#3 Operation Whirl Stroke

[saynaija]

Nigerian Army 6 Brigade Troops Arrest 2 Kidnappers, Recover Ak 47 Rifle In Taraba State

Nigerian Army 6 Brigade Troops Arrest 2 Kidnappers, Recover Ak 47 Rifle In Taraba State Following a well-coordinated sting operation in the general areas of Maraban Abare, Bomanda, and Karamuke village which was aimed at curbing kidnapping activities in Lau Local Government Area (LGA) of Taraba State. On 12 November 2024, the gallant and dedicated troops of 6 Brigade Nigerian Army Sector 3…

[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 24/?: Puppets Vs. Pals

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17,  Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

Collector stroked his chin. “Hmmmm… What is this new game?”

“Weeeeell, it was a really fun one that Terra used to play with me all the time, called ‘covens versus wilds.’”

“Oh,” King yelped, “I know about this one! Eda… Eda told me.”

Phoenix shook his head. “Obviously, covens versus wilds doesn’t really make sense anymore, so we’ll call it… puppets versus pals.”

Collector nodded. “Huh. How do you play?”

“Well, there are two teams. Puppets, and pals.”

Collector clapped his hands. “Oh, we’re pals! And the rest of the isles… puppets! Easy teams!”

“Close,” Phoenix said slowly, “There’s one more role. It’s the most important role, and if no one does it, then we can’t play the game.”

“Oh, me!” Collector bobbed up and down in the air, raising his hand. “Me, me, me, I’ll do it, I want to do that one!”

“Are you sure? It puts you on the other team.”

“Yes! I want the super important part, I’ll be so good at it!”

Phoenix’s gut twisted.

You’re acting just like him. Tricking some kid into playing your game.

I have to

It isn’t the same, I have to.

“Okay, if you’re sure. Your job is that you are in charge. You’re running the base of operations here. You make sure all the puppets are coordinated. Because team pal’s job is to get out of the archive house and out of your… blue area. And team puppet is trying to get uuuuuuus tooooo…”

“The room! Our bedroom, it’s a good spot. What are the rules?”

“Um… you can’t leave the house, but you can send ALL of the puppets after us. If someone gets hurt, we have to pause. And… you can’t turn King or I into puppets. That’s cheating.”

“Okay! Hey, the yard is kind of big, especially since you can’t fly without me. How about I draw a new area? Look.” Collector clapped his hands, and outside, a wall of light sectioned off a swathe of land around the archive house. “You just have to get past the light wall to win! Okay, are we ready? Three! Two! One! Go!”

Phoenix scooped King up, bolting towards the hallway. Puppets appeared with a pop behind them at “go,” clattering wordlessly. Phoenix skidded to a stop in front of the window over the horn, yanking the glyph Lilith had given him out of his pocket. “We need to clear the skull. Can you break that window?”

“Weh!”

A soundwave blasted out of King’s mouth, and the glass cracked, spiderwebs of white spreading across it.

Tap, tap, click.

A puppet lurched towards them, and Phoenix shuddered. “Time to go!”

He backed up, then took a running leap at the window, turning so that his shoulder hit the glass and his body shielded King from the impact. The glass shattered, and a thousand tiny shards bit into the right side of Phoenix’s body. The two of them slammed into the horn, and Phoenix scrambled for a grip, skin scraping across rough bone.

Come on, come on, come on—

Phoenix’s fingers cracked into the skull, and he and King slid to a stop. “Hah—huh—”

“You just broke bone!” King yelped, “How did you know that would work?!”

“I—was just hoping—I could find—a handhold.” Phoenix stared upwards, refusing to look at how far below them the ground was. “Okay, okay.”

Blue stars whirled down from the archive house, puppets sitting on top.

Don’t think, just do it, don’t think, just do it—

Phoenix took a deep breath, braced his feet against the horn, and pushed off, leaping clear of the skull. King screamed, clinging tightly to Phoenix.

“WE’RE GONNA DIE!”

Phoenix forced himself not to activate the glyph, watching the ground get closer… closer…

He hit the paper, and their fall slowed, the air around them humming and glowing blue. He twisted in midair and landed on his feet. It didn’t matter—his legs gave out the second he put weight on them, and he crashed to the ground.

“We just jumped. Off of the top of the skull. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Ahahaha.”

King’s grip came just on the verge of strangling Phoenix now. “Are you crazy?! It’s just a game!”

Phoenix pushed himself to his feet. “It’s not a game—it’s an escape. Let’s go.” He started towards the treeline—any cover was better than standing in the open, and according to the mental map Phoenix had made of the ‘yard,’ the river was somewhere in that forest.

Click

A hand closed around Phoenix’s arm, and he whirled around, swinging his fist.

Cyrus’ date from the coven day parade stared at him, eyes blank. Phoenix twisted his arm mid swing, barely missing the puppet’s face. The puppet grabbed his arm and pulled, tugging him back towards the archive house, but Phoenix wrenched away, sweeping the puppet’s legs out from under him.

“Someone I know cares about you,” he told the stall owner, “Hold on for him.” He sprinted away before the puppet could get back up, weaving through the trees to break off his line of sight.

“What do you mean escape?” King demanded, “What about Eda and Lilith?!”

“I talked to them, actually. They’re in on this.” Phoenix ducked behind a tree, panting, as a star whirred past. The moment it was gone, he started to run again, ears swiveling to pick up any sound of running water.

“In on this… how?”

“We’re a distraction,” Phoenix lied, “The Collector should focus all of his puppet power on us, which leaves them unguarded. They slip out, we run out of here while the Collector stays in the archives.”

First you lied to the Collector. Now King.

I have to, or he’d never agree to come.

Not that lying to King would last. He’d figure out pretty quickly that Eda and Lilith hadn’t gotten away. Hopefully, Phoenix could keep him from running right back to the Collector to rescue them.

Looking out for his safety? Or your own?

Phoenix shook himself. It didn’t matter. This was what Eda and Lilith wanted for King. They were smart and tough—they’d find their own way out. In the meantime, they wanted King to get out and as far away from the Collector as possible.

“You don’t think the Collector will be suspicious? A game with rules specifically designed to let us run away from him while he has to stay put in the archive house?

Phoenix shook his head. “There’s only ever been one real rule to Covens vs. Wilds. And that’s that wilds can’t win. The odds are intentionally stacked against us.”

“Just like real life covens and wild witches.”

“Just like real life covens and wild witches,” Phoenix agreed, “Anyway, if it seems like a game we can’t win, it’s not so suspicious. And hopefully we’ll be long gone before he figures it out.” His ears twitched, picking up a splash, and he ran towards the sound, eyes constantly shifting across the trees, checking for puppets.

King sighed. “It doesn’t feel right. Tricking him, I mean. Belos tricked him for years, and the owl house game was a trick to get him to save the isles, and now we’re tricking him again.”

Phoenix’s gut clenched. The Collector was dangerous, there was no denying that. But he was just a kid. And if Phoenix and King got away with this, if they managed to run out of his reach… he’d be left alone with Terra. And Odalia.

Phoenix almost pumped the brakes at that thought, tripping over his own feet to keep going.

“I know. But he’s dangerous. And he can’t… he’s holding us hostage.”

“Maybe I should stay.”

“What?!” Phoenix did stop at that, looking around for watching eyes before crouching in a purple bush and letting King down so he could look him in the eye. “You can’t be serious.”

“Eda and Lilith will be safe. The Collector might not chase after the two of them, but he will keep looking for me.” King patted Phoenix’s hand. “I know you have people you want to get back to. So go to them. Splitting up will increase your chance of getting away, and maybe I can convince the Collector to let you go. That way, he won’t be alone, and you won’t have him hunting down your family.”

Phoenix shook his head. “I’m not leaving you behind. And you know Eda and Lilith wouldn’t want you going back either.”

“I’m not asking Eda and Lilith. I’m asking you.”

Puppets clattered by in a gang of ten, and Phoenix waited for them to pass, silent. Once they were out of sight, he heaved a sigh.

“Look. Collector is… complicated. I don’t think there’s a right answer here. All I know is that Eda and Lilith want you out of the archive house. And I’ll sleep a lot better at night if I know you’re not with him and Terra and Odalia all alone.”

King’s eyes seemed to search his face, then finally nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Since you and Eda and Lilith planned all of this. But Phoenix, if I decide I want to go back…”

“I might not be the one you have to convince. The others can be… intense.”

“Alright. I’ll keep it in mind.” King scrambled back onto Phoenix’s back. “Let’s go.”

Phoenix pushed leaves aside, checking for more puppets. They’d passed for now, but Collector had the whole Isles worth out looking for them. Not seeing at least one or two out was… concerning, to say the least. He jogged towards where he’d heard that splash, moving southeast.

A wall of light blazed through the trees, so bright Phoenix started seeing spots.

Something grabbed his arm, and Phoenix twisted away, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the light.

I can’t see, but they can.

Smart.

He charged forward blindly, pushing through puppets and shaking them off every time one latched onto his ankles or wrist.

King started to slide off his back, his little claws digging into Phoenix’s shoulders.

“Phoenix!”

Phoenix pivoted, opening his eyes. His shadow loomed out in front of him, the light behind him flickering and making his shadow shudder, spikey horns sprouting from its head and disappearing just as quickly. The puppet that held King tilted its head at him, and he kicked it, grabbing King as it stumbled backwards. He closed his eyes again, running through the curtain of light. The blinding light pressing at his eyelids abruptly disappeared, leaving spots in their wake.

The puppets chattered, then fell into their ‘waiting’ position, joints loose.

“I… guess we won?” King suggested.

A star shot off from the archive house, falling towards them, and Phoenix’s blood chilled.

He’s coming for us.

“We need to go.”

He ran for the river, which he could hear in a dull roar of running water, constantly present now.

“Guys,” Collector laughed, his star skimming the ground next to them, “The game’s over. You won! You can stop running!”

Phoenix could hear King’s heartbeat throbbing against his back—or maybe that was his own heart, beating so hard against his ribs that he could feel it trying to get out.

“Phoenix. Stop running. Stop!”

Collector’s star whirled in front of Phoenix, and he skidded to a near stop, dashing to the side and continuing around him.

“Phoenix,” King’s voice said in his ear, frantic, “Phoenix, it’s not going to work—he’s too fast, it’s over!”

Phoenix shook his head, his breath coming in short, ragged pants, only half from the physical exertion. The forest had turned into a tunnel, with just the river at the end.

Have to keep going

Have to get out of here

Can’t stop

Can’t stop

Can’t stop

He took Darius

He’ll take King

He’ll take everyone from you

Not again

Not again

Not again

The ground cracked under Phoenix’s feet, and he crashed to the ground, driving glass shards from the window further into his arm and side.

“Phoenix?” Collector asked in a small voice, “Why won’t you stop running?”

“You have to let me go,” Phoenix gasped, “You have to let me go, Belos, you have to let… me…”

“What. Did you. Call me.”

“I—” Phoenix forced himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. “I didn’t mean—It just… slipped…”

“What do you mean, go? You’re not trying to leave me, are you?”

Say no! Phoenix’s mind screamed, You can still fix this, just pretend you got caught up in the game!

No. No more lying.

“Yes,” Phoenix told him, “Yes. I want to leave.”

“Wha—why?! I thought we were friends! Friends don’t leave friends!”

Phoenix pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the little glass shards tore at his flesh. “Friends… friends say goodbye, and they go home, Collector. I’m going home.”

Collector stamped his foot, and the ground shook again. “The archive house is your home! With me! Why do you have to go to some other place?”

“I—”

“Do you have other friends? They don’t have to stay at another place, they can come to the archive house. We can all be friends! You don’t have to go! Where are they? I can bring them to the archive house just like that!”

“No!” Phoenix took another deep breath. “No.”

“Why not?!”

“You’ll turn them into puppets!”

“Yeah? That way they’ll be safe?”

“No. No, it just traps them. You have to understand that, you’re not keeping people safe, they’re not your friends, they’re your prisoners! I’m your prisoner.”

He had to understand. He had to—Phoenix didn’t want to hurt the Collector. He didn’t want to lie anymore, he didn’t want to trick the kid, and he definitely didn’t want to fight him. He just wanted to go.

Collector sputtered, crossing his arms. “Nuh-uh! Prison is being put in a disc and being alone forever and ever and ever and not being able to see anyone! No one is alone this way, and no one gets hurt! No one gets old or sick or dies! I’m protecting them, I’m protecting all of them! Why can’t you see that?! It’s not prison!”

Phoenix shook his head. “Prison is keeping someone against their will—and you’re not letting me go. I want to go home. Prove we’re not prisoners. Let us go. If we’re friends, you’ll let us leave. And you won’t follow us.”

Collector’s lip wobbled. “If we’re friends, that means you’ll come back, right?”

He still has Darius

And… I don’t want him to only have Terra and Odalia as company.

“I’ll come back,” Phoenix said slowly. A voice in the back of his mind screamed not to promise that, or for it to at least be a lie, but he squashed that part down. He’d let the others know what had happened to Jason and Hunter. He’d fulfill his promise to Eda and Lilith and get King to safety. And then he’d come back for Darius.

And the Collector.

Collector took a deep breath. “You’re sure you don’t want them to come back with you to the archive house?” he whined.

“I’m sure.”

“And you’re sure you’ll come back?”

“I’ll come right back to the skull and wave to one of your stars to pick me up,” Phoenix promised, “I won’t be gone long.”

“Like, you’ll be back tomorrow?”

“Uh… give me a week?”

“That’s forever!”

“Think about it. I’ve been with you for weeks, and my other home didn’t get to see me for all that time. It’s only fair.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Fffffffine. Can I send a star with you to fly you back super fast, at least?”

“No.”

“Man. C’mon, King. We’re gonna play some games that only need two players.”

King looked to Phoenix, who cleared his throat. “I was… actually thinking King would come with me?”

Collector froze, but didn’t turn around. “What?”

“I was thinking… King… would… come.”

“So King gets to meet your other friends, but I don’t?!” Collector whirled around, eyes blazing. “Are you trying to steal King from me?!”

Phoenix took a step back. “I…”

Say something

Say something

Say something!

“You can’t have him!” Collector screamed, “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t!”

King floated back towards the Collector, and Phoenix jumped forward, grabbing King’s arms. “No, no, no—”

“Phoenix!”

“I’ve got you, King! I’ve got you!”

I promised Eda and Lilith

I promised King

I can’t let the Collector take him back!

“Mamadalia was right!” Collector howled, “She said you took her friend from her, and you’d take my friend, too!”

Odalia.

She did have another trick up her sleeve.

Collector twisted his finger, and King was jerked forward, dragging Phoenix closer to the Collector. “I said you wouldn’t ever, but she wasright, she was right, you’re nothing but a horrible, no good friend stealer!” His voice rose to a shriek that seemed to pierce Phoenix’s ears, and he was halfway certain if he checked, they would be bleeding. “You were lying about coming back!”

“I wasn’t,” Phoenix said desperately, “I swear, I—"

The Collector tugged again. King cried out, and Phoenix instinctively let go. “No!”

“I! Hate! You! You! Lied! Just! Like! PHILLIP!” Collector held up one hand, and a ball of blinding light formed over his palm.

King’s eyes widened. “Phoenix, RUN!”

A soundwave blasted out of his mouth, throwing Phoenix back towards the river. Phoenix saw the Collector’s magic hit the ground where he’d been, and a moment later, a boom echoed out, and the ground cracked. The shockwave left by the impact threw Phoenix up in the air, and he crashed back down to the ground.

He’s going to kill me

I can’t go back.

Phoenix scrambled to his feet, wheezing for air. Another ball of light sizzled past him on the left, crashing through thick tree trunks. Again, the sound followed moments after, a horrible, cracking, tearing noise. Phoenix bolted towards the river, took a deep breath, and dove in.

The current almost immediately swept him away, pushing him further downstream. Something hissed into the water—another attack from the Collector. The resulting wave sent Phoenix tumbling around in the water like a wet rag, sending the water over the banks. The Collector’s scream of rage disappeared in the roar of the wave.

Phoenix struggled to the surface for air, only to be thrust back down under. Claw up, gulp for air, thrown back beneath the surface in a dizzying whirl of bubbles. Over and over and over and over.

Finally, finally, the wave receded, and the current started to slow, washing him to shallower water. Phoenix stumbled out of the river and collapsed on the bank, retching up water and gasping for air.

He heard the whirring sound of one of the Collector’s stars, and he hauled himself up, staggering towards the nearest cover—a small town. He ducked into an empty house, flopping down on the floor and pressing his back against the wall.

The whirring got louder and louder, then faded into the distance. Phoenix stayed on the floor for a few more minutes, heaving in deep gulps of air. He finally reached up, grabbing the windowsill and pulling himself to his feet. His vision blurred, and he leaned on the wall for support, making his way back outside.

The town was deserted, as far as he could tell—nothing left but a few graffitied messages and an old billboard for… the coven day…

This was the town close to the house. He recognized that billboard, and the build of the houses.

Almost there

Almost…

Phoenix stumbled out towards the trees, barely even stopping to check the skies for more spies. Blood pounded in his ears, and the sides of his vision seemed to fade away, completely focused on the trees ahead and the house he knew lay beyond them.

At least until the ground crunched and cracked beneath him, and in a confusing whirl of dirt and twigs, he was flat on his back, staring up at the sky. Steep dirt walls rose above him, penning him in.

“No!” Phoenix’s voice cracked. He rolled over, staggering back to his feet and jumping for the top of the pit. “No—no, no, no—” His fingers clawed into the soft dirt of the walls, and he slowly slid down, collapsing to his knees. He thumped his head against the wall, sending dirt cascading down to his lap.

I’m so close!

