#you try so hard but you still can’t see the line. and because of that your tragedy repeats again and again

[naburi]

CAPTAIN’S PROSTITUTE

YUNJIN X READER

TAGS: GROPING, FINGERING

2K WORDS

You open the door just enough to enter as a creaking sound can be heard. The girl is lying on her side facing the other side of the room. She hears the thuds from your footsteps as you walk near her bed. She felt the bed sunken when you sat down near her legs. Jennifer felt your cold palm as you caressed her smooth thighs. She didn’t try to move or do anything. She knows what happened to the last girl who refused.

Getting captured by pirates means your destiny has been set. You are now their slaves, you will do as they say. They will turn men into work dogs while the women will satisfy the flesh of men along their voyage. Hundreds of men will line up to a battered body of a woman just to have their turn. They are getting woke up getting fucked and they fall unconscious due to fatigue. But Jennifer is different, she has been on this ship even before you.

You heard that the Captain found her when they raided a coastal village, some say she had been caught when they attacked cruise ships, some say she is just a prostitute that got on board for the Captain’s pleasure. As your palm glides on her astonishing smooth skin, one thing is for certain. She grew up in wealthy families. This kind of softness can only be done with luxury.

Your hand moves down on the back of her leg. You can see the fabric of her dress lumps up as your hand is searching for her ass. You felt a fabric that is her underwear that is on the way. You patiently slip up your fingers inside her underwear to feel her buttocks. Her tights underwear made your hand sink onto her soft as cotton ass. Without seeing it, you can feel how your fingers sink down on her soft ass.

The woman is yet to react to your presence. Her head is glued to the bed without the intention of looking who’s touching her. She knows you are not the captain because they would bring her to him whenever the captain wants to see her. Nobody tried to go back on the captain’s back to touch her but here you are. Slithering your way down the dark corridor as the captain is passed out from drinking. Without any second thought, you knew this is an opportunity for you to go see the real treasure in this ship.

Jennifer is afraid, she has no idea how you got in her room. “Did the captain let you use her?”, “Is the captain dead?” Her mind is filled with questions while her body has not moved an inch. A pirate is in her room with his wandering hands on her lower body is all she knows. The woman is more than familiar with the feeling of helplessness that she is not surprised by this situation. She closed her eyes accepting that you will be here for the rest of the night.

She felt your hand leave her ass, she felt you move closer to her torso as the bed moves with your weight. Your fingers run through the laces of the corsets as if you want to cut the laces open to see more of her soft body. Jennifer flinched as you finally reached her boobs. You pause as you thought that would wake her up. She is expecting a hard squeeze like the captain or other men do. She was surprised by how gentle you cup her boobs. She can feel your hands gracing the fabric like you are studying the shape of her pair.

Numerous men have touched her but never so gently as you did. She felt your fingers reach on the top end of the fabric. You pull down her top to reveal her boobs. You can’t have a great look at it as the woman is still facing the other direction. You don’t want to turn her body because you assume that the woman is still asleep. Jennifer figured out this conclusion too, you move so delicately to not wake her up.

She felt your hand slowly cupping one of her boobs until your hand was fully holding them. You give her boob a soft squeeze as if to see how soft it is. She can feel your hand gently move to different sides with every squeeze. You can feel her nipples getting hardened as it pokes your palm. Your hand moves up as your fingers traces towards her nipple. You hold her hardened nipple in your fingertips. You are amazed how her body responds as you still think she is asleep. You pull her hard nipple gently as you can’t help thinking how much you want to suck on it.

You reach over to her other boob to meet the same conclusion, her body got aroused by your touch. An inaudible noise can be heard in the corridor. It was your other drunken crew walking back to their room. You got alerted that there are others that are still awake. You hold her boob in place as you stay still not trying to make a noise yourself. Jennifer is aware of the situation. She connected the dots that you went into her room of your own accord.

The noise in the corridor died down, it seems like they are all inside their rooms. You pull up her top to cover her exposed boobs. She felt you standing up as the bed rose without your weight. You take a look at her before you open the door but to your surprise, the woman is now directly looking at you. She wants to see the man who touched her with such gentleness. She did not remove her gaze until you were finally out of her room.

Few nights have passed but there is still no sign of your visit again. You haven’t found an opportunity to sneak into her room again. Jennifer has been awake in these past few days, longing for the man that touched her soul. The woman is accepting the reality that it is just a one time thing as it might be dangerous for the two of you if the captain found out that her favorite prostitute had been touched by his crew.

She closed her eyes to sleep her sadness away until a creaking sound was heard. You found the woman facing the other way again, you sneakily walked to her bedside but you got caught red handed when the woman turned around to see you. She has the same look when you leave her room the first time. Her eyes look with bewilderment when staring at you. She knows you are not a regular uncivilized pirate, but you are still a pirate nonetheless.

You sit on the other end as she hasn't removed her stare at you not for even a second. You noticed she’s wearing less than usual. She is not wearing her corset, and wears a loose white dress. You thought she just switched for something comfortable but Jennifer has been waiting for you ever since you walked out that door.

Without uttering a word, you catch her stare, trying to decipher what was on her mind. Is she planning to scream and alert everyone about your treachery? Is she planning to fight back? Does she have a knife in her reach? The two of you are waiting for the other to make a move. The woman’s knee rose up to bend and slowly spread her legs in front of you.

You look inside her dress to see nothing but her underwear, her glowing white long legs are still visible even in a moon lighted room. She felt your hand reach on one of her knees first. Your hand moves down to her thighs while still not breaking eye contact. Your hands are now in her inner thighs. Your fingers slowly graces down to her underwear. Your fingers move up as if tracing the slit of her that is underneath the fabric.

Jennifer flinches by your touch. This gives you the signal to explore more of her. You reach with two hands to pull slowly her underwear, the woman willingly helps you remove it as adjusted her body while you’re pulling it down her legs. You put the fabric on the side of the bed. What’s now before your eyes is a glistening wet slit that’s been waiting for you in a while.

You move your hand closer to her slit, you notice how her look changed. Her eyes look more round and soft as if she’s submitting to you. You move your fingertips to graze up to her wet slit. Her body jerks with your first touch in her womanhood. You put one finger to the opening of her slit, giving her the time to feel that one digit will plunge inside her.

Jennifer bites her lower lips as she feels a finger is going deeper inside her. Her inside is soft and wet. You move your finger up to find her g-spot. The woman’s jerks again signaling to you that you found what you’re looking for. You move your finger inside her tapping her g-spot in rhythm. The woman throws her head back with how much pleasure she is currently feeling.

For a long time, someone is touching her body to give her pleasure, not just to use her holes to satisfy the needs of men. Seeing this much reaction with just a finger. You pull your finger out, Jennifer looks at you in confusion of your sudden retreat but she doesn’t not need to ask for a question as she felt your fingers again. Now two fingers are plunging up to her g-spot.

Jennifer opens her legs even more as if her body is welcoming you. You dial up your movement by pulling your fingers slightly out and plunging it back up in a faster rhythm. The woman is struggling to contain the pleasure. The bites her lower lips really hard to stop her moans while her hand is reaching back to her pillow, clinching it as her back bent up in pleasure.

You use your other hand to hold the woman in place. You reached up to catch on one of her boobs. She felt your hand squeeze her boob while the rest of your arm is pressing her body down to the bed. She remembers the last time you held her boobs. She pulls down her top for you to finally touch her longing boobs.

You pinched her already hard nipple. Jennifer always yelps due to your pinch but she covers her mouth just in time. Your other hand is continuing to pleasure her slit while the other is alternately grabbing each of her boobs. You want to give them the equal attention they deserve. You go so far as moving them closer in the middle to grope them at the same time.

Jennifer’s legs are starting to shake which only means one thing, her orgasm is near. You move closer to her slit to give yourself a better position to plunge your fingers faster. The woman holds her mouth even tighter as she can feel she’s getting closer to it. You give her boob a squeeze as you plunge your fingers a few more times before she finally releases.

Her back bent up as she orgasm and slowly lay back down to her bed. She forgot the last time she orgasm. Nobody cares enough to make her release but here you are. Are you just a cunning pirate that has his way to lure women? Is this your way of using a woman's body for your amusement? These questions left her mind fast as she felt both of your hands in her boobs. Your two hands move in unison. You squeeze her boobs from the bottom as your fingertips grace her hard nipples in the process.

The woman’s eyes widened as she felt something hard was poking on her slit.

[sinkuna]

Nanami Kento, who secretly likes when the word "daddy" leaves your lips- who absolutely breaks when you whimper it a second time. His body always going from cool to boiling, his jaw clenching tightly when he feels his hips shudder in their movements. "Again." he pleads- commands as his veiny hands crush your windpipe, but never hard enough to where you can’t babble that special word again.

Nanami Kento, who’s whole body jerks when you clean the mess of your combined releases with teasing kitten-licks, paying special attention to that sensitive spot just under his cockhead. His usually composed face twists in sweet agony, "Fuck…" he hisses through clenched teeth when you take just the tip between your lips, sucking gently to get those last pearly drops. "T-Too sensitive- dear-ah.." his fingers twisting painfully in your hair, fighting the urge to yank you off as pleasure begins to border on sweet torture, "feels… too gh-good." Who loves drinking in the sight of his perfect wife cleaning him so thoroughly. 

Nanami Kento, who if trying to breed you, makes sure every single drop of his precious seed is shoved back into your well fucked hole. Gripping your hips with bruising force when he sees his cum trickling down your thigh. Immediately pushing back inside with a filthy squelch, his swollen cockhead stirring his previous hot load deeper into your womb, making sure every drop stays locked inside where it belongs. "Good girls keep daddy’s cum nice and deep." he whispers in your ear, because damn does that pet name make his cock ache for more.

Nanami Kento, who’s cock throbs painfully against his suit pants when finding you displayed on his desk wearing nothing but that crystal garter belt he bought you. Who stalks towards you, methodically removing his tie while memorizing the lines of your body as if he's about to sketch them, "I can't decide if I should punish you for sitting on my papers, or reward you for being so beautiful. What do you think I should do to you?"

Nanami Kento, who cradles you against his battle-worn heart, strong arms creating a sanctuary in those moments between midnight and dawn. When the world holds its breath and time stands still, Nanami finally feels like he is allowed to rest. "I love you," his calloused fingers tracing poetry into your skin, each touch gentler than the last. 

Nanami Kento, who creates the perfect sanctuary of peace on lazy Sunday afternoons, his broad chest becoming your favorite pillow while you both lay intertwined on the couch. The same fearsome and respected grade 1 sorcerer who melts away, leaving just a man who is utterly thankful to be in your presence. "You... make me feel so...at ease..." he mumbles to himself, almost too quiet for you to hear, his hand slowly making its way up your body and coming to rest on your head, fingers stroking your hair as before drifting off to a blissful nap.

Nanami Kento, who keeps a photo of you wearing nothing but his blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up past your elbows, flour dusting your cheeks like constellations. The sun's rays through the kitchen window had caught you perfectly, highlighting the pure joy in your smile as you proudly displayed the milk bread you'd spent all day perfecting just for him. He finds himself staring at it during long meetings, a secret smile playing at his lips as he wonders if you're wearing nothing but that dress shirt now, baking his favorites. 

[sirhamburrger]

yoichi isagi is just a little younger than you. that’s what you find out, at least, when he and the other blue lock players are first introduced to bastard münchen.

this has held true, for obvious reasons, alongside the three undeniable truths that will hold true for as long as michael kaiser and alexis ness play for the team, and you keep managing it.

but you're think you might want to add another to this relatively short list, because -

yoichi isagi is persistent. good for getting the results that bastard münchen wants, but not so good for you.

see, it's been approximately three years since the blue lock project concluded, three years since yoichi and his friends have been signed to the team for the forseeable future. and three years in which he hasn't stopped trying to garner your attention. not even once.

he goes to fill up the team's water bottles with you, helps keep the team in line when the coaches are away, thanks you after every match won for your hard work and dedication.

the mutual attraction isn’t a question. the fleeting but also strangely lingering touches, and the murmured 'thank you's make sure of that. yet you can’t bring yourself to open up to him.

michael and alexis know. they know that deep down inside, you want something serious with somebody who can give you everything. and you’re just unsure - scared, even - if yoichi can do that for you.

but now it's nearing midnight on valentine's day, and you're holding on to someone as the whole team stumbles out of a local pub, completely inebriated. alexis is laughing and michael is laughing and you're laughing, drunk off your ass and feeling like you're on top of the world.

in a split second the pavement rushes up to meet your face, and you're pretty sure the person you're holding on to is being dragged down alongside you -

you fall to the ground, and it knocks the air out of your lungs. well, more accurately, you fall on top of someone, and the two of you are sprawled on the cold ground.

"m'sorry," you slur, trying to get to your feet. "lost my balance for a second there."

"no, it's fine, really!" yoichi squeaks, and you're nodding along, relieved.

wait - yoichi?

your vision is still spinning when you finally push yourself up onto your elbows, the heat of another body underneath you keeping you grounded. you blink down, disoriented, and there he is - yoichi isagi, wide-eyed and flushed, his hands hovering uncertainly over your waist like he's not sure whether to steady you or let you go.

"uh -" his voice cracks slightly before he clears his throat, his breath a little too warm in the cold night air. "are you okay?"

you let out a breathless half-laugh half-scoff, still trying to regain your balance. "yeah. more embarrassed than anything, honestly."

his lips quirk up into a crooked smile, soft and a little uncertain. "you, um… you really shouldn’t be embarrassed. i mean, considering the situation."

you tilt your head. "what situation?"

he hesitates for a moment, his hands finally settling at your waist, a firm but gentle presence. you hate yourself for liking it. then, as if spurred on by the alcohol or the moment or just sheer desperation, he blurts out, "you falling for me, obviously."

you stare.

then you groan, shoving at his chest. "that was genuinely so horrible."

"right?" he laughs, his grip tightening instinctively when you shift like you’re going to roll off him and onto the ground. "but, um -" his smile fades slightly, something nervous but determined taking its place. "since it’s still technically valentine’s day, and, you know, we’re already kind of on top of each other… would you want to go on a real date with me? sober. tomorrow."

your heart stutters.

it shouldn’t surprise you, not after three years of this - of him, of this unspoken thing lingering between you. and maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way his hands feel warm even through the fabric of your clothes, but for once, you don’t think too hard about it.

you just nod.

