#but just a bit! i'd never change my hair color again

[zosanbrainrot]

part 05!!

01 02 03 04 05 06

It's been a while since I last worked on this comic, I've been busy

☘️🦋☀️ experiencing summer ☀️🦋☘️

which was and still is a lot of fun!

ANYHOW, I feel like when I stop drawing for a while it usually does me good, like, I'm very happy with my art quality in these panels and I didn't change much since the first draft (I still overthink some of the decisions but not as much as with the last part lmao).

It's like when in games you have a separate bar for running/stamina and it can only fill back up fully once you go slow and just walk for a while, but if you insist on running all the time it's never really at full capacity. Can't think of a better analogy, but lmk if you feel the same!

One of the things I maybe would have done differently is to have Yonji take the spear out of Zoro's shoulder, maybe?? It was so good when I first saw people draw a parallel between Zoro and Yonji because of their hair color and that maybe Sanji subconsciously has thought about this too ever since he and Zoro met. Not a meaningful thing for their relationship but more of an offhand thought that would surface from time to time. Him carrying the memories of his childhood all the time with him.

But! The upside of me not picking Yonji is that both Ichiji and Niji have the goggles so without their eyes visible they feel kinda distant emotionally and that works both bcs of who they are and also bcs the comic is not about them, in that panel where Niji has Sanji in a headlock the emotional focus is solely on Sanji.

And also Yonji just turned out so good there that I didn't wanna go back and change him lmao

I admit, when I was coming up with the plot of this comic in a frenzy right after watching these eps I kinda forgot about Nami slapping Sanji lmao I only recently remembered :' ) Don't wanna dwell on it too much though.

This part feels maybe more distant overall - I don't have any closeup shots (except the spear!) and the last moment you see Sanji's face fully is when he looks at Zoro. Zoro who got hurt. Again. Because of him.

I can't remember what I'd been thinking while boarding these, it'd been mostly vibes based, but I think the function of this part ended up being about showing a sequence of events rather than focusing on the emotions. It's pushing the plot forward and I think if I added closeups to the Vinsmokes then it'd be derailing a bit, again, it's not about them.

On the other hand it also works for Sanji shutting his emotions off, once his brothers and Judge enter the scene he has no leeway, he can't let his true feelings show. He's already shown too much. And what did it lead to? Everyone getting even more hurt. He let himself slip up during his fight with Zoro and Judge quickly put him back in his place. As long as the Strawhats were on the island they weren't truly safe. So he turns on his heel and walks back to the carriage, not looking back, he can only hope that Zoro's gonna pull through. He always does, he's been through worse, right? Right? They've never fought like this before though... The burn marks will take long to heal... And Luffy, has he woken up yet? No, no, no, he can't look back. And Nami...

So that's that! I got part 06 half finished already, so that should be out soon <333

as a bonus thing - some of the refs I've used for this part

3D models posed in Magicposer!

[daisybianca]

pairing: lando norris x femalereader

summary: lando seems too innocent sometimes. however, as your boyfriend, his hidden kinks start to unveil themselves. oh, and they're very, very hot.

warnings: cursing words, sexual activities, female pleasuring

"DO YOU HIDE any of your kinks from me, baby?" You asked, glaring at your boyfriend as his soft hair caressed your flesh. His beautiful face was buried between your legs, and his features lit up once you exclaimed the words.

"What?" His accent kicked in. His colorful eyes narrowed and a smile appeared on his lips.

"I'm no fool. You know what a kink is." You giggled and scratched his neck playfully. "Shoot. I'm prepared."

You heard your boyfriend’s delicate laughter. "Baby, I might be crazy in love with you, but I'd never reveal to you something like that."

"Why?" You frowned, starting to get a bit annoyed.

"I don't know, I just..." Lando let out a breath and got up. "I feel like you're too perfect to know that I picture you and me doing such dirty things."

He got comfortable on the bed next to you and then gently grabbed you by the wrist, dragging you to your favorite seat. His lips. You dat on him, as your chest was on his eye level. You could already feel something sharp and hrad poking your thigh.

"Lando, I..." You tried to find the right words to persuade him. Sometimes, he made you think that he'd never been in a relationship ever before. Or maybe that he was too perfect for you. "We are a couple, aren't we, baby?"

"Yes, love." His response was instant, and his hands found your waist, grabbing it as if he were the owner of it.

He indeed was.

"Okay, then tell me, Lando." You tried to change his mind by fake-puppy eyeing. It always worked, to be honest.

Lando proceeded in a long exhale. "Fine." You noticed him bit his lip. "But don't you dare asking me to actually do it in real life."

You chuckled. "Why?"

"You'll see why once I say it."

You moved yourself on top of him to get more cozy, and his eyes were very beautiful. It's too beautiful, in fact.

You couldn't resist that. No straight, non-blind woman could, you were sure about that.

You'd like to take control and ride him once he was done telling you what he had to say. But you couldn't way for much longer. You could already feel yourself soaking wet down there, and he hadn't even touched you wet.

"Okay." You tried to make this as brief as possible. "Tell me."

"Well..." he started. "You know how much I love your ass." Lando blurted out.

Of course, you knew how much he adored your curves. He didn't miss a single chance to smack or squeeze your ass whenever the opportunity occurred.

You smiled. "Go on."

"Well, I--" You could tell he was a bit embarrassed, and that kind of frightened you.

You and him had been together for almost a year, and he seemed to struggle revealing things ti you as if you two had hust starting seeing each other.

"I think I know where this is going." You said, caressing his soft cheeks and hair. His face was kind of red, making his innocent eyes pop up more. "I can already tell it's something really, really dirty." You teased him, and he blushed even more. "And hot."

Gosh, you were so freaking wet.

Lando's eyes filled with pure curiosity. "How'd you know?" He wondered with his beautiful, british accent.

"You're so hard beneath me that it actually hurts my thigh."

Surprised by your statement, Lando looked around and exhaled as if this was too much to handle. He grabbed you by the waist hard and pulled you closer to him.

He didn't proceed to kissing you, though. He just rested his forehead against your, closing his eyes and placing his hands on your cheeks.

You heard him shallow. "You know, you're making it more difficult if you say things like that, angel."

"Thanks for telling me." You smiled against his smile, feeling his warm breath tickle your sensitive skin. "I'm writing it down so I can do it more often." You teased again.

His pretty eyes were still closed as if opening them would mean losing control.

"Fuck, (y/n)," Lando growled. "Don't do this to me, please." He begged, his eyes remaining stubbornly shut.

Please.

"Okay, if you want me to stop, you'll have to tell me." You smiled. "I promise, I'm not going to suggest doing it unless you say so."

Your gaze finally met his.

He applied a small peck on your nose, then on the area of your lips, then lowering his head to reach the skin of your neck.

Your flesh was warm under his touch.

"Ride my face, baby." His accent pronounced.

Your eyes widened, and you were so glad he didn't witness that. His head was buried on your neck and hair.

"Do you want me to?" You asked, just to be completely sure. "Do you think you're going to handle it?"

"Yes, just do it?" He started kissing you.

"Really? What about breathing?" You pulled just a few inches away in order to be able to talk. "Are you sure you'll be able to breathe?"

Lando filled the gap between the two of you once again, not letting you exclaim a word. "Just shut up and ride it, baby." He pulled your shorts and panties away with our swift move. "From now on, you're not opening that beautiful, little mouth of yours again. Only to beg for more or scream my name. Got it?"

You tossed his shirt on the floor, and then your own shirt followed as well.

He laid down, and before you even got the chance to understand what was going on, he pulled you to him. Without talking, he placed you on top of his head, and he twisted his tongue to make your stomach swirl into a million circles. "God, I knew you were soaking wet." He said.

He did that a few more times and a few moans escaped from your lips.

"Move your hips for me, love." Lando said, encouraging you.

You did as he said and the feeling on your stomach only got more intense.

Too much.

Too hot.

Too perfect too handle.

Just like Lando.

He geabbed your thighs with possessiveness, swnding another wave of pleasure through your entire system.

"Fuck, Lando..."

At first, he just utilized his tongue.

He wouldn't let you come until three of his fingers were into you.

You screamed in pleasure and the orgasm arrived only when he said it.

This is heaven, you thought. And it also goes by the name Lando Norris.

[mustainegf]

hiiii, could you do a fic of Black album! James where he sees his girl holding a baby at a family gathering… and then when they get home, he fucks her n breeds her (getting possessive over her) 🤭????

THIS IS SO GOOD AND IM SOOO HAPPY WITH HOW IT TURNED OUT OMGGGG

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: breeding kink, talk of pregnancy, impregnation, creampie, unprotected sex

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ¹⁹⁹³

The late afternoon sun colored the backyard as I found myself surrounded by all the laughter and shrieks of children. It was one of those huge family gatherings on my side, the kind where every cousin, aunt, and uncle seems to come out of the woodwork. Today, it felt like more kids than usual were around, and one could hardly help getting caught in their fun, especially me.

I had the youngest of them all balanced on my hip, a nearly one year old boy with large, wide, hazel eyes and a tuft of dark hair that was just starting to grow in. His chubby hands clutched at my shirt, and every now and then, he'd giggle, amused with the older children. It was a form of complex tag it seemed, with lots of running and screaming and theatric tumbles onto the grass.

I couldn't help but join in with them, who could resist? My laughter joined with theirs as I became their willing playmate.

"Watch this!" said one of the older girls, rolling out in a cartwheel with enthusiasm only a seven year old could muster.

"That's amazing!" I said, impressed. "I don't think I can do that. Can you show me again?"

Their faces lit up and they happily repeated their tricks and stunts for me, each one competing for my attention. The little guy on my hip clapped his hands to the spectacle surrounding him. I bounced him gently to keep him engaged.

"Look, Auntie! I made a fairy house!" one of the girls, probably about 5, tugged at my hand, pulling me toward some sort of pile constructed of sticks and leaves.

"It's beautiful," I said, crouching down to inspect it closely. "I bet the fairies will love it! They might even have a tea party, it's that nice."

There was something so pure, so refreshing about the way children experienced the world, and I had always been drawn to their whim.

I turned then to where James was standing, chatting away with some of my uncles beside the grill, with that relaxed smile that always kept my heart going.

Our eyes met for that second. He watched me, his gaze soft, and a look that I couldn't just place. I smiled back at him, giving a little wave, and returned my attention to the kids, who were now begging I join them in a game of tag.

Afternoon slipped into early evening when the colors in the sky changed, and it wasn't long before it was time for James and I to return home. The kids closed in around me, their faces falling as they realized it was time for goodbyes.

"Do you have to go?" one of them asked, the big, brown eyes broad with disappointment.

"I do," I said gently, stooping down to their level. "But I'll see you all again, okay?"

Each in turn gave me tight hugs, their little arms wrapped around my neck. The boy, who rode my hip, was the last of these goodbyes, and as I turned over this chunky little one to his mother, he gave a small wave that nearly compressed my heart into tiny pieces.

The ride home was quiet but comfortable, the way things with James always were. James reached across to take my hand, his thumb running lightly over my knuckles.

"You were really great with them today," he said after a few minutes, his voice reflecting something I'd almost never heard from him before.

"Thanks," I said, squeezing his hand. "They're sweet kids. I love being able to spend some time with them."

He didn't say anything for a bit then, and I felt something unsaid lingering in the air. I turned back tohim in the dim light of the car. His jaw was set like it always did when he was stuck in thought.

"What's on your mind?" I asked gently, giving his hand another squeeze.

He looked at me, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions that I couldn't decipher. "It's just- watching you with them today. You were so sweet, kinda motherly. It was really nice."

My cheeks got warm at his words. "Thank you, honey. I guess I just like being around kids. They bring out a different side of me."

"I could see that," he smiled. We arrived come and James and I continued to chat, falling beside each other on the couch.

James' eyes locked onto mine. But his look was no longer serious as it had been earlier but playful, mischievous almost.

"You know," he began. "Seeing you today with all those kids... made me realize how lucky I am to have you."

I blushed at the unbidden praise. "Oh stop," I said, nudging him with my shoulder. "You're just saying that.."

He smirked, seemingly amused with me. "No, really. You've got this way with kids. It's- well, it's kinda sexy."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Sexy? Really? I'm covered in grass stains and probably smell like sweat and sunscreen."

"Sexy as hell," he persisted with a grin, coming closer. His hand slid up my thigh. "You know what else I realized?"

"What's that?" I asked, a thin whisper as I played along.

He leaned over, whispering in my ear. "I realized how much I want to see you like that all the time. With our own kids."

His confession excited me to no end. I could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth. "You think you're ready for that?" I teased, my own hand tracing circles on his chest.

"Oh, I'm more than ready," he murmured, his lips trailing down my neck. "Just the thought of you, all round and glowing with our baby inside you… it's driving me mad."

I tingled again, breath catching in my throat. "James," I whispered, the heat pooling in my belly.

"You know what else?" he went on still husky. "I can't seem to get the thought of making that happen out of my head. Right now."

His lips skimmed my neck. My skin was exposed as his hands slipped under my shirt to stroke it. "I want you, here and now," he pleaded.

"Yes," I breathed, bowing into his heat. "James, please."

Our kisses grew more feverish, desperate, as our hands wandered each other's body.

"I need to see you pregnant with our child," he whispered. "To know that I put that baby inside you."

James stood up and effortlessly scooped me into his arms. I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck as he moved to the bedroom.

"You're so beautiful when you laugh," he said lowly, I remember him saying the same thing on our wedding night. "I can't wait to see you smiling carrying our baby."

As we entered our bedroom, James released me onto my feet and we began to undress each other frantically, our hands fumbling in our haste.

His lips found mine again, and our kisses were of hunger and desperation. "I want to fill you up," he growled against my mouth, his hands rising up my sides and pulling my shirt off my head.

I moaned, my words swallowed by his lips as we continued stripping away the cloth between us. His hands were everywhere, mapping out every inch of my skin.

"You're going to look so beautiful with your belly round, carrying my child," he whispered, his breath burning against my ear as he unclasped my bra and let it fall to the floor. "I want everyone to know that you're mine, that I put a baby inside of you... our baby."

"James," I gasped, my fingers digging as I tugged against his pants, needing to feel his skin against mine.

That was all, then. The rest of my clothes followed, and he pulled me the very short distance onto the bed and against him. His bare skin against mine was such a perfect and familiar feeling.

He kissed me again fully, his tongue playing around in my mouth as his hands slid down to hold on to my hips, positioning me under him.

He oozed with this desire, a need so great that it was a physical itch in him. "Make me yours," I whispered back, my voice trembling at just the mere thought of him doing so.

He groaned, just needing to get out all his desires verbally. "I'm gonna fill you up real nice," he promised. And James was a man of his word. "I'm goings make you pregnant, make sure everyone knows you belong to me."

With that, he entered me, the width of his cock stretching me, readying me for what was to come. I whined, my legs wrapping around his waist as I pulled him farther into me.

"James," I moaned, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "Yes, please!"

He started to move, and he picked up his pace while he thrust into me with every stroke, this insane, desperate, insatiable need to impregnate me. "You feel so good," he murmured through clenched teeth.

His words drove me wild, my body arching against his as we moved together in perfect sync. "Yes, James... don't stop," I gasped, my nails dragging down his back and surely leaving vulgar scrapes.

The room was stuffed full with the sounds of our passion, the creak of the bed, the gasps and moans that escaped our lips. James wouldn't let up, his thrusts motivated by something primal, needed to take me, to mark me as his.

"Gonna make you pregnant," he repeated again, his voice like an animal growl. "Gonna fill you up, make sure you're carrying my child."

His words pushed me straight over the edge, and I shouted, my body clenching around his member as I shuddered and peaked.

His climax was violent, his breath locking in the throat as he held himself inside me, reaching deep into my womb with his cum. His release had infused a tide of warmth within me. I clung to him, holding him tighter than I ever had before.

James remained inside me, body still shaking with the aftereffects. He laid his forehead against mine, his exhale hot on my skin. "You did so good, baby," he whispered, "You took me so well."

A tear slid out of my eye, and I felt like I was drowning in the depth of our love, by the passion we had shared between us just now. "I love you." My voice shook and broke.

He swept away the tear with a thumb. "I love you too," he whispered. "More than anything."

"You're going to be such a perfect mother," he told me, glancing down at me with a satisfied smile.

I grinned, pressing a lasting kiss to his cheek. "And you are going to be such an amazing father."

[katzkreationz]

Hey all! Sorry for the long absence here, life has been kicking my ass 😅

But I did finally pick up the tablet again, and I've been working on some things. I've been interested in character redesigns so thought I'd try it with some of my favorites (and some old OCs no one's seen yet or in a while). So if you're interested in seeing them sooner, please do drop by my patreon!

Notes:

Anti Comso and his family were my favorite villains in Fairly Oddparents (even when they kinda just...vanished along with every other previous villain that wasn't "relevant") Always thought it was a missed opportunity that we never got them acting ad a villainous family unit. Evil vacations, family bonding thru world conquest scheming, board game nights! C'mon it coulda been great!

Anti Cosmo-- some outfit changes, wanted to break away from the all navy blue color scheme a bit to make him really stand out more among the masses. Also wanted him to have a legitimate crown since...dude is the ruler of the race he deserves a cool ass crown. Made it reminiscent of a salt shaker, put a little upside horseshoe, and the number 13 for bad luck vibes. Alsoooo put some runes in there to symbolize "great protector", because even tho he's a menace....his plans are all focused on freeing his kind so they can do their thing. Just saying, if I had control of these characters, I'd probably be delving more into their place in the world.

Anti Poof (because I'm not calling him Foop)-- gave him a real body, and wanted to try and style his hair after both parents? Make him look a bit more like their kid ya know. Pretty simple design, cute lil onesie. Gave him a rattle instead to mirror Poof more, but cube instead of rounded. Styled it after a dice, and each side has an ailment he can inflict on people. Pink eye, stubbed toe, etc. In my version he's around his folks a lot more, but tries to keep himself presented as an independent person; he's a big boy he don't need no parents (the self proclaimed big boy says as he's burped like the 1 year old he is)

Anti Wanda-- the biggest changes, obviously. The show had some faults...like the constant fat jokes (cough fuck you Bitch Fartman). So out of spite, she's a chubby queen and her twink of a husband adores her every time she nearly snaps his spine. She's not the smartest, but she brings the muscle to Anti Cosmo's brains.

And of course, gave em all tails. Because they're cute, sue me.

[runningfrom2am]

in this life or the next

summary: It's the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games, and you were just unlucky enough to get picked; but lucky enough for this Quarter Quell to feature pre-selected teams. You get paired up with District One's pride and joy, the one and only Rafe Cameron.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 15k (oh my LORD)

tags/warnings: its the hunger games so like... yeah... violence and gore and stuff. definitely swearing, spoilers for the og Hunger Games movie I guess (but also not bc i changed it up a bit- you'll see), reader has a special talent that i won't spoil here, Rafe is lowkey a dick at the beginning, Ward being a shitty dad (what's new). also this isn't thoroughly edited bc.. its 15k words and i'm lazy.

masterlists // nav // requests

join my taglist here

a/n: hello lovelies!! oh my gosh i have been slowly chipping away at this for actual literal months, and i am so proud of how it turned out!! i’m really glad i could finally post it by my birthday!! (i’m 23 wtf??)

thank you so much if you're going to put in the time to read this, but it honestly means a lot to me that you've made it this far. reblogs and likes would be so appreciated and let me know your thoughts in the replies! i really, really hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. let me know if you want a part two of what happens post games, bc i think i left it at a minor baby sized cliffhanger. anyway, i’m off to eat cake now! enjoy!

Staring blankly out at the crowd in front of you, you attempt to process the echoing of your heartbeat in your ears.

"I'd like us to give a round of applause for our brave, brave tributes this year, and wish them the best of luck in this year's quarter quell!" Your attention is drawn to the woman next to you, the District Five escort, Opal, dressed head to toe in bright yellow. A universally happy color- what a joke.

The crowd is mostly silent and you can't bear the thought of even glancing in the direction of your parents. You turn silently as you're ushered back into the building from the stage, tripping slightly over your feet as the shock sets in. People are talking, possibly to you, but you can hardly hear a thing. You almost made it. You were almost eighteen- one more year and you would have been free.

You were granted the briefest of goodbyes to your family, but you were tempted to even turn that down. An action you regret not taking as your parents walk into the room, your mother with tears already coating her cheeks and your father trying to keep a strong resolve for you and your siblings.

"We'll see you soon, Bug. Remember we love you," He whispers into your hair as you sob into his shoulder. You know he doesn't necessarily mean in this lifetime.

Your tunnel vision settles back in as you're walked out of the room, glancing one last time over your shoulder only to see your dad's shoulders shaking from his silent cries as he turns his back to you.

You are quickly pushed onto the train taking you out of District Five, ignoring the other three tributes and your mentors as they talk. You just stare out the window with tired, red eyes and say a silent goodbye to the home you're already sure you'll never see again.

"Y/N..?" The girl next to you says, tapping you on the shoulder and making you jump.

"Hm?" You hum your acknowledgment, looking at the girl beside you. She's only a year older than you, and you went to school together for years; Maisie, you remember.

"I just wanted to make sure you hear them," Maisie whispers, gesturing to Opal as she starts to explain what the premise of the games is this year.

"So," she claps her hands together, clad in tacky yellow gloves. "I'm sure you have noticed that this year there are four of you, and you'll each be paired up with another tribute to compete. Not necessarily from your own District, but, anything is possible, I suppose. The exciting news is that there's a possibility for two winners this year! You and your teammate will be given a score throughout the games, and if your score as the final two is above ten, you will both be crowned victors!" The woman says excitedly- like it's a good thing.

