchily jam the doorbell.

Warmth floods out to greet you when Claire opens the door, the scent of cider and cinnamon rushing up to usher you in. Claire coos over your outfit, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

"I should have put more effort in," she says, the pom of her Santa hat bouncing against her cheek. She's otherwise under dressed for the occasion, choosing comfort over festivity.

"What? No. Look at this place. You did all the decorations. That's way more effort," you counter, toeing off your shoes and stripping off your heavy coat.

Claire laughs. "I made my brother do most of it."

"Good to see you, too, Claire," Leon says, bristling over being ignored. She waves her hand, half hello, half dismissing him, and guides you further into the house, pointing you to the refreshments and giving a quick tour of the decorations.

Wherever Leon slinks off to, you're unconcerned. You have catching up to do just as much as he does.

Claire pops her hip up against the drink table. You twist the cap off your beer. Claire fishes one up for herself and pops the lid off against the table in one fluid motion. You huff a quick laugh - her party, her rules.

"So," Claire starts, leaning back against her elbows and surveying the crowd. She tracks your eyes for a moment, watches you watching Leon across the room. "I’ve been wondering. How did you guys actually meet?"

"What?" You laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. You take a drink, buy yourself some time to feel out Claire's intention.

"Well, obviously, the first story you told me was a crock of shit," she laughs.

You can't argue with that. The first time you had met Claire, you had been masquerading as Leon’s partner, sparing him the embarrassment of turning up to her Christmas party alone. You hadn’t exactly announced to his friends that your first time meeting them had been a lie.

"I didn't lie," you point out. "Not totally."

"A lie by omission is still a lie."

"We actually did meet at work."

Claire rolls her eyes. She won't put up with this for long. “I mean, I buy that. But he absolutely did not charm you over the comms on some classified mission.”

There’s no part of you that wants to argue in Leon’s defense. He was a nightmare to work with, knew just how to get under your skin, and you were more than happy to have Hunnigan continue to babysit him.

“If you really want to know…”

It was the Wednesday before Christmas Eve when Leon's coiffed head popped up above your cubicle. Never a good sign. Where he went, trouble (and acclaim) followed. You filled in for Hunnigan once when she was out with bronchitis, and now you can't get rid of her puppy. He keeps coming back, a particularly malignant tumor that metastasizes over the walls of your cubicle, spills onto your desk and messes with your letter trays.

“You busy?” His arm slings over the top, hand drumming against the wall of your cubicle.

Stay strong, you think. Try not to move. Play dead. Maybe he'll get bored and move on. You try to type faster and only wind up jamming the keys down harder. Leon drums his hand quicker, rhythm irregular.

“What does it look like?” You bite out.

Mission failed. You weren't trained to resist torture like he was. In fact, you specialized in answering stupid questions and pointing out the obvious. It was a key component of your job.

Leon’s job, apparently, entailed blatantly ignoring hints. He swings into your cubicle, brushes aside a stack of documents to sit on your desk. His forearms balance on his thighs, hands held together between his knees. 

“I need a favor.”

It just gets worse. What kind of favor could Special Agent Kennedy possibly want from you, and why did you have a feeling that it was going to be off the books?

"If I'm doing favors, I'm staying clocked in," you drone.

"Not possible for this one," he shrugs. "Sorry. I'll make it up to you."

You roll your eyes. Silence stretches between the two of you, filled only with the intermittent clicks of your mouse as you try to track down the most up to date geospatial information for your assigned agent - you know, the one you're actually supposed to be dealing with. 

Leon's both annoying and persistent. He shakes his fringe from his face, stretches out 'so...' into an elongated, cowish sound that sets your teeth on edge. You roll your hand, gesturing for him to continue.

"I need a date," he blurts out. He's smart enough to continue speaking quickly, hand already raised - palm outward, begging for peace. "Not a real date. Just for a couple of hours, for a party. We go, we say hello, we leave."

A beat. You give him time to throw in a ‘just kidding’. God knows you aren’t throwing him a life preserver. When he twiddles his thumbs, content to sink instead of bail himself out, you scoff. You don’t even look up from your computer. 

"That is, by far, your worst line."

"I’m serious. Please. Just a couple of hours. That's all I'm asking. You don’t have to talk to me ever again."

Your eyes cut over to him. Not a single smug smirk in sight. You're almost surprised by the pleading hiding behind his eyes. You take it all in, try to assess him for any hint of deceit. You only find the bags under his eyes, darker than you'd seen before.

“Go alone,” you shrug.

“I can’t. I’ve been –” Leon stops. He sits up tall, peers over the top of your cubicle to see who’s around. Meerkat is a good look on him, his nose sharp in profile, brow furrowed and focused. You avert your eyes back to your computer. He lowers his voice, his eyes still flitting around for eavesdroppers. “I’ve… exaggerated the truth about my love life to a few friends. I promised I would introduce them to someone at this party.”

You note the desperation, try to stay impartial. You're good at that part, too. Trained for it. He’s in a bind of his own making. Some humility would do him good. You’d be doing him a favor by making him own up to his lie.

Your gut flips when you consider his proposal. What was this, high school? Why could he possibly need a fake date? It was so immature, you almost couldn't believe it.

Another thought burns at the back of your mind, keeps you wary. You can't help but feel used. What, he was fine pretending to take you out but couldn't conceive of actually asking you to go to his stupid party? It had to be fake, a preservation of his ego. You weren't even a part of this equation.

You should say no. You should leave him high and dry, make him look like an idiot in front of his friends - because that's what he is. An idiot. An idiot who can't get an actual date to save his life.

"Match my salary, then we'll talk."

Leon groans, head flopping back against your cabinets. He’s considering it, you can tell.

What’s the harm in it, you wonder, casting him a sidelong glance. It would be nice to have something to do on Christmas Eve.

"You owe me for this. You're gonna pick me up."

Leon's eyes light up. He hops off your desk, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. You hold up a finger to stop him before he can talk himself out of this.

"And you're gonna buy me dinner."

"There's food at the party."

"Good food?"

"If you don't like it, I'll get you something on the way home."

That's more like it. You spin back to face your computer, pulling your report back up.

"Deal. What's the dress code?"

Leon's silence speaks volumes. He's completely helpless when it comes to the details. You had figured someone with his looks had a social life that was bursting at the seams, that he was taking the fat field agent paycheck and he was hopping from party to party.

It's at his friend's house, he explains. You note the hesitation before he says 'friend'. Maybe it is all a front. Kennedy can't really go home to an empty apartment and a silent phone, can he? Everyone made him sound like such a big shot. You didn't expect the snapshots of your lives to be matching photographs, a wide shot when you held them next to each other. You try to picture his living room and all you can envision is a beige box.

You wring what little information he has out of him with a series of direct, probing questions. You're both comfortable in this routine. The quick, perfunct back and forth, an exchange not unlike one you might have over comms. He scribbles his number onto a sticky note and slides it over to you. You’ll work out the details of your story later, make it bulletproof.

The idea has been ghosting around the crevices of your mind for the entire day. You force yourself to wait a little longer before calling him, give him time to get home and get settled in. Trying to do the same is fruitless. Your appetite has mysteriously vanished, your Wednesday night show not catching your attention. You choke down half a bowl of cereal before you drum up the courage to call him.

"So, how did we meet?" You start, skipping past hello.

"Work."

"Going with the truth on that one?" You toss a piece of popcorn into your mouth, eyes fixed on your show.

"Helps to sprinkle the truth in with the lie, right?"

You can practically hear the grin on his face. You roll your eyes and bite back a sharp response. No need spoiling the mood immediately. You already agreed to do this. You won't make it harder than it needs to be.

"When did you ask me out?"

“Does that seriously matter?”

Of course it matters. Leon’s completely useless at this kind of thing, it turns out. You had expected more. He seemed the type to have experience. Maybe your own naivety had caught up to you. His confidence had you fully convinced that this would be a cake walk.

Was this seriously the guy who had single-handedly rescued the president’s daughter a few months back? Because he was floundering when you asked him if he had met your parents yet.

“Do you want me to meet them?”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, “No. They would eat you alive.”

That one stays in the story. It’s too believable not to. You bet Leon makes a real fool of himself in front of parents.

That’s where you went wrong. As soon as you started to rationalize what a relationship with him might look like, to add that touch of realism that would sell this story, you were fucked. He indulges all your questions and your musings.

Thursday night, you call him to ask what shows you watch together. He doesn’t see the point, doesn’t get that TV is such an important, ritualistic component of a relationship - or,  at least, one that you want. He lets you pick, snorting in surprise when you name a dating show on VH1. You assign him homework. Watch the newest episode the Sunday before the party, and you’d fill him in on the details on the ride to the party.

Friday, you ask him what pet names he wants to use. He flounders again, acting dismissive in a way that you’ve now identified as embarrassment. You bite back the urge to tease him and offer up some suggestions instead.

“‘Babe’ is fine, I guess,” he says, “but I’m probably just going to call  you by your name.”

When you hang up that night, you wonder if he meant it. Babe fits your perception of him from a week ago, but now you aren’t so sure. You turn the question over and over in your head for the next day, trying out different names in his voice. Something simple and classic, maybe. ‘Honey’, or ‘sweetie’.

The question is still turning in your mind when he calls you on Saturday. You don’t have a chance to get your question out. He blindsides you with his own.

“Have we said ‘I love you’ yet?”

Your mind races to catch up. Had he? No way. He mumbled when he got off the phone sometime, but there was no way that was an ‘I love you’. There was no way. It hadn’t even been a full week yet.

Then it clicks for you. Right. This is fake, all of it. Every phone call was for his benefit. You had initiated all of this. You should be happy that he’s finally contributing to the planning. You feel sick to your stomach instead.

“I don’t care,” you say, entirely nonchalant, none of it forced. The silence hangs over the line. You pray for Leon to let it go, to give you the grace that you haven’t given him.

He’s smooth with it - doesn’t point out the strain in your voice, blames it on a bad connection. For once, he takes the reins. No ‘I love you’ yet. He’s working up the courage, he says, and your heart clenches, breath catches, head spins.

You make an excuse to leave early. He reminds you to tune in for your show tomorrow. You hang up without saying goodbye.

He picks you up just like he promised. As much as you’d wanted to wear the silly, light-up Christmas sweater at the back of your closet, you couldn’t. You couldn’t show up as his date looking like that. No one would buy it. You already look out of place on his arm.

You’d expected the car ride to be awkward. The last time you’d seen him in person had been when you struck this whole deal. Instead of rehashing your story, though, Leon asks you question after question about the dating show you told him to watch.

To your surprise, he’d actually watched it. You go over the contestants, the washed up rock star they were all attempting to date, even recap the most notable drama. He’s hooked. The veneer of disinterest he tries to keep up is so thin it’s see through. You almost want to tell him to turn the car around so you can catch the reruns instead of suffering through this party.

You don't know what kind of party you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Every corner of the place was saturated in Christmas, inside and out. Garlands of popcorn and dried orange slices, a tree decorated so heavily with strands of lights and garish ornaments that it's branches sagged. The warm lights bathed everything in a smooth glow. The chill that had stung your face on the walk in melted away, leaving only the pulsing afterburn across your cheeks.

Plenty of people had already arrived - thank god. If you'd had to make awkward small talk with the host until people arrived to take the heat off of you, you might have just said fuck it and marched back to the car. You keep a firm grip on Leon's arm, eyes flitting across each and every face. You didn't recognize a single one of these people.

That's precisely why Leon chose you. It makes your stomach lurch to think about. You're convenient. A face to put to a title, to apply to the vague stories that Leon has fabricated. Anyone could be on his arm right now, and it wouldn't make a difference. No one would know.

You stay glued to his side for the first hour. It works well enough, a handful of people overjoyed to meet you after all the stories that Leon’s told. You do your best to keep the sparkle in your eye, to look at him like he makes the sun shine. It’s hard when it feels like the floor could open up and swallow you at any given moment, when each affectionate touch is just a tool.

You excuse yourself for a drink. That will help your nerves. It can’t make them any worse, that’s for sure. You have a clear window, the drink table empty. In and out, then back to Leon’s side.

Fishing up a beer from the ice chest, you scavenge around for a bottle opener. Christ - all these preparations and no bottle opener? You’re tunnel-visioned into your search, don’t even notice the woman joining you at the table

“Want some help with that?” A redhead chirps, sidling up to you. She holds her hand out for your drink.

What’s the harm? You pass it over with a ‘thanks’ that quickly turns to a sharp inhale. She pops the lid off the beer with the edge of the table, tears a jagged crescent through the plastic tablecloth - cut one of Santa’s reindeer clean in two.

“My party, my rules,” she laughs. “I’m Claire. You’re with Leon, right?”

Your stomach drops. You can practically peer down at yourself, your soul leaving your body for a brief moment. Shit– Leon had warned you about her. Said she wasn't malicious, per se, but she could sniff out bullshit quicker than most. You run the facts back in your mind. If you could get past her, you'd be golden.

Claire's finger bounces between you and Leon. She leans her hip against the table, folds her arms across her chest.

“I don't get that at all,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head. “What's the story?”

Holy shit, that was quicker than you expected. Stay cool. Remember your lines.

“We actually met at work,” you start. Easy enough. It’s not even a lie. You unravel the rest of the details for her one by one, plodding through the steps of your imagined romance with deliberate care.

Claire’s eyes stayed fixed on you. She smiles and laughs where appropriate, but she tracks you with the cold eyes of a wolf on the hunt. A chill pulses down your spine. Is it really so hard to believe that you’re with Leon? Do you look so out of place?

“Good for him,” she finally says. She takes a long drink, still watching you.

“He’s great.”

“He’s okay.”

Maybe she meant it as a joke, but you have to force your laugh out from around the lump in your throat. Did she buy it? You can’t tell. She claps you on the shoulder, harder than you expected.

“It was really great to meet you,” Claire says. She slips back into the crowd with a smile, flowing naturally into a group of guests. Your eyes linger on her, but she doesn’t look back. She doesn’t slip into hushed whispers, no one turns to stare in your direction.

You wind back through the crowd, glue yourself back to Leon’s side. He lifts his arm instinctively, curls it around your hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t even pause his conversation.

How is this the same clueless man that you had spent half a week planning out every minute detail of your imagined relationship? How can he be so relaxed and in control now?

That’s the difference between the two of you, you realize. There was planning, and there was doing. Clearly, Leon could see his commitments through. You were botching this. Everyone knew you were a fake. They had to.

“You okay?” Leon asks, head inclined closer to your ear. You swallow thickly, force a smile.

“Are you about ready to go?” You ask, keeping your voice low.

He’s not - you can tell - but he tosses his snack plate in the trash and says a round of goodbyes anyway, urging you out the door.

