#Imagine getting roasted by your Boyfriends child? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lorensonebraincell · 1 year ago

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FINALLY AWAKE AND COHERENT ENOUGH TO READ THIS BC THIS GIRLIE UNFORTUNATELY DOES NOT WORK FROM HOME AND I HAVE BEEN T I R E D (saw this post the very first time it was accidentally posted LMAO but we don't talk about that hush hush 🤭)

also just had a very sudden thought did some of these hcs mayhaps arise from when we were discussing what bf!hwa would be like when you're at work like he would video call you and make you packed lunch with cute notes bc wow i'm going to kiss your brain for extending the au to the rest of the members

hoHOHOHOO jealous!hongjoong will eternally contribute to my brainrot bc i love men with a lil bit of (healthy) possessiveness i can just imagine the smug look he gets on his face when you emphasise oh yeah mY BOYFRIEND

PLS NOT HWA AND HIS LIGHTSABER TOOTHPICKS FOR YOU TO EAT YOUR STRAWBS WITH THAT IS SO MOTHER HWA AND NERDY HWA CODED I LOVE IT (and yesyesyesyesyes hwaandhistanktop arfarfarfarf woofwoofwoofwoof barkbarkbark)

omg yunho geeking out and starting to change your workspace so it's more ergonomic and gamer vibes LOL i lost it at the mood lighting and having the 'coolest backdrop' because sometimes i actually have to do telehealth from home and i'm just imagining me clocking in with my cool muted purple mood lights that can change to sky blue with a lil remote HAHA (the massages PLAS JGDSG h)

GHOST YEO 👻👻👻 which makes sense bc he's a boo <333333333 OMG imagine being reader's coworker and seeing her lil microphone switch between on and muted like every other minute bc yeo is roasting the other coworkers in the meeting real hard HAHAHA

yes yes yes san hugs every time i so much as BReATHE i want that so bad but ofc san would be loud and make his presence known by shouting and cheering and singing (and moaning oHOOHohHH IT'S KINDA HOT IN HERE)

yknow how detectives have a whole wall full of pinned material? that's going to be my wall with mingi's post-it note rhymes bc i know they would be super cute or either super cracked no in between :')) but also mingi like a lil curious child who just wants to know about everything you're doing <333

WOO TREATING YOUR CAM LIKE HIS FANCAM AND YOUR COWORKERS LIKE HIS FANS I- am not surprised he's such a lil brat <3 and ofc wooyo would probably understand the work goss and hierarchy better than you can LOL

omg the quiet peace and silence that jongho offers tho? like :(( he's a safe space :'(((( i love him so much i can imagine having a bad or stressful day and just crawling into his lap and letting his presence calm you down I AM GOING TO CRY I WANT THIS

bf!ateez when you are working from home

CONTAINS SPICY HCs, MINORS DNI FOR TEEZER'S SAKE

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

⚫ pairing: bf!ateez x gn!afab!reader ⚫ genre: headcanons, fluff, smut, established long-term relationships ⚫ summary: what happens when you and your boyfriend are both at home? are you working hard, or hardly working? here are some bulletpoint hcs to explore~ ⚫ wordcount: 5.6k total ⚫ warnings/tags: not edited, purposeful lowercase, reader wears a skirt in some hcs, hybrid working, working from home, implied but not explicit idol!ateez, assumed couples living together, reader implied to have a corporate job ⚫ taglist: at the bottom of the hcs ⚫ a/n: the mind works in mysterious ways and lets some ponderings escape... wishing you all love, hope you enjoy and if you do, leave a comment a reblog, a kind message. much love~

⚫ nsfw-tags include but are not limited to: dom-lean!ateez, edging, cockwarming, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, fingering, overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it UP), creampie, rough sex, possessive sex, light breath play, light exhibitionism kink, marking, pet names like sweetheart/darling, praise kink, sensory play - blindfold

hongjoong

safe

would low(high)key be terrified of walking into the same room as you in the beginning, especially if your job involves having a lot of meetings

respects your space, both physical and mental, and totally gets those moments when you appear to be zoned out while making coffee in the kitchen when you are actually just thinking

eventually you point out that he is completely free to use the same space and that it will be less lonely, and you best believe you will now have a full home office

either a shared desk or two different desks or hongjoong having his own creative version of a desk aka a couch

earphones/headphones in/on and dead silence for hours, just clicking away

occasional glances above laptop/computer screens just to exchange a smile or two or a quick word of encouragement

if you have a particularly tense meeting, as soon as you end the call he is taking his headphones off and asking what happened

you end up analysing the situation with hongjoong and manage to step away from the situation emotionally, both to cool off and to make a sound conclusion

you essentially now have hongjoong as your colleague, because you share your breaks, your lunchtimes, office gossip, and both of you could not be happier

since both you and hongjoong are quite career-driven, being able to spend time together while working ended up making you two closer, and now you are cemented as a power couple unit

he is still terrified of going behind you when you have your camera on though - unless he hears somebody being extra friendly, then suddenly something located behind you is extra interesting and he needs to retrieve it immediately

spicy

idle chatter that is lasting way too long - a colleague from another team who has been bothering you a little too much is getting on your last nerve. not because they don't do the work, but because of how obviously they are hitting on you; you almost roll your eyes, and when the right moment arrives, do not hesitate to land the blow of: "oh yeah, my boyfriend would love that, i should tell him about it"

and boy, hongjoong was already on high alert and now he would be lying if he were to say he is not enjoying the show; but his initial victorious grin transforms into curiosity as you stand up from your chair and walk towards him, prompting him to push his own chair back

without a single pause you step over and straddle hongjoong, sitting flush against him. his hands ghost over your hips before gripping onto them to encourage you to sit even closer

"i think i need to stop hiding the marks so that they get the point" - is all it took to have hongjoong silence you with a kiss and have you roll your hips over him

he starts to grind into you until you feel his bulge pressing against you, and muffles a sudden groan by latching onto your neck, kissing and sucking on a particularly sensitive spot that leaves you breathless until he is sure that it will leave a blooming spot of blue and purple, and that is only the start

your skin is his, your moans are his, and he loves nothing more than to hear you say his name and that you belong to him; something about you mentioning him explicitly to a colleague has him feeling more clingy than usual, and he expresses it by simply giving into his emotions

he whispers sweet nothings to you, scrambles to help you with your trousers as you undress and takes off his own; you glide your wet folds over his cock just barely containing yourself thanks to hongjoong's arms supporting your thighs, nails digging into them as his tip teases your entrance

soon enough he cannot take it anymore and sinks you onto his length while lightly biting your neck and leaving another hickey

you take your time, drunk in love, with hongjoong more than happy to show everyone that you are taken, and that you are his and he is yours

seonghwa

safe

the epitome of attentiveness and care - since it is his day off, and it just so happens that you are staying to work from home, he makes it a point to work around your routine; wake up with you, get ready, have breakfast

before you log in he leans closer to you, fingers grazing your jawline, and wishes you a fantastic day at work like he would if you were going to the office; and then leave you with a soft kiss

if you think he is gone until lunch time? think again. he is back, and back with a snack. he made you strawberries and put the cute lightsaber shaped pick into one of them so that you can eat them without getting your hands dirty

other than that, he keeps his interferences to a minimum and instead helps out by doing other things around the house that you are currently unable to do, just occasionally checking on you because he knows just how much it helps to have someone there to cheer you on, and he wants to be your number one cheerleader

if you are having a stressful day, he wordlessly helps you clean up your desk, and whispers to you that you are doing really well and are so strong for powering through; has a tendency to speak in a softer voice while you are working, maybe in part because he can see how your brows are furrowed, or maybe because you dragged him towards you by the arm and held onto him for a little while

you are not having a single meeting during your lunch break and that is that, end of story; he made you your favourite and you will just have to deal with the additional sprinkles of love he put in there

if you want to talk about your day he will launch into asking about all of the little details, super attentive to all you have to say, his eyes wide and glinting as he takes in the information

loves nothing more than to listen to you talk about your passions, about your work about the dedication and effort you put into doing what you do. he believes in always trying, and you are the embodiment of it; by doing what you do, you inspire him to, and he falls deeper and deeper in love with you

after a busy day he waits for you to change, and then drags you onto the sofa in the living room and throws a blanket over the two of you, because it is time to simply exist and melt into each other

spicy

seonghwa was innocently making you want to crawl up walls; all smiles, cute encouragements, while looking like sin itself in a tank top that left little to the imagination, highlighting his impeccable sunkissed skin, his toned arms, and is a little too easy to take off

unfortunately for you, seonghwa knew what he was doing, of course he did; he knows what buttons to press and how to get you riled up just enough to melt under his touch

it starts simple, loving, with his hand travelling down your body, drawing circles on the small of your back

your head is pressed against his chest, listening to his breathing and heartbeat, consumed by his presence. there is nothing in your world except comfort, and the sensation rising within you as seonghwa encourages you to push yourself a little further up and starts to trail kisses down your neck

he pauses as soon as a delighted sigh escapes you, suppressing a chuckle, "is my baby enjoying this?"; and once you mumble a yes, he does not hesitate to continue, echoing each feverish peck with praise of "you have no idea what you do to me when you are in those meetings, love", "you sound so incredible, so professional, so powerful-"

he gently guides you to lie down onto the couch and hovers above you, his ponytail keeping his impeccable long locks from concealing his face; he does not hesitate to pull down your bottoms and panties, two fingers starting to tease your clit until you whine, desperate to have him fill you up, "-and so sweet to me, aren't you? are you going to be good for me?"

it brings seonghwa unimaginable pleasure to see every bit of that work ethic and professionalism leave your body, and it is all because of him, and you do it only for him

he takes his time, fingers pumping into your sopping heat. when he feels that familiar trembling in your legs, he lowers himself to tease your abused clit until you are nothing but a mess for him

when you spill over the edge, he does not hesitate to swallow your whimpers with a long kiss turned extensive make out, tongue gliding into your mouth

it is not long before he has your legs over his shoulders and is driving his length into you so slowly and sensually that you are seeing stars and practically begging for him

and who is he to not help his love relax?

so he picks up his pace, thrusting into you with pent up desire to ruin you and in a deep, raspy voice growling how well you take him

your hand clasp over his neck, pulling seonghwa closer, and the way you are losing yourself is what brings him ever so close to his climax

how your eyes roll back before they close, how you are crying out his name, how your walls clench around him as he continues to pound into you

oh, how perfect you are, and how perfect it is that you chose to work from home

yunho

safe

as soon as you told yunho that you are working hybrid he was looking up the highest speed internet available for installation

because finally there is an even stronger reason and he can live his e-sports dreams together with you living your career dreams

so now you casually have industry level speeds in your home and the happiest man alive

gives you his gaming chair because he saw you being uncomfortable once, and speaking of, if you are not in a meeting he would walk over to you to give you a quick shoulder massage, whispering that you are doing great and that he is very proud of you

would never show you but his recent favourite thing to look at online is couple computer set ups (you saw it anyways when yunho stepped away from his desk to go get a soda and you were walking past)

so at the first opportunity you present him with matching ergonomic mouse pads - and that is how you find yourself having to keep your camera off because this man is still hugging you and staring at the gift

he is the type to try to make you laugh when you are down, energise you when you are tired, give you reassurance when you are upset and celebrate every success with you. sometimes you genuinely think that he can sense everything through every wall

actually, maybe across the entire city because one time when he came back from grocery shopping and took one look at you his first words were "did your coworker drain you again?" knowing exactly how you were feeling

he is always there for you with open arms, and ready for a conversation about mood lighting because "imagine having the coolest backdrop out of all of your colleagues"

spicy

you block out your schedule, hit 'do not disturb' and sit, waiting, because you have ideas, and those ideas involve a certain jeong yunho who, after the impromptu massage he had given you has left you feeling a certain way

so when he walks into your office and you motion for him to come closer, you are quick to stand up and make him sit down onto the chair in your place, enjoying his momentary confusion before he sees that familiar lust in your eyes

"need another massage?" he knows that's not what you are looking for, but cracks the joke anyway, a smirk tugging on his lips as you palm him through his joggers, sighing in contentment when yunho places a hand on the nape of your neck and returns your burning gaze

it does not take long before you are on your knees in front of yunho and he is guiding you up and down his length with a strong hand, fingers tangled in your hair

makes the most beautiful, airy sounds, and his favourite thing to hear in return are your satisfied hums as you take more and more of him while desperately seeking release with your own hand

but that won't do - he whispers for you to get up, and guides you to sit on his cock, back against his broad chest. but he does not let you move, instead relishing in the sensation of how you wrap around him and how you whimper for him

encourages you, maybe even dares you to check on how work is doing while you are aching for movement; you only manage a few clicks before trying to rise from his lap to indulge in the fullness

"you want me so bad that you can't even work anymore, sweetheart?" does not give you a chance to answer, since he is now bending you over the desk, one hand around your throat both for stability and because he can feel just how you tremble with pleasure because of it

thrusts into you with loving aggression, and when he realises that you are trying to hide your cries moves to push his fingers into your mouth, praise flying from his lips as soon as your ecstasy starts to resonate across the room

loves nothing more than to wrap an arm around your waist and embrace you as you reach your highs, shutting his eyes so that the only thing that surrounds him is you

yeosang

safe

decides to become a ghost if he is at home and you are working, because what if he ruins your concentration or messes something up, what then

no sound just a yeosang floating around until, during a break, you catch him and mumble a quick 'i miss you' followed by a peck on his cheek

needless to say that was taken as a green light for him to occasionally pop by your home office and give you heart-melting smiles because look at you go!!!! achieving!!!! and doing cool things!!

if he is in the room during a call and someone says something outlandish, you already know you should be ready to turn your camera off because yeosang will drop the most spectacular roast of all time then and there

and he does, without batting an eye. it just makes sense to him; you literally cannot see the coworker in the same light again because yeosang's commentary wrecked the initial impression so beautifully

if he wants a little bit more attention, however, he knows exactly how to get it, and that is by "suddenly" deciding to turn the living room into a home gym. well, it already had some equipment (thanks to you not just gym equipment but actually tasteful interior design EXCUSE ME) so why not use it?

good luck trying to get back to work after you walk out to grab a snack and are faced with a greek deity just out here perfectly sculpted looking ethereal and saying your name so sweetly-

spicy

extended lunch breaks are needed sometimes, especially when your boyfriend saunters towards you and makes you walk backwards until you almost hit the wall, not doing so only because yeosang's hand snakes behind your head beforehand.

with a light tug on your hair he is pulling you towards him into a heated kiss, enjoying just how pliable you are in his hands. he does not need to tell you to hop up so that he can have you hooked around his waist, he just needs to tap you on your side

you are harmonious, moving together as he carries you to the dining table and as soon as he sets you down his lips are all over you - on your cheeks, your neck, your collarbones, your shoulders - he needs all of you

but even in the heated rush, he pauses to lift his head and ask if you are comfortable, "i can carry you to the bedroom-" "i want you now, yeo" "oh"; your tone drives him wild, and he is right back to exploring you

if you compliment him, he is putty in your hands, nipping at your ear when you whisper just how spectacular he looks, how desirable, and how lucky you feel - hides his face in the crook of your neck, rising back only when he feels your hand tug at the drawstrings of his bottoms and realises that you have slipped out of your trousers and are impatiently waiting

adores when you stare at him as if you are seeing him for the first time, needy and in love, and takes his time to fist his length before sliding it over your slick folds

both arms are hooked around your thighs, and you end up falling back onto the table as yeo speeds up, the sound of skin slapping against skin and you repeating 'please' aimlessly like a mantra only spurring him on

very focused on the fact that you still have a shirt on - the formalwear combined with the passionate act being what eventually takes him over the edge

makes a note for himself to work out while you are working from home more often, and is suddenly very curious about office attire

san

safe

"HELLO YOU ARE DOING GREAT YOU ARE THE BEST I LOVE YOU" proceeds to shut the door as if he did not just yell at the top of his voice and startle you

san is here like a whole marching band cheering for you - you normally were at the office, but your company announced trying to experiment with hybrid working and san was so on board

because finally there could be more days where you could spend 'ordinary' time together, as he had told you; what does that mean? waking up together, eating breakfast together, chatting together while sitting in the same room, just walking around the same apartment for longer than a couple of hours and having the ability to stop one another for a hug

he just wants to be domestic with you and sees you working from home as the perfect opportunity for it. you are away from your desk? hug. you popped out to get some tea, coffee or water? he is not letting you get back to work until you give him a sweet, loving kiss (and then proceeds to waddle right behind you with his arms wrapped around your middle)

on a couple of occasions your coworkers asked "who is that singing in the background" because san does hold concerts on occasion - well-meaning, of course, but damn are they loud. you don't mind it, in fact you take out your earphones when it happens because yes that's your man and he is lovely

he peeks into your office right after too, and you like to pretend to be irritated but that melts away so quickly, and you pause what you are doing to walk over to him and be wrapped up in his arms

spicy

while you are in a bigger conference, listening in with your camera and microphone off he approaches you, a little idea having crawled into his mind and not leaving him until he brings it to reality

"i miss you" "i am right here, san-" "i need you"

almost lifts you out of that chair when you don't stand up fast enough; someone is babbling away on the call and he could not care less, leading you further from the desk to somewhere, anywhere

that sliver of a chance that a mic could be turned on, that someone could see something that they shouldn't makes him intensely more desiring of you, and he follows his instincts to pin you against the wall, his leg spreading yours apart, thigh making your short skirt ride up to reveal your panties

when you ask for him to touch you, he makes you repeat yourself at least twice, pleased at how much of a "pretty ruin" you are willing to turn into for him

cannot hold back - he thinks he can, but he rapidly loses himself in the sensation of you clenching around his digits, and turns downright animalistic

grinding against you, leaving passionate, messy lovebites, kisses all over you because you are simply so beautiful that he wants to have all of you at once

holds you up and pushes you against the wall as he pounds into you, growling your name

presses his forehead against yours, eyelashes practically brushing because he wants to see, down to the smallest detail how you fall apart just so he can build you back up again

when you hear the call ending he does not let you go, instead carrying you so you can press the damn button and he can let the real fun begin

mingi

safe

be prepared for any office traditions or outdated 'best practices' to be questioned. mingi does not mean to be so savage about them, but some things literally make no sense and in his (and everybody else's) eyes should be abolished

is so curious about what it is that you do exactly, so expect an inquisitive mingi on the other side of your desk, slowly moving around until he has his head on your shoulder and is staring at your screen and asking things (up to you if you are to shoo him away or not but either way he is fascinated by how much you know and what you can teach him if you are up for it)

talks about you with his friends, his parents... because "my partner is on that hustle and grind and they are awesome for it"

expect random slamming open of the door to your makeshift office and him singing something and calling it a motivation boost - honestly, it turns into exactly that because you have tears in your eyes from suppressing giggles

writes short rhymes for you on post-its or just texts them to you as a form of communication and love language

thanks to mingi, you end up loving your work more than you have done before because he is always asking about it, asking about what your thought process is like, and how what he does and what you do can link together

greatly admires your work ethic, and if you start thinking of something you two can do as a couple to combine your skills together and make it practical... that's it, he is always going to be by your side

ends up suggesting a possible side-venture where you could explore a joint business, and even looks into the legal side of things to make it fair and not too draining for either of you.

overall best hypeman, part-time interviewer, and potential business partner of a significant other <3

spicy

something about you talking business with him has him feeling everything at once, and so even when you are lying together, ready for bed, he prompts you to explain one point, another...

how you map things out, discuss nuances with him, hum in agreement when he makes a good point - it is music to his ears; seeing a future with you, planning one makes mingi hold you tighter than before. he wants to tell you he loves you in every way he can, and after the conversation dies down, he acts

the arm that was lazily draped over your stomach is now travelling under your t-shirt, tracing a line higher, higher until he is caressing and kneading your breasts

his movements are slow, but very determined, and he holds you like you are about to break; you are lying facing each other, and he cannot ask for a better view

starts with light pecks, and then eventually deepens the kisses into a breathtaking expression of adoration

slips under the sheets, dragging your panties down to expose you to him, and eats you out like he is simply made for it

worships every inch of you, and digs his fingers into your legs to keep them spread nicely apart for him, even though his nose and tongue are simply too much - good luck stopping him because he even once you reach your orgasm, he is lapping up your release and going in for seconds

you practically have to drag him out, ordering him to fuck you or- "or what, doll?"

lays you sideways and holds one of your legs up as he bottoms out and picks up a dizzying pace, not stopping even when he fills you to the brim with his cum

becomes rougher when he sees your release and his start to drip out, and practically collapses onto you as he musters out a string of 'i love you's while his hips stutter due to the overstimulation

wooyoung

safe

there are two ways in which this could go, either

you best believe your colleagues are going to know about this man almost instantly

he makes it a point to pop by, be it to "do something" or to "fetch something" or to literally look outside of a window for no reason other than to appear on camera

or he is going to tease the hell out of you while you are working so that you give him a little bit of attention here and there - but never too out of pocket

he is very aware of when you need to be serious and when you could use a little lightening up, so he ends up turning into your social battery recharge system, and your light

knows when you just want to lie down and sleep after typing and typing and typing, and has made it a point to say things along the lines of "it is because you did not kiss me this morning, you would have had more energy then" and then proceed to give that kiss

will yell at you to have lunch, and have the biggest smile on his face as you praise his cooking and then dive into work stories

literally has a mental map of all of your colleagues, who is connected with who, the hierarchy... all of it

and if someone has been acting out of line, he knows about it in the blink of an eye and will tell you to call it out (he was about to do it himself but you paused him, and so he held your hand from behind the computer screen to encourage you instead)

woo is your number one supporter in standing up for yourself, and loves nothing more than to see you be respected as you should be-

spicy

-because he should be the only one who can make you tear up, and even then it would be not from sadness or anger, but from him driving you wild with how his hands roam your body, and how he makes you tremble

and that is exactly why while you are deeply concentrated and practically are diving into your laptop, wooyoung stalks towards the desks and slips under it

you do not notice until suddenly, a pair of strong arms push your legs apart and resist your initial attempt to close them. you shudder as his fingers dance along your inner thighs, but do not dare make a sound and continue to type

he nudges you closer, hiking up your skirt until your panties are the only barrier left, and oh does he take his time. he runs a finger over the soft fabric, relishing in the heat and how your muscle tense up at the sensation

pushing the material to the side, he hums, content at the sight. gathering some spit on his tongue, he licks your clit and rolls over it before dipping into your core and returning in a purposefully drawn out motion

you catch yourself forgetting to breathe, fully having given yourself up to wooyoung who is simply devouring you, each touch making you lose all hope in keeping your composure

especially when he adds his fingers to the mix - game over; you grab onto the edge of the desk, head lowering as the stimulation begins to overwhelm you, breaths turn into messy moans as he speeds up, his digits curling just right while he sucks on your clit

and just as you are about to collapse into a mind-numbing orgasm, an emptiness overtakes you, and you are left exposed, with a chuckle resounding in your ears

"enjoying the-" he does not have time to finish as you reach under the desk and grab a fistful of wooyoung's blond and black hair, smirking as you hear him bite back a moan

"finish what you started, or you won't be finishing at all tonight"

needless to say, it is interesting to attempt to retain your composure when someone spontaneously calls you to confirm something about a project, and you are gripping onto your boyfriend's tresses as he continues to mercilessly finger you

jongho

safe

incredibly respectful of your space and time, and ends up memorising approximate schedules - like say if you have some meetings that are reoccurring, he will know exactly when those are and on some occasions has actually been the one to remind you of them

enjoys sitting in the same room as you, either watching something on his phone, playing a game or reading - it is his way of spending quality time with you while not having to be too over the top or active

something about the comfortable silence that washes over you two when you are typing away and he is doing his thing makes his heart swell, and on many occasions he had found himself just staring at you for no reason other than to remember such moments forever

he orders coffee from your favourite coffee shop since you don't really stop by there when working from home - does not tell you that he did so until the doorbell rings and he is setting the cup down on your desk while taking a sip of his own coffee

if someone annoys you at work jongho will be nonchalant, but then offer to 'throw hands' - you nearly choke on your drink because good sir you are very peaceful about choosing violence; but what he means is trying to figure out a way to professionally raise the concern

after making sure you are not in focus mode or calling someone he strolls into the office while serenading you, and inviting you for a quick slow dance to 'de-stress', so you sway together in the middle of the room while he sings, before you twirl around once and sashay back to your seat, leaving him with the ghost of a scheming grin on his face

spicy

something else he likes to do when he is in the same room as you is read you, study you, take you apart and undress you with his eyes while you make futile attempts to figure out what he is thinking about

nothing much just how it's been thirty minutes since work ended and you left him hanging earlier with no explanation; and that just gives him ideas for what to do to you

eventually he stands up, tired of you pretending to be working when you are glancing at him almost every second, and mutters a rough "i've been waiting", clicking his tongue when you break eye contact to look at your screen again

"for?" "well now you'll have to work overtime to find out", holds out his hand until you give him yours, and he guides you towards the bedroom moving you in front of him and telling you to sit down

hovers over you before taking a blindfold out of his pocket, and holds it in front of you, eyebrow raised

adores when you give your senses up to him - in no time you are laid bare in front of jongho, wrists pinned by his overpowering grasp as he edges you within an inch of your life

you thought you could come? think again. he did not tell you you were allowed to, and you made him wait long enough, so now he will have as much fun as he wants to

you don't know left from right, up from down, and your whines transition into shameless begging as he pumps his fingers into your soaking pussy, wanton sounds and lack of release making you want to cry

"oh? does my baby want to come that bad?"

presses you down just as you are about to come, again, to prevent your hips from bucking and bites back his own groan as the hardness in his trousers becomes downright unbearable

"only on my cock, darling"

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#actually #i want them all #i want bf!atz #i want to wfh #i want to retire #i want a sugar daddy #why is bread so hard to get #🎵 i'm just a girl 🎵#loren's fic recs #ateez x reader #ateez ot8 x reader #ateez headcanons #ateez fluff #ateez smut #bai <33 #MOOT MOOT

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theclockworkmonk · 3 years ago

Text

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Read on FFNet

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Chapter 2 on Tumblr

Chapter 3 on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

*******

Ginny had disappeared, dragged through the kitchen door, before Harry could come up with an excuse to keep her by his side. He sighed and took a long gulp from his glass of firewhiskey, welcoming the burning sensation down his throat. Whatever his family was so wound up about, Harry knew he wasn't in danger here, so he hoped the drink would dull his overactive auror instincts so he could enjoy the evening.