"And if we don't have over ten?" The boy sitting across from you asks flatly.

"Well... the games shall continue," Opal explains vaguely, but you know what that means. You've seen it before.

"Okay, well, how do we get a good score?" The boy asks.

"I-" The escort starts, hesitance clear in her tone as she's quickly interrupted.

"You kill people," Your female mentor answers. She's leaning her elbows on the end of the table, standing with a knife in her hand, spinning it around like it's some kind of toy.

Your eyes drop from her form, staring down at the table in front of you, suddenly remembering your glass of water and quickly grabbing it when you realize your mouth has gone completely dry just from the idea of what's to come.

You arrive at the Capitol in the middle of the night and despite this fact, the crowds are still there. You didn't expect this, even though you've seen it on the beat-up television in your living room every year. It feels less real, somehow, when you're the one getting pushed through the crowd, not knowing what to do besides give awkward smiles to people yelling your name.

Your room is beautiful. You've never seen anything like this, but you can fully customize it at will with a remote, and this level of technology fascinates you. You spend hours flicking through different images that can appear on the walls, surrounding you in another world. Exhaustion and the sound of an artificial thunderstorm put you to sleep with the remote still resting in your palm.

"Up, up, up, my dear! We've got a big day ahead!" Opal's cheery voice startles you awake from your less-than-cozy spot on the floor. "There's breakfast on the table then we've got to get you down to prep, so hurry up, please." She says, and just like that she's gone, no doubt off to wake the other District Five tributes in a similar fashion.

"You're going to be meeting your teammates for the first time today so you can train together- gosh isn't that just so exciting!" Opal claps as you all stand in the elevator. There's a silence that follows as you and Maisie just nod, not excited about the whole idea. You're about to meet someone who will either be spending the last days of your life with you, or be killing you themselves, and you're not fond of either.

"This way you'll get to train together first, which I do believe to be a very generous act on behalf of the game makers." She adds, making you roll your eyes. How considerate. The most you can hope for is someone who is capable, and preferably someone who isn't in the twelve to fifteen age range, having seen that there were several drawn from different districts.

You shift on your feet as you try to adjust to the uncomfortably tight catsuit they squeezed you into, covered in what must be sapphire and diamond rhinestones, pinching your skin with every slight movement. Gold accents line the seams of the suit, extending out into something that resembles wings and lightning bolts protruding from your back. District Five; power. You get it, but we're the diamonds necessary? You hardly take note of the varying outfits you're surrounded with from the other kids in your district, before Opal is guiding the four of you up the line of extravagant carriages you're meant to parade out on for the people of the Capitol to fawn over.

You take note of where all of the other tributes from Five are lead, guessing based on the order of carriages that Maisie got paired up with another girl from Eleven, and the boys somehow ended up paired together. There must be some sort of personal aspect to this decision, considering you have watched those two boys fight back home. You're last, and Opal looks at you excitedly as you follow her up, and up, and up- to the very front of the line.

"Surprise!" She grins, clapping excitedly as you approach the very first carriage. "Y/N, getting paired with a career is huge. Your odds are good already, your partner has trained his whole life- he even volunteered."

"Sucks for him." You mutter under your breath as you get closer, eyeing up the boy in front of you, wearing an almost matching outfit. All the rhinestones make sense now, blending power with luxury could only mean as much.

"Y/N Y/L/N, meet Rafe Cameron. He'll be your teammate in the games." She smiles as she introduces you.

"Hi." You say quietly, taking his hand as he holds it out to you to help you up onto the carriage.

"Hey." He mutters, avoiding your gaze. It's off to a rough start for him for sure, seeing he's being paired up with someone from an outlying district must be daunting, when for you it should be exciting. Rafe did volunteer, yes, but he doesn't want to risk any kind of attachment- despite what the people of the Capitol want for their entertainment. He wants to come out alive, he doesn't care so much about who he's with.

"Okay, Y/N, remember to smile, please." Opal reminds you and you nod, looking down at her as you hold onto the handle in front of you.

You promise her with a nod, willing to do almost anything at this point to win the favour of possible sponsors. Again, your odds look better next to a career on that front, as well.

Quickly everyone is cleared away from the horses and the carriages and you start moving, catching you off guard and you stumble a little, readjusting your grip on the railing. "Careful." Rafe says beside you, quick to reach out to steady you if you needed it. You think you see the smallest of smiles on his face, but that must have just been your own mind trying to find comfort in anything around you.

"I got it." You whisper, blushing slightly. You've been with your teammate for all of a minute, and you're already proving yourself to be clumsy.

The lights hit your eyes the same time all the cheering does, being the first carriage, it's already so loud you can hardly hear yourself think. You snap out of it quickly, plastering on a smile once you see your own face on a giant screen ahead of you, you don't even look like yourself anymore. Your eyes land on the screen adjacent to the one showing you, seeing Rafe as well. He's smiling too, clearly having headed Opal's advice, or his many years of training is getting to him and he's excited. You really don't know. Then his head turns, and you turn your head as well, making dead eye contact with him for only a moment before he's looking past you into the crowds, taking in the moment.

When you finally get out of the extremely public eye and back into the building you exited from, you feel like you can finally breathe again. Not fully, in the tight, rigid suit they had you dressed up in, but more than you realized you were with all that yelling in your ears and lights in your face.

"District Five, right?" Rafe asks you as you're both stepping down and you nod. "Jeez, you don't talk much, do you?" He follows up with, taking a water bottle from someone who's walking by with them.

"I talk." You reply quietly. "Just... not much to talk about at the moment."

"The shock? Yeah, that'll do it." He nods, taking a sip from the water bottle and holding it out to you. You shake your head and push it away, making him shrug. "Shitty bust when you're not a volunteer."

You just stare at him, taken off guard by the comment. "That being said..." He leans in closer to make sure no one else hears. "I've been waiting my whole life for this, so don't ruin it for me, yeah?"

You pull back away from him and just nod again, not wanting to get on his bad side already. He won't be the one to kill you, probably, but it would still be nice if you spent your final days without your teammate hating your guts. "Thanks, darling." He smirks, patting your shoulder and brushing past you to go to the elevators.

The next day, bright and early yet again, you have your first day of training. You're sure Rafe won't even need it, but you certainly will. Your mentor told you he will likely be using it to size up the other tributes, especially considering there is a staggering amount of them this year, and you will need to focus on survival skills. Only survival skills, if you had to pick one thing- and your mentor drove that into your head until it was all that was echoing in your mind when you entered the training center.

After the trainers speech which ironically tried to do the same thing, you beeline straight for the fire making station. You're shocked to see almost no one else listened, definitely none of the boys, mostly lining up to show off their physical strengths, likely to try and intimidate each other. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't working.

You look up as you hear echoing laughter coming from the other side of the room, eyes scanning over the wall lined with silhouette targets, and racks with an array of weapons before landing on your teammate, laughing away with the other career tributes over a joke you didn't hear. He's got a spear in one hand, leaning his weight on it as his head drops back with laughter. You shake your head to get back on task, rolling the rough wood in your palms in hopes of making a spark. Good to see at least one of you is having fun, especially in your final days.

After a few minutes you get it, sitting back into your calves where you were kneeling on the ground, taking a breath of relief as you're satisfied with your success. You glance around to see how others are doing, giving a small smile and wave to Maisie when you see her, reading a book about different edible plants and trying desperately to memorize every image. You watch as Rafe takes the same spear he was leaning on before, hurling towards one of the targets. A direct hit, right in the chest, slightly right of the centre. You jump a little at the sound it makes on impact, looking finally at the boy who threw it.

He's pacing, huffing and looking a little frustrated with himself. A little to the left would have been perfect, but it was a kill shot nonetheless. There would be no coming back from that, and you count yourself lucky that it likely won't be you in place of the target in the games.

You quickly put out your fire and try again, making sure you've got the hang of it. You'll sit here all day if you must. After three more successful attempts, you're satisfied for the day, deciding you'll return to that station tomorrow and try again. You get up and brush the dirt off your knees, trekking over to where they have supplies to make game traps. You've never done this before, but there's no better time to learn, especially since your teammate has shown no interest in survival skills so far today.

"What are you doing?" Suddenly Rafe is standing behind you, as you're once again kneeling on the ground attempting to get the trigger on your bladeless trap to work.

You jump a little, startled by someone talking to you. "Uh, trying to make a snare, I think." You answer, turning to look up at him.

"Looks good." He nods, crouching down next to you. "Uh, isn't there supposed to be a blade or a spearhead or something on that piece?" He says, pointing to it.

"Well, yeah, I just didn't want to stab myself by accident." You laugh slightly, trying the trigger again- and this time it works, snapping forward into his arm.

"Ouch, yeah, fair enough." Rafe chuckles, rubbing the spot on his arm where the wood made contact.

You just nod and begin to reset it to test it again. "What if you can't get any of this shit in the arena?" He asks.

"What, a stick?" You ask, hitting the trigger one more time, sending the stick into his arm again, which he had decided not to move.

"Ow! Yes, a stick. We don't know what it will look like." He rubs his arm, examining the trap you built closer now.

"Then we're screwed I guess." You joke, leaning back on your calves again, watching him dissect it piece by piece to figure out how it works.

"So, is this like, your thing?" Rafe asks, and you tilt your head at him as you think it over.

"My thing?" You ask, unsure entirely what he meant. "I've never made one before, if that's what you're asking."

"Really?" He seems shocked by this.

"Uh, yeah, really. Unfortunately for you, you got paired up with someone who has zero survival or combat skills."

Rafe looks at you, a smug grin crossing his features. "Ha ha, very funny." He clearly thinks you're joking, but you're definitely not.

"I'm serious." You say, confused as to why he doesn't believe you.

His smile falters, replaced with wrinkles of confusion on his forehead. "But- I just watched you look at the instruction book for no more than like, three seconds before sitting down to make this."

"And..?"

"If you've never done it before it's supposed to be harder than that."

"Well, I've seen other people do it on TV and stuff every year for like, ever." You shrug. "I've just got a good memory, I guess."

Rafe nods, looking at the deconstructed trap in front of him for a moment, thinking about the implications of this. How far does this go? Could he use it? He'd never dreamt of having to work in a team in his games, but maybe it would benefit him after all. "Come with me." He stands up, and you follow as he paces over to two big screens, covered with a large array of different symbols.

"Try this, I just want to see something." Rafe says, standing next to you with his arms crossed as you quickly look over the screen, reaching down toward the one in front of you. You notice quickly that the screens mirror each other, all the images placed in the same spots as they are above. You look up at your teammate briefly who nods at you and then you tap one, watching it disappear from both screens before you tap the matching symbol. It's a matching game.

Your eyes are locked on the top screen as you tap away at the bottom one, quickly making all the images disappear one by one. It takes you no more than a minute to get rid of them all, and then a timer appears on the screen replaying your every move in real-time. Forty-two seconds. Were you really going that fast?

"Neat." Rafe says to himself, nodding as he watches it replay on the screen. That was impressive, sure, but his mind is straining to find a practical implication for this in the arena. "Go back to survival stuff. Learn as much as you can." He settles on, turning and walking off back to where he was before, returning to combat training.

The four days of training fly by insanely fast, and that's likely due to your dread of what's to come. you've got through everything in survival no less than three times, and you're pretty sure last night you dreamt of plants and making a fire. Not surprisingly, Rafe has left you pretty much alone the whole time, but you did watch from a distance as he cycled through every weapon the training center had to offer, proving he's almost mastered every last one. Of course, with over ten years of training, anything less wouldn't make sense. What scares you is the other careers showing a similar skill level to that of your teammate, but he seems to be on good terms with them. Again, maybe this would be a good thing in the beginning of the games.

You sit down for your last day of making fires and fishing hooks, working solely on memory since day one, you're feeling pretty confident that the elements or exposure won't be what takes you out- but you don't know if that's a good thing or not. You just hope your death will be quick.

"Y/N, c'mere." Rafe is suddenly calling to you, motioning for you to join him in the combat area. Not seeing much of a choice, and not looking forward to another day of doing the same thing over and over, you listen.

You make your way over, avoiding the gaze of other tributes who are looking at you like you're about to make a fool of yourself. It's possible you are. "I want you to learn how to use this." He says as you walk up, holding out the handle of a knife to you.

You take it, turning the sharp blade over in your hand. "I thought you were the weapons master." You joke, looking up at him briefly.

"Well, I need you to make fires and shit so you have to stay alive somehow, and if we get separated or something I need to know you can at least defend yourself. These are good from a distance and up close, but remember that any weapon you have they can take and use against you. So keep distance whenever you can." He answers, pointing over to the target about fifteen feet away. "So, throw it."

You look over to where he was pointing, adjusting your grip on the handle as you nod, taking in the information he's dumping on you. He is probably right, especially since you don't think he plans on protecting you himself. Why would he? If you die, he can still win without you.

You lift your arm over your shoulder, closing one eye to narrow down your aim before throwing it hard towards the target, which the knife bounces off of and clatters to the ground. You and Rafe both turn at the same time to look at the group that's laughing at you, the clang of the metal on the cement echoing loudly in the vast space.

"Don't worry about them. They're not there." Rafe is quick to grab another one, handing it to you the same way. "Try again, this time, hold it like this..." He says, grabbing your hand and placing your fingers in the correct spots on the handle. "Keep your wrist tense and straight, don't flick it or anything. Yeah, like that." He nods, taking a step back.

You look over how you're holding it, committing the feeling and finger placement to memory before raising your arm again. You throw it again, and this time it sticks, but your aim is off and it ends up in the target's leg. You look over at Rafe, unsure if you're hoping for approval or just satisfaction. "That's perfect." He nods. "Not a death blow, but that'll buy you time to get away. which is all you need."

"Okay." You agree quietly.

"Would it help if you watched me?" He offered, already grabbing a new knife while you nod. "So, you want to follow through with the throw, your shoulders should end about here if you're doing it right. You get more power that way, and better aim." He explains, standing with one foot forward, parallel to the target.

You step back to watch his strategy, noting the way he held the blade and his form when he aimed to throw it. He lets it fly from his fingers as his shoulders fall forward, smirking to himself as it hits the bullseye circle, right in the chest.

"You got it?" He asks, standing up straight again. You nod in response and he's handing you yet another knife to try again.

You go back and forth for hours, not caring that you're keeping anyone else from practicing. You're not the best at it, but it's become muscle memory now, and every time it sticks, most of the time hitting the silhouette somewhere. You tried the moving targets briefly, the gold, pixelated figures running at you quickly. You were immediately overwhelmed, and Rafe ended up having to step in to help. He said after that the minimal skill you had would be good enough to get away, and that is all you would need. You just have to focus on that.

You didn't talk a lot, besides taking a few short breaks to gather the knives and his arrows as Rafe explained the pros and cons of every weapon they had present, showing you briefly how to use some of them. Mostly how to defend yourself against them. It's hard for him to sum up years of training in one day, but he's dead set on the idea that you won't need most of it- just having to focus on keeping the two of you sheltered and fed, he can handle the rest; hopefully.

You sit outside the training center next to Rafe, waiting for your name to be called. It was the youngest female tribute from his district first, so if you had to guess, you would be third and fourth to go, which doesn't buy you a lot of time to decide what to do to best show your skills.

"What are you gonna do?" You ask, whispering in the deathly quiet room.

"Huh?" Rafe hums, leaning closer to hear you better.

You clear your throat, before speaking this time, unsure if you were clear enough. "What are you gonna do? Like which skill?" You clarify.

"Oh, uh..." He mutters, adjusting how he's sitting as he thinks about what to say. "I'm just going to cycle through some different weapons, different distance targets, I think. My mentors want me to show like, a variety of what I can do."

You nod at this, making a mental note of that. Maybe you should do the matching game and then try the knives. Opal told you that you would be scored both individually, and as a team. You hope you won't bring down his score too much, since you know he's aiming high. You planned on going for a mid-level score, not to be seen as a threat but also not as an easy kill. A perfect six would be your ideal score. "What about you?" Rafe interrupts your thought process.

"I'm not sure." You answer honestly.

"You should do your survival stuff. That will improve our team score, if we show them we have strengths at both." Rafe suggests. That's not actually a bad idea. Your individual score will likely be lower, but that's a risk you're willing to take.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

You ended up scoring a six, the judges obviously not seeing you as any kind of threat. This is what you expected, though, and you were correct about your group score as well. Rafe and you together scored a ten. On his own, he scored a ten, so you hadn't affected it in the way you feared. This left you reeling over the idea of other tributes seeing you both as a threat as you stand in yet another extravagant dress, waiting in line to be called out for your interview. The games were tomorrow, and the last thing you wanted was to get in front of a crowd and subtly plead with them to let you live, to send you gifts, and to give you their sympathy.

So far it's been in the same order they called everyone for assessments yesterday, which means you would be next. Rafe stands behind you, arms crossed in a suit that looks more expensive than any you've seen back home in all of your life, but he looks comfortable in it. Your dress is once again covered in rhinestones, and your waist is cinched in so tight you can hardly breathe as it is, so you're not looking forward to going on stage.

"Our next tribute, welcome to the stage from District Five, Miss Y/N Y/L/N!" You hear the familiar voice of Caesar Flickerman calling you out and some guards usher you forward onto the stage, very briefly glancing over your shoulder at Rafe.

You're quick to smile as you turn back around, giving a small wave to the host and then out to the audience as they cheer for you. For a brief moment, you feel as if they don't plan on watching you die as early as tomorrow, you feel as if they're rooting for you. "Hi!" You say as you get closer and Caesar stands up to greet you, shaking your hand and giving you a quick hug before gesturing for you to sit down across from him.

You look around the large theatre, spotting every camera you can. Your family is out there watching, somewhere, and you know they'll see right through this show you have to put on. You wish they wouldn't. You can picture so vividly your living room back home, with your parents and siblings scattered across the couch and the floor watching you with bated breath, they can see you- and on some level, you can see them too.

"Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for being here." Caesar sighs, reaching out and patting your hand where it sits on the armrest next to you.

"Well, I didn't have any other plans for the night, so..." You shrug, making him laugh. Laughter echoes from the audience and you smile, hoping that your plan to win people over is working.

"What? A beautiful girl like you?" He asks after he's done laughing. "You weren't planning on spending some of your free time with your teammate?" As if you got even a minute of free time since you've been here.

"Well, I guess we'll never know." You chuckle, looking back at the boy where he stands in the wing, giving you a small smile.

"Now listen, Y/N, Rafe is..." He has to stop after mentioning his name as cheers erupt again, laughing as he waits for the audience to quiet down. "Your teammate is, as you may have guessed, a popular face in the Capitol right now. Are you feeling lucky about your pairing?"

Rafe crossed his arms as he watches intently, feeling smug about his odds, especially now knowing the Capitol's opinion of him. He knows his dad is back home watching, full of pride that his son has become a fan favourite.

"I am." You answer honestly. "He's very talented."

"And handsome, don't you think?"

"I mean, who am I to argue with the people?" You joke, waving your hand dismissively as you hear the cheers pick up again. "Besides, his looks won't save us. We will save ourselves." You add seriously.

Caesar nods in acknowledgment, showing that to an extent, he agrees with you. "Well, I hope that you are right, dear." He smiles, getting up to signal you've run out of time. You stand as well, taking his hand as he holds it up above your heads. "It was so lovely to meet you, and may the odds stay ever in your favor. Y/N Y/L/N, everyone!"

You smile and thank him quietly, waving to everyone with both hands as you walk across the stage to exit on the other side. You take a few deep breaths as you step into yet another waiting room, watching the screen as Rafe is called out right behind you.

Rafe sits down on the chair across from Caesar after his introduction, which allows a few moments for the audience to quiet down. He smiles proudly as he rests one of his feet on his other knee, bouncing his leg with anxiety. He hopes it's interpreted as excitement. "Rafe." Caesar smiles at him, sitting back down as well. "I'll be honest, I have been so excited to finally meet you."

"It's good to meet you too." Rafe grins, chuckling slightly at the few whistles he gets scattered from the crowd.

"You got a fabulous score, how are you feeling about that?"

"Really good, yeah. Obviously I've been waiting my whole life for this opportunity, so it feels amazing to see it all paying off." Rafe answers, focussing on keeping the confidence in his tone.

"We can tell, can't we?" Caesar laughs, riling up the audience again, making Rafe laugh to himself as he softly shakes his head. "Yeah, yeah. So, with all this planning you've been doing, how do you feel about getting paired up? You probably expected to be going in solo."

"I did, for sure, but I don't think this is a bad thing." Rafe admits.

"Oh, getting along well with your teammate?" Caesar asks, a hint of suggestion in his tone.

"Yeah, we get on really well." Rafe exaggerates your relationship a bit, knowing it will earn you more sponsors, and maybe keep other tributes away from you in the games. "At least I think we do, I'm not fully sure about her thoughts on me, though."

"You scored incredibly well together, despite Y/N having a fairly average score on her own. What are your thoughts and feelings on that?"

Rafe chuckles as he leans forward a bit, pointing out to the audience as he speaks. "Don't underestimate her based on the score. I won't give you any spoilers, but trust me, don't overlook her. She's got as good a shot as any of us. Maybe better."

Caesar makes a surprised expression as he nods. "Well okay! Does she have some sort of secret weapon we should be worried about?" He chuckles, gripping the armrests and looking around as the audience laughs.

Rafe just shrugs in response, smirking slightly, which you can tell the audience just eats up. You're trying to decide if this is good or bad for you, though, as you watch, gnawing at your nails in anticipation as you stare at the screen.

"Okay, alright, don't spoil anything then." Caesar laughs. "It'll make for a better show, and I can get behind that."

