#chain wire fencing supplies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafeandonlyrafe · 9 months ago

Text

the compound part one

words: 2k

warnings: alien apocalypse au!, violence, reader gets injured, hunger/starvation, mentions of death

part one / part two

you take a deep breath as your eyes focus on the pile of supplies. you know it's bait. you know it's purposely set up near the border of the compound to entice thieves, that someone elses eyes are likely on it right now.

but you have no choice. your stomach growls. you can see canned food. it's been so long since you had something from before. you've resorted to killing wild animals and gathering as much edible berries and plants as you can find, but even those are hard to come by. everything is hard to come by.

you look at the fence separating you. it's chain link, easy enough to climb. there's barbed wire placed on the top, fashioned together with zip ties, but plenty of space for you to fit between.

your eyes adjust as darkness falls, glad your hiding spot is shielding you from most of the wind. now that winter is rolling through the north carolina woods, you need to come up with a new plan. whether it's moving south or finding others to survive with that you trust enough to not kill you for using their resources or leaving you behind as alien bait.

a cloud passes over the moon, sending the world into even further darkness. you don't allow yourself time to second guess, shooting forward as fast as your legs can carry you, praying that your speed makes up for the sound as you scurry over the fence.

you groan when in your haste you cut your leg on the barbed wire, but you have no time to stop and see if the gash is deep.

you make it to the stack of supplies seemingly without notice, but the second your hands touch the box of canned food, a floodlight illuminates the yard of the compound.

“shit.” you allow yourself to mutter a curse word, picking up the small box and tucking it under your arm as you head towards the fence, knowing the other side means safety.

“stop!” someone shouts from behind as you begin to climb, moving slower now that you have less mobility of one arm.

you let out a scream when someone grabs your leg, you try to kick them away, but then your other foot is grabbed, being pulled down by compound men. you struggle the best you can, even dropping your precious cans of much needed food in hope it hits one of them, but your hands can only hang on for so long before you succumb to their pulling, falling backwards with a thump, head hitting the ground and darkness enveloping you.

your head pounds as you try to blink your eyes open before realizing that they're covered by a blindfold.

what a shitty way to go out, you think to yourself. blindfolded and gagged by compound men. at the end of the world, you don't meet your end in an aliens bite but rather from other humans.

it makes you question if along with the apocalypse people lost their humanity, or if they're just finally able to show their true colors without the expectations of society.

you slowly become more aware of your body. your hands are restricted behind your back to some kind of chair. your fingers reach out to touch the rope and then the chair, sighing when it's cold and smooth. wood you could possibly break, but you have no chance with metal.

your feet aren't restricted. you try to feel around for anything, but the floor around you seems clear.

you consider tipping your chair over, but you have a feeling that would only result in more pain for you.

“you awake?” the question is asked. it's a male voice, of course. it's widely known the compound is almost completely male. only a few rare women have ever been seen behind the fence. you're not sure what their recruitment process is, but you've heard whispers that they bring impressive people in. people that try to steal from them and get caught or defend their stash when the compound men leave on their raids.

you thrash in your seat since you're not able to respond. no use delaying the inevitable. if they're going to kill you, you don't want to wait around for it to happen.

“good.” the voice says, and then all of a sudden the blindfold is tugged off your eyes. it takes you a second to adjust before you can properly look around the room, realizing you're up on a stage, auditorium seats in front of you with a few men in them, all heavily armed.

you realize quickly that the military base the compound men took over must have had some sort of stage for speeches, and that you're now center spotlight.

“she did pretty good.” one of the men in the auditorium hums from the seats as the one who took of your blindfold exits down the stairs to join them. “got to the fence. most people don't even get that far.”

you try to tune out their words, eyes sweeping from some sort of escape, or help. you've learned not to rely on human help after the aliens came, but you might not have any choice.

“yeah, but she got caught.” one man huffs out.

“shit, billy, shut up. we need more women around here.” a new man says, his eyes feeling predatory as he looks over your body, making you press your thighs tightly together. you manage to look to the side to realize there's an armed man on either side of the stage, tucked slightly into the wings, but their dark eyes on you.

“we shouldn't even be arguing.” the man who untied your blindfold says. “wait for him.”

him. the infamous leader of the compound. you've never seen him or even heard his name, but he has a reputation from the bit of gossip you've managed to pick up. cruel. not bloodthirsty or barbaric like some of the men under him, but unflinching in his standards. refusing to give out any sort of help or aid even if a mother is on her knees begging at the fence.

you've heard from some that he doesn't care, you've heard from others that it's because his men come first.

you also know every time the compound men leave on a raid, they're looking for more than just food. someone. someone that the leader lost. presumed dead, just like most of the people after the aliens came, but that doesn't stop him from looking.

your heart breaks for him despite his cruelty. you wonder if it's a son. a daughter. a sister, mother or wife.

you refuse to let your mind turn to the ones you lost. you weren't close with your parents when it happened, but your friends… your boyfriend. you shake your head, willing the thoughts to leave. no use getting emotional right at the end.

you hear footsteps, the men scattered around the first few rows moving to situate themselves, sitting a little straighter, making sure their makeshift uniforms are done properly.

the doors at the back of the auditorium open. you wait for the figure to step out of the darkness, the emerge from the shadow from the mezzanine above.

“untie her. now.” the voice rings out, so familiar it hurts as the men from the wings move quickly to undo your gag. you feel the sudden coolness of a blade against your wrist, but it slashes away at the rope.

the man is moving quicker now, your eyes widening when you realize who he is.

“rafe!” you scream, shooting up from the chair. tears are already streaming down your cheeks as you run, sprint as fast as you can across the stage, rafe also breaking into a run as you take the stairs so fast you're worried you'll fall.

“y/n!” rafe yells out as you reach each other. you're lifted into the air behind him, sobs racking your body as you press your face into his neck, legs wrapping around his hips.

“you're alive!” you can hear the disbelief in rafes voice.

“i-i thought you were dead rafe.” you whimper into his neck, pressing kisses to his skin between the words. “i came to tanneyhill after they arrived and it was-” you can't finish your sentence. partly because the pain of having to describe what happened to tanneyhill, the home you spent so much time at. but mostly you don't finish because rafe sets you down, moving your head out from his neck to press his lips against yours.

you sigh with relief before kissing back, hands fisting in his uniform, just now realizing how bulky his clothing is, various weapons hanging from them.

“i-i love you so much.” you tell rafe, pressing your fingers against his cheeks, the plains of them still as smooth as you remember. you look into his eyes. it's the same rafe, your rafe, but at the same time he's different. clearly hardened by the apocalypse, aged quicker from the stress.

“i love you.” rafe kisses you again. “i never stopped looking for you.”

you. you're the one. not a son or a sister, but the person the compound men were looking for.

“i-i didn't know you were here.” you wish you saw rafe out on a raid, but just like everyone else in the north carolina woods, you scatter when the compound men leave their base, almost as much of a threat as the aliens are.

“otherwise you wouldn't have stole from me, huh?” rafe smirks, making you giggle. he clearly hasn't lost his sense of humor.

he pulls you close to his chest as he looks to his men. “dismissed. i will be in my chambers. no disturbances unless it's an emergency.”

the men instantly scatter. rafe waits until they all leave before turning to look at you, hands skirting down your body to your wrists. he sighs deeply when he sees the marks from the rope, red and bleeding in some places.

“let me get you cleaned up.” rafe says, and you just nod. it feels surreal to finally be back with him, your boyfriend who you could have sworn was dead. you didn't stay long in the outer banks, not with the limited resources of an island, but you looked every day for rafe to see if he somehow survived the aliens before you fled into the woods.

you feel like your eyes are still glazed over as rafe leads you out of the auditorium, promising you a full tour of the compound later as he moves swiftly down the halls, two men walking in front of him and two men behind him.

you should have known rafe would get himself into some sort of leadership position even after the apocalypse. he might not be the most well versed in combat or shooting, but he can lead and throw commands around like he was born for it.

“this is my- our chambers.” rafe pushes the door open, the four men remaining outside as rafe leads you in. it's surprisingly comfortable inside, suddenly feeling like you're in a home rather than a military base.

“i-i think i may have died when i fell off the fence. there's no way this is real.” you genuinely have to run your hands along your arms, pinching yourself to make sure you aren't dreaming.

