#i was trying to write happy birthday on a cake and i was literally SHAKING so my one friend was like girl lemme help u she's bitch

[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.

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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

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

hi! still a bit busy, but even tho i’m late i wanted to write a really quick piece in honor of aaron warner’s birthday 🫶 enjoy this drabble (small mature warning for ending)

“c’mon on! we’ve got to celebrate!”

“no, love, it’s not necessary.”

“please.” you tug on the sleeve of aaron’s jacket in a gesture to get him to face you and your puppy dog eyes, one’s you knew he couldn’t resist.

you both were going back and forth on the topic of aaron’s birthday. you were adamant on throwing a small celebration in honor of his 21st. but all aaron wanted to do was nothing, literally. he didn’t even want to acknowledge the day.

so here you both were, on a walk around the park nearest to your place, going back and forth on the decision of how to celebrate aaron’s birthday. but you both now circled your way back to your front door. you were determined to get his permission to plan a party before this walk ended.

aaron sighs, looking ahead then turning his neck down towards you. you can see he’s on the verge of giving in, so you stick your bottom lip out, making a pout.

“alright, fine. if you wish to organize a celebration then i’ll let yo-“

you squeal, cutting him off mid-sentence. a huge grin plasters over your face. you go up on your tippy-toes and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

aaron’s heart warms to see your giddy expression. he would’ve said yes sooner had he known you’d be so excited.

“you won’t regret it. i swear!”

“as long as you’re present my love, i’ll be okay with anything.” aarons says as his hand moves to cup the side of your face.

“great.” you begin, moving your hand to the door knob of the front door. “because i already planned it.”

as soon as your words end, you open the door fully to reveal a crowd of people awaiting in your living room. they all yell out “surprise” as soon as aaron walks into the threshold.

while aaron’s body was unphased, his face gave away how taken aback he was by the sudden revelation.

he shake his head and turn to you with a playful glare, “so you’ve been stalling me this whole time.”

you give him a sheepish look, “i would say sorry, but i’m very happy with how i was able to catch you off guard.”

aaron squints at you and pounces his hands to your side, wiggling his fingers in your most ticklish areas. you squirm in his grip, trying to maneuver a way to freedom, all while laughing hysterically.

his tickle attack comes to a halt, after much of your pleading for him to stop. aaron pulls you into a hug, and you take a moment to catch your breath.

“thank you, angel.” aaron uses a hand to lift your chin up to face him. “for planning this. i adore it.”

“you haven’t even seen the whole party yet.” you counter.

“i don’t need to. the fact you took the time to do this for me is enough to love it.” he responds, looking at you with devoting eyes.

your heart swells with each of his loving words. sometimes it was hard to believe he was anything other than your adoring boyfriend.

“of course. i’d do anything for you, i love you.” you say with sincerity.

“and i love you, my beautiful girl.” he replies.

aaron leaving down to meet his lips with your in a kiss that never fails to make you weak in the knees. it was perfect.

“enough pda, there are children present!” kenji hollers a few feet away.

you break away from the kiss with a laugh while aaron face shifts to the disdain of hearing kenji’s voice.

it was going to be a long night.

-

hours later, when happy birthday has been sung, candles blown, gifts given, and all the guest were on their way to their homes — you and aaron got ready for bed.

aaron already situated himself under the comforter of your shared bed. unbeknownst to him, you were readying one last surprise for the night.

“love, where’d you go-“

“happy birthday dear aaron, happy birthday to you.” you sing the tune to the birthday song as you walk into your bedroom holding a small chocolate frosted cake with wonky letters saying “happy birthday aaron!” & a couple of lighted candles randomly placed. it was very obviously homeade.

aaron grins at your entrance, laughing a bit at your imperfect cake. maybe decorating cales as a job wasn’t in your future, but he loved it anyway.

you bring the cake infront of him, “make a wish!” you encourage aaron.

“how can i, when you’re everything i want and more.” he proclaims.

you roll your eyes, “okay, mr. poet, just blow out your candles before the wax melts in the cake!”

he laughs and does as he’s told, blowing all the fire away in one breathe.

as aaron does so, he gets a look at your attire. you’re wearing a pink babydoll nightgown was lace details. its material is very thin and flowy, allowing him to see your matching lace panties underneath.

aaron warner was hungry for something sweet in front of him, and it wasn’t for the chocolate cake you made.

“hey, love?” he says, grabbing the plate of cake and setting it aside.

“yeah?” you ask with a tilt if the head.

“lay down on the bed and lift your hips for me. i’m gonna unwrap and enjoy my first gift.”

[dorizardthewizard]

Galactik Football season 3 rewatch, eps 10 - 12

Episode 10:

So we open up with Yuki getting mad at Micro-Ice and thinking Zoleen is his girlfriend, and Mice is dumb enough to not reject that claim when she asks him directly if they're going out. He also barely acknowledges Yuki's birthday despite previously rehearsing this dramatic confession of love to her. Thran and Ahito are literally, and I mean literally the only Snow Kids that don't have any love drama going on (I know Mark's got something coming) and every single one has revolved around love triangles, whether misunderstood or not. I can't take this anymore, I'm at my limit.

Anyway, *hits play again*

Since when did this Cyclops dude have a wholeass funded show, when he wasn't even a proper journalist before?

WOOWAMBOO RETIREMENT RUMOUR?! SAY IT AIN'T SO!

Oh christ this is the start of the Sinedd parents arc isn't it. Holy shit they try to stuff so much into this season. But happy we finally got the backstory on Sinedd with him not being born on Akillian!

I can barely watch this segment holy shit it's just so awful (in universe, I mean, not the writing). Not just because I know they're con artists but it's so sudden, Hush Sharky making a whole spectacle of this on live TV in front of an audience and Sinedd had NO IDEA that he was going to meet his freaking PARENTS. WHO HE THOUGHT WERE DEAD ALL HIS LIFE. This emotional and insanely personal moment being used for entertainment fits with the corporate hellscape that the show takes place in, but what the hell. He has the full right to be pissed at Sharky.

Not the con artist parents running off immediately when the ground starts shaking 😭 Parents my ass

lol of course Micro-Ice has to fall in the cake. I think they use him for slapstick too much in this season

Tbf I quite like the villains in this season, it's an interesting dynamic with Lord Phoenix having his own motives but losing control of Vega

Sinedd's reunion with his parents is a pretty sweet moment if it weren't for the fact that IT'S A LIEEEE ToT.

Aarch yelling at Artegor about Adim... all this drama...

THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTIINNNNGGNGNGG and it's so silly

This is how I picture it

Is that the fucking Netherball music

The little TV spots with Yuki and Mei talking about each other before the match are cute! Makes the world feel more lived in and gives us some more interactions between the girls, even if not directly face to face here

I like Mei berating Sinedd for taunting Yuki when she's injured but... girl. He was always like this. You knew this. Why are you surprised?? They never actually showed him becoming a better person, just that he suddenly liked Mei and convinced her to join the Shadows. And Mei does not strike me as a poor judge of character so why would she date him....?

Wow Elektras not letting Mei through to help her friend? Why? They were literally celebrating her birthday together tf??

Poor Yuki, what a shitshow of a match for her although she did score a goal (I'm guessing the Breath is more powerful than the Elektra's flux since she's running in to attack). Loved her lil' chat with Mei though, I will say this season gave us more of the girls in the team being friends which I really do appreciate.

Here for the other Shadows players cooing and awing at Sinedd with his parents, I want to see more of what the team dynamic is like since they seemed to welcome him quickly back in season 1

Thran coming through with his tech knowledge!

Episode 11:

Does Bennett just carry a harmonica on him all the time haha

Harvey fought in the flux war?? ok cool lore I guess?????

Corso wondering whether to trust Sonny just because he didn't bring up Magnus straight away is a bit weird? I just feel that with all they've been through, it would take more for Corso to start questioning his faith in Sonny. This is also like, a 5 minute plot point that goes nowhere so why???

Tia talking with her parents about her concerns is an improvement from what their relationship used to be like in season 1, it's good to see!

Oh so Mei is a striker now. Is this implying that Mei's decision was influenced by her mother? Weren't we over that?? Still kind of sad to see her mum dismiss the SK and seem like she's still the same. Mei probably feels she'll never be good enough for her.

Not Sinedd complimenting D'jok just to be polite to Maya 😂 But what do you mean they haven't met yet? It's literally this season (I think?) that shows Sinedd was friends with D'jok when they were young kids! Maya hangs out with Mama Ice at the cafeteria as well, there's no way they've never interacted before!

Yeah Tia, it WAS stupid of you to be jealous of Lun-Zia. Weird though bc the show previously implied Lun-Zia liked Rocket but turns out she had a boyfriend all along?

Aarch: Artegor? Aarch: I'm sorry we started a bit earlier today, I forgot to mention it

Aarch you're such a petty bitch 😭

Oooo Micro-Ice is up for kick-off. Seeing them antagonistic towards each other is so sad :( Although season 1 Micro-Ice would have found a way to roast D'jok lol

I just realised team Paradisia and the Elektras probably have visors so they can have more diverse character designs in the 2D animation, while still copy-pasting models in the 3D scenes lol

Go Mark! Why did the goalkeeper run out from the goal I don't know anything about football

Nice to see Mark and Micro-Ice working together and having fun

D'jok's plan being to pass to Nikki-4 because the SK will think he's too selfish to let someone else score is so fucking funny

Oooo you don't get penalty shootouts that often in GF

I do love and miss sassy D'jok

Nikki-4: I guess you'll always be a Snow Kid at heart D'jok: At least I've got one

Bold claim with the way you've been acting, D'jok

Niki-4 threatening physical violence on D'jok lmaoo I guess she is a cyborg but it's weird D'jok actually held out until now with the way he's been acting towards the SK. Why does he suddenly now have a moral dilemma?

Episode 12:

Now to rant about the Ahito betrayal plot <3

Ok this how to beat Ahito thing is dumb from the get go. It's treated like some big secret and it would be a big betrayal to reveal it, but that's not how sports work. They could easily have figured out his weak points by just watching a load of videos of his saves, in fact they SHOULD have been doing this anyway – the best teams don't win just by playing their best, but by knowing their opponent's strengths and weaknesses and being able to exploit that! It's not dishonest it's just... how it works! Rocket was doing this back in season 1 when he was suggesting tactics!

So to treat it like a big betrayal to reveal something that's easily obtainable public knowledge is dumb. And also, they're treating this as if knowing a player's weakness is some magic key that means they can definitely beat him if they exploit it, which is... also not how sports work!! It's not like he'll definitely fail to save your shot if you hit in a certain way, and it's not like he can't adjust his play after you score a goal. It just.... it makes no sense!!

It was also kind of weird to hear D'jok talk about wanting to win honestly when he was fouling Warren last match and got scolded for disrespecting the game, they made it look like D'jok fully only cared about winning now, whatever the cost, but now suddenly he's having second thoughts and doesn't want to betray a team he's been shit-talking all this time?

I also don't like that what made him cave in the end was mind control, it takes away a lot of accountability. It also would have fit more for D'jok to continue doing anything it takes to win, so he can realise he's wrong later and that he's just been using that to run away from his feelings. As stupid as this “betrayal” is, it should have been his low point showing how far gone he is, his big mistake, that he can then work up from.

Rant over <3

Nork, commenting on a player's health problems is just rude

Of course Rocket starts feeling ill the second he has to go up

THRAN SCORES!!! Nice to see him do some shots

Goooo Lun-Zia! She's been a good addition

Last season I got sad that Micro-Ice was the first to flunk his shot, please don't let me down this time

YESSSSS

D'jok: Ahito always jumps in place, a little more to the side he's gonna leap to. He can't control it, it's stronger than he is!

And THAT's the way to beat him? Totally foolproof? Bruh. If all the SK knew this and it's sooooo easy to score against him once you figure it out, surely Aarch should have.... I don't know, helped him train so that he doesn't reveal which way he's jumping as easily?? THIS IS EASILY DISCOVERABLE INFORMATION GUYS THE POINT OF TRAINING IS TO IMPROVE ON YOUR WEAKNESSES

NOOOOO TIA OF ALL PEOPLE???!!! I HAD TO TRADE A MICRO-ICE GOAL WITH THIS? 😭😭😭 It happens though. Also weird she's the first to use her flux so far for this like, it's penalties. You don't have to conserve your energy, just use the goddamn Breath!

TT^TT Nooooo they look so devastated :( On the other hand, kind of crazy it took three seasons for them to actually lose an important match lol it's been win win win the whole time so far, so kind of refreshing.

I want to cheer on Mei for putting Sinedd in his place after shit-talking the Snow Kids but like, girl, HOW IS THIS SURPRISING?! HE'S BEEN LIKE THIS IN EVERY MATCH YOU'VE PLAYED AGAINST EACH OTHER, YOUR LAST INTERACTION BEFORE SEASON 3 WAS HIM PUSHING YOU TO THE GROUND AND THREATENING YOU!!!

She thought he only hated D'jok and now she's realising he's just nasty to everyone? Girl where were you when he was bullying Micro-Ice on your team lol. I mean she didn't care back then but she does now! Mei is not dumb, writers

That was a pretty good pick me up speech, Aarch

The animation makes this kind of funny out of context but, Artegor hesitantly reaching out to Aarch but then thinking better of it... aarrrrgh </3

Quick shoutout to the background designs in this show, they look really cool and I love how it's futuristic while still being colourful and bright. There's some beautiful art of the natural scenery too

What's up with reporters immediately wondering if a team is done for, or the coach might be resigning, after ONE loss? They're still GF champions, losing once doesn't mean it's all downhill from there

Adim standing up for her man <3

In this dub he calls her Mum-Ice lmao. So I guess it is just Mama-Ice? I do prefer the novelisation with her actual name, she's not mum to everyone, although I wouldn't mind having -Ice at the end of a name being some family tradition or cultural thing. Also love seeing her hanging out with Maya!

Poor Kernor just can't eat her ice cream in peace huh 😭

Aww Mama-Ice's speech is so sweet

Aarch needs a new start now more than ever? Why exactly?

Norata dancing in the back <3

Holy shit, Brim Simbra actually intervening?

Oooooo secret supplier guy was Harris all along, who would have guessed?

Huh looking at the ending screen of this youtube upload, I didn't know Robotboy was Gaumont animation too! Well probably Alphanim back then

[lacontroller1991]

Birthday Surprises (Gordo Stevens x F!Reader)

Main Master List || For All Mankind Master List

Author’s Note: HAPPY MOFO BIRTHDAY TO LITERALLY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE I just had to write something for the mustached chubby bunny and because I refuse to accept the fact that he is dead, he is very much alive and will stay alive.

Warnings: Gaslighting Gordo into making him think that everyone forgot, sexual implications (18+), beer, nothing besides that

Word Count: 1.8k

==========

Perhaps for the first time in a while, Gordo wakes before anyone, a smile on his face before he looks over to you sleeping soundly by his side. Reaching over, he gently shakes your shoulder, softly chuckling when you groan in protest, swatting away his hand. “Come on honey, get up.”

“Why?”

“Because…. I want you to join me for a shower.”

“Not right now Gordo, I want to sleep.” You roll back over and curl into a ball, the blankets covering most of your body except your eyes and forehead and Gordo can’t help but to feel a bit hurt. Normally, you’re quick to jolt out of bed towards the shower but you don’t, and what makes it even odder is the fact that you haven’t commented on the fact that it’s his birthday today. Shrugging his shoulders he walks to the bathroom and turns on the water, stripping and looking at himself in the mirror. He’s only just turned 49 and he doesn’t look his age. His hair is still a vibrant brown and his mustache has no traces of gray. The only thing that shows his age is maybe the creases in his forehead but past that, on a clean shaven day he could probably pass as a 39 year old. Lathering his face with shave cream, he picks up a razor and shaves his mustache. You’re probably going to miss it but it’ll grow back.