After a moment of waiting for the cheers to die down, Caesar speaks up again. "Rafe, if I can ask, I know your father has a lot of influence in your district- how is he feeling about your selection for the games?"

You furrow your brow a little bit as you look at the screen, finally learning something interesting about your teammate. If he's from a prominent family in District One of all places, that would certainly explain his attitude. Rafe, on the other hand, doesn't want to talk about his father at all- but of course they would bring him up.

"Yeah, of course." Rafe replies, shifting in his seat. "He's thrilled, it's a huge honour to be here, and to be the first out of his children to be chosen is really special to me. I just hope I can make him and my sisters proud, he's always encouraged us to volunteer."

"I'm sure that you will." Caesar smiles at him. "I hope I will have the honour of hosting one of your sisters on this stage one day, as well."

Your stomach churns just watching this. How can any father who loves his children want this fate for them? This was your father's worst nightmare. You watch as Rafe nods with a smile, and you can see behind his eyes that he doesn't want that, not at all.

The audience cheers as they both stand up, shaking hands before Rafe leaves the stage, a cocky smirk on his face as he waves and winks at the audience. Before Rafe makes it down to the waiting room, you're grabbed an escorted out, heading for the elevator back to your room.

You can't eat, but you know you should. This will likely be your last meal for a while. You decide on just taking a large bowl of fruit and toast to your room, trying to get it down slowly with all the nerves, while you have a bath. Your parents never let you eat in the bath. It's hard to get out knowing this is likely the last bath you'll ever have.

The morning goes by in a blur, you feel Opal's arms around you as she hugs you goodbye and wishes you luck. You know you'll need all of it. You stare down at the ground in front of you as you're pushed onto a plane, of sorts, along with all the other tributes. Once you're sat down, you look around at everyone else. You remember all of their names as you scan over their faces, but you wish you didn't. You get stuck on one of the girls from District Eleven, Hope, who was only thirteen.

She's shaking, and you can see that from where you're sat down the row from her. She reminds you of Rue, the tribute from last year. Her death was a tragedy, it broke the hearts of everyone outside of the Capitol and the career districts. Hope's curly hair sat in a bun on top of her head, and tears fell down her cheeks as she sniffled. She got paired up with a girl from Twelve- the lengths the Capitol will go to to make a mockery of last years games will never cease to amaze you.

"Hey, you look a little pale." Rafe whispers, leaning close to you. You didn't even notice him sit down on the other side of you.

You shake your head slightly, looking down at your knees. "I'm fine."

"Don't think about it." Rafe instructs you, holding his arm out for the tracker to be injected as a guard approaches with the device.

You wince as you hear it get shot into his arm and he chuckles, shaking his arm off to ease the sting. You raise your shaking arm as they hold their hand out expectantly to you. You don't know what it is they're putting in you, but you've never been fond of needles. This is a million times worse. "It's not that bad," Rafe tells you, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel pressure on your forearm, followed by a sharp, stabbing pain. You bite your tongue to keep from making a sound, dropping your arm onto your lap as they quickly walk away.

"What did they do?" You ask him, trying to keep a steady tone.

"It's a tracker, so they know where we are in the arena." He explains quietly. You were the only two talking, and you notice it's earning you glares from several other tributes. Rafe notices this as well, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, taking this time to size everyone up.

The plane takes off, and before you know it, you're landing at the arena on the outskirts of Capitol property. You wonder if you're close to the ocean, not that you'll get to see it anyways.

You're paraded off of the plane, still trying not to let it show how afraid you are of what's to come. You make the briefest of eye contact with Maisie as she's pulled towards a different hallway, and neither of you have it in you to smile anymore.

"We've gotta get supplies, that's our first move." Rafe says to you as you're led out of earshot of other tributes, into your own hall.

"My mentor said to run." You reply quietly.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. "Your what, one mentor said that? Cool. I have fifteen that are still alive and well enough to show up every year. I think we should get supplies." He tells you firmly, but you know that will get you instantly killed, maybe not him, but you stand no shot. "Just stick with me if you want to live."

You just nod a little bit, glancing at him again briefly before you're directed into a separate room across the hall from him. His pedestal will be next to yours, which is a bit of a relief. Your stylist quickly instructs you to strip, and then she helps you into the uniform you assume you'll all be wearing. It's exactly the same as last year, you notice this quickly, but with a '75' logo embroidered on the chest where the District Twelve tribute had her pin placed. Katniss, you remember her name was. She had volunteered for her sister, and at the time you contemplated heavily on whether or not you would do the same. She was so, so close to winning- to getting to see her sister again, but she and the boy from her district, the final two tributes, ended up committing together rather than giving the Capitol their Victor. It was an admirable stance, but you couldn't imagine what that was like for her family, and his.

You step off the concrete floor once you're dressed, instructed to get into the pod that will lift you up into the arena; a glass elevator. Your stylist says nothing to you as they walk out of the room, the glass door sliding shut in front of you. Your knees get weak as you realize you are totally, completely alone, and likely no more than twenty minutes from dying. You think of your family, your siblings, your dad- and the last words he said to you. You'll see him soon.

Your thoughts are halted when the elevator starts to move, lifting you up as the ceiling falls away and you can see sunlight coming through. You squint and shield your eyes as you try to look up to get a better grasp on your surroundings before you can even see anything. Once trees come into view you're frantically looking around, trying to process as much information as you can, and quickly. It's exactly the same as last year, but from what you can tell, flipped in reverse, and made larger to accommodate twice as many tributes. Or everything on camera last year was flipped. There's a silver cornucopia in the middle with the timer that's immediately counting down and supplies inside and scattered around the field in front of you. Rafe is to your right, and a boy from Seven on your left. He scored a six, the same as you, so he's not the biggest threat to you immediately.

You adjust your stance, getting ready to run once the timer hits zero. In what direction, you don't know yet. Rafe wants you to run to the supplies, but statistically, the most deaths will happen in the next five minutes and you don't want any part of that. The supply bags and weapons spread out on the grass are all the same too, by the looks of it. The closest bag to you got picked up by the girl from Seven last year, and it didn't have much of anything helpful. If you're remembering right, it had a rope and some matches, and that was it. It definitely would be useful, but you know you can do better. There should be a bag four pedestals to your right, with a water bottle, an emergency blanket, a fire starter, a first aid kit, and a knife. Right now, that's the one you have to get to. That's your best bet.

Ten, nine, eight... The timer ticks down to the final seconds as you look over at Rafe, who's already looking at you. You point to the bag as your eyes land on it on the other side of him across the field, and he looks at you confused. He's closer, he has a better shot, but you know he won't take it.

Rafe is confused, following your finger and spotting the bag. Why would you want that one specifically? There are others closer, he doesn't feel like now is a time to be picky.

Four, three, two...

Your ears ring with shock as the clock reaches zero, and you're watching most of the other tributes booking it for the center. No one has seen your bag yet as you jump down, beelining across the field and narrowly brushing past Rafe in your move for the small backpack. He stops to let you pass, almost crashing into you head-on. He doesn't have time to worry about you, so he continues on his path to the middle, but he's lost time. Precious time that he doesn't have to lose right at the beginning of the games.

He gets into the bloodbath that the cornucopia has already turned into, looking back over his shoulder quickly as he grabs at any weapon he can get his hands on. He quickly has to sacrifice the blade he just grabbed when he hears footsteps quickly approaching from behind him, turning quickly and plunging it into the boy's chest. He doesn't think to look at who it was.

Cannon's echo around you, and you're counting how many internally as you get to the bag, reaching down to grab it as you run past, trying not to slow down. You look back over your shoulder, hoping to spot your teammate somewhere, but you can't see him. You're scanning the area, blocking out the blood you see flying and scattered along the silver metal of the cornucopia. You can hardly hear any screams over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but watch as the girl from Three jumps on who is supposed to be her partner, a girl from Twelve, snapping her neck in a second. Within moments, she just drops to the ground next to her- another cannon following. That makes a strong incentive for working in teams. At least Rafe won't betray you early on.

You freeze up for a moment, stopping to scan your surroundings. You still can't find Rafe, taking in the number of bodies scattered around the cornucopia and a few tributes running into the tree line. At least some people were smart. Something flies past your head, making you jump back a step as you look up ahead of you. Within an instant, you're being tackled back by the body of the boy from your district.

"Y/N, fancy seeing you here." He chuckles darkly while you try and fight him off.

"Don't!" You squeak out, him pressing his forearm down against your throat on the ground.

"I've wanted to do this since the second they called your name." He growls, shoving you down again.

"We can help each other, Jack..." You say weakly, clawing at his arm.

"You don't need me. You've got your career boyfriend- and whatever your secret weapon is." He scoffs. "You don't have a secret weapon, Y/N. He's bluffing and he won't convince us."

You gather all your strength and knee him in the crotch, scrambling to get away as he fumbles for just a moment. "God- you are a bitch!" He shouts, grabbing for your ankle just has you pick up the knife he had thrown at you. You grip it the way Rafe had shown you, quickly shoving it into Jack's leg. You just needed to get away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, backing away quickly. Jack doesn't say another word, cutting his losses and getting up to make an escape for the woods. You hope he ends up okay.

You make your break for it as well, running back towards the woods as you once again scan your surroundings for your partner.

Suddenly you're on the ground, having run straight into the side of one of the pedestals and falling over it. You yelp with the sudden impact of the ground, scrambling to get up and continue when suddenly someone is grabbing your jacket, slamming you into the pedestal again. You scream, trying to shove them off, but they're much stronger than you. "Jael! Wait, wait- Jael!" You make out your own voice yelling the boy's name, which makes him falter. He's the oldest tribute from Eight- he seems shocked you even know his name.

In the moment when he loosened his grip, he jerks forward and then falls over you, a cannon booming making you gasp as you panic to get away. Rafe is quickly running towards you, slinging the bow he just used over his shoulder and yanking the arrow out of the boy's back. "Y/N, let's go!" He shouts, motioning for you to follow him as you continue toward the tree line, both of you keeping an eye on what's happening behind you as you disappear into the woods.

"Let's stay close, but not too close," Rafe suggests as soon as you feel safe enough to slow down, your chest heaving with the exertion of energy and boost of adrenaline. He glances at you briefly, then does a double take. "You okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, coughing to ease the stinging in your throat. "I'm fine. You?"

"Good," Rafe answers, slowing his pace to match yours.

"We, uh, I think we should go the other way." You say, looking around to try and mentally place where abouts you are.

Rafe stops and furrows his brow at you, seemingly frustrated by your resistance. "Why does it matter?"

"The arena, it's the same as last year. Exactly the same. Just, scaled up a bit." You explain. "We should head south, that's where the river is. We'll need water soon."

Rafe laughs slightly, his demeanor changing as he places his hands on his hips and looks at you. "No shit," He says, truly surprised and impressed that you could tell. A lot of the games tend to look like this, and he would never notice a repeat arena down to the rivers if it punched him in the face. Your 'secret weapon' is already paying off. "And you could tell that right away?"

"Yeah, I mean, I guess so. The bags were all the same, everything was laid out the same. I bet there's a river down south." You nod, having a sudden realization. "We should get to that cave- the one the tributes from Twelve holed up in last year. That'll be a good, stable shelter. We can pretty much wait it out." You say, starting to walk in what you believe is the right direction.

"No," Rafe replies, making you stop in your tracks. "Unless you want me to have to kill you in the end."

"Oh, right." You forgot about that part, keeping score. "We're still going to need somewhere to sleep, though."

"Yeah, we'll find it anyways." Rafe nods, carrying on in the direction you started heading. You follow a few steps behind, keeping a bit of distance in the somewhat awkward silence that fell over you two after his comment about having to kill you.

You walk in the thick of the woods for about an hour before you feel like you're reaching the river. You can feel it under your feet, the soil is slightly softer, and the trees a little more green.

Cannons interrupt your thoughts a few times in the hike, totaling up to twenty-three by the time you reach the riverbank. "You were right." Rafe chuckles, mentally disparaging any skepticism he faced during the long, quiet walk.

"Thank god." You giggle, dropping your bag and crouching down to dig through it, hoping for a water bottle. You were right, everything you expected was accounted for.

"Why that bag?" Rafe says, already sitting down on the rocky water's edge to rest for a moment.

"Huh?" You question, unsure you heard over the shuffling of the bag while you zip it up.

"You pointed to it, during the countdown. Why did you want that one?"

"Oh, uh, like I said they all looked the same as last year, and I hoped I remembered what was inside." You say, laying down to reach into the water and fill up the bottle.

"Were you right?"

You nod with a small smile, sitting back up and holding the bottle out to him as you cross your legs.

"That's actually insane." Rafe shakes his head in disbelief as he takes it, downing just about everything in it before handing it back.

You take it and refill it again for yourself. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

Rafe wouldn't admit it, but at this moment as he's watching you drink, he's grateful that he got paired up with you. But now, that it's been shown on national television that you know the arena in and out, he wonders what obstacles the gamemakers will desperately throw your way.

"We should keep moving. I feel like a sitting duck out here in the open, I don't like it." Rafe mutters, checking his attitude as he stands up. You're quick to fill up the bottle again, following behind him yet again as the arrows in his quiver rattle together against his back walking over the rocky and unstable terrain, knife gripped tightly in his hand.

You wonder to yourself how he's feeling about leaving behind his predestined alliance of the career pack, but with the factor of most of them being paired up with other districts, it was already too unpredictable. You wouldn't have stuck around either.

The sun started to set as you followed the river upstream. You didn't want to settle without some kind of shelter, and you were committed to finding that cave before you could relax. You could tell that Rafe had the same idea, his steps ahead of you gradually picking up speed with the bow still gripped firmly in his palm.

"It's a beautiful sunset." You speak your mind before thinking, desperately wanting to fill the silence.

Rafe just hums in response, looking up only briefly before training his gaze once again on the ragged rocks at his feet and continuing on. "What's it like in District One?" You ask.

"Fine." He replies coldly. You aren't sure what you expected, but this response was pretty on par. You knew you had almost no chance of survival, so it would at least be nice to get to know the person you spend your final days with, even if he would be the one to kill you in the end.

"I've never been, but I've heard it's... nice." You've only ever heard about it from the perspective of other bitter individuals from Five, jealous of the cushy lifestyle everyone knew they must have lived.

"Yeah." Rafe agrees, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"What are your sister's names?" You ask, deciding to push a little bit. It's not like he can kill you just yet.

Rafe sighs, but answers anyways. "Wheezie and Sarah."

You're shocked that he answered at all, but you could tell in his interview that he has a soft spot for them. "Cute." You nod, smiling to yourself. "Is Wheezie a nickname?"

"Yep, it's short for Louise."

"That's adorable." You grin, shaking your head.

"Hey, look. There." Rafe says, changing the subject and pointing down the rocks, where there's a small opening under a ledge.

"That's it!" You exclaim, deciding to drop the topic of his sisters in favour for finding your shelter for the night. You rush past him, watching your step as you climb down into the small cave.

Rafe quickly draws his bow, slowing down and peaking into the cave and bracing himself for your screams. How could you be so careless in a game like this? He doesn't understand your lightheartedness, your somewhat positive attitude, and your ability to make small talk despite the circumstances. "Hey, careful!"

"It's perfect!" You call back out as you look around, and Rafe steps down carefully, looking around more carefully than you had. He relaxes once he's satisfied that there's nothing down there waiting to kill you.

"Nice, okay." Rafe nods to himself, and you both get to work making a small fire near the entrance, hidden from view.

You take off your jacket and roll it up, using it as a makeshift pillow as you lay next to the fire, staring at the orange flicker of the flames you made.

Rafe is sitting across from you, knees tucked up to his chest as he does just the same. His mind is absolutely reeling- he needs to find something to eat, and soon. That will be the first thing you'll do in the morning, he'll have to employ your help to find something edible. "How are you with making traps?" He asks.

"I can do it." You reply, sitting up and leaning on your elbow so you can see him. "I'll set some up in the morning."

Rafe nods a little bit. He already knew you could, of course, but he's wondering about the logistics of how they work. "So like... hypothetically, would they work the same if you made them bigger?"

"Like... human-sized?" You ask, catching on to what he's suggesting. It's not ethical- but nothing about this game is. For you, this would definitely be preferable to fighting other kids to death over and over again.

Rafe nods, adjusting how he was sitting and crossing his legs.

"Yeah. I can't see why not." You answer. "It would be harder since I've never done it, but I think it could work."

"Then I say we try it."

The next day, you wake up as the sun rises and the light beats down on you from the entrance of the cave. You didn't sleep comfortably, that's for sure, waking up twice throughout the night to the sound of the cannon. That's twenty-seven. You wonder how many teams have already reached their ten-kill quota, you imagine someone in the career pack already has. Both times when you were startled awake, Rafe was standing at the cave entrance, bow drawn as he squinted into the darkness, hoping that whoever was out hunting other tributes wasn't nearby.

You sit up slowly, stretching out your tired limbs as you look over to see Rafe, fast asleep with a blade in his hand. You should let him sleep, and get to work on finding something to eat, and making some traps.

You grab one of the knives Rafe somehow collected from the bag laying next to him as quietly as possible, sneaking outside and taking in your surroundings. The sound of the river flowing and the smell of morning dew was amazing- you wish you could truly enjoy it in different circumstances.

You quickly get to work tracking down something to eat, landing on a few different plants you know to be edible. You're trekking through the woods near your cave when you come across an apple tree- making you pause as you look it over. It looks out of place- and maybe no one got close enough to it in the games last time that you wouldn't have seen it, but that seems unlikely. It must be new; it makes for the perfect place to try and set up a trap for the next hungry tribute who would be unfortunate enough to wander too close to your hideout.

You're digging a hole in the ground with your hands, avoiding the roots of the tree and sticking in some sticks you sharpened when you hear a twig snap behind you. You freeze, hoping that by some miracle, it's just an animal. You slowly turn your head to try and look, picking up the knife from the ground next to you and holding it tight.

"Just me." Rafe's voice relaxes you, and you stand up, brushing off your knees.

"You scared me." You admit as he takes to looking down into the hole you just dug.

"That looks... awful." He chuckles, patting your shoulder. "It won't kill, but it'll slow someone down enough that I can finish the job."

You nod slightly, staring into the dirt as well. You hated the idea that you were crafting something intentionally to bring harm to another person, but realistically you have no choice. "We'll set up more, along the riverbed and closer to the career pack. We can't monitor them all at once, though- can you make more fatal ones next time?" Rafe asks, pointing back towards the river to accentuate his point.

"That depends, how many arrows can you spare?"

The next few days saw the death toll rise to thirty-six. You kept track every night, scratching their numbers and names into the walls of the cave despite being able to remember anyway. You viewed it as a small memorial, Rafe saw it as a timer ticking down to when he'd have to kill you.

Your first trap had worked on one person, their screams of pain from a cut-up leg summoning your teammate back to the apple tree. He insisted you stay behind as he finished what you started. You had to reset several other traps as well, closer to the cornucopia.

Rafe would never admit it, but he was really starting to like you. He didn't want to hurt you- he was worried the traps wouldn't do enough. The passive approach you so preferred wasn't what he expected, and he knew his dad would be disappointed in him. But Ward would never understand.

He sighed as he poked at the fire with a stick, leaning his head back against the rocky wall of the cave, another cold night ahead of you.

You had your head laid on his lap, his thigh replacing the thin material of your coat that you had been using the last few days.

"How old are your sisters?" You ask out of nowhere, prompting him to look down at you. He had thought you fell asleep a while ago.

"Why does it matter?" Rafe replies, and you just shrug a little bit.

"Gives us something to talk about."

"Fifteen and Eleven." He relents.

"Hey, me too." You smile a little to yourself.

"You have sisters?" Rafe asks. He never asked much about you- he didn't really want to know, in the case he had to kill you.

"Yep. And a brother." You nod, sitting up a little bit. "He's older though, he aged out last year."

Rafe finds himself clenching his jaw. He can't hear that- to see you as a little sister. He doesn't want to imagine what it would be like to see his sisters face the same fate. "Lucky guy." He says quietly.

"Why? I thought it was a privilege, and all that." You chuckle.

"Well, yeah, but not for most. For the outlying districts like you."

"At least you get it." You agree. "How does it feel? Now that you're here, I mean."

"Scary." Rafe admits, throwing caution to the wind now with what his father will think. "Not what everyone tells you it'll be like."

"Is that because of me?" You ask after a few moments, and he nods slightly.

"Not in a bad way, though. It's just different. I expected to be on my own, to die alone, or kill my allies if I had to. Now... I don't know that I have to. Or if I even could." He can practically hear his father shouting at their large screen at home, or storming out claiming he was an embarrassment. He was told his whole life to never show weakness, to 'be a man', but now, at the end, that doesn't matter to him.

"I won't take it personally." You giggle softly, voice shaking as you try to make light of it. "My family won't either, I don't think. Maybe my dad, at first, but eventually he'll understand. They'll forgive you." You try and ease his mind, knowing that in the case that Rafe does win without you, he'll have to face your family in the next month or so during the victory tour.

"I wouldn't ever expect him to." Rafe tells you, tossing his stick into the flames now. He feels sick hearing you talk about it like it's inevitable- but if he has anything to do with it, you'll be coming home with him.

"They're good people." You assure him.

"Don't say that." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. "I would never forgive myself."

"Okay, fine. They're awful. Just... the worst." You smile, looking up at him and resting your chin in your hand.

"That's better. Thank you." Rafe laughs, poking your forehead and gazing out onto the river as the flames illuminate the water.

