#he's a slow burn its gonna take another 20 chapters before we get there

[soaps-mohawk]

Idk if someone’s asked this yet but Simon bit her above the collarbone during it. Did he mark her?

He bit her on the collarbone, but no. He didn't mark her.

Sorry to everyone hoping for it but he is nowhere near that point in their relationship.

[hockeysweetheart]

 Okay So This will Be The kisses ( and Talking about it) With Peeta   iOkay I’ll add the Grand total of Kisses here.....  

17 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in the Hunger Games  

9 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in Catching Fire 

3 In Mockingjay  ( and Some)  

And I am gonna be super petty Here How many times Did she kiss Gale 5 ONLY 5 TIMES.  ( I had to give him credit with the Kissing her on the cheek) 

 Here is a sort form of the Kisses. 

The Hunger Games 

1. on the cheek when Katniss said two can play at this game 

( These next ones are in the Cave or the Games) 

2. The second Kiss was to shut him up from saying I’m gonna die ( Yes the famous one Haymitch is like come on give me something to work with here) 

3. The third one was in the cave waking Peeta up 

4. The fourth one Katniss said it took a lot Including Kissing to get Peeta to Finish the Broth  ( So guessing more then one Kiss in here but I’ll count only one) 

5.  Peeta Kissed Katniss’s hand. And Katniss is like No more kisses until you eat.

6. So Katniss just Drugged Peeta and Says I wonder how Gale is taking these kisses 2 Seconds later she Kisses Peeta goodbye . In case she doesn’t return. 

7.  Katniss just wants the Games to End and they  Share a kiss.

8 The Kiss  This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another.

9. This Kiss Happened After the one that made her wanting more. 

10. This Kiss counts because yes their lips did touch. But its right after Peeta tells the story of him being in love with her forever since Kindergarten then that Kiss is ruined by the food arriving.

11. Katniss is thinking about Gale and kinda moves around in the freaking Sleeping Bag and wakes up Peeta which resolves in a long kiss. 

12.  They Kiss again before leaving the cave to go hunt for Food. 

13. Katniss is kinda being mean to Peeta kinda throwing the Romance out the window but then Realizes this Kisses Peeta and is like okay we can do  what you want 

14.  So this one Katniss kisses Peeta on the forhead because she is happy that she doesn’t have to face Cato Alone 

15.  This one is when they Both said listen  if we both Can’t win we both will die so Peeta gave Katniss a slow kiss. 

16. This Kiss Happened After the games when they reunite again at the  rewatch of the games 

17. During the Final interveiw they share a kiss.

Catching Fire

1. Their First Kiss is for the Cameras.  and Peeta is like I almost thought that kiss was real 

2. They kiss again After Peeta says he will give half of his winnings to District 11 fallen tributes 

3. They kiss a lot on the victory tour.  

4. After Katniss comes Back to her House after being in the woods when they are really forbidden.  She comes back to peacekeepers in her house and with no proof she was in the woods shes safe but she is injured.  And they Share a kiss in front of Everyone when she is making up this lie. 

5.Before the Games Peeta gives Katniss a kiss  ( After they spent the night together and says see you soon)

6. After Peeta is rescued by Finnick He gives Katniss a kiss we got allies 

7.  The Beach scene kiss ( We all know that one) 

8. Peeta Kisses Katniss after he said your gonna be a great mother 

9. The I’ll see you at midnight kiss. The last sane kiss of Peeta before hes taken in by the freaking Capitol

Mockingjay ( Since Peeta And Katniss are A part for half the book and Peeta is trying to kill Katniss they don’t  have as many kisses). 

1. This one I had to add becuase well yeah, When shes rubbing her lips on the pearl it’s like a cool kiss from the giver himself 

2. This kiss was when Peeta was going mad and then Katniss just kissed him thinking that might work which it did because she didn’t want to loose him again 

3. The growing back together kiss ( and some)  

A Grand total of 29 Kisses in the books Series by these two 

Now Bonus ones 

1. Catching Fire  After Peeta’s heart was restarted Katniss Kissed him this was not in the books.   

so grand total is 30 kisses  on all platforms the books and the movies. 

  So since Below is so Long I was feeling real petty and Decited to add Gales Kisses in here too 

1. The surprise Kiss  From Gale That snow knew about 

2. The Kiss after Gale got whipped and hes Basically sleeping

3. They kiss  in Mockingjay when Gale is like you kissed me here I’d have to be dead to forget that 

4. This Kiss Peeta is saved yet Hijacked and Basically Katniss has written off  and They Kiss and then Gale Ruins it

5. After  Leaving the awkward dinner Gale Kisses  Katniss on the Cheek 

Bonus ones 

Catching Fire Movie when they Kiss goodbye when Katniss is going back into the arena, 

So their grand total is 6... 

In the Hunger Games  ( Book) 

Chapter 5   But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.

Chapter 19, 

"Yes. Look, if I don't make it back  - " he begins. "Don't talk like that. I didn't drain all that pus for nothing," I say. "I know. But just in case I don't  - " he tries to continue. "No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it," I say, placing my fingers on his lips to quiet him. "But I  - " he insists. Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss him, stopping his words. This is probably overdue anyway since he's right, we are supposed to be madly in love. It's the first time I've ever kissed a boy, which should make some sort of impression I guess, but all I can register is how unnaturally hot his lips are from the fever. I break away and pull the edge of the sleeping bag up around him. "You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" "All right," he whispers.

A little Later on Chapter 19 

Haymitch couldn't be sending me a clearer message. One kiss equals one pot of broth. I can almost hear his snarl. "You're supposed to be in love, sweetheart. The boy's dying. Give me something I can work with!" And he's right. If I want to keep Peeta alive, I've got to give the audience something more to care about. Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance. Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents. The way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods. The way my mother's face would light up at the sound of his boots at the door. The way she almost stopped living when he died. "Peeta!" I say, trying for the special tone that my mother used only with my father. He's dozed off again, but I kiss him awake, which seems to startle him. Then he smiles as if he'd be happy to lie there gazing at me forever. He's great at this stuff.

Chapter 20. 

Getting the broth into Peeta takes an hour of coaxing, begging, threatening, and yes, kissing, but finally, sip by sip, he empties the pot. I let him drift off to sleep then and attend to my own needs, wolfing down a supper of groosling and roots while I watch the daily report in the sky. No new casualties. Still, Peeta and I have given the audience a fairly interesting day. Hopefully, the Gamemakers will allow us a peaceful night.

Oh, right, the whole romance thing. I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips. I remember my father doing this very thing to my mother and I wonder where Peeta picked it up. Surely not from his father and the witch.  ( Okay) Just in case why This part is isn here He Kissed her hand,  “No more kisses for you until you’ve eaten,” I say.

Chapter 21 ( Because I am being petty I added an extra bit) 

And Gale. I know him. He won’t be shouting and cheering. But he’ll be watching, every moment, every twist and turn, and willing me to come home. I wonder if he’s hoping that Peeta makes it as well. Gale’s not my boyfriend, but would he be, if I opened that door? He talked about us running away together. Was that just a practical calculation of our chances of survival away from the district? Or something more? I wonder what he makes of all this kissing. Through a crack in the rocks, I watch the moon cross the sky. At what I judge to be about three hours before dawn, I begin final preparations. I’m careful to leave Peeta with water and the medical kit right beside him. Nothing else will be of much use if I don’t return, and even these would only prolong his life a short time. After some debate, I strip him of his jacket and zip it on over my own. He doesn’t need it. Not now in the sleeping bag with his fever, and during the day, if I’m not there to remove it, he’ll be roasting in it. My hands are already stiff from cold, so I take Rue’s spare pair of socks, cut holes for my fingers and thumbs, and pull them on. It helps anyway. I fill her small pack with some food, a water bottle, and bandages, tuck the knife in my belt, get my bow and arrows. I’m about to leave when I remember the importance of sustaining the star-crossed lover routine and I lean over and give Peeta a long, lingering kiss. I imagine the teary sighs emanating from the Capitol and pretend to brush away a tear of my own. Then I squeeze through the opening in the rocks out into the night.

Chapter 22

  I give him another answer, because it is equally true but can be taken as a brief moment of weakness instead of a terminal one. "I want to go home, Peeta," I say plaintively, like a small child. "You will. I promise," he says, and bends over to give me a kiss. 

Chapter 22 ( The Kiss) 

I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread. “If what, Katniss?” he says softly. I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s no one’s business but mine. “Then I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself,” he says, and moves in to me. This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. But I don’t get it. Well, I do get a second kiss, but it’s just a light one on the tip of my nose because Peeta’s been distracted. “I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.

Chapter 22   ( Okay I had too add in this whole freaking part in) 

"Peeta," I say lightly. "You said at the interview you'd had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?" "Oh, let's see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair. it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up," Peeta says. "Your father? Why?" I ask. "He said, 'See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,'" Peeta says. "What? You're making that up!" I exclaim. "No, true story," Peeta says. "And I said, 'A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could've had you?' And he said, 'Because when he sings. even the birds stop to listen.'" "That's true. They do. I mean, they did," I say. I'm stunned and surprisingly moved, thinking of the baker telling this to Peeta. It strikes me that my own reluctance to sing, my own dismissal of music might not really be that I think it's a waste of time. It might be because it reminds me too much of my father. "So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent," Peeta says. "Oh, please," I say, laughing. "No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew  -  just like your mother  -  I was a goner," Peeta says. "Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you." "Without success," I add. "Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck," says Peeta. For a moment, I'm almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love not actually being in love. But Peeta's story has a ring of truth to it. That part about my father and the birds. And I did sing the first day of school, although I don't remember the song. And that red plaid dress. there was one, a hand-me-down to Prim that got washed to rags after my father's death. It would explain another thing, too. Why Peeta took a beating to give me the bread on that awful hollow day. So, if those details are true. could it all be true? "You have a. remarkable memory," I say haltingly. "I remember everything about you," says Peeta, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention." "I am now," I say. "Well, I don't have much competition here," he says. I want to draw away, to close those shutters again, but I know I can't. It's as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my ear, "Say it! Say it!" I swallow hard and get the words out. "You don't have much competition anywhere." And this time, it's me who leans in. Our lips have just barely touched when the clunk outside makes us jump. My bow comes up, the arrow ready to fly, but there's no other sound. Peeta peers through the rocks and then gives a whoop. Before I can stop him, lie's out in the rain, then handing something in to me. A silver parachute attached to a basket. I rip it open at once and inside there's a feast  -  fresh rolls, goat cheese, apples, and best of all, a tureen of that incredible lamb stew on wild rice. The very dish I told Caesar Flickerman was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer.  

Chapter 23 

The sun eventually rises, its light slipping through the cracks and illuminating Peeta’s face. Who will he transform into if we make it home? This perplexing, good-natured boy who can spin out lies so convincingly the whole of Panem believes him to be hopelessly in love with me, and I’ll admit it, there are moments when he makes me believe it myself? At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. Anything beyond that though. and I feel Gale’s gray eyes watching me watching Peeta, all the way from District 12. Discomfort causes me to move. I scoot over and shake Peeta’s shoulder. His eyes open sleepily and when they focus on me, he pulls me down for a long kiss.

“We’re wasting hunting time,” I say when I finally break away. “I wouldn’t call it wasting,” he says giving a big stretch as he sits up. “So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?”

He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. “Come on,” I say in exasperation, extricating myself from his grasp but not before he gets in another kiss

Chapter 24

“We’re wasting hunting time,” I say when I finally break away. “I wouldn’t call it wasting,” he says giving a big stretch as he sits up. “So do we hunt on empty stomachs to give us an edge?”

He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. “Come on,” I say in exasperation, extricating myself from his grasp but not before he gets in another kiss

By the time we reach our destination, our feet are dragging and the sun sits low on the horizon. We fill up our water bottles and climb the little slope to our den. It’s not much, but out here in the wilderness, it’s the closest thing we have to a home. It will be warmer than a tree, too, because it provides some shelter from the wind that has begun to blow steadily in from the west. I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so grateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. So glad that I don’t have to face Cato alone.  

Chapter 26. 

My fingers fumble with the pouch on my belt, freeing it. Peeta sees it and his hand clamps on my wrist. "No, I won't let you." "Trust me," I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment then lets me go. I loosen the top of the pouch and pour a few spoonfuls of berries into his palm. Then I fill my own. "On the count of three?" Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. "The count of three," he says.

Chapter 27

Blinding lights. The deafening roar rattles the metal under my feet. Then there’s Peeta just a few yards away. He looks so clean and healthy and beautiful, I can hardly recognize him. But his smile is the same whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it, I take about three steps and fling myself into his arms. He staggers back, almost losing his balance, and that’s when I realize the slim, metal contraption in his hand is some kind of cane. He rights himself and we just cling to each other while the audience goes insane. He’s kissing me and all the time I’m thinking, Do you know? Do you know how much danger we’re in? After about ten minutes of this, Caesar Flickerman taps on his shoulder to continue the show, and Peeta just pushes him aside without even glancing at him. The audience goes berserk. Whether he knows or not, Peeta is, as usual, playing the crowd exactly right

Finally, Haymitch interrupts us and gives us a good-natured shove toward the victor’s chair. Usually, this is a single, ornate chair from which the winning tribute watches a film of the highlights of the Games, but since there are two of us, the Gamemakers have provided a plush red velvet couch. A small one, my mother would call it a love seat, I think. I sit so close to Peeta that I’m practically on his lap, but one look from Haymitch tells me it isn’t enough. Kicking off my sandals, I tuck my feet to the side and lean my head against Peeta’s shoulder. His arm goes around me automatically, and I feel like I’m back in the cave, curled up against him, trying to keep warm. His shirt is made of the same yellow material as my dress, but Portia’s put him in long black pants. No sandals, either, but a pair of sturdy black boots he keeps solidly planted on the stage. I wish Cinna had given me a similar outfit, I feel so vulnerable in this flimsy dress. But I guess that was the point.

Chapter 27. 

Things pick up for me once they’ve announced two tributes from the same district can live and I shout out Peeta’s name and then clap my hands over my mouth. If I’ve seemed indifferent to him earlier, I make up for it now, by finding him, nursing him back to health, going to the feast for the medicine, and being very free with my kisses. Objectively, I can see the mutts and Cato’s death are as gruesome as ever, but again, I feel it happens to people I have never met. And then comes the moment with the berries. I can hear the audience hushing one another, not wanting to miss anything. A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory, but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft, screaming Peeta’s name as they try to revive him. In terms of survival, it’s my best moment all night.

Behind a cameraman, I see Haymitch give a sort of huff with relief and I know I’ve said the right thing. Caesar pulls out a handkerchief and has to take a moment because he’s so moved. I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, “So now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”

I turn in to him. “Put you somewhere you can’t get hurt.” And when he kisses me, people in the room actually sigh.  

Chapter 27 ( Peeta finds out the truth) ( Okay No Kisses in this part but  This part honestly Just says so much)

When the train makes a brief stop for fuel, we’re allowed to go outside for some fresh air. There’s no longer any need to guard us. Peeta and I walk down along the track, hand in hand, and I can’t find anything to say now that we’re alone. He stops to gather a bunch of wildflowers for me. When he presents them, I work hard to look pleased. Because he can’t know that the pink-and-white flowers are the tops of wild onions and only remind me of the hours I’ve spent gathering them with Gale.

Haymitch startles me when he lays a hand on my back. Even now, in the middle of nowhere, he keeps his voice down. “Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay.” I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Peeta’s eyes. “What’s he mean?” Peeta asks me. “It’s the Capitol. They didn’t like our stunt with the berries,” I blurt out. “What? What are you talking about?” he says. “It seemed too rebellious. So, Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn’t make it worse,” I say. “Coaching you? But not me,” says Peeta. “He knew you were smart enough to get it right,” I say. “I didn’t know there was anything to get right,” says Peeta. “So, what you’re saying is, these last few days and then I guess. back in the arena. that was just some strategy you two worked out.” “No. I mean, I couldn’t even talk to him in the arena, could I?” I stammer. “But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn’t you?” says Peeta. I bite my lip. “Katniss?” He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance. “It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.” “Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding onto my flowers. “Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” he says. “I don’t know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get,” I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none’s forthcoming. “Well, let me know when you work it out,” he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable.

I know my ears are healed because, even with the rumble of the engine, I can hear every step he takes back to the train. By the time I’ve climbed aboard, Peeta has disappiared into his room for the night. I don’t see him the next morning, either. In fact, the next time he turns up, we’re pulling into District 12. He gives me a nod, his face expressionless. I want to tell him that he’s not being fair. That we were strangers. That I did what it took to stay alive, to keep us both alive in the arena. That I can’t explain how things are with Gale because I don’t know myself. That it’s no good loving me because I’m never going to get married anyway and he’d just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we’ve just been through? I also want to tell him how much I already miss him. But that wouldn’t be fair on my part. So we just stand there silently, watching our grimy little station rise up around us. Through the window, I can see the platform’s thick with cameras. Everyone will be eagerly watching our homecoming. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. “One more time? For the audience?” he says. His voice isn’t angry. It’s hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.

Catching fire 

Chapter 3

My face breaks into a huge smile and I start walking in Peeta’s direction. Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips - he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg - and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way. 

Chapter 4

Favourite colour

After a while I hear footsteps behind me. It’ll be Haymitch, coming to chew me out. It’s not like I don’t deserve it, but I still don’t want to hear it. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” I warn the clump of weeds by my shoes. “I’ll try to keep it brief.” Peeta takes a seat beside me. “I thought you were Haymitch,” I say. “No, he’s still working on that muffin.” I watch as Peeta positions his artificial leg. “Bad day, huh?” “It’s nothing,” I say. He takes a deep breath. “Look, Katniss, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn’t fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I’m sorry.” His apology takes me by surprise. It’s true that Peeta froze me out after I confessed that my love for him during the Games was something of an act. But I don’t hold that against him. In the arena, I’d played that romance angle for all it was worth. There had been times when I didn’t honestly know how I felt about him. I still don’t, really. “I’m sorry, too,” I say. I’m not sure for what exactly. Maybe because there’s a real chance I’m about to destroy him. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don’t want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there’s a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends,” he says. All my friends are probably going to end up dead, but refusing Peeta wouldn’t keep him safe. “Okay,” I say. His offer does make me feel better. Less duplicitous somehow. It would be nice if he’d come to me with this earlier, before I knew that President Snow had other plans and just being friends was not an option for us anymore. But either way, I’m glad we’re speaking again. “So what’s wrong?” he asks. I can’t tell him. I pick at the clump of weeds. “Let’s start with something more basic. Isn’t it strange that I know you’d risk your life to save mine … but I don’t know what your favorite color is?” he says. A smile creeps onto my lips. “Green. What’s yours?” “Orange,” he says. “Orange? Like Effie’s hair?” I say. “A bit more muted,” he says. “More like … sunset.” Sunset. I can see it immediately, the rim of the descending sun, the sky streaked with soft shades of orange. Beautiful. I remember the tiger lily cookie and, now that Peeta is talking to me again, it’s all I can do not to recount the whole story about President Snow. But I know Haymitch wouldn’t want me to. I’d better stick to small talk. “You know, everyone’s always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven’t seen them,” I say. “Well, I’ve got a whole train car full.” He rises and offers me his hand. “Come on.” It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand.

Chapter 4

I look at Peeta and he gives me a sad smile. I hear Haymitch’s voice. “You could do a lot worse.” At this moment, it’s impossible to imagine how I could do any better. The gift … it is perfect. So when I rise up on tiptoe to kiss him, it doesn’t seem forced at all.

Chapter 5

We descend the steps and are sucked into what becomes an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies, and train rides. Each day it’s the same. Wake up. Get dressed. Ride through cheering crowds. Listen to a speech in our honor. Give a thank-you speech in return, but only the one the Capitol gave us, never any personal additions now. Sometimes a brief tour: a glimpse of the sea in one district, towering forests in another, ugly factories, fields of wheat, stinking refineries. Dress in evening clothes. Attend dinner. Train. During ceremonies, we are solemn and respectful but always linked together, by our hands, our arms. At dinners, we are borderline delirious in our love for each other. We kiss, we dance, we get caught trying to sneak away to be alone. On the train, we are quietly miserable as we try to assess what effect we might be having.

Cinna begins to take in my clothes around the waist. The prep team frets over the circles under my eyes. Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment. Nothing else happens, but our arrangement quickly becomes a subject of gossip on the train.

Chapter 6 On the way home

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. I turn, being careful not to disturb him, but he’s already awake. “No nightmares,” he says. “What?” I ask. “You didn’t have any nightmares last night,” he says. He’s right. For the first time in ages I’ve slept through the night. “I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.” “Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead. “I don’t know. We never arrived,” I say. “But I felt happy.” “Well, you slept like you were happy,” he says. “Peeta, how come I never know when you’re having a nightmare?” I say. “I don’t know. I don’t think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” he says. “You should wake me,” I say, thinking about how I can interrupt his sleep two or three times on a bad night. About how long it can take to calm me down. “It’s not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,” he says. “I’m okay once I realize you’re here.”

Ugh. Peeta makes comments like this in such an offhand way, and it’s like being hit in the gut. He’s only answering my question honestly. He’s not pressing me to reply in kind, to make any declaration of love. But I still feel awful, as if I’ve been using him in some terrible way. Have I? I don’t know. I only know that for the first time, I feel immoral about him being here in my bed. Which is ironic since we’re officially engaged now. “Be worse when we’re home and I’m sleeping alone again,” he says. That’s right, we’re almost home. 

 Chapter 9     I am being petty yes for this Part...

“I’ve heard worse,” she says . “You’ve seen how people are, when someone they love is in pain.” Someone they love. The words numb my tongue as if it’s been packed in snow coat. Of course, I love Gale. But what kind of love does she mean? What do I mean when I say I love Gale? I don’t know. I did kiss him last night, in a moment when my emotions were running so high. But I’m sure he doesn’t remember it. Does he? I hope not. If he does, everything will just get more complicated and I really can’t think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite. I give my head a little shake to clear it. “Where’s Peeta?” I say. “He went home when we heard you stirring. Didn’t want to leave his house unattended during the storm,” says my mother. “Did he get back all right?” I ask. In a blizzard, you can get lost in a matter of yards and wander off course into oblivion. “Why don’t you give him a call and check?” she says. 

Chaper 11  Katniss comes home to a surprise I freaking love this part

By the time I reach my house, my left heel will bear no weight at all. I decide to tell my mother I was trying to mend a leak in the roof of our old house and slid off. As for the missing food, I’ll just be vague about who I handed it out to. I drag myself in the door, all ready to collapse in front of the fire. But instead I get another shock. Two Peacekeepers, a man and a woman, are standing in the doorway to our kitchen. The woman remains impassive, but I catch the flicker of surprise on the man’s face. I am unanticipated. They know I was in the woods and should be trapped there now. “Hello,” I say in a neutral voice. My mother appears behind them, but keeps her distance. “Here she is, just in time for dinner,” she says a little too brightly. I’m very late for dinner. I consider removing my boots as I normally would but doubt I can manage it without revealing my injuries. Instead I just pull off my wet hood and shake the snow from my hair. “Can I help you with something?” I ask the Peacekeepers. “Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you,” says the woman. “They’ve been waiting for hours,” my mother adds. They’ve been waiting for me to fail to return. To confirm I got electrocuted by the fence or trapped in the woods so they could take my family in for questioning. “Must be an important message,” I say. “May we ask where you’ve been, Miss Everdeen?” the woman asks. “Easier to ask where I haven’t been,” I say with a sound of exasperation. I cross into the kitchen, forcing myself to use my foot normally even though every step is excruciating. I pass between the Peacekeepers and make it to the table all right. I fling my bag down and turn to Prim, who’s standing stiffly by the hearth. Haymitch and Peeta are there as well, sitting in a pair of matching rockers, playing a game of chess. Were they here by chance or “invited” by the Peacekeepers? Either way, I’m glad to see them. “So where haven’t you been?” says Haymitch in a bored voice. “Well, I haven’t been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim’s goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives,” I say to Prim emphatically. “No, I didn’t,” says Prim. “I told you exactly.” “You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine,” I say. “The east entrance,” Prim corrects me. “You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?’ and you said, 'Yeah,’” I say. “The slag heap next to the east entrance,” says Prim patiently. “No. When did you say that?” I demand. “Last night,” Haymitch chimes in. “It was definitely the east,” adds Peeta. He looks at Haymitch and they laugh. I glare at Peeta and he tries to look contrite. “I’m sorry, but it’s what I’ve been saying. You don’t listen when people talk to you.” “Bet people told you he didn’t live there today and you didn’t listen again,” says Haymitch. “Shut up, Haymitch,” I say, clearly indicating he’s right. Haymitch and Peeta crack up and Prim allows herself a smile. “Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up,” I say, which makes them laugh more. And I think, This is why they’ve made it this far, Haymitch and Peeta. Nothing throws them. I look at the Peacekeepers. The man’s smiling but the woman is unconvinced. “What’s in the bag?” she asks sharply.

I know she’s hoping for game or wild plants. Something that clearly condemns me. I dump the contents on the table. “See for yourself.”

“Oh, good,” says my mother, examining the cloth. “We’re running low on bandages.”

Peeta comes to the table and opens the candy bag. “Ooh, peppermints,” he says, popping one in his mouth.

“They’re mine.” I take a swipe for the bag. He tosses it to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth before passing the bag to a giggling Prim. “None of you deserves candy!” I say.

“What, because we’re right?” Peeta wraps his arms around me. I give a small yelp of pain as my tailbone objects. I try to turn it into a sound of indignation, but I can see in his eyes that he knows I’m hurt. “Okay, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we’re all idiots. How’s that?”

“Better,” I say, and accept his kiss. Then I look at the Peacekeepers as if I’m suddenly remembering they’re there. “You have a message for me?”

“From Head Peacekeeper Thread,” says the woman. “He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District Twelve will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day.”

“Didn’t it already?” I ask, a little too innocently.

“He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin,” says the woman.

“Thank you. I’ll tell him. I’m sure we’ll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse.” I’m pushing things, I know it, but the comment gives me a sense of satisfaction.

The woman’s jaw tightens. None of this has gone as planned, but she has no further orders. She gives me a curt nod and leaves, the man trailing in her wake. When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

Chapter 11  They all know Katniss is hurt and Peeta is literally the sweetest human out there

“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily. “Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tail-bone’s had a bad day, too.” He helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion. My mother eases off my boots. “What happened?” “I slipped and fell,” I say. Four pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. “On some ice.” But we all know the house must be bugged and it’s not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now. Having stripped off my sock, my mother’s fingers probe the bones in my left heel and I wince. “There might be a break,” she says. She checks the other foot. “This one seems all right.” She judges my tailbone to be badly bruised. My mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there. A side effect of the sleep syrup is that it makes people less inhibited, like white liquor, and I know I have to control my tongue. But I don’t want him to go. In fact, I want him to climb in with me, to be there when the nightmares hit tonight. For some reason that I can’t quite form, I know I’m not allowed to ask that. “Don’t go yet. Not until I fall asleep,” I say. Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. “Almost thought you’d changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner.” I’m foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I’d made a run for it, maybe with Gale. “No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today. I want to tell him about Twill and Bonnie and the uprising and the fantasy of District 13, but it’s not safe to and I can feel myself slipping away, so I just get out one more sentence. “Stay with me.” As the tendrils of sleep syrup pull me down, I hear him whisper a word back, but I don’t quite catch it.

I’m further reassured when Peeta casually tells me the power is off in sections of the fence because crews are out securing the base of the chain link to the ground. Thread must believe I somehow got under the thing, even with that deadly current running through it. It’s a break for the district, having the Peacekeepers busy doing something besides abusing people. Peeta comes by every day to bring me cheese buns and begins to help me work on the family book. It’s an old thing, made of parchment and leather. Some herbalist on my mother’s side of the family started it ages ago. The book’s composed of page after page of ink drawings of plants with descriptions of their medical uses. My father added a section on edible plants that was my guidebook to keeping us alive after his death. For a long time, I’ve wanted to record my own knowledge in it. Things I learned from experience or from Gale, and then the information I picked up when I was training for the Games. I didn’t because I’m no artist and it’s so crucial that the pictures are drawn in exact detail. That’s where Peeta comes in. Some of the plants he knows already, others we have dried samples of, and others I have to describe. He makes sketches on scrap paper until I’m satisfied they’re right, then I let him draw them in the book. After that, I carefully print all I know about the plant. It’s quiet, absorbing work that helps take my mind off my troubles. I like to watch his hands as he works, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to our previously black and yellowish book. His face takes on a special look when he concentrates. His usual easy expression is replaced by something more intense and removed that suggests an entire world locked away inside him. I’ve seen flashes of this before: in the arena, or when he speaks to a crowd, or that time he shoved the Peacekeepers’ guns away from me in District 11. I don’t know quite what to make of it. I also become a little fixated on his eyelashes, which ordinarily you don’t notice much because they’re so blond. But up close, in the sunlight slanting in from the window, they’re a light golden color and so long I don’t see how they keep from getting all tangled up when he blinks. One afternoon Peeta stops shading a blossom and looks up so suddenly that I start, as though I were caught spying on him, which in a strange way maybe I was. But he only says, “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve ever done anything normal together.” “Yeah,” I agree. Our whole relationship has been tainted by the Games. Normal was never a part of it. “Nice for a change.” Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television. Usually we only watch when it’s mandatory, because the mixture of propaganda and displays of the Capitol’s power - including clips from seventy-four years of Hunger Games - is so odious. But now I’m looking for something special. The mockingjay that Bonnie and Twill are basing all their hopes on. I know it’s probably foolishness, but if it is, I want to rule it out. And erase the idea of a thriving District 13 from my mind for good.

Chapter 12

Staying quietly in bed is harder after that. I want to be doing something, finding out more about District 13 or helping in the cause to bring down the Capitol. Instead I sit around stuffing myself with cheese buns and watching Peeta sketch. Haymitch stops by occasionally to bring me news from town, which is always bad. More people being punished or dropping from starvation.

Chapter 13

“Thanks,” I say. I should go see Peeta now, but I don’t want to. My head’s spinning from the drink, and I’m so wiped out, who knows what he could get me to agree to? No, now I have to go home to face my mother and Prim. As I stagger up the steps to my house, the front door opens and Gale pulls me into his arms. “I was wrong. We should have gone when you said,” he whispers. “No,” I say. I’m having trouble focusing, and liquor keeps sloshing out of my bottle and down the back of Gale’s jacket, but he doesn’t seem to care. “It’s not too late,” he says. Over his shoulder, I see my mother and Prim clutching each other in the doorway. We run. They die. And now I’ve got Peeta to protect. End of discussion. “Yeah, it is.” My knees give way and he’s holding me up. As the alcohol overcomes my mind, I hear the glass bottle shatter on the floor. This seems appropriate since I have obviously lost my grip on everything.

Chapter 14 ( Okay this hug tho)

So I go to bed and, sure enough, within a few hours I awake from a nightmare where that old woman from District 4 transforms into a large rodent and gnaws on my face. I know I was screaming, but no one comes. Not Peeta, not even one of the Capitol attendants. I pull on a robe to try to calm the gooseflesh crawling over my body. Staying in my compartment is impossible, so I decide to go find someone to make me tea or hot chocolate or anything. Maybe Haymitch is still up. Surely he isn’t asleep. I order warm milk, the most calming thing I can think of, from an attendant. Hearing voices from the television room, I go in and find Peeta. Beside him on the couch is the box Effie sent of tapes of the old Hunger Games. I recognize the episode in which Brutus became victor. Peeta rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. “Couldn’t sleep?” “Not for long,” I say. I pull the robe more securely around me as I remember the old woman transforming into the rodent. “Want to talk about it?” he asks. Sometimes that can help, but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I haven’t even fought yet already haunt me. When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It’s the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he’s offered me any sort of affection. He’s been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go. And why should I? I have said good-bye to Gale. I’ll never see him again, that’s for certain. Nothing I do now can hurt him. He won’t see it or he’ll think I am acting for the cameras. That, at least, is one weight off my shoulders. The arrival of the Capitol attendant with the warm milk is what breaks us apart. He sets a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs on a table. “I brought an extra cup,” he says. “Thanks,” I say. “And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice,” he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room. “What’s with him?” I say. “I think he feels bad for us,” says Peeta. “Right,” I say, pouring the milk. “I mean it. I don’t think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in,” says Peeta. “Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions.” “I’m guessing they’ll get over it once the blood starts flowing,” I say flatly. Really, if there’s one thing I don’t have time for, it’s worrying about how the Quarter Quell will affect the mood in the Capitol. “So, you’re watching all the tapes again?”