----------

The minute the faucet turns on you’re wide awake. Normally you would’ve loved to join him for a shower, especially given the fact that today is his birthday, but for your plan to work you have to make him believe that you forgot about his birthday. Slipping out of bed, you fix the sheets and lay on top, opening a book and reading the contents, or rather trying to. The minute Gordo steps out the door you have a million things to do for his surprise party. You have to bake a cake, buy some food, prepare the patio for the party, decorate the house, shower and shave every part of your body, and then you can get Ed to grill up the steaks that you need to get.

Dragging yourself into the kitchen, you start a pot of coffee as you look around the room, trying to decide where everything is going to go. Fortunately for you, you have two helpers who are going to help you whether they like it or not.

“Morning.”

“Morning baby. How was your shower?”

Gordo smirks a little as he pours himself some coffee while you admire him. You don’t mind when he has facial hair, but boy do you love it when he’s clean shaven spritzed with cologne. “It was good. Woulda been better with you.”

“I know, but I had to get your coffee ready before you left. Speaking of, what’s up with dressing up? Do you have a meeting today?” You can see the visible fall of Gordo’s smirk as his gears turn in his head.

“Don’t you know what today is?” Playing naive, you shake your head, turning back to the book in your hand as you take a sip of coffee.

“Should I?” You can hear Gordo’s huff of annoyance and even though you want to comfort him, you know it will ruin the surprise.

“No, never mind. Guess I gotta go.”

“Alright honey, you have a good day at work.” You press a kiss to his cheek before stalking away, leaving Gordo confused and hurt in the kitchen.

—-------

Shaking his head, he moves to the phone, calling the one person he knows will know today.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Ed. How’s it going?”

“Gordo Stevens? Calling me? You in trouble or something?”

“No, no. I was just wondering if maybe afterwork would you and Dani wanna go grab a beer.”

“Ah sorry buddy boy, Dani and I have a conference outta town. We won’t get back until tomorrow. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah I guess. I’ll talk to you later.” Gordo doesn’t wait for Ed to reply before he hangs up the phone in frustration. How has everyone forgotten his birthday? Unless today isn’t his birthday. Looking over to the clock on the counter he definitely sees March 26 on the clock so why is no one remembering? He supposes it’s not that big of a deal, given how he’s had 49 of them, but he did expect at least you and Ed to say something. Letting out a sigh, he grabs his keys and heads out the door, spirits disheartened.

—-------

“Did he leave yet?” Jimmy appears in your doorway as you tidy up around the room, a smile on your face.

“Yep! Just left. That gives us plenty of time to get the house ready. Go wake your brother, he’s not going to be sleeping all day.” Even though you’re not their mom, they still have respect for you. Maybe it’s because you don’t try to act like you’re their mother or maybe it’s because you make Gordo the happiest he’s ever been, but Jimmy and Danny do respect you, much to Gordo’s (and Tracy’s) surprise.

—-------

“Alright guys I brought the steak-”

“And I brought the pie, where do you want us to set them?” Dani and Ed ask from the kitchen as you whip your head to where they stand, a case of beer in your hands.

“Just set them… somewhere. Ed, the grill is out back, there should be some charcoal already.” Ed nods his head and heads for the grill, setting the steaks to the side as Dani, Tracy and Karen fixate different plates on the counters as you straighten out your dress, anxious for his reaction. Seeming to notice your anxiety, Tracy looks over at you and chuckles briefly, wiping her hands on a towel and walking over to you.

“Why are you nervous?”

You look at Tracy with brows knotted. “I’m just worried he’s going to be mad. I mean I told everyone to practically ignore him for the entire day and so I’m worried that he’s gonna get mad.”

“Dad? Mad at you? Yeah right,” Danny moves to pick some of the food off of one of the plates but Jimmy smacks his hand away, causing you and Tracy to laugh at their antics.

“Danny’s right. Gordo wouldn’t be mad at you. In fact, I think he’ll love the surprise.” Tracy lightly jousts you with her elbow before walking back over to Karen and Dani as you smile softly. When you had first started dating Gordo, you were nervous about how things would be between you and his ex, but in all honesty, you and her have become good friends, occasionally teaming up and tormenting Gordo who only groans in protest. Suddenly, Ed barges through the door, gaining the attention of everyone in the living room.

“He’s almost here, I can hear his corvette.” You turn around and gesture for everyone to hide while you grab a cold beer from the fridge and head toward the door, trying not to bite your painted lip as you wait patiently for him to walk through the door.

—-------

Gordo unlocks the door with a frown. Out of everybody he knows, his flight student is the only one to wish him a happy birthday, and Gordo attributes that to the fact that the student more than likely has a crush on him. Walking through the door, he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you standing there, cold beer in your hand, wearing his favorite dress.

“Welcome home honey.” Gordo instantly drops his briefcase and keys before he pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your lips and peeling the beer out of your hand.

“You sure know how to please a man.”

“I figured you’d have a long day of teaching, so I thought it would be best to be prepared.” And yet nothing about my birthday, Gordo thinks to himself bitterly as he takes a swing of the beer while you grab his hand. Leading him through the hall.

“So what’s the occasion? Why are you dressed up?” You don’t answer him as you guide him into the living room.

“Surprise!” Everybody suddenly shouts out, jumping up from their hiding spots causing Gordo to jump as well, looking at you.

“Honey, what is this?”

“It’s your surprise Birthday Party!” You drag him down for a kiss as he eagerly kisses back, heart swelling at seeing his friends and family in his living room for him. Pulling away from you, he looks down into your (E/C) eyes while trying to hold tears back. How foolish of him to think that everyone had actually forgotten.

“Did you plan all this?”

“Well, I had some help.” You gesture to everybody as Gordo looks around the room. Of course Danny and Jimmy are there, as well as Ed, Dani, Karen and Tracy. “It was hard to keep everything so secretive.”

“She had to practically bribe us,” Ed comments, slapping a hand on Gordo’s shoulder with a smile on his face. “Happy birthday buddy.”

“Happy birthday Gordo.”

“Happy birthday dad.” Everyone around him wishes him a happy birthday and Gordo hates the guilt eating inside of him. Seeming to sense his thoughts, you turn into him, placing a hand on his chest as the other wraps around his waist.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I just thought you guys forgot,” he replies sheepishly, looking down at the beer with newfound fascination.

“(Y/N) wouldn’t let us forget.” Tracy states as Karen and Danny nod their heads in agreement causing you to blush slightly.

“Well, there’s food, drinks, you guys help yourself. I also made some cake and we do have some presents for you to open, Gordo. Ed is gonna grill up some steaks so yeah, surprise!” Gordo swears he could not feel any more love for you than he does at the moment as he watches his family grab finger foods and talk amongst themselves while you stand at his side. “I’m sorry if I led you to believe that I had forgotten about your birthday. That was definitely not what I wanted to do.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. This is the kindest thing someone has done for me. I definitely think it makes up for the secrecy,” Gordo comments, taking a swig from his beer as he watches you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, a mischievous glint in your eye. “What?”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, you reach up to him and press a kiss to the outer shell of his ear. “Once everyone is gone, I have your real present in the bedroom and believe me, you won’t forget it.” You pull away, pressing your body against his and a kiss to his lips, “Happy birthday, Gordo.”

=========

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid​ @himbovillain-anon​ @babblydrabbly​ @a-reader-and-a-writer​ @fairchildflag​ @infatuatedjanes

MCB Tag List:  @tavners​ @reveluving​ @violetmuses​ @lafemmeahem​ @xoxabs88xox​ @waywardlavender​ (I tagged you since I know you like Gordo, hope you don’t mind)

[lovecanyon]

can you make a instagram blurb with kaia gerber as harry’s creative director and they’re married?? by the way in love with your work

INSTAGRAM BLURB

harry x creative director!y/n

MASTERLIST

A/N: FT COACHELLA WEEKEND TWOOOOO! (skipped the year 2021)

-

2017

liked by harryfan2, harryfan4 and 110,749 others

popculture Musician Harry Styles recently hired artist Y/N L/N to be his creative director. She previously has worked with Joan Jett, Kings of Leon, Lana Del Rey, Stevie Nicks and more. Her creativity is the whole idea, without her many musicians would be stuck trying to complete their albums.

view all comments

harryfan3 already love her

harryfan5 ALL THE ALBUM COVERS SHE DESIGNS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL 😭

harryfan9 seriously! i’m so exited

harryfan7 hs1 is getting close i feel….

harryfan10 y/n is so pretty

harryfan6 OMG SHE WORKED WITH STEVIE NICKS?

harryfan8 hasn’t harry tweeted about her before 🫣

harryfan11 yes! he’s a big fan of y/n’s

liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 1,9014,766 others

yourinstagram harry’s self titled album out soon!

view all comments

harryfan12 Y/N KNOWS WHAT SHE’S DOING

harryfan14 self titled? 😀

harrystyles Seriously in love with you, thank you for your artistry!

yourinstagram love ya sue

harryfan13 I’M SCREAMING WHAT DID HARRY JUST SAY

harryfan15 ngl they would be cute together…😭

pillowpersonpp y/n you’re my inspiration

harryfan16 she is the moment

2018

liked by harryfan17, harryfan19 and 220,627 others

hsupdates Harry recently wearing Y/N’s ring in a photoshoot!

view all comments

harryfan18 does this mean what i think it means

harryfan20 love their friendship ❤️

harryfan22 well i don’t think it’s a friendship….

harryfan23 is this who we are? is this what we represent?

harryfan24 HE ALSO TALKED ABOUT HER IN HIS INTERVIEW

harryfan26 wait….😧

harryfan21 probably isn’t hers!

harryfan25 it is hers! the ring was custom made for y/n, stevie nicks gave it to her 🙂

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 4,920,713 others

yourinstagram you’re doing great sweetie

view all comments

harryfan27 SHE’S SO SUPPORTIVE I LOVE HER

harryfan28 why am i crying over this

harrystyles I love you baby!

yourinstagram love you more h <3

harryfan27 I’M SHAKING WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN 😀

harryfan29 i mean we all expected it…

harryfan31 her smile omg

harryfan34 Y/N LOOKS SO IN LOVE WITH HIM 😭

stevienicks gotta love young love

2019

liked by harryfan30, harryfan32 and 552,839 others

stylesdaily HARRY SEEN IN MALIBU TODAY WITH HIS CREATIVE DIRECTOR Y/N!

view all comments

harryfan33 SCREAMING INTO MY PILLOW

harryfan35 the way they look at each other makes me wanna have a breakdown 😭

harryfan39 my heart just broke a little

harryfan37 at least she’s giving him things to write about

harryfan38 she’s his muse right now 🧍

harryfan40 THEY ARE SO CUTE I’M GONNA THROW UP

harryfan42 twitter is in flames

2020

liked by harrystyles, taylorswift and 21,920,377 others

yourinstagram only came to my wedding for the cake.

view all comments

harryfan41 i’m in shock right now

harryfan43 OKAY BUT Y/N’S WEDDING DRESS IS SO PRETTY 🥹

harrystyles I love you Mrs. Styles

yourinstagram i love you more!

harryfan45 harry’s hand placement- 😀

harry_lambert thank you for letting me design your dress ❤️

harryfan44 FREAKING OUT

annetwist such a beautiful wedding you had

harryfan46 Y/N’S GOING TO WAKE UP TO HARRY EVERYDAY…GOD HAS HIS FAVORITES

liked by yourinstagram, mitchrowland and 31,790,238 others

harrystyles STYLES // 2 . 1 . 20

view all comments

harryfan47 this is really happening omg

harryfan49 THEY GOT MARRIED ON HARRY’S BIRTHDAY I’M CRYING

yourinstagram now you’re stuck with me forever

harrystyles Couldn’t have it any other way.

harryfan48 the sunflower on the cake 😭

mitchrowland finally.

harryfan50 this whole wedding is literally so beautiful

harryfan52 Y/N IS NOW MRS. STYLES 😀

jefezoff you both deserve nothing but happiness

2022

liked by harryfan51, harryfan53 and 1,409,772 others

y/n.stylesupdates Y/N SEEN AT COACHELLA TONIGHT!

view all comments

harryfan54 the way she’s dressing so causal makes the influencers look like try hards

harryfan56 SHE IS THE MOMENT 🙏

harryfan57 can’t wait for the content we are gonna get ���

harryfan58 was y/n at coachella last weekend?

harryfan55 yes! she stayed backstage

harryfan59 Y/N WAS ALSO SEEN WITH BILLIE EILISH

harryfan61 when she arrived literally everyone ran up to her…i felt bad 😭

liked by harrystyles, gemmastyles and 5,920,688 others

yourinstagram what is a coachella? and why is it going on during a harry styles concert?

view all comments

harryfan60 y/n is so pretty ugh

harryfan62 THE CAPTION I’M SCREAMING 😭

harrystyles In love with you.

yourinstagram well thank you.

harryfan64 when you realize y/n is the reason why we got fine line, hs1 and now harry’s house

lizzobeeting so glad to see you last night!

harryfan65 DID YOU GUYS SEE Y/N FACETIMING ANNE AND SHOWING HER HARRY’S SET?

harryfan63 she’s so supportive it’s adorable

liked by yourinstagram, billieeilish and 19,673,901 others

harrystyles PALM SPRINGS WEEKEND.

view all comments

harryfan66 he’s so in love with her 😭

harryfan68 SHE’S GETTING THAT DICK EVERYDAY. SHE’S GETTING THAT DICK EVERYDAY. SHE’S GETTING THAT DICK EVERYDAY

yourinstagram i love you my pretty boy!

harrystyles I am so lucky to have you.

harryfan67 i’m sobbing 😀

florencepugh OH MY GOD Y/N IS SUCH A BEAUTY

harryfan69 it’s the fact that he took these photos of her

harryfan71 WITH THE CAMERA THAT HE HAD ON THE BOAT IN ITALY!

harryfan73 don’t remind me of the yacht pics…

pillowpersonpp my woman.

-

tag list : @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @drphilssoulmate @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @academiaghosts @japanchrry @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @hrryscherrys @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @newyorker14 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @eunoiamaa @kaitieskidmore1 @gublerscherry @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @diorsitgirl @golden-hoax @helen-with-an-a @imthegoofyvillain @flwrmuse @leah2002 @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @riverjane-d @iluvjj @lone-emaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @vodka-is-gay-and-so-am-i

[minty-fanfic-corner]

Birthday Scenarios - Kaeya, Zhongli and Thoma

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAI

Before anyone ask, yes, i love writing for these three.

I'm alive. Tbh i don't have any excuses except i haven't had a lot of motivations for fanfictions lately. I'm mostly writing for my OCs and all. Plus, my Winter semester is already coming to an end so you guessed it... Lots of work.... Anywaaaaay. At the moment I'm posting this, my birthday is in two hours HELP. So i just thought I'd write these ideas I had a while ago!

Warnings: It's kinda angsty... I think. But it all ends well!

A/N: Tried gto make it gender neutral, as usual! I'm literally brain dead, so please excuse any big mistakes and tell me if i made some ;;

Content under the cut!

Kaeya

“I’ll be leaving now! I should be back by 3pm.” You told Kaeya, taking your keys that were hanging by the door.