In the morning, you're awoken to something brushing your leg. You groan and roll over, head landing once more on Rafe's extended arm underneath you. At least he was finally getting some sleep, pretty much unable to close his eyes since you set foot in the arena. You feel the brush again, followed by something moving on your arm, several things, suddenly, and your eyes fly open and look down when you remember where you are. You let out a scream, scrambling to sit up and pushing yourself back against the wall.

Rafe wakes up quickly, scrambling for the bow next to him when he realizes it won't be any help. You're surrounded by and quickly almost covered in a sickening combination of snakes and spiders.

You're still screaming, trying to shove the creatures off of you. "Come on- come on!" Rafe is yelling at you, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the exit. You don't get the chance to grab your back and you regret that as you're jumping into the river in attempt to get the spiders off of your skin and out of your clothes.

You're breathing heavily as you come up for air, and Rafe is quickly there, brushing his hands over your hair to make sure every last spider is gone. He looks back at the entrance of the cave, chest heaving like yours as the bugs and snakes spill out of it. It sends a shiver down his spine- he was never a fan of snakes.

"I guess that's the gamemakers telling us enough was enough." He sighs, gently pulling you towards the shore again a safe distance away. "Are you bit?" He asks once you're a safe distance away.

"I don't think so..." You reply, hiking up the ankles of your pants to look at your calves and over your bare arms as you sit on the shore. "You?"

Rafe shakes his head, doing the same. "It was probably just a warning. We have to move." He quickly lowers his pant leg over the puncture wounds in his leg, hoping you didn't see. If it gets worse, he'll tell you. The bite itself didn't hurt much, so if it's going to be fatal, he's glad he won't have to hurt you.

Rafe helps you up, leading you up towards the tree line. "They probably want to push us in toward the other tributes, I think we should go with it before they throw something worse at us." You, the two of you now left with nothing but what you had on you, along with Rafe's bow and a few spare arrows.

He nods. "It's our best move anyways. How many tributes are left?"

"Twelve including us." You answer quickly. "There's Avril, a boy from six, Maisie, she's from my district, most of the careers I think are still in it but not their teammates," You begin to rattle off the list,

"I don't want to know names." Rafe cuts you off, and you understand why. He's been doing all the dirty work, and part of you knows it's because he's hoping to have time to learn names and feel guilty about it later. Right now, he can't afford to see them as human.

"Right." You agree. "It doesn't really matter, anyways."

"Do you know scores?" He asks, walking alongside you now.

You nod, beginning to list off all the remaining tributes and their scores, from lowest to highest. The lowest being you- and the highest being ten, shared by Rafe and a boy from district two.

After hearing two more cannons that day, and checking all the traps you had set, you're circling back to the river to be near fresh water before you set up camp again. You don't have your water bottle anymore, or anything to set up any kind of shelter with, you do your best. You set up a fire, Rafe insisting that if it draws other tributes to you so be it- he's ready for this to end just as much as you, but you don't want to rush into your death or an ambush. It's safe to say you won't be sleeping tonight.

You didn't sleep, but at least, curled up under a tree, the night sky was beautiful. The stars seemed realistic, and you wondered if somehow they were real. Between the two more cannons that struck overnight, you still wondered if you were somewhere near the ocean, or somewhere closer to home. While you're sitting next to each other in a peaceful silence, both admiring the vastness of the night sky, you hear a ringing sound coming from above.

Rafe quickly stands, reaching for the small silver pack with a parachute before it hits the ground. He's quick to open it as you stand up, looking into the container. You grab the small card, tilting it into the light of your fire to read it.

For our Y/N,

Keep fighting. Please come home to us.

Love You Always, Dad

Tears form in your eyes almost instantly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. "It's just a water bottle and some kind of granola bars... or something." Rafe says, turning the water bottle over in his hand.

He looks up at you, frowning when he sees how upset you look. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." You quickly shake your head, wiping your eyes. "Uhm, it's from my dad."

The fact that your family could spare enough money to send you something in the games at all was amazing to you. You heard horror stories of the astronomical prices of trying to send something from outside of the capitol, without the status and funds of a sponsor.

"Oh." Rafe replies, handing you the tin and bottle now, taking the card from you gently. He reads it over slowly, and over and over again. His family had seemingly endless amounts of money, and they had sent him nothing. He knew his father viewed it as cheating, and that you shouldn't need any kind of help to win. If he loved him, though, that wouldn't matter. He should be willing to do anything he could to keep his son alive. The way your parents did.

"My mom made these." You sniffle, grabbing a small bar from the container in her hand. "They're my favourite, she only makes them on birthdays or special occasions." You explain.

"That's... that's really nice." Rafe says, putting the card back in the tin. He doesn't know how to handle this, or what to say.

You smile sadly as you sit back down against the tree, placing the tin on your lap as Rafe joins you. "Here." You hold the bar out to him.

"They're for you." Rafe shakes his head, pushing it away.

"They're for us." You insist, holding it out to him again. "They wouldn't have sent two if I wasn't meant to share."

"Thank you." Rafe smiles genuinely, for the first time in weeks as he takes it. He's starving, having eaten only small amounts of meat and plants over the last week or so, so he's quick to take a bite. It's sweet, more so than he expected. He never thought he could enjoy sugar this much.

"No wonder they're reserved for celebrations, hey?" You giggle, having intently watched his reaction.

Rafe nods. "Yeah, it's really good. Super sweet." He says, mouth still full. You grin, satisfied as you take a bite of your own.

The night flew by so quickly, you're feeling as though it must have gotten shorter. The sunrise went by fast too. You're guessing the gamemakers and the viewers were getting antsy. To be honest, you were as well.

Renewed with your energy the sugary baking your parents had sent, you set about gathering food and water, while Rafe goes on to check a few of your traps to see if they needed to be reset. He could do it on his own, but he liked watching you do it, working the ropes between your fingers and tying intricate knots, pulling back on the stick used to trigger the arrow. By the afternoon, having taken a mental note of the amount of cannons that had fired. It was a few, at least. You must be getting down to the end. He prayed it wasn't you, but the cries of some kind of mutts in the distance right before the cannons lead him to believe that you were fine- but he should be getting back soon anyways.

You were wandering down to the water, reluctant to leave your camp, but you knew water was a priority. You were just filling up the new bottle when you heard a scream. It sounded like a boy. You quickly look back over your shoulder, noticing it was nearby. Toward the apple tree. You stand slowly, looking around as you attach the water bottle back to your side with a carabiner, reaching instead for the knife Rafe had left with you. God, you hoped it wasn't him. The absence of a cannon gives you hope, though.

You quietly head in that direction, watching your step so your presence isn't detected. When you get closer to the tree, you hear crying. Painful crying, as you're faced with the reality of the trap you set.

You watch from behind a tree as the boy from eight tries to pull his leg up from the ground, screaming out again as the sharp sticks dig into his flesh. You should go get Rafe- you feel guilty, but you can't kill him yourself. You turn quickly, and before you can get a step away you're face to face with one of the other careers- a sword held up against your neck.

"Don't move." Blake says, a smile that can only be described as evil spreading over his lips.

You try and scream out for help, hoping Rafe was still in earshot but a hand is quickly covering your mouth. "Not yet." He whispers, shaking his head. "We've got a plan, it'll be fun. You wouldn't want to ruin that, right?"

As Rafe gets back to your small camp, he expects to see you there waiting. He scans the trees above him, wondering if you had climbed up for some reason. He calls your name when he doesn't see you, brow furrowed. You definitely should be back by now. As he's heading down to the water to look for you, he hears a cannon, which at this point wouldn't bother him- if it wasn't for the scream that followed after. It was you. No doubt in his mind that it was you. With his bow drawn, he's moving quickly towards where he heard your voice, throwing caution to the wind.

You scream again, crying as the tip of the sword is dug into your shoulder, laying down next to the apple tree. You can't help it- but you don't want their trap to work. You don't want Rafe to come, so you bite your tongue until you taste blood, hoping to keep quiet. "It'll only get worse for you if you don't scream, Y/N/N." Blake scolds you, digging in the blade more. "He has to hear you." He adds through gritted teeth.

You hear a twig snap just outside the small clearing, and Blake is quickly turning to look with the sword still pinning you to the ground. "Rafe it's a trap!" You shout, hoping that it's him.

Rafe steps out then, into full view with his bow drawn as he aims at the boy in front of him. When they first met, he knew they would have been good friends if they met anywhere else. "You won't shoot me." Blake chuckles, and Rafe quickly readjusts his grip.

"I will." Rafe says sternly, pulling the string tighter as Blake moves the sword to hover over your chest. Over your heart.

"If you shoot, the last of my energy will go into killing her. I don't think you want that." He shakes his head, smiling smugly.

"I don't care." Rafe says, making your heart clench. You know that you're friends, at the very least. He does care. He's bluffing- you have to believe that.

"If you didn't care you would have shot me already." Blake calls it, and Rafe tenses up, looking down at you only briefly.

"Then what do you want?" Rafe spits.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted you to watch." Blake shrugs. "Just makes it a little more fun, you know? But don't worry, you'll be next." You know he just wants to prove himself, somehow, not having scored as high as Rafe did. You wonder if his family was somehow similar- that he needed some kind of approval that he thought he might find through sadism.

Rafe looks down at you again, and you just nod, tears streaming down your temples to your ears. He quickly readjusts before letting the arrow fly, planting straight in the shoulder that held the sword as you quickly roll over, slicing across your chest and shoulder in the process. It was well worth it.

Rafe fires another arrow into his chest, not taking any risks and the cannon quickly follows as he rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" He's asking, hands hovering above you as he's kneeled next to you, unsure what to do.

You nod, still biting into your tongue as blood continues to slide down your skin, dampening your now torn up clothes.

"It's not that bad." Rafe says, looking over the cuts as best he can, but you wince when he pulls the fabric away. "You're gonna be fine, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah..." You mumble, letting your head fall back against the brush below you. Rafe is quick to take his coat off, using it to push down on the deepest part of the wound on your shoulder, trying with his other hand to apply pressure to the rest of it. You try and focus on your breathing, rather than the pain, but it's hard when a significant amount of weight is being applied to your shoulder and chest.

"I'm sorry, I have to." Rafe tells you, jaw tense as he lifts his coat to check whether or not the bleeding has slowed. You didn't even realize you were crying.

After a few minutes, he's lessened the pressure a bit, still holding the fabric firmly over your skin. "You could have ran." You mumble, voice hardly above a whisper.

"I wasn't gonna leave you." Rafe shakes his head, gently peeling away his now blood soaked windbreaker.

"You at least shouldn't have saved me. Not much point in that, is there?" You smile softly, trying to sit up and Rafe is quick to help.

"There is. You have to win." He mutters.

"I'm not winning, Rafe." You smile sadly at him. "Infection will kill me if you won't, and if no one else does first."

"No, they'll fix you up. This cut will be gone in a week, the technology they have is-"

"Rafe." You grab his attention again and he looks up to meet your eyes. They seemed to suck in all the light of the sunset above the two of you, reflecting back at him in a way that makes his breath hitch. The thought is cut short, however, when you say something that breaks his heart. "Don't give me hope like that."

"Why? You're gonna go home. I mean it." He promises. "I'll make sure of it."

"I don't think we have enough." You remind him sadly, a small smile still evident on your lips as you reach up to cup his cheek in your palm. "I never expected to go home. I'm okay with that."

Your friend shakes his head softly. "That doesn't matter. You have your family to get home to, I read that note from your dad. They need you, I can see that. For me, these games are all I was raised for. I have nothing left for me after this." He admits, avoiding eye contact with you.  "I could never forgive myself if I didn't get you home."

Tears are forming in your eyes again as you look up at him. The world is watching, and in this moment of vulnerability you feel that more than ever- despite the quiet sounds around you being only the rushing water in the nearby river and the birds chirping around you. "You're a good person, Rafe." You smile at him, watching as he gently raises his hand to yours, grabbing it in his own. "I hope you know that."

In this moment, you settle on the idea that you would die for him. You never understood last years tributes, honestly, how they were willing to die for each other instead of getting home to their own loved ones, but now you do. Completely.

Without a second thought, you find yourself leaning closer, Rafe doing the same as he kneels next to you in the dark. Your eyes meet once more, lips only an inch from touching when you hear a howl in the distance, and you snap your head to the direction it came from. "The Mutts... Already?" You say, scrambling to get up and ignoring the pain in your shoulder.

"I- I heard them earlier, they sound far away." Rafe says, trying to calm you.

"You heard them? You didn't tell me?" You ask, frantically grabbing his bow from the ground and handing it to him as he goes to pull the discarded arrows out of Blake's body.

"I didn't think it mattered!" He defends, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

"There were four left last year when they sent them out. I think... yeah I think that's right. There's four of us. We have to run." You say in a panic, pulling on his hand. "Our best bet is making it back to the cornucopia."

"It'll be too open- can't we climb a tree or something?" Rafe says, following after you as you're running through the bush now in the direction of the open field.

"I don't know if that will work, but I know we'll be safe there." You explain like it's obvious. "We have to risk it- and if you can get to the others first, if they have the same idea, we'll be at ten."

You're out of breath already, adrenaline pushing you through as you hear scattered barking getting steadily closer after one more cannon. Part of you wants to stop, turn, and force Rafe to take the win if you couldn't have it, but with any hope left, you have to try and get back to where this started. The traps was an unfortunate choice in how you got your kills, because you couldn't keep track of how many since by the time you got around to checking them, the body's would have been airlifted off if it wasn't a misfire. If you had to guess, though, you were sitting at eight.

Rafe is running similar calculations in his head as he lets you lead him by memory straight to the field, mind short-circuiting as he sees the silver moonlight reflect off the cornucopia.

You sprint across the open field, blood pouring from your undressed wound again with the intense exertion of energy. Rafe doesn't pass you, though, despite you expecting that he would. You have tunnel vision as you make it to the metal structure, practically slamming into it before you can even stop. Rafe is quick to lift you and shove you up, both of you looking over your shoulders as you struggle to hold onto the edge, kicking the sides to hold yourself up.

You finally get up, reaching down to help pull Rafe up. He grabs onto your arm for leverage, mostly pulling himself up and you wince as you feel the tension from his weight in your cuts.

You flop down onto your back on the cold surface as he climbs over you, immediately standing up with bow drawn as he intently scans the surrounding area. He's only got the two arrows left, which makes him nervous if that's all he has to defend the both of you with.

You try to settle your breathing, which only lasts for a moment until the sky lights up with the recap. You miss your cave, where you could contribute to your memorial, especially seeing the face of Maisie flash above you on the sky while the anthem plays.

You close your eyes, just listening to the music now until you hear barking just outside of where Rafe can see, and you're quickly sitting up. He draws the bow tighter, aiming in the direction the howls came from just as someone pushes out into the clearing. Rafe is aimed straight at them, bow string pressed to his cheek. He's getting dizzy, and quickly. His aim can't fail him now, he doesn't have that option.

You watch them, in the dark you think it's the other boy from district one, and in your exhaustion you can't remember his name. You wouldn't dare say it, anyways. He's screaming for help, a call you know you can't answer, and you watch as they stumble on their feet, shoes and hands digging into the ground as they try to get up, just ten or so yards from you by now.

Rafe wants to shoot just then, it would be as simple as letting his finger loose and the arrow would fly towards its target. It would be a merciful end for the boy he's trained with for years now, only a couple years younger than him. The muscle in his jaw is aching from the tension he's put on it when he forces himself to let go. He has to do it, for himself, if he wants to go home.

He misses. The yelp of one of the mutts tells you it landed in a paw or back, and you look up at Rafe who's already drawn his second. "Rafe!" You cry out, pushing yourself up onto your feet and standing behind him now.

He hates to admit that your empathy has rubbed off on him. Watching you every night carving seemingly endless names and numbers into the rocks that lined the space you stepped in. He recalls waking up one morning and seeing your name and his carved in as well, closer to where he laid by the fire, his underlined and yours with a heart at the end. Like a signature on the top of a math test. He had wondered if you always wrote your name like that, and in this moment as he releases the bow again, he knows he has to find out for himself.

It happened so fast, the mutts knocking down the boy and the arrow flying from Rafe's shaky hands into where he should have been right as the cannon sounds. You don't know that it was Rafe's arrow that did him in.

"No..." You mumble, clamouring forward and onto your knees again to look over as the boys body is torn apart by the mutts. "You had to have done it. You had to." You say, trying to get a better view.

In a second, Rafe's arms are around you and he's pulling you back from the edge, sitting now behind you with his arms wrapped tightly over your body. "It's okay.. it's over." He mumbles, kissing the side of your head as the sunlight comes over the trees. He's fighting off the urge to vomit, everything spinning around him now.

You sit with him, gripping onto his arms and crying. Nothing is happening, so you must not have made it to ten. You feel sick- your heart is in your throat and suddenly you're really hot, moving away from him to look over the edge again, this time incase you have to throw up. You freeze, looking over to where the boy's body once was. The second arrow was in the ground. He missed again.

Rafe sees it at the same time as you. He sighs, hanging his legs over the edge. "Shit... Y/N, I'm sorry." He mumbles, gently reaching over to rub your back.

"No, no. It's okay." You insist, sitting up next to him. "I knew this would happen."

"I'll get you home." Rafe says, sliding down the side of the cornucopia before you can stop him. He stumbles the landing, swaying in his walk as he heads towards the arrow lodged into the dirt.

"Wait! Wait, wait, Rafe!" You're sliding down after him, running to his side and grabbing his arm before he can get to the arrow in the ground.

He turns to you quickly, hand on your cheek and he's pressing his lips to your forehead. "Sit with me?" He asks, knees already giving out as he falls to the ground.

You're instantly on the ground beside him, practically holding his head up with your free hand as you search him visually for some kind of injury.  "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Uh, I guess so." Rafe mutters. "Snake bite. I think."

"You didn't tell me? I could have fixed this, I could have helped..." You ramble on, his eyes dropping shut now. "Hey, eyes open."

"It's okay. Just sit with me..." He says again, smiling weakly. "Wait with me... please?"

You nod, sniffling as you fight back the tears that want to fall. "Yeah, of course. I'll stay."

Before he closes his eyes, the music starts again and your eyes are drawn up to the sky after you notice Rafe is looking first.

Then, begins a similar slideshow of faces you recognize. Ten in total. Rafe's eyes flicker with slight recollection, remembering any kills he made himself and you gasp when you see Jack. Whatever damage you had done when he tackled you on the first day must have killed him. "Rafe.." You mumble, lowering your eyes to meet his. "I think we won."

Your point is accentuated by the voice of the head gamemaker over some unseen speakers. "Introducing the Victors of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games!"

"We did it." Rafe laughs weakly, squeezing your hand.

You fully ignore the aircraft hovering down in front of you on the grass, turning your head to look down at him. You don't say anything, neither of you do, and you finally feel your lips against his. The kiss is bad, it doesn't really work when both of you are stuck smiling ear to ear, but you don't care one bit. The only thing that matters is that you got this chance at all.

Rafe pulls away from you slowly, using all the strength he has left to lift himself onto his feet as you steady him. "He needs help!" You shout to them, and you're quickly being lead onto the plane.

"They've got really good technology," You mock what he said to you just the day before. "It'll be like it never happened in a week, okay?" You chuckle, feeling waves of happiness, worry, and relief all at once as you quickly wipe away a tear with your free hand, other arm wrapped tightly around Rafe's waist to hold him up.

He laughs, and you lean into him more, your forehead against his shoulder as the aircraft door slides shut behind you.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @aegons-bitch, @rafegirly, @lovelyxtommy @dee127

[acewritesfics]

Beautiful | Jax Teller 

Pairing: Jax Teller x Winston!Reader 

Request: No. Find original here -

Synopsis: Jax takes his old lady out for the night.  

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, swearing, talks of body parts, mentions of dressing and undressing. This was originally a Song-fic. H/C - Hair Color. E/C - Eye Color

Word Count: 2,186

Main Masterlist

Jax beams as he watches the woman he's madly in love with hurry around their bedroom, dressed in her black lace bra and panties set, that just so happens to be his favorite, oblivious to him standing there, focused on trying to decide what to wear. His eyes scan her body, stopping on her ass, admiring his third favorite part of her body. 

He never imagined falling in love with Y/N Winston, the younger sister of his best friend, but something changed when she left for college. When Y/N left Charming for college, she was just Opie's annoying little sister; but, when she returned four years later, it seemed as though she had completely changed. She was now a woman, not a girl. 

Y/N settles on a pair of skintight black jeans and a flowing deep crimson tank top. On the bed, she has her leather jacket that he gifted her for her 21st birthday, laying next to her jeans.  She eventually catches him standing there as she slides her legs into her jeans.  She pulls on her top as he enters the bedroom, a bit disappointed that his second favorite part of her body was now also hidden from him. 

After giving him a short kiss, she walks over to her dresser and gathers up her make up bag and hair brush. "I thought we were going to meet up at the clubhouse?" 

"Church got out a little early," he muttered, his eyes following her as she entered the ensuite connected to their bedroom. He observes her brushing her H/C hair as he leans against the door frame. 

When she put down her hairbrush, he closed the gap between coming up behind her so they're back to chest. He slides his arms around her waist, his fingertips caressing the flesh on her left hip where his crow was inked before resting his hands on her stomach and kissing the side of her head. "I figured I'd be a gentleman and come pick up my old lady." 

"You'll be driving the cage," she quips as she looks at him through the mirror.  

"I know," He smiles looking back at her, his baby blues meeting her E/C eyes. He takes a step back from her as she starts to apply her makeup. 