"So...how's the shop?" asked Harry, choosing to focus on George, "any accidental new body parts I can't see?"

"Harry, I'll have you know that we ascribe to only the highest of safety standards at Weasley Wizard Wheezes," said George with his nose in the air, "We strictly adhere to a dual-fault system to make sure a trained wizard is on-site to intervene in case of emergency."

"By that he means that he doesn't try any weird shit on himself without me there to rush him to St. Mungo's," said Ron with his mouth full, wincing as his mother smacked him in the back of the head with a wooden spoon for his language.

Harry's eyes narrowed at his best friend. "So you two are already partners now? Really wasting no time on bailing on me, aren't you?"

"Don't be a prat!" grumbled Ron. "No, like I said, it was just a thought that I had. You know, the kind of thought you would hope you could share with your best mate without him jumping down your throat?"

"Well I think it's a marvelous idea," Mrs. Weasley announced loudly from her place at the stove."

George's eyebrows shot up. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother? You're glad that another one of your sons is considering wasting his life at this silly business, instead of a respectable job at the Ministry?"

"Well, if said Ministry job involves chasing after Death Eaters every day," huffed Mrs. Weasley, "Then I suppose my nerves will take any alternative."

She sent a stern look towards Harry and pointed a threatening spoon at him, making him jump back. "You could do well to learn from Ron in that regard, Harry."

Ron was grinning ear to ear, bouncing in his seat from being the favorite child of the moment.

"There's nothing wrong with Ron doing the responsible thing." she lowered her voice to a grumble so Harry barely heard, "at least someone is."

Harry surveyed the tense atmosphere in the room again.

"Okay, what's got everyone in such a mood?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"No one's in a mood!" said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke up for the first time, and his voice too was less assuring than Harry usually found it. "I'm having trouble with a fascinating new muggle device I've discovered, would you mind giving me a hand out in the shed?"

"Oh. Sure," said Harry easily. Mr. Weasley got up from the table and led Harry outside. They entered the man's infamous tool shed, and Harry noticed new mechanical and electronic devices in various states of disassembly. Mr. Weasley gestured to his work table, where a VCR sat.

"I've heard that muggles use this to see recorded images, like a pensieve, but I've put in those black blocks, and nothing happens."

"Oh, well," said Harry, trying not to laugh, "You need to attach it to a television. It can't just work on its—"

He was interrupted by the door opening again, and Harry was surprised to see Mrs. Weasley entering the shed which he always knew her to avoid, wanting nothing to do with her husband's "nonsense" tinkering.

"Molly, what are you doing here?" Mr. Weasley asked crossly, "We agreed we wouldn't. The boys—"

"I told them I was getting apples from the orchard," his wife said dismissively. She crossed the shed and looked beseechingly at a very surprised Harry.

"Harry, dear, you know how we think of you as a part of this family. We've been wanting to say….we hope that you don't think that has changed because of you and Ginny's relationship. We know young men have trepidation about 'the girlfriend's parents,' but you're not just our daughter's boyfriend to us, you're one of our own."

Harry was as touched as he was confused. "Th-Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said softly. "I can't tell you how much that means to me."

"And one reason we had no objection to you and Ginny dating," Mr. Weasley continued, "is that we trust you to always do right by Ginny. To always do what's best for her."

Harry looked back and forth between them, their expressions pointed and expecting.

"Well — ehem — I'll remember that. I promise to never do anything to hurt her." He meant it.

There was another moment of silence before Mrs. Weasley spoke up again.

"Sooooo…." she prompted. "We just want you to be aware that….should you decide to propose…you wouldn't have to worry—"

"What!?" Harry's heart leapt into his throat and he knew his face had turned scarlet. "Oh, no no," he said, putting his hands up. "I'm glad to have your blessing, but we're not ready to think about that yet."

Harry rubbed his neck nervously. It was only a half-lie. In truth, Harry was ready to think about that. He thought about proposing to Ginny damn near every day, in fact. But he was fairly certain that Ginny was still years away from being ready. She was fiercely proud of her independence and she was still dealing with the papers referring to her as "Harry Potter's girlfriend" before "star Harpies Chaser," even without marriage.

Mr. Weasley sighed in what seemed like disappointment and Mrs. Weasley's mouth thinned and her expression turned sour.

"Well...the roast should be done, we should all head back inside."

The Weasleys led the way out of the shed and Harry cautiously followed them. When they arrived back in the kitchen, Harry saw Bill shoot his father a stern, questioning look, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Weasley shake his head grimly, and Bill and Charlie gave Harry a glare that would make Mad-Eye Moody quake in his boots.

Harry froze and all the breath left his body. It suddenly all made sense. He was the thing that the Weasleys were so on edge about. Ginny's parents inquiring about him marrying her.

They had somehow found out that he and Ginny were living together.

Harry suddenly felt like a sheep in a cage with several wolves.

"Hey mum," said Charlie, "while you were outside, Aunt Muriel floo-called and said that the gnomes are in her attic again. Apparently she's upset at the way dad tried to take care of it last time."

"Is she sure it's actually the gnomes, or is it the doxies nesting in her hair?" Mr. Weasley grumbled as his wife shooed him into their sitting room and through their fireplace. Harry's heart was thudding in his chest as the few Weasleys he could count on to not murder him due to this secret getting out abandoned him with the curse breaker, dragon tamer, master prankster, and Ministry power-broker.

Several murderous eyes turned towards Harry.

"Look...er…" Harry stammered. "I really thought that, after everything, we had all moved past the whole 'overprotective big brothers' routine."

"Yeah, we thought we had too," said Charlie darkly, "but mum and dad's diplomatic approach clearly didn't work, so the gloves are off. I guess we never figured that the savior of the bloody wizarding world would do this to our sister."

George snorted, still finding this whole thing quite amusing. "Sorry, do this to her? Harry's the real victim here. Ginny's a nightmare already, can you imagine what living with her will be like now?"

"What the hell are you lot talking about?" Ron cut in, looking around the room in confusion.

"I think your brothers have become aware of me and Ginny's...status change," said Harry.

"Oh, that is just so typical!" huffed Hermione, crossing her arms and adopting her lecturing pose. "Ginny is perfectly capable of handling her own life and she doesn't need a bunch of chest-beating men to defend an outdated notion of her 'honour!' I still can't believe how sexist magical society can be sometimes."

"Yes, Hermione, our world is sexist, whether we like it or not" said Bill, not backing down. "You can pontificate all you want about how it's not right, or a double standard, but once the public finds out about this �� and sooner or later, they will," he shot another glare at Harry, as if he wrote to the papers about it himself, "then it will change how people see her. And since she's a Quidditch star, the way people see her matters."

"Yup, can see the headlines now," George sighed dramatically, "the ambitious social climber Ginevra Weasley, raised in a pauper's home, so she used her feminine wiles to land herself this sweet gig."

"Look, ultimately, it's none of our business — no, I'm serious!" Ron finished in response to his brothers' looks of betrayal. "Look, Bill, Charlie, you two were only around when Ginny was a little girl. You didn't go to school with her. You never saw first-hand what happens when you try to meddle in her life to defend her virtue, trust me." He shivered a bit, as he remembered the traumatic memory.

"I don't even understand why we have to meddle," said Percy, "I just don't understand your logic, Harry. There's no question you would be willing to throw yourself into mortal danger all over again to protect Ginny. What you're hesitating to do is comparatively easy."

"His reasons don't matter, he should have thought of that earlier," said Charlie, pointing a threatening finger at Harry. "I don't care if this makes me a hypocrite, but you're going to do the right thing and—"

Ginny suddenly burst into the room, causing every word to fall silent. Harry knew that Ginny always hated it when people were obviously talking about her, but as he started towards her, he was surprised when he saw that her eyes were watery with tears. Ignoring all of the eyes on her, she ran straight towards Hermione, throwing her arms around her friend.

"Erm, is something wrong?" asked Hermione. She threw a questioning look to Fleur as she followed Ginny into the kitchen, but the young mother looked just as confused as anyone as she took Victoire back from Bill.

Instead of answering Hermione's question, Ginny withdrew from the hug and smacked Ron upside the head.

"Ah! What the shit!" Ron cried, rubbing the back of his head.

"Ronald, language!" scolded Mrs. Weasley, re-entering the kitchen along with her husband, making the room quite crowded.

"That's your main concern?" asked Ron, "Not the unwarranted physical assault?"

"It's not unwarranted, it's for being a stupid, forgetful git!" barked Ginny

She walked up to Harry and took his glass of firewhiskey, still mostly intact.

"I need this more than you," she informed him, and began to raise the glass to her lips.

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!"

Mrs. Weasley's ear-piercing shriek caused everyone in the room to wince, and Ginny momentarily jumped behind Harry for protection. "Merlin's balls, WHAT!?"

"Molly…" Mr. Weasley cautioned.

"DO NOT 'MOLLY' ME, ARTHUR!" his wife shouted back. She had a crazed look in her eye and she was pulling at her hair. She rounded on Harry and Ginny.

"We have tried to be respectful, but you two are clearly not ready for this kind of responsibility! I am so disappointed in you both for not taking this more seriously! You haven't even given a thought to how this will affect your careers!"

"Our careers?" asked Harry, confused. "How would that possibly—"

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. He had gotten it completely wrong about what the Weasleys were talking about. The talk about responsibility, their careers, affects to Ginny's public image.

Somehow, the family had gotten word about the "honour" bestowed upon Harry by the Wizengamot, and all the implications that had for his and Ginny's future together. He supposed it wasn't too surprising that Arthur or Percy had heard about it through their Ministry connections.

He looked sideways at Ginny, and from one look he knew that she had come to the same realization. Both their faces split into wide grins as relief flooded through them that all of this drama was over something so silly. Apparently, the family somehow had the absurd idea that Harry would keep the title and actually take the status, power, and responsibilities being offered to him.

Harry and Ginny cracked up into delirious laughter, leaning on each other for support, which did nothing to help the livid look on Mrs. Weasley's face.

"Oh Merlin's beard, is that what has you all concerned? Don't worry about that," laughed Harry, waving one hand dismissively and wrapping the other around Ginny's shoulder.

"I mean, come on, we're obviously not keeping it!"

There was a moment of silence, then the entire kitchen exploded.

#hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hinny #romione #hinny ficfest #hinny fanfic #hinny fanfiction #ao3 link #harry potter #hp #harry x ginny #ron x hermione #ginny weasley #weasley family #farce #comedy #ron weasley #hermione granger

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Respectful Cannibalism

Summary: Watching mystery movie with a bunch of detective was a bad idea

A/n: While this is part 3 to my Space Case series, you’re not required to read Art Gallery Smile or Cosmonauts to understand the context to this. The only note I do have is that Dick and Steph are friends with Reader much to Tim’s everlasting horror. Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @glorified-red for proof reading this mess.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and a confusing amount of batkids in one scene.

Main Masterlist

Tim Drake Masterlist

Tim coughs, loud and ragged into the speaker. You find yourself wincing at the phone tucked against your ear. Tim sounds like he’s dying or, at the very least, he’s on his way there.

“I’m so-”

“Fucking tired of saying sorry that you decided to go skinny dipping in Gotham Harbor? Yeah. Great, I’m sick of hearing it too. Glad, we’re on the same page, Space Cadet.” You exasperate, pulling on your jeans violently enough for Tim to hear the angry shuffling of fabric.

“Skinny dipping?” Tim huffs, a fond smile playing on his lips as he drinks in the timber of your voice. Even when you were absolutely exasperated, your voice was still soothing or maybe he just misses your company. God, he’s such a sap.

You shake your head in disbelief. That was his take away? “Yes, Timmy, Buck-ass skinny dipping,” you laugh, coming out derisive and sharp. Tim groans this time filled with guilt. The first few sounds of another ‘I’m sorry’ form in the back of his throat as he runs his hand through his bed head. For once, you’re thankful that you’re nowhere near Tim because you are one apology away from decking him and you’re pretty sure that that’s a terrible thing to do to a sick person, especially one with no brain cells to spare.

“I- You were really looking forward to this (Y/n), don’t try to deny it.” You weren’t going to. He was right. You were looking forward to this date. You were impossibly, unreasonably giddy over the prospect of going to the planetarium with Tim this afternoon. WITH Tim. Sure, you’re pretty down about it but you were the tiniest bit more concerned about the fact that your boyfriend had water in his lungs and almost died of hypothermia for a hot second. You pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping that worry and murder radiate off of you in equal measure. “I was also looking forward to my letter from Hogwarts,” you sneer, pausing dramatically to look at your watch, “and it’s been roughly a decade.” You hear Tim swallow and the hairs on your neck bristle in petty satisfaction.

Tim chortles, a lively sound that startles you, then coughs but the sound comes out somehow sounding doubtful and teasing. Embarrassment flares up in you. “You were too!” you protest, hackles drawn to full height. A short breathy laugh leaves Tim and you feel the flush on your face ease into something softer and more rounded. All the sharpness in your veins dissipates as the flash of fondness for that stupid laugh takes over. You can imagine him warm under the covers smiling at the phone at your blunder. “Please, (y/n), my hopes were dashed when I was 4 and still not in the Jedi order.”

“Bullshit, you were never a child,” you snort, sharpening the grin on your face into something vicious. “I refuse to believe you were ever a child! You probably sprang out of a textbook fully formed- Wait, I’m getting off-topic. ” Tim hums innocently and you narrow your eyes at the phone, hoping he can feel the ‘I am revoking your breathing privileges’ look. “You always are.” Tim says before falling into a coughing fit.

“Sorry, Cosmo, I just keep getting lost in your eyes,” you whisper, pitching your voice rich and caramel smooth. There’s a sound on the other line. Tim is babbling you realize. You hear a shuffle of fabric and a body rising. Tim sucks in a breath, red-faced and caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. He can practically see the cocky grin playing on your face, the light of the sun reflecting as golden flecks in your eyes. “You can’t even see them!” Tim stammers, glowering at you through the phone. You cackle at him as if sensing the venomous look he’s giving you. “You can barely open them!” Tim rolls his, very much, open eyes, falling back into an unnecessarily large pile of pillows that Alfred insisted was necessary for bed rest with a loud ‘fwoof’. “Yes, I can,” Tim mumbles, sounding young for once. You do your level best to smother a grin on your face. “I’m just really drowsy from the chamomile tea Alfie gave me.” You stop dead in your tracks, one hand half in your coat the other on the doorknob. You blink. “You’re at the Manor?”

Tim pauses, making a frustrated noise. He shouldn’t have said that. “Dick and B… insisted.” This draws another one of your sharp laughs. He says insisted as if it was ever negotiable. “Did they ‘insist’ before or after they blow-dried and hung you out to dry?” Tim squawks and you hear shuffling again. Tim tries to remember why he doesn’t hate you. “Tell me again how you found out about me getting sick? Steph? Cass?”

“Hmmmmmm, Dick.”

“THAT TRAITOR”

“Funny way to pronounce older brother,” you hum smug. You can feel Tim glaring daggers at you. “You-”

“There’s a home theater, yeah?”

Tim pauses, this time longer. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Answer the question, Space Case.”

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Great! It’s a date then,” you say, mentally preparing a route to the Manor from the vague directions Steph told you once. You could just use the maps app-

“NO!” You freeze. Tim flinches at the volume of his own voice. He whispers an indiscernible ‘I’m sorry’. You turn it over in your mind before speaking. “No?” You ask, trying your best to sound hurt instead of amused. Maybe you should have pitched your voice higher, more shaky. “Look, Tim, I-” Tim heaves a loud sigh. “-(Y/n), you’re fine-” Well, you aren’t, you think. You bite your tongue, physically to make sure you don’t say anything unnecessary. “-It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s- It’s just my siblings...” Tim knows that his siblings have been talking about you.

“Timmy, I can take whatever shovel talk they can give me,” you say with the confidence of someone who has never been dangled over the edge of a roof top. Ok, to be fair, YOU had nothing to worry about. Tim, on the other hand, was going to get roasted alive. Maybe he can persuade you into not- Tim hears the tell tale sputtering of your bike’s engine and he feels his blood pressure spike. The engine genuinely sounds like a death rattle.

“You’ll get sick.”

You swear and he hears another sputter of the engine. “You’ll get sick,” he croaks again, louder this time hopefully over the dying engine. Maybe if your engine dies right now, he’ll be spared from a slow agonizing death via siblings. “Relax Cosmo, I have the strongest ward against whatever you got,” you say, giving the engine a light kick. Tim hears a few metallic clunks then the engine stutters to life. Tim looks up past the ceiling trying to glare at whatever cosmic being resurrected your engine.

“Which is...”

“Being broke. It does wonders for your health.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works,” Tim says, shifting burying his head against the too soft pillows. The soft fabric makes his eyes feel heavy. He yawns. He hears the sputter or your laugh. It’s hard to tell from the sudden drowsiness making his head swim.

“I promise I’ll explain to your typical rich kid ass when I get there, Tim.”

“That’s not how it works,” Tim slurs, face pressed into a pillow.

You laugh, he’s sure this time.

“I’m-” Tim’s mind unfocuses and the words you say garble together ”-Tim. ”

Tim blinks, mouth moving to ask you to repeat that but the last thing he hears is a soft click.

On the bright side, it would just be him and Alfred at the manor.

_________________________________________________________

Batmanisfake: I heard (y/n)'s coming over😶

Nightwingingit:👀 How do you even know that?

Batmanisfake: What are you? A cop?

Nightwingingit: say that again but slowly 🙄

Batmanisfake: ...

Damian: He bugged Drake's phone. For blackmail purposes, of course.

Nightwingingit: JASON

The Cool One: Shush Dick! He's onto something

Batmanisfake: Thank you

The Adult: I for once had nothing to do with it😌

Theactualbatman: I'm assuming we're all coming home tonight?

The Cool One: I'll bring popcorn

Damian: Nonsense Pennyworth will likely have some prepared

The Cool One:😭 We really do not deserve that man

Nightwingingit: Definitely

thesaneone: We're recording Tim's face when he sees us, right?

Batmanisfake: From all angles

The Adult: You're all horrible

Batmanisfake: Please like you're not hacking into the cameras as we speak, Babs

The Adult: You have no proof👀

_________________________________________________________

Tim’s head felt thick and gooey like one of Alfred’s custards. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s in a fish tank. There’s a sickly Chlorine smell clogging his nostrils; it smells powdery and sterile and reminds him vaguely of aspirin. Tim blinks. His eyes hurt; they feel puffy and sore and hot. His vision is further obscured by a thick layer of fleece blankets Alfred had piled high over him. He shuts his eyes still feeling too overwhelmed by the low light coming from the window.

Tim thinks he hears his window open with a soft click. Tim quiets his breathing. His hearing is too muddled to process anything beyond it. There’s a soft thud of heavy boots in the room; it’s imperceptible and dreamlike the way it reaches his ears that it has him shifting under the covers trying his best to discern the sound. A dozen lighter footsteps follow it and he can sense 6 shapeless bodies hovering over him.

“Should we wake him up?” asks a voice that vaguely sounds like Cass.

There’s a shuffling sound. Leather, he thinks. “Wait, lemme take a picture.”

“Red, why? It’s not like you can blackmail him with pictures of him sleeping.”

“Because, flashlight, I need proof that Timbo sleeps. ”

“Because?”

“Ok, how many times have you seen him asleep?”

“Uh...”

“Exactly!”

Tim hears a laugh that distinctly sounds like Dick. “Does it count if Alfie drugged him?”

“Maybe?” Steph says, shrugging.

“It doesn’t, Brown.”

“Damn it.”

“Does that mean B doesn’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

Maybe if Tim keeps sleeping, they’ll go away on their own. Tim wraps the sheets tightly around himself, hoping the large stack of fleece would be enough to muffle his siblings.

“I’m pretty sure I have dibs on waking him for opening the window for you shits.”

“Red, anyone could have opened that,” Duke laughs, stepping slightly behind Cass, who at the moment was paying more attention to the moving pile of fabric. Maybe if Tim stays really still she’ll turn her attention to something else.

“Cass and Dickface would have just broken it.‘

“I would not!”

“Sorry, Cass, you would.”

“Steph, whose side are you on?”

“Why is no one defending me?” Dick sighs.

“No one cares, Dickface. And Blondie’s clearly playing for the right team-” Steph cackles. “-none of you have any finesse.”

“Not all of us can be drama queens, Todd.”

“You’re like the third to the last person I wanna hear this from.”

“Third? You’re ranking us now? Who gave you the right?”

“Alfred,” Jason deadpans, “And yeah. Bruce and Dick are first and second.”