Your boyfriend came to you and gently hugged you. Today was your birthday, and you looked so happy, he couldn’t help himself but smile too. You had planned to go out for a brunch and to go shopping with friends, hence why you were leaving.

“Alright then snowflake, be careful. And call me if you need anything, okay?” he said, kissing your forehead.

You happily nodded and kissed him quickly, before telling goodbye. Once he made sure you were on your way, he ran into his closet. There, he pulled a big plastic box, filled with different decorations, snacks and gifts. He knew that you would be gone for a few hours, so now was the time to prepare your apartment for the party. Still, he did not have a second to lose. He wanted everything to be perfect to surprise you. He smiled to himself as he started to prepare everything; he couldn’t wait to see your surprised eyes and smiled.

You had been waiting on your friends for quite a while now. You arrived at the restaurant around 10, just like you and your friends agree. Now, noon was right around the corner, and you were still sitting at a table, alone. The servers were giving you apologetic looks and would slide a few appetizers on your table. Yet, you didn’t have the strength to eat them. You were trying to hold your tears, and you could feel your throat closing up. You were already looking miserable, and you did not want to draw more attention on you than you needed. Finally, another hour passed, and you decided to leave. You kept looking at the ground as you walked out as quickly as you could from the restaurant, feeling totally humiliated.

Kaeya froze when he heard the sound of keys opening the door. His eye darted to the digital clock on the oven, it was barely over 1 pm! Why were you home already? The cake wasn’t ready, the sink was still full of dirty dishes, and he was covered in cake batter and icing! What would you think of all of that? All of his questions went away as he saw your face. He felt his heart swelling with worries. Heck, you wouldn’t even look at him.

“Y/N! You’re home early!” he exclaimed, trying to be cheerful. “Did something happen?”

You didn’t even look up, only shaking you head. This sadly confirmed his worries; something went wrong. He quickly put the cake in the oven and took his dirty apron off. He then walked to you, taking your hands in his.

“Hey it’s okay love… I know it’s not perfect, but we can still celebrate together, no?”

You wiped your tears quickly, giving Kaeya a soft smile. But before you could answer, there was a knock at the door. You froze, thinking it was your “friends”. And, frankly, you didn’t feel like seeing them anymore. At least, not today. Kaeya broke away from the hug and he went to open the door. Soon enough, you were met by members of the Knight of Favonius, all carrying gifts and snacks in their arms.

“Y/N! Happy Birthday! I’ve got you the best gift ever!” Klee said happily, gently pulling on your hand to get your attention.

“I invited them…” said Kaeya. “I hope you don’t mind. We all wanted to celebrate this special day together.”

Zhongli

He looked over everything one last time, making sure he had everything he needed to celebrate your birthday. As an archon who had lived over 6000 years, birthdays were not such a big deal to him. But he knew how important they were to humans, and so he decided to make something special for you. Plus, he knew that you were not eternal, so he wanted to make sure he could spend any special occasion with you. He just wished to spend time with you and to make you happy. As he finally finished checking everything, he smiled to himself. Everything was perfectly planned, and he was pretty confident that you’d like the celebration. At that exact moment, he heard a soft knock on his office door. He turned around, and you were shyly standing in the doorway, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Y/N! How are you dear? Do you need something?”

You school your head, still not looking at him. Instead, you were looking everywherebut at him. The vase on his desk, the curtains, even his shoes. But you wouldn’t look at him in the eyes. This worried him; he had never seen you acting like this before. He pulled a second chair in front of his before gesturing for you to sit down in front of him, which you did.

“Zhongli… Are you sure you wish to celebrate my birthday?” you asked, looking at your knees.

As he was taken aback by your question, he did not answer right away.

“You know Zhongli… I’m only a human and you are the ex geo archon… I know how birthdays are so insignificant to you, you’ve seen so many of them in the past. You don’t have to force yourself for me, a simple human, mortal being.”

Zhongli felt his heart breaking into tiny pieces at your statement. Did you really think that you were a simple human? He hated that you thought so badly of yourself. He truly loved you, with his whole heart. He wanted to show how much he loved you in all the possible ways. And, for him, celebrating your birthday was one way to show you his love. He delicately took your hands into his. He tried to look at you, but you were still avoiding his eyes.

“Y/N… Can you look at me?” As you finally met his gaze, he smiled softly before continuing. “I love you my dear, I really do. To me, you are the love of my life, you are the only one. I cannot imagine my life without you. Please, do not refer to you as a mere mortal. Of course, there is nothing wrong with being a mortal, but to me, you are so much more than that. I actually love celebrating your birthday, and I am honoured to be celebrating this special day with you.”

A few seconds went by, where you looked at each other without saying anything. Soon enough, a smile appeared on your lips, and Zhongli felt relieved as you smiled. Before he knew it, you had wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him.

“Thank you so much Zhongli…”

Thoma

You begrudgingly got up as your alarm went off. The Sun was barely out, and yet you had to get ready to go to work. You had tried to get the day off, to spend the day with Thoma, your boyfriend. Sadly, your boss denied your request, saying that some work needed to be done today… As you were still new to your job, you didn’t dare to argue with your boss. Even if you had been working non-stop for three weeks now. To be honest, you had been working so much, you totally forgot what day it was today. Thoma’s soft breathing brought you back to Earth. You smiled softly; he was asleep, and he looked so adorable. You kissed his cheek softly before getting out of bed. You guys had been dating for less than a year, and you didn’t even know if he remembered your birthday. But as your work keeping you busy, you didn’t even care.

But of course, Thoma remembered! He had been planning today for a few weeks now, and he was pretty excited to prepare everything for your birthday. As soon as you left the apartment, he got up and started gathering everything he needed. Once he was ready, he made his way to the Komore tea house, where he decided to hold the party.

“Alright Thoma! We’ve finished putting all the decorations!” Paimon exclaimed, showing him proudly the decoration she had hung up.

“Thank you Paimon...!” Thoma answered, smiling at Paimon. He had just finished cooking your favourite dishes and he was now setting up a table.

“Please, tell me it’s not another hot pot game…” Lumine asked, clearly anxious.

“Of course not! The hot pot game is nice but, this time we’re celebrating Y/N’s birthday! Don’t worry about it.” The blond answered with a laugh.

It was now 6pm, and you were supposed to arrive about an hour ago. Thoma couldn’t help but worry. Did something bad happened to you? Those thoughts pushed him to go to your job, making sure you were okay.

“Thoma?” you exclaimed as he entered the office. “What are you doing here??”

He looked around and felt his heart sink. You seemed tired and your skin was paler than usual. You were surrounded by a ton of documents. Some piles were even taller than you.

“Well, we were supposed to meet at the Komore tea house for dinner over an hour ago...!”

Your eyes widened at his work. You had totally forgot about the dinner date you had planned! You sank into your seat, feeling miserable.

“Ah… I’m sorry Thoma, I don’t have any excuses except that I forgot…”

“It’s fine, don’t worry!” before you knew it, he was besides you, helping you to get up. “Let’s just go now, alright?”

You nodded, following him to the door. That was until your boss’ voice interrupted you with a loud “Where do you think you’re going?” You immediately stopped, as you both turned to face the man.

“I-I… Huh… I’m just…” you stuttered.

“We’re going home.” Said Thoma. “You’ve been overworking Y/N for three weeks now! They need to rest. Plus, it’s their birthday, and you are not going to ruin the evening.”

Before the boss could place another word, Thoma walked outside quickly with you. Meanwhile, you were still trying to process what happened. Soon enough, you entered the tea house, which was all decorated and the smell of your favourite food was floating around.

“It’s… It’s my birthday…?” you asked. “I totally forgot…”

“Well of course!” Thoma answered. “Happy birthday, love!”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Anklets and Necklaces

Inspired by this tweet.

@5-secondsofcolor I’m not sorry.

Female Reader insert. NSFW Content (18+). My smut writing is hella rusty. So I do apologize, whoops.

_______________

Calum plays at the anklet, spinning it around and around her joint as her legs are crossed and resting in his lap. The gold jewellry is hardly ever taken off since he gave it to her. In return, she gifted him a chain with a tiny pendant with her initial etched into the back of it. The front of it is an arrowhead. He wears it so often now, that when it’s off, he feels a little incomplete. It’s an easy gesture to carry her everywhere with him.

“Okay we gotta decide what to eat for lunch like now or I’m going to get hangry,” she states.

Calum glances up from his phone, to see her still scrolling on hers. “Oh no. Not hangry,” he teases. But he knows she means it. Her warnings have about a thirty minute window, just enough for a delivery if they get something simple. Or if they want something more complicated, they need to find a snack now while the main course is cooking. “What do you want? Thai? Mexican?”

“Would you hate me if I said I really just wanted nuggets from McDonalds?”

The pout on her lips makes him laugh, “No, I could never. Usual then?”

“Yes, please.”

Stretching across the length of her, Calum pushes his lips together, trying to ask for a kiss. She laughs in return and squeezes his cheeks. “Be lucky you’re cute,” she states before lifting up slightly to meet his lips. “And squishy.”

“Ain’t nothing on me squishy,” he huffs, straightening back up to put her order into the app.

She sets her phone down on her stomach, gazing up over the sharp line of his jaw that his plump cheeks sit atop. And while it’d be easy to return with a poke and a verbal jab about his cheeks, she just watches him. His fingers deftly work over the screen. The white tank sits as a stark contrast to the depth and glow of his skin. “I think all the right things on you are squishy.”

“Yeah, what are those?”

“Your cheeks. And as much as you and your trainer kick your ass, I know happy weight when I see it.”

Calum grins, a chuckle shaking through him as he sets his phone down on the arm of the couch--the order completed on his end. He pinches at her thighs. “Take that back.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I will. I like it--just like I like my cookies. Hard on the edges gooey in the middle.”

Standing for just a moment to let her legs fall onto the couch, Calum kneels onto the cushion, hovering above her. Her eyes glitter just a little as she talks and the soft easy smile on her face lets him know that it’s all out of love--what’s she’s saying. The pads of his fingers run along the side of her thigh. “Be lucky I love you.”

“I am already lucky, so say what you gotta say. Roast me, my love. It’s not like we don’t do that anyways.”

And truth be told, Calum had no response. Not when he looks at her, because God all he sees is the person that’s been with him on his bad mental days. She’s been there when Calum was sure there was no lower low or higher high. And what do you say to that person that’s been there, seen all of you that there is to see? With a gentle and chaste kiss, Calum settles for silence.

“Cat got your tongue now, huh?”

This--this Calum can respond too. It’s all too easy. “I know what else my tongue can have.”

“I know something your tongue can have too.”

“Really now?” Calum asks, dragging his fingers over the top of her thigh and tracing the line of her lounge shorts. “Food will be here in fifteen minutes though. So that’s up to you.”

“Not nearly enough time to savor it. Besides,” she starts and takes a pause. Her lips pull into a side smile and Calum knows what that means. One brow quirks in anticipation and Calum watches her. The silence settles for a little too long.

“Besides what?” he prompts again.

“Besides, I need the mail to be delivered first.”

“What did you buy?”

“You’ll see later. I promise. It’s really not even supposed to be used for lingerie. But I’ve wanted these for a long time and I specifically have a set I’m trying to complete.”

There’s the black mesh set that she’s slowly been building out. The main piece came in weeks ago, at this point it might even be months ago that that came in. He was privy to it then and gave it the christening that it deserved. But there wasn’t any other lingerie set that needed expansion. Not at least to his recalling. “Which one is it?”

“I’m not saying.”

“Oh please,” he whines, dropping his head into her neck. His lips softly and slowly seal kisses into her warm skin.

“No, Calum. I’ve been waiting on this package for weeks. It got held up in customs and I-” she sighs at his lips sucking at her skin. Not hard enough to cause a bruise, but just enough to make her spine tingle. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Calum pushes up, with a huff, sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch. “This is killing me, you know?”

“Well, you ain’t dead yet. So I think you can tough it out for a little bit longer.”

“Begrudgingly--I want you to know that.”

She sits up, swinging her feet to the floor. “Your sacrifice will be duly noted. The mail will be here before you know it.” The couch releases her weight and Calum watches her pad into the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” she calls.

“I’m good,” he returns, knowing that he will be counting down the seconds until the mail comes. She returns with a glass of water, sitting back down on the couch, but bringing her feet up underneath her as she motions to the TV. “You watching that?”

Calum answers with a shrug. He wasn’t anymore. He originally turned it on mostly for the weather and some news. He found himself bored and flipping through channels before settling on the sports channel while he took care of Duke in the morning. Noise to fill the space since his brain needed the distraction. He hadn’t slept all that great the last few nights, decent sleep. The closer and closer the band got to putting out music the more his nerves kicked in--sometimes they were sneaky. The nerves come up faster than Calum had anticipated. And right now, they won the first round. But Calum was working hard to combat them so he could get about his daily life.

“Go crazy,” he finally verbally responds. And she picks up the remote, changing channels too fast for Calum to even understand how you could process what was on before decking it was a no. She eventually settles for HGTV--not quite caring what show was on. 

The first knock that comes to the door is the food that Calum ordered for the two of them. He answers it, popping up in the hopes it’s the mail. When it’s not, he sighs just a little but places the bag down onto the coffee table. “Your nugs, my queen,” he teases.

“Thank you, my good sir,” she returns with a grin, opening before divvying out what is for who. “You wouldn’t have happened to shot up like a bat outta hell because you wanted that to be the mail?”

Calum feels the heat in his cheeks, but bumps her shoulder gently. “No, why would I ever want that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she scoffs in return, dunking a nugget into the sweet and sour sauce. They share a soft bout of laughter before turning their gaze back to the TV. Duke’s paws click as he ventures into the kitchen for a drink of water from his bowl. The lapping and splash of his tongue echoing just slightly as the screen goes dark between the show and the commercial break.

Calum lifts his gaze, taking in the soft angle of her jaw. She curls up around the carton of fries, eyes glued to the screen. Does she even have the slightest clue what she does to him? It’s not even the involved things like dressing up for him, or comforting him. It’s just her, when she’s munching on fries. Or when she sleepily walks behind Duke in the mornings. It’s when she hums as she cooks. It’s the dancing she does when she’s cleaning. It’s the pouts when she messes up on something and her brow furrows in as the determination settles onto her face.

It’s when she fucked up a birthday cake for him once--not greasing the sides of the pan enough and then adding a tad too much milk--called him crying about it and then in a minute flat resolved to make him brownies instead. Because she said she’d be damned if she didn’t make him something sweet to nibble on or pass along to the guys. And Calum’s not even that much of a sweets guy, which she knew, so she only settled on giving him half the batch she made. She, of course, saved the other half for her and her friends.

And it’s just the moments that she’s not even trying that makes Calum melt. Like when she paints her nails, she offers to do his first. Or when she lays down next to Duke, and in their shared silence, they seem to communicate everything with each other.

“I love you,” he states.

She turns, eyes widening for a second before grinning around her sip of iced tea. “I love you.” Her brows furrow just a little. “You okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you didn’t want McDonalds, I could’ve done something else. Literally anything else,” she continues on almost as if she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s not the food,” he giggles. Calum reaches out to caress her cheek. “I’m okay.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“I just love you, that’s all. Wanted to share it with you.”

Her grin is soft as it lifts her lips. “Good because you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of getting rid of you.”

Another silence envelopes them. Calum finishes his food and takes the empty containers to the trash. Another episode starts up from the speakers and just above it, he hears the chime of his phone. “Do you want me to screen it for you?”