Phoenix curled into a ball, lying down against the earth. His bones seemed to sigh in relief, and his exhausted body told him to stay here forever, to just rest, finally rest.

The sky overhead slowly turned fiery orange, then red, then a dark blue, lit only by the glow of the moon.

And Phoenix heard scuffles in the night.

“Pit three got something,” Hamlet’s voice said, “Good. I was starting to think all the prey got turned into puppets.

Here, Phoenix wanted to call, It’s me, I’m here.

But his voice wouldn’t respond, as if his tongue had died in his mouth. He tried to sit, to stand, to move at all, but his limbs seemed to have fused into the ground, heavy and rooted down.

A glowing ball of light wafted over the pit, and four shadowy forms peered down. “Wait—that’s a witch. We caught a witch—careful, they might be a puppet.”

Something jumped down into the pit, and another glyph lit up. “It’s Phoenix!” Meleager yelped. “Hey—can you hear me?”

Phoenix blinked at him in response, his voice still frozen in his throat.

“Phoenix?!”

“Yeah—he looks pretty rough. Hang on, we’re coming up.”

Meleager drew his finger through the dirt, and something cold formed under Phoenix, pushing he and Meleager up out of the pit. Calloused hands hauled Phoenix up, slinging his arms over their shoulders and bracing his back with their arms. Phoenix stumbled forward with them, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“He’s shaking,” Horus hissed, “Titan—is he going into shock? Breathe, man.”

“Go warn Auric,” Meleager ordered next to Phoenix’s right ear. Footsteps thudded away.

“Oh, yeah—”

Horus wrangled a loop of string over Phoenix’s head, catching in his ponytail. A pendant thumped to Phoenix’s chest, and suddenly, golden light spilled out in front of him from a familiar house surrounded by a familiar fence. Fuzzy blue magic circled the perimeter, blue glyphs that hadn’t been there before glowing on the wooden posts.

“Phoenix is back!” Horus yelled.

The house murmured, and the door swung open with a bang, the hallway behind it filled with shadowy figures. Something flew out and cannoned into him, grabbing him in a tight hug. Phoenix cried out as the force drove glass shards further into his side, and the person wrapped around his waist let go, stepping back.

Mole looked Phoenix up and down, eyes wide and worried. And… searching.

“Jason’s not with me,” Phoenix croaked, “I sent him to the human realm. He’s safe, but he’s… stuck.”

Mole blinked rapidly, eyes welling up, then turned and ran, pushing past the other grimwalkers that were spilling out of the house.

“Mole—” Phoenix let go of Meleager and Horus, stumbling after Mole, but without their support, he only made it a couple of steps before falling.

Meleager caught him. “Alright, big guy. Let’s get you inside.”

“Move,” Venari ordered from the house, pushing grimwalkers out of the way and clearing a path for Meleager and Phoenix. Dozens of eyes tracked his movement, and whispers followed him into the house, fuzzy and indistinct.

Meleager helped Phoenix to the living room, which now featured a medical bench, a couple of cots, and a rack filled with potions and bandages that sat atop a bar counter. Auric was already inside, mixing something up in a bowl, and he pointed to the bench, and a steaming cup sitting on the counter next to him.

“Any life-threatening injuries?” he asked.

Phoenix shook his head. Meleager sat him on the bench and handed him the cup.

“It doesn’t taste very good,” he warned.

Phoenix took a sip. It did, in fact, taste horrible, like someone had put sulfur and spiders in a cup, but it traced a warm track down his throat and pooled in his stomach, warming his whole body and sending a burst of energy coursing through him. His mind seemed to snap back into focus, and all of the dull aches and sharp pains from his escape faded. Meleager took up position in the doorway, planting himself firmly and watching the hallway.

Auric hustled over, reaching for Phoenix’s arm, but Phoenix flinched away before he made contact, holding his arm to his chest. He eyed the other Grimwalker warily.

Auric held his hands up. “It’s okay. I know what I’m doing. Mom’s wiped from holding up the illusion around the house all the time, so I’m taking over on medical duty. You’re going to be alright, Phoenix. You’re safe now.”

Safe.

Something wet dripped down Phoenix’s face and he slowly reached up to feel for a head injury. But the liquid was clear, coming from his eyes instead of a gash.

“I…”

“Oh—” Auric’s hands twitched, fluttering around Phoenix’s shoulder without actually touching him. “Hey—it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“King’s not,” Phoenix whispered, “And Collector…”

“He’s not going to find us. We’re really well hidden.”

Phoenix shook his head. “That’s not what I…”

“Phoenix?”

Caleb pushed through the doorway. “Phoenix! I’m sorry we didn’t get you, everything started collapsing, and people were panicking, and we couldn’t find you, and—”

“Belos is dead,” Phoenix whispered.

“What?”

“He’s dead. Collector killed him.”

Caleb blinked, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. He took a deep breath, and let it all out in a sigh that seemed to melt his shoulders. “Okay. Okay. I… Hey. Cherry told me you got Jason to safety? Was Hunter with him?”

Phoenix nodded, tears still streaming down his face. He couldn’t stop them. He wasn’t sobbing, or even sniffling, the tears just… kept going. Silently, but steadily.

Caleb reached out, gently brushing a bedraggled strand of hair out of Phoenix’s face. “Hey. You did well. You protected your brothers. You held out against the Collector. I’m proud of you.”

“I think Mole’s mad at me,” Phoenix rasped.

“We’ll work it out. He wasn’t just worried about Jason—he was worried about you, too. And he’ll remember that. For now, let Auric take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Caleb stepped back next to Meleager, nodding to Auric. Auric gingerly took Phoenix’s arm, lifting it up. “Okay—hold this arm steady. Dad can help you keep it up if it’s too heavy, just say the word. I want to get the shards out of your side.

Phoenix kept his arm lifted, and Auric went to work, yanking out glass with tiny tweezers. Phoenix winced at each little knife sliding out, but Auric was quick, and soon he was dabbing away blood and applying salves in quick, easy motions. The cuts went numb, along with most of Phoenix’s right side.

“Arm down,” he ordered, “What happened?”

“Jumped through a window.” Phoenix chuckled dryly. “I’ll have to tell AT that he was right—it was easier than going out the door.”

“Not funny.” Auric pulled another glass shard out of his bicep. “Do not tell… AT…” He froze, staring at Phoenix’s arm.

“What?”

Auric grabbed a small knife and cut off Phoenix’s sleeve, sliding it off of his arm. He wormed the knife under the bandages Jason had tied. “Is this arm the only injured one?”

“I—my other arm was—but I think they sealed up on their own, I haven’t been having any—”

Auric tugged backwards, slicing cleanly through the bandages. He repeated the process on the other side. “You haven’t checked under the bandages since you got them?”

“No. Is something wrong?”

A high-pitched sound of distress emitted from Auric’s mouth, and he slapped one hand over his face. “Sorry—sorry, that was… unprofessional. Phoenix, this is very, very important. How did you get these wounds? Possibly more importantly, did anything get in them after you did?”

“Belos’ claws. I don’t think anything got in them? Jason bandaged them quickly.”

“Okay,” Auric said faintly, “Okay. Dad? Can you… come take a look at this? Just confirm that I’m seeing what I’m seeing?”

“What?” Phoenix asked, “What’s wrong?”

Caleb pushed off of the wall, huddling next to Auric. His nostrils flared, and he whirled around. “Meleager. Get Evelyn. Now.”

“What?!” Phoenix demanded, twisting to look at his arm.

The wound had sealed, alright. It had sealed over in a skin of dark blackish green sludge that oozed and bubbled like tar. Veins of the same color spread out downwards under his skin, creeping towards his hands.

Phoenix gagged, clawing at the covered wound. “Get it out!”

Caleb caught his hands. “Phoenix—Phoenix, leave it. Leave it. Look at me. Evelyn’s coming. We’re going to figure this out. Just take a deep breath.”

Phoenix sucked in a deep breath, dragging his eyes away from the festering wound. “What—why-?”

“Looks like Phillip left a little bit of his cursed form behind when he attacked you. If it’s anything, I’m willing to bet it’s just like an infection in a regular wound from bacteria. It’s just… magical.”

“Let me see.” Evelyn gently pushed Caleb to the side, sitting next to Phoenix. She looked… tired. Her face had thinned, and the circles under her eyes were as dark as Caleb’s. But her hands were steady, and she examined the wound with sharp, analytical eyes. “Hm. Alright, let’s get this out.”

Evelyn drew a circle in the air, and golden tendrils drifted out, pushing into the cursed mud. The greenish sludge started to circle out, drawn up the golden threads in a spiral. The mud reached halfway up the tendrils, and the world tilted. Something roared inside of Phoenix, and he slumped forward. Somewhere, he heard a scream, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw Caleb holding Evelyn bridal-style, her body limp.

Auric’s arms encircled Phoenix’s chest, and the grimwalker tugged backwards. “Sit—up—” he grunted, “I’m going—to drop you!”

“Evelyn!” Caleb yelped.

She reached up, gently patting his face. “I’m alive, love,” she said weakly, “I’m okay.” Her eyes slid to Phoenix, sparking with fear. “The infection ate my spell,” she said shakily, “It just… absorbed the magic!”

“It’s Phillip’s curse, alright,” Caleb said grimly. He set Evelyn on her feet, but kept one arm wrapped around her to support her, “Phoenix, you haven’t… felt anything strange? Any pain in your arms? Strain, like you’re falling apart? A… need to consume magic, like palisman?”

Phoenix shook his head. “I didn’t even realize something was wrong until now.”

“Hm.” Evelyn studied him. “Any magical symptoms? Strange dreams? Thoughts that don’t seem like they’re yours? Weird impulses?”

“Not that I can think of?”

Evelyn hissed out a long breath. “Alriiiiiiiiiiiiiight… we have a couple of options here. Obviously, how I normally get at an infection isn’t going to work. One option is that we cut it out.”

Phoenix’s gut churned. “Like…”

“Like with knives,” Evelyn confirmed. She gestured at his arms. “But I don’t want to do that unless I absolutely have to because of how much of your arm it takes up and because I don’t know how deep it runs. It would take a long time to heal, and if we’re not careful, we could permanently damage your arms.”

Phoenix gulped. The idea of carving out a chunk of his arms… sure, he’d just tried to claw it out himself, but this was much more serious. And permanent. “And… the other option?”

“We do nothing,” Evelyn said simply, “It doesn’t seem to be hurting you for now, and based on how it reacted to my magic, it might turn hostile if we try to mess with it. So, we don’t touch it. See if your body burns it out like a regular infection, or if it settles into a harmless part of you. We’ll keep an eye on it, but we’ll leave it alone.”

“I… I think I like that one better.”

“You have to let us know if anything changes and it gets worse.” Evelyn jabbed a finger at him. “I mean it. No playing heroic stoicism, mister. If you so much as get an unusual tingle in your fingertips, you let me know. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. Hopefully, it’ll clear out on its own. If it doesn’t…” Evelyn shook her head. “We’ll figure it out. For now… we wait.”

xxx

A/N: It is very important to me you guys know that "Phoenix gets Belos Infected due to Belos goop getting into an open wound and in his bloodstream" has been planned in the plot SINCE KING'S TIDE AIRED, and I was SO mad when it happened as a canon plot point.

[halos-top-alien-model]

consider this a bonus thing while waiting for the polls to end

I have written 12k+ words in this oneshot and Rtas is finally about to actually meet Nizat, the entire point of this whole thing. the end is in sight. have some out of context bits to celebrate:

(hilariously wrong theories #1)

Shadow of Intent had other goals - mainly the search for a San'Shyuum flotilla - but that search was taking an eternity to bear fruit. In between the hunt, the ship would take part in defense of Sangheili territory, diplomatic matters, and even urgent combat operations if desperately needed. This mission was a bit of all three, and it helped that Shadow of Intent had already been a good distance close to this system. Who knows - maybe the culprit they'd unmask would in fact be the missing San'Shyuum, attempting to use the "cursed" planet as a hiding spot nobody would dare check.

(hilariously wrong theories #2)

But what if they were all wrong. What if there was some third party or unknown factor playing against both sides? What if this thing was the reason for this planet's dreadful name?

In the deep recesses of his mind, Rtas could not help but think of the Flood. Remnants of the parasite were still hidden across the galaxy, imprisoned by the Forerunners but just as capable of returning to its former conquest if underestimated. There were a few rare occurrences, barring the encounters on the Halo rings, that the Flood was said to have appeared during the war. It was not impossible to imagine that these ship casualties were due to the crews trying to prevent the parasite from breaking free from this system. Even then, it did not have to be the Flood themselves - there could other horrors that the Forerunners kept hidden on the old worlds.

Were there truly castaways waiting for them on the surface? Or was it something else that was just as eager to travel to the greater galaxy using their ship?

(Tul & Vul getting along + Rtas' having a good unstressful day)

"Shipmaster!" Another voice broke through COMMs, but this time from Tul. "We have located the humans-"

Both Rtas and Vul whirled around, facing the cave.

"In there?!" he asked, incredulous on the stroke of luck. "So the envoy has-"

"Throw your weapons towards the cave entrance first. Or else they will shoot."

Vul scoffed. "And why would we fear a few-"

"Not at you, fool!" Tul fired back.

With that declaration, Rtas could only wonder how things went wrong.

(suspicious slip-up #1)

"Hold on..." the leader said. "How do we know this isn't a trap? That all you're saying is a lie? Mo-"

Despite possibly being a subordinate, one of the humans at his side slammed a shoulder in his side.

"The Lieutenant Commander said Innies sometimes tried working with the Covenant!" Melody took note at the correction there.

(suspicious slip-up #2)

"We're not letting either of you out of this cave just yet," the leader replied back. "Not with your buddies right outside. The Lieutenant Commander is on her way."

One of his buddies faltered then. "But... When she gets here, she's gonna-"

"Not in front of them, idiot!"

(uh-oh Rtas)

And Rtas had just landed a majority of his ground-side forces on the mouth of a super-weapon. Now he had a second reason to worry for Stolt.

(Energy Sword Sunday)

The only thing Stolt found that was familiar with them were the Energy Swords at their sides. Couldn't be Sangheili without them.

(Rtas propaganda)

"And this Shipmaster? Can you vouch for him as your Rangers have for you?"

"Can I? His renown is second to only our founder! The sole survivor that quashed one parasite outbreak, the leader that sprung up to quarantine High Charity when another hit, the commander that won against a Covenant fleet with a 3-1 disadvantage, the one who bested a Prelate and saved a colony world from destruction!" If Rtas could hear this, he'd surely be shutting this down, but Stolt knew that playing him up was the best play here. He could see it in 'Lakosee's eyes - Rtas' worth was being tested right now, and he wasn't even here to defend himself! So it'd have to come down to the words of a subordinate, just as it worked for Stolt; and even if Stolt was exaggerating his tone a little, he truly respected Rtas more than possibly anyone else. Maybe even a bit more than the Arbiter himself, although it helped that Stolt saw Rtas every single day in comparison to the mythological-levels the Arbiter had taken on to everyone outside of his immediate vicinity.

(uh oh Stolt)

Stolt blinked once. Then twice. And for the rest of the wait time for Rtas' arrival, he debated on whether these were a better or a worse kind of crazy cultists.

(heheh i'm kicking my legs)

"There is no deal sweet enough to make me betray the Arbiter," Rtas said.

(Rtas' day goes from good to great)

So, this had to be it - the full and honest truth. This Worldmaster could do miraculous things with his mind somehow and everyone believed it was due to the divine.

How the hell do you respond to such a situation?! Even with all the time in the world, how do you formulate a plan to counter this? He had only minutes to figure that out!

