#sap arena

[verbal]

Photo taken at the previously mentioned Billie Eilish concert at SAP with my iPhone 16 Pro Max from section 213.

Not too bad for a camera photo.

[necrophcge]

"who put you in charge?"

@goldenfists // moments stolen from a doom-driven journey // accepting.

"Evolution." And oh are there moments when he wishes it weren't so, truly. Awareness unlocked and unleashed upon him in a shower of golden Dust, twisting something that had been little more than a scuttling beast scavenging for a morsel into a someone that was capable of recognizing how alone he could be despite being surrounded by hundreds of his own kindred... alas, here he remains, master and kindred and leader to the ravening swarm as they struggle to survive.

"When you were born to do nothing more than kill, there is no need for a consensus on who should lead, nor any more merit to be considered than who best can slay your enemies." Here in the shade offered by the ancient arena, Shurima's sun baking the dunes with her harsh rays, He Who Meddles considers his... well. Guest feels too esteemed for a hind-legs no matter their supposed renown, but meal implies the tales of Sett aren't always accompanied with the corpses that prove them. Nonetheless, the champion of Iona's fighting pits had come a long way from home simply to spill blood onto the thirsting sands. Too far for that to be his sole interest. "That, and the raiders were content to leave this place for the desert to swallow again... and I abhor waste."

Conversing with hind-legs beyond simply threatening them had been a novelty on Auriga, but a new strategy was required for a new world. Restoring this arena, offering the hind-legs their shiny gold trinkets and baubles pulled from the ruins to slay one another just to feed the hive without them ever being the wiser, was but a small but lucrative little venture. One that would be paying off yet again, assuming Sett was actually here to claim another title for his legacy.

"Do you intend to challenge the status quo, Half-Beast?" There's an ominous whirr to his words, and He Who Meddles' mandibles snap together harshly, both pairs of arms folded in clear expectation as his many-eyes rove over Sett.

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Sap Vitality by Alexander Mokhov

[peachhcs]

plz write a cute celebrini x fem reader 🙏🙏 ur writing is beyond amazing

oooh i've never written specifically for mack before so hopefully this isn't bad 😅

after mack’s face injury, his gf is quick to look after him once the game is done

masterlist

she waited impatiently near the doors of the locker room awaiting her boyfriend's arrival. y/n's mind couldn't stop replaying the horror on her features and everyone else's when they saw the blood trickle down macklin's face after a nasty high stick hit. she knew he was okay because he was right back on the ice once the bleeding stopped, but the image wouldn't shake the girl's brain.

lingering after the game felt so long this time around and y/n wondered if it was just because she was anxious about seeing her boyfriend and properly checking up on him. she swiped through twitter and instagram continuously while video replays of the rookie's hit filled her feeds. she just shut her phone off all together for now, not being able to watch the play anymore.

finally, the players began trickling out. y/n's head popped up, searching for the eyes of macklin in the crowd. she spotted him with will near the middle of the pack and he immediately found her gaze. will sensed that they probably wanted to talk, so he split off from the boy once they got closer, giving a small nod to y/n as he passed.

"hey," macklin began, but was caught off guard when y/n jumped into his arms.

"let me see it," she grabbed ahold of his chin, turning his face to the side to examine the new scar.

"it's really not that bad now. they cleared it up really good," the brunette tried reassuring his girlfriend knowing she probably had a hundred thoughts running through her.

"you scared the shit out of me when i saw all that blood. it looked a lot worse," y/n stepped back, arms crossing over her chest.

macklin frowned at the sudden distance between them, "i'm sorry, baby. i promise i'm fine. see?" he gave his best grin hoping to further prove how he was doing.

"well, if i see wilson, i'm gonna punch him myself," y/n huffed, looking around like she would catch the older player lingering somewhere.

macklin laughed, tugging y/n into his side and kissing the side of her head, "you're so cute when you're upset. i promise i'm fine though. i mean you saw me play afterwards."

"yeah you fucking power played. i guess that was your redemption," the two exchanged a laugh and macklin enjoyed finally pulling a smile from her.

"can i come back to your place tonight?" the boy wondered as they moved themselves closer to the exit.

"i thought that was a given already," y/n chuckled.

macklin went to tell will they were leaving before rushing out of the SAP center so he wouldn't have to do any press. most days he didn't mind, but tonight the boy was itching to get out of there and spend some much needed time with his girl. they hadn't seen each other since last weekend—school and hockey keeping them way too busy.

"just so you know, i am gonna baby you the whole night," y/n informed once they were securely in her car.

"mm, i can't wait. a face mask is just calling my name," the hockey player leaned back in the passenger seat, hand falling to the girl's lap as she pulled out of the parking lot.

luckily, there was no early morning practice tomorrow, so macklin was gonna use that to his full advantage and spend the night in y/n's dorm. the couple rode in comfortable silence into santa clara university, a convenient 7 minutes away from the arena so y/n never missed a home game.

she parked her car again and the couple hurried into her building. the few students wandering around the lobby caught sight of macklin's suit he put back on, a few of them recognizing him from as a sharks player and as y/n's boyfriend because he was over so much.

they lucked out with y/n's roommate hanging out with her own boyfriend tonight, so they had the whole dorm to themselves. macklin immediately thew his backpack onto the ground and shoved his suit jacket from his shoulders.

"gonna shower. i didn't really before we left. you're welcome to join me if you want," the brunette winked at the girl who flushed.

"wow, so classy of you. i did already shower this morning, so i'll have to pass this time," y/n laughed.

"damn, i thought you'd say yes. you sure you don't wanna shower again?" he winked again. y/n groaned, pushing her boyfriend to the bathroom.

"i'll be out here with your face mask."

the rookie accepted his lonely shower fate and disappeared into the bathroom. y/n took the opportunity to tidy up the room and get all the things she needed for their face masks.

20 minutes later, macklin came back out of the bathroom freshly showered and in more comfortable clothes. y/n hung up his suit jacket on the door of her closet, instructing him to do the same with the rest of the outfit so it wouldn't wrinkle.

the boy climbed into her bed a second later, positioning himself against her pillows, "i'm readyy," he sang.

"i've never known you to be so excited for a face mask," y/n grinned.

"it really makes my skin smooth, so i like it," the boy explained.

y/n handed mack her headband so his hair wouldn't be in his face or in the mask. he didn't hesitate to slip it over his head and expose his forehead. the girl giggled at the sight.

"are you laughing at my big forehead?" the boy raised his eyebrow, hands finding places on y/n's hips as she straddled his waist.

"maybe," she hummed, leaning forward to begin rubbing the cream on his skin.

mack admired her focused expression while just really taking the time to take in every part of her as she applied the mask. this was his favorite part of face masks because he could stare at her without shame and she hardly noticed because she was too focused on the mask.

"have i told you how beautiful you are?" the brunette wondered softly. he watched the way y/n's cheeks heated up into a deep blush.

"you have," she muttered.

"well, i'm gonna say it again. you're really beautiful," mack grinned.

"you're sappy tonight," y/n flushed.

"what? can i not say how beautiful my girlfriend is?"

"no, you can. thank you," she finished spreading the mask, leaning back to admire her work.

"how's it look?"

"great. i'lll let you know when five minutes are up," the girl set a timer on her phone and then mack grabbed the mask cream from her hands before she could set it back on the dresser.

she looked at her boyfriend quizzically.

"can i do yours?" he wondered with a soft expression.

y/n blushed again, "just don't get it in my hair."

"promise, i won't," macklin agreed and y/n let him have at it.

his touch was gentle as his fingers began rubbing around her skin. his lip poked out from his lips as he focused on doing it right. y/n loved how much he wanted to do it correctly for her sake and his expression really was just to die for.

"okay, did it," macklin leaned back to admire his work the same way y/n did. she loved the proud little smile on his lips, pulling her camera up to examine how well he did.

"wow, looks great, mack. your best one yet," y/n agreed.

"what can i say? practice makes perfect," the boy hummed, placing everything back onto her dresser.

"so how's your lip doing now?" y/n wondered as mack's hands wandered across the expanse of her hips and waist.

"i can't even feel it anymore, so good. i told you i'm fine," he eyed her.

"i know, just let me be a worry wart."

the sharks player smiled at her words knowing how much she liked to worry about things, especially the things that didn't need to be worried about. he reached up to quickly peck her lips, tryng to avoid getting face mask on one another.

"i love you," the brunette said.

y/n's smile grew, the whole i love you still new to them but heartwarming to hear, "i love you, too," she kissed him again and now they didn't care about getting face mask on one another.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Quinn Hughes

Thoughts

Quinn and Anxiety

Stomach Squisher

Quinn the giver

Teacher-Husband Quinn

Quinn and an Alternative partner

When you're on your period

Quinn and Period sex 18+ MDNI - {Jack mentioned} + [1]

Flowers

Reassuring

Drabbles/Prompts

Valentine's Day

How he reacts to some guy being a creep towards you

One-shots

Late Bloomer - Quinn x Fem!Reader - Quinn finds out he's your first boyfriend in your mid-20s, you're expecting him to freak out.

The Sleeves - Quinn x Short Fem!Reader - Jersey sleeves are just a little too long for you.

Fishbowl Blues - Quinn x Fem!Reader - You're more stressed and worried over Quinn's busted lip than he is.

Practically Ancient - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You end up down a rabbit hole of instagram comments and profiles and can't help but compare yourself to all the women who would gladly date your boyfriend. You can't help but wonder why he's even with you.

'You're Blushing.' - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You're friends with Jack and Luke first, they decide to tease you good naturedly about your reaction to their older brother, Quinn.

To Fight a Ten Year Old - Quinn X Fem!Reader - In which Quinn is prepared to time travel to whoop some ten year old butt because you tell him a story from your childhood and he takes it personally.

Scratchy - Quinn X Fem!Reader - 18+ MDNI - Quinn will do most things to make you laugh, his favourite thing about growing out his beard is the fact that it's a weapon of mass destruction when breaking that laugh out of you. It also makes you a little weak at the knees and hot behind the collar too which is a bonus.

A Love that Gives, Gives, Gives - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Sometimes you think you have the perfect fitting bra and it turns out that it's actually a traitor in disguise. Sometimes your boyfriend is personally offended that an article of clothing would hurt you so much because he's a sap.

Squish Time - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Sometimes there is only one way to regulate your nervous system and that is squish time.

Guard Dog - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You are feeling particularly protective of Quinn after the game against the Washington Capitals and run into Dubois.

The Collection - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You keep every single puck that Quinn has ever given you, he finds your collection that you've been shyly hiding away. It might just be the thing that makes him realise you're the girl he's going to marry.

The Missing Puck - Quinn X Fem!Reader - It's the Hughes Bowl...and you're missing your usual warmup puck from Quinn. You think he's forgotten, he most definitely has not, but he didn't think this through. Fuck. Sequel to The Collection

A Little Misunderstanding - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Teacher!Reader Series -

You teach teenagers History in Vancouver, while dating a pro-hockey player, Quinn Hughes. Recurring teenage OCs like David for the lols.

The Teacher's Always Right - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Your students badger you about your relationship status and you let slip you're dating a hockey player who plays for the Vancouver Canucks. They don't believe you, you're petty enough to arrange a school trip to Rogers Arena just to prove your point.

National Teacher Day - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Quinn has a big surprise for National Teacher Day that puts your relationship out in the public space

In Your Element - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Quinn finally gets an opportunity to each lunch with you at your school, but he arrives a little early and sees a different side to you, when you're absolutely in your element

The Little Things Mean A Lot - Quinn X Fem!Reader - Sometimes it's the small things that make you fall in love all over again, like your favourite Singapore chowmein from your favourite Chinese takeaway after a long day of teaching and parent's evening

In Sickness and in Health - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You've convinced yourself that you're not actually that ill, mostly because setting cover for your lessons is more trouble than its worth. Quinn is having none of it.

Priorities - Quinn X Fem!Reader -When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you. A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

In the Firing Line - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You break up a fight at your school getting hurt in the process. There's only one person you want to call in that situation.

The Jello Incident - Quinn X Fem!Reader - You come home from work and tell Quinn all about the jello incident at school and then fall asleep on him.

[nhlclover]

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 | 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

summary: you finally get to watch will live out his childhood dream, but become a source of comfort when the game doesn't end the way he'd hoped.

warnings: childhood friends to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, use of flashback scenes (which are italicized), appearances from wills family + macklin (very briefly), sad will after the sharks lose

word count: 2.20k

notes: i had so much fun writing this oh my gosh. sucks that the sharks lost but will had a good game (and so did macklin but this isn't about him right now)

The roar of the crowd felt deafening in your ears as you watched Will and Macklin skate out onto the ice, the bright lights of the SAP Center shining down on them like a spotlight. You clutched the teal jersey tighter around you, the number 2 stitched onto the back. Your heart swelled with pride as you watched Will glide effortlessly across the rink, his movements a graceful blend of power and precision.