“Okay,” Peeta agrees. He puts in the tape and I curl up next to him on the couch with my milk, which is really delicious with the honey and spices, and lose myself in the Fiftieth Hunger Games. After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent. He reads from the square of paper in the same onerous voice he used for ours, informing Panem that in honor of the Quarter Quell, there will be twice the number of tributes. The editors smash cut right into the reapings, where name after name after name is called.  

Peeta clicks off the tape and we sit there in silence for a while.

Chapter 17

Peeta walks me down to my room in silence, but before he can say good night, I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. His hands slide up my back and his cheek leans against my hair. “I’m sorry if I made things worse,” I say. “No worse than I did. Why did you do it, anyway?” he says. “I don’t know. To show them that I’m more than just a piece in their Games?” I say. He laughs a little, no doubt remembering the night before the Games last year. We were on the roof, neither of us able to sleep. Peeta had said something of the sort then, but I hadn’t understood what he meant. Now I do. “Me, too,” he tells me. “And I’m not saying I’m not going to try. To get you home, I mean. But if I’m perfectly honest about it …” “If you’re perfectly honest about it, you think President Snow has probably given them direct orders to make sure we die in the arena anyway,” I say. “It’s crossed my mind,” says Peeta. It’s crossed my mind, too. Repeatedly. But while I know I’ll never leave that arena alive, I’m still holding on to the hope that Peeta will. After all, he didn’t pull out those berries, I did. No one has ever doubted that Peeta’s defiance was motivated by love. So maybe President Snow will prefer keeping him alive, crushed and heartbroken, as a living warning to others. “But even if that happens, everyone will know we’ve gone out fighting, right?” Peeta asks. “Everyone will,” I reply. And for the first time, I distance myself from the personal tragedy that has consumed me since they announced the Quell. I remember the old man they shot in District 11, and Bonnie and Twill, and the rumored uprisings. Yes, everyone in the districts will be watching me to see how I handle this death sentence, this final act of President Snow’s dominance. They will be looking for some sign that their battles have not been in vain. If I can make it clear that I’m still defying the Capitol right up to the end, the Capitol will have killed me … but not my spirit. What better way to give hope to the rebels? The beauty of this idea is that my decision to keep Peeta alive at the expense of my own life is itself an act of defiance. A refusal to play the Hunger Games by the Capitol’s rules. My private agenda dovetails completely with my public one. And if I really could save Peeta … in terms of a revolution, this would be ideal. Because I will be more valuable dead. They can turn me into some kind of martyr for the cause and paint my face on banners, and it will do more to rally people than anything I could do if I was living. But Peeta would be more valuable alive, and tragic, because he will be able to turn his pain into words that will transform people. Peeta would lose it if he knew I was thinking any of this, so I only say, “So what should we do with our last few days?”

“I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you,” Peeta replies.

“Come on, then,” I say, pulling him into my room.

It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn’t realize until now how starved I’ve been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn’t wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight’s streaming through the windows.

“No nightmares,” he says.

“No nightmares,” I confirm. “You?”

“None. I’d forgotten what a real night’s sleep feels like,” he says.

We lie there for a while, in no rush to begin the day. Tomorrow night will be the televised interview, so today Effie and Haymitch should be coaching us. More high heels and sarcastic comments, I think. But then the redheaded Avox girl comes in with a note from Effie saying that, given our recent tour, both she and Haymitch have agreed we can handle ourselves adequately in public. The coaching sessions have been canceled.

“Really?” says Peeta, taking the note from my hand and examining it. “Do you know what this means? We’ll have the whole day to ourselves.”

“It’s too bad we can’t go somewhere,” I say wistfully.

“Who says we can’t?” he asks.

The roof. We order a bunch of food, grab some blankets, and head up to the roof for a picnic. A daylong picnic in the flower garden that tinkles with wind chimes. We eat. We lie in the sun. I snap off hanging vines and use my newfound knowledge from training to practice knots and weave nets. Peeta sketches me. We make up a game with the force field that surrounds the roof - one of us throws an apple into it and the other person has to catch it.

No one bothers us. By late afternoon, I lie with my head on Peeta’s lap, making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair, claiming he’s practicing his knots. After a while, his hands go still. “What?” I ask.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” he says.

Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints of his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful. But I feel so warm and relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I’ll never have, I just let the word slip out. “Okay.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then you’ll allow it?”

“I’ll allow it,” I say.

His fingers go back to my hair and I doze off, but he rouses me to see the sunset. It’s a spectacular yellow and orange blaze behind the skyline of the Capitol. “I didn’t think you’d want to miss it,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say. Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don’t want to miss any of them.

We don’t go and join the others for dinner, and no one summons us.

“I’m glad. I’m tired of making everyone around me so miserable,” says Peeta. “Everybody crying. Or Haymitch …” He doesn’t need to go on.

We stay on the roof until bedtime and then quietly slip down to my room without encountering anyone.

The next morning, we’re roused by my prep team. The sight of Peeta and me sleeping together is too much for Octavia, because she bursts into tears right away. “You remember what Cinna told us,” Venia says fiercely. Octavia nods and goes out sobbing.

Chapter 18 Peeta’s interview

As I pass Peeta, who’s headed for his interview, he doesn’t meet my eyes. I take my seat carefully, but aside from the puffs of smoke here and there, I seem unharmed, so I turn my attention to him. Caesar and Peeta have been a natural team since they first appeared together a year ago. Their easy give-and-take, comic timing, and ability to segue into heart-wrenching moments, like Peeta’s confession of love for me, have made them a huge success with the audience. They effortlessly open with a few jokes about fires and feathers and overcooking poultry. But anyone can see that Peeta is preoccupied, so Caesar directs the conversation right into the subject that’s on everyone’s minds. “So, Peeta, what was it like when, after all you’ve been through, you found out about the Quell?” asks Caesar. “I was in shock. I mean, one minute I’m seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next …” Peeta trails off. “You realized there was never going to be a wedding?” asks Caesar gently. Peeta pauses for a long moment, as if deciding something. He looks out at the spellbound audience, then at tin floor, then finally up at Caesar. “Caesar, do you think all our friends here can keep a secret?” An uncomfortable laugh emanates from the audience. What can he mean? Keep a secret from who? Our whole world is watching. “I feel quite certain of it,” says Caesar. “We’re already married,” says Peeta quietly. The crowd reacts in astonishment, and I have to bury my face in the folds of my skirt so they can’t see my confusion. Where on earth is he going with this? “But … how can that be?” asks Caesar. “Oh, it’s not an official marriage. We didn’t go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don’t know what it’s like in the other districts. But there’s this thing we do,” says Peeta, and he briefly describes the toasting. “Were your families there?” asks Caesar. “No, we didn’t tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss’s mother would never have approved. But you see, we knew if we were married in the Capitol, there wouldn’t be a toasting. And neither of us really wanted to wait any longer. So one day, we just did it,” Peeta says. “And to us, we’re more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us.” “So this was before the Quell?” says Caesar. “Of course before the Quell. I’m sure we’d never have done it after we knew,” says Peeta, starting to get upset. “But who could’ve seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere - I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?” “You couldn’t, Peeta.” Caesar puts an arm around his shoulders. “As you say, no one could’ve. But I have to confess, I’m glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together.” Enormous applause. As if encouraged, I look up from my feathers and let the audience see my tragic smile of thanks. The residual smoke from the feathers has made my eyes teary, which adds a very nice touch. “I’m not glad,” says Peeta. “I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially.” This takes even Caesar aback. “Surely even a brief time is better than no time?” “Maybe I’d think that, too, Caesar,” says Peeta bitterly, “if it weren’t for the baby.” There. He’s done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him. Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna’s talents, whereas Peeta needs nothing more than his wits. As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism and cruelty flying out in every direction. Even the most Capitol-loving, Games-hungry, bloodthirsty person out there can’t ignore, at least for a moment, how horrific the whole thing is. I am pregnant. The audience can’t absorb the news right away. It has to strike them and sink in and be confirmed by other voices before they begin to sound like a herd of wounded animals, moaning, shrieking, calling for help. And me? I know my face is projected in a tight close-up on the screen, but I don’t make any effort to hide it. Because for a moment, even I am working through what Peeta has said. Isn’t it the thing I dreaded most about the wedding, about the future - the loss of my children to the Games? And it could be true now, couldn’t it? If I hadn’t spent my life building up layers of defenses until I recoil at even the suggestion of marriage or a family? Caesar can’t rein in the crowd again, not even when the buzzer sounds. Peeta nods his good-bye and comes back to his seat without any more conversation. I can see Caesar’s lips moving, but the place is in total chaos and I can’t hear a word. Only the blast of the anthem, cranked up so loud I can feel it vibrating through my bones, lets us know where we stand in the program. I automatically rise and, as I do, I sense Peeta reaching out for me. Tears run down his face as I take his hand. How real are the tears? Is this an acknowledgment that he has been stalked by the same fears that I have? That every victor has? Every parent in every district in Panem?

The moment we step off the elevator, Peeta grips my shoulders. “There isn’t much time, so tell me. Is there anything I have to apologize for?”

“Nothing,” I say. It was a big leap to take without my okay, but I’m just as glad I didn’t know, didn’t have time to second-guess him, to let any guilt over Gale detract from how I really feel about what Peeta did. Which is empowered.

We walk down the hallway. Peeta wants to stop by his room to shower off the makeup and meet me in a few minutes, but I won’t let him. I’m certain that if a door shuts between us, it will lock and I’ll have to spend the night without him. Besides, I have a shower in my room. I refuse to let go of his hand. Do we sleep? I don’t know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking. Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we’ll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest. Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go. Tributes enter the arena alone. He gives me a light kiss. “See you soon,” he says.

See you soon 

Chapter  19

Finnick has reached Peeta now and is towing him back, one arm across his chest while the other propels them through the water with easy strokes. Peeta rides along without resisting. I don’t know what Finnick said or did that convinced him to put his life in his hands - showed him the bangle, maybe. Or just the sight of me waiting might have been enough. When they reach the sand, I help haul Peeta up onto dry land.

“Hello, again,” he says, and gives me a kiss. “We’ve got allies.”

“Yes. Just as Haymitch intended,” I answer. “Remind me, did we make deals with anyone else?” Peeta asks.

“Only Mags, I think,” I say. I nod toward the old woman doggedly making her way toward us.

“Well, I can’t leave Mags behind,” says Finnick. “She’s one of the few people who actually likes me.”

Chapter 19/20  Cpr is a kind of kissing 

I rush over to where he lies, motionless in a web of vines. “Peeta?” There’s a faint smell of singed hair. I call his name again, giving him a little shake, but he’s unresponsive. My fingers fumble across his lips, where there’s no warm breath although moments ago he was panting. I press my ear against his chest, to the spot where I always rest my head, where I know I will hear the strong and steady beat of his heart. Instead, I find silence.

“Peeta!” I scream. I shake him harder, even resort to slapping his face, but it’s no use. His heart has failed. I am slapping emptiness. “Peeta!” Finnick props Mags against a tree and pushes me out of the way. “Let me.” His fingers touch points at Peeta’s neck, run over the bones in his ribs and spine. Then he pinches Peeta’s nostrils shut. “No!” I yell, hurling myself at Finnick, for surely he intends to make certain that Peeta’s dead, to keep any hope of life from returning to him. Finnick’s hand comes up and hits me so hard, so squarely in the chest that I go flying back into a nearby tree trunk. I’m stunned for a moment, by the pain, by trying to regain my wind, as I see Finnick close off Peeta’s nose again. From where I sit, I pull an arrow, whip the notch into place, and am about to let it fly when I’m stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta. And it’s so bizarre, even for Finnick, that I stay my hand. No, he’s not kissing him. He’s got Peeta’s nose blocked off but his mouth tilted open, and he’s blowing air into his lungs. I can see this, I can actually see Peeta’s chest rising and falling. Then Finnick unzips the top of Peeta’s jumpsuit and begins to pump the spot over his heart with the heels of his hands. Now that I’ve gotten through my shock, I understand what he’s trying to do. Once in a blue moon, I’ve seen my mother try something similar, but not often. If your heart fails in District 12, it’s unlikely your family could get you to my mother in time, anyway. So her usual patients are burned or wounded or ill. Or starving, of course. But Finnick’s world is different. Whatever he’s doing, he’s done it before. There’s a very set rhythm and method. And I find the arrow tip sinking to the ground as I lean in to watch, desperately, for some sign of success. Agonizing minutes drag past as my hopes diminish. Around the time that I’m deciding it’s too late, that Peeta’s dead, moved on, unreachable forever, he gives a small cough and Finnick sits back. I leave my weapons in the dirt as I fling myself at him. “Peeta?” I say softly. I brush the damp blond strands of hair back from his forehead, find the pulse drumming against my fingers at his neck. His lashes flutter open and his eyes meet mine. “Careful,” he says weakly. “There’s a force field up ahead.” I laugh, but there are tears running down my cheeks. “Must be a lot stronger than the one on the Training Center roof,” he says. “I’m all right, though. Just a little shaken.” “You were dead! Your heart stopped!” I burst out, before really considering if this is a good idea. I clap my hand over my mouth because I’m starting to make those awful choking sounds that happen when I sob. “Well, it seems to be working now,” he says. “It’s all right, Katniss.” I nod my head but the sounds aren’t stopping. “Katniss?” Now Peeta’s worried about me, which adds to the insanity of it all. “It’s okay. It’s just her hormones,” says Finnick. “From the baby.” I look up and see him, sitting back on his knees but still panting a bit from the climb and the heat and the effort of bringing Peeta back from the dead. “No. It’s not - ” I get out, but I’m cut off by an even more hysterical round of sobbing that seems only to confirm what Finnick said about the baby. He meets my eyes and I glare at him through my tears. It’s stupid, I know, that his efforts make me so vexed. All I wanted was to keep Peeta alive, and I couldn’t and Finnick could, and I should be nothing but grateful. And I am. But I am also furious because it means that I will never stop owing Finnick Odair. Ever. So how can I kill him in his sleep? I expect to see a smug or sarcastic expression on his face, but his look is strangely quizzical. He glances between Peeta and me, as if trying to figure something out, then gives his head a slight shake as if to clear it. “How are you?” he asks Peeta. “Do you think you can move on?” I notice a gleam of gold on Peeta’s chest. I reach out and retrieve the disk that hangs from a chain around his neck. My mockingjay has been engraved on it. “Is this your token?” I ask. “Yes. Do you mind that I used your mockingjay? I wanted us to match,” he says. “No, of course I don’t mind.” I force a smile. Peeta showing up in the arena wearing a mockingjay is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it should give a boost to the rebels in the district. On the other, it’s hard to imagine President Snow will overlook it, and that makes the job of keeping Peeta alive harder.

Chapter 24

know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins. "It’s all right, Katniss,” he whispers. “You didn’t hear them,” I answer. “I heard Prim. Right in the beginning. But it wasn’t her,” he says. “It was a jabberjay.” “It was her. Somewhere. The jabberjay just recorded it,” I say. “No, that’s what they want you to think. The same way I wondered if Glimmer’s eyes were in that mutt last year. But those weren’t Glimmer’s eyes. And that wasn’t Prim’s voice. Or if it was, they took it from an interview or something and distorted the sound. Made it say whatever she was saying,” he says. “No, they were torturing her,” I answer. “She’s probably dead.” “Katniss, Prim isn’t dead. How could they kill Prim? We’re almost down to the final eight of us. And what happens then?” Peeta says. “Seven more of us die,” I say hopelessly. “No, back home. What happens when they reach the final eight tributes in the Games?” He lifts my chin so I have to look at him. Forces me to make eye contact. “What happens? At the final eight?” I know he’s trying to help me, so I make myself think. “At the final eight?” I repeat. “They interview your family and friends back home.” “That’s right,” says Peeta. “They interview your family and friends. And can they do that if they’ve killed them all?” “No?” I ask, still unsure. “No. That’s how we know Prim’s alive. She’ll be the first one they interview, won’t she?” he asks. I want to believe him. Badly. It’s just … those voices … “First Prim. Then your mother. Your cousin, Gale. Madge,” he continues. “It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.” “You really believe that?” I say. “I really do,” says Peeta. I waver, thinking of how Peeta can make anyone believe anything. I look over at Finnick for confirmation, see he’s fixated on Peeta, his words. “Do you believe it, Finnick?” I ask. “It could be true. I don’t know,” he says. “Could they do that, Beetee? Take someone’s regular voice and make it …” “Oh, yes. It’s not even that difficult, Finnick. Our children learn a similar technique in school,” says Beetee. “Of course Peeta’s right. The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on their hands,” says Johanna flatly. “Don’t want that, do they?” She throws back her head and shouts, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

THE BEACH SCENE  Chapter 24 if your wondering

Peeta and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his. I watch the water as he watches the jungle, which is better for me. I’m still haunted by the voices of the jabberjays, which unfortunately the insects can’t drown out. After a while I rest my head against his shoulder. Feel his hand caress my hair. “Katniss,” he says softly, “it’s no use pretending we don’t know what the other one is trying to do.” No, I guess there isn’t, but it’s no fun discussing it, either. Well, not for us, anyway. The Capitol viewers will be glued to their sets so they don’t miss one wretched word. “I don’t know what kind of deal you think you’ve made with Haymitch, but you should know he made me promises as well.” Of course, I know this, too. He told Peeta they could keep me alive so that he wouldn’t be suspicious. “So I think we can assume he was lying to one of us.” This gets my attention. A double deal. A double promise. With only Haymitch knowing which one is real. I raise my head, meet Peeta’s eyes. “Why are you saying this now?” “Because I don’t want you forgetting how different our circumstances are. If you die, and I live, there’s no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You’re my whole life,” he says. “I would never be happy again.” I start to object but he puts a finger to my lips. “It’s different for you. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be hard. But there are other people who’d make your life worth living.” Peeta pulls the chain with the gold disk from around his neck. He holds it in the moonlight so I can clearly see the mockingjay. Then his thumb slides along a catch I didn’t notice before and the disk pops open. It’s not solid, as I had thought, but a locket. And within the locket are photos. On the right side, my mother and Prim, laughing. And on the left, Gale. Actually smiling. There is nothing in the world that could break me faster at this moment than these three faces. After what I heard this afternoon … it is the perfect weapon. “Your family needs you, Katniss,” Peeta says. My family. My mother. My sister. And my pretend cousin Gale. But Peeta’s intention is clear. That Gale really is my family, or will be one day, if I live. That I’ll marry him. So Peeta’s giving me his life and Gale at the same time. To let me know I shouldn’t ever have doubts about it. Everything. That’s what Peeta wants me to take from him. I wait for him to mention the baby, to play to the cameras, but he doesn’t. And that’s how I know that none of this is part of the Games. That he is telling me the truth about what he feels. “No one really needs me,” he says, and there’s no self-pity in his voice. It’s true his family doesn’t need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me. “I do,” I say. “I need you.” He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that’s no good, no good at all, because he’ll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I’ll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind. “I can’t sleep anymore,” he says. “One of you should rest.” Only then does he seem to notice our expressions, the way we’re wrapped around each other. “Or both of you. I can watch alone.” Peeta won’t let him, though. “It’s too dangerous,” he says. “I’m not tired. You lie down, Katniss.” I don’t object because I do need to sleep if I’m to be of any use keeping him alive. I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. “You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick. His reference to the baby signals that our time-out from the Games is over. That he knows the audience will be wondering why he hasn’t used the most persuasive argument in his arsenal. That sponsors must be manipulated. But as I stretch out on the sand I wonder, could it be more? Like a reminder to me that I could still one day have kids with Gale? Well, if that was it, it was a mistake. Because for one thing, that’s never been part of my plan. And for another, if only one of us can be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta. As I drift off, I try to imagine that world, somewhere in the future, with no Games, no Capitol. A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta’s child could be safe

Chapter 25

Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. “For you.” I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments. “Thanks,” I say, closing my fist around it. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan. The laughter drains from those eyes, and they are staring so intensely into mine, it’s like they can read my thoughts. “The locket didn’t work, did it?” Peeta says, even though Finnick is right there. Even though everyone can hear him. “Katniss?” “It worked,” I say. “But not the way I wanted it to,” he says, averting his glance. After that he will look at nothing but oysters.

I have the pearl, though, secured in a parachute with the spile and the medicine at my waist. I hope it makes it back to District 12. Surely my mother and Prim will know to return it to Peeta before they bury my body.

Chapter 26  

I don’t like the plan any more than Peeta does. How can I protect him at a distance? But Beetee’s right. With his leg, Peeta is too slow to make it down the slope in time. Johanna and I are the fastest and most sure-footed on the jungle floor. I can’t think of any alternative. And if I trust anyone here besides Peeta, it’s Beetee. “It’s okay,” I tell Peeta. “We’ll just drop the coil and come straight back up.” “Not into the lightning zone,” Beetee reminds me. “Head for the tree in the one-to-two-o'clock sector. If you find you’re running out of time, move over one more. Don’t even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage.” I take Peeta’s face in my hands. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you at midnight.” I give him a kiss and, before he can object any further, I let go and turn to Johanna. “Ready?”

Mockingjay .

Chapter 3

I feel around for the parachute and slide my fingers inside until they close around the pearl. I sit back on my bed cross-legged and find myself rubbing the smooth iridescent surface of the pearl back and forth against my lips. For some reason, it’s soothing. A cool kiss from the giver himself.

skim my list. “Gale. I’ll need him with me to do this.” “With you how? Off camera? By your side at all times? Do you want him presented as your new lover?” Coin asks. She hasn’t said this with any particular malice - quite the contrary, her words are very matter-of-fact. But my mouth still drops open in shock. “What?” “I think we should continue the current romance. A quick defection from Peeta could cause the audience to lose sympathy for her,” says Plutarch. “Especially since they think she’s pregnant with his child.” “Agreed. So, on-screen, Gale can simply be portrayed as a fellow rebel. Is that all right?” says Coin. I just stare at her. She repeats herself impatiently. “For Gale. Will that be sufficient?” “We can always work him in as your cousin,” says Fulvia.

“We’re not cousins,” Gale and I say together.

“Right, but we should probably keep that up for appearances’ sake on camera,” says Plutarch. “Off camera, he’s all yours. Anything else?”

I’m rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I’m in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. “When the war is over, if we’ve won, Peeta will be pardoned.”

Dead silence. I feel Gale’s body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn’t sure how he’d respond. Not when it involved Peeta.

“No form of punishment will be inflicted,” I continue. A new thought occurs to me. “The same goes for the other captured tributes, Johanna and Enobaria.” Frankly, I don’t care about Enobaria, the vicious District 2 tribute. In fact, I dislike her, but it seems wrong to leave her out.

“No,” says Coin flatly.

“Yes,” I shoot back. “It’s not their fault you abandoned them in the arena. Who knows what the Capitol’s doing to them?”

“They’ll be tried with other war criminals and treated as the tribunal sees fit,” she says.

“They’ll be granted immunity!” I feel myself rising from my chair, my voice full and resonant. “You will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of District Thirteen and the remainder of Twelve. Soon. Today. It will be recorded for future generations. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you’ll find yourself another Mockingjay!”

My words hang in the air for a long moment.

Chapter 16

“Always.” In the twilight of morphling, Peeta whispers the word and I go searching for him. It’s a gauzy, violet-tinted world, with no hard edges, and many places to hide. I push through cloud banks, follow faint tracks, catch the scent of cinnamon, of dill. Once I feel his hand on my cheek and try to trap it, but it dissolves like mist through my fingers.

I wish I could meet with Peeta privately. But the audience of doctors has assembled behind the one-way glass, clipboards ready, pens poised. When Haymitch gives me the okay in my earpiece, I slowly open the door. Those blue eyes lock on me instantly. He’s got three restraints on each arm, and a tube that can dispense a knockout drug just in case he loses control. He doesn’t fight to free himself, though, only observes me with the wary look of someone who still hasn’t ruled out that he’s in the presence of a mutt. I walk over until I’m standing about a yard from the bed. There’s nothing to do with my hands, so I cross my arms protectively over my ribs before I speak. “Hey.” “Hey,” he responds. It’s like his voice, almost his voice, except there’s something new in it. An edge of suspicion and reproach. “Haymitch said you wanted to talk to me,” I say. “Look at you, for starters.” It’s like he’s waiting for me to transform into a hybrid drooling wolf right before his eyes. He stares so long I find myself casting furtive glances at the one-way glass, hoping for some direction from Haymitch, but my earpiece stays silent. “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” I know he’s been through hell and back, and yet somehow the observation rubs me the wrong way. “Well, you’ve looked better.” Haymitch’s advice to back off gets muffled by Peeta’s laughter. “And not even remotely nice. To say that to me after all I’ve been through.” “Yeah. We’ve all been through a lot. And you’re the one who was known for being nice. Not me.” I’m doing everything wrong. I don’t know why I feel so defensive. He’s been tortured! He’s been hijacked! What’s wrong with me? Suddenly, I think I might start screaming at him - I’m not even sure about what - so I decide to get out of there. “Look, I don’t feel so well. Maybe I’ll drop by tomorrow.” I’ve just reached the door when his voice stops me. “Katniss. I remember about the bread.” The bread. Our one moment of real connection before the Hunger Games. “They showed you the tape of me talking about it,” I say. “No. Is there a tape of you talking about it? Why didn’t the Capitol use it against me?” he asks. “I made it the day you were rescued,” I answer. The pain in my chest wraps around my ribs like a vise. The dancing was a mistake. “So what do you remember?” “You. In the rain,” he says softly. “Digging in our trash bins. Burning the bread. My mother hitting me. Taking the bread out for the pig but then giving it to you instead.” “That’s it. That’s what happened,” I say. “The next day, after school, I wanted to thank you. But I didn’t know how.” “We were outside at the end of the day. I tried to catch your eye. You looked away. And then…for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion.” I nod. He does remember. I have never spoken about that moment aloud. “I must have loved you a lot.” “You did.” My voice catches and I pretend to cough. “And did you love me?” he asks. I keep my eyes on the tiled floor. “Everyone says I did. Everyone says that’s why Snow had you tortured. To break me.” “That’s not an answer,” he tells me. “I don’t know what to think when they show me some of the tapes. In that first arena, it looked like you tried to kill me with those tracker jackers.” “I was trying to kill all of you,” I say. “You had me treed.” “Later, there’s a lot of kissing. Didn’t seem very genuine on your part. Did you like kissing me?” he asks. “Sometimes,” I admit. “You know people are watching us now?” “I know. What about Gale?” he continues. My anger’s returning. I don’t care about his recovery - this isn’t the business of the people behind the glass. “He’s not a bad kisser either,” I say shortly. “And it was okay with both of us? You kissing the other?” he asks. “No. It wasn’t okay with either of you. But I wasn’t asking your permission,” I tell him. Peeta laughs again, coldly, dismissively. “Well, you’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” Haymitch doesn’t protest when I walk out. Down the hall. Through the beehive of compartments. Find a warm pipe to hide behind in a laundry room. It takes a long time before I get to the bottom of why I’m so upset. When I do, it’s almost too mortifying to admit. All those months of taking it for granted that Peeta thought I was wonderful are over. Finally, he can see me for who I really am. Violent. Distrustful. Manipulative. Deadly. And I hate him for it.

Chapter 18 

I consider saying a final good-bye to Peeta, decide it would only be bad for both of us. But I do slip the pearl into the pocket of my uniform. A token of the boy with the bread.

Chapter 19 

After about an hour, Peeta speaks up. “These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to decide whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth.” That seems grossly unfair, and my first impulse is to say something cutting. But I revisit my conversation with Haymitch and try to take the first tentative step in Peeta’s direction. “I never wanted to kill you. Except when I thought you were helping the Careers kill me. After that, I always thought of you as…an ally.” That’s a good safe word. Empty of any emotional obligation, but nonthreatening. “Ally.” Peeta says the word slowly, tasting it. “Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I’ll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out.” He weaves the rope in and out of his fingers. “The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.” The cessation of rhythmic breathing suggests that either people have woken or have never really been asleep at all. I suspect the latter.

At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. “Your favorite color…it’s green?” “That’s right.” Then I think of something to add. “And yours is orange.” “Orange?” He seems unconvinced. “Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset,” I say. “At least, that’s what you told me once.” “Oh.” He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. “Thank you.” But more words tumble out. “You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.” Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

Chapter 21

 Peeta buries his face in his hands for a few moments, then rises to join us. “Should we free his hands?” asks Leeg 1. “No!” Peeta growls at her, drawing his cuffs in close to his body. “No,” I echo. “But I want the key.” Jackson passes it over without a word. I slip it into my pants pocket, where it clicks against the pearl.

In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. “There’s still time. You should sleep.” Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena. “You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers. “Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.” After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.

Chapter 22

“Leave me,” he whispers. “I can’t hang on.” “Yes. You can!” I tell him. Peeta shakes his head. “I’m losing it. I’ll go mad. Like them.” Like the mutts. Like a rabid beast bent on ripping my throat out. And here, finally here in this place, in these circumstances, I will really have to kill him. And Snow will win. Hot, bitter hatred courses through me. Snow has won too much already today. It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.” Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to…” I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.” His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs

Chapter 23

I think it’s time I give myself up. When everyone finally awakens, I confess. How I lied about the mission, how I jeopardized everyone in pursuit of revenge. There’s a long silence after I finish. Then Gale says, “Katniss, we all knew you were lying about Coin sending you to assassinate Snow.” “You knew, maybe. The soldiers from Thirteen didn’t,” I reply.

“Do you really think Jackson believed you had orders from Coin?” Cressida asks. “Of course she didn’t. But she trusted Boggs, and he’d clearly wanted you to go on.”

“I never even told Boggs what I planned to do,” I say.

“You told everyone in Command!” Gale says. “It was one of your conditions for being the Mockingjay. 'I kill Snow.’”

Those seem like two disconnected things. Negotiating with Coin for the privilege of executing Snow after the war and this unauthorized flight through the Capitol. “But not like this,” I say. “It’s been a complete disaster.”

“I think it would be considered a highly successful mission,” says Gale. “We’ve infiltrated the enemy camp, showing that the Capitol’s defenses can be breached. We’ve managed to get footage of ourselves all over the Capitol’s news. We’ve thrown the whole city into chaos trying to find us.”

“Trust me, Plutarch’s thrilled,” Cressida adds.

“That’s because Plutarch doesn’t care who dies,” I say. “Not as long as his Games are a success.”

Cressida and Gale go round and round trying to convince me. Pollux nods at their words to back them up. Only Peeta doesn’t offer an opinion.

“What do you think, Peeta?” I finally ask him.

“I think…you still have no idea. The effect you can have.” He slides his cuffs up the support and pushes himself to a sitting position. “None of the people we lost were idiots. They knew what they were doing. They followed you because they believed you really could kill Snow.”

I don’t know why his voice reaches me when no one else’s can. But if he’s right, and I think he is, I owe the others a debt that can only be repaid in one way. I pull my paper map from a pocket in my uniform and spread it out on the floor with new resolve. “Where are we, Cressida?”