"yeah," you murmur, allowing yourself to smile. "i’d like that."

yoichi exhales like he's been holding his breath this entire time. his grin is wide and a little stupid, and before you can call him out on it, alexis and michael are dragging you both up with raucous laughter, half the team still stumbling around in the background.

but even as the night carries on, you can still feel the ghost of yoichi’s hands at your waist, the warmth of his body under yours, and the undeniable certainty that maybe - just maybe - this is something real.

© sirhamburrger

bastard münchen’s manager is just a little older than yoichi. that’s what he finds out, at least, when he and the other blue lock players are first introduced to the german team.

there are three truths, noa tells them, that will hold true for as long as michael kaiser and alexis ness play for the team, and you keep managing it.

number one: michael kaiser is the core of the team. number two: wherever michael kaiser goes, alexis ness follows. and number three: the only person who kaiser and ness listen to is you.

you’re interesting, yoichi thinks. not exactly quiet, but not assuming either. the first time he speaks to you is at his first ever practice with the team. it’s not going well, not at all, because -

“micha and alex giving you a hard time?” you say bluntly. you’re speaking english now, not the german you speak with the coaches and regulars, but yoichi still finds himself depending on his translating earpiece to understand you.

“have they… have they always been like this?” he takes a sip from his bottle, immediately stepping to the side when he realises raichi and the others are waiting to receive their water bottles.

you eye him with what looks like mild interest, then look off to where kaiser and ness roughhouse on the field still.

“if you mean since they were fifteen, then yeah, they’ve always been like that.”

“you’ve known them a long time, then?”

“you could say that.”

you toss them each a towel, yelling something in german, and ness shouts something back. and isagi’s not really sure, but he thinks it sounds something like “love”.

“should i call you that too?” he jokes - or tries to, at least. his smile quickly fades as you shoot him a withering stare. “l-love, i mean-”

“not unless you wanna get trashed on the field later at practice.”

you turn on your heel and walk away, and yoichi isagi falls in love a little bit, just then.

© sirhamburrger

[solxamber]

For the Valentine’s Day event

Cater, Romantic, APT. by ROSÉ and Bruno Mars.

Specifically the lyrics

“Kissy face, kissy face sent to your phone, but I'm trying to kiss your lips for real”

Always excited for your content!

And don’t overwork yourself! :D

"Don't you want me like I want you" || Cater Diamond

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: APT. by ROSÉ and Bruno Mars

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 760

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual pining, Friends to Lovers

It starts, like most things with Cater, as a joke.

A playful nudge here, a winking emoji there — an endless game of Are we? Or aren’t we? that neither of you have ever bothered to define.

You’re both out of NRC now, graduated and trying to figure out what adulthood means — which, for you, seems to be juggling work, friendships, and whatever this is with Cater.

It’s never been serious, not really.

Because Cater doesn’t do serious. He’s all smiles and filters and perfectly crafted captions. He’s the kind of person who knows exactly how to flirt without ever letting it get too real, like love is something that only happens on the other side of a camera lens.

But then there’s you.

And, well… you like to push buttons.

It’s a game between you.

A push and pull, a dance along the line of something real—so close to crossing, but never quite.

The stolen moments stretch between you: a lingering touch when you pass him something, a glance that holds too long before one of you looks away. The way your voice gets softer when you say his name, like it’s something precious, something that belongs only to you.

And Cater… Cater tells himself it’s fine.

It’s fine if you never say anything, because he’s good at this. At pretending. At keeping things light and easy, at making sure no one ever sees the part of him that wants.

But sometimes, it gets hard.

Like when you call him late at night, your voice warm and sleepy, saying, “Hey, you’re still up, right?”—and he always is, even when he wasn’t before.

Or when you lean into his space without thinking, close enough that he could just tilt his head and—

But no.

You don’t cross the line.

So he won’t either.

Until one afternoon, when the line between flirting and something more starts to blur.

It’s one of those lazy Sundays — the kind where the sky’s too blue and the breeze too warm to do anything productive. You’re at Cater’s place, sprawled out on his couch, scrolling through your phone while he fiddles with the playlist.

“Hey,” he calls from the other side of the room. “What do you think of this one?”

A sultry beat hums from the speakers — something slow and sweet, a little too romantic for a playlist that's supposedly just background noise.

You raise an eyebrow. “Feeling a bit sappy today, Diamond?”

Cater winks. “What can I say? I’m a man of many layers.”

You roll your eyes but your heart skips a beat — because that’s what he does to you. Makes you laugh, makes you want, makes you wonder if this little game you’re playing is ever going to end.

He flops down next to you, close enough that his thigh brushes against yours. He’s still grinning, but there’s something else in his eyes — a flicker of something that makes your stomach flip.

“You know,” he says, voice light but careful, “for all the kissy face emojis you send me… kinda rude you’ve never actually kissed me.”

Your brain short-circuits.

It’s not like Cater hasn’t said things like this before — he’s always toeing the line, always dangling his words just far enough out of reach that you can’t grab onto them.

But this time feels different.

This time, his voice is a little too soft. His smile is a little too real.

And maybe it’s the playlist or the lazy afternoon sun or the weeks of almost piling up in your chest — but before you can stop yourself, you lean in.

And kiss him.

Not a quick peck. Not a flirty brush of lips.

A kiss. Slow, lingering — the kind that tastes like every unsaid word between you.

For a second, Cater doesn’t move. His brain seems to short-circuit just like yours did, frozen with wide eyes and parted lips.

But then — oh.

Then his hand slides to your waist, his other hand tilting your chin up as he kisses you back, just as slow, just as deep.

And it’s not a joke this time.

When you finally pull away, breathless and a little dizzy, Cater just stares at you.

“Uh,” he says, voice hoarse, “was that… to prove a point or…?”

You burst out laughing, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He’s laughing too, but there’s a softness to it now — a sweetness underneath the usual teasing. His fingers are still resting on your waist, like he’s afraid to let go.

“So…” he starts again, and for once, his voice wavers. “Are we… still just flirting, or…?”

You tilt your head, biting your lip — the same playful glimmer in your eyes. “I don’t know, Diamond. Wanna kiss me again and find out?”

Cater laughs, breathless. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I think so.”

You grin, and it’s the same smile he’s always loved—the one that makes him feel like the world isn’t so scary after all.

And this time, when he leans in, he doesn’t hesitate.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Fake dating with hockey player Anakin 😵‍💫😵‍💫

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

Author's note: have no idea if you meant headcanons or fic so im sorry :// also this is also an opportunity for me to ask anyone who want to send a request to be more specific! It helps a lot

You should have said no.

You knew it'd be a disaster when ANAKIN SKYWALKER said, "I need a fake girlfriend."

And you need a freaking bag full of money

The words had barely left his stupid, pretty mouth before you rolled your eyes and continued walking. But, of course, he'd not let you go that easily. He chased after you, hockey bag slung over his shoulder, smelling like cologne and screaming trouble.

"C’mon, bookworm. It’s just for a little while. My ex won’t leave me alone, and Coach says I need to ‘grow up’ and ‘be responsible.’ You’re, like, the most responsible girl I know.”

Your mistake? Stopping to listen.

Your second mistake? Agreeing.

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who sat with you to set the rules;

"Alright, we need some ground rules,” you began, tone serious as you laid your notebook flat on the table.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and that signature cocky smirk on his face. "Go ahead, princess. What rules you got in mind?"

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, ignoring the way his gaze lingered on your lips for a second too long. "First off, no unnecessary touching."

He raised an eyebrow, smile widening. "Unnecessary? So what's necessary touching? Hand-holding? Arm around your waist? Kissing?"

Your face heated up instantly, and you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "Only in public, and only when we have to sell it," you replied, writing it down in your notebook, though your hand shook slightly..if your mother would see this, she would instantly deprive you

Anakin chuckled softly, leaning in closer over the table. "Does that mean I get to kiss you whenever people are watching? Maybe slip a hand down to—"

"Rule two!" you cut him off, cheeks flaming as you forced yourself to focus. At least one of you had to be focused "No… suggestive comments."

"Can’t promise that, sweetheart."

You glared at him, though the effect was ruined by how hot your skin felt. "You have to try."

"Fine, fine," Anakin waved it off playfully. Then he leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he took your notebook from your hands, flipping it closed. "My turn for some rules."

You blinked, confused. "Your rules? I thought this was—"

"Rule one," he interrupted "When we’re together, you don’t look at anyone else but me."

You scoffed, trying to sound unaffected, but the possessiveness in his tone made something inside you stir. "And why would I need to look at you all the time?"

His lips curled into a slow smirk as his eyes locked with yours. "Because if we’re selling this, I want people to know you’re mine. Fake or not, you’ll have to act the part."

"Fine. But that goes both ways."

"Of course, princess," he said, winking. "I wouldn’t dream of looking anywhere else."

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your composure as he continued. "Rule two: when we’re alone, we still act like we're dating."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Wait, why? No one’s around to see it."

"Because I want you to get used to it," he said, voice low and teasing. "It’ll make things easier in public, right?"

You swallowed hard, trying to form a retort, but the way he was looking at you had your words caught in your throat. The way he said it—like he was daring you to admit just how much he was getting under your skin—made your heart race.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling your cheeks flush again as you looked away. "Fine. But if you cross any lines, this deal is off."

"I wouldn't dream of it"

He nodded at whatever you've been lecturing him about before he leaned back in his chair with that cocky grin of his. "Agreed. But there’s one thing I won’t agree to—you can’t limit how many times I call you my pretty little girlfriend."

He tapped his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm... how about rule three? You have to wear something of mine to class.”

"Wait, what?" You blinked, caught off guard.

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. "You heard me. Just something simple. A sweatshirt, a jacket—anything. It’ll make the whole thing look more real."

You let out a breath, shaking your head but still writing it down. "Alright, anything else, mister 'I’m perfect’?"

He chuckled, leaning forward now, arms on the table “Oh, I’ve got one more. You have to come to my games. Obvious, right?”

You raised an eyebrow but wrote it down anyway, handing the paper to him with a sigh. “Sign it.”

He scanned over the rules with exaggerated care for someone like him, then grabbed the pen and signed it with a flourish. "With pleasure, pretty girl."

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who walked you to another class;

Ball rang and you stepped out of your classroom, only to lock eyes with the devil himself. Anakin stood a few feet away, surrounded by his friends from the hockey team. When your eyes locked, a smirk tugged at his lips before he excused himself from the group and made his way towards you.

"What are you doing here?" You whispered, heart pounding at the sight of him.

He gave you a charming smile, hand quickly finding its way to the small of your back as he leaned in close "I’m here to walk you to your next class, of course."

You stiffened at the unexpected contact, but he didn’t seem to notice, of care, as he led you through the bustling hallway. His hand slid even lower, brushing your pocket, before coming dangerously close to your ass. "What are you doing?" You hissed, voice barely carrying an edge of irritation.

His hand didn’t move though, instead it pressed against you as if to make a point, before sliding in fully to your pocket..on your ass.. His voice got lower, just for you to hear. "I’m just doing my part to sell it, pretty girl. Can’t have everyone think I’m not totally smitten with my girlfriend, can we?"

He glanced around, clearly taking pleasure in the stares from other students. "See? They’re all watching us."

"I don't like that," voice tense but a little breathless from the mix of discomfort and... something else you refused to acknowledge

He grinned again, sensing your unease, and leaned in closer, his hand giving your ass a tiny, teasing squeeze. "Come on, loosen up. You’ve got to act like you enjoy it when I touch you if we’re gonna make this look real." His tone softened for a moment as his gaze met yours. "Where’s your class? Can’t walk around aimlessly with you."

"Chemistry... second floor." You said, words escaping your lips almost automatically as youso desperately tried to focus on something else to keep your composure.

Anakin nodded, still trailing behind you, large hand slipping down a little further, lingering just below your waist as he gave your bum a subtle pat. His words came out smoothly, as if this was just another normal conversation between a boyfriend and his girlfriend. "Looks like we’re headed to the second floor then, sweetheart." then he continued "So, how were classes today? Anything exciting? Any tests?"

"It was okay..." You muttered, wanting the conversation to be over.

He chuckled, clearly not buying it. The grip on your hip only tightened as he pulled you closer, breath warm against your ear. "Just ‘okay’? C’mon, at least one thing had to be interesting." His hand gave your ass a firmer squeeze, body pressing up against yours as you both moved up the stairs.

"Anakin, the PDA, remember?" You whispered, trying to pull away just a little.

He smirked, eyes scanning the hall to make sure no one was paying too much attention. When he didn’t spot anyone, he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I’m just keeping up our cover, baby. Can’t have anyone thinking you don’t like my touch, now, can we?" voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"I want to stab you." You muttered

He laughed "Now now, let’s not get too violent. It’s not very ‘girlfriend-like�� to be plotting to stab your boyfriend, is it?" He teased, amusement screaming from his eyes

You furrowed your brows, about to fire back a retort when Anakin closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours in a swift kiss before pulling away. His hand gave your ass one final squeeze, smirk never leaving his face as he whispered. "See you after class, pretty girl." And even when he left, you swore you could still feel his touch on your body..and it definitely did not help you treat this as a normal «fake dating» thing

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN whose eyes made you feral - the way he looked down at you, a little too possessive, a little too protective, a little just too much for your liking. Gaze didn't leave you for a second while you would speak, eyes would soften, be so hypnotized/captivated by you, you caught yourself thinking if he was really pretending

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who shamelessly grabbed your hand in front of his teammates..which obviously was flustering for you but weird for his friends, cause since when THE Anakin Skywalker dated some random?

HOCKEY PLAYER!ANAKIN who brought you to parties;

You should have stayed at home.

The party was loud, sweaty, too overwhelming— simply and shortly, not your scene at all. But Anakin had looked at you with those stupid, stupid big blue eyes and said, «I need you there, bookworm. Just one night. It's in the deal, remember?»

So you were standing in the middle of someone's packed house, hugging a solo cup to your chest, while Anakin—the guy you’re fake dating for reasons you’re still not sure of—was locked in an intense stare-down with his ex.

Padmé Amidala. The school’s golden girl. The one everyone thought Anakin would marry someday.