[newsbreak365blogs]

The operations, which follow extensive patrols and community engagements, have successfully dismantled multiple bandit hideouts in the northern region of the state. The Nigerian Army, operating under the 6 Brigade/Sector 3 of Operation Whirl Stroke, has stepped up its fight against banditry in Taraba State with a series of clearance operations named ‘Operation Golden Peace.’ […]

[tracknews1]

Army destroys bandits’ camps, recovers ammunition

Troops of the 6 Brigade, Nigerian Army/Sector 3 Operation Whirl Stroke, have carried out a series of clearance operations across multiple bandit hideouts in Taraba State as part of Operation Golden Peace. The operation, which commenced after confidence-building patrols, clearance missions, and stakeholder engagements, has effectively restored stability in the northern part of the state. The…

[lagmennet]

Nigerian Army Dismantles Kidnapping Syndicate in Taraba

Troops from the Nigerian Army’s 6 Brigade/Sector 3 Operation Whirl Stroke (OPWS) have smashed an infamous kidnapping syndicate that was terrorizing areas of Jalingo, Taraba State’s capital, and the Lau Local Government Area. Based on an intelligence tip, the first two suspects, Ali Idi and Haruna Umar, were caught on October 22, 2024, during a raid at a local hotel in the Mayo Dassa region of…

[morganablenewsmedia]

Horrifying As Troops Engage In Gunfight With Bandits 

Horrifying As Troops Engage In Gunfight With Bandits. Troops take on bandit in a shootout in Taraba. Nigeria is confronted with a myriad of security challenges, ranging from terrorism to banditry and secessionist agitation. Nigerian Army and Sector 3 Operation whirl stroke (OPWS) In Action The incessant attacks on the security officials are undermining the nation’s security architecture and there…

[crimechannels]

By • Olalekan Fagbade Over 100 suspected Terrorists neutralised in fresh Military onslaught – DHQ The Defence Headquarters says troops have eliminated more than 100 terrorists in air interdictions carried out on the border between Niger and Zamfara states. The Director, Defence Media Operations, Maj.-Gen. Edward Buba, made this known on Thursday in Abuja while giving update on military operations across the country in the last one week. Showing the battle damage assessment pictures of the Nigerian Air Force (NAF) air interdictions, he said the operations also decimated many insurgents in other parts of the country. Buba said the military in a surgical operation targeted at the residence of an ISWAP terrorist commander in Niger, made several arrests and discoveries. He said that other operations conducted in the last one week by troops in various theatres, neutralised 73 terrorists and led to the arrest of 182 others. According to him, the troops also arrested 14 suspected oil thieves, and rescued 68 hostages in the South South, as well as denied oil thieves an estimated N1.212 billion from the illicit business. “Furthermore, troops recovered 119 assorted weapons and 1,537 assorted ammunition. “The breakdown as follows: one GPMG, three PKT guns, 39 AK47 rifles, five locally fabricated rifles, one locally made double barrel gun, one Barretta pistol, four locally made pistols, five RPG bombs and five pump action guns. Also recovered were one short gun, one hand grenade, two dane guns, one AK47 rifle loaded with 14 rounds of 7.62mm special, and one locally made pistol loaded with live cartridges. “Others are 586 rounds of 7.62mm special ammo, a bag containing 287 rounds of 7.62mm special ammo, 389 rounds of 7.62mm NATO, 141 rounds of 7.62mm special (belted) ammo, 12 rounds of 9mm ammo. ”Also, 113 rounds of live cartridges, 25 empty magazine, 13 vehicles, 3 motorcycles, 10 mobile phones, 2 HH radio, one boafeng radio and the sum of N3.3 million amongst other items,” he said. In the North East, Buba said the troops of Operation HADIN KAI neutralised 39 Boko Haram/ISWAP terrorists, arrested 22, rescued 18 hostages and recovered large cache of arms. In the North Central, the troops of Operations Safe Haven and Whirl Stroke neutralised 12 terrorists, arrested 109, rescued 22 kidnapped hostages and recovered several arms and ammunition, he added. In North West, Buba said the troops of Operation Hadarin Daji neutralised 10 terrorists, arrested 11, and rescued 11 hostages, while the troops of Operation Whirl Punch neutralised three terrorists, arrested 38, and rescued 12 hostages. He also gave update on the operation in the Niger Delta, where troops of Operation Delta Safe, destroyed 63 illegal refining sites and recovered stolen products. “Troops discovered and destroyed 15 dugout pits, 45 boats, 87 storage tanks, 13 vehicles, 127 cooking ovens, one pumping machine, four outboard engine and 63 illegal refining sites. “Troops recovered 962,500 litres of stolen crude oil; 35,420 litres of illegally refined AGO and 38,450 litres of DPK. “Troops also neutralised one criminal, apprehended 14 suspected oil thieves and recovered one locally made double barrel, one Barretta pistol loaded with cartridges, one locally made pistol, five rounds of 9mm ammo, three live cartridges and two mobile amongst others,” he said. In the South East, Buba said the troops of operation UDO KA neutralised three terrorists, arrested nine suspected criminals and rescued three hostages. “Troops recovered four locally made pistols, 48 rounds of 7.62mm NATO, six rounds of 7.62mm special ammo, one motorcycle, one HH radio and the sum of N22,100 among others. “All recovered items, arrested suspects and rescued hostages were handed over to the relevant authority for further action,” the defence spokesman said. (NAN) #Over100suspectedTerroristsneutralisedinfreshMilitaryonslaught

[hardynwa]

Herdsmen kill 3, ambush military in Benue community

Fulani herdsmen on Saturday 4th February 2023, attacked Ikobi community of Apa local government area of Benue State, killing three persons. Following the attack, troops of Operation Whirl Stroke (OPW) were deployed to the area to prevent further attacks. Members of the community said the troops gallantly repelled the invaders. The OPWS troops were, however, ambushed by the killer herders in Mbappa, Gwer West local government of the state but the troops succeeded in overpowering the attackers even as three of the soldiers sustained injuries. Only last week, armed Fulani militia killed the Divisional Police Officer of Gwer West local government area, Superintendent of Police (SP), Mamud Abubakar with two other policemen, two children and three women in separate attacks. The killer herders have laid siege on the area in the last couple of days, with some analysts linking the attacks to the utterances of the dethroned Emir of Kano, Lamido Sanusi and 51 others who accused the Benue State Governor, Samuel Ortom of using the Open Grazing Prohibition and Ranches Establishment Law with Livestock Guards to chase Fulanis out of the state. Speaking to journalists in Makurdi on the sad incident, the President, Tiv Youth Organization, Timothy Hembaor described the attack on the military personnel in Gwer West as mindless and barbaric, wondering why the herders would ambush security men whose role is peacekeeping. Hembaor called on relevant security agencies to speedily commence the investigation of Sanusi and the other Fulani elders who recently made statements that he said have spurred the herders to intensify their atrocities in Benue State. “What the armed Fulanis are now doing in Benue State is not a coincidence. They must have received briefings from the elders who recently wrote a petition to President Buhari against Governor Ortom. An investigation will certainly bring out the truth. We in Benue know who our attackers are. Sanusi and the others must be held responsible for the renewed wave of attacks on our people”, Shande submitted. Three days ago, a socio-cultural group known as Southern Kaduna Peoples Union (SOKAPU) raised an alarm that the deposed Emir of Kano, Sanusi Lamido and 51 others should be held accountable if anything untoward happens to Benue State Governor, Samuel Ortom concerning the alleged killing of pastoralists in Nasarawa State. The group further urged the Federal Government to take steps to curtail herdsmen attacks on innocent farmers in Benue State and other parts of the Middle Belt. The ambush on the military in Gwer West is one in a series of such attacks that killer herders have carried out against security operatives within Benue State in the last few years. Read the full article

[kookingtae]

the equation of love (pt. 10)

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt. 10

professor yoongi x uni student reader

→scenario: When you met Yoongi in a club, you thought it was fate that brought the two of you together. But after you walked into your college math class for the very first time, you weren’t so sure anymore.

→genre: smut | fluff | angst

→word count: 10.5k

→a/n: alternatively: fuck it, it’s been five years and this wip has been staring at me for three of them, so im just gonna post it. i have not read this over since 2018, so pls dont judge me too harshly hhsdg it’s unedited and probably a bit cringy, but then again what ch of teol isnt? this is NOT all that i have planned for the series, but i figured something is better than nothing, right? and perhaps the saying better later than never applies here, too. maybe one day i’ll finally get around to finishing it (by then im sure no one will even be around to remember what teol is lmao) but until then, enjoy what ive been sitting on! and as always, if you’re still here, thank you for your endless patience and support with this series <3

→another a/n: after this will probably be an epilogue!

→tw: mentions of blackmail, r*pe and sexual assault (we mostly just get closure on the whole professor lee & jun situation!!)

→warning: this chapter is not a happy ending, but it’s not necessarily a BAD one either, so for those who don’t like to finish on an unhappy note, it’s up to you on whether you’d like to read it or wait for the epilogue to be posted!

Running water.

It was such a simple yet fascinating concept—atoms and molecules coming together to form the only substance on earth that has a natural state in all forms, while having the power to kill in three different ways. Solid, by hypothermia; liquid, by drowning; gas, by suffocation. This substance can take three different forms, yet it's most commonly a liquid, covering nearly 71% of the world with translucent bodies of water. Oceans, ponds, lakes—though the most enchanting of them all were rivers. They were always moving, crashing beyond rocks and bustling with the flow of the current and gravitational pull of the earth. Rivers were passionate, and strong, and no matter how hard one tried they couldn't break the whipping tide that was pushing against them. Nothing could cause the powerful force to falter.

But, like most things, even rivers must come to an end. The current stops flowing, and the waves stop breaking around the jagged rocks, and the powerful force that seemed it would never end dulls to a still, calm lull, as if the river was nothing more than a brief yet raging storm. All the passion, all the fight—over in a blink of an eye, left to dissipate into the mysteries of the vast ocean.

Staring down at the picture on the cell phone screen in front of me was like getting pulled by the current of a river; down, down, down I flowed until there was no river left around me and I was left stranded in the middle of the sea. Yoongi and I were once raging, and passionate, and ready to fight against anyone who tried to tear us down, but now the fight was over. We had been dragged too far, fading into a body of water that was not our own. This was bigger than us.

Yes, like the flow of a river, all things must come to an end.

"That's it," Yoongi gritted his teeth, and I felt the dip of the mattress beneath me as he rose to his feet in anger.

"Yoongi," I called his name in a warning tone, warily standing up from the bed and watching him move around the room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm over it," he said, hastily throwing the first articles of clothing he could grab from his drawers over his body. "I'm done dealing with all of this, Y/N! I'm going up to the school."

Despite the flare of determination that sparked in my heart at his words, his rage seeming to radiate off of him and onto me as well, I couldn't help the trepidation that I was also filled with; Yoongi didn't have a history of making rational decisions out of anger.

"Don't you think you should calm down first?" I offered, trying my best to match his pace around the room.

"No!" Yoongi suddenly skidded to a halt in front of me, his eyes wild and crazed. "I'm going to find her and I'm going to fucking kill her!"

I could only stand with a gaping mouth and watch as he stormed out of the room, leaving me with no choice but to pull on my old clothes and chase his stomping foot steps. He grabbed his keys before storming out of the apartment, down the stairs, and outside into the parking lot. I tried to ignore the blindingly bright sunlight as I squinted my eyes and continued after him.

"Follow me up to the school," Yoongi barked as he hopped into his car.

"Yoongi–" I started, but my consoling voice was cut off by the slam of his door. I frowned, scrambling to unlock my vehicle as his engine roared to life.

The drive to the university was a nerve-wracking one. I kept a watchful eye on Yoongi to make sure he wasn't speeding or swerving all over the road; they say you're not supposed to operate a vehicle while you're upset. Though it would seem my efforts were futile, because he did in fact speed and swerve, and all I could do was frown and try to keep up.

It wasn't that I wasn't angered by Professor Lee; I was furious, rage and disgust and frustration all stewing inside of me like a pot of water that was ready to boil over. But I just couldn't help but worry for Yoongi. I had always been the non-confrontational type, always hoping that with a little time things would get better if they were ignored long enough. But it would seem that my method was proven inefficient today, because as much as I had tried to ignore her antics, that wicked woman wouldn't stop at anything to make sure Yoongi and I were properly dragged through the mud and going down like a ship engulfed in flames. Yet as much as that angered me, I couldn't bare the thought of the turmoil it was causing Yoongi. I didn't know when I had started casting my own feelings aside and putting his above—it was a gradual thing rather than one, defining moment—but it was only another factor that proved how much I actually loved this man. And that very thought instilled a fear that shook me to the very bone.

We had a lot more to lose now than just his job and my education. We could be losing us. And that was more important now than it had ever been before.

Once we arrived at the university there were a lot of screeching brakes, messy parking and fumbling hands as I scrambled to catch up to his looming figure that seemed to stalk towards the building at an unnatural pace. The pounding of my heavy heartbeat was what drove me forward, anxiety rising with each quickened step that I took.

"Yoongi!" I yelled once I had lessened the distance between us, now dead center on the campus sidewalk. "Yoongi, wait!"

All of a sudden he whirled around, his abrupt halt causing me to crash straight into his chest. I let out a yelp in surprise, eyes wide and ready to interrogate him, before I felt the smooth curvature of his palms on either side of my face as he tilted my head up to his and slammed his mouth onto mine.

The world stopped spinning for a moment, everything around me fading into the motions of his plush skin, his soft lips exploding with flavor and spilling over my tastebuds, satisfying my thirst in a way that no water ever could. I didn't even question it for a second before I was melting into him, quite literally becoming putty in his hands as the rest of the world instantaneously escaped my mind.

It's funny the way that worked—the way he was able to completely erase everything that had once existed in the blink of an eye, just by his simple touch. Whether it was magic, or I was just that fucking whipped, I didn't know. But either way, I didn't possess the power to stop it even if I wanted to.

When Yoongi finally broke away, he was breathing heavily, his breath fanning across my face in cool puffs of air. "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore," he spoke onto my lips, his forehead pressing against mine with a firm force. "Let them see. The only thing I care about is you."

It was then that I was suddenly aware of our surroundings, the reality of our world crashing down around me as I glanced around at all the eyes watching us. It varied; there were those choosing to spare us a glance as they walked to and from their classes, those who stalled their current actions to lift their heads to us not once, not twice, but three times, and then there were those who stopped altogether, their widened eyes and slackened jaws dead giveaways that they knew exactly who Yoongi was: Professor Min, Algebra 101 instructor.

A stroke of his thumb across my cheek brought my attention back to him; I stared up into his eyes, the desperate look in them captivating me and making it impossible to look away. His chest was rising and falling beneath his shirt, his fingers were grappling at my face as he brushed my wisps of hair out of the way, silently begging me to understand, to agree with him.

And in that moment, I knew what I had to do.

My lungs were filled with a breath of newfound determination, dazed and driven by Yoongi's words and embrace. "I love you," I spoke with conviction, caressing the nape of his neck as if to give him more reassurance. "Let's go.”

With that I grabbed his hand, holding my head high for the rest of the campus to see as I started up Yoongi's stride towards the school's building. He was right beside me, weaving his fingers through mine and giving my hand an extra squeeze as if to say that he was here, that he was proud to let the world know that I was his and he was mine, and that he wasn't going anywhere.

We were going to take down Professor Lee.

The seminar room was empty of students when we stormed in. Seats were placed throughout the floor, papers were scattered on the desks, and Professor Lee was at the front of the room, fiddling with the cords from the projector screen.

At the sound of the door opening, her head snapped up. "Well well well, look what we have here," she smirked when she saw us, making no plans to move as she saw me marching over to her. "You know, I really don't think–"

Slap!

The impact of my palm to her face cut off her words, skin on skin contact crackling through the room and echoing into a deafening silence.

Professor Lee gasped, immediately grasping where a red mark was now forming on her cheek before looking up at me with wild eyes. "You just slapped me!" She cried in disbelief.

"You're damn right I did," I gritted my teeth, taking a threatening step towards her and raising my palm. "Want me to do it again?"

It was then that I felt Yoongi's hand on my back, the feeling having an instant calming effect over my senses whether he wanted it to or not. I sighed before visibly relaxing and lowering my hand.

"You're barbaric!" Professor Lee was foaming at the mouth, still holding her face with a slack jaw. "Are you forgetting that I'm a professor? When Dr. Kim finds out about this, I swear he'll–"

"Tell him!" I roared as loud as my vocal chords would let me. "Tell whoever, tell the whole world, I don't fucking care! I'm done with your bullshit, you selfish psychotic witch!"

With that I gave her one final shove against her shoulders, and when both of her hands flew out to grab ahold her surroundings in an effort to keep from falling over, I planted another slap right across her face. The impact stung my hand, but I didn't care. Seeing Professor Lee stumble through the air was worth it.

"Baby," Yoongi spoke in a gentle yet warning tone next to me, and I had almost forgotten he was there until I felt his grip slightly tighten around my waist. It was a comforting hold, as if to say he completely trusted and supported whatever I chose to do in this situation, but still a protective hold nonetheless. He wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get myself hurt.

"You know, what is your problem, exactly?" I tilted my head at her as she struggled to get her bearings straight. "Is there an actual reason you're doing all of this, or are you just mentally insane?"

"It–it's not right!" Professor Lee stuttered with wide eyes, raising a shaky finger to point at me and Yoongi. "Your relationship, it's–"

"Oh cut the bullshit, Sara," Yoongi let out a sound of disgust from beside me. "We all know that's not why."

"I... I..." she stumbled for words, wide eyes glancing back and forth between the two of us. "Who do you guys think you are? You can't just storm in here and start attacking me–"

I took a menacing step forward, pure rage making up for what I lacked in intimidation. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I fumed, reaching out to grab her again.

"No, please!" She suddenly cowered before I could get to her, shielding her head away from me with her arms. "I—Yoongi, I'm in love with you!"

Her confession sent me reeling backwards in a downwards spiral, my body instantly going limp as I watched her with a dumbfounded expression. A vast silence echoed throughout the room that could be cut with a knife before she finally spoke again.

"Ever since you started working here, I knew you were the one. I just knew it." Her voice was sad, exhausted now, and a look of defeat washed over her features.

"What?" Yoongi gaped in disbelief. "Sara, that was two years ago!"

"I know!" She spat harshly. "You don't think I know that? For two years, I had to deal with this silly crush I had on you. I had to spend every day with you, watching it bloom into love overtime, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"You could've just told me!" Yoongi exclaimed as if that was the obvious answer.

Professor Lee snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, and be made a fool of? No thanks." She lowered her eyes to the ground.

"Sara, we're grown adults. You could've acted like one and fucking said something to me about it, made a move, anything but drag my career under the bus!" Yoongi's voice was strained now, his eyes wide as if silently begging her to understand him while he was equally trying to understand her.

"I was going to!" She lashed out again while whipping her head up towards him. "I was working up the courage to ask you out on a date, and then I see that fucking slut on your lap and I–"

"Don't you dare call Y/N that," Yoongi suddenly growled, pushing past me and stepping towards her intimidatingly. "One more thing out of your mouth about her and I swear to god I will kill you right here, right now."

My breath hitched in my throat at his threat and I couldn't help but weave my arm around his to grab his hand, intertwining our fingers and squeezing tightly. He gripped mine back even tighter, as if he was desperately trying to latch onto whatever calming effect I seemed to have over him.

Professor Lee swallowed, choosing to stay silent and watch him carefully as jagged breaths rose and fell from her chest. "The point is," she continued on, "I saw you with someone else—someone who wasn't me. And that completely tore my heart to shreds."

"So the only solution is to ruin our lives," I chimed in sarcastically.