Chapter 27

I wake with a start. Pale morning light comes around the edges of the shutters. The scraping of the shovel continues. Still half in the nightmare, I run down the hall, out the front door, and around the side of the house, because now I’m pretty sure I can scream at the dead. When I see him, I pull up short. His face is flushed from digging up the ground under the windows. In a wheelbarrow are five scraggly bushes. “You’re back,” I say. “Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” Peeta says. “By the way, he said to tell you he can’t keep pretending he’s treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone.” He looks well. Thin and covered with burn scars like me, but his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look. He’s frowning slightly, though, as he takes me in. I make a halfhearted effort to push my hair out of my eyes and realize it’s matted into clumps. I feel defensive. “What are you doing?” “I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her,” he says. “I thought we could plant them along the side of the house.” I look at the bushes, the clods of dirt hanging from their roots, and catch my breath as the wordrose registers. I’m about to yell vicious things at Peeta when the full name comes to me. Not plain rose but evening primrose. The flower my sister was named for. I give Peeta a nod of assent and hurry back into the house, locking the door behind me. But the evil thing is inside, not out. Trembling with weakness and anxiety, I run up the stairs. My foot catches on the last step and I crash onto the floor. I force myself to rise and enter my room. The smell’s very faint but still laces the air. It’s there. The white rose among the dried flowers in the vase. Shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snow’s greenhouse. I grab the vase, stumble down to the kitchen, and throw its contents into the embers. As the flowers flare up, a burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it. Fire beats roses again. I smash the vase on the floor for good measure.

Slowly, with many lost days, I come back to life. I try to follow Dr. Aurelius’s advice, just going through the motions, amazed when one finally has meaning again. I tell him my idea about the book, and a large box of parchment sheets arrives on the next train from the Capitol. I got the idea from our family’s plant book. The place where we recorded those things you cannot trust to memory. The page begins with the person’s picture. A photo if we can find it. If not, a sketch or painting by Peeta. Then, in my most careful handwriting, come all the details it would be a crime to forget. Lady licking Prim’s cheek. My father’s laugh. Peeta’s father with the cookies. The color of Finnick’s eyes. What Cinna could do with a length of silk. Boggs reprogramming the Holo. Rue poised on her toes, arms slightly extended, like a bird about to take flight. On and on. We seal the pages with salt water and promises to live well to make their deaths count. Haymitch finally joins us, contributing twenty-three years of tributes he was forced to mentor. Additions become smaller. An old memory that surfaces. A late primrose preserved between the pages. Strange bits of happiness, like the photo of Finnick and Annie’s newborn son. We learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives. Fortunately, the geese can take pretty good care of themselves. We’re not alone. A few hundred others return because, whatever has happened, this is our home. With the mines closed, they plow the ashes into the earth and plant food. Machines from the Capitol break ground for a new factory where we will make medicines. Although no one seeds it, the Meadow turns green again. Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”

epilogue

They play in the Meadow. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes. The boy with blond curls and gray eyes, struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. It took five, ten, fifteen years for me to agree. But Peeta wanted them so badly. When I first felt her stirring inside of me, I was consumed with a terror that felt as old as life itself. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much. The questions are just beginning. The arenas have been completely destroyed, the memorials built, there are no more Hunger Games. But they teach about them at school, and the girl knows we played a role in them. The boy will know in a few years. How can I tell them about that world without frightening them to death? My children, who take the words of the song for granted:

Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise. Here it’s safe, here it’s warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

My children, who don’t know they play on a graveyard.

Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. But one day I’ll have to explain about my nightmares. Why they came. Why they won’t ever really go away.

I’ll tell them how I survive it. I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it could be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.

But there are much worse games to play.

And Because I am a super Petty Person Gales   Kisses will be added below 

"If only it were that simple." He picks up one of the flowered cookies and examines it. "Lovely. Your mother made these?" "Peeta." And for the first time, I find I can't hold his gaze. I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer. To cover I quickly take a cookie. "Peeta. How is the love of your life?" he asks. "Good," I say. "At what point did he realize the exact degree of your indifference?" he asks, dipping his cookie in his tea. "I'm not indifferent," I say. "But perhaps not as taken with the young man as you would have the country believe," he says. "Who says I'm not?" I say. "I do," says the president. "And I wouldn't be here if I were the only person who had doubts. How's the handsome cousin?" "I don't know ... I don't ..." My revulsion at this conversation, at discussing my feelings for two of the people I care most about with President Snow, chokes me off. "Speak, Miss Everdeen. Him I can easily kill off if we don't come to a happy resolution," he says. "You aren't doing him a favor by disappearing into the woods with him each Sunday." If he knows this, what else does he know? And how does he know it? Many people could tell him that Gale and I spend our Sundays hunting. Don't we show up at the end of each one loaded down with game? Haven't we for years? The real question is what he thinks goes on in the woods beyond District 12. Surely they haven't been tracking us in there. Or have they? Could we have been followed? That seems impossible. At least by a person. Cameras? That never crossed my mind until this moment. The woods have always been our place of safety, our place beyond the reach of the Capitol, where we're free to say what we feel, be who we are. At least before the Games. If we've been watched since, what have they seen? Two people hunting, saying treasonous things against the Capitol, yes. But not two people in love, which seems to be President Snow's implication. We are safe on that charge. Unless ... unless ... It only happened once. It was fast and unexpected, but it did happen. After Peeta and I got home from the Games, it was several weeks before I saw Gale alone. First there were the obligatory celebrations. A banquet for the victors that only the most high-ranking people were invited to. A holiday for the whole district with free food and entertainers brought in from the Capitol. Parcel Day, the first of twelve, in which food packages were delivered to every person in the district. That was my favorite. To see all those hungry kids in the Seam running around, waving cans of applesauce, tins of meat, even candy. Back home, too big to carry, would be bags of grain, cans of oil. To know that once a month for a year they would all receive another parcel. That was one of the few times I actually felt good about winning the Games. So between the ceremonies and events and the reporters documenting my every move as I presided and thanked and kissed Peeta for the audience, I had no privacy at all. After a few weeks, things finally died down. The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. Peeta and I assumed the cool relationship we've had ever since. My family settled into our house in the Victor's Village. The everyday life of District 12 - workers to the mines, kids to school - resumed its usual pace. I waited until I thought the coast was really clear, and then one Sunday, without telling anyone, I got up hours before dawn and took off for the woods. The weather was still warm enough that I didn't need a jacket. I packed along a bag filled with special foods, cold chicken and cheese and bakery bread and oranges. Down at my old house, I put on my hunting boots. As usual, the fence was not charged and it was simple to slip into the woods and retrieve my bow and arrows. I went to our place, Gale's and mine, where we had shared breakfast the morning of the reaping that sent me into the Games. I waited at least two hours. I'd begun to think that he'd given up on me in the weeks that had passed. Or that he no longer cared about me. Hated me even. And the idea of losing him forever, my best friend, the only person I'd ever trusted with my secrets, was so painful I couldn't stand it. Not on top of everything else that had happened. I could feel my eyes tearing up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset. Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn't see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn't have much choice, because I'd gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink. We did what we always did that day. Ate breakfast. Hunted and fished and gathered. Talked about people in town. But not about us, his new life in the mines, my time in the arena. Just about other things. By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone. Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home. That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way. This all flashes through my head in an instant as President Snow's eyes bore into me on the heels of his threat to kill Gale. How stupid I've been to think the Capitol would just ignore me once I'd returned home! Maybe I didn't know about the potential uprisings. But I knew they were angry with me. Instead of acting with the extreme caution the situation called for, what have I done? From the president's point of view, I've ignored Peeta and flaunted my preference for Gale's company before the whole district. And by doing so made it clear I was, in fact, mocking the Capitol. Now I've endangered Gale and his family and my family and Peeta, too, by my carelessness. "Please don't hurt Gale," I whisper. "He's just my friend. He's been my friend for years. That's all that's between us. Besides, everyone thinks we're cousins now." "I'm only interested in how it affects your dynamic with Peeta, thereby affecting the mood in the districts," he says. "It will be the same on the tour. I'll be in love with him just as I was," I say. "Just as you are," corrects President Snow. "Just as I am," I confirm.

For the first time, I reverse our positions in my head. I imagine watching Gale volunteering to save Rory in the reaping, having him torn from my life, becoming some strange girl's lover to stay alive, and then coming home with her. Living next to her. Promising to marry her. The hatred I feel for him, for the phantom girl, for everything, is so real and immediate that it chokes me. Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it? Because I'm selfish. I'm a coward. I'm the kind of girl who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn't follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. I rest my head forward on the edge of the table, overcome with loathing for myself. Wishing I had died in the arena. Wishing Seneca Crane had blown me to bits the way President Snow said he should have when I held out the berries. The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful of poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. The trouble is, I don't know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. Could it be the people in the districts are right? That it was an act of rebellion, even if it was an unconscious one? Because, deep down, I must know it isn't enough to keep myself, or my family, or my friends alive by running away. Even if I could. It wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't stop people from being hurt the way Gale was today. Life in District 12 isn't really so different from life in the arena. At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it. Well, it's not hard for Gale. He was born a rebel. I'm the one making an escape plan. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him. His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." "Hey, Gale," I say. "Thought you'd be gone by now," he says. My choices are simple. I can die like quarry in the woods or I can die here beside Gale. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." "Me, too," Gale says. He just manages a smile before the drugs pull him back under.

By the time we reach the town square, afternoon's sinking into evening. I take Cressida to the rubble of the bakery and ask her to film something. The only emotion I can muster is exhaustion. "Peeta, this is your home. None of your family has been heard of since the bombing. Twelve is gone. And you're calling for a cease-fire?" I look across the emptiness. "There's no one left to hear you." As we stand before the lump of metal that was the gallows, Cressida asks if either of us has ever been tortured. In answer, Gale pulls off his shirt and turns his back to the camera. I stare at the lash marks, and again hear the whistling of the whip, see his bloody figure hanging unconscious by his wrists. "I'm done," I announce. "I'll meet you at the Victor's Village. Something for...my mother." I guess I walked here, but the next thing I'm conscious of is sitting on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets of our house in the Victor's Village. Meticulously lining ceramic jars and glass bottles into a box. Placing clean cotton bandages between them to prevent breaking. Wrapping bunches of dried flowers. Suddenly, I remember the rose on my dresser. Was it real? If so, is it still up there? I have to resist the temptation to check. If it's there, it will only frighten me all over again. I hurry with my packing. When the cabinets are empty, I rise to find that Gale has materialized in my kitchen. It's disturbing how soundlessly he can appear. He's leaning on the table, his fingers spread wide against the wood grain. I set the box between us. "Remember?" he asks. "This is where you kissed me." So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say. "Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves before I can answer. I'm too weary to work through his latest charge. I spend the short ride back to 13 curled up in a seat, trying to ignore Plutarch going on about one of his favorite subjects - weapons mankind no longer has at its disposal. High-flying planes, military satellites, cell disintegrators, drones, biological weapons with expiration dates. Brought down by the destruction of the atmosphere or lack of resources or moral squeamishness. You can hear the regret of a Head Gamemaker who can only dream of such toys, who must make do with hovercraft and land-to-land missiles and plain old guns.

Gale finds me when they arrive late one afternoon. I'm sitting on a log at the edge of my current village, plucking a goose. A dozen or so of the birds are piled at my feet. Great flocks of them have been migrating through here since I've arrived, and the pickings are easy. Without a word, Gale settles beside me and begins to relieve a bird of its feathers. We're through about half when he says, "Any chance we'll get to eat these?" "Yeah. Most go to the camp kitchen, but they expect me to give a couple to whoever I'm staying with tonight," I say. "For keeping me." "Isn't the honor of the thing enough?" he says. "You'd think," I reply. "But word's gotten out that mockingjays are hazardous to your health." We pluck in silence for a while longer. Then he says, "I saw Peeta yesterday. Through the glass." "What'd you think?" I ask. "Something selfish," says Gale. "That you don't have to be jealous of him anymore?" My fingers give a yank, and a cloud of feathers floats down around us. "No. Just the opposite." Gale pulls a feather out of my hair. "I thought...I'll never compete with that. No matter how much pain I'm in." He spins the feather between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me." "The way I always felt wrong kissing him because of you," I say. Gale holds my gaze. "If I thought that was true, I could almost live with the rest of it." "It is true," I admit. "But so is what you said about Peeta."

Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we've dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or I'll never go back to him. I'll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I've withheld, and because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it. Gale's touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body's still alive, and for the moment it's a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. "Katniss," he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. "Now kiss me." Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. "What's going on in your head?"

"I don't know," I whisper back.

"Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," he says with a weak attempt at a laugh. He scoops up a pile of kindling and drops it in my empty arms, returning me to myself.

"How do you know?" I say, mostly to cover my embarrassment. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?" I guess Gale could've been kissing girls right and left back in 12. He certainly had enough takers. I never thought about it much before.

He just shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine."

"So, you never kissed any other girls?" I ask.

"I didn't say that. You know, you were only twelve when we met. And a real pain besides. I did have a life outside of hunting with you," he says, loading up with firewood.

Suddenly, I'm genuinely curious. "Who did you kiss? And where?"

"Too many to remember. Behind the school, on the slag heap, you name it," he says.

I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?"

"No. About six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded," he tells me.

I remember that day. Bitter cold and dark by four in the afternoon. We'd been hunting, but a heavy snow had driven us back into town. The Hob was crowded with people looking for refuge from the weather. Greasy Sae's soup, made with stock from the bones of a wild dog we'd shot a week earlier, was below her usual standards. Still, it was hot, and I was starving as I scooped it up, sitting cross-legged on her counter. Darius was leaning on the post of the stall, tickling my cheek with the end of my braid, while I smacked his hand away. He was explaining why one of his kisses merited a rabbit, or possibly two, since everyone knows redheaded men are the most virile. And Greasy Sae and I were laughing because he was so ridiculous and persistent and kept pointing out women around the Hob who he said had paid far more than a rabbit to enjoy his lips. "See? The one in the green muffler? Go ahead and ask her.If you need a reference."

A million miles from here, a billion days ago, this happened. "Darius was just joking around," I say.

"Probably. Although you'd be the last to figure out if he wasn't," Gale tells me. "Take Peeta. Take me. Or even Finnick. I was starting to worry he had his eye on you, but he seems back on track now."

"You don't know Finnick if you think he'd love me," I say.

Gale shrugs. "I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things."

I can't help thinking that's directed at me.

Gale catches my arm before I can disappear. "So that's what you're thinking now?" I shrug. "Katniss, as your oldest friend, believe me when I say he's not seeing you as you really are." He kisses my cheek and goes.

[tothemeadow]

Serendipity [Chapter 2]

Chapter 1

When the kingdom of Ainamoryp falls, a motley crew of unlikely allies must come together to save the country.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death

words: 3.5k

(a/n): All characters range from 19-20. Reader insert, reverse harem.

-

Chanswell Forest, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 18:30

Off in the distance, the sun begins its descent, bathing the sky in splashes of oranges and pinks. It’s somewhat hard to pinpoint through the thick canopy of the forest, but the last sunrays of the day still poke through the trees. The ivory steed Shouto rides upon walks at a comfortable speed; poor thing had spent most of the day galloping past farmlands and numerous villages, all in hopes of taking the prince to safety.

There’s a watchpoint south of here, hidden away in the woods. Get there, seek for help. The soldiers there will lead you to safety.

That’s what the one palace guard had told Shouto right before he took off. Chances are the guard is long dead by now, much like the rest of Endeavor and the royal court of Dinton Keep. A bitter taste lingers on his tongue, paired with a dull ache pounding at his temples. Bastards, the whole lot of them! If only he stayed, he could’ve saved more lives. It’s his duty to protect the people of his land, to ward off any potential dangers, no matter how big or small. Better yet, he has no idea why the northern land of Nialliv invaded in the first place. As far as he knew, the political relations between the two nations were perfectly fine. While they weren’t the best of friends, they weren’t enemies, either.

“Dammit all to hell,” Shouto seethes under his breath. Whatever the cause of the invasion may be, he had to figure it out – and fast.

As the sun continues to set, the forest darkens evermore. Like his father, Shouto was born with excelled magical abilities, unlike most of the mortals in the land. It was a miracle that both his mother and father passed on their traits, granting him the power of fire and ice. They serve him well, make him quite the formidable opponent when it comes to battle. He creates a flame in his left hand, casting a bright glow around him and the horse as they continue their trek through the forest. Judging by the way things are going, he might have to come to a stop and find some sort of shelter for the night. He hadn’t suspected that the watchtower be so far away from Dinton Keep.

Perhaps it’s the work of the gods or a simple miracle when he spots torches in the distance. Drawing closer still, the dimly lit watchtower comes into view, standing tall and proud. Large, weathered stones make up the walls, iron torches bolted into their sides. It’s an impressive tower, to say the least. A lone guard stands out front, swinging back a lambskin flask and chugging down its contents. He sputters as Shouto’s horse comes forth, its greeting whiny loud through the forest’s silence.

“Aye, bloody hell-“ the guard cuts himself short once his eyes land on Shouto’s face. They grow to a comical size, nearly bulging from the sockets as his jaw falls lax. “Your highness!” he croaks. “You… You…”

“Who’s in charge here?” Shouto demands, voice sharp. “I need to speak with them immediately.”

The guard nods dumbly, scrambling over to the horse and taking a hold of its reins as Shouto hops off its back. “Chances are the main chambers,” he blabbers. Now that he’s up close, Shouto can easily smell the alcohol on his breath. “Somebody inside oughta show you the way.”

With a curt nod, Shouto sidesteps the drunken guard and stalks his way inside. Iron candelabras hang from the ceiling, thick white candles steadily burning away and illuminating the hallways. A duo of guards walking in his direction come to a sudden halt upon seeing him. Like the one outside, a look of surprise dawns upon their faces, yet they still fall to a singular knee, head bowed in clear respect.

“Your highness,” the one on the right says, “what a surprise. How may we be of service to you?”

“I need to speak to whoever’s in charge,” Shouto says simply. “I presume they’re in the main chamber?”

The same guard clears his throat. “Sorry to trouble you, your highness, but Sir Rengoku took off earlier this morning – said there was something of extreme importance that he must tend to.”

Muttering under his breath, Shouto presses a hand to the lower half of his face, heaving a great sigh as he drags it downward. “Is there anyone I can speak with?”

“Prince Shouto! What brings you here, your highness?” a new voice calls out.

Turning around, Shouto is met with another man; unlike the other guards, this man’s armor is built different, the iron plates bent into sharper, more intricate shapes. A set of wings are built into the shoulder pieces and the sides of the helmet, giving the suit a mystical appearance. A plume of bright red hangs from the crown of the helmet, swishing around much like one’s ponytail does. No, this isn’t a regular guard – this is a knight of Endeavor.

The knight tugs off his helmet, revealing a friendly face inlaid with dark red eyes and a burst of burgundy hair. A pair of earrings hanging from his lobes swing as he nods his head in greeting. “Allow me to introduce myself, your highness. I am Sir Tanjiro Kamado, a proud knight of Endeavor.”

Odd – why would a knight of such high status be positioned so far way from the capital?

Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, Shouto perceives Tanjiro with a hard look. “We need to have a talk – immediately.”

_______

Dinton Keep's dungeons, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 05:23

At the first few rays of dawn, you begin to stir awake. For a moment, you wonder why you don’t feel the rock of your ship, but then the previous day’s events suddenly hit you. Ah, that’s right, you think, Endeavor got fucked over and I was put into a cell.

Off to the side, there’s slight murmuring. You recall the freckled boy you met yesterday – the healer, Izuku. What, has he resulted to conversing with himself like some sort of madman? Shifting onto your side, you crack your eyes open; immediately, you spot Izuku standing by the window, elbows propped on the sill. Although the light is still somewhat dim, you can spot the dark circles under his eyes, the sharp curve of his frown. Now that you think about it, he didn’t get any sleep last night, did he? You can’t say you blame him, either; he was present when Nialliv attacked and took over the city. Gods know the horrors he witnessed, the terrifying sounds of people screaming and helplessly being slaughtered.

“Did you find out anything?” Izuku whispers.

“No,” an unembodied voice says. It takes you aback – by the mere sound of its rasp, it’s obvious that Izuku isn’t speaking to himself. “Endeavor’s crawling with Nialliv guards, the royal grounds are bloody as hell, but that’s about it. I haven’t really seen any patrols in the surrounding farmlands, but that’s bound to change here directly. We oughta get going now before we miss our damn chance.”

“Izuku?” you drawl, voice heavily riddled with sleep. “What’s going on?”

Turning to you, Izuku flashes you a soft smile. “Good morning, Captain. We didn’t wake you up, did we?”

Shaking your head, you sit up and rub the tiredness away from your eyes. “I usually get up at dawn anyway,” you tell him.

“Oi, who the fuck is that?” that same, unfamiliar voice speaks. “Who are you talking to?”

Izuku throws an irritated look out the window. “Really, Kacchan? Do you really have to say it like that?”

“Answer the damn question, Deku.”

Izuku sighs. “It’s a pir-“ he stops, then, quickly glancing back to you. Clearly, he remembers the little outburst from yesterday and your reaction. Clearly his throat, he tries again. “A friend. She’s the captain of The Pearl Lady.”

“Kacchan” whistles, long and slow. “Gods, Deku, befriending pirates now, eh? Nice to see you finally have a backbone.”

Annoyance twinges your insides. Whoever this Kacchan is, he seems like an asshole. Scrambling onto your feet, you brush the stray pieces of hay off your clothes and stalk over to the window, taking your place next to Izuku. You forgot how tall he was, your head just barely coming up to his chest. Looking through the iron bars of the window, you’re finally met with this mysterious “Kacchan”; the first thing that catches your attention is the mop of wicked blonde hair, then the piercing red eyes training on your face. His expression is stern, nearly tiptoeing to the point of becoming angry, but he’s handsome, undeniably so. A large pair of clawed earrings stick out from either lobe, and numerous strands of beads hand from his thick neck. Whoever this guy is, you’ve never seen anyone dressed like this before.

Kacchan unashamedly scans his eyes over you, an eyebrow quirking up his forehead. “Captain, huh? Sure as hell don’t look like one to me.”

You scoff. “Excuse you, Kacchan. You look like you rolled out of a barn and mount donkeys for fun.”

His eyes narrow into slits. “What did you just say to me? Fucking brat, I’ll kill you!”

“Hey!” Izuku whisper-yells. “Keep it down! We can’t alert anyone!”

“Fine,” Kacchan spits. “I’ll deal with this bitch properly once you’re out.”

Your mouth opens, ready to rip him a new one, but then Izuku promptly yanks you away from the wall, slamming his large hands over your ears as the wall suddenly explodes. It’s not a large explosion, not in the slightest, but it’s enough to create a hole for you and Izuku to crawl out of. However, you’re guaranteed that somebody had to hear it.

Once the dust cleared away, your heart nearly stops beating within your chest. Kacchan didn’t come alone – no, he sits upon a dragon, a brilliant beast a fiery red, its glorious scales practically glowing in the early morning light. You blame your tiredness for not noticing it earlier.

“Well?” Kacchan says, looking unamused. “Are you going to stand there all day and gawk like an idiot or are you gonna get on?”

Immediately, Izuku crawls through the whole; turning around, he holds out a hand for you to take, a determined gleam in his eyes. “Well, Captain? Are you?”

For a moment, you hesitate. Here are these two men – two complete strangers – busting you out of prison, and for what? Normally, you’d tell them both to fuck off, but there’s something about the look in Izuku’s eyes that makes you think differently.

“I think it came from down there!” a distant voice shouts. Shit, it’s one of the guards!

Without another thought, you take Izuku’s hand and crawl through the wall. A gust of wind strikes your face once you’re outside. Glancing down, you notice how your cell was sitting at the edge of a cliff; the sea slaps at the jagged rocks, almost taunting you to take a fall. Your head feels oddly light, vision beginning to swim the longer you stare at the water. Squeezing your eyes tight, you feel Izuku pull you into his chest, the smoothness of the dragon’s scales as you land on its back.

“Alright, let’s blow this joint!” Kacchan exclaims, cackling wildly as the dragon takes off into the sky.

“Wait, wait, wait!” you shout.

The wind blasts your ears as you pick up speed, your clothes and hair flapping wildly. Kacchan only continues to laugh while you throw curse after curse at him, telling him to slow the fuck down before all of you get killed. Izuku’s chest rumbles as he chuckles, his thick arms tightening around your waist to keep you still.

Gods, you’re really flying on a dragon. They were meant to be creatures of legend, be told through tales of old and new. They’re the work of dreams and imagination, not reality. But no, here you are, zipping through the sky with nothing holding you back.

And by the grace of the gods, you want to be let down.

________

The outskirts of Levalon, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 09:03

“I take it that you don’t get to travel very often?” Tanjiro speaks, tone light. Together, he and Shouto ride side by side on their horses; unlike Shouto’s beautiful ivory mare, his is a simple russet brown in color. It’s nothing to brag about, honestly, but his horse is strong.

Shouto hums in response. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid. My father often kept me busy with royal duties and studies. I hadn’t much of a chance to visit the surrounding villages.”

“Well, then hopefully you’re in for a treat!” Tanjiro chirps. “Levalon is nothing like Endeavor, but it’s a sizeable town! I’m positive you’ll like it.”

“You know,” Shouto says, glancing at Tanjiro from the corner of his eye, “you’re pretty optimistic for a knight. It reminds me of a great friend of mine.”

“I’m glad.”

Up ahead, the stone wall surrounding the town of Levalon comes into view. The bray of a donkey echoes as it passes through the archway carved into the wall, the wagon attached to its harness rumbling away over the pebbled path. It’s such a strange sight to see, this level of normality. There’s a group of kids playing tag in the grass, their carefree giggles carrying through the wind. As Shouto and Tanjiro draw even closer, the chattering coming straight from the market streets is already loud and frantic.

“It pains me to know that this town won’t be like this for much longer,” Shouto comments. Tanjiro remains silent; he knows Shouto is right, but it’s a hurtful thing to even think about.

As the two trek into town, they’re met with hustle and bustle of everyday life; people come and go from the market streets, either rough spin sacks over their shoulders or a wicker basket in their arms, children running down the street, a shaggy mutt following close behind, a hidden figure in a cloak snatching an unsuspecting person’s coin purse-

“Wait a second!” Tanjiro calls, hopping off his horse and hitting the ground with a metallic clank. The hooded person spares a single glance Tanjiro’s way before they take off at a breakneck speed in the opposite direction. Again, Tanjiro yells as he gives chase after him. Sighing, Shouto looks to Tanjiro’s horse; it stands where he left it, shaking its mane and looking around. Ah, so it’s devoted to its master – how lovely. Shouto respects the notion no matter the creature.

The horse whinnies as Tanjiro returns, face flushed and eyes wide. “Dammit, that thief is fast. No matter – I know where to find him.” Cocking his head, Shouto peers at the other inquisitively. Tanjiro merely grins, a finger reaching up and tapping the end of his nose. “Would you believe me if I told you that I have a good sense of smell?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it in the slightest,” Shouto replies.

Tanjiro’s smile grows, his eyes crinkling. “Thank you kindly, your highness-“ Immediately, his smile drops as his nose twitches; oddly, it reminds Shouto of a hound when it’s attuned to a kill, to the fresh scent of spilt blood. Tanjiro cranes his neck to the sky, his mouth falling lax. Following his line of sight, Shouto looks up, his own jaw dropping as well.

Amazingly enough, a dragon flies far overhead, its bright red belly twinkling in the morning light. Shouto’s heard tales of dragons ever since he was a young boy still feeding from the wet nurse, of how they conquered great lands, of how saved the lives of their worshippers. While it’s a common tale that dragons allegedly went extinct, it’s perfectly clear that they haven’t.

“By the gods,” Tanjiro mutters, voice full of wonder, “a real live dragon. Do you think it’s heading towards Dovahkiin?”

“There’s only one person I know who’s of Dovah descent,” Shouto grunts. “Why he’s here, I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t part of the attack on Endeavor, was it?”

“No. The fires weren’t caused by such a beast – they were created by monsters.”

Tanjiro hums. “Well… Wouldn’t you want to ask your friend for help? If you’re planning on taking back Dinton Keep-“

“I refuse to ask him for help,” Shouto interrupts, a scowl pulling at the corners of his mouth. “In fact, I’d rather not see him at all.”

________

In the skies, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 09:10

Kacchan sneezes.

“Ugh,” he drawls, shaking his head. “Some idiot’s probably talking about me.”

“There’s not much to talk about,” you say offhandedly. Izuku snorts in amusement, but it quickly turns into a cough to cover it up.

Kacchan jabs a finger in your direction. “If it was up to me, I would’ve thrown you off a long time ago, sweetheart. Don’t press your fucking luck.”

After flying in the air for a few hours, you’ve grown used to the feeling of the dragon’s muscles flexing underneath you, the strong gusts of wind continuously hitting you in the face; however, you refuse to look at the trees and fields dotting the land below. You’ve also grown used to Izuku’s and Kacchan’s presence, although the latter is a bit too sour for your liking.

“Whatever you say, Kacchan,” you bluff. You actually wish that he won’t, but you also refuse to admit that as well.

“For fuck’s sake,” Kacchan hisses, “it’s Katsuki. Only that dumb Deku calls me Kacchan.”

Furrowing your brows, you look over your shoulder at Izuku. “Katsuki? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Laughing awkwardly, Izuku scratches his cheek, an embarrassed flush blooming on his freckled face. “Well, like he said – I’m the really the only one who calls him that, and it’s been that way for years…”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yeah. So.” Training his vivid eyes on you, he flashes you a sneer. “You’re a pirate, right? How the fuck did that even happen?”

“That’s Captain to you, boom boy. Ever hear of The Pearl Lady? Yeah, that’s mine. And, if you don’t watch your tone, then I’ll happily show you a close up of what a cannon looks like when it’s going off.”

Katsuki laughs, then, a wicked smile curving his lips. “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that. I like ‘em feisty.”

You scoff. “Damn hog,” you grunt. As much as you’d like to curse him out, he’s similar to Izuku when it comes to size. Katuski is tall – even more so than Izuku, you reckon – and he’s huge, a singular bicep almost the size of your head. He could easily toss you off the side of the dragon if he truly wanted to.

“We should take a rest stop,” Izuku offers. “Plus, we need to figure out a way to get in touch with Shouto-“

An animalistic growl rumbles in Katsuki’s throat at the name; he snarls at Izuku, even lashes his teeth.

“Gods,” you start, eyes going wide, “what the actual fuckis wrong with you?”

“I won’t do anything with that icy piece of shit,” Katsuki snarls. “How do ya even know he’s alive, huh?”

“There wasn’t a body,” Izuku presses, expression going dark. “Besides, I’d think they would’ve bragged more if they killed both the king and prince in one foul swoop.”

The prince? Like the prince of Ainamoryp? Gods, if he truly is missing-

“That’s our only chance, isn’t it,” you say, voice flat. “If Ainamoryp is to stay alive, the prince is needed to take the throne.”

“Yeah,” Izuku tells you, “that’s exactly it.”

You inhale sharply.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Katsuki spits. “I’m not even from this damned country. It’s not business whether it burns to hell or not.” With a shrug, he crosses his thick arms over his chest.

Anger roars in the pit of your belly, climbs up your insides and encases your heart. How dare he say such a thing, especially to yourface? You’ve crossed the seas, visited the lands, but this is your home. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, but you had to do something. Shooting forward, you grab onto the straps of Katsuki’s cape, snarling as you lean in close.

“Born here or not, you don’t get to say anything, you bastard. Lives were taken for no damn reason, and I wasn’t even able to walk around my own hometown without being thrown into a cell. If you hate Ainamoryp so much, kindly drop me the fuck off and get bent.”

Katsuki’s eyes are large as you push away from him, settling back in your spot before Izuku. Surprisingly, neither say a word; instead, Katsuki turns around, shuffles up the dragon’s neck, and takes the reins in hand. With a simple yank, the dragon is making a sharp turn, heading back towards the town you previously flew over.