“I can’t believe it’s really happening.” his mom said, voice trembling with emotion. You glanced over at Colleen who was clutching her chest with a smile that looked like it could light up the entire arena.

Next to her, Grace, Will’s sister, wiped a tear from her cheek as she reached for the both of you, pulling you into a hug as you shared this moment together. Even Will’s dad Bill, who was always so composed, had a telltale glimmer in his eyes, his lips twitching into a smile of unmistakable pride. You’d watched him grow from a gangly kid into a young man now living his dream. And now here he was, skating in his first NHL game.

It was a warm summer afternoon nearly a decade earlier when you first met Will …

You sat in a heap on the grass, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. A fresh scrape ran across your knee, a testament to your failed attempt at learning to rollerblade. The purple and green skates on your feet had been a birthday gift, and in your stubborn independence, you were determined to teach yourself how to skate. But the balancing part was proving much harder than you’d imagined, leaving you bruised and scraped after several falls.

As you sat there, huffing and pulling out tufts of grass in frustration, you heard a voice. “You okay?”

You turned to find a boy standing there, about your age, with shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes. He held an oversized hockey stick in one hand, donning black, sleek rollerblades on his feet. Will, as you'd soon learn, had just moved into the house next door. He smiled with a confidence that seemed far too big for his small frame.

“Yeah,” you muttered, wiping at your tear-streaked face, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “I just…fell.”

Will nodded, studying your skates before dropping his hockey stick on the ground. “Want me to show you how to stop falling?” he asked.

You tilted your head. “You could do that?”

“Yeah! I’m a pretty good skater,” he said with a proud grin.

Will helped you to your feet, keeping your hand in his as he eased you back onto the pavement. You spent the rest of the afternoon with Will teaching you how to find your balance. He patiently caught you every time you wobbled, never laughing when you stumbled. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you could glide down the sidewalk without feeling like you’d crash into the pavement.

“Thanks,” you said shyly, tugging your skates off for the day.

“You’re not bad," he grinned, leaning against his hockey stick like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You just need a little practice."

“Will! Dinner’s ready!” a voice called from the nearby driveway. His mom, Colleen, waved him over. He glanced back at you, still seated on the sidewalk, and smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

From that day forward, it was always “you and Will”. He became your constant companion. Through scraped knees, missed goals, and late-night talks, you grew together.

It was during your sophomore year of high school when things began to change. You noticed the way Will would look at you a little longer when you were talking, his eyes lingering on your face like he was trying to memorize every detail. You’d find yourself holding your breath when he’d sling an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into one of his endless jokes, but the warmth of his touch would linger long after he let go.

One late night after a particularly tough game, Will dropped by your house, his hair still damp. You were sprawled out on your bed, textbooks and homework scattered around you when he knocked on your bedroom window. He always did that, never bothering with the front door.

“Need a break?” he asked, pushing up the window and climbing in like he'd done a thousand times before.

“Definitely,” you laughed, shoving your books aside, letting him sit on the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, but there was a nervous energy about him you hadn’t seen before. He ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. “I was just thinking about something.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Thinking about you,” he said plainly, your heart stuttering. “And about how I always feel better when I’m around you.”

You felt your stomach twisting into knots. “What are you trying to say, Will?”

His eyes searched yours for any clue that he should either stop or keep going with his confession. “I guess… I’m trying to say that I like you. A lot.” he laughed, shaking his head as if trying to brush away his own nervousness. “Like, more than a friend.”

Your breath caught, the world narrowing down to just you and him at that moment. You’d thought about this, dreamed about it even, but hearing him say it made it feel more real than you ever imagined. “I…I like you too, Will,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

The smile that spread across his face was the most genuine, heart-stopping thing you’d ever seen. “Really?” he asked, disbelief colouring his tone.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing softly. “Really.”

Without thinking, he leaned closer to you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You could feel his breath against your skin, his eyes flicking to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice trembling.

You nodded, and the next moment, his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant at first but quickly growing more confident as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. It was everything you’d imagined – and more.

When he pulled back, his face remained close, breath mingling with yours in the quiet space of your room. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“Me too,” you whispered, your heart still racing.

After that, you were no longer just best friends. You were something more, something that had been quietly building for years, just waiting for the right moment to finally come to life. Now as you stood in the packed arena years later, watching him take to the ice, you felt the past and present intertwine.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, a few slipping down your cheeks despite yourself. Will stopped along the glass in the corner, looking up into the section where you sat. For a split second, your eyes met, and even from a distance, you could see the brightness and unmistakable joy in his gaze. He gave you guys a small wave before looking back to the ice, taking a playful hit from his teammate.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered, squeezing Grace’s hand.

The game itself was a blur of excitement and nerves. Every time Will touched the puck, your breath caught. You watched him fight for possession, skate with the kind of speed and agility that only came from years of practice.

The first two periods were played well by the Sharks, with them taking a 4-1 lead, but the game soon slipped closer together towards the end of the third. When the Blues tied it with 45 seconds remaining, your heart tensed, the end of regulation buzzer echoing in a silent arena. Will didn’t see the ice in overtime when the Blues ended the game within the first 40 seconds of extra time. A collective groan sounded through out the arena, fans quickly clearing out.

Your heart sank, knowing how much this moment meant to Will. You watched as the team walked down the hall to the locker room, heads hung in disappointment. You spotted Will, Macklin patting him on the back, a small gesture of solidarity, but you could see how much it stung for both of them. They had given their all, but sometimes that wasn’t enough.

Fans continued to flow out of the stands, the usual post-game chatter was quieter, a stark contrast to the earlier excitement. A staff member instructed you to stay in the stands while Will changed and did media. You stood with his family, exchanging hugs, and offering words of comfort, but your eyes kept flicking back to the tunnel, waiting for him. 

Minutes felt like hours, until finally you spotted Will climbing the steps into the stands, changed back into his game-day suit, his damp hair falling in curls over his forehead. His face was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, but the moment he spotted his family, a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Will made his way toward you all, the arena now almost empty except for a few lingering staff members. Colleen was the first to meet him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and he buried his face into her shoulder for a moment, letting out a deep breath. Bill clapped him on the back, offering a few quiet words of encouragement. Grace was next, standing on her tiptoes to hug her brother, whispering something in his ear that made him smile faintly despite everything.

And then, his eyes found yours.

For a second, you weren’t sure if you should say anything, if you should be the one to comfort him after a loss like this. But when he stepped closer, his body radiating exhaustion and vulnerability, you knew he needed you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head as you hugged him back, tighter than you ever had before.

“You played amazing,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

He didn’t say anything at first, just held you closer, as if drawing strength from your presence. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, but you could feel the tension in his muscles, the disappointment lingering in the air.

“That fucking sucked,” he finally muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “I wanted to win so badly.”

“I know,” you replied softly, rubbing his back in slow, comforting circles. “But you’ll get another chance. Tonight wasn’t the end.”

You felt Will shake his head. “I could’ve done more, I should’ve gotten on the sheet.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hand resting gently on his chest. His eyes were a mix of frustration and exhaustion, still tinged with the adrenaline from the game. “Will, it’s not all on you. It’s a team game — you know that. You can’t carry it all on your shoulders.”

He exhaled sharply, his hands still holding you close as if he was afraid to let go. “Yeah, but… I wanted to, you know? I wanted to prove something.” His voice faltered, and the vulnerability in his expression tugged at your heart. You could see how much this moment meant to him—not just the game, but his debut, this night he'd dreamed of since he was a kid. And even though the team had lost, all you could see was how proud you were of him.

“You did,” you said, your voice steady and sure. You brushed back a lock of blonde hair that fell over his eyes. “You proved that you belong here. And not just to everyone else, but to yourself. This is just the beginning, Will.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the weight of your words settling in. You could see the way his tense shoulders started to relax, his grip on you loosening ever so slightly as if he was finally allowing himself to believe it too. A small smile, soft and tired, tugged at his lips. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek.

You smiled back, leaning into his touch. “Good thing you don’t have to find out.”

Will let out a small chuckle, the sound lightening the weight between you. “I can’t believe you came all the way from Boston for this.”

“Of course I did, Will. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” you smiled. 

“I love you,” he breathed out, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you. It was warm and soft and tasted faintly of the Gatorade he’d probably chugged all game, and it was everything you needed to feel how much this moment meant to him.

When you finally pulled away, Will kept you close to him, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he murmured, the words barely a whisper. “For always believing in me.”

“Always,” you promised.

[heliosunny]

what abt yan!mydei with a reader as his wife who’s trying to escape?

Yandere!Mydei x Wife!Reader

The grand hall is alive with the clash of steel, the roar of the crowd, and the shimmer of golden candlelight against polished marble. The gala is meant to be a celebration, an exhibition of strength and diplomacy, but to you, it is an opportunity.

Your husband, Mydei, stands in the center of the dueling arena, his blade locking against an opponent’s in a brutal clash. He fights like a beast, relentless, overwhelming, every strike carrying the weight of a warrior who has never known defeat. His hair, damp with sweat, clings to his face as his opponent stumbles back. The audience erupts in cheers.

And that’s when you run.

You don’t waste a second. While the nobles are entranced by the fight, you slip past the velvet-draped tables, past the gilded statues, and through the towering double doors. Your heart pounds as you dart down the corridors, breath quick, hands trembling.

Freedom is so close.

The outer gates are unguarded, everyone is inside, watching Mydei. The stars are vast above you as you sprint into the streets of the city, the sound of your silk-clad footsteps lost in the night. The further you go, the deeper the weight in your chest lightens.

You made it.

Days pass. You keep moving, changing your clothes, stealing scraps of food where you can. Your once-ornate garments have been traded for rough-spun fabric, your fingers stained with dirt from the road. The city gives way to forests, then rivers, then distant villages where Mydei’s name is still whispered in reverence and fear.

But something is wrong.

It starts as a dull ache in your limbs, a fatigue you dismiss as exhaustion from travel. But then your steps become sluggish, your breathing more labored. Food tastes bitter. Your fingers tremble when you lift them. The further you get from Mydei, the worse it becomes, until realization strikes like a dagger to the gut.

You’re not just sick. You’ve been poisoned.

Memories resurface, Mydei’s hands lingering on your wrist days before the gala, his lips brushing your throat as he murmured, “If you run, I’ll chase you. But do you know what happens when a bird flies too far from its nest?”

The poison was never meant to kill. It was meant to make sure you’d never outrun him. The moment you collapse, he finds you.

A pair of iron-strong arms catch you before you hit the cold dirt. Even through the haze, you recognize the scent of steel, sweat, and something faintly sweet, Mydei’s scent. A choked sound leaves your lips, something between a sob and a curse, as you weakly try to shove him away.

He doesn’t let you go.

“Shh, easy now” he murmurs, his voice deep, softer than it has any right to be. His arms tighten around you, lifting you against his chest with infuriating ease. “You should’ve known this would happen, my love. You can’t survive without me.”

Your fingers claw at his shoulder, your body shaking as you try to fight, try to resist. But it’s useless. You feel like a ragdoll in his grasp, your strength sapped by the poison, your vision spinning.

“Bastard—” you whisper, teeth bared.

His chuckle is low, dangerous.

“Still so fierce, even like this. That’s why I love you, you know?”

His fingers stroke your cheek, his touch burning against your too-cold skin. He looks down at you.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?” he asks, tilting his head. “That I wouldn’t tear the entire kingdom apart to find you?”

You open your mouth, but no words come. Your breath is shallow, your body trembling violently against him.

Mydei sighs, shifting his grip to hold you more securely. He presses a lingering kiss to your temple before whispering, “It doesn’t matter. You’re coming home.”

You jolt upright—only for an unbearable wave of nausea to crash over you. Your body, still weak from the poison, refuses to obey. Before you can collapse, strong hands catch you, pulling you back against something solid and unyielding.

“Careful.”

His voice is too close.

You shove at him, weakly, but Mydei doesn’t budge. He holds you with effortless strength, keeping you caged against his chest.

“Easy, my love,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple as he speaks. “You’re still recovering.”

Your breath shudders out of you as you force your eyes open. The room is dim, flickering candlelight casting long shadows against dark stone walls. Not your chambers. Not the palace. Somewhere more secluded, somewhere only he knows.

You stiffen. “Where—”

“A safe place” Mydei cuts in, as if that explains anything.

His grip loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let you go. His fingers skim over your wrist, pressing gently, checking your pulse. His golden eyes narrow slightly before he exhales, satisfied.

“You’re getting better” he muses, his voice dipping into something dangerously soft. His thumb traces over your skin, slow, methodical. “But you lost too much strength. Do you feel it? How your body falters without me?”

Rage coils in your chest. You wrench your arm away, only to hiss as the movement sends a sharp ache through your limbs.