"I may not have gone about it the best way," she quickly gritted her teeth and shot me a glare before turning her attention back to Yoongi, "but I had to act on instinct. I still wanted to be with you, so I figured that maybe if I split the two of you up, you would have no one else to turn to but me."

Yoongi just stared at her, his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and disgust. "Do you know how sick and twisted that is?" He asked.

"All I ever wanted was to be with you, Yoongi," she pleaded, her tone vulnerable now as she took a tentative step towards him and started to raise her hand up to caress his cheek. "I still do. It's not too late; we can leave now, just you and me and forget this whole thing–"

"Don't fucking touch me," he knocked her hand away with his forearm just before it could reach his face. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you, you're even crazier than I thought." He then stepped back to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me securely into his side. "I'm in love with Y/N, and I don't give a shit what rumors you or anyone else wants to spread about it. You're fucking pathetic."

At that moment there was the sound of a door bursting open, causing the three of us to turn our attention to the entrance of the room. There, standing in the doorway, was Dr. Kim.

The sight of him immediately deflated the elation I was feeling from Yoongi's words, instantly replacing them with a sense of anxiety and fear that lodged its way into my throat until I was sure I would die from suffocation. This was it; according to the text from Professor Lee, he had already seen the picture of me and Yoongi kissing. This was the moment that would decide our future forever.

I just hoped we had enough evidence against Professor Lee for him to take our side.

"So let me get this straight." Dr. Kim folded his hands on the dark oak wood of his office desk. "Professor Min and Y/N had relations before Y/N became a student here, while Yoongi was unaware of her age?"

"Yes sir," Yoongi nodded his head in assurance.

"And then you continued your relationship, even after finding out that she was your student."

"He didn't at first," I interjected in hopes of getting some of the heat off of Yoongi. "He tried to call it off, but I kept pushing it. The reason we got back together during school was my fault, not his."

Yoongi's eyes met mine from the chair next to me, his gaze seeming to hold the words that silently spoke that's not true, and I instantly knew what he was thinking. In actuality, he had been the one to give me after-school tutoring on that Saturday during the homecoming football game, not I. He had been the one to kiss me first that day. But there was no way in hell I would ever tell that to the dean.

"I don't care whose fault it is; all that matters is that it happened," Dr. Kim frowned. "And it's still happening if I'm not mistaken, correct?"

"I... um," my eyes flickered to Yoongi, every fiber of my being starting to fill with panic. Shit, we should've discussed this beforehand. I wasn't going to willingly rat Yoongi out, no matter how many times he's said he didn't care anymore if people knew about us.

Suddenly I felt the warm, soft sensation of skin wrapping around the curvature of my hand that was resting atop the wooden armrest. "Yes, it's still happening," Yoongi spoke, and then his fingers were intertwining with mine.

I practically choked on my own spit at his words; did this boy have a death wish? A cough came sputtering out of my lungs, the sound causing everyone in the room to look at me until I'd settled down. Even Professor Lee leaned forward from her seat on the other side of Yoongi, bewilderment written all over her expression as she gave me a look of disgust.

"Well there's your proof right there." She threw her hands up in defeat before gesturing to the two of us. "What more do you need? Expel them, Dr. Kim."

"B–but that's not it!" I suddenly exclaimed and lurched forward, feeling the heat of everyone's stare on our embraced hands, which in turn only made me grip him even harder for support. "Dr. Kim, you have to believe me when I tell you that Professor Lee has worked hard to make my life a living hell ever since I got to this school. She had a vendetta against me; she's in love with Yoongi, and so she–"

"That's not true!" Professor Lee screeched.

"She worked to turn people against us rather than coming to you because she wanted to blackmail Yoongi into being with her," I ignored her interjection and continued. "She even made a seminar about it—the mandatory seminar that everyone attended today!"

The dean turned his attention towards her. "The seminar about the importance of practicing safe sex?" He questioned in bewilderment.

My eyes practically bulged out of my head at his words; that's what she was telling everyone it was about?

"It was!" She scrambled in defense. "I mean I... I may have brought up Yoongi and Y/N as an example, but that's only because they fit the part! Y/N had a pregnancy scare not too long ago, and I didn't want the same thing to happen to our students!"

I felt the color draining from my face, blanching it a stone cold white and decimating any feeling I had left in my body.

How the fuck did she know about the pregnancy?

My head instantly whipped towards Yoongi to see if he had any logical explanation for this, and his face was as poised and stoic as ever in front of his two colleagues—but I could see through it. I knew him well enough to catch onto the slightest falter in his blinking, the increase in heat that collected between our palms, the small twitch of his mouth that would've gone unnoticed by anyone else who observed him. I knew there was no way he could've told Professor Lee about the pregnancy, because he was just as blindsided as I was.

Dr. Kim simply raised his eyebrows in interest before turning back to Yoongi and me.

"Dr. Kim," Yoongi spoke, his voice dripping with amusement, "I mean no disrespect, but do you honestly think that if Y/N had a pregnancy scare, we would tell Sara about it? Come on; not after all she did to us."

"They—they didn't tell me!" Professor Lee huffed out a desperate breath. "I overheard them while I was–"

"While you were what?" I interrupted with a raise of my eyebrow. "While you were spying on us to find any blackmail you could use on Yoongi?"

"N–no!" She stuttered, though at this point it was obvious that she was making up lies on the spot. "While I was walking past the classroom!"

"Why would we be talking about that with the door open?!"

"Enough!" Dr. Kim barked, his deep voice rumbling throughout the small office. We all grew silent as we turned our attention to him. "There will be no arguing of he said/she said in my office," he scolded, then turned his attention to Yoongi before speaking. "I understand that there was someone you wanted me to see?"

Yoongi, who had remained calm during all of this, simply nodded his head before releasing my hand. "Yes, sir," he said as he stood up and walked towards the door.

My eyebrows were knitted in confusion as I watched it all transpire: the words exchanged between the two men, Yoongi rising out of his seat, the sight of my biology professor being revealed behind the closed door. The whole thing came as a surprise to me, and my emotions seemed to be having a war between the shock and relief that I felt raging like a storm in the pit of my stomach.

Why didn't Yoongi tell me about Professor Park being involved in this discussion? When did he have time to ask her to come? Did it even matter at this point?

"Professor Park," Dr. Kim widened his eyes, his frame physically reclining back in his seat. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"As am I to be here," she smiled though her voice was venomous, eyes flashing to a very alarmed Professor Lee.

"Mia?!" The woman barked in disbelief at her friend's entrance. "What are you doing here?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago," Professor Park replied, and with that she turned towards the dean and opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm here to testify on the behalf of Min Yoongi and Y/N."

Earth-shattering elation rippled through me from the inside out, starting at the base of my toes and spiraling to the top of my head and the tips of my fingers, causing them to tingle and buzz with a newfound sense of hope. We might actually have a chance!

"What?!" Professor Lee's voice ripped through the air in a deafening screech. "This isn't a court case! You don't get to play witness!"

"Actually, if Professor Park has witnessed anything, I would definitely like to know," Dr. Kim chimed in, raising an eyebrow towards my biology professor.

Professor Park nodded her head towards him in appreciation before speaking. "A few months ago Sara approached me in my classroom to tell me about the nasty rumors that were surrounding her and a student. She singled the student out, saying to purposely damage their grades because they were treating her unfairly and disrespecting her rules and authority as a professor; she even went so far as to say that they were sending her death threats"

"What?!" The word ripped from my throat faster than I could blink as I stared jaw-dropped at the women in the room.

"That's not true!" Professor Lee instantly protested as expected. "Sir, I can assure you that I never–"

"I have the text messages if you want," Professor Park offered in a tone so nonchalant one would've thought she was conversing about the weather.

Dr. Kim raised an eyebrow. "Text messages? I thought you said she came by your class?"

"She did, sir." Mia interlaced her fingers in front of her and bowed her head politely. "We spoke about it on multiple occasions. I asked why she wouldn't just go to you, or even the authorities if the student was making death threats, but Sara was adamant. She didn't want any scandals revolving around her so that she could maintain the level of professionalism that she had developed here."

I heard a snort coming from next to me, and it was with a swollen heart of pride that I realized the sound came from Yoongi trying to hold in a laugh.

Professionalism? Her? I had never heard anything so far fetched in my life.

Sara simply glared as Mia ignored him and continued. "She assured me that the best way to deal with this pesky student was to slowly start to fail them, and I'll admit, I was angry for her. Sara was my friend, and I respected her enough to believe what she was telling me and follow her requests." She turned her head to where I sat on the other side of Yoongi. "That student was you, Y/N. And I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for the way I handled things. You were treated unfairly and poorly due to false information."

"It wasn't false!" Professor Lee jumped in to defend herself, but everyone was pretty much ignoring her. Even the dean could tell she was playing the part of the boy who cried wolf at this point.

"I'd like to see those text messages, if you don't mind." Dr. Kim reached his hand out expectantly.

There was a brief moment of silence while Professor Park nodded and tapped away on her phone before handing it to him. His cold and calculated eyes scanned the screen while saying nothing, all three of us waiting with bated breath for him to come to a decision in his mind.

There was no where left for her to run. With these text messages, all the constant denying that Professor Lee has done will be proven false and she will be exposed for all the hell she's put me through this semester. My heart was practically bursting at the thought.

"Well I would've appreciated it if you ladies had come to me with this information instead of handling it amongst yourselves, true or not," Dr. Kim finally sighed before giving Sara his full attention. "Ms. Lee, you have three people accusing you. Even if you didn't do it, there's obviously something that's turning them against you. And here at this university we strive to hold cooperation and communication above all else. If you don't get along with the fellow staff here, then why should I believe that they're the problem and not you?"

"Um, because Min Yoongi is fucking his student?!" Professor Lee was fuming now, her upper body lurching forward in her seat and her hands gripping the arm rests for dear life. "He literally just admitted to it!"

"Language, Ms. Lee," Dr. Kim scolded calmly. "I still like to maintain a professional attitude here in my office."

"I apologize sir, but that's beside the point." She was sitting back in her seat now, though her tone was no less frantic. "Min Yoongi is in a relationship with his student, and staff cooperation or not, I don't really think that's in the teacher handbook." She raised a snarky eyebrow at us as if believing that she had finally won.

I knitted my eyebrows, my palms feeling slick with a nervous sweat against Yoongi's as I realized the bigger problem here. It wasn't whatever lies and schemes Professor Lee had cooked up with my biology teacher; it wasn't even Professor Lee herself. It was the fact that Yoongi and I were in a relationship, and that was going to have enough consequences alone to shake me to my very core with fear.

"She's right," Dr. Kim uttered the words that I was silently hoping he wouldn't say, my grip tightening on Yoongi as I anticipated whatever outcome he's decided. Our fate was in his hands.

"Of course I am." Professor Lee crossed her arms and sat back in her seat with a smug grin.

"I'm afraid I have no choice." He was shaking his head, frowning at us apologetically though the sentiment didn't reach his eyes. "Mr. Min, I am sorry to inform you that you will have to be forced to resign from our university."

The color instantly drained from my face, and with it pulling all five senses that I have into the depths of the earth until I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't speak—I could barely even breathe. There was a lump that was forming in my throat and settling deep within my gut, all of this feeling fake, too fake to be real.

Yoongi was fired, and it was all because of me.

"I understand, sir."

It was Yoongi's words that were pulling me from my fog of disbelief and devastation, my eyes blinking in an effort to snap back to reality as I looked from him to the dean. "No. No, there has to be something we can do, please!" I begged, my voice starting to get frantic the more the severity of the situation hit me. "I–I'll drop out! You don't have to worry about me ever coming near here again, just please, please don't fire him!"

"Y/N..." Yoongi's voice was quiet and full of resignation, defeat, but I wasn't giving up.

"Yoongi is an amazing professor who has worked here for, what, two years? He's extraordinary at what he does and students love him. It's not easy to find a professor like that everyday." I was staring into the eyes of the dean now, trying to move him with my words. "You shouldn't throw away someone as great as him just because of some stupid 18 year old's mistake! Please, Dr Kim." I leaned forward in my seat, the room silent as I spoke. "He wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for me. Please, let me suffer the consequences, not him."

I continued to stare in Dr. Kim's eyes, silently channeling my emotions through the pleading expression in my eyes, and it wasn't until I felt a comforting hand on my back that I was instantly drawn away into a more calm state in my chair. I gazed over at the owner of the hand, and he flashed back that smile I loved except it was sad, and it didn't reach his eyes, and I could tell there was so much he wanted to say to me right now if we weren't in the confinement of his boss' office.

"I understand your efforts, Y/N, but there's nothing I can do." Dr. Kim shook his head, and it was as if the world around me was shattering into blades of glass, scraping at my skin and leaving bloody wounds that I knew would never heal. "Mr. Min was involved in this relationship as well, and no matter whose fault it is, the professor needs to be held accountable. There is a level of professionalism and maturity that he must possess in order to work here; he's your superior, a respectable authority figure, and so he should've known better."

It was all I could do to keep from crying as I lowered my eyes and shook my head, every inch of my heart breaking for Yoongi until all that was left were tiny fragments to scatter in the wind. I couldn't believe I'd done this to him. The very thing he'd been worried about from the start—I had ruined his career.

"It is our goal as a university to see our students succeed," he continued, though I could barely hear a thing. "As for you, Y/N, I see no reason as to why you shouldn't keep attending this university."

I blinked a few times, confused. "You want me to... what?"

"You will have a suspension on your student records, mind you, and one more of those will lead to expulsion," he explained. "Though that doesn't mean that you can't keep going to school here. You will have to meet with an advisor every two weeks, though, who will be keeping a close watch on your behavior."

I could barely even believe my ears; had my hearing been completely lost due to the shock of the situation? "That's totally a double standard!" I gestured to Yoongi in disbelief.

"Y/N, it's okay..." Yoongi tried to calm me down.

"No, it's not okay!" I roared, eyes wide and brows furrowed in disbelief as I glanced at him before turning back to the dean. "Where do you think you can get off by treating people like this? This is his career—his life!"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Y/N," Dr. Kim bellowed in a stern voice as he frowned. "I'm doing you a favor here by letting you continue your education. Speak out against me one more time and I will be revoking that offer."

His words were deafening throughout the office; it was suddenly understandable why he was so feared by those who worked under him. Yoongi started to run his hand along my spine in a soothing manner, and though it helped relax my fiery nerves and clear my foggy mind, I was still just as upset—if not more, now that the information was beginning to settle in.

"So that's it then?" Professor Lee spoke for the first time in a while, her lips pressed into a firm line, obviously disappointed by the turn of events though she didn't dare to speak out against Dr. Kim as he had warned. "Yoongi gets fired and Y/N gets a free ride?"

"Not so fast, Ms. Lee." The dean turned to her. "What you did was beyond unprofessional. You violated several school policies as well as bullied a student! Do you think that type of behavior is acceptable as a professor?"

Professor Lee opened her mouth as if to protest before slowly shutting it again, realizing that she had nothing left that she hadn't already denied. It was obvious that the evidence given to him by Professor Park, who stood silent in the corner of the room, was incriminating enough to sway his decision.

"I'm sorry to have to inform you that you will be fired as well."

"What?!" Her shrill voice screeched through the air, tearing whatever I had left of my eardrums and rendering me deaf here in this office. "What I did was no where near as bad as Yoongi and Y/N!"

"If anything, it was worse." Dr. Kim folded his hands over his desk. "Let's not forget that you managed to involve the entire student body in a false seminar that maliciously exposed one of our students and professors," he raised an eyebrow at her, "and that was just today."

"Yeah, not to mention all the other shit you did behind my back to make my life a living hell," I couldn't help from interjecting in a heated tone, though I backed off upon seeing the dean's stern gaze.

He redirected his attention back to Sara. "Here at this university, we strive to have a professional relationship, safe environment, and healthy lifestyle for our students. Neither of you achieved those three goals, so both of you will have to be let go."

Yoongi's expression simply remained placid and free of any emotion while Professor Lee's reaction was practically visceral, though neither spoke a word as heavy silence fell over the small office.

"Am I... am I still needed, sir?" It was Professor Park whose voice broke through the tension, everyone having forgotten she was there in the midst of the emotion-filled chaos. "Because if not, then I'm going to go."

"No, I'm just about finished here." Dr. Kim let out a sigh, as if what just transpired had been hard on him out of all people in the room. My blood boiled just looking at him, though I know I had to learn when to speak out and when to bite my tongue as Yoongi had taught me.

"Dr. Kim, is there any way you can reconsi–"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Lee," his booming voice interrupted the frantic professor. "I've said all that I need to say on the matter. I'm not changing my mind."

"Dr. Kim?" I spoke up just as Professor Lee and Professor Park were getting ready to walk out the door. "I–I have something else to tell you. Un-related to this," I threw in when I saw him throw a glance in Lee's direction.

The man sighed before waving them out, leaving his office empty of visitors other than me and Yoongi in the chairs. I wasn't going to let that boy go anywhere.

"Y/N, I'm sorry that the outcome isn't exactly what you wanted but I'm afraid there's nothing I can–"

"Choi Junwoo tried to rape me," I blurted out.

There was a moment's pause as the dean was stunned silent with wide eyes, and out of my peripheral vision I could see Yoongi tense up and inhale sharply next to me.

"W–what–"

"Choi Junwoo," I spoke slowly for him so that he'd understand, "a student here at this university, tried to rape me at a frat party."

I couldn't leave the office without saying it. I couldn't leave the office without telling him. This wasn't just about me or the turmoil or trauma he caused; this was for every other girl in the future who might be a victim of Jun. Though in my heart I truthfully believed he was a good person, and that he really was just intoxicated beyond belief that night, it was still no excuse. If he had rape-tendencies while he was drunk and I didn't speak out about it, then I would be no better when it came to helping other sexual assault victims.