“it's real, baby.” rafe sighs with relief as he strips off the weapons, placing them at the table near the door before stripping off his fatigues until he's just in a plain white tshirt and shorts, looking just like the boy you knew before the end came.

as he steps closer, arms wrapping around you and allowing you to relax into his hold, reality comes rushing to you. you try to keep your cries quiet, but in no time sobs are racking your body, rafe lowering you both to the ground as you cry, loud sobs, even interlaced with screams from all the horrors you saw surviving without him. you let it all go, finally safe enough to.

rafe doesn't say anything, just holds you until your cries lessen and you pass out, exhaustion pulling you to sleep.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @https-luvvia @aerangi @folklorsweet

463 notes · View notes

heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 3 months ago

Note

Hello you amazing wonderful awesomely awesome person! I’m so madly obsessed with your work

Very curious on your thoughts on this: zombie apocalypse au

Do you think Jason and readers first meeting would be need to be more in a life threatening situation in order to stick or would they be able to meet in a calmer environment and stick together?

This isn’t a push for you to write any one shot! Just curious what you think and any additional thoughts or headcanons you might have for this au 👀

Tysm for continuing to put out awesome writing all the time!

The Death Stench

Ahh, asks like this is why I love taking requests!! Thank you, nonnie!! Seriously, so many great ideas come through my inbox that I never would have thought of myself! I was actually so excited when I finally sat down to write this. Sorry it took so long! :)

~1.4k words

Gotham has always been a cesspool of filth and rot. It's something Jason has long grown used to. But the hoards of groaning, decaying zombies are something he's still learning to live with.

It's been four– no, five months since the world fell apart, since the apocalypse broke down society. The government is in shambles, if it still exists, and Jason hasn't seen or heard another living person in weeks.

He thinks he owes his survival to whatever the pit did to him. The corpses that line the streets just seem to ignore him and shuffle past as he breaks into a little corner store for supplies.

It's why he's started to get complacent. It is so easy to not double or triple check your surroundings when the undead treat you like one of their own.

It's a fact he didn't realize until he's staring down the barrel of a gun and maybe the only other living, breathing person on Gotham.

He blinks at them. They blink at him. "You're not one of– you're alive," You half question, surprise and shock clear in their voice.

Jason slowly raises his hands, the last thing he wants to do is get shot when his medical supplies are dwindling, "I'm alive."

He stares at you for a minute, and you stare back before slowly lowering your gun, "I was here first."

He laughs. It's ridiculous. The world ended, he hasn't had a proper conversation in weeks, and you're trying to lay claim to a corner store in shambles. But, he steps back anyway and gestures to the ransacked aisles, "All yours then."

He quirks an eyebrow when you actually look panicked. "Wait," You start, and lower your gun completely, "I'm sorry, I just– haven't seen anyone in a while. I think I forgot how to talk to people."

You're both aware of the risk you took admitting that, to tell a stranger you're completely and utterly alone in this city, that there's no one waiting for you to return.

Jason has the overwhelming urge to make your risk worth it. He can't explain it, but he chalks it up to some form of loneliness.

So, he smiles at you, easy-going and every inch the charming grin that used to win over the old ladies at charity galas, "I haven't been around people in a while either. Maybe we can figure it out together?"

His heart stutters when you smile back, so clearly relieved. "I'd like that," You admit and holster your gun.

The two of you carefully pick through the store, and an uncertain but steady partnership forms between the two of you.

It takes some time, but he learns which shots you can make and which you can't. You learn which knee hurts him when he jumps over chain wire fences. You both learn to cover each other's blind spots, to trust each other to make decisions.

You haven't quite learned that zombies just don't seem to detect him, and he hasn't found a good way to bring it up, to explain that, 'Hey, I was dead and apparently I qualify as one of them. But don't worry! I won't eat you!'

Yeah, Jason figures you wouldn't be too comfortable with him sleeping near you if he said it like that.

He doesn't really get the chance to explain until he has to use his uncanny ability to blend in with rotting corpses to save your life.

It was supposed to be a normal supply run. Pick over what's left of a pharmacy and get out. Cut and dry. Something you've both done more times than you can count. Until it goes wrong.

He'd cleared the area, he'd been so careful, you both were. But you hadn't been lucky. It was no one's fault, when you open a cabinet and a skittish raccoon jumps out at you, sending you falling back.

The animal knocks over cans and boxes as it frantically scampers to get away. It's loud. Too loud.

The two of you froze, when the sounds of shuffling feet start to make their way to the door. Jason weighs his options, and the piece of his heart that had become undeniably yours won quickly.

He grabs your arm and hauls you to your feet. "C'mon," he mutters, dragging you towards a supply closet.

"We need to run," You say quickly, tugging at your arm and trying to push him towards the exit.

"We won't make it," he says firmly and shoves you into the tiny space. He follows you in and pulls the door shut. The door doesn't lock, and he reaches around you to grab an extension cable off a shelf.

"Jason," You half hiss, eyes wide as the groans start to get louder.

He shushes you, heart racing as he ties one end of the extension cord to the door knob, and the other to the metal poles of the shelf.

It's a start, but it wouldn't stop anything from breaking down the door. "Sorry," Jason mumbles. He returns your confused look with an apologetic one, and immediately crowds you against the wall.

He grabs the back of your neck to press your face to his chest. His other hand grabs at your hip, almost desperate. Jason realizes he hasn't been afraid in a long time.

He buries his face in your hair and silently wills you to understand. If he can keep them from getting your scent, hearing you, you'll be safe. He can protect you, he just needs you to stay like this, hidden and sheltered against the dirty wall of the closet.

He knows you can't begin to guess why he's doing this, but you don't make a sound. Your fingers curl into his jacket as the zombies shuffle around the pharmacy. Grunts fill the air as they pass by the door, and Jason feels you stiffen against him.

It's instinctual, when his thumb starts to rub back and forth across your hip. He wants to help, wants you to feel calm and safe even as the smell of death fills the air.

He's surprised when you do relax against him, tucking your face further into his chest. He's not sure how long you stay like that. His thumb never stills, and eventually, the sounds of undead fade, and he's left with just you.

Jason lets himself linger for a moment, savoring your closeness, before slowly untangling himself from you. "You're okay," he says softly, he means for it to be a question, but it comes out as a fact, a complete certainty that you are okay.

You look up at him, eyes wide, "How are we even alive? I've never seen– they've never just ignored people before."

He winces, "I'll– Let me explain. Please. Just not here." He deflates a little at the uncertainty that flashes across your face, but you nod and follow him back to the rooftop that's become his and your base.

He tries to explain, really, does his best to talk about the Pit, who he was, what he used to do. You never interrupt, you listen to every word he says as he lights a fire, methodically making food over the open flame.

You don't say anything as he admits the undead have never been interested in him, but you do let him sit next to you to eat.

He runs out of things to say, as the sun sets over a desolate Gotham. Jason thinks you're going to leave. Or ask him to leave. But you don't. You lean your head against his shoulder, and all the air leaves his lungs.

"I'm glad you're here, Jason," You tell him. And for the first time in a long time, Jason is too.

"I'm glad you're here, too," he echoes, and he hesitantly lowers his head to rest against yours. He breathes a sigh of relief when you don't move, only relax into his side.

Jason closes his eyes to bask in the moment, in being with you, and swears there's not a thing he wouldn't do to keep you like this. To keep you with him, to keep you happy, to keep you alive.

He thinks it might be the reason he's still breathing.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #zombie apocolypse au

280 notes · View notes

jackactuallywrites · 4 months ago

Text

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x You

Rating: Nothing explicit, no sex or egregious violence

Warnings: Gun violence? And he does steal her phone

Summary: You go chasing cats and find a lot more than you bargained for

Notes: It’s been sat in my drafts for ages and the first part is a little slow so bear with x

Word Count: 1,893

ao3 link

Yet again, it was there.

A little cat, dark grey, striped with lighter grey, with a white belly and paws, sniffing around the large green bins in the dingy alleyway. The white of its fur was stained with various unpleasant shades of brown, the cause for which you didn't want to think about. It had clearly found something of interest to it underneath the large dumpster, crouching down on its elbows, stretching out one of its front paws to try and grab whatever lay there, unbothered by the wet grime on the ground staining its fur. With your human eyes, you weren't privileged enough to see what tasty treat lay just out of reach, but you were able to see the thick ring of plastic that was wrapped around the creature's neck, no doubt digging into the skin, tighter and tighter as the smaller kitten grew from a desperate mewling creature into a lean, wary cat. As of yet, it hadn't seen you, still focused on its mission, but the second you took a single step forward, a tiny pebble grated underneath your shoe, and the stray's head snapped up, its distrusting yellow eyes slicing over to you.