They got it confirmed last week that Y/N is pregnant again, after speculating that she was a few days before hand. Aside from not being able to ride bitch right now, they haven't told anyone about the pregnancy yet. Being just nine weeks along, they choose to hold off until the second trimester, when the risk of miscarriage is significantly lower. The first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage at 11 weeks, and it wasn't only them who were devastated by it. 

Despite the fact that they are quite certain their family aren't buying into the excuse, they used her being sober driver as an explanation for her abstinence from drinking and riding on the back of Jax's motorcycle. They noticed Gemma, Opie's, Piney's and even Clay's suspicious looks when she would deny a drink or avoid being on the of a motorcycle. Y/N could tell Gemma was the most suspicious and that she was picking up on more than just those two things. 

Once Y/N has finished applying her makeup, she exits the bathroom to retrieve her jacket and put it on, with Jax close behind. 

"How do I look?" She asks as she slowly spins around, flaunting her appearance. 

He closes the gap between them once again, encircling his arms around her waist and planting a scorching kiss to her lips. He smiles as she responds kissing him just as heated as he was.  Nobody else has ever made him feel the way he does when he kisses Y/N. He knows he had the same effect on her as she always left him out of breath. He knew this because of the small moment after their kiss when her eyes remained closed and her lips pouted. 

Before letting her go, he quickly kisses her and doesn't say anything as he leads her to the car, locking the front door on their way out of the house. 

"I never answered your question," he says as he opens the passenger door for her but blocks her from entering the vehicle. She looks at him puzzled. "You look fuckin' beautiful," he whispers as he kisses her lips again before helping her into the car before getting in himself and driving to the SAMCRO clubhouse. 

When Jax pulls into the lot, the music is already booming from the speakers, there is already a strong odor of weed and cigarettes in the air, and beer bottles and cigarette butts are scattered all over the ground. He exits the car as Y/N gets out and meets him at the front of the car. He smiles as she slips her smaller hand into his larger one and laces their fingers together. As they enter the clubhouse, he brings her hand to his lips and gently kisses the back of it. 

As soon as they are inside, surrounded by patches, friends of the clubs, old ladies, sweet butts and crow eaters, Jax let's go of her hand and placed his arm around her waist pulling her into his side. A few people stared and scoffed at them, he was unable to control the smirk that grew on his lips. The women envious of Y/N and the men who aren't members of the club wishing they were him. 

Jax orders drinks from the prospect behind the bar before noticing Tig and Chibs sitting nearby. He leans close to Y/N to talks to her without having to yell, "Go sit down with Tig and Chibs, and I'll bring the drinks over." 

She gives him a quick peck on the cheek and moves over to the table where his SAMCRO brothers are seated. He watches when both men stand up and hug her before she sits down. 

He catches a few men glancing in her direction with hungry eyes as he surveys the crowded room. As his gaze returns to her, he suppresses the temptation to pound their faces into the nearest surface. Jax is unsure of what he did to earn her love, but he is glad that he did. He couldn't picture his life without her. 

Jax has only ever been in one committed relationship before he got into one with Y/N. Because of Tara's decision to go medical school, his ex-girlfriend ended their relationship but not without trying to convince him to leave with her. He'd been crushed and drowned himself in weed, alcohol, and pussy when he wasn't working his way up in the club. 

All of it came to an end when Y/N returned from college. 

After she returned home, a lot of things changed for him. Y/N became the reason he stayed awake and alone in bed most nights, her face being the one he saw when he tried to take another girl back to his room. When she wasn't with him, he thought of her constantly, wondering what she was doing and if she was safe. He had to stop himself from calling her every chance that he got  He existed solely for her and the club. Even though the guys made fun of him for being whipped, he didn't know where he'd be without her. He couldn't picture his life without her. He didn't want to. 

Jax brings the drinks over to the table and sits in the empty chair next to Y/N's handing her bottle of water to her. She leans in close to him, kissing his cheek once again, and whispers "thank you" as he drapes an arm across the back of her chair. 

"Hey, where's my kiss?" Tig is heard asking. 

"Not here, but maybe if you ask her," Y/N chuckles, pointing to a brunette crow-eater who is gazing lustfully at the club's resident crazy while wearing next to nothing. "She might give you one." 

"You might be right." He smirks, looking in the direction that Y/N is pointing.  He gets out of his chair and moves over to the couch where the crow-eater is seated. 

After an hour and a few drinks, Jax glances at Y/N as Chibs walks away, finishing their discussion. He finds her looking back at him with a small smile and love in her eyes. Now that they are alone at the table, he smiles tenderly at her as everything around them fades, Y/N becoming his sole focus for now. He didn't want to admit it, but she had turned him into a love-sick idiot. 

"How are you feeling?" She asks, concern in her eyes as she takes in the faint bruise on the side of his head. Moving her hand from his leg, she reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair. This afternoon he'd been hit in the head by some thug the club had to deal with, earning him a nasty headache.  However, it vanished when he took a few painkillers before church. His headache was returning, and the loud music was not helping. 

"I feel wonderful," he says trying to ease her worry and kisses her to distract her knowing she'll see right through his bullshit. 

"You're an awful liar." 

"I know." He offers her a small smile. "My headache's back." 

"We don't have to stay. I'm beginning to feel a bit worn out, myself." 

"Let's go home," He stands and offers his hand to her, helping her stand up also. They say goodnight to the most of the club members before Y/N makes plans to meet Gemma for lunch the following day. As they exit the building and walk to her car, Jax hands Y/N the keys. 

"Take these and lay down." Y/N offers Jax a glass of water and some pain relief she'd snagged from the kitchen on her way to the bedroom. As soon as they walked through the front door, Jax made his way into their bedroom, stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed while she double checked that everything was locked up and all the lights were off. He takes them as she instructed and leaves the half empty glass of water on the bedside table. 

He doesn't move from his upright position while he watches her undress till she is only wearing her bra and panties. 

His eyes follow her once more as she walks over to his dresser and picks out one of his SAMCRO shirts before entering the bathroom. A few minutes later, she returns wearing his shirt and with her face make-up free. He continues to observe her as she removes her bra, pulling it from the sleeve of his shirt and discarding it on the chair in the corner of their room. He moves to lay down as she climbs into bed, facing him. 

"How's your head?" She softly asks. 

"The pain is starting to fade." 

"That's good. 

"How are you feeling?" he questions, cupping her face and caressing her cheek with his thumb. 

"Amazing," she says as her eyelids close, relishing in the tenderness of his touch. "Though I was feeling a bit queasy earlier." 

He rolls onto his back to reach his bedside table and switches off the lamp. Y/N moves in closer and places her head on his chest. 

With his arm around her holding her close, he kisses the top of her head. "I know I never tell you I love you as much as I should, but I do love you." 

"I love you too," She smiles. His spoken 'I love you's' are rare but he didn't have to say it for her to know it's true. Every day, in the smallest things he does for her, he tells her he loves her.  

"I don't mean to turn into a huge sap but you're the most wonderful person I know," He kissed the top of her head again. "I don't know what I'd do without you or if anything happened to you." 

"I hope we never have to find out." 

"Me too." He sighs. A silence falls over them but is soon broken by Jax. "We should get married." 

Y/N sits up looking at him in the darkness, a look of shock plastered on her face. "You wanna get married?" 

"Yeah I do." he admits. They've never had the marriage talk until now. They hadn't had the baby talk before she got pregnant both times. "We have a good reason to. I love you, you love me and we're going to have a kid." His hand reached under the shirt she was wearing, his fingers brushing the skin of her belly.  

She smiles. "Okay, let's get married." 

Jax smiles back and pulls her down to him making her giggle. He runs a hand through her hair tucking a few strands behind her ear. "You really are wonderful." 

"Just kiss me already," she orders him. 

"Sure thing, Darling." he laughs and pulls her into a passionate and mind-blowing kiss that was bound to leave both of them breathless. 

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites - pt 2

do i have another fic I should be updating? yes

am i?

no.

i like having gifs of poe to stare at dreamily while i mentally scream over my writer's block.

warnings: none, feels, mentions of anxiety, comfort

xox enjoy

@brighterthanlonelywords part 2 as promised!!!!!!

read part one

--------- Episode 2 - Baby steps -----------

You steadfastly ignored him for the next week. Your bruises healed with bacta and time, but the residual terror still had its claws fully seated in your mind. Thompson's glare flashed every time you closed your eyes. The raw, unadulterated hatred still shook you. Never had you seen somebody so cruel.

"Knock knock."

You froze at the familiar voice, back turned to the door. Your seat was big enough, could you pretend like it was empty and hide under the desk? If you sat still long enough, he'd go away. Maybe-

In your pondering of an escape plan, Poe had already rounded the desk and stuck his beaming face into your line of sight.

"Hiya, cutie. Changed the hair again, I see." Your hair was tied up with ribbons, colored orange and black.

"Nice colors," he winked. You flushed.

"They're for BB," you lied through gritted teeth. Poe, unaware or uncaring of your closed-off attitude, collapsed into a chair opposite you and grinned.

"Been a while, I was wondering if you'd forgotten me." He was fiddling with the galactic model on your desk, spinning the Inner and Outer Rim like a DJ disc.

You didn't answer, picking at your skin. He paused, scooting closer. His gaze was soft, imploring.

"You okay?" Poe's voice was soft, intimate. It had been a week since the Thing. Thompson had been decommissioned and General Organa had done her best to soothe the concerns of you and your fellow squadmates.

But still, the fear remained.

You nodded mutely, knowing you couldn't speak the lie. Poe, smarter than he looked, called bullshit and sighed.

"I know I'm not your favorite," he said, "but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. Just a little bit." He held his hand up for emphasis, fingers almost touching.

A faint glimmer of a smile, and then it was gone. You still stared at the floor, willing yourself not to cry. Realizing you needed space, he touched his forehead to yours and left, closing the door gently behind him.

A still warm cup of caf had been left on your desk, with a little BB unit sketched on the side.

Sorry for the trouble. I'd like to see that smile again.

P

You dropped your head on your desk and cried.

It went like that for the next few weeks. You would hide away in your office and Poe would silently walk in, leaving coffee and a note. Sometimes he'd linger, poking around your belongings and tossing out a relayed hello from Beebs.

You never looked at him.

Until a Tuesday in the middle of the blandest week to date. A few officers stormed in, making you spill your coffee, and tossed a very burnt looking pilot into your office.

"Engine fire,"

"Messin' around,"

"Fistfight,"

they all said over each other. Still pissed about your precious caf, you waved them off and toweled your desk down.

"This better be good, because that was my last cup of caf."

"If it's the caf I brought you, does it cancel out?"

Your head snapped up to meet Poe's sheepish grin. He was smoking slightly, the very ends of his hair crisped to charcoal. Ashen grease coated every inch of him, and you frowned to think of the stain he was leaving on your chair.

"What the hell?"

Poe, to his credit, told the story neatly and without embellishment. He'd been fooling around in his X-wing and shot a rogue blast into another pilot's droid pit. A grease fire followed, and here he was. You shrunk into yourself. There was no getting out of this.

"I'll need a full damage report within the hour, and your flight status will be reconsidered for ineligibility. Please-"

"Don't."

You stopped, stuttering like a broken speeder. This wasn't- shit, no, you needed to stick to the script and don't look at him- your eyes met his. Poe was looking at you desperately, eyes shining.

"Please don't ignore me," he pleaded. "I didn't mean to get you hurt and I just wanted-"

"Poe," you stammered, looking at him with raging tears. "I need...I need you to go away. For a wh-while. Please."

He looked like a kicked puppy. "I'm-"

"Please."

Your cheeks were streaking, the mascara you'd carefully applied with the hope of no tears today was pitifully washed away. Just like yesterday, when he'd faked an argument with Rose to end up in a disciplinary meeting with you.

Or last week, when he tried to tell Organa that you needed to interview him for a recon debrief.

Or every single other time he'd tried to apologize and you'd shut him down.

It hurt you, too. You missed him, and you wanted to accept his apology and hug him and wipe the mopey look off his face. But it made your heart quake and your breaths come short.

It was scary. You could be cold, you could shut down, that was familiar. But the new thing with friends and a fuzzy feeling inside made you cower with fear. You didn't know what to do with that. Where did it go from there?

You curled up in your bunk, shuddering in the darkness. It didn't feel comforting anymore - it felt like you were a little kid hiding from the monster under your bed.

Driving a stake through your heart, you wrapped a comforter around your shoulders and padded down the hall.

Your voice was soft when his door shhfffed open.

"Can I have the R2-D2 light this time?"

Your legs swung off the edge of his bunk. Poe sat gingerly across from you, cradling his night-light so that both of your faces were lit. As promised, R2-D2 sat comfortingly on the bedside table.

"Why are you scared of the dark?" You asked suddenly.

He perked up at your voice and smiled. "Dunno. Just never got over the idea of something hiding in the shadows."

You nodded, burrowing into your blanket. Poe was anticipating your next question, rocking slowly on his heels.

"Why'd you change your hair?" He asked, timidly. Not sure if you'd bite or run away.

You poked your nose out of the blanket burrito.

"I missed you," you blurted, tears welling again. Containing his monumental relief, Poe settled a hand on where he thought your arm was under the duvet. Me too, his gentle caress said. More than you think.

"I-I'm sorry, Poe, I didn't m-mean to..." you trailed off into tears as he soothed you, wiping the tears from your face. The warm glow from his nightlight was dimmed by you being pulled into his lap. He leaned against the headboard, your head under his chin.

The hug was messy and uncoordinated; what with you being wrapped in a comforter and his hands being entangled in your hair. Your heart had broken into shards, and it wouldn't be easy picking it back up. Poe knew. He knew enough to stay quiet, letting you wring yourself dry in the safe circle of his arms and the halo of R2D2's glowing form.

Poe was in agony. He knew this would take time. A single night of closeness wouldn't shatter the sky-high walls you'd built around yourself. But he was losing his mind with the urge to pound them down with his fists and skip to the i love you please love me back and fly into the sunset.

But he could wait. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets to prevent from touching you, almost tearing his flightsuit with the strength of his grip. You sat stiffly next to him, so distant he wanted to cry.

He wanted you to look at him. To say something, even if it was a tease or a scathing remark for his tardiness. He'd purposefully strode into the meeting late to attract any kind of attention from you, but your eyes stayed shut.

So he laid his chin on his hands and tried to pay attention. He was never good at these kinds of events. Too much talking, too many pictures and pages of information. He needed time to read and think and doodle and do something other than just sit there.

Poe knew his fidgeting was distracting, so he tried to keep it to a minimum. You weren't acknowledging him directly, but he could feel your mild irritation every few minutes.

General Ackbar was still talking, but the buttons on his suit were so tempting to snap and his hands were bored-

A sharp jab in his ribs made him yelp. Whipping around, he was prepared to cuss out-

oh.

Your hand was outstretched, hiding under the table. A small silver ring was in your palm, attached to a thin chain. He took it slowly, gauging your face. You stayed turned towards Ackbar, but inclined your chin subtly and returned to writing notes.

His heart trilled at the small gift, turning it over to inspect it. There were multiple bands, and they spun together nicely. Poe fiddled with it, grateful for the distraction. A gentle whirring sound made him grin. It was a neat little toy. The rest of the meeting fell on his deaf ears, totally enraptured with the ring.

As soon as the debrief was adjourned, you sped off before he could return it.

Oh well, another excuse to see you. Not that he wanted to give it back, but he did want to see your face. Poe hung it around his neck and tucked it under his collar fondly. It clicked against his mother's ring, right over his heart.

That night, in his bunk, he sat awake. His gaze was focused on the door, awaiting a timid knock. He'd made sure both the night lights were charged and waiting.

A small ping on his tablet and he was scrambling to pull it off the charger.

Notes from today, read the message, and your familiar scrawl filled the screen. He grinned, settling down to peer through your looping handwriting. You'd drawn diagrams, which he knew you hated but helped his brain connect the dots. The sections were even color-coded.

He studied the drawings until his eyes fluttered closed, hugging the glowing remnants of you close to his chest.

One step forward.

Poe was back to his chipper self the next day, revived by your small act of kindness.

He engaged in a raucous round of sabacc with the Gold squadron, still laughing even after being thoroughly trounced.

"Good to see you again, Black Leader," Rose jibed, nudging him in the ribs. "I was afraid that last engine fire mighta smoked your brains out."

"Yeah," Gold Two chimed in, "what's up with your record, dude? Got some kind of unlucky streak?"

Poe's ears were flaming. "Uh, whaddya mean?"

Rose's eyebrows were dancing a mirthful tango. "Oh, nothing, we've just noticed your tendency for clumsiness has...increased. I mean, I knew you were a mess but damn-" she pulled up his record. "Two grease fires in a month? Sheeeesh, those HR officers must be sick of you."

Gold Two's eyes glimmered. "Unless....it's one officer in particular?"

He was certain his cheeks were blistering from the heat pulsing under his skin. "It's been a rough while, alright? Until I see you complete a barrel roll without pissing yourself, shut your mouth."

Two guffawed. 'Low blow, Dameron, low blow."

Having barely dodged that bullet, Poe laughed. "Hey, at least I'm not walking around with wet boxers."

"Boxers? Who said I was wearing any?"

Rose made a gagging noise and shoved away from the howling men. "Y'all are nasty," she said, screwing up her face, "I'm out." Another raucous round of laughter followed her out. Poe chuckled again, poking at his food, but the familiar nagging in his chest was beginning to return.

Just go say hi. Wave. Walk past her door. Maybe peek through the blinds?

He wanted to toss his food at the wall. This was so stupid. You were both adults, you could have a normal conversation without stumbling around each other like emotionally repressed apes.

Before he could lose the nerve, Poe stood up and strode out, jaw set. Gold Two looked up quizzically but made no comment. You were most likely holed up in your office, buried under paperwork and meetings and Important Things that permanently framed your face in a pout.

But he wanted to see you. And because he was also Important and desperately in love with you, his attention took priority over all else. Well, he thought it should at least.

To his shock, you were leaning back in your chair with a holovid playing quietly on your tablet. You looked up, but didn't tell him to go away. Poe hovered, waiting for a dismissal.

It didn't come.

Like trying not to spook a bluurg, he carefully seated himself next to you and slid his gaze to your screen. It was some action flick that had been released a few days ago. It looked awful, in his opinion, but your shampoo smelled nice and he liked the domesticity of watching a movie.

You had a penknife in your hand and were flipping it around. It was mesmerizing; the nimbleness of your fingers as they twirled around the glittering blade. Poe's hand went to the ring you gave him, gaze glued to your gentle expression. He wanted so badly to hug you.

"Hey," he whispered, mindful of the vid.

You swallowed and he saw your lips twitch.

"Hi."

"How's it been?" God, it felt like an awkward first date.

You looked at your hands. "Okay. Not too bad."

Poe nodded, picking up on your hesitant tone. You didn't want him here. He hung his head, biting his lip. Maybe next ti-

"How...about you?" You added softly. He looked up, surprised. Your head was tilted to him, hands stilling. A tiny sliver of hope begun to shimmer in his chest. Maybe...

"It was good," he said, "did a bunch of drills, some reports-"

"I saw," you blurted. "I...I um, I saw your scores. You did a good job."

Poe sat back, awestruck. you were talking. to him. nicely. was he dreaming?

"An honest to God compliment," he breathed. Immediately, he clapped a hand over his mouth. Fuck. It was so immediate; that comfortable banter from Before. he'd forgotten.

But you didn't hide this time. He saw it, the instinct to cower, but you fought it. "Don't get used to it," you poked drily.

A grin brighter than the Yavin suns split his face in two. You gave a tentative smile in return, subtly leaning closer to him. Your gaze returned to the movie, but Poe's stayed firmly on you.

Baby steps.

His hand twitched, inching closer until he looped his pinky with yours. His heart preened when you linked tighter, brushing your palm against his hand.

Baby steps, one at a time. You'd get there. One day.

do you guys like it??? idk how to feel oh well xox

also I will die on the hill that Poe is ADHD. 100%.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@krakenkitty

comment to join the taglist

[silverynight]

Scented blankets

Izuku is sitting on the couch in the common room the first time it happens; he is waiting for Katsuki to study together, because they're very good friends now. Then, the blond alpha arrives, carrying an orange blanket with him that confuses the green haired omega for a moment.

Maybe he's cold or just wants to get himself comfortable before starting their study session.

However, he looks different, embarrassed (judging by the pink color of his cheeks), almost distressed before he stops right in front of Izuku.

"Here, for you," Katsuki mumbles, although it's clear enough for the omega to understand what he's saying. He hands him the blanket and Izuku takes it before blinking a couple of times.

He's a little bit confused until the scent hits him; it's a scented blanket from Katsuki! He probably heard his conversation with Uraraka the other day about him needing a familiar scent to fall asleep.

"Thanks, Kacchan. I love it!" He beams, hugging the blanket and nuzzling against it happily. The truth is, Izuku has always liked Katsuki's scent: it's like smoke, but if the smoke was made of salted caramel; strong enough to get himself lost in it.

The alpha visibly relaxes and even smiles at Izuku before sitting next to him on the couch.

"Do you really like it?"

The omega nods, making a happy sound that prompts Katsuki to look fondly at him.

"I'm glad... I..." Katsuki rubs the back of his neck, looking suddenly nervous. "I know this is... too much for our age, but it's us... We have known each other our whole lives so I figured it'd be fine. Besides, it's not like I'm going to change my mind, I knew it was going to be you since... almost from the very beginning."

Izuku tilts his head in confusion, he's not entirely sure what Katsuki is talking about, but it's true that they've known each other since forever. Maybe he's trying to tell him that since they're childhood friends it's not that big of a deal offering him a scented blanket.

"Come here, Kacchan!" The omega giggles before pulling him next to him; Katsuki curls up immediately at his side. "We have a lot to study!"