"Are you sure–"

"I found them at the party while he was mid-act," Yoongi jumped in, probably figuring he was already fired so there was nothing left for him to lose when it came to revealing details about our relationship outside of school. "It was... disgusting. I got her out of there immediately, but not before punching that bastard in the face."

"Metaphorically, of course!" I couldn't help but chime in, not wanting an assault charge to be on his record as well.

Thankfully Dr. Kim simply brushed off that minuet detail in favor for the more important issue at hand. "Y/N, what you're telling me will ruin this student's future. Are you absolutely sure you want to file this?"

Despite the anger that swelled up inside of me from him questioning my accusation, I still couldn't help the little trickle of doubt that crept in as I considered his words. At one point, Jun had been a friend... maybe even a potential lover had Yoongi not been in the picture. Dr. Kim was right, this information could potentially ruin his reputation, his education, his record... was I ready to carry the weight of knowledge that I've ruined someone's life forever?

"What are you talking about? Of course!" Yoongi spat an answer before I even had a chance to finish my thoughts. "She told you what happened, didn't she? Why would she speak out about something like this if she was making it up?"

"Maybe a personal vendetta?" The dean shrugged his shoulders. "People will do crazy things for revenge."

Now that got me heated. "The only one who wanted revenge here was Junwoo!" I stood up from my seat to yell. "He liked me and was mad that I turned him down. As if I owed my feelings to him or something! And when I told him no, he forced himself on me?! Is that really the type of message you want to send at this college? You know, since you're so high and mighty on "cooperation"," I did air quotes of sarcasm around my last words, my ears practically steaming with boiling rage.

"We will come out about this story, by the way," Yoongi added in, his voice full of venom. "And how will that look if you tried to keep us silent?"

"You can forget about me attending this university," I hissed.

"Alright, alright, settle down, the both of you," Dr. Kim lowered his hands in a calming manner. "I was not suggesting I buy your silence or anything of that nature. I was simply making sure you wanted to go through with this."

"Yes," Yoongi and I both answered in unison.

The dean nodded his head before clasping his hands together. "Alright."

The rest of the time in the office with spent filling on paperwork on a claim against Junwoo. I'd been given the option to be kept in the loop or even present when everything went down, though I politely declined. I wanted nothing more to do with that boy.

Though it would seem Professor Lee didn't share the same sentiment when it came to me, because as soon as soon as the two of us walked hand in hand into the hallway and Dr. Kim's door was securely shut, she sprung into action.

"You bitch!" She shrieked, not wasting another second as she leaped through the air and onto my body like a crouched tiger that was waiting for the right moment to attack. I felt the pressure of her weight against my chest and the sting of her nails scraping against my cheek, and before I knew it I was stumbling down, down onto the ground with another vicious blow to my jaw that was accompanied by her fist.

It all happened within a matter of seconds, but it wasn't long until I heard Yoongi yell Sara! and then her weight vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

All I could do was stare with wide eyes as Yoongi slammed her shoulders back against the wall, though it was the look in his eyes that caught my attention. I had seen that expression before.

He was about to throw a punch.

"Yoongi, stop!" I cried, summoning all the strength I possessed to push myself to my feet and stumble over to the pair.

Yoongi whipped his head towards me with exasperated, almost wild eyes and his brows knitted in confusion and disbelief. "Y/N, she attacked you!"

"She isn't worth it," I spoke firmly in an attempt to get through to him. "Yoongi, just let it go. She isn't worth the trouble anymore."

It was when I placed a soothing hand against his back that Yoongi finally sighed, his stance visibly relaxing and his hands dropping from Professor Lee's shoulders. "She's right," he spit in a low, venomous tone as he turned back to her and grit his teeth. "Thanks to Dr. Kim, you already got what you deserve."

"Yoongi," there were sudden sobs that were tearing through the hallway, and it took me a moment to realize that Professor Lee was now... crying.

"Yoongi," she continued as she clung onto his shoulders. "Yoongi, I loved you!"

Somewhere deep inside of me, past all the burning hatred for what this woman has done to my life out of pure jealousy, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her. This was once me, heartbroken over the effects of unrequited love. Yoongi was a very sought-after man, I'd come to realize, and it wasn't about my feelings or Professor Lee's or anyone else's. It was about his.

"Sara," Yoongi sighed, and there was almost a wince in his tone from how hard he was trying to make her understand. "It's over."

"W–what?" The woman was scrambling now. "It doesn't have to be! We can go back to the way things were–"

"There never was a ‘we’!" He ripped her hands from his shoulders. "We were friends, and then you sabotaged my career and Y/N's education. You never once spoke out about your feelings, came forward, handled things like adults," he stressed the last line. "You never once did any of those things! Instead you belittled another woman and cost yourself your job all for a man—someone who until now, was your friend." Yoongi sighed again and shook his head. "I hope you get the help you need, Sara. I'm sure there is someone out there who will love you unconditionally... but that person is not me."

And with that, he put a gentle hand on my back and we walked away.

“Oh my god.”

Those were the first words out of my mouth the second we exited the building, my hands resting on my head in disbelief as I turned to Yoongi. “Holy shit, Yoongi–“

“Shhh,” he instantly consoled me, his arms engulfing me in a comforting hug and my face tucking underneath his chin as he held me close. “We did it, Y/N. It’s all over.”

I stayed in his embrace for a few moments as his words sunk in. It was all over. No more secrets, no more Professor Lee—no more anything.

“B–but your job...” I pulled away to look up at him with a shaky tone, my brows furrowed in concern. “Dr. Kim fired you, he–“

“I resigned, Y/N. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” I couldn’t help but look up at him with a hopeless expression.

Yoongi simply nodded his head, the picture of nonchalance as if his career hadn’t just changed forever. “Yes. If I had gotten fired, it would look terrible on my resumé should I apply for another teaching position. However, given the circumstances of our arrangement...” he paused, no doubt thinking of Professor Lee, “I suppose he decided to take it easy on us all.”

My shoulders deflated in relief. “Well thank god for that...” I sighed, not even wanting to think of what could’ve happened if Dr. Kim had given us the harshest punishment. In an ironic, twisted way, I suppose I have Professor Lee to thank for that. If she wouldn’t have made my life a living hell, it would’ve been that much worse if Dr. Kim ever found out on his own.

“But none of that even matters to me right now,” Yoongi suddenly snapped, and then in the time it took me to raise an questioning eyebrow he had already grabbed both sides of my face and rammed his lips into mine, the same as he did before we went inside to confront Professor Lee.

Only this time, the kiss was different. It didn’t hold promises and potential; it held freedom. It held the success of finally getting through everything by the skin of our teeth, the relief and the pride and the pure love that we have for each other after overcoming everything that we’ve been through together. I kissed him and I didn’t care who saw—because he wasn’t my professor anymore. There were no invisible chains that bounded us apart. It was just me and him sticking together against all odds. Never in my life did I think I would ever be a part of a relationship so committed, so passionate, so determined. He and I would never stop fighting for each other.

“I love you, Min Yoongi,” I murmured against his mouth with a grin on my features that was hard to disguise—especially when I felt the corners of his lips pull up into that gummy smile that I adored with all of my heart.

“God, I love you too, Y/N,” he replied back with a content sigh, and then he continued to kiss me on the busy campus sidewalk until we were both breathless and blue in the face.

Because we now had nothing to lose.

Despite finally being released from the clutches that school had on us, the days following the meeting with Dr. Kim were not easy.

Other than having to put on a fake smile and continue attending a university where practically everyone knew about my relationship with now-former Professor Min (my mother would never let me drop out—not that I could ever tell her the reason I'd want to, anyways), there were the stresses that Yoongi was dealing with of now being unemployed. And what with all but abandoning my dorm room to instead spend my nights with him at his apartment, it was impossible to not feel the weight of his problems on my shoulders as well. No matter how many times Yoongi tried to put up a façade and reassure me that he was okay, I couldn't help but feel like this was my fault.

"If I just never would've made you dance with me at that club..." I'd say at times, unable to keep from tracing back each and every one of our interactions and blaming myself.

"Cut that out," Yoongi would snap.

"What? It's true!"

"You know I don't like it when you talk like that!" He'd turn to me with a stern tone. "I don't regret anything that happened between us, okay? Not one single bit." There was a heavy silence as his words would hang in the air. "If you wouldn't have asked me to dance, then who knows if I ever would've worked up the courage to kiss you? And I wouldn't be here, sharing this bed with the love of my life."

"Aw, Yoongi..."

And the two of us would make love, again and again until we'd have a similar argument some time later and repeat the whole process all over again. I'd feel guilty, Yoongi would remind me of exactly how much he doesn't regret meeting me, and we'd get lost in each other's embrace.

That is, until a simple Sunday morning suddenly changed everything.

"I got it."

I casually peered over at the sound of him from my spot in the living room, sitting criss crossed on the couch in my pajamas with a laptop in my lap. "What?"

"The job." Yoongi's voice was low, serious as he stared at the paper in his hands that had previously been so carelessly disregarded on the kitchen island along with the Sunday paper. "At the university in Seoul."

"Wait." He had all of my attention now as I sat the laptop on the coffee table and rose to my feet. "Like the Seoul National University university?"

"Yeah," he let out a single chuckle of disbelief before he pressed the paper against the counter and turned to me. "I got the job."

"Oh my god, Yoongi!" I exclaimed with my own chuckle of disbelief before running forward and wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms immediately engulfed my waist and lifted me off the ground as we spun around in place, my lips instantly finding his in a searing kiss that was full of passion and excitement to match our current mood. "That's amazing!"

"I know," he replied as he placed me down. A tentative smile was frozen on his lips as he stared off into the distance before letting out another sound of disbelief, his head shaking before his palm slid down his face. "I can't believe it!"

"I'm so proud of you!" I mirrored the grin of pure elation on his features, my chest swelling with joy and relief and most of all, pride.

I was so, so proud of Yoongi. I knew how much his job meant to him, and the feeling of guilt that weighed down on me from knowing that I was the one who inadvertently took that away from him, that I was the one who inadvertently caused all this stress of job hunting was instantly lifted off my shoulders. I knew how much he wanted this. I knew how hard he had worked to get this job at such a prestigious school, and god damn it, I knew how much he deserved it. If Yoongi was anything, apart from being an amazing person and a wonderful lover, he was great at his job. He was a natural born teacher.

Though no matter how many times I've willingly showered him with endless compliments about his work, he'd blush sheepishly and simply swat away all of my words with a simple kiss, or an "if you don't shut up your food is going to get cold. We're unemployed now; we need all the nutrition we can get. Haven't you ever heard of the Great Depression?"

So instead, I just chose to beam at him while he basked in the euphoria of the moment that this job acceptance brought on. After all, I knew he was well aware of how proud of him I was and how supportive I'd always be when it came to anything he wanted to accomplish.

Though the bliss was short lived.

I watched as Yoongi's expression slowly fell, the smile on his face slipping into a deep frown and his eyes turning to stone. "No."

"What?" I furrowed my brows, concern filling me and etching onto my features as I cupped his cheek in my hand, trying to figure out why his mood had changed so suddenly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not taking it." His tone was cold, definitive, as if the subject wasn't even up for debate as he grabbed the letter.

"Wait wait wait," I hurried to stop him from tearing it in half. "What are you talking about? Why not?"

He turned to look at me with cold, incredulous eyes, as if he couldn't believe I was even asking a question so stupid. "The university is in Seoul, Y/N."

"Okay...?" I shook my head in confusion, still not understanding what the issue was. "And?"

"I'd have to move." He was taking the paper back out of my hands and ripping it right down the middle before I got the chance to stop him.

I suddenly deflated, the severity of his words dropping in my stomach and wrapping around the anchor of my heart, sending it down, down, down through the floor of his apartment and hurdling towards the center of the earth.

"...What?"

"I'd have to move away from you."

And there is was, the bomb detonating an explosion and demolishing whatever was left of my heart.

"No... t–there has to be another way, there has to–"

"Seoul is hours away from here, Y/N," Yoongi barked out, his tone angry and harsh as it always was when he was upset. "It's on the other side of the country; there's no way I'd be able to commute without living there."

"Okay, so why did you apply then?" I couldn't help but snap back defensively. "You knew the distance to Seoul prior to applying for the job. Why even bother if you're just going to get pissed about not taking it?!"

"Because I didn't think I'd get accepted!" His voice was loud, almost yelling now. "It's the most sought after, prestigious school in the fucking country and I didn't think some young idiot who got fired from his last job would be able to get in!"

It was silent as his words settled over the atmosphere, clinging to the air that filled the room around us and encasing my lungs until it was impossible to breathe.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I finally hissed. "You're a great teacher, and you know it. If anyone's a young idiot here, it's me!"

Yoongi scoffed with a shake of his head. "I'm the one who kissed you again during that tutoring session after telling you to stay away. I'm the one who fucked you against that desk." His tone was low now, and his eyes seemed to grow harder in realization with each step that he took towards me. "I'm the one who asked to take you out on that fucking date and I'm the one who pulled you onto my lap when Sara caught us in my classroom! God damn it, I'm the one who tracked you down at a fucking frat party and punched one of my students!"

His voice slowly raised until he was yelling again, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was now standing chest to chest and cornering me up against the countertop of the island, I would've winced at the loud volume so close to my ears.

"Stop blaming yourself, Y/N, when I'm the one who was the authority figure. I'm the one who should've had my shit together, but I just couldn't around you!"

I felt myself soften at that. As angry and intimidating as he seemed right now, surely frightening whoever would come into contact with him when he was like this, I knew that it was all a front. Yoongi wasn't the best at dealing with emotional situations—he'd all but bite my head off any time I even tried to mention his father—and sometimes lashed out in anger when he was upset or hurting inside. I knew how badly he wanted this job; I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice when he'd first submitted the application. And now, when the career position of his dreams was finally right under his nose, he couldn't have it. Because I was holding him back.

"You have to take it." My voice was solemn and steady as I stared him in the eyes.

He instantly frowned. "What? No, I–"

"Yoongi."

He fell silent, all signs of anger and malice wiped from his features once he saw just how serious I was being. A soft, bittersweet smile that had nothing to do with happiness slowly tugged at my lips as my eyes gleamed with pain. My heart was breaking with every word I was speaking, but I knew it was something I needed to do.

"You have to take the job."

The silence that ensued my words only further proved my point, simultaneously stabbing a knife into my chest with each passing second. He knew I was right. He knew it. He just didn't want to hear it.

"You don't..." He sounded smaller, more pitiful and confused as he tried to make sense of what I was saying. "You don't want me to stay?"

The hurt, the sadness, the utter hopelessness in his voice absolutely crushed me. I couldn't help but fall into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his chest and squeezing tightly as if I could somehow hold the pieces of him together that I knew were breaking. The severity of what was happening, of what I was doing started to settle within me the moment I heard his voice break.

"I do, baby," I replied, the sound muffled by the skin of his neck that my face was buried in as a sob threatened to claw its way out of my throat and swallow me whole. "God, you know I do. But you can't."

"Y–you can come with me." He was shaking his head now, his hands gripping at the shirt on my back with closed fists while he desperately tried to hold onto me, as if I would disappear beneath him at any moment. "We can move together to Seoul and you can–"

"You know I can't, Yoongi." It was my turn to shake my head, and with it came a heavy tear that fell down my cheek. "I have to go to school. I have a family who's helping pay for my tuition, and my mom— you know it's not all up to me."

I heard him sniffle as he pulled away, and even though I felt no evidence of tears from him against my skin or my shirt, his eyes were bright red when he stared back at me.

"I'm not leaving you, Y/N."

The sheer determination in his voice had me shattering like broken glass. "I'm not letting you do this, Yoongi. I'm not letting you waste this opportunity. Do you know how many people are waiting to work at Seoul University? How many professors would kill to be in your position?" I kept my gaze steadily on his as I slowly shook my head. "I care about you... so fucking much. I've never loved someone so much before... not like this." I paused, asking myself one last time if this was really the decision I wanted to make as my words settled in. I took in the sight of his beautiful, breathtaking features silently begging me not to do this. "I'm putting you above my selfishness," I finally decided with another shake of my head. "You need to do this Yoongi, for you. You know you do."

Yoongi slowly shook his head, though the expression on his face told me he knew I was right. "I don't want to lose you," he spoke as a tear spilled over the brim of his eye, dampening his lashes and leaving a wet streak in its wake as it rolled down his cheek, and the sight was the final breaking point that had me bursting into tears.

"Neither do I."

His fingers dug into my skin as he tightened his grip on my body, his forehead leaning against mine as the only sounds exchanged between the two of us were the unspoken words of labored breaths and soft sobs.

Sometimes when you love someone, you have to do what's best for them.

And I knew this was what's best for Yoongi.

[saynaija]

6 Brigade Troops Arrest 2 Terrorists and Recover Motorcycles Following Intense Shootout in Taraba State

6 Brigade Troops Arrest 2 Terrorists and Recover Motorcycles Following Intense Shootout in Taraba State In a decisive operation, troops of 6 Brigade Nigerian Army and Sector 3 Operation Whirl Stroke (OPWS) have successfully apprehended two notorious terrorists after a fierce shootout at Geshi Village along Rafin Kada road in Damisa Ward of Donga Local Government Area, Taraba State. The…

[katnissmellarkkk]

AN: Hiiiii, alright I’ve been working on this story since I posted my first chapter and, as it turns out, no surprise, this is gonna be longer than I originally expected. Probably like five-ish chapters? I’m not re-writing every chapter or part of Mockingjay if Peeta wasn’t hijacked, just snippets of the essential plotline and events if Peeta hadn’t been hijacked.... did that make sense? 