“Yes please!” If it’s one of the guys, they won’t mind her answering. If it’s someone important, he doesn’t want to miss the call.

“Calum’s phone,” she answers but he can already hear her feet shuffling to him in the kitchen. “Okay, Ash. I’ll keep that in mind.” Her voice comes closer and Calum shakes his hands just a little to get rid of the excess water before drying them. “No, I can’t say what it is without taking a look. Did you use the soil I recommended last time?” Another pause comes from her and when Calum turns, he finds her leaning up the kitchen counter, phone halfway pulled down but not fully away from her ear. “Yeah, I definitely think you should consider changing soils. But I can take a better look tomorrow for you. I’m going to pass along the phone now.”

She hands the phone over. “He said it was important.”

“Thank you,” Calum says in a whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then placing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Ash?”

Calum’s not even sure how long the conversation goes on. At first, it is important information that Ashton’s trying to confirm--a date and time for a meeting that they had later in the week. He says he wrote it down where he writes down all their meetings but it’s not there. And Ashton’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t miss it. So Calum shuffles to his office and verifies in his calendar the time for the meeting.

But then the conversation diverges--they start talking about everything and anything. So much so, they’re laughing. Calum doesn’t even hear the knock at the front door. But he does notice her scurrying off into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click. Duke comes trailing after her but notices the closer door and then keeps down the hall to the office. Calum reclines back in his seat trying to get another angle at the door. But it’s closed fully.

“You okay, gramps?” Calum asks Duke.

“Oh fuck off, mate!” Ashton laughs.

“Not you, you fucking egg. Duke--I was talking to Duke.”

“Oh!” Ashton giggles. “Sorry, I thought you was trying to talk shit.”

“I don’t have to try and do that to you.”

“Oi, don’t start something bro.” The two of them laugh and Calum bends down to scratch behind Duke’s ears. “Alright, thanks for confirming that meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow in the studio?”

“Yeah--bright and early. Talk to you later.” The call ends and when Calum spins around in his desk chair, his jaw drops as she steps out from the bedroom. It’s not exactly something new--as in something that she’s never worn before. But it doesn’t mean he ever gets tired of seeing her like this.

The white bustier pushes her breasts up and almost over the cups. And he travels the look down, taking in the baby blue skirt, fishnet knee highs. And he goes back up, taking in a black strap wrapping around her thighs. She notes the lustful gaze and steps right on the line of the threshold to the door.

“So,” Calum starts, trailing his gaze down and then back up to her face. “Not the black lingerie I was anticipating.”

“No, I’m waiting for the heels I want for that lingerie to go on sale. Besides, you didn’t like the collar I liked so I’m still searching.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. It’s just too similar to one we already bought.”

“You’re right, but still.”

Calum cracks a smile at the reluctant confession. “But enough about that. This--this is a cute outfit.”

She nods, smoothing out the pleated mini skirt. “It’s less about the outfit and more about these,” she says, tapping at the thin black band.

“And those are?” Calum asks. It’s one step closer into the room and Calum think he can make out a heart shaped metal loop in the middle of it. She takes a second step closer and Calum can see clearly it’s some sort of thigh garter--leather or something related as the material. “Oh,” he breathes.

She continues slowly to approach Calum and when she’s just in arms reach, she lifts the skirt up. It goes up inch by inch and Calum’s entranced. Watching more of her thighs revealed to him. And soon it’s black panties--mesh and if Calum remembers correctly crotchless. But wrapped around her waist is another band of leather. Two pieces hook to another metal hoop right on her hip bones and then one trip connects the top piece to the bottom.

“A harness garter belt--what do you think?” she asks in a whisper.

Calum exhales, desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out, wrapping his fingers around her thighs and pulling her into him. He kisses in the spaces between the leather, gingerly, lips hardly touching her skin. “I think you look beautiful,” he hums, dropping his head on his neck to look up at her.

Her eyes are still closed and Calum softly runs the tips of his fingers up her thigh, tracing the lines of the harness. With a deep exhale, she finally blinks back to reality. “Not too silly?”

His brows meet in the middle of his face. Why would she think it’s too silly? There’s nothing silly about her standing in front of him, clearly excited about her own purchase. “Angel--I’ll be damned if I ever think this is silly.”

Swinging her leg over and settling onto his lap, she grins. “Thank you, love.”

Calum holds onto her hips, rubbing his palms down to her ass. “So you said this technically isn’t lingerie?”

“No--I don’t think so. But I think they could be--a small accessory to something I already have.”

They share a kiss, much too quick for Calum’s liking so he pulls her back in for more. And her arms wind around his neck as he continues to palm her ass. Here, he doesn’t really care what it is technically or not. She looks absolutely amazing. “I like it. In fact,” Calum starts, moving to grip her thighs before housing them both up and then plopping her down on the desk. “I really like them.”

Calum stands between her legs, nose brushing and bumping against hers. Here, she can feel her core aching as Calum’s fingers trail closer and closer to her heat. It’s feather light--his touch, but it makes her feel electric all the same. “Cal,” she hums.

“Yes baby?”

There’s nothing that comes out of her mouth but a small huff, a rushed and harsh exhale at the feeling of his fingers dancing across her skin. He grins pulling back just a little to see the way her face goes slack, almost as if she’s at peace with him between her legs.

“Was there something you wanted to say, darlin’?” Calum tries again, taking just a half step back away from her.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles. “I want to know,” she starts, exhaling softly to counter the thud of her heart in her chest, “if you’d so kindly want to make love to me?”

Calum can’t help his own small tuft of laughter. “Darlin’, I’d do so happily.” They don’t always wind up in bed like this--but it’s nice, to be comfortable even to be this forward with this and this open.

Calum takes her hand as she hops down from the desk. “Give me a twirl,” he asks. She obliges, turning in a circle for Calum, punctuating the back view by lifting her skirt up. “Silly girl,” Calum laughs, giving a firm but playful tap to her ass.

Facing Calum again, she wraps her arms around his torso. “But you love it.”

“I do. I love you.”

They share another kiss and she slowly walks backwards out of the room. They get lost in each other--Calum in the way she fits against him and her in the way Calum holds her, palms spanning across her back and tight enough that she wonders if he thinks she’s going to disappear but gently enough at the same time that she’d love nothing more than staying here forever in his hold.

Calum finds the zipper to the top and slowly drags it down. The material exhales, slowly falling away from her body and when it falls to the floor, he kisses her neck, down to the swell of her breast. Her moans are soft, just above a hum that makes just enough noise for him to hear. And it goes right to his gut.

Here there's very little need for words. When Calum gives, she takes happily. But when she tugs at his hair, Calum knows to step back, lets her give something to him. Her kisses are soft against his skin, but make him feel like it’s being set on fire. One that he’d happily stay in, let the blaze consume every inch of him, if it meant that she was always the one to take him.

His shirt goes to join hers. Her mouth teases his nipples as she descends further down on him. Calum thinks he sighs, all he can do is just shut his eyes and let go into the feeling of her teasing the cut of his hips beneath the sweatpants. She’s always like this, teasing him. At first, it used to annoy him. But now he loves it, loves just how close she’s willing to push him to the edge, push his buttons but always delivering at the end of it.

Her meticulous work, to watch him jump at every scratch of her nails and nip of her teeth, is enjoyable. But Calum blinks open his eyes to cup her jaw, which stops her. When her gaze lifts, Calum motions for her to stand. “Yes?” she grins standing to her full height.

Calum presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“Well how dare I keep a man like you waiting?” With a slow kiss, tongues just barely dancing, Calum walks the two of them to the bed. The back of her knees hit the edge of it and she buckles just a little. Calum catches her from falling. “Turn around,” he whispers into her ear, “please.”

The instruction is obeyed and she spins to face the bed. Calum finds the zipper to the powder blue skirt and almost doesn’t want to take it off her. In the end, he does-- Calum lets the skirt fall onto a pool at their feet. Without even prompting she falls to her hands, ass grinding against his hips. He traces her spine with the pads of his fingers, following all the way down, over the curve of her ass and down to the opening in the panties. His fingers gather a bit of her arousal.

“Oh,” he groans. “So wet for me,” he hums with approval.

“Always for you,” she sighs. Calum teases her clit--a featherlight touch as he dances over her core. She lets herself fall a little bit more into the mattress--another moan leaving her lips when Calum takes one finger down from her clit to teasing her entrance.

Calum pulls away, bring his wet fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. “Taste just like heaven,” he hums. He gingerly guides her back to standing and uses her hips to get her to face him again.

More kisses are shared before they fall onto the mattress. Calum takes hold of one of the straps around her thigh and tugs her down, closer to him and she laughs. It gets caught off and morphed into a moan as Calum’s tongue licks a wide stripe up her. He’s careful of the mesh material of her panties, but knows that carefulness won’t last long. Not when her arousal coats his tongue. Not when her nails scratch over the muscles of his shoulders or tangle into the curls on his head.

She melts under the work of his mouth. The mattress merely becoming the vessel to hold the mess she’s bound to make and become. The room echoes the moans and slurps. Fingers gripping at the sheet, she chants Calum’s name. His tongue working magic over her core and just when she thinks she couldn’t possibly handle anything more, she notices the stretch at the addition of his fingers.

“Fuck,” she whines, lifiting one leg and he slips in even deeper, curling his fingers and hitting just the right spot.

Calum hungers for her pleasure--the high-pitched whine and groan as she releases. Some days it’s just the sound he needs to ground him. She gives short and breathless huffs, and quivers underneath him. “Gonna be a good girl?” Calum asks, fingers still pumping at her.

“Yes, oh yes, I will.”

“Gonna cum for me?”

“I want to, yes I’ll come for you. Make me your good girl.” Her voice sounds far away, as if she’s not fully cognizant of what she’s saying. Not quite babbling, but definitely talking so fast words bump into each other and slur together.

Calum grins, sucking at her clit again and she groans, head throwing back against the pillows. Her toes are curling--her whole body growing warmer with the passing second. The heat coils in her lower gut and she’s pleading. Though, she’s not sure who she is really meaning to plead to, but she wants to cum so badly.

Then it finally happens, one moment she’s sure she’s nearly in tears and the next, the coil snaps. She squeezes, hips raising off the bed and Calum continues to ride out her orgasm, gently pressing her back down into the bed. She hisses and starts to push at his shoulders, the signal that it’s too much. So Calum places one last kiss to her clit before pulling away from her glistening core.

Beneath him, eyes fluttering close, she looks angelic. Calum holds himself up above her and just watches the way she tries to collect her breath. “You’re beautiful, you know?” he whispers, not wanting to shatter the silence.

“No kidding?” she teases, winding her arms around his neck. The necklace dangles just a little in her face and she takes one hand to trace the chain. Hooking her fingers into it, she tugs Calum down to her. The taste of her arousal on Calum’s tongue makes her head spin. Calum caresses her side and stomach as the kiss deepens. Here is all they need--the soft and deep kisses, the moans that they swallow from each other.

Her hands leave from around his neck and begin to push down his sweatpants and underwear. And he lets her, even pulls back to kneel on his knees as she sits up. Their kiss hardly breaks and she’s quick to tug the cotton material down, hands wrapping around his length.

He groans at the squeeze--nothing too hard just enough pressure to make his whole body ignite. Her hand pumps him, once, then twice slowly and teasing him. “Baby,” he sighs, relishing the feeling of her hands working over him. The stay like that only for a minute or two before Calum pauses her to step down and full disrobe.

When he climbs back onto the bed, he crawls over her. “Welcome back, handsome,” she greets.

“Oh, it’s so good to be back,” he returns, grinning.

She runs her fingers over the tattoos decorating his chest, out of habit, out of something to ground her for a moment. There’s no way he’s real and it shouldn’t ever shock her like this. But sometimes it sneaks up on her and the realization of how madly in love she is with his man hits her all over again.

“What are you thinking about?” Calum asks.

“How much I love you,” she answers softly.

“I love you too,” he returns, bending down to kiss her. It’s soft and sweet--the kiss. For a moment, they just inhale the breaths of the other. It’s a tender moment, one that neither one wants to interrupt, so they let it linger, smiling at each other. She stretches up to kiss him, one hand trailing between their bodies and Calum catches the hint all too quickly when she traces along his length.

“I haven’t forgotten, love,” he exhales in a breathy laugh. “Trust me, I could never forget.” Once lined up, Calum’s slow to sink into her. One, he wants to drag this out, enjoy every inch of him that she grips of him. And two, because he wants to make sure that even in the lull that she’s ready to take him.

Her head falls back, hair pushing into the pillow and neck exposing itself to him. A tempting sight but Calum loses himself in the feeling of her wetness. He’s slow, pulling out just a bit before sinking further back into her. Her sighs and words of encouragement are soft from beneath him but they fuel him.

The pace quickens and both of them groan at the ecstasy. Out of reflex, she lifts one leg to readjust her hip flexor and Calum brings it up, resting her ankle on his shoulder. He kisses over the joint and the anklet, savoring just how much of her he can feel like this.

The chain dangles in her face, brushing in the valley of her breast and she revels in the feeling of Calum reaching the full depths of her body. She digs her nails into his flesh, more curses falling from her lip. But some of them get lost in the groans that win out. “God,” she huffs. “You’re everywhere.” And though it’s a bit of strain to get the words out because Calum’s pace is relentless as he snaps his hips into hers, she pushes the words out.

“You always take me so well,” he praises, watching the way her face contorts. “Oh, so soon, love? You’re going to cum again for me so fucking soon, like a good girl.”

Her whine slips out first but she nods, feeling the coil tightening yet again in her lower abdomen. Her body is hot, and she can already feel the prickle of sweat on her forehead. “Please, baby, please,” she begs.

“As you wish,” he hums, his own orgasm approaching faster than he anticipated. His body humming as the warmth spreads. The bed rocks just a little, hitting the wall and the sounds echo around them as they sigh and moan to each other. But the only thing that really matters to them, is each other.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice straining as she orgasms. No noise comes from her, but her mouth opens like if she had the breath she’d definitely be screaming his name. This time the quakes last longer, her whole body shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hums, bumping his nose against her jaw, still riding through her orgasm.

“Shit, oh my god,” she shudders, wrapping her arms around his neck.

There’s a slight hiss when Calum moves again, and he kisses over her face, starting with her nose and then moving to her cheeks. Another quake takes her and Calum, not anticipating it, groans-- his orgasm now right on the edge. It won’t be much longer, but she nibbles at his earlobe. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Made me feel so fucking good. I want you to cum in me. So fucking deep,” she hums.

And while Calum’s trying to get his own rebuttal to the tip of his tongue, she squeezes around him. “Fuck,” he yelps just a little, his body erupting with his orgasm. His body shudders and he’s so blindsided by the feeling, his slips just a little, more of his weight settling onto her than usual.

She doesn’t say anything, just hums at the feeling of him succumbing to the pleasure. “Oh, that’s what I wanted,” she encourages. It leaves her throat like a purr and Calum shivers again at the sound.

They lay together, for a moment, her nails scratching lightly at the muscles in his back. Calum sinks into her, body going heavy. Her slight shift squeezes around him and he groans, sensitive. “Don’t--I can’t,” he laughs.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Even her own voice sounds heavy and slurred. She kisses his temple and Calum pushes up. He’s slow to pull out, enjoying the drips that follow of his own release spilling out of her. With one finger he gently scopes it back up and into her. The familiar twinge of desire pulls at his lower gut and it’s almost enough. She even shivers, but Calum watches the way her eyes stay closed.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Sleepy now,” she returns.