"Kitty-" You ventured, trying to keep your voice as gentle as possible, soft and sweet, but the kitten took off, sprinting down the alleyway, the plastic from the six-pack ring sticking out above it as it ran. You briefly glanced back to the road that led you back home, already idly entertaining giving up on your quest. The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, as it did on your walks home from work, giving you at least two more hours of sunlight. And yet, it wasn't like you had anything all that important to get to at home; besides, it was a fairly pleasant evening, still warm and sunny despite the clouds, and you didn't keep cat treats in your pocket for no reason, so you took after the little cat, doing your best to keep a distance enough not to spur it into sprinting away. It was only vaguely suspicious of you, looking back over its shoulder at you every so often to see if you were still following, its sprint having slowed into a trot, its tail low, yet not poofed up, uneasy, but not afraid.

It was taking you on an incredibly complicated path through the city, zigging and zagging through innumerable side streets and alleys, making you increasingly thankful that you'd chosen to wear your trainers rather than the slip-on shoes which would have given you a throbbing blister after so much running. Slowly but surely, the cat was taking you further out from the populated areas into the industrial zone where every other building you walked past had been abandoned. You assumed that it had someplace out here, safe away from anyone who would wish it harm, sheltered from wind and rain, and undoubtedly near a decent supply of mice and rats. It was doing a good job at trying to throw you off, and you almost lost it a few times, but eventually, it led you to a dead end, a skinny alleyway ending in a tall chain-link fence topped with razor-sharp barbed wire. At least, you thought it was a dead end, yet down in the corner, you could see the way the links were slightly uneven, breaking the pattern. In a closer look, you could see where the fence had been cut, the fence curling away from itself, and it was through this small gap that the cat escaped yet again.

You were beginning to believe that you were wasting your evening; clearly, this cat was far too wily to allow itself to be caught by any bumbling human, but it was watching you from the other side of the fence as though it was waiting for you to catch up, as though all this running had been a great game to it. You could give it one more try, at the very least. The break in the fence was plenty large enough for you to slip through, even standing straight up, the sharp metal tugging on the fabric of your jumper and sliding harmlessly over the thick denim of your jeans. The cat was waiting a little ways away from you, sitting at the edge of a building up ahead, two buildings down from you, watching you with its large, suspicious eyes before taking a leisurely walk around the building, its tail now held straight out, flicking slightly. It was intrigued by you. You moved quickly, half crouched as you walked over to where the cat had disappeared, glancing down the gaps between buildings as you did so.

There was a large security camera pointing directly at you, staring down at your face as you peered around the corner of the building. You froze in your place, terrified that at any moment, the police would be called. The cat was sitting almost directly underneath it, watching you leisurely, entirely unaware of your human problems. It was so close to you, and you glanced between it and the camera, trying to weigh up the danger you were in. The light on top of the camera was dark, where it could have been blinking red, and you decided that it must mean it was off. After all, these buildings were abandoned, and as long as you weren't doing anything too illegal, you doubted that the red and blues would come running. You crouched down, holding out your hand to the cat, gently rubbing your fingers together to beckon it, making soft kissy sounds at it, keeping your voice quiet, "Kitty! Come here, kitty!" It didn't move towards you, nor did it move away, flicking its tail as it watched you. You closed your eyes slowly at it, trying to demonstrate your pure intentions, and after a minute, the cat returned the gesture, a great step in the right direction.

You remained still, unwilling to take a single further step toward it lest you spook it. It remained still, watching you blink at it, apparently having every second in the world to play around, enjoying making you work for its friendship. Then, it shot to its feet and sprinted away, leaving you puzzled. You hadn't made a single further move toward it. It only took a second for you to realise what exactly had spooked it, but by then, it was too late. The hand was already on your shoulder, spinning you around and pinning you against the wall, the hard edge of a gun pressed into the centre of your chest. Your attention was fully dragged away from the cat, flicking over to the person holding you at gunpoint. They were taller than you, not that they needed the advantage of height when they had a gun to your chest, dressed in black tactical gear and wearing a black balaclava with a white skull painted on it, with only their eyes revealed. A warm green colour, but they were cold, like chips from a mossy glacier. That iciness was reflected in the voice, his voice, whisper quiet. "Don't. Move."

You weren't sure you'd ever even seen a gun in person, yet now you had the barrel of one pressed up against you, and you felt as though every drop of blood in your body had gone cold. "I'm just looking for a cat." Your voice was a soft plead, not a tone you'd ever heard from your own mouth before, your body acting entirely on instinct. The man frowned at you, using only his gun to hold you in place as his other hand reached out to pat you down. He was a soldier; that much was clear from his uniform and the casual indifference with which he seemed to regard the concept of killing you. His hand roamed down over your arms, roughly grasping at them underneath your jumper, then went down your sides. You allowed it, knowing that it was necessary in order for you to escape with your life, knowing that he would find nothing. He paused at the bulge in your front jean pocket, his pale eyes flicking up to you questioningly, and you answered, "Cat treats." Still, he didn't trust you, digging them out of your pocket to confirm your answer, his eyes flicking over the bright colours of the packet before tossing them aside. You didn't dare even breathe as he patted down your jeans, identifying your phone in the other front pocket. He pulled out your phone, his eyes flicking down to the screen and then back up to you, showing you the lock screen.

"Unlock it."

Even with the gun to your chest, you still hesitated about unlocking your phone for a stranger, your mouth opening to argue with him before your brain caught up with you, not allowing a single word of dissent past your lips. He pressed the gun harder against your chest, the metal digging into your chest through the thin material of your jumper, his eyes hard, and you gave up, reaching up with your fingers to tap in your passcode. He looked down at your phone, swiping through to see your apps and then flicking through your recent photos, only finding endless pictures of you and your cats, as well as the various street cats you encountered on your walk to work. His gaze snapped up to your face once more, flicking across your features as though he was beginning to understand something about you.

Finally, he let up.

"How did you get in?" His voice was slightly less harsh this time. There was still the hard military edge, but now he had more of a questioning tone, as though he was beginning to believe your innocence. "There's a gap in the fence. The cat went through it. I followed." He frowned, his brows furrowing underneath the slightly smudged black paint, and he lifted the barrel of the gun off your chest, taking a step back from you, pocketing your phone as he did so. "Show me." There was no polite question in his voice, only demand, and you knew you had no choice but to obey. With the gun still pointed directly at your heart, it wasn't like you were in any position to refuse. At least now, the barrel wasn't pushed up against you, and you relished every inch of freedom given.

With one last look for that mildly traitorous cat, you led the soldier over to the small gap in the fence you had come through, acutely aware of the weapon still aimed directly at you, gesturing towards the broken chain links with your hand. "It came through here." You felt the tap of the gun between your shoulders, and another command was uttered to you, "Go on then." You glanced over your shoulder at the man, "My phone?" “Go.” You hesitated, but it quickly became apparent that either you left without your phone or you didn’t leave at all. It wasn’t a decision you were happy to make, but it wasn’t as though you had much choice in the matter, so you left it in the hands of the soldier, not giving him a second look as you left, hoping to leave it all behind as an unhappy memory.

#jack writes #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod fic #simon ghost x reader

45 notes · View notes

naughtyneganjdm · 10 months ago

Text

Lost & Found

Summary: After escaping New York, Negan finds himself desperate for a place to rest when making his journey to Missouri to find his family. In the middle of the woods he finds a young girl that has been left alone to fend for herself.

Characters: Negan, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53376820/chapters/135093157

Warnings: Swearing, Negan Being an Asshole, Angst, etc.

Notes: I was originally going to make this a one shot, but it turned out to be way too long for a one shot, so it's just going to be a two part story. This is different than what I usually do, so just a pre-warning. Part two is already done so I will probably post it in like a day or two. (Y/N doesn't show up until chapter 2)

It had been a grueling few days with little to no food or water. After Negan finally escaped from New York, he started his journey to Missouri in hopes of finding Annie and Joshua. On the way he had been followed by a group of those from New York that had worked for The Dama before he had done what he had. Most of his supplies had been destroyed after the fight leaving him with little to nothing after he was able to kill them. In the fight he had also been wounded, but he was able to keep himself together enough to continue his journey.

The sun was starting to go down which left Negan in a vulnerable situation. He had lost his matches and he had nothing to keep him safe. Who knew if there were going to be more from New York coming after him. All he knew is that he needed to find some shelter for the night so in the morning he would be able to go looking for supplies.