Alright, anyways, I wanna also take this time to say I definitely did not expect the amount of love I received on the first part of this and omg I’m so honored and touched. I really wasn't expecting you guys to be so supportive in this fandom. Thank you all so much, for liking, commenting and reblogging. It really made me so happy <3.

Also if you didn’t read part one and you want to, here’s the link. 

I hope everything’s going well for all you reading this! 

Also I need a title for this so any suggestions are more than welcome alright buh-bye.

Shattered Pearl

| Part One |

/

I know I've been shot. I felt it hit me, right underneath my chest. If I didn't vaguely remember standing in the tunnels, appealing to and pleading with the District Two men, trapped inside the Nut, the gunshot of a man standing behind us in the crowd, too cowardly to come closer and confront me to my face, if I didn't retain the image of seeing myself shot on television, I'd swear I'd been hit by one of the Capitol trains that once took me and Peeta district to district.

The thought of the train brought back memories I'd long held close to my heart. I had never spoken of nights shared between me and Peeta on the Victory Tour and prior to the Quarter Quell. Not to anyone. Not even Prim. It felt too personal and too vulnerable a memory to let anyone else claim it. For so long it was all I had to cling to, with him presumed dead and then only seen on Caesar's talkshow, tormented and a shell of the boy with the bread.

I miss him now, as I lay despondently, wherever I am. I feel a jabbing pain right where I predict I was shot, the injury feeling closer to a brutal beating than a penetration.

My mind whirls and flies and wracks itself up and down, backwards and forwards and side to side and somehow I can't remember even a split second where I felt the bullet enter into my body.

I feel my consciousness, my awareness, growing stronger now, slowly crawling in an upwards motion, like I was lying on the bottom of a lake and I'm only now floating to the top.

When my head breaks the surface, there's a bright, ugly, glaring light stinging my eyes and my first thought is one of comparison. Does Peeta experience this too, when he wakes up in his recovery room? Do they actually think that'll help anyone recover here, blasting unsettling yellow colors into their eyes as soon as they crack open? Is it their idea of a luxury, since everything and everyone else is so void of color here in Thirteen, like one of Peeta's drawings that have yet to be painted.

"Disorienting, huh?" I hear a familiar—so familar—voice laugh quietly. "I think Thirteen believes the more the lights hurt your eyes, the less we'll use them and the more energy they'll save in the end."

"Peeta?" I mean to murmur but instead my voice comes out in a whimper.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice all gentleness and sweetness now. The teasing, conversational edge is gone. He runs his fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my sweat covered forehead, hoping the ministration will soothe me.

It takes me longer than it should to place, but it strikes me after a moment that his voice now reminds me of a different foreign place and a different wound and an altogether different time.

The confusion. The comforting, appeasing voice. The soft, tender gesture. It eerily reminds me of waking up in the cave, after having bled out from my head, only to find my body weak and Peeta's shockingly strong and the tables turning and him taking care of me.

My hands act to their own accord and cannot be stilled, no matter how comforting Peeta's fingers feel, sifting through my hair.

I fumble roughly with the bandages covering my left side, where the bullet must have hit, and I force my eyes wide open now, in spite of the still disturbing light overhead.

"What am I still doing here?" I ask before I can really register what I'm saying. At his confused and—now I can see his features better, with my eyes adjusting to the brightness—exhausted face, I clarify. "The bullet didn't kill me?" I look to him for confirmation.

"No," he promises smoothly, understanding my puzzlement now. "No, I promise you, the bullet didn't kill you."

"What happened?" I ask, my voice and body both still far weaker than I'm in any way comfortable with. "I think I blacked out after I was shot."

Peeta forces himself to give me a faint ghost of a smile. "Yeah, I imagine that happens when a bullet hits you in the side." He takes my hand in his and begins to softly kiss it, repeatedly. Finally he replies, "you were shot on live TV and everyone in the country saw you go down. Coin and Plutarch decided immediately to spin this and fake your death. But Cinna made your Mockingjay outfit bulletproof. The bullet never touched you," he assures before adverting his eyes as they grew watery with his words.

"Peeta," I start, my voice raspy as it's ever been.

"I don't think I was that scared in the Capitol," he blurts out as if I didn't speak. "Snow knew, he always knew, that you getting hurt would have been worse torture than anything else he could have ever done to me."

"How do you think I felt when Snow and his guards had you prisoner?" I shoot back before I can stop myself. His torture was harrowing enough without me making it all about myself. He flinches slightly at my words but tries to mask it, for my sake, no doubt. I reach out and squeeze his hand, my body's grip embarrassingly lame and in no way soothing. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"No," he automatically refutes. "Don't apologize to me. You have enough people putting their burdens on your shoulders without adding me to that list."

I swallow hard now, my memory starting to piece everything together and I remember suddenly that this is the first time I've seen Peeta since Coin's men had essentially interrogated him into hysteria.

I hadn't told him I was even going to Two. I didn't even tell him how long I'd be gone.

And then I got shot on camera. And—as I should have predicted—the rebels used this opportunity to their advantage.

I can imagine what that felt like for him. I remember on the hovercraft to and for the first few weeks in Thirteen. Refusing to eat. Refusing to speak. Hiding in closets and sleeping only sporadically. Picturing every single time I closed my eyes Peeta being beaten to death, Peeta being abused, Peeta crying out helplessly.

I wait for him to blink back his tears again before final speaking. "Can I apologize for not telling you I was going to Two in the first place?"

Something new crosses his features and in place of the fear, the agony, the pain, comes an almost sarcastic, satirical expression. "Please do, Sweetheart."

I roll my eyes instinctively when he calls me sweetheart. He'd only ever called me that in the past to get on my nerves or irritate me. "You sound like Haymitch," I can't help but point out.

"This isn't sounding like an apology for lying."

"I'm getting there."

"I've been waiting for days."

I raise my eyebrow mockingly. "So that's why you're here by my bedside?"

"Only reason. I'm out as soon as I get my reparation."

"Well in that case," I trail off, shrugging—and inwardly cringing at the movement before bringing his hand to my lips now and planting a kiss there. "I'm not apologizing then."

He laughs and I pretend to be put out, which works until I try to cross my arms in false indignation and involuntarily eject a loud gasp of pain from the way the motion upsets whatever is broken inside of me.

Peeta drops the ruse then too and stand from his chair, sitting on the side of my bed to get closer to me. "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, cupping my cheek and turning my distressed face towards him now. "Breathe," he commands genially, leaning his forehesd against mine. "The pain will go away, Katniss, just breathe."

I let out a large breath but it only makes the pain worse and eventually I just grip the hand cupping my face and squeeze with all my might. The lame grip I felt ashamed of minutes before is now replaced with an adrenaline rush of strength and I nearly break Peeta's hand in my much smaller one.

He doesn't complain and begins to rub my back to calm me down. When the searing, paralyzing discomfort subsides, the first thing I utter is, "so if I never got actually shot, what is going on with my body?"

He strokes my face affectionately. "You have a bruised lung. Bruised ribs. And your spleen was ruptured so they removed that."

"So I'm without a spleen?" I realize, my voice raising involuntarily. For some reason, I'm petrified that a whole organ was taken out of my body and I had no say in it whatsoever.

"You don't need it, Katniss," Peeta quickly reassures.

I deflate then, not sure if I feel any better or not. Peeta's words suddenly come back to me.

"Katniss, these people aren't too different from the ones in the Capitol."

Would I trust Snow or his guards to remove my spleen? No. So should I be okay with Thirteen operating on me?

I shake my head, knowing this is redundant and ridiculous. My spleen was ruptured. They'd saved my life. I was being paranoid for nothing and I couldn't afford falsely accusing the very people I needed to survive. Especially not when they likely are what saved my life.

Peeta sees my face contort and the disheartenment etch itself across my features. Still remaining tender and cautious, he leans his own wounded, beaten face down and places kisses against my cheek.

I try to hold off but his lips bring a smile to mine, and even with all the confusion bubbling around my head, all the disbelief and uncertainty, in regards to my feelings towards him, Gale, Coin, this war and the Revolution itself, I still can't help the feeling of hope spreading across my chest, filling my heart up in a way I never let myself consider it could again.

"Peeta?" I whisper then and he pulls back from planting kisses on my face to look at me.

"Hmm?"

"If my lung is bruised, why did you tell me to breathe deeply to stop the pain?"

He freezes for a second, contemplating and considering before a slightly bashful smile crosses his mouth. "You're the healer here, not me," he finally teases. When I smile back at him, he leans in simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the word, and kisses me full on the mouth.

The kiss catches me off-guard but only after the fact. In the moment it feels right and tingly and reassuring and I'm lightheadedly happy and I don't even know what to make of how I feel on the inside.

"I'm not a healer," I remind with very little passion for the correction in my voice.

He laughs again lightly but then bites his lip and brushed my hair back. "You did say that to me in our first games, right? Real or not real?"

I hesitate for a full ten seconds before I respond, my face scrunching up. His words almost seem like an already formed game that no one had explained the rules of. "Real," I finally answer.

He's already elaborating before I can ask. "Finnick came up with it. He said it works for Annie and I should try it. If I'm ever unsure about anything that happened or what the Capitol tried to make me believe, I should ask." He shrugs then, slightly abashed. "It's repetitive-"

"It's actually a really good idea," I encourage, grabbing his hand in mine again and giving him a reassuring squeeze. And he looks at me then and gives me a grateful smile and his eyes are lighter now than they were when I woke up and I don't know where this is even going between us or if it's even going anywhere and I don't know where Gale stands and I really can't focus on my feelings right now because I'm a symbol of an entire revolution, whether I asked to be or not, and it may be selfish or immature, but I push away all my other conflicting thoughts and pull the boy with the pretty blue eyes down towards me.

He goes willingly, wrapping his body to me, only placing pressure on my right side, and I feel his face burrow in my neck. When his lips press to the sensitive skin there, like he's done dozens of times before, I shiver instinctively and close my eyes against him.

For the first time in forever I feel, for a fleeting moment, safe.

//

Prim and my mom interrupt not too long after that, but for some reason—other than Prim's cheerful smile—they don't comment on the compromising position they found us in.

Peeta promptly moves back to his previous chair and remains there for the duration of the day.

Haymitch joins us not even five minutes after my mom and sister, and he brings boiled cabbage stew from the cafeteria in tow.

"Here you go, Sweetheart," he says with a large smile, looking at the disgusting concoction with excitement now.

I look at the bowl, wishing I had more of an appetite so I could actually feel some desire to eat it. In spite of Haymitch's jokes, the cabbage stew would have been a luxury to me once upon a time, when all I could find to fill my screaming stomach was mint leaves and, if I were lucky, the roots I was named after. "How'd you know I'd be awake?" I inquire, turning the spoon around in the bowl.

"Oh I didn't," my old mentor quickly replies, plopping down in a chair against the wall. "It was for the boy." He gestured towards Peeta, who's running his fingers softly along my spine, inconspicuous enough that not even Prim catches on. "But I figure you deserve it more, since you're the one in the hospital. Speaking of that, why did you two switch places?" He asks, brash and wry.

My mom glares at Haymitch, disapproving of his callous comment, which catches me completely off guard.

My mother usually ignores all chatter between me and Haymitch and Peeta, only chiming in if Haymitch is speaking of something from Twelve that I'd be too young to understand.

I remember then watching Haymitch's tape on the train with Peeta, realizing he and my mom shared a permanent tie labeled Maysilee Donner. I look between them for a hint of familiarity I didn't see before and quickly realize Peeta's doing the exact same thing.

My mom quickly turns back to me, and gingerly but vigoriously, coaxes the stew into my stomach, even when I try to refuse because my ribs ache and using any of my muscles leaves me feeling irritable and shaky and hot inside.

"Just a little bit more, sweet girl," my mom murmurs, forcing me to finish the entire bowl, and it's only when Prim looks at me, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, that I realize my mom had used a long forgotten term of endearment. One that I'd rejected since her bout of deep, delbilitating depression.

I didn't comment on it and I don't think my mother even realized, but I avoid Peeta's eyes because evidently, by the looks of his smirk, even he knew the exchange was rare and hard to come by.

Just as I all but lick the soup bowl clean and my mom's whispering mournfully she has to go back to work and was only allowed to come see me for lunch. I am caught off guard once again though, when she kisses my forehead and whispers, with audible tears, that she loves me so much.

I feel like a monster all of a sudden, for the absolute hell I must have put her through.

I squeeze Prim's hand as tight as I can as she takes our mom's seat and scoots it even closer to my bed. "Hey, little duck," I greet in my most comforting voice. "How're things while I was gone."

Prim, as usual, puts up a-albeit, very weak-pretense in order to make me feel better. "They were okay for the most part." She pauses and bites her lip, contemplating to herself before adding. "It was just hard because we didn't even know you were leaving and then we watched you be shot on live TV."

"I know," I murmur apologetically, because it's all I can do. "I'm so sorry, Prim."

But my sister's shaking her head before I can finish and I swear Peeta and Haymitch roll their eyes at the same moment and if Prim wasn't here, I'd be telling them both off.

"No one's mad at you, Katniss," she promises, like that's my concern. People I love being angry, not people I love going through absolute turmoil. "Just... next time could you let us know?"

I nod automatically, because I want my sister to feel better, even though I'm unsure if I can even fulfill this promise. "Yeah, of course."

Prim just stares at me for a moment. "You're such a bad liar," she finally calls out.

Haymitch noisily laughs from across the room, but Peeta remains completely stoic now, and I want three sets of eyes so I could focus on multiple people at once.

I choose to keep my focus on my little sister. "Prim," I start, my voice still unconvincing. "I just... I never know what's going to happen next, so it's hard to know ahead of time what I'll do. The last thing I want, that I've ever wanted, was to worry you and mom."

"Yeah, but, Katniss," She refutes even and diplomatically. "You not telling us only makes it worse. Finding out from strangers you and Gale disappeared off to District Two on a secret mission with the rebels? Only to watch them fake your death? It was as bad as watching you in the games."

I feel my chest constrict and the breath fly out of my aching lungs as I swallow down the lump formed in my throat. "Prim, I never meant-"

"She knows, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, his hand sifting through my hair once again.

Prim looks at Peeta—with more familiarity than I've ever seen between them before—and then back at me. "He's right. I know you never meant for that to happen but... if you could just let us into the loop a little more, it'd make things a lot more bearable."

I nod, meaning my promise to keep her and our mom more informed now. I squeeze Prim's hand again and ask quietly, "how bad was mom when I was shot?"

Prim's eyes shoot to Peeta almost intractably. But I catch it and I press it before they can pretend it didn't happen.

"What's going on with you two?"

They both look at me in utter shock. Or is that the look of getting caught keeping a secret?

"Nothing," Prim immediately covers. Peeta, on the other hand, doesn't react so quick, and instead chooses to just shut his eyes to avoid looking at me.

There's something more going on that they want to avoid telling me. And instinctively, I don't think it's about my mother. Even without him meeting my glance, I can tell Peeta's embarrassed about something.

"Prim," I say evenly. "You're a worse liar than I am."

"You actually are, kid," Haymitch adds. "Didn't think that was possible."

"What happened when I was shot?" I ask again, my voice closer to a threat than a comfort now.

"Let it go, Katniss. It's not important," Peeta urges, his own voice more worn and irritated than I'd heard it since the last games.

"When has she ever let something go?" Haymitch ponders, unfazed by our whole exchange.

"Katniss," Prim starts but I cut her off. I can tell she was going to placate me, like getting shot turned me into our mother.

"As your older sister, you're not allowed to lie to me."

"C'mon now, Sweetheart. That's not being fair."

"Then you tell me, Haymitch. What happened when I was shot that they don't want me to know?"

Our old mentor sighs deeply but I can tell he's relenting. If I couldn't see the resignation on Haymitch's face, Peeta's whole body tensing up in anticipation would be a dead giveaway.

"The boy had a meltdown when you were shot," Haymitch finally states. He gives Peeta a long, measuring look before continuing. "He basically went ballistic and lost his grip on reality." He moves his eyes to train them on the floor of my hospital room. I know he's trying now to avoid Peeta's furious eyes, full of betrayal.

"What?" I turn and look at the boy beside me, remorse overtaking my entire being. I reach out and touch his face but he won't look at me, even when I try to force him.

"He was frantic for days. Couldn't tell the difference in reality and the lies the Calitol fed him. He was only released probably an hour before you woke up. So I guess you guys have good timing," Haymitch adds, trying too hard to lighten the mood.

"Peeta," I whisper after a beat, pleading with him to just look at me, talk to me, but to no avail.

"Peeta, talk to her," Prim begs on my behalf.

"It wasn't that severe," he finally states, his voice extremely muted now as he speaks in a hushed tone, only to me. "I didn't want to tell you because you don't need anything else on your plate. Especially not about me. And it was barely worth mentioning."

"I think it was worth mentioning," Prim chimes and Haymitch points at her and nods.

"She's got better sense than both of you."

Peeta ignores Haymitch. "Prim," he groans with an air of affinity that still boggled me. "Stop. It was fine."

"You were so upset though. And she should know, since she's the one the Capitol wanted to hurt when they tortured you," she advocates, impressing even me with her reason. "And I think we should all stop lying," my pure-of-heart little sister tacts onto the end.

Haymitch nods affirmatively towards Prim again, and I see something akin to wonder now in his eyes as he looks at her, and it takes no more than common sense to realize he's imagining life with Prim as his victor and how much easier that would have been.

"I just don't think now is the time to be talking about this, Prim," Peeta tersely states.

I can't help but interject now, after having witnessed their exchange this whole time, "I'm sorry, but do you two know each other?"