The car is silent. Leon flips through radio stations, never staying on one for long. Christmas music, rock ballad, regular ballad, Christmas music again - repeat. He fidgets with the vents, turns the heat up, then down, one degree at a time.

"Seriously, you good?" he asks.You keep your face turned to the window, watching the decorations roll by.

Leon glances at you - or that's what he thinks, at least. His eyes linger for too long. He corrects his course sharply, swerving away from the curb at the last possible moment.

"Yeah. Fine."

Neither of you believe that. You’ve spent the whole night lying - he knows what it looks like, and he lets you get away with it.

Leon turns the music up a tick. You spend the rest of the drive in silence. He pulls up in front of your place and cuts the engine, and that has to be the record for world’s most awkward drive.

Bundling your things in your arms, you hurry out of his car with a quick ‘thanks for inviting me’ that feels misplaced given the circumstances - but what the hell else were you going to say? You needed to sleep this whole thing off.

"Hey."

You stop in your tracks. You're almost positive you've left a drag tail in the snow, stopped so fast you nearly slipped on the sidewalk. Leon's window is rolled down, his body nearly halfway out of it.

"I appreciate what you did for me tonight," he says.

Your heart deflates, a balloon released in your chest, bouncing off your ribs and drumming against your lungs before it floats pitifully to a rest in the pit of your stomach.

"No problem," you say, shoulders back, head held high. "To be honest, I didn't think anyone would buy it."

His head tips to the side. His eyes narrow, studying you, trying to figure out your meaning.

"Why? You did great."

"I don't know. I didn't think we would look like a very believable couple."

He sticks his head back into his car, fumbles with his seatbelt overlong, and finally pops the door open. His feet find traction on the icy sidewalk much easier than yours. You chalk it up to his boots, his training, anything to keep your mind on the little details instead of the big picture.

“I thought it was pretty believable.”

Don’t read into it, you tell yourself again and again. It’s just going to hurt if you try to interpret greater meaning from that.

“Yeah? Glad I could help.” You hook your thumb over your shoulder, fishing clumsily for your keys. “Guess I’ll see you at work, then.”

Leon’s eyes cut back to your door. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, balanced perfectly on the ice. For a moment, you think you see his hand twitch towards yours. You linger, waiting for the touch of his hand around your wrist, willing the warmth that you imagine to be real.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods.

“Yeah. See you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Claire interjects. “He didn’t even ask you out that night? He walked you to the door and bailed?”

You shake your head. “I asked him out like a week later. We were working late on New Years. He said he knew a great spot for coffee if I wanted to go on break. I said we could only go on our day off.”

Her eyes sharpen, casting her hunt out into the crowd of party-goers. You find Leon first - hunched over a snack platter across the room, contributing minimally to conversation with some people from Claire’s work. Claire, experienced hunter that she is, tracks your sight to find her quarry.

“He is so stupid. So dumb. Look at you,” she declares, waving you up and down - presenting you. “He made you ask? Ooh, I’m gonna – Leon!”

Leon’s head pops up from the cheese tray - meerkat chic, swiveling in the direction of the woman on the hunt. Claire points to the ground in front of her sharply, doesn’t even have to bark out ‘c’mere’ before his training kicks in and he’s marching himself over.

“What’s up?” He pops a palmful of cashews into his mouth, then slides the same hand against the small of your back.

His casual attitude earns him no favors. Claire thwacks his shoulder, berates him for making you ask first. He shrinks away - play dead. You taught him that one.

“You ready to go?” You ask once Claire’s done ragdolling him and marches off to tell the others how spineless Leon is.

Leon surveys the party - that’s what you think he’s doing, at least. His gaze is focused higher, examining the doorways carefully. His eyes sharpen, lock on their target. He nods, his thumb rubbing gentle arcs against your back.

“Yeah. Let’s head out. Wait for me in the hall, okay? I’ll get our stuff.”

You follow his directions thoughtlessly, planting yourself in the hallway he had pointed to. Leon flits about, saying goodbyes as he weaves through the crowd. Your coat is slung over his arm when he winds his way back to you.

Before you can protest, tell him he forgot your bag and your scarf, he smacks a hand dramatically against his forehead. He holds up a finger - hang on, here, take this, I’ll be right back – kisses your forehead, and floats back into the crowd.

He comes out only holding your scarf. You huff. Leon’s not a forgetful man. This is clearly on purpose, for his own entertainment. He loops your scarf around your necks for you, settling it into place and tying a clumsy knot.

“Your bag. I forgot, I’m sorry.” He kisses your cheek as he turns.

There was a twinkle in his eye when he turned. You’d caught it. It wasn’t just the shine of the lights. He was up to something. You scan your surroundings, look for cameras hidden, for guests watching a little too intently. Nothing immediately jumps out at you. You glance up - and there’s the culprit. A little branch bound with twine, berries dotting the little branches, suspended over the doorway.

Schooling your face back into mild annoyance, you go so far as to tap your foot. If he wants to put on a show, so will you.

“Here you go,” he says, handing over your bag. You wait for his next move. No way this was the end of his plan - and you’re right. As soon as your bag is slung over your shoulder, he’s patting himself down. Front left, front right, back pockets at the same time, chest at the same time. “Shit. My keys. One second–”

You kiss his cheek before he can strike first.

“On the key rack,” you point out, hooking your thumb over your shoulder. “It’s bad karma to abuse the mistletoe, you know.”

Leon huffs. He spares the mistletoe above your heads a glance.

“You made that up.”

Absolutely, you did. He crosses through the doorway and snags his keys. Before you can head out the door, he dangles them over his head. You roll your eyes and kiss him square on the lips before he can justify his poor man’s mistletoe.

You’ll risk bad karma for a kiss.

[j-k-writes]

Helloo! Can I request older targaryen male reader (maybe rhaegar's younger uncle) x ned stark? With prompts: stay with me. i can keep you safe. And they're all afraid of me. / if they know you're with me, they'll leave you alone.

Okie that's all! Hope it's not too much! Glad to see another asoiaf blog writing for m reader:D

Summary - After his injury on the trident, Robert leaves command of his forces to Ned. Struggling with the meaning of this war, Ned is met by an old friend, Prince Y/N Targaryen.

Warnings - general GOT warnings, BIG age gap (Ned is 19/20 while Y/N is 32/33), mentions of canon character death.

Ned longed for Winterfell. He had tired of the south, and he had tired of the war. 

Rhaegar was dead, slain by Robert on the Trident. His rubies littered the bank of the trident, a place that Ned had heard the men around him start to refer to as the ruby ford. Ned had felt no satisfaction in Rhaegar’s death, Lyanna was still missing, and his brother and father were still dead. 

And so Ned continued on. 

Robert had given him command of the forces after the trident, unable to continue on with his injuries. So here sat Ned, a day's ride out from Kingslanding ready to claim the throne for his closest friend, and avenge his father and brother’s murders. 

Ned looked up at the sound of the flap of his tent being disturbed, he expected to see one of the Lord’s of his army, but he saw a man he did not recognize instead. He reached for the sword at his side, taking a defensive stance against the hooded figure. 

“Who’s there?” Ned called out to the man, “You should not be here.” 

The man held his hands up in surrender, slowly taking his hood off as Ned’s grip on his sword tightened further. The man’s hood fell away and despite the poorly chopped and dyed hair, Ned recognized the mysterious figure for who he was. 

Y/N Targaryen, younger brother to King Aerys II. 

“What are you doing here?” Ned hissed, releasing his sword yet keeping his posture tense, as if bracing for attack. 

“I needed to see you.” Y/N walked deeper into the tent. 

Ned laughed in disbelief, “Everyone in this camp wants you and your family dead-” 

“Everyone?” 

Ned paused facing the man. Y/N’s violet eyes searched Ned’s face, and Ned faltered under their weight. He frowned, “That’s not fair. You chose your side, Y/N.” 

“I chose my family, Ned.” 

“So did I.” 

Y/N nodded, and Ned felt sick at the sight of the man. He looked defeated, dark bags under his violet eyes and his cheeks were sunken like he hadn’t eaten. His hair was chopped messily, as if with haste and a dagger, and dyed dark to hide his appearance. He looked so different from the confident prince Ned had grown to know, and love, during his time in the Eyrie. 

Y/N turned away from Ned, “You’re right, I-” 

Ned watched as the man took a deep breath, and Ned had to remind himself that they’d both lost their families in this war. Y/N’s nephew had been killed not but a week ago, and his siblings were not likely to survive the end of this war. 

“Do you not grow tired of fighting, Ned?” Y/N asked. “Taking Kingslanding won’t bring Rickard and Brandon back. As Rhaegar’s did not bring back Lyanna.” 

“What would you have me do?” 

Y/N sighed, “I- I do not know. I just wanted to see you before I left.” 

“Left?” 

The man nodded, “I’m tired of this war, Rhaegar is dead, and my brother is past saving. We are not going to win this war, and I do not intend to stay and discover the fate Robert has waiting for me. I just came to say goodbye.” 

Y/N turned to walk out of the tent, but Ned leaped forward grabbing the man’s arm. Y/N seemed surprised at Ned’s action, and Ned surprised him further by taking his hand. “I do not wish for you to leave.” 

Ned swallowed, looking down at the ground, before squaring his shoulder’s back and looking the prince in his eyes. “Stay with me. I can keep you safe.” 

Y/N smiled, yet Ned felt oddly mocked by the action. “You may be leading this war, but you are just a boy, Ned. You cannot protect me. They’re all afraid of me, as long as I live this war rages on and Robert’s reign is threatened.” 

“I am man enough for you to take to bed, but not to protect you?” Ned accused, releasing the man’s hand. 

“That has nothing to do with this, Ned.” Y/N said, face falling. “And I do not need to remind you who invited who into their bed.” 

“I did not take you for a deserter, Y/N.” Ned scoffed, turning away so the prince could not see the flush that covered his cheeks at his words. 

Y/N’s face hardened at Ned’s words. “I am not deserting.” 

Ned turned to him again, “Prove it then. Stay, if they know you’re with me they’ll leave you alone.” 

“You don’t get it do you, Ned?” Y/N shook his head, “I am a Targaryen, my very existence continues this war. It doesn’t matter if you vouch for me, if I stay here my head will end up on a pike!” 

Ned opened his mouth to speak, but no words were coming out. He knew in his heart that Y/N was right, Robert would not rest until every Targaryen was dead and buried. He sighed, closing in on himself in defeat. 

Y/N gently touched his cheek, and Ned raised his eyes to meet the prince’s. “I am sorry, Ned.” 

He placed a piece of paper into the Lord of Winterfell’s hands, closing Ned’s fist around it. “Your sister is alive, although I doubt you will be happy with what you find.” 

“What-” Ned opened the parchment, reading its contents. He raised his head to look at the prince in confusion but by the time he did Y/N was gone. 

And Ned would never see him again.

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Not story more ramble but I will still tag.

@egrets-not-regrets @bleedingichorhearts @kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog @barn-anon

Spoilers for Warhammer Fulgrim Lore.

I think the husbandry fandom has missed a profound opportunity for some juicy conflict!

So we have some general agreed upon notions for how certain legions react to Husbandry Terra. Now obviously not all of a single space marine type behave the same way but there be trends.

Salamanders, Ultramarines, Blood Angels, Thousand Sons, Space Wolves, Imperial Fists: these groups generally accept bonds and human companionship as they had decent human contact in their original timeline.

Then you've got the grumps who love the attention but getting them to admit it is like Pulling Teeth: Night Lords, Iron Hands and Iron Warriors.

But we have been missing out! On a delightfully painful side of our favorite premadonnas. The Emperor's Children.

Now they and their sire Fulgrim are often stereotyped as such. Elegant, pompous, snooty and post heresy they go completely mask off a drive full into unbound freak territory.

But their story is much more tragic than a spoiled brat leading other spoiled brats into serving the God of overdoing things.

Fulgrim isn't spoken of as much in terms of being screwed over, but looking closer he really was.

Shot to an awful industrial planet where he watched his adopted family struggle to feed him let alone themselves. It would give anybody a complex.

Needing to be useful, needing to contribute, needing to not be a burden.

And once the The Big E showed up it didn't get much better.

His sons? Suffer a geneflaw that gives them astarte cancer. He not only loses many of them, but has to make due with what he has left. Meaning no matter how well trained, he just can't conquer planets at the rate dear old dad wants him to.

His brothers? Got there own issues and probably don't take Fulgrim's struggles seriously. He's just at that spot of "Wow that sucks," and "But the others have it worse.' He probably doesn't feel like he can talk deeply to anyone.

So Fulgrim does what many unloved children do, in fact he does the same thing as Perturabo, Pushes Himself to The Breaking Point.

In Fulgrim's case, any failures he blames completely on himself. Where Perty lashes out, Fulgrim turns inward.

Until he just can't take it anymore. He decides he's going to finally be selfish. Commit fully to the pleasures and pain so he never has to remember the agony he feels, that he will Never, be good enough

Heck killing Ferrus probably cemented that feeling in him. I'm not worth anything, so why bother trying to be good. Why not just be the absolute Worst.

Heavy stuff. But this leads me to my main musing.

In 40k the sins of the father very much affect the sons.

So my proposition is...you think other space marines are clingy? They hold not a Candle to an Emperor's Child. Especially one post heresy.

If you show an EC that they can be open, vulnerable, Imperfect, around you, and you don't immediately turn tail and run from the baggage, You Will Never Escape.

They don't just crave intimacy, they crave stability, affection, LOVE.

And if you give them any indication you'll supply it, they will Never let themselves be cut off.

[theaquamarinearchives]

[ mess it up ― diluc ] "how could I think that all that i gave you was enough? 'cause every time i get too close, i just go mess it up." cw. gn!reader, angst, ex-lovers, mentions a minorly unhealthy relationship, diluc with trauma (canon event, i didn't do it to him), mentions of alcohol and drinking, light swearing, a lot of adelinde content! thinking over the breakup and having regrets

aquamarine's findings. repost from my old blog, this was sorta revenge for him being c6 but i love my husband i swear // mess it up, gracie abrams.