Heading deeper into the woods, it took a while until he found what looked like an old cabin. There was a weathered fence that was put up around it that he assumed someone had put up half assed in order to keep out the walkers. Walking around the land, he could see that there was a well on the property and he let out an excited breath hoping that there would be drinkable water. There was a door in the gate, but it was locked. It had a metal chain wrapped around the door with a lock on it that was on the other side. It was strange that it was locked from the inside, but regardless he knew this would be the place he would have to catch his breath for the night. Finding an acceptable area in the gate, Negan was able to make his way over only having trouble at the top where there was barbed wire. On his way over, he got his jacket caught on it and found amusement in the fact barbed wire almost got him. Dropping down onto the ground, he took a minute to gather himself. That drop actually knocked the wind out of him. You could call it age, exhaustion or just the overall strain of getting his ass kicked earlier. Call it what you wanted. Maybe it was a little bit of all of those reasons.

The cabin appeared to be in a pretty good condition and he felt like he lucked out. An empty cabin in the middle of the woods was the perfect place for him to rest for the night. Moving up the stairs to the front door, he attempted to open it easily, but it didn’t budge. Trying to put some pressure on the door had it barely moving and he let out a grunt. The front door was blocked off. There had to be an easier way to get into the cabin without hurting his shoulder trying to knock down whatever was blocking the door on the inside. Stepping back, he looked the cabin over and let out a tense breath. There were no lights on in the cabin and when he listened, there was no noise coming from it either. It had to be empty.

Observing the cabin, he noticed that there was a broken window on the second level. Carefully, he did his best to crawl up the side of the cabin using some of the broken-down pieces of the cabin to make his way up. Toward the top he almost slipped but quickly caught himself enough to make it to the window. Once he was up there, he used his strength to crawl into the window and made sure that he wasn’t being followed.

“Hello?” Negan spoke up, hoping that if there were walkers that had passed living in the cabin it would draw them to him. At least he still had a weapon and he would be able to take them down. Clapping his hands together, he tried to make enough noise that would draw a walker, but when nothing came, he finally made his way out of the room.

Scoping out the second level, Negan noticed that there were several rooms that had beds and thanked God for that. In New York he had a nice room, but he was someone else’s puppet. Since he left, he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep and it would be nice to finally sleep in a bed tonight. It was strange though because things were still in a decent condition. Someone had to have been living here recently, but who? It was visibly empty from the lack of response.

Carefully making his way down the stairs, Negan was sure to check every room to confirm that the cabin was empty. There seemed to be supplies in the house. Weapons, books, toys, a little bit of everything. Maybe there was a walker in here that had found the same window that he did and made their way out. That still didn’t explain how they were able to get out through the gate that surrounded the place. The set up just wasn’t making much sense.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, Negan opened a cabinets to see that there were jars of food filling them. A relieved breath fell from his lungs knowing that he would finally be able to eat. The ache in his stomach grew with his eyes observing over the options that were there. Whoever had left this cabin must have left in a hurry because they had left it fully stocked. A thankful sound escape his lips when his eyes fell upon the jar of peanut butter. Shakily reaching out to grab it, he rest it on the counter and then gazed over the rest of what was there. Noticing the crackers, he swiftly grabbed them and pulled them onto the counter as well. Who knows how incredibly fast he worked the lid from the peanut butter before dipping a cracker eagerly into it. Shoving the peanut butter covered cracker into his mouth came naturally. Groaning out after swallowing it down, he didn’t realize how hungry he had truly grown over the last few days. Continuously he kept eating the combination and maybe he should have been paying attention to how many he was eating, but his body was shaking with anticipation to finally be able to eat again.

A chill ran down his spine when he heard the sound of a floorboard squeaking. Turning on his heel, he let out an uncomfortable breath seeing a young girl standing behind him with a gun pointed directly at him. Grumbling under his breath, Negan rolled his eyes and gradually raised his hands up with the peanut butter jar in one hand and the crackers in the other. It didn’t take much for him to notice that she was scared by the way she was tremoring before him.

“Fuck,” Negan scoffed, the peanut butter making it incredibly hard for him to swallow down his last bite.

Where the fuck did she come from? He looked everywhere before making his way into the kitchen.

“Please leave,” she pled of Negan, her young voice broken while she held her gun further trying to make herself appear fiercer by pointing the gun directly at his head. By the looks of her, she might have been close to Hershel’s age. Maybe a little younger. By the tone of her voice and the way she was shaking, Negan didn’t find her to be much of a threat and he gradually lowered his hands down at his sides. The lack of fear that came from him only frightened the young girl more. Arching his eyebrow in curiosity had the young girl clutching the gun tighter. “Please.”

“I can’t do that right now. I’ve got nowhere else to go and if I go out there during the night, I’ll die,” Negan explained shaking his head noticing the fear in the girl’s eyes when he made it clear that he wasn’t leaving. “I just need a place to stay for the night and then I’ll leave in the morning. I swear.”

“You can’t do that here, you can’t stay here,” she explained with an anxious sound looking around in a moment of discomfort.

“I’ve got no other options. Some assholes destroyed my supplies and I really don’t have anything,” Negan tried to explain noticing the way that her eyes lowered to his large hunting knife that he had attached to his belt. “Listen, I’m tired. I’m hungry. I haven’t drank anything in a very long time. I just need to get some rest and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Talking her through things seemed to calm her down some, but she still seemed shaken to have a stranger standing in her kitchen.

“Are you alone?” she wondered, nervously gazing back over her shoulders to confirm that Negan was the only one that was there.

“Are you?” Negan’s brow raised in curiosity, his jaw clenching when he went to move, but she held the gun up again. It had him stopping in his tracks and he was trying to genuinely assess the situation between the two of them. He could talk her down, but when he approached her, it only made her scared again and she kept pointing that damn gun at him. “How old are you?”

“That doesn’t matter,” she claimed, hovering her finger in over the trigger as if to warn him what she might have been capable of. It had Negan huffing out, his brow line furrowing when she shook her head again. “If you want the peanut butter and the crackers, you can take them. But I need you to leave.”

“And I told you that I can’t leave. Not tonight,” Negan repeated hearing the discomfort in her breathing. By the way the girl was looking around the room, he could tell that she was trying to figure out what to do in this situation. “You’ve never shot someone. Have you?”

“I have,” she insisted with a nod of her head trying to steady the gun that was in her hand. It was dark so he could barely make out her features, but he could tell that she was young. “A few people.”

“Just a few, huh?” Negan set the jar of peanut butter down on the counter along with the crackers. An amused rumble of laughter fell from Negan’s lips when he took a step forward toward her and she took a step back. “I tell you what honey, I don’t believe you.”

“That would be your mistake then,” she warned him, drawing her finger closer to the trigger when Negan stepped in closer to her. “I’m not afraid of shooting you dead mister. So I suggest you leave. Now.”

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Negan began taking another bold step forward that had her repeating her earlier motion in stepping away from him. “I think you’re alone here and I think you’ve never shot someone in your life.”

“And what makes you so sure?” she gasped when Negan moved swiftly forward to snatch the gun from her hands, pulling her into his arms with her back against his chest. A worried breath fell from her throat when Negan placed the gun to her temple. “Please…please don’t…”

“If you knew what you were doing,” Negan lowered the gun before her, his left hand still firmly wrapped around her shoulders to show her the gun. Switching off the safety made a sharp exhale fall from her throat, “You wouldn’t have had the safety on the gun. Which tells me you have no clue how to use this thing. Which makes me believe that you weren’t always alone because you would be fucking dead if that was the case.”

Pushing forward, Negan heard the girl hit the ground hard when she scrambled back on the floor toward the corner of the kitchen. Keeping the gun pointed at her, he watched her hold up her hands and keep her head down, “Are you alone?”

Staying quiet, she refused to look at him or even answer him. The lack of response left Negan with a rage burning deep inside of him.

“Are you alone?” Negan screamed at her making her jump and she immediately nodded her head. “Speak when you are spoken to and nothing will happen to you. Do you understand?”

With a nod, he heard the tremoring in her breathing and he huffed, “I said speak when you are spoken to. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yes,” she whispered with a bit of venom behind her tone, her jaw clenching when she finally lifted her eyes to his.

“How old are you?” Negan questioned again, his right eyebrow arching in curiosity.

“Thirteen,” she stammered, her bottom lip trembling while she sat before him on the ground. “I’m thirteen.”