And maybe that's why your stomach curled in a way you couldn't process right now. The idea of competition, the thought of the real reason you were kind of stuck to fake-dating Anakin hit you like a wall.. He was doing it for her. To win her back, in this weird, so-anakin-like way..

Suddenly, before you can contemplate further, Anakin’s turning to you, hands finding your waist. Breath is warm against your ear when he leaned down.

"Kiss me."

Your brain short-circuits. What?

"What?" you echoed dumbly. The music was too loud, the bass feeling like it shook the floor. It all mixed with your beating rapidly heart in the perfect rhythm

"Kiss me," Anakin repeated, voice lower, rougher. His eyes are still trained on Padmé across the room, but his fingers squeezed your waist just enough to make your stomach do a flip.

Twice.

You didn't even have enough time to think properly

Because Anakin cupped your face and crashed his lips with yours. The kiss was deep, hungry, a little desperate. His tongue slide against yours, and your knees literally went weak. None ever kissed you this way..none kissed you in general with such..passion.. precision, as if he was too skilled in this matter

His hands tightened on your waist after he deepened the kiss, pressing you back against the nearest wall as if the idea of any space between you frustrated him.

You're gone. Done. Wrecked. Destroyed. Out of any power.

When he finally pulled away, with those pink lips glistening, being swollen, sinful, tempting, even. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, wiping away the evidence of what he just did.

You stared at him dazedly

"Too stunned to speak, kitty cat?" Anakin smirked breathlessly

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy-deactivated20250 @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden

[pwblant]

CHASING YOU — p.wb

synopsis : you and wonbin are the top runners of your school and have been rivals on the track for as long as anyone can remember. you’ve known him since childhood, but it was impossible to have even become anything close to friends. whether it’s practice, sprinting, relay, or endurance runs, the two of you are always neck and neck, pushing each other to the limit with sharp words and even sharper competition—it’s only until you have a great fall that the soft spot he has for you exposes itself.

♡ pairing : !track athlete y/n x !track athlete wonbin

♡ genre : rivals to friends (and eventually more sort of)

♡ wc. : roughly 1.7k

♡ a/n : just remembered predebut wonbin used to do track and field, so i cooked this up 😁 also, happy late valentines riizeblr! the ideal valentines gift for me is seunghan back in riize 🙏 thanks a bunch to @lelengerine for proofreading everything🫰

you and park wonbin had joined track and field at the same time back in 5th grade, and since then, you’ve both been each other’s rivals. during competitions, there was always one unspoken rule: one had to win, and the other comes in second. and of course, no one wants to be second. the two of you are the school’s best runners, and every race that took place had often ended up as a two-man competition, as the other contestants aren’t able to keep up with the competitiveness that the two of you share.

for months, the rivalry between you had only intensified. every practice, every sprint, and every time trial was always filled with some sort of rivalry.

now, with only a week left before the competition, the pressure is at its peak. the coach blows the whistle and the mock race begins. the championships were happening soon and the stakes couldn’t be higher, the winner’s prize would be a scholarship at SMU, one of the top schools in korea. no one in their right mind would pass up this once in a lifetime opportunity, which meant that you, wonbin, and every other competitor were prepared to give it everything you had. you didn’t just want the scholarship—you needed it.

the sound of pounding in your footsteps echoes through the track, the hot summer air running through your face. this was your fourth and last trial run, and the heat was definitely starting to get to you.

“can’t keep up, Y/N?” wonbin looks back, taunting you with a sly smirk on his face.

“in your dreams, park wonbin.” you grit your teeth, picking up the pace of your running to overtake him.

the coach whistles again, signaling that the race was coming to an end. you managed to speed through the finish line, beating him by just a bit.

“—and in the end, i still won.” you tease, feeling a bit dizzy, but you hold your head high because you won. his face was plastered with an annoyed expression.

wonbin was definitely infuriating, he never backed down from a challenge. if he lost, he’d train extra hard that day just to beat you in the next race. if you lost, he’d make sure you knew it. the only thing more impressive than his speed was his mouth—the way it could say the most enraging remarks that effortlessly made your blood boil.

next week..

today’s finally the day—the big day every track student has endlessly been training for. all contestants gather up at the start of the track and get into their positions.

bang, as soon as the gunshot fires, you take off.

everything else around you that was irrelevant to winning started to blur—the crowd, the screams, the sound of your pounding footsteps, and even the ache in your stomach. the only thing you’re focused on is the finish line and your breathing pace. you can see wonbin from the corner of your eye, and he’s fast—just like always—but so are you. you continue to keep yourself focused.

then it happens.

the track curves, and as you were trying to pivot, you felt the sharp twist of your ankle. a searing pain shoots up your leg and before you can catch yourself, your body fully gives up beneath you. the world spins as you crash down onto the rough asphalt, scratching your skin and leaving you with deep scratches.

for a moment, everything is blurry. you hear people shouting along with footsteps thundering past you. the race is still going. you should get up—you have to get up.

but then—

“Y/N!”

wonbin’s voice cuts through the chaos. he’s suddenly right there beside you. he shouldn’t be there. he should be running to win the scholarship. but instead, he’s crouched right next to you, trying to analyze your injuries with his hands hovering over your shoulders, unsure if whether or not he could touch you.

“why did you stop?” you rasp, trying to push him away. “the finish line—“

“forget the finish line,” he snaps. “can you walk?”

“i’m fine—“ you try sitting up but the pain was sharp, unbearable. you squeeze your eyes shut in response to the sudden sensation, quickly revealing your true feelings.

“i’m taking that as a no,” he assumes. “come on, lean on me. i’ll get you to the clinic.”

“i’m fine, please get back to the race. i can do this mysel—“

“don’t be stupid, Y/N.” he cuts you off, urging you to just give in and take up his offer. before you could protest, he’s already getting ready to lift you off the ground.

you should push him away and say something sharp, something that reminds him about your long-time rivalry, that you’re supposed to despise each other. but, for the first time, wonbin isn’t looking at you like you’re his competitor. he’s looking at you like someone who doesn’t want to see you get hurt.

once you arrive at the clinic with the help of other emergency teams at the track site, it’s awkward. purely awkward. you don’t know what to say—should you thank him? scold him? worry about him potentially losing his chances of getting into SMU? your head was a mess.

from time to time you’d wince everytime the nurse would press too hard on your ankle. in the corner of your eye, you see wonbin shifting in his seat, his arms crossed, brows furrowed, and his leg was slightly bouncing up and down as if he had something to say.

you hate it. you hate the awkwardness and the silence that gives you too much room to say something. everything. you hate that he threw away his dream at SMU to come to your aid.

“why would you do that?” you finally ask, breaking the silence. your voice was softer than you thought.

wonbin exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “what do you mean, why?”

“you know what i’m talking about,” you start. “the scholarship and everything, i thought you needed it.”

“i did,” he admitted. “but what was i supposed to do? just leave you there?”

“yes!” you argue, throwing your hands up in anger. “a normal rival would’ve kept running. that’s what we are, right?”

his jaw clenches for a second, then he looks at you. with a sigh, he bends forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

“look, Y/N,” he starts, his voice seems more gentle and calm now. “it doesn't matter if we’re rivals, i won’t care about some race if you’re lying on the ground, hurt. do you really think a scholarship matters more to me than—“ he pauses and shakes his head. “forget it, just rest well.”

you follow up, brow quirking up in slight interest. “than what?”

wonbin doesn’t answer and makes his way to the door, his hand hovers over the handle, debating whether or not he should turn back around or just leave you here.

you should let him go, but you can’t. not until he answers your question.

“wonbin.”

he freezes in response to his name. slowly, he turns back to face your direction. “what?”

you take a moment to stare at his face, you’ve never seen him look at you with that much care before. “you never answered my question.”

“about what?” his brows furrow.

“about why you ditched the scholarship to help me.” your heart races as you feel your eyes well up with tears. “why did you throw away everything you practiced for me?”

“i already told you—“

“no,” you stop him. “i want the real answer. the real reason.”

for a moment, he just stands there, as if frozen in his own world, but you blink and before you know it, he’s standing right infront of you.

“because it’s you, Y/N.” he finally speaks, voice shying away as his words trail. “it’s always been you.”

“what?”

“god, do i have to spell it out for you?” he scoffs. “i like you, okay? maybe more than i wanted to and maybe i hid my feelings behind the rivalry we had, but when i saw you on the ground like that—when i saw you hurt—i couldn’t hold back. i didn’t care about the race anymore, i just cared about if you were okay. even if i lost the race, i’ll still be able to look at myself in the mirror tomorrow because i wouldn’t have regretted doing nothing to help you.”

you paused.

“you… like me?” you repeat with wide eyes, trying to take in all the things that have unraveled. the pounding in your chest now sounds louder than the cheers from the crowd—you were positive that he could hear it.

“you really picked the worst time to say this, huh.” you chuckle.

“yeah. well,” he mutters, rubbing his sweaty palms together. “blame yourself for getting hurt.”

despite everything, you feel a warmth in your chest. you should be mad at him for throwing away his opportunity all for a girl, but at this point you can’t even be mad. you just feel grateful that you have such caring support around you, even when you didn’t notice. so, you do what you need to do.

you reach for his wrist, stopping him from leaving. “wonbin,”

he looks at you with expectation in his eyes.

“thank you.” you begin, a grateful expression on your features, “also, just—if you want, we can always try things out, maybe be friends first?”

“you’re not trying to kid your way out of this situation right?”

“do i look like i’m kidding?” you deadpan for a second before shaking your head with a chuckle.

“no ma’am!” he straightens himself out, but a smile that mirrors yours is plastered on his lips. “now let’s get you tucked in—i’m gonna make sure you get the rest you need.”

“im being serious though. i might’ve been the childish one for dragging on this rivalry for so long…” you added, now complying as the boy helped you get to a comfortable position.

“then it’s a good thing we’re ending it now.” he pats your head lightly, “cause you’ll find that i’m not going to leave your side.”

m.list

[itsactuallylina]

YOU’RE ALL I WANT ꩜ ZB1

SYNOPSIS: spending valentine’s day with them <3

PAIRING: zb1 maknae line x f!reader

GENRE: fluff !

WORD COUNT: .6k, (.2k-.3k for each member)

check out the masterlist —> here! ; reblogs are appreciated <3

ricky: the day will be spend in the art cafe! enjoying each others company, while sipping your favorite drinks and drawing portraits of each other. best believe, ricky will rent out the whole cafe, so you two won’t be distracted by anyone else. since he majored in fine arts, he would love to help you if you’re struggling! if not, he will act like he is having a hard time just for you to come and help him!! not to mention, ricky would get you so many gifts, its adorable. even if you protest, saying you can’t accept it, he will pout. “i was reminded of you when i saw it, so please wear it? for me?”, he says, holding up a really pretty necklace with a bright pink heart, and with that adorable gaze , you realize you never stood a chance. —the rest under cut!

gyuvin: valentine’s day with him would be so chaotic, but fun. it would all start with him dragging you to the rollerblading ring. gyuvin would act so confident, but as he makes the first steps, he immediately falls. seeing you laugh at him makes him smile, but gyuvin still brings you down with him. “I suffer, you suffer”. he definitely would try to slow dance with you on the rollerblades!! after this, gyuvin would take you to the photobooth to take silly pictures. one with you having your tongue out, on the second picture, you doing puppy ears to each other, and the last one! him kissing you on the cheek, while you are smiling so sweetly! the day would end with the movie marathon — your favorite flowers standing on the bedside table as you rest in his arms.

gunwook: in the early morning, he would come to get you, choosing your outfit, just to make sure you guys match. then surprising you with a cute picnic date! the sun shining softly, casting a warm and romantic glow. all of your favorite snacks and drinks on the display. you would play board games he prepared, you losing horribly. but gunwook is a gentleman, so he lets you win<3 not a lot tho, he still has pride to uphold! for the desserts he would prepare something homemade, something he baked by himself, with the help of his mom. not too sweet, because “you’re the sweetest thing ever”. he’d take out the large bear plushie, hugging you. “you deserve everything in the world, but lets start with that”. walking you to your doorstep, sweetly kissing you and calling right away as you disappear from his eyesight.

yujin: oh such a cutie! yujin would pick you up, invite you to his dorm, and cook for you! he learned the recipe online a few days prior, just to make sure it would be perfect. stops you from doing anything, “you just sit pretty and yap my ears off, i love when you do this”. many would think he’s super shy, but as the relationship progresses yujin becomes so clingy and playful! always wanting hugs and kisses, not even shying away from you. after he successfully feeds you, you take a break, playing mario kart, you winning, so he distracts you with a kiss on the cheek. you forgive him tho, cause he is a cutie. you baking cookies together as the last activity of the day! the sweet scent of strawberry cookies fills the air, the one that you both-oh, so love! yujin would feed you a few before making a little mess and having a decorating session. so many hearts and bunnies, that end up being eaten by you two, you wouldn’t have it any other way though.

a/n: valentines special <3 hope you had a great one, bcs i did <3 my friends gave me cute valentines and we joked around a lot. me, my sister and my dad then ordered take out and it was tasty. no boyfriend ≠ great valentine’s day. you’ll all meet someone perfect for you one day<3!!

[kendrysaneela]

“She’s like you. Or you’re like her? I don’t know”

That’s such an interesting line cause it’s true! While the outies and innies have different personalities and different wants and needs they each exist within each other. When Helly is Helly Helena is within her subconscious,when Dylan is Dylan outie Dylan is in his subconscious,when Mark S is Mark Scout Mark S is there in his subconscious. They’re all there. And they’re all influencing each other Irving being the most straightforward version of this what with him seeing the globs of paint sometimes because his outie always paints the same painting over and over.

They each exist within each other’s subconscious. And you can see some of the outies bleeding into the innies as they start to experience similar stuff the outies have experienced! (Except for Helly and Helena Helena is actually the one turning into Helly) I think it goes to show what do memories do how do memories shape a person how much of you is your is subconscious and how much is your conscious memory. Like Mark starts out super peppy and happy and helpful and then as he starts to experience more and grief and slowly starts becoming more similar to outie Mark in the way he handles his grief. But that also makes me wonder. Before Mark Scout experienced all that grief was he similar to Mark S? I bet he was. Or he at least had the potential to be.