A look is exchanged between all three of them and I'm so tempted to ask if they'd like me to leave so they can freely converse in private. Finally Prim informs quietly, "me and mom were there with Peeta when he got upset. He actually helped mom because she had somewhere to focus all her own emotions. You know how she is, Katniss. When things get rough, she puts all of herself into her healing."

"Glad of be of service," Peeta mumbles despondently and I can see in his troubled eyes, he's blatantly ashamed of himself.

"Peeta," I murmur softly, taking his hand against his will—he tries to fight me from even picking it up—and bringing it to my lips.

He sighs deeply and offers me a half smile. "My being a lunatic doesn't disturb you?"

"Of course not," I quickly dispute. My mind is still processing all of this though. "So you and my family... bonded after I was shot?"

Peeta outwardly groans, dropping my hand. "Let it go, Katniss."

"I just never considered it a huge connecting technique. You know, I could have gotten shot a long time ago-"

"That's not even funny," Peeta chides and there's nothing humorous in his voice now.

I shut up instantly, feeling the mood of the room drop. Even Haymitch falls silent and adverts his eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry," I finally whisper and I don't know who I'm apologizing to, Peeta or Prim. I'm know I'm not saying sorry to Haymitch, who is still lolled in his chair across the room. Although maybe I should, since he was undoubtedly as scared as the rest of my family. Not that he'd ever admit that to me.

Peeta shakes his head and his expression softens. Leaning in closer, he gently brushes his lips to my cheek, very lightly and very chaste, considering Prim's proximity.

"Just don't lie to us again," Prim pleads, taking my other hand firmly. "No matter how much you want to protect us."

I nod obligingly, maybe more to relieve my guilt than anything else but I do actually mean my promise. "Okay," I swear.

Peeta pushes back my hair soothingly before running the back of his hand over my cheek. "Okay," he finally repeats, only loud enough for me to hear.

And I know then that he's forgiven me.

///

Within an hour, my mom, Gale, Boggs, Plutarch and my doctor all join the party inside my hospital room.

"Isn't there a limited amount of people allowed in one room?" Haymitch retorts gruffly, unhappy about being squished into the corner and unable to spread out the way he was before.

"Oh there usually is," Plutarch confirms, his tone more joyful than I find appropriate, given my situation. And the state of the rebels now. "But I asked Coin to make an exception for Katniss."

"Can Coin make an exception and give Katniss a bigger room?" Gale mumbles under his breath.

I laugh at his sarcasm and his disgruntled expression. We'd made amends on the way to District Two, not wanting to be in potentially dangerous territories and still on the outs with each other. I expected the issues that made us clash—and whatever feelings that still lied between us—would all come to a head once we returned to Thirteen, but we unexpectedly took longer than anticipated in Two and now I was wounded. And even Gale can't deny he was scared out of his mind when I went down. Even he isn't in the mindset to wrangle with me.

I squeeze Peeta's hand in my own and pretend I don't see Gale's envious eyes staring at our interconnected limbs. I don't feel the same guilt I usually do when it was apparent Gale was upset by me and Peeta, and I wonder, idly, in the back of my mind, if this isn't because of the morphling I'm pumped full of.

My doctor is one of the same people who checked Peeta out after he was rescued and I realize I don't even know his name. It doesn't seem like I'll learn it now either, as he barely speaks. I'm half inclined—though I know it's impossible—to think my own mother is the one who operated on me, from the lack of insight the man provides.

In any case, the doctor doesn't seem concerned in the slightest about me and slips out of the room as soon as Plutarch shifts the conversation in a new direction.

"So, I was wondering," he starts, his face still much too happy to completely sit right with me. "Maybe if you'd be up—once you're out of bed and recovered, of course—to film a propo?"

I just stare at him blankly, wondering how on Earth he expected me to have any desire to film anything right now, while I'm still currently getting pain relievers pumped into my veins.

He misreads my expression and quickly adds, "Of course Peeta would be in it! The Star-Cross Lovers need to be shown reunited. I feel that could help with the cause immensely—"

He keeps talking but I automatically tune out his chirping voice as he prattles on. I can see his vision now. The Mockingjay Lives splayed across the screen, me and Peeta wrapped in an embrace, my voice loud and strong, announcing that we're going to keep fighting to the end.

I'm not the only one looking at Platurch like he's grown a second head. The only person who's not looking at the man with distain or disbelief is Haymitch, who's expression is either mildly entertained or filled with such incredulity that he looks like he's grinning.

Peeta's reaction is much stronger than I expect and it's only after he looks like he's grown nauseous from disgust or is planning on throwing something at Plutarch's joyous face, that I realize Peeta has no real experience with the Gamemaker.

He was in the Capitol the entire time I've really gotten to know Plutarch and the man's antics must seem completely foreign to Peeta.

I squeeze his hand before he can say anything and shake my head in Plutarch's general direction. He isn't harmful and I don't want Peeta to waste the energy he needs to recover.

But he has trouble swallowing down his obvious repulsion and his hands begin to shake and his eyes are far angrier than I would have expected in these circumstances a few months ago.

It's my mom who is murmuring about Peeta needing to check in with his doctors and how she'll walk him down there and she waits expectantly for him to get up and part of me faintly envies him for some reason. And I realize quickly that it's the way she talks to him—it's the way she speaks to all patients of her's, really. It's a firm tone, that's still kind but is very direct. Maybe a little authoritative and unyielding. And I realize at once it's a tone I almost never heard again after my dad's death and I took over caring for the family.

And I miss it. Despite everything. Despite my lack of trust in her and my fear she'll retreat back into her shell one day and leave me and Prim behind all over again. Despite my instincts to never put my faith in my mother again, a big part of me still misses the days when she parented me.

Peeta sighs, seeing through the ruse, and kisses my nose before heading out the door behind my mother.

Plutarch follows too, blatantly unaware of what he set into motion, and saying he was needs to review the film of the other Victors for their propos. I'm still appalled he wanted to parade me out while I'm lying in a hospital bed, but I do feel a bit more at ease knowing it's not just me and Peeta he wants to exploit for the sake of the rebellion.

I wished to myself I could actually go to where the fight was. That I could actually have a shot of getting close enough to really be involved in taking down Snow and his supporters, rather than being filmed as a icon to motivate other people to fight in this war.

I kept this to myself, as my even being in this bed was proof of what happened when I was a more central part of the fighting. And even then, I somehow managed to get shot while they were essentially using me as a talking piece for the other soldiers.

But there was something else on my mind and I turned to focus onto Gale now. Only he, Prim and Haymitch remained in my room and Prim was telling my old mentor about the medical uses of alcohol. I don't know what she planned on accomplishing with that, but it worked as a diversion for me at the moment.

"Okay, so what happened?" I press Gale in a hushed voice when I know Prim isn't listening. He gives me a quizzical look and I quickly clarify. "With Peeta and my mom and Prim?"

Comprehension fills his eyes and he sighs before continuing. "I wasn't there for the beginning. Obviously. I was with you in District Two. But I know that he was watching TV when you were shot, and he completely lost it. Apparently it triggered some kind of flashback to something they used to do to him in the Capitol. He was still yelling when we arrived back. I heard it when I passed his room while you were in surgery. Whatever Snow did to him-"

He's promptly cut off by a new but familiar voice joining the room now. "Ah, yes," Johanna Mason shoves back the curtain separating my cubicle from the one next door. Her's, I guess. "Fond memories you mention, Handsome." She winks at Gale. "One of Snow's favorite methods of torture. The old 'make Peeta watch a thousand fabricated video simulations of Katniss being brutally murdered, on repeat. Don't let him sleep. Beat him. Water him down and beat him some more. Make him watch the Katniss Dying Simmulations again', until he can't even tell you what's real and what's not."

I just stare at her, my heart sinking in my chest rapidly. "What?" Is all I can manage to say, my mouth drying up fast.

"I mean, there were worse forms of torture Snow and his men liked to use on me and your fiancé, but I was told you needed to be kept in the dark about those," she state cheekily, obviously trying to goad me.

"Who told you to keep me in the dark?" I snap, my eyes shooting between Prim, who's now looking right at me, and Gale.

Johanna, much to my surprise, points to Haymitch. The older man is still laid out in a chair in the corner of the room, having made himself comfortable again, but at least now has the decency to look sheepish.

"Listen, Sweetheart," he immediately defends. "You and the boy have your own separate issues, alright? You both don't need to take on the other's all the dang time."

"Haymitch-" I start to growl but am caught off guard by a completely unexpected noise. Johanna's hysterical, dark, morbid laughter.

"I can't believe you were rescued and I was tortured, and I'm expected to protect you from the truth."

I don't blame her. No one could honestly. She was tortured because of me and the rebels. She could say and do whatever she wanted at this point, and no one had the right to tell her differently.

"Johanna," I start but let her cut me off once again, becoming accustomed to the feeling.

"And don't worry about Peeta," she says but the resentful shake of her head doesn't fill me with hope. "Your mom made him her project once they informed her your suit was bulletproof. Her and your sister basically walked him off the ledge."

And because I know she's the only person who will be completely uncensored—something I can't even say about Haymitch these days—I blurt out my next question. "What was Peeta saying? When he lost it?"

Her response is immediate and I get the impression she enjoys telling me, for some sick reason.

"Give me back to the Capitol. They'll find a way to revive her if you give me back. I want to go back. I'll trade my life for her's. Please, let me go back."

As soon as the words sunk into my brain, I wanted to puke.

So I did.

////

Johanna wasn't happy about my vomiting a literal foot away from her and she was downright livid when no one else appeared to be irritated with me but she reached a breaking point when both Peeta—who returned upon hearing my loud gagging—and Gale comforted me.

It was an odd sensation to be in not just conversation with both Peeta and Gale but to have them both be so sweet to me, at the same exact time. Without even so much as looking crossly towards the other one.

Gale held my hand and told me to calm down in a gentle voice he only ordinarily used for one of our sisters or his mom. Peeta was sitting opposite him, on the edge of my bed and telling me softly to just relax as he stroked my hair tenderly. Even Haymitch had gotten out of his seat to call an attendant to clean up my vomit and Prim and my mom were standing at the end of my bed, looking worriedly onto the scene.

Johanna's voice was biting as she took us all in. "How much hand holding does she need? Considering she was apparently strong enough to be the face of our entire cause."

"I shouldn't be," I instantly agree with her. "You should be. No one has to push you or tell you what to say."

"No one likes me, brainless," she says snidely, a leering smile spreading across her face.

"That's because everyone's afraid of you," Prim chimes in timidly, and I drop Gale's hand to reach for my little sister's, almost on instinct upon hearing her scared voice.

But Johanna has the decency to not swipe at Prim and instead gives her a sympathetic look. As if to say you don't have to be scared of me.

Her compassion evidently only extends to the thirteen-year-old, as when Finnick and Annie join the room right on the heels of Prim's words, Johanna barks out a cruel laugh. "Really? More people? Are we having a party to celebrate Katniss?" She gives everyone a mocking look around the room. "Well, I wish someone would have told me. I forgot to bring my streamers."

For some reason her tone suddenly forces back a memory of the last night in the arena. Her cutting my arm open and my red, hot, sticky blood gushing everywhere. My understanding at the time being that this was an attempt to kill me. I know now that this was the rebels' plan and she was really cutting out my tracker but the sense memory can't be so easily rationalized away.

I flinch outwardly and both Gale and Prim's faces silently ask if I'm alright. But I'm quickly distracted elsewhere.

I'm, once again, wholly surprised by Peeta's reaction.

"Don't you have anything else to do, Johanna, besides bug Katniss?" There's a strong irritability in his voice, one I'd only heard from an outsider prospective in the past. On the off occasion I'd witnessed he and his brothers in any sort of conversation. Their relationship was tense at times but they were still siblings and extremely close in age. That made for a lot of squabbling and a lot of fighting and a lot of sparring with each other. And a lot of aggravating each other, causing Peeta to behave in a way I'd never seen him otherwise.

"I don't know?" She shoots back, not even missing a beat. "Didn't I have better things to do than cuddle you after Snow's guards were done for the day? And yet, who's shoulder did you cry on? Who held your hand through our adjoining cells?" She smirks and it's obvious she's speaking for the rest of us to hear.

Annie makes an animalistic squeak and covers her ears. Finnick quickly wraps an arm around her and shoots a glare at Johanna.

"What?" She snaps. "Annie was there in the Capitol, Finnick. She know what went down."

"Doesn't mean you have to remind her of it," I state, my voice grave as I watch the mad girl Finnick loves more than life itself retreat into her own psyche.

And for some odd reason, I relate. To both Finnick, who's doing everything he can now to bring her back from the dark depths of her own mind, and Annie herself, who is buried beneath the ruins of a trauma she'll never be able to escape and is visibly struggling to dig her way back out.

I look to Peeta then, almost imperceptibly, and he just gives me a knowing, almost satirical glance. He was undoubtably thinking the same thing.

Johanna is ready to spit in my face, and she probably would, no doubt, if it were just the two of us. "You have no idea what went down after we were captured," she seethes, growing closer to me, and Peeta places an arm in front of her, blocking me from her reach, but I note the gesture isn't rough or hostile.

Gale and my mom both look like they're going to intervene. Finnick is busy with Annie now. Prim looks shell shocked and Haymitch seems to have lost interest in watching us.

For some reason, maybe it's the morphling, maybe I just feel safe surrounded by so many people who would stop her if she lunged for my throat, but I decide to reply. "Is that why you hate me so much?"

Her violent demeanor dissipates but she still has a spiteful glint in her gaze. "That's part of it. And partially because everyone is so obsessed with you. I've never seen anything about you that's so good or special."

"I agree with you about that," I say quietly, knowing it'll do nothing to mend fences with her.

Haymitch, who out of everyone I thought would agree as well, is the one who speaks up. "There's plenty good in that girl," he retorts sharply, his grey eyes hard as he stares at Johanna.

That caught me—and Peeta, by the look on his face—more off guard than anything Johanna had said thus far.

But it's Johanna's words, which aren't even directed at me, that send a chill to my spine. "Careful, Haymitch. Remember, I'm the one who's always there for the victor you constantly forget about. Or was that you who held his hand while the doctors and Mrs. Everdeen had him strapped down for two days?"

Gale is the one who responds, much to my surprise. "Okay, stop. I know you've been through—"

"Handsome," she cuts off, her voice clipped and snarky but she still bats her lashes in his direction. "You don't know anything."

"Johanna, please," Peeta murmurs now, his tone softer and a lot more understanding. "Please go back to your cubicle. I'll tell the doctors you're complaining of massive pain and need more morphling."

She stares at Peeta, her eyes softening the same way they did for Prim only minutes before. Finally she says, "it's the least you can do. Considering you wouldn't share your fiancé's with me."

And, as soon as she appeared, she had evaporated behind the curtain.

And I feel like somehow, I'm the only person who is left reeling in her absence.

/////

My mom was called back to work once again—and this time, she was made to stay there, my condition apparently too stabilized for them to be letting one of their better healers cut back on her hours—and she took Prim with her. I don't know if it was because Prim would be of use or if she just thought I needed alone time without worrying about my sister overhearing too much.

It occurs to me how much my mom is trying now to wordlessly look out for my needs. I decide to make a point in finding a way to say thank you to her. Even if our relationship will never be what it could have been, had there never been corruption or games or mine explosions. Had there been proper help to those suffering and in need.

Finnick chats with me and Peeta for a moment—and entirely ignores Gale but I suspect that's less about being intentionally rude and more about never knowing what to do with my best friend slash fake cousin—before escorting Annie away. She still looks shaken up and I wonder what happened to her in the Capitol. Or if she was already this unstable. I scarcely remember anything about her or her games, prior to what Peeta reminded me of in the Quell.

"You look tired," Peeta notes, brushing my hair back from my forehead. I smile lightly, about to kiss the palm of his hand before noticing Gale's eyes. They are quite apparently envious of Peeta's affection towards me and my acceptance of it, of how naturally Peeta can touch me, of the innate intimacy between the two of us that I never shared with him. But he tries his best to mask it and for that, I feel even worse.

I look to Haymitch without realizing it and somehow the older man understands without me even consciously thinking of asking.

"Boy," Haymitch grunts, putting on a good show as he stands up. "Let's go get some real food from the cafeteria. I hear if we say we'll participate in Plutarch's Propos, we can get better grub than the rest of Thirteen."

Peeta nods, his eyes gently running over my face, as if memorizing it in his mind. "Will you be okay-"

"Okay, Johanna was right," Haymitch barks now, grabbing Peeta by the back of the shirt, his grip much too docile to pass as normal though. "She'll be fine. Let's all stop hovering. She'll be up and tormenting us in a day."

I roll my eyes at his antics but smile meagerly at him as he guides Peeta out the door.

"Well," Gale breathes out as they leave. "That was subtle."

I laugh loud enough that I hear Johanna hiss from the cubicle next door. "I wanted to talk to you privately."

Gale chuckles. "Gathered that."

I know I have a limited time before Peeta returns and honestly I'm not too mad about that fact either, as I somehow, chessily, long for him now whenever he's gone. I inwardly cringe at myself before shaking it off to hurry this conversation along. "I wanted to apologize for me and Peeta. For how we can act. For..." I trail off, realizing too late I didn't pre-plan my words.

Peeta was right when he'd spat at Haymitch on the Victory Tour, "we all know I'm better on camera than Katniss. No one has to coach me on what to say."

I wished for his ease and talent with words now as I fumble around, trying to convey my message to the person who's been my best friend for years now.

He understands though—thankfully—and needs no more explanation. His tone has become solemn when he speaks. "You're really not faking it anymore, are you? Being in love with him?" His eyes are full of pain and he quickly downcasts them. "You fell in love with him in the Quarter Quell," he says as a fact, not a question.