"You're such a nerd," Katsuki says, but he can't hold back the huge grin on his face.

"You're a nerd too, Kacchan."

***

Katsuki makes him breakfast now and gives it to him in a cute bento box in front of all their classmates. He looks very smug about it, especially when the omega praises his cooking skills.

"Aren't you two too young for this?" Uraraka asks Izuku as soon as the explosive alpha goes back to his own table. "We're in highschool... Besides, nowadays a lot of people date first before going through this process..."

"What process?"

"I don't think Bakugo is planning to follow through right away," Iida cuts in, confusing Izuku even more. "Besides, this is a very formal way to do things; I like it."

Uraraka rolls her eyes at him.

"Of course you approve of this! Why am I surprised?"

"Are you sure about this, Midoriya?" Todoroki leans closer, staring directly at him.

Is this all about the scented blanket?

"Of course!" He blurts out, realizing his inner omega is basically purring. How weird, his omega has never been this happy before.

***

The scent doesn't last long so Katsuki has to scent the omega's blanket every now and then, but he doesn't seem to mind; he's actually very happy about it.

"Hey, nerd..." The alpha mumbles, moving closer to him; this time they're outside, sitting on the grass, enjoying their afternoon. "I'd like you to scent something of mine as well."

Izuku nods immediately, feeling a little bit bad for not offering to do it in the first place. His inner omega is very happy again.

"Of course, Kacchan!"

When he hands him a hoodie, Izuku hesitates.

"But this is your favorite..."

"And that's why I want you scent it," Katsuki says.

A blush spreads from his cheeks to his neck, but the omega nods before nuzzling against the hoodie. Izuku gets flustered when he notices that Katsuki is watching the whole thing with a fond smile on his face.

"Here you go, Kacchan..."

"Thank you, Izuku."

***

They hold hands now; the omega enjoys it, especially when Katsuki intertwines their fingers together like he doesn't want to let go. He also enjoys the fact that the alpha is constantly leaning into him; he usually ends up with his head on Izuku's lap and purring loudly whenever the omega starts running his fingers through his hair.

However, Aizawa pulls him aside one day after class to talk about it.

"Tell me you have informed your mother about this already, Midoriya."

"About what?"

Aizawa takes a deep breath before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"About the courtship. You're too young to be courting."

"What courtship? I'm not–"

"Bakugo has been courting you," Aizawa tells him, staring at him like he can't believe what's happening. "Now this type of courtship is only meant for people who plan to mate and get married... Which is why you must tell your mother immediately."

Izuku blinks once, twice and more as all the moments with Katsuki play in his head since the alpha gave him that scented blanket.

"Of course, if you don't want to continue, you should talk to Bakugo instead–"

"No!" Izuku cuts him off, almost in panic; his inner omega almost feels pain at the thought of rejecting Katsuki. "I mean it's okay! I want him to keep courting me!"

"Alright, but no PDA during class."

Now that he knows, Izuku starts nuzzling against Katsuki's neck and purring out loud when they're together; the first time it happens the alpha blushes to the tip of his ears, but then he turns even more physically affectionate.

Katsuki kisses him on the lips for the first time a couple of days after that and then he just keeps kissing him whenever he can; unfortunately, they can't do that often because Aizawa is always keeping an eye on them, but he allows them to hold hands.

When they tell Izuku's Mom she's surprised and worried for a second before she notices the look on their faces.

"Alright, it's fine... But no mating bites until after you two graduate," Inko makes them promise.

"Of course, auntie. I'm serious about this."

She looks back at Katsuki with a kind smile before she and Izuku start crying.

It's... a little bit better when they tell Katsuki's parents; Masaru congratulates them while Mitsuki chuckles and assures them both she already knew this was going to happen. They both want Izuku and Katsuki to wait a couple of years too, but they seem very happy about it.

"Who could tell you were such a romantic, brat?"

"Shut up, old hag!"

"Would you like some tea, Izuku?"

"Yes, please... Bakugo-san."

"Call me Masaru."

***

The day they graduate, Katsuki gives him a new scented blanket and asks him to move in with him to a small apartment and become his hero partner.

They get married a year after that, because Katsuki is getting desperate, even though he had already given Izuku a mating bite.

They end up using those blankets to wrap their pups with them. Both of them tear up that day, even though Katsuki denies it.

***

Patreon

[mintmatcha]

A singular light is on. The apartment is dim with diffused shadows, cast across the entryway from doorway to the dining room. As you take off your shoes, you're aware of a slow drumming-- tap, tap, tap, tap: fingers against the hardwood of the table. As you wander in, dropping your coat on the couch next to your husband's, you see the man in question. He's sitting there, expression more dour than usual.

"Sit down." Aizawa jerks his chin to the chair opposing him. For once he's still in his work clothes, his all black garb dusted at the knees and elbows. The sweats he usually changed into at still draped over the back of his chair, waiting for him.

"What is this?" You gesture to the scene before you, "Are you interrogating me or something?"

"Sit," he repeats, face flat. He's still wearing his boots, prosthetic still on. You're going to make him vacuum later. "We have to talk."

You slide into your seat, brow raised. Aizawa stares at you for a long moment before he leans back and grabs something from the floor. He tosses the item onto the table and taps his finger against it.

"What is this?" he asks. You pause for a second, expecting something scandalous, but then you process it and realize:

"It's the pack of boxer briefs you asked me to buy," you laugh a bit and Aizawa scowls deeper. His eye twitches at your amusement, "What?"

"You know what's wrong with this."

You look at the package again. It's the right size, the right material, the right cut-- you genuinely don't know what the issue is.

"It's... underwear."

"Look at it. Look." Aizawa taps the package, as if the answer is obvious.

"Honey-"

"You bought me." His voice cracks with really annoyance. "All Might underwear."

You shrug with a shake of your head, the breath of a laugh in your voice. "So? It was on sale."

Aizawa leans forward, taking the package in both hands and pointing to the designs. Most are just boldly colored, with bright blues and yellows, but the front most pair of briefs are spotted with All Might's face and name. It's gaudy, sure, but you're the only one seeing his underwear, so why should it matter?

"So?" Aizawa repeats back, "I work with the man, I can't wear his face on my fucking penis."

You lean forward to match him, shoulders bouncing with a laugh you're trying to swallow. "How would he know?"

"It doesn't matter if he knows, I'd know." Over dramatically, he tosses the package to the side and to the floor, face still scrunched with annoyance, "You have to return them."

"Again. They were on sale. I can't return them." You reach across the table for his hand, but he doesn't react, still staring at you with a curled lip. "I'll just wear them instead."

Aizawa groans.

"Absolutely not." He puts his head in his hands, hair falling over his eyes, "How could I ever look him in the eyes ever again? His face on your body."

"I guess you're not going to like my Dynamite thong then."

"Please tell me you're joking." Aizawa rubs his palms into his eyes, eyepatch moving back and forth, "He is my student, that's not funny."

"He was your student ten years ago," you remind him, "He's a grown man with merch now."

"Tell me you're joking. Tell me."

You stand, hands on your button fly, "Why don't you go check for yourself?"

"No." Aizawa finally looks up at you, expression almost pained, "We might never have sex again actually."

[mystycalypso]

Return to Ravenbrooks: Biography

Entry 2

Name: Nicholas Michael Roth

Date of Birth: 1997

Gender: M

Current Address: [REDACTED]

Height: 5'6 (5'3 when hunched)

Hair color: Brown

Eye color: Brown

Key features: Freckles, Messy hair, 5 o'clock shadow, hunched posture, goggles

Role: Spy

Abilities: Lock picking, pickpocketing, sneaking, gadget inventing, climbing, crafting

Occupation: N/A

Status: Stunted

Biography:

I couldn't find a reaction to the blue home that pulled into view in front of me. As far as I knew it wouldn't be our house for long.

It never was. It seemed like every summer we were packing up again. Another school year, another house, another happy realtor welcoming us to the town.

He looked back at me from the mirror, a smile on his face while we slid into the driveway. "Chin up Narf! Yknow with any luck-" I fought the urge to finish the sentence. It was the same every time. "This'll be it! No more boxes, no more moving trucks!"

I remember sitting on the curb, staring at everything and nothing. He sat next to me, pulling the brim of my cap down over my eyes. "You doing alright, Narf?" I was silent. He waited patiently for a minute, then let out a soft sigh. "I know it's hard moving so much." Most of his words are fuzzy now. But I can remember the warmth of his voice, the weight of the gift he put in my hand. It made a metal clunk. Like the box of drill bits he kept around. But it wasn't drill bits. It was something much better. More useful.

I'll forever be thankful for that gift. Those lockpicks have done me so much good over these years. Without them, I'd never have met Aaron, and I might not even be here today.

When that summer had come around again, it was a surprise to not see any packing. No for sale signs, nothing.

For a few months believed he'd been right. That I'd end up growing up in this house, just across the street from my best friend and his little sister. I thought we'd go on looking for supernatural mysteries in the town until we were too old to believe in them.

Why couldn't that have been the end of it?

Why did I have to wake up that night to my mother's bloodcurdling scream?

Why did I run downstairs?

Why did I have to see his body in such a state?

The windows were open, the curtains billowing wildly in the wind. Those birds were- everywhere. It felt like they were watching us. If I hadn't woken up, maybe they would've fed on my mother too, in her fainted state.

"Natural causes," they told us. Nothing they could do.

Mom tried to keep it together, to keep calm despite everything. But the house, it was too much. Just being in the same room brought her to hysterics. And I...I could barely understand it all back then.

Everyone in town knew what happened in our house. Despite everything they did to "fix it". The new bright orange coat of paint wouldn't be enough to sell it. At least- I thought so for so long. Heck, I didn't believe it when I saw the "sold" sticker. It was only when I saw them from the chimney of Mr. Peterson's house that I realized it had really happened. That something had really changed. I just didn't know how much.

[gauloiseblue]

John Price as a arm candy personal bodyguard

General HQ | Part I | Part II

(Enemy to friend to lover AU)

"Why did you agree to help me?"

The question came out from his mouth so suddenly, that even he himself was caught off guard.

She stared at him for a moment, before she asked him back,

"Would you rather me not helping you?"

"That's not what I meant." He grunts, "You let me into your home, even though we barely knew each other."

She raised his brow at him, "If that's the case, then why did you knock on my door?"

He fell silent for a moment.

"I… don't know."

(I feel like I could trust you)

"Then I don't know either." She told him, as she turned her attention away from him.

After seeing her unwillingness to talk, he decided not to push it further.

Other than her aloofness, she's very accommodating as a host. She let him use her office as his living space, and he could ask her if he needed anything.

He has made a few progress as well; he had established a way to communicate with his team, although he couldn't find Ghost's whereabouts. He also found the person behind the missing blueprints. With that information in mind, he began to plan his next step.

There's just one problem though, he needed guns and weapons.

Of course, he couldn't possibly ask her to buy those things. She'd raise the alarm even by mentioning anything about guns. But he did find a way to acquire it, though he had no choice but to ask her a favor.

"You want to attend the ball?"

"Yes, I have someone to meet there."

She thought for a moment, "I can try. But don't get your hopes up, it's hard to get into contact with him."

"It's alright." He said, "Do what you can."

She took a fine piece of paper, as she hummed to help her think.

"You said he's an arm dealer?" He nodded, "I might have something that could interest him."

She approached the wooden cabinet near her desk, and pulled one of the drawers open. She then pushed the upper layer aside, revealing a hidden cabinet below.

She took the polished box out, and placed it on the table.

"I never knew I'd use it as a bargaining tool." She sighed, "Let's just hope it'll work."

She told him to find her assistant and helped her deliver the gift, along with the letter she hurriedly wrote.

Several days later, when he was working on his desk, she barged into the room with a letter in her hand.

"Get ready." She told him as she slapped the letter on the table, "We're going to the ball tomorrow."

He didn't have the time to react as she dragged him along to the garage.

"I've made an appointment with a tailor. Since we can't have a custom-made suit, we'll choose whatever's on displays. Also, we should work on that face. That beard needs to go."

"What? No."

"You're a fugitive, John. You need to hide your identity." She told him as she got into the car. "Besides, you're coming with me as my escort, so don't argue with me on this point."

At the boutique, she handed him several suits and shirts, and told him to try them all. They went through that process several times before she chose the white and darker blue combination.

The next stop was the salon, and he could say with confidence that it was an experience he never wanted to repeat again.

"I swear, you always bring the most exotic looking people to my salon."

"I think you mistook ordinary people as the exotic ones."

"But you can't deny that he's gorgeous, darling."

He could only smile awkwardly as the two women in front of him conversed on what to do with him.

"I want him to look different, you can change his hair color if you want."

"Hmm, let me see." The woman beside her took a step closer to him, "Well, I can make him look a little bit younger, but I don’t know about his skin, dear. It's been exposed to too much sunlight."

"I can fix that myself. Please do something about his hair," She took a glance at him before she added, "And his beard."

After years of grooming and care for his beard, the fruits of his labor were gone in just 15 minutes. Not only that, he had to sit down for hours, as the woman worked on his hair, and listened to her complaints about the texture of his hair, and how he should've taken better care of it.

When she finished, she called her to take a look at him and see if it's to her liking. She came up to him and lifted his chin to get a better view. Before she gave her a nod of approval.

Back at her house, they went over the plan, and talked for a little more, before she brought a bottle of wine for them. Soon, the conversation turned personal, as he told her stories from his old days.

She was quiet when he told her about Shepherd, and how history repeats itself.

"You can't carry all the problems on your shoulder, John. You know that."

"I know." He murmured, "But I can't just sit around and wait for anyone else to solve it."

"There'll always be a person with the same righteousness as you." She said, "You have to remember that your body has a limit. You're not getting any younger, sooner or later, they'll find a way to get rid of you."

He kept his eyes on the glass between his hands, as her words tore through his ears. He didn't like the way it sounded, because he had already heard it a million times in his head.

She reached to him, and placed her hand on top of his, giving him a gentle squeeze. "When it's all over, come to me, John." She muttered quietly, "I won't ask you for too much. Keep me safe, and I'll take care of you."

He thought about it long enough for the silence to fill in, before he turned his hand to hold hers. "What if I refuse?"

"Then send me a card every Christmas," She replied, "So I'd know you're still alive."

He lifted his head to see her, and caught the sincerity in her eyes. She could've asked him to stay, and yet, she let him choose.

"... When it's all over," He told her, as he placed a kiss on her knuckles, "I'll give you my answer."

[dreamer-after-dark]

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Human!Wally Darling/Gender Neutral Y/N

They share a very sensual cuddle session together. Reader is chubby.

Comfort/Praise, kissing, touching, light biting, eye contact. Just a lot of foreplay.

Word count: 1,490

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Bugs clamored in the quiet evening wanting to be heard above the rest. Cars drove through the streets down below with the sounds of excitable music fading away with them. The cloudy sky deepened in color as the minutes passed by. You watched with lazy fascination as the sun's rays dripped down the walls. The soft color filled the room, coating everything it could touch with its glow. 

Wally had made himself comfortable with his head resting against your chest. His body nestled comfortably between your legs. You were breathing easy as the intense colors faded away from view leaving only the light from a plug-in. Wally insisted on listening to your heart beat. He said it was amazing the way it sped up or slowed down. His finger tapped against your wrist as he kept time. 

Wally sighed as the tapping changed to him drawing circles against your wrist. His nail dragged but never caught your skin. The circles were small in size looping over and over again in the same spot. As light as his touch was, you couldn't help but find it distracting. Your body twitched and tensed as it adjusted itself under the new sensation. Wally smiled as he nuzzled against your chest gently pushing against your jaw to press closer to your body. 

His tracing broke, leading his touch downward so that he could part your fingers and fill the spaces with his own, "How was your day today, sweetest?" 

"My day was.. It was a day," your hand in his felt warm, "And yours, honeycrisp?" 

"It was a day," he repeated with a giggle, "I'm glad to be here with you." 

"There's nowhere else I'd like to be." You mumbled in agreement. 

He pulled you closer, his breathing hitched a bit. Silence followed as Wally teased his touch along your hand. His pointer rose and fell along the expanse of your sensitive palm. He would be sure to keep his ear right above your heart so as to never miss a beat. 

Every passing of his touch on your skin undid the tension and restraints of the already fading day. It eased you into his presence, into these four walls. The outside was worlds away. Your hand rests at your side where he continues to feel along your wrist and palm, the other moved up to feel the thick strands of his undone hair. You ran your hand through letting them pass and fall at the pull of their own weight. Wally practically purred at the feeling. 

His hand moved away from you momentarily. You made a small sound of displeasure, but gasped when his hand came to rest fully on your hip. Your heart rate jumped as your body tensed at the sudden change. 

His hand gripped around your waist ever so slightly as he applied a calming pressure, "Your heart started beating a little faster… Is it because of me?" 

You couldn't suppress an embarrassed smile, "Maybe a little bit." 

Wally playfully scolded you, "Are you getting nervous?" 

You were going to respond, but Wally held your hip a little tighter. He turned his head a bit so that his lips pressed against your neck. Even like this he could feel your heart pick up again. You ate your words, not that you remembered what they were. His breath tickled against your skin as his lips grazed ever so slightly against your exposed neck. 

"You're so soft." He whispered against your skin. He spent a few seconds like this before laying his head back down on your chest. You felt him smile as he tapped his pointer against your thigh keeping in time with your heart. You released the breath you held in. Wally had a way of getting under your skin and you were sure you enjoyed it. 

Wally moved his hand lower to your outer thigh. He gently lifted your shorts up and let them bunch around your hip. You felt him tense as he discovered you weren't wearing underwear. Your heart rate sped, but neither of you said anything. 

Instead, the pads of his fingers gently pulled against your skin until you felt his nails pressing close. His fingers curled letting them scrape ever so slightly against your thigh. As his fingers extended, his smooth nails gilded along your flesh until the tips of his nails dragged against it. He continued this repetitive motion for a bit moving ever so slightly to tease his touch underneath the bunched shorts. 

"How are you feeling, sweetness?" He asked, voice filled with his need to know.

"I'm feeling good." You spread your fingers watching each strand of his hair part.

You felt him smile against you. His touching stopped and your eyes opened. Wally's face was right above yours with his arms on either side of your head. He had one leg between your thighs as he kept you pinned below him. His hair tickled the side of your face, but you gently played with the ends as you stared up at him.

His eyes were half-lidded and he had a small, but pleased smile on his face. His brown skin glowed from within wherever the orange night light shined on him. He looked otherworldly on top of you like this. You stared wide-eyed and entranced, this look of yours was not lost to him. His smile grew wider as his eyes creased. You were practically stupefied beneath him from touch alone. His eyes held yours and you struggled to look away for long. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as one of his hands came up to cup your face. His thumb grazed your cheek and jaw as he kissed along your hairline. He turned your head to the side as his lips trailed lower to your ear where he only giggled when your thighs squeezed around his. Leaving your ear alone, he kissed your cheek instead. His kisses lasted a bit longer as he moved closer to the side of your lips. He pulled away to admire the blush that tinted your skin now. 

Your hands were holding onto his wrist. One circled around it squeezing and rubbing. The other was holding his hand in place as you nuzzled against his palm. Your eyes remained shut as he watched you kiss it. Everything you did made him feel overjoyed with your presence. 

He leaned close to your ear, "You taste so sweet." 

Wally made you face him. Your eyes fluttered open, dreamy and dazed. He smiled as he watched you. Your eyes shut as he leaned down. His lips molded around yours. His lips were a bit chapped as they brushed against your smooth ones. His tongue flicked against your bottom lip whenever he pulled away before leaning back in to savor your taste. 

"I want to touch you more." Such simple words excite you. Wally was staring into your eyes as his hands held your hips. He squeezed as his hands rubbed up bunching your shorts a bit more. His fingers caught your shirt and lifted them up as his palms pressed flat against your stomach and up towards your waist. 

You stare into your eyes letting him watch how he affects you. You smile when he does, but flinch when his hands stop leaving your shirt pulled up and out of the way. His eyes leave your face to gaze at your exposed stomach. His hand rubs up and down your waist. You can feel him breathing when he leans down. Wally wastes no time as he kisses your stomach. He picks random spots to press his lips against and each one makes you tense. 

"It's only me, only Wally." He says to you hoping to calm your nerves. His eyes looked away from your face once you started to relax. Your breathing evened out as he continued to kiss your stomach. He grew bold as he licked along your ribs. His tongue pressed flat as it glided, the tip of his tongue flicked as he pulled away. 

Wally squeezed a bit of fat around your belly button, "So warm, so squishy." 

He bent down to kiss the tender spot, licking up the sheer coating of sweat budding up. He licked the same spot as he held you by your waist squeezing ever so slightly. After a moment he stopped to check on your reaction so far. Pleased to see you blushing with a dopey smile, he leaned back down and bit at the spot he was focusing on. 

Your breath hitched as the bit molded around his sharp teeth letting you feel everyone. Your body twisted in response, but Wally held you still. His teeth released your skin leaving behind subtle teeth marks and a throbbing that was spreading all around yourself. Wally had made his way back up to be face to face with you, he smiled as he held you close against him.

[honeybunniii333]

Was asked for Bedwarry angst by a friend! And I realized I've never written for them, so :P

Sorry it took literally 2 months. My lore has gotten so crazy lately.)

TW: FOR MENTIONED PET DEATH! (It's not in detail by any means. But the story is centered around Barry losing an animal. So if that's sensitive for you, I'd recommend not reading any further.)