And then Irving, his outie is clearly a character that needs meaning and is devoted to a cause. And at first innie Irving finds meaning and finds a cause in like helping to spread the message of Kier and doing his work and following the rules and it’s not until he finds meaning outside of work and finds something new to fight for that he starts to become more similar to who outie Irving seems to be. Someone who is more paranoid and more rebellious. Not to mention both of them enjoying art and both of them painting/drawing the same piece of art over and over again. (Albeit for different reasons)

Then there’s Dylan G who’s outie is kinda insecure because he’s been batted down by life a lot seemingly but he does still clearly love his family he’s just depressed unfortunately and has low self esteem from having a lot of unsuccessful adventures in life clearly. But he does seem to be trying outside and his wife still loves him a lot. Dylan inside starts out confident and convinced his outie is super successful and a body builder and has a bunch of girls on the outside. Then he finds out who he really is outside and then unfortunately. Starts to have some losses inside….and his self confidence starts to fall, and then he learns he has a family and able to be convinced to separate himself from his friends because he cares so much about his family. (I think this will transfer back to him caring a lot about his innie family again) .

Then. There’s Helly. Now Helly is the exact opposite of everyone else and shows that it’s not always innies turning into outies. Helly doesn’t start to turn into Helena. Helena starts to turn into Helly. And the longer Helly exists the further she digs her feet into her rebellion. And the more Helena learns about Helly the more she turns into her. Helena is a woman who has no autonomy who makes none of her own decisions and clearly her whole life has just gone along with what she’s been forced to do without making much of a fuss because that’s what she was raised to do and I assume because the punishments for stepping out of line in the Eagan cult are severe. She has also never experienced love. And I think she’s probably resigned herself to this life. But then she sees Helly. And Helly doesn’t know she’s an Eagan. Helly doesn’t have all the cult programming Helena has, they can’t control Helly with threat of what her father will think or do. So Helly rebels and Helly rebels HARD. And Helly’s first instinct being to rebel is probably because Helena has been trapped her whole life so when Helly woke up on that table locked in that room her subconscious went “WE’RE TRAPPED WE’RE TRAPPED ESCAPE” and Helly didn’t have any of Helena’s fears or knowledge of who she is or what’s happening so she doesn’t repress that rebellion or fear like Helena does so she continues to outwardly rebel.

More than Helena probably ever has or at least has in a while. And she receives love for it from her coworkers. She receives love and she receives friendship and Helena sees all this. She sees this woman this other version of her who’s not weighed down by her name or the expectations put upon it and she sees her become who she’s always wanted to be so she starts to try to become that person. And when she’s pretending to be Helly, she flirts with Mark and she makes Irving little snow seals and she makes fun of her family’s lore and she’s free and she’s taking in love.

I think even with Helena no longer being able to pretend to be Helly, Helena will start to either consciously or unconsciously become Helly outside. I think it’s also why she’s watching Mark at the end of the episode. She’s basically in the middle of an identity crisis right now and she’s probably wondering if outie Mark is the key. What outie Mark is like if he’s anything like innie Mark.

I also think Helly and Helena hating each other is a good illustration of Helena’s hatred toward herself. I think she hates herself because she doesn’t have the courage to be like Helly and to rebel like Helly and to fight for her autonomy like Helly.

And they all do this because they are their innies. Their innies are their outies and their outies are their innies they are each other just if they had different life experiences.

[sunnysidesevenup]

Happy Birthday, Iso <3

I, of course, had to do something for @theolivetree123's Isosceles' birthday. My confidence writing Iso was a bit low, but I'm pretty happy with how the fic turned out <3

Also, it turned out to be eight pages in my doc, which is a lot longer than I intended at first lmao. These two are just really fun to write together.

fic under the cut!

“Tills, what’re ya’ doing?” 

Tilly blinks, glancing up from the suspicious book in his hands. The words had been swimming weirdly again, doing an odd little dance around his head, not that he would’ve been able to understand it anyways. 

Isosceles is standing near the open door, a confused expression on his face although it fades quickly as he takes in the situation. Cute, Tilly thinks, followed by the urge to say it out loud–he was asked a question though, wasn’t he? 

“Summoning circle.” He says. It’s pretty obvious. 

Iso’s face twitches, as if he wants to smile–and although the smirk he settles on is probably not the first expression he was going to make, Tilly still decides to appreciate it anyways. “You can’t read.” He chastises, a bit mean. “What’d ya’ think was going to happen?” 

“Hmm…” Tilly hums, tapping a finger to his lips. “Getting killed, maybe? Hopefully by a successfully summoned demon.” The smile that forms on his lips is an innocent one, tone light and teasing. 

“With this circle? Yeah, definitely gettin’ killed.” 

He just answers Iso with a giggle, jumping up from his sitting position and nearly knocking over the lit candles and probably lighting things on fire. Isoceles watches with amusement as he seems to realize in real time that candles lit everywhere on the floor is probably not a good idea, and proceeds to blow them out. Once done, he bounds straight up to the taller man, feeling a burst of energy. 

He grins up at him. “Hi. You’re late.” 

“Wasn’t aware I could be late when we didn’t set a time.” 

Tilly’s grin turns mischievous. “You’re late because I missed you.” 

Iso raises his eyebrow, and Tilly is glad he got closer. “That so?” He asks. “Maybe you’re just borin’.” 

Ouch, that one hurt. He is not boring, thank you very much. 

He spins on his heels, hands on his hips and a pout on his face. “You just can’t handle my amazin’ presence.” He retorts, back to the other man. “And here I am, tryin’ to give you a birthday gift, and you say that…” 

Iso makes a noise behind him, slightly unamused. “I don’t celebrate my birthday.” 

Tilly spins back to him, poking his chest with a glove clad hand. “It’s an excuse for a celebration. Fun. Are you going to deny me a chance to have fun, Isosceles?” 

The man grins back at him, sharp teeth on display, and Tilly kind of wants to pinch his cheeks to see if he’ll get bitten. Ah, that might not be the best idea… “Since when do ya’ need an excuse?” He’s saying, and Tilly zones back into the conversation. 

He pouts at him. “It’s always good to have an excuse. Gets me out of a lot of trouble.” 

Iso laughs, “Ya’ anticipating getting in trouble with me?” 

Tilly nods back seriously. “All the time, yes.” 

“Ha! At least you’re aware.” His eyes scan the room again, poorly drawn summoning circle and all. Tilly would say he did an okay job, but he’s definitely not an artist, and drawing circles was deceptively hard. Isosceles is clearly judging his shaky chalk lines as well, from the way his expression does that slight twitch of amusement again. “Seriously, what were ya’ thinking?” 

The shorter man shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. “Thought you would like it. You like it, right? Tell me you do.” He moves a little closer, and yep, there’s the personal space limit, right on time. Tilly decides not to push it any further, pausing with a few inches between them. He doesn’t really want to get kicked out, at least not when he’s trying to do something for Iso’s birthday. 

Iso gives him another grin, his eyes not entirely meeting his own. “Would like it better if ya’ were any good at it.” He says. 

Tilly makes sure his expression is as sad as can be, “Aww…” He begins, and then his tone morphs into something more triumphant and smug. “But you would have liked it, right? So I do know you pretty well.” 

Isosceles shoves him away slightly, making his way further into the room. “That’s a pretty low bar of a gift.” He says dismissively. 

Oops, a bad choice of a tease, then. 

Tilly keeps his forlorn sighing to himself (not that that’s what he’s doing, of course not) and follows the other man into the room. “My bad~” He apologizes. “How could I ever hope to know the oh-so-mysterious Isosceles?” 

The man shoots him an annoyed glance, and Tilly raises his hands in surrender. The smirk doesn’t help, though. 

…For someone who doesn’t want to get kicked out, he’s definitely pushing it. 

Well, he’ll just run distraction, then. 

“So… How was your day?” Tilly asks, tone innocent. 

Iso gives him another glance, knowing what he’s doing. “Are we makin’ small talk now? Damn Tills, maybe you are getting boring.” He says, sitting down at the desk chair. Tilly decides to sit across from him on the bed, legs crossing as soon as he hops up onto it. 

“That’s very offensive to me.” He responds seriously. “I’m the least boring person you know.” 

“Dunno about that.” 

Tilly gives him a huffy pout, Iso just grinning meanly at him still. 

“Whoever you’re thinking of, I’m definitely hotter and more entertaining than them.” He tells him firmly. “By many points. It’s not even a competition, really. I have won by a lot.” 

The grin turns meaner. “You’re not that–”

“If you say I’m not that hot I’m going to do something questionable.” He threatens immediately. 

Iso laughs, a bit startled. “I was goin’ to say entertaining.” 

Tilly feigns a thinking face, “Hmmm….” He then shakes his head, “No, that’s not acceptable either.” 

His companion chuckles again, so that’s definitely a win. 

However. 

“Hey, Iso.” 

He raises his eyebrow again, no doubt suspicious of Tilly’s new tone of voice. 

“Come sit on the bed instead.” He says, patting the spot next to him. He makes sure not to be flirty about it, just a simple motion, but Isosceles still narrows his eyes and glances away dismissively. 

“Nah, I’m good.” He answers, and yeah, that’s not happening. 

Tilly stands up, running a hand through his hair, and sighs. Iso glances back at him, eyes narrowed at his answering, far too innocent expression, and watches as he then walks up to stand right in front of him. The shorter takes a second to consider the odds of getting kicked out, or beat up, or killed, and then dismisses all of that and leans down to be eye level with the higher being himself. 

He doesn’t really feel like a higher being, though, not when Tilly gently grabs his face in his hands and tilts it up. The wide eye and slowly creeping blush don’t really feel particularly eldritch or scary, either. 

“Hey, Iso.” He echoes, voice now softer and a bit coaxing. “Let’s sit on the bed instead.” 

“Umm.” Is his companions answer, eye attempting to settle on anything else, although Tilly’s made sure to block his view. He doesn’t follow the word up with anything, either, so the shorter just drops his hands from his face and slides them to his arms instead, pulling him up. He drags him over to the bed, and then they’re both sitting across from each other. 

He smiles smugly. That’s much better. 

“So! I got us a game to play.” 

Iso recovers quickly, much to his disappointment, although the blush still staining his skin has yet to fade. “Oh?” 

Tilly nods seriously, reaching under the pillow and pulling out a box. He sets it between them with a flourish, although Iso looks unimpressed. 

“You stole Monopoly?” 

“Is that what it says?” He eyes the box with newfound interest, but the title starts swimming again and he gives up. He shakes his head, getting back on track. “Ta-da!” He announces, opening the box, where an assortment of game pieces are strewn about. 

Iso blinks, and then grins. “That’s not Monopoly.” 

“I should hope not. I just poured a ton of other games into this box, it’s just so boring to stick to one… I even asked one of the workers for recommendations!” He picks up one of the game pieces, a little army man that the worker had explained was part of a game called Risk. He’d liked the sound of that, so he’d swept the little armies into his pockets when the underpaid worker had turned away. It’s not like the partimer would mind, but better if they weren't aware of it so they’d get in less trouble!

Chess pieces, cards, a variety of dice, various little game pieces cover the box, and the numerous game boards nestled inside. Honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle he managed to fit all of it into one box, but Tilly is very efficient, thank you very much. 

“So, what are the rules?” Iso asks, unceremoniously dumping all of the items onto the bed. Looks like he’s on board, then. 

Tilly laughs, settling into a more comfortable position on the bed. “We both already know the rules, don’t we?” He asks, laying out the very game boards in a seemingly completely random order. 

If he’s not mistaken, Iso’s eye seems to brighten, and he grins right back as he also sets the pieces up in an equally nonsensical order. “Right, we do.” 

-

Thirty minutes in and the game has fives boards (one of which is a piece of paper with badly drawn squiggles, one in a bright, near invisible yellow and another in a glittery purple), at least two decks of regular playing cards, two separate armies of little plastic soldiers, a strange, precarious tower of dice, and stacks of fake cash. There’s a little scoreboard off to the side, and somehow, despite the nonsensical game, the two are tied. 

With bated breath, Tilly reaches over to take another card from one of the piles, Iso smirking at him as he does so. There’s a moment where he believes he’s successfully managed to grab it, when suddenly the carefully stacked tower of dice collapses, falling straight across his lap. 

He blinks for a moment, and then turns accusing eyes onto Isosceles, who looks like he’s about to laugh. “That’s not fair.” He accuses. 

“Eh? You sucking at this?” 

The shorter’s mouth twists into a pout once again. “Cheater.” 

His companion blinks (or is it a wink when it’s only one eye? Hmm, Tilly should ask him some other time) innocently at him. “What did I do? I was nowhere near it.” 

Tilly just groans, swiping the dice off of him and back onto the bed. For good measure, he tosses one straight at Iso’s head, but the man just dodges with barely a twitch to the side. Stupid, annoying, godly reflexes. Just get hit with the dice for his wounded pride, okay? He’s sensitive! 

He forks over a stack of his fake money to Iso, the man neatly adding it to his growing bank with a smug look. Once he’s done paying his horrible, no good, offending taxes, he rolls one of the dice. Hitting a six, he then carefully moves his little piece (a coin, of course, he has a brand) around the board, and begins stacking six dice on top of each other. 

“Hmm, don’t forget I attacked you last turn.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He mutters, surveying the board. “Stop attacking me, I’m weak and fragile and I’ll cry.” 

“Weren’t your words five minutes ago, “Oh, Iso, I hope you cry when I destroy you in the next five moves?” The man taunts, putting on a high pitched and annoying voice. 

Tilly gapes at him in astonishment. “I don’t sound like that.” 

Iso remains silent, amusement speaking louder than his words ever could, and Tilly throws a pillow at him. “I don’t! I don’t! Take it back!” 

He dodges, of course, because Isosceles can never let Tilly do anything. Ugh. 

Now lacking a pillow, and significantly more annoyed, he raises his hands and does a grabbing motion. “Give me your pillow. As tribute.” 

“Deal with the consequences of your own actions, Tills~” Iso singsongs, taking his own turn on the game. He flips a card over, reads it, and then scowls. “How’d you sneak this card into my deck? You can’t even read.” 

“Gimme your pillow and I’ll tell you.” He grins at him, fluttering pleading eyes. 

Ever immune, he laughs, shaking his head. “Your secrets aren’t that important. I’ll figure it out anyways.” He then pats the pillow beside him, mean expression just rubbing it in. 