“If you want to find that stupid prince,” Katsuki shoots over his shoulder, “Levalon’s the best chance you got.”

======

Time for the first choice in this "pick your own adventure" piece! Will you stay behind with Katsuki or go into Levalon with Izuku? Voting closes on June 6, 2021.

[double-daredevil]

folklore ; chapter one

din djarin x reader (no y/n)

words: 6.2k

rating: T for swearing i guess. its a slow burn there isnt anything sexii yet lol

themes: slow burn (like y’all its so SLOW lol), eventual angst, no Y/N, eventual smut, eventual EVERYTHING this is like the establishing shot of a movie its gonna be a FIC lmfao. dont get attached the end is already planned.

notes: set before the tv series. canon doesn’t exist anymore. i make the rules here pals. yes it is named after the tswift album so that gives you some fuckin HINTS 

--

Accident.

Pretty much everything that happened to you happened by accident, but you weren't one to complain. Without much control over your life for your adolescent years, seeing as you were raised as an Imperial trooper and just followed orders, you happily let yourself float along in life whichever way the forces led you. 

That doesn't mean you don't have, say, a moral guideline.

It's difficult to explain to people once they get to know you better and eventually squeeze out of you that yes, you were trained Imperial. Details are not awarded to most people, in fact— you’re not sure anyone except one of your commanding officers in the rebellion knew that you were a clone. 

You have spent countless hours trying to transition from regret to simply shame. After all, how is it your fault you did what you were told? If you didn’t, you would have been executed. Tossed to the trash like a faulty toy. The greatest decision in your life was the first decision you, personally, got to make— to run. It took you a few years to plan the scheme, but you defected successfully. Your moral issues were simply too strong to subvert, and you had to leave. So you did. That's all. You don't like to talk about it much.

After you mustered up some vengeance by joining the rebellion, you had to find a living once the major fighting died down for a while. With your particular skills— too deadly to be a simple security guard, or any occupation that doesn't involve tactical warfare, you settled on hoarding money through bounties. Not quite professed in the field of bounty hunting, you would latch on to more experienced hunters and offer to split rewards 20-80 for your help. The meager money filled your pocket enough for food and lodging while you learned the ways of the trade and, subsequently, your new way of life.

That's how you met your first Mandalorian. 

A mutual acquaintance from the Guild had a heavy quarry, a difficult one that he had trouble passing off. Too complex and detailed for just you, your acquaintance told you that when he found a suitable hunter to take the lead, he'd hail you to tag along. A week after the quarry was first put on the table, a renowned bounty hunter— this Mandalorian, rolled into town to collect the tracking fob. Part of the agreement was to take you along. The Mandalorian agreed. A brief encounter mediated by your mutual acquaintance and you were following the beskar-clad hunter to his ship, which you’ve come to know as the Razor Crest. A dingy, huge hunk of metal that could use a good list of upgrades, but you quickly grew accustomed to the flying garbage can. 

And somehow, after that singular bounty hunt, where you actually got to assist in the capture and the shoving of the unruly quarry into the carbonite, Mando offered you constant refuge aboard his ship in return for some pay and help on his harder bounties. That conversation, so far, has been the longest exchange of words between you and him, and it only lasted maybe five minutes. That’s all. You’re not one that aches for human interaction, having been commanded all your life by others, so you almost welcome the silence.

Almost.

—

Officially, you have been a part of Mando’s crew for nearing six months.

You hear metal clanging against metal, and you glance over your shoulder to see him climbing down from the cockpit. “Are we headed to the next quarry?” You ask.

“Yes,” comes through the vocoder. “Carajam.”

“Oh lovely,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm as you focus on polishing the trigger of the blaster in your hands. “Another desert planet in the Outer Rim.”

“Our favorite,” Mando deadpans as he walks over, sitting across from you at the janky table. 

Once you were an official employee of his, you spent your first few payday collections on your own blasters. In all honesty, weapons never made you nervous, as you grew up in a space station that was literally just a giant weapon, but owning your own seemed… different. Blasters are weapons made just to kill, and you are allowed to have that power again. But, anyway, most of your money goes to savings so you can buy a house to retire to one day. One day. 

The Mandalorian rolls his shoulders back to adjust his cape out of the way of his hands as he starts to dismantle the blaster that’s usually holstered at his hip. Piece by piece, he sets his blaster on the table like a new jigsaw puzzle, and you’ve just finished polishing the little blaster you’ve decided to keep stashed in your boot.

“How long until we arrive?” You ask.

His visor is focused downwards, at the metal pieces on the table, his right gloved hand hovering over the pieces like an excited child in a candy shop trying to pick his favorite one. “Not long,” he replies, picking up the barrel and beginning to wipe it clean with a cloth. “We will arrive once it becomes night on the planet. Cooler temps.”

You nod, letting out an appreciative sigh. That meant you had a night’s rest before the hunt began. As he finished up with the barrel of his blaster, you removed your longer, daily use blaster and began dismantling. You two stay like that, at a dimly lit table cleaning the blasters, until the ship notified that it was about to drop out of hyperdrive. 

Mando quickly reassembled his blaster, slipping the completed gun back into its holster as he stood and hustles over to the cockpit. Following suit, you dusted off any last specs of dirt on yours and planted your feet firmly against the floor, as the ship dropped out of its easy glide through the stars and into the gravity pull of Carajam. The Razor Crest isn’t the smoothest rig, but you’re still very appreciative. And, you like to think you have good balance, so it’s not a hard task to stay stable.

You want to say that Mando is a good pilot, and you really think he is, but you can’t help but miss the sheer amount of credits that the Empire was able to spend on simple luxuries to make their lives easier, like enhanced stabilization in and out of hyperdrive, cleaner hyperdrives, even, and— 

The Razor Crest lands and you shake those dark thoughts out of your head, reassembling your blaster but with clearly less finesse than Mando. Stars, are weapons actually part of his religion, or was that a joke as well? It’s quite the challenge to pick up on the subtleties of somebody who wears intense armor literally every waking moment, but you’ve grown accustomed (more or less) to the separate circles of things that Mando talks about. Those circles are: one, things he says and means, two, things he says as a joke, and three, the gray, shadowy area where those two circles meet and you’re still deciphering what brief conversations and quick remarks belong there. 

As the ship starts to rest, expelling various airs and sighs itself as the sheer weight settles on the landing gear, you clear off the table and slip your smaller blaster back into your boot, and your other into your holster that’s banded to your right thigh. The Mandalorian comes down the cockpit ladder soon enough and goes to stand at the main ship door. You hop up from your seat and stand next to him, as he punches something into the control pad on the archway and the large door hisses and starts to lower. The first glimpse of the planet you get is the peak of the spectacular night sky, and eventually the ramp meets the sand on the ground and you see it all. Mando struts down the ramp to go and meet the landing dock manager and pay for the spot here in this spaceport Danan Karr, but you wait aboard still, leaning against the open doorway and gazing out into the night. Planets are always easier for you at night, as they were calmer— at least, those that don’t have an avid nightlife. A few that you and Mando have stopped at have been busier in the dark hours than the light, but it was always fitting. 

The breeze of the desert planet comes sifting around you, caressing your cheeks with warm air and particles of sand, but you don’t mind. Raised in space, you have an affinity for the ground and real, non-recycled air. Although it’s never any trouble for you to stay inside a ship for however long, there is always something alluring about fresh air. Plus, this planet in the Outer Rim isn’t exactly prime vacationing, so there is nearly no light pollution. It was almost hard to wrench your eyes away from the bright stars speckling the dark blanket of the sky. 

You almost don’t notice when Mando comes walking back up the ramp, too busy basking in the breeze to notice the beskar-clad hunter. He stands at the top of the ramp, slightly in front of you, for a good few seconds as you look straight over his head.

“Hey,” he calls for your attention, and you look down at his face. Or, well, the specific area in the T of his visor where you’re pretty sure his eyes are. He tilts his helmet to the side and you know he’s begun to worry about you.

So you flash him a smile. “I just love the air here,” you say, and turn around to step back inside the ship. Mando walks the rest of the way up the ramp and inside, pressing a button to raise the ramp.

“Rest tonight,” he starts. “Tomorrow we go on the hunt.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, going back to sit at the janky table to clean one more blaster before retreating to your bunk.

The Mandalorian sits at the table as well, after having taken his ambam rifle out of storage for a quick clean. In silence you two work on your respective blasters, caring for them as they are just as important to the job as the tracking fob. Perhaps an hour or so went by, and as you were putting your blaster back together piece by piece, the comfortable silence was broken. But this time— not by you.

“What did you say about the air?”

You look up from your blaster and see that Mando isn’t looking at you, but still at his rifle. The fact that he’s trying to start casual conversation accidentally makes a smile appear on your face. You quickly look back down at your blaster, but your smile still remains.

“I said that I loved it,” you reply. “Because the air here is very fresh. Even though there’s like, no trees, there’s almost no people. No pollution.”

He hums in understanding and continues cleaning. 

Back to the comfortable silence. 

—

The Razor Crest looks large from the outside, but it’s pretty cramped inside. The majority of its bulk is for it’s engines and practical components— hyperdrive, fuel tanks, cooling systems and whatnot. It was once a gunship, and that fact does put you on edge. Ships like this used to transport troops and drop them in combat. So, there is a large portion of the ship’s cargo bay that remains unused, as Mando doesn’t usually transport large quarries. The living space, or at least that’s what you’ve called it in your head, consists of an open area with a small but sturdy table, a few stools to sit on, and various crates that contain meal rations and tools and various trinkets. You’re almost one hundred percent sure that this ship was never meant to be lived in. You estimate that maybe four or five people could stay on the ship before everyone felt claustrophobic. 

There used to be only one cot hidden in the walls, you’d knocked against one of the panels and the door would swoosh away, revealing a simple bed and just enough room to roll around to attempt to be comfortable. The night after the first bounty you helped Mando with, he let you sleep some in the hidden nook as he piloted you two back to Nevarro. While you were standing outside the ramp and helping unload bounties, the Mandalorian inquired whether or not you would want to join him on future bounties. With an assurance that you would get your own cot, you obliged. 

—

The bounty that you two are hunting on Carajam, the lovely desert planet, is hiding somewhere in the caves and cliffs a few klicks east of the space port that you are staying in. From the info you’ve picked up talking with a few locals, the quarry likes to hide in the sand caves because he has no friends. Well, actually it’s because he’s murdered about a person per household out of everyone who still lives on the desert planet. You thank the locals for their information with a few credits and a jug of desirable water.

You make your way to the only cantina on the planet, and by cantina you mean what is quite literally a bar top and six stools outside the shop of a local mechanic. The Mandalorian is sitting, waiting, on the last stool, facing the expanse of the desert that is a mere fifty feet from the edge of the little star port. You swiftly occupy the stool next to him.

“So,” you start, and he swivels in his stool to face you. You brace your elbows on the table. “About seven klicks east towards the main expanse of cliffs, and then about two more klicks north to the caves. One of the caves will look obviously occupied, trash and debris and whatnot. That’s what I’ve gathered.”

“Good work,” comes through the vocoder. “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yes, sir,” you smile, adjusting the straps of the small backpack you have. “After your lead.”

He swivels again and hops off his stool, and waits a moment until he hears you following him before beelining to the edge of town. You follow, obedient, as he weaves through the sparse crowd to another shop, lined with speederbikes and a few larger landcrafts. The Mandalorian walks up to the shop owner and exchanges a few words, and a few credits, and then moves to two of the speederbikes. 

“You know how to ride?” He asks you, as you stand beside one and he the other. 

“Yes, actually,” you say, always having a soft spot for fast land vehicles. You briefly wonder that, if you had said no, would he have made you sit behind him on one bike? The thought makes you smile, bashful, and you wait until he mounts his bike before climbing onto yours.

“Seven klicks east,” Mando says, repeating your earlier words and firing up his bike.

You turn yours on as well, and grab a pair of goggles from your backpack. You pull up the bandana you keep around your neck to cover your mouth, and then put on the goggles. You give a thumbs up to Mando, who was glancing over his shoulder to wait for your cue.

And then he zooms off. And you diligently follow.

— 

You two reach the caves in a quick hour, specifically saving some hours of daylight just in case this job takes a turn. The two of you park your speederbikes about half a klick downwind of the cave, just in case. You keep your goggles on and bandana over your mouth, as the wind out here doesn’t seem to want to settle. Dust and sand weave around your feet like a clingy pet as you scale the short cliffside after your Mandalorian, following him quickly toward the cave. 

You hover around the mouth of the cave as Mando stalks in, somehow still quiet despite his sturdy boots against the rock. To see down inside was near impossible, even as you took off your goggles. You hear some sort of scuffle, a few clatters, and then Mando is shoving a handcuffed quarry your direction. You reach up and steady the quarry, your hands on the man’s shoulders. Stars, he was a large man, so you assume that Mando only managed to shackle him due to surprise. 

“Let go of me, you kriffing bitch,” the quarry seethes at you and aggressively shrugs his shoulders to loosen your grip. Mando takes a step towards him, you imagine he’s reacting to the derogatory term thrown your way, but you beat him to it— 

You release your grip on the quarry, and while he’s stunned for a moment from it, you kick his foot out from underneath him. He falls hard on his ass and plops to the side, unable to stifle his fall due to being cuffed. With a slight smile, you watch him struggle on the ground.

“F-fuckin’ bitch,” he groans out, trying to roll over to a kneeling position. Once he manages that, Mando comes and grips the man’s shirt— lifting him inches off of the ground towards his helmet. 

“Watch your mouth.”

And then Mando drops him. 

The quarry gasps at the contact back on the ground and groans, almost falling over again. You go up behind him and grab the cuffs, wrenching him upwards and forcing him to stand. You grip the cuffs tightly in your left hand, and hold your blaster to the quarry’s back with your right.

“Let’s go, then,” you say. 

The Mandalorian leads the way back towards the speeders.

—

After tying up the quarry to transport him on the back of Mando’s speederbike, you settle nicely back inside the Razor Crest. Mando already froze the quarry after he wouldn’t stop blubbering about how sorry he was for mindlessly murdering the people in port— he couldn’t help himself, apparently. 

“Nobody is born a killer,” the Mandalorian tells the quarry before freezing him.

You avert your gaze away from him once the carbonite process is finished, allowing him to believe he had privacy with the quarry during their discussion. You had tucked yourself around a corner to avoid letting him know you like listening to the Mandalorian’s stern and assertive remarks to unruly quarries. You take mental notes on the way he talks, mostly to figure out what he believes in. A Mandalorian follows a creed, and your Mandalorian hasn’t mentioned a single thing about it since you’ve met him. By now, after half a cycle, you’ve figured out the basics. And the bottom line is that Mando is generally a good guy— a moral guy, you guess. Kind of like a vigilante who upholds his own justice, but a good guy nonetheless. If Mandalorians picked sides besides their own people, you think he would’ve joined the rebellion. 

“I’ve set us on course back to Nevarro,” you offer as Mando walks back through to the main area of the ship and raises the ramp. You lean against the metal wall in one corner, watching him fulfil his routine.

“Good,” he says, appreciative in his own way that you know that he likes to be constantly on the move. “What’s the ETA?”

“Only a few hours,” you say, pushing yourself off of the wall and going to the ladder to the cockpit. The ramp closes as you grab the rungs, looking back to Mando as he shadows you at the ladder. “You should get some rest before we arrive,” you offer.

He’s silent a moment while you face back to the ladder and start ascending. You hear him mutter a ‘okay, thank you,’ through his helmet before you climb your way fully into the cockpit. Once you’ve ascended, you don’t hesitate to go and sit in the pilot’s chair. Although you’re not the best pilot, favoring studying combat and languages instead of flight and mechanics, you manage. 

You settle in the seat and grab the flight controls, and hear Mando stepping onto the floor of the cockpit. You flick up a few switches and start the ship, letting her rumble to life while you look back over your shoulder at your Mandalorian.

“Sleep well,” you say with a hint of a smile.

He gives you a nod, hesitates, and then opens the door on the wall behind the cockpit, leading to the captain’s quarters. Once you hear his door swoosh close after his retreating footsteps, you let out a breath and encourage yourself, grabbing tightly onto the handles. 

Just get it into the sky, and the autopilot gets you there, you tell yourself, forcing the Razor Crest into the air. She succeeds in ascending, and you raise the landing gear and disarm any land security protocols. Following a mental list, you do exactly as you’ve seen Mando, and get the ship into space in no time. A little shaky, sure, but you don’t think it was enough to stir the captain out of bed.

—

One cycle.

You two take a brief break. There aren’t any bounties worthy of your time, anyway.

The smoke crawls up your wrist, wrapping around your forearm before dissipating into the air. You hold the ornate stem of the smoking pipe to your lips, inhaling shallowly, and let your arm drop as you try to breathe the smoke in deeper. A heavy sigh and the smoke passes back out of your lungs, past your lips, forming a cloud in front of your face. You wait, still holding the pipe, and look expectantly at your hosts.

Upon landing on this planet, at what seems to be the only one semi-decent town, the Razor Crest was surrounded by the inhabitants. Seemingly human-esque, you and the Mandalorian walked out of the ship with no weapons in your hands, ready to barter for some fuel and lodging for the night. The people of the planet, through an interpreter, were more than happy to allow you to stay.

Under one condition; uphold their welcoming traditions and take a huge hit off of the pipe the dude who seemed to be the chief was eagerly thrusting towards you two. 

Startled at the proposition, and more so by the growing ruckus of the onlooking crowd the longer Mando tried to deny the offer, you grabbed the pipe. The chief smiled widely and the crowd calmed, but Mando whipped his head towards you.

“Don’t smoke that,” he said. “You have no idea what it is.”

The interpreter tried to reassure you that it was safe, it was fine, a common plant that everyone on the planet enjoys. The longer you held the pipe without smoking it, the smaller the smile of the chief was and the more and more the rest of the people stirred. Eventually, it did devolve into a shouting match between Mando, the interpreter, the chief, and a few people in the crowd who were brandishing weapons. 

So you smoked it.

You’ve smoked a few things before in your experience, not a lot. Drinking was always more your thing, knowing that once the liquid passes through you it will be gone from your system. Inhalants? You could never be sure. But you would be a bad sidekick to the Mandalorian if you didn’t sacrifice your lungs for ease of service.

After the first inhale, the chief smiled again, and gestured for you to smoke some more. Ignoring the verbal protest of Mando, you brought the pipe back up to your mouth and puffed again. A bit bigger of a hit this time.

Well, much bigger, judging by the size of the cloud you just breathed out. Surprised, you let out a chuckle, but the irritation in your throat causes your laugh to turn into a hearty cough.

And the crowd cheered.

The chief took the pipe from you and draped his arm over your shoulders, guiding you and Mando behind you into the town. It’s a little town tucked into a small clearing beside a freshwater river and a thick grove of forest, tall and green trees that seem to tower over everything— perhaps the tallest trees you think you have ever seen. On this planet, there are three suns, and they are constantly setting in succession. So, it’s never really nighttime. 

And it seems like these people take advantage of that.

As the chief leads you and your Mandalorian through the stone streets lined with dark, muddy brick houses, your head starts to get light. Like, the tension in your neck loosens and your shoulders go slack. It’s nice— well, it would be, if you didn’t quickly associate it with whatever the chief insisted you smoke. The chief’s arm was still draped over your shoulders and he excitedly explained, in his native tongue, what you assume to be a detailed history of the town. All you could do was feign a smile, probably looking a bit dumb considered you don’t know if your cheeks are numb or just used to your wide grin by now, and nod in fake understanding. The Mandalorian is exactly three and a half paces behind you.

The interpreter is walking beside Mando, re-explaining everything the chief is saying. You aren’t able to listen to both the chief and the interpreter, somehow lacking the mental capacity to focus back and forth between the two, now. The crowd of people disappeared once you smoked from the fancy pipe, save for a handful that you assume are the chief’s servants, so the little troop led by you and the chief eventually hits the end of the main street. 

The chief removes his arm from your shoulders and gives you a nice, hard slap on the back. He says something, while gesturing to a small cottage that bookends the houses lining the road. You’re too busy staring off in the distance, past the green grass that traces the treeline and river. One of the suns is setting, casting a mesmerizing red haze over the tips of the trees, painting the freshwater of the river golden. 

You hear the Mandalorian call your name, and turn to face him.

And he’s standing there, at the door of the cottage the chief is letting you two use for the night, practically glowing with how the setting sun is glinting off of his beskar. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, a second time, but you didn’t hear the first.

You cannot help the unabashed grin that swallows your face, and stumble over to the door. “Never better. Everything is great. You should’ve smoked that shit, too.”

You hear him sigh and he opens the door for you, stepping back so you can walk in first. So you meander in, hand lightly following the wall because you’re suddenly doubting your balance. You find a seat at the small table that’s placed in the middle of the room, and you still can’t stop yourself from smiling. 

The Mandalorian drops a bag at the foot of one of the cots that he must’ve gone back to the Crest to get, but you don’t remember him doing that. And then he drops your night bag at the foot of the other cot, and you wonder when he went and got your bag.

“Thanks,” you croak out, still smiley, and brace your elbows on the table. “D’you have any idea what I smoked?”

“No,” he admits, voice monotone as usual through the vocoder. He pulls out the second chair and sits across from you. The cottage, small but spacious enough for two people to not knock elbows, was alight with soft sunshine filtering in through the numerous windows. Who needs light on a planet that is constantly day?

“How do you feel?” He asks, visor intent on staring you down. 

“Spectacular,” you reply, staring back at the visor. You used to wear a gaudy helmet when you were a trooper, so you’re pretty damn sure you know exactly where his eyes are behind that mask. 

“You look drunk.”

Your smile, instead of faltering, is drawn a little wider and your elbows slip forward on the table until your chest is pressed up against the wood, your chin almost touching the tabletop but your cheeks are squished by your hands, keeping your head up. “I feel like it, too. But, different at the same time, y’know?” 

“No, I don’t know,” the Mandalorian says as he leans back in his chair. His hands are flat against his thighs, and you’re 99% sure he is simply watching you. Out of worry or annoyance, of course you can’t tell, but you’re leaning towards annoyance.

So you tilt your head to the side, staring back, trying your fucking hardest to stifle the stupid smile on your face but you just can’t. “Want me to tell you what you’re missin’?”

Surprisingly, the Mandalorian tilts his head as well, mimicking you. “Enlighten me.”

“Have y’ever got so drunk that you just had to sit there and wait ‘til the booze gets filtered out of your system?” You start, letting your head— so heavy— fall further to the side and land on the table, a nice foundation to ground you. You’re so slumped in your chair your legs are straight, sticking out of the sides underneath the table as you stretch your arms to dangle off of the table. “And yet it’s like, the best part of bein’ sloshed is comin’ up so you don’t want to sober up and y’just— just— sit there, stewing.” 

He lets out a hum, letting you know he’s still politely listening to your ramblings.

Any thoughts in your head blur, images and words swishing around behind your eyes as you try to focus on what you were saying. “And nothin’ hurts or aches and you get to forget ‘bout everything bad you did that day and just look at the stars. Y’get to look at them, and for the first time you see them, see the life they hold and foster and you feel special knowin’ you’re a part of it all.”

There is a moment of silence, or— you think so, but your breathing is a little heavier than usual. The moment draws out, longer, and you’re beginning to wonder if you actually said that stuff out loud or if you simply thought it.

You bolt upright in your chair, cheeks red with embarrassment— but the fucking smile is still on your stupid face. 

“I don’t know what’s up with me right now,” you admit, eyes focused on one of the windowsills off near the door, so you don’t have to look at that helmet and feel the stare behind it. “The chief said that they smoke this stuff all the time and don’t sleep a wink, but I feel super tired.”

In your peripheral vision you see the dreaded helmet glint in the sunlight. He’s looking at you, quizzically. “What do you mean?” He asks. “The interpreter didn’t say that.”

“No,” you agree, looking back at him. You try to focus where you know a face is behind the helmet, but you can’t get the image to clear in your head. It’s all a little blurry at the edges, and your Mandalorian is all edges. “I said the chief said that.” 

“He didn’t speak any Galactic Basic. When did you hear him say that?”

The edges blur some more. “He said it when we were all walking, I dunno. He just said it.”

The Mandalorian looks toward the door, thinking. 

“It must be the ganja,” you offer.

He looks back. “The what?”

“The offering. That’s what the chief called it. But, well, I dunno if that’s what it’s actually named or what they call it,” you say, unable to look at the sharpness and crisp lines that make up the beskar armor. What’s going on with you? You weren’t concerned until now, reaching a hand up to trace your bottom lip and finding that you have control over your face again. No more creepy smiling. “I feel fine, though. From smoking.”

You steal a glance at him and find that he is still, predictably, staring at you. Your cheeks grow hot again, suddenly feeling like a burden to your employer. He is not a babysitter, and you don’t want him to feel like he has to watch over you as you ride this high.

“Really,” you add. “I feel fine. Things look weird, right now, and my head is fuzzy, but it feels good.”

He stares, and you bitterly wonder if that’s all he’s good for.

So you stand up, eyes scanning the room and you notice the heavy curtains tied neatly above each window. “Guess we should sleep,” you say, stepping towards one of the windows to let the curtains down to block out the never-ending sunlight.

But, your ankles feel a little weak, and your balance falters. 

Before your hazy head even registers that you’ve lost your footing, the Mandalorian is at your side, his right arm tucked behind your back, his right hand firmly on your right hip. His left hand is grasping your left upper arm tight enough to bruise, but without his strong grip, you would have crumbled to the floor like a tossed blanket. 

“Are you okay?” He asks immediately, and holds you tighter and hauls you up back onto your unsteady feet. Once the words finally registered in your brain, you briefly thought that he really did sound concerned— masked voice a little higher in pitch than usual.

Your fuzzy head decides the best thing to do in response is laugh as you stood up back on your own. “I’m okay,” you assure, a hint of laughter still in your voice, and you raise your hand to lightly shove him away, not needing his support anymore.

But, since he’s solid as a fucking rock, your hand just brushes against the beskar chestplate uselessly. That causes you to laugh a little more, and he lets go of you once he’s sure you can stand solidly on your own.

“Are you sure?” He asks, still with that higher pitch that the vocoder almost hides. He’s hovering close to your side, ready to catch you again if he has to. 

Curious, you raise your hand and tap your knuckles against his chestplate, and the resounding thud thud makes you smile. “Fuckin’ hardcore, Mando. I’m so jealous of your armor.”

“Yeah, you’re not okay,” he says, but you swear you hear a lilt in his voice, as though he finds you amusing. “You should try to sleep it off.”

He gestures towards one of the beds but you don’t look over to it. Instead, you tap your knuckles against one of his pauldrons. Tink tink. 

“Really,” he insists, and you for sure hear the smile on his face in that one word. “You need some sleep.” He grabs your shoulders and turns you around, slowly, so that you’re facing the bed. 

“Would you close the blinds?” You ask, stumbling forward to the bed. You flounce on top of the blanket, as this planet is quite comfortably warm— or are you just warm? — and let out a heavy sigh. A real bed.

“Of course,” Mando replies, strutting to each of the five windows in this small, quaint cottage and letting down each of the curtains. In the back of your hazy mind, you know he can see in the dark with the HUD in his helmet. The thought makes you slightly jealous, and you wonder if, as you turn to lay on your back in the blackness, if he may be looking at you. You blame the ganja for the fuzziness that overtakes you at the thought.

“Thank you,” you call into the darkness.

You hear his friendly hum somewhere in the room, and hear him sit down at the table again. Truly, the inhabitants of this planet know how to utilize the sun, and how to hide from it, as you open your eyes to stare at the ceiling and see nothing. It is completely pitch black, and you’re impressed.

The feeling of the mattress underneath you is almost too soft. You can’t remember the last time you were able to sleep on a real bed— if you ever had the pleasure. It reminds you of floating in deep salt water, the effort of staying afloat taken away from you as you just let it happen. Currently, you’re not sure if your eyes are open or closed, as it makes no difference. Your breathing is stable, and the haze in your head is tolerable. You must be coming down from the peak, and it’s making you tired.

Quietly, you hear the Mandalorian’s gloved hands grasp metal, but you’re not sure what. You hear something slightly heavy placed on the table.

He calls your name, softly, and unfiltered. 

“Yes?” You reply, breathless. Did he take his helmet off?

“Go to sleep,” he says. His usually gruff voice sounds gentle without the vocoder.

“Okay,” you say, and you do indeed need to close your eyes. The blackness behind your eyelids seems almost darker than the darkness of the room. Unbeknownst to you, you must’ve been extremely tired, because you pass out almost immediately.

[jt-artsandfics]

Mantis blades and Gorrila fist pt 6

Hey everyone sorry for really late chapter had alot happen but I'm hoping to make next chapter tonight to make it up to you guys so I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: talk of Sex, sex toys, swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~

Earlier that day~

Vexrin passes around his apartment as he quickly rings up two others after his call with misty finishes.

"Vishnu Voldemārs speaking" he hears as me smiles. "Vish mate it's been a while" he chuckles as he gets a sigh from the other end of the line. "Vevi lad wasn't expecting a call from you, everything alright" there was a small bit of concern in the older man's voice.

"I'm alright, wondering if you would be interested In coming to hang out with Misty, myself and Starling. You in?" The other end of the line goes quite before he can hear Vishnu shouting about something before he's back on the line.

"Yea I'll see you in a bit, meeting at Misty like normal?" He asked and Vex smile happy that his old friend was coming to hang out. "Yep misty! I'll see you there soon" "catch you lad" and the call with Vishnu ends. He rings up the next person on the list. "Starling!, darling! Got a question for you Sheila" and he hears the sweet voice of the lovely lady.

"Ask away dear~" he hears her say before he lays across his lounge chair. "Would you by any chance be interested in going shopping with 2 of my friends and myself, I need your input on things"

"Oh and what might that be?"

"So.. I'm trying to pick out a decent strap and some other bits and pieces so I can peg the shit out of the man in seeing" he can hear her moving in the background almost frantically. "Say no more hun I'll be there in 20" she calls before the line goes dead. He lets out a laugh before finally getting his stuff completely ready to head over to misty's. As V walks out of his apartment he gives a wave here and there to some of the people he knows ad he makes his way thought the busy walkways.

"Morning V!" Vexrin looks up with a smile. "Morning Fred!" He waves as he continues until he finally makes it outside. It's a good walk from his to Misty's shop but he enjoys the jog. We he's about 5 minutes from Misty's a car pulls up beside him, the window rolls down. "Hey hun you need a life" Starling says leaning out the window a little.

"Starling, shelia you are one savour" V says as he quickly darts over to one of the doors before jumping into the car. Once Vex is in the car there is a little bit of silence before Starling speaks up. "So hun you have a new boytoy?" She asks with a smirk. Vex let's out a light laugh as he shakes his head. "Well I don't know what he and I are but I enjoy being aroudn him he's been around my place for nearly a month now. Just umm.. last night. He might have... you know.. railed me" he says trying to find the right words. Starling smiles more as the talk about the mysterious man.

"My, my Vexrin you have it bad for him. What happened to the fuck boy who brought men back to my place" she says taking a sip of her drink. "I'm a Changed Man now Starling, I won't be bring man or woman around anymore, my deepest condolences. How I have changed" he says over dramatically.

They continue to chat until they arrive at Misty's.  Vishnu and Misty are both standing out front. Vishnu looking at his watch as he taps his foot on the side walk. "Who is the hunk V?" He hears from Starling. Vex rolls his eyes. "That would be Vishnu my old partner in crime before Arasaka. He's also like kinda like an adopted dad to me so please don't try and fuck my dad friend" He says looking her in the eyes before he leans out the window and waves at both Misty and Vishnu. "Come on guys get in we have places to be!!" he calls out to them.