“Hey!”

“Can it Mr. Pretty Man Down.”

“That was one-”

“What rank am I?”

“uh … fifth.”

“Fifth?!”

“Sorry, Blondie, Cass has you beat with that ballet kick thingy.”

“Ok, yeah I can accept that. What about Babs?”

“What about Babs? The woman can kick my ass six ways to Sunday. ”

Tim’s head throbs all over. There are soft pin pricks pressing on the sole of his left foot; his leg jerks involuntarily. He wants to scream. Tim swears under his breath. A gloved hand pries the covers away from Tim’s face. Tim squints his eyes open only to be greeted by Dick’s kind, but still very punchable, face. Tim takes a long rasp, pinching his features in a mix of annoyance and despair. “Why are you-” Cough! “-here?”

There’s a slight quirk to Dick’s smile.“They wanted to meet (y/n),” Dick explains in a sweeping theatrical motion of his hand across the room directing Tim’s attention to the expressions on his sibling’s expressions which were all a variation of devious scheming.

“How did-” cough. “- you even know-” cough. “-(y/n) was coming?” Tim asks, shooting up from his pile of pillows causing a couple of blankets to topple to the floor to the ground. Tim’s lightheaded. He suddenly feels a shift in his balance, a feeling of vertigo. He nearly topples to the ground, his blood not quite catching up to his movements, when feels hands wrap around his shoulders. “Woah there Baby Bird, slowdown.”

“Answer-” Cough!

“It was Todd.”

“You mutant sperm!”

“Jay, aren’t we all mutant sperm?” Steph laughs, slinging one arm over an irate Damian’s shoulders and another over a fuming Jason’s shoulders. Tim groans, sounding pained. “How much do I need to pay each of you to get all of you to go away?”

“A lifetime of IOUs,” Dick says, casually.

“NO!”

“All of your share in W.E.,” Duke says, laughing. Steph elbows him lightly, also laughing. “You’re shooting prelow there, Slick,” Steph teases. Duke shrugs still grinning. “Gotta keep it realistic, yanno?” Steph and Duke keep bickering.

“Drake, kindly, pay with your life.”

Tim scrunches his nose. “I’m already on my deathbed, you know, dying. What else do you want from me?”

“A more agonizing death.”

Jason grins, tilting his chin. “C’mon, Timbo, we can help with your little impromptu date.” Tim groans, placing his face in his hands. “Please just help me dig my own grave.”

“What would be the fun in that, Timbo?”

“For you or for me?”

“Come on, Tim, it’ll be fine,” Cass says, clearly not believing the words herself. All seven of them dissolve into another round bickering. Damian, Jason, and Steph hellbent on giving Tim an aneurysm. Duke and Cass playing at being neutral; Duke leaning on Tim’s side but laughing way too hard at Steph’s well placed jabs; Cass is only mildly siding with Tim to spite Jason. Why this time? Tim has no clue.

The string of banter is broken up by the echoing the doorbell. Tim’s heart seizes as they all fall silent, enraptured by the odd sound of a doorbell filling the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor. The chiming of bells ends with the creaking of the large oak doors in the front of the manor.

Before Tim’s sluggish brain could even formulate a thought, all of his siblings are all bounding towards the door, bouncing off the walls and flipping over obstacles. Tim scrambles, lagging, after the hoard of vigilantes barrelling towards you. Tim tries to shout after his siblings but his voice is drowned out by raucous laughter and bickering.

You stand at the door, head haloed by the pale afternoon light as the sky catches fire, flecks of snow sparkling in your hair. You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as you sheepishly thank Alfred as he takes your coat.

Tim struggles to breathe an he genuinely doesn’t know if it’s because of his lungs, you, or the fact that of all his siblings, Babs was the one who got there first and Tim genuinely doesn’t know if Babs is there to hold off the gaggle of vigilantes or to scare you off. From the jovial grin wrinkling your features, Tim’s pretty sure Babs just gave you some blackmail material instead of putting you through the ringer- an equally scary outcome. For your part, you don’t look even slightly phased by the fact that Babs is in a wheelchair or even by the way she’s clearly sizing you up. All of this rolls off of you with an easy motion of your shoulders as you answer her questions in the most frustratingly oblique way based off of Babs’s expression. Tim can’t help the curve on his lip as you blatantly dodge another of Babs’s questions with a smile. You spot him, winking, and the tips of Tim’s ears flush.

Your cocky demeanor fades when a gaggle of batbrats crowd you; nervousness creeps into your form, ironing out your posture into something unnatural and defensive. “Is this a bad time?” You ask through a tight lipped smile. Babs glares at them but doesn’t make any effort to hide the satisfaction at your shaken demeanor. “Don’t mind them, Sweetie,” Babs says, patting your back and guiding you away from the gaggle. You shuffle awkwardly, trying to coax your spine back into a more natural curve.

“(Y/n)!” Tim manages between gasps for air. Making a person with non functioning lungs run has to be some sort of human rights violation. His voice is louder than he anticipated. He realizes, but the apprehension in his body flits away when you beam at him-a wide cheeky smile that has his body vibrating with delight. He made you smile like that, Tim thinks, heart swelling almost enough to soften the impact of the next few words. “Hey, Duckie!” you chirp tilting your face in a cute lopsided smile.

“Duckie?” Jason sniggers.

Duke’s face passess from confusion, realization, then amusement in a matter of three seconds.“Duckie? As in ‘quack quack’?” Duke asks, pretending to still be dumbstruck.

“Yes, Duckie, Tommy Terrific,” you say, the lopsided smile curving into a playful grin. The dumb nicknames earn you a loud, surprisingly nonthreatening, approving laugh from Jason who then says “We’ll keep those nicknames in mind” which just drags pained looks from both Tim and Duke. Dick and Damian on the other hand look absolutely delighted.

“(Y/n), tell them about the other nicknames,” Steph says, grinning savagely. Your eyes widen and you wrinkle your nose, mouth twitching from side to side, trying to pretend away the heat rising from your cheeks. “Not on your life, Stephie.”

“Aaaaaw! Not even for lil ol’ me?” Dick pouts, throwing his arms around you. The familiarity of the action has Tim bristling. “Pleeeeeaaase,” Dick whines; a smile hidden in your hair, “not even for Alfred’s cookies?” You make a noise caught between a laugh and a groan. “Hmmmm… maybe? Throw in some candy.”

“Deal.”

Tim blinks. “You’d betray me for sugar?”

“Cus I ain’t getting any while you’re sick,” you cackle, grinning along with Dick who looks way too pleased with the outcome of the conversation. Tim desperately wants to melt into the floor. Looking at all his siblings who are eagerly awaiting for the litany of nicknames, Tim cuts in. “Let’s just go watch that film.”

“What are we watching?” Cass asks, leaning to look over your shoulder, clearly shoving Dick out of the way. Dick does his best to not budge.

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“We are under a communist regime, Timbo. We’re all watching it together,” Jason says, slinging Tim over his shoulder.

“Have a heart, Drake. We only want to spend family time together,” Damian says, somehow still looking imperious even from where Tim is dangling. A dull ache starts spreading across Tim’s like his skull is being squeezed.

“Hope you guys like Clue,” you say, fishing it out of your cornucopia of unhealthy junk food. “I figured you detectives would like a good mystery.” Dick snorts taking the disc from you and reading over the contents efficiently. “Bet you I can get the ending even before any of you.”

“No, you won’t,” Jason barks, setting off a long winded argument about who the best detective is.

“Didn’t you say you would eat me if I spoiled another mystery movie for you? Are you planning to eat my entire family?” Tim croaks quietly. You scrunch your nose, twitching your mouth four times to the left and four and a half times to the right. “Technically, what I said was ‘I’ll respectfully go back to juvie for cannibalism if you spoil another movie that night’,” you hiss low, trying not to draw attention to your conversation. Unfortunately for you, his siblings have good hearing.

“And this is different how?” Tim asks, this time not bothering to control his volume.

“You’ll never figure out the ending,” You say smiling innocently. Tim rolls his eyes and huffs a ‘we’ll see’. It doesn’t wipe the smile off of your face.

As it turns out, the Wayne Manor theater is less of a theater and more of a bean bag storage closet with a large screen. Jason tosses Tim unceremoniously into one of the random bean bags in front of the couch before gracefully pirouetting into the couch. You chuckle and continue your search for something to put your Bluray in, just now realizing that you should have probably just asked for their Netflix password or something. Alfred appears out of nowhere handing Jason and Cass each a bowl of buttery popcorn and scolding Jason about manhandling his brother in front of a guest. Jason looks unrepentant. No surprises there. With a swat on the back of Jason’s head, Alfred turns to you, gloved hands extended out to you. “I can take that."

“Oh… Uh thanks- Thank you,” you stammer. To your left, Tim snickers and your hand slip, somehow the blanket Babs handed you finds its way to Tim’s face. “Shut up, Ducktective. He’s practically your grandpa and I kinda wanna make a good impression,” you hiss, cheeks warming. Tim coughs, a little dumbfounded. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that you were nervous about this.

Tim checks if his brain is on straight before speaking. “Relax, you haven’t physically assaulted me or any of my family yet so you’re immediately at the top of Alfie’s list.” You open your mouth to speak then curl it into a frown, looking appalled and concerned. Apparently, his brain wasn't on as straight as Tim thought. "Am I going to have to fight your exes? At some point?"

"No!"

"Yes!" Steph says, handing you a red bean bag. Tim scowls at Steph as he watches the color drain from your face. She just shrugs and goes off to annoy Dick.

“Mr. Boddy?” Damian asks incredulously, reading the box summary again. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you laugh, setting your bean bag next to the one Jason dropped Tim in. Damian rolls his eyes. “This is a stupid movie. Do people really consume this drivel?”

You scrunch your nose but don’t put too much heart into glaring. Thankfully, color is now returning to your face. “The movie hasn’t even started yet!”

“Relax (y/n), the tiny mutant sperm is just playing elitist,” Steph says, plopping next to Jason and eyeing his bowlful of buttery popcorn.

“As long as it isn’t as bad as the Happening-”

“Dude, you live in a city with Poison Ivy. That thing is pretty much a documentary,” Duke says hesitantly taking the spot between Steph and Cass.

"Please, for the love of Alfie, please, talk about something else," Dick whines, plopping a bean bag next to Tim. Jason’s face twists in confusions before his eyes light up and untwists into an expression with amusement. "Is it because of the-" Dick hits him square in the face with a pillow, all the while screeching "Think of the children!"

"Where, Dickface?" Jason ask, prompting Dick to point(jazz hands) at Damian who rolls his eyes. Jason does the same, looking younger than the toughened exterior suggested. "That's a gremlin, Dickface. Not a child."

"He is-"

"SHUSH! The movie is starting!"

You giggle, curling into Tim's side and placing your head in the crook of his neck where you usually like to put it. Tim's insides shiver from the contact and his hands automatically coil around you, pressing his nose into your hair.

"Jeez, her melons are big," Babs says flatly taking another handful of Dick's popcorn from Damian. Cass snorts and Tim feels embarrassment creep into his skin. He flicks his eyes to you, only to find you smiling into his side.

"They're almost as big as Dick's," you chuckle.

"Nah, Jason is bigger," Cass pipes.

You eye Jason openly which makes the large man cross his arms over his chest. "Huh, you're right," you note with more confusion than anything.

"Bruce has moobs too!" Jason protests, red-faced.

"Son, why?"

The chatter falls silent when the figure at the edge of the room settles itself into the large leather recliner in one corner of the room. You squint your eyes to distinguish its features from the rest of the shadows in the room; only to be greeted by the solemn features of Bruce Wayne. Your breath catches and you feel your skin jump twenty feet in the air. Everyone else in the room seems to have about the same reaction even as he pulls a lever to raise the foot rest. You all follow his movements with interest.

“Is Bruce trying to relax?” Duke whispers to Cass who shrugs in response. Steph rolls her eyes, reaching over Duke to try and snatch some popcorn from Jason who just raises his bowl higher. “Shhhhh, Duke, let the B man try to play human,” she says, snatching at the popcorn til the bowl just falls on Jason’s head.

“He’s trying I guess.” This draws a startled chuckle out of you that you try to press in Tim’s neck. The vibrations against his skin has him shivering.

“B, are you ok?” Dick asks. This makes Bruce’s features move in a slightly concerned fashion which in Bruce speak is very concerned. “Yes, why?”

“Ooooh, no reason, old man.” He turns to Babs. “Yeah that’s not Bruce. Five bucks says it’s a robot.” Babs snickers, grabbing a ten from her purse. “Ten says it’s an alien.” You twist to look at them, taking out a twenty. “Twenty says it’s just Mr.Wayne.” Jason sneers at you, taking your money. “You clearly don’t know the old man.”

“Can we please just watch this film in peace?” Bruce groans, running a hand over his face, finally looking more like the long suffering single dad of eight kids that he should be. Babs looks over her shoulder, slinging Bruce an absolutely disbelieving look. “Do you even know your children?”

“Yes, father, have you even watched us bond?” Damian asks, using his free hand to do air quotes for the word ‘bond’ while using the other to try and swipe some popcorn from Cass. It doesn’t work.

“That definitely isn’t Bruce,” Dick hisses, trying to shield his own bowl of popcorn from an irate Damian.

“SHHHHHH! I can’t hear the movie!”

“It’s definitely the butler,” Dick declares. Damian scowls, throwing a pillow at him which Dick catches with ease. “Grayson, the movie has barely started.”

“It’s definitely the butler. It’s gotta be. It’s always the butler.”

“That’s very offensive to Alfred, Dick,” Cass says, grinning. Alfred sniffs poshly in his own recliner. Dick recoils but Jason piles on. “Very classist of you, Dickiebird.”

Duke snorts. “Nah, I think he’s just saying it because Tim Curry was Pennywise the Clown.”

“Why would you trust a clown?”

“Oh my god, why are you guys comparing Alfred to a clown?”

“We are not!”

“This conversation is a trainwreck,” Tim groans into your hair. “Dunno, Tim, it sounds like a success,” you laugh, pressing closer. His eyes flick between you and his siblings. “You planned this.” You look up at him, failing to flatten a smile. “Nope.”

“I say it’s Ms. Scarlett,” Bruce says, rubbing his chin contemplatively.

“You’re just saying that cus she reminds you of Selina,” Tim huff, grinning and you’re half tempted to pinch his cheeks. Bruce cuts him a scathing look that has you shrinking; the grin on Tim’s face just broadens which just makes the playful scowl on Bruce’s face deepen. “Need I remind you who pays for the internet?”

“Alfred?” Tim asks, innocently.

“Careful Tim, B man might actually do it. Hell, he’ll probably do it if he finds out what you did last Thursday.”

“Do you mean the explosion on Fifth?” you ask, turning to Steph. Steph gives you a firm nod; in the corner of your eye, you can see Bruce arching a brow. Tim gapes at you looking absolutely gutted. “What happened to snitches get stitches?” Tim protests.

You shrug, grinning. “Sorry, Duckie, I stand by my cookie dealer. Who do you think sneaks Duke and me cheetos in Western Civilization? I stand by my fellow barbarian.”

“You know Duke?”

“I pay him to-”

“Shhhhh!”

“You guys are talking too!”

“At least, it’s movie related!” Damian hisses.

You throw up your hands with an exaggerated flail. “Fine!”

“I say it’s the shifty looking lady,” Jason declares, reaching over Duke and Steph to try and snatch some popcorn from Cass. You wonder why Jason doesn’t just snatch some from Alfred since he’s closer. You try to ask Tim but he just shakes his head at you. “Ms.Peacock?” Cass asks, shoving Jason’s face away with butter covered fingers. Duke tries to snatch a few kernels in the confusion only to get his hand swatted. “I think he means Mrs. White,” he says, waving his hand. “Yeah that one.”

“It’s the butler! It’s always butler!” Dick protests.

“I will fucking riot if it’s the butler!” Steph shoots back.

“It can’t be the butler.”

“Why not, Dami? He has motive.”

Damian rolls his eyes.“Gordon, why are you siding with Grayson?-” Babs opens her mouth to answer but Damain continues before she can get another syllable out “-nevermind. He doesn’t have as much motive as the rest of them. Besides, does he really look competent enough to hold a gun left alone with a knife?”

Tim raises his chin from your head. “Demon Spawn, your standards for butlers is too high. Alfred is-”

“You say this like you have plenty of references.”

“Oh, Tommy Terrific, Duckie here is a posh bastard,” Jason sneers ruffling Tim’s hair. From the way, some of his hairs stick up you could guess that he still had some butter in his hand. Tim makes a face of disgust; you try your best to help him with his hair. “Jay, you say that but you’re like Mr. I need the correct type of wood for my bookshelves,” Steph laughs. “Just because I’m not a slob like the rest of you walking disasters doesn’t mean I’m posh.”

“Yes, it does. You lived here. Yanno with Alfie,” Dick says, pulling out another pack of snacks he’d managed to snag from your bag. You’re not gonna ask at this point. Tim gives you a look which roughly translates to ‘I am very sorry for my trainwreck of a family’. You snort at him before turning towards his sibling. “I mean look at Cass. She’s still feral.” If looks could kill, the look Cass give you would melt your bones. Thankfully, Damian opens his mouth. “They’re all feral.” You have a sense that you’ve also been insulted. You hear Babs to your right laugh derisively. “You say this like you’re any less feral than the rest of us.”

“I am-”

“Are any of you still watching the movie?” Bruce asks and for the second time that night, your body tries to divorce your soul. You had almost forgotten that yes, you are watching Clue with the fucking Batman. You shift in your seat suddenly feeling a twinge of nervousness. Before the discomfort could nestle in you, Jason speaks up. “No, Bruce, we’re just watching Cass vacuum the popcorn into her stomach. What do you think?”

“You guys didn’t ask,” Cass says through a mouthful of popcorn knowing full well that’s a lie.

“How can any of you be watching it? All you’ve done is talk over the dialogue.” You almost laugh at how exasperated he sounds. Beside you, Tim just snickers and shakes his head.

Damian just looks at his father from his bean bag next to Dick. “Father, we can talk and listen. ” Dick, like the mature adult that he is, slaps his knee laughing. “I don’t think B is capable of that.”

“PREACH” was followed by a chorus of AMENs.

"Alfred, what have I done to turn my children against me?" Bruce asks, tiredly leaning back into his recliner.

"Master Bruce, how would you like me to list it?"

"Alfred not you too," Bruce groans, putting his hands in his eyes.

"Yeah! Alfie's on our side!" Jason cheers.

"Quite."

"Alfie is always the sensible one," Cass chuckles sensibly between bites. You hear varying noises of agreement and Bruce ages from suave debonair to extremely tired single dad.

"I assume Alfred is actually the boss here."

"Yeah, Bruce is actually on the bottom of the food chain here," Tim says. You tilt your head in contemplation. "Yanno that makes Batman so much less scary."

"B-man's just a giant softie," Steph chirps, slinging her legs over Duke and Cass's laps narrowly missing the nearly empty bowl of popcorn.

Dick turns to you winking. "Yeah, just give him the puppy eyes and he'll get you anything you want in 2 seconds flat."

"Dick…"

"It's true!"

"Even a carnival?"

"Can we please just watch the movie?" Bruce says, in an almost pleading voice.

"I wouldn't hold my breath, old man," Jason chuckles, earning a glare from both Bruce and Damian. "It's not like you know how to shut up, Todd."

"Sorry, I don’t speak gremlin."

"That's bull Jay!"

"MOVIE IS STILL GOING ON! SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLES."

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS THE BUTLER.”

“Yes, yes, it has been publiced and noted, Birdie,” you giggle into Tim’s side, shaking your head. He wraps his arm around you, pressing a kiss into your hair, winking at you. “Does it count?” Tim asks over his shoulder. A look passes between him and Cass. “I don’t think so,” she says grinning.

“It so does! It’s one of the endings,” Dick protests vehemently. Jason’s mouth flattens then curls into a grin. “By that logic, the old man is right too.”

Dick thinks for a moment, tapping his chin. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Bruce protests.

"I'm still sticking with the butler. I'm sorry this is the only logical conclusion."

"He wasn't even an actual butler you butter brain!" Steph protests, throwing a pillow at Dick.

"I'm sorry but can we address why you're all mounting a mutiny against me?"

"Teenage rebellion!" Dick answers.

"Chum, you're not even a teenager."

"Father's right. At most, Grayson is five years old," Damian pipes from beside Dick seemingly unaffected by his brother's pout.

"Alfred, you're going to have to check my blood pressure before patrol."

"Quite, sir."

“They’re all so dramatic just like you said,” you whisper into Tim’s shoulder.

“I AM NOT DRAMATIC”

“Ah, yes, because the pretty man pose is so pragmatic.” Damian deadpan.

"That was one time, you assholes!"

"Hey, what else did Timmy say?"

"Well he- Oh wait!" You fish out your phone and Tim snacthes it away faster than you can blink. "No-" cough "-you don't." Cough.

Jason snatches it from him, snickering at the photo of Tim kissing you on the cheek. You're pretty sure Tim has a matching photo with you kissing him on the cheek. "Nice lockscreen, (y/n)."

"Oh, you should see the homescreen!"

"No. Please don't. You might need eye bleach."

"Relax Space Cadet, it’s not that one."

"Ohohoho, what didn't you want big daddy bats to see? Haaa, Timbo?"

Tim turns every shade of red before settling on fire hydrant red. "None of your business!"

Bruce clears his throat, looking at a stupidly expensive watch. “It’s time.” Dick springs up, stretching and showing off. “Is it really that time already?” Steph asks in almost a whine. Duke and Cass take the opportunity to shove her off and sadly, she lands with a loud thud and a mangled curse. You wince but laugh unsympathetically which simply earns you a face full of dust covered popcorn. You frown at her and she grins at you as Jason hauls her up by her hoodie. “C’mon Blondie. Let’s leave the love birds alone.”

“It’s not like they’re actually gonna be alone. Alfie’s here. So is Babs.”

“I’m going back to my place. You people give me a headache.”

“You say that like you weren’t having fun,” Dick teases, walking after her.

“I’ll be down in the cave if you need me,” Alfred says waving at both of you. “Will do, Alf,” Tim yawns, nuzzling into your hair.

Cass pops her head back in. “Make sure Tim doesn’t do anything stupid,” She calls back. You grin, bright and wolfish. “Don’t worry! He can’t do me while he’s sick.” You hear Bruce choke in the hall and you just know that you’ll mentally kick yourself for that later. Luckily for you, Tim physically kicks you now. “What the hell?!” Cough. “Sorry, got caught in the moment.” You huff, trying to look a little sorry. Tim just glares more. “You’re not even close to sorry.”

“Ok. Yeah.”

“I have no idea why I love you sometimes.”

“My amazing personality?”

“Sure.”

“Love you too, Tim,” you chirp, kissing him. Tim’s lips feel hot after the quick peck and he pulls you closer. “I love you but I was pretty sure my family was gonna eat you alive.”

“They would have done it,” you hum, pausing before adding, “respectfully.”

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#tim drake imagines #tim drake x reader #Tim Drake #batfamily x reader #batfam #reader insert #dc fanfiction #dc reader insert #bruce wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #dick grayson #Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #batman #batfamily headcanon #batboys

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longeyelashedtragedy · 2 years ago

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all or nothing episode 7: stream of consciousness comments

-put your eyelashes AWAY mikel...and that smile while you’re at it

-the boys talking about who has boris johnson’s number i s2g

-why is granit so hot? he lights up like every scene he’s in even if he’s just sitting there? gjdgjdjgsg

-oh dear lord what am i seeing on that laptop screen...