“Okay. And why are you alone?” Negan pushed trying to figure things out as to why he had found a girl alone like this in the woods.

“We were running low on some supplies and my mother left to go search for some,” she explained cautiously lowering her hands when she braced herself on the floor. By the emotion he heard in her tone, he knew that she was telling him the truth. “That was a few weeks ago.”

“Did she teach you nothing?” Negan wondered, his head tipping from side to side. “How to defend yourself?”

“My mom was worried I would shoot something off if she taught me,” she answered nervously while Negan let out a tense laugh. “She gave me a quick course with the shotgun, but this was the only gun that I had on me when you came into the house.”

“Where were you when I was walking around?” Negan demanded an answer. Noticing that she wasn’t telling him, he raised his gun up higher and she lowered her head down again. He had no plans of hurting a child, especially one alone and vulnerable like this one, but she didn’t know that. “Where?”

“There is a trap door in the living room,” she was quick to give away her hiding spot and Negan lowered the gun a bit. “My mom told me to stay in the house. She said when the sun went down that I need to turn off the lights so it wouldn’t attract anyone. She said that if someone came into the house that wasn’t her that I needed to hide.”

“And how did you know I wasn’t your mom?” Negan inquired hearing her scoff under her breath and he stepped forward. “I asked you a question!”

“Because I have the key to the gate. When she came back, she was supposed to whistle a certain way and I would know it was her,” the young girl replied with a long sigh seemingly embarrassed that she got herself in this situation. “She was only supposed to be gone a few days.”

“Did she tell you to come out like this?” Negan muttered and he could tell by the way that she lowered her head that she wasn’t supposed to. “So your mother told you to stay hidden, but you decided to come out here and do this? Do you have a death wish or something?”

“I didn’t want you to steal the food,” she defended herself, pointing back to the cabinets that were behind Negan. “With mom gone, I’ve been doing my best to preserve everything.”

“What’s your name?” Negan asked, lowering the gun further noticing the way that her eyes were slowly becoming comfortable enough to meet his stare.

“Mia,” she spoke quietly and he waved his free hand about before lowering the gun at his side.

“Mia. That’s a good name,” Negan responded with a shake of his head, reaching for another cracker from the counter. “My name is Negan,” he informed her plopping the cracker between his lips and letting out a long sigh. “I hate to tell you this Mia, but I think your mom is dead. And she did you a disservice in not teaching you shit.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about,” she snapped at Negan, anger flooding her tone when Negan shrugged his shoulders. Maybe it was wrong to be so blunt, but it was best for the girl to know that now instead of continuing to expect to have her mother returning home. “My mom is strong. She wouldn’t just…”

“Strong people die in this world Mia. I’ve seen it happen a lot in my life,” Negan declared, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. In the small amount of light he could see that her eyes were tearing over at the mere suggestion that her mother was dead. “You know that I’m right Mia. If your mom was supposed to be back in a few days and it’s been a few weeks, she’s probably dead. There is no other reason for her to leave you here this long.”

A broken sound fell from the girl’s throat when Negan whistled and waved his finger about in the air, “Where is your dad?”

“I never met my dad,” she replied, wrapping her arms around her knees to pull them in closer to her chest. “My dad was killed when my mother was pregnant with me. A group raided our community and they took him. He was the leader and they killed him to make a point. They killed most of our community.”

“See what I mean,” Negan retorted, wiggling the hand that had the gun in it up in the air and she uneasily shifted with him pointing the gun in her direction. “Shit, sorry”

Turning the safety back on, Negan showed her the gun and then set it down on the counter noticing her confused expression, “Strong people die in this world Mia. Just like your dad. It sounds like he was a strong man and look what happened to him. I’ve seen it happen to a lot of strong men and women in this world.”

“You’ve probably been around long enough to see empires fall,” she snarked at Negan causing him to immediately burst out in laughter hearing the smart remark she threw his way. The expression over her face showed that she didn’t understand his response.

“That shit was actually funny,” Negan complimented her, grabbing the peanut butter and the crackers again. Sliding down onto the floor with her, Negan sat across from her and dug a cracker into the peanut butter again. “I thought you were this shy, weak little thing and you’re a fucking smart ass. I like that.”

“What do you want Negan?” she wondered, uncomfortable with the way he was sitting across from her.

“I tell you what Mia,” Negan began, his Adam’s apple bouncing in this throat. “You let me stay here a night and I’ll teach you how to take care of yourself.”

“No thanks,” she immediately responded drawing the lines in Negan’s forehead to grow deeper. “I’ll be fine without you.”

“I don’t think you will,” Negan countered, his eyebrows bouncing up with her quick snap back. “Most people aren’t like me. You’re lucky it was me that found this place and not someone else. You are gonna need someone to help teach you the things that your mama never did.”

“I’ll survive. I’ve gone this long without your help, I can keep doing it,” she declared causing Negan to roll his eyes and shift his legs on the ground to stretch them out.

“What are you gonna do when you run out of supplies?” Negan almost mocked her, setting the crackers down and sliding them out closer to her. There was tension in her body when Negan held out the peanut butter. “What are you going to do when your mother doesn’t come back?”

“She will,” she leaned forward and, in that moment, he could finally see the hazel coloring of her angered eyes in the small amount of light that was filtering into the room. It made a breath hitch in his throat getting his first decent look at her.

“Say I’m right and she doesn’t. How are you going to take care of yourself kiddo?” Negan brushed off the awkward sensation it caused him and he held the peanut butter further out toward her. Finally, she took the jar of peanut butter and it made him smile when she grabbed a cracker and took one for herself. “You can’t live on peanut butter and crackers. If you were low on supplies before, you are likely even lower now. So, go on kid, tell me how you are going to survive.”

“I just will,” she suggested, swallowing down hard making Negan laugh and roll his eyes. “You don’t have to be an asshole, Negan.”

“You’re being stupid Mia,” Negan stressed, pointing his hand up toward the gun that she had pulled on him earlier. “Put your guard down and realize the shit I’m offering is good for you. I’ll show you how to use all the weapons you have here. I can take you out tomorrow and show you how to hunt. And I’ll help you hide yourself better. We need to get some shit to hide this place and the fence. You’re out in the open for any group to find. If my old ass was able to climb up that fence unscathed, then someone else can too.”

“Unscathed?” she arched her brow, a scoff falling from her throat. “You look like shit.”

“Oh?” Negan noticed her pointing up toward his face and then toward the middle where he was obviously bleeding from the fight he had gotten in earlier. “That’s from something else.”

“Is it?” she breathed out, her throat tensing up. “Are you a good man Negan?”

“Is anyone good anymore?” Negan answered, lowering his hand to press his fingers in over his ribs from where he had been slashed by a combat knife earlier. Feeling blood beneath his fingertips, he let out a tense breath and shook his head. “You have my word that I won’t hurt you. I’ll just stay the day and when the next morning comes, I will leave.”

“What are you hiding from?” she questioned him now and it made Negan laugh. “I think I deserve to know.”

“What aren’t I hiding from? You can have your choice. Raiders. Walkers. Shitty people,” Negan rambled off noticing the way that her nose wrinkled. Hearing him say those things had confused her in some way and he wondered how long she had been locked up in here. “You really are oblivious to the world, aren’t you? How long has your mother had you locked away? Please tell me you know about the fucking walkers,” Negan begged hearing her sigh and he threw his hands up. “Biters. Flesh eaters. What the fuck ever you call them.”

“Of course I know about them,” she waved her hand about in the air and it made Negan sneer, shaking his head. “I don’t know how long I’ve been in here. I’m allowed to work the well, but I’m not allowed to stay outside for more than fifteen minutes at a time.”

“And how long has that been going on?” Negan interrogated her and she simply shrugged her shoulders. “You’ve been in this cabin that long? It’s a surprise the two of you weren’t killed yet leaving yourselves out in the open like this.”

“I told you, my mom is strong,” she restated to Negan who let out a dramatic breath and nodded his head about. “She is. My dad taught her to fight when they were together. My dad was a really good fighter. The strongest in our community. That’s why the group opposing ours killed him. They knew if they didn’t that my dad would destroy them.”

“Your dad obviously wasn’t as good as you think he was because he still got caught and killed,” Negan retorted and he could see the way that her features seemed less aggressive. Frowning, Negan threw his hands up in the air and shrugged his shoulders. “You fight pretty hard for a man you never knew.”