DILUC was a stubborn man with a tough shell, one that appeared to never be faltering no matter how many people tried. adelinde had spent countless evenings standing at the door to master diluc's office, a glass of grape juice in her tired hands as she tried so stubbornly to win the young master's heart back over; maybe he wasn't going to be this cold and sheltered for the entirety of his life, if only she tried a little bit harder.

the very cavalry captain of the knights of favonius - his own brother - had even tried endlessly, purposefully causing mischief around the dawn winery in an attempt to drag out that mischievous redhead child that diluc was storing away in the dark of his heart. despite kaeya's attempts, it was all futile and he'd be merely scolded by his brother.

sometimes even jean attempted to grasp the reins of an old friend, regardless of the turmoil left between the wine industry tycoon and the knights of favonius. he was once honoured among the knights, feared by their enemies and their youngest captain; what had happened so achingly? now all she can do is grimace at her own fruitless attempts at small talk in the streets of mondstadt, on days where the clouds blanket the sun. it's dull, dreary and the tired look in diluc's eyes couldn't have matched the weather anymore than they did.

in the stupidity of your own decisions, something you tried to excuse as mere young love, you too had make your move to try fix something that perhaps should stay broken. yet it worked, perhaps momentarily. he cracked, faint smiles etched onto his face whenever he'd see you. his calloused hands would stop wiping tankards with a damp cloth just to press a soft kiss to your head when you visited him at work, his focus no longer on the tavern or work for a few seconds.

on days where the sun hugged mondstadt, basking it in golden light that brought smiles out on every face in the city, you'd find diluc among the grapevines, his sleeves folded up to his elbows as he partakes in some hard labour around the winery; after all, he still cared enough to give his workers a day's rest to enjoy the sunshine. you'd join him, happily harvesting grapes in delicate grasps of your hand however diluc wouldn't fail to miss you popping the occasional one into your mouth with a cheeky grin.

regardless of the lingering touches and gentle, featherlight kisses, nothing could truly fix him, could it? for all you know, your attempts had been nothing more than another day, another week, another month for the redhead. the same redhead that you'd dedicated hours to - that you'd dedicated your heart to. what a fool, placing something so delicate into the hands of someone who didn't know how to take care of it.

diluc wishes he'd told you that sooner. he wishes the warnings had slipped from his chapped lips into the night air on the evening you'd confessed your feelings, that he didn't give an ounce of care for love. he was going to focus on the winery, the business - his father's legacy. perhaps it was the only thing he had left to grasp of him now that he'd settled in the post-mourning phase of his young adult life but that twinkle in your eyes, how could he say no?

grumbling to himself, he sips at the bitter liquid in his glass before slamming it down moments later. it's supposed to taste sweet, at least that's what kaeya insinuates every time he steals a bottle from the cellar. diluc never cared, he never drank. he couldn't stand wine yet he kept producing it like it was his lifeblood but here he was, ruby eyes boring into the dark red liquid that fills the winery's infamous glasses his mother had collected when he was still too young to remember.

adelinde lurks in the shadows, a frown adorning that pretty face all the other maids gushed over; she didn't look a day over her age, still as youthful as ever as if she hadn't watched the young masters grow up into grown men with differing personalities nonetheless. a soft sigh escapes her lips, her hands clasped in front of her neatly pressed apron as she makes her presence known.

"i thought i'd never see you drink wine." she comments, her eyes drinking in the way diluc's body tenses in the orange glow of the candle on his desk. his gaze lifts to her, softening ever so slightly when he sees the maid. he feels vulnerable - no, he is vulnerable. nothing will bring back the relationship he'd thrown out so effortlessly like paper in the breeze and that bites at him, tears at his flesh while he's still conscious. the thought makes his body ache more.

"first time for everything," his voice is hoarse as he replies, gruff as he leans back into the plush velvet of his desk chair. that familiar black coat with the fur trim hangs over the back of it and adelinde sighs again, "it's late, why haven't you retired for the night?"

he's sober, adelinde notes as she steps further into his office, her lithe hands lifting the bottle of wine he'd been drinking from to admire the label she'd seen no ends of times throughout her life. diluc watches without another word. he realises how absurd it must seem for him to be drinking the wine, so out of character it would probably turn his father in his grave but it drowned out the pain or at least, it dulled it for a while.

"you know i've never retired while you're still awake," adelinde retorts as she places the wine bottle back down on his desk. the thud draws diluc to his senses and he clears his throat, pulling his large hand away from the glass as he seats himself upright, "you're still thinking about them?"

"do you think... they'd let me back in, adelinde?" he asks in his moment of vulnerability, his rough fingertips tracing over the rings that decorate his fingers. adelinde's lips pull into a tight line, "if i pulled myself together and let them see it happen... do you think they'd let it happen?"

adelinde knows the answer is no, she'd caught wind weeks ago that you'd moved on from the situation and was fixing your wounds in the aftermath of what had happened. she'd uttered it to diluc before but it appears he'd either had one glass too many or he'd chose to ignore it in a delusional hope to fix himself again.

"master diluc, you know-" she cuts herself off, her eyes sorrowful as she drinks in the way his lower lip trembles. his breath is shaking, vulnerable and she's reminded of the young boy who'd come running to her whenever master crepus scolded him for his mischievous antics.

"i fucked up, i know," he groans, a slight crack in his voice as his hands bunch into fists on the arms of his chair. adelinde makes a soft noise in response, "and now i just have to sit here, kicking myself with my gut in a knot while they're happier."

there's a silence that fills the office. wind creaks in the attic, adelinde realises she'll have to chase up the maintenance workers on fixing all the gaps and there's a subtle crackle of the flame burning on diluc's desk. she takes note of the dark circles under the young man's eyes, hollowing his pale face from the lack of sleep he'd been receiving since he cut things off with you.

at least, that's the story he told her - that he was the one to cut the ties holding the pair of you together. it wasn't the truth and diluc thinks he'll never utter the truth to anyone, a possibility as to why he'd stopped drinking wine the moment adelinde made herself known. he's a lightweight and he's self aware, the last thing he wants is to spill out the truth like a sobbing mess, tears staining his cheeks while his breath reeks of alcohol.

the truth was you'd been the one to finish things to protect yourself. your hands clasped around your breaking heart, trembling and shaking in a last ditch effort to stop things from collapsing completely. diluc couldn't love, not in your eyes. you'd tried so hard but you knew behind the acts of affection, he wasn't there. it was as if you was kissing a ghost, someone who lacked the will to be in that situation.

in the long term, it made you feel unloved. that's when you began to recognise that you was holding pieces of your shattering heart and desperately trying to piece it back together again, fumbling endlessly with your own heart all while you tried to force feed love into the winery owner - the one who undoubtedly was up until that point, your lover.

diluc doesn't blame you for your decision but he regrets it, every ounce of it. he considers that the whole relationship could have been avoided but at the same time, by the time you'd ended things, he'd began to crave your touch, your love, your kisses. he'd hear your voice when you wasn't even present. it happened too late however and now he pays the price, the heartbreak of his own regrets for not trying harder.

this truth he'd keep locked in his shallow heart, his lips pursed into a tight line as his eyes drag over the quill on his desk - yet again, another thing he doesn't dare bring into this conversation with the maid. he'd wrote you numerous letters, just begging to hear from you so that mayhaps his heart could rest a little.

he would tear every one of them up and only one of them was ever sent.

"diluc!" your voice chirps in his memory, your cotton shawl drifting in the infamous breeze of mondstadt as you stand upon the grass hill, clouds decorating the blue sky above your head. a smile graces your face, that specific one that he adored despite never mentioning it to you - a mistake on his behalf. your eyes crease with your smile, a gentle laugh reverberating from you, "hurry up!"

diluc finds himself trudging up the grassy slope to join you, his fateful beloved. his shoes find dips to keep his footing in the steepest parts, a calloused hand occasionally pressing to the sharp grass blades to stop him slipping. eventually, he joins you. he stands at your side, drinking in your face in sheer admiration before it dawns on him that this isn't his reality, not anymore.

the bedsheets are damp when he wakes, moonlight still filtering through the large ornate glass windows of his chambers. an exasperated breath escapes his lips, his tongue darting out to wet them as his head falls back onto the feather filled pillows. fiery red hair sprawls out beneath him, no longer tied up as tears sting at his eyes, threatening to spill in the vulnerable silence left in his wake.

every time he gets too close, mere inches from a promised happiness within his grasp, he just goes and messes it up, like always.

the archives' notifications. @bisexuawolfsalt, @lovingluxury, @auroratumbles, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @soleillunne

@zamorazz, @zworllyx

© theaquamarinearchives 2024 ; reblogs appreciated. do not re-upload, translate, etc. my works on any platforms or feed any of my works to ai.

[a-aexotic]

SINCE YALL LOVED THE JJ X READER X RAFE, im writing a part 2 💞💞. thank u so much for the support, i love u all<3

taglist: @eli-yeah @hallecarey1 @midnightsgetawaycar @vigilanteshitposting (if you wanted to be added to my taglist, check out my google forms in my navi!) here are all the people who requested a part 2! @gillybear17 @capnsoyboy @honeysavanna-blog @desssxo-blog

cw’s: angst (to fluff ofc), crying, drinking, ooc camerons, lmk if i missed anything

You'd stopped hanging with the Pogues for a few weeks and John B had just thought it was just a phase. You'd always get tired of them every once in a while and would try to find other friends but you'd always come back. That was until Kie had informed him that your new friends were the self renowned Kings of OBX; Rafe Cameron, Topper Thornton, and Kelce, that was when he got concerned.

You got home late again and you tried to sneak in by your window again so Big John doesn't catch you. And when you got in, John B was sitting on your bed, waiting for you.

A confused expression contorted on your face as you looked at your older brother. "Hey?"

"You've been hanging out with Rafe and Topper?" He got to the point immediately and you were taken aback. You weren't concerned as you took off your shoes, rolling your eyes.

"I have, is that a problem?" You countered as John B sat up, getting up to face you.

"You know it is, Y/N." John B whispered. "I don't know what's been up with you lately, all your snarky comments and shit but I cross the line at you hanging out with those assholes."

"Snarky comments? John B, you're becoming dad." You couldn't help but laugh but John B didn't find it as amusing as you. "They're nice once you get to know them."

John B sighed, running his hands through his hair, stressed. "You think you've found new friends?"

"Yes, John B. Don't get all jealous on me, you're still my best-"

"You really think they want to be friends with you?" John B didn't mean it like that but you suddenly furrowed your eyebrows. "Wait-"

"What's that supposed to be mean?"

"Look, they're rich assholes and what do you think they realistically want from you? They obviously want to piss me or JJ off so they got to you-"

You scoffed at him, getting heated. How self-centered can someone be? "Oh, so you're saying no one would be friends with me for me? That obviously they want to be friends with me so they can get to you! Wow, okay-"

"That's not what I meant, Y/N."

"That's how it sounded, John B."

There was silence as you both looked at each other, hurt in your eyes and regret in John B's. His intentions were pure, you knew that but you couldn't help but think that John B truly thought this way. He saw you as a little baby who needed to be babysat and he needed to protect.

You're older now. You don't need John B or his friends anymore, you had Rafe. You didn't wanna be naive but it felt like he truly cared; old inside jokes, friendly smiles and tight embraces were the new norm for you two. He made you feel important, something that the Pogues had never made you feel.

Yeah, he is an asshole; but at least he cared for you.

"That hurts, John B." You whispered, feeling your eyes water. You didn't want to cry, that was pathetic. You walked away to your vanity, taking off your earrings as John B watched.

"Y/N-"

"Did you even care about how I was feeling when I blew you and the Pogues off? Did you even notice?" You suddenly asked, not facing John B as you looked at the mirror instead.

"I... Yes, of course we did. We just wanted to give you time." John B said. It was the truth, that was how he felt. But he didn't know how the others felt; they obviously cared about you but maybe not to the extent of how he did.

There was silence again. "John B, I'm going to bed. Can you get out?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean it like that, you know that."

"Do I?"

Before he could respond, you sniffed and looked away from his eyes as the tears started to fall. "I'm gonna get dressed, get out. Please."

He wanted to stay; hug you, comfort you. But that wouldn't do anything, he knew his words were permanent, there was no taking it back. He nodded and walked out of your room and you immediately locked the door after him.

You walked to your bed and collapsed dramatically, hugging your pillow and let the tears fall. All your worst fears had come true; they really did think that you were just some anti-social baby who needed to be taken care of.

You hadn't thought of JJ in weeks and now, he plagued your head. You missed him, too. You were embarrassed, did he truly only think of you as John B's little sister?

-

"What the fuck?" JJ shouted as John B explained the situation. The Y/N he knew wouldn't go fucking around with the Kooks, so what happened? "Why would she hang out with Rafe?"

"I'm not sure, it doesn't seem like her. I'm worried about her, she's probably getting brainwashed by them.'' Kie muttered as she sat on the couch. She was genuinely concerned; she didn't want you to become like Sarah, she wanted her best friend back.

John B was quiet as JJ and Kie discussed the situation at hand. He was confused, you'd never mentioned even talking to Rafe or Topper. They seemed like the kids who bullied you at the Kook Academy, so why were you associating with them now?

"I know it's that fucker, Rafe. He probably drugged her or some shit, he's like a sociopath who wants to use her as a weapon against us." JJ was pacing on the porch as Kie sighed. JJ was also worried, this was nothing like you. He was worried about you the moment you stopped hanging out with them but he just brushed it off like John B.

"He probably likes her." Kie stated as the two boys had looked at her, eyes widened. They hadn't even thought of that.

"Is he even capable of liking someone?" JJ sputtered, anxiously staring at Kie.

John B got up and started walking to the car, seeing red. If Rafe had even thought about touching you in any way, he'd rip him apart. You were always shy around guys and he knew that Rafe would use that against you. He didn't want to assume but Rafe was surely going to do something that made you uncomfortable.

Kie and JJ followed him. "The fuck are you doing?"

"Getting Y/N, by force if she doesn't want to."

Kie grabbed him firmly as turned him around. "Are you stupid? You're going to push her farther away. That's why she's with the Kooks right now, because you smuggle her like a little kid. You're literally a helicopter parent."

"I disagree, Kie. Personally I'm going to go over to that fucker's house and I'll punch in the mouth for taking Y/N-"

"JJ, stop. She's not a baby!" Kie shouted. "You two are driving her away. She just needs time, okay? If she needs help she'll call us."

John B had taken a few breathes and looked away from the Pogues, weighing his options. He decided Kie was right and nodded slowly, walking away back to his porch.

"I knew something was wrong the moment Y/N didn't go on that fishing trip a few weeks ago. I told you Kie, remember?" JJ recalled as Kie nodded, walking back towards John B. "And when she blew us off on Pope's birthday, and when-"

"We get it, you're the Y/N whisperer." Kie responded as she took seat on the chair, JJ taking a seat next to John B. "I just miss her."

"Me too." John B muttered.

JJ was quiet for a second. He remembered the past few weeks and they just weren't the same without you. Your amusing remarks, warm hugs and your eyes against the sun on the boat. He missed you more than anything.

-

You walked into the Cameron's estate, Topper and Rafe trailing behind you. You and Sarah made up a few nights ago and now, you essentially spent the entire day with her or Rafe. It was the most fun you'd had in months.

Sarah ran down the stairs and squealed when she saw you, embracing you tightly. "I missed you!"

"It's been like two hours, chill out." Rafe quipped, annoyed as Sarah flipped him off as she let you go.

"Shut up, you're just jealous."