"Blue?.." Ed's voice called out from the sliding glass door. It was soft, gentle... like he was afraid Barry would shatter if he spoke any louder. He wasn't sure why his first insinct upon finding Lily had been to call Ed... and not bury her. Maybe because he knew he couldn't do it by himself?... or at all. Ed had buried Mavis, and Emmie and Figaro... and clover, after all. Barry had simply stood there and watched him do it. He didn't even have it in him to bury them. Another way he failed those poor babies.

Ed had found his way to where Barry was hiding. Tucked against a tree staring into the window of the little house he kept the animals in. It was a shed he's fixed up, with a little fenced-in area to play outside in... painted bright colors that right now felt mocking. Ed's face was downcast, eyes somber and eyebrows furrowed with sorrow. He knelt down beside him and reached out to brush hair out of the other boys face. "Hey.. look at me...please?"

It took more effort than it should have to force his eyes up to meet those of his best friend. "There we go." Ed forced a smile, but it was twinged with a sadness they'd both grown pretty used to. That was the downside of this... the loss it came with.

"I'm sorry..." he managed to choke out, leaning forward to rest his head on the taller teens' shoulder. Edward was quick to wrap his arms around him. "And why in the world are ya sorry?" He whispered, rubbing his thumb over the stitching at the hem of his best friends shirt. Always fidgeting with something, it almost made Barry laugh... almost. "For making you do this every time... I know you hate it just as much as I do, and I sti-"

"That's my job, man." He laughed, pushing the shorter boy back a bit so that he could look over his friend, who was now looking very puzzled. Though that was nothing new, Edward Quinton was an enigma, and Barry was positive regardless of the length of their friendship. Edward was never EVER going to stop confusing him. "What do you mean your job?"

"I'm your best friend Barry, I do what you can't do for yourself." And maybe Barry preferred it that way... after all, what was Eddie if not confusing? "You're such a dork.."

"Hey, that says more about you than it does me! You're the one who keeps me around Bluebell." He huffed, shoving the other back with much less force than he normally would and getting quickly to his feet. "Now, where's the shovel at? Let's get this done so we can have a nice memorial and go watch a movie."

"Garage." And off Ed was, grabbing the shovel from the garage and beginning a task he'd grown somewhat used to over the years. Adding another tiny grave to the little cemetery. It wasn't a large cemetery, and Barry prided himself on that. He was able to patch up and nurse most animals back to health. The majority of the pets buried there had simply passed of old age or terminal illness... but a few of them hadn't, and that fact would never bother him. But Ed was there, and Ed always made things a little easier. Picking up the slack and helping with the heaviness of it all. Before he even knew it, they were both standing in front of a tiny little grave. Ed wrapped his arm around him, and they both gave their best wishes to little Lily before once again, making the somber walk back up to the back door and on inside.

Barry could still recall first meeting Ed. It was hard to forget, of course. Considering it had changed his whole life. Barry had always been alone, his parents were always gone, his older brother ignored him the majority of the time, and he wasn't very good at making friends. And he had been content with that, and then he'd been smacked upside the head with a soccer ball, and after that, he'd never been alone again. 2 years old onward, they'd been attached at the hip. And here they were 16 years and counting still spending most weekends like this. Huddled up together on Barry's couch, binging old horror movies with graphics that looked more like a highschoolers experimental art piece than certified animation. And maybe Barry preferred it that way,

[ye-it-is-skeet]

I found some poses on Pinterest and you can guess what happened✨ Also taking this time to show the full-body full-designs of the teetlez+Usagi✨ And to talk about the designs and choices that were made. Also behind them is basically the shapes I imagined as I drew them all

<Info-Dumping Zone>

Leo- The most I can say about his design is like.. He wears wrappings either to have support for his wrists or just because. I have sketches of all their masks from behind but Leo's is based on, when I looked up traditional ninja designs, and saw a ninja with a warrior man-bun type deal so ye✨

Raph- His rough and "spiky" look is more just to show his aggressive demeanor most of the time. At first I just added the armor because I saw some ninja outfits where they wore armor (mostly on their shins and forearms), but after drawing this I realized it can be good for ramming into people and having that protection. Also the instant I finished designing him I knew I wanted him to be DARK, and I am OBSESSED with how dark he is✨ Also the short mask tails are because I see so many ppl giving Rise Raph specifically his tails tied to a bow so ye. Also it wasn't just a pentagon, it's more that I just thought about polygons.

Donnie- I actually designed Donnie first, because he's my favorite, heheh✨ His design is simple, I wanna talk more about his Bo-Staff. As I drew this I just made this area that stuck out from the staff where the wrap is, and it reminded me of those pencil grips. So now it's that Donnie doesn't like holding the rough staff for too long and has that little area to give his hands a break as he continues to fight. The armor on his shins I do not yet have an explanation for. Maybe it's so his kicks can hurt more.

Mikey- Again, simple design. When I designed him I wanted him to look round and a lil chubby maybe~✨ Quick tip: if he doesn't look baby then you drew him wrong.

Usagi- For the most part I just did my own thing, the outfit design, more specifically how the blue cloth bits are designed, were entirely based on how @okumura-senseixxx draws Usagi (love how they did it✨, obviously). Using that design because I wanted Usagi to look pretty, and that design of clothing is very pretty✨ Other than that it's a matter of just flipping Usagi's hair because trust me it doesn't look good any other way. I didn't think heart when designing Usagi, but when I think of Usagi I think "heart" so ye.

Teetlez- I am thinking of doing one of those "art study" sheets for my teetlez and characters if you guys ever want, I'll just do a mini worded version for now since I'll be working on something else. Overall their bodies are based on the first concept designs of my "Turtlier" Teetlez which was the Rise Boys just.. "Turtlier". Those designs changed but I loved the body type and used it here✨ The beaks are personally a must✨ I find it more interesting to draw beaks than normal mouths for the teetlez✨ The tails are also just a personal must, I just like them✨ Took a while to figure how I'd draw the individual pieces of their outfits, I thought doing brown or grey (ew) but both matched Raph's red in greyscale so it would never work. Then I looked back at my sketched design of Donnie and noticed to differentiate the pieces of clothing I had shaded his arm and leg bits. ✨Lightbulb✨ Just make the other pieces darker variations of the main color✨

I have a lot of information that I'm still trying to hash out, so ye✨

References (if it's important at all, from Pinterest except the nunchaku one, google):

[eyesthatroll]

wip catalogue ! ft. qh43, lh43, jh86, nm29, tz11, jc37, dm91

author's note; hey everyone, mari here, just wanted to say thank you for 1k followers!!!!!!!!1 that's crazy, and you guys are so so amazing and cool and swag. i thought about doing a celly, (fun fact, i've never done one of those!) but i've decided to save that for next time and attempt to do a draft clean out.

i have 117 drafts, really just pages upon pages of unfinished work that i'd like to get out at some point. so, if you enjoy my writing, under the cut will be excerpts from fics/oneshots/series' that i haven't finished. if any of them of them peak your interest, please let me know by either leaving a comment, or something in my inbox. i'll try and work on the ones that have the most interest first, and then finish the others. if this doesn't make sense, or you have any questions, you can let me know in the same fashion.

dad!jt compher x fem!reader

Eamon huffs out of frustration. “She’ll already marry Sammy B. by then.”

Laughter escapes JT’s lips, “and who is Sammy B.?”

He huffs again. “He has black hair, and he sits by her in reading. Why can’t I have hair like mommy?”

“I got my hair color from my dad, your papa, just like you got yours from daddy.” You explain.

“Well, I don’t want daddy’s stupid h-hair.” Eamon’s voice waivers, and the tears that he was holding in begin to free fall. He turns into your side, clutching your shirt.

This idea randomly came to me. Eamon would probably be in either first or second grade, and has a little crush like all kids have. Said crush doesn't like his hair color, and tells him that flat out because kids are menaces and very blunt. OR. Was floating around the idea of the same concept, but perhaps a teenage girl? tween girl, maybe middle school age, and the boy she likes only likes blondes, so she asks to dye her hair blonde? But obviously that conversation would be waaaay more mature. I don't know. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader (best friends brother/kinda enemies to lovers)

"You can put your drink on my tab." A voice says, coming up from behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he takes a seat at the barstool to your right. You smile to yourself, shaking your head before turning to him.

You quirk a brow at him, "I did that already."

He rolls his eyes at your answer, taking a sip of his own drink, some beer you'd never heard of until earlier tonight. You'd taken a sip of Luke's earlier, and about gagged at the taste. "Of course you did."

You shrug your shoulders, no shame in your game. You were at a bar with about a dozen NHL players, you'd be damned if you had to buy your own drinks. "I already told Lukey I'm not paying for anything this weekend."

The request: Hiii can I request something where reader and luke know each other from college and they’re at a party or bar and jack is visiting luke so they see each other and jack is interested in reader but she’s playing hard to get 🤭

I changed the request a bit, so it's set in this season when Luke is already with the Devils, and reader visits during that 5 game homestead. This would probably be a long one shot, and I like the idea of combining these tropes:

forbidden

best friends brother

enemies to lovers (but not insanely enemies)

(more below, but a different part than above)

He scoffs, his hand pushing into your shoulder, playfully of course. "I love this relationship that we have."

You quirk a brow, bringing your glass to your lips, finishing off the rest of your white russian. "And what relationship is that?"

"The one where you pretend you're not in love with your best friends older brother."

"I always did like Quinn." You respond, an innocent smile on your lips.

"No-"

You cut him off. "Plus, he has that whole Captain thing going on. Very sexy."

"He has a girlfriend!" He exclaims.

You shrug your shoulders, leaning in closer to face him. "That's too bad."

You're obviously joking, but Jack doesn't seem to catch on. "And, you're too young for him."

You shoot him a questioning look. "But not for you, huh?"

He slides his barstool closer to yours, the fabric of his jeans making contact with the bare skin of your knee. "Are you still dating that college fuck, what was his name.. Alan?"

Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip. "Aiden."

He nods, feigning a look of realization, while you both know that he knew his name. "Right, Aiden." He confirms. "The guy who leaves you on the side of the road at 3am."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That was one time."

Your eyes shoot to his palm, that has found a place on your thigh, his warm hand against your cold skin sending a chill throughout your body.

"I could never leave a pretty girl like you on the side of the road." He continues.

Probably going to have a lot of bickering throughout the fic, reader will be hardheaded and uncompromising on fucking up her friendship with Luke. I haven't fleshed out the personalities I want them to have yet so this is in a very rough stage. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

nathan mackinnon x fem!reader (5 year age gap)

“Today’s my 23rd birthday.” You say, before taking a sip of your drink, your attention to the right, where a man as struck up a conversation with you at the bar.

He takes a swig of his beer, his eyes roaming your body before they finally meet your gaze again. He looks conflicted, his brows tensed as if battling an internal war.

You weren’t stupid. You graduated college top of your class—with honors, and even if you hadn’t, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that you were speaking to an older man.

The only man, to even catch a sliver of your entire, in the entire bar. You’d caught eyes with him from across the room, back when you were pushed in a booth with your friends. He looked away immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you every now and again, before you finally excused yourself from the table and went up to the bar. You wore a black slip dress, your hair cascading down your back with silver glitter hair tinsel placed throughout. You didn't bother turning to see if he would follow you, you don't chase, you attract. If he sat in the chair next to you, then he was buying you a drink. And if he didn't, then you'd move on to the next.

“Happy Birthday.” He finally said.

"What happened to your nose?" You were over the birthday formalities-having received them all night. You had questions for the man sitting next to you, starting with his bruised nose, a prominent and formidable feature dominating his face that you couldn't take your eyes off of. With him looking straight at you, you could see that it curved slightly to your right. Nothing stopped the thoughts of feeling it against your skin.

"My nose?" He questions. There's surprise in his tone of voice, like he forgot about the bruise on his nose, or surprised that you'd asked about it.

"Quite the shiner you got there." You comment again, bringing your glass to your lips again, this time finishing off the rest.

"Uh-" he pauses. There it is again with those tensed eyebrows, you wished you could gauge what he was thinking about. "Work incident."

"Damn, where do you work?" You let out a chuckle. You hadn't meant to be blunt, but you couldn't imagine what line of work would create a bruise like that.

He finishes his beer, setting it back on the counter with a light thud. "I work in..sports."

"What are you like a gym teacher?"

He laughs, for the first time since he's sat down next to you. You could tell that he had a nice smile. "Something like that."

Another fic starting in a bar. Don't know how this started, but very self indulgent as I am 22 and suffer from nate mac brainrot daily ! I have no idea for plot at all, literally nothing. I'd probably want to include smut of some sort, that seems very much where the vibe is heading, but I am absolutely terrible at writing it, so I'll have to do some research and practice writing that (if you have any tips-please let me know!!)

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader (debating on making this an oc)

Quinn and Reader (debating on making reader an OC!) are getting married in a week, and reader is still struggling to write her vows. Will probably be a long fic and include the wedding. A bit angsty, but a lot of fluff to make up for it. I'd probably give reader/oc emotionally distant parents?? Or maybe her parents are divorced? Not sure. It'll mid offseason, so we'll probably see a lot of familiar faces (j. norris, b. tkachuk, etc.)

Your frustration mounted as you released an exasperated sigh, the eraser of your pencil frantically working overtime to correct yet another line that failed to capture the right essence. You flicked away the eraser remnants with a swift motion of your palm, straightening out your legs and allowing the spiral notebook to settle in your lap. Leaning back against the arm of the couch, you closed your eyes, simultaneously opening and closing your hand in an attempt to alleviate the cramping in your fingers. A burgeoning headache threatened to take hold, and you could feel a slight discomfort in your eyes after hours of writing without the aid of your glasses.

A week, you were getting married in a week, and you still hadn't finished writing your vows. Admittedly, you had procrastinated until the last minute, but you hadn't anticipated the challenge to be this daunting. Your love for Quinn surpassed anything you had ever experienced, so why was expressing it in words proving to be such a formidable task? Frustration morphed into annoyance, and you carelessly tossed the notebook onto the modest coffee table before rising from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

You were grateful that no one was home at the moment. Everyone had gone out for lunch, and you chose to remain behind, citing a lack of sleep the previous night as the reason for your decision to take a nap. While that wasn't entirely false – your night had indeed been restless – your true intention wasn't to catch up on sleep while the others were away. Quinn, being the caring soul he was, insisted on staying with you, but you resisted his efforts and practically ushered him out the door. That was about an hour ago, and you were keenly aware that their return was imminent.

Delving into the medicine cabinet, your fingers located the bottle of aspirin. You poured two into your palm, easily popping them into your mouth and washing them down with water from the sink. Gazing into the mirror, you couldn't help but cringe at your reflection. The extent of your fatigue hit you with full force – the bags under your eyes were darker than you had ever seen them.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

This would probably just be a fluffy, short, domestic blurb, don't really have any other plot ideas for this.

Arriving home from work, all you wanted to do was take a shower and collapse into your bed. Tonight was an exception, with your shift extending later than usual, around 10:30, instead of your customary 9. Combine that with your regular hour-long commute, and it's almost midnight by the time you finally get home. Silently navigating through the dark and quiet house, it appears that your boyfriend is already asleep. However, as you step into your shared bedroom, you find him slumped against the headboard, eyes fixed on his iPad, headphones in.

The soft glow from the screen casts a muted ambiance in the room, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. Your initial fatigue gives way to a subtle pang of guilt, realizing he stayed up to wait for you, something he quite often did when he was home, even though you insisted he not.

He doesn't notice you, until you've crossed over to your dresser to grab your nightclothes before your shower, slightly jumping before dropping his iPad and taking out his headphones. "Hey, you're finally home." He comments, climbing out of his previous spot on the bed to sit at the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the edge.

You yawn, turning around to face him. "Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?" You question. He pats his thighs, gesturing for you step over to him.

Leaving your clothes to rest on the dresser, you walk over to him. Quinn widens his legs so you can step in between them. Wordlessly, his fingers trail up your waist, to your chest, beginning to undo the buttons of your white lab coat. He slides the fabric off your shoulders, leaving only the black satin blouse you'd been wearing underneath.

He pulls gently at your collar, drawing your lips to his softly. His hands drop to your waist, gripping at your sides to guide you on top of him until you're straddling him.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" you ask, breaking apart from the kiss, just enough for your foreheads to remain pressed against each other.

"Just missed you." he mumbles, pulling you into a hug, his head finding a comfortable spot in the crook of your neck.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Toxicity, angst, angry sex, maybe second chance love, idk.

"Where have you been?" Jack's inquiry slices through the air, surprising you as you step quietly through the front door. Your boyfriend, still awake and perched on the couch, rises to his feet the moment the door closes, arms crossed at his chest, a sour expression gracing his features. Your brows furrow in confusion as you lift one foot behind you, placing your hand on the wall for balance while attempting to undo your heel.

"What?" His question catches you off guard, especially because you had left him multiple messages earlier, clearly communicating your plans for the night—messages that went unanswered, leaving you on read once again. He sighs, a mix of frustration and concern, and crosses over to you, bending down. Without a word, he grabs your knee, gently pulling your heel-clad foot to rest on your knee, his hands deftly moving to undo the straps. He repeats the same with the other foot, before releasing you of his hold.

"I don't like you being out this late," he says, the firmness in his voice evident as he pushes himself up from his feet. Suddenly, he's towering over you, and you angle your neck to look up at him, annoyance etching your face.

"Sorry, Dad, didn't realize I had a curfew," you slur with a wry smile, a hint of laughter punctuating the absurdity of his concern. With a last dismissive glance, you shake your head and push past him, your shoulder bumping into his side as you ascend the stairs to the bedroom.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn shows the reader that she can enjoy her birthday when the two of them spend it together for the first time. Would be super fluffy, reader will be written to have two dads, though I might make it an OC instead.

Quinn's persistent nuzzling against your shoulder blade disrupts your peaceful slumber. With a groan, you bury your head deeper into the pillow, yearning to cling to a few more precious moments of sleep before the demands of the day pull you from its embrace. Gradually, he initiates a series of tender kisses, commencing at your collarbone and concluding at that delightful spot just beneath your neck. "Happy Birthday, Angel," Quinn murmurs, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Gently parting your eyelids, you shift on your other side to meet his gaze. His eyes are already fixed on you, brimming with adoration, as his teeth graze at his bottom lip. The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow that accentuates just how gorgeous he truly is. Even in the early hours, with disheveled hair and faint remnants of drool, he remains undeniably handsome in every retrospect.

"Thank you," you express your gratitude softly, a subtle shyness tinting your voice.

Birthdays, even as a child, never held much appeal for you. The discomfort of being the focal point, the recipient of attention, has remained a constant, and birthdays, with their inevitable spotlight, are something you've always actively avoided. Yet, here you are, facing a birthday that feels different, primarily because Quinn is here to share it with you. This marks the first birthday you're spending with him in the span of your three year relationship, and it's a welcomed departure from the usual routine. It's a rarity, considering his demanding schedule that seldom grants him time off, but you know it's because he'll be leaving for a four game road-trip on Monday.

Reaching over, his hand envelops yours, fingers applying deliberate pressure that prompts a satisfying crack from your knuckles. It's a peculiar habit he picked up from you, a subtle exchange of quirks that began when you surprised him with it initially. "I have a special day planned for you," he announces, punctuating his words with a tender kiss pressed into the center of your palm.

"You know I don't want a fuss, Quinn," you mumble, weariness etched across your features.

He senses your reluctance and responds swiftly, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes. "Not too much," he reassures, his words soothing against your worries. "Just want to celebrate you, Angel, on your day." Drawing nearer, he shifts, propping himself up on his right arm as he hovers over you. "Will you let me?" He wets his bottom lip, anticipation palpable as he awaits your response.

A small, close-lipped smile graces your lips as you reach up, your fingers delicately tracing over the overgrown scruff that lines his face. "Of course I will." A wide grin spreads across his face in response to your words, and he leans in, morning breath be damned, as your lips meet in a soft, synchronized dance.

He breaks apart, planting a kiss on your nose, before carefully stepping over you to get out of bed. "You get ready, I'll make breakfast."

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader (but not really)

This is part two to Nobody's Love. I finished it, but I absolutely hate it, and will basically be starting over from square one. Below is where we would've left off, but when I finish this properly, it won't start with this dialogue, it will probably open within a flashback, and this part will be later in the story (if that makes sense).

"What's going on here?" Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice, and you immediately break away from Jack, moving with an urgency as if you'd been caught doing something forbidden. Frantically, your hands move to wipe away the lingering traces of tears that you'd shed just moments ago. But your efforts to disguise your emotions prove futile as Luke's keen eyes detect the remnants of your sorrow, and his face contorts into a mix of confusion and well-intended concern.

"Why is she crying? What did you do to her?" Luke's voice brims with accusation, his words directed at his brother.. He takes a step forward, his intent to comfort you clear in his movement. You instinctively shuffle backwards, creating a protective distance, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

Jack scoffs, disbelief etched across his features. "I didn't do anything," he retorts, his tone dripping with emphasis on the word 'I,' subtly implying that Luke is the source of your distress.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Luke's words slice through the air, laced with an unmistakable edge. His face tinges with a reddish hue as his gaze drills into Jack.

Again, would love to give you a bigger excerpt, but I hate everything else of what I've written LMAO. Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x darcy sorokin (black fem!oc)

Basically a quinn x single mom au. May rewrite this entire thing. Also, started this months ago and loved the name Sunny for the kid (Sunny Sorokin) (no relation to the hockey player) but now I kind of hate it :)

Quinn became utterly enamored with her the moment his gaze met hers in the diner. She was a delightful surprise, replacing his usual waiter, Johnny, to collect his order. Her dark skin seemed to radiate a subtle glow under the dim diner lights, and her curly hair was artfully gathered in a loose bun resting at the back of her neck, adorned with a floral bandana draped over it. When she smiled, her dimples and the slight gap between her front teeth only added to her charm, leaving Quinn captivated and unable to shake thoughts of her for days.