“Because my dad was a hero,” she argued and he shook his head slowly doubting that there were heroes anymore in this world. “My dad saved my mother when she was alone. She was about to be killed and he stepped in. He saved her.”

“That doesn’t make your dad a hero kiddo. Your dad was just probably horny and saw a woman that he thought was pretty. It was slim pickings back then,” Negan grumbled under his breath and a disgusted sound followed. “Your parents got intimate in order to create you kid. Or let me guess, your mother didn’t tell you about the birds and the bees. All that shit.”

“Yes, I know about sex, but no kid wants to think about their parents…doing…that,” she released another disgusted breath, shaking her head when she thought about what he was saying. “My dad was a good person. He fought for his people. He died protecting me and my mother. He knew that she was pregnant with me and he did everything he could to keep us safe.”

“Yet you’re alone in this cabin all by yourself,” Negan reasoned with her, his dimples becoming more prominent when she slid the jar of peanut butter back to him. “It sounds like your mother fed you a story to me. A rather unbelievable one at that. You’re what? Thirteen? Heroes didn’t exist back then. It was just people hoping to survive.”

“Why would she lie to me about him?” Mia didn’t seem to understand what Negan was hinting at and he huffed.

“To give you something good to think about?” Negan suggested while she considered his comments. “For all you know, your father was a one-night stand that she had. Two people running into one another. You could be an accident for all you know. Maybe your father was a shitty person and your mother wanted to hide that from you.”

“No, my mother isn’t good at lying,” she bickered, her young features becoming upset when he tried to suggest her father wasn’t everything that she was led to believe. “I can see it in the way that she talks about him. She really loved him. And he must have loved her and me for her to be that in love with him. The way she talks about him, she gets really emotional about it. He meant a lot to her. And she swears he did everything to protect us.”

“And yet he got himself killed,” Negan brought back the other part of the story she had told him. “If I had someone pregnant with a child on the way, I would have done whatever I could to be with them. Not risk their lives leaving them alone. He swore to protect both of you, but he left you alone to fend for yourselves.”

Once he saw the expression in her eyes change, he actually felt kind of guilty for unloading onto this kid, “Yeah. I guess you’re right. I guess he did fail.”

“Damn kid. Not completely,” Negan noted noticing that she was starting to think negatively about her family. “You’re still here, right? And your mom was around for a long time too. So whatever he did, he did something right. Even if he died, he kept the two of you here,” Negan felt like he was going back and forth with his own argument right now, but he was going to use it to his advantage. “So why don’t you honor your father and let me teach you how to continue to take care of yourself. That way you don’t die and waste everything he did to make sure you made it in this world.”

Thinking things over, she considered what Negan was saying before nodding her head, “Fine.”

“Smart decision,” Negan muttered having a hard time pulling himself up from the ground, letting out a half laugh at the pain he was feeling in his back. Lifting his head, he could tell that she didn’t know what to do seeing him having a hard time getting up. By the time he finally did get up, he raised his hand out to her. Observing the gesture, she almost considered not taking it, but after a while she finally accepted it. Staring up at him with her big eyes, she didn’t know how to go forward with things. “I’m gonna teach you your first lesson.”

Returning the gun to her, he could sense that she was uncomfortable and he shook his head. When she finally grabbed the gun, he motioned her to hold it right, “Now take the safety off.”

Listening to what he was telling, he urged her to point the gun at him and he shook his head, “No matter how scared you are, don’t take the gun off someone when you think you are in danger. You keep the gun pointed directly at the center of their head. You talk confident. You don’t break eye contact and you don’t shake. That way they know you are serious. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she assured him and when he let go of her hand, he could see that she was still shaking.

“You aren’t going to make it in this world if you don’t assert yourself kid,” Negan warned her pointing toward her arms. After a minute of closing her eyes and taking in a long breath, she finally gathered herself. “Good job. Now you can make a choice.”

“What do you mean?” she was confused when Negan shrugged his shoulders.

“You can use that gun, take what I taught you and shoot me,” Negan informed her and he could see that she looked nervous. “Or we can follow through with our deal and you’ll let me help you further. We’ll take the day to teach you everything I can. And then I leave in the morning.”

“I’m not going to shoot you,” she refused, lowering the gun and putting the safety back on. “If you were a bad guy, you would have shot me immediately. We’ll keep our deal. You might think I’m naïve, but I can tell a bad person when I see them.”

Grumbling under his breath, Negan noticed that she waved him out of the kitchen and he snagged the peanut butter with the crackers when he followed her. Sitting down on the ground, she dug through some things before holding up some water, “Peanut butter does a number on your mouth. I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

“Thank you,” Negan accepted the water and moved for the couch that was at the other side of the room, dropping down on top of it to stretch himself out. A pained exhale fell from his throat when he looked down toward his ribs from where he had been injured, but he tried to brush it off. Taking the top off of the water, he drank down the liquid and he could tell that she was staring at him. “What?”

“Why are you alone?” she finally spoke up after taking a minute to gather her thoughts.

“I’m a loner,” Negan shrugged, clinging to the container that she had given him. “That’s just who I am.”

“So you just walk through the woods alone with no supplies?” she put together the details finding trouble coming up with what he was saying. “That sounds like bullshit.”

“I’m going to Missouri,” Negan claimed adjusting his body weight to rest his head back on the arm of the couch. It didn’t hurt telling this kid the truth about things. “My wife and my son are there.”

“You have a wife?” she questioned and it made him laugh. “Is she pretty?”

“Very,” Negan answered with a weak smile, his dimples sinking in when she eyed him over. “I sent her and my son away because they were in danger being near me. Now they are safe, so I can go be with them again.”

“Why were they in danger?” she blurt out, sliding in closer to the couch and the moonlight shined down in over her young features. Staring out at him with her big eyes had him take in a sharp breath when he noticed her dimples becoming more prominent with curiosity. “How long have you been away from them?”

“Too long,” Negan took another extended swig of the water that she had given him, setting it down at his side. Biting down on his bottom lip, Negan felt himself staring at Mia for a long period of time before clearing his throat. “Did your mom ever tell you your daddy’s name?”

“No,” she shook her head and he could tell that she didn’t know why he was asking her about her father again. “What I’ve told you, I’ve only learned in the thirteen years of being alive. My mother doesn’t like talking about him because it makes her sad.”

“Huh,” Negan bit at his bottom lip, lifting his fingers up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“Why?” she whispered and he let out a hesitant laugh.

“Because I feel like maybe I was killed or fucked up really bad in the fight that I got in,” Negan stated with an amused laugh trying to shake off the thoughts he was experiencing when he looked at the young girl.

“Uh…why?” she snorted and he lowered his hand to glare out at her.

“Because you look…” Negan began, a shuddering breath falling from his lips. There was something in the way that she looked at him that made Negan question his past. “Forget it.”

“Okay?” she let his answer linger before rocking back and forth. “So why have you been separated from your family this long?”

“I did something bad and the marshals were chasing me,” Negan thought back on his story. “It was getting hard on my wife and I didn’t want them hurt, so I sent them away. They thought I would be following them, but I didn’t. I stayed back. Now that I’m free, I’m making my way back to them.”

“What did you do that was bad?” she asked like a child would and he realized that this was becoming a million questions between them.

“I killed people,” Negan spoke honestly and there was a shift in the way that she was looking at him. At that moment he knew that she was considering if her decision to let him stay there was bad. “I killed five men that hurt my wife. They did some really terrible things to her and left her for dead.”

“Oh. How do you know they are still in Missouri? Your family,” she wondered and he cussed under his breath. “I don’t mean to sound negative, but if it’s been a long time, how do you know that’s where they are?”

“I just have to hope that they are,” Negan reached into his pocket to grab Annie’s bracelet that he still carried with him. Stroking his thumb over the bracelet, he sighed loudly and shook his head. “I don’t know if they are or not. But I have faith that I will find them. Because I can feel it that they are still alive.”

“You feel it?” she repeated his words, her curious eyes on him. Placing his hand in over the center of his chest, he rubbed over it and sighed. “I think I feel the same thing with my mother.”

“Yeah?” Negan muttered, his jaw clenching. Truthfully? With her mom gone this long, he didn’t feel as confident as she obviously did. At this point, he was certain that her mother was dead. “I hope you’re right Mia.”

Things got awkward in that moment. He was talking about having a feeling that his family was still alive. And she said she felt the same way about her mother. It just made it uncomfortable for him. Pushing the bracelet back into his pocket, he could see out of the corner of his eye that she was still staring at him.