"Of what?" He looked at Sarah up and down in an disgusted manner as you and Top laughed.

"That Y/N loves me more than you."

"Oh really?" Rafe looked over at you, a grin on his mouth as you smiled back. "Is that so, Y/N?"

"Yes, of course. I love Sarah more than anyone."

"Mhm." he responded, disbelief in his eyes as Sarah grabbed your hand, smiling in victory. You both looked at each other and he felt his heart jump at your sweet smile.

"Okay, guys. It's getting late, let's get going." Topper announced as they all nodded, walking out of the house. There was a bone-yard party tonight and you were all going together.

You were silently praying that the Pogues were going to blow it off and go to the Chateau instead, but that was unlikely.

As you arrived, the smell of smoke engulfed you and you resisted the urge to cough. The sun was setting and it was getting cooler, the salty ocean breeze running through your hair. You missed these parties, you hadn't been to one since the summer had begun.

Your gaze moved to the crowds, subconsciously trying to see if the Pogues had made it out to the party. You were nervous to see them, you hadn't even talked to them in a couple weeks. You heard some footsteps and you smelled the faint scent of his cologne.

Rafe stood next to you. "You okay?"

You turned to Rafe, looking up to his dreamy blue eyes. You smiled at his concern as you shook your head, "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Just nervous."

"If they hassle you, I'll be there quick, okay?"

You laughed at his care. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

You heard Sarah come up to you and grab your hand, your gaze still on Rafe, his grin evident.

"Let's go get some drinks. I need some ASAP." Sarah grabbed your hand and started walking away.

"Be careful!" Rafe shouted as you guys walked away.

You and Sarah walked to the kegger, getting a cup and filling it to the brim with beer. "I'm not excited for tomorrow's hangover."

"Let's not think about tomorrow, just tonight and how much fun we're going to have."

You laughed at Sarah words and she took a drink of her cup, smiling. You also took a drink, the bitter taste flooded your taste buds. You will never get used to the bitter taste of beer.

Kie and Pope watched from afar, disappointment apparent in their expression. They were sitting on piece of wood, beers in hand. Kie felt betrayed as she watched you dance with Sarah, having fun. She wasn't even mad; she was disappointed.

"Looks like the Kooks have officially seized Y/N away from us." Pope declared as Kie nodded, taking a sip of her beer from the red cup.

Sarah put her hands on your shoulders, swinging you two in a slow dance as you giggled at her antics. The sun was set and the boneyard energy was finally at its height; the cool ocean breeze, the smoke from the fire, the faint music, the mutter from people all across the island.

Your gaze moved from Sarah to behind her: Rafe was sitting with Top and Kelce, laughing. A smile invaded your face and Sarah turned around and then back at you, a smirk on her lips.

"So what's up with you and Rafe?"

Your face felt warm once you turned your gaze back at Sarah. "Um, what do you mean?"

"Do you think I don't see those little looks and smiles? Especially the hugs, it looks like he doesn't wanna let go of you." Sarah noted as you blushed bashfully, looking away. "He doesn't hug anyone that way, so what's up?"

"Nothing, we're just getting closer."

"Okay, Y/N." The smirk was on still apparent on her face. "Whatever you say."

It was the truth, sure, he made you feel like few others have made you feel, but it was just nothing. That was it, for now at least.

You heard footsteps behind you and you saw Sarah's face morph into an annoyed one. She let go of you as you turned back to see JJ.

You were startled. You hadn't seen him in weeks and it seemed like all the feelings you tried so hard to get rid of, came back as soon as you locked eyes with JJ. His soft gaze and worried expression made your heart sink to your stomach.

"Hey." He said quietly, no exact emotion in his tone. "C-can we talk?"

You looked back at Sarah and she gave you a small nod. "Sure."

You and JJ walked away from the crowd, walking along the shore of the beach. It was quiet for a second before JJ spoke up. "Why'd you leave us?"

His tone was evident now. It seemed hurt and that was something you rarely heard - especially when it was directed to you. You moved your gaze to anywhere but JJ, trying to think of an explanation.

You licked your lips before looking at JJ. He didn't look at you either, wanting to gaze at the sand below instead. "I felt like... like I was just John B's sister." That was partly the truth - you couldn't admit the other half.

"Just John B's sister?" JJ repeated. Again, there was silence before JJ spoke up again. "You're our best friend, too. Our little sister we love and want to... protect."

"I don't feel like it, sometimes." You admitted. JJ's heart broke at your statement. He's known you his whole life and he's always wanted to make sure you fit in. He felt bad now because you didn't feel it.

He stopped and grabbed your arm, so you could turn and look up at him. "I'm sorry, if I ever made you feel unwanted. You are wanted, it's not the same without you and our little jokes. No one does it like you, Y/N."

You felt yourself tear up at the statement. That was all you wanted to hear all month - that you were wanted. Not only wanted to hear, but feel. JJ's gaze felt warm against your face as you locked eyes. His blue eyes melted into yours and your heart sped up.

His hand slowly went down your arm, leaving goosebumps as he went down to your hand. He pulled you closer and you held eye contact. His gaze moved to your lips and then up at your eyes again.

As he leaned in, he heard a familiar voice behind them. "Y/N."

You both turned to see Rafe and Sarah, watching you both. His jaw was clenched as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

Oh no, you thought to yourself as JJ let go of your hand.

[beanieable]

@shinazugawa-bros-week-2024

Day 7 - Memories / Seasons

This took the longest and was the main reason why I only did four prompts. I wanted to showcase the brothers throught the years and how they changed. I decided to add my crossover between Demon Slayer and My Hero Academia for winter. You can read about it on my old blog here or the stories I wrote on ao3 here. I want to do more with this AU again.

Sanemi still couldn't believe the little bundle in his arms, it's been a few months since he got his baby brother and Sanemi loved him. The five-year-old didn't have the words to describe how he felt all he knew was he loved Genya and he was going to be the best big brother he could be!

After Genya was born their mother gave birth five more times, to two girls and three more boys. All five loved their big brothers. They looked up to them. After their father was killed, the older two began helping their mother even more. They would work when they were out and take care of the younger ones when they were at home. Despite how close all the siblings were, Genya and Sanemi were even closer. 

It's been years since either of them had a true home. Both missed the other. They hadn't even talked since that day. Sanemi wanted to keep the younger away from the dangers of demons and Genya wanted nothing more than to be close to his big brother. Despite not being as close as they used to be, they still loved each other. 

After the war, the brothers were given a second chance. One they took eagerly. This world was weird and new but they eventually got used to it with the people they met. Their lives were still filled with danger, given the villains around, but this time they had each other. One could only wonder just how unstoppable the brothers would be. 

Despite everything they would always have each other. 

[russellsppttemplates]

Santa Claus has been (George Russell)

A sneak peek into Christmas in the Russell household

Note: english is not my first language. Before New Year comes around, let me get the holidays is somewhat of an order!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Do we have all the supplies we need?", George questioned as Arthur set the glue down, "yes, we're ready, daddy! Can you help me make sure I'm writing it correctly, please?", the little boy asked. While Olivia was fine to write on her own, Arthur had started second grade a couple of months before, and sometimes he still had a little slip here and there.

" 'Dear Santa, my name is Olivia Russell, and this year I have been a good girl. I have always helped mummy and daddy around the house, and I only hurt my brother, Arthur, once and it was an accident because I didn't think I was that strong when I threw the ball at him. ' Do you think that's good, daddy?", your daughter wondered, wanting to know her father's opinion.

"That's good, darling. Now you go on to tell him what you'd like to get from him", George praised, turning his attention back to Arthur's letter, "That's good, well done! Just this one here, it's two 's' and not just one", he pointed to the spot in the paper.

"Are you and mummy also writing a letter for Santa?", Olivia asked once she was finished, hands already holding glue and glitter as she bedazzled her letter, "Me and mummy got eachother a gift and that was it, we have everyhting we need already", George said as he kissed both of their heads, "but I do think Santa is bringing something for mummy as well, but it's a secret between me and him, so you guys can't tell her!", he mused.

.

"Do you think he knows we're coming?", Arthur wondered as you walked along the Christmas themed park.

"Of course he does, daddy spoke to him, didn't you?", Olivia reasoned back with her brother, "he told us he knew him because he spoke to him!".

"Does daddy know Santa, hm? I didn't know that!", you looked at your husband, quizzical look as you silently wondered where the kids got the idea.

"Daddy knows a lot of people, don't I?", George urged as they walked, winking at you as you made sure you didn't lose anyone in the sea of people, missing the way Olivia apologetically looked at her father, whispering "sorry, daddy!", as she realised she nearly outed her father's secret.

"The line isn't that long", you commented, seeing three families in front of you, "I have your letters here", you fished them out of your bag, handing them to each kid who held onto them.

"Do you think he'll remember us from last year?", Arthur wondered, "well, you two have grown a lot, maybe he'll have some trouble first", you reasoned, not sure what to say and knowing the kids would ask the person in the red and white costume.

"You guys are next!", a young woman dressed in her elf costume clapped, "do you have your letters ready?", she added.

"Merry Christmas! Oh, look at you! What are your names?", the old man in costume asked as he received them inside his house.

"I'm Arthur", your son said, sitting in the bench as his sister followed, "and I'm Olivia!", your daughter cheered, "and that's mummy Y/N and daddy George!", she introduced. "We wanted to bring Maya and Winston", Arthur explained, "but mummy and daddy said that they could get scared so they stayed home, but they're out family too!".

"Do not worry, my friends, I will make sure I leave something for them when I go by your house, I'm sure they've been good this year too", the man winked, gathering them so they could take a picture and talk a little about what they wanted for Christmas.

.

Leaving things for Santa

"So, we have cookies we baked, a glass of milk if he's thirsty, and then some carrots for the reindeer!", Arthur said, checking if nothing was missing for your visitors.

"Now we have to go to bed, or else Santa won't stop here!", Olivia said, putting a few extra cookies in the plate.

After putting the kids to bed, you and George began to work on your plan. Grabbing the boots, you sprayed them with oil and then dunk the sole in flour, attempting your best to create footsteps, "it's not snowing outside though", George pointed out, wiping the remnants of flour in hopes of making it realistic enough, "Lapland has snow and he still had some on his feet", you shrugged, continuing your task while he filled the stockings and put the big presents under the tree.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, a tiny thought came to your mind, "love?", you called, checking if your husband was still awake.

"Yes?", he acknowledged your call, "I wrapped all of the presents with the same wrapping paper. Which means our presents on the stocking and the presents from Santa Claus are going to be wrapped in the same paper. And we have very observant children!", you hissed.

"We'll just say that Santa's Elves and daddy and mummy have the same taste", George cuddled you, rubbing his lips on your forehead, "sleep, darling, you and I both know we'll need it as much as we can".

You slept for about four, five hours, you guessed until you were woken up by footsteps.

"I heard the door, they're coming here", you groaned into your pillow, feeling George's arm around your waist squeezing you closer to his body, "you're just listening things, darling", he replied.

"Oh yes? Why did you wake up too, then?", you snickered, looking the moonlight peaking through the curtains, "the sun is not even out, George, my goodness", you muttered, snuggling further into your husband as you heard the door open, "Winston can't do that", you grumbled, "neither can Maya", George reasoned with you, making you both groan in unison, "it's the kids".

"Mummy, Daddy", Arthur was the first to speak, "we think Santa has been already, we heard his footsteps on the roof!", Olivia said as she climbed in bed with you, "can we go and see? Please!".

"Don't you guys want to wait a little bit? Warm up in bed with us?", you attempted, hearing the huff from both kids, "we really want to go, mummy, please! We can sleep later!", Olivia reasoned.

Getting up and grabbing a fluffy robe, you and George followed the kids, seeing the grey cat look at you weirdly, "they probably just heard you, Winston, there isn't actually someone else in the house", you petted him as he followed you to the living room, seeing Maya at the corner of your eye who huffed, not understanding why her humans were up that early.

"You can go to sleep, Maya, although they're probably going to start squealing soon", George petted her caramel fur.

"HE HAS BEEN! LOOK, OLIVIA! He ate all the cookies, and the carrot is bitten!", you heard your son excitedly say as he looked for his presents with his sister's help.

"It's your genetics that make them get up this early, I think I'm still asleep", you murmured against your husband's clothed chest, hugging his waist as they unwrapped and gasped at what they got, "my genetics also make them incredibly cute, along with your genetics that make them irresistible, so that's how we do this", George kissed the top of your head.

"Mummy! Santa thought you were a good girl this year, too, look! You have a big present!", Olivia said, "Oh, I'm the best girl, specially for being up at this hour!", you chuckled.

[captainlunaxmen]

All for the cameras

Chapter 4

Finnick Odair x reader

This is a repost since the old blog doesn't work anymore. 🥰

Chapter summary: a little about the making of the Games, the reaping, and the Parade.

Chapter warnings: talking of lethal threats, Cal has his own warning, Snow, forced marriage.

Masterlist

I take a huge gulp of wine as I sit in Plutarch's living room.

He did convince Snow to make me his personal assistant for this Quarter Quell, Plutarch told him it's a perfect way to show my "participation". Although I hate to keep up such a facade, I love that I can use it as an excuse to not stay, nor spend any time with Cal.

"Careful with that," Plutarch comes back into the room with his own glass, "we need you lucid for this."

"Trust me, I built a strong resistance to alcohol... no amount would help endure this shit anyway..." I mutter, looking at my fucking ring.

"You spent too much time with Abernathy, I'm afraid," he comments, he's not judging, no, he's probably just teasing.

"Or not enough," I tease back, he smirks amused by my answer.

He then suddenly turns the TV on, on display my answer to Cal's proposal.

I groan as I see that.

"I gotta say, that was smart," he compliments me, referring to the kiss.

"Could you turn it off? One fucking time was enough, thank you." I tell him.

"Not telling you about the Quartel Quell was smart too," he throws this out like nothing, my head snaps towards him.

"You little... that's why..." I start, but his proud stance stops me, "fine... smart thinking on your part too, okay."

"Thank you very much," he does a little bow before turning serious, "I'm sure now you can know more." He declares.

"Really?" I ask, I really want to know more and help, but at the same time I don't want to risk everyone.

"Yes, miss L/n. But... you have to know this, all this, will require a lot from you. From all of us, actually. So just know... you can still change your mind and no one will hold it against you." He explains, I can feel he is sincere, I know I can trust him.

I take a deep breath, this is a good chance to actually change things here... I won't pass this opportunity.

"Anything." I say and he smiles.

"Alright, our primarily goal is to get Katniss out." He starts and I nod, of course she would be the face of the revolution, "every Victor involved knows that,"

"Did you warn them? The ones involved?" I ask.

"Didn't have the chance... not everyone... I also need you to start thinking that not everyone will see this revolution starts." He says bitterly.