Mydei tuts, shaking his head. “Stubborn little thing. Even now, when you’re barely able to sit up.”

“You poisoned me.”

“I saved you.”

He says it so easily. So utterly convinced that he’s right.

“You tried to run” Mydei continues, as if he’s explaining something simple. “You would’ve died out there, weak as you were. I told you—” His fingers grasp your chin, tilting your face toward his. His eyes gleam, golden and unyielding. “You can’t survive without me.”

You glare at him, but your body betrays you. The fever still lingers, your skin burning beneath his touch. You hate how steady his hands are, how easily he holds you in place.

“I will never belong to you” you snarl, voice hoarse.

For a moment, Mydei is silent.

Then, he laughs.

Low, deep, almost cruel.

“Belong to me?” he repeats, tilting his head. “Oh, my love. You already do.”

The bed shifts as he moves, pressing closer, his warmth suffocating. His lips brush against your forehead, your cheek—soft, adoring, unshakable. His arms tighten around you, immovable.

“And I will never let you go.”

“You can fight me, if you want. I like it when you do” Mydei murmurs against your skin, his lips ghosting over your cheek—a mockery of affection.

You wrench away from his touch, but your body is still weak, trembling from exhaustion. Mydei lets you move, only to seize your wrist the moment you try to push him away. His grip is unyielding, but not painful.

“You truly hate me that much?” His golden eyes glint in the dim candlelight, searching yours. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—something deeper than rage, something darker than mere obsession.

You take a shuddering breath, forcing steel into your voice. “More than anything.”

A pause. Then—he smiles.

“Then perhaps” he muses, almost idly, “I should give you something to love more than you hate me.”

Your blood runs cold. “What?”

He watches your reaction closely, golden eyes drinking in every flicker of emotion across your face.

“You won’t always feel this way, my love. One day, you’ll understand. And if not…” His free hand trails down, brushing over your stomach.

“Then I’ll just have to give you a reason to stay.”

A new kind of fear coils in your chest, sharper than anything you’ve felt before. You know Mydei. You know his conviction, his unshakable will.

If he decides something, he will make it reality.

“You wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t I?” His fingers press slightly, claiming. “You are my wife. It’s only natural. And once you carry my child… you will never leave me again.”

Your vision spins. Not just from the fever, not just from exhaustion, but from the realization that he means every word.

Mydei tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His expression is softer now, almost gentle, but that only makes his next words more terrifying.

“If you won’t stay for me, you’ll stay for them. And by then, my love—” His lips brush against your forehead, his voice a hushed, dangerous promise. “—you won’t even want to run anymore.”

[cailinsblog]

Protecting Her Hear | macklin celebrini

Macklin celebrini x reader

It was a crisp December evening in San Jose, and the SAP Center was buzzing with excitement as fans filled the stands for the Sharks’ home game against the Chicago Blackhawks. Among the sea of fans in the lower bowl, one face stood out. Y/N, wearing her favorite Macklin Celebrini jersey, was settled into her seat, a smile lighting up her face as she watched her boyfriend skate out onto the ice. The young NHL star was having an incredible season with the Sharks, and every game felt like a new chapter in their story.

Macklin had grown close to Y/N ever since their high school days, and even though his hockey career had launched him into the public eye, he always made time for her. She was his constant, the calm in his otherwise hectic life. They had spent so many nights at games, watching his teammates and feeling the rush of the crowd, but tonight was special. It was their first time attending a Sharks game as an official couple, and Y/N couldn’t have been more proud.

As the game progressed, Y/N found herself engrossed in the action, her eyes glued to Macklin, who had already made a couple of incredible plays. She was cheering and clapping along with the rest of the crowd, completely unaware of the man who had stumbled to her seat.

The man was probably in his late twenties, and from the faint smell of alcohol, Y/N could tell he had been drinking for a while. At first, he lingered in the aisle near her, watching the game without much attention to her. But then, he began leaning closer, and Y/N noticed him trying to strike up a conversation.

“Hey there, you enjoying the game?” he slurred, his voice far too loud for the crowded arena.

Y/N gave him a polite smile, not wanting to cause a scene. “Yeah, I’m here with my boyfriend. He’s playing tonight.”

“Oh? You’re with him?” The man seemed to squint as if it was hard for him to fully process the information. “Which one is he?”

“Macklin Celebrini,” Y/N replied, gesturing toward the ice where Macklin was skating along the blue line.

The man’s eyes flickered toward the ice, then back to Y/N. He leaned in closer, his breath heavy with the stench of alcohol. “You know, you’re way too pretty for a guy like him. You could be with someone better. What are you doing with a hockey player? They’re all the same.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, her discomfort starting to rise. She wasn’t sure what the man was getting at, but his presence was beginning to feel overwhelming. She shifted in her seat, trying to subtly create space between them. “I really don’t think that’s something I want to talk about,” she said firmly, hoping he would take the hint.

But the man, clearly not catching on, continued to stand too close, his words becoming more inappropriate. “You don’t have to be so uptight, sweetheart. It’s just a game. No need to be all serious.”

At that moment, Y/N felt her anxiety spike. She could feel her hands tense up, and her heart began to race. She didn’t want to make a scene, but she also didn’t want to just sit there and take it. She stood up, trying to move toward the aisle, but the man blocked her path.

Before she could say anything, she felt a presence behind her.

“Macklin, please!” The man said, raising a hand in a dismissive manner. “I’m just talking to your girl.”

But Macklin’s face was a picture of intense focus as he skated toward the bench for a quick line change. His eyes immediately locked onto Y/N and the man in front of her. He could see the discomfort in her expression. He had been scanning the crowd between shifts and had noticed the scene unfolding. In an instant, his protective instincts kicked in, and he pushed off from the bench, his skates slicing through the ice as he rushed toward the exit.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she saw Macklin’s figure approaching the stands. She felt a wave of relief wash over her, but she also didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. However, Macklin had already seen enough.

The moment he reached the barrier separating the stands from the ice, he hoisted himself up effortlessly, his hands gripping the railing. He made his way directly to Y/N, his gaze laser-focused on the man who was still standing too close to her.

“Hey,” Macklin’s voice was calm, but it held an unmistakable edge. “Back off. Now.”

The drunk man blinked, his brain taking a moment to process the situation. But when he saw Macklin’s face, his expression changed. He had clearly recognized the player, but the alcohol still clouded his judgment. “What? Are you gonna tell me what to do now? I’m just talking to your girl,” he sneered.

Y/N could feel the tension in the air, but she was grateful that Macklin was there. She took a step back, not wanting to escalate things further, but also not wanting to be in the middle of it. Macklin’s gaze softened as he turned toward her.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, his hand reaching out to hold hers. His eyes searched hers, full of concern. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone with him. I should’ve been more aware.”

Y/N nodded, a small, shaky smile on her face. “I’m fine, Mack. Thank you for coming over, though. I… I didn’t know what to do.”

Macklin squeezed her hand, the warmth of his touch grounding her. He turned back to the man, who was now visibly shrinking under Macklin’s glare.

“I don’t care what you’ve had to drink, but if you don’t leave my girlfriend alone, we’ll be having a much bigger problem,” Macklin said, his tone firm and unwavering.

The drunk man staggered back, his bravado faltering as the reality of the situation set in. Without another word, he turned and stumbled away toward the exit.

Macklin turned back to Y/N, and his expression softened. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Y/N nodded, her heart still racing but now filled with gratitude. “I’m okay. I’m just glad you were here.”

Macklin smiled, his hand still holding hers. “I’d never let anything happen to you, Y/N. You mean the world to me.”

They shared a tender moment, the chaos of the situation fading into the background as Macklin pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go back to our seats. The game’s not over yet, and I think we could use some popcorn,” he said with a wink.

As they made their way back to their seats, Y/N leaned her head on Macklin’s shoulder, feeling safe and cared for. The rest of the game continued, with Macklin playing as if nothing had happened, but Y/N knew better. She knew that her boyfriend would always protect her, no matter what.

And as the final buzzer sounded, signaling a Sharks victory, she felt a sense of warmth, not just from the win, but from the love and protection that Macklin had shown her. She was lucky to have him in her life, and she knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they would face them together.

[sunsetchicane]

I love your post card series! Could I request Oscar with rodeo reader where they’re penpals and Oscar subscribes to the cowboy channel (that’s actually what it’s called) to watch his penpal and rodeo reader starts to watch f1 and then she gets invited to Austin?

love letters [OP81]

oscar piastri x fem!barrel racer!reader [from southern US]

word count: 4.2k

summary: The one where you meet a certain racing driver as you're both starting your careers and you decide to keep in touch.

warnings: fluff, fluff, oh and a little more fluff! angst maybe if you squint and tilt your head

author's note: To my dearest anon, this is MY love letter to YOU. Thank you for requesting this and letting me write about the rodeo; it brought me back to when I was just a little girl and was oddly healing?? Sorry for being a sap lol! I hope this is to your liking :) Feedback, comments, reposts, and likes are always appreciated!!! Peace and love babes. [xoxo elle]

“Speed. Agility. Determination. This barrel racing pair is one for the ages and the crowd here today knows it,” Janie Johnson says, a bright smile on her face while she stares down the barrel of the camera.

She turns her attention over shoulder when the crowd’s cheers hit a crescendo. You’ve just rode out into the arena, the American flag streaming by your side while you gallop around. Chants and cheers of your name fly from the mouths of onlookers, swallowing everything into a thunderous roar. For this moment, the entire world is yours. The other top riders follow you out into the dirt of the arena, hands waving and smiles flashing. There’s nothing quite like being at the rodeo. 

“And there she is, our winner today and her beautiful horse, Sweet Tea,” Janie says, unable to look away from the way you and your horse run the perimeter. You take your time, soaking up the glory of another win. 

You fly through your post-race duties, one thought constant in your mind: you have to write your letter to Oscar. It’s sort of a silly tradition, but you’ve been doing it for ages. After a rodeo weekend or a race weekend for him, you both would write each other a letter explaining everything in careful detail. You loved it. Even though the information about the rodeo and the race would be released ages before the letters arrived in your respective mailboxes, it was still amazing to hear about things from his perspective and explain your’s to him.

So, once everything is loaded up and you’re back on the road, you lean yourself back in your seat with a pen and pad of paper in your lap trying to put everything you’re feeling into words. Though your sports were different in a lot of ways, there were similarities that pulled the two of you together. The pressure, the adrenaline, the rush of a win. It’s what made you two so close even though there were vast oceans separating you. 

As you write, you can’t help but reminisce on the first time you ever wrote one of these letters. It was years ago, just as you started pro barrel racing. It was a rodeo early in the season. You were dressed and ready for your pool. Sweet Tea was edgy and nervous and so were you. You were the rookie pair that year, just a five year old horse and an 18 year old jockey. You remember that you felt way in over your head that day as you watched the vets take on the arena. 

To ease both of your nerves, you led Sweet Tea on a walk. Whispering to her with your head low, you didn’t even notice the group walk up in front of you. The voice of your manager made you tip your head up, looking at him under the brim of your hat. He smiled at you and introduced you to a group of young, thin, pale looking boys. He explained that they were from a Formula 3 team called Prema. You’d never heard of Formula anything before.

Your manager led the group of boys away after some small talk. They were nice enough, but you didn’t need any distractions. Just as the last of the boys followed your manager to your stalls, you thought you were free to go about walking Sweet Tea again.

“What’s your horse's name?” An unfamiliar voice with an unfamiliar accent said. You don’t get much for foreign accents at the rodeo, so it took you by surprise. Your eyes met his brown ones. His brown hair was cut short on the sides and the top drooped down over his forehead. He donned a white t-shirt that displayed the word “PREMA” in red, coupled with a pair of blue jeans and sneakers. It was the first of the few times that you’d seen Oscar Piastri in person. The memory lives clear and bright in your mind.

“Sweet Tea,” you answered him in a clipped voice. You were still uppity about your impending race and Oscar was quickly becoming a distraction. 

“Sweet Tea,” he echoed while taking a few steps closer. Tightening your grip on her reins, you waited for her to spook. 

“Wait-” you began to warn Oscar as he crept in closer. But you were swiftly cut off when all Sweet Tea did was bray and huff at him. You were nothing short of shocked. She rarely took to anyone, but she seemed to immediately like him. It made you curious.

“You can pet her, if you want,” you encouraged him while continuing to gauge Sweet’s reaction. Together, the two of you stroked the soft brown of her coat. You could tell that her mood was suddenly a lot sunnier, the moodiness exiting her body as you and Oscar brushed your hands over her.

“What’s your name?” you asked after a while. 

“Oscar,” he replied, his eyes darting up to meet yours over Sweet Tea’s head. For a moment, you studied his face. He looked perfectly calm, peaceful even, in the intense atmosphere that surrounded you. It didn’t surprise you that Oscar’s tranquil nature helped to set Sweet’s nerves at ease. His demeanor was even helping you. 