"I don't know, Gale!" I exclaim, quick to defend myself here, like I'm being accused of something horrific. In truth, I feel like I am. I feel like I am, when I see how much it hurts him when me and Peeta are together. "I don't know how I feel. I just know I feel a lot for both of you."

"That's not good enough, Catnip," Gale whispers, shaking his head. But he uses my old nickname and that gives me hope. Hope that he won't hate me for not being able to give him what he wishes. Hope that I won't lose him entirely by the end of this war. "You really do need him."

I open my mouth to say something, anything, to try and rectify this. But I can't because it's true. Those are my words he's repeating back to me and they completely true. I do need Peeta. Maybe in a way I'll never need Gale. I don't know. I can't know. Not with all that rests on my shoulders already.

"What if I made you choose?" Gale presses now, leaning in closer. "What if I begged and pled and promised I'd find a way to make you happy? Would you pick me then?"

My mouth still hangs open, unsure what to say that get me out of this. I look towards the door, wishing Haymitch would reappear, that Peeta would burst through with his loud footfalls, that Johanna would pop back in and rub some salt in everyone's wounds.

All that would be preferable to this right now and I wonder why I ever wanted Haymitch to take Peeta away.

Gale shakes his head now though, having recieved his answer. "I thought so."

"Gale-" I start, not knowing where I was planning on taking the exchange but before I can even make a redundant attempt to mend whatever broke between me and him a long time ago, he's leaning in and his lips are pressing to mine and after half a second of shock, I'm giving in.

After everything I'd denied him, after all that he'd done for me and for my family, after how much he'd been there for me while Peeta was in the Capitol, I let myself give in and kiss him back.

His lips are different from Peeta's and I can't figure out how I feel about them. He's always been more grown, appearance wise, than Peeta and me, who both still could pass for years younger in the right clothing. But even his kissing is reeks of more experience, more practice, and somehow I find myself learning as his mouth shift under mine, as both his lips suck on my bottom lip expertly.

But it's lacking something and it's only then I realize, what I'm searching for inside Gale's mouth, is the spark that only Peeta's ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn't manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn't be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale's demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I'm not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I'm hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale's face isn't even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

[omgjasminesimone]

How to Make a Family

Bryce x Casey

Author’s Note: Warning: Mentions of miscarriage

Summary: Casey and Bryce decide to start a family, but the road to parenthood isn’t as smooth as expected.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3000

“Mmm….this is the best way to wake up.” Bryce mumbles, returning Casey’s lazy kisses with impassioned ones as he wakes.

Casey smiles against his lips and lets her tongue slip into his mouth. “I missed you.” She reveals when she pulls away a few moments later.

Bryce smiles sleepily, rubbing her back gently through her clothes. She’s still in her business casual from attending the morning session of the medical conference. “Not as much as I missed you. How was the conference? I thought you weren’t coming back until Tuesday. You didn’t leave early because it was boring, did you Dr. Valentine?”

“They moved Dr. Ramsey’s panel to this morning, so I came home early. I learned a lot, but I won’t bore you with the details. Not when we have catching up to do.” Casey slowly kisses down his bare chest. She gets to his lower abs and is about to pull down his pajama pants when he pulls her back up. She’s draped over him, staring into his brown eyes which shine with desire.

“Casey, as much as I hate to stop you, and believe me, I really hate to stop you, we can’t. I’m not supposed to ejaculate for 48 hours before my appointment. I can take care of you though.” He flips them so he’s on top, pushing her pencil skirt up over her hips.

“Wait, stop.” Casey interrupts, sitting up and pushing her skirt back down. “What appointment?”

“A good friend from high school, Wendy, she and her wife are having a baby. She asked for my sperm.” Bryce responds casually.

“What the hell Bryce?”

“What?” The fact that he honestly seems confused at her irritation makes her even more irritated.

“Don’t you think that’s something you should have talked with me about?” Casey asks, standing from the bed to put some space between them.

Bryce still looks flabbergasted, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “Is it?”

Casey whirls around. “Yes, Bryce! It is!”

“Why are you mad? Do you not want me to do it? I already told her I would, everything is set up.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to do it necessarily, but if I didn’t want you to do it, I feel like you should have at least considered my feelings before agreeing.”

“How does it even affect you beyond this 48 hour no sex thing? I didn’t even think you were going to be here.” Bryce reasons.  

“How does it affect me?! Are you serious Bryce?”

Bryce gets up from the bed, pulling her into his strong arms. Annoyingly, being in his arms always makes her anger fade. It’s really an unfair move that he always pulls when they’re fighting. After a few moments of silence, he pulls his other move, tracing circles in her back to further soothe her. “Hey…just tell me what’s wrong so I can understand why you’re upset. I love you, and I never want to hurt you Casey.”

She hugs him back which lets him now he’s somewhat forgiven, so he loosens his hold so she can pull back far enough to look up at him. “It’s just, I’m your girlfriend. We live together. We’re….we’re moving in the direction of marriage. And …babies.” Casey fights down her blush at being so vulnerable with Bryce. They’ve never talked about marriage, probably because they’re both a little emotionally stunted. After all, it took them a full year of hooking up before they even mustered the courage to officially date. But she wants him to understand why she’s upset, so she’s going to talk about her feelings, despite how uncomfortable it makes her.

“This baby you’re having, they would be half siblings with my kids….if we ever get there. I think we will. I guess….I just would have liked to have some input in you becoming a dad.” She looks down, it’s less embarrassing to look at her feet than his expressive brown eyes.

Bryce buries his hands into her hair, tilting her head and forcing her to make eye contact. “Hey, I’m not becoming a dad. I’ll be his or her biological father, and if they ever want to know me, of course I would write, call, have lunch, whatever, but this is Wendy’s and Jaclyn’s kid. Not mine. And they live in Hawaii, so it’s not like they’re going to be around a lot. I’m just doing a favor for a good friend Casey, that’s it.”

“Have you donated sperm before?” Casey asks. He sounds so comfortable with it that she’s starting to think he might have several sperm donor babies running around.

“Nah, they pay very little at the sperm banks. And look at me, hot, smart, tall. Wendy clearly knows what’s up. I’ve got prime stuff, so I’m not selling it cheap.” Bryce responds.

Casey snorts, hitting his chest lightly. “Moron.”

Bryce smiles fondly at her despite the insult, kissing her softly. “Don’t worry babe, when you’re ready to have my babies there will be plenty of sperm left for you.”

…

..

.

“Mhmmm….my favorite wake up call.” Bryce murmurs as Casey pulls away from his lips, kissing down his neck. He opens his eyes and checks the clock, 5:12 am. “Isn’t it our day off? What has you so frisky so early in the morning?”

Casey stops the kissing, opting to sit on him instead, her fingers delicately drifting over his abs. “I had a dream.” She replies.

“Ooh…a naughty one?” Bryce asks, hands wandering up her bare legs.

“No perv.” She teases, draping herself on top of him, fingers tangling into his messy morning hair. “I dreamt that we had a baby.”

Bryce has not so subtly hinted about how much he wants to start a family ever since they returned to Boston from their honeymoon in Fiji, and Bryce and Casey have been married for a little over a year now.

Wendy and Jaclyn send him pictures and videos of their daughter occasionally, and she’s beautiful. She’s 3 now, and it’s such a fun age. She calls him Uncle Bryce, and she seems to almost comprehend that he’s her biological father. She talks so well, (not that he’s surprised she’s smart, he and Wendy both have great genes) and his heart melts every time he speaks with her.

It makes him long for a child with his wife. But until now, Casey has been resistant. Her objections lie in her worries about her career. They’re attendings now, which allows for a better schedule but more responsibility at Edenbrook. And although it’s not fair, a baby would likely impact her career trajectory more than his. The most successful female physicians at Edenbrook like Dr. Harper Emery, have no children. (But then again, the most successful men, like Naveen or Ethan, also have no children, no spouses, they’re married to the job.) She’s worried she’ll end up like Dr. Delarosa. When Ines and Zaid had a baby last year, her hours were reduced dramatically while Zaid returned after paternity leave full time.    

“Really? It was a good dream, right? It wasn’t some horror ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ situation? Are you ready to start trying?” Bryce shoots the questions off in rapid succession in his excitement.

Casey laughs, kissing her husband softly. “I’m ready to start trying.”

…

..

.

Bryce holds Casey on their bathroom floor as she cries, stroking her hair. He wants to cry too, but he won’t because she needs him to be strong right now. They’ve been trying to have a baby for a year, and they’ve just suffered their third miscarriage.

They’ve seen countless specialists over the year, and no one can tell them what’s wrong. Why she can’t carry the baby to term. She’s started to obsessively research possible causes, hoping to diagnose herself so they can fix this. It’s starting to take a toll on their marriage, he’s starting to wonder if it’s worth it.

“Casey, maybe we should consider surrogacy.” Bryce says. The specialists they’ve seen have all brought it up, but they, mostly she, wanted to keep trying. But now, maybe they’ve tried enough.

“But Bryce, I want all those little moments. The food cravings, feeling our baby kick, having control over what they’re exposed to in utero.” She pulls her face away from his now tear stained shirt. “I wanted you to massage my swollen feet, and to kiss my belly…..I don’t understand why I can’t do this. Why my body can’t do this…I feel broken.” She whispers that last part.

Bryce cups her cheeks, she had been looking down at the tile floor with tear filled eyes, so he makes her look at him. “You’re not broken Casey. This doesn’t mean you’re flawed in anyway. You’re perfect, and I love you.”

“I love you too Bryce. You’ve been so patient through all this, I want you to know how much I appreciate that.”

Bryce places a kiss to the top of her head. “There’s not one way to start a family Casey. We tried this way, maybe it’s time to try another.”

“But surrogacy is so expensive.” Casey complains.

“Good thing we’re both attendings with well-paying jobs and amazing insurance then.” Bryce counters.

Casey sighs, running out of excuses. “Okay, let’s look into it at least.”

…

..

.

When Bryce operates, it’s almost like he’s asleep, in a different, separate consciousness. He’s very focused on his task. It’s not until it’s over, the organ successfully repaired, that he feels like he’s back in the real world again, awake.

“Dr. Lahela, Dr. Valentine is here and would like to talk to you.” Dr. Delarosa announces over the intercom into the operating room.

“Dr. McGuire, would you like to close?” Bryce asks, stepping away from the table and giving the intern a chance to learn something. Francine McGuire nods enthusiastically, taking his place at the table. Bryce leaves his senior resident to supervise, throwing off his mask and gloves as he heads out.

Casey is waiting just outside the door, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Kate called.” Their surrogate, a single mother who lives in New York. She sends them updates on her belly bump, videos of their son kicking in her stomach. Casey always cries when they get them, but nowadays she reassures him they’re mostly happy tears. “She’s in labor!”

“Holy shit. She’s early! Is it too early? We were supposed to have another 3 weeks!” Bryce exclaims.

“Hey.” Casey wraps her arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He calms almost immediately. “We’re ready.” She promises, straining to press a firm kiss to his lips. “And I got us plane tickets, so let’s go before we miss our son’s birth.”

..

.

It’s a little strange to watch a woman you don’t know very well give birth to your child. Bryce isn’t sure if he’s supposed to hold Kate’s hand, or if he should be holding Casey’s. Eventually, Casey takes Kate’s hand, serving as an anchor when the contractions get bad. “Breathe Kate. You’re doing so great. Thank you so much. We love you.” She repeats these four phrases like a mantra, or a prayer.

Kate’s labor is long. Much longer than when she had her own daughter, she’ll tell them later.

(“It’s because he has such a big head. He’s smart, he needed the extra space for his brain.” Bryce tells Casey later, his arms wrapped around her as they watch their newborn sleep in his crib.)

After 8 hours, Eric Lahela (Legally, Casey took Bryce’s last name, although she still practices under Casey Valentine, so no need to hyphenate Valentine-Lahela) makes his grand entrance to the world. Bryce and Casey get to cut the umbilical cord together, and then after cleaning him off, the staff hand the baby to his mother.

Casey’s eyes well with tears as she takes in their baby. He mostly looks like Bryce, but Eric has her eyes.

…

..

.

“Bryce, wake up.” Casey whispers impatiently, but her voice is excited.

“What?” Bryce whispers back, not wanting to wake up their 18-month-old who’s sleeping between them. They really need to be stricter about getting him to sleep in his own bed.

“We did it. Today marks fourteen weeks. We’ve never made it to 14 weeks….” Her voice trails off, full of emotion.

He kisses her passionately, Eric stirring slightly as he accidentally jostles their son in the process.

They’ve suffered two more miscarriages since Eric was born. They weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but they also weren’t actively doing anything to prevent getting pregnant either. But the miscarriages were always early. 6 to 8 weeks along. Bryce honestly thought they were in the clear this time when 10 weeks rolled around, but Casey was less convinced. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, she didn’t want to tell anyone unless she made it through the first trimester.

“So I get to do this now.” He mumbles against her lips, pulling her shirt up to expose her belly and placing adoring kisses over her skin. That’s something else she wouldn’t allow, worried they were going to jinx themselves and lose the baby if they were too happy, too excited about it. “I love you.” He whispers against her slightly rounded stomach.

“Me, or the baby?” Casey asks, running her hands through his hair.

“Both.” Bryce responds.    

Casey smiles. “I’m going to make a 16-week ultrasound appointment. I want pictures, and to find out the gender.”

“I hope it’s a little girl. I hope she looks like you.” Bryce reveals, kissing her belly again to seal the wish.

“I bet Eric wants a brother.” Casey replies, eyes shining with merriment. “Should we tell him he’s going to be a big brother?”

Bryce grins, shaking the toddler awake. “We have amazing news buddy.”

…

..

.

“That is really cold.” Casey complains as the technician puts the gel on her belly.

“But worth it to see your baby.” The cheery tech insists, turning on the machine and working on getting a clear picture.

Bryce squeezes Casey’s hand in excitement as the blob on the screen starts to take form. The tech moves the transducer around, stopping when she spots something. “Well, that’s definitely a penis. It’s a boy!” She reports.

“Another boy.” Casey says softly, but with no disappointment. She’s still in disbelief that she’s carrying this child, getting to experience every moment of pregnancy.

“And I think there’s another one.” The tech reports, moving the transducer.

“Another one?!” Bryce exclaims, Casey squeezing his hand this time in her surprise.

“Yep, there’s another one. Baby B is a girl!” The tech reveals, grinning at the stunned couple.

“Twins?” Casey says in disbelief.

The tech nods, wiping the gel off and printing their ultrasound photos for them. “I’ll give you guys some privacy.”

“Twins.” Bryce parrots.

“And a girl too.” Casey adds, hands resting over her belly protectively. “Wow, twins. You think I get double maternity leave for two babies?” Casey jokes.

Bryce laughs, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “I know we get a discount at the Edenbrook Daycare Center. With two kids enrolled, the third is half price.”

…

..

.

“AAAAHHH!” Casey yells, sweat slicking her forehead as she pushes.

Bryce is posted at her shoulder, wiping her forehead with a cloth every few minutes. “You’re doing amazing baby. Keep breathing.”

“This hurts so fucking bad! I can’t believe you did this to me!”

“Casey, it was definitely a team effort.” Her answering glare is murderous, but then her eyes squeeze shut as she’s hit with another contraction.

“Give me your hand.” She demands through clenched teeth.

Bryce hesitates. “Are you going to break my hand?”

“I don’t fucking know Bryce, just give me your fucking hand, coward!” Casey never curses like this, especially not at him, it’s off putting.

“I’m a surgeon baby, I kind of need my hands.”

“Aaahhhh!” She screams again, doubling over in pain. He finally gives in, gripping her sweaty fingers. She squeezes really hard, and he’s worried she is actually going to break his fingers. He manages to pry her off his hand, giving her his strong bicep to squeeze instead. Let’s see her break that.

“You’re almost there.” Their OBGYN encourages, positioned between Casey’s legs. “Just a couple more pushes mama.”

“We’re never doing this again Bryce! If you want another baby, we’re adopting.” Casey insists, squeezing his bicep and pushing again.  

“Three is plenty babe. Although I’ve always wanted to adopt.” Bryce replies, pressing a kiss to her sweaty forehead.

“I see the first baby! Keep pushing!” The doctor orders.

Casey pushes, letting out another loud scream. Their baby’s cry fills the room soon after. “It’s the girl!” The doctor announces, handing her off to be cleaned up after cutting the umbilical cord. “Just one more mama. You’ve got this.”

Casey pushes again, (Bryce’s bicep is definitely going to bruise) and their youngest son is born, crying just as loudly as his twin sister.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Their doctor asks, handing Bryce the scissors to cut his son’s umbilical cord.

Bryce cuts, and their son is whisked off to be cleaned up.

“Sorry for cursing at you.” Casey apologizes, turning to look at him.

Bryce smiles, kissing his wife softly. “Sorry for getting you pregnant.” He apologizes with a wink as he pulls away.

“Haha.” Casey says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Her momentary irritation with him is immediately forgotten when her babies are placed in her arms. “Oh my god, they’re so beautiful. Where’s Eric?”

Bryce gently runs a finger over his daughter’s soft cheek, and then rustles the few strands of brown hair on his son’s head. “With Sienna in the waiting room. I’ll get him.”

..

.

Eric meeting the new babies isn’t as cute as his parents envisioned. The toddler is rather standoffish. Casey still gets pictures though. 

Eric is very skeptical of these new babies. Being an only child was pretty great. And these things don’t seem to do anything, besides cry and poop. He’s not really sure why his parents are so enamored. 

(They do grow on him eventually.)

...

..

.

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