And yeah, logically, Tilly could just get off the bed and retrieve the one he threw. But that would mean probably losing, because then Iso could change the pieces around, and then he’d have to start over his own process of changing the pieces around. He doesn’t want Iso to win. It might be his birthday, but he’s not a loser. 

Looking at the board now though, it’s looking like that might be the outcome anyways. 

So, of course, he has a solution for both problems. 

“Iso…. you sure ya’ won’t hand over your pillow? Please? For me?” He asks again. 

He’s met with the same amused smile. “Nope.” He says, and then narrows his eyes suspiciously as he registers Tilly’s smug expression. “Hey, don’t–” 

Tilly interrupts him by launching himself across the game board, knocking everything out of the way and colliding straight with the other man. He knocks him back onto the bed, and immediately just lays straight down on top of him. 

Isosceles lays there for a moment, and then responds with an accusing and smug: “This is because I was going to win, wasn’t it.” 

He lays his head down against Iso’s chest, ear right next to his heart. “Hmm, who could say~?” He says, and then just pauses. 

Neither of them say anything for a while. 

It’s not like Tilly has never done this before, anyways, and even though the taller still gets flustered, it’s not as shocking as it once was. 

…He doesn’t say anything about Iso’s heart beating, though. He’d done that before, and he knows now it’ll just cause a protest. 

Instead, what he says is a simple “Happy birthday.” 

“...I don’t celebrate it. I told you.” 

Tilly sits up, grinning down at him. Iso’s face is a bit red, but he looks decently composed (and very cute, but he thinks saying that right now will get him shoved onto the floor). “Does this seem like a celebration? No, no, this is very un-celebration. A non birthday–unbirthday? No, that sounds stupid–Ugh, point is, no celebrations here!” His grin softens, turning into more of a smile.

“So, in a very not celebratory way, happy birthday, Isoceles.” 

[premiumbitch]

♡ LIVING LEGACY: BEAUTY, WEALTH, AND POWER. ♡ NEPOTISM MANIFESTATION PACK

This is for the lovely people who want to manifest stuff about themselves, this pack is a nepo baby theme ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ enjoy!

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐋𝐮𝐱 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒻𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝐴𝒾𝓇 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐵𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 You were born into stardust, a legacy gilded in gold. Your presence isn’t just admired—it’s expected. You step into the room like you own it, because you do. The world is your inheritance, and yet, they still wonder how you make it look so effortless.

𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥 ✧ 𝒜 𝒩𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝐸𝓁𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒞𝒾𝓇𝒸𝓁𝑒𝓈 Your name is spoken in hushed tones—some with envy, some with desire. They roll their eyes, yet they can’t look away. You don’t chase fame, you are fame. A last name that opens doors, a first name that lingers like expensive perfume.

𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐼𝓃𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑎𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒪𝒻 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎 You don’t just have good genes—you have generational perfection. Your beauty is a masterpiece painted across decades, each feature sculpted by a lineage of icons. It’s the kind of face they swear they’ve seen before, in old film reels and glossy magazine covers.

𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡 ✧ 𝒲𝒽𝑦 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒩𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒟𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝐼𝓉 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒴𝑜𝓊? They hustle, you inherit. They strive, you arrive. While they’re networking, you’re at a private island retreat, sipping something chilled. A yacht party here, a front-row fashion show there—you make it look like destiny, not privilege.

𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝐼𝓃 You are not just a person; you are a presence. Ethereal, unattainable, the heiress of an era. People swear you were born under the right stars, placed on earth as proof that beauty and legacy can intertwine.

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐤 & 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬 ✧ 𝒜 𝒞𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒻𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝐸𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓉𝓎 Boarding schools with ivy-covered walls, summer houses in Saint-Tropez, a family name engraved on donation plaques—you weren’t just raised, you were curated. The world has already decided you belong to the upper echelon.

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝓇𝓉 𝒪𝒻 𝒟𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝑒𝓉 𝐵𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 You never try too hard because you never had to. The world moves around you, bends to your whims. While others chase the spotlight, you simply exist in its glow, as if it was made for you.

𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 ✧ 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒲𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝓇𝓃 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈 Before you could even spell your name, it was already written in headlines. Before you could walk, your first steps were documented in tabloids. Beauty, elegance, allure—it’s not something you had to earn. It’s in your DNA.

𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 ✧ 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒟𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝐸𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝑜𝓂, 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝑜𝓂 A surname that carries weight, a presence that commands attention. You don’t need to introduce yourself—they already know who you are. You are not just a part of the industry, you are the industry.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐀 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐩𝐨 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬 ✧ 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓅𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓂𝑒 They call it nepotism; you see it as destiny. Others build their way up—you simply exist, and that is enough. You are the face, the name, the icon they love to envy but secretly want to be.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 ✧ 𝒜 𝒩𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑒𝒹𝑒𝓈 𝒴𝑜𝓊 Before you enter, they already know who you are. Your name echoes through halls lined with portraits of those who came before you—legends in their own right. You are not just someone; you are the someone. A whispered last name, a gilded birthright.

𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐚 ✧ 𝒜 𝐿𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝓎 You don’t chase the spotlight; you are the spotlight. Born into its glow, bathed in its warmth, you move as if the world was molded to accommodate your presence. There is no effort, no struggle—only the quiet assurance of someone who has always belonged.

𝐈𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇 𝐵𝑜𝓇𝓃, 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝒹𝑒 You walk like a goddess stepping down from Olympus, not striving for greatness but carrying it in your bones. The world may envy, but they cannot deny—you were crafted in privilege, sculpted by history, perfected by legacy.

𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬-𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 ✧ 𝒜 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐻𝑒𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒞𝒶𝓅𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 You were sculpted, not born. There is a symmetry to your face that whispers of divine hands, an elegance that does not fade with time but lingers, everlasting. You are the kind of beauty that artists dream of, that poets ruin themselves trying to capture in words.

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✧ 𝒜 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐿𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝑀𝑒𝓃 𝐵𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃 They do not just admire you; they ache for you. A single glance could unravel kingdoms, a soft smile could start wars. It is not simply about how you look—it is about how you exist. An untouchable allure, an intoxicating presence, a beauty that is both a dream and a nightmare.

𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐰 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒪𝒻 𝒴𝑜𝓊 Soft sunlight kissing dewy skin, eyes that hold the warmth of dawn. You move like honey dripped in slow motion, effortlessly radiant, eternally enchanting. They wonder if you were born under a rare star, if the universe paused to admire its own masterpiece the moment you were created.

𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 ✧ 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝒟𝑒𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒶𝒸𝓎 They call you delicate, fragile, a rose made of glass. But there is something dangerous about your beauty—something that makes them hesitate before reaching out. You are not just soft; you are sharp. A siren’s call wrapped in silk, a venom laced with sugar.

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦 ✧ 𝒜 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐻𝒶𝓊𝓃𝓉𝓈 You were made for the night, for dimly lit rooms and stolen glances. There is something haunting about you, something that lingers long after you have left. Perhaps it is the way your eyes hold secrets, or how your lips seem to whisper of forgotten lovers and midnight rendezvous.

𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 ✧ 𝒜 𝐹𝒶𝒸𝑒 ��𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝒪𝒻 𝒞𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃𝓈 Some beauties fade, but you belong to history. The kind of face that should be painted in oils, framed in gold, studied for centuries. You do not chase attention—it bends toward you, as if drawn by something beyond logic. You were meant to be adored, to be remembered.

𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐤 ✧ 𝒜 𝐹𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 Your beauty does not whisper—it strikes. It is electric, a force of nature, something that demands to be seen and felt. They do not just look at you; they experience you. The tilt of your chin, the way light dances on your skin—every detail is a masterpiece in motion.

𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 ✧ 𝒜 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁 You are the moment they lost themselves, the distraction they never recovered from. There is something unfair about your beauty—something that makes them reckless, desperate. You are not just admired; you are worshipped. And you have always known it.

𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ✧ 𝒜 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐷𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝑜 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 There is an otherworldly air to you, something untouchable, something that belongs to myths and fairy tales. They wonder if you are real or if they imagined you—a glimpse of divinity in a world too dull to deserve it. You are not just a beauty; you are a legend in the making.

✗⚬ﾒ𝟶

[adddddiiii]

Crimson Eclipse

3. No Safe Haven

It had been several hours since you crashed at Sofie’s place, and the tension hadn’t eased for a second. Every flicker of a shadow or unexpected sound made your pulse jump. You were still hunched over your laptop, fingers gliding across the keys as you scanned encrypted data from the drive.

"Are you ever going to sleep?" Sofie asked from the couch. She was watching you with growing concern.

"Can’t afford to," you muttered. "Not when Serpentis is probably watching every corner of this city for me. Also I need to meet him at midnight."

You both knew very well who he was.

Sofie sighed. "So are you finally going to tell me how you got into this mess in the first place?"

You leaned back and rubbed your tired eyes.

"I was hired," you admitted quietly. "Some anonymous buyer reached out. Big money to lift encrypted files from a secure server. I didn’t ask too many questions. I just… needed the cash."

"But?" Sofie prompted.

"But when I grabbed the files and went to the meet-up spot a few hours ago, no one showed. Except Red Hood," you explained. "That’s when I knew I was in trouble. And then, well, we both saw what was on the drive."

Sofie's brows furrowed. "Right... what exactly is on it, other than the shady military stuff?

You hesitated. "Lots of stuff. Shipment routes, blackmail material, bribery logs. But the worst part? Names."

Her eyes widened. "Names?"

You nodded grimly. "Of Serpentis operatives. Safehouses. Transactions. Some more clues and evidence, and it would be enough to tear them down. No wonder they want me dead."

Sofie whistled softly. "So what does Red Hood have to do with all this?"

You shook your head. "Maybe the usual vigilante stuff, I don’t know. But I’m going to find out."

——————————————————————

You found yourself at Dock 17 later that night, the salty sea breeze biting at your skin. The docks were nearly deserted, save for the occasional distant hum of a ship’s engine. You clutched the flash drive tightly in your pocket, scanning the shadows for any sign of him.

"You’re late."

The voice came from behind you. You spun around, heart racing, and there he was — Red Hood, perched on a stack of shipping crates, arms crossed over his chest.

"You said midnight. It’s a minute past twelve," you shot back.

He chuckled softly under the modulated mask. "Still late."

You crossed your arms, trying to mask your nervousness. "Why did you want to meet?"

Red Hood jumped down gracefully, landing just a few feet from you. "Because you’re in deeper than you think."

"Yeah, I got that when you said I couldn't go to my own home," you retorted.

He tilted his head. "There’s a bounty on you."

Your stomach dropped. "What?"

"Serpentis put a price on your head. Alive or dead, doesn’t matter. And trust me, there’s a long line of people ready to collect."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Why are you telling me this?"

He sighed, and lowered his voice slightly. "Because I know what Serpentis is capable of. I’ve been after them for months, trying to dismantle their operations. They’re dangerous, and now they’re coming for you."

"So what? You’re offering me protection out of the goodness of your heart?" you scoffed. You were way past caring about what he would to you if he heard the challenge in your voice. He did say he wouldn't hurt you. Didn't he?

"No," he replied bluntly. "I’m offering you a deal. You help me bring them down, and I’ll make sure you survive long enough to see it happen."

"And if I say no?"

"You won't last the week."

You hated that he was right.

Hesitantly, you admitted, "Even if I wanted to lie low, I don’t have anywhere safe to go anymore. You said I can't go to my home, so I went to a friend's place. I don't want to put her in any more danger."

There was a pause. Red Hood’s stance shifted, the silence stretching uncomfortably long.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

You blinked in surprise as he ran a gloved hand over the dented surface of his helmet.

"Fine," he said, almost reluctantly. "You stay at my place. Temporary. Don’t get comfortable."

"What?!" Your eyes widened. "Why would I stay with you. I would rather die!"

"Be my guest," he grunted out.

You chewed your lip for a moment, contemplating. You didn't actually want to die. And staying with him wouldn't be so bad, right?

You sighed. "You’re serious?"

"No," he deadpanned. "I just like saying things for dramatic effect. Yes, I’m serious."

You huffed out a small laugh, despite yourself. "Wow. Charming."

"I’m not doing this for brownie points," he replied flatly. "Let’s go before I change my mind."

As you followed him into the night, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had just made a deal with the devil — or the only person who could save you from one.

< prev |

Taglist: @uncalicous @a-lil-bit-nuts @celloccino @treeteaofversailles @promnightbinbaby @theroyalmanatee @rowannin @bungunz

[misshoneyimhome]

What’s up, buttercups! 💕

Alrighty, chapter four is here, and I promise we’re spicing things up very soon! Some of you have even written me, asking when things will happen—soon, my loves, soooon 🙈

So, this chapter is all about setting the tone, laying the groundwork, and adding just the right amount of tension before things really start to heat up 😉🔥

Happy reading, my darlings! 😘💕

Tropes & warnings: inexperienced!reader x Auston Matthews, meet cute, strangers to friends, fake relationship, language

Word count: 6.7k Chapter one ; Chapter two ; Chapter three

➼｡ﾟ

Chapter Four: Game On

::

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Can it be true? Auston Matthews and his enigmatic Queen, spotted on a walk yesterday that nearly blurred the line between staged and sincere? The city is still buzzing from the sighting. It almost seemed close to romantic—dare we say, genuine?

But tonight brings a new chapter. Will we see her face among the sea of blue and white at the Scotiabank Arena, cheering on her King? Or will she remain hidden, a shadow in this carefully crafted narrative? Tell us, Mr. Matthews, are you embarrassed by your newly caught feelings? Is our Ice King unused to wearing his emotions for the world to see?

For tonight’s game, we hope to see the Leafs at their very best. Nylander will need to flex his skills to keep up with the Captain. Lorentz still has time to make his mark on the scoreboard, and Domi—well, he’s overdue for a standout performance. And what about the crease? Will Joseph Woll hold the net, or will we see Anthony Stolarz step up?

One thing’s for sure—this match against the Blues will have us glued to our screens. And who knows? If the Queen does make an appearance, maybe—just maybe—she’ll be the Leafs’ new lucky charm.

Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

_

Thursday -

The faint smell of wine and takeout filled the air, courtesy of your early dinner with Jess, who was perched on the edge of your bed, sipping from a glass of Chardonnay and eyeing your wardrobe with the precision of a general planning an attack.

“Okay, this is a big night,” she announced, setting her glass on your nightstand with a decisive clink. “First impression in Auston Matthews’s world. We need you looking sexy but chill. Confident but not over-the-top. Like… the kind of girl who doesn’t need to try, even though you’re trying.”