“She likes you,” you said, giving him a small smile while you dragged your hand over your horse’s nose.

“I hope so,” he said, his eyes flicking from you to Sweet and then back up. 

Everything after that was history.

You and Sweet Tea ran better than you ever had, placing in the top three. It was your best result yet and set you up for success for the rest of the weekend. You saw Oscar every day of the rodeo. He would stop by to say hello to you and Sweet Tea while you were prepping for a race or catch you after your pool. Awkward teenage conversation fell away quickly, giving way to long, easy conversations. 

On Sunday, you and Sweet Tea took it all. It was a huge payday which would boost the rest of your season. You were on cloud nine. Oscar walked with you while you led your horse back to the trailer. Back and forth you talked about the race and how it felt. You were so glad to have someone to talk to about all this. You used to talk to your grandpa about everything, dissecting the race and your rides with him. He’s the one who taught you how to race. But, he died shortly before the season started. He never got to watch you race at this level and you didn’t have him to talk to anymore.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you said while turning away and adjusting your hat, suddenly embarrassed at yourself. Oscar wasn’t a rodeo kid. He probably didn’t care how tight your turns around the barrels were or how responsive Sweet was today. 

“No,” he said, quickly cutting you off. “It’s alright. I like to listen.”

Not convinced, you stayed silent.

“It sounds a lot like how I feel when I race, you know. So, I get it,” he admitted then, his shoulders coming up into a shrug. You eyed him from under your hat, glad for the way the wide brim covered most of your face.

“I used to talk to my grandpa about this stuff,” the words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them. If it would have been anyone else, you would have died from embarrassment. But, Oscar just blinked at you and waited patiently for you to elaborate.

“You remind me of him,” as you said it, you want to punch yourself in the face. You really went two embarrassing moments for two that day.

“Thank you?” he said, a small chuckle coating his words. He smiled at you so warmly that it thawed the icy shame in your chest slightly. 

“I just mean that,” you tried to salvage what you thought was meant to be a compliment but just came out really weird. “You’re a good listener, like him.”

Oscar nodded, his small smile still on his lips. His perpetually tired-looking eyes were soft and kind while he watched you walk your horse. You believe that it was in that moment that you became friends, good friends.

Coming up on your trailer, you slowed your pace, wanting to prolong your last moments with your new friend. Feelings that had been growing steadily over the weekend were at their peak, downing you in an intense feeling of longing. If you could do anything to never let him leave your side ever again, you would do it. In a heartbeat. In the span of just a few days, you’d grown so close that it felt like there’d never been a time where you didn’t know him. Friendly affection wasn’t an apt description of what passed between the two of you. A four letter word danced around in your teenage mind. But you couldn’t say that to him. You’d only known him for 72 hours. 

“We leave tonight,” Oscar said then, shoving the toe of his shoe into the grass. You leaned into Sweet Tea, stroking her neck and avoiding looking at your brand new best friend–your brand new obsession. Emotion roared like a tide inside of you, threatening to spill out from your eyes in tears and from your mouth in a confession. 

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” your voice was thick with your southern accent. It always got heavier when you were emotional.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. Your eyes flicked to his then, taking in the soft look that graced his features. He seemed so sure of his words. It placed a little peace in you to know that he was just as intent on not letting go of the relationship you’d built as you were.

“Can I write to you?” you asked suddenly, not sure why this is the way you wanted to keep in contact with him. There was something inside of you that longed to write to him. Handwritten letters seemed deeply personal, intentional, everything that you wanted to convey to him. 

“Write…like letters?” he asked, his small smile turning into an amused grin. Instead of becoming embarrassed at your suggestion, you held firm. Nodding at his question, you sent him a small smile. He shook his head a little and asked for your phone. You handed it to him and he typed in his contact, only filling out the address line and his name. 

Once your phone was back in your possession, he said a goodbye to Sweet Tea while stroking her nose lovingly. She whinnied at his touch, tossing her head affectionately. Then he turned his attention to you, he stepped closer than he ever had. Invading your air, you thought he might kiss you. Your heart stopped for a moment, teenage love sending sparks across your eyes. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a tight squeeze. Your arms slung easily over his shoulders, holding him close. You relished the feeling of his chest against yours, his breath against the back of your neck. 

That’s the feeling that you’ve held onto over the last four years. It’s the feeling you hold close on lonely nights on the road. It’s the feeling you remember every time you pen a letter to your closest friend, wishing that you could’ve had the chance to be something more.

Over the years you’ve kept up with Formula racing, just for the sake of watching Oscar. Though, you’ve started to become quite the fan. Especially now, as Oscar is tearing it up for McLaren. He’s had an exceptional season. In his faithful letters, he writes in his subdued way about how thrilled he is about this season. His humility never fails to make you smile. It’s one of the things that makes him Oscar. 

He also writes about watching you on the Cowboy Channel whenever he can. You’re always surprised and warmed when he includes details of your race or compliments your skills. His words, though concise, are eloquent in their own way. Whenever you read his letters, you can hear his voice in your head.

So, as you wrap up your letter, you’re already anticipating his response. Your eyes drift to the window once you’ve tucked everything away. The familiar rolling fields of perfectly parallel rows of crops lull you into a sleepy trance. Dreams of seeing Oscar again flood your mind when your eyes slide closed and fall comfortably asleep.

The final turn into your gravel driveway pulls you from your nap. You’d slept for nearly the entire drive. You’re warm from sleep, your eyes still heavy but your body feeling refreshed after a long weekend. 

You and your small team unload the horses and the equipment quickly, desperate to return to your respective homes for a meal and your own bed. There’s nothing quite like returning to the ranch after a rodeo weekend. As you sling up your last saddle, you wonder if Oscar feels that way about home after a race weekend. You make a mental note to ask him about it in your next letter.

Before heading into your home, you run out to the mailbox and place your letter in it. Flipping the red flag of your mailbox up and walking away, you’re already anxiously awaiting his response. 

Instead of dwelling on your letter and Oscar, which will definitely send you into an anxious tizzy, you decide to catch up on a couple of work related things to keep yourself distracted. Snuggled cozily into your bed after a long shower, you pull out your laptop and open your email. There are a dozen different unread emails from rodeo crews, journalists, and ranch staff. However, one unfamiliar sender catches your eye.

It’s from McLaren.

Ignoring everything else for the moment being, you rush to open the email. Rarely have you received emails from the McLaren F1 team. Every once in a while, they send you PR gifts or things of the like because of your connection with Oscar. But this one looks different. It’s more personal than that.

When your eyes read the contents of the document attached to the email, you nearly fall off your bed. It’s an official invitation from the McLaren team to join them as a guest for the Grand Prix in Austin the following week. Slack jawed, you mindlessly follow the directions on how to accept the offer. Nothing matters right now except for this.

After four years, you’re finally going to see Oscar again.

—

Walking onto the Paddock, you feel oddly at home. The hustle and bustle of a race weekend reminds you of your weekends at the rodeo. Team members and journalists and officials stream around you, everyone hellbent and on a mission. You’re swallowed into the excitement of it all, fading into just another body in the masses. It brings you peace that you weren’t sure you were going to find here. 

“Miss?” a voice says from just behind you. Narrowing your attention to them, you turn around quickly. A small girl with bright blonde hair sends you a quick smile. She’s adorned with the bright papaya of McLaren. Her eyes drag from your hat-covered head to your boot-clad feet. Your light colored Wranglers hug your curves and flair out over your boots. A matching blazer covers your shoulders and the white button-up with the first few buttons undone. The look is complete by a dark orange, silk bandana tied loosely to one of your belt loops. You know you look like the epitome of country, but it was all intentional. 

The McLaren employee confirms who you are before offering to lead you to the garage. Swallowing hard, you trail behind her, cutting your way through the sea of people. Nerves dance around in your stomach. You feel like you’re back on top of Sweet Tea the day you met Oscar, wide-eyed and anxious as all get out. But there’s something deeper that keeps you moving, a desire–a need–to see Oscar again. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of for years. 

Every letter has been in preparation for this moment. Every word you’ve ever written to him saying the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say all those years ago. For the past week you’ve been rehearsing exactly how you’re going to tell the love of your life that you’ve fallen for him, that you’ve loved him since you were just 18. There’s nothing that could stop you, not even the fear of rejection. Four years of longing have put you in indescribable agony. There has to be some sort of resolve, good, bad, or otherwise. Today is the day that you’re going to share the one secret that you’ve ever kept from him. 

The blonde employee, Julia, leads you into the garage and begins introducing you to the team. Smiling and snapping photos with some people, you lose count of how many names you’re told and hands you shake. Not that you’re really trying to keep track, your mind being pulled in a different direction. Desperately, your eyes scan the small garage for the only face that really matters. 

You’re in the middle of discussing your latest race with one of the engineers when some movement from the back of the garage steals away your attention. A mop of brown hair and a dashing smile that you’d never forget comes into view. He’s rounding the car, chatting with his engineers and crew while laughing. He’s dressed in his race suit, the arms tied around his waist and showing off his skin tight fireproofs. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him. The rest of the world fades into a blur while your living, breathing dream shimmers like a mirage in front of you. 

Finally, finally, he turns around with the soft smile that you’ve missed so much on his face. From across the garage, over the massive car between you, you lock eyes. Tears spring to your eyes as his jaw goes slack. You barely have time to blink or breathe before he jerks into action. He’s rounding the car in a hurry, whispering rushed apologies as he gently shoves people out of his way. You break away from your conversation with an ‘excuse me,’ meeting Oscar halfway.

The force of his hug knocks your hat clear off your head, but you hardly notice as he sweeps you up off the floor and into his arms. His arms, which are much larger than you remember, strangle you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. His face presses roughly into the crook of your neck. Smiling like a fool, you keep your arms wrapped around his neck, never wanting to let go. 

When he finally sets you back down, you pull only one hand away to wipe furiously at the tears that have slipped out of your eyes. Sniffing, you laugh at what a mess you’ve become. But when you look up to find Oscar’s tear rimmed eyes and bright smile, you can’t help but choke on another sob.

His hands are still on your waist while you try to sort yourself out. Eyes shining, you take him in fully. He’s so grown. He’s tall and broad and all man. Except for his eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes, and his boyish smile. Those two things have stayed the same. Looking at them now, it’s like your past and your future have collided and coalesced into one man. Sighing, you shove him playfully in the chest.

“When did you go and get all grown up?” you say, your voice thick with emotion. He captures your hand on his chest, taking it into his own. With his fingers wrapped around yours, you feel perfectly at home. A slight blush has crept into his cheeks, painting a soft rose across his ivory skin. Your chest squeezes at the sight.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says quietly while reaching down to pick up your hat. Playfully, he shoves it back onto your head with a small smile. 

For a couple of comfortable seconds, you just stand there in each other’s presence. Soaking in everything he is, you bask in the moment. He’s here with you. Finally. And the way he’s looking at you with those brilliant brown eyes makes you feel like not a day has passed since he left. The feeling that was born inside of you when you were 18, is reborn with double the intensity. Your love for the man in front of you is overflowing; it’s drowning you.

“Do you have a minute?” you ask after a while, your eyes darting around to the crowd around you. Oscar snaps back into reality with you, following your gaze to the stray looks you’ve been getting. Nodding, he leads you by the hand back to his driver’s room. 

It’s a tiny space, just big enough for a couch and a small closet. But it’s private enough to have the conversation you’ve been equally needing and dreading. Oscar sits next to you on the tiny couch, his side pressed into yours. You can’t tell if the contact makes you more nervous or sets you at ease. For as many times as you’ve thought about and planned for this moment, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

Fiddling nervously with the hem of your bandana, you avoid looking your friend in the eyes. But, you can feel him staring at you. Suddenly, a large hand closes around both of yours, causing you to cease your fidgeting. Turning your eyes to his, you take in the crease between his brows and the small frown that pulls at the corners of his lips.

“Is everything alri-” he begins but you’re quick to cut him off. 

“Ah, hell,” you mumble quickly, making a knee jerk decision.

With both hands you grab him by the neck and yank his face to yours. His head knocks your hat back on your head, giving you enough space to kiss him. Pressing your unmoving lips to his, you hold him there in desperation. 

So much for the carefully crafted speech that you’ve spent four years on. 

For a couple heart wrenching seconds, he doesn’t move. He’s gone completely still under your hands, his lips slightly parted in shock. Shame pools low in your stomach as you begin to pull away. But your heartbreak lasts only a split second before his hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you in place while he bursts into action.

His kiss is just as desperate as you feel. Pressing into each other with all the passion you’ve been harboring for four years, you’re both consumed by the heat of the moment. Your head swims as his lips glide against yours, his tongue skimming over your bottom lip before pressing deeper. 

His free hand reaches out, grabbing your knee to haul you onto his lap. Sliding home over his muscular thighs, you sigh into his mouth. Nothing has ever felt more right. Perfection doesn’t do Oscar justice. He’s everything. 