-UHHH HELLO BOYFRIENDS FLIRTING...MIKEL ROASTING GRANIT FOR HIS CARDS AND GRANIT IS SITTING THERE LAUGHING...they are Perfect for each other i literally just cannot

-and granit gives him such a loving look during it

-and you can TELL mikel doesn’t give a fuck about his bad discipline lmaooooo

-angry granit yelling

-oooh mikel angry at the half and we haven’t had any obscenities yet...let’s see

-also now aaron not getting a clean sheet makes me Extra sad

-”fucking shit 45 minutes man we can’t come play like this year!” YES GRANIT YES...CAPTAIN GRANIT “WE KNEW WHAT WE HAD TO DO! fuck me, the first action, they have the throw in, put the fucking ball away!” god this is so hot and he’s like little mini mikel

-it seems like they all just sit there and take him yelling at them?

-omg mikel is TINY and his butt is so...[censored] while yelling at them? this scene is a dream

-mikel: “we deserve to be slapped on the face” (slaps his own face) O RLY mikel....god that was one of my fav things he ever said in a press conference, telling on yourself much mikel?

-mikel can’t park a fucking car to save his life omg

-mikel saying that after the palace game he was like....kind to the boys bc they just needed to be together? OMG

-granit caring for kt...

-mikel says the boys have given him reason to trust them 🥺

-”we’re gonna play with balls out, guys. balls out.”

-man nuno really is so fucking beautiful lol

-OMG MO ELNENY we do not deserve him...love his sunshiney honesty here

-OH FUCK IT’S THE LIGHTBULB SPEECH

-cedric’s FACE he’s like what the FUCK is this mf doing now

-”Because what happens when we play connected, guys? What is the next thing that happens? That we connect with 60,000 people that creates more energy, because at the end is electricity, that through heat creates light and life, because if not, it would be fucking dark, if this guy wouldn’t have the idea to do that.” omg mikel......i have no words for u

-imagine after all that u go fuck up this game! come on guys!

-omg martin looking so defeated is breaking my whole heart

-”i have too many emotions. look at me please when i talk.” omg mikel put that *** energy AWAY mr cincuenta shades of grey

-sad granit with his sweaty curls and big beautiful eyes....

“okay guys after the game i didn’t want to talk to you, i am sure i was going to say something that i was going to regret.” *cracks knuckles* “but i tell you today it was a fucking disaster.”

-bro in this briefing room speech i can like. legit tell how much mikel loves this club? i’m getting emotional i can’t explain he REALLY wants them to do well and cares about the players

-he’s also so tiny have i mentioned this before

-mo advising frustrated young players is a concept i didn’t realize i needed

-airpods albert and eddie 🥺

-OMG THE LITTLE KID SENDING B SOME MONEY...omg and then he meets him? CRYING rn

-this is one of the sweetest things i’ve ever seen!!!!!!! like literally i am crying

-i swear profane mikel is making me Feel things

-me screaming at eddie’s goal!

-and me getting CHILLS at babey b’s penalty (lmao the true AoN experience...feeling these emotions like the first time)

-emile is so sweet and soft spoken

-this episode is so quietly feel good?

-omg the way they’re taking care of mo during ramadan, also wait he and raketa have weirdly similar scars/birthmarks

-”i never saw someone give everything, work very hard, and they don’t get the reward” oh mo, sweet summer child...

-NOT ME RELIVING THE MAN UTD GAME AND GRANIT’S GOAL ALL OVER AGAIN

-XHAKARTETA HUG XHAKARTETA HUG

-mikel looks so fresh faced and happy post game...before everything fell apart...I almost feel like he has yet to recover from the nld you know

-ONLY ONE MORE EPISODE LEFT? NOOOOOOO.....

#ihc watches aon #sorry i'm like Depressed so this is not as exuberant but trust me i am Feeling it

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svtkillua · 4 years ago

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milk and tea > 2

rating: [pg-13 / angst] genre: soulmate au pairing: todoroki shouto x reader warnings: cursing, heartbreak, angst! word count: 9.5k

listen while you read here! join the discord!

1 - chap 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 [final]

The pendant hanging from your neck felt heavier the longer you wore it, like the days of the week that had ticked past added pounds to the object by the hour. You simultaneously adored it and loathed it, constantly catching yourself staring at it and fiddling your fingers around the chain. You loved that it reminded you of him, that the present special from Todoroki somehow made you feel like you yourself were special, like the gift was as close to a boyfriend like gesture you’d ever get. It made you feel adored, like the silver chain was a harsh contrast to the gold on your palm because it was a different reality, one that for a moment didn’t seem like a daydream. You hated it, however, when you stared too long and remembered that a few minutes after he slipped it on your neck he left to be with her. You loathed it for being a constant whisper reminding you that it was just a necklace, just a birthday present, not a declaration of love in the form of jewellery, but a kind gesture between friends. Because that was all you could be to Todoroki as hard as you tried to imagine otherwise.

“Are you listening to me?”

Your head lifted from its downward angle, eyes trailing from the wooden table top to the wide windows of the cafe, the sounds around you feeling too loud for the small space. People were tucked in at all the tables, several offices on the upper floors of the building leading to a packed cafe every lunch rush. You almost always came down to grab coffee and a bagel, used to the hoards of people that blended in with the beige and brown walls, familiar with the scent of roasting coffee beans and the hum of the espresso grinder. You shifted in your seat as you looked back over at your friend, setting down the sandwich you’d been picking at, brushing your hands together in a silent clap in an attempt to brush off the crumbs.

“Sorry, Izuku.” Your head shook side to side as you eyed his pouting features, cracking a smile at the way he huffed out a breath of air, lips puckered like a child who hadn’t gotten their way. Midoriya was perhaps your closest friend next to Todoroki, someone who had never pitied you but rather tried to fill your life with brightness. It was no wonder his soulmate was so enamored with him, you couldn’t blame her, his personality was affectionately child like, so awake and full of life you almost envied him for his eternal positivity. “I sort of zoned out.”

“It’s alright, I was kind of rambling to be honest.” He chuckled with a shrug, the sweater he had on bunching slightly around his neck, the fabric looking too thick for the warm spring temperature. He had on wide, round glasses, his hair a bit more curly than normal from the small amount of humidity in the air, fingers wrapped around a huge plastic cup full of peach tea. “How was your birthday? We missed you at the bar.”

“Okay I guess.” The fidget you made in your seat was involuntary, fingers trailing over the line on your palm out of habit. The light was hitting it just enough to make it seem to glow, the gold glinting in your irises as you flickered a glance between it and Midoriya, shoulders bobbing in a shrug. “Todoroki came over for a bit, we had a pizza.”

“That sounds like a boring birthday celebration.”

“Well I didn’t exactly feel like throwing a wild party, Midoriya.” Your eyes rolled at him, fingers drumming into the table top as you glanced at someone who waved in passing. Part of you felt anxious, wondering where Todoroki was even though you knew he was more than likely working out. He tended to work during his lunch breaks most days, which was what got you in the habit of bringing him coffees and snacks on your way back to the office across the hall.

“Are you okay?” His palm landed on top of your knuckles, the gesture innocent but filling you with a bit of warmth, the genuine flash of concern on his features almost comforting. “I mean, I know you’re probably upset but, you know.”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, shrugging and glancing at his soulmark, the bright blue on the face of his hand in a swirly pattern, almost mimicking that of a flower. The color bloomed against his skin tone, like a spot of blue sky poking out from clouds on a summer day, Midoriya himself the ball of sun beaming through the air. “It’s not like there’s much I can do to change how things are, everything just feels wrong. It feels unfair, like something’s not making sense how it was supposed to. I don’t know how to be okay when I’m supposed to be happy alone. I don’t feel happy alone, I feel lonely.”

He nodded slowly, hand retreating to instead pick at his sweater, cup lifting as his lips wrapped around the straw and he took a gulp, adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes danced around the room as he debated what to say, eyelids fluttering as he blinked when the sun hit him directly in the face. You could almost see his thoughts forming, could picture the words as his messy scrawl put them down in his head, the ink bleeding into his tongue as he set his cup down to speak them into existence.

“Just because you don’t have a matching mark doesn’t mean you have to be alone.” He reasoned, nodding once towards you with a half hearted smile, his gaze flickering over the planes of your face while you tore your focus away. You knew what he was referring to, that several people without soulmates had ended up together, that people with circumstances like yours made their own destiny and chose their own path. It was illegal to not be with your soulmate but if you didn’t have one all bets were off, anyone else who was alone was up for your taking, but somehow that idea didn’t sound right in your head.

Maybe it was because you’d gotten so hung up on Todoroki but you didn’t feel like you were meant for just anyone, didn’t feel like you could make a deep connection with someone even if you could sit and talk to them for hours. Most everyone you heard of who didn’t have a soulmate was content being alone, didn’t feel so desperate for affection as you were, didn’t long for someone to hold them and be beside them all their life. For everyone else like you, it sounded like they were indeed made to be alone and they liked it that way, but you loathed it.

You constantly felt lonely, like the rest of the world had left you fend for yourself, like everyone else was paired off and had forgotten you were still there. It was hard to go outside and see people holding hands, getting close to the person that was meant for them. It stung to hear your friends had met their match, to go to their weddings and smile wide knowing that it would never get to be you standing there in white across from your soulmate. It made your chest burn to picture yourself marrying someone you weren’t made by the universe for, to look at the mark on your hand and know you’d never see it on another person for as long as you lived. It was cruel, like going out most days were torture to the beating muscle in your chest, like being happy was going to be one of the hardest challenges to achieve in your life.

The only thing that made you feel that way was Todoroki, and anymore that happiness came laced with the longing that you’d grown for him in your gut. You’d fallen so in love with Todoroki that it was hard to see past that now, that picturing him was enough to make your pulse quicken and throat constrict. Now the mere idea of watching him marry someone else made your eyes burn, fingers itching to feel him when you pictured someone else touching his beautiful skin you’d grown so attached to. Knowing he was a few floors up in the gym made your lips pull into a faint smile, almost like you could feel him there, could sense the warmth that radiated from his body and imagine it baking your skin.

Todoroki made you feel things others wouldn’t, and in a way perhaps that was why you’d found yourself growing so infatuated with him. That was always how they made soulmates seem in movies, like they would understand you in facets others couldn’t, that they would be the person that just clicked into place, like a missing puzzle piece you’d finally found. You couldn’t understand how you’d fallen so in love with someone who wasn’t meant for you, couldn’t grasp that even though you felt all the things you were supposed to feel for a soulmate, he wasn’t that person. Things had been hard before he met Momo, but afterwards it all felt worse, the love in your chest like a weight that made your feet drag and posture slouch.

“I gotta get back upstairs.” Your head lifted as Midoriya stood, your body following suit as he pulled you into a quick hug, smiling faintly with a nod as he walked off right after. You remained in place for a beat, watching his figure with a sigh, jealous of him, jealous of how easy he tried to always find a bright side in his head. You envied how second nature it was for him to be positive, to find a light in a room full of dark. It’d never been that way for you, never so easy to become a spark that filled everyone with vibrancy, if anything, you’d become the one that always turned the lights off.

After grabbing another coffee and pastry from the counter, your feet carried you up the flights of stairs towards the office, the steps resonating with loud smacks in the half empty staircase. They complimented the sound of your heart beat as it pounded in your ears, matching in rhythm the quicker you ascended them, the heavy door slamming behind you serving like a crescendo to the song being created behind your rib cage. This had slowly become your favorite part of the day, the short walk down the hall towards the double paned glass doors facing your own, admiring the way the sunlight sprouted through them and created hazy shapes on the carpeted floor. It looked so welcoming, like it was the perfect package just waiting for you to unwrap it, like the universe knew someday Todoroki would work there so they created an entry as warm as he was.

You spotted him as soon as you walked inside the studio room, waving at the receptionist as you strolled past her and further into the space, fans running that created a quiet hum that mixed with the clicking of cameras. He was always tucked back into the corner office whenever he was taking a break, the one directly across from the main studio space, the room with the most windows that overlooked the streets below even if he insisted he didn’t like heights. He was hunched slightly over his desk, camera laying idly beside his laptop as he moved his finger over the keyboard, brows furrowed together and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. His hair was pushed back off his forehead though pieces fell forward, like he kept fussing with it, lips parted as he exhaled, the angle of his jaw accentuated by the light streaming into his space from outside. He was oblivious to your approach, completely deaf to the outside world as he poured himself into his paperwork.

And gosh was he stunning.

“Todoroki?”

His head lifted in a flash, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he blinked rapidly until he focused on you, the curve of his lips spreading until his cheeks bunched upwards, eyes slipping faintly into half moons. The pang of guilt you felt for interrupting him washed away as he took his glasses off and moved to stand while you waved him off, moving closer to set his coffee and lunch down beside his computer. He was staring at you now as incessantly as he’d been doing to his computer, the sound of his foot tapping into the hardwood floors beneath his chair faintly reaching your ear when he sank back into his chair.

“You didn’t have to bring me lunch.”

“I knew you wouldn’t eat if I didn’t.” Your shoulders rose and fell with a faint laugh falling from your lips as you used one hand to push your hair away from your face. You looked his way long enough to catch his gaze before tearing your own away, pretending you didn’t feel the way his focus was making your esophagus feel too tight, like your heart had made a new home there. “Someone’s become quite the workaholic lately, hm?”

“I have not, I just have a lot to do and I’m too tired to continue exercising.” His fingers landed on top of yours as you took a step back to move towards the door, focus shifting back onto his features as he nodded once in your direction. You swallowed hard, trying to force down the rock forming in your throat as he slipped his fingers between your own long enough to give your hand a squeeze with your palms flushed together. It was almost sad how incredible a him barely holding your hand could make you feel, how the smallest amount of affection from Todoroki felt like he’d dropped to his knee and asked you to be his forever. “Thank you though. Stay for a few minutes and keep me company?”

He hardly had to put up an argument even if you should have shaken your head no, fingers slipping from his grasp as you sunk into the chair across from him, the desk serving as a barrier to separate your bodies. His posture relaxed once you were seated, lips wrapping around the opening of his cup as he snapped his eyes shut and took a quick sip, adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed and dropped the cup back down. The shirt he had on was gray, like the color of a sky after a thunderstorm in the middle of the summer, the colour making him look more drained as he pushed his wheeled chair slightly back from the confines of his desk, dark jeans clinging to his legs.

The simple smile that flashed over his features as the paper bag crinkled open between his fingers made your own cheeks tug upwards, nothing but a pastry and the spare half of your bagel shoved inside but it was enough to make him feel appreciated. He always looked grateful when you dropped him off a coffee or snack, always made a point of thanking you for days after, like you’d single handedly made the world spin for him. It was one of the million things you loved about him, how humble he was, how he considered every act of kindness he received as a gift, one he couldn’t wait to return the first chance he got.

“So what are you working on that’s so interesting?” His head rose when you spoke, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips pursed, jaw moving while he chewed on the sandwich. It made you grin, his cheeks full like a hamsters as he shuffled forward and swiveled his laptop around for you to see. The screen illuminated an article of breaking news covering crimes in the neighborhood, images of black and white mugshots dotted around the paragraphs in order to send a scary effect across to the reader.

“New villains showing up everywhere we least expect.” Your gaze flickered over to him when he spoke, eyes following the way his tongue poked out from between his lips, licking a crumb away from the pink flesh. He nodded his head once towards the screen before you focused back on it, voice thick as he half yawned, arms stretching forward and straining against the fabric of his shirt. “They want to be mysterious, I guess, but they’re not too good at covering their tracks. Quite an easy job for all of us right now.”

Your head bobbed in a nod as he trailed off his speaking, lifting the bagel back to his lips as you leaned back in your seat and turned slightly to look out one of the windows. You had to squint, the sun steaming in just high enough to cover your face in heat, burning your irises in comparison to the pale coloring of the room. It felt peaceful, your eyelids drooping shut and arms folding over your chest, heartbeat at a steady rhythm while you listened to Todoroki’s quiet humming as he ate. For a moment you let yourself pretend you were at home, that the pair of you was married and this was any regular work day evening, content just spending your time together not speaking, because the love you felt in your chest said enough.

It was so easy to fall into with him, the lull of security he provided simply by being there was too comforting to fight off. It’d become so natural to tune out the rest of the world when you were alone with Todoroki, like second nature to forget that the day dreams in your head were complete fiction. Being alone with him made it feel like it could be real, like the way your heart rate spiked when he laughed was normal because it was made for him to hold. His presence raised up the bubbles of hope in your chest until you felt like you were floating, like he’d placed you on top of a cloud and was letting you feel that sense of love you’d never really get, like he was letting you pretend your feelings for him were reciprocated without him even knowing it.

It was like you craved Todoroki as much as you wished you could get away from him, like you wanted to fight the pull he had on you but feared how you would continue to breathe without him there giving you oxygen. He was simultaneously becoming your perfect dream and your nightmare, and slowly the two ideals were mixing into one muddled mess of emotions you were having trouble sorting through. You weren’t sure how to separate your feelings for him from reality anymore, weren’t sure how to continue being in his life without completely destroying your own heart in the process.

A quiet click made your head move, eyes rolling as you groaned loudly and raised your hands to cover your face, Todoroki’s laughter mixing with the sound as he continued snapping away at you with his camera. You could hear his chair scraping against the wood as he stood up, footsteps indicating he was moving closer to you as your legs lifted, knees bent to try and curl yourself into a ball on the chair.

“C’mon, stop covering your face, the lighting looks great right now.”

“Knock it off.”

“Please?”

It felt right, with just the two of you there giggling over something so pointless, like that was how it was supposed to be. It felt like this was what the universe was supposed to have done, that all along it should have made the pair of you for the other, that you should have been the one that got to make him laugh like that every day. It felt like everything, for a moment, was how it was supposed to be, how your heart had decided it was supposed to be from the first moment you saw him in the park. Just you and Todoroki and no one else, nothing there to interrupt you besides the sounds of your own hearts beating.

“Stop!” You laughed at his insistence, peeking out from between your fingers to find him bending closer to you, his cheeks pulled into a wide smile as your eyes connected for the second he lowered his camera slightly. He took another picture, you could tell by the sound of his shutter releasing, another groan falling from your lips, this one laced with laughter as he reached a hand out and started gently tugging at your wrist. The contact felt electric, like he was shooting fireworks off that were spreading up your arm and making your heart skip a few beats out of surprise, his laughter only serving to heighten how light everything felt.

“Todoroki?”

It was laughable how quickly your mood could plummet, the air no longer feeling light and delicate, but rather too thick for you to breathe in, spine locking up as your legs dropped back to the ground with a gentle tap from your shoes meeting the wood. Todoroki’s touch on your wrist vanished, his laughter trailing off as he stood upright and cleared his throat, your eyes burning into his as he stared at you before focusing off at the door. You didn’t want to look at who it was, didn’t want to see her smiling face when Todoroki moved past you to give her a hug, just knowing it was happening right beside you enough to make your fingers dig into your thighs.

“Momo, I didn’t know you were stopping by.” His voice was pleasant but you could tell he was surprised, his posture stiff as he slowly came back into your line of sight with her in tow. You focused on her back at first, on the way her hair was tied up into a tight bun, on the clasp of her necklace that was catching the light as Todoroki pulled a chair over from the corner of the room for her to sit in.

“I wanted to bring you lunch.” Her voice was delicate, like her full volume was someone else’s whisper, her arms folding in her lap as she sat down, Todoroki’s palm on her lower back as she did so enough to make you swallow harshly. She was wearing one of his jackets, you noted, that brown one with the elbow patch you’d sewn on for him when he ripped it during a night out. “I hope I’m not interrupting something.”

“You’re not.”

Her head whipped over to focus on you once you spoke, the smile on your lips feeling as ingenuine as it did uncomfortable, your fingers weaving together as she flashed you an tense grin with her nod. She was holding a paper bag with Todoroki’s name written on it in swirly black ink, a heart scribbled beside the T with a smiley face inside. She passed it off to him, her fingers brushing his own as he nodded in appreciation, setting the bag beside your own crumbled up one, it almost seeming like a metaphor for the two of you, one that made you exhale like a deflating balloon, the false sense of comfort you had now ripped away. Todoroki cleared his throat awkwardly, a silence falling over the room that made you itch to escape it, like the walls were closing in on you the longer you sat there watching him glance between the two of you.

“Well, good.” She pressed her lips into a thin line as she nodded and looked over at Todoroki, your eyes flickering to her palm, seeing her soulmark when she flexed her fingers back and forth mid air, like she was trying to stretch out a muscle. Your own palm suddenly felt like it burned, like your subconscious was reminding you of how badly you wished you had that mark. You would have given anything to be in Momo position, to be the person that Todoroki would marry and have a forever with, to be the person Todoroki loved so strongly it was all consuming and soul changing. “How’s your day been?”

It almost felt like you weren’t there, watching Todoroki turn his screen towards Momo as he started rambling on about his morning, like you were seeing a scene from a movie you didn’t want to be watching. You could almost picture them like that, like this was how they’d be as the years passed, chatting in their kitchen while the rest of the world fell away behind them, their skin growing wrinkles but their palms staying matching and pristine. It stung, like the bubbles of hope you let yourself build up were all being popped one by one, like wasps were stinging your insides just to put you back in your place.

“Todoroki we need you out here for a second?” A girl poking her head into the room looked apologetic as she motioned for Todoroki to follow her, his eyes darting between your own and Momo’s before he was slipping out. You wanted to grab his wrist and drag him back in, wanted to force him to stay and serve as a barrier protecting you from talking to your own worst fear. Momo was everything you wished you were, the person you were most envious of and found yourself loathing when none of this was her fault.

She couldn’t help it the universe had paired her with Todoroki, she couldn’t help it that she was made for him and you weren’t. It wasn’t her fault that you didn’t have a soulmate and yet on the nights you laid alone in bed you found yourself blaming her, because she had gotten the person you craved like a drug. She couldn’t change the fact that you were made to be alone, that you had fallen in love with a man that was made for someone else, someone you could never be. You could blame her all you wanted but none of this was Momo’s fault, and deep in your chest you knew that, you just wanted someone to be mad at. Disliking her had seemed the easiest way of avoiding the demons you liked to ignore, the truth of knowing that you were meant for no one and there was no reasoning behind it too much for you to accept. You wanted a cause, wanted an explanation, even if you’d never truly get one.

And through your jealousy that temporary bandage of an explanation had become her.

“He works too much sometimes, don’t you think?” Her light voice made you lift your head, eyes flickering over her features as she stared at his desk, drawing on the surface with the tip of her finger. She had a half smile on her lips as she shook her head side to side, laughing faintly as she adjusted in her seat, the dark jeans she had on almost matching the ones Todoroki had on, pale pink sneakers poking out beneath the ends of them. “I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes and find him typing away on his laptop.”

You tried to laugh, tried to ignore how your chest stung picturing them in bed together, tried to pretend the mental image didn’t make you want to curl up in a ball and scream until your lungs gave out. She meant well, she was trying to make conversation rather than sit there in silence in her boyfriends office, but you doubted your amusement was even half convincing. You weren’t sure it was possible to be genuine when your insides felt like they were rotting, weren’t sure if you could even be truly happy when your soul had stopped trying to a while ago.

“Yeah, he gets sucked into it sometimes.” Your head bobbed in a half nod as you focused back down on your legs, tracing circles around the red scratch on your knee from when you bumped into your bed frame earlier in the week.