You groaned, sprawled out on the bed beside her with your own glass of wine in hand. “Jess, it’s not that serious. It’s just a game.”

She turned to give you a pointed look, arching a brow. “Not that serious? You’re about to be seen at a hockey home game in Toronto with Auston Matthews. The Auston Matthews. You can’t just show up in, like, leggings and a hoodie.”

“Leggings and a hoodie sound amazing, though,” you joked, though your voice lacked conviction. The nerves bubbling beneath the surface were hard to ignore, even with the wine taking some of the edge off.

Jess wasn’t having it. “No way. Tonight, you’re walking into that arena looking like the kind of woman who belongs in the spotlight. Trust me on this.”

You sighed, sitting up and taking a long sip of your wine. You briefly had to remind yourself, Jess didn’t know the truth about your arrangement with Auston—she thought this was just you, her perpetually overthinking best friend, taking a chance on a guy you weren’t entirely sure about. And because of that, she was determined to support you in the best way she knew how: with wine, fashion advice, and an endless stream of hype.

“Alright,” you said reluctantly, setting your glass aside. “What’s the plan?”

Jess’s eyes lit up as she leapt off the bed and flung open your closet doors. “Finally, you’re listening to me. Okay, so…” She rifled through the hangers, pulling out options and tossing them onto the bed with abandon. “Black fitted jeans—because they’re classic and make your legs look amazing. This top—simple but shows just enough skin. And…” She paused dramatically, reaching for the leather jacket she’d brought over herself. “This. You’ll look like a total badass.”

You eyed the pile sceptically. “Isn’t this a little much for a hockey game?”

Jess gave an exaggerated sigh, spinning to face you with her hands on her hips. “Y/N, you’re not just going to a hockey game. You’re going to a hockey game as Auston Matthews’s potential date. Do you understand the difference?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Fine. But only because you’re so insistent.”

She grinned triumphantly, shoving the outfit into your hands. “Go put it on. I need to see how it looks.”

As you changed in the bathroom, the reality of the night ahead settled in. You stared at your reflection, smoothing the fabric of the top and adjusting the jacket. Jess’s choices were undeniably flattering—she had a knack for knowing what worked. You looked confident, polished, and maybe even a little sexy. But beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just another part of the act.

When you stepped back into the room, Jess let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl. You’re gonna knock him dead.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you smoothed the jacket. “It’s just a game, Jess.”

She stepped closer, her expression softening as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “It’s not just a game. You’re putting yourself out there, and that’s huge. I know you’re nervous but trust me—he’s going to take one look at you and forget how to skate.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re amazing,” Jess countered, grabbing her wine glass and raising it in a toast. “To new beginnings, hot hockey players, and you finally letting yourself have some fun.”

You clinked glasses with her, the warmth of her encouragement easing some of your nerves. As much as you hated lying to her about the truth of your arrangement with Auston, you couldn’t deny that her belief in you made it easier to face the night ahead.

“Thanks, Jess,” you said softly, offering her a small smile.

“Anytime, babe,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine. “Now, go out there and own it.”

You weren’t sure if you believed her, but as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, you decided to try. After all, you had a role to play—and Jess was making sure you looked damn good doing it.

_

The Scotiabank Arena towered before you, its massive sign glowing against the darkening Toronto skyline. The hum of the city surrounded you, a mix of muffled conversations, car horns, and the occasional cheer from a passing Leafs fan. Despite Jess’s earlier pep talk and her enthusiastic assurance that you looked “effortlessly stunning,” the butterflies in your stomach were relentless.

This wasn’t your first time at the arena—not by a long shot. You’d been here a few times for work, navigating its corridors and dealing with its buzzing energy. But tonight felt different. It was the first time you were here as a spectator, not a professional. The first time you were walking through these doors without the shield of a clipboard or a press pass. And, more importantly, the first time you were walking in as Auston Matthews’ guest.

You paused at the private entrance Auston had directed you to, smoothing your leather jacket nervously. His instructions had been straightforward: head here, and someone would meet you. He’d arrive separately with the team, as per their routine. He’d assured you it would go smoothly, but as you stood there, surrounded by a handful of stylishly dressed women who clearly belonged, you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider.

The door opened, and a woman stepped out, her confident stride and warm smile immediately drawing your attention. Aryne, John Tavares’ wife, you realised, recognising her from photos and media coverage. She exuded an effortless charm, her tailored coat draped perfectly over her shoulders and her makeup understated yet flawless.

“You must be Y/N!” Aryne said, her voice light and welcoming as she approached you. Without hesitation, she pulled you into a quick, friendly hug, her warmth immediately cutting through some of your nerves. “Auston told us you’d be here tonight.”

“Yeah,” you said, returning the hug with a tentative smile. “Thanks for letting me… uh, crash the party.”

Aryne laughed, waving off your comment as if it were absurd. “You’re not crashing anything. Trust me, it’s nice to have someone new around. Plus, Auston seemed pretty insistent that you’d fit right in.”

Her words eased the tightness in your chest slightly, though the mention of Auston made your cheeks warm. Aryne motioned for you to follow her inside, leading you down a hallway and into a lounge area where a few of the other partners and family members were gathered.

“Ladies,” Aryne announced, her tone playful, “this is Y/N. Auston’s…” She paused, giving you a cheeky grin. “New friend.”

The words hung in the air for a beat, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks again. The women turned to greet you, their smiles genuine, though you could sense the curiosity behind their polite expressions.

“Hi,” you said, offering a small wave as you stepped into the room.

One of the women, Stephanie Marner, was the first to speak. She leaned back in her chair, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she regarded you with an amused smile. “So, you and Auston, huh?” she teased, her tone light but curious.

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Uh… yeah,” you said finally, feeling your cheeks flush. “We’re… still getting to know each other.”

Tessa Virtue, Morgan Rielly’s wife, swooped in, saving you with a grin. “Don’t let them scare you,” she said, giving Stephanie a playful nudge. “We all had to go through this initiation phase, too.”

The group burst into laughter, and you found yourself smiling despite your nerves. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the tension easing as the women began to chat about the game, their partners, and their plans for the weekend. Their excitement was infectious, and though you still felt a little out of place, their warmth made it easier to relax. Plus, there were snacks for you to enjoy. Which made it oddly comforting. 

And just as the group prepared to head to the suite, Aryne handed you a Toronto Maple Leafs cap with a knowing look.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to you. “You can’t sit in the stands without repping the team.”

You hesitated, glancing at the cap as if it might bite you. “I don’t know… I mean, isn’t this kind of…?”

Aryne rolled her eyes, smiling. “Come on. Consider it part of the experience. Plus, you’ll look great in it.”

The others chimed in with playful encouragement, and, reluctantly, you took the cap, sliding it on and adjusting it over your hair. The group cheered like you’d just scored a goal yourself, their playful energy infectious.

“Perfect,” Aryne said, stepping back to admire her work. “Now you’re officially one of us.”

For the first time that night, you felt a flicker of confidence. Maybe—just maybe—you could actually blend in. As you followed the group toward the suite, the buzz of the arena growing louder with each step, you decided to let yourself enjoy the moment, nerves, and all. After all, if Auston could play it cool, so could you.

The suite was an oasis of understated elegance and energy, seamlessly blending luxury with the electrifying anticipation of the arena below. Drinks and snacks prepared to indulge. Plush leather seats and floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed view of the rink, where players zipped across the ice during warm-ups, their movements fluid and precise. The low hum of the crowd grew louder as fans filtered in, their cheers and chants creating a symphony of excitement.

Settling into your seat between Aryne and Ashley, one of the newer partners, you let the energy of the arena wash over you. Aryne had already explained to you the program, complete with the team’s roster and a brief overview of tonight’s matchup. Ashley, a bubbly brunette with an infectious smile, leaned toward you as the players took their warm-up laps.

“This must feel different for you, right?” she asked, her tone light but curious. “I heard you usually work behind the scenes.”

You nodded, glancing out at the ice. “Yeah, it’s definitely a change. I’m used to having a laptop or a phone glued to my hand, trying to juggle a million things at once. But this?” You gestured toward the rink and the crowd. “It’s… nice.”

Aryne smirked, crossing her legs as she adjusted her jacket. “Give it time. You’ll get used to it. And just wait until the playoffs—then you’ll really see chaos.”

Her words made the women around you laugh knowingly, and you couldn’t help but smile. Despite your initial nerves, their easy camaraderie and willingness to include you made the night feel less intimidating. You could feel some of your tension melting away as the puck dropped and the game began.

The game itself was a rollercoaster of emotions, a vivid tapestry of skill and chaos that pulled you in from the first puck drop. The energy in the Scotiabank Arena was electric, surging and swelling with every rush up the ice and every close save. You found your eyes darting between players, trying to follow the puck as it zipped across the rink. The sheer speed of the game, the strategic elegance of the plays, and the raw, physical battles along the boards—it was hard not to be swept up in the spectacle.

The crowd around you amplified everything, their collective emotions vibrating through the space. The thunderous roar after a near-miss, the sharp intake of breath before a crucial face-off, and the rhythmic chants of “Go Leafs Go!” reverberating through the air. It was impossible not to feel their passion seep into your bones.

Still, despite the relentless pace of the game, your attention kept drifting back to Auston. There was something magnetic about watching him play. His movements were a blend of power and precision, each stride purposeful, each pass deliberate. When he had the puck on his stick, the arena seemed to hold its breath, waiting for him to make magic.

That magic moment came midway through the first period. Auston darted through the Blues’ defense, his movements calculated yet fluid. He threaded the puck between two defenders with an impossibly quick flick of his wrist, and the sound of it hitting the back of the net was almost drowned out by the eruption of cheers that followed.

The suite was no exception. Everyone around you shot to their feet, clapping and cheering as Auston raised his stick in triumph. The grin on his face as he glanced toward the crowd was equal parts exhilaration and pride.

And completely caught up in the energy, you found yourself standing, clapping, and smiling wider than you had in weeks. “That was incredible,” you muttered under your breath.

“See?” Aryne said, nudging you playfully with her elbow. “You’re already a good luck charm.”

You laughed, brushing off the comment as you sat back down. “I think that had more to do with him than me.”

“Maybe,” she teased with a knowing wink. “But we’re a superstitious bunch, so don’t be surprised if you get invited to every game from now on.”

The atmosphere only grew more charged as the game progressed. Between periods, Aryne and Ashley shared tips on following the plays, along with a few lighthearted stories about their partners’ quirks. The conversations were warm, easy, and genuine, slowly chipping away at your initial nerves.

By the second intermission, you were astonished by how much more at ease you felt. The tension that had gripped you earlier had dissipated, replaced by the infectious camaraderie of the group and the sheer joy of being part of the game-day experience.

“So,” Stephanie said, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “What’s it like being at the centre of all this Auston Matthews drama? You had to know what you were getting into.”

“Oh, definitely,” you replied with a mock-serious tone, rolling your eyes dramatically. “I totally signed up for endless speculation and internet sleuths digging into my life.”

The women laughed, their amusement genuine. Aryne smiled knowingly, adding, “It’s par for the course around here. You get used to it.”

Stephanie leaned back, her grin widening. “And Auston’s reputation doesn’t make it any easier, huh? He’s always been a rumour magnet.”

Without missing a beat, you shot back, “Yeah, I hear he’s got quite the reputation. Lucky me, right?”

The room erupted into laughter, Stephanie nearly spilling her drink as Aryne shot you an impressed look. “See? You’re already fitting in.”

The encouragement bolstered your confidence, and as the game wore on, you found yourself becoming more invested. The back-and-forth battle on the ice kept you on the edge of your seat, your heart racing with every breakaway and every save. You couldn’t help but cheer along with the rest of the suite, your voice blending into the symphony of excitement that filled the arena.

The third period was a nail-biter. The Leafs clung to a one-goal lead, the tension in the arena palpable with every tick of the clock. When the final buzzer sounded, confirming a 3-2 victory, the eruption of cheers was deafening. The players on the ice celebrated, hugging and fist-bumping as the crowd roared their approval.

In the suite, everyone was on their feet again, exchanging high-fives and hugs. Auston had notched two assists to go with his goal, and the chants of “MVP! MVP!” from the crowd sent a strange swell of pride through your chest.

For the first time in years, you felt more than just an observer. You weren’t sitting behind a screen, detached and analytical. You were part of the excitement, the energy, the celebration. And as you glanced around the suite, at the smiles and laughter surrounding you, you felt a flicker of something else—belonging.

_

“Oh, Toronto, what a night it was at Scotiabank Arena! The Leafs may have skated to a thrilling 3-2 victory over the St. Louis Blues, but let’s not pretend the game itself was the only highlight. Our Ice King, Auston Matthews, not only delivered a standout performance with a goal and two assists but also had an unmistakable aura of… let’s call it motivation.

And who, dear readers, could be the source of such inspiration? Why, none other than our newly anointed ‘Mystery Queen,’ spotted in the VIP section, clapping and cheering like a seasoned fan. Donning a Leafs cap—how perfectly symbolic—she blended in seamlessly with the partners and families, a feat not easily achieved.

Rumour has it she was quite the charmer, holding her own amidst the suite’s usual suspects with a mix of humour, wit, and perhaps a dash of nerves. But what does this mean for our beloved captain? Is she truly a lucky charm, or was this just another chess move in the ever-evolving Matthews narrative?

One thing’s for sure: the Ice King played like a man with something to prove. And with the crowd roaring and the Queen smiling in the stands, the buzz around this pairing only grows stronger.

Toronto, hold onto your pucks—this story is far from over. - The Benchwarmer”

_

The corridor leading to the players’ lounge had transformed into a hive of post-game celebration and camaraderie. The noise was an invigorating blend of laughter, cheers, and congratulatory chatter, punctuated by the occasional sound of a locker room door swinging open. The energy was infectious, and for the first time that evening, you felt a flicker of ease, like you might actually belong here.

Aryne walked beside you, her effortless grace balancing out your nervous energy. She glanced back over her shoulder, her warm smile a steadying presence. “You’re doing great,” she said, her voice just loud enough to cut through the din. “This is the fun part.”