Most of the time spent shopping was with Misty looking at clothes or giving things to the other 3 to try on. Starling looked like she was having the time of her life buying for them. Vishnu enjoyed catching up with Vex after they haven't seen each other now in nearly a year and a half with everything happening.

And Vex spent his time looking at clothing and other bits and pieces before Starling finally spoke up. "I hate to break the fun but we need to head some place becuase we need to get Vexrin here something he can use on his now Man" that makes Vex go full flush which makes Vishnu laugh as he pats Vex on the shoulders. The eventually make their way to the shop in mind.

As the 4 of them walk in they make jokes about different pieces here and there. The customer service had walked up to ask if she could help in any way and Vishnu puts his hands on Vex's shoulders once again as he looks to the lady. "We are here to find something for this young man so he can busthis boyfriend open" there is a collective laugh from everyone as the lady rubs her hands together before showing them over to different areas and collections.

"V darling you should get one of these it would be one hell of a party" Starling says as she points to what could only be described as monster dongs. "Ay if you want a real party you get the peppermint Lube that stuff is a real party in its self" Vishnu says looking at the collection of different flavoured ones. Misty wandered around looking at different bits and pieces. Vex found himself in an area and right there in front of him was the perfect one.

"Ohhh found something you like?" Starling asked as she walked up behind him. "Yea I like this one, and I might take Vishnus advice on the peppermint if I plan to get my boytoy to 'bust it open' as you say" there's more giggles and laughs ad Vex goes around picking up some other trinkets. Once he gets tot he counter with his haul in hand Starling steps forward.

"I've got this V" he goes to argue but knows he's not gonna win with her. He sighs and rolls his eyes.

Once they have what they are after in hand they all head back out to go for a late lunch. A food stall along one if the walk ways is where they end up setting up for lunch. It is meant to be Thai from what he understood. Both misty, Starling and Vishnu order the mild as to not burn their mouths while Vexrin got the spicys he could. The other three watched in horror as Vex's nose dribbled as he ate his food.

"I don't understand how the hell you can eat that Vex you know you're ass is gonna be on fire later" Vishnu says and without thinking Vex replys with " Well i guess I'm lucky I'm not having anything going up mine tonight" misty nearly spat out her mouthful while Vishnu drops his spoon and closes his eyes, Starling laughs. "Vex lad, think before you speak, but on another line of thought.. since you now have someown your seeing perhaps we can organise a double date. You can bring the man you're seeing and you can meet my man" at that Starling let's out a sigh.

"Rip to the handsome Irish man" she says which makes everyone laugh. " That be great Vish I'm sure I can talk him into a date, he's happy with food and even more when he doesn't have to pay for it" "lucky mine's picky as Fuck" "hahaha maybe he can get along with one of my friends who's also a picky as eater, he dropped a burger off a bridge becuase it wasn't up to his standards. Like I would have happily eaten that" they continue talking for a while before eventually everyone parts ways.

Vishnu and Vex have a quick hug before V starts walking back to his apartment. It was a slow trip walking but he couldn't be bothered paying for a pick up and the weather for once was decent. He heads back up the stairwell and gets to his apartment.

He unlocks the door before using his shoulder to open to door and walks in to the place. Nibbles runs tot wh door the bell on his collar jingles, he meows looking up at V with wide eyes. The cats owner leans down and gives the cat a quick pet on the head before walking over to the table in the lounge room.

V places the two bags down on the table and sits down he begins pulling out the shirts and pants he had gotten. Standing up he walks over to his closet and hangs up what needs to be up and folds the rest. Making his way back over to the chair he gets to going thought the things he had gotten from these store. He pulls out a shiny silver but plug which had a red gen on it and places it down on the table with a smile. The next few things he pulls out of the bag is bondage rope, two different vibrators, nipple clamp collar, peppermint lube, a realistic double ended strap on, handcuffs and some other little pieces. He smiles to himself as he puts the stuff into the cuboard under his bed. After finishing putting everything away he see the time.

It was a little after six and he decided it was best that he make dinner, V moves over to his fridge looking around for anything that might be useful for cooking. He finds some stuff and decided that he can make old home made potato pasta bake, potatoes being one to the only real veggies he could find that weren't a fortune and even sweet potato coast a bit, but as long as he could still afford some really fruit and vegetables he was happy.

He hums as he throws some pasta into a pot with some water a little bit of salt and vinger and let's it boil. he peels and cuts up the two different potatoes. Once he was happy with them he pulls out a glass tray and starts to layer the potato. He test the pasta before turning it off and letting it sit for a little as he makes up the sause and grating some fake cheese. He makes a sause from a can that says coconut milk but he knows better. Adding in some herbs and spices he spent a fortune on. Vex drains the pasta and places it down as two hands wrap aroudn his waist.

"挨拶 Vexrin" (greetings) he tenses up before relaxing when he realizes it Oda. "Hey you, sorry I didn't message back got busy malign dinner, hope you don't mind potato pasta bake, I haven't made it in a while" Vex explains as Oda drops his head in V's shoulder. V continues to work with Oda cuddling him from behind.

"It is fine V, food is food. Unlike Takemura-san I'm not that fussy" V let's out a little laugh. "You're being more touchy then normal, did this morning finally get you to stop having a stick up you're ass?" V ask as he finishes up the potato pasta bake and puts it into his mini oven. Oda let's out a grimble before slapping Vex on the ass, V helps lightly as he quickly turns around to the Japanse man.

"Unlike you Vex, I thought I had messed up a friendship that I may value a little, but I'm glad that i didn't" he says in to Vexrins ear.

V leans over and places a small kiss on Oda's lips before backing away. "Well I have A supise for you later if you are up for it and i have something I wanna talk to you about when dinner is finished" Vex says as he moves around the apartment. Oda finds his way over to the lounge and sits down.

"Have I dotn something wrong" Oda's eyebrows punch together and Vex waves his hands around. "No no no not at all!" Just something I want to ask if your interested in doing at some point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you all enjoy I hope to have next chapter up in an hour or two.

Tag list @simping-for-sandayu-oda @gvitch @v-is-for-witch @hippiefricked @inkrabbit @shitposting-for-the-soul

[samthemarvelfan]

Goodbyes: Chapter Nine

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: A N G S T, Bucky is a dick, slow burn, alcohol, flirting, swearing...there was one more thing, now what was it...oh yeah SMUUUTTT.

A/N: Hey quarantine pals! I hadn’t planned to get this chapter up this early, but if it helps any of you escape the current situation we’re all in, then I’m all for it! Please enjoy! This chapter is a long one, but worth it, I promise! Sadly, this story will soon coming to an end, but I can’t wait to show you all my next work! As always, any feedback is so appreciated!

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @heartofagamotto @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!) Tags are OPEN! Just send an ask :)

Your heels were abandoned before you hit the elevator.

Bucky was no where to be found. He has somehow managed to disappear in the 60 seconds it took you to make your way out of the party.

“Fucking super soldier...” You grumble under your breath.

You figure he’d probably gone back to his room like the petulant child he was being, so you jumped in the elevator, heading for your floor.

You were in the middle of rehearsing what to say to him when the doors opened. Peeking down the dimly lit hallway, your eyes landed on the body moving quickly in your direction.

You stepped out of the elevator, hearing the doors close slowly behind you before you took another step. You stealthily pressed the lower level button, sending the lift all the way to the bottom floor.

Bucky appeared before you, the anger and frustration obvious on his face; but you weren’t going to let him avoid you...not this time.

“Move.” He said harshly, his cerulean eyes glaring at you.

“No.” You reply confidently, standing your ground.

“For fucks sake, Ella...” he tried to step by you, but you grabbed his wrist.

That’s when you spotted the bottle of whiskey held firmly in his hand; already 3/4 of the way gone.

“When did you drink that?” You asked, worry coating your words.

He smirks and takes another swig. “Nabbed it from the bar on my way up.”

You’d scoff shaking your head, “You’re unbelievable.”

Bucky lets out a laugh, “Oh I’m unbelievable?” He takes a step closer to you, and you smell the alcohol on his breath.

Your face heats up from your own semi-drunken state, and you step back from him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“You know what the fuck it means, Ella.” He slurs. “Why are you here? Why did you follow me? Won’t Steve be missing you?”

There it is.

Your plan to make Bucky jealous had indeed worked, but now it seemed like it was backfiring.

He moves to walk past you back down the hallway towards his room, but you follow him.

“What about you? Won’t Nat wonder where her date went?” You ask, bitterness evident on your tongue.

Bucky stops abruptly and turns around, “What was that Els?” He asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Just...forget it. Give me the whiskey, Bucky.” You reach out to snatch it from him, but he quickly yanks his arm back, and chugs the rest of it.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!” You yell.

He laughs, stepping close to you, handing you the now bone-dry bottle, “Please, with my metabolism, I’ll burn it off in 20 minutes. Unlike those shots you were downing all night.”

Your frustration is at its peak now. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” He asks with disdain.

“This! You’re being an asshole for no reason!” You shout, the alcohol dissolving your inhibitions.

“You barely said two fucking words to me since you got back! And you didn’t even have the fucking decency to say goodbye to me when you left!” You shout at him.

He was quiet, if only for a moment. “Oh, so that’s why you’re snuggling up to Steve? You’re mad at me so you decided to move onto my best friend? The guy you’re ‘not fucking’ right?”

The regret on his face was evident the moment the words left his lips. You spotted the dilation in his pupils as he took in what he’d just said to you.

“Wow.” You say pushing past him. “Fuck you.”

You know he’s following you, but you don’t care. You push your door open praying it would latch shut before he could enter, but of course, it doesn’t.

You walked to your dresser, discarding the earrings and necklace you wore when Bucky appeared in the mirror behind you.

“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just pretty fucking obvious you two have feelings for each other!” He said a bit louder than intended.

“Why, Bucky? What makes it obvious?” You ask, crossing your arms and facing him now.

He looked taken aback by your question, and you scoffed. “What is it Buck, the fact that we laugh together? Talk to each other? Trust one another? Care about each other?” You ask.

“Christ, I get it! Yes! All of that!” He shouts, throwing his hands up.

“Ya know what that’s called, James? A fucking friendship!” You shout at him.

He looks at you with confusion and concern.

James.

You’ve never called him James.

You cross your arms once more, “You told me you were gonna earn my trust, and I believed you. But this guy,” you gesture to him, “You’re not acting like yourself.”

Bucky scoffed, “Right, because we know each other so well. We’re fucking strangers, Ella.” He quipped, resentment in his tone.

Those words hurt your heart. It wasn’t until this moment you felt the tears of frustration and sadness prickle your eyes.

“Yeah? And who’s fucking fault is that?” You ask with a trembling voice. “You pretended to hate me for months so I would leave you alone, all because you felt something for me, but you’re too afraid to let anyone in.”

You wipe your eyes quickly, “This push-and-pull thing? It’s not fair to me. I’ve tried to breakdown this fucking wall you built around yourself, and every time I think I’m getting close, you shut me out!”

His jaw clenched at your words and at the sight of the tears you were so desperately trying to hide.

“I wasn’t something to run from, Bucky.” You speak softly.

His hands fall to his sides as he takes a step forward, “Ella, I—“

“No, Buck. I’m done with...whatever this is. I can’t do it anymore—my heart can’t do it anymore.” You walk the few steps to your door and open it. “Please leave.”

He looks as if you’ve just knocked the wind out of him. He wants to protest, you can see it. The shift in his eye from anger to regret to sadness. He doesn’t fight you though, Bucky leaves without another word.

When the door latches, you let the tears finally fall as you slide down against the it.

3 hours later and you’re sober and sleepless.

You’ve chugged water and taken some ibuprofen to prevent an early morning headache, but right now the only thing aching was your heart.

Bucky broke you, and you weren’t even his to break.

But he was what you wanted—Who you wanted, but you can’t force someone to want what they don’t.

You wonder if what Bucky said about his metabolism was true. He was so drunk when he left your room. Dangerously so.

You recall how he staggered out, and how strongly he smelled of whiskey, even 3 feet from you.

“Let it go, Ella. Let. It. Go.” You mutter to yourself. Tossing and turning in your bed for the 1000th time.

What if he’s passed out on his back and he throws up and chokes to death? What if he took a bath and fell asleep in the tub and drowned? What if he tripped and hit his head and—

Your brain kept repeating the most tragic of scenarios over and over until you couldn’t take it. You’d check on him quickly, confirm he’s still alive and an asshole, and hopefully come back and actually sleep this night off.

The soft padding of your feet was all you heard as you stepped down the hall, stopping in front of Bucky’s room.

Your hesitation was to be expected, but the 4 minutes you stood there doing nothing was a bit ridiculous.

“Shit...” you seethed, knocking on the door several times.

You waited for an answer. Nothing.

Another quick set of knocks.

Nothing.

Your heart began to race. Did something happen to him?

You twisted the knob, and to your surprise it opened.

“Bucky?” You called out.

His room was dim, the navy blue of the walls barely discernible from black in this light. The bed was mussed, and there was a notebook and pen on the nightstand.

“Bucky!” You shout, more panicked than you realized,

The bathroom door swings open suddenly, revealing a wet, shirtless Bucky just feet from you.

“Jesus, Doll. What’s the matter? You alright?” He asked, concerned.

A breath you weren’t aware you’d taken was released from your lungs.

“I-I got worried. You drank so much and I kept picturing you drowning in the bathtub or something, I don’t know.” You shake your head in embarrassment.

He smiled softly, the light casting the perfect shadow onto his strong features. It was obvious he’d just showered, and he smelled good.

“I sobered up ‘bout 15 minutes after I left your room. Told ya, perks of the serum.” He dried his hair quickly with a towel, before tossing it into the hamper.

You nod, relief flooding your chest. “Good.” You start to fidget with the drawstring if you’re red cotton shorts, “Since you’re alive, I’m just gonna—“

“You don’t have to go.” Bucky says suddenly.

He steps closer to you, his basketball shorts hanging low on his hips.

Focus, Ella. You think.

You sigh, “Yeah I do, Buck. I really do.”

You turn and head for the door. Your hand is on the knob when you hear him speak again.

“I couldn’t say goodbye to you, okay?” He says.

You’re breath gets caught in your throat, but you manage to turn to face him. “What?” You ask.

“If I had seen you before I left for that mission, I wouldn’t have gone. If I had to say the word ‘goodbye’ to you, there’s no way in hell I woulda got on that jet, Els.”

Bucky stands like a boy in trouble, waiting for you to scold him. When you don’t, he decides to keep going.

He lets out a puff of air, “I’m not good at this, Ella. I haven’t felt something—anything for a long time. Then you fall into my life and I can’t think straight. I open my eyes in the morning, and it’s you. Before I close them at night, it’s you. You’re it, Els.”

As he spoke you stepped closer to him, all thoughts of leaving, abandoned at this point.

“I had to leave before everyone else, or I swear to God I wouldn’t have gone at all. That mission...I knew it was important, but nothing is as important as you. I wrote you a letter and everything in case...”

“In case what, Bucky?” You ask nervously.

He shrugged, “I don’t know, Doll. In case something happened to me over there and I couldn’t come home to you.”

Your heart clenched at the thought of never seeing Bucky again.

“I’m not good with my words. I used to be, hell I could charm the pants off anyone back in my day, but now...you got me all outta sorts. Here...” he walked to his nightstand, you followed at his heels.

He opened the drawer, taking out an envelope and handing it to you. “You can read it if you’d like.”

Bucky and you sat on the edge of his bed, the gray comforter soft and inviting on your skin.

You opened the envelope with trembling hands and read it to yourself.

Hey Els,

I’m betting you’re pretty upset with me. Please don’t be. I couldn’t bear the thought of saying goodbye to you.

God I’m hoping we make it back. I’ve never had a reason to fight so hard before you, Els. Now, it’s like I’ll do everything and anything I can to come home to you.

If I don’t come home, please know you were the last thing on my mind. I’m kicking myself right now for not making you my girl when I had the chance.

That would be my biggest regret.

Actually, no. My biggest regret would be not kissing you. Jeez, Doll. I’ve thought about doing it so many times, but it never felt like the right moment. That’s the first thing I’m gonna do if I get outta here. I’m gonna love you and kiss you like there’s no tomorrow.

Keep smiling at the sunrise, Gorgeous. I’ll see you when I see you.

-Bucky.

Your hand covered your mouth, as your eyes welled with tears. Bucky noticed and perked up immediately.

“Please don’t cry, Doll. I’ve made you cry so much already. I’m sorry.” He said wiping your tears away with his thumb.

This man. This wonderful, beautiful man had your heart, and you didn’t know it, but you’ve had his all along.

You turned your body towards him. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?” You ask with a sniffle.

Bucky’s hand stroked yours, “I couldn’t leave that kinda pressure on you. Beside if you didn’t feel the same, I don’t know what I woulda done.”

You folded the letter and gently put it back in the envelope before placing it on Bucky’s nightstand.

“Do you?” Bucky asked.

You smiled knowingly, “Do I what?”

Bucky’s hand found your face, his right palm warming your cheek. “Do you feel the same, Els?”

Your hand gripped his as his cool metal one pressed against your other cheek, creating an electrifying contrast.

You moved toward each other like magnets, as he held your face in his hands.

“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

Bucky didn’t need to be asked twice. In moments his lips were on yours, making your body feel weightless.

Senses buzzing, Bucky’s mouth on your own, feeling his stubble prickle the skin around your lips. This pent up frustration and want for him finally being released caused your mind to spin.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, nibbling at your bottom lip. Bucky quickly lifted you over his lap, so you were straddling him on the edge of the bed.

His hands moved slowly down your body, resting on your hips for a moment before finding the curve of your ass.

“Els, Ella wait...” he said, breaking your kiss.

You can feel the swelling of your lips, and notice his must be just as red as yours. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

He smiled, “Nothing, baby, nothing I just...” he stroked his hands back and forth over your hips as he spoke, “If we do this, there’s no going back. Not to what it was...I can’t. You gotta be my girl.”

You smile, kissing him once more. “I’ve been yours, Buck.”

His lip is drawn between his teeth as he tucks his head in the crook of your neck, peppering it with wet kisses until he stops at the spot below your ear.

This earns a soft moan from you and you feel Bucky smile against your skin. “Fuck, I could listen to that all day.” He groans.

With one hand on your back, Bucky flips you over, laying you on his bed. “Can I see you, Doll?” He asks playing with the hem of your shirt.

Your only response is sitting up slightly; enough for him to lift the shirt over your head. Bucky is back on you again, his shirtless torso resting on yours as he trails sloppy, wet kisses down your chest.

The cool metal of his left thumb brushes over your already peaked nipple, while his warm, wet tongue swirls and sucks around the other.

“Mmm, Bucky.” A barely coherent praise. His touch made your skin burn with want and between your legs drip with lust.

He moved to the center of your abdomen, kissing down the middle, stopping right above your shorts.

He looked up at you, lips still attached to your skin. His eyes had never looked this way, the lust and the want and the eagerness to please you. He was love-drunk and you loved it.

In a flash, he pulled your shorts down, tossing them into the darkness of his bedroom. You were laid out for him fully now, no where to hide; on display for his taking.

You suddenly are very aware of every flaw you’d ever noticed in yourself. As Bucky stands quickly to remove his shorts, your eyes lock with the ceiling and you cover what you can.

“Oh baby, no.” He coaxes you. His honey-smooth voice coating your ears in praise. “Please don’t hide from me. You’re—“ he pauses to move your hands to above your head.

His lips is drawn between his teeth a his eyes roam your curves. “Christ...you’re so fucking beautiful.” He breathes.

Bucky smoothly pulls your hips to the edge of the bed, “I’m gonna taste you, Doll. I’ve got too, that okay?”

You nod, feeling goosebumps prickle your skin as his rough fingertips trace patterns up your legs. You watch as he drops to his knees, and starts to pepper your inner thigh with sweet kisses.

Bucky pauses when he gets to your heat, inhaling you in your most intimate of places. He’s marking you, memorizing your scent.

He places a chaste kiss against your clit. Sending fireworks up your spine.

Another kiss.

You watch him as he starts to devour you, only a moment before you throw your head back in rapture.

“Oh my God, James...” You moan wildly.

A gruff laugh escaped Bucky, “James huh? Mmm, I like that.”

Bucky licks your heat with wild abandon, sucking your swollen clit skillfully, bringing you to the precipice of release.

Your fingers grip his hair, grinding your hips toward his magical tongue. All too quickly though, he pulls away. “Not yet, Gorgeous. Wanna make you cum with my cock our first time.”

You groan in frustration and anticipation. Bucky stands from the bed once more, and you sit up. Eyes locked on his face as you look up through your lashes. You scoot forward and hook your fingers into the band of his briefs, and pull them down.

The quiet gasp that passed your lips earned a chuckle from him. His cock is at full attention, long and thick as you knew it would be. Swollen pink tip coated in pre-cum.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, gripping his length, stroking him a few times.

“Shit, Doll...” he whispered.

You took his length in your mouth, and felt him shiver in your grasp. As you drop to your knees, his cock never leaves your mouth. You bob you head a few more times, feeling the tip touch your throat.

“Baby, I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that...need to be inside you, Sugar.”

You coat his member in a final lick before scooting yourself back on the bed. Bucky crawled over you, kissing your mouth gently. Lovingly.

He leaned back, hooking your legs up with his hands, and nudging them open. As he moved forward to kiss you again, he slowly filled your heat.

“Oh shit...” you moan. Soon he’s buried to the hilt, resting in you for a moment. While you definitely needed to adjust, it felt like Bucky was made for you.

“Fuck, so tight, Els.” He moaned into your neck.

You lift you legs a bit, allowing him more access to you as he starts to move. His full length giving you more pleasure than you thought possible.

Bucky’s lips find your own, as your hands grips his hair. His movements aren’t reckless, each thrust was designed to pleasure you.

Bucky brings himself up onto his knees while he fucks you. Your breasts bouncing wildly, and he chestnut locks swaying to the same rhythm.

There’s nothing else that matters to you. In this moment, you’re his.

Bucky dips his hand down to where the two of you meet. He coats his thumb in your slick before pressing it to you clit. “I want you to cum with me, Doll.” He breathes.

He draws quick circles with his thumb, and you feel the pleasure building below your stomach. His thrust are hard now, deliberate.

“Fuck. Bucky, I’m gonna...oh my God...” you moan as you feel yourself about to let go.

“Cum with me, Ella. I’ve got you...” he moaned.

And you did.

The fire spread through your veins in a flash as you came, feeling high on the love Bucky had just made to you.

He came with the most animalistic moan as you felt his hot release inside you. Lowering himself to you and repeating your name like a prayer on his lips.

Mess be damned. Bucky moves to the side of you, pulling you in close and face to face.

“I’ve wanted that—you for so long, Els.” He speaks, catching his breath.

You scoot up to capture his lips with yours. A reply he understands, you’ve wanted this as long as he has.

“I-I love you. Honest to God, Doll. I love you.” He says, voice full of emotion.

You rest your hand on his face, stroking his scruff gently. “I love you.”

Bucky smiles as his eyes close, and he rests his forehead against yours.

He holds you for what feels like hours, until you see the glow of a new day’s sun shining from the crack between his curtains.

Bucky is sleeping peacefully, deep and rhythmic breaths making his strong chest rise and fall.

You took this opportunity to clean yourself up. Using a washcloth you’d found in the linen closet to take care of the mess Bucky had made of you.

When you crawled back into his bed, his arms had found you once more.

“Mm, thought you left me, Sugar.” He groaned sleepily.

You chuckle to yourself, stroking his hair off of his face. “Never.”

A chaste kiss from you is planted on his forehead, and he pulls you close.

It’s quiet for a moment, before you hear him speak. “Thank you, Els...”

“For what?” You ask sincerely.

Bucky sighed, and stroked your hair gently. “For seeing me, when I tried so hard not to be seen.”

You smiled shyly. “I love you. Come on now, get some sleep. I have a feeling we won’t be getting any for the next few nights.”

You feel him smirk against your skin. “Babydoll, you have no idea.”

Chapter 10 (Finale): Be

[ellemcu]

Chapter 7

Words: 1584

Warnings: swearing

***********

You quietly groaned as your eyes fluttered open. There was a hard pounding in your head and your whole body was aching and burning. You slowly lifted your wrist only to be stopped by some chains. You quickly raised your head from the bed you were lying in, trying desperately to get off it. Your arms and legs had been strapped onto the floor and you were dressed in your black sports bra and your matching black shorts.

You started panicking, not remembering how you’d gotten here and what was going to happen. Flashbacks of old memories as a kid in HYDRA flooded your mind, drowning your every other thought. As a kid, you would often wake up in a room just like this. Handlers coming in the room and torturing you in all sorts of ways.

You whimpered quietly while you tried to get up from the bed, your whole body aching. You slowly stood up, the chains on your wrists starting to dig deep into your skin. You felt slightly lightheaded but you kept blinking it off, not trusting your surroundings. Your knees buckled and you crashed on the ground with a thud.

You were panting on the floor, slowly moving into a sitting position against the metal leg of your bed. You breathed heavily, trying not to fall unconscious.

After a while, your body started shaking violently. It had already happened at HYDRA after your body had gone through too much for it to handle which meant days of training non-stop.

It was very inconvenient because this was the most vulnerable position you had ever found yourself in and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. You lied down on the floor rocking yourself at a slow pace to stop yourself from shaking even more. Your breaths became uneven and you didn’t know how to stop.

After what seemed like hours of shaking the bolted door flew open and three men with white lab coats walked in, each carrying silver cases in their hands. You had horrible memories with scientists. Doctors had always taken their anger out on you, torturing you after you fell unconscious several times in a row, pushing your body over the edge after a brainwash, just because I couldn’t fight back.

You eyed them very closely, still shaking violently, while they came closer to you. Without saying a word they started taking out their shiny suitcases, long needles. You shook your head, trying desperately to back away from them. One of them grabbed your ankles, trying to stop you from shaking and another one grabbed the chain that was tied to your wrist, tugging at it harshly. You winced in pain “No” you whimpered, while another man had wrapped his hand around your throat. “ Please.” you whispered desperately, fighting against the man’s pull. “No…… no……. please…… no…… please…...stop” you begged, a tear falling from your eye. “Stop.” you whimper, not having enough energy to fight back.

The scientist was about to take a blood sample from you when a loud voice spoke. You were too busy being choked by one of the doctors to actually hear it but the doctor froze in his spot. “Hey dumb ass you heard her. Back off.” the male voice shouted. Two of the doctors immediately got up but the one choking you still kept his tight grip on your neck. “ You really sure you wanna do that? Huh?”: The man swallowed slowly and stood up, they grabbed their things and left the room in a hurry.

You breathed in quickly, your lungs finally getting fresh air. You coughed loudly and rubbed your hands on your wrists, trying to ease the pain. A tall man walked into the room after they were all gone. A tall man that you immediately recognized: James. You crawled as far away as your body and chains let you, trying to gain control over your body again.

He slowly walked towards you with his hands raised, showing that he wasn’t armed although you weren’t gonna fall for that trap again.

You closed your eyes, concentrating on your uneven breaths. After a few seconds you opened your eyes again, only to find yourself in a small room, surrounded by tall, black walls. You finally felt at peace, your body no longer aching, no more shaking. You felt your body completely freeze (idk it's like a coma but you’re in a different place its like your inside your mind. Idek if it makes sense. Stranger things for reference.) You calmed your panted breaths and regained your brain’s control.

You woke up with a jolt. James' face was covered with a confused look. “What have you done?” you snarled. “Listen, I know what you’ve been through but-” he answered calmly, but you quickly interrupted him, scoffing at his words. “ Boy, you have no fucking clue.” you mumbled. “Listen Y/n you may not know who I am because they never made us meet. They were too afraid. We would have been unstoppable together” he replied, closing his eyes as if he was trying to forget something. “ Uh uh. Sure. I’ll take that.” you answered back, not wanting to piss him off because this was the longest conversation you had ever held with someone and you were dying to see where it was going to end. “If you’re going to hurt me, could you please use one of the first 12 methods, I’m really tired of counting new ways to torture me after 1682.” you whispered knowing that HYDRA handlers couldn’t care less but what you didn’t know was that with Bucky’s super-hearing he had heard every single word and his heart broke.

As the Winter Soldier he had heard so much about you. They constantly compared her to him which amazed him greatly, he had heard that she was unbeatable, unpredictable and impossibly well trained. No one survived your missions. Ever. He had also found out that HYDRA’s men took pleasure from touting her, brain washing her and training her for hours non stop until she would faint 6 / 7 times. They forced her to go unconscious to take advantage of her. He was absolutely disgusted.

He had been through a lot and getting out of that infinite hole had been extremely hard but you had been through way more and for a longer period of time, getting out of it alive was going to be a hard challenge.

“What do you mean?” he questioned gruffly, determined to not show too many emotions, knowing you were able to manipulate any living thing. You didn’t say anything back, scared for your own safety, knowing too well a harsh beating would be coming soon. “You are going to stay here,” he announces. “And I’m going to help you.” You looked at him with wide eyes. Sometimes the moment in which after 20 years you were finally going to be free. Finally eat a full meal, walk outside, drink water without having to worry if its poisoned or not. That thought had ran across your mind a few times, briefly though before being cut off and silenced by brainwashing.

You scoffed silently “Yeah sure why would you wanna do that huh? Why would you wanna help a fucked up, high-skilled assassin like me?"You looked straight into his steel blue eyes. “ Because why not? I mean we’re all messed up here. What difference will one more fucked up person make?” He answered back, offering his hand out to you to help you stand.

You quickly stood up but lost your balance so you ended up putting your whole weight on the nearest wall. “What did you put in me?” you whispered, more to yourself rather than him. “It's to help you with all the drugs they fed you. It's supposed to bring back your strength.” He shrugged. “This burns like hell.” you whimpered, stretching your numb legs. You wiggled your wrists, showing him the chains you were still tied to. He nodded and the chains crumbled to the ground. You both made your way out of the room and found yourself walking across an empty corridor. “What's up with everything?” you questioned, not understanding why the corridor was so homey-looking. “Oh, don’t worry we just thought you’d wanna be with someone you trust at first and… um I guess as I’ve been in a similar situation, I wanted to help you too”. He answered calmly. You looked at him deeply “I guess they’re all fucking terrified of me aren't they?” He didn’t answer you. “Well I wouldn’t blame them” you mumble under your breath. “And um what makes you think I trust you?” You question with a cold stare. “Why aren’t you scared of me?” you questioned quietly.

The man walking beside you was different. His way of thinking amazed you. It was different. He didn’t see you as a poor captured girl, a very mentally unstable woman with a very insane mind. Not a girl with severe PTSD and anxiety nor a highly trained assassin with no backstory except HYDRA.

“Nothing scares me anymore. Besides I don’t see why I should be afraid of you:” He answered slowly, a small smirk making its way on your face.

"We'll see about the trust thing dude"

**************

I am truly so sorry that I've kept you waiting for so long. A lot has happened and I really couldn't keep on writing. I've missed it tho lol. I hope this makes up for it. This wasn't exactly what I was going for but I don't really hate it so I'll just go with the flow and idk we'll see. Oh and if you have any suggestion for what could happen please don't hesitate to text me!!!