“Let’s get cleaned up first and then we can nap.” His voice sounds farther away towards the end of the sentence and she assumes he went to the attached bathroom. The rush of water from the sink confirms it. Something wet and warm presses against her--no doubt Calum with a warm washcloth.

The clean up is swift as both of them share a shower and then under the sheets, they curl up around each other. Calum kisses the top of her head as she nuzzles in closely. “I want pancakes after our nap,” she mutters.

“I think we still have some blueberries.”

She pops up onto her elbow and grins a little. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Calum laughs. “Maybe just a little bit.”

[woahajimes]

Have you ever wondered how Damian would handle an instagram account? 

For starters, Damian doesn’t even know he has an instagram account. It’s until Bruce answers a question at an interview that Damian finds out he has an instagram account. Bruce had created it for him, for god-knows-what reason. Yet Damian has to act like he has known all along, that he has an instagram account. 

Once Bruce gets him settled into a username that very literally is just Damian’s name as the son of the billionaire, Damian does absolutely nothing. He doesn’t follow anyone, he doesn’t post anything. He doesn’t even  have a profile picture. For all everyone knows, Bruce Wayne could have lied and that account is just some rando’s. 

And months pass, Damian’s account is the literal same every single day, and trust me, people have checked. Damian couldn’t actually care less about his instagram account, the only reason he hasn’t deleted the app completely is because he rarely even uses his phone. He just carries it around in his pocket when he’s out as Damian Wayne. 

It’s almost a year, and Damian is out with Dick, they’re getting lunch or something. Dick has ordered a burger, Damian stuck with a veggie option. And they’re about to start eating and Dick takes out his phone, snaps a picture. 

“What are you doing?” Damian asks him. 

Dick stares at Damian. “It’s for my instagram story.” And then he starts typing some caption or something. 

And even though I, op, don’t have younger brothers, I do have a younger sister and I can tell you that little siblings copy like, everything you do. And I know we’re talking about Damian, but still. Damian took his phone out and he snapped a picture, Dick in the shot as well. He posted it in his story, he didn’t put a caption. 

And then later that day, Damian remembered that he hadn’t saved that picture he took. So he opened the instagram app and he saw a little circle around his empty profile picture. He decided that he liked it. It went from purple to pink to orange to yellow to orange to pink and back to purple. 

So this became a routine of his, after all, it would cost him next to nothing. To take a picture and post it on his story. It would keep the little ring around his profile picture. And he’d get replies to his stories and he’d get tagged in pictures and he’d get thousands of followers and he’d get tagged in comments and new requests and all those things that famous accounts get. 

And it’s not like the pictures ever made sense. The first week they were things like the cover of his sketchbook, or this plant he found in the garden. Maybe it was the map on his wall, or alfred the cat and titus. He wouldn’t even take time with these pictures. He’d just remember every day about the little circle around his default profile picture and he’d grab his phone, and  he’d take a picture of the nearest thing he could find. He never bothered to write a caption, nor put a song, anything. 

And as time passes, the logic of the pictures becomes blurry. Why would the heir of the richest man in gotham post a picture of a crack on the pavement? 

But sometimes, people doubt that Damian even takes these pictures. Because sometimes they’re pictures of gotham at night, when the sky is pitch black, starless. And this one time, Damian is out on patrol, the sun is rising, he still hasn’t gone home. The sky reminds Damian of the little ring around his profile picture. So Damian sets his phone to record automatically and so it records towards the sunset. And because Damian would place himself against the light, the figure would look pitch black, a plain shadow against the sunset. So Damian sets his phone and he takes his cape off, he has his grappling hook, but he’ll use it once he’s out of the camera shot. And then he gets the video going (his phone is leaning on a plant pot, there’s another building that ends nearly as the camera shot begins. So Damian swings from where he set his phone, to the other building, and he just. 

Jumps. 

He’s jumping headfirst and he’s whooping loudly, laughing almost. He’s done this so many times yet something is just nicer. 

it was awesome. 

And he posts the video, but silences it. Nobody can see Damian’s uniform, nor his mask. For all they know, Damian hired someone to jump, or maybe he even threw a mannequin or something.  

That was the only video Damian posted on his story. The rest, every other day, theRE were just pictures. 

We skip time a bit more and Damian was with Jon, when he still lived in hamilton. They were by the tree they were always at, and Damian was taking a picture of the bark of the tree. Because bark. 

And Jon just stares at Damian. “What the h are you doing?” 

Damian shrugs. "Just taking a picture.”

Jon snatches the phone from him. They’re close enough friends. He goes to the camera and holds the phone up straight, he sets it to the front camera.

“My mom does this all the time,” he says. “She calls them selfies.” 

Jon snaps a picture. Then he checks it. He’s smiling, Damian is not. “You’re so lame! Did nobody ever teach you how to smile?” 

Jon snaps a second picture, Damian’s still not smiling. Third picture, Damian’s expression moves a bit, but it's just him rolling his eyes. 

“Come on, Damian! SMILE!” Jon takes another picture, he checks it. Damian’s smiling dramatically, he looks like Jon looks in family pictures he doesn’t want to take. He’s not smiling with his teeth, his eyes are practically closed, his nose is scrunched up. If anything, he looks more disgusted than happy. “Ugh, we’ll just try another day, i guess.” 

This became a sort of routine. Every day they saw each other as civilians, Jon would take a selfie with Damian. Sometimes he smiled, if he was in the right mood. It didn’t really matter, Damian never posted those pictures on his story. 

Now we take Damian’s fourteenth birthday. This, Damian decides, is a much better way to spend his birthday than the last one. Bruce isn’t there, but his brothers are, his best friends also are. Alfred and Jon, Dick, Tim, and Jason. They’re eating strawberry cake, with the ‘happy 14th!’ in pink frosting and everything. It is now his first option, thanks to Alfred.

Anyways, they’re slicing the cake, Damian just blew out the candles. Jon takes his phone out, the one he got when he turned eleven. He doesn’t have an instagram account, Lois wouldn’t let him, but Jon still takes a picture of everything. 

Alfred asks Damian for his phone, so he can take a picture. Damian shakes his head, yet he takes out his phone. He’s at the head of the table, he puts his phone on the front camera. He hands it to Alfred. 

“Jon likes to call them ‘selfies’,” Damian explained. He showed Alfred. “Here, you take them like this.” 

Damian took his phone back from Alfred, he stretched his arm with the phone. He called out Tim’s name, and all of them looked up. 

“Smile!” Damian snapped a picture, he grinned. He looked at the picture, he liked it. Alfred was grinning, like in that picture in which he’s with Bruce when he was little, and they’re both laughing at something.

Damian decided that this picture was too nice for it to go on his 24-hour ring. Besides, he had already put a picture of Jason helping prepare the frosting. He didn't need two stories in the same day. 

So he drafts the post, and there’s the option to edit the image, but Damian skips it. It’s nice as it is.

He posts it, he doesn’t write a caption.

taglist: @hauntingsonofrobin @bikoncon @catxsnow @screennamealreadyused @thesporklecat @thesesickfics-justmakemesick andd i think i got it all idk 

[fnf-writingz]

Okay I really wanted to request this soo tomorrow (8 June) is my birthday and I was wondering what Garcello and if u could add ruv too I'd love that, would do when its their S/O birthday

casually queues to post on your birthday- happy birthday!! take these two lovely lads as a gift! my birthday is coming up in a few days, so this was fun to write!

~ Garcello and Ruv (Sarv makes a big appearance-) Celebrating Their S/O's Birthday ~

--

GARCELLO:

He would probably panic for a bit because he wouldn't know what to do-

He's never had to celebrate someone else's birthday, and he rarely celebrates his own birthday

He probably asks around on what he should do, poor man works himself up

He actually tries baking for once! Granted it ends up a bit burnt, but it works

He doesn't know how to decorate your apartment so he literally just tosses blankets around hoping it looks nice

He probably pulls out the arts and crafts and makes you a nice little cup or something along those lines

He also draws you something! (Tis a personal HC of mine that he likes art-)

Forgot to mention that he preps for this celebration while you're out of the house, probably working

So, you come home from work to all the lights off

All of a sudden, different colored clouds of smoke appear, making a pretty smoke show

He's standing in the middle, and he grins at you, mumbling, "Happy birthday, sweetheart." before walking up to you, pulling you into a hug

"I told you to not smoke in the apartment-" "It looked pretty sick though, right?"

You just shake your head and smile at him

He starts showing you everything he made, making you sit down and relax while he brings the cake out

He cuddles you close, singing to you before you blow the candles out

He also gives you the gifts, hoping that you liked them

You just give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him that you love it

Rest of the day is probably spent watching movies together

The drawing he made definitely ends up on the fridge

RUV:

He would also panic a bit-

He usually just hangs out with Sarv during her birthday, so he doesn't know what other people do for their birthday

Sarv basically becomes a co-party planner

She helps him decorate around the church, they fill it up with tons of balloons and streamers

He also tries his best to bake for you, but it turns out really charred and gross so Sarv just takes over food duties

Meanwhile, he's sneaking around and stealing stuff from stores that he thinks you'd like

Like straight up just snatches stuff and leaves

I feel like he'd try to make you something in the church, like a little plaque to put up

Sarv helps him wrap the gifts up because they look like a disaster otherwise

You end up coming home to the two of them still finishing up the decorations-

They both look at you before Sarv just tosses confetti in the air

Ruv will just walk up to you and pick you up, spinning you in a circle before wishing you a happy birthday

He takes you to the dining room while Sarv gets the food ready

They both sing happy birthday to you before you blow put the candles

They let you pick which gifts to open, Ruv being kinda nervous on how you'll react

If you ask how they were able to get it for you, he'll just shoot you a look like "Don't question it."

Of course you'd probably scold him for stealing stuff for you, but he just pats your head

For the rest of the day, Ruv just lets you do whatever you want to do

As long as he gets to see you happy and smiling, he'll be happy too

[sirtommyholland]

Four Years of Birthdays

A/N: Hey everyone! This isn’t my first time writing for Harry but my first time actually posting it so I’m very excited! This is inspired by the little piece I wrote on Tom Holland’s birthday, I wanted to make a similar concept. Hope you guys like it, and happy birthday to our beloved baby boy Harry Styles! We love you so much!💜

Word Count: 2.4k (she tiny because I suck)

Summary: Harry’s four different birthdays with Y/N in differents points of his life. 

Fluff all the way! with like a little talk about sexual themes because I had to.

poc friendly and plus size friendly (I think, please tell me if I made a mistake!) because we dont blush bright red or swim in men’s clothes in this house💫

2019 - 25th Birthday

Spending his birthday with Y/N was one of Harry’s favourite things. Over the last ten years of his life, she had missed quite a few of them as he was on the road and she was back home in London, going to uni and living a normal life. It was only the last couple of years that he was able to be home on his birthday, his solo career allowing him a bit more freedom to arrange his schedule as he wanted. 

This year, he had wanted to have a quiet birthday, just with his family and close friends. And of course, his girlfriend, who was currently climbing on his back on the bed, trying to coax him out of sleep. 

“Loviee” she whined into the back of his neck between kisses. “Wake up.”

“No.” his voice was deeper than usual as he groaned, trying to bury himself more into the pillows to avoid the bright sunlight in the room. “‘M sleepy.”

“But it’s your birthday.” she protested with a kiss to a small part of his cheek that wasn’t hidden away. “I need to give you your 25 kisses.”

“Just 25?” he frowned, raising his head from the pillow to look back at her. “That’s nowhere near enough! You kiss me more on a regular day.”

“Hmm..” she pretended to ponder his words, one of her hands going up to brush away the soft curls that fell on his forehead. “Then how about I give you a blowie for 25 minutes?”

Even if she couldn’t see his face, she would still be able to hear the grin in his voice. “Now that’s more like it.” He was turning over and laying on his back in a heartbeat, tugging at her thighs to make her straddle him again. 

She complied, throwing one leg over his hips and gently sitting on thighs, not putting her full weight. She leaned down to softly brush her lips against his, once, twice, three times. “Happy birthday, baby.”  she sighed against them, rubbing her nose against his lovingly. 

“Thank you, angel.” he smiled, letting his hands roam over the soft material of her shirt. “I reckon it’s gonna be the best one so far.” 

“Really? Is there a reason why?” she grinned, feeling like she already knew the answer.

“Because this is the first one I’m waking up with you as my girlfriend. Finally,” he sighed. “I can kiss you for real instead of making a wish for it when I blow out the candles.”

“You’re so cheesy.” she teased with a smile, leaning down to give him another kiss. “I still can't believe you wished for it.”

“Literally every year.” he confirmed, only blushing slightly under her loving gaze. “Honestly don’t know what I’m gonna wish for this time. It’s been the same thing for many years.” 

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” She placed a final peck to his lips, then swiftly got up from his lap. “Now get up, your mum’s expecting us for breakfast.”

“But- but- my blowie!” 

She looked back to see an adorable pout on his lips, one that she almost couldn’t resist. Almost.

“Later.” she promised, pulling him to his feet and laying a few kisses on his neck. “I’m gonna take care of you properly tonight, after your party. Along with your final present.”

“You’re a tease.” he breathed, the meaning behind her words not so hidden. She grinned, and trailed her hand softly down his back until she was grabbing his bum, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“Heyy!” he jumped, trying to grab her before she made a run for the bathroom, and failing.

“Pick your outfit, it takes ages!” she yelled through the closed door, making him huff and fall back on the bed dramatically. 

“Harry Edward Styles!” Well, guess she knew him too well.

“Yes, ma’am!”

2009 - 15th birthday

“Hello.”

Harry raised his head from the plastic cup he was refilling, to see a familiar girl looking at him with a friendly smile. 

“Hi.” he smiled back as he straightened up, silently giving her the cue to go on. 

“Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to say that I really liked your performance. You guys were incredible!” 

“Oh, thank you! Of course you’re not bothering me. I’m glad to know you liked it.” He grinned. “We’re at the same school, right? I’ve seen you around before.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never actually talked, I think. I’m Y/N, by the way. Will invited me because I live next door.” she explained, nodding towards his bandmate that was currently hosting his birthday party/small concert in his garage. 

“You don’t need to explain yourself! Next time, I’ll just have to make sure that I invite you myself.”

She grinned at his words. “That’s very nice of you, Harry. Oh, and happy birthday, by the way! I almost forgot.” Right, she was at his birthday party. She already knew his name. 

“Thank you! And thanks for coming.” 

Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, the lights were dimmed and the back entrance of the garage was illuminated with a soft, orange light as his friends brought in the cake. Off-key voices singing him happy birthday filled the space, and he made his way to his friends with a huge smile on his face, Y/N joining the small crowd around him as they waited for him to blow out the candles.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” one of his mates yelled just as he was leaning towards the cake. 

“Sorry.” he chuckled, then closed his eyes to make his wish. I want to make music. For all my life.

Little did he know, that would be his only wish in the next ten years that didn’t involve the girl that he had just met. 

2016 - 22th birthday

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-two! Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you!”

“What the fuck.” he muttered into his pillow, trying to figure out if he was dreaming or if his phone was actually ringing with a Taylor Swift song. But even when he was wide awake after a few minutes he could still hear her melodic voice, so he reached out with a groan and checked the caller ID. Of course.

“How did you manage to change my ringtone all the way from London?” he answered in a groggy voice. 

“Well, good morning to you too, hun, took you long enough! I’m very good, thanks for asking! And I got Niall to do it yesterday, obviously.” 