"I..." I don't know what to say, so I try to reason it, "yeah... of course... if not all of them know... the others would just want to survive, as always."

"Reasoning won't help you much this time," he says and he uses the remote to change the scene on the screen.

The reaping ceremony of each district.

"Cashmere and Gloss... God... they're brother and sister.."

"It never stopped the Capitol before. It just adds up to the drama." Plutarch sighs.

"I know," I sigh as the next district's reaping starts, "it may sounds cliché, but Enobaria is actually a sweet person... when you get past the teeth," I try to chuckle to ease my tension. Yeah... I might not see some of them after...

"Please tell me you were smart enough to recruit Beetee," I look at Plutarch who nods confidently.

"Oh..."

"This is where I wanted you," he says softly.

"Finnick... yeah... I... it makes sense..." I say as I see him walking up the stage.

"You need to..."

He doesn't have the time to finish his sentence before I let out a big gasp.

"Mags volunteered..." I whisper, "she... she can't... they can't... not them both... oh c'mon..."

"I'm sorry. When the time comes we will do our best to take everyone to safety, but..." he explains.

"But you can't control what happens in the arena..." I mutter, "not without raising suspects. I know."

I hear him sigh and walking closer to me, offering a comforting hand on my shoulder, I nod and we go on watching the reaping.

Johanna of course... I know she has all the skills to protect herself in there, but she's still my friend and I can't not worry. Especially knowing she has nothing left to lose.

Finally we get to 12 and of course Katniss, being the only living female victor, she's reaped.

Time for the male.

Haymitch's name is said, and for a split moment my heart breaks, but Peeta is quick to volunteer for him. I see Katniss shocked and terrified expression and I know she asked Haymitch to volunteer in his place if the roles were reverse.

"That was rigged... wasn't it?" I ask.

"Exactly, we need Haymitch here and..." he motion for me to go on.

"She needs Peeta there," I say earning a proud nod from him, "she just doesn't know it."

There's a moment of silence, where I take a second to recollect myself and take a sip of wine.

"Now," he claps his hands, "to make your participation more believable... you need to write down 2 ideas for the arena."

"What?" I ask, "I thought the arena was already decided."

"The arena yes... not the threats inside." He says.

"What do you mean?" I'm actually confused right now.

"This year arena is... quite special," he starts explaining, showing the concept on the screen, "it's divided in sections, like this, each section hosts a threat. Like these: acid fog, monkeys, this big wave... And so on."

"Acid fog? Isn't it a little too much?" I ask getting nervous for my friends.

"I told you it's gonna be hard," he gives me a sympathetic smile, "and we need your suggestions to be... authentic. It has to look like you're actually putting an effort."

I sigh, bouncing my leg.

I need to think of something that's horrifying, but safe at the same time.

They're all there... all my friends are there. The only family I've ever known since... I shake my head and drink more wine.

"Okay. Yeah... I get it." I nod, "when do you need it?"

"Tomorrow." He answers, "I have faith you can do it and... you can say you're busy working for me." He winks at me with a reassuring smile.

"That's the only good thing," I let out a humourless laugh and take one last gulp of wine before standing up. "Then I should get going. Thank you, Mr Heavensbee."

I walk towards the exit when Plutarch's voice stops me.

"One more thing," he calls and I turn my head, "even though you'll try and think of the least lethal threat... they might kill someone anyway. Keep that in mind."

I nod and walk out.

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

As I enter my apartment I instantly smell flowers... lots of them.

I look around and I see, probably, more than 10 bouquets of flowers.

"Oh god..." I sigh, defeated. I look at some of them, noticing most are from "admirers" congratulating me for my engagement.

But there are three that catch my eyes more than the others.

One, huge, bouquet is made by all sort of flowers, I don't think I've ever seen such variety of flowers in the first place. I look at the card... I groan, it's from Cal.

"My love, everyday I count the days that separate us from being finally together.

I can't wait for you to be mine.

Properly mine.

Enjoy your job, my sweetness, and happy Hunger Games!

Love,

Cal Kingslay. "

I throw the whole bouquet with the rest, and just look at the other. It's simple and small, my favourite flowers and a few seashells here and there, the thing holding the bouquet it's not paper... it's fish nets... Finnick. I unconsciously smile as I take the card.

"I wanT to congRatUlate you, my SweeT girl!

TheY tOld me the news jUst now! Miss L/n, You shouLd've tOld me, I've neVer beEn so happy!

Congratulations!

Dario."

He signs each letters, making it look like it was ink fallen from the pen... smart.

"I trust you, my love"

He even signed it with an anagram of his name. I let out a laugh at that and move to the last bouquet.

Even smaller then Finnick's, a few green leaves are like a frame for the one, white rose.

I shakily take the card in my hand.

"Congratulations on your engagement, my dear. I look forward to see what you'll come up with for our Games.

I'm sure one day you'll make a fine Gamemaker."

There's no sign, not that he needed to...

"Gamemaker... yeah... sure." I scoff.

I go to the kitchen to get myself some wine. As I'm about to pour a glass, I look at the bottle and just... take it all with me to my room.

I sit on the desk in my room and, as I take some gulps from the bottle, I try to come up with some ideas.

Plutarch mentioned a few potentially lethal threat already, I mean... acid fog, deadly monkeys, that I'm sure will be modified.

What to do, what to do...

Other animals maybe, but a non lethal one... something that creates a hassle, but not death.

Bugs?

I shake my head, no, they would make it poisonous no matter what my suggestion is.

Something else, something else.

Jabberjays. Yes!

I write down my idea and take the bottle to take a big gulp, but the bottle slips from my grasp and falls on the desk spilling the liquid all over the desk and the pavement.

"Shit!"

I manage to safe the paper I was writing on and I immediately go take a towel to wipe the wine off.

As I kneel down cleaning the liquid, I find myself staring at the little drops of wine falling from the desk to the floor.

The dark liquid looks a lot like... blood.

Blood rain.

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

I walk nervously behind Plutarch, he just told me Snow wanted to hear my ideas himself, so now, as I'm walking I clench my fists nervously.

"You couldn't have told me sooner?" I ask him.

"He didn't ask me sooner," Plutarch answers as we finally stand out of Snow's office, "you wrote it?"

"Of course," I slightly scoff at his answer.

"Then take a deep breath and... show time," Plutarch smiles and knock on the door.

"Come in," Snow's voice gives us permission to enter.

"President," Plutarch greets him.

"Good morning, sir," I say, putting up the best 'diligent student' appearance.

"Good morning, Mr Heavensbee," he nods towards Plutarch and then turns to me, "and what a pleasure, miss L/n."

"You said you wanted to hear her ideas for the arena, right?" Plutarch starts.

"Oh, of course!" Snow's suddenly happy, as if he's about to hear a good story, "tell me, my dear girl, what did you think of?"

If it were a different universe this could've seemed a sweet exchange. The old "mentor" interested in his protégé ideas...

"When Plutarch showed me the arena and the already existing threats, I have to admit I was intrigued," I start and I see, from the corner of my eyes Plutarch smiling proudly, "but at the same time, I was a little bored." I say and that earned a surprised 'oh?' from Snow, "I mean... from those you either die or survive... so I thought of something more psychological."

"Oh, now that's interesting, my dear, please go on." Snow is pleased so far.

"I thought of a section of the arena where... uh..." I pretend to stutter for a second, to give him the impression that I'm nervous because I care for his opinion.

"Don't be shy, I'm open to all suggestions,"

"I thought of a blood rain... sir." I say.

I see him pondering the idea, then a smile creeps it's way on his face, it makes me sick.

"I like it," he finally says looking at Plutarch, "she's smart, isn't she?"

"Very smart, sir." Plutarch agrees.

"I'm even more curious to hear the other idea, please don't leave me hanging," Snow's 'sweet' tone almost freezes me to the spot, but I swallow hard and just ignore this feeling.

"Jabberjays." Is all I say.

He looks a little taken aback, and motion for me to elaborate.

"I thought about using Jabberjays that imitate the screams of people the tributes know." I say, pretending to feel unsure of my idea, "maybe create a sort of an invisible wall that prevents them from escaping if they finds the birds."

Snow looks at me, considering me for a moment, then he smiles, that sick smile once again.

"You were right in recruiting her, Mr Heavensbee. Good thinking, miss L/n, very good thinking." He compliments Plutarch and me.

"Thank you, sir." I smile.

"No, thank you," he says, "now, one more thing before I dismiss you."

I nod and stay put, even though I was ready to run, or better walk very fast, out of here.

"This role of assistant Gamemaker won't exonerate you from your duty to assist the mentors," he tells me.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir, I've always taken my role very seriously," I tell him, faking pride as I speak.

"I know, my dear." He smiles, almost as if he knows I wasn't exactly fond of it, "we were supposed to randomly assign you to one district, like every year, but we thought to just let you stick to 12. Apparently the Capitol's people loved your... friendship with the two victors." He says the word 'friendship' with a not so convinced tone, almost repulsed.

"Of course, sir." I nod my head, eager to just get out of here.

"But," he adds, probably keeping me longer to see when I'll crumble, I look briefly at Plutarch who keeps his confidence stance, "you'll be assisting all of the districts." I look at him confused and he continues, "I mean, you'll be present during the training sessions and will help."

"Oh, yes, sir, of course." I nod again.

"That's all." He claps his hands, satisfied, "the tributes arrive today so... better be there to welcome them home."

'Home'...

"I'm going right now, sir." I promptly tell him, he smiles and motions me to go and to Plutarch to stay.

"Send my regards to Cal Kingslay when you see him," I hear him say as I walk out, not bothering to answer him I just go straight to the tributes living centre.

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

I enter the building and see Haymitch, Effie, Katniss and Peeta arriving.

"Well, well, well, aren't you lot a sight for sore eyes?" I say once I'm close enough to pull Peeta into a hug.

"Oh! We got the Princess this year too, uh? The president is spoiling us," Haymitch jokes ans I roll my eyes as I hug Katniss.

"Rather spoiling me," I greet Effie too, in the perfect 'Capitol style', "lots of opportunities."

"I figured," Haymitch says wrapping his arms around me.

"Now," I say holding my arms open, theatrically, "let's take you to your apartments."

I start walking towards the elevator, heading to the attic, again.

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

Once inside we start to have lunch, the atmosphere is quite tense before Effie breaks the silence.

"All right," she starts, clearing her throat, "before we begin, I've had a thought."

"You don't say?" Haymitch jokes, unimpressed.

"Be nice," I tell him, throwing a balled-up napkin at him.

"Katniss has her gold Mockingjay pin. I have my hair. I'm going to get you three something gold." She declares, as if it were something obvious.

Haymitch looks at both me and Peeta, confused, before asking why.

"A token." Effie explains, "Show them we are a team. And they can't just..." she starts getting emotional and Katniss takes her hands.

"Thank you." She tells her, meaning it.

Effie might be too theatrical sometimes, but she's so much more than that, I'm grateful I got to know this side of her. I take her hand too.

"That's really sweet, Effie." I smile at her, "and... thank you for including me."

I notice both Peeta and Katniss sharing a look as if I said something unbelievable, but I ignore it.

Not the time.

"Now..." Effie composes herself, "everything will be different, because it's a Quarter Quell. The Capitol has spared no expense. A new training centre. New Tribute living quarters. And of course, a very special arena."

I tense at that, I took part in that...

"But this year you'll be facing other Victors." I step in, " all Capitol favourites. Smart, cunning, skilled... angry. And they all know one another. You two are the outsiders."

" I want you guys to forget everything you think you know about the Games. Last year was child's play." Haymitch starts explaining, he's the best to mentor them about a Quarter Quell, "this year, you're dealing with all experienced killers."

"All right," Peeta speaks up, "what does it mean for us?"

"Allies." I tell him, "you'll be needing allies."

"Okay. I think that if..." Peeta's reply is quickly interrupted.

"You're not the problem." I say and, I don't have to say anything more, Haymitch is already pointing at Katniss.

"No." She sternly says.

"A little help, Haymitch?" I ask him.

"Look, you're starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years."

"That just puts us higher on their killing list." She replies, annoyed.

I roll my eyes, she needs to do her part.

"Do it your own way, but I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is gonna be to hunt you down." Haymitch keeps explaining, patiently, "both of you."

"Katniss, come on," Peeta's sweet tone seems to convince her... a tiny bit.

She sighs deeply, which usually mean she's gonna listen, even though she doesn't agree.

"How could any of us even trust each other?" She then asks.

"It's not about trust. It's about staying alive," he states.

Peeta and Katniss look at each other and finally Katniss nod her head.

"Great!" I cheer, "time for some brainstorming, shall we?" And I stand up walking to the living room.

They soon follow and Haymitch turns the TV on, so they can see who the other Victors are, and who might seem like a good ally.

"Cashmere and Gloss. Brother and sister. District one. They one back-to-back Games. Capitol favourites. Lots of sponsors." He shows them the siblings.

"They will be lethal." I add and Haymitch nods, strongly agreeing.

"And the other half of the Career Pack, Brutus and Enobaria."

"What's with her teeth?" Of course, Katniss asks about the teeth.

"She... well... she had them filed into fangs..." I respond, "so she could... rip people's throat out better."

"She's committed. I'll give her that." Peeta comments, I can sense some tension in him... which is very understandable.

"Wiress and Beetee," Haymitch keeps on presenting the tributes, "not fighters, but brilliant."

"Very brilliant," I agree.

"And weird." He adds, earning a glare from me, "real texh-savvy. He won his Games by electrocuting six tributes at once." He changes the scene again, "the Morphlings. Masters of camouflage. Basically, won their Games by hiding until everyone was dead. Self-medicating ever since. Which I applaud. Not a threat."

We arrive at District 4 reaping.

"Finnick Odair, right?" Katniss asks.

Haymitch looks at me, silently telling me to explain this one myself, there's a hint of a smirk on his face that makes me roll my eyes for, what feels like, the millionth time today.

"Yep. The one and only." I starts, "he won his Games at 14. He's the youngest Victor ever... of course modesty is his peculiarity." I joke.

"You're kidding."

"Kinda," I chuckle, "he's very confident. Very. But... he's the Capitol's darling. They all love him here." Unfortunately, I want to add. "He's smart, he's skilled at combat, especially... especially in water."

"What about weaknesses?" Peeta asks, interested.

"Only one..." I sigh, deeply, "Mags. She... she volunteer for Annie. Mags was his mentor, the year that I was assigned to 4, she raised him, basically. He will try to protect her, even though it would expose him."

"A guy like that has to know she's not gonna make it," Katniss shakes her head, unconvinced, Haymitch looks at me knowingly, "I bet when it really comes down to it, he won't protect her."

I really want to hit her right now, but I know it's not her fault, she thinks this because it's what the Capitol wanted everyone else to think. That's what he had to pretend to be.