Elle

[kcatta-wodahs]

Hey there :3 May I request a matchup🙈? I'm a 5'6 tall, queer, chin long dyed red haired girl(she/her) and you can call me Karo if you need a name :p I don't really care if it's a single pairing or a poly one as well as the kind of relationship (platonic/romantic/sexual), but maybe a romantic one would be sweet🤔 I'm a INFP and was born under the sign of Pisces and I think the stereotype fits me pretty well lol. I don't think I would describe myself as clingy, I definetely need my space (part1)

and me-time, but sometimes it's also nice to have someone who will drag me outside to do stuff or socialize if I'm isolating myself too much or another depressive episode seems to creep up on me. I think they need to understand, doesn't matter if it's a platonic or romantic relationship, that sometimes I can't give them much(time etc) and that that's nothing personal and that they're still very important to me. Hmmm I think I would prefer my relationship like I like my fanfics hehe, slow burning, like first get to know each other, (enemies to) friends to lovers is just *chefs kiss* for me <3 I really love to draw and sing, to dance too, I like to spend time in nature and with animals, help them too. But I also like adrenaline rushes, like rollercoasters, cave exploring, bungee jumping, exploring lost places etc, I would say I'm almost up to anything if it's exciting or interesting, but I definetely like just chilling and watching netflix, playing games or watching Vine compilations or crackhead satire twilight tiktoks(which is tbh the things I do most of the time until someone drags me out). I love making others laugh with just random outbursts(thats pretty much my humour, just randomness and gen z memes). I try not to judge anyone for anything and be open for all kinds of stuff, except for like non-negotiable things for me like racism, homophobia, sexism etc, like, full offense but I have absolutely a zero tolerance for that. I also get very emotional very easily, doesn't matter if it's something not so important like a touching movie scene(so many things make me cry so easily haha) or like in an argument. I really have a hard time argueing, I hate it SO much, I either try to avoid conflict(and run away like a coward lol) or if it's really something we have to discuss I sometimes need time and space in between(not the best under stress talker/thinker), but if the other side is being calm and considerate then I think I would be fine too Oh almost forgot,I love cuddling(definetely also platonic)and am not afraid to just throw myself at my friends/lover/s I am getting better at not caring about what others think, but sometimes I'm still pretty insecure about everything(my actions,my future,my appearence..),but my motto is fake it till you make it,so feck other people,I can do whatever the hell I like and nobody's gonna stop me hehe😈🙈 Soo yes,I think that will be enough😂Thank you for your time and effort👐💕👐

A/N: I promise you fake it til you make it is 100000% good strategy and also i see feck are you from ireland

I pair you with.... The Attic Sandwich!

Beel and Belphie would be perfect partners for you. The two of them balance each other out in many ways, and you fit right into that. They value the connection between them and because of it they don't expect to always be around each other. This connection extends to you. Beel takes you out to all sorts of places (usually ones where there's unique food) and would definitely have fun with some adrenaline rushes. It makes him forget about his hunger for a bit. Belphie is absolutely there for your sense of humor and he's very good at watching your depression and arranging something to cheer you up.

More Below the Cut!

The plot of the first 20 chapters is what really gets you close to these two. (Spoilers for that follow and in the last three bullet points) Beel opens up more and more to you, and just absolutely falls for you. Belphie gives us that sweet, sweet enemies to lovers trope. He becomes curious about you, especially with how smitten Beel is, and ends up falling along the way.

THIS is the cuddliest group to ever cuddle oh my goodness when you want snuggles you will have them

They adore just relaxing with you. The three of you become a pile on the couch while watching movies or other videos.

Beel will watch you scroll through tumblr while he engulfs you with his arms. Belphie somehow worms his way into yours and alternates between sleeping against your chest and watching your screen as well. You hear an occasional snort of laughter from him.

Beel is very emotionally intelligent, so he can quickly determine your mood and what he can do to help.

Belphie encourages you to break out of your shell and be yourself. He's very blunt about his opinion of other people lol

He finds himself staying awake longer with you just so he can hear you. He thinks you're hilarious, honestly, and loves talking with you.

When you throw yourself at Beel he catches you. He big and strong and loves affection from you. but also this happens https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIhl1cW9Me8

Belphie thinks its the funniest shit he can't breathe

If you do it to Belphie honestly he just stands there - either to let you fall or cling to him like a koala. He looks so Done but I promise he loves it. He laughs at you either way. He saves hugs and cuddling for when laying in bed or sitting. Too tired to hold you.

They both understand needing space, and will often just go off and do their own thing. They have complete faith in your feelings for each other, and will never doubt that you love them.

At least not for needing alone time - Belphie has lingering guilt over plot but he tries to make up for it by protecting you.

The others in the house can't help but be reminded of the trio they were with Lilith as angels.

While it still hurts to remember, Beel and Belphie feel almost as if they've come home around you. A part of them that was lost is found again. 

Snippet!

Cleaning day is nobody's favorite, but least of all Belphie's. Too much work. Just don't take ou your stuff and then you don't have to clean it later, right? The problem to him seems to be all the time people spend awake and he shouldn't have to deal with it!

But cleaning day is a little better with Beel and Karo. With their laughs and energy. Usually seeing other people so active drained him, but not with those two. He watched as Karo danced around the room to the music she had put on, while she and Beel tidied up. It was frankly adorable, and best of all: Belphie wasn't expected to join.

He was happy to watch. He watched as Karo spun into Beel's side, surprising him and causing him to stumble before he laughed and swept her up into a spin together. He watched as Beel picked Karo up with ease to put something on the top shelves of the room. He watched Karo find pillows in all the nooks and crannies of the room, and he huffed and whined when she threw each one at him on the bed.

Belphie was on snack duty. In exchange for the two helping him with cleaning day, he was expected to provide the rewards. This was not a small feat when Beel was involved, but it was far better than cleaning.

"Hah! The closet is done!" Karo declared, brandishing her feather duster. "Snack us, Belphie!"

He couldn't help but chuckle. It was an awful phrase. Silly and stupid, but Karo's enthusiasm was just so contagious. 

"Good job. C'mere," he told them, reaching to his hoard of treats.

Karo practically jumped onto the bed, grinning at him, while Beel was close behind looking very expectant. Belphie hid the curling smile of his lips by lifting up a large bag. "The closet is the biggest monster of them all - so for defeating it, you two get this."

Karo gasped and Beel's eyes gleamed. "Oh, those are my favorite..." he said, already reaching out.

"Ah-ah," Belphie pulled the bag back, to be met with a pout from Beel. "You'll eat them too fast for Karo to get any, so we're gonna do something different."

"Different?" Karo asked. 

Belphie smirked and opened the bag, which led to a very audible tummy rumble from Beel. He and Karo couldn't help but laugh. He pulled out a snack - just one - and held it up. "Karo, say 'aaah'." 

She beamed at him and opened her mouth. "Aaah!" Belphie tried really hard to keep his blush down as he dropped the snack in her mouth. She was so darn cute about everything. 

"Now you give one to Beel."

"Just one?" 

"Just one," Belphie agreed, smirking at the pout.

It didn't last long though, as Karo held up the snack and said "aaah" to Beel. He eagerly opened his mouth for the treat, but shocked himself by blushing heavily once she leaned over to feed him. Karo didn't comment, but seemd to be rather proud of the fact.

Belphie fed her another, and she followed up with Beel - but Beel took her hand after stealing the snack from her fingertips. He couldn't help but kiss the palm of her hand. "You're... so cute," he mumbled. "I like this."

"I thought you would," Belphie said, pleased with himself. "Karo?" he held up another. 

She went for the treat, but instead he pulled it away, holding it above his head. "Beel gave you a kiss, don't I get one too?"

Karo paused and blinked before laughing and leaning in. "You're adding new rules," she told him. 

"Never said I couldn't," he answered, giving her a light peck on the lips before presenting her with the treat. The look of satisfaction in her eyes made his heart pound, and he could tell that Beel's was just as busy.

"My turn," Beel said quickly. Whether he meant for a snack or for a kiss... well. We shall see.

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor bound - 9

This is a series. Start here. Previous chapter here.

Back to Isaac. Be gentle with me, I’m not used to writing “mental” whump so I did my best. I’m hoping to get my Bad Things Happen Bingo card here soon and then...I’m gonna have a field day.

Cw: death mention, death threats, kinda walks the line between self-sacrifice and self-loathing a little bit..., drowning, asphyxiation 

AO3

Isaac groaned at the sound of the door opening again. “No…”

“Oh, come on,” Gavin huffed, walking into the room with Leo close behind. “I gave you 20 minutes to recover. And didn’t you just beg me to torture you? Come on, Isaac, mixed messages here.” He grinned and turned to Leo. “Get him up.”

Leo yanked him to a seated position. He cried out weakly as the welts on his back stretched and bled a little more with the movement. Leo pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked one of the manacles. Confused, Isaac raised his eyes to Gavin. He paled when he saw that Gavin was carrying a bucket of water.

“What…no…” The tears started again as Leo wrenched his arms behind his back and shackled his hands behind him. “Wait…”

Gavin set the bucket on the floor and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I swear to god, if I have to remind you about Sam every damned time I start into you, I’m gonna get real tired of that real fast.”

Isaac’s eyes were wide and fixed on the bucket. “I…I can be scared and still know why I’m here…”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “And why are you here? I’m sure we could all use a reminder.”

Isaac swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “Sam. I’m here for Sam.”

“Good. Come here.”

Trembling, Isaac drew himself to his feet. He stopped in front of Gavin, staring at the water.

“Get on your knees.”

Isaac fought back a sob. Of all things, all things Gavin could have done, he decided to start with this…

“Get on your knees. I’m not going to ask again.” Gavin’s voice had a hard edge to it.

This is…this is how… Isaac couldn’t seem to think straight. He couldn’t think of his team. He couldn’t picture their faces. The only thing that occupied his mind was the bucket of water in front of him and what he knew was about to happen.

He went down as Leo kicked him in the back of the leg. Leo forced him to his knees and yanked his head back with a hand in his hair. He could barely draw breath past the sobs. “No no no no no no…”

“Isaac.”

“No no no no please no…”

Gavin slapped him across the face. “Isaac.”

That brought him back, a little. “What…”

“You’re the one psyching yourself out right now. Have I done anything to you? Seriously.”

“No… No, I…”

“Then chill out. I’m just talking to you right now.”

Isaac nodded, shaking from head to toe.

Gavin laughed. “Well, if I doubted you were scared of drowning before I wouldn’t doubt it now. Christ.” He watched as Isaac did his best to draw in deep inhales and blow out slow exhales. He waited a few breaths. “Isaac.”

Isaac tremulously met his gaze. “What?”

“Do you know why I decided to do this next?”

Panic clutched at his stomach again. “No…”

Gavin’s slap knocked Isaac’s head to the side, despite the hold Leo had on his hair. Isaac cried out. Gavin shoved his face at Isaac as he trembled in Leo’s grasp. “I swear to god, Isaac, get your shit together right now or I kill you right here and go after Sam.”

Not Sam.

Isaac blinked the tears out of his eyes and dragged in another breath. “No.”

“Ok then. Can I continue? Please?”

Isaac nodded and pressed his lips together.

“Thanks so much.” Gavin rolled his eyes and sat crosslegged on the ground in front of Isaac, the bucket between them. “Let’s talk.”

Isaac watched him warily, his head still pulled back by Leo’s hand in his hair.

“Do you know how I knew bringing this in here would freak you out?” He nudged the bucket with his foot. Isaac flinched away as the bucket moved and stiffened as Leo tightened his grip on his hair.

“No,” he whispered.

“Oh, come on. Not even a guess?” Gavin grinned up at Isaac.

Isaac felt a chill creep into his stomach. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall behind Gavin and pressed his lips together.

Gavin glanced up at Leo and nodded. Without hesitation, Leo forced Isaac forward and plunged his head into the bucket.

Panic gripped him immediately. The feeling of cold on his face made him gasp and he drew water into his throat. He bucked hard against the hands on his shoulder and hair, but Leo’s grip was like iron as he held his head under the water. He screamed as his pulse raged in his ears. His lungs spasmed as he choked, dragging more water in.

Abruptly his head was pulled from the water. He dragged in a ragged gasp and coughed until his ribs ached. Water poured from his nose and mouth. Tears mixed with the water on his face.

Gavin reached out and grabbed his chin. “That is gonna happen every time to refuse to answer me.”

Isaac’s chest heaved with each breath as he began to sob. “You’ll…never…get anything out of me.”

Gavin tilted his head. “Aw. There’s that strong leader Sam kept going on about. But I don’t want information from you. Even if you do know things Sam doesn’t, I don’t really feel the need. I’m content I have enough if I ever need to hunt them all down.”

“No…”

Gavin held up a finger. “I’m not here for information. Like I said, I just want to talk.” Water dripped off Isaac’s face onto his bare chest and onto the floor. “So. Do you know why I knew to do this?”

A whimper made its way out of Isaac’s throat. “Sam told you.”

“Bingo!” Gavin laughed.

Isaac shook his head. “I don’t blame them for that.” His knees were beginning to ache.

Gavin grinned wickedly. “Oh? Would you blame them if I told you they volunteered that information?”

Isaac swallowed hard. “There’s…no way.”

He laughed again. “Think again! I told you they broke, and they broke fast. This was, like, day one.” He gestured to the bucket. “All I told them was to tell me something interesting about you. They volunteered your greatest fear all on their own.”

Isaac clenched his jaw. “They’re young. And inexperienced. It’s not their fault.”

“Oh, please. How old are they? I know every single thing they’re afraid or ashamed of and yet…how old they are just never made it into the conversation.”

Isaac hesitated before speaking. “They’re 19.”

Gavin snorted. “Ok, yeah, that is pretty young. But still, aren’t you even…the slightest bit mad at them?”

Isaac shook his head. “You tortured them. It’s not their fault.”

Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “What are they to you? You’re so god damned protective of them, to the point of idiocy. There was absolutely no need for you to take their place. If anything, you’ve left your team vulnerable without you. So why?”

“They…” He swallowed. “They’re Sam. They’re just…good. They didn’t deserve this.”

“People don’t go to their deaths for people who are just good.”

Isaac’s voice shook. “I didn’t know you were going to kill me.”

“Would that have changed anything?”

“…no.”

“You know what I think?” Gavin scooted himself closer until his shins were pressed against the bucket. “I think you would have done this for Ellis, or Gray, or anyone else on your team. Yes, of course I know all their names. And do you know why?” Isaac glared at him. “This team is all you have. And I don’t mean just, ‘they’re family’ or anything like that. No. You came because…what else do you have to offer them? Besides your life?”

Isaac swallowed.

“Really, I mean it. You’re not the smartest on the team, that’s obviously Finn. You’re not the best at taking care of people. That’s Gray. You’re not the most skilled, that’s Vera. And Ellis obviously has a sense of humor, so they’ve got you beat there.” Isaac’s eyes widened. “Oh come on. I had almost three days with Sam. You think I didn’t get to know your team intimately well? But what do you bring to the table?”

“I…”

His head plunged into the bucket again. He did his best not to breathe the water in but his body betrayed him. He yanked hard against the hand in his hair, but it was unrelenting. When the hand let him up again his lungs were burning for air. He choked on the water in his throat.

“What do you bring to the table, Isaac?”

He couldn’t answer. His throat was too constricted with coughing.

Gavin sighed. “I’ll wait.”

When Isaac could finally catch his breath he said, “I’m their leader.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Obviously. But what do you actually do for the team that no one else does? More importantly…” He adjusted his seat. “What it is about your life that makes you so keen to give it for another?”

Tears burned in Isaac’s eyes. “I…don’t…”

“Let me tell you what I think.” Gavin’s voice was intense. “I think you know you’re not the hero Sam thinks you are. You aren’t even a particularly good leader. After all…” Gavin clicked his tongue. “I took Sam because of a mistake you made. I think you came to me because you know that’s all you’re good for: dying so someone else doesn’t have to.”

The tears spilled over.

“Aw, someone’s sensitive. I’m right, though, aren’t I?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Oh, yes I do.” Gavin got up on his knees so he was at Isaac’s eye level. “I think you know, deep down, that you’re not the person Sam thinks you are. You came here because you wanted to earn that place in their eyes. With Sam, with everyone. Deep down, you know you’re as weak as they are.”

“Sam’s not weak!”

“You keep saying that with all evidence to the contrary.  But I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about you.” He tapped Isaac on the nose. “See, by coming here you guarantee the last thing they remember about you is this incredibly brave and selfless thing you did for your sweet and innocent Sam. Everyone will love you for it. Sam will hold you in their mind as their hero forever. And the team doesn’t ever have to see you when you’re at your weakest.” He grinned. “They don’t have to see how you begged before the whip even touched you. Or how you begged just because you saw a bucket of water. They don’t have to see how terrified you are…” He made a beckoning motion to Leo. Leo slowly forced his head down to the water.

“NO! No no no, please, PLEASE, don’t…” Leo stopped with Isaac’s face an inch from the water. He sobbed and writhed against his grasp. “Please…”

Gavin chuckled. “See? My point is made.” He placed his hand on the back of Isaac’s head and dunked his face into the bucket. He allowed him right back out of the water and let Leo draw him back upright. Isaac coughed and spluttered. “And I think you refuse to believe that Sam is weak because you want to believe you sacrificed yourself for someone good. Because if your sacrifice means nothing, and you are nothing without your sacrifice -”

“You’re wrong. Sam is good. And brave. And kind.”

“…that’s all you’re gonna correct me on? Does that mean everything else is true?”

“You’re a coward,” Isaac spat through his teeth.

Gavin’s face slid slowly into a smile. “Wow. You’re really taking this personally. Methinks I hit a nerve.” Isaac clenched his jaw shut. “You didn’t correct me, though. Which means you know. Deep down, maybe, but you know that you’re weak, you’re nothing, and this was the only thing you could think to do to convince your team that you’re worthy of the trust and love they give you. Or maybe you needed to convince yourself.”

Isaac held his gaze with a glare.

Gavin smiled. “Tell me who you really are, Isaac.”

Tears dripped off his face onto the floor.

“Isaac, you have a choice here. You can either…” He put his hand on his head and forced his face down toward the water. He cried out in protest. “…drown again, or tell me the truth about who you are.” They stood still for a moment, Isaac whimpering as he stared down into the water. “Wow. You would rather face your worst fear than tell me the truth about yourself?”

It’s not the truth. He tried to steel himself for the water, tried to push down his panic. But he broke. “Ok,” he gasped. “Ok.” Gavin released his head.

“Yes?”

Isaac swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Dunk him,” came the order. Leo shoved him forward and forced his head into the water. He tried to hold his breath. A hand pressed against the welts on his back to keep him there. For one beat, two, three…

He was pulled up again. He gasped and coughed. When he opened his eyes, Gavin was leaning towards him.

“This isn’t complicated. I want you to tell me why you’re really here.”

“Is this what you did to Sam?” Isaac panted. “Tried to get inside their head?”

Gavin smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, I didn’t just try. I convinced them you were there to torture and kill them, remember?”

Isaac pulled against the thug restraining him. “What did you do to them?”

Gavin laughed. “It didn’t take much. I just helped them realize they were weak and a liability to their team.”

“Screw you,” Isaac said bitterly.

“Should you be so lucky,” Gavin murmured, leaning closer. After a moment, he sat back. “But I digress.”

Isaac struggled against Leo’s hands. “What’s the point of this? You want me to say I believe my life is worthless? That I came here to try to make it up to Sam for failing them? Fine. If you want to put words in my mouth on pain of torture, fine. There you go. I said the words.”

That terrifying smile again. “I never actually said those things. You came up with them on your own.” He signaled to Leo again.

“No!” Isaac screamed. Before Leo could get his head under the water, he threw himself to the side and slammed his leg against the bucket. It tipped over, splashing everyone with water. Gavin shouted and fell backwards away from the spray. As Isaac fell to the floor, Leo’s weight crashed on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He cried out as the thug moved his knee onto Isaac’s lower back, his hands pinning Isaac’s head to the floor and his hands against his back.

Gavin laughed, surveying his wet clothing. “Fair enough.”

Isaac’s face was pressed against the wet concrete floor as the water rushed to the drain. He groaned at the weight on his back. Gavin got on his knees beside him and smiled, bringing his face so close to Isaac that he could feel his breath. “Alright. No more drowning for now. I’ll have to move on to something else.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to go change. Leo, tie him up. I don’t want metal on him for the next part.”

Next chapter

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @blue-flare10, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp

[chaotic-noceur]

regarding pragma.

read it here

Dear @softpedropascal

wow this took so much longer than I thought it would whoops.

So, first off- HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I hope you have the bestest day ever cuz you deserve it!

I’m incapable of forming coherent thoughts so um...here’s a cumulative post of my running commentary because my binge reading plans got disrupted so this seemed... neater? Idk. anyways, here you go. 

Part 1

No matter how many meetings and mediations you two went through, he still found a reason to keep dragging this out.

I read this as ‘meetings and meditations’ and was very confused for a sec 😂

That hat. You got him that hat. He still wore it?

omg u gave the hat a backstory. adkgadflhg 😍

He was tempted. God, was he tempted, but he shook his head and stood up straight. 

This just. Yes. We love a respectful man. 

I love all the little hints that you’re dropping about the reader and Frankie’s backstory. 

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 2

He told himself long ago that be would never forgive her for what she did,

WHAT DID I DO OMG.

“Can’t you, I dunno, sign for him?” he asked.

😂😂Frankie. Sweetheart. Who do you take me for? I can’t forge someone’s signature. I don’t have the skills for that. 

There was a reason he didn’t say goodbye. He was afraid to. He was afraid that if he said them again, he would have to go another five years without seeing her. Or has it been longer?

mY hEaRt

Pope and and Frankie’s ENTIRE interaction. 😍 I love that he can see right through Frankie’s bs, loves him anyways but will give it to him straight. 

He was too busy thinking about how if he had gotten his shit together, he could be living here with her, taking walks to his favorite lake every day.

asdfgadfkglhdf!!! Boo it ain’t all your fault 😢 (or is it 😏)

It’s funny how the simplest touch can cause the most complex feelings—feelings that he had sworn he buried deep inside of him somewhere. It was a complicated thing trying to be angry at her because in that moment all was forgotten and forgiven.

the DEPTH. in these sentences. oml. I’m so ready to learn about this complicated backstory.  

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 3

“I can make him sign ‘em,” he offered.

YES. I love a low key threatening boi.

“Yeah, until you decided I wasn’t good enough,” 

“Did you want to show me what I could have had with you if I wasn’t such a fuck up.” He sighed and put his hands on his hips.

AFGHSKF OMG MY HEART.

“I’m trailing water and mud all over the place but just remember that I saved your life before getting mad, okay?” 

“Nothing. Just like saying your name.”

ahhhh these are precious!!  

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 4

“Yeah. People do that right? Day dates?” He honestly wasn’t sure. Dates weren’t his forte.

🥺 someone help him. He’s so cute omg. 

“We might’ve made out a little too,” he mumbled.

aksfhksdfg look at him turning into a flustered boy!!!

“No. I just…stopped looking up,”

Babes. Idk if the double meaning was intentional but like. Wow. That hit hard. 

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 5

and has a name like ‘Bill’ or ‘Tom’.”

oop. We love a subtle Redfly dig 😂

!!!! IDK WHAT TO BLOCKQUOTE BUT OMG FRANKIE BEING PROTECTIVE. THE READERS BACKSTORY. FRANKIE KISSING AT THE PAST BRUISES. ANGRY FRANKIE OMG. 😭

I’m sorry there’s probably some more amazing stuff after that but t’was not a good ace day so i skipped the smut

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 6

You hid your body from him at first and when he moved your hands, you covered your face. Then he told you to never hide from him—he would always think you were beautiful

🥺🥺 this is so soft omg

sorry skipped the smut but im sure it was beautiful

“I’m not going anywhere.” You moved his arms so you could kneel in front of him. “I’m staying.”

*incoherent screaming*

“You can ask me for anything. I would give up everything I for you.”

The whole ending scene was AMAZING okay but this. This line right here. Big hurt omg. He knows the weight of what he’s saying. He knows how hard the road to recovery is and how many things are gonna try push him off that path. But he says it anyways. And it really really shows just how much she means to him. Brava! 

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 7

lmao I really need to start reading the warnings 😂

She was never going to be sad longer than necessary if he had anything to do about it.

WHERE CAN I GET A FRANKIE OML 😭

“That no matter where we were, when we look up, we’re looking at the same moon.” He looked at her though she was still looking up. “That always kept me going, you know?”

THE SOFT. AHHHHHH

The moonlight seemed to shine directly on her and make her glow like some ethereal being. She was an angel. She had to be. The stars twinkled above them but he had his own right here right now.

eXcUsE mE. wHo gAvE yOu tHe rIgHt tO wRiTe sOmEtHIng tHiS bEAuTiFul

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 8

“Stop ruining my romantic moment, please.

HAHAHAH I LOVE!

I can’t even- Omg. This whole chapter. I have no words

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 9

“I can’t,” he said, voice broken. “Please just let me…let me hold you. Let me…”

IDK THE FULL CONTEXT TO THIS (really hating my ace-ness rn cuz this last line is so heartfelt) BUT OMG BROKEN FRANKIE I JUST. ARGHHH

you realized that you were embracing your entire world right then and there. Letting it go would be the hardest thing you’d ever do.

take my heart and crush it why don’t you omg. 😭😍

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 10

She was hurt again. And it was his fault again.

I can’t do it. I can’t be alone anymore.

asdfghjk GURL. WHO HURT YOU OMG. LEMME HURT THEM BACK. 

His world spun and he felt like he was falling. He fell and fell into the abyss with no one there to save him as the bag felt like it was burning a hole in his hand. Is it hot? He felt hot. Burning up. Had he finally died and gone to hell? God knows that’s where he belonged.

No. It’s just an overwhelming darkness. Nothing. And that’s what he wanted, right? To feel nothing.

*VERY INCOHERENT SCREAMING* This is beautiful writing omg. The raw emotion in this. Holy hell. 

oml. That transition from pure pain and angst into love just *chefs kiss*. Frankie deserves so much 😭

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 11

“It wasn’t supposed to make you cry,”

wHat eLsE wAs iT sUpPoSeD tO dO omg. 

This whole chapter was SO CUTE!!! The way that Frankie just knows things about her. UGH. 

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 12

“What if it’s big and pulls me in?!”

MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY OMG

“I don’t wanna die,” he whispered.

His life felt as though it was falling apart all over again and he realized it was because she was the one that held him together and now that he was leaving, everything was one big mess again.

*inaudible screaming*

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 13

That ending tho! I love that you gave them their own little thing with the moon. Its so sweet 🥰and the Pope-Frankie friendship moments. *melts*

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 14

okay i was gonna blockquote but there was too much to quote This whole chapter felt so raw omg. If you’re pulling from real experience then I’m so sorry you ever had to go through that *pulls you into the biggest hug ever* (assuming you like hugs, if you don’t... i send you an affectionate ‘rubbing my forehead into your shoulder’)

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 15

“You could’ve walked in here with your head shaved and I’d still love it…but…please don’t.”

😂 yessss give me the humour in this sad

still haven’t learnt to read the warnings oml 🤦🏻‍♀️

ahhhh the soft reassuring Frankie content!!!!

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 16

“Probably because it’s Wednesday,” he said.

“It is?” you asked.

“Yeah. What day did you think it was?”

I FEEL SO ATTACKED OMG. What even is time anymore.

asfadsdfgdhk Its so SOFFTTT. Is this what it’s like to fall in love??😭

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 17

hallelujah i’ve finally learnt to read the warnings

ngaww Frankie being all excited and soft 🥺🥺 are they going camping?? are we gonna get Frankie in his element??

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 18

I’m as flat as a board back there.

I feel attacked and this wasn’t even directed at me oml 😂😂

tHeY aRe sO iN lOvE oMg 😍

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 19

I get it, it’s embarrassing, but I’m not judging you for it.

YES. In this house, we don’t judge people who are struggling to find jobs!

“I wouldn’t say them if you didn’t deserve them. You deserve good things, Frankie. You may not feel like you do but you do. Always.”

He sighed and rubbed your back. “If you say it then it must be true.”

*incoherent screaming* we all deserve good things okay 😭

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 20

thank you for the warnings that i’ve finally learnt to read before reading the fic

What if I’m a lost cause? Just some pathetic druggie who can’t get his shit together…mooching off his girl.

NOOO You’re not just some pathetic druggie Frankie😭😭

“Sleepovers? Do I get to paint your nails? Do your hair?”

Our love has aged gracefully kinda like us.

THE SOFT OMG 🥺🥺

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 21

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not and have never been an addict. Yeah, I did drugs. Yes, I hurt your daughter and she had to leave, but you know what, we’re together now and nothing’s gonna change that. She’s forgiven me and she loves me and that’s all that matters.”

YAS. I love this change from nervous wreck to confidence! 

This is so happy and soft and sweet oml. My angsty soul doesn’t know how to deal. 😭

⫷⫸ ⫷⫸ ⫷⫸

Part 22

Sweet baby jesus. It was soft. And then it was not. And then it was soft again and I just. *incoherent screaming* GURL. 

❖❖❖❖❖

ludus

I’m gonna have a house right on the other side of the lake.

asdfgI I Have Feelings.

GURLLL. This was so innocent!! They’re both so young and cute and asgalsfjghsd. 

❖❖❖❖❖

eros

“Are you running away from something?” she asked, and he bristled. “From me because you love me and don’t know how to say it?”

*incoherent screaming* well shit. you go gurl! you call him on his crap!

I skimmed the smut but like Frankie being a nervous wreck is 🥺

If you wanna see someone else while I’m gone, you can.

*more screaming because OMG if only he knew what that would lead to*

❖❖❖❖❖

ania

O damn. I kinda loved his slow descend into darkness... The fact that the reader still clings on to hope and love and just, damn. I’m lost for words. 

❖❖❖❖❖

coda

... 

...

that’s all my brain feels right now. that was dark, but like. a good dark. It was heart wrenching but beautiful and- “I won’t be able to find you if I’m lost myself,” THIS. I just. *chefs kiss* but also, *ugly sobbing*. 

[stuckonjbbarnes]

Hella Feelings {7/?}

Pairings: Bucky x OC; Sam x OC

A/N: Chapter Seven with  @valkyriesryde​ THRIVING

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, implied sex

Word Count:  3457

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“HOLLY DID YOU TURN ON THE CURLING WAND?” Vanessa yells from her vanity, adding a few more coats of mascara and setting her makeup one last time.

“ITS BEEN ON FOR THE LAST 20 MINUTES.” Holly yells back from her spot in the kitchen while she continues to stir together a cocktail for herself. There’s no reason pre-drinks can’t be a little fancy.

“Quit yelling at me” Vanessa giggles, poking her tongue out and walking into the bathroom.

"Bitch you just..."

"Hey so what's up with you and Sam?" Vanessa pokes her head out from the bathroom and Holly sculls the cocktail she just made while making direct eye contact with Vanessa and then turning to the sink.

"What's up with you and Bucky?" Holly tries to distract Nessa but her mind is in full panic. What is up with Sam and I? We got food that one time but he's barely talked to me since. Did I do something wrong? Does he not like me anymore? Am I a bad kisser?

"That's not how this works I asked first!" something about her and Bucky????????

"Funny that, are you ready yet?"

"WOMAN STOP CHANGING THE SUBJECT!" Nessa stops her movement in a huff and yells out the door again.

"NO!" She stomps her foot and starts making another drink.

“ATLEAST MAKE ME ANOTHER COCKTAIL TOO.”

“Fine...but hurry up?”

“I’m nearly done.” Vanessa sticks her tongue out, pinning back a few curls as Holly disappears down the hall

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Near the bar, Steve and Sam are talking while they wait on drinks, "How many coherent sentences have you said to this girl?"

"Including or excluding the history of sugar?"

"Excluding..." Steve amends.

"20 tops."

"Jesus Fuckin Christ... I thought you were smooth. What the hell?" Steve smacks Sam’s chest and he holds up his hands smirking.

"But tonight! Tonight I'm gonna get that ass to be mine"

“You can’t refer to women as asses… we’ve talked about this” Bucky groans, joining the pair.

"Have you seen her ass?! I want to bite it...I need it in my life like I need air to breathe!”

“What about you Bucky? How’re things with Vanessa?” Steve asks, shooting Sam a weird look.

“She hasn't talked to me all week. But she did smile at me when I saw her on campus.”

"Now tell him what you did next." Sam grins.