You smiled back, grateful for her reassurance, but before you could respond, the door to the locker room opened again. This time, Auston stepped out, his figure unmistakable even in the sea of tall, athletic frames. Dressed in a sharp, fitted shirt and perfectly fitted trousers, he moved with an ease that only heightened his natural confidence. A faint sheen still clung to his brow from the game, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

His eyes locked on yours almost instantly, and a slow, easy grin spread across his face. His strides lengthened as he approached, and the world seemed to blur for a moment. The noise, the people, the buzzing energy—it all faded into the background.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower and warmer than you remembered. “You made it.”

“Of course,” you replied, matching his smile. “You didn’t think I’d bail, did you?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Nah. You’re tougher than that.”

The way he said it—so simple, so sure—made your chest tighten unexpectedly. Before you could dwell on it, Auston turned slightly, gesturing toward the room behind him. “Come on. Let’s introduce you to the team for real.”

You followed him deeper into the family area, where the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter filled the space. Auston’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd, a touch so casual and natural it almost felt rehearsed. But it wasn’t—it was just him.

The first group he approached was of course Mitch Marner and William Nylander, two players whose reputations were as outsized as their talent. Mitch was mid-story, gesturing animatedly as William leaned against a nearby wall, nodding along with an amused smile.

“Hey, guys,” Auston said, cutting through their conversation. “You remember Y/N from the gala?”

Mitch turned first, his expression lighting up immediately. “Of course! Y/N, the one who somehow made Auston look like a gentleman for a night.”

You laughed, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Well, someone had to do it.”

William chuckled, tipping his water bottle toward you. “Nice to see you again, Y/N. So, was this Auston’s idea, or did you volunteer for this madness?”

“Oh, completely forced,” you replied, your tone playful. “Though I wasn’t fully briefed on the chirping committee.”

Mitch clutched his chest in mock offense. “Chirping committee? Us? Matthews, she’s already calling you out. I like her.”

Auston smirked, shaking his head. “I told you, they’re relentless.”

From there, the introductions continued. John Tavares approached next, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to Mitch’s exuberance. He extended a hand, his grip firm but friendly. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again. How’s your night been?”

“Great,” you said, smiling. “Though I’ll admit, watching from the stands is a lot more stressful than it looks.”

John’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “That’s how you know you’re invested. I’m glad you could make it.”

As the evening wore on, you found yourself engaged in easy banter with the players, their warmth and humour surprising you. Joseph Woll shyly recalled your conversation at the gala, lighting up when you mentioned PR strategies. Matthew Knies ribbed you about Auston’s music taste, and Morgan Rielly laughed as you poked fun at his dog’s Instagram fame.

Your quick wit seemed to resonate with the group, drawing laughter and amused glances. Even Auston, who often held back in these settings, seemed to relax, his usual aloofness giving way to a softer, more genuine side.

And at one point, Mitch turned to Auston with a mischievous grin. “So, how’d you manage to convince her to put up with you?”

Auston tilted his head thoughtfully. “She hasn’t run away yet, so I must be doing something right.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk. “I’m still weighing my options.”

The group erupted into laughter, Mitch nearly doubling over as Auston shook his head, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Thanks for that,” he muttered, his tone dry but amused.

As the conversations flowed and the players began to drift off to their families, you realised something you hadn’t expected: you were enjoying yourself. This world still felt foreign in many ways, but tonight, surrounded by their camaraderie and Auston’s steady presence, you felt like you were beginning to find your footing.

The ride home started out in comfortable silence, the hum of the engine blending with the muffled sounds of the city outside. The glow of streetlights filtered through the windows, casting fleeting patterns of light and shadow across the interior of Auston’s car. The events of the night replayed in your mind like a highlight reel: the nervousness of stepping into the suite, the tentative but welcoming smiles of the players’ partners and families, the rush of watching Auston score, and the camaraderie that had felt almost effortless by the end of the night. The tension you’d carried earlier had mostly dissipated, replaced by a quiet sense of accomplishment. You had survived—no, thrived—in a situation that had seemed impossibly daunting just hours ago.

As the car turned onto a quieter street, Auston glanced over at you briefly, his profile lit by the faint glow of the dashboard. “You were great tonight,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

You looked over at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “What, great at standing around and not embarrassing myself?” you teased lightly, shifting your gaze back to the city passing by outside. “Well, I didn’t trip over my words or accidentally insult anyone, so I’ll take that as a win.”

Auston chuckled, but his expression remained serious. “No, I mean it,” he said, his voice a touch more earnest now. “The guys really liked you. You fit in. Like… it wasn’t forced. It seemed natural.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you turned to him, one brow arched in faint amusement. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said quickly, though the slight pause in his response made you wonder if he was trying to convince himself. “Just… impressed. I didn’t expect you to settle into the group so easily.”

You smiled faintly, shaking your head as you leaned back in your seat. “That’s just me playing my part,” you said, your tone soft but pointed. “You said we needed to sell this, so I’m selling it.”

Auston gave a small laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting into a brief smirk. “Well, you’re a pretty damn good actress then.”

The air in the car shifted, a comfortable quiet settling over you both. But there was something in his expression—something softer, almost contemplative—that caught you off guard. For a moment, the usual arrogance and bravado that seemed to define him weren’t there. Instead, you saw a glimpse of something deeper, more genuine. It made your stomach flutter in a way you didn’t expect.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Auston added after a beat, his voice quieter now. “It was a good move, but… I’m happy you were there.”

You blinked at him, the honesty in his words catching you off guard again. “Well, I’m glad it worked out,” you said with a small smile. “And I guess I didn’t hate it.”

“High praise,” he said with a playful smirk, but there was a warmth in his eyes that lingered.

For the first time all night, the car felt like a bubble—separate from the city’s hum outside and the buzz of the game that had filled the hours before. Auston’s casual arrogance, so often grating, seemed to have softened into something more vulnerable. It wasn’t something he said, but the quiet moments in between, the glances he threw your way when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he listened when you spoke, like he wasn’t just going through the motions. For a fleeting second, you thought you might be wrong about him—that maybe beneath the smug exterior, there was a person worth knowing.

But just as that thought began to take root, the shrill ding of a notification shattered it. His phone, glowing on the center console, displayed the kind of text you couldn’t misinterpret: Tonight? I’ll be free after midnight. The name attached wasn’t familiar, but it didn’t have to be. The implications were clear.

A dry, involuntary laugh escaped your lips. “Of course,” you said, your voice dripping with derision. “The line forms to the left, huh?”

Auston’s head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gestured toward his phone, still illuminated with the incriminating message. “Oh, come on,” you said, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “You’ve got half of Toronto’s pussies lining up to keep you company. It’s impressive, really.”

His jaw tensed, the easygoing confidence from just moments ago replaced with something harder. “You shouldn’t even care,” he said, his voice clipped. “It’s none of your business.”

“That’s rich,” you shot back, turning to face him fully. “You’re the one who wanted this fake relationship. Maybe try not to blow it by making it obvious you’re still… fucking the entire city. Plus other cities.”

For a moment, the only sound in the car was the low hum of the engine. Auston’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles pale against the leather. “I’m not blowing anything,” he said finally, his voice sharper now, defensive. “And you don’t get to tell me how to live my life.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Oh well maybe I do when you’re ruining this for yourself, Auston. If you want people to believe we’re becoming a thing, maybe don’t act like you’re one text away from another hookup.”

His face darkened, his cool exterior cracking under the weight of your words. “You think it’s that easy?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “That I can just flip a switch and turn it all off? I still have needs, you know.”

“Oh poor boy. You know not all of us feel the need to fuck every single living organism,” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “It’s really simple.”

Auston’s jaw worked as he processed your jab, his nostrils flaring slightly. But instead of anger, a flicker of amusement crossed his face, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “Oh, is that what this is?” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You’re some sort of fucking saint? Like guys aren’t throwing themselves at you? You act like you’re a nun or something”

The weight of his accusation hit you square in the chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart pounded, each beat reverberating in your ears as the truth—the embarrassing, vulnerable truth—sat on the tip of your tongue. And in your frustration, it spilled out before you could stop it.

“What if I am, Auston?” you said, your voice sharper now, thick with unfiltered honesty. “Not all of us measure our self-worth by how many people we’ve slept with. Not everyone wants to be dicked down by so-called famous hockey players. And not all of us have guys lining up for us to pick and choose.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the sharp edges of your voice cutting through the tense silence that had settled between you. Auston’s half-smirk vanished, replaced by an expression you couldn’t quite decipher—shock, maybe, or disbelief. His grip on the wheel tightened.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Then he glanced at you, his eyes searching your face for something—confirmation, maybe, or an explanation. “Wait,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “You’re serious?”

You turned your head sharply to face him, your jaw set, and your cheeks burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “What do you think, Auston?” you snapped. “Does it sound like I’m joking?”

His eyes flickered between you and the road again, his brows furrowing as if he couldn’t quite process what he was hearing. “I just… I didn’t expect—” He broke off, shaking his head slightly. “I mean, look at you.”

Your laugh was bitter, cutting through the thick tension. “Yeah, I get that a lot. ‘Look at you.’ Like that’s supposed to explain everything. Guess what, Auston? Not everyone gets a free pass to the front of the line just because they look a certain way.”

His jaw tightened at your tone, but his expression softened in a way that made you uncomfortable, like he was seeing you in a light you hadn’t intended to reveal. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, his voice low. “I just… I can’t believe guys aren’t—” He stopped himself again, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply. “You’re telling me you’ve never…”

You crossed your arms, staring out the window as you interrupted him. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not a virgin… I just… haven’t had… several. And before you ask, no, it’s not because I’m waiting for ‘the one’ or some bullshit like that. It’s just… life, okay? I’ve had other things to focus on.”

The admission felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, but you refused to look at him, afraid of what you might see in his expression. Pity? Judgment? Mockery? You didn’t want any of it.

Auston was quiet for a long moment, his hands gripping the wheel as he processed what you’d said. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more measured. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like… like that’s all that matters. I’m just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, congrats,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Glad I could surprise you.”

He let out a slow breath, his jaw working as though he was choosing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I swear. It’s just… unexpected. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, your tone still sharp, “maybe don’t assume everyone lives their life the way you do.”

That hit its mark. You saw his jaw clench, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You don’t know anything about my life,” he said finally, his voice low and tense.

“Don’t I?” you shot back dryly, turning to face him. “You make it pretty obvious, Auston. The texts, the smug attitude, the way you act like you’ve got everything and everyone figured out. It’s not exactly a mystery.”

He inhaled sharply, his hands gripping the wheel harder. “You think I don’t know what people say about me? What they think? You think it’s easy being in the spotlight all the time, having everyone assume they know who you are?”

You stared at him, momentarily taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. It was the first time he’d let his guard slip, even slightly, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“I get it,” you said finally, your voice softer now. “But that doesn’t mean you have to live up to their expectations, Auston. You’re allowed to be more than what they see.”

His eyes flicked toward you briefly, something unreadable flickering in his gaze before he turned back to the road. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But it’s not as simple as you think.”

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the drive, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken words. When he finally pulled up outside your building, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

“Goodnight, Auston,” you said, your voice flat.

He hesitated, his hands still on the wheel. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped out of the car without looking back, the cool night air hitting your skin like a slap. As you walked toward your building, your mind raced, replaying every word, every moment of the conversation. You’d shown Auston a side of yourself you hadn’t meant to reveal, and now you weren’t sure if you could ever take it back.

And yet, beneath the anger and the embarrassment, there was something else—a flicker of curiosity. For the first time, you’d seen cracks in Auston’s carefully constructed facade, glimpses of the person beneath the arrogance. And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help but wonder what else he was hiding.

_

Auston sat in the dim silence of his car a bit longer after you’d walked away, his hands still gripping the steering wheel. The image of your expression—hurt, frustrated, and vulnerable—lingered in his mind, gnawing at him in a way he couldn’t shake. A part of him felt guilty. He’d crossed a line, and he knew it. Mocking something so deeply personal wasn’t just unkind; it was cruel.

He leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly as he stared out at the empty street. Why had he reacted like that? It wasn’t like him to lose his composure, but something about you—your sharp tongue, your defiance, the way you challenged him—had him constantly off balance. And now, after tonight, he couldn’t stop replaying your words.

He tried to make sense of it. You weren’t like the other women he’d been around. They had always been eager, predictable, and easy to impress. But you? You were different. Gorgeous, smart, and fiercely independent. You had a drive and ambition that matched his own, yet there was something you held back, something that made you guarded. It wasn’t insecurity, not entirely. It was like you didn’t see yourself the way others did, like you didn’t realise how much power you actually had.

It frustrated him, but more than that, it intrigued him. How could someone like you not have the confidence to own a room? To own yourself? If you could just see what he saw, you’d be unstoppable.

That’s when the idea hit him—a small spark at first, but the longer he sat there, the more it began to take shape. Maybe this was something he could help you with. After all, confidence was something he had in abundance. It wasn’t just about his career or his reputation; it was a part of him, ingrained in everything he did. And if there was one thing Auston Matthews excelled at, besides hockey, it was teaching people how to win.

The thought gave him a strange sense of purpose, something he wasn’t used to feeling outside the rink. He knew he’d have to tread carefully—suggesting such a thing wasn’t exactly subtle—but if he could help you unlock the confidence you seemed to lack, maybe you’d start to see yourself the way he saw you.

And as he drove home, his mind raced with possibilities, already planning how he could broach the topic without making it awkward. When he finally parked outside his place, the notifications on his phone buzzed incessantly. He unlocked it to find a flood of messages—texts, DMs, and even missed calls—from women he’d hooked up with in the past. The sight of their names and their offers for late-night company felt almost… hollow. Normally, this would be a welcome distraction, a way to shake off the stress of the day. But tonight, none of it appealed to him.

He stared at the screen for a moment before locking his phone and tossing it back into his pocket. For the first time in a long time, the usual comforts didn’t hold the same allure. Instead, his thoughts kept circling back to you—your fire, your vulnerability, and the way you’d thrown his own arrogance back in his face. It unsettled him, but it also left him wanting more.

Auston couldn’t explain it, but he knew one thing for certain: helping you wasn’t just about making this fake relationship believable anymore. It had become something else entirely.

_

“Dearest Toronto readers,

Ah, fairytales. What we love most about them isn’t the ball, the glimmering gowns, or even the triumphant cheers of the crowd—it’s the moment the clock strikes midnight. When the glitter fades and the truth steps out from behind its polished veneer. Tonight, our kingdom was alive with victory: William Nylander displayed his prowess, and the ever-wonderful Joseph Woll stood tall as a fortress in the net.