“Do you have a picture of your mom?” Negan inquired, locking his stare with hers and she cracked a smile. “What?”

“Sure, let me go pull out my cell phone and I can show you one,” she chuckled and he rolled his eyes at her smart-ass comment. “Where am I going to have a photo of my mom?”

“I don’t know, people find polaroids all the time,” Negan reasoned with her, tossing his hand up in the air.

“What’s that?” her face twisted and Negan suddenly started feeling extremely old. “I’m not fucking with you, I don’t know what that is.”

“I know that,” Negan dropped his head back and he looked up toward the ceiling letting out a tense breath. “Some people actually carry photos around from when they were younger. I was hoping I would get lucky.”

“Get lucky?” she challenged what he said, not quite understanding it. “Why do you care what my mom looks like?”

“Because I’m trying to remember my life about fourteen years ago,” Negan answered her realizing that he was probably just letting his emotions get the best of him looking at this girl.

“What would my mom have to do with what you were doing fourteen years ago?” she pulled her knees back up to wrap her arms around her legs while she stared out at him with wonder in her eyes.

“It’s complicated,” Negan adjusted his positioning on the couch wishing that it was more comfortable than it actually was.

“Were you and your wife married back then?” Mia let another one of her thoughts out again. This time Negan didn’t answer, he just shook his head. “Did you have a wife back then?”

“Kind of,” Negan thought back to The Sanctuary and all the women that he called his wives.

“Kind of?” she repeated his answer and he gave her a glare.

“What’s with the fifty questions?” Negan snarled, surprising her with him getting cranky with her.

“I just…” she went to defend herself, but realized it wasn’t for the best. “Never mind. You’re probably tired. You can take one of the free rooms upstairs.”

“Sounds good,” Negan groaned out, sitting up on the couch. Wincing, he reached for his ribs and wrapped his arm around them. In that moment he felt the room spinning around him and he closed his eyes trying to pull it together. Once he did, he got up from the couch and huffed. “Has it always been you and your mom?”

“There were some others from our old community,” she headed for the stairs and Negan started to follow her, grasping tightly to the banister when he felt sick. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Negan lied, getting up a few steps further. “What happened to them?”

“What happens to everyone?” she looked back over her shoulder to see that Negan had turned pale and he stumbled forward onto the steps. “Negan?”

“I…I don’t think I’m okay,” Negan explained hitting the stairs hard, sliding down them before laying out on the floor at the bottom. His eyes were fogging over and the last thing he saw was Mia stumbling down the stairs moving in over him. And then everything turned black.

----

Groaning out, Negan’s eyes fluttered to a slow open noticing that there was light coming through the windows of the room that he was in. Everything was blurry and he was in agony. Hissing out, Negan lifted his head and once everything started to clear up, he realized he was at the center of the room he was in last night with Mia. Cussing to himself, he pushed at the damp cloth that was over his head. Once he realized what it was, he threw it onto the ground beside him. Rolling over, he gasped when he saw someone at the corner of the room. It took him a minute to realize that it was Mia curled up in the armchair that was there. Eyeing her over, he could see that her dark hair was pulled back into a hairband and she looked exhausted. With the position that she was in, he had no idea how she was even comfortable enough to sleep like that.

Attempting to pull himself up led to him crying out in pain and he noticed that he was on a mattress that was at the center of the room on the floor. Hearing him in pain had Mia’s long eyelashes fluttering to an open and she scrambled to her feet when she realized it was him hurt. Heading over toward the corner of the room she grabbed the water and something else before dropping to her knees beside him.

“Here, take this,” she tried to place something between his parted lips, but he was quick to smack them out of her hand. Shock flooded her young features followed by him grabbing a tight hold of her face. Digging his fingers into her cheeks had her letting out a whimper when he raised up onto his elbow. “Negan?”

“What did you put in the water last night?” Negan demanded an answer seeing her immediately shake her head. Her hazel eyes looked terrified when she reached for the water. There had to be a reason he passed out so swiftly last night like he did. “Why did you drug me?”

“I didn’t,” she insisted pulling the water up to her lips to show that she would drink the water too. It was hard for her to do it with him holding onto her face like he was, but when she dropped the water back down after drinking some, he could see that she was actually scared by his response. “Please…I didn’t drug you. Your wounds were infected. I think you had a fever. You passed out and fell down the stairs. I dragged a mattress down the stairs and I took care of you. Please. Please. Let me show you.”

Releasing her, Negan heard her let out a panicked breath before shakily reaching for the blanket that she covered him with previously. Lifting his head he noticed that he was shirtless with a bandage wrapped around his ribs. Shakily pulling the bandage off, she could see through his heavy eyelids that Negan was looking down at his wounds that he had over his abdomen. It didn’t look good and he let out a groan, dropping his head back against the mattress.

“I still had some medicine,” she explained moving over toward the corner to dig out the bottle that she had used. Handing it over to him, he looked at the bottle to see what she had given him. “And I was just trying to give you some pain medication. I swear. I didn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” Negan apologized, pinching at the bridge of his nose and setting the bottle onto the ground. His body was still on fire and he imagined that was the fever that she was talking about. “I didn’t think I was hurt that bad after my fight.”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, sliding back to press her back up against the couch feeling shaken up that he had grabbed her like that. “I made a deal with you. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

There was a fear in her eyes that Negan hadn’t seen before when he lowered his hand from his face to stare out at her. Everything was still a little blurry and he shook his head, “I’m sorry kid. I didn’t mean to get rough with you. I just…panicked.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered rubbing at her face from where he had grabbed her previously. It was still red and Negan felt guilty knowing that she was innocent. “I know what it’s like to be scared, but I wouldn’t do anything to keep you from getting back to your family Negan. I promise.”

“I believe you,” Negan grimaced, looking down at his ribs to see that his wound there looked terrible. Tipping his head back again, he noticed that her stare was locked on her feet and she actually looked really upset. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” she blew off his worries, avoiding eye contact with him.

“I’m really fucking sorry,” Negan repeated, shakily reaching out to place his hand in over her knee to get her attention. Doing that actually hurt him, but he could tell that she trusted him and for him to do what he did had really upset her in that moment. Finally getting her to look at him made a breath fall from his throat at the innocence in her eyes. “I didn’t understand why I passed out like I did last night. Some people use children to get someone’s guard down and unfortunately, I’ve heard about it in the past.”

“It’s just me here Negan,” she looked to his hand, giving him a small nod when he pulled his hand away. “But I understand.”

“I know I promised to teach you things today,” Negan’s fingers outstretched over his injured abdomen and he dropped his head back with a pained sound. “I have no idea what time it even is.”

“It’s evening. You’ve been out all day,” she informed him, sliding forward to reach for the pills that he had smacked out of her hands previously. “You might want to take these and then I can get you another shot of the medicine. It should help.”

“Fuck,” Negan accepted the pills, swallowing them down with the water before grunting out loudly. Throwing his hands in over his face, he heard her moving around.

“I need you to roll onto your side,” she instructed him hearing the huff that he gave out before doing as she told him. “I’m going to inject this into your hip because I’d feel kind of weird injecting this in your ass cheek.”

“Whatever you say kid,” Negan felt her tugging at his pants to get his hip exposed. The bed dipped beside him and he winced when he felt the pain that she caused when she inserted the needle. “Jesus! Be careful with that fucking thing!”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before other than when you were passed out,” she apologized, finishing the injection. After moving around behind him, he felt her placing something over his hip where she gave him the injection. Lifting his head up, his eyes fell upon the band aid that was decorated with a cartoon character and he smirked. Shaking his head, he fixed his pants and laid at the center of the bed again. “I need to clean your wounds and bandage your ribs again to keep it from getting infected.”

“You shouldn’t have wasted your medicine on me,” Negan explained feeling her delicately moving in beside him. Watching her closely, he saw her pour something out onto a cloth before placing it over his wounds to dab at them. Wincing out had her jumping, but he fought to keep it together since he knew she was already on edge from what he had done earlier. “Your mother should have taught you better than that. Using your supplies on a stranger means there is less for you.”

“She did,” Mia corrected Negan, a lump developing in her throat when she heard Negan laugh after she dragged her fingers across a certain area. Giving him an odd expression, she shook her head. “The hell was that?”

“I’m ticklish,” Negan was honest causing her to roll her eyes. “If your mother taught you not to waste supplies, then why are you doing it?”