“... Morning Y/N.” 

“Oh, stop grumbling, it doesn’t suit you. Get up and get ready, I’m gonna facetime you in thirty minutes.” And before he could say anything, she hung up on him. 

He looked at this phone in disbelief. Did she just hang up on me on my birthday?! He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on his face. To be honest, there were a lot of things he couldn’t help when it came to her. 

Half an hour later, when he was freshly showered and dressed, his phone rang with an incoming facetime call just like she said. She probably set an alarm for exactly thirty minutes, he thought fondly.

Her smiling face greeted him as he accepted the call. “Happy birthday, Haz!!”

“Thanks, love.” he chuckled, eyeing the tiny cupcake in front of her through the small screen. “Whatcha got there?”

“That’s your birthday cupcake, made it myself! Was tired of shitty store-bought cake.” 

“I don’t know, it looks kind of ugly.” he joked, grinning at her mock-offended face. “I could do better. I worked in a bakery, ya know.”

“You literally just ran the register and washed the dishes.”

“Still, in a bakery!” 

She was shaking her head at his shit-eating grin, but he could still see a soft smile playing at her lips. It caused his heart to flutter in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to see her smiling at him like that everyday. 

“Anyway, candle time!” she piped, grabbing a lighter from somewhere behind the camera and lighting up the single candle on her tiny cupcake.  

Harry watched her raise the cupcake closer to the camera and she instructed him to make a wish. This routine was familiar to them now. Every year, she would video call with a different type of cake, to make up for not being able to be there with him.

Harry closed his eyes, and made the same wish that he had been making for the last six years of his life. I wish you were mine. 

He opened his eyes and blew lightly towards the screen, her actions matching his as she blew out the candle in his place. She gave a little cheer afterwards, and the brightness of her eyes warmed him up all the way down to his toes, even through a phone screen. 

They talked for a while after that, catching up on each other’s lives and discussing the dates they would be able to meet up again. She hung up with a final ‘happy birthday, love you!’ and then he was left staring at his phone, a small smile still remaining on his face. I wish you were mine. 

And later, when he logged onto his twitter account and tweeted some certain song lyrics, he only cared about one person’s reaction out of millions. 

2018 - 24th birthday

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you.” 

Harry turned towards the kitchen door that led to the back garden, seeing her slide it close to make her way towards him.

“Just taking a breather, love.” he said, accepting his woolly coat that she handed him. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t want you to catch a cold.” She sat next to him on the wooden porch bench, wrapped up in her own fuzzy coat. There was another item in her hand, a thick, heavy looking box. 

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at it. 

“Oh, I came here to give it to you. Your final gift.” 

“Y/N.” he sighed. “The others were more than enough.” 

“I don’t think this even counts as my gift, honestly.” She grinned at the puzzled look on his face. “Just open it.” 

He did. Inside was a thick notebook, a scrapbook by the looks of it, that read ‘Happy Birthday Harry! - 2018’ 

He looked at her curiously, but she just smiled and told him to open it again. He turned to the first page, and ran his gaze across the page. His eyes widened in surprise. He quickly flipped a few pages to see that all of them had the same thing; printings. Printed screenshots from various social media platforms, of his fans wishing him a happy birthday. 

“I know you don’t use social media a lot these days.” she explained as he kept reading the tweets glued onto the scrapbook. “But you were trending on Twitter today, and yesterday too, lots of people wishing you a happy birthday and telling how much they loved you. I thought you might want to see it.”

He let out a watery laugh, not being able to tear his gaze away from the book in his hands. He couldn’t help the tears, not really. She had taken the time to print out lots and lots of tweets, instagram posts, everything; she had cut them and put them in this book and added little stickers in between with colorful doodles. And she had done it to carry his fans’ messages to him, she had basically hand-delivered their gifts of love to him.

“Thank you.” he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. “This is… I think this may be the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Well, like I said, it’s not technically from me. I just put some tweets together, your fans are the ones who wrote them.” She paused, then added. “I just wanted you to see just how loved you are. By everyone. You have such a kind heart, and an amazing soul; all of these people are aware of it and they love you for it.” She tapped the book in his lap, emphasising her words. 

“Thank you.” he repeated himself, seemingly at a loss for words. He closed the book and carefully put it back in its box, intending to read everything in it later. He placed it beside him, then turned to her and pulled her in a hug. 

Her arms were around him in a second, not hesitating to tighten around him and pull him closer. She was so warm even in the cold weather, and she smelled so nice, and he wouldn’t be able to pull back if he tried. He didn’t know how long they sat there in each other's embrace, but when he felt her starting to lean back, something in him shifted. He turned his head towards her as she pulled away, so his cheek was softly grazing hers. She stilled a bit, looking into his eyes as if she was looking for something, then she closed her eyes and turned the rest of the way, her lips meeting his in a gentle kiss. 

His breath hitched in his throat as his lips slightly parted, a small gasp making its way out of them when he realized finally, finally he was kissing her. He was kissing Y/N. This was really happening.

He brought a hand up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as they kissed, probably the softest, the most incredible kiss of his life. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe how amazing she felt against him, how her hands in his hair felt just right, how warm her cheek was under his hand. 

But despite every bone in his body wanting to kiss her forever, he was the first one to pull away, because he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I wish you were mine.” 

“What?” she asked breathlessly, apparently still under the effect of their kiss.

“I wish you were mine.” he repeated. “That’s the wish I’ve made on every single birthday since I was sixteen. Everytime you looked at me and told me to make a wish, I was only able to think about how much I wanted to kiss you.” 

She stared at him with parted lips, looking into his eyes like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with him. She could only see love and admiration. 

“You’re an idiot, Harry Styles.” she breathed. Then, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him again, and again, and again, and he felt like everything in his life was finally going to be okay. 

 some end notes: Sooo I’m sorry for the kind of shitty ending. It’s literally 3 am in Turkey rn and I have an early class but I just wanted to finish this quickly and post it before I went to bed. I haven’t written anything in months because I wasn’t 🌌feeling it🌌 so I basically bullied myself into writing this haha. This is my first posted Harry piece but there are a few other pieces I’ve been working on! (for months, literally. *sigh*)

~~

If you liked it, please feel free to reblog and leave a teeny tiny feedback! Writers really appreciate it!💜

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

[drmmyrs]

Remember Me (Becca x MC) Part 2

Hiii I’m back. Sorry again for the delay 😬I had such a hard time writing the ending so thank you so much @samanthadalton for all your help 😘Also, a big thanks to M anon for their suggestions and song request which I used some of.

tag list: @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr @baexpoppy @alexroyard @alexlabhont @veenast @noixngn @sillyandcutewizardstuffs @doey-eyes8 @itszdavenport (If you wanna be added or removed or just prefer a certain ship just let me know ❤️)

Read Part 1

Pairing: Becca x MC (Emily)

Warnings: some swearing

Word Count: 2289

It's been an hour since Emily last came into my room to remind me of my doctor's appointment. And it's been about thirty minutes since I've been ready to go, physically at least. Naturally, I tried to get Chris to come with me instead because he's my boyfriend, right? Ughh fine, ex-boyfriend. But can you blame me, though? How am I suppose to move on when I literally have no memory of some sort of breakup or closure? I stare at the dull beige-colored ceiling, a view which has me panicking in the mornings right after I wake up, before I remember that I don't live at the sorority house anymore. I then close my eyes and get comfort in the memories I have left, my only anchor on the reality I knew, away from this freakish place with the people I don't even give a shit about.

After a couple more minutes, I begrudgingly get up with a groan and trudge downstairs, finding Emily waiting on the couch. She smiles upon seeing me, but I don't return the gesture, being genuinely annoyed at the prospect of having to spend an incessant amount of time with her. So instead, I walk past her towards the door, my heels clattering on the wooden surface. Emily then follows behind me from a distance, careful not to invade my space. Once outside, I walk straight towards the passenger door of Emily's junk of a car, grabbing the handle as I glare at Emily impatiently, waiting for her to unlock it. As soon as unlocked, I sink into the seat, slamming the door close harder than I intended. Emily, though, takes a second before going in, eyeing the seat suspiciously as if it might shatter anytime. Once seated, she places her hand on the gear stick, slightly trembling. And then it dawns on me, I may have forgotten about the accident, but it's probably still fresh from her memory, terrorizing her at every reminder. All this time, I've been complaining about how unfair everything is for me, not once considering how it may have affected her.

"Who was driving?" I ask. It may not be the best thing to talk about right now, but I have to know.

I see Emily flinch at the question, and before she even opens her mouth, I know. She looks out the windshield, her voice cracking when she replies, "I was."

I nod. My mom told me it was a drunk driver running a red light that hit us, so I don't blame her at all, not anymore.

"Is it–" The words come out sharp, so I stop and soften my voice. "Is it the first time you drove since?"

Emily doesn't reply immediately; instead, she shifts the gear and steps on the gas pedal as we begin to make our way towards the hospital. She grips the steering wheel tightly, anxiously looking at the road, her eyes obsessively sweeping for any oncoming traffic at every intersection.

"No. No it's not but..." Emily trails off, her knuckles turning white as her grip on the steering wheel tightens.

But it's her first time to drive with me in the car. I turn my head to look out the window, knowing full well I can't ease her fears. How can I when I'm the living reminder of everything she lost?

---------

I immediately regret my outfit choice as soon as we get into the waiting room, the frigid temperature biting at my skin, sending sharp pains like that of a needle across my exposed skin. I try to play it cool, but a shiver escapes my body, desperate for any source of heat. A few seconds later, a jacket appears in front of me, held by Emily who is wearing an annoyingly cute little smile on her face. I mumble thanks and take the jacket, placing it over my shoulders, smelling the scent of lavender as I bask in the comfort of heat.

I take out my phone and browse my socials, catching up on all the events I missed–or forgotten–while ignoring the get well soon messages from both people I know and don't know that have been piling up ever since the accident. A few minutes later, the doctor calls my name, and as I stand up, Emily does as well but then sits back down almost immediately, clearly unsure if her company is welcome.

I roll my eyes. "Come on."

---------

After a useless consultation–apparently, they can't do much to help me regain my memories–Emily suggests we stop by an ice cream parlor not far from here. I assent, but only because I need the comfort of a sugary snack right now, and it's been ages since I had one, or at least I think so.

We reach a store I don't recognize, replacing an office space that, while I never paid attention to before, was a pleasant fixture in my reality, not this... eyesore. I shake my head; I can't keep living in the past. I follow Emily into the store, reminding myself that this is my reality now.

Inside, the floor is patterned with alternating pink and black tiles, and the walls are coated with somewhat fresh pink paint adorned with decors that scream ice cream as if one might stumble into the shop looking for lunch or something.

"Welcome t–ah Emily and Becca! I haven't seen you girls in a while."

I turn around to see a guy, probably in his mid-twenties– smiling at us like...  I shoot Emily a side-eye. She, of course, fails to mention that the guy working here is buddy-buddy with me. So, is this the kind of couple we were? Those who frequent an ice cream parlor enough to be on a first-name basis with the ice cream guy? I internally groan in disgust at the thought.

"–Becca." I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I hear my name. Emily and the ice cream guy are looking at me expectantly.

"Sorry I didn't hear," I mumble.

"You'll be having strawberry, your usual, correct?" says the guy with a wide smile.

I do want strawberry, but I shake my head and say, "Vanilla," just to spite him, annoyed how some stranger knows my favorite ice cream flavor.

"Ooh, trying something new today, are we? One rocky road and vanilla coming right up," he announces in an annoyingly high pitch voice. I struggle not to roll my eyes.

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask, which is met by a look of confusion followed by a laugh.

"You know wh–" 

Emily quickly interjects, "The bathroom's there, Becca," pointing at a door at the back of the store.

I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, heading straight towards the mirror. I stare at my reflection, nitpicking every tiny detail that has changed throughout the years, changes I don't recognize at all. A tear rolls down my cheek, but I quickly wipe it away. I'm Rebecca fucking Davenport; I don't cry. I grip the sink tightly, overcome with a new resolution. I know who I am; they don't, convincing myself more than anyone else.

Once finishing up in the bathroom, I head back outside, noticing a different aura in the room. Emily is holding our orders with an apologetic look while the ice cream guy regards me with pity, something I've grown used to in the past few weeks. I take my ice cream from Emily, not meeting her gaze, and walk out of the store, striding ahead of her towards the car, not once looking back.

--------

On the ride home, silence weighs heavily between us as Emily bites at her lower lip, either contemplating what to say or waiting for me to go off on her. After an awkward amount of time, Emily finally breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry I–"

"Forget about it," I cut her off, too exhausted to engage with her. I think about the previous encounter, wondering if that would be my norm. Unfamiliar people coming up to me, sharing inside jokes and anecdotes while I stare blankly at them, wondering if I should explain my situation or just ignore them, being the bitch I know I am. I stare out the window, seeing all the changes in the city, musing about the memories I may have had alongside them, memories that I may or may not recover. It's as if an impostor had been living my life for the past two years, and now I'm forced to follow in their footsteps. It's obvious I had changed a lot during those years, my previous enemies becoming my closest friends, my greatest rival supposedly becoming the love of my life. Was she the love of my life? Was I happy with Emily?

It's already dark outside when we arrive home. I notice a few cars parked down the road, something unusual considering this is the only house for at least a couple of blocks. What do I know, though, it's not like I remember much about this place. I turn my attention back to the house; the lights inside are turned off, leaving a lone street lamp and the car's headlights as the primary sources of light, accentuating the jagged grey bricks of the house, almost giving an appearance of something sinister. This is ridiculous; I chide myself for being scared of a stupid house. 

Emily walks ahead towards the door while I follow a few steps behind. As soon as I walk inside, the light turns on, and I'm greeted by a chorus of surprise echoing throughout the house, coming from people whom I only recognize half of. I stare at them blankly, unimpressed but just mostly confused. My mother walks over to me and gives me a big hug.

"Happy birthday, sweetie."

Birthday? I inconspicuously look at my phone. Huh. I could've sworn I've seen the date today at least a few times. A few moments later, Emily steps forward with a cake in her hands.

"Happy birthday babe," she says, immediately followed by a look of horror. "Becca. Sorry."

Of course Emily had planned this. It doesn't really matter if I wanted to have a stupid party. She had to go ahead and decide for me.

"Go ahead and blow out the candles," my mom urges.

I blow out the candles, faking a smile for my mom. As much as I want to storm into my room, I'm not about to break my mom's heart by causing some unnecessary drama.

--------

Just a few moments into the party, and I'm already exhausted–people lining up to greet me, asking how I've been doing since the accident. I realize that most people here don't know about my condition, which means I have had to engage in quite a few conversations about the things I've supposedly been doing for the past few years, things I have no recollection of, to which I gave vague answers to avoid having to explain everything. 

I down my fourth glass of virgin cuba libre, eyeing the display of alcohol with contempt, resentful that I can’t drink because of the medicine I took earlier, when Zack drags me across the room to play some truth or dare with a bunch of people, some of whom I don't recognize. Thankfully, if there was one thing the sorority has taught me, it's that you don't have to know someone to ask the right questions or expertly avoid the common ones. That is of course until someone asks you the most unexpected question.

"Do you have a date for the wedding yet?"

I stare at them blankly, fumbling for words. Wedding? 

"I–I–"

But before I can make up an answer, Kaitlyn arrives with Emily in tow, and that's when I notice it, the ring on Emily's finger. I gasp for breath, feeling like the air is taken out of my lungs. And I almost don't notice it when Kaitlyn takes out her guitar and starts singing, joined by the others.