“I’m sure it’s just because he’s so passionate about it, but sometimes it worries me. I’d hate to see him overwork himself.” She trailed off, eyes focused on you judging by the slight shift in voice and the subtle goosebumps rising on the back of your neck. You lifted your head to lock eyes with her, hands overlapping each other in your lap as she pressed her lips into a thin line, like she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. “Does he mention it to you? That he’s tired or unhappy?”

Todoroki was never really one to share emotions with people, not the ones that he didn’t deem good or important enough. It took you months of persistence before he opened up about any problems he had, any unhappiness that lingered in his heart. He took a lot on himself, held the weight of the world on the tops of his shoulders but still stood tall with a smile on his face. He didn’t like admitting he needed help or comfort, besides with a few people, and somehow you’d become lucky enough to be one of them.

You’d become the friend who he called in the middle of the night to talk about the things that were keeping him up. You’d become the one who heard of all the problems his parents had caused for him, the one who listened to the things he disliked about society and the way the world worked. You were his confidant and his comfort blanket, and in many ways he was yours, the one person who never judged you when the mark on your hand made you want to ball your eyes out. He never pushed away from you when the rest of the world sent you judging looks, never let others assumptions change the way he acted around you.

All he wanted at the end of the day was to be happy, and for the people he cared about to feel the same. You knew how heavily it weighed on him when someone was upset or unhappy, and sometimes he felt the need to try and fix things himself. He always went out of his way to do extra work if it’d help his co workers, always volunteered to be the one paying for other’s lunches so it wasn’t a burden. He always went to his family dinners even if they made him miserable, always put up with his parents nasty remarks and harsh judgements because he thought he had to. He pushed back in little ways, with his career and choice of friends, but sometimes you wondered if it was enough for him.

He had a heart that was surely even more golden than the shimmering line on your palm, one that shined like a lighthouse in the dead of night, but also weighed heavily in his chest. Sometimes you wondered if he was stopping himself from being as happy as he made most everyone else. You questioned, if he could have anything in the entire world, what he would want, what the secret wishes were he had that he’d never uttered out loud.

If you could wish for anything, you would wish for him.

“No, but I don’t think he would admit working too much is a problem anyway.” She nodded, glancing away to focus out the window at your response, the light falling over her features like a spotlight on a beautiful painting. “I should get going, my lunch break is ending soon.”

Her head moved up and down as you stood, eyes not turning towards you as you tugged down on your skirt, making sure it hadn’t ridden up. She was outlining her soulmark, you noticed, the dark lines stretching along her palm almost dark as the night sky, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. You could picture it on Todoroki’s, could see the mark you’d memorized and tried to wish away like a movie playing in your subconscious. They probably traced eachother’s all the time, probably had dreamed their whole lives of meeting the other and lucky for them they had. Lucky for them they had someone who matched them, they got to love the person they wanted to love and didn’t have to hide it under blankets of self loathing.

From the time you were a child it was all you heard about, soulmates, how magical and wonderful it would be when you met them. Everyone talked about it, about how that one person was the only one meant for you, society ensuring that with the laws preventing non-soulmate relationships over a certain age. There were people who didn’t like it, those who found the laws oppressive and out of date, considering most people ended up with their soulmate anyway, but fighting back was pointless. It was all so ingrained into society at this point, the nursery rhymes you’d sing at recess even laced with the messages of your one and only being the one you matched marks with.

They always said the only person you’d truly love would be your soulmate, and maybe that was why ignoring how strongly you felt for Todoroki hurt so much. Because he wasn’t your soulmate, he didn’t match your mark and yet you’d fallen so damn in love with him it seemed impossible for your brain to accept he didn’t belong with you. Even there in his office, staring at the girl with a mark on her palm that was an exact copy of Todoroki’s, it felt wrong, like the burning in your chest was more than just jealousy. You loved him more than all the stars loved the night sky and you couldn’t help the thought that maybe you loved him more than Momo could.

“I like your necklace, by the way.” You paused your movements towards the door when she spoke up, spine tensing as your fingers subconsciously rose to toy with the pendant hanging from your neck. You turned back towards her, her eyes drawn to where your hand was, her lips spread in a half smile that curved downwards as her fingers curled, hand palming into a loose fist on her lap. “Todoroki gave it to you?”

She phrased it like a question but didn’t seem to want an answer, your lips parted slightly as you swallowed down hard. Your hand slipped away from the necklace, landing back at your side as you nodded once nonetheless, her eyes drifting away from the jewelry to instead float back up to your face, smile faded as she blinked a few times. The air felt heavier, more thick, like the unknown thoughts running through her head were clogging up the space, skin feeling too hot like suddenly you had on a hundred layers of clothing.

“I found it one day, when I was doing the laundry. He’d forgotten to take it out of his jacket pocket before he tossed it in the hamper. I actually had thought it was a present for me. ” Her voice had dropped in volume, her head shaking as she exhaled all the oxygen from her lungs and took a quick glance at the necklace again. Your stomach felt like it dropped, like it had been filled with cement and was too heavy to stay put, an irrational sense of guilt crawling up your spine from the look on her face. She looked wounded and confused, wistful but unaware of what she wanted to say, mouth opening and closing twice before she finally spoke. “Is something going on between the two of you?”

“What?” You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, surprised by her rather upfront question, and judging by the way her eyes widened momentarily she must not have meant to be so forward. She cleared her throat, pursing her lips and exhaling heavily as she looked out the windows again, your fingers curling into your palms to close into tight fists to hide how they were shaking.

“Do you like Todoroki?”

“Sorry about that.” Todoroki’s rush back into room cut off anything you would have said, lips parted and pulse pounding in your eardrums as you took a step back towards the door. It felt like you’d been caught red handed doing something you shouldn’t, like you were a little kid with their hands shoved into the cookie jar before dinner. Todoroki’s palm landed on your back as you stumbled slightly into him, his eyebrows raised when he focused down on you, hair falling onto his forehead like he’d just combed his fingers through it. “You okay?”

“I have to go.” The words tumbled out as you stepped away from the warmth of his palm, ignoring his fingers as they tried to grasp onto your wrist, clearly confused as to why you were hurrying out. You could feel Momo staring at the pair of you, could sense Todoroki’s apprehension to just let you run off so clearly bothered. You knew he wouldn’t follow you, not with Momo there, his soulmate, with her perfect packed lunch for him waiting on his table top.

It was like you were in a haze, barely anything registering in your eardrums as you walked back into your office, sitting down to riffle through the papers waiting for you on the desk, eyes moving over the words but not reading them. You couldn’t feel anything besides the pounding in your chest, the force so strong it felt like it might burst through your ribcage and fall onto your keyboard.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle the situation or the question she’d thrown at you. What would she do if she found out you were in love with her soulmate? Would she keep him away from you and cut off the thing you cared about most. Did she know for a fact you liked Todoroki or was she just insecure? Was it that painfully obvious you were completely in love with him? If she knew you liked Todoroki, than did he know? It felt like the room was spinning and no one else could notice but you, like the walls were caving in and on them was written all of your secrets, ready to swallow you whole.

All the worst case scenarios were flooding into your conscious and making your eyes burn, eyes squeezing shut, the paper fluttering between your fingers as your hands slightly shook from your nerves. It felt like all your emotions had skyrocketed and you didn’t know how to handle it. You simultaneously wanted to call Todoroki to listen to him talk until you calmed down and wanted to run as far away from him as possible, wanted to lock yourself in a room where no one could see you anymore. It was all too much for you to deal with alone but was too heavy of a secret to spill on anyone else.

Who exactly could you tell that you were madly in love with your closest friend and his soulmate had perhaps figured that out?

Who could you tell that your world felt like it was about to fall apart?

Sometimes when you were thinking too much your eyes stopped focusing, the world becoming fuzzy as all your attention poured into daydreams rather than what was right in front of you. It felt like a filter, like you’d applied a blur to the colors coming from your laptop, barely registering the sounds of laughter pouring from the speakers. You could fall into a fog when you were like that, could get so distracted away from the world around you with a few dazed blinks at nothing in particular. It always seemed to happen when you had the most on your mind, the loss of focus, your quiet breathing the background noise to the scenarios running through your mind.

Right now those scenarios were all about Todoroki.

You’d been thinking about what Momo said all afternoon, that alone enough to make a wave of panic ripple through your gut. She’d looked so distant, so unreadable but somehow intimidating, like she had your entire world in her palms and didn’t realize it yet. You questioned how long she’d been thinking about it, if finding the necklace from Todoroki was what spurred her self doubt or if she’d known from the first time she answered his phone for him and found you on the other end. You wondered if it poured out of you so visibly that everyone knew but just hadn’t had the heart to shut you down, that you were a silent laughing stock to the haves, the only have not there seemed to be who didn’t know their place.

Your lungs deflated as your lids fell shut, feet shuffling beneath the blanket covering your legs, the sounds of the stupid action film playing on your laptop coming to a stop when you blindly reached out and smacked at the keyboard. The enveloping silence was both too quiet and too loud, letting your thoughts run rampant until they were so aggressive they felt like blood chilling screams. You didn’t know what to do or where to go now, you didn’t know how to handle a situation that hadn’t even happened yet. There were too many what ifs, too many possibilities for how Momo’s question came about and too many options for how bad the outcome from it would be.

You’d never imagined loving someone would be so messy when you were growing up, always idolizing that passion for another human being as something almost magical, something otherworldly. Everyone made it seem like once you found it nothing else would matter, that the world would stop being so loud until all you could feel was that love in your chest. No one told you how bitter it would be, how acrid the taste in your mouth would be watching the person you loved be with someone else. No one took the time to sit you down and tell you maybe things wouldn’t work out how you wanted, no one set you aside and traced the gold on your palm to warn you maybe you wouldn’t be as lucky as everyone else.

No one told you back then that maybe you’d be alone now.

No one told you that love was only magical when someone was loving you back.

The buzzing beside your thigh made your lids flutter open, the fuzzy light still coming from your computer painting your legs the color of a blue sky. You squinted at your cell phone, blinking rapidly as Todoroki’s name came into focus flashing across the front. He’d texted you a few times since you rushed off so suddenly earlier, always able to tell when something was bothering you even when you wouldn’t admit it. He had a way of knowing things about you before you knew them yourself, always noticing little quirks and habits that he’d point out before you realized you even had them. He knew you better than you did and at times it made it harder to ignore how strongly you felt for him, made it scarier to imagine moving far enough away you wouldn’t see his face everyday.

Part of you was tempted to let it ring, to ignore his voice just a little longer, to try and peel yourself away from the strong hold he had on you without even realizing it. You didn’t know if he’d talked to Momo, if she told him her suspicions and was now just calling to let you down easy, didn’t know if he was calling to tell you he couldn’t be around you anymore because it caused her discomfort. You didn’t know if you could listen to him reject you, didn’t think you could handle how crestfallen you’d be if he quietly whispered that he couldn’t see you again. You didn’t know what you’d do if your worse case scenario was true and Todoroki was about to be ripped away from you, but the stronger part of your will power was desperate to hear his voice ringing in your ear drum, regardless of the words coming from his parted lips.

“Hello?”

“Thank gosh, I was starting to get worried.” His relieved sigh made your lips tug slightly up into a smile on your cheeks, picturing the way his hand was probably tugging through his hair in his bedroom, his legs folded up like a little kid. “You weren’t texting me back all afternoon.”

“Sorry, I was just sort of out of it.” Your lips pressed into a thin line as you leaned back in your bed, palm resting flat on your stomach, the huge t-shirt that was serving as a pajama top bunching around your waist. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s alright.” He hummed for a moment, ears picking up on the sound of his bedroom window being pulled shut, before he let out a heavy puff of air, presumably moving to sit back down on his oversized bed. You wondered if he was alone in it, gut churning picturing Momo there beside him, nerves swelling with the unknown of where this conversation was going. “You just rushed out so fast earlier I thought I’d done something. You don’t usually ignore my texts and I guess I just thought the worst.”

His faint chuckle at his own worry made your chest ache, eyes squeezing shut in relief that Momo hadn’t said anything to him, or at least if she hadn’t he didn’t seem to be taking it to heart. You still felt apprehensive, shaken up, like you were on the edge of a cliff and unsure of how good your balance was anymore. It was soothing to hear his voice nonetheless once you got over the initial panic, swallowing hard to get down the rock formed in your esophagus before you spoke.

“You worry too much, Todoroki.”

“Only about you.” The laugh that followed the syllables made your lungs feel empty of oxygen, body rolling onto its side and face nuzzling slightly in the pillow. If you closed your eyes tight enough you could almost imagine it was Todoroki’s chest you were burying yourself against, could almost smell his cologne you’d memorized the scent of long ago. It was like you were intoxicated and the only think you’d ever tasted was him, like was your drug of choice and biggest addiction, one you didn’t want to worry about the consequences from. “I can’t stand when you’re mad at me. “

“I’m hardly ever mad at you.”

“Remember that time I broke your coffee table and you didn’t talk to me for a week?”

It was so easy to fall back into him, so easy to let the conversation flow naturally into your eardrums with him giggling through the phone and rambling everytime you responded. It was simple, loving him, when the rest of the world was quiet. It was easier to love him from afar, through the safety of a phone where you could hang up and close yourself back off once it was over. It was more difficult to hide the stares when you were in front of him, harder to swallow back the praises you wanted to shout at him, to stop yourself from grabbing his hand and never letting go. When you were apart you could pretend everything was fine, you could close your eyes and imagine your soulmarks matched, that he was yours and he was close enough for you to touch. When you were in front of him you were reminded of everything you didn’t have, reminded every time you saw his palm that he already had his someone and it wasn’t you.

He made things feel easy, made the rhythm of you talking feel easy over the time that passed with him speaking to you through the phone. He chipped away at your unease and put a fog over the worries that had been burning into your brain, if only temporarily. His chatter about his afternoon and tangents about things you already knew were enough to make everything feel warmer, more gentle. He knew how to get to the deepest parts of you and brighten them, knew how to pull you from your own thoughts without much effort, in a way that you could only hope you did for him as well.

“I wish I was there right now.” His heavy sigh made you swallow, rolling onto your back as you took a peek at the alarm on your bedside table, reading the blinking red numbers with a muted yawn. You ignored the fluttering in your stomach at the idea, picturing him momentarily there in bed beside you, imagining how incredible he’d look with his hair all fused up and his chest rising and falling like the rhythm of a slow ballad.

“I’m sure Momo will be back soon from her parents, it’s not like you’ll be home alone that much longer.” Her name sounded foreign coming from your tongue but you tried to ignore it, arching your back and moving your legs as you tried to pry the blanket up from underneath you, slipping it over your body soon after. It was soft, like the texture of a those giant teddy bears people got for valentines day, the same color of the sun the sky had been wearing that morning.

“She probably will, but that wasn’t what I meant.”

You paused momentarily as his words floated through the phone, unsure of what to say to that, not positive what exactly he meant. It made your pulse quicken, pounding in your fingertips and eardrums like you’d just run a marathon in the middle of summer. He seemed to be contemplating how to continue, judging from the deep breathe you heard him suck in before he spoke again, voice somehow more gentle than before.

“I wish I was there in your bed, in your apartment, with you.” He paused and cleared his throat slightly, the sound of him flopping onto his pillows melding with the car honking as it drove by down below on the street. “I miss you.”

“You saw me a few hours ago.” You laughed faintly, heart in your throat and pounding so violently it was hard to breathe, something about his tone and choice of words feeling more intimate than you were used to with him. Suddenly the phone didn’t feel like it was giving you much distance from him, felt like it was making you more vulnerable without seeing his face to try and work out what was going on inside his head.

“I don’t care, I miss you.” His voice dropped in volume, your lids falling shut as you took a heavy breathe, one that felt like it wasn’t enough oxygen even with your lungs swelled like close-to-popping balloons. “I miss your laugh and your smile and that look you get when you stare out the window too long and forget what we were talking about. I love when you do that, have I ever mentioned that to you? I love when you get all embarrassed or angry and try to act like you were listening to a single thing I said.”

“What are you doing, Todoroki?”

“I love your soulmark too. I know you hate talking about it and hate seeing it even more but it’s so beautiful. It’s the prettiest shade of gold, it reminds me of what the sun looks like right before it sets.” He ignored the slight wave to your voice as his kept getting softer through his rambles, your hands shaking as you used one to grip the blanket around your waist. It felt like the room was spinning, like your brain couldn’t keep up with the things tumbling past his lips. “Sometimes I wish mine looked like that. Sometimes I wonder how different things would be if mine matched yours.”

You nearly dropped the phone, your lips pressing into a thin line to stop yourself from saying anything. Your eyes burned as you squeezed them shut, trying not to make a sound as you let the words replay in your head, fingers shaking as you gripped the blanket tighter. It was something you’d thought about a lot as well, about how desperately you wished your marks matched, about how different things would be if he was your soulmate. It was almost strange to hear him saying it, like you were daydreaming rather than being awake, like your dream had come a reality but was laced with a nightmare.

“I was so disappointed that day in the park, when I ran into you and I saw your palm when you went to brush off your sweater. Fuck my stomach just sank to my feet, like someone kicked me in the chest and tried to bash my ribcage in.” His bitter laugh sounded thick, too loud for how mutely he was speaking, your teeth clamping down onto your bottom lip in an attempt to stop yourself from letting him know there were stray tears slipping down your temples onto your cotton pillowcase. “I never hated my own soulmark before that, I never wanted so badly for it to go away or be someone else’s instead. ”

“Don’t say things like that.” Your voice shook as you interjected him, sniffling once as you shook your head reverently on the bed, the room feeling too small, the air too hot, heart still like a drumbeat in your eardrums.

“I wanted it to be you so bad.”

You didn’t bother hiding the quiet cry that fell from your lips as you rolled over onto your side and pressed your cheek into the damp pillow, muscles too tight from how hard you were trying to hold yourself together. It felt right and wrong, it sounded like heaven and hell, hearing him tell you how damn much he wanted you to be his one, because it was what you wanted all along. You’d always wanted Todoroki, you’d wanted him since that day in the park and him finding a soulmate hadn’t changed that.

But even if he meant the words past his somewhat tired and rambling state of speaking out loud it didn’t matter. Even if he was as in love with you as you were with him, the two of you could never happen, it was never and would never be allowed. Todoroki had a soulmate, and by law he had to be with her. You would never be allowed to touch his skin or kiss his lips, you’d never get permission to marry him someday or fall in love with the eyes of the world watching you. You could never have Todoroki, even if somehow what he was saying held as much weight as it felt like it did. Even if you both loved eachother, you couldn’t be in love, and that was what crushed you the most.

“Todoroki?” You could faintly make out the sound of Momo’s voice as she called out in the background, cutting off Todoroki as he cleared his throat to say something else, your eyes snapping open, like someone had woken you up from a too deep sleep. Without thinking you pulled the phone from your ear, hitting end and tossing it away to the end of the bed, like it’d been on fire and you’d only now realized.

Everything felt twisted now, more confusing than before, because Todoroki had never said anything like that to you. He’d never brought up that day you two met in the park, never said that he’d felt as stopped in his tracks as you had been. He never told you that he wished his palm looked like yours, never informed you of how angry it made him that you didn’t match, how much he hated his own palm after seeing yours.

Todoroki had a soulmate, he had Momo, and he was supposed to be with her, but the words that had tumbled from his lips felt like ones he’d been stopping himself from saying for a long time. He sounded lost, confused, desperate for someone or something to give him a sign on what he was supposed to do, what all the things he’d bottled up meant. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle the world piling all of this onto you, onto your already fragile heart and weaning self acceptance. You didn’t know how you were supposed to stop yourself from loving someone when he was making you feel like somewhere in the back of his mind, he loved you back.

Your hands rose, covering the entirety of your face as you cried quietly into them, chest shaking as you choked on the air you tried to get down, everything feeling like too much once again. You were exhausted and wide awake simultaneously, desperate to sleep but scared of what you’d dream. You didn’t know didn’t know what was the right thing to do and what was the wrong, and weren’t sure which path you even wanted to take. You felt like the world had swallowed you whole, like you were thrown down a pit and left to figure out how to pull yourself free.

There in your bedroom with his whisper of how much he’d wished you’d been made for him replaying in your head, you had never felt more confused.

[previous chapter] - [next chapter]

#todoroki shouto #shouto #todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #milk and tea fic #todoroki fluff #todoroki angst #todoroki smut

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milkybonya · 4 years ago

Text

☆•°*M E N U*°•☆

welcome to milkybonya!

🧋 milkybonya no longer writes and is allowing you to use this order template for your own account, if you wish!

🧋 (if i have accepted your request, i will reply to your ask with an order number, and you will also see it on my pinned post~!)

🧋 you may choose from these groups for your order: the boyz, treasure, stray kids, kang daniel, sf9, kard, big naughty, optional bias (male/female)

size

please choose one!

-> small

details: shorter au/imagine (below 1k words)

-> large

details: longer au/scenario (above 1k words)

drink flavour

please choose one!

-> classic milk tea

ingredients: general fluff

-> honey milk tea

ingredients: comfort fluff

-> strawberry milk tea

ingredients: general angst

-> chocolate milk tea

ingredients: breakup angst

-> banana milk tea

ingredients: fluff with some angst (fluffy ending)

-> matcha milk tea

ingredients: fluff with some angst (angsty ending)

-> coconut milk tea

ingredients: song au (where you send me a song and i write a fic based on it!)

-> taro milk tea

ingredients: fluff but with suggestive content

-> roasted milk tea (only small size!)

ingredients: fluffy social media au

-> milk tea smoothie (only small size!)

ingredients: angsty social media au

toppings

you may choose 0-3 (as long as it makes sense!)

-> regular tapioca pearls

ingredients: friends to lovers!au

-> pudding

ingredients: enemies to lovers!au

-> red bean

ingredients: strangers to lovers!au

-> lychee jelly

ingredients: soulmate!au

-> mango jelly

ingredients: boyfriend/girlfriend!au

-> coconut jelly

ingredients: coffee shop!au

-> grass jelly

ingredients: college!au

-> crystal tapioca pearls

ingredients: highschool!au

-> fresh taro

ingredients: idol!au

-> fresh mango

ingredients: royalty!au

-> banana tapioca pearls

ingredients: fake dating au

-> yogurt

ingredients: bulleted headcannon

-> fresh passionfruit

ingredients: reaction (tell me what the idol/group is reacting to!)

-> strawberry popping boba

ingredients: badboy!/badgirl!au

-> apple jelly

ingredients: swimmer!au

-> mochi

ingredients: indie/rock band!au

-> taro balls

ingredients: mafia!au

-> QQ

ingredients: exes to lovers!au

example + extra info on ordering

🧋 when you send in an order, try to do it like this:

could i get a small classic milk tea with regular tapioca pearls and apple jelly for Jaehyuk from treasure?

🧋 if you want to request anything that is off-menu, you can still go ahead and try to request~ the barista will do their best!

🧋 you can always request a part 2/continuation of any posted fic

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(i.e. i don't want injuries to be mentioned in this fic)

🧋 the barista is not willing to work on orders that include:

smut or anything nsfw (suggestive is allowed!)

birth/pregnancy/daughter/son/child-related content

physical appeance/foreign s/o stuff (such as idol reaction to British s/o)

marriage (only sometimes :/)

anything that is not gender neutral (fem!reader or male!reader not accepted)

polyamorous requests

#request guidelines #milkybonya request guidelines #menu #milkybonya menu #i hope this requesting layout will be fun and not difficult to use ><#if you're having a hard time #you can just request as you usually would!#request info 📝#important 💌 !