Quinn stumbled upon Alma’s, the quaint diner, during his rookie year in Vancouver. Its unassuming atmosphere, a hidden gem tucked away, immediately resonated with him, providing a sense of ease. Combine that with the staff’s familial treatment, and he easily became a regular patron. Now, however, his visits weren’t just about unwinding and savoring a meal; he hoped to encounter the beautiful waitress he had learned was named Darcy (not through inquiry, but thanks to her name tag — he was too anxious to ask). Quinn relished any excuse to come to the diner, whether to be served by Darcy or simply steal glances at her when she wasn’t looking.

Quinn’s attempts to discreetly observe Darcy didn’t go unnoticed. She could sense the weight of his gaze, subtly tracking her movements around the diner. Intrigued and slightly puzzled by his behavior, Darcy decided to approach her co-worker, Johnny, to inquire about this regular customer. Johnny, with his wealth of experience at the diner, shared that Quinn was a nice guy who had been a faithful patron for years. He detailed Quinn’s routine of ordering the same breakfast every morning—soft scrambled eggs on wheat—followed by prolonged disappearances, especially during the summer months. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Darcy’s curiosity about the handsome and somewhat mysterious customer deepened. 

Darcy couldn’t deny the undeniable attractiveness of the man. His chestnut brown hair, steadily growing out since their first encounter, months ago, often required his attention as he habitually moved it out of his line of sight. His eyes, a deep brown that occasionally hinted at hazel in the early morning light. The way his teeth grazed over his bottom lip during conversation, though she was unsure if it was born out of nervousness or mere habit. Following the tumultuous chapter with her ex-boyfriend, after nearly five years, another man had finally found a place in her thoughts.

She harbored these thoughts secretly, keeping them locked away from anyone but herself. With her son, Sunny, now five years old, she couldn’t afford to be hasty. Sunny, more aware of his surroundings, comprehended things with greater clarity. She had already delicately explained the departure of his father, her ex-boyfriend, wanting to shield him from the unnecessary pain of the wondering, not knowing. And despite yearnings for companionship, she held the burden of guilt for Sunny’s lack of a father figure, and understood the importance of not rushing into a relationship that wasn’t genuine. Both she and Sunny deserved better, and she was determined to prioritize their well-being.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn and Reader go to their favorite diner late after a game. Probably lots of fluff, reminiscing. Possibly out of character Quinn, not too sure if he'd be into pda in front of the wags LOL.

Hovering in the distant corner, your fingers nervously toyed with the security pass draped around your neck, its edge resting just above the waistline of your jeans. A cluster of other wives and girlfriends lingered in the same vicinity, engaged in casual banter among themselves. You offered polite smiles, but there was no effort on their part to include you, nor did you make any overtures to join their conversation.

At last, you caught sight of a familiar mop of brown hair making its way down the hallway. The impulse to sprint towards him, leap into his arms, and plant an immediate kiss on his lips surged within you. However, with watchful eyes fixed on you, you opted for a more restrained approach, contenting yourself with a gentle caress of your hand against his right bicep. "Great game, Quinn."

A puzzled expression settles on his face, seemingly oblivious to the attention directed your way, or perhaps indifferent to it. His calloused hands find their place on your waist, guiding you closer as he dips his head low to meet your lips. Your fingers intertwine around his neck, and as his towering figure elevates you slightly off the ground, he murmurs, "Thank you, baby."

An orchestra of 'awws' surrounds you, a symphony of approval that bathes your cheeks in warmth. Quinn, charmed by your bashful response, lets out a chuckle, drawing you back into the protective embrace of his side. As he ushers both of you towards the back door, he bids the women farewell with a casual, "Goodnight, ladies," leaving the echo of their admiration suspended in the air.

"Goodbye, Quinn!" Their voices lingered with a touch of wistful admiration. You couldn't help but notice the collective enchantment Quinn seemed to cast on them. It wasn't entirely surprising—your boyfriend possessed a magnetic blend of boyish charm and dorky allure that had a way of rendering anyone weak in the knees. Since being crowned captain and amassing a string of victories, his newfound confidence only added to his undeniable sex appeal.

The night air nips at the exposed skin, coaxing you to cling closer to Quinn's comforting frame. As you approach the car, the two of you reluctantly break apart. "Do you want me to drive?" Quinn shakes his head with an easy smile, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before courteously opening the passenger side door for you.

You smoothly slide into the car, and Quinn secures the door behind you. With a jog to the driver's side, he swiftly settles into the seat, key in the ignition. Your hand instinctively reaches for the heat controls, but Quinn, ever attentive, beats you to it. After ensuring your seatbelt is on, he rests his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch contrasting the cool night air as he skillfully navigates out of the once bustling parking garage.

"Eddie's?" His voice dances just above the soft melody of the radio in the background. Tilting your head to the left, you catch his gaze for a fleeting moment before his focus returns to the road.

"Okay" You nod absentmindedly, a yawn escaping your lips as you lean your head against the window of the car.

He peers at you once more, skepticism lingering in his gaze. "Are you sure? We can just call it a night and head home if you're tired."

Your hand descends onto his, offering a reassuring squeeze. Fatigue clings to you, but the knowledge that he's hungry and wouldn't eat if you went home propels you forward. "I want to go out with you, Quinn."

A grin overtakes his lips, and he brings your hand up to his mouth, peppering a kiss against your palm.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

dawson mercer x juniper hughes (fem!oc) (luke's twin)

Remember last halloween when I floated around the idea of dawson x hughes sister. I started it, barely a sliver into the universe. I also know very little about dawson other than I think he's an absolute cutie pie, so I'll have to do some research for this series for sure. Will deal with heavy topics such as alcoholism, addiction, etc, so if that is triggering for you, this may not be the series for you, please take care of yourself, love you.

Juniper Hughes was no stranger to the judgmental eyes. They seemed to trail her everywhere she went, the invisible weight of societal expectations bearing down on her, reminding her both of who her family was and who she wasn't. While her brothers excelled as perfect, professional athletes, following in her parents' footsteps, she had been on a different journey—one of recovery from alcoholism after her expulsion from school due to underage drinking.

Twelve long years of arduous study, relentless commitment to extracurricular activities, unending string of tests, and the suffocating pressure of expectations—Juniper endured it all. Only one fateful night was enough to strip away everything she'd worked for. In the blink of an eye, her scholarship to Brown University was lost, her only friend torn from her, and her dignity shattered into pieces. The ruthless media, once her cheerleaders, rapidly transformed into her tormentors, subjecting her to a public shaming campaign for her mistakes, constantly drawing odious comparisons with her accomplished brothers. The intrusive question hung heavily in the air, echoing endlessly: where had her parents gone wrong with her?

Why was she so deeply flawed while her brothers seemed to glide through life unburdened? Why couldn't she manage a regular relationship-whether it was with alcohol, food, or people, but they could? Juniper's life had always been marked by relentless effort, a result of sheer necessity. Unlike her brothers, nothing seemed to come naturally to her—school, sports, it all required double the hard work just to lag two steps behind them. Alcohol served as her escape, a means to shed the heavy cloak of perfectionism that enveloped her. It provided release, a fleeting respite from her self-imposed pressures. Juniper enjoyed the person she became when she drank, but the mornings after, the ensuing guilt and repercussions, they ruined her.

"Cleaned out the guest bedroom for you, Twinny," Luke's voice is gentle as he opens the bedroom door, ushering you inside. Juniper offers him a nod, accompanied by a faint smile, and steps into the room. It's devoid of any distinctive character, featuring only four white walls, a simple bed, and a closet. As she walks around, she can't help but grimace, the stark emptiness of the room triggering memories of your time in the rehab center.

Juniper gracefully lowers herself onto the edge of the bed, her fingers delicately tracing the intricate designs on the black and white duvet. Luke and Jack linger in the doorway, observing her with wordless, almost reverent gazes, as if any sound might shatter the fragile stillness of the room. She clears her throat, then turns her gaze toward her brothers. "Thanks."

While this fic will deal with heavy topics, I don't want this entire series to be super depressing, so I'll try and add equal amounts fluff!!

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Part of the Bless the Broken Road series. Jack gets the kids up and takes them to school for the first time without readers help. Super fluffy. Might completely rewrite it, though.

"Hey, wake up." Y/N shakes Jack awake, her hand pressing into his shoulder as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.

Jack groans, stirring in his sleep, his eyes squinting open to meet her chocolate brown gaze.

"Remember, school starts at 8, kids need to be up by 7, and you need to be out the door no later than 7:45."

Y/N leaned down to plant a tender kiss on his forehead before straightening up. With grace, she retrieved her phone from the dresser and picked up her coat hanging from the back of the door. "Yeah, I know, I got it, baby," he dismissed, though when Y/N glanced back at him, his eyelids had drooped shut once more.

She flicks his cheek. "Don't fall back asleep!"

She was well aware of Jack's exhaustion, considering he had a late game last night that went into overtime. However, she had a scheduled meeting with a contractor at the bakery early in the morning, which meant Jack had to shoulder the responsibility of taking the twins to school.

Smacking her finger away, he forced his eyes open once more and sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm up." He rasps, "now go before you're late."

She gives him a knowing look, shaking her head. "Call me if you need anything."

"We'll be fine." He assures.

Things were definitely not fine. Jack couldn't pinpoint when or how it happened, but at some indeterminate moment, he'd drifted back into sleep, only to be roused by a gentle poking on his forehead and a soft voice by his side. He blinked his eyes open, finding his youngest son, Adler, right in front of him, his lips curved into a pout.

"Where's mommy?" Adler asks.

Jack's eyes shoot wide open, and he promptly sits up, his gaze fixed on the alarm clock perched atop the dresser, which displayed the time as 7:36. With a swift hand running through his tousled brown hair, he mutters a curse under his breath. Adler instinctively takes a step back as Jack moves abruptly, his tiny hands fidgeting nervously, forming knots of unease in front of him.

Exhaling a deep breath, Jack pushed off the covers, swinging his feet to the right side of the bed. He gently grasps Adler's shoulders, using one hand to push stray curls out of his eye line, his voice soft and reassuring. "Mommy had to go to work early today,"

Adler nods. "So no school today?"

Jack shakes his head. "I'm gonna take you. Will you wake up your brother for me, please?"

He nods, and Jack breaks into a grin, pulling Adler into a tight hug. With a gentle lift, Jack stands up, eliciting gleeful giggles from Adler as he spins them around in a circle. The sound of the child's laughter fills the quiet stillness of the house, prompting laughter of Jack's own. Setting Adler back down, the boy immediately dashes off, sprinting back to his bedroom.

———

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

jack hughes x fem!reader (ex-situationship to lovers??)

Months ago, when Jack had insisted that you attend your first hockey game when the season started, he had presented you with one of his jerseys. It had ended up tucked away in the back of your closet, gathering dust and fading into oblivion. In fact, you'd nearly forgotten about it altogether. However, the morning after your conversation with Luke, a sudden thought about what to wear to the game had crossed your mind. You were certain of one thing: you had no intention of donning Jack's jersey. You did briefly consider asking Luke for one, but that would have been counterproductive since he shared the same last name as him. Instead, you were determined to indulge in a little pettiness.

On that particular day, you impulsively ordered a Red Wings jersey from eBay. It happened to be Moritz Seider's jersey, though you didn't really know much about him, or whether he was still actively playing or not. Frankly, you didn't care. You had no intention of cheering for the Red Wings, you simply saw the purchase as a final "fuck you" to Jack Hughes.

Reader and Jack "breakup" and so she wears a different jersey to a game to spite him. Jack gets jealous, yada yada you can probably guess the vibes.

———

trevor zegras x fem!reader (bookstore owner)

Trevor comes into readers bookshop a couple times a week, begging to take her out on a date. Might turn into a 3 times he asked and the 1 time she said yes type thing. Not sure!

"Go on a date with me." Your gaze transitions from the non-fiction books that you were presently shelving to the tall blonde on your right. He regards you with eager anticipation, awaiting your response, although it seems to be no different from all the previous rejections you've given him.

"Don't you have anything more productive to do than pester me while I'm trying to work?" Your voice carries a tinge of irritation as you descend from the small stepladder.

He offers a nonchalant shrug, feigning innocence with an expression of mock sincerity. "Just one date."

You push your way past him, making contact with his side as you stride back toward the front desk. He tails you, mirroring your movements like a lost puppy, eventually leaning his elbows casually on the tall counter, opposite to where you take a seat behind it.

"Why must you deny this obvious chemistry?" He's teasing, his face leaning on his hand as he looks intently at you. You let out a huff of laughter, settling into the spinny chair.

"Does rejection get you off or something?"

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader

Reader broke up with Luke months ago, and doesn't expect to see him again, but she does, and he wants answers. Angsty, but will probably have a happy ending.

You tried your best to move on from him, putting in every ounce of effort you could to try and forget him. You threw yourself into your work, deliberately steered clear of the songs that held his memory, and even canceled your ESPN Plus subscription to shield yourself from the overpowering sadness that welled up whenever you saw him on the ice.

You weren't angry with him; anger had no place in your heart. After all, you were the one who had made the difficult decision to end things with him. You had asked him to leave your apartment as he struggled through sobs, his voice filled with desperation, seeking answers about what had led to the dissolution of your relationship. And despite the tears brimming in your own eyes, you didn't break down, standing your ground as he tried to challenge your conclusion.

Your sadness clung to you like a relentless shadow, casting a long and persistent gloom over your life for months. The vibrant and extroverted girl you once were seemed like a distant memory as you found solace in the confines of your home. Days passed in mechanical, robotic-like motions, each one blending into the next in a monotonous blur. Even the cheerful banter and laughter of your co-workers, which once provided a semblance of happiness, now felt like distant echoes in the cavernous emptiness of your heart. And nights were spent curled up on the couch, lost in the embrace of comforting films from your childhood, each frame a desperate attempt to escape the crushing loneliness that had become your all-encompassing reality.

You were aware it wasn't healthy, and though that knowledge weighed on you like a heavy anchor, you made no effort to climb up to the surface for air. The relentless ache in your chest, filled with sorrow and regret over losing the boy you had loved so deeply, was like a suffocating fog, clouding your vision at every turn. You couldn't go anywhere without being haunted by phantom images of him, his presence lingering like a stubborn ghost in the back of your mind.

It only got worse in the weeks leading up to the Devils vs. Red Wings game. You were aware that he would be in town, and that knowledge sent you spiraling into self-pity and uncertainty. You had deliberately steered clear of any rumors about his dating life, but your mind couldn't help but obsessively wonder whether he still missed you. Whether he mourned the loss of your relationship, or had moved on to someone better – a fear that had haunted you ever since he moved to Jersey even before the breakup.

It's a rainy Tuesday night, and you impassively make your way to Walmart with one single purpose in mind: to purchase alcohol and junk food. Your plan was simple – to watch the game and numb your sorrows with alcohol. You were fully aware of how pathetic it might seem, but at that moment, you simply don't care.

You stretch up onto your tiptoes, straining to reach a tall bottle of merlot perched on the top shelf, your shopping basket hanging from the crook of your elbow. In your haste to secure your wine, a sudden, sharp pain pierces your sternum. Your grip falters, and the basket slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor with an ear-splitting thud. One hand flies to your chest, your fingers resting on your heartbeat that pounded wildly against the thin fabric of your shirt. Disoriented, you stumble backward, the voice of a concerned stranger echoing in the distance as your vision blurs and darkness encroaches.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Jack spends the night at Readers apartment for the first time, and asks her to move in with him. Probably would be a short blurb, maybe 1k-1.5k words and under.

"You live in this building?" Jack inquires, his gaze sweeping over the aging building, a typical five-story apartment complex in dire need of renovation. You nod at him, shutting the passenger-side door as you step out.

"Is this area safe?" He inquires, his eyes lingering hesitantly on the parking lot.

You were roughly forty minutes from Jack's neighborhood, and while this area was a bit rundown and perhaps less safe, you thankfully had never encountered any issues.

"Uh, yeah," you respond, taking Jack's hand and leading him toward the entrance. After a moment of rummaging in your bag, you locate the key to the building, insert it into the lock, and swing the door open. Jack grabs the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

Your building lacked an elevator, so you faced a long climb to the fifth floor, where apartment 48B awaited.

As you unlocked the door, you visually cringed at the chaotic scene that greeted you. Clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, dishes forming a precarious tower in the sink. You hadn't had a chance to tidy up before Jack insisted on spending the weekend in your modest abode. And although you hesitated, knowing your apartment was far from perfect, you couldn't resist any longer. You two had been dating for about a month, and he had yet to see where you lived. He'd casually mentioned it a few times, so you knew it was time to swallow your pride and invite him over.

"Sorry bout' the mess." You apologize, nearly tripping over yourself to grab a pile of clothes off the floor.

Jack runs his hand across the wall to his right, his fingers tracing the scattered nail gun holes. "What the hell happened to the wall?" he asks, furrowing his brows in concern.

You pause in your cleaning, turning to face him. "Oh, the neighbors like to get drunk and play with their nail gun. Don't stand too close." you warn, shaking your head.

———

quinn hughes x pharmacist!femreader

Nothing started for this, but my time working in a retail pharmacy has me obsessed with writing this pairing. Might make her an OC, though. I love the idea of a badass working woman who doesn't put her life on hold just because she's married to a hockey player.

———

If you're wondering about the status of Never Have I Ever, I'm gonna be honest, I may discontinue that 🫣. Sorry! I just have no motivation to write out that storyline now, but maybe sometime in the future I will.

author's note part two: Obviously this isn't all of my wips, only some, and most haven't been edited at all and a very rough drafts, but I wanted to give you a glimpse of what I have sitting in my drafts. I also have a lot of things in my inbox that I want to get written, but I have been slacking (clearly). I also wanna do some song fics because I've never done one and think that could be cool. Again, if you have any thoughts, don't hesitate to let me know.

[desertdollranch]

Opening my first Bonnie & Pearl doll

I'm back with yet another obscure, rare, or defunct doll brand I never thought I'd own!

Bonnie & Pearl will probably be unfamiliar to most of you. They were based in the UK, producing a line of seven beautiful and high-quality 19 inch dolls and clothing.

They had wigged hair, blinking eyes, and had a variety of hair and skin colors. After they went out of business, I knew that finding any of these dolls secondhand in the States would not be easy. So I put them out of my mind and moved on.

What made me remember and reconsider them was the fact that I've been extremely lucky lately to find all sorts of dolls that were on my wish list but I never thought I'd actually find my own. Encouraged by my success, I searched again for a Bonnie & Pearl, and struck gold by finding two of them from American sellers. One was in original form, and the other was someone's unfinished project doll. I bought them both, so that I could decide which one I preferred and resell the one I didn't.

The one that I chose to keep was in almost new condition and came with her original box, clothes, and extras.

The box is beautiful and sturdy. Bonnie & Pearl's commitment to reducing packaging gave them the unique idea to make a box that could be turned into a bed for the doll.

Keep reading to see what's inside........

...........

The bed is decorated with pictures to be colored in.

More box details. It's interesting that I'm being prompted to give her a name when there's already a name on the front of the box?

Here's the doll's pink purse and hairbow. And a doll bed is incomplete without a pillow, so that's included as well.

There's a little pamphlet talking about how to care for your doll's hair and body, and additional outfits available for purchase.

The seller included the doll's original sleep eyes, which she replaced with stationary glass eyes. She included some extra 16 mm eyes for smaller dolls (they won't fit this doll). These were a nice freebie surprise, since I have a Hearts for Hearts doll who needs an eye replacement! The rest will be put into my doll parts stash.

All Bonnie & Pearl dolls come dressed in this beautiful ensemble: a floral skirt, a white shirt with pink buttons on the placket, white underwear, and matching shoes. The skirt has an attached tulle crinoline.

Now let's get to the good stuff.

Here she is! Her original name is Charlotte. I very often keep my dolls' original names and ethnic origin in tribute to their heritage, but I already have an English modern character. This girl will get a new name and backstory.

I can tell right away she's lovingly and beautifully made. She feels very sturdy, and her vinyl skin has a lovely matte finish that looks very much like porcelain. Her wig is fabulous, so soft and just the right thickness. The only thing not original about her are her glass eyes, but I actually prefer them to the blinking eyes. These look more realistic and give her a more childlike appearance.

I adore her. 10 out of 10. She is perfection from head to toe. I wish

Now let's do some comparisons.

She has a vinyl breastplate and soft tummy. She's a bit taller than an American Girl doll, but her proportions are very similar.

They can share clothes easily, with the biggest difference being that B&P's shoulders are a little less broad than AG's.

Shoes are a bit more different. B&P's feet are more meaty at the top, even though their length and width are almost identical. So she would do better wearing American Girl brand sandals rather than closed-toe shoes. AG can wear B&P's shoes easily.

Her anatomy is much like a Karito Kids doll, but B&P is a few inches shorter.

Since she was a project doll, her wig wasn't glued down, and the seller included the piece of her scalp that was cut open in order to change the eyes.

I superglued it back into place, and then put the wig back on.

I also glued on some soft brown eyelashes. I did try darker eyelashes on her first, but they were a bit too intense, and so I prefer the more subtle look of the lighter brown lashes.

And a bonus picture of her wearing an American Girl brand dress and posing with Nareen, my My Imagination doll. I get the vibe that they'll be good friends.

I'll reveal her name and show more pictures in an upcoming post! I won't be showing the other B&P doll I bought since I won't be keeping her after I fix her flaws.