When all the tears are rolling down your face And it feels like yours was the only heart to break When you come back home and all the lights are out And you're getting used to no one else being around

Oh, oh, I'll be there

I look at the unfamiliar faces, singing their hearts out, gazing at me fondly. I then turn my gaze to Emily's ring finger, and sitting on it is a small but glistening diamond and part of me chastises myself for not noticing earlier. I feel the entire room’s eyes on me and suddenly, it becomes too much for me to withstand. I stand up, scrabbling to go to my room, footsteps following behind me. Once I got on the stairs, Emily shouts my name from behind, and I stop at the sound of her voice, turning around.

"We were engaged? Why didn't you tell me?" My voice comes out harsher than expected and it seems to take Emily by surprise too because she just stands there motionless, speechless. “Marriage is a big thing Emily, that’s not something you can just conveniently not tell me.” I let out a frustrated groan, momentarily letting the anger wash all over me before I’m left with a bitter feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sick of having random people tell me things about my life which I can’t even remember when my own fianc–” I stop, not even being able to say the word, shaking my head as the agony brought by my predicament proves to be too much. “I can’t do this. I'm sorry," I croak before running towards my room, slamming the door behind me. I then curl myself in bed as the tears fall freely.

[sunmoonandeddie]

have you seen baby?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader x natasha romanoff

word count: 3,196

summary: You and your two lovers haven’t gotten to spend much time together.  Also, sex pollen.

warnings: Bad words.  Filthy, filthy smut.  Sex pollen.

a/n:  Thank you so much to @cake-writes for this commission!  I loved writing it and I really hope you enjoy it!

It’s late.  

Well.  Relatively late.  Nearing three in the afternoon, and Natasha hadn’t seen you.  Of course, that barred that morning when she woke up to your pretty face still sleeping beside her.  Unfortunately, Bucky was on a mission, otherwise she’d get to see his equally as pretty face on your other side.  It was disappointing.  There was just something so sweet about waking up to the two loves of her life.

But now, it was almost three, and you hadn’t even emerged from your lab for lunch.

Which is why she headed down two floors to the huge lab that you, Tony, and Bruce shared.  You kind of played as an inbetween for the both of them, wanting to know it all and then some.  It was precious.

But it also meant that you had a bad habit of getting lost in your work and not emerging for hours or sometimes days.  You had been getting better about it, if only because Bucky and Natasha were always on your ass about it.

Which is only because they love you.  So much.  Like.  So so much.

“Have you seen Baby?” Natasha asked Sam, who was wandering through the kitchen after his workout.

He had a protein shake in his hand, sweat dripping from his brow.  “No, can’t say I have.  And you know you can call her by her name when it comes to other people, right?”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a look.  “Her name is Baby.”

“To you.”

“To Bucky and me,” she retorted.  “And besides, she doesn’t even respond to her name when it’s coming from us anymore.”  A small smile crept up on her lips.  “It’s adorable.”  But she was on a mission.  She had a little box that came in with the mail that’s a present just for you.

And sometimes Bucky, depending on how he was feeling.

But Natasha didn’t like being touched.  She liked to give, but never to receive.  Her therapist said it had to do with the various traumas that she’d taken on while growing up in the Red Room.  Her body had never been her own during that time.  She’d been hurt over and over and over again, to the point where someone touching her body in a sexual way sent her into a panic attack.

Bucky was mostly the same way.  He had a hard time with sexual touch, though he’d gotten a lot better about it.

It was just one of those things that Natasha had to deal with.  Not that it was hard.  She loved taking care of you with Bucky’s help.  Their little pillow princess.

You were always the smart girl.  Some could argue that you were smarter than both Bruce Banner and Tony Stark simply because you knew both fields and then some.  You tended to become… obsessed.  You had to know more about everything just for the sake of knowing more.  But with that, your mind was always going a million miles an hour.  Which is why when it came to the bedroom, it was really nice to just be able to let go and not think for a while.  You got to be their dumb little baby girl.  It was always about you when it came to sex.

When it came to who needed cuddles and affection, that was when it was their turn.  You slept in the middle of them, cradled between them like a precious pearl.  You fought off their nightmares for them, their fears.  You made them see that they were more than the weapons they had been crafted into.  You provided relief for each other in different ways.

Before you had come along, Bucky and Natasha’s love had been volatile.  They were missing a piece of the puzzle, even if they hadn’t realized it.

And then their precious little princess had been hired on as a scientist, and their lives were forever changed.  They knew immediately that you were the one for them, their missing piece.

Of course, it had taken a while to get you to understand just what they wanted.  You might be the smartest in the lab, but when it came to relationships…

Which is what brought her to today.  You’d been a little… off lately.  Of course, that could be because her and Bucky had been on back to back missions for the past few months.  There hadn’t been a lot of time for the three of you all together, which was always frustrating.  It was the longest amount of time the three of you hadn’t gotten to all be together since becoming a triad.

And they felt even worse when they both had to leave on missions and leave you all by your lonesome.

Maybe they’d get you a kitten.  You wouldn’t have time for a puppy, but a cat?  You’d love that.  A little lab buddy.  Or maybe they’d get you one of those senior cats with three legs that was deaf in one ear.  Yeah, you’d love that.

But then it would die a lot quicker than a kitten, and they’d have to pick up the pieces because that would destroy you.  But then you’d also be so happy that you got to give the cat a really good few years at the end.

Whatever.  She’d talk to Bucky about it when he got home and they could make a decision.

But the little box.

The elevator down to the lab seemed to take forever, the silence mocking her since Tony absolutely hated elevator music and refused to let it play in the Tower.  But was even more unsettling was the fact that you weren’t in the lab.

“Hey, have you seen Baby?” Natasha asked Tony, who was fiddling with something on his tablet.

“It’s still weird that you call her that to everyone.”

“It’s her name.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Her name is—”

“Baby,” Natasha said, glaring at him.  “Yes, I know.  Have you seen her?”

“You disgust me.”  The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.  “I think she went down to the spare testing room.  Something about an unknown vapor.”

An unknown vapor?  You hadn’t mentioned that.  Then again, you’d been kinda quiet lately.

She headed down another few floors, bearing the silence as she went through a mental list of things she needed to get done.  It was your birthday soon.  She needed to make sure all three of you could get off, and she’d plan something really special.  You deserved it.

The testing room you’re in has all floor to ceiling windows for walls, but she can’t see you.

“Strange,” she muttered under her breath.  She headed for the doors, and her eyes widened as she saw you through the glass.

You were lying on the ground, sweat dripping from your brow, with your hand in your pants.  From the… rapid way your hand was moving, there was no mistaking what was happening.

But why the hell were you touching yourself right there where anyone could walk by and see you?!  Not that she didn’t like it.  She loved watching you touch yourself and she often ordered you to when she was in a dominating mood.  It was so much fun watching you edge yourself.

No, it was the whole public thing that was confusing her.

You looked up as she started to push the doors open, her eyes widening.  “N-Natasha, no!” You shouted.

But it was too late.  A sickly sweet substance filled her nose, and seconds later, she felt a strange heat creeping up over her.  What the hell was happening?  And why did her skin feel so warm?

“N-Natasha,” you whimpered, rolling on your side.  Your fingers were still rubbing desperately at your clit, trying to find some kind of release.  “Nattie, it hurts.  It hurts.  M-Make it stop.”

And god damn it.  Her precious lover begging her to make whatever it was stop hurting?  She was gonna figure out a way to make it stop hurting.

She crawled towards her, frowning as she saw a broken test tube on the floor.  “What the hell is this?”  She couldn’t read the label on it, the ink smeared.  Tossing it to the side, she finally made it to you.  “W-What hurts, Baby?  What hurts?”

Your glassy eyes were wild as your hips bucked up in the air, a vein on your forehead popping out.  “F-Fuck me.  Fuck me, Nattie, please,” she begged, whining desperately.  “Oh, my god, I need it.  I need it.  Please.”

“H-Here?  Baby, wha—”

“Natasha, please, I am literally beg… begging you.  Please,” you cried, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Well.  It’s a good thing she brought the box with her.  She ripped it open, pulling out the new harness that she ordered with it.  “Okay.  Okay, angel, but you gotta let me get my strap on, okay?”  She asked sweetly as she stripped down.  She didn’t care who saw.  She had to help her baby girl.

Your response of a weak whimper only made her go faster.

She practically ripped off your clothes, a groan tearing its way out of her throat as she spread your legs.  You were so wet it was obscene, your poor little clit swollen.

“Oh, pretty girl,” she cooed as she ran her fingers through your slick folds, slipping two in with ease.  “You didn’t ask permission to touch yourself, sweetheart…  But I think I can let this time slide…”  With her one free hand, she pulled the new dildo out of its packaging, smirking at the whimper that escaped your lips as you saw it.

It was pretty.  Really pretty.  Eight inches, made of that realistic feeling silicone, and a gorgeous opal color.  Her and Bucky ordered it especially with you in mind, since opals are your favorite.

“N-Natasha, please…”  You grinded against her fingers, your pussy clenching as you tried to get more.

“Oh, good girl…  You look so pretty, Baby.”  She used her one hand to attach the dildo to the harness, her eyes flicking back and forth between the heat between your legs and her fumbling fingers as she finally got it secure.  She ran it through your folds, getting it nice and slicked up.

That’s when the doors opened again, the familiar sound of size twelve boots coming towards them.  “What the hell is that smell and why are you two—”  Bucky broke off as he felt the heat.  “Oh, shit.”

Natasha grinned as she looked over at Bucky.  They were both clearly feeling the heat that the mysterious substance had caused, but not nearly as bad as you were.  “I caught our little baby touching herself without permission… out where anyone could walk by and see her.”

The third member of your triad was already working on undoing his belt, tearing it off so quickly that it ripped a few of his belt loops, leaving little holes in his pants.  “Has our baby been a little naughty?” He asked as he stripped down, kicking off his boots.  He grasped your face with his metal hand, the cool digits a welcome reprieve to the heat that had overwhelmed you.  “Princess, have you been a bad girl?  Huh?”  He lightly slapped your cheek, just enough to get you to answer.  “When I ask a question, I expect an answer, sweetheart.”

You nodded, whining as you nuzzled your head against his cool hand, the angle hurting your neck a little since you were still on your back.  “Yes.  Yes, Bucky.  I’ve been so bad, I’m so sorry…”  You looked up at him with glittering eyes, your cheeks tear stained.  “I need you.  Please.”

His blue eyes were soft as he leaned down, stealing a soft kiss from your swollen lips.  “What’s your safeword, Baby?” He asked, his free hand wrapping around his swollen cock.

“Bracelet.”

“And if you can’t talk?” Natasha probed, still sliding her strap through your folds.

Your hand wrapped around Bucky’s wrist, squeezing twice.

“Good girl,” he said, kissing you once more.  His strong hands flipped you over easily, placing you on your hands and knees.

Almost immediately after, Natasha’s hand came down on your ass, causing you to jerk forward.  “You better suck Bucky’s cock, Baby,” she said as a smirk curled up the edges of her lips.  “If you want me to fuck you, you better put that pretty mouth to good use.”

“But—”

“Did she stutter, angel?” Bucky asked as he grabbed her chin, forcing you to look up at him.  “Tasha gave you an order.  Are you going to be a good girl and listen?”  His flesh thumb ran over your plump bottom lip.  “Don’t you wanna be a good girl for us?  Huh?”

Fuck.  Yeah, you did.  You always wanted to be a good girl for your two lovers.

Matching moans fell from Bucky and Natasha’s mouths as your tongue flicked out to slide up his length, circling around the head.  You always gave absolutely filthy head, your eyes watering as you choked around his length.

As you took him all the way, Natasha slid her strap into your wet heat, all the way to the hilt.  You let out a choked moan, your eyes wide as she started to thrust in and out of you.  Her fingers dug into your hips deliciously, the acrylics she kept at a relatively short length leaving little crescent moon indents.  You loved it.  The pain felt so fucking good.

“We should’ve made you wear your butt plug, Baby.”  Bucky’s jaw clenched as he reached to gather some of your slick on his finger, before circling it around your tight hole.  “Could’ve had you waiting for us to fuck you proper while I was on a mission all week…”

Natasha’s hips slammed against yours as she pressed her lips to Bucky’s.  “We don’t use the diamond one enough considering how much we paid for it.”

You pulled off of Bucky’s cock with a pop, glaring at the two of them.  “Is this the time to be talking about how often we use the butt plug?”

“Did I say you could stop sucking my cock?” Bucky growled as he grabbed your face and started throat-fucking you.  “It’s been too long since we put you in your place, angel.  You’re getting mouthy.”

“She’s always been mouthy.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Natasha and Bucky’s thrusts sent waves of pleasure through you.  The heat that had consumed your body was faded, and all you could think about was making your doms feel good.

All the background noise that had been in your mind over the past few weeks was gone, drowned out by the praises coming from your lovers.  All the self-doubt that coursed through your mind was gone when they loved you like this.

You choked around Bucky’s cock as you came suddenly, the release coming over you like a wave.

It only seemed to spur them on more as Natasha fucked you that much harder, Bucky’s fingers scratching soothingly against your scalp as he got closer and closer to the edge.  You could always tell when he was close by the way his thrusts got more and more sloppy.

Natasha’s hand reached down and around to rub your clit, the pretty opal dildo sliding in and out of you with ease.  She wished she had her phone if just so she could record the moans falling from you and Bucky’s mouths.

Hell, she’d make it her fucking ringtone.

It wasn’t long before Bucky came with a shout, spilling down your throat.

He groaned, his head falling back as he felt you licking him clean.  He let you finish before pulling out, getting on his knees and kissing you sweetly.

Your eyes were dazed, a little bit of cum you hadn’t swallowed dribbling out of your mouth.  You looked so damn pretty like that.  Dumb from pleasure.

“You gonna cum again for us, Baby?” He asked sweetly, holding your face in his hands.

A nod, your lips starting to move to form words but not quite getting there.  Adorable.

He watched it coming.  Watched as your breath hitched and your eyes rolled back in your head before you let out a cry.  You blacked out as your second orgasm ripped through you, violently like an earthquake.  A force of nature.

“Seriously?  In the lab?!” Tony demanded, glaring at them from the entrance.  “What the hell happened?!”

Bucky and Natasha were very blasé faire about their own nudity, but they didn’t like anyone else seeing you.  The redhead reached for the little test tube that she’d tossed to the side when she’d first gotten there as he covered you up with his leather jacket, cradling your exhausted body to his chest.  He pressed soft kisses to your forehead as he rocked you back and forth.

“I think it was whatever was in this,” Natasha said as she looked at it curiously, trying to make out what the writing on the label was.  “... Sexus… Pollinis?”

Tony grumbled as he walked over and grabbed the tube, looking it over.  “It’s literally Latin for sex pollen.  Which probably means exactly what we think.”

“Is that what the smell in the air was?” Bucky asked.

Natasha nodded.  “I think most of it spilled on her, which is why she was so affected but we weren’t.”

“Okay.  I’ll… clean all this stuff up,” Tony said.  “Get her out of here and in a bed.  Or a bath.”  He shook his head as he started to call for the robots that mopped the floor.  “Animals.”

You came to in your shared room, curled up between them in your giant tub.  “Wha’ happened?”

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky cooed, his fingers massaging your sore shoulders.  “How do you feel?”