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incorrect-julie-and-the-phantoms · 4 years ago

Note

Jealous Luke+famous Julie (they’re both together now)

Hi there! Thank you so much for the prompt. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope that this is what you meant when you sent the ask. You can read the fic under the cut or you can click on the link here to read it on AO3. Enjoy!

Green Eyes and Fame

Pairings: Luke/Julie, Alex/Willie

Tags: Fluff, angst, jealousy, miscommunication

Five years since the band first made a splash, Julie and the Phantoms was one of the most popular bands in America. As the lead singer of the band Julie was the most well known and, thanks to her sweet disposition and how she went out of her way for her fans, everyone adored her. People just liked her, romantically as well as platonically. As her boyfriend of three years though, Luke kind of wished people would stop flirting with her in front of him.

Also known as the five times Luke was jealous because of people flirting with Julie, and one time he realized there was never a need to be.

1 - The Number 1 Fan

Luke was really glad in moments like these that the band wasn’t required to do meet and greets. He loved playing for people and he loved meeting people who were genuinely touched by his music, but after performing for two hours in the hot stage lights for the third time that week, he was pretty wiped out.

Management did require Julie to do these meet and greets once a week after a show though, what with being the lead singer and the name brand. Despite how she was just as physically drained as he was under the surface, and despite being at this for over two hours, Julie still greeted each fan with unending enthusiasm and her signature toothy smile.

He was meant to be there to keep her company, but found himself staring at her in fond amusement as she started admiring the little girl wearing Julie and the Phantoms keds. “My daddy got them for my birthday last week!” The girl beamed at her dad who was standing slightly to the side so his daughter could have her moment.

“They look super cool,” Julie said in an impressed tone, “and happy belated birthday.”

“Can you sign them?” The girl bounced up and down in excitement. “Please, please, please, please please-”

“Easy there,” Julie laughed, “I can't sign them with you jumping around like that.”

The little girl looked like she was gonna pass out from happiness as she hurried to pull off the sneakers. “Thank you Julie!”

A minute later, the little girl was sporting some autographed keds and a picture of her and her icon on her dad's phone. The man politely shook Julie’s hand before leading his daughter out of the room.

“I love you Julie!” The girl shouted behind her as she walked out.

“That girl was so adorable,” Julie gushed once she was gone.

“You think every little kid is adorable,” Luke reminded her.

“That’s because they are.”

Luke laughed good-naturedly at his girlfriend’s defensiveness over literally every child on the planet. She wasn’t wrong, kids were adorable. Especially when they were bouncing around in excitement over meeting their idol. Luke had helped her babysit her brother when they were in high school though, so he knew exactly how much of a pest they could be.

Luke pulled out his phone to scroll through Instagram as the next fan in the line up walked into the room. Luke only glanced at her briefly to see it was an older girl, probably around their age. He liked a picture of Alex, Flynn, and Reggie at an after-party and kept scrolling.

“Hey there,” Julie smiled at the girl as she approached, “what’s your name?” She held out her hand which the other girl took for a handshake.

“Lucille, but you can call me Lucy” the girl replied in a tone that sounded a little flirtatious. Luke raised an eyebrow and looked up, certain he had imagined it. He noted that the girl was holding the handshake just a little too long.

Julie just smiled back unaware, “nice to meet you Lucy. Did you enjoy the show?”

“I could watch you perform all day,” Lucy smiled back widely. Luke barely stopped his frown, definitely flirting.

As subtle as he could, which wasn’t very, Luke began to take her in fully for the first time. She was kind of pretty, tall with dark skin and almond eyes, hair pulled into a ponytail that showed off the buzzed underneath. Her nose was pierced and she was sporting a pair of cuffed jeans.

“I’ll take that to mean a yes,” Julie laughed warmly. “Well I’m glad you enjoyed it. And that you found the time to come for the meet and greet. You got a camera for the picture?”

Lucy pulled out a handheld camera and handed it to the photographer. “I was actually hoping we could do a pose?”

“Sure,” Julie smiled, “whatcha have in mind?”

“It involves your friend, if he doesn’t mind.” Lucy gestured over to Luke who startled in surprise at being addressed.

Julie looked over uncertainly. “I’m not sure-“

“I’m happy to join in,” Luke interrupted her. Anything to get between those flirty eyes and his very hot girlfriend.

Lucy smiled widely, “awesome! My idea was to have the hot guy look all jealous while I pretend to propose.”

Luke struggled to not glare at the girl. Choosing to keep an easy smile on his face and laugh. “Well I feel like anybody would be jealous of the person with Julie.”

He walked over to stand in front of the two while Lucy dropped to one knee. The jealous glare on his face was a little too easy for him to make as his girlfriend pretended to gasp in excitement. The camera flash finally went off and Julie hugged the girl goodbye. “It was nice to meet you,” she said brightly.

Lucy smiled back and handed her a piece of paper. “my number, in case you miss me.” At that she turned around strutted out of the room.

Once she was gone Julie turned to Luke, holding the paper between her thumb and pointer. “She was so sweet, it was nice of her to ask to hang out.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, “babe, you know she was flirting with you right?”

Julie’s eyes widened, obviously unaware of the fact. “Oh! I had no idea.”

Luke laughed. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice. Babe she proposed to you.”

“Shut up,” Julie blushed in embarrassment, “I can’t believe she didn’t recognize you as my boyfriend.”

“Trust me, she probably barely even noticed me there,” Luke kept the possessiveness out of his tone as he said it. Instead he batted his eyelashes and made a dramatic kissy face. “Oh, Julie,” he tried to mimic Lucy’s flirty tone, “I could watch you perform all day.”

Julie groaned and playfully shoved his shoulder. “I hate you so much.”

Once she turned to face the next person, Luke took the piece of paper with Lucy’s number on it to throw away. Feigning surprise when Julie told him she lost it with a confused look on her face.

2 - The Cute Barista

A couple weeks after the incident, the two were visiting their hometown for Julie’s father’s birthday. Before making their way to the house Julie dragged Luke to a hole in the wall cafe for breakfast.

“I don’t remember this being here in high school,” Luke mused.

“It’s new. I heard about it from an uh… Friend?” Julie’s smile was a little bit too innocent. Luke mentally prepared himself for whatever mischief she had planned, letting her lead him into the cafe. He was greeted with the intoxicating aroma of roasted coffee grounds and cinnamon pastries blended together and the din of people laughing, enjoying their drinks.

Luke went to the counter to place his order while Julie left to find a booth for them to sit in. He made a double-take as he recognized the barista.

“No way, Carrie?”

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him, mouth spreading into a wide smile. “No way.”

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I got the job for the summer while I’m not in school. If I had known they really let just anybody walk in here I wouldn’t have taken the job though,” Carrie teased him.

Luke laughed. “I remember Julie’s creative manager saying something similar when I signed on to be her guitarist.”

Carrie swatted his arm over the counter. “Shut up, we both know it wouldn’t be the Phantoms without you.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t nearly fistfight the manager when we first met. Anyways, how’s school?”

The other girl rolled her head to the side, a soft crack emitting as she cracked her neck. “Honestly? Amazing. I’m so glad I just decided to stick with the dancing side of performance, the whole singing and ‘dirty candy’ thing was kind of just cause I thought it was cool.”

“You’re cool though,” Luke insisted, “and I know that Julie is just waiting for you to graduate so she can snag you as a background dancer. She really misses you.” He paused for a moment. “Thinking about it now that’s probably why she dragged me here.”

Carrie blushed at the compliment and waved him off. “She knows that I want to make it on my own first, not ride on my friend’s coattails.” Still slightly pink, she gestured to nothing in particular, “what can I get for you in the meantime?”

Luke rattled off his order which she deftly took down. She then began to make his drinks and put his pastries in the oven simultaneously. Luke listened politely to her chatter about her different classes at CalArts as she worked, only interrupting to ask questions when she started talking in technical terms that he had no clue about.

If somebody had told Luke in high school that one day he would be having a conversation like this with Carrie of all people he would have said they were crazy. The girl had been a constant negative towards Julie up until their junior year, always trying to belittle her or one-up her with her own band.

One day though, Julie had decided she was through with being passively polite to Carrie as Flynn defended her. So, Julie made Luke drive her to Carrie's house in the middle of the night to verbally berate her to submission and hopefully get Carrie to back off.

The conversation had taken a different turn though.

It turned out Carrie was mad at Julie because Julie had completely shut her out when her mom died at the end of eighth grade and started ignoring her for Flynn. Then, when Julie started to be better and more like herself, she had ruined Carrie’s big premiere performance that she had spent months working on by showing her up with a last-minute song.

That hadn’t excused her being a bully, but after a lot of crying and apologizing on both ends, the girls were soon best friends again, this time with Flynn.

When Flynn and Carrie had first spoken to each other after the argument with Julie, they had gotten on like a house on fire. Reggie, Alex, and Luke had been equally surprised that they were able to get along at all after three years of fighting and horrified of what the two of them accomplished when they worked as a team to roast them.

It had been even more surprising when Reggie and Luke caught the two of them in a janitor’s closet at school, but that was a story for another time.

Despite constantly teasing him, she had turned out to be surprisingly cool without her ‘mean girl’ persona. She loudly called out people who were homophobic to Alex and verbally eviscerated people who made fun of Reggie. After she turned Dirty Candy from a pop group to a dancing group, she had let Alex join and would hang out with him until late teaching him. She also helped tutor Reggie in math when his ADHD had made it hard for him to focus, patiently explaining quadratics and Algebra.

In Luke’s eyes, anybody who was good to his friends was good to him. So, naturally, Carrie grew on him quickly.

As she finished making his drinks, Luke looked around the cafe for Julie. Despite how small it was, there was a surprising amount of people there, filling the atmosphere with laughter and idle chit chat. He kind of wish it had existed while they were in high school, it would have been a great place to hang out.

He finally found her sitting in a booth by the window, freezing once he noticed that she wasn’t alone. There was a guy there wearing a barista uniform, admittedly handsome, who was braced on the edge of the table in a way that was obviously meant to show off his arms. His pose was suggestive, leaning slightly towards Jullie.

As Julie laughed at something the man said, a familiar curl of jealousy wrapped around Luke’s gut. He glared down the man’s head, wondering if it was possible to kill somebody from this distance with his mind.

“Easy there,” Carrie interrupted his thoughts. Luke startled and turned back to face her, surprised to see she had finished making his order without him noticing. “What’s got you so angry?”

“Nothing,” Luke mumbled unconvincingly. Carrie looked over in the direction he had been staring in and smiled in a way that Luke meant trouble.

“Wow,” she said in feigned surprise, “I didn’t know that Jesús and Julie knew each other.”

“Jesús?” Luke asked. He knew he was being obvious but he had always been bad at subtlety.

Carrie’s smile was predatory, knowing she had caught him. Her face smoothed out innocently and waved her hand dismissively. “He’s nobody, just a new hire. His family recently immigrated from Spain so he’s still got the accent, has a habit of making nearly every girl here, and quite a few guys, swoon.”

Luke clenched his jaw and glared across the room at the man again. Turning back around, he paid for his food and slipped an extra hundred dollar bill into her tip jar. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice until they were gone.

Right before walking away though, he turned back to Carrie. “Hey I might need your help later, Ray is going to give me…” Luke trailed off, eyes flicking back to his girlfriend, “a family heirloom. He told me about a shop to get it altered but I don’t want to go alone.”

Carrie’s eyes widened in understanding. “Are you-?” Luke nodded, smiling bashfully. The girl beamed, “you bet your ass I want to go with you.”

“Thanks Carrie,” he smiled at his friend as he grabbed the drinks and pastries, “it was nice to see you.”

Carrie grinned widely. “You too man, pick me up tomorrow. I’ll come up with some excuse so Julie isn’t suspicious.” After she finished speaking she turned to the next customer in line to take their order.

Forcing the glare off his face into an easy grin, Luke made his way over to his girlfriend.

“Hey babe,” he said a little too loudly, startling the other man. Luke felt a curl of dark satisfaction as Jesús jumped a little in surprise. “I got one large black coffee with cinnamon for you, you sadistic weirdo, two lemon blueberry scones, and a salted caramel iced mocha, for me of course.”

Julie rolled her eyes as she took the coffee from the tray, “liking black coffee isn’t weird you know.”

“Plain black coffee is something that only people who hate themselves, are on a diet, or psychopaths enjoy.”

“It’s not plain,” Julie reminded him, “it has cinnamon.”

“The only reason I haven’t called a psych consult and you know it.”

Julie laughed and took a sip of the coffee, “you never know. I could be a psychopath.”

“Or a high functioning sociopath, if you do your research.” Luke grinned as Julie laughed at the reference. He loved watching her when she laughed, leaning back in a way that showed off the endearing gap in her two front teeth as her entire body shook with the force of her laughter. On rare occasions she would even snort, if the joke was funny enough.

Luke slid into the booth next to her and linked their fingers together while she laughed. Once she stopped laughing she gestured towards Jesús with the hand still holding the coffee.

“Luke this is Jesús. Jesús, this is my boyfriend Luke.”

Luke felt warm all over, being introduced as Julie’s boyfriend. Even after dating for three years it still made him happy. “Nice to meet you man.” He held out the hand not entwined with Julie’s for a handshake.

“Likewise,” the man responded. Luke felt a flash of surprise at the lack of accent.

“Jesús and his sister were adopted by...” Julie trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as she did some math in her head.

“Your mom’s second cousin,” Jesús finished her sentence. “moved down here from San Francisco. I’m starting at Caltech once the summer’s over.”

“That’s neat.” Luke tried to not be embarrassed over being jealous and thinking Julie was flirting with family. “Whatcha studying?”

“Double major in mechanical and electrical engineering,” he said proudly.

“Jesús was just telling me he wanted to be a robot engineer so he could build Norm from Phineas and Ferb,” Julie said as she took a sip of her coffee.

Jesús grinned. “You laugh, but that man shaped my childhood.” Carrie shouted for Jesús as a crowd of teenagers walked in, loudly messing around and joking. He grimaced, “looks like Carrie needs some backup. It was nice to meet you though Julie, and you Luke.”

“See you at the party later!” Julie called after him as he walked away.

“I didn’t know you had other family in LA,” Luke mused. He took a sip of the mocha, pleasantly surprised at how great of a job Carrie had done on it.

“Neither did I,” Julie confessed, “when my aunt heard I was in town she told me about him though and said to keep a lookout.”

“Is that why we came here?” Luke asked, snagging a bite of his scone.

“Nah, I just heard Carrie was here and wanted to see the horror on your face once you realized I brought you here for a dark roast and a Carrie roast.”

He choked on his scone. “That was a horrible pun, and a horrible thing to do.”

“Pun still made you laugh though,” Julie said with a smug smile.

Luke glared at her for a minute before turning back to his scone, sulking. “Just shut up and eat so we can go to your dad’s house.”

He tried his best to stay annoyed with her. When she leaned over and kissed his temple in apology though, his resolve shattered and he couldn’t help the pleased grin that spread across his face. Wow am I whipped, he thought to himself, but for the life of him he couldn’t find any problem with that fact.

3 - The ‘Nice Guy’

A month later, Luke had to miss a scheduled practice session with the band for the first time ever.

The only reason he was missing in the first place was because of Bobby. The man had finally gotten back to him about a favor he needed, saying he was happy to help. However apparently there was only one opening at his recording studio for the next six months, something about the starlet booked being sent back to rehab? Six months was too long for Luke to wait though, and he was already in NYC. So, he told Bobby he would be there.

He knew that, even without telling them his reason, the band would all be fine with him missing. But even with Julie insisting that it was completely fine, Luke still felt like a horrible person that they would have to cancel practice because of him.

The guilt gnawed on his chest until Reggie and Alex told him they were still going to practice as scheduled. Apparently, they had asked one of the backup guitarists to cover for him. Some guy named Billy?

“If you ask me,” Alex confessed to Luke while they were telling him, “I only asked him cause the dude really needs the practice. He’s literally paid to know all the songs in case you need time off and to play back up. But at the last concert, he was right next to me, and the dude couldn’t even keep up with ‘Bright,’ for longer than a couple seconds. The rest of the songs ”

Luke raised an eyebrow, “that song is like, four chords. If he can’t do it then why did management hire him?”

“Do we all have backups for our time off?” Reggie piped up.

“Yeah, mine is some named Owen, seems pretty nice. I’m surprised you guys didn’t know about yours. Jeremy is a pretty funny guy, way more level headed than you.”

“You sayin I’m not level headed?” Reggie said defensively.

“I met Jeremy,” Luke said in surprise. “I’ve seen him around everywhere but I didn’t know he was the backup bassist. Did you know he does voice acting?”

“My backup does voice acting?” Reggie flipped from defensive to excited in a moment.

“Anyways,” Alex got them back on topic, “Billy’s only your backup because his dad is the head of Covington Entertainment. Dude could ruin us if we don’t let his son have the job.”

“On that note, I will be sucking up to him,” Reggie said nervously, “quite a bit.”

After that Luke had felt a little bit better about skipping. He left for the studio a couple minutes later, after saying goodbye to Julie of course.

Bobby himself was the one who sat in the recording booth for Luke’s session. “You think I would let just any old person produce your music? You’re family, and family looks after each other.”

The whole thing didn’t last more than half an hour. It had been fun at first, messing with the different equipment and such that was usually off-limits. Without the band though, and he found it a little bit boring after a while. At the very least, this was a confirmation that a solo career was not for him. After Bobby called it a night he promised he would send over the demo once he was done editing it.

Luke thanked him a hundred times before running off to his car. Based on his watch, there was still an hour left to rehearsal. If he was careful and took the highway he could get there on time for a least a solid forty-five minutes of practice.

There was no music coming out of the studio as he arrived, probably meaning the band was taking a break. He was passing by the bathroom when there was the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Luke was going to keep walking until he heard something that caught his attention.

“-think I might actually have a chance with Julie, man.” Luke froze at the excited words, wondering if the person was talking about his Julie. He couldn’t hear whoever the man was talking to so he assumed it was a phone call. As quietly as he could, he inched closer to the bathroom door so he could eavesdrop.

“I’m not crazy,” the man said defensively, “the band personally asked me to cover for their guitarist while he’s off doing god knows what. We’ve been practicing together for a couple hours now and the guys love me.” A laugh. “Alex is exactly as much of a Mary Sue as all the magazines said and Reggie is the biggest dolt on the planet though so it really wasn’t too hard.”

Luke felt his teeth grind together. The Mary Sue thing was something that he knew bothered Alex. His friend was polite to everyone he didn’t know, even those who were rude to him, and tended to be a people pleaser. If the magazines ever had to deal with Alex when he was tired or stressed, they wouldn’t be so quick to call him a Mary Sue.

And Reggie wasn’t dumb. Anybody who bothered to get to know Reggie figured out pretty quickly that he only needed to be told things multiple times because his ADHD affected his short term memory and made it hard to focus when people were speaking to him. And despite what people thought, Reggie was a little shy. So, being around new people made him a little nervous which made his hyperactivity worse. So random outbursts, fidgeting, or rambling made him seem ‘spazzy’ and outgoing.

Luke was about to burst in and give this guy a piece of his mind. Yell at him about how Alex was actually a grumpy dumbass and Reggie was not a dolt, but stopped himself once the guy spoke again.

“I know that doesn’t mean Julie likes me. I’m not stupid. I know Julie likes me cause she keeps watching me while she sings and stuff. The chemistry is practically tangible dude. Trust me when I say that she wants a piece of Billy.”

Jealousy began to pool in Luke’s gut. Usually Julie sang to him, not whoever this wannabe was. Now that he thought about it, when was the last time Julie and him got so into a song that she kissed him at the end? When was the last time they went on a date? When was the last time they even kissed period?

She literally kissed you before you left for the recording studio idiot, his brain reminded him.

The voice was silent as the guy listened to whatever the person on the other end of the line said. He made an offended noise. “It’s not weird to talk in third person, it shows confidence. And why would I make up practicing with the Phantoms?” So this was the Billy Alex told him about, interesting.

There was another beat of silence, longer this time. “I’m not being delusional, you and I both know I would be amazing for her. I’m only here because her crappy boyfriend bailed on the band and I was man enough to step up and help. Once Julie stops being a stupid bitch and realizes I’m an actually nice guy- ”

Luke felt the jealousy and possessiveness burn into anger, slamming the bathroom door open before the guy could finish his sentence. As he took in the guy he noted that, other than being tall, he was kind of unimpressive. Especially when he looked like he was about to shit his pants at the sight of Luke.

“Hey Billy,” Luke said icily, “I’m the shitty boyfriend, nice to meet you.”

Billy blanched. “I can explain-”

“I heard enough,” Luke practically growled, cutting the guy off. “I can understand saying that Julie is amazing since it is super obvious to literally even the stupidest people. I can understand wanting to treat her right. Hell, I can even forgive you thinking that I’m the biggest piece of garbage ever.”

As Luke spoke he stalked closer to the man in front of him, watching as Billy stepped back nervously to avoid him. He kept walking forward, herding the man until his back was pressed against the wall. He stepped closer still, until he was practically in the man’s face. Despite being nearly a head taller, Billy still cowered like Luke was twice his size.

“Do you know one thing I will not tolerate though?” Luke asked as he plucked the phone from Billy’s hand and hung up on the man on the other end of the line.

“N-no?” The man squeaked.

“I will not tolerate anybody calling my girlfriend, or any girl for that matter, ‘a stupid bitch’ just because she doesn’t want to get with them. And I certainly won’t tolerate you making fun of my best friends.” Luke’s voice sounded dangerous to his own voice, despite being at a quiet, even tone. “You feel me, nice guy?”

“I’m sorry man, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re right,” Luke agreed, “you weren’t thinking, and I’m not even slightly finished with your dumb ass.” He stepped back just an inch, crossing his arms to prevent himself from throttling the guy in front of him. There was a nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Alex in the back of his head telling him that this was a bad idea.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything cause I’m not one to rain on your parade, but you really pissed me off. First of all, since you are apparently unaware, it’s literally your job to cover for me when I can’t be there. There was no ‘being man enough’ idiot when it’s in your job description.”

“It’s not my job to go to practice, the team asked me personally-” Billy protested.

“That brings me to the ‘second of all.’ The guys only ‘personally’ asked you to practice cause you can’t even play the most basic songs, and rather than letting you embarrass yourself, they were trying to be nice and help you. Cause unlike you, they are actually nice guys. And what you,” Luke jabbed his finger into his sternum, “did to thank them is turn around and talk bad about him to your friend the second they were gone.”

I didn’t mean any of it man. It just slipped out on accident.” Billy looked like he was about to cry, which was not a good look on him. The only reason Luke didn’t feel bad is that Billy looked like a petulant child who was only upset at being caught doing the bad thing and not remorseful because he did it in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, Luke stepped back from Billy before doing something stupid, like punching the son of the guy who owned Luke’s career. He stared up at the sky, tapping his chin as he pretended to think. “Say, I just had a great idea. Wanna hear it?”

Terrified, Billy nodded.

“Since I’m such a nice guy, I’m gonna do you a favor.” Luke practically growled at the man “Since your not thinking led to you ‘accidentally’ trying to degrade my girlfriend and talking smack about my friends, I’ll do your thinking for you for the rest of the night. Just so you don’t slip up again, understand?”

Billy opened his mouth to reply. However, even though he phrased it as a question, Luke didn’t actually care about his answer. So, he just kept talking before the man could speak.