"Well... she's an amazing woman, Katniss, I... I just hope that... if... w-when she goes, she goes quickly." I stutter out. It took everything in me to say that... I want to hope we will rescue everyone before that happens... I really do.

I space out as Haymitch goes on explaining and introducing the other tributes.

I can feel his eyes on me every now and then, but I stopped pay attention minutes ago now.

Mags is the mother I never had... if there is one person who deserves to see a free Panem, it's her.

---------‐---

I was walking on the train heading to the restaurant car where I found an old lady sitting there, drinking a cup of tea.

"Hi..." I shyly said.

"Oh hello, dear." She greeted me with such a kind smile, I felt so much better and less nervous.

"I'm... I'm Y/n." I started to introduce myself, but her hand gently taking mine stopped me.

"I know, dear. I'm Mags." Another kind smile, "you're here to assist me, right?"

"Yeah." My hands were getting sweaty... I was so nervous.

"Hey, no need to worry about it. We can do it." She reassured me.

"I hope so..." I muttered under my breath.

She sighed and offer a seat to me, I took it and stared at the cups on the table.

"I watched you last year," her voice was soft as she spoke, "you were assigned to... what district?"

"5"

"But you were helping the little one from 11, right?" She asked.

I snapped my head to her, eyes wide open.

"Please, don't worry about it. I never told anyone." She assured me, handing me a warm cup, "I just meant that I saw you're not like the rest of them, my dear. You care."

"My tributes didn't want to listen, they were older than me and thought I was just a spy... which is understandable." I sadly kept my head low. "That boy from 11 was my age and... he was having trouble with some essential survival techniques."

"He got pretty far thanks to those." She tried to make me feel better.

"Not far enough," I bitterly replied.

"I'm sorry." I let her take my hand again, "it's not a consolation, I know, trust me, but... I have a feeling we can do it."

"They won't trust me," I told her, referring to the tributes from 4.

"Not at first... and most likely not the girl... but the boy, he seems to be more open to suggestions." She explained.

"I'm not sure he would accept suggestions from me."

"He's a smart one. Same age as you. Just be yourself and he will trust you." She smiled.

I considered her for a moment before nodding. Hope growing a little more.

The door of the car opening had my head turning immediately.

"My dear Y/n," Mags stood up and walked towards the boy entering, "this is Finnick Odair. Finnick, this is Y/n."

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

"Are you okay?" Haymitch's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Uh? Yeah... yeah, sorry, I zoned out." I apologise.

"I noticed." He sits with me.

"Where are they?" I ask, noticing no one else was in sight.

"Getting ready for the parade." He answers.

"Right... I better get going too. I have to check everyone is ready..." I tiredly sigh as I stand up, but Haymitch softly pulls me back down.

"If you take a few minutes it won't be a tragedy." He tells me, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing... I just started to think about Mags." I whisper, afraid someone might hear.

"Plutarch gave you the speech?" He asks and I nod, "I'm really sorry, Y/n."

"It's okay... I mean, it's not, but I think it was inevitable... she would've never let anyone else go, not if she had any say in it." I tell him, "she's strong." I see him starting to speak but I beat him to it, "I know better than to keep my hopes up, trust me, I know."

He just sighs and wrap one reassuring arms around my shoulder.

"I really better get going now, gotta check on those outfits." I stand up.

"You do that, sweetheart." Haymitch smiles at me and I walk to the elevator.

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

I walk out of the elevator heading to where the parade is about to begin and I instantly loom for someone.

I spot immediately Peeta talking to Cinna, who's probably refining last minutes details.

"Hello." I greet once I'm close enough, Cinna turns around giving me a small smile and a hug. "You look good, mr Mellark."

"Only with his help it's possible." Peeta, humble as usual, replies pointing at Cinna.

"I'm not a magician, I can make people look good if they're worthy." Cinna shakes his head, waving off the compliment.

"I couldn't agree more." I sigh, "so, are you lot ready? Where's Katniss?"

"She's should be here soon, her dress is a little more complicated than Peeta's." Cinna answers, "and, since you're here, I was thinking about them not doing anything out there."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean, no waving, no smiling, nothing of sort. Act like they're above them. What do you think?" He explains, genuinely interested in my opinion.

"I think it's perfect." I smile and he return it.

"Oh, there she is." Peeta points behind us, I turn seeing Katniss talking to Finnick, who's a lot close. I hope he's not putting up his flirting persona, I don't think Katniss would trust him so easily then.

Peeta excuses himself to join her, just as Finnick walks away... spotting me.

"Snow asked..." Cinna gently nudges my arm and lowers his voice, "or better, ordered me to make her wear a wedding dress for the interview."

"Of course..." I roll my eyes. "You good with that?

"Oh yeah...I got a great idea for it." He says, I look into his eyes seeing determination so I don't ask more questions.

"Better get them ready to go, it's almost time." I tell him.

Cinna walks to Katniss and Peeta and I turn to check if someone else needs a hand with something or needs advice, unlikely, but never say never.

I see Mags petting a horse so I decide to go to her.

As soon as she sees me her smile grows ten times, warming my heart.

"You look very beautiful," I tell her, once we're close enough I hug her, "I'm so sorry." I whisper into her ear.

She pulls away gently, looking at me with that kind smile that always makes me feel better. She caresses my cheek with her hand, reassuringly, nodding her head to tell me that it's alright.

I nod too, taking a deep breath.

"Do you think I look presentable?" A very familiar voice says from behind me.

I look at Mags, rolling my eyes, glad I made her laugh a little.

I turn around, fully admir... noticing his naked chest and the golden fish net tied at his... oh shit.

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart." He smirks and I just turn my head away, shaking it as I try to pull myself together.

"Did your stylists finished the fabric?" I finally say, "I could've ordered some, if they told me."

"Of course," he smiles and walk closer to me, leaning down to whisper into my ear, "just between us... I'm wearing it just for you."

My head snaps to him, our faces mere inches apart. I notice his eyes looking down to my lips, I instantly put some distance walking up to district 3.

"And here I thought you would never come to say hi," Beetee waves.

"Did you lose all hope in me? And here I thought you were the smart one." I tease back.

"It's a pity seeing each other here, under these circumstances." Wiress shakes my hand.

"I know. I wish it were different..." I look down, sad and ashamed too, Beetee softly touches my arm. I look up at him noticing him mouthing something on the line of 'it's gonna be fine' so I smile at him. "Well, don't you two look great?"

I compliment them, just before the announcer warned us of the beginning.

I wave them goodbye for now and head back, watching every district ride out there.

When it's Finnick's turn he turns to me and winks at me, earning a big eye roll. When it's finally District 12 turn as they pass by I nod my head, encouraging them. I see them looking st each other and straighten their back proudly.

I walk towards the end of the parade, where they should get off the chariots and head back to the elevators, and I wait.

I look at them in the distance, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves.

All of a sudden I feel someone watching me from behind.

"You did a pretty good job, my sweetness." His voice makes me wince.

I turn around, showing the usual fake smile I show to everyone in the Capitol, pretending to be happy to see him.

"Cal... hi." I say, holding back from walking away as he nears, "what are you doing here?"

"I missed you. I didn't scare you, didn't I?" He says with a smile, that clearly shows he's proud he did.

"Of course, not. I was just thinking." I tell him sweetly.

"What about?" He ask, curious.

"Well, I have a lot to do these days and when they're back I'll have to make sure everything is organised." I tell him. "And also, taking part in the making of the Games... Plutarch asked me to write down some ideas."

This is probably the only time I'm glad I have this job, if I didn't, Cal would've kept me basically locked up, in his apartment. 'All to himself'... the thought makes me shiver.

"Would you share them with me?" He whispers.

"I can't ruin the fun, can I?" I say back.

"Aahh... you're killing me, babe." He shakes his head chuckling.

If only...

"No special treatment, Cal." I smile, feeling uneasy from the way he's looking at me.

In that moment, thankfully, I hear the parade is ending, which means everybody is about to get back.

"Such a diligent girl." He moves his hand to take mine. I let out a nervous laugh and a 'thanks', and finally, one district at a time, they're back.

I lock eyes with some of the Tributes, who noticing Cal with me, tense and give me sympathetic smile.

Then Finnick's back.

As soon as he sees me, he can't keep up the fake smile and his expression darkens.

"Well... I'm sorry, but I have to go now. I'll see you." I say, starting to turn around, but his hand grabs my arm. Rather harshly, which makes my eyes widen at that.

"We hardly see each other these days... I miss you." He looms over me, a dark look in his eyes.

"Well... uh..." I clear my throat, looking at the tributes still arriving, "I have a job to.. to do."

I see Mags and Finnick, she has a hand on his arm, to stop him from coming here.

"Good thing that when we're married you won't need to work, then." He tells me directly into my ear, "I would be able to have you any day I want."

"Wouldn't that be a dream..?" I choke out, my throat tightens. I still look at Finnick, more to check he doesn't intervenes than anything.

"There you are!" We both look at the source of the sound, Johanna.

I let out a sigh of relief as she walks closer.

"I was looking for you." She says, "they told me to ask you for the schedule."

"Yes... yes! I got it." I tell her.

Johanna pretends to notice Cal just now and extends her hand towards him.

"Oh hey there! You must be the lucky one, uh?" Johanna greets him.

Cal looks at her sceptically before shaking her hand.

"Yes, that's me."

"So nice to finally meet you, she talks about you all the time!" Johanna's (fake) cheery personality and flattery seem to work on Cal, who smiles smugly, "you don't mind if I steal her, do you?"

Before Cal could answer, she pulls me to her linking arms and walks away.

"God, he looks so annoying." She groans.

"He is... he is." I sigh, relieved.

"I thought about stepping in before Finnick over there could rip his eyes out," she teases. "So... how are the lovebirds?"

"They're completely in love." I tell her, she nods smiling knowingly.

I spot them talking with district 11 tributes, I wave at Haymitch, letting him know I'll be up in a second.

"Ugh... he still looking this way," Johanna complains getting in front of me, "is he always like this?"

"Even worse." I roll my eyes.

"Alright," she take the end of her dress in her hands showing it to me, "Plutarch told me."

I understand now what she's doing with her dress, she's pretending to show it to me, so it looks like we're talking about the dress.

"I know," I say touching the fabric, pretending to check it out, "you're sure about doing this?"

"Of course I am," she now turns to 'make me see her back', "never been more sure."

"I'm just sorry," I tell her, motioning for her to turn back around.

"No need too," she smiles, an emotionless smile, "oh he's gone.. finally."

"Thanks for saving me," I tell her.

"Anytime," she says, she turns her head towards the elevator, "well... I'll go introduce myself."

"Be nice." I tell her, she winks at me and walks away to the elevator with Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch.

I go over the last details, seeing the horses are attended to, the chariots are about to be put away, everything seems fine.

I then walk to the elevator myself, I lean against the elevator's wall as soon as I enter.

Before the doors can close, someone rushes in, I look up finding myself face to face with Finnick.

Being in a confined space with a shirtless Finnick is...

"Hi, my love."

Shit.

[allineedisonedream]

omg i stumbled across your blog recently and your art is gorgeous!!! i love the style and the way you draw dick in particular so much!

also i couldn’t stop thinking about your tangled au it’s so clever! it got me thinking of an au of your au (if that’s presumptuous or annoying feel free to ignore this ask lol). but it always bugged me slightly in the original tangled that rapunzel could remember stuff from when she was a baby bc babies can’t do that lol (obv she also has magic glowing hair so suspension of disbelief and all). but what if dick was actually older when slade (or court of owls tbh take your pick) kidnapped him? like he came under bruce’s care just like in canon after his parents died, and was around long enough to become brothers with jason, and tim had just been adopted when dick and bruce have a fight and dick storms off. not as bad as comics and bruce doesn’t kick him out bc he’s not an ass lol, but maybe dick wants to do more with his powers and bruce is overprotective, so dick storms out fully intending to come back, but slade has been watching him and takes this chance to kidnap him. and when bruce goes looking for him all he finds is a bloodstain and no dick.

and obviously dick is very keen on escaping the creepy dude who’s kidnapped him, but slade brings him to the basement of the tower and begins to torture/brainwash him sort of like the apprentice arc. and over time bc slade sucks and is good at the whole brainwashing thing, dick slowly looses his memories and eventually can’t remember a life outside of the tower at all. and he continues to grow up in the tower with slade as his “father” and he always has this sense that something isn’t quite right, but he can’t put his finger on it. like he has all these weird torture-like scars that he can’t remember getting, but slade tells him that it was from when he was young and before slade rescued him, and that’s why the world is so scary and dangerous and he has to stay in the tower where slade can protect him. and ofc he does bc slade loves him and wouldn’t lie to him right? and he doesn’t know why the name richard doesn’t fit him quite right, or why his heart races when slade appears unexpectedly (that’s how love works right?). but he stays in the tower like he’s supposed to until wally and roy show up.

and slowly after traveling with them he begins to get weird flashes of both painful and good memories, and strange sensations of deja vue. while meanwhile bruce is still all brooding and mourning bc it was his fight that led dick to run away. and added angst is that jason and tim actually remember and miss dick, even though tim had just started to get to know him. and damian is angsty bc he’s the only one never to have met dick (handwavy on the ages just like dc lol). meanwhile the kingdom still remembers and mourns the charismatic adorable prince that they lost.

and then when slade eventually catches up to and captures wally and roy, dick offers to give himself up and promises never to escape if slade spares them. and it’s extra sad bc he finally remembers what he’d be giving up. he remembers bruce and alfred and his brothers, and he remembers all the trauma slade put him through, and he’s willing to go through it all again to save wally and roy (bc is it really dick grayson if he isn’t super self sacrificing lol). and ofc it eventually ends happily and dick is delighted to go back to his family with his new friends and see his old brothers and meet his new brother all with a new haircut.

but yeah overall your au wormed its way into my brain and i couldn’t stop thinking about it lol, it’s so good!!!!

Ahjajfk thank youuuu<3

And OMG, this is amazing! Beautifully written, yes, absolutely love all the details, especially Slade's and Dick's relationship in all this. I've actually thought about him being taken later on so Tim and Jason would also remember Dick. But I think I started overthinking everything and made it way too complicated (I think I wrote about 20 pages of notes and stuff, I kinda got lost in them. I was/am pretty obsessed with this AU), so I just reeled back a bit and stayed close to the plot. It also simplifies things; I don’t have to rewrite the whole story, which, with my overthinking skills, would take forever. 💀

And that part with Slade making Dick forget who he was is great. I kept the whole AU pretty open with some stuff for imagination. My running idea at the moment is that he got sick when he was 8, so Bruce found the flower, and later Slade kidnapped him, making him forget everything and thinking Slade is his father.