But what of our King and his Queen?

The public saw perfection—two figures poised and radiant, playing their parts to the delight of the masses. Yet, what happens after the stars leave the castle? When the carriage rolls down quieter streets and the world’s eyes no longer linger? Is that the faintest hint of cracks we see forming in their carefully constructed foundation?

Your Majesties, is the story over before it’s even begun?

One must wonder, Toronto. For even in the most enchanting tales, there’s always the question: was it all just an illusion?

Yours always,

The Benchwarmer”

[kendrysaneela]

No but the “Always the same person” thing is so wild to me because like?? Yeah! They each exist within each other’s subconscious. And you can see some of the outies bleeding into the innies as they start to experience similar stuff the outies have experienced! (Except for Helly and Helena Helena is actually the one turning into Helly) I think it goes to show what do memories do how do memories shape a person how much of you is your is subconscious and how much is your conscious memory. Like Mark starts out super peppy and happy and helpful and then as he starts to experience more and grief and slowly starts becoming more similar to outie Mark in the way he handles his grief. But that also makes me wonder. Before Mark Scout experienced all that grief was he similar to Mark S? I bet he was. Or he at least had the potential to be. And then Irving, his outie is clearly a character that needs meaning and is devoted to a cause. And at first innie Irving finds meaning and finds a cause in like helping to spread the message of Kier and doing his work and following the rules and it’s not until he finds meaning outside of work and finds something new to fight for that he starts to become more similar to who outie Irving seems to be. Someone who is more paranoid and more rebellious. Not to mention both of them enjoying art and both of them painting/drawing the same piece of art over and over again. (Albeit for different reasons) then there’s Dylan G who’s outie is kinda insecure because he’s been batted down by life a lot seemingly but he does still clearly love his family he’s just depressed unfortunately and has low self esteem from having a lot of unsuccessful adventures in life clearly. But he does seem to be trying outside and his wife still loves him a lot. Dylan inside starts out confident and convinced his outie is super successful and a body builder and has a bunch of girls on the outside. Then he finds out who he really is outside and then unfortunately. Starts to have some losses inside….and his self confidence starts to fall, and then he learns he has a family and able to be convinced to separate himself from his friends because he cares so much about his family. (I think this will transfer back to him caring a lot about his innie family again) . Then. There’s Helly. Now Helly is the exact opposite of everyone else and shows that it’s not always innies turning into outies. Helly doesn’t start to turn into Helena. Helena starts to turn into Helly. And the longer Helly exists the further she digs her feet into her rebellion. And the more Helena learns about Helly the more she turns into her. Helena is a woman who has no autonomy who makes none of her own decisions and clearly her whole life has just gone along with what she’s been forced to do without making much of a fuss because that’s what she was raised to do and I assume because the punishments for stepping out of line in the Eagan cult are severe. She has also never experienced love. And I think she’s probably resigned herself to this life. But then she sees Helly. And Helly doesn’t know she’s an Eagan. Helly doesn’t have all the cult programming Helena has, they can’t control Helly with threat of what her father will think or do. So Helly rebels and Helly rebels HARD. More than Helena probably ever has or at least has in a while. And she receives love for it from her coworkers. She receives love and she receives friendship and Helena sees all this. She sees this woman who’s not weighed down by her name or the expectations put upon it and she sees her become who she’s always wanted to be so she starts to try to become that person. And when she’s pretending to be Helly, she flirts with Mark and she makes Irving little snow seals and she makes fun of her family’s lore and she’s free and she’s taking in love. And they all do this because they are their innies. And Helly and Helena hate each other which goes along with Helena’s hatred of herself. They are their innies and their outies are them just if they had different life experiences.

I felt so sorry for Mark on this episode. You can tell just by his facial expressions how betrayed, heartbroken and hopeless he feels.

For him, knowing that Helly was Helena all this time, is kind of the realization that the innies are actually powerless, that Lumon is always in control. He felt freedom with "Helly", he opened his heart to her and it was all a lie! Lumon always wins.

He also couldn't tell that she wasn't his Helly, because in reality the innies and the outies are the same person and even if they could get to the surface they will always be attached, because the only solution is reintegration.

[ziracona]

Mike missing his shot to kill Hector and change the trajectory of his life and stay the man he wanted to be, because Ignacio got in the way and he wouldn’t shoot through him

Mike missing his shot to kill Walt and change the trajectory of his life from death to anything else, because Jessie got in the way and he wouldn’t shoot through him

[dykedvonte]

why do you hate Joshua Graham or Honest Hearts so much?

This DLC and character represents a bigger issue with fandom spaces I have but particularly fallout fandom in general.

Fallout tends to tackle a lot of topics controversial and not. The first two games it’s heavy cause they are the most satirical and direct with how anti-war, nationalism and etc… they are. 3 loses this as it’s very clear once you play or learn about all the games that Todd and a bunch of guys at Bethesda just liked the 50s post apocalyptic aesthetic and refuse to actually critique the ideals of the time period like the earlier titles.

New Vegas is the game that really gets back into it a degree it almost seems like it’s taking too much on. There are things done exceedingly well while other things are done horribly wrong . I’ve made posts about it before and plan to make a big series of posts (it’s a lot of writing) but my biggest gripe is with Honest Hearts and all the gross and white savior esque depictions it has of indigenous peoples. The entirety if FNV does not do the injustices faced by indigenous people correctly on any count. My two biggest complaints are with the Khans and the tribes in Zion but I’ll talk about the former on a different post.

Both characters of Daniel and Joshua are the most accurate depiction of white saviors I’ve seen and I hate how the DLC tries to justify and defend them. The DLC treats Joshua like this man who has repented for his past actions when he is just retracing his steps after his cruelty bit him in the ass. He was one of the worst parts of the Legion and it is all but explicitly stated that if you don’t force him to be non-violent he will turn the tribes of Zion into the legion 2.0. The Dead Horses and the Sorrows are horribly infantilized by both Daniel and Joshua who both use them for self serving purposes guised by religious duty. The White Legs are the horrible stereotype of violent and savage indigenous and I personally think a lot of their interlinking with Ulysses, his hair and Ulysses character in general are distasteful and very telling of how BIPOC or POC where involved.

But outside of the game it’s the weird obsession people have with these characters ideologies and trying to make them seem more interesting/philosophical than they are. Tumblr is an echo chamber and many fans of Fallout are not the people on this site. Many people are not educated in the issues these characters convey and how poorly they do or used these characters as a poor introduction for their takes. Contrary to what a lot of people believe in, fallout has a prediomeny white cis male fanbase. More importantly a large portion of the fanbase is white.

You can joke how FNV made you trans or see the numbers on post/fics or diverse headcanons but these are kiddy numbers compared to the millions that consume the franchise and aren’t in those more aware spaces or don’t engage in the spaces the same way someone like me does/has to. Their views shape a lot more than people realize and it’s exhausting to be in a space where people don’t correct the more subtle yet toxic aspects of it but also adopt them into some weird quirky view point on the characters or issues. Some people don’t realize and some people don’t care.

My main issue is just the idolizing of these sort of thing in this fandom space and people try to acts like a game like fallout whose tagline is “War never changes” and has never had a game not revolve around political or militaristic factions issues isn’t that deep or doesn’t relate to real issues. I think it’s mainly caused by how over powered you can become and how you can strong arm your way past these learning moments as majority of people who play this game do play it as a power fantasy where they can do so as they please (which of course, go ahead it’s fun) but never take in parallels or lessons in the story as if it was just another first person shooter.

Also like another personal gripe is Cazadores spawn like hell whenever I’m there and I have not found a mod that works to mod them out so I have to play Indigenous Racism the DLC while getting jumped by giant wasps WHILE helping Mormons. Like I cannot catch a break.

[chipthekeeper]

There has never, in the history of characters, been a character that means more to me than Vel Sartha. I’ve been finding it difficult to express that feeling. That feeling of being so thankful and so appreciative that this fictional person has somehow made their way into your life and your heart. How is it even possible (much less healthy) to love someone that doesn’t exist so much? I still don’t know. I may never know. And I may go on a mile long rant now that doesn’t even begin to help you understand what she means to me. But all I can do is try.

If you follow me, you probably already know some of what I love to yell about Vel regularly:

She’s a world class yearner, she’s a sad little puppy, she’s a born rebel, she’s a spoiled rich girl. She’s a trusted leader, she’s a bitchy ex girlfriend, she’s a doting “aunt.” She’s pretty, pathetic, puppydog eyes (and oh my GOD her eyes!!). She cares. She loves. She fights. She makes mistakes and doesn’t trust herself as much as she should, but she trusts others and knows when to use their gifts over hers. She’s insecure but she’s commanding, she’s tough but understanding.

I hope you’ll forgive the weird venture into lyricism but it just came out that way. The point is, Vel is so interesting because she’s so contradictory, because she changes, because she puts on a different mask and becomes a different person but she's always the same at her core. She shapeshifts but she is also just fundamentally changed by what happens to her and her team. And that’s merely a piece of what I love about her.

Because it’s one thing just to get a Star Wars character who’s a woman who has so many sides and layers, but it’s an entirely other, more life-altering thing that that character is like me. That her first rebellion was against her own society, her own family, just because of who she is. I’m actually sobbing writing this because never in my life did I think I’d get to see something like this on screen in my favorite media. A real, canonical, undeniably, unapologetically queer woman with a whole personality AND a girlfriend. A character whose sexuality can’t be brushed away no matter how hard “they” might try to do so because IT IS ESSENTIAL TO WHO SHE IS. It is essential to her arc, her story, her motivations, to her interactions with other characters. And it’s not cheesy or preachy or boring or “toxic.” It’s real. It’s just real. It’s relatable. And it means the fucking world to me.

But even if you're not like me and that representation is cool to see but doesn't have the same effect on you, there is still plenty to appreciate about Vel Sartha. And actually, I really need to you appreciate her because -- and I know I'm biased but the numbers don't lie -- she is literally one of the most underrated characters on the show. With the third-highest amount of screen time behind only Cassian and Luthen, she should be up there among the most loved people in the series. And yet she's constantly overlooked and misunderstood. She never made a big speech and she didn't die interestingly or heroically. She didn't get to stab anyone or hit anyone with a brick. She just goes through some very real trauma and has a very real response to it, and people like to think that makes her weak and therefore not interesting as a rebel. Fortunately, though, it has become my life's duty to make everyone see the error in that logic.

When we first meet Vel, she is already so interesting as the leader of this little rebel band. She's the smallest one there but she has such a big presence. We find out right away that she wanted to lead, she wanted to be doing more and putting herself on the line. And she is good at it!! The men are resistant to the change she brings them but not because they don't respect her. She can command them with just a look, and she makes it known that even the big bad Imperial officer is not the boss, she is. Plus she's competent at the skills she needs -- she's a good shot and she looks right with the gun in her hands. You'd never know from watching that first arc that she started out as a spoiled rich girl.

Even when we see her weakness, though, it makes her more interesting. I love her insecurity as she watches Clem flirt with Cinta, I love the small looks of apprehension the day before the heist. I love how torn she is over how much to tell the team. And I especially love when the entire five-month-long operation nearly comes to a grinding halt as she looks down in fear from the top of the dam. But, to paraphrase my own fanfic, I don't think it's the height that causes Vel to hesitate, it's the weight. The weight of the biggest operation the rebellion has ever pulled, all on her shoulders. The weight of having to actually, finally make this decision to go or not, to send her team, her friends, into the unknown, to set off a chain of events that could turn the whole galaxy on its head. That’s SO much weight for such a small moment, and she almost crumbles under it. And even though she ultimately doesn't, I know it continues to weigh on her after the job because if she hadn't wasted all that time up there, maybe they'd have all made it out alive.

And this is where the switch happens for Vel. After all her men are dead and she's only barely made it out to see another day with Cinta, she's completely different. She's small again, scared and unsure. The confident, gritty leader she became on Aldhani died with the rest of them. She still puts on the masks when she has to and she's still a rebel, still dedicated to the cause, but she needs a break and some time to process her guilt. That's something I think people don't take into account enough with Vel. It was never that she was "cosplaying a rebel" or whatever people started to think once they learned who she is, it's that she feels responsible for losing almost her entire team.

But she has Cinta to remind her that there's not really time to take a break, and, because they are complementary halves of each other, she also reminds Cinta later that it is important to rest. I don't need to get into another ridiculously long rant about them as a couple (you can see my presentation for more if you need it), but suffice to say....this is a huge part of her character. Her love and devotion to Cinta might appear as a weakness to some, but to me it's an absolutely essential element of Star Wars: saving what you love, not fighting what you hate. Vel goes through most of the second half of the season timid and anxious, but when she thinks Cinta's life could be in danger, she literally sprints into the fire to try to find her, to save her. What could be braver than that?

I truly could go on and on for days about her, as I have for the past 800-plus days already (I took fully 10 pages of notes to prepare for this and we have BARELY scratched the surface here), but I'm sure I've lost most people already. The last thing I need to talk about though is that I owe Faye Marsay my life. She did such an amazing job with Vel, playing all the different sides of her so perfectly and conveying so many emotions and thoughts with just her face or her eyes. And beyond that, it's incredibly moving to see an actually queer actor playing a queer character in a franchise this big, and to see her be so proud of that work of "normalizing the normal" is equally thrilling. I would kill to have her play Vel for decades, selfishly, but I'll continue to be so ridiculously happy with every single moment of them both that I do get.

In conclusion (for now), please please please appreciate this tiny but monumental character, because my mental health depends on it but also because she absolutely deserves it.

"Everyone has their own rebellion," Vel tells us, and mine is destined to be against everyone who dares to underrate her.

Character Appreciation Friday - Vel Sartha

Name: Vel Sartha Played by: Faye Marsay Appearances: Aldhani, The Axe Forgets, The Eye, Announcement, Narkina 5, Nobody's Listening!, Daughter of Ferrix, Rix Road

Happy Friday and happy VELENTINE'S DAY, gang!!! Look I'm not gonna act like this is a normal one because that would be very dishonest of me. This is the most important day of the year for me, and I'd really really really love if everyone would help out with spreading appreciation and love for my number one sad girl rebel.

Please let me know what you appreciate about dear Vel in a reblog, comment, or ask!

Next week: Brasso