For some reason, you started crying.  It just came over you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Natasha said, cupping your face and wiping your tears.  “Baby, what’s going on?  Huh?  Talk to us…”

“I-I’ve just been f-feeling so alone a-and this is the first time w-we’ve all been together in two m-months,” you whimpered in a shattered glass voice, barely able to string together a full sentence through your hiccups.  “A-And you’ve been gone s-so often that all I can think is m-maybe I’m j-just here because you’re both d-dominants and needed a s-s-submissive!”

Bucky and Natasha’s faces both fell and they squeezed you that much closer to them.

“Oh, Baby, no,” Natasha said.  Her heart hurt as she realized that that’s why you’ve been so off lately.  “We love you so much.  So, so much.”

“I think it’s time we stopped going on so many missions anyway, Baby,” Bucky added, his fingers tickling up and down your back.  “I’m tired of not being home with my girls.”

“Really?” You asked softly, looking at him like he’d just told you he’d give you the moon.

“Yeah,” Natasha said, bringing your hand to her lips.  She pressed a kiss to your left ring finger as her eyes met Bucky’s, a knowing look on his face.  Maybe soon there’d be a ring on that finger.  “Really, Baby.”

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

[zukuist]

confetti

“todoroki experiences a difficult time when it comes to getting out chunks of confetti, and luckily- you’re there to provide him some aid.”

 @/gingerbreadmonster said: “congratulations on 100!!! 🎉🎊🎉🎊 i only found your blog recently but i really love your writing and you deserve all that and more 😍 may i please request "can we stay like this?" + todoroki shoto for your drabble prompts? 💕💕💕 (idk how you like your reqs formatted so it's cool if it's not your thing!)”

includes: todoroki shouto (x reader)

your name is shortened to y/n, a gender neutral reader, lowercase intended.

warnings: none, honestly really fluffy

notes: LMAO so i accidentally posted my draft summary, where the original concept was scraped so.. sorry about that. advanced happy birthday to candy cane boy :))

---

todoroki sighs when he catches a glimpse of his reflection on his phone, an assort of glitters and gold pieces of confetti liter the contrasting colors of his hair. it is the result from something called a ‘surprise birthday party’

he stands on the sidelines of the common room, as everyone had returned to their room, or they had indulged in their own thing. he just got up to get a glass of water, but he ended up staring at the aftermath of the small birthday party that was thrown by the class.

it’s pretty evident from the looks of the slightly eaten birthday cake that sits on the kitchen isle, and the empty ceramic cups that sit on the dryer. he huffs in mild annoyance, attempting to clear out the glitter and confetti by brushing his soft locks, but it feels like the pile is just never ending.

he might need to wash his hair after this..

“todoroki?” he hears a familiar voice call out to him in a hush like voice, and he whips his head back to meet gazes with you. “are you okay? you were staring at the microwave for a while”

his stomach is tickled with that feeling again, and he doesn’t pay too much attention to your observation. he doesn’t know what that feeling is really, as he’s only felt it one time, and that one time being around you.

“i'm fine,” he automatically responses to your question, “what are you doing down here?”

“i actually left something on the couch, earlier” you smile, “but i saw you just staring at the microwave for a pretty long time.”  

you’re happy to see the corner of his lips slightly turn up, and he brings a hand up to his head, but his brows furrowed when he can’t seem to get out the confetti that litters in that one particular spot on his head.

“is it the confetti?” you ask, and you just never cease to amaze him with the fact that you could just read him so well.

he can only nod, as he tries to brush out the stubborn confetti once again, “it’s not really getting out.”

you’re quite silent, and you tilt your head to get a better view of his hair. it looks quite soft, and you want to touch it, in all honesty. but that’s not the entire point. maybe he might need some assistance.

“how about you sit down over there, todoroki? i’ll try to pick it out for you- i mean, if you want me to.” you try not to sound overly eager about.. picking out confetti out of his hair, but todoroki doesn’t really seem to care about what you’re implying.

it feels like his heart’s skipping multiple beats.

he can only nod, and you smile- pulling a chair, and you cringe slightly from the way it scratches against the floor. todoroki sits himself down, making himself comfortable since it feels like he’ll be there for a while, based off what he saw in his phone’s reflection.

he finds himself enjoying the way your fingers weave through his hair, picking off the confetti- and brushing it off his head. you lean forward onto the wooden chair,  as an attempt to grapes a clearer view of his scalp,  and there’s a lot more glitter than you ever thought there would be.

you end up plucking a larger chunk of confetti harsher than you wanted, and you can see the way his face contorts in mild pain. “ah, sorry. didn’t mean to tug your hair.”

he only stares at you, and you ignore how your heart flutters at the sight of him staring at you.

you tilt forward to brush off the glitter particles off his silky milk white hair. you take a look on how his hair looks a lot clearer than it did earlier, and even with the confetti and glitter- his hair was still as luscious as ever.

but then you realized you were lingering on your thoughts a little too long. you shake you head and continue intertwining your fingers through his hair.

you make a decision to start making small talk, the silence was almost too loud for comfort. “so, did you enjoy your birthday?”

todoroki thinks. his day wasn’t really too spectacular. he called his mom in the morning, went on his day like usual, and came back to a surprise at the height alliance.

todoroki feels like the day hasn’t really concluded though, “i suppose i did. it was really any other day though.”

“hm, but being a year older is special!” you chortle, and he can only stare amused with your light hearted reactions.

it dawns on him that you’re quite close to his face. his eyes are transfixed on your expression, and you’re so focused with your task, your tongue slightly peeking out and onto your bottom lip, and you continue to brush particles off his hair.

it’s becoming quite captivating.

“it seems to be that i’ve gotten all of them,” you huff, and leave momentarily to search for a dustpan to sweep away the fallout, and discard in the trash bin.

todoroki runs his hand through his hair, and he can no longer feel that unsatisfying feeling of glitter chunks, and confetti pieces sticking out of his hair, it’s cleared him of that sort of trouble.

“anyways, happy birthday again, todoroki. i hope whatever you wished for on your birthday comes true!” you lean forward, brushing his hair again, before patting his shoulder. you move to retreat back up to your room.

but there’s one last thing he’d like to do before the day concludes officially.

“wait,” todoroki calls out to you, and he tugs on your wrist and pulls you down with him onto the wooden chair. he doesn't seem to care about the fact that the both of you guys are so close to each other.

your mouth is slightly agape, shocked by the suddenly action, but you’re left just staring at his dashing good looks. the contrast of both of his eyes colors are beautiful, even under the artificial lighting of the kitchen.

“i.. honestly wished for you to be with me,” he hates how he said it, so he looks away from your appalled gaze for a split second, “will you?”

oh.

how could you even say no to him? before you could process it properly- your lips press against his. it’s a chaste kiss, but it feels so warm, and delightful. how you always imagined what kissing todoroki shouto would feel like.

he smiles when the kiss is broke off, “can we stay like this? even if it’s just for a little bit longer?”

and how could you say no to him? it is what the birthday boy wishes after all.

---

©️ izukulie 2021, bnha|mha belongs to horikoshi kohei. do not steal

word count will be added soon.

[tuagonia]

sunflower - mason x f!detective

pairing: mason x f!detective (mia garcia)

Summary: mason thinks about mia at the town’s florist.

rating: T

warning: i think there's like...one swear word.

word count: ~1.7k

note: lol ok since i flopped at getting mason x mia done for the hotwayhaven event.... i have been waiting to write this for a while and the amazing event organisers at @wayhavensummer finally gave me the excuse I was waiting for to fully indulge in this. thanks for hosting and putting in all the great work!! This is for Aug. 18 - Flowers.

--

They remind him of her.

Large and dangling free from her ears; brightly painted papier-mâché “monstrosities”.

That’s the word he’d used to describe them, making no effort to mask his distaste.

Instead, Mia smiled widely in response, reaching up to touch one at its faux-stalks. It stopped that distracting swing, back and forth with every slight movement of her head. Chuckling, and pride lifting her cheery tone, she told Mason she made them herself.

Lemony-yellow, mossy-green, the burnt-chestnut centre.

All crammed together outside of the tiny flower shop. Dozens upon dozens of them staring back at him; yellower under the blaze of the mid-August sun.

A makeshift sign stuffed among the mass of summer-ripe bouquets reads: “TOP QUALITY. Giant Sunnys £14 per bunch”.

Mason is just looking.

He tells himself there’s no harm in just looking.

And anyway, they’re hard to miss under the hot sun. It’s not his fault they’re in the way of his usual patrol route. Quite literally.

Bundles and bundles of large sunflowers, taking up the pavement. Usually, grey and cracked, now overrun with the sight of them. The florist’s quaint store looks like a child’s plaything next to the dramatic assortment.

He has to blink, thinking the sunshine and its heat has started playing tricks on him. It’s almost as if they multiply; little suns with their earthly centres, drawing him closer.

From the moment he rounded the corner to the main square, he never stood a chance against the brilliance of them.

Mason should have kept moving. He doesn’t have time for this— to stop mid-patrol, to idle in front of flowers.

But they remind him of her.

Not just of the — and his lip curls at the memory — weird handmade jewellery.

(A set for every occasion.

Cakes and candles for colleagues’ birthdays, candy canes for Christmas, glittery hearts the size of her fists for Valentine’s Day. Tiny pieces of reflective plastic shedding onto her delicate neck).

They remind him of the sunshiney smiles. The ones she so easily tosses his way, like they’re never any work, like they could never go to waste. Always patient, always bright, always...happy.

And as he glares down at them, he realises they don’t offend him. The observation renders him sceptical, partly convincing himself he’s stopped to figure out why he hasn’t felt repulsed at the overwhelming powdery aroma.

It’s not floral. No. Instead, it reminds him of...reminds him of… Mason racks his brain and frowns accusingly at the vivid flowers opened up at him.

Mason reaches for one, fingers wrapping around its surprisingly sturdy stalk.

He’s still just looking. He just— he just needs to get a closer whiff to figure this out.

Honey. That’s what it is.

Mason’s frown deepens at the realisation. His grip on the flower shifts, the skin of his palm uncomfortable against the fuzzy stem.

Bright and honey-sweet.

(There’s that memory of her kiss, soft and saccharine as powdered-sugar; should make his teeth hurt.)

The crown of gold petals distracts him, fills him with a warm something that he’s more desperate than annoyed to figure out. He can’t place it, can’t place it, can’t place it— wants to know it.

Maybe it’s the frustration of chasing after the unnamable thing that makes him forget the purpose of stopping, the reason why he plucked the flower to begin with.

...so distracted he doesn't hear when the round-cheeked vendor pops their head outside of the shop, all smiles that he feels nothing for (not her like smiles, though. Nothing like her smiles).

They mention the weather and ask if they can be of any help, but Mason’s attention slides back to the sunflower in his fist. But he shakes his head, unconvincingly but he’ll never know.

It’s the heat, he thinks. The arse-end of nowhere town at the tail-end of an unforgiving heatwave.

But just as he’s about to slot the stalk back into its bucket, the vendor stops him— shaking their head emphatically, their grin growing by the second. They sweep of their hands in a take it, take it, please motion, and send Mason off. They shoot him wink from overly-kind eyes.

Like they might be in on some big secret, and Mason will be the last in this entire godforsaken town to know.

There’s no harm in taking the flower, Mason insists, staring down into its dark-brown centre.

He’ll hold onto it until he can find the next rubbish bin, and in the mean time he’ll try not to think about how it reminds him of the dusting of dark freckles across her nose.

(He gets it now. He gets it when he’s with Mia.

He understands — finally — why everyone before her kissed his freckles like they wanted to taste the stars.

Her galaxies, his constellations. Every time they meet, Mason expects a seismic shift to take them asunder.)

His usual strides have shortened, his pace slower than normal, his senses overwhelmed by the true yellow of its petals.

For a moment, Mason forgets all about the patrol and just...walks.

It’s a quiet and lazy summer day. The sun (high and hot) urges residents to stay in the shade, seeks refuge in cool indoors. The streets are empty. Sleepy. So, he takes his time, the crease on his brow deepening with every side street he takes.

It’s hot inside his boots. That’s the only reason he’s leaning against her tin can of a car, outside of the station, holding this ostentatiously large flower.

A quick detour for some shade. That’s all it is. And when there’s a whisper of a breeze, rustling the leaves of the tree above him and the little crown of petals in his hand, it’s all the more cooler.

Mason can hear her colleagues moving in and out of the station, but pays them no mind as time moves on, still staring down at the flower in his grip. It’s far too large to twirl it with sturdy fingers, forcing him to keep studying it and wondering what exactly about it brings Mia to mind.

Lively, but not intense.

(Her laugh, he guesses. Loud and clear, broken up by giggles. The sound of it never jarring.)

A drop of sunlight, buried underground. Persists and blossoms through cracked earth.

(Her kindness, he ascertains. Not to be mistaken for weakness. As easy as she can dole-out radiant smiles, her sharp tongue can just as quickly follow.)

...like he’s been holding a piece of her this entire time.

The taut pull at his cheeks is foreign, and he lets the corners of his mouth drop.

Pointless because Mason hears a familiar drumming, a quick skip he’s grown used to over the last years.

He looks up just in time to watch Mia push through the station’s glass doors. At the top of the steps, she stops to survey the car park, and he feels a flutter in his chest when he realises those brown eyes are searching for him. He confirms it when her gaze lands on him and...that smile (the beating inside his chest is ten-fold) breaks out across her face.

She shields her face with a hand, squinting against the harsh glare of sun bouncing off windshields. With easy, unhurried steps she walks towards him and he drinks in the sight of her.

That scratchy yellow cardigan that’s become synonymous with Detective Garcia is nowhere to be seen. Probably thrown over the back of her office chair and forgotten, along with whatever work she’s been putting off all afternoon.

Dark curls scooped up and away from her neck, gives Mason a great view to the line of her throat and down her naked shoulders. A sage strappy shirt stretches down her small frame, trying its best to keep her cool in the heat...reminds him of the stalk in his hand.

He tenses.

Mia’s eyes flicker to the sunflower he’s holding and her smile (fuck, that smile will be the end of him) grows and grows.

All teeth (white, and...harmless with the dull edges) and she gives an airy chuckle.

“That for me?” she asks with one eyebrow lifting into a curly fringe.

Pushing off the car, Mason musters up his best grimace and fights back the fear fighting its way up his spine. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know why fear is the first thing that possesses him when she stands this close and gestures to the flower with a tilt of her head.

Before he can respond, before he can let his tongue and fear get the better of him— Mia makes for the sunflower in his grip.

Fear tells him this should be a mistake. This memory must be a mistake; one that he’s sure will be the only one to matter in a dizzying spiral of time: Mia smiling down at this sunflower.

The leaves rustle again, and sunlight filters through, dappling the deep brown of her hair.

She makes it easy, never has to wrestle with the feeling for too long before she distracts him. If it’s not a quip, it’ll be an expression that should not be equal parts funny or cute. Spears Mason somewhere deep, somewhere he doesn’t think he’s touched before— doesn’t know if it could ever be before her.

Mia speaks to the flower, a lone fingertip running over its petals. “It’s very pretty.”

Mason watches her stroke the large leaf at the stalk, leaning in nose-first to catch its scent at the centre, eyes fluttering shut. Dark lashes meet her cheeks, and he follows the line of her freckles (darker in the summertime).

He wants to take his time here too, with the same pace as he did those side streets (seeing parts of Wayhaven he would have never traversed without coaxing).

“Yeah…” his voice is rough and unused, studying as she looks up at the way the branches move above them. Sunlight casting down on her, and that easy smile fixed on her lips. “Very pretty.”