But yeah, OMG, this is awesome. I totally love it. I tried to make it as detailed as possible story-wise, but at the same time, I really needed to limit myself to finish fast because I was scared I would lose interest or don’t have the patience haha But Now I’m kinda even more excited about how people will react to the next chapters. 👀

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slenderman x Reader || Oneshot

Plot: You and Slender have had a big fight, and broke up. You’re both done. Things are just too hard for you both, to stay together. You’ve broken it up and made it up more times then either of you care to count and you just cant do it anymore. You want each other, you need each other, you love each other more then anything else- But you’re giving up. You think its right thing to do.

Now, watch Offender, who is definitely the least knowledgeable man on earth about love, talk to his brother and fix this. 

Warnings: Angst (Though I tried to put some comedy in there!) with an insinuated happy ending. Also, obviously, Offender.

Tagging: @ladala-shihiro , @miss-understood , and @yesthetrashbin . I hope y'all like this! ^^

This is a work off my old blog, @mainstreambaddies , remastered ^^ I was reminded about it talking to @marinerainbow ^^

“So, then-” You clear your throat, holding onto the handle to your suitcase, standing out on the porch. Slender's still inside the house, but the door is open. “This is done, now?” This has been done so many times before that its hard to believe that this is really over this time. You almost can’t take it seriously, like you should. Like it is. Like you know that you'll wish you had when you remember it tomorrow morning. You peer up at Slender with a smirk, though, because you just cant. “Not gonna meet me at the edge of the forest again?” Like he’s done the last, what, 70 times?? Apart from those times that you stopped and realised you love him, and ran back for him, of course. 

Offender sits on the couch, just inside the mansion, seemingly reading the dirty parts out of some of Slenders books out of immense boredom, when he hears what’s conspiring feet from him. Promptly, he decides this is much more interesting and stops reading. He doesn't put the book down, so as to look like he's reading and not eavesdropping, but he most certainly is.

You get the feeling there would be a stiff, taught, no teeth kind of smile on him if he had those kinds of features. He’s standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed-not like he’s annoyed, or expecting something; More like he’s in thought, holding himself where he is. Together, and most importantly- still.  “... Mm, no, not this time.” His voice is dull. “We discussed this already Y/N. This is final.” 

“I know.” 

“But we have said that before though, haven't we?” 

As always, he can read your mind without even actually reading your mind. 

You take a deep breath, and let it go. One of the many things you’ll have to let go. 

Because you have to. 

Because this is the last time. No more. You couldn't do it again,... and you wouldn't want to. Its too hard.

Offenders interest, and doubts, are thoroughly perked. What have they been discussing?? What do these two think they know?? What’s happening?? He rolls over onto his stomach on the couch to look at them, before pushing himself up onto his forearms. “Wait, what're you two doing?” 

Slender flat out ignores him, while you give him a funny little look before looking back at Slender again. It hurts to say these next few words. God, its beginning to sink in- this is over. “So... I’m going now.” You love him... but its over. You couldn't do it; There were just too many obstacles in your way and you couldn't hack it.

Why couldn't you just figure it out?

“Okay.” 

As you nod at him one last time, in the most awkward final goodbye that anyone has ever witnessed in real life or on TV, Offender cringes. 

“-Hey, nobody answered my question. What are you doing?” Panic is starting to set in for real, as you leave, and Slender makes no move to follow you, or waive, or say anything else. He just watches. 

What is this?? Anyone with even one working braincell can tell that these two are more meant for each other then any other so-called fucking 'romance' in history. What is this!?

Panicking even more, Offender wants to go and catch you before you get away, but instead of the graceful chase he was intending to give, he manages to get caught trying to escape the couch and tumbles off of it and hard onto the wooden floor. Its not been waxed in a long time. He’s going to have splinters in his face, for sure. 

At least this gets Slenders attention, who stops watching you leave for the last time, and turns to look dubiously at his brother. It proves as nearly a distraction from his heart burning in his chest, so he’s eager to get to the insults. “... Are you starting to age? One of the first signs is loss of coordination, so you may well be. If you start to lose your hearing, do let me know. I’m next, after all.” 

“No, I’m not starting to age, you spiteful little dick.” Offender, again gracelessly, gets up from the floor and fixes his coat, before stomping over to Slender with a firm, angry finger pointed. “I was disoriented, by the bullshitery happening a few feet away!” 

Slender's voice is still dull, but in a difference way now. Tired. He just wants to go to his room and sleep for 11 weeks. His heart feels like its oozing out of his rib cage. Like its become liquid, and it’ll never be better again. This is too much, he didn't sign on for this, this is one of the many many reasons that humans are foul, loathsome creatures he shouldn't bother himself with, fuck- Why didn't he listen to his own goddamn advice?

He tries to perk up, though, for the sake of one of his favourite kind of digs. “Oh, is Jeff home?” 

“Can you stop playing around for a couple zeptoseconds and talk straight with me, pixie boy?” 

Ah, ‘Pixie boy’. Slender’s been waiting for that little nickname to come back around... not. Offender named him that as Slender's attitude really began to blossom as he grew up, because he resembled one of those little, spiteful, tricky fairies that humans go on and on about stealing their firstborn's, and such. Like Slender would ever want anything with a snivelling little infant. At least not a living, one- And he wouldn't bother leaving a replacement.

“No, shan’t. And can’t. Good day.” Slender makes a yawning sound, genuinely tired even not counting the disgusting heartbreak rushing like sepsis poisoning through his veins- from arguing with you all through the night before you came up with your very sensible conclusion, to end things. Offender watches, in complete disbelief and exasperation as Slender turns his back on him and heads through to the kitchen. 

“Bitch, if you think I’m gonna give up that easy... “ Offender mutters to himself, as he rolls up his sleeves for emphasis and goes after his little brother. 

-Who hears what was just muttered, and enquires about his supposed consequences, if he did indeed think that Offender would give up that easy. Cheekily. “Hm?”

“Then- you’ll-... be sorry-” Slender laughs quietly, and Offender gets the idea that that answer is not the right one. He also wants to punch him, but what else is new. “You will be... you will... you’ll be sorely mistaken, young man!!”

Oh, fuck. Offender thinks. I’m starting to sound like Splender. Except somehow less intimidating. Goddamn.

They travel through the mansion until Slender gets to his room. He slams the door closed right before Offender was to walk in after him, gets a frustrated swear in response, and is met with a big brother to the face a second later, when Offender teleports right in front of him. 

Slender sighs in utter discontent. 

Without a word, though, he veers around Offender and heads for the left wall of his room, which he’s converted into a makeshift kitchen. So that he can have tea and breakfast, without having to venture into public eating area and see people. He fills the kettle with water and sets it on the stove, using a tentacle to turn the dial. He doesn't turn back to Offender, just stands at the stove and watches the old fashioned, open topped kettle. 

God, he’s diminished. Its taking all he has to keep up the front he has, now. He takes a slow, deep breath in. Why did he do that? Why did he end it with you? Slender suddenly feels the urge, physically, to move forward and get you back, even if he has to beg on his knees, but-

Slenders shoulders slowly, gently drop again as he lets out the breath. -but, he cant. He wont let himself. 

This is the best, for both of you. 

Mostly for them. Slender cant help but add on. Because, its true. He wants nothing, quite like he wants for you to be happy. If it meant his own destruction, which it apparently does, then that's what he'll do. He'll make it happen. He'll suffer.

“Tea?” Slender pipes up, starting the conversation this time himself, surprisingly. Offender looks at his back with a mix of ‘I don't know what to do here’ and that rare bit of ‘help him’ that always seems to come tearing out of the deepest parts of him when his brothers are in trouble. He had been reading Slender's thoughts and now he understood what his little brother was thinking- but it was still dumb as hell. And he refuses to take it.

His voice is cold, but his words give him all away, when he speaks next. “I want you to know that if that’s what you really think, that you’re both- that they’re, gonna be better for this, then you're delusional. But I know that you don't listen to anyone else, so yes. I would like tea. Thanks.” 

It relaxes Slender a little knowing that Offender knows where he stands. That he doesn't have to nail into his brother how fixed his mind always is on things, like he has to with nearly everyone else who thinks they can change his mind. They cant. No one has that ability and its quite exhausting proving that over and over. He supposes that's one thing his idiot brothers are good for.

He nods in response, the slightest bit of relief dripping off his forehead. 

The next few minutes are silent, except for the eventual question of ‘Earl Grey or English Breakfast?’, and the response of ‘Irish’. The silence continues, until Slender pushes a cup into Offenders hands and then finally, finally rests down in an elegant chair and table that looks out on his beloved forest. There’s another chair, which Offender finds home in, as Slender looks depleted with his shoulders hunched forward, his fingers tight around his cup, and his gaze on the window. Or, what’s outside, of course.

Seeing this, what Offender can only construe as a look of longing- he tries again. “So... you... don't wanna make up with Y/N, because...?” 

Slender sighs, giving in to the conversation. Any other day, he’d fight it till the cows came home, but today... he just doesn't have it in him. Too... tired. He shifts his focus onto the dark, milk-less void of in his cup and slowly, shakily lets go with one hand to trace the edge gently. “I want off this rollercoaster, Offender. Y/N and I... we don't do anything but fight. I love them, somehow- but I’ll live forever, while they wont. They deserves to spend their limited amount of time in peace, and they wont get that with me. That's just... how it is. That's what we have seen.” 

“You know it only feels like you fight all the time, when you’re fighting... that's normal, bro. There’s plenty of time when you and that kid are freaken… merged like black holes.” Oh, wow, that is not a bad analogy. Okay- “That must be why you’re hurtin’ so much now.” 

“Black holes stay around for a long time.” Slender tells him immediately, and Offender hates him in that moment for knowing about space.

“Okay, bad analogy.” 

“Yes.” 

Frustrated again, Offender puts his tea firmly on the table to arouse attention. “Alright, new angle. It will come as no shock to you that we’re about as evil as that devil bastard himself, yes? We’re absolute turds next to the fucking gold crapping angel that is Splender, and the charity funder that is Trend.” Slender shifts, at that. Yes, that’s true. But does he needs to put it so unflatteringly? “ -Yet, that sweet, probably hallucinatory human out there in the forest fell in love with you. And you, with all your crusty, hates-every-damn-thing-ness, fell in love with them too. Love! You! Do you know how crazy that is? One in 7 billion. And that's with normal fucking people. Why the fuck are you letting it disappear???” 

“Its for the best-” 

“That kid, that mortal person, out there, is the best thing either of us could ever have hoped to deserve and you stumbled upon it! Now, you think you can just let them walk away?? And, also, what makes you think you're capable of that, anyway?” 

Slender brings the tea, shakily to his ripped lips. This is starting to annoy him again, so he takes a deep breath. “...- ” 

“You’ve never been able to do it before!!” Offender mildly rages, exasperated, as he stands up, letting his chair squeal back behind him. Slender looks up, to see his face over his tea. “Okay, okay. One last thing. Tell me, Slender. Can you stand to wake up tomorrow, and feel absolutely fucking empty? Because that's what's coming. You’re going to sleep peacefully all night, without a turn or even a snore escaping you, and you're gonna wake up and for a second you’re not gonna remember. But this ain't somethin' you can sleep off. You're gonna hurt, its probably gonna feel like you're dying, and its gonna be all your fault. You gave away the very last thing, that you should have.” 

At the mental image that penetrates his mind and, god forbid, his heart, Slender physically winces. Nearly looses hold of his cup. 

Offender just watches him for seconds, calming down from his outburst... before shoving his hands deep into his pockets, and pushing back his shoulders. Hopefully, that did it. Hopefully, that's enough -Besides, all this caring is starting to give him back pains. He desperately needs to go do something bad. Maybe he’ll hit up the streets. 

Before he teleports away, Offender doesn't quite catch sight of the way Slenders tea gets set down on the table. His body convulses ever so slightly, at the realisation of how fucking wrong he is. 

Then in the next second, Slender's gone, too. 

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: You’ve been on hiatus with Jaemin for a while now. Your daughter was born just over five months ago, and you can’t help but miss your fans. Pairing: Jaemin x fem!reader Tropes: idol au, established relationship au, parent au Genre: fluff Warning: pregnancy (not yn), Taeyong’s a bit anxious, body image issues, mentions of breastfeeding, mentions of Taeil’s injury Word Count: 2,334 Note: I know that SAMLFY has been over for 2 years, bUT I MISS THEM!! Happy blog anniversary! The female unit songs are æspa songs <3 (this takes place between epilogue 2 and 3) thank you to @anyamaris and @wooahaeproductions for beta reading this!!

Before You Interact

“Czennie!” Johnny calls out, “Did you have fun?”

You hear the roars of your fans from backstage. You’ve been on hiatus since your fourth month of pregnancy. Jaemin, of course, went on hiatus with you. He said the thought of you just sitting around your home by yourself drove him wild, knowing he could be helping you out. The two of you have been on hiatus for a full year. While you love relaxing at home with your husband and daughter, you miss seeing your members more often than once a week. The exception, of course, is your brother and Mark, who come over nearly every day.

You feel Jaemin lean his head onto your shoulder. His eyes are fixated on your five-month-old. Hoyeon happily makes babbling noises as if she’s having a full conversation with her father. Jaemin chuckles and responds to her whenever she pauses. You look away from the duo for a moment to see Doyeon resting on a nearby couch. She’s exhausted, and honestly, you can’t blame her. She’s seven months pregnant and very ready to be done sharing her body. You remember when you were tired of sharing and just wanted to hold your little girl in your arms. 

“You sure about this?” Taeyong asks softly.

“I’m sure. I’m not going to break at walking. Walking on the stage won’t induce my labor, I still have two more months; Sangha is safe, and so am I.” His fiancée chuckles, holding his hand in hers.

Taeyong turns his gaze toward you, Jaemin, and Hoyeon. His eyes twinkle when your daughter giggles at him.

“Are you two sure, too?”

You give him a soft smile, passing Hoyeon to Jaemin. Walking up to Taeyong, you give him a short hug and you can practically feel the nerves radiating off of him.

You pull away and give him that same soft but confident look. “We’ll be okay. We’ve posted a few photos with her and have security just in case. You’ve been so worried about us long before we had her. I promise everything will be okay.” You reassure.

Jaemin gets up and kisses your temple when he reaches you. He only adds small comments to help soothe Taeyong’s worries further. With Doyeon starting her final trimester, he’s become more worrisome than he was before. You know it’s all coming from a good place. You do wish he would relax a little bit, though.

Doyeon gets up and walks over to a stagehand. Your eyebrows furrow together not sure what she’s up to. Her left hand is resting on her belly. Her engagement ring glints in the lights of the room. The young man nods and walks away. When he returns, he has a handheld mic in his hand. Doyeon happily takes it from him. You swear Taeyong’s eyes go as wide as saucers. He doesn’t intervene, though. You both watch as she digs through her bag and finds a box you all know well. It’s her in-ears.