“So, I’m thinking that, since you just feel so bad about all of this, that once we walk out of this bathroom we pretend we never had this conversation okay? But when we go back to the studio you are going to be unbelievably polite and nice to Reggie and Alex. Then you are going to work your hardest for the rest of practice until you have a basic grasp of every song. Then you are going to leave.”

“Can I at least talk to Julie?” Billy asked hopefully.

A wave of anger rose up in Luke. “You aren’t gonna speak to her unless she speaks to you.” Billy sagged in disappointment, nodding to show his agreement.

Satisfied, Luke backed up so that he was no longer cornering the taller boy to the wall. He felt Billy’s eyes on his back as he turned on his heel, marching out of the bathroom.

As he opened the door to the studio, Julie, Alex, and Reggie were sitting in the center laughing about something. The three of them looked up at the sound of the door, eyes widening in surprise.

“Didn’t expect to see you here man!” Alex smiled at him.

“Dude, do you know how weird it is to practice without you? I felt like I was in the twilight zone.” Reggie laughed at his own joke.

Julie walked over and placed a kiss on his cheek, rolling her eyes at Reggie’s joke. “Billy’s in the bathroom but he should be back any minute so you can meet him. He’s a nice guy, you’ll like him.”

Another irrational stab of jealousy pierced through Luke. “Great,” he answered her. His friends must have noticed the irritation in his tone because their smiles dimmed down.

“You okay?” Julie asked, a concerned frown on her face. He opened his mouth, ready to brush it off and pretend nothing had happened, as Billy walked into the room. He was all swagger now, a contrast to the boy Luke left in the bathroom who looked like he was going to pee himself.

“Hey guys,” Billy smiled. Luke didn’t miss the way his eyes passed over Julie and stayed just a moment too long.

Another stab of jealousy. “Just met this really rude guy today. You wouldn’t believe the things that came out of his mouth.” Billy froze, a flash of panic over his eyes that Luke only caught because he was looking for it. “It’s not that important though,” he continued, watching as Billy relaxed again. “I might tell you later if I don’t forget by then.”

“How about we get back to practice?” Billy suggested nervously. “Any chance you can help me learn Luke?” This time when he looked up at Luke he pointedly avoided eye contact with Julie.

Luke felt another pang of guilt in his stomach. He knew he was being an ass, but he really didn’t like this guy. Trying out a genuine smile for a peace offering, Luke went over to his guitar mounted on the wall. “Let’s play.”

4 - The Old Fling

The day after Luke accidentally put the fear of God into him, Billy quit the band to go work for his dad’s company. Luke felt kind of bad for him, but to be fair he was wholly unqualified. Even with Luke painstakingly showing him each cord he still couldn’t get it. The new guy they hired for his backup guitarist was named Charlie, who he liked infinitely better because he never flirted with Julie.

After Billy went home, Luke ended up telling everyone about the incident in the bathroom. Julie had gotten annoyed with him for defending her honor like she was some helpless maiden, but she seemed glad about him defending Alex and Reggie. The two guys had just shrugged and said he was really annoying anyway.

As an ‘apology’ to Julie for defending her honor without asking, Luke took Julie out to Coney Island for a date. He was pretty Julie just wanted an excuse to go there but Luke didn’t complain, any time spent with Julie was a good time.

The trip started out great. They went on the ferris wheel, visited some candy shop Julie had heard about, and rode the cyclone. It was hot there in late August and there were countless people on the beach. Julie closed her eyes and looked up every once in awhile, basking in the sun.

“You’re like a cat,” Luke teased her.

“Cats do nothing but eat, sleep, poop, and play all the time and are called cute even if they are little devils to their owners,” Julie replied without opening her eyes, “sounds like the kind of life most people would be jealous of.”

“Cats also lick their own buttholes,” he reminded her.

A shrug. “Well we can’t all be perfect.” Julie looked down from the sun and grabbed her water bottle from Luke’s backpack.

“Yeah, but I still think I’m gonna pass. I would have to stop eating taco bell, which is definitely a dealbreaker.” Great, now he wanted tacos.

Julie rolled her eyes at his bad joke, opening the bottle to take a sip. “Even still,” she said, “with all the team meetings, songwriting, and late-night concerts I’ve barely been able to enjoy the sun. I’m either sleeping or stuck inside.” Her shoulders slumped a little.

Luke pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, tucking her under his chin.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Julie said, voice muffled against his chest, “I love what I’m doing, and I love that I get to do it with you. I just wish that they didn’t make a meeting to decide if they wanted to make the ‘and’ in Julie and the Phantoms into that weird eight symbol.”

“Well obviously it was life or death,” Luke said in a grave tone, “can you imagine the outrage if we changed something that literally nobody would notice?”

Julie giggled, “I imagine it would be the same level of rage if we made the ‘J’ in merchandising a little larger.”

“Well that would just be unforgivable,” Luke said in mock horror.

His girlfriend laughed and hugged him back tighter. A familiar warmth spread throughout his core and his brain felt like it was saturated in happy hormones. He smiled and tucked his head in her neck. Luke let out a grumble of complaint once she finally pulled away, trying to pull her back into the hug.

“Luke, you’re cute and all but it's hot out.”

“Oh that? It’s just my burning desire for you.” Luke grinned as Julie groaned at his corny joke.

“I changed my mind,” Julie took a step back as she spoke. “I don’t think you’re cute and I actually hate you.” There was no malice in her tone though, and her exasperated smile was still fond.

“Nobody’s perfect,” Luke parroted back to her, inevitably bringing tacos to mind again. His stomach churned in anticipation.

Julie started laughing again, another one of those full-body laughs that showed off her toothy smile. “God you’re so…” Julie trailed off as she saw something behind him, eyes widening.

“I’m so what?” Luke pressed. He glanced behind him to try and see what caught her eye, heart dropping once he saw it. ‘It’ being Nick, Julie’s boyfriend from when they first started playing together and became friends. All distracting thoughts of tacos left his mind.

“Nick!” Julie called out, running towards the blonde man. He had grown up since Luke had seen him last, literally. Nick was definitely a couple inches taller than him, which Luke stubbornly refused to acknowledge bothered him. His baby face was gone and he had five o’clock shadow.

Nick caught Julie as she ran to him and twirled her in a hug. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were in town,” he said in a pleasantly surprised tone as he lowered her, hands still on her hips. He looked up as Luke made his way over, giving him a polite smile.

“Hey Nick,” Luke waved. His eyes flickered down towards Nick’s hands still on Julie’s waist, trying to stifle his possessiveness. Julie was her own person and it wasn’t her fault that he was still jealous of Nick.

The blonde didn’t seem to notice, amazingly observant as ever. Thankfully, he still moved his hands. “Man, it's weird to see you guys outside of a magazine tabloid or a video call. How long has it been? A year?”

“Three,” Julie corrected him, “either that or I managed to skip to junior year of college alarmingly fast.”

Nick’s eyes widened, “it’s already been three years since high school?” He looked like he was about to have an existential crisis.

“And yet Luke is still a child,” Julie joked.

“Hey,” Luke complained.

“We’re actually about to get some tacos if you want to join us.”

“We are?” He turned to Julie excitedly, immediately forgetting why he was offended.

“Yeah, I know you. The second you bring up tacos you’re basically impossible to distract.”

Except for the blonde idiot I had to watch you obsess over for two years. It then processed that she had invited said blonde idiot to join them for tacos. Jealousy and hunger conflicted in his mind. Great, now Nick ruined tacos.

The blonde chuckled in amusement. “I would love to but I'm here with my mom. She’s not gonna last another five minutes without asking me to take her back to my apartment, let alone going out to eat.” Julie pouted at that, and Luke couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed at the disappointment in Julie’s face or at Nick for disappointing her.

“Well you have to tell your mom I said hi,” Julie ordered him.

“Of course, my mom adores you,” Nick said sincerely. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw a familiar flash. Turning to look he saw a small group of paparazzi starting to form. Julie and Nick were completely unaware though.

“Jules,” Luke reached out to tap her arm for attention, to warn her.

It was too late though. Julie propped herself up on her toes to plant a friendly kiss on Nick’s cheek. Luke couldn’t help the spike of jealousy in the pit of his stomach as he saw her lean over, feeling the frown on his face before he could stop it.

The paparazzi went nuts, cameras flashing like strobe lights as they tried to catch a picture of the scene. Julie turned in surprise as they surged forward and started hounding her with questions.

“Are the rumors of your split with Luke true?”

“Is this man your new boyfriend.”

“What’s your opinion your gay drummer.”

“Is it true that you had an illegitimate love child when you were sixteen.”

Julie’s eyes widened, frozen at the onslaught. Luke reached out his hand and yanked her free of the crowd. The paparazzi had drawn a lot of attention, causing a crowd to gather to see what they were going nuts over.

“It’s Julie Molina!” Somebody shouted from the crowd. A bunch of people started murmuring in agreement, pulling out their phones. Luke cursed, their cover was blown. So much for a day without work.

Luke began to lead Julie away from the crowd at a hurried pace, making sure to wave and smile as he walked by them. Julie had recovered from her initial shock and joined him in their smile and wave.

Finally they made it to their car, breathless from exertion. The car was quiet, save for the sound of their labored breathing, until Julie broke the silence with a burst of laughter. Luke looked over at her in bewilderment, certain she had cracked from stress. She looked over at him and whatever she saw only made her double over harder, snorting between laughs.

“Are you okay?” He asked in concern.

“I’m, I-I’m just.” Julie struggled to catch her breath so she could form her sentence. “I’m just imagining the tabloid covers tomorrow. Poor Nick’s mom is going to think we’re a thing again.” Luke’s eyes widened in horror at her realization. Julie just started laughing again, “oh my god PR is going to kill us.”

“We’re so screwed.” Luke agreed.

The next day, the headlines showed Julie kissing Nick’s cheek while Luke stood to the side with a pained grimace.

“Sweetheart or Heartbreaker? : Popstar Julie Molina flaunts new relationship in front of ex-beau Patterson. Does this mean the end of Julie and the Phantoms?” Read all about it on page 3.”

5 - The daredevil

“I couldn’t have planned it better if I tried,” the PR representative declared as she beamed at the photo like Christmas had come early. “There’s nothing like a scandal to catch media attention, and ultimately what people think you did was unproblematic enough that people have no reason to ‘cancel’ you.” She looked up at the two of them pensively, “did I use that word right? My middle-schooler taught me it the other day.”

“You used it fine?” Julie glanced at Luke in confusion which he returned with a shrug to convey he was equally lost. He wasn’t sure what to say here. They had been prepared for a lecture, to get chewed out. Not whatever this was.

“So just checking, you aren’t mad about us accidentally causing drama?” Julie sounded skeptical.

The woman scoffed "Are you kidding me? Management is over the moon with your band’s popularity ranking. Sales for their latest album went up by 15% in middle aged women and 3% in college students. You’re even on the Billboard top 100 music charts now.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh honey no of course not. Frankly it's a miracle you made it as long as you had without appearing on the front page of some crappy gossip magazine. This scandal was so mild that it probably helped you. Honestly you just show up a couple times acting like a happy couple and the bad part will be gone, leaving you with all the juicy benefits.”

“Wha…” Julie gaped at the woman like a fish, expression bewildered. If Luke looked hard enough he swore he could see the error message as her brain tried to process being freaked out for nothing. Luke reached out and linked their fingers together, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“We aren’t in trouble Julie,” he translated for her.

“We aren’t in trouble?” Julie repeated skeptically.

“Look,” the woman leaned forward. “Your brand is defined by keeping your nose clean, not getting involved in anything controversial, being politically correct, and staying appropriate for all ages. All you did was make yourself a little messy, bored housewives and angsty teenagers like messy. And a little messy can also lead to good more messy.”

“Oh,” Julie nodded in understanding. She leaned over to Luke and whispered in his ear, “can you translate?”

“You were a perfect person, now you’re human, and something messy?”

“That’s so stupid,” she hissed, “I’m not perfect at all.”

“I didn’t say I agreed with her,” he retorted.

“Oh, so you don’t think I’m perfect?”

Luke felt the blood drain from his face. “Hold up-”

“And don’t even get me STARTED on Luke,” the woman interrupted him, “nothing is hotter than a heartbroken man.”

“Julie is,” Luke said defensively. Julie blushed and kicked his shin under the table. She still had a pleased smile on his face though, so he figured he was forgiven for earlier.

“Well not everybody is you,” the PR rep reminded him. “People want more of you now, and I have to say this is the perfect opportunity for you to start your solo career. Bobby sent over your rough demo to the big boss and is ready to make a team for you, just say the word.”

“I don’t want to release it now though,” Luke argued, ignoring the quizzical look Julie sent his way. With the argument with Billy, seeing Nick, and freaking out about them getting in trouble Luke had been too distracted to talk to her about it. The three days since recording the demo felt like an eternity ago now.

“Well obviously not now, the demo song isn’t fully edited yet.” The woman rolled her eyes like ‘duh.’ “We want you to announce it on the red carpet when you go to the premiere of The Other Side of Hollywood next week.”

Luke sat in quiet, thinking about what the woman was offering. “Can I have some time? This is kind of a big decision.”

The woman waved him off, “yes fine. We don’t have to announce it at the premiere, but we need your decision by the end of the month.” The end of the month was less than three weeks away, not too much time. The woman turned to her computer and waved them off, “just act like a couple and the scandal blows away. See you at the end of the month.”

As soon as he left the room, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “That was the opposite of what I expected.”

Julie laughed. “I think all it proved is that we are too goody two shoes to keep up with drama.”

“Maybe we should turn to a life of crime,” Luke suggested, “nothing too bad, just interesting.”

“What, like jaywalking?”

Luke staggered back in exaggerated horror. “I said nothing bad, you monster. I thought it was just a theory that only psychopaths drink black coffee but you just proved it right.”

“My bad,” Julie apologized, “how about cold-blooded murder?”

“Now we’re talking.” Luke smiled at Julie’s exasperated smile, leaning closer to link their hands together. “I got an idea on where you can start actually.”

“Jaywalking?”

“No, murder. You can kill me so I don’t have to go to the premiere of The Other Side of Hollywood.” It had been exciting to write a song for a big budget movie soundtrack, and he was excited to see the film. It was just the whole formal event thing that he wasn’t a huge fan of.

Julie rolled her eyes at her dramatic boyfriend. “It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

“Wrong, I’ve been told if I want to go I gotta wear a tuxedo. Nobody should be cursed by the sight of me in a tuxedo.”

Instead of replying Julie stopped them in the hallway, turning him to face her and taking a step back. Her eyes trailed slowly up and down his body, her gaze hesitating on his neck, wrists, and lips. Luke felt himself start to flush at her shamelessly checking him out, nervously reaching up to scratch his forearm.

Finally, Julie nodded. “Thought so.” She turned heel and walked away.

“What?” Luke called after her.

Julie turned her head over her shoulder, eyes sparkling mischievously. “That it’s a damn shame you won’t see me in my dress.”

A week later, Luke was wearing the tux.

Unfairly though, Luke turned into a flustered mess once he saw Julie in her movie premiere dress. He struggled to pick his jaw up off the floor as he watched her blue-clothed figure make its way down the stairs. To be fair though, what did one expect him to do when an absolute goddess greeted him casually before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“We get it,” Reggie sighed, “you two are in love and hot and all single people everywhere hate you. Can you just get in the damn car now, I was promised champagne and pigs in a blanket.”

Luke flushed at being called out by Reggie. He reached out his hand to lock fingers with Julie, helping her get the long dress into the limo. He kept that hand the whole ride, tracing the veins while he pretended he wasn��t staring at her. She could have told him to jump off a bridge that moment and he would have done it.

He wasn’t able to stick with her once they got to the red carpet though. After taking a band group picture she was pulled to the side for solo pictures, flashing an apologetic look their way. Luke knew she felt bad for being more famous than the rest of them but the guys honestly didn’t like the attention fame brought them. The three of them were more than happy to let somebody else be their face and stick to the background. Luke knew Julie couldn’t stand it either, but it was kind of hard to hide while being the lead singer.

He gestured to let her know that they would be inside waiting for her and she blew him a quick kiss goodbye. Luke felt the dopey grin on his face as Alex and Reggie dragged him inside to the party.

“Can we stay here instead of watching the movie,” Reggie mused. Luke couldn’t help but agree with him. There were tables overflowing with food and a champagne fountain in the corner. There were also three separate bartending stations spread throughout the room that Luke was pretty sure were all open bar. Besides, the movie sounded kind of dumb anyway. It was just a drama musical about ghosts haunting the Ritz.

“Guys, we literally helped make the movie,” Alex reminded him. “The man who owns the company who manages us produced this movie.”

“Okay,” Luke agreed slowly, “ counterpoint, Caleb Covington is an ass and we should eat all of his food in silent protest.”

Alex shrugged, “I’m convinced.”

Skipping the movie meant that Luke lost Julie for the duration of the film. He sent a quick text to let her know the others were skipping and she replied that she was going to watch it still. It ended up being nice to goof off with his friends for a while, having hot dog eating contests with overpriced pigs in a blanket just hit different for some reason.

He finally found her again later chatting with a guy Luke didn’t know. The man was wearing a black suit over a low cut flower print button up. His brown hair was tied in a knot at the base of his neck and there was a scar expanding down the side of his face. Luke made his way over to say hi with Alex trailing after him. He started catching their conversation the closer he got.

“It’s not that I’m against dating or hookups, it's just that people my type are usually not interested.” The man shrugged in an ‘oh well’ gesture and took a sip of his champagne.

Julie leaned in close to him. “Well I know somebody exactly your type who would be interested,” she whispered loudly. Luke frowned at the suggestive tone as she went to take another sip of her champagne. He was almost to them now with Alex not far behind.

“Oh yeah,” the man smirked, leaning in closer to her, “and who might that be?”

Oh HELL no, Luke’s inner voice growled. He pulled up next to them and coughed, startling the two out of their exchange. The man took a step back from Julie who just stared at him without moving.

“Luke!” Julie said in an excited tone, a wide smile spread across her face. “I missed you so much. Never leave me alone at a premiere ever again.”

Luke wrapped a possessive arm around his waist, staring at the man in front of him to make sure he was getting the message to stop flirting with his girlfriend. He planted a kiss on her forehead, “I promise.” Julie grinned up at him, her eyes just a little too bright. Looking down at her empty champagne glass he wondered just how many she had already had.

“You look too serious, Willie isn’t serious. Willie is the stunt double for the main character. Willie is a badass. Willie, Willie, Willie.” Julie laughed at some internal joke that he wasn’t privy to. Leaning towards his ear she whispered “Willie’s been keeping me company for you, slacker,” just as loudly as her earlier whisper.

Luke felt a flare of jealousy that his drunk girlfriend was waxing poetic about some guy he had never met while he was right next to her. The flare only fueled at Julie’s loudly whispered confession. He turned a dark stare towards the other man.

“You call it badass, I call it a paycheck,” Willie’s mouth formed a small fond smile at Julie, completely unaffected by Luke’s glare.

“Bad. Ass.” Julie insisted, reaching forward to poke Willie’s chest to enunciate each word.

Willie looked up at Luke in amusement. “Is she always this stubborn?”

“Worse actually,” Alex spoke up. He slid up next to Luke holding his own glass of champagne. The glass looked completely full, and Luke would have bet money that it was purely for show. “She’s easy to distract when she’s drunk so you can just change the subject to start arguing.”

Laughing, Willie turned to face Alex. He opened his mouth to say something but paused halfway through, mouth snapping shut. As the two made eye contact Luke could swear the room got a little quieter. Alex’s smile faded into a small ‘oh’ of amazement as he stared at the other boy while the small smile on Willie’s face stretched out into a crooked grin, eyes crinkling.

“Uh, hey.” Willie broke the silence.

“Hey there,” Alex replied awkwardly.

Luke jumped as Julie poked his side excitedly. “Luke and I gotta got. Alex.”Julie gripped the boy in question’s arm and leaned toward him “You need to take care of Willie, cause he hung out with me all night. I’m drunk so I think I’m not good to take care of him. I couldn’t even take care of a baby.” Julie’s laughter at her own joke quickly transformed into a haunted stare, “my god could kill a baby.”

“Yeah, she’s done.” Luke pulled Julie back to his side. “Thank you for keeping her company,” Luke said to Willie, the words felt like poison in his mouth.

“It was nothing, Julie’s cool.” Willie glanced over for just a moment before turning his gaze back to an oblivious Alex.

“Wait, we can’t leave until Alex promises me,” Julie protested as Luke tried to lead her away.

“I promise I’ll take care of your friend,” Alex’s tone was serious but his lips turned up in a very amused smile.

“I hope you take very good care of me,” Willie mused, casually raising his champagne glass to his lips. Alex turned red as a fire truck and started stammering at the bold flirtations.

And on that note. Luke grabbed Julie and began to lead her away from the pair, his good mood back. He was already looking forward to teasing Alex mercilessly tomorrow. Not to mention the green-eyed monster had calmed down a little now that he knew Willie was gay.

“Alex is so cute and Willie is so cute and they are both so nice,” Julie rambled. Luke smiled down at her in amusement, she always was a happy drunk.

“How did you know Willie was gay though?” He asked, leading her down the hall to the cars. He pulled out his phone to order one of those discreet taxis that usually brought the other drunk celebrities home.

“What?” Julie asked in confusion, “Willie isn’t gay he’s bi. Bi bi birdie.” She giggled. “Willie is so cute.”

The green-eyed monster raised his head again to wink.

+1 The Mother?

Luke was absentmindedly plucking the chords to Flying Solo on his acoustic. He had a flight that morning to Los Angeles, but his anxiety over what tomorrow had in store was making it hard for him to sleep. His plans to relax and spend the day with Julie had only made his nerves worse because she was pissed off at him for seemingly no reason.

So here he was at 2 am, less than three hours until he needed to be leaving trying to figure out what exactly he had done to piss her off.

It wasn’t that he kept the demo to himself, as far as he knew, because they had talked about it already and she said she understood not wanting to say anything until it was official. Luke even gave her permission to listen to it before it was ready. It wasn’t for losing her at the party because he would have gotten an earful the day after. It certainly wasn’t because he had left the toilet seat up in their apartment, he had learned a while ago not to do that.

The only thing he wasn’t sure about was the whole ‘solo career’ thing.

Luke had planned his trip so that he got back to New York the day of the deadline, which absolutely boggled his mind that he only had six days before making such a big decision. He and the rest of the band had discussed it at length, it was the kind of thing that concerned them after all. The other guys had been excited for him and Julie had been as encouraging as ever, talking about all the recognition and fans he would have.

When he thought about going solo though, he thought about how boring it was recording alone in the studio. How great it felt to be a part of the team, to succeed with his favorite people in the world. How much he hated being the center of attention. After talking to them it hit him just how much the idea of doing the music performing thing without them sucked. Luke was never in it for fame anyways, he just wanted to connect with people through music.

Luke told Julie as much in private, that he was pretty sure he wanted to stay with the band but wanted to wait to tell the others. Then he confessed that this trip would decide if he even wanted to release the single at all, since the song was so personal. Julie had patted his hand and given him one of her sad smiles. Since then, the crabby mood.

Hence, the solo career being the number one culprit. There was a thought nagging at the back of his head though, insisting that he give it the time of day. What if Julie wants you out of the band because she’s getting tired of you?

It wasn’t the craziest thing to think about. Julie was meeting amazing people who did amazing things all the time, and Luke knew they all were well aware of how much of a catch she was. People like Willie, her highschool sweetheart Nick, even prince Nikolai of Denmark.What if Julie had realized she was tired of foster kid Luke and his issues and realized she could have a literal royalty.