He holds your waist tight between his large hands while your kiss slows down. Lazily, you suck at his bottom lip while he chases you backward. Once again his chest is on yours, your memory flicking back to the last time you saw him. You knew then that you were his, and he was yours. Nothing could keep you apart, especially not now. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and voice soft. You’d never been one to beat around the bush; so why even try when it matters most?

The payoff is better than you could have ever hoped. Oscar doesn’t waste a second before both of his hands cup either side of your face, holding a searing kiss to your lips. He’s firm but kind. He’s Oscar.

“I love you,” he replies breathlessly after a couple seconds.

Your heart soars, leaving your soul in outer space. Seeing stars, you lean your forehead against his, a small laugh bubbling from your chest. Oscar chuckles with you, his chest rumbling under your hands. Pulling back slightly, you take your time to just look at him. Soft brown eyes meet yours and there’s a look there that you know you mirror with your own gaze. Affection, longing, love.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know,” you accuse while adjusting your hat on your head. Oscar’s mouth falls open slightly, faux offense coming over his features.

“You’re the one who kissed me!” he accuses right back. “I was all prepared, too. But someone was just over eager to jump my bones.”

Pinching his side playfully, you watch gleefully as he yelps. Shushing him quietly, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. Silently, an agreement that this was far better than any words you could have said passes between you.

Shaking his head, he settles his arms around your waist and smiles despite himself. With callused fingers, you trace constellations between his freckles. Your heart sings and you wonder how you were ever able to stand being away from him. With Oscar next to you, with his breath on your face, and with his smile for just you, you know that this is it for you.

Four years have been spent dreaming of him. Now, the rest of your life will be spent dreaming with him.

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader The Hunger Games AU

Warnings: angst kinda, torture

WC: 4.6k

Author’s note: to the anon who requested it hope you like it and again sorry for the wait. Sorry for any mistakes:)

The quietness of distract 4 was peaceful. You had been in your house. The house you had gotten after winning the 73rd annual game. You had won the game due to luck. It had always been luck when it came down to you in those games. The person you had become in that arena was someone you feared. Someone you hated.

But you had lived. By some miracle. You survived. You won.

"Have you seen the victory tour the winners of last years are doing." Your best friends voice echoed through your art room.

"Not really. But from what I have seen. Their love seems kinda forced." You set down your paint brushes turning around to see your best friend, Anika standing there. She had been your rock in the games. She was the one of the only reasons, you had to fight. She was the only family you had. Apart of your mentor. Who was a lovely elderly woman. Anika was more of sister to you. As soon as you came back home. You had her move in with you.

"Well even if it is. It's what saved their asses. But that's not what I came for. Here." Anika had a smirk on her face as she handed you a letter.

You couldn't fight the smile that formed on your lips as you took the letter. The envelope had one letter.

T

You already knew who it was from. It had been a week since you last heard from her. With Anika making herself busy. You opened the envelope taking out the letter.

You said in your last letter that what we have is something one wishes for. You are such a sap for that and I love it. I miss you like crazy. It's unfortunate we can't see each other as much as we want. But I always look forward to every single moment we do. S says something is changing. And she's not sure if it's good. But I want you to be careful. I need you safe. I love you.

The letters were always written in a way no one could find suspicious if they were to be found. You had met Tara Carpenter during your own victory tour. You were in distract 3 it had been after you addressed the Daniel of the fallen tributes. It was then when you saw her. She was from distract three and a previous victor. She had caught your eye, it had felt like love at first sight. Something you never believed in until you met her. Ever since then you both had been sending each other letters. On rare occasions seeing each other secretly.

"How is she?"

"She's good. I think the rebellion is a lot more serious than we thought." Folding the letter and putting it back into the envelope. Getting up to lock it in your safe where you kept all her letters.

"Well from what's been shown, especially in district 11. I wouldn't be surprised. Ever since that poor little girl was killed it was like something shifted."

"Yea she's one of many unfortunate kids that had been killed in these stupid games. The way Katniss was in the games has moved the people of the district's. The care and protectiveness she showed for Rue. It was something never been seen in the games." You had remembered seeing the little girl get killed. It had been a heart wrenching moment. She had been too pure for those stupid games.

Anika remembered everything when she watched your games. The 73rd annual games had been different from all the others. Having been set in a snowy environment. Some of the tributes dying from the cold brutal weather. She remembered seeing you scared, you had almost been killed by someone from district 7. She remembers crying wanting to look away from the sight but she couldn't look away. The man from district 7 and you were that last two. She had watched how you fought with everything you had. How you struggled to get him off you. How the knife dug into your shoulder. The scream that ripped from your lips. It was a sound she had never heard before. A sound she would never forget. You were her sister. It was something she would never forget.

A part of her, the selfish part, was glad you no longer had to put your name in the games.

*

You were sat in your living room with Anika. Watching as the yearly announcement began. Watching as Snow looked at his note cards before looking at camera.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the hunger games. And it was written in the charter of the games, that every 25 years, there would be a quarter quell to keep fresh for each new generation, the memory of those who died. In the uprising against the capitol. Each quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance. And now on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 3rd quarter Quell. As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capitol. On this, the 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and Female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district."

You felt like the air had been punched out from your lungs. You couldn't believe what you had just heard. It couldn't be. It wasn't fair. You fought so hard the first time, with the promise that if you won, you would never have to step foot in an arena again.

"No. No! You were supposed to be done. It's not fair!"

All you could do was try to comfort your best friend. Knowing that the reaping was what followed.

*

Standing between Mags and Annie. Previous winners from past games. On the other side of Effie Trinket. Stood Finnick Odir and Dwight Riley. Mags Flanagan was the eldest Victor from district 4. She had been your mentor during your games. A part of you did not want her to go back to those games. You knew deep down that she wouldn't survive. And you knew Annie couldn't. She wouldn't.

A part of you hoped, prayed that Tara's name wasn't called. But you knew better. Not only was Tara's name in a similar bowl. But so was her sisters. Sam's name had been drawn when Tara was too young to volunteer in her sisters place. District 3 was the only district to have two victors be female siblings. If Sam's name was called and Tara would volunteer, there was nothing Sam could do.

"Welcome, welcome as we celebrate, the 75th anniversary and third quarter quill of the hunger games. As always ladies first."

"Mags Flanagan."

You heard Annie's breath hitch. Before she could even do anything, you weren't sure what was going through her mind. You were quicker. Stepping up and looking straight at Effie.

"I volunteer as tribute."

Ignoring the pleading looks from Anika and now Mags.

*

"Thank you for volunteering for Mags."

You were brought out of your thoughts. Finnick had sat next to you. You knew Finnick cared deeply about Mags. You also knew that the older victor cared about Mags. Mags was a treasure to distract 4. No one wanted her back in games. You sure as hell didn't. You didn't know who else was going to be at the games until you reached the capitol. Part of you hoped. Prayed you didn't see Tara. But then if you didn't see Tara. You'd see her sister. Sam.

"You would have done the same if you could. Have they aired who's going to be in the games?"

"No, you both won't find out until we get to the capital. Now we have to talk it's about what's gonna happen in that arena." Dewey, a victor from district 4 said as he walked into the room. His face showing nothing but determination.

*

You weren't sure how this was going to happen. You didn't know if this plan was even going to work. But it had to. These games couldn't continue. Seeing how far Snow was going to get rid of Katniss Everdeen it was a show of how much power this man really had. You were in the dressing room with Finnick, the stylist was doing his job with Finnick. You had already been finished. It wouldn't be long before you would have to make your way to the carriages, this tribute parade felt completely different from the first time you were in the games.

While Finnick was getting ready you stepped out of the room. The halls were as could be expected. Busy. Even though the halls were busy the people didn't even give you glimpse which you were thankful for. You need to find the people of district 3. You needed to find either Tara or Sam.

Making your way down the hall, seeing some of the other tributes. Most of them you knew on a more friendly way. Like the female victor from distract 7, Amber Freeman. She was a feisty, but yet brutal.

You were pulled out of your thoughts, quite literally, when someone gripped your wrist and pulled you into a dimly lit room.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" A whisper filled with anger and concern. But it was a voice you missed. A voice a part of you wished you didn't hear. Cause now she was in danger. Even with that plan that had been set. You couldn't help but to pull her in. Taking the short woman into your arms. Missing the warmth she had always gave you. You felt the moment she basically melted in your arms. Her arms wrapping around your bare waist

"I'm still angry you're here. You were supposed to be sa-I'd rather be here with you." You cupped Tara's cheeks. Looking into the dark brown eyes that quickly became your favorite. If Tara was here it meant that she had volunteered for Sam.

"Gosh you're such a sap. But I love you for it." Tara had fallen for you the first time she had met you. From the beginning she had shared a bond with you. Something she had never felt, as happy as she was to be in your arms again. The worry that you will also be in the games had grown. She had to have you by her side. She didn't care about no one else in that arena. Just you. And if she had to kill everyone else so be it. You. You had to live.

*

The air was tense. You could feel it. The training room was filled with all the tributes. You had separated from Finnick. Remembering the plan. To make allies. All you knew was, for a fact to have Tara by your side. You had to keep her safe. You knew she was capable of taking care of herself, she had been the victor to win the games the quickest. Killing the last tribute by stabbing the tribute from district 9 in his mouth with a knife.

Tara was a force to be reckoned with.

"That's a good fishing hook."

You looked away from your work, seeing the girl on fire. Seeing her in person was a whole lot different from seeing her on the projector. She looked like any other teenager. In times like these you kinda of forgot how young Katniss and Peeta really were. At the end you were basically the same age.

"Thank you Katniss."

"It was a noble thing to do for Mags."

"She's like a mother to me. I wasn't going to let her go through this again." You finished the hook and offered a small smile towards the brunette. "You wanna learn? It looks hard but it's pretty easy." Sparing a look at Tara who was busy talking to Peeta. Remembering that these victors from district 12 had no idea of the plan that had been set in play.

"Yea." She said with a small smile. Accepting the help from the other victor.

*

Even with everyone trying their best to stop the games. There was no sopping the inevitable. Which was why you found yourself at the edge of the arena with Katniss, Peeta, Finnick. Tara had been separated with her partner from the start. Which had killed you. Every time that cannon went it brought fear, dread. You were supposed to be with Tara. Make sure to watch her back like you're supposed to. But she had promised, swore that she'd be okay.

"I promise, I'll be okay." Tara had looked up at you as she wrapped her arms around your neck. Playing with your hair at the back of your neck. Her eyes filled with nothing but love. Her smile gracing her face as she looked at you. Her dimples on display for you to lightly kiss. You absolutely loved her dimples. From the moments you shared together, there was never a moment you didn't take the opportunity to kiss her dimples.

From the sight of the blush on her cheeks, you knew she liked the light kisses as well. "I worry. I'm scared if I'm honest." Your own arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. "I can't lose you Tara."

Her hands moved to your cheeks. Gently caressing your cheeks.

"And you won't. We will see each other again." She had sounded so confident, so sure that nothing could separate each other.

And Tara had been sure. When she reunited with you on the beach, she had never felt so happy and relieved. The sound of the canons going off had truly been frightening to hear, not knowing if you were okay. You had clearly not cared that she was covered in blood when you hugged her. Ignoring the confused looks from everyone else. She had hugged you just as tight.

Letting you help her wash off all the blood she had on herself. "Hey, you okay?" Drawing your attention away from her hair as she tilted her head back slightly to look up at you. Watching as you looked away towards the others and then back to her.

"Yea, just-Tara, Y/n come on we have a plan."

Tara should have pushed for you to answer, with chaos that followed she had been so certain that everything would go according to plan. Maybe with some bumps, but adamant that you would okay. The explosion had been loud, hot, she had felt her body flying through the air from the force of it all. Losing you in the middle of all the chaos, her back hitting something solid before her would went dark.

**

The sound of voices yelling had been what startled her awake. The immense pain coming from her leg had her crying out.

"Tara, hey it's okay, you're okay."

Her eyes squeezed shut from the pain. Trying to regularize her erratic breathing. Opening her eyes, she noticed, that she was now on a hovercraft. Looking towards where she heard the sound of a familiar voice.

"Sam?"

Offering a small smile, the older Carpenter was stood right next to where her sister was laid. Preparing herself what she had to do. "Hey sis, you did good out there."

The smile Tara had was short lived when she realized you were missing. You would have been right next to her, should have been tight next to her the moment she woke up. But your presence was absent. Unless you were hurt.

"Where's Y/n? Is she hurt?" Seeing the way Sam was avoiding her eyes she knew it couldn't be anything good. You were probably really hurt. Really hurt if you weren't in the room with her. Tara's mind was running all types of scenarios. All of them causing her heart to race in a type of panic.