"I waved and walked into a lamp post.." Bucky frowns, taking his drink from the bar.

“YOU DUMBASS.” The other two cry, causing his cheeks to burn.

"Who's a dumbass?" Sam yelps at Holly who just appears by his side.

“Sam is.” Bucky grins but it falters when he realizes Vanessa isn’t behind Holly.

After a pause Holly nods over her shoulder, “Nessa ran into MJ and Pete at the door..she’s here you idiot. But she’s already pretty buzzed.”

Bucky kind of lets out a breath because at least she’s here...then he catches a glimpse of pink before realizing its Vanessa. Holy hell she looks amazing and she’s laughing at something Steve just told her…

Bucky isn’t even sure when Steve got over there but he feels something...jealousy? Yes. Nessa is his girl..not Steve’s. He’s grumpy now, as he heads over to get another drink. The bartender passes a glass of some sort of cocktail to him and he drains it quickly, signaling for another.

“I’ll have what he’s having.” Bucky looks beside himself, knees nearly buckling at the sight of Vanessa right next to him.

“Hello Barnes...James, Barnes.” She giggles, looking up at him and he felt a genuine smile coming on.

“Hi Nessa.” He watches as she drinks the cocktail almost as fast as he had, she looks good, if not a little buzzed.

“Do you..er want to dance?” Bucky asks nervously, his eyes on his now empty glass.

Vanessa puts on her best resting bitch face and shrugs, “why not?”

Bucky starts walking pausing as Vanessa says “Here hold this.” And puts her hand in his, looking satisfied. He chuckles at that and snaps her body close as a jazzy slow song starts up. She looks up with wide eyes but relaxes, as he sways her to the beat.

“You can dance!” Vanessa is impressed and a little thrilled, as Bucky sweeps her across the dance floor.

“I may have taken some lessons.” He shrugged but he’s secretly thanking his mother for making him take lessons. She was right, they did come in handy.

“Just don’t step on my feet.” Bucky looks down and barely spots her bare toes at the hem of her dress.

“Where are your shoes?” She just shrugs, spinning under his arm.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Holly bumps Sam's shoulder after Bucky stalks off. He bumps her back and they stand there for a second awkwardly but happy.

"How are you a dumbass?" Holly fills the silence.

"Many reasons. But the first is not offering to get you a drink," she holds up the bottle in her hand at him and Sam grits his teeth and rocks on his feet.

"Already have one." He just wants to ram his head at a wall like god he's so dumb.

"Ahh right. Looks like Bucky is in Vanessa's good books again," he nods to the pair talking at the bar and feels a pang of jealousy when they hold hands and start dancing. Not that he wishes that were him with Vanessa but damn he wishes that was him with Holly.

Holly turns to look at Bucky and Vanessa and her hand brushes against Sam's, her pinkie circles around his thumb slightly. "Yea one look at him and she's putty in his hands."

"He's just as bad, he walked into a lamp post because he saw her the other day." Holly is still watching the pair dance and looking around the room but Sam's eyes are cast down on their fingers, he takes a deep breath and pulls her hand closer and slips his fingers in hers.

Holly keeps her head facing away from Sam and tries to bite back a smile as he takes a step closer to her and pulls her to his side, squeezing her hand.

"I'm honestly not surprised by that," she sucks in a breath when she turns to face him and realises he's much closer and looking right at her biting his lip.

"Sorry I've been MIA this week, had a test and then work," he keeps looking at her lips and he's talking softly so only she can hear. Holly nods along, she pushes against him a little further so they're chest to chest.

"Thought maybe I'd done something."

"You? Never, you're an angel" He's leaning in a little and Holly starts to freak out because they may have kissed before but she was very drunk and right now she's quite sober, thought a little tipsy.

"Do you want to dance?" She blurts out and Sam halts his movement and clears his throat.

"Oh uh yea sure."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Vanessa smiles up at Bucky. As much as she wants to be mad at him, one look into his eyes and she’s back to square one. After a series of twirls, she leans into Bucky to steady herself. Looking anywhere but down at the girl in his arms, Bucky spots Sam and Holly dancing on the edge of the floor. Sam spots him and shoots a wink before Bucky goes back to swaying with Vanessa.

“You look handsome.” she finally says and god, he could just kiss her. Just as he’s about to follow through, the song fades out and an upbeat song takes its place.

“I need another drink!” Vanessa decides, pulling Bucky along with her.

Along the way, Holly and Sam join the pack and they shuffle to the bar. “SHOTS...please” Holly tells the bartender.

“What kind?” He replies, not having her shit.

“Fireball.” Vanessa smirks. “SPICY LIKE ME.”  

This causes both guys to look between each other, eyebrows raised. The four cheers the shots, eventually taking three each. “Black dress...with the tights underneath…” Bucky watches Vanessa grin, her eyes going big and he can’t help but smile at her obvious excitement.

“HOLLY... BITCH... GET OVER HERE!”

“COMING!” Holly cries,running over.

The girls run to the dance floor in an open space jumping up and down and yelling.

“T-T-T-TONGUES, ALWAYS PRESSED TO YOUR CHEEKS. WELL MY TONGUE IS ON THE INSIDE OF SOME OTHER GIRLS TEETH.” The girls scream together, turning towards Sam and Bucky. The guys kind of just stare, jaws dropped, mirroring each other. Steve walks over with MJ and Peter.

“Oh no…” Peter groans.

“WHO requested this DAMN song?!” MJ shrieks.

But Bucky and Sam are now grinning like fools, watching their girls KILLIN IT.  In the midst of the booming music, they can hear Nessa yell to Holly  “TELL YOUR BOYFRIEND...IF HE SAYS HE’S GOT BEEF… THAT I’M A VEGETARIAN”

“AND I AIN’T FUCKIN’ SCARED OF HIM!” Holly screams back, giggly and then the girls dance towards them and pull Steve to the dance floor.

The guys watch as both Nessa and Holly pretty much give Steve a lap dance, when the phrase “Shush girl, shut your lips. Do the Hellen Keller and talk with your hips” part happens. Bucky and Sam are both speechless and also a little jealous because errr that’s actually really hot, fuck. They give each other a side eye before jumping in and taking the girls for themselves.

“COME ON...IT’S MY BIRTHDAY.” Steve whines and crosses his arms, not moving from between the two couples that are dancing ON eachother. That is until the dancing gets borderline pornographic. Meanwhile Peter and MJ are watching the group.

“This is tragic...”

“Peter go request Despacito.” MJ cringes, watching him head up to the DJ.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s a couple hours later, everything is spinning for Vanessa and she hasn’t left Bucky’s side at all.

“Okay, I think it’s time we get you home,” his arm is around her waist and if it wasn’t for the fact that this was what was keeping her from falling over her feet he’d let himself feel giddy, but she’s just drunk, that’s all this is.

“How about no.” Sam, who is currently leaning over the table and pointing a finger towards Bucky gives him a drunk but stern look. “I’m starving.”

“WE SHOULD GET MCDONALDS!” Holly starts jumping by his side and she’s grinning like a cheshire cat because McDonalds fries in a soft serve sounds so good right about now.

Sam and Holly are both jumping up and down yelling “MCDONALDS MCDONALDS” while Bucky rolls his eyes and Vanessa looks up at him.

“You’re so pretty” she murmurs and starts playing with his hair. Yup, it’s home time. “TELL ME IM PRETTy baCK.” She whines, definitely home time.

Bucky leads Vanessa into the back of a cab and attempts to buckle her in but the damn dress is too poofy and she’s making it so hard because she won’t sit still. He eventually gives up, instead wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, as she’s decided to sit in his lap instead of on the seat.

Vanessa sighs happily, resting her arms on top of his. “Bonky, you’re a great guy. I forgive you for messing with my emotions.”

Bonky?? Bucky misses the second part too confused by the nickname. “Shhh Nessa, go to sleep. We’ll be home soon.” She like nods, resting her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“That’s disgusting,” Sam watches Holly with disgust while she dunks four fries into a chocolate sundae and scoops up the ice cream then shoveling them into her mouth.

“Don’t knoth it tith you try it.” She swallows as Sam takes a massive bite out of his burger getting sauce all over his cheeks. Holly giggles and reaches over the table, she wipes the sauce from his cheeks and licks her finger. Sam swallows the lump in his throat watching her lick her thumb. This is fiiiiine

“McDonalds, McDonalds, I love McDonaldss” Holly is singing softly as she continues munching away at her food. Sam is watching her and he decides that he needs to start taking a tally of the amount of times he finds himself watching her in awe. But it’s just so easy because she’s so pretty and carefree, not caring about what anybody else thinks as she does a little dance along with her made up song.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When the cab stops, Bucky, gently shakes Vanessa awake, setting her on the curb and she like blinks and a huge smile lights up her face.

“Hey Buck...how’d we get back here?”

“Magic.” He laughs, snaking his arm around her waist again.

“You know what’s magic?” she slurs, half-leaning into the beautiful blue-eyed man.

“What?” He smiles, eyes crinkling and pushes the button for the elevator.

“That my plants are still alive. Heaven knows I always forget to water them.” Bucky chuckles a little because holy shit, she’s the biggest dork even drunk.

“That is magic.” he agrees, watching her stare up at him.

“Now you tell me something magical.” She’s still looking up at him, with a passive smile.

“When I see you, I can picture a warm log cabin on a snowy day. I can smell the wood burning in the fire place and the fresh coffee in the kitchen waiting to be poured. I can hear you softly humming while reading a book by a big window because ‘it’s the best lighting, Bucky.’ And I feel at peace...everytime I see you. That’s magic to me.” Vanessa just gapes cause holy shit and then a nervous giggle bubbles out.

“I remind you of a house.” And Bucky has never wanted to strangle or kiss her more, as the doors open on her floor.

“Hmmm. You make me think of thunderstorms and burning candles and the smell of fresh baked snickerdoodles and a fuzzy kitten that does dumb things. But that’s not magic, Bucky.” Vanessa smiles, fiddling with the lock, pushing the door open and walking inside with Bucky. “That’s because I associate you with things that I like. OH, look, it’s the plants that never die.”

Bucky follows to where she’s pointing and grins, “Nessa. That’s a cactus...it doesn’t need- nevermind.” He quickly realizes they’re inside what he assumes is her bedroom, in the dark.

“OH! Are you staying?” Nessa asks, suddenly turning around.

“O-only if you want me to..” he tries not to stutter but he can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, only getting worse when she doesn’t answer right away.

“Yeah...stay. I just...I don’t think any of my pajamas will fit you. Wait here.”

While Nessa disappears, Bucky takes a look around her room, lit by the hall light. Right away his eyes land on the book shelf filled with true crime novels and a dozen or so strictly about serial killers. Turning away, he looks at pictures all over the wall; some with Holly, others of Peter and MJ, and a multitude of baby pictures.

“I have pink pants...they might fit you.” Bucky jumps a little and takes in the monstrosity that Vanessa is holding up.

“I don’t need your pajamas.”

“Fine I’ll go look for something else.” She pouts, disappearing again.

“NESS I DON’T NEED PAJAMAS.”

“BUCKY YOU NEED PAJAMAS” She calls back.

“These?” She asks popping up with...extremely small shorts.

“Nessa...get into pajamas. I don’t need any.”

“FINE.” He can’t help but smile at how adorable she’s being.

“Drink this.” She pushes a water bottle into Bucky’s hand and drops some pills into the other.

Somehow Nessa had managed to take her hair out, make up off, and changed into a nightie and dear lord she looked even more amazing. Bucky could only assume she already had water and painkillers.

“It’s not poison..” She giggles and he knocks back the pills, while she crawls onto her bed.

“Are you going to come lay down or what?” Vanessa asks from under the puffy comforter and Bucky feels his cheeks heat yet again and heads toward the bed.

“At least take your clothes off. A suit is not proper sleep attire.” Vanessa giggles and then throws the comforter over her head.

“I’M NOT WATCHING I PROMISE.” But she like peeks, watching him undress in the semi-dark.

He finally climbs into the bed beside her and all she can think about is holy fuck, he’s in my bed and he’s practically naked and he looks so good and I bet his lips are soft. I should kiss him.

“What?” Bucky asks nervously, concerned by how Nessa is just staring.

“Kiss me, dammit!” She finally mumbles.

“What? No…” Bucky’s confused but also does not want to put her in a position where she wakes up and regrets it. Except oh fuck..she’s upset..shit..abort..come back. Kiss me!

Vanessa turns her back to him, the biggest pit forming in her stomach. I’m so stupid..he really doesn’t like me. I just screwed everything up. She cries quietly, trying not to make noise or shake the bed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“To the stairs!” Sam leaps towards the door to the stairway and pulls it open for Holly with a smile.

“But what about the elevator?” She asks but still walks through the door with Sam following after.

“Angel, if I go in that elevator right now I might vomit. I can’t have you seeing me in that state just yet.”

They walk up the stairs two at a time bumping shoulders and laughing the whole way up until they reach Sam’s floor and he pulls her into the hallway. No words are exchanged between them but Sam’s fingers drawing circles on the back of her hand is calming and Sam doesn’t plan on letting go.

"I had fun tonight did you?" He says when they reach his door and he’s leaning on the frame.

Holly laughs and shakes her head, "nah, too many people. I had fun with you though."

Sam feigns hurt until she mentions him and pokes his chest,his smile can’t grow any wider.

There’s a small pause, Sam shuffles on his feet, he wants to invite her in, wants to walk her upstairs but he’s not sure what she wants.  

"I should probably go in."

Holly nods awkwardly, why won’t he kiss her? Is he going to invite her in? You know what, fuck this. Holly grabs the bottom of Sam’s jacket and pushes up onto her toes, Sam isn’t quite sure what’s going on until she just kisses him and then turns and walks off.

Sam is dumbfounded, that was what he was supposed to do?!

“Hey!” He runs up to her and pushes Holly against the wall, his hands are holding her jaw and his fingers are tangling in her hair when he kisses her like his life depends on it.

A throat clears in the hallway and Holly pushes Sam back slightly to see an old lady walking down the hall and into one of the apartments shaking her head.

“Judgemental old bat,” Sam mumbles but he’s too busy biting Holly’s neck and pulling her towards his door to give a crap.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning, Vanessa stirs and like her face isn’t on her silk pillowcase...that’s a man’s chest. THAT’S BUCKY’S CHEST... OH SHIT HE’S IN MY BED. She moves her head back to her pillow. Then parts of last night come back to her and she jumps a little, hearing “morning.” She glances over at him, kind of sad all over again.

“I’m sorry about the pajamas Ness...pink just isn’t my color.” This makes her giggle...because why is he talking about her pajamas?

“Oh god...I offered you pajamas, didn’t I” “Only 3 different times.” He smiles, checking for any signs that she’s still upset.

“So do you want breakfast?” Vanessa asks, not willing to make things awkward. They could just be friends, it didn’t even matter.

“You can cook?”

“Excuse me? I’m like Martha Stuart...minus the jail time.” She laughs, rolling out of the bed.

Bucky just shakes his head slightly, happy to see that she was okay. After a quiet breakfast of avocado toast topped with an egg and bacon, she walks Bucky to the door. He wonders if he should kiss her finally but settles on a long hug.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Shit fuck crapstickles. Bad bad badddddd. Holly picks up the clothes that are scattered throughout the room while a sleeping...naked...Sam is sprawled out in the bed still. She tiptoes into the lounge and pulls on her skirt that was thrown over the back of the couch, puts on the heels that were kicked off by the door. Very bad.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~

Hella Feelings Taglist: @cant-decide-at-this-moment​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @buckysmischief​ @sebbbystaaan​ @supraveng​ @hopingforbarnes​ @dumbubblegum​ @murdermornings​

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,105

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​

Chapter 38: Lie

“Take me out of this hell. I can't free myself from this pain.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Taehyung wasn’t normally a morning person. He worked late nights, especially with running the Indie record label alongside Jungkook, which meant hours upon hours spent at the recording studio. There were nights when his insomnia would take hold of him, keeping him from being able to rest properly. Waking hours lulled on with worries that he often kept to himself. When he didfinally sleep, it was restless and sometimes plagued with nightmares. He tried sleep aids that Jimin suggested, but they only worked so long as he didn’t grow dependent on taking them every day.

This particular morning, Taehyung was up just as the morning haze began to lift. Cradling a steaming paper cup of coffee, he approached the quiet amusement park. They wouldn’t be opening for a couple of months, what with it being the off-season. Being a former Golden Jackal had its perks and he was able to unlock the large padlock connected to the links of chains outside of the gate. The metal hinges creaked loudly and he winced, wondering if this resembled how the gates of Hell would open when entreating new residents.

I’ll find out one day, I guess, he thought, smirking against the brim of the cup as he entered the park while stuffing the padlock into his coat pocket. He always believed he was damned. May as well make the most of his life while he was still up and kicking.

Spring was around the corner. He could feel it. The air was less frigid and held a distinct warmth to it, even through the overcast sky.

Taehyung glanced around casually, peering at the different rides. The park looked like a ghost town since no one was there to enjoy the festivities. Vendor booths were empty of prizes and food, but he knew if he imagined hard enough, he could hear the ambient noise that came with the scenery.

A stab of nostalgia poked at his chest as he recalled the small-town festivals that were held in his hometown. Farmers gathered to drink, barter goods, and traveling performers visited to entertain the townsfolk. Taehyung was amused with it until he became a teenager, wondering if the country life was all he was going to ever surround himself with. He’d had his own ambitions to leave and head to the big city, but he never imagined he would have done it with his childhood friends.

Everyone seemed so set in their ways back then. Even Namjoon.

He halted his steps, lifting his face to the sky. I wonder when things started to change…

“It’s creepy when no one is here,” said a voice behind him.

Taehyung lolled his head lazily to the side, pivoting slightly until he was face to face with the person he agreed to meet with that morning. He pulled the hood back on his hoodie, sneakers shuffling on the concrete as a better dressed Chae Hyungwon approached. His bubblegum pink hair looked faded, mostly from the overcast skies, but his piercing eyes seemed even brighter than normal. The silver earrings dangling from his lobes jingled softly as he walked, a soft smirk pulling at the corners of his full lips. While Hyungwon was dressed in what most would consider business casual, Taehyung felt severely under dressed in comparison.

And he didn’t give a damn.

Hyungwon stopped just a few feet in front of Taehyung, the two men facing each other. Instead of greeting him (or even acknowledging his earlier comment), the younger man took another drink of coffee. He made a point to slurp in an obnoxious fashion, unbothered by the simple lift of a brow from Hyungwon.

When he pulled the cup from his lips, Hyungwon scoffed as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You didn’t even bother to bring me a cup of coffee?”

Taehyung shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.” And to be a brat, he took another long sip.

“So disrespectful to your Hyung,” Hyungwon replied casually.

“Now that,” he said, the hand holding the cup pointing at him, “you most certainly are not.”

Hyungwon made a dramatic show of being insulted, placing a hand on his chest as if he’d been physically struck. When he noticed that Taehyung wasn’t going to humor him, he returned to his normal posture and expression.

“You’re no fun.”

“Why did you want to meet me at such a stupid time of day?”

He watched the older man take a few steps forward, closing the gap between them, before side-stepping Taehyung and walking past him. He turned his body in time with his movements, not wanting to have his back to the Snapping Turtle. However, Hyungwon seemed focused on whatever he was processing in his head as he continued walking, not bothering to see if Taehyung would follow. He didn’t care to be left alone, but he wasn’t comfortable with Hyungwon running around and being left to his own devices in a place only he had been allowed access to.

“Hey!” he belted out, but the older man continued walking with no signs of slowing down his pace at all. “You gonna answer me or what?!”

Again, he was ignored.

Annoyed, Taehyung jogged forward and grasped onto Hyungwon’s shoulder, whirling him around so they were face to face. When he did, he was suddenly aware of something sharp pressed against his neck. Taehyung rocked back on the balls of his feet, surprised he still had a hold of his coffee. Hyungwon’s eyes, which were playful and light earlier, were now dark and threatening. A lump formed in Taehyung’s throat and as he swallowed, he was even more aware of the cold bite of the item still against his skin.

“Taehyung-ah,” came Hyungwon’s even tone, his hold on the knife steady, “I know it isn’t your style, but you should really mind your manners.”

Taehyung smirked, slowly setting his feet back evenly on the ground, and shrugged. “Oh, right,” he said, as if he was remembering something, “I forgot how you hate being touched.”

Hyungwon quickly removed the knife’s edge from his throat, folding the blade back into its confines and slipping it into his pocket. Taehyung absentmindedly rubbed at his neck, checking if the skin was broken. When he saw no blood, he looked up at Hyungwon who was now brushing his hands through his hair in irritation.

He wasn’t going to be the only one who got riled up at this asinine hour of the day.

For a while, the two men just stood in companionable silence. It was like this before; in the past. When the Golden Jackals didn’t exist. Back then, the Jade Fangs were the young gang climbing up in ranks on the streets. Their reputation wasn’t as profound as it was today, but, in time, they were able to gain notoriety where it counted.

And it happened because of them; the Golden Jackals.

“If I call you ‘Hyung’, just for today, will you tell me why you dragged me out of my bed?”

Hyungwon’s irritated expression was immediately replaced with a mischievous grin. “I’ll think about it.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “That’s the only offer you’re getting. If you don’t have anything to tell me, I’m going back to sleep.”

Without waiting for an answer to his ultimatum, he turned on his heels and began walking back towards the entrance of the park.

“Icarus died because he flew too close to the sun.”

His sneakers made a loud scraping noise as he halted abruptly. Slowly, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at Hyungwon. The older man stayed where he was, hands once more in his pockets.

Taehyung quipped a brow at him. “Yeah, so what?”

“His hubris is what killed him.”

This time, he narrowed his eyes. “Again, so what?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Hyungon’s lips pressed together in a thin line. He looked like he was about to say something, then stopped. Taehyung did his best not to squeeze the paper cup in his hand. He visibly looked like he was piecing something together, formulating the words in his head. Taehyung smothered his anger down into his gut to keep from exploding in outrage at Hyungwon.

After what felt like a small eternity, the older man met Taehyung’s eyes. “You all need to leave Seoul.”

Though he hadn’t meant to, Taehyung burst into a small fit of laughter. “I’m sorry, what was that?” Hyungwon clearly wasn’t joking, but he couldn’t stop laughing. “You want us to leave where now?”

“Seoul.” Hyungwon’s tone was clipped. “You need to leave Seoul as soon as you can.”

“Fuck that.”

“I’m serious, Taehyung-ah. Leave Seoul.” Hyungwon sighed, averting his gaze. “At least for a little while. Until things settle down.”

Taehyung’s laughter died off. “And why the hell should we do that, huh?” He was smiling, but he could feel the precursor of an eruption bubbling in his chest. “After all the hard work we’ve put in through the years, after everything we’ve fucking accomplished, you think we’re just gonna turn tail and run? Huh?”

Hyungwon said nothing, which only made him angrier. Why wasn’t he giving him more of an explanation than that? What the hell was so goddamn pressing that he felt the need to tell him and his brothers to fucking scram? As far as he was concerned, they’d paid their dues and done their time. They had no reason to flee the scene because they weren’t in the shadows anymore.

A sliver of light peeled in through the clouds, followed by several more rays that beamed down around them. The concrete took on an ethereal glow, shadowing their forms even more than they had been under the cloud cover. Even the steam rising from his coffee was lost in the darkness.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because it doesn’t.”

“No,” snapped Taehyung, pointing to Hyungwon angrily, “you need to make it work that way. I don’t know what your boss has planned, and I don’t fucking care. We’re not playing the game anymore. We’re out!”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“What?!”

“I said that it doesn’t matter.” Hyungwon’s brows furrowed slightly. “You think the game is over just because you’ve folded your hand? Don’t be so naïve.”

Taehyung scoffed, rolling both his neck and his eyes, before giving him an incredulous look. “Wow, Chae Hyungwon, you—”

“The game is still being played, Kim Taehyung. So, while I’m telling you nicely, you need to take whatever you can and get the hell out of Seoul.”

Taehyung’s anger was boiling and on the verge of overflowing. Yet he couldn’t say anything. In all the years he’d known Hyungwon, he’d only ever seen him this serious once. And that was on the night war broke out in Gangnam five years ago.

The night when the Golden Jackals solidified their place in the criminal underworld.

Something else dawned on Taehyung at that exact moment. Why it had taken him so long was something he’d have to battle with later, when his mind was a little quieter. But now? Now he had a better understanding of the situation. Now he had a better grasp on the danger they were about to be in.

Or already were in.

Those bastards are about to make a move, he thought, almost horrified by the idea of it, and he doesn’t care that we’ve pulled out from the competition.

“Leave the table.” Hyungwon approached Taehyung, walking around him and heading toward the exit. “Before you’re forced to see just how much you’re about to lose.”

He watched Hyungwon exit the amusement park, leaving Taehyung alone as the sun continued breaking through the clouds. His hands shook violently and hot coffee spilled out onto the ground, burning the back of his hand. But he couldn’t feel any of it. He was completely numb. If his entire body wasn’t trembling with the force of his rage, he might have cared.

Reaching into his back pocket, he fished out his cell and quickly dialed a number. It rang twice before they picked up. Swallowing the lump in his throat once more, Taehyung wet his lips as he tried to regain his voice. As he tried to tether some semblance of sanity back to his brain - to keep his mind from running amok without reason.

But he had a reason. They all had one.

Because the game wasn’t over yet.

“Hoseok Hyung,” he said gently, his fingers curling into a literal death grip around the phone, “I think we’re about to have some problems…”

[pemini]

Irreparable Places | Lee Taeyong

Prologue

「 I picked a flower from the stem and I watched it die in my hands, and I screamed "Oh my God, I did it again” 」

⇢ Word count: 1,294

⇢ Genre: angst, zombie apocalypse! au

⇢ Warnings: implications of death, weapons

⇢ Pairing/Main Characters: taeyong x reader, potential taeyong x reader x ten

November 5th, 2019

6:50AM

The Borderland

The world was burning, and all Lee Taeyong could do was drive. Ten was collapsed in the passengers seat, his chest rising and falling softly. Despite his exhausted state, his grip on the pistol in his hand was deadly. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a warm glow over the borderland. Its warmth was almost alien to a landscape so bleak, all rubble and wreckage too far beyond repair. Taeyong welcomed the sunlight as it hit his inked skin, it brought him back to moments long gone, moments pried out of his hands. The truck he was driving began to shake, its engine vibrating aggressively. He’d known that the engine was damaged weeks ago, when the truck had failed to start up and the fuel began to run out abnormally fast. Fuel was hard to come by and the truck was barely functioning, he worried that they’d have to start traveling by foot if they don’t get ahold of another one. 

Ten startled awake with the sudden unrest of the vehicle, sitting up straight before slumping back in his seat as his heavy eyes landed on Taeyong, “Do you think we’ll make it in this thing?”  He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

“With an engine like this, we won’t go far, but we should be able to get to the border in one piece.” Taeyong responded, sending Ten a reassuring smile.“Go back to sleep, you need it.” He turned his eyes back towards the road- or what used to be a road, at least. It was barely holding itself together, and Taeyong was struggling to drive smoothly as he drove the truck over deep cracks and attempted to avoid areas that were completely fragmented. Not much was left intact around The Borderland after the F.E.D.R.A dropped over 20 bombs in the area. Infected and uninfected alike had lost their lives, although most were already lost. Taeyong shivered as he recalled the image of disembodied corpses mangled in the debris, a burnt teddy bear lying idly on the side of the road. He could still feel the stench of burning flesh and gasoline seep through his lungs.

Ten cocked a brow at his best friend, taking in the dark circles that lay under his eyes and his tousled hair. “Bold of you to say. Let me drive for once, you can sleep in the back seat.” The smile on his face was earnest, and Taeyong couldn’t help but mirror it, his light almost contagious. He shook his head in disagreement, squinting his eyes at the silhouette of a tank emerging towards them from the dust. Watchers. 

“No need, they’re here- get the papers.” Said Taeyong, under his breath. They unstrapped their seat belts and concealed their pistols in their waistbands before getting out of the truck. Ten quickly made his way to the back of the vehicle, taking out their paperwork from a safe they’d hid under a stack of blankets and clothing, weighed down by an old carpet that neither of them knew the origin of. The wind was cold on his skin, the sunlight providing little warmth. Once he made his way back, the tank had just come to a halt in front of Taeyong. He couldn’t help but shudder, seeing it loom over him. 

The Watchers came down one by one. Two of them. Taeyong was sure there were two more inside, presumably for back up. Sometimes, they’d squeeze a fifth in. The thought alone made him scoff. He could hear Ten’s breath halt in his throat beside him, and he had to remind himself not to reach his hand out to him. Vulnerability was not an option.

“Names.” Ordered the Watcher on the left. He was masked, they all were. All black jumpsuits, rifles strapped on their backs, boots marking the ground as if it were their own. 

“Taeyong and Ten.” Taeyong responded, his voice was stable, staring the Watcher dead in the eye. Ten fumbled with the papers. The Watcher on the right snatched the paperwork from his grip, looking over the details.

“Where’s the third?” Asked the Watcher after reading over their details. He signaled to the tank before Taeyong could respond. Two Watchers jumped out, just as he had assumed. They began searching the truck, weapons drawn, pace slow and alert. “Zhong Chenle. Where is he?” 

“He..” Taeyong faltered. Ten gently placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. The Watcher gripped his rifle. “He turned. We had to..” The Watcher nodded.

“Back to base.” He ordered. The two Watchers inspecting the truck headed back to the tank. “Follow the tank to the border. Johnny’s waiting for you at the F.E.D.R.A headquarters.” He instructed. Both Watchers turned to the tank, already beginning to drive away.

Taeyong and Ten hurried back into the truck, the latter exhaling heavily as he sunk into his seat. “Fuck them.” He groaned, rubbing his forehead. He took his pistol out of his waistband, checking the ammunition. An act of self soothing. Nobody wanted to feel defenseless in a place like this. “We really have to pretend to tolerate them for god knows how long now.” He said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Hold your tongue, they’re always watching.” Chuckled Taeyong, Ten slapping his arm lightly in response. Taeyong tightened his grip on the wheel, his smile not reaching his eyes. Silence befell them, and Ten couldn’t help but fidget as he tried to come up with something to fill the silence.

“We did what was best for him,” Whispered Ten, almost hesitant to bring the topic back up in the first place, aware that Taeyong was still grieving. “You know that, right?” 

“I.. I could’ve done more to help him, Ten.” Said Taeyong, gaze fixed on the tank that drove steadily ahead of them. “I could’ve saved him.”

“No, Taeyong. You couldn’t. It was out of your control- out of our control.” Ten stared at him as if he were searching for something he could not find, existing like shattered glass, void of its true form. Taeyong clenched his jaw as tears formed in his eyes, the initials etched onto his skin burned his wrist. “He can rest now.” 

The truck came to an abrupt stop, earning a clumsy yelp out of Ten as he almost hit the dashboard. “Put your seatbelt on next time.” Muttered Taeyong, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the truck without sparing a glance at his stunned friend. Ten stumbled out before trying to compose himself, hurrying behind Taeyong towards the entrance of the border. 

They were faced with concrete walls and guard towers, Watchers wearing gas masks, combat helmets and body armor stood at the entrance, assault rifles pointed towards the pair. The Watchers who lead them there exited he tank, one of them walked towards the Watchers at the border while two others approached Ten and Taeyong. The fourth remained in the tank. 

“We will now carry out the standard test for infection,” Stated one of the watchers approaching them. Both of them quickly took hold of Ten and Taeyong, pushing them to their knees and pinning their hands behind them. “Do not resist.” He ordered. They complied, eyeing the scanner that both of the watchers had taken out of their utility belts. They activated the scanners with a push of a button before running them across both of their bodies. Taeyong looked up at the other Watchers, only to see them with their rifles drawn towards them, ready for a signal of infection to pull their triggers. The scanners beeped with a flash of green light. 