“What are you up to?” Taeyong finally asks.

“What does it look like?” Doyeon responds, fixing her in-ears. “The staff knows, the members don’t. I wanted to surprise them. I brought your in-ears, too, if you want them. Jaemin, y/n,  I may or may not have asked your manager to grab yours, too.” She tells you as if she’s speaking about the weather.

Jaemin gives you a look. You know it well. He knows you’re about to join your older friend in her plan. You smile at him brightly and kiss Hoyeon’s cheek. Skipping toward your manager, you hold your hand out. He already knows what you’re asking for, and a moment later, your in-ears are in your hand. You hear the very familiar tune of one of the female unit songs. You know that Chenguang is covering Doyeon’s part while Juliette is covering yours. You’re happy for her. You know she doesn’t get many lines, so to have her covering your parts makes you happy on her behalf.

Doyeon nudges you and nods toward the stage entrance, “You ready to scare the shit out of Rose when we walk on that stage?”

“I hope so.”

“You don’t need to feed Hoyeon before we go on?”

You shake your head, “I fed her a little bit ago.”

“Let’s do this.” She says with determination.

A small bubble of anxiety grows inside you. You haven’t been on a stage in a year. Your body definitely isn’t what it was before your pregnancy. Looking back at your husband, you search for some reassurance. He gives you a small smile, takes Hoyeon’s chubby hand, and makes her motion to cheer you on. That’s enough to quell your anxiety. You fix your in-ears one last time and link arms with Doyeon. Your older friend gives you a sweet smile before the two of you start walking. 

Once you arrive at the side of the stage, you stay hidden from the others. They’re currently performing Illusion. That’s a song neither you nor Doyeon are in any condition to perform. You went on hiatus a month after the album release, and Doyeon is far too pregnant to perform that choreography. Watching the girls perform only makes you want to jump right in and join them despite hardly remembering the choreo.

“I can feel the excitement radiating off of you.” Doyeon teases.

“I missed this.” You admit, “I’ve been off stage for too long.”

Doyeon scrunches her nose at you, “We both have. We were so used to the ‘go go go’ lifestyle that neither of us knew how to sit still for this long. I mean, look at me. I’m seven months pregnant and about to walk on stage.”

“You’re going to give Taeyong a heart attack, you know that?”

She giggles and nods, “We’re gonna wait for them to finish this up, and when it comes to our lines in ICU, we’ll walk out.”

You nod and watch as the rest of the members wrap up the song— your heart pounds in your chest. Your in-ears cancel out the sound of the audience; your member’s voices are clear in your ear along with the metronome as you hear Kaia belt out the last line. The lights fade out while they break out of formation to start walking around the stage for the second song. Yuki’s voice fills your ears as she starts singing the song’s first line. She’s crouched down, waving at fans as she sings. Kaia and Alice are playing around as they walk around the stage, also interacting with fans as they goof around. Chenguang, Rose, and Juliette are all wandering around, admiring the crowd as they wait for their turns to sing.

Your line grows closer, and you take a deep breath. You look over at Doyeon and see her reaching out for your hand and squeezing it tight before standing up. You start to sing before you and Doyeon are visible on the stage. Juliette jumps, not having expected to hear your voice. She whips around and sees you walking up to her with Doyeon in tow. Your member continues to sing as she walks toward you. She’s fighting back tears when she reaches out, and you take her hand. You sing your line with her. The others process what’s happened and rush over to the three of you. Chenguang practically throws herself into Doyeon’s arms as she lets her tears flow. Her lines are completely abandoned, and instead, Doyeon takes it up on herself to sing them. Yuki wraps her arm around your waist and walks around with you as she sings. Rose joins you and Yuki a moment later, wrapping her arm around your other side. Kaia and Alice stay by Doyeon. Your heavily pregnant friend likely doesn’t want to walk too much, and you can’t blame her. When the song wraps up, the eight of you meet up on the main stage and form a large group hug.

Again, the lights fade out. None of you move, though. Of course, the six members not on hiatus are in shock. Doyeon’s pregnancy hormones finally smacked her in the face, causing her to sob despite everyone else’s crying dwindling down to sniffles.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were–” Rose cuts off her own question.

“I had no part of this. It was all Doyeon. I found out right before walking onto this stage.” You chuckle.

The male members don’t take long to file on stage for the encore. Almost immediately, you get the air knocked out of you. Your twin brother practically body-slams you with a hug. He quietly asks if his niece is here; you nod subtly against his shoulder. You hear Johnny open up the encore song, Beautiful. You stay wrapped up in your brother’s arms. When you pull away, you feel a hand graze against your shoulders. You turn to see Mark smiling at you.

“Hey, stranger.” He jokes, “Having seen you in a bit.”

“You were at my house yesterday.” you chuckle.

“I mean on stage.” He adds.

You nod, “I missed this.”

You hear Doyeon singing just as beautifully as always despite the shortness of breath you know she’s been experiencing in the later months of her pregnancy. Starting to walk around, you meet the members on stage again, smiling brightly and playing around as you sing. You didn’t expect to hear Taeyong’s voice flood the speakers. You turn around and see him walking out, singing his verse of the song. He immediately gravitates toward his fiancée and bumps his head lightly against hers. You know that Jaemin likely won’t walk on stage. He wouldn’t leave Hoyeon with anyone, even your manager, for more than five minutes. As you watch the audience and your members, you feel yourself overcome with emotion. Small tears spring from your eyes, but you wipe them away.

The song ends, and Taeyong calls the twenty of you to the main stage. He practically screams out for czennies. He missed them just as much as you, Jaemin, and Doyeon did. He leads the group introduction, relieving Johnny of his temporary leader position for the time being. 

“Czennie!” Taeyong yells again, “I missed you all so much. I know our members have been doing amazing with Doyeon, Jaemin, y/n, and me on hiatus. With Taeil’s injury added, our members did such an incredible job tonight.”

You smile, watching him smile brightly at the audience while holding Doyeon close to him. The other members start doing their ending ments, and you chuckle lightly when Alice teases you and Doyeon for scaring everyone in the midst of performing. You stay quiet and allow the members to speak. You do wish that Taeil could be here as well, but you’d much rather he rest and heal instead.

“My turn?” You question, “Well, hello, everyone! It’s been far too long!” You stop and hear the fans’ cheers for you. “I’ve been trying to keep you all updated a bit on my social media, but being a mom is definitely a full-time job.” You giggle, “I’ve missed you all so much, and I know-”

You get cut off by the sound of babbling over the speaker. Twenty heads snap to the side stage. Jaemin is walking up with Hoyeon. She has sound-cancelling headphones over her small head to ensure her hearing is safe. Somehow, your manager overprepares for the things that may never happen. In this case, you’re very thankful he overprepared. You take your daughter from Jaemin and kiss her little face. Jaemin smiles sweetly at the pair of you.

“Czennie,” You speak into the mic, “Welcome our first NCT baby!”

Knowing some people would abuse the information, you don’t say her name. None of the members meant to be on hiatus are done up for the concert. Jaemin is in a black T-shirt with a light jacket over it and a pair of ripped jeans. Still, he looks devastatingly handsome. Hoyeon’s eyes are wide as she takes in the rather overstimulating surroundings. Her eyes fixate on you, then Jaemin. Suddenly, though, your daughter squirms in your hold and reaches out behind you. She sees her uncle. Donghyuck happily reaches out to her and steals her from your arms. 

The other members continue their ments as Hyuck busies himself, entertaining Hoyeon. Still, she squirms again, reaching out past him. Just behind him is an oblivious Jisung. He’s talking with fans quietly, but your daughter has her mind set on the youngest member. Xiaojun nudges Jisung and points toward your five-month-old. Awkwardly, Jisung takes her, fixing her headphones when they shift. She immediately tries to eat his mic, which is fixated in front of his mouth. The action results in a loud coo sounding through the arena. Yangyang busts out laughing when your baby interrupts Renjun’s ment.

Soon enough, Hoyeon turns her head around trying to find you again. You pull your phone just far enough out of your pocket to check the time. It’s time for her to be fed again. Jaemin glances over at you and has a silent conversation. He knows it’s time to go, too. You walk over to Jisung, who is still fighting to keep his clothes out of Hoyeon’s mouth, to retrieve your daughter. The youngest quickly passes her back to you. Taeyong seems to get the hint, and since all the members have done their closing ments, he leads the final bow. You carefully join, making sure to keep Hoyeon supported and safe. Both you and Jaemin step closer to the edge of the stage and wave to fans before exiting with the others. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been on stage, but you know you’ll never tire of it. For now, though, you’ll focus on your little one. When the time comes, you’ll return to the stage and continue where you left off.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

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[broz0neglitters]

Brozone Little reunion... Pt 2 + random moments

Part 1 on my main blog @itsbroz0neglitters

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After talking it out with Viva, John felt much better about himself as he was ready to come back and face clay again

Meanwhile...

"I’m glad John Dory's getting help. He has a lot of issues, and he’s stupid." Clay said, "You should be the one helping him." Bruce sass back

As John and Viva came back, John and Clay stand face to face

"Clay, I don't care if you like me or not, but we are brothers, and brothers stick up for each other no matter what, even if one brother makes a huge mistake," John said

"Fool me once, strike one. Fool me twice, strike three." Clay replied, walking away. "What's that supposed to mean, huh clay?" John asked, crossing his arms

"The only problem is whenever I try to be nice to Clay, he gets all angry at me," John replied

"Look, John, some people just don't want to be happy. I mean, look at Clay. He really loved you ever since he was a baby, but the boy band things really mess him up big time." Bruce said

"So this is my life — until I win the lottery. Or Clay finally forgives me and just moves on." John Dory replied, heading out

As John looks at the camera crew, “I hate the idea that someone out there hates me. I even hate thinking that my own brother Clay hates me. If he got to know the new me, he wouldn’t hate me.” John said, pushing the camera crew away from him

"poor old man, and his sad, lonely heart, just wants to be friends," Floyd said, looking at Clay with puppy eyes

(Floyd's confession room)

“Besides having sex with men, I would say the Finer Things Club is the gayest thing about me." He said, giving two thumbs up

"so you had sex with one of my bandmates?" branch asked. "No-who?" floyd asked. "Boom?" branch replied, showing him the picture.

"Hahaha, nooo," floyd said, avoiding eye contact. "Okay, maybe- you didn't hear that from me," floyd said, running out and knocking over the camera and stuff....

“you know, If I were buying my coffin, I would get one with thicker walls so you couldn’t hear the other dead people.” branch said, looking at poppy.

"branch, are you forgetting the Bergans stop eating trolls, and you know you were there," Poppy said

As Poppy kept yapping about how she and Branch saved the snack pack from being eaten by the Bergans

"I talk a lot, so I’ve learned to just tune myself out," Poppy said, "She for sure does yap a lot, and here we are together forever." branch said

"you know, branch. My resolution was to get more attention." Poppy said, "Well, it seems to be working, my queen." branch said, crossing his arms

"I miss the days when there was only one party I didn't want to go to." Branch said to himself

As John was driving around with Rhonda, he started crying. "I'm not crying; you are," he said, whipping his tears

"is like they all say; You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take," John said

"Another thing I should never do is I learned a while back that if I do not text 911, my brothers do not return my calls. But Bruce always returns my calls because he thinks something horrible has happened." John said

Clay was still sitting there doing his crossword puzzle as Viva braided his hair. "Come on, it is all in the past; forgive him. He really wants to make things right." Viva said

"I said no." Clay said, "Please, please, please, don't bring me to tears." Viva noted, singing, "Did I Stutter?" Clay asked, putting his book down

"I Do Not Apologize Unless I Think I’m Wrong, And If You Don’t Like It, You Can Leave," Clay said, continuing to read

"wow, you're a stubborn licensed CPA," Viva said

“WHAT EXACTLY IS MY RESPONSIBILITY HERE? TO COMFORT AN INSECURE HETEROSEXUAL MAN? THAT CAN’T POSSIBLY FALL TO ME.” Floyd asked, shouting at the camera crew

(Floyd was talking about comforting a cute guy troll he met a few weeks back; he also works for brozone, and floyd has a mini crush on him.)

“I HAVE VERY LITTLE PATIENCE FOR STUPIDITY,” Bruce told all his brothers while shouting. Bruce was like a dad of the group since he was married and had kids

"They're demons," Clay said straight through Bruce's face.

"I have a lot of questions. Number one, how dare you?" Bruce said

"Clay was the only brother, starting the drama and the fights again. First, it was him vs. John; now it him vs. Bruce who's next," Branch said

(As they all sat together in the confession room)

“Sometimes I get so bored I just want to scream, and then sometimes I actually do scream. I just sort of feel out what the situation calls for.” Clay said shrugging his shoulder

"Does that induce picking fights with your brothers, huh clay?" John asked him

“I’m guessing Clay is the one in the neighborhood that gives the trick-or-treaters toothbrushes. Pennies. Walnuts.” Floyd said

“News flash: You are not special,” Clay said, looking at floyd as floyd angrily lunged like an angry kitty cat and attacked him.

The camera cuts out...

"IT’S NOT MY FAULT. I WAS EXPOSED TO Velvet and Venner," floyd said, looking over at Clay, who had cat scratch marks everywhere.

“Guess what? I have flaws. What are they? Oh, I don’t know. I sing in the woods. Sometimes, I spend too much time wandering off in a distance. Occasionally, I’ll get kidnapped. So sue me.” Floyd said, leaving the room

"I don't care what you all say about me, but I just want to eat," Bruce said, grabbing some food and leaving the room, which leaves Branch, John, and clay

“I guess I’ve been working so hard, I forgot what it’s like to be hardly working,” John said, looking at both clay and branch

"I raised 4 little brothers while grandma was out playing her heart out, so it safe to say John Dory didn't have the childhood he deserved. So sorry if you all hate me. Goodbye." John said, taking the clip-in microphone out and tossing them on the floor

“I’ve been involved in a number of cults, both a leader and a follower. You have more fun as a follower but make more money as a leader." Clay said.....

"Okay, so it is safe to say that I will never let Poppy host another family reunion ever again, not until my brothers can get their shits together because I'm done. I'd rather go back to jail than sit there and deal with my older brother's nonsense." Branch said in his Justin Timberlake Voice

*camera cuts to Bruce eating*

"THIS ISN'T FUCKING OVER YET, BRO!" Bruce said, blocking the camera

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Who wants a part 3? If so, if I can get 100 likes on this post and the 1st post made by my main account @itsbroz0neglitters, then I'll make a part 3 with different funny references

Again, if you watch the office, you'll understand the references

Read part 1:

100 likes on both, then I'll make a part 3....