"Tara, Y/n's tracker was still in her arm when the explosion happened. Amber was able to take Katniss's out but Y/n was fighting with the victors from district 2 Jill Roberts and Charlie Walker." Sam wasn't sure how to tell her sister. That the girl her little sister was madly in love with was-

"Sam! Where's Y/n?" The question was repeated but this time with more aggression that was deeply laced with fear, a clear sign of Tara wanting to know where you be located. She sat up the pain of her broken leg that shooting up her spine

"Tara." The hands on her shoulders were firm. "Y/n didn't make it out of the arena, she was taken to the capitol along with Peeta."

*

"Tell us where they took Katniss Everdeen and the rest of the victors."

Your head hang loosely, your wrist were red and sore from bulling on your restraints. The torture you were enduring was too intense for your body. But you would not crack. You'd never say anything. You heard them doing the same thing to Peeta.

"I don't know." You mumbled. Your hair was roughly pulled back, a groan escaping your lips.

"Lies!"

"I don't know." You said through gritted teeth. The hold this guard had on your hair was getting more painful as the seconds passed by.

"You won't talk, we will make you talk."

**

Tara had been restless the moment they had landed at District 13. She was angry, worried, she couldn't imagine what the capitol was doing to you. The torture you were for sure being inflicted upon. Just the thought of you being in pain was causing her eyes to fill with tears.

"I have to get her back." Tara sat up on her bed and got out. Getting her crutches to find the people in charge. She didn't care that her leg was broken and that it would take up to three to six months.

Leaving the room only to see Katniss Everdeen talking to Finnick. Seeing Finnick, Tara wanted nothing more than to punch him. He was the one that was supposed to cut out your tracker. With that in mind her blood shot red eyes narrowed as she made her way to the taller boy.

"We will get them back. I promise you that." Katniss had seen the fire in the shorter girls eyes. Knowing that Tara was about to take her anger out on Finncik. Just like she had done. She could relate to the anger, to worry that Tara was feeling. She had seen the embrace Tara had shared with you back on that beach. The way they looked at each other. It was a way no friends did. Let alone victors that were in game that was kill or be killed.

Tara looked away from the blonde man. Looking at the tall girl, "How? They're in the capital Katniss. Who knows what that asshole is putting them through."

Placing a hand on the short girls shoulder. "We will get them back."

*

You have never felt so hungry. So sore, you were sure you had a few broken bones. The guards had just finished one of their daily beatings. Your body covered in bruises, cuts and welts. Your back burned like crazy, preventing you from laying on your back. You had no tears left to cry, but yet you still felt so scared.

They asked you about Katniss, the rebellion, Peeta, the games, the plan. Tara. They kept on asking about Tara. That's what scared you. You didn't know where Tara was at. Or if she was even alive. You weren't even sure what day it was. Or how longs it's been since you saw Tara.

You barely registered that Peeta's screams had stopped. He had been suffering his own type of torture.

You knew they had forced Peeta to speak to Ceasar.

"Peeta?"

His sobbing stopped, the sounds of his whizzing breath was all that was heard. "...I warned Katnisss."

You didn't even know what was happening out there. But you knew from the way the guards were acting it was bad. The sound of footsteps had you mentally preparing you for what's to come. Waiting for what horrors of the day awaited you

Seeing the men in masks barging into the room. Seeing the cart filled with the tools they were going to use. The fear growing in your stomach at the sight of the different syringes. You tried to fight. You always did, never making it easy for them. It always lead to you being brutally beaten. You once had succeeded in hitting one guard in his private area. Being able to take his weapon, beating him and the other guard in with the baton. You had tried to retrieve the keycard, but you hadn't gotten far. Only making it to the front of Peeta's cell, ignoring Peeta's pleas to leave him before more guards arrived.

The punishment you received the days that followed had been horrible. The pain that you were put in those days had almost killed you.

All you wanted now was to see Tara again. All you wanted was Tara.

*

Sam, Amber, Chad, Ethan and Gale had all been in the hovercraft. Sam had promised her sister that she'd bring you back to her. Although a part of her was afraid on what they were going to find. The small window that was open while the Capitols defenses were down. They were using said window to recuse you and Peeta.

Amber had demanded to go as well. She had felt guilty, it had been her job to take out your tracker. If Finnick was unable to do so. Tara had wanted to go as well. But she was not allowed. Not when her leg that was still broken.

The silence had been chilling. No one single guard was in sight as they stormed the halls. Clearing, searching every room they passed. The dread that filled her heart every single second that passed. She had to locate you.

"Holy shit, Sam I found her." Amber's voice brought her out of her head. She hurried towards Amber, only to see her next to someone that didn't even look like you. What scared her was that it looked like you weren't breathing.

"Sam is she breathing?"

She had forgotten that Tara was able to see from the live feed that her helmet was recording. Before she could answer the lights in the once dark was now bright. The night vision goggles that she had on became almost blinding. The static coming from her ear was enough for her to know that the connection back home was lost.

*

Tara paced, the best she could with a broken leg. It has been two hours since they lost connection with the Sam and the others. She didn't have a chance to see you. Amber's camera had cut off before she could see you.

"Tara, they've arrived. They rushed Peeta, Annie and Y/n to the hospital wing." Sidney said from her position at the desk that overlooked everything.

Tara didn't wait, moving as quickly as she possibly could. Passing Katniss who was also quick to find Peeta. She didn't care about anyone, just you. Before she reach the doors that hopefully lead to you she was stopped.

"No, Sam. Move. Get out of my way." She tried to get around her but the firm hands on her shoulders had stopped her.

"She's in surgery right now Tara. You can't go in." Seeing the way her sisters eyes were filled with tears. The clear desperation of wanting to get to you. "I know you want to see her but we have to let the doctors work."

The next five hours dragged on. With no updates on you was making Tara feel like she was going crazy. Until the doctor finally came out. She was out of her seat in no time.

"She's stable, she suffered a lot from the hands of the capitol. She has three fractured ribs, a broken wrist, she severely malnourished, her back is filled with lacerations, some barely healed and others, if not most fresh. She's in room four, go on ahead."

**

The pain felt like it was all over your body. Your back felt like it was burning. The emptiness in your stomach felt so painful. Your arm, your ribs, the pain was everywhere. It was almost too much. The burning sensation of your irises at the bright lights that shinned down on you.

You couldn't remember what happened. The last thing that you did remember was the guards storming into your cell. That had been the last thing you remembered.

A warm hand taking yours was what brought you out of your head. The pain momentarily easing as you opened your eyes once again. The room was now dimly lit. Your eyes looking down at your hand, the one that was being held. But you had been through this so many times. The relief that always flooded your body at the sight of your beautiful brunette. Only to have it ripped from you. They only used tracker jackers venom on you a few times. But it had been enough for you to break.

"Hey baby." Her voice was just like before. Expect this time, she had some faded bruises. Not like other times when her face was clear of any harm.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Refusing to give into the venom. Yet there was nothing you could do when it came to tracker jacker venom. The hallucinations always seemed so real. Like how Tara always appeared in your hallucinations, but to blame you for leaving her behind. Always appearing to be de-, she would blame you. But this time it was different. This hallucinations was even holding your hand.

"Y/n?"

"You're not real."

Her heart broke, as tears filled her eyes at the sound of your voice. The strain of your voice, the denial that filled it. The way your voice cracked. Your eyes refused to open. The doctor had told her that you had traces of tracker jacker venom in your blood. "Y/n I'm real. I'm here. Open your eyes for me."

You squeezed your eyes tighter, until you felt the familiar warm sensation of her palms. You fought against your fears and opened your eyes. In your hallucinations Tara never touched you. But here she was. "T-Tara?"

The soft sob that escaped her lips, "Yea it's me baby. It's really me."

Seeing the familiar brown eyes, the safety that they brought had you bursting into tears. All the pain, the torture (physical and mental) it all came at you at once. Overwhelming you in a way you never imagined you'd feel.

Tara climbed on to the bed, the best she could without hurting you. Or her leg. Taking you into her arms, you didn't complain about any pain but she was still careful. You leaned closer into her arms. Her arms wrapping around you

"You're safe now. You're safe."

*

You were still struggling. Your bones felt weak, you felt drained with no energy. The doctors said that it was normal, seeing that it had only been two weeks since you were rescued. The fall of the capitol had happened a few days ago. Snow was dead, Finnick was dead as well. That had been hard to hear.

"Tara?"

Tara hadn't left your side at all. Helping you whenever she could. "Yea? Do you need anything? Water? Are you hun-I love you." The worry settled as it was replaced with the pure love she has for you. The love in your eyes was something she never got over.

"I love you to."

The games were permanently over. Life without the games was going to be different but she knew it was going a good type of different. A safer life with you was all she ever wanted.

And now she had it.

:)

[allisluv]

blurb for finnick and the reader’s first public kiss in the arena? they’ve been secretly dating and the capitol has always seen them as ‘best friends.’ one night finnick couldn’t help him seeing her look so in the moonlight and he just pulled her in for a kiss.

shoreline.

summary: finnick kisses you in the arena, outing your relationship to the public.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!victor!reader

content warnings: not proofread and probably not my best work, mostly fluff

The waves crash against the shore and the foam soaks the ankles of your wetsuit. You had offered to take the first watch while Peeta and Katniss slept, and Finnick had insisted on staying up with you.

Your fingers trace shapes in the damp sand and Finnick tilts his head to lock eyes with you.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?" Finnick asks, reaching up and running the pad of his thumb over your cheekbones.

You squirm under his intense gaze. It's like he can look right through you and see into your soul. "Nothing," you whisper innocently. Finnick fixes you with a look that says he believes otherwise. You manage to hold your ground for another few seconds before relenting. "I hate it here," you sigh.

"I know honey," he offers you a sad smile and falls quiet, running his thumb over your knuckles. "Would a kiss make you feel better? Cause you look real gorgeous in the moonlight baby," he grins.

Your eyes go wide and you itch to put some distance between the two of you. "People are watching," you point at the cameras hidden in the tall trees.

"Let them," Finnick shrugs. "I love you, honey. I'm tired of pretending I don't."

Your heart flutters in your chest and your insides turn to goo. "You are such a sap," your lips quirk upwards into a smile and you pull him into a kiss.

[yours-etc]

12 Days of Steddie-Mas

Day 3:

I’ll be home on the 23rd

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Waiting by the phone, Steve watched the TV broadcast of the show. Corroded Coffin had completely blown up in the last year. They managed to get one song on the radio and it seems like the stations just can't turn them off. Their small venue tour had to quickly be upgraded to arenas and more dates added. They've sold out every show. Steve couldn’t be more proud of Eddie, this is everything he’s ever dreamed of. He does miss him, of course he does. Steve had prepared for three months apart, so when it turned into six months and then nine, he was just a bit shocked. Eddie had promised to call every night and he has yet to break this promise. Sometimes they are short and sweet, usually when STeve has to be at the school early the next morning. Other times they last for hours, Eddie so full of adrenaline that he just spews out anything he thinks about, and Steve is just happy to listen.

About a month ago Eddie called to strike a deal.

“Stevie baby,” He drawled into the phone hesitantly.

Steve sighed into his end, “Eds, don’t start like that.”

“I just want to get the bad stuff out of the way!”

“What happened?”

“They want us to do a live show on Thanksgiving”

“And?” Steve presses, knowing there’s always more.

“And— a live show right before Christmas.”

“Ed—”

“But I have a deal for you!” Eddie interrupts, trying to smooth the situation.

“What is it?”

“We do the shows, but I'm home by the 24th and stay through New Years. The last show is in February, so after that we are doing nothing, for a whole year Stevie.”

This piqued Steve’s interest, “A whole year? You sure you wouldn’t get bored?”

“Jeff and Gareth both agreed, we all need a fucking break. We want a year just to be normal again,” Eddie sighs, “It’s not like we won't write music or hang out or have small jam sessions together, there’s just no pressure to do it. I want to be with you sweetheart, I hate waking up and not seeing you there next to me.”

Steve smiles into the phone, “Well I’ll never complain about seeing you, but I don’t want you to give this up.”

”We’re not stopping, it's just— a pause, a moment to fucking breathe.”

“So the 24th?” Steve checks.

“The 24th.” Eddie confirms.

“See then, Eds.”

“See you soon, baby.”

So here’s he was, December 22nd, watching his rockstar boyfriend shread on stage. He smiles as Eddie jumps aroun the stage, messing with Gareth and Jeff, showmanship on full blast.

The rockstar leans into the mic, “For our last song, as always, I’m going to dedicate this to the love of my life,” he says looking directly into the camera, “Be home soon baby.”

The crowd erupts.

Gareth leans into his own mic, “Awe, Eddie you sap.”

Jeff joins in on the teasing, “Eddie, stop over compensating, everyone knows they love me more than you.”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head, “You two are impossible to work with.” He starts playing the opening notes as the crowd roars.