What if the only reason she hadn’t broken up with him already was that she was too nice? If that was the case, him refusing to go solo would have made her realize it would be basically impossible to escape being around him. Luke felt his stomach churn with anxiety over going home and jealousy.

In Luke’s opinion, it would really suck if his girlfriend dumped him. Especially since part of his reason to go home being that he needed to pick up her mom's engagement ring from the jewelers.

Or maybe she was just stressed because of her Rolling Stone celebrity profile photo shoot tomorrow, and Luke was making up her being mad at him in his head. Luke really hoped that was the case.

As the time neared 3 am, Luke finally accepted that he wasn’t going to calm himself down enough for even just a quick nap. Sighing in resignation, he began fingerpicking notes in random order until something started sounding good. He eventually realized he was humming to himself as he played, no words just a melody.

Lyrics he had written a couple weeks ago drifted in his mind. He had thrown out because they were a little too cheesy and knew the guys would have teased him if they ever read them. They hadn’t even managed to be half a song, so he wasn’t too beat up about ditching it. But now, he was alone and writing songs had always been a good backup to just practicing.

“Step into my world, bittersweet love story 'bout a girl shook me to the core. Voice like an angel I've never heard before. You set me free, me loving you is more than chemistry. I'll hold your music here inside me while my heart is in your hands. Melody and words are all I am, and when I’m with you there’s perfect harmony.”

Luke trailed off and sighed. All the song made him do is think about Julie, which made him sad again. Besides, the song didn’t feel right. He turned to put his guitar on a stand, pausing as he saw the figure leaning against the doorway.

“Julie?” Luke was confused. “What are you doing here?” The studio was a ten minute drive from their apartment, and last he checked she was asleep when he left. His girlfriend was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a band tee and her hair was pulled on to the top of her head in a messy bun. She looked like she had literally rolled out of bed.

“Why are you hiding in the practice studio at 3 am?” Julie raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Luke sighed and looked down at his guitar. “I just needed to think, to clear my head.”

“Why? So you can decide whether or not you’re going to dump me for some girl in LA tomorrow?”

Luke felt his eyebrows rise so high on his face, he was pretty certain they were at his hairline, from his surprise at Julie’s accusation. What the hell was she talking about? Asking if he was going to ‘dump her for some girl’ like he was even capable of noticing somebody other than her. “What are you-”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Julie said in mock remorse, “I forgot I was supposed to play stupid about you pining over some girl named Emily. Silly me, I just got a little upset when you implied the whole point of your super-secret personal trip was to go see your long lost love. You know I have a little difficulty being properly supportive when I’m upset.”

Luke stared at his girlfriend in bewilderment as she glared back at him. Her words were processing slowly in his head, not quite understanding how she got the idea that he was in love with mom. Then it hit, his eyes widened in understanding.

“Oh! You listened to the demo.”

“Yeah,” Julie said icily, “I listened to your love ballad apology.” She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Luke realized in a start that she looked like she was about to cry. She looked back down at him, face melted from angry to devastated. “You know everything about my exes, you were with me through Nick breaking my heart. Why didn’t I even know about this ‘Emily’ girl? Did you not trust me?” Julie choked and a tear slid down her cheek. “Or did you know that the second I found out about her I would realize you were still in love with her?”

“Julie.” Luke felt his heart drop at the sight of her crying. His movements were so instinctive he didn’t even realize he was going to hug her until he was already doing it. Her body shook as she cried but she didn’t try and push him away. “Julie,” he said gently, “before you get more upset, I need you to remember what my mom’s name is.”

“E-Emily. But why?” Julie froze as she realized, pulling herself away from the hug. She looked up at Luke, tears still on her cheeks. “Unsaid Emily is for your mom.”

��Yes.”

“You aren’t dramatically telling a girl you are still in love with her.”

“Nope.”

“You just wrote a heartfelt emotional song apologizing to your mom.”

“Yes.”

“This trip is for you to go see your parents and try to apologize to them, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.” Julie stared up at him blankly. Luke watched her, waiting for her to say something else. Finally, the girl reached out to smack his arm not ungently.

“You jerk!” She yelled at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were trying to do that. I would have tried to help you!”

“I know,” Luke sighed, “to be honest, I didn’t want you to come in case I backed out last minute or they rejected me. Cause if you were there, it would be real. And you got that big Rolling Stone article tomorrow, I didn’t want you to cancel.”

Julie’s face dropped into something more sympathetic, reaching out to hold his hand. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for accusing you of leaving me for your mom”

Luke let out a short laugh, lacing his fingers with hers. “I can’t believe you thought I would leave you at all though.”

“To be honest if it wasn’t this I probably would have thought it at some point anyway,” Julie confessed with a shrug. “I’ve kind of thought you were getting bored of me honestly.

His eyes widened in surprise. “What could I have possibly done to give you that impression?”

“You want a list?” Julie raised an eyebrow. “I saw the way you kept staring at that fan Lucy. Then you and Carrie were all chummy and went out together the day after my dad’s party without me. And while I was trying to set Willie up with Alex you got all mad at me and possessive over him.” Julie’s shoulders slumped, “I didn’t say anything cause it technically wasn’t cheating I didn’t want you to get annoyed and leave me.”

Luke stared at her sad face in bewilderment before bursting out in laughter. Julie glared at his amusement, “I really don’t know what you found that so funny.”

“Babe,” Luke grinned, “I was staring at Lucy because I was jealous of her flirting with you. At the premiere I wasn’t possessive of Alex, he may have been my ex but he isn’t my very sexy, smart, funny, and talented girlfriend. I was getting jealous because you kept rambling about how awesome Willie was and calling him your night and shining armor.”

“Oh,” Julie’s glare shifted into surprise.

“You’ve been so worried about me getting bored and I was worried about the same thing,” Luke confessed, “I am so completely in love with you and I’m not sure what I would do if you didn’t do the same.”

Julie smiled, stepping into Luke’s space, reaching up to intertwine her hands behind his neck. “I kind of love you too Luke Patterson.” Luke beamed, moving his head down to capture her lips in a kiss, wrapping his hands around her waist.

Julie shivered under his hands, better than any kind of high Luke ever experienced. He smiled at Julie’s little gasp of surprise as he pulled her closer, arching her back to pull him into a deeper kiss. Luke slanted his head in a different angle, humming in contentment.

Julie was the one to break the kiss, still locked against Luke in his arms. “I should make you jealous more often," she gasped against Luke’s cheek, as he kissed the corner of her mouth.

He froze, “don’t you dare.”

She laughed. “Well maybe you should convince me not you,” she teased flirtatiously.

“Well maybe you should marry me,” Luke blurted out.

Mid laugh, Julie’s face froze in surprise. Luke felt his heart start to beat like crazy, instantly regretting his words.

He hadn’t meant to say it like this. His plan was to bring her to her studio at her dad’s place. To tell her how he had realized he loved her the first time she hugged him after they performed, how he realized she was the woman he was going to marry after they wrote Edge of Great at 1 am their senior year. How he wasn’t able to stop smiling for a week when she told him she liked him at graduation. How the past three years have been the happiest of his life.

It was not meant to be blurted out after the two of them just had an argument over whether or not Luke was sleeping with his mom. He didn’t have his ring, wasn’t down on one knee, and definitely looked like crap from not sleeping. Julie deserved better than that. She wasn’t going to say-

“Yes,” Julie blurted out, cutting through his train of thought.

His brain circuited. “What?”

“Yes I’ll marry you, you big idiot.”

Luke beamed, heart soaring with joy. She said yes! He cupped her cheeks and started peppering her face with kisses. He was so happy that he was sure he could fly. Finally, he settled on her lips for a slow sweet kiss.

Once again Julie was the one to separate them, leaning back. “I am so canceling my Rolling Stones shoot.”

Three days later, Luke knocked on the door to a brick house in the suburbs of LA. He started fidgeting nervously, unaware of his fiddling fingers until Julie’s warm and slid into his own. He looked down at their joined hands with a smile, Julie’s mom’s engagement ring catching the light. He could do this, he could do anything as long as she was by his side.

The door swung open to reveal a tired grey-haired woman. Her eyes widened as she saw Luke.

“Hi mom. I’m home.”

#julie molina #luke patterson #alex #Reggie #juke #julie and the phantoms #carrie is just misunderstood I swear #fanfiction #Willex #flynn

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voidofall · 3 years ago

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Tell me more about your 2 Tal Shiar OC: their family, how many friends they have, how they meet, their families get along well?

Strap in for a long one you have unlocked a lore dump and enjoy the peppering of piccrews i have of them both under the cut.

So to start off we have Sindari ir'Rateg s'Hei (my precious daughter)

Family wise, we are looking at lower-middle class where it is just her father, Taev, and Dhael, younger sister. Sindari and Dhael used to be pretty close up until Sindari began her mandatory military time and went down the Tal'Shiar path. Her father was military and pretty much couldn't care less if she is Tal'Shiar XD.

Sindari grew up fairly normally, running amok with the other feral Romulan childern.

Enter Ralaa i'Ki Baratan tr'Hei. (My dumb Himbo and Sindari's idiot mate)

Family wise we are upper class, Ralaa is the oldest of three boys, father and mother are senators. Ralaa unfortunately was the epitome of child that probably bites ankles just to kill time. Besides going grey early in life, he also got into far too many fights far too often and was basically yeeted to a life far away from embarrassing mom and dad.

He also had a fair amount of friends. AKA people that didn't want to get punched and/or were talking him into punching people.

Now I need to establish that when Ralaa and Sindari are together it is the same energy as the popular girl and her football jock boyfriend stealing your lunch money because they think it is funny. We are working with a single braincell only focused on causing as much chaos as possible and pulling off snarky remarks.

Now the quick version of how did Sindari and Ralaa meet. Sindari was granted leave for the military to go get her space medical degree and four years into that she meets Ralaa (who is already in the Tal'Shiar for reasons that will never be made clear). After a bit of convincing, aka a few Romulan fight clubs later, these two idiots are in love and Sindari is recruited into the Tal'Shiar.

Cut to a few years later, and much to Ralaa families abject horror, in waltzes in their eldest now married to a bird obsessed snow peasant that openly shit-talks the Empire with their son. You can imagine how well that went.

Sindari's family on the other hand didn't know she had run off to join the Tal'Shiar and get married. So in busts in them both looking like shit and trying to lay low. Dhael instantly hates Ralaa assuming he tricked Sindari into joining the Tal'Shiar (that story is also long and a bit more nuanced) . Taev thinks Ralaa is an entertaining idiot and happy that Sindari found someone just as feral as her.

And thus begins the long tension when you have family dinners and the sisters are too busy screaming at each other and you only want to eat your roast Hlai'hwy.

#ask me #my ocs #Sindari #Ralaa #Romulans #Romulan ocs #Star Trek ocs #tal shiar #thank you so much for letting me rant #this is a long one #I love these two so much #they are bullies to everyone and good for them #Taev #Dhael #Romulan anon

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script-nef · 4 years ago

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Fluff alphabets | Oikawa Tooru

Others: Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima

Category: fluff

Affection: How affectionate is he? How does he show affection?

Oikawa is comparable to an overgrown puppy when it comes to you.

He leaves messages and notes on how much he loves and appreciates you every day.

He wakes up early every day for his morning run, leaving you to sleep away in the bed. By the time he comes back, you’ve gone off to work.

So before he goes out, he packs a lunch with a little post-it which says things like “I hope everything works out great today” or “Don’t forget I love you!” which brightens up your day.

Baby: Does he want to start a family?

He’d want to wait a bit even if he did. Oikawa is realistic about his work and yours, the amount of time and effort needed to raise a child along with the financial implications.

He would want to be there for his kids, but is also unwilling to leave his career. So he would try to find a middle ground with you and try to juggle a half-half home and work life because he believes both parents need to share responsibilities equally.

Cuddles: Does he like cuddling? How often does he like hugging?

Every time he sees you, his automatic and reflexive action is a hug.

You could be covered in mud, wearing a truckload of fragrance (a specific one he doesn’t like), sleeping on the sofa, cooking dinner; his body just moves before he realises it.

It makes him feel safe and loved, even if he’s the one caging you in his arms.

Date: What is a typical date?

Because he’s so popular and everyone can notice him when you guys go out, he prefers indoor dates or isolated camping. Just so that you can be together with no one to bother and ask for autographs.

Either just doing simple things like finishing puzzles or making new recipes, anything he can do with you is fine.

During camps, he loves making campfires and roasting marshmallows. You told him about s’mores and now that has become a necessity for him.

Experience: How much has he dated before? How does that reflect in this one?

He’s gone out with plenty of people before, but only because they were part of his fan group and confessed first. He’s the one who confessed out of the two of you, and he was blushing so much while asking you out.

Still, he picked up a few tricks and experiences to help with his boyfriend skills for you. He never forgets anniversaries, always asks for your opinion first, remains attentive and spends a lot of time with you.

A girl once broke up with him because he was spending too much time with volleyball, but he vows to never let that happen with you.

Fight: Do you fight often with him? How does it usually end?

The problem is that he’s hot-headed sometimes and does not understand the meaning of limits. Arguments happen often but they end relatively well, when you both calm down and talk about your problems.

You both know that fights are necessary to help the relationship grow and understand each other but it doesn’t make it any easier. Feelings get hurt and you spend time apart, but in the end, it gets mended over late-night talks.

Gentle: How does he treat you?

Like you’re the ruler of the world and he’s just a humble servant. He’s literally willing to do anything (except illegal deeds) for you. This boy is whipped.

If you ask for anything, he’ll find a way to get it for you. Unless it takes an exorbitant amount of money. He constantly buys you clothes, cakes, games, everything.

He makes sure you know you’re loved by him and will take every chance he gets to show it to you.

Hand: Does he like holding your hand? How often?

Hand-holding is like a greeting for him. Just like with hugs, this boy cannot get enough physical contact when it comes to you.

His finger laces with yours firmly as if to say “I’m here right now” and he hopes it fills you with assurance and love as it does for him.

Impression: What was your first impression of him?

A popular ikemen with a never-ending smile who gets hit a lot by this other dude.

Oikawa is famous in Seijou and everywhere else, so it wasn’t hard to get an initial impression from all of his fans’ squealing and gushing. Apparently, he’s this perfect prince who’s as pretty as hell and an amazing volleyball player.

His first impression of you was a kind and different seatmate. You had the (mis)fortune of getting placed next to him which garnered a lot of envy from his fans. He liked you since you weren’t squealing and obsessing over him like the others.

Jealousy: Does he get jealous easily? What sets him off?

Gets jealous really easily but tries to play it off. Like “Ah, [Name]-chan, are you confessing your love for other people when your one and only boyfriend is right here? I feel so neglected!” or other whiny comments.

Subtly latches onto you during and after matches, smiling threateningly at the other boys.

“Tooru, knock it off. You have no reason to be jealous. I don’t like them.”

“I know, but they like you. I can see it in their eyes.”

“Really? How?”

“They’re looking at you like I used to when I started falling for you.”

Kiss: Is he good at kissing? When does he kiss you?

Thousands of pecks or light kisses every day and hundreds of deep ones in private. Oikawa kisses you so damn much that it feels like he has a disease which will kill him if he doesn’t kiss you at least once every hour or so.

His favourites are forehead kisses and neck bites. He nibbles on your skin which makes you shriek and hit him repeatedly, but he absolutely loves it.

Love: Who said “I love you” first? And when does he say it?

He said it first while trying to cheer you up. He’s noticed how you were feeling a bit down lately and tentatively asked if anything was wrong.

Then you mumbled about all his fans and if you were enough for him, which just completely shattered his heart. So he rattled off all the things he admired and cherished about you, like how you’re always so dedicated or caring.

He pressed kisses to your hand and whispered “You know I love you, right?” and squeezed you half to death when you said “Me too.”

Memory: What’s his favourite memory with you?

The moment you cried during an argument. This gets a lot of weird looks from people, which once included you, and they ask “Are you, by any chance, a sadist?” or something along those lines. But he isn’t.

Oikawa loves that moment because it proves to him you’re willing to be truthful and vulnerable to him, something he struggled to do in front of you. It showed him you care about this relationship and that you’re invested in it.

There’s plenty of other memories with you he treasures, but this one always warms his heart. (He doesn’t like seeing you cry though.)

Nickname: Does he give you a nickname? Do you have one for him?

He gives you a whole lot of really, really cheesy ones. Like “if you call me this in front of people I know outside, I’ll die from embarrassment” level ones.

Examples include: my everything, cream puff, the radiant sun, sugar bear etc. Overly sweet ones. He likes how you blush and squirm away when he calls you these.

Everyone looks at him like “what the hell, dude” but he doesn’t give a damn.

Open: How open is he about his feelings?

Oikawa doesn’t hesitate to tell you about his moods and feelings. He once hid them from you, thinking he needs to be stronger than that, but you lectured him for about an hour about it. Now he tells you everything he feels.

Says if he’s sad, lonely, happy, excited, everything. You share all of your feelings with him as well and it makes it feel like you’re closer together now.

PDA: Is he fine with PDA? How far can he go?

He’s casual and comfortable with PDA, but it gets more intense when you’re with his friends. Like the third year gang from Seijou.

He doesn’t really get it either, but seeing you interact with his friends makes a bubble in his chest which feels like it’s going to explode at any moment. He gives you plenty of kisses and hugs, gaining boos from all his friends. He just sticks his tongue out at them, saying “I‘m dating someone and you guys aren’t!”

Quirk: Habits or something he does which is unexpected?

He likes stargazing. It stems from his love/obsession of aliens, which continues to this day, but he realised how expansive and beautiful space is. He becomes quiet every time he gazes up to the night sky, his thoughts just drifting away.

Some of the constellations have fun myths behind them which he enjoys as well. He sometimes recites it for you as a nighttime story, to help you fall asleep.

You bought him a projector once as a present. It now illuminates your bedroom every night.

Relax: What activities do you do with him to relax?

Going to a spa together, getting facials and massages. Oikawa cares a lot about his beauty and the state of his muscles, so a spa is one of his favourite places in the world.

He would talk to you for the entire massage, saying random and stupid things which makes you laugh and move around a lot. You have to apologise to the masseurs all the time, even though they’ve become used to it.

Support: How supportive is he of your dreams? What do you do for him?

Oikawa constantly reassures and cheers for you as you do for him. He gives you tips and hacks on solving certain problems or brings you your favourite food to bring your mood up.

He has unwavering faith in your words and pushes you to finish the assignments to the best of your abilities. If you’re getting burnt out, then he just takes you off the laptop and makes you sleep.

For him, he loves seeing your face in the bleachers, calling out and screaming for him. It fills him with extra energy which helps him nail a service ace.

Talk: What does he like talking about?

What it would be like if you stayed with him forever. He loves imagining a future with you, from a year to a decade to the moment he dies.

“My best traits are my sappiness and my love for you, [Name]-chan!”

He sees older couples doing little activities together and takes photos and sends them to you with “Maybe we can do that!”

Umbrella: What’s his favourite weather/season?

A day with a clear sky, not a single cloud to be seen anywhere. But the sun isn’t too hot either, just the right temperature. The breeze will be light, cooling him down to a perfect temperature.

He’ll lay with you in the back porch, just staring up to the sky in silence. His hand will be linked to yours and eventually fall into an afternoon nap. It’ll be nighttime when he wakes up but you’ll still be sleeping. Then he carries you inside to the bed and starts cooking dinner.

Vaunt: Does he like showing you off?

So much. So, so much. Once Oikawa starts talking about how amazing you are, he’s not going to shut up for another half an hour or so. The record, timed by you, was 47 minutes and 23 seconds.

The other person will literally start walking away and he won’t notice.

After his long and emotional speech with no audience, his expression will turn into that pea-eyed face (☉_☉) and he’d be like “where’d they go?”

World: Where does he take you for vacation?

A new place for both of you, a country where anything and everything can happen. On the rare occasions he gets a long time off, he makes sure to create new memories for you.

He even bought one of those scratch-off maps to record all the places you visited with him. Most of South America is done and he hopes to finish the U.S. soon.

He loves meeting new people or learning new customs and knows you love them as well. He especially loves how your eyes light up when you see amazing landscapes and beautiful festivals.

X-ray: What happens when you’re injured or sick?

If it’s a simple cold, then he tries to cheer you up by being bright and happy while taking care of you. Feeding you plenty of food and water, bringing you medicine, watching TV shows together, a perfect experience.

If you’re hospitalised, then he’s instantly crushed and cannot function. He spends every single second he can next to your bed and holds your hand, pressing kisses onto it.

Waterworks starts the moment you wake up and he becomes a leech, pressing himself to your body and refusing to let go.

Yearn: How much does he miss/pine for you when apart?

He texts you every chance he gets, updating you on the most mundane and little things in his life. It’s because he knows you enjoy them, learning about his life away from you and all the new people he met.

He once received a little plushie version of you from his fans, modelled after one of his photos with you on social media, and he sleeps with it every day. Every night before he goes to sleep, he sends you a selfie with something like “:( Nothing beats the original though <3”.

ZZZ: Does he have sleeping habits?He’d want to wait a bit even if he did.

Covers you with his body regardless of the season and hugs you so tightly against him that it feels like you’re in the grasps of an octopus. It’s great in winter but really annoying in summer, especially if it’s a humid day and you’re both sweating.

Even if you try to push him off, his iron grip on you doesn’t relax and somehow even tightens. After weeks of that, you basically just gave up and invested in better air conditioning.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#oikawa #oikawa tooru #fluff #alphabets #gender neutral reader

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hockeysweetheart · 4 years ago

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

17 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in the Hunger Games

9 Kisses Between Katniss and Peeta in Catching Fire

3 In Mockingjay ( and Some)

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

Here is a sort form of the Kisses.

The Hunger Games

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

17. During the Final interveiw they share a kiss.

Catching Fire

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

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

3. They kiss a lot on the victory tour.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. The growing back together kiss ( and some)

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

Now Bonus ones

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

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

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

1. The surprise Kiss From Gale That snow knew about

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

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

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

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

Bonus ones

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

So their grand total is 6...

In the Hunger Games ( Book)

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

Chapter 19,

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

A little Later on Chapter 19

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

Chapter 20.

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

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

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

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

Chapter 22

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

Chapter 22 ( The Kiss)

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

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

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

Chapter 23

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

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

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

Chapter 24

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

Chapter 26.

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

Chapter 27

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

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

Chapter 27.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Catching fire

Chapter 3

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

Chapter 4

Favourite colour

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

Chapter 4

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

Chapter 5

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

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

Chapter 6 On the way home

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 12

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

Chapter 13

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

Chapter 14 ( Okay this hug tho)

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

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

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

Chapter 17

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

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

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

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

“No nightmares,” he says.

“No nightmares,” I confirm. “You?”

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

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

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

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

“Who says we can’t?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll allow it,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 18 Peeta’s interview

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

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

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

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

See you soon

Chapter 19

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 19/20 Cpr is a kind of kissing

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

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

Chapter 24

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

THE BEACH SCENE Chapter 24 if your wondering

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

Chapter 25

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

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

Chapter 26

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

Mockingjay .

Chapter 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” says Coin flatly.

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

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

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

My words hang in the air for a long moment.

Chapter 16

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

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

Chapter 18

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

Chapter 19

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

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

Chapter 21

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

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

Chapter 22

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

Chapter 23

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 27

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

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

epilogue

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

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

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

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

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

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

But there are much worse games to play.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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