“Clear.” They motioned for them to get up, they could barely sigh in relief before they were pushed towards the now open entrance, “Commander Seo will get you to the F.E.D.R.A Headquarters."

- this is only the prologue, the reader will be present in chapter 1. im considering making this a potential love triangle fic w ten as well, but im not sure yet. either way, this is a slow burn so it’ll take a while before anything solid progresses so wether or not that’ll fit in will be clear by then.

- the quote under the header is from ‘its sunday, april 19th and i miss you’ by flatsound! also, if it isnt clear enough already, this fic is heavily inspired by the last of us and i really recommend you check it out if you havent already!! its one of my fav video games ever !!

- in the future there may be graphic depictions of violence and major character death. 

- pls excuse any errors im too lazy to proofread im alrdy gonna wanna kms when i reread this after uploading it and see 80 typos and 53 grammatical errors

[ladyfogg]

Cold is the Night - 16/20

Cold is the Night - 16/20

Fic Summary: You and Pat have known each other for years but this summer, everything will change. As the two of you start to grow close, your matching tempers threaten the foundation of your rocky friendship and prevent both of you from realizing your true feelings. Cold is the Night Masterpost. 

A/N: The moment we have all been waiting for! Warning, this chapter and the next one are just full of smut. 

Fic Song: Cold is the Night by The Oh Hellos. Fic playlist can be found here. 

Pairing: Pat Murray/Female Reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Language, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Multiple Chapters

Of all the things that could have happened, Pat pinning you to the wall hadn't crossed your mind. 

His body was hot and still damp from his shower, and his mouth was so fucking demanding. You needed him more than you ever needed anything in your life. 

You whined as his hand left your pants, but then he was kissing you and everything was okay again.

Somehow you managed to make it to the bedroom, shedding your clothes along the way. Pat was only in his boxers and you eagerly pushed those off before both of you tumbled into bed.

"Fuck, I need you so bad," he moaned between kisses.

"I need you more." You grabbed his wrist and shoved his hand between your legs. "Finish what you started, Murray."

"Oh, I'll finish it," he declared, fingers circling your clit. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"Say my name when you come."

And then he moved down the bed and a second later his tongue replaced his fingers. You gasped and dug your hands into his wet hair, gripping tight. You had no idea what had gotten into Pat but you were not going to complain in the slightest.

Seeing him so confident and dominant was the hottest thing ever. And yet, you knew that if you wanted to stop, he'd do so immediately, no questions asked.

But you didn't want to stop. You wanted him. All of him.

His mouth was working wonders with your clit and he slid two fingers into you the second he felt you relax. The loudest moan spilled from your lips. You didn't even bother trying to keep quiet since there was no need. And you wanted Pat to know exactly what he did to you.

He sucked and flicked your clit with near-perfect precision. His two fingers took a while to find your sensitive spot, but once he did, he rubbed it relentlessly.

Your whole body jerked and squirmed, legs shaking as you threw them over his shoulders. He ate you out like he was a starved man enjoying the best meal he'd ever had. 

Time melted away. You lost track of everything that wasn't Pat's mouth or fingers. Endless waves of heat threatened to consume you and you were more than ready to let them. Your orgasm hit you out of nowhere, your back arching off the bed while you ground against Pat's face.

"Pat!"

His mouth placed kisses along your hip as you melted into the mattress. But his fingers didn't stop. He kept going, kissing his way up your torso and to your breasts. 

"Do you know how fucking gorgeous you are?" His voice was deliciously hoarse. You were too blissed out to do anything other than whimper. "Not just on the outside. You're an amazing person. I don't know how I got so fucking lucky."

You moaned in response. "Fucking Christ, Murray," you panted, hips still grinding along with his hand. "You trying to kill me?"

Pat grinned. "No. Just make you come. A lot."

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently as his fingers continued to press against your g-spot. Another orgasm was fast approaching, which was way sooner than you expected. Usually, you needed time before you could get off again.

Not with Pat it seemed.

You squirmed beneath him, pinned by his hard body. He sucked and teased your nipple, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak before going to the other one. His fingers were constantly moving inside you, so deep his palm rubbed your clit.

You were a shuddering, babbling mess and when you came again, you felt your arousal leak out of you, coating his hand. Pat looked at you in awe, damp hair falling into his eyes.

He looked like he was going to say something but you cut him off with a kiss, body trembling as it came down from its high.

"I want to taste you," you panted, hand stroking his side as you reached down. 

He grabbed your wrist, bringing it to his cock. "Touch me first."

Pat rolled onto his side so you were face to face. You jerked him off eagerly as his mouth latched onto your neck. He sucked on the sensitive flesh, tongue lapping at your salty skin before moving to another spot. You were going to be covered in love bites and the idea thrilled you more than you thought it would.

You broke away to kiss a path down Pat's chest, still stroking his dick. Once you reached your prize, you ran your tongue along the length of him, already anticipating how he would feel inside you. 

Pat moaned, hand automatically falling to your head as he jerked his hips forward. You teased him, letting the tip of his cock brush your lips as you placed feather-light kisses along it. 

"Babe, please."

Hearing him beg went straight to your core, your cunt throbbing in anticipation. Without further preamble, you sucked him into your mouth with an audible slurp. Pat moaned loudly, hips surging forward to bury himself as much as he dared.

Your pace was much more leisurely than the last time you'd sucked him off. There was no rush, nowhere to be or go. You both could finally enjoy each other and you planned to take full advantage.

Pat started to carefully fuck your mouth, panting and whimpering each time the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. One hand stroked his shaft while your other hand remained trapped between you and the bed. Eventually, you managed to wiggle it free so you could cup his balls, massaging them albeit clumsily.

If the noises Pat made were any indication, he didn't care that your movements were sloppy. You opened your eyes to look up at him. His were closed, his head thrown back in ecstasy, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he held himself back. 

You couldn't take it anymore. You needed him inside you.

Pulling off his cock with a gasp, you pushed your way up the bed. Pat seemed to know exactly what you wanted because he seized your waist, flipping you onto your back so fast you bounced against the mattress. 

"Condoms?" he asked. 

"Top drawer."

Pat reached over to get the protection while you took a moment to catch your breath. "Also, I'm clean," you added. "And am on birth control."

"I'm clean too," Pat said, pulling a condom out of the box. He sat back on his heels, eyes taking in your disheveled appearance. "Fuck. I can't get over how beautiful you are."

Blushing, you playfully kicked him. "Stop looking at me like I'm a goddess or something."

"You are."

You sat up and took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply. "You're beautiful too, Pat," you insisted. "You're caring and passionate and sweet and sexy…you keep saying you're the lucky one. But I'm lucky too. I—"

His eyes softened and he looked at you with such adoration, it made your heartache. You felt the three most powerful words on the tip of your tongue but you held back. It was too soon to say them. Too soon to tell him just how much you had fallen.

"Finish that thought," Pat whispered. "What were you going to say?"

You pursed your lips. "Nothing."

Pat pressed his forehead to yours. "Please. Please." He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. "Say it so I can say it."

Your heart leapt into your throat and suddenly everything else melted away. All you could focus on was Pat and you closed your eyes too, taking a deep breath.

"I think I'm in love with you."

You didn't mean to whisper but it was the only way the words could come out. As soon as they did, you knew they were true. You never felt this way about anyone else before. Every night without Pat broke your heart and every day with him made it full again.

"I know I'm in love with you," you clarified. "And I know it's probably too soon but—"

Your words were cut off when he kissed you, so hard that you fell onto your back. "I love you too," he murmured between kisses. "I love you so fucking much it hurts. Fuck, I love you."

Beyond happy, you kissed him back, hugging him close. He buried his face in your neck and you held each other for a few moments, both overwhelmed. 

"Well now you really have to fuck me," you declared.

Pat pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, I'm gonna fuck you so good, babe."

"Do it, Murray. I dare you."

And just like that, you were back in sex mode. Pat sat back again to roll the condom on, stroking himself a few times to get his erection going again. The sight was fucking hot and you mentally filed it away for future use.

When he was ready, he crawled over your body, nudging your legs apart so he could settle between them. You ran your hands up his muscled arms, pulling him in close. With one hand holding himself up, the other reached down to take hold of his cock. 

And then he was pushing into you.

You gasped, trying to relax as your body stretched around him. You had never felt so full in your fucking life and as he kept going, you were suddenly acutely aware of how long he was. Once he bottomed out, your body was trembling from the rush of endorphins and emotions.

Pat was already panting, just as overwhelmed as you were. He laid his body on top of yours, kissing you deeply.

Then, he started to move.

Nothing could prepare you for how it felt to have Pat inside you. You clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist so you could pull him back in every time he withdrew. You rocked together effortlessly, losing yourselves in each other's bodies.

How had you gone so long without feeling this way? It was like you were suddenly complete. Like a piece of yourself had been missing. You just hadn't realized it until that moment.

Pat's movements were anything but graceful. He ground into your heat with reckless abandon, consumed by his own love and lust. Although, that itself was its own form of grace. It was so uniquely Pat. Hard and fast, with a surprising softness that took your breath away and made you weak in the knees.

His lips kissed yours, then your chin, your cheek, before he tucked his face into your neck. He fucked you with deep thrusts, burying himself to the hilt every time. 

You rocked together for eternity. At least it felt that way. Hands dug into sweaty flesh, mouths met in sloppy kisses, and before you knew it, Pat's movements sped up.

"Not gonna last," he panted. "So fucking good!"

"Yes, baby, come for me. Pat, I need you to come for me."

He whimpered, his hand twisting the sheets as he pumped into you. His free hand wormed between your bodies until he found your clit, giving it a few helpless swipes before he was overcome by his own pleasure and couldn't focus enough to continue.

You didn't care. 

You were close yourself and you grabbed his ass, keeping him buried in you as you ground your clit against him. You came mere seconds before he did, both your bodies locked into place as the other's name spilled from your lips.

Once the waves of pleasure subsided, you were left in a shaking mass of sweat and tears. Though you weren't sure if they were yours or his.

Pat held you close, hand cradling your cheek as he kissed your face. You winced as he slid his softening cock out of you, body sore in the most spectacular way. He felt around for the comforter, dragging it up to cover you both.

"Is it supposed to be that good? I don't remember it being that good," you panted.

"It was never ever that good for me." Pat smirked, rolling onto his back. "Shit. Shit."

You lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to come back to reality. After a moment, Pat removed the condom and tied it off, dropping it onto the nightstand. Then he pulled you close, nuzzling your hair.

"I meant it, you know," he mumbled, sleep already tugging at him. "I love you."

"I love you too, Pat. Have for a long time."

He gave you a sleepy grin. "Yeah?"

Chuckling, you placed a soft peck on his lips before tucking yourself into his chest. "Oh yeah."

He hummed happily, holding you close. It didn't take long for you both to drift off to sleep, safe in each other's arms. 

[madamslayyy]

Log Cabin and a Brewing Fire Part III

Pairing: Nebraska Williams (Trevante Rhodes) x Reader

A/N: here we go, I’m sorry for hoarding this chapter for so long, I actually had it 95% finished before Spring Break, I just needed to add a couple of paragraphs and revise. But here it is now and I’ve already started in the next chapter. As always let me know what you guys think, Good, Bad, or otherwise, it really helps me as a writer. Also just another reminder this is a SLOW BURN story, so yeah the actions pretty liteeeee

PART ONE - PART TWO

~*~

You awoke to the sunlight pouring into your bedroom. You weren’t quite ready to get up yet so you shrunk back into your pillow, attempting to pull the covers over your head but they wouldn’t move. You tugged a little harder but they wouldn’t move an inch. You cracked an eye open only to be met with the figure of your late night guest sleeping peacefully beside you. He also was the reason you were currently unable to retreat into your blankets, his enormous figure taking up most of them.

You took a moment to examine him. He slept on his tummy, face buried into his pillow. You knew he had to have been in an incredibly deep sleep because his durag was sliding off his head a little. You reached over and adjusted it for him, hoping it wouldn’t wake him up. He didn’t even twitch.

You decided now was as good a time as any to get up since it looked like you weren’t gonna be going back to sleep any time soon. You pulled back the covers then suddenly remembered you’d slept in just your underwear and a T-shirt. You grabbed some real clothes from your drawer and made a b-line to the bathroom to get dressed.

Once you were presentable enough to not have bacon grease pop on your bare thigh, you headed downstairs to cook some breakfast.

You had no idea what time Nebraska fell asleep last night so you couldn’t really tell if you should wake him up for breakfast or let him sleep through. The snow was falling at a steady pace and starting to really build up outside.

You decided to cook a vegan omlette with spinach for breakfast. You went ahead and made two, just in case Nebraska woke up hungry. He could always just heat it up.

You’d barely got them out of the skillet and onto the plate when he came trudging down the stair.

“Good morning sleepyhead, you’re just in time for breakfast.” You said setting down both plates.

“Morning,” his voice was still heavy with sleep. He walk to the cupboard to get himself a glass of water, chugging the whole thing then filling up another.

“How’d you sleep last night?” You asked cutting at a piece of the omelette.

“Best sleep I’ve had in a while,” he said rubbing his eyes as he sat down.

“Well they say ambiance is everything. Wish I could’ve put on my ‘Rainstorms’ playlist, that’ll really knock your out.” You rambled taking a bite of your omelette. You glanced at your phone, realizing it was later than you thought. With the snow picking up outside you’d probably need a little extra time to get to work so you decided to go ahead and start getting dressed. You trashed the remainder of your breakfast and headed to put your plate in the sink.

“You’re finished already?” Nebraska said eyeing your now empty plate. Your pretty sure this was the first time he spoke to you without you prompting him. Progress.

“Yeah I gotta go get ready for work,” you said turning around to wash your plate.

“At the museum right?”

“Yeah actually! How’d you know?”

“Your uncle told me. He talks about you a lot.”

“No embarrassing stories I hope,” you chuckled. The corners of Nebraska’s mouth turned upwards slightly in an almost smile.

“The museums closed today isn’t it?”

“What makes you think that?”

“It was on the News.” Of course he would be the type of guy to watch the news. You quickly called your boss, her phone ringing three times before she finally picked up.

“Hello?” She said gruffly.

“Mrs. Tilly? It’s Y/N,”

“Ooohhhhh Y/N! Hello dear how are you?”

“Fantastic. Is work cancelled today?”

“Oh you don’t know? There’s supposed to be a major blizzard rolling through tonight. Don’t you watch the news?” If you could express your eyeroll through the phone, you would.

“No Mrs. Tilly, I didn’t catch the news this morning,” you deadpanned.

“Oh well the museum received notice per the City Regulations Department that all public facilities, the museums and schools alike, were to be closed for the rest of the week. This is a great opportunity for you to get some rest dear, you’ve been working so hard lately on those new exhibits, take some time for yourself for once ,” she said sweetly.

“Thank you Mrs. Tilly, stay safe,”

“You too dearie!” You hung up the phone and headed back to the kitchen.

“Apparently the museum is closed. All week in fact. And I had so much work to catch up on,” you sighed, looking in the fridge to survey the amount of groceries you had left. You hadn’t been grocery shopping in a while because of how busy you’d been at work but you definitely were going to have to make a trip if being snowed in for the next 3-4 days was a possibility.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to make a quick run for groceries and supplies, would you like to go with me?” You asked over your shoulder.

“Sure,”

~*~

An hour later you and Nebraska were piled into your car and driving into town. With where your house was, it was about a 20 minute drive just to reach the entrance of town. You turned the radio up, hoping to kill a little bit of the silence but a new rendition of Jingle Bells was all that sounded through the vehicle.

“Sheesh it’s still October,” Nebraska muttered sinking into his seat.

“Not a big fan of Christmas music?” You asked, eyes on the road.

“Nah, not really .” You changed the station. Mariah Carey singing “We Belong Together,” took its place.

~*~

“Okay so almond milk, oatmeal, tofu, r-“

“Can I ask you something?” Nebraska chimed in as you read off your grocery list while the two of you strolled down the aisles.

“Of course, ask away,”

“So being vegan was a personal choice or is it a health thing or-“

“I’m not vegan.”

“Not?”

“At all.”

“Ohhhh,” he looked down awkwardly and you smirked.

“What? You don’t like my cooking?” You teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“It’s just... um.... different.” He nodded, a small smirk playing at his own lips.

“Well if you don’t like it then tell me what you’d like me to cook then,” you chuckled continuing down the aisle.

“Maybe we cou-

“Y/N! Oh it’s been so long!” You and Nebraska turned around to see just who was calling for you.

It was none other than Tonya Manning, Principal of Dauntley High School, the only high school in town. She would routinely bring her students to the museum once a semester for a field trip, which she’d always set up and coordinate through you.

“Principal Manning, it’s great to see you. I’m assuming they cancelled school today?” You smiled as she came in to give you a hug.

“Oh no they cancelled all schools two days ago. Don’t you watch the news?” She said releasing you.

“Apparently not enough,”

“Oh hello! You must be Y/N’s man she’s been hiding! I’m Tonya Manning,” Tonya said holding out her hand. Nebraska politely took it.

“Nebraska Williams. And we’re.... not... like that.” He said obviously uncomfortable.

“He’s just a friend, Tonya. He’s taking a little vacation from the military right now so he’s staying with me.” You chimed in.

“Vacation from the military? How long you in town for?” Damn this woman was nosey.

“Couple months, don’t really have a solid time frame.” Nebraska spoke but you doubted Tonya heard a word of it. She was looking this man up and down as if he was a ribeye steak and she was a starving Cayote that hadn’t eaten in weeks. You knew he was good looking but apparently you weren’t the only one with working vision in this town .

“Well, we actually have a position open at the school. Our current JROTC coach is in his 80s and could use a strong, young militant like yourself to help get the kids who wanna serve in shape. The JROTC program is getting bigger and bigger each year and we really have to start expanding.” She smiled digging in her purse to pull out her business card before giving it to him.

“Give me a call sometime and we’ll set it up.” She bit her lip and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yes ma’am,” Nebraska smirked and you began to realize whatever chance Tonya thought she stood might actually be mutual. You couldn’t really blame Nebraska, she was pretty, tall, had curves in all the right places and had even extra backside she retained curtesy of her two kids she had by her exhusband. Any man would go for her the same way any woman would go for him.

“Well it was nice seeing you again Tonya, call me soon and we’ll get that museum field trip in motion,” you spoke up sweetly to interrupt the giving each other bedroom eyes.

“Of course,of course! Bye Y/N, see you soon, Nebraska,” she smiled coyly, causing him to give a little wave. You could puke all over the both of them.

“So.... lets go get milk,” you smiled sweetly heading down the aisle.

~*~

The two of you were back home a couple of hours later, putting up groceries, or rather you watching Nebraska bring in and put up groceries while you attempted to help put away the small stuff.

“Are you hungry? Want me to make dinner?” You asked putting away the last of the groceries.

“No! But um thank you, I’m just not hungry.” You might have actually believed him if his stomach didn’t grumble the second he finished talking.

“Do you really hate my cooking that much?” You asked in a small voice.

“No! It’s not that! I just- I mean- you-“ he was at a lost for words and you couldn’t help the small smile that broke out across your lips.

“It’s okay, we just ate anyway so we’ll hold off on dinner for now,” you chuckled, getting a glass of water.

“Yeah we uh... just ate,” Nebraska glanced at his watch with his eyebrows furrowed. You headed up to your room and decided to get a head start on getting ready for bed since you’d be sleeping in Nebraska’s room tonight.

You really were genuinely happy he got a good night’s rest in your room. You would just take the necessities with you tonight but if need be, you could always switch rooms with him completely, it wouldn’t be too much of a pain to rearrange the two rooms.

Once out the shower and dressed for bed you decided to get as much work done as you could on your laptop for the new exhibits at the museum. Time must have slipped away from you because before you knew it, there was a light knock on your door, followed by Nebraska entering. He was dressed a bit more modest tonight, opting for Sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“Too early?” He asked, closing the door behind him. You glanced at the clock on your screen and saw it was already 9:30 p.m.

“Not at all,” you smiled warmly. You saw a small smile grace his lips before he adverted his eyes, smile still playing at his mouth.

He hopped into bed in the exact same spot as the night before, damn near on the edge of the bed. Maybe he was trying to be respectful of your side but you didn’t really see the point since you wouldn’t be here anyways.

“You can come lie in the middle of you want, you don’t have to sleep on the edge,” you said shutting your laptop and getting up to set it on your desk.

“Oh okay,” Nebraska mumbled, inching closer to the middle. You continued over to your oil diffuser and set the scent on Lavender, your favorite fragrance to get you to sleep. You then connected your phone to the Bluetooth speaker in it and set your Quiet Thunderstorms playlist going.

“Too loud?” You asked, glancing over at him.

“It’s perfect,” he muttered in that deep voice and you felt your cheeks heat up. This entire situation could be taken out of context and be used in the most romantic daydream, but you had to snap yourself out of it. He was simply a guest of your Uncle. You had no right to look at him in such a way, he didn’t come here to be harassed like that.

“Well then in that case, Good Night and Sweet Dreams,” you bid your adieu and turned the lights out, leaving only the soft everescent glow of your fairy lights illuminating the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” Nebraska asked right as you were about to shut the door behind you.

“To your room?” You said turning around.

“Why are you going there?”

“Because we’re switching rooms so you’ll sleep better. You said last night was the best nights sleep you had in a while so if my room had anything to do with it, consider it all yours.” You smiled but he didn’t notice. You saw that something was clearly bothering him.

“I did say that. Okay, well uh, Good night then,” he said gruffly and you left but the whole thing was awkward. Did he not want you to sleep in his room? Where did he expect you to sleep? The couch? Not that you couldn’t but that’d get pretty old after a couple nights.

You settled yourself into Nebraska bed, still cold and perfectly made, feeling like it hadn’t been touched in 2 years instead of just 2 days. You couldn’t resist burying your head into the pillow, trying to catch the faint scent of his cologne but it wasn’t there. You were damn near exhausted earlier and now you found that sleep eluded you.

You been staring out the enormous window when you heard the door crack open.

“Y/N? You still up?” Nebraska whispered, well as much as his deep tenor would allow, while peaking his head through the door.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Can, um, can you come... back?”

“Back to my room? You changed your mind already? I thought the atmosphere helped you go to sleep.”

“It wasn’t the atmosphere that was soothing me to sleep...” Nebraska trailed off and suddenly you knew exactly what he meant.

~*~

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[spencer-is-amazing]

Salvation (Michael Langdon x OC)

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Original Character

Word Length: 2k~

Warnings: None

Chapter 1: The End (x)

Chapter 2: The Beginning (x)

Chapter 3: Purple or Grey 

Also posted on my Ao3 account! (x)

Wilhemina Venable lead Timothy, Emily and Julie through a tall tunnel that let to an open area, lit by a large fire that showed off just how massive the downstairs was.

Timothy inquired as to whether it was a fall out shelter, and Venable responded in a bleak tone, “It is now. For many years it served as an exclusive boys school.”

Julie was tempted to ask what kind of boy’s school was this deep underground and this strangely creepy, but Emily beat her to it, “What kind of boys school is subterranean?”

“The Cooperative, to whom we owe our eternal gratitude, took ownership and converted it once they realized what was coming.”

“The Cooperative knew the bombs were gonna drop and they didn’t make more? Try to save more people?” One look from Venable had Julie shutting her mouth.

“The Cooperative has plans far beyond the temporary cleansing fire of the bomb.” She led them through the main room downstairs, going through another passageway that led to a spiraled set of stairs. Julie would’ve been amazed under any other circumstances at the neat architecture.

“The Cooperative is not made up of nations or armies.” She paused at the base of the spiral. “It is a collection of the dozen greatest minds mankind has to offer. The visionaries.”

Julie couldn’t help herself, “Are you apart of the Cooperative?”

Venable ignored Julie’s question, and truthfully Julie hadn’t expected an answer, in turn explained exactly why they were there. She said technology was the problem, had led people to believe that they were equal, and it made Julie uneasy.

Venable sounded like one of those radicals who still believed in slavery and segregation and from the way there were people dressed in grey cleaning the floors, this would be a very uncomfortable lifestyle. Who even decided who got live in luxury and who scrubbed the toilets? Venable? The Cooperative?

She led the three of them into one room, “You are a purple.” The three of them were confused as Venable opened up a closet full of Victoria style purple dresses.

“The elite, the worthy.” Venable pierced Julie with a glare. “Those chosen to survive.”

Emily walked into the closet and pulled out a purple coat, scoffing at its ugliness. “I’m supposed to wear this shit?”

“In the Outpost, everyone must know their place.” Once again, she met Julie’s eyes. “The purple’s wear purple, the Grey’s, Grey.”

“Who are the Grey’s?” Venable called them the worker ants and said that they were here to serve, claiming they were grateful for the opportunity. It made her stomach turn to hear another human speak about others in such a degrading way.

Venable led Timothy to his room; closet full of purple suits and said much of the same that had been said to Emily before stepping out, leaving Julie alone with her. It was an awkward few minutes of silence.

“Am I a purple too?”

Venable’s face flickered in the light of the candle, “If it were up to me, you would have been left to the blast.” The terrifying woman tapped her cane twice. “If it were up to me, you’d be a grey.”

Julie held her breath, lungs whimpering for air but fear kept her still. Would she really throw her out?

“But lucky for you, the Cooperative is responsible for your survival. Now come, you should get settled in.”

The only sound that echoed through the underground cavern was Venable’s cane, taking her to a room that was much out of place from the others, as well as much larger. It felt so foreign, like attaching a prosthetic limb that was much more deserving of someone else.

There was a queen sized bed, a roaring fireplace, a massive closet which most likely held more purple clothes, and three couches that looked great for leisuring. But how did one leisuring when the world had burned and there were people deemed under her nose. It made her sick to be given all this.

Venable was on her way out when she spoke up, “The house rules are simple; you will address me as Ms. Venable, you may never leave the building and if you do you will not be allowed back inside.”

Venable tapped her cane, “Copulation of any kind is forbidden.” Not allowing sex in the end of times was pretty fucked.

“We dress for dinner, you’ll find your dinner wear on the left side of the armoire. Cocktails in the music room at 6:30, be prompt.”

She slid the door open; “There’s no excuse for tardiness when there’s nothing to do.” Julie flinched when the door slammed shut, eyes watering and lip trembling.

So this was her life now; living in Outpost 3 under the cruel thumb of Ms. Venable, following her rules and never seeing the cold light of day again. No one could blame her for wetting her pillow with tears.

~

Julie March left her room at 6:20, donned in a purple dress that belonged more in a 19th century novel than in 2020, but at least it was comfy so she couldn’t complain. A grey was a few feet away from her door and led her to the lounge hall, never making eye contact or speaking a word.

It was unsettling to say the least. But even worse were the people she was greeted to in the lounge area.

There was Gallant, a white haired flamboyant man-child who hated the repetitive song on the radio and had a liking for Coco’s hair, as well as being Evie’s grandson. And as for Evie, she was a bitter old woman who thought she deserved this so called ‘Salvation’ because she attended the Oscars with Natalie Wood.

There wasn’t much to say about the others; A white guy named Stu laid in the arms of his lover who’s name she still didn’t know, and a grey named Mallory complained to Coco that she deserved to be a purple.

Emily and Timothy came in after her and sat close, staring at the each other. So this was the end of the world, the last of civilization in one neat little box.

Gallant was making a fuss over Coco’s strange up do, and once more complaining about the song on the radio that played 24/7 and never changed or stopped.

A middle aged black woman who introduced herself as Dinah Stevens came near Timothy and tried to make conversation, while Gallant moved from Coco to asking Emily if anything was happening outside.

“It’s all gone. Everything.” None of them looked shocked, aside from Stu who couldn’t believe the word was dead in just two weeks.

Dinner was an awkward affair consisting of gelatin cubes with enough nutrients to keep the body alive, and conversation that made her want to tear her hair out. At least until Gallant grew brave enough to address her, as no one else had.

“So why do you get a special room? Everyone else is on the second floor but I saw you come from downstairs. In fact, what makes you a purple and not a grey?”

Gallant must have realized he was being to forward and backtracked, “Not trying to insult you or anything-“

Stu muttered “too late” and Gallant shot him a look before addressing her again, “I’m not saying you don’t deserve to be purple cause this whole system of who does and doesn’t is fucked in the ass, but just like, why you? I could do so much more with a bigger room.”

A lot of questions from a small-minded idiot, but she wasn’t mean enough to say that aloud. “To be honest, it’s just as surprising to you as it is to me. “ There wasn’t much else to say, so she stayed quiet, ignoring Evie’s glare at her side.

Julie used her fork to cut up her cube in four pieces, eating each one as slow as she could, even if the hunger was gnawing at her gut. A laugh nearly erupted when Coco ate hers in one bite and complained aloud that she wanted more.

“Fuck this bullshit!” Julie wanted to snort as Coco stood and spoke to the whole table, “With all the thought that went into this place, they don’t have a single bag of Pirate’s Booty in the pantry? For a hundred million dollars a ticket, I expect goddam Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen cooking us real food!”

Julie dropped her head when Ms. Venable came into sight, cane clacking on the ground. It was no shocker when she slapped Coco clean across the face, but the thing that did shock Julie was the short stout woman who was next to Ms. Venable.

It was akin to being slapped herself; she knew her.

At least, she thinks she did. Julie bites her lip in irritation, as she can’t place just where she’s seen here. It was like knocking on your own front door but no one answers, or like an autobiography with empty pages.

Her eyes closed and she traveled through her thoughts, avoiding all the happy memories of life before two weeks ago, and it was as if there was a fog in her brain, scrambling a few certain things she so desperately wanted to see.

“Are we boring you?”

Her eyes jolted open to find the whole table watching her, though the short stout woman was the one who had spoken to her. Julie shook her head and the stout woman gave her a soft smile that made her feel like a kid again.

Ms. Venable spoke of a carrier pigeon that had come, a message stating the there were in fact three other Outposts, but they had been overrun. That life outside these walls was nothing more than rotting corpses and hungry cannibals. They were it.

It was stomach curling to hear that after only two weeks like had all but been destroyed outside these walls; that there was nothing out there was cannibals and, she quotes, ‘canker puss monsters.’ Julie hoped she would never have to meet them.

A few other people walked in, dressed in black, and the tallest one leaned down to whisper in the stout woman’s ear.

“We have a problem.”

They had taken Stu and Gallant, claims of them having radiation spikes and Julie only assumed they were dead. They’d been allowed to leave after the two men had been dragged away, and Julie nearly vomited up her cube, but knew it would only hurt her in the long run.

She changed into her nightwear and paced the room, fire reflecting shapes on the wall. It was too early for sleep, and talking to the others would be as bad as being alone. There were no books in here and asking Ms. Venable if there was a library seemed too scary an option.

Were they supposed to do this for the next 18 months until they ran out of food, then what? Starve? Go crazy?

A sorrow filled chuckle filled the room but she refused to shed any more tears. It was acceptance or die.

A knock on the door brought her from her reverie, and Julie quickly slid it open, brows furrowing in confusion when no one was on the other side. Who the hell ding dong ditched in a damn fallout shelter?

“Hello?” There were no Grey’s, no Purple’s, no one. She was stepping back in when a flash from the corner of her eye had her sharply turning to the left, eyes widening at what she saw a few feet away.

It was a body covered in black latex, head to toe and in a pose that felt insanely nauseatingly threatening. “Can I help you?”

The figure stood there and this was something out of a horror movie to be honest. Only she would stand and talk to whatever the hell it was. “Hey!”

She yelled for it when the figure turned and walked away. Julie looked around, was she supposed to follow him? Or was this just some trick they were all playing on her for shits and giggles? This was such a scenario that you saw in movies like Scream, where you’re yelling for the girl to run away from the killer, but in Julie’s case, death might be better than life at Outpost 3.

With one last look at the much too large and painfully clean room, she closed the door and followed the figure.

Thanks for reading!