He wrote the song years ago for Steve. When they finally got a record deal, it was the only song Eddie really cared about making it on the record.

“I want the whole world to know how much I love you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine for life sweetheart.”

Everytime he hears the crowd singing along it brings tears to his eyes. He’s seen couples dance to it at weddings, getting proposed to it during concerts, making cute videos to it. Love speaks to all. He loves how their love is so fully on display. Even though Steve has asked Eddie to keep his name and identity a secret to the public, that doesn’t stop him from constantly talking about how much he loves Steve at every chance he gets.

Eddipe wraps the concert up waving goodbye to the crowd, “Happy Holidays everyone! See you in January!”

Not more than an hour later Steve’s phone starts to ring.

“Hey there Rockstar,” Steve says into the receiver.

“Hey there lover,” Eddie yells through the line.

Steve yanks the phone away from his ear at the volume, “Jesus, Eddie, no need to scream,” he scolds half heartedly.

“I’m just happy to talk to you,” Eddie says now in a normal volume.

“I’m happy to talk to you too.”

“Excited to see you in two days.”

“Well I’m excited to see Gareth more,” Steve teases.

Eddie huffs, “Yeah right, I know I’m your favorite, even if you won’t admit it.”

They talk for a bit. Steve goes on about how crazy all the kids were on the last day of school. How his usual go to was a Christmas movie day, but he wanted to be different this year. So he set up games and crafts and music. And now he has a headache. Note to self, stick with the movies next year. Eddie talks about how Steve works too hard, which Steve shoots right back at him. They both work themselves to the bone, but there is nothing in the world either of them would rather do. It just feels harder when they are apart. Steve asks what Eddie wants as his welcome home dinner and of course it was something dirty that cannot be repeated.

Steve yawns into the phone sometime around one in the morning.

“I’ll let you get to bed baby, see you in a few days,” Eddie says softly.

“Love you, Eds.”

“Love you more, Stevie.”

———————————

The next day Steve cleaned the whole house top to bottom, every corner and nook and cranny. He scrubbed and whipped and washed until there was nothing left to polish in the house. His excitement kept him running and he needed an outlet. After the house was sparkling he wrapped the last of the presents. Steve wanted Eddie to come home to a perfect house. Even though he would go through it like a tornado, Steve didn’t care that it would get ruined immediately. He needed to keep his mind busy. Otherwise he would pace around the house just counting the seconds till Eddie came home.

Eddie.

Eddie.

Eddie.

His brain repeats on a loop. There was no way he could actually be productive outside of the house, so he stayed inside and perfected their home.

The doorbell rings and Steve thinks it's probably just a package with one of the last few gifts he ordered. He doesn’t get up to check, he’ll just get it later.

There’s a knock on the door a moment later. Once again he ignores it, thinking the delivery man is just double checking before leaving it on the porch.

The knocking gets louder and more aggressive. Not stopping. Just continuous knocks right after another. This gets Steve to finally get up and walk to the front door. Normally he would check the peep hole to check who it is first, but the knocking distracted him.

Steve threw open the door, “Who—” he cuts himself off.

There in front of him was Eddie, bags in hand, snow sticking to his messy hair, and a coy smirk on his face.

“Sorry, Stevie, I left my keys last time I was here and it's freezing,” Eddie says standing there.

Steve looks to the front entrance table. There in the bowl sits Eddie’s set of keys on a cheesy keychain they got in Chicago when they visited a few years ago. He looks back to his boyfriend in disbelief.

Eddie adjusts the bags on his shoulders, “Can I come in, or are we just going to stand here till I get frostbite?” he jokes.

Everything clicks for Steve at that moment. Eddie was here. In the flesh. For the first time in months.

Steve grabbed Eddie by his coat and pulled him in the house. He connects their mouths as he pins Eddie to the door. His boyfriend comes willingly and drops all his bags to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist, pulling them closer together. Steve’s fingers wrap themselves in Eddie’s curls desperately trying to deepen their kiss. Their hot breath fogs around them in the lingering cold air.

“You’re early,” Steve says, breaking for a breath.

Eddie moves to Steve’s neck, coating the skin in hot touches, “Surprise,” he whispers into Steve’s ear. He wraps his hands under Steve’s thighs and lifts him up.

Steve wraps his legs around Eddie and plants kisses across his boyfriends whole face. Cheek to cheek, the bridge of his nose, his chin and forehead, and especially his mouth that tasted like the usual cigarettes and coffee.

Eddie carries them the stairs towards their room.

“WAIT!” Steve gasps as he remembers all the gifts he left all over the place in there, ones that Eddie cannot see before Christmas.

He scrambles out of Eddie’s arms and runs to the room, “Give me a second to hide everything!”

Eddie knows not to argue, and not to snoop. Steve takes Christmas very seriously and will not stand for gifts to be spoiled.

Steve runs around the room, shoving things in drawers and under the bed and in the closet. Once he is satisfied with everything being out of sight he opens the bedroom door, “Welcome home, baby,” he says waving his hand towards their bed.

Eddie is on him again in a second, closing the door once again behind them. Although that did little to muffle their sounds. Not that there was anyone else in the house to hear them anyway.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Happy Day Three!!!!!

Sorry this took a second, I got like ridiculously buys over this past week and did not have the time to write like I initially planned for! This one is just a bit of cutesy to warm y’all’s harts <3 Nothing explicit… yet. Stay tuned and all that.

Thank you for reading! It means the world to me that people are enjoying all this!

[val-of-the-north]

More observations for the trailer I am going insane!!!

I can't claim the original observation of this candle tree detail is mine, but it's from a Japanese Twitter user, here's a screenshot of the post and a link to it as well [x]

The rest of this observation IS mine though, so let's get to it:

With all the talk of cardinal sin, Messmer having a few parallels to Lucifer as pointed out by some friends of mine [x] I have to wonder if he is the cause of a speculated first burning of the Erdtree.

If this is the first time you have heard about this concept, I'll give a short summary. You know how Leyndell is covered in ash by the time we reach it in-game, and how that goes unexplained? We know for a fact that must be the Erdtree's ashes because after we claim the Rune of Death and the Erdtree burns even more, the capital is entombed in it.

We are also told that the Age of Plenty, an age in which the Erdtree gave physical blessings from its sacred sap, swiftly came to a close and the tree had to be changed to simply an object of faith...

So the theory claims that the reason why the Age of Plenty ended so swiftly was due to the Erdtree being set on fire. In theory spaces, the go-to culprit for this speculated action has often been the Gloam-Eyed Queen, with her connections to fire (Blackflame specifically) and Destined Death, but now there's the possibility that this was all Messmer's doing after all. Promotional material and dialogue seems to really denote his affinity for scorching and setting things ablaze.

This probably also means he is the inventor of that scary flame construct that according to Miyazaki as per this interview [x] was an old war machine, no doubt used during this "unsung battle".

Another important part of Messmer's design is the two snakes, which point us back to the Age of Plenty! Godfrey likely ruled during and directly after that time, and the arenas were likely built because of him. It had to be during Godfrey's rule because by the time Radagon became Elden Lord the practices of the colosseums had died down, as told to us by the Ritual Sword and Shield Talismans:

One of the more interesting aspects of the gladiatorial battles that once took place is the snake symbolism on the gladiators' armor.

So the snake was a symbol of a generic "traitor to the Erdtree", and it predated Rykard's blasphemy by an entire age at least... so what if it wasn't generic at all and it represented Messmer himself? He might have been the perpetrator of a betrayal so foul that Marika removed all traces of his existence from her empire's history, but kept the symbol of the snake as a spiteful reminder of him and all other subsequent traitors. After all, she does seem to have power over which one of her children gets remembered or not, and if not her, then the collective of the Golden Order:

Do note that we don't know when she said this. It could have been while she was still at the height of her rule or right before the Shattering. What we do know for a fact is that the soulless demigods inside the Walking Mausoleums have no known history to speak of, which is quite unlike Godwyn, one of the more accomplished members of the family. So yeah, being forgotten by history might be something the Golden Order does to those they deem unfit, so Messmer could be a likely candidate for such treatment... except instead of doing nothing noteworthy he did TOO much lol.

Now I gotta wonder if Marika hated him more or less than her Omen babies. One could argue that locking them down in a sewer close to where she lives was done more as an obligation than any true resentment. She could have sent them to the Shadow Lands if she really wanted them gone and unaccessible, as that place seems filled with Crucible-related things...

I am not saying she was a good mother to them because she didn't kick them to the Shadow Lands, but perhaps she DID have some small affection for them that she really couldn't follow through with.

Of course, maybe she just couldn't banish them anymore after banishing Messmer for whatever reason (maybe she cut-off a connection to that realm?). However, the most likely possibility is that he WAS known like the many soulless demigods and that Mohg and Morgott predate him. It's just that while those two were born undesirable through no fault of their own and were thus only hidden away, he BECAME undesirable which was worse in Marika's eyes so he gets the extra banishment and the removal of all of his history... there are so many possibilities...

[unintentionaloracle]

Cause For Concern [Fic]

(The Bloodline Doesn't Know Part 3 of 4)

I know we just ate this Raw, but I got a new chapter in this (unintended) saga to drop! And it's gonna be a painful one, so buckle up! (With a little surprise I won't spoil in the tags 🤭)

Summary: Sami has to come clean to Kevin. He knows this. However, turmoil in The Bloodline could make it harder...and worse...

Sami woke up gently, firmly held by Kevin's strong arms. Kevin's foot gently caressed his. He felt Kevin nuzzle into his neck. At first, Sami settled in, content and happy to be cuddled by the man he loved. “Mmm. G’morning, sexy...” He said, softly, caressing his forearm.

“Morning, sexy...” He responded.

The warmth couldn't last, however. He remembered what he had to do, and it hit like water to fire. “Hey, Kev? Remember what I told you last night?”

“Mmm...that you had something important to talk about?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah,” Sami said, shifting around. “I have to tell you this because I love you. Before this continues.” He said, placing his hand on Kevin's heart gently.

“Oh my God...are you pregnant?” Kevin asked.

Sami couldn't tell if it was joking or not, with his tone and him being Kevin. “No? I can't?” He huffed. “Kevin, I'm being serious.”

Kevin shook his head. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

Sami took a deep breath. “Kevin, I've been–”

Sami's phone rang. It was Jimmy's theme song. He groaned as he reached for it. Now is not the time, Jimmy!

Kevin gently tried to stop him from picking up the phone. “Ignore him. Just tell me what you gotta say, Sami,” he said, looking at him so softly it broke Sami's heart.

“I can't. He'll just keep calling and I'll never get a word in...” Sami said with a groan. He took a deep breath, put on his happy face, and picked up. “What's up, my dawg? Why are you calling so early?” He asked in what could only be described as his “customer service voice”.

“Uce, you gotta get down to the arena. Heyman says Roman's calling an emergency family meeting. Something about betrayal.”

Sami could feel the color drain from his face. “Right away?”

“Right away.”

Sami sighed, “Okay.” He hung up and started getting dressed (making sure he grabbed one of his Bloodline shirts) before turning his attention to Kevin. “I'm sorry, there's something I gotta do first. It's Roman. Sounds like he'll kill me if I'm not there.”

Or if I am there...

Kevin got dressed, too, then grabbed his keys. “I'll drive you. Hell, I'll wait in the parking lot for you, too. As backup if it goes bad.”

“Kevin, that's sweet, but...”

Kevin gently shushed Sami before caressing his face. “Whatever this is, it's got you terrified. You've been there for me these past few weeks, Sami. Let me be there for you this time, my guardian angel,” he said before giving him a kiss on the forehead.

The words “guardian angel” felt like barbed wire. There was no dissuading him. And it sounded like he'd have to diffuse Roman before he could talk to Kevin. “Okay, you nostalgic sap,” he teased.

Kevin chuckled and kissed his cheek repeatedly. Playfully. Sami couldn't help but laugh. “Stop!” He playfully protested. “I really have to go!”

“Okay, then let's go.”

---

Sami was the second to arrive at the arena lobby, after Jimmy. Roman was apparently running fashionably late to his own emergency meeting. “Any idea what it's about?”

“Probably me,” Jey sighed as he arrived at the scene. His hair was still messy, at first glance from waking up. But judging by the very visible lipstick stains on his face and neck, he didn't get much sleep at all.

Sami grinned. “You and Rhea!?”

Jey started to swagger over to Jimmy and Sami, a goofy grin on his face. “Yeah! Ya boy went to Rhea’s hotel room after you left. To talk to her face-to-face,”

“Yeet!” Sami said, almost on compulsion.

“We got our mack on,”

“Yeet!”

“She told me what'd been eating her,”

“Yeet!”

“I told her she’s got me: heart, body, and soul...”

“YEET!” Sami said alongside Jimmy, who was also getting swept up in it, now.

“We made it official!”

“YEET!”

“And–”

“And now you're going to destroy the family, again. Because of her. For shame.” Heyman interrupted, looking like a stern parent. “And after everything Roman has done for you.”

“...Yeet?” Jimmy said awkwardly.

Sami looked over at Jey, who'd seemed to somewhat shut down. “Jey...”

“I just...”

Roman burst on the scene, grabbing Jey by the collar. “You're just gonna quit The Bloodline!? Over the phone!?”

“Uce!” Sami and Jimmy said in unison.

Oh, come on, Jey! Sami thought. He hadn't expected Jey to beat him to the punch, let alone do it so stupidly.

“I mean, I wasn't sure if I'd get a hold of you face to face, Roman...” Jey said. “And I need to! I love her.”

“You love her enough to betray your family?”

“I’m not betraying the family! And it's not just that! I just...I got things I wanna do on my own, uce! I wanna beat Gunther! Become a big dog in my own right! We helped you get the ula fala back and take down Solo. You're the One True Tribal Chief and nobody can take it away from you. Now it's time we get to do our own thing!” Jey turned to Jimmy. “You had big plans, too. Right, Big Jim?”

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably. “I mean...I am the only one of us who hasn't held his own solo belt...”

Roman let go of Jey. “And you can't accomplish that with all of us, together? Helping you out?”

“‘Together’!?” Sami interjected. “‘Helping us out?’ You're hardly around! And you've never helped us with anything! Where were you when Solo sabotaged Jey's title match? When Drew was harassing all of us? When Jimmy lost MONTHS of his career to Solo? We’ve all helped you more times than I can count, but I can barely count when you've done the same!”

Sami covered his mouth. His pulse rushed and pounded in his ear. So much for de-escalation.

Roman looked at him. “Really? I think letting you anywhere near this family was more than helpful to you, Sami.” He said, venomously. Roman had never looked more like The Tribal Chief he once was–he probably always had been–until now.

Disappointment distilled in Sami's heart.

“Yeah. And I'm grateful. And you're all family to me and nothing can change that. But...I think it's time I move on, too. I have things I need to accomplish...”

“Like screwing that asshole Kevin any time you please?” Roman bit back. “Because you've been doing that plenty, already.”

Jimmy's eyebrows raised. “Sami, you've been seeing–!?”

“Yes!” Sami, Jey, Roman, and Heyman answered in unison.

“...And I'm the only one who didn't know!?”

“Sorry, it was supposed to be a secret, and you, well...” Sami started.

“Oh, yeah. No no, I get it.” Jimmy said, backing off.

“And not just screwing Kevin Owens,” Heyman announced. “Sami has been using us! He's passing along intimate, dangerous information about us that that feral animal he calls a boyfriend can use against the family in exchange for getting some–!”

“I never passed on “dangerous” information! We never had any because Roman isn't around! And anything I did tell him was just to pacify him! I did it for the family AND for the man I love!” Sami shouted.

“...So you admit you lied to me...” Roman said, coldly.

“...Yes. For the greater good.”

“For the greater good? Or to save your own ass?” Roman countered, slowly getting in Sami's space. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jimmy and Jey brace themselves to intervene.

Sami stood his ground, his blood turned to liquid steel. “Maybe. But I'd also hoped maybe you'd actually changed when you went away. Learned to appreciate us. Became the man I used to think you were, deep down, two years ago. What anyone else said be damned. Or at least that you were on your way to that, and maybe I could help that man become all he could be. We’ve sacrificed everything for you, Roman...”

Images flashed in Sami's mind: holding his own title again and celebrating with Jey. Seth excitedly telling him, his good friend, what he did that weekend the minute he saw him backstage on Raw. Hugging Kevin after they'd wrestled a PLE, excitedly or consolingly. Kissing him in front of everyone. Waking up the next morning to that sleepy, loving gaze only he got to see...

“...the least you could do is let us get that back.”

Roman glared at him, only briefly glancing away at The Usos. For a moment, Sami swore he saw something else in his face. Hurt. Before Sami could cave, Roman closed his eyes and growled.

“I don't wanna be near any of you right now.”

With that, the OTC began to storm off.

Heyman looked at the three of them. “I hope you're all happy,” he said, about to follow Roman.

“That means you, too, Wiseman.” Roman said, then went out the door.

Heyman looked like Roman had just shot him in cold blood. He wandered off somewhere in the arena, dazed.

Jimmy huffed. “I barely did anything! Why's he mad at me, too!?”

Jey crouched down (practically collapsing), hands clasped together as if in prayer, forehead against his thumbs. Sami went over to him. “Jey, we did the right thing...”

“I know, it's just...this doesn't feel good, uce...” Jey said.

“Jey?”

The boys turned their heads to Rhea, who had just entered the lobby. She went to his side, kneeling down. “Are you okay? I saw Roman storm off...” She got a steely look in her eyes. “Did he do this?” Rhea asked, her voice holding an unspoken promise: she would make Roman regret it if he did.

“It's fine, baby. It's done. I quit The Bloodline. Sami, too,” Jey said.

Rhea’s expression softened. She looked up at Sami for confirmation. He nodded. She nodded back and hugged Jey. “Hey, it's gonna be okay. You aren't gonna be alone again. You've got me, Sami, Damian, Jimmy...” She said, looking up at his brother.

Jimmy nodded back at her.

“C’mon, let's go get some fresh air, okay?” Rhea suggested.

Jey nodded. Rhea helped him upright. Tears were in his eyes. She didn't say a word to the others as she helped him outside, just offering a wave. The boys waved back.

Jimmy looked at Sami. He shifted awkwardly, his eyes desperately darting anywhere else. “I...I should check on the Wiseman, uce...”

Sami nodded. “Yeah. Good luck, man. I gotta...I need to check on Kevin...”

Jimmy sighed. “Yeah, you do that. We'll talk later.”

“Of course,” Sami said. He sighed, as well. “Of course...”

---

Sami made his way back to the car and Kevin. At first, Kevin smiled, but that quickly fell when he saw the harrowed look on his lover's face. “What happened?”

“I think I just left The Bloodline. Or broke it up forever. I don't know, yet.”

Kevin gripped the steering wheel. “Need me to kick his ass?”

“No, I just...” Sami’s eyes started to burn. “I just need to talk to you. Now.”

---

Sami explained everything to Kevin, the whole truth. He kept trying to give Kevin a chance to respond, but he said nothing. His face never changed. A tear fell down Sami's cheek.

“And I swear, I didn't mean to let this go as far as it did. All I wanted was to make sure you wouldn't be alone and–”

“Get the hell out of my car.” Kevin said, face still unchanging.

Sami felt hollowed out. “...Kev–”

“I said get out!” Kevin barked, his eyes becoming rimmed with red.

“I didn't want to hurt you...” Sami’s voice cracked.

“Yeah, well, you did. Now get out.”

Sami couldn't move. Tears streamed down his face.

“Fine. Screw it. I'll leave my rental car!” Kevin said, storming out of the car, keys in hand.

“Where are you going?” Sami asked, crawling to the driver's side.

“A walk! Do whatever you want. You could beg and plead for Roman to take you back! I don't care anymore!” Kevin declared. Then his voice wavered. “Just...please don't be here when I get back...” Kevin stormed off, shaking as he reached around in his pockets.

Sami didn't chase after him. He knew to give Kevin his space. His tears evolved into full-fledged sobs. Sami tried to wipe his eyes with the hem of his shirt, only to be greeted with “The OG Bloodline” print. Tearing the shirt from his body, he tossed it out the window and let out an anguished wail.

For the first time in weeks, he had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

---

Almost across town, Roman braced himself outside a hotel door. It wasn't often that he was in the same town, but the stars aligned that both their shows would be here this week.

Getting the hotel and room number was easy. If he could afford a motorcade, he could afford to get some shady info under the table. It was actually talking to him that was the hard part. After all this time, could he?

No, he needed to. He needed him. His kingdom was crumbling right before his eyes, and he needed someone to talk to. Or at least make him forget it was happening for a while. He knocked on the door.

It opened.

“Look, I know it's been forever and you probably hate seeing me, but...” Roman started to feel himself crumble. “I have nothing. And I...” Roman fell to his knees. “I needed to see you. Please...”

He heard a familiar chuckle. “Hello to you, too. Never thought I'd see the so-called Tribal Chief begging to me, again...”

Roman looked up, flipping the veil of his hair out of his eyes. He was greeted by a beautiful sight he hadn't seen in years.

Mox, the man he'd once known (he'd once loved) as Dean, leaned against the doorframe, hypnotically swirling a toothpick around in his mouth. “Yeah, come in, I guess...”

[peachhcs]

macklin definitely invited the to the next game and he plays so well everyone’s like why is mack playing so hard ….. they don’t find out for a while. mack rushed out after the game to find her and no one saw them together

this is kind of short i’m sorry 😵‍💫 but i think it’s so funny mack would just disappear after games and the guys would be so confused

au masterlist

macklin flew across the ice after the puck. the fans in the sap center were on their feet cheering the rookie on as he fought his stick through the guys of the detroit red wings. the younger player was on fire tonight, making two goals already in the first period. not that anyone was complaining, but they wondered what the boy drank or ate earlier to make him play like he was. 

"what's up with him?" eklund leaned over to where will was on the bench. 

"what do you mean?" will wondered, eyes on the game waiting to get called in. 

"i'm not complaining, but celly has been going ham tonight," eklund chuckled and bordeleau heard the two talking, popping himself into the conversation.

"dude, he's been on fire. what'd he drink earlier?" the older player laughed and will didn't have an answer for them nor did he really see a huge difference in his friend's performance. he was just playing like he usually did. 

"i have no idea. he's always this good?" will raised his eyebrow. 

"i mean yeah, but if i didn't know any better, it feels like there's someone special watching him tonight," thomas smirked and then the older guys dropped the conversation before will could respond. 

he became puzzled for a second, thinking back to a few weeks ago when macklin was constantly hiding his phone from him. he was still doing that, but will just sort of let it go knowing mack would never tell him. after hearing eklund and bordeleau talk about it though, will started wondering if what they were saying could have any truth behind it. the blonde glanced behind him for a quick second like he'd see someone in the stands that wound just stand out to him but with the hundreds of fans in the arena, they all looked the same to him. no one was standing out.

unbeknownst to will, blaire was seated four rows up from the bench. she had on a simple sharks t-shirt mack gave to her for the night. she was focused on the game that she didn't see will look back in her direction briefly. she was impressed with mack's two goals so far, a wide grin on her features. he had definitely grown a lot since they were in chicago and shattuck. 

the brunette skated across the ice towards the goal, missing it by just an inch when he passed to his teammate. the fans cheered nonetheless, the whole arena buzzing with excitement. blaire had never been to a hockey game as loud as this one, but she was happy seeing all of these fans cheer her rookie on. 

mack's gaze would occasionally glance towards the stands where blaire was. a smile always found its way to his lips seeing her cheering him on like old times. he also made sure she wouldn't be sitting next to any weirdos that would pester her and the boy still looked up there to make sure she was doing alright. she was content in her seat next to a mom and her kids and two teenage girls on her other side. mack badly wanted to give her a shirt with his name across the back but they hadn't even gotten that far yet, so he had to live with just a plain sharks shirt. 

when the game finished mack met blaire around the back where no fans would see them or any of his teammates. the girl quickly smiled when he came out in his suit and freshly showered. 

"you played so well!" she beamed and the boy smiled. 

"thank you. thanks for coming too," they exchanged a quick hug.

"that was probably the most fun i've ever had a hockey game. i didn't realize how exciting it got in the arena. you'll have to bring me along again sometime," mack thought her smile was to die for. 

"i'm glad you had so much fun. do you wanna grab something to eat before i drop you off back at your dorm?" the brunette wondered mainly because he didn't want the night to be over just yet. blaire flushed, "yeah, i'd like that."

mack grinned and then quickly led then out of the arena before getting caught. by the time will and the rest of the players made it out, the brunette was long gone. 

"where'd our star of the night go?" toffoli looked around when the younger brunette was no where to be seen. 

"who knows. maybe he found some fan to hookup with," bordeleau joked.

"ha! i wouldn't put that past him," eklund chuckled too and will just rolled his eyes. he'd definitely know if mack was hooking up with some fan because mack was bad at keeping secrets and was always telling will about something he learned during the day. 

"thanks for that, bordeleau. we'll catch up with him tomorrow at practice," tyler determined and the others agreed. everyone was pretty tired and wanted to head home knowing they had morning skate tomorrow. 

no one would figure out where mack would disappear to after games until a lot of months later.

[pacific-coast-hockey]

Please do not look at me. I am going through something very serious.

[video id: Mario Ferraro, wearing a black Merry Sharksmas sweater, walks into SAP arena in a hallway filled with holiday inflatables. He is smiling toothlessly. The music of the original video has been dubbed over with Chappell Roan's "Red Wine Supernova. He looks like a dreamboat.]