“Because you promised to help me,” she responded with a loud exhale, shakily finishing up with the job that she was doing on Negan’s ribs getting them bandaged again. Once she was done, she pulled the blanket back up over Negan’s body and he didn’t fight her on it. Outstretching over him, she grabbed the cloth he had thrown off and moved around the room to get his wet again, ringing it out just enough. Returning to him, she lowered the material over his head in attempts to bring down his fever with his eyes hooked on her. “And you have a family that is waiting on you. Somewhere your son is waiting for you like I’m waiting for my mom.”

“Yeah,” Negan felt his chest ache when she dropped down to sit on the ground beside the mattress that he was on. “Thank you. I probably would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“It was the right thing to do,” she whispered and Negan noticed that she was rubbing at her face again where he grabbed her.

Gazing over her, Negan felt a lump developing in his throat staring out at her. From her green-brown hazel eyes to her coloring, the dimples and even the color of her hair it had Negan deep in consideration with the way that she looked.

“Is your mother’s name Sherry?” Negan thought about the affair that he had with Dwight’s wife before they arrived at The Sanctuary all those years ago.

“No?” Mia raised her eyes again and Negan grunted. “What is it with you and my mother?”

“I just thought you might want to talk about her,” Negan lied hating that he was even considering the fact that this girl next to him may have been his daughter. It was stupid to think that it was Sherry that was her mother considering she would have been older than thirteen and he would have known about the baby if it was. Goddamn, he was pissed that he was having such a hard time remembering things from back then.

“How about we talk about your son,” she suggested and it made a warmth flood into his face. “How old is he?”

“He’s a few years old,” Negan answered drawing his arm up over his eyes again to hide the light since it was aiding to his headache. “His name is Joshua. Super cute. Big dimples. Has my eyes. A mix of his mother’s skin tone and mine. Dark, curly hair.”

“Sounds cute,” Mia stated with a half-smile sitting by the edge of the bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. “He probably gets away with everything.”

“What do you mean?” Negan lifted his head seeing her giving him a big cheesy smile that made him snort, but it drew attention to her dimples as well.

“My mom always told me it was my dimples that let me get away with everything,” she explained hearing Negan’s laughter at the face she made when she was showing him her dimples again. Negan’s nose wrinkled in amusement and he snorted.

“You’re a weird kid,” he responded drawing her cheeks to flush over with red in embarrassment. “It’s not a bad thing,” Negan assured her when she dropped her head down to look at her lap. “My mom told me the same thing when I was little too. She said anytime I got in trouble I would just look up at her and smile. She’d forget everything.”

“I guess those of us with dimples use them the best way we know how,” she suggested and he nodded his head slowly. “Do you miss him?”

“Very much,” Negan swallowed down, getting more relaxed on the bed while he looked up at the ceiling. “He was a cuddler. That’s what I miss the most. He would always crawl into the area between my arm and my chest. Just place his head on my chest,” Negan placed his hand in over the area that Joshua used to lay and he felt his eyes start to tear over. “It was the place he felt the safest, I guess. It was my favorite thing. I’d give anything to have those moments back.”

“It sounds nice,” she whispered with a weak smile, nodding her head slowly. “My mom has always been…” there was a silence that fell between them as she shook her head. “I don’t know. I think she saw things so she’s been very hard since I was little. She always protected me, but I think she was afraid of being loving with me in case…well…in case this happened I guess.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Negan noticed that Mia seemed upset when thinking about her mother. “She still loved you though. You know that.”

“Yeah. As much as she could,” Mia agreed with Negan, nodding her head about when she shifted on the ground beside him. “You sound like you’re a good dad Negan. Joshua is lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Negan admitted, an ache flooding throughout his body when he shook his head. “I abandoned him and his mom. I’ve been gone for a while Mia.”

“You did what you did to keep them safe. I can’t think of a greater sacrifice than that,” she assured him, throwing her hand up in the air to point out at him. “I’m sure if you tell him the truth about things when you find him again, he’ll understand.”

“You have a lot more faith than I do,” Negan confessed, turning on his side away from her to avoid showing her that he was crying thinking about his family.

“You’re the one that was talking about hope,” she reminded him only to have silence on the other end. After a while, she heard him sniffling and she spoke up again trying to change the subject. “I see you have freckles on your shoulders. I have those too. I thought I was weird or something was wrong with me, but I guess I was born with those.”

A chill flooded his veins when she added another thing to the list of things she had in common with him and he just started to wonder if this was some kind of nightmare he was trapped in where his brain was conjuring things up for him.

Negan didn’t respond and she felt uncomfortable just sitting there, “I saw all of your tattoos.”

“Oh yeah? Do you got a tattoo somewhere too?” Negan was sarcastic with her, looking back over his shoulder at her when her hazel eyes got big.

“No, but it would be awesome if I did,” she exclaimed excitedly, throwing her arm up and pointing toward an area. “I would get the word believe written right across here.”

“Believe?” Negan scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “That’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. It’s fucking awesome,” she insisted seemingly offended by his response. “It would serve as a reminder. To always believe that things are going to get better.”

“You don’t need a tattoo of that to feel better about yourself,” Negan snorted, his nose wrinkling when she gave him a dramatic expression. “What?”

“Like you have any room to talk Mr. I have blacked out rectangles on my knuckles,” she half laughed noticing the glare that Negan gave her when she pointed out his tattoos to him. “Like those have some special kind of meaning to you.”

“Touché,” Negan rolled his eyes and turned away from her again hearing her humming under her breath.

“I like the happy face tattoo on your middle finger. It’s funny. What do all of your tattoos mean?” she questioned after noticing how many he had. “You have a ton of them. Do you like pirates? Is that why you have the one you do on your chest? Is the dog on your back one of your old pets? Are you very religious since you have a few crosses on your body? What does Bisou mean? I was also wondering where your name came from? I’ve never heard it before. Is it like a family name?”

“Jesus!” Negan snapped, looking over his shoulder at her again noticing the way her eyebrows bounced up. Everything was starting to overwhelm him and he didn’t even know where to start with her since he was already finding himself uncomfortable with this whole thing. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Not really,” Mia simply shrugged her shoulders and gave him a sheepish smirk. “My mom always told me that I talked too much, but I just like learning things. It’s the one thing I think she couldn’t stand the most about me. Said my dad talked too much too, but I figured if you’re going to be here…”

“We’re not friends Mia!” Negan interrupted her sitting up in the bed noticing the way she got pale after he cut her off. There was anger in his tone and she looked upset to see him snap at her. “I’m just a stranger to you. Once I get better, I will take a day to teach you what I promised and then I’m fucking leaving. Do you understand me? We’re not friends. I’m not going to get personal with you. So…just be fucking quiet. I want to rest so I can get better and I can get the hell out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” she frowned, her hazel eyes looking away from him, “I’ve just been alone and…” he could see the sadness flooding into her eyes again before she stood to her feet. “I just haven’t talked to anyone in a really long time and…” she cut herself off thinking about the things that Negan had just said. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry for bothering you Negan. Get some sleep.”

Huffing out, Negan turned onto his back and heard her walking up the stairs toward the second level and he started to feel guilty, “Kiss. It means kiss.”

“What does?” Mia slowly turned on her heel and lowered down to sit on the step she was on.

“Bisou. It means kiss,” Negan educated her letting out a long sigh. “I like skulls. That’s why I have the skull on my chest. The dog is an old dog of mine. And I just like crosses, I’m not religious. I just like the aesthetic of them,” Negan explained the questions that she asked him. “And I don’t know what kind of name Negan is, it’s just what my parents named me.”

“What’s your last name?” she inquired getting a glare from Negan in response. “Last question. I promise. And then I will leave you alone.”

“Smith,” Negan responded, clutching to the pillow that was under his head.

“I was expecting more,” she chuckled, pulling herself up into a standing position. “With a first name like that, you expect something more unique. And it’s interesting you named your son Joshua.”

“It was Annie, my wife’s idea,” Negan informed her, clearing his throat when he thought about his son. “His name means salvation. That was kind of the point. Joshua was my salvation.”

“Oh, wow,” she breathed out noticing the sadness that flooded into Negan’s features again talking about his son. “That’s deep. I don’t know why my mother named me Mia. I just think…she liked the name.”

“Goodnight Mia,” Negan grumbled under his breath turning away from her and cuddling his head in closer to the pillow. More than anything, he just wanted to shut his brain off and rest. The faster he got out of here, the better.

“Goodnight Negan,” she whispered taking a minute to head up the stairs before heading to her bedroom. It left the house silent when Negan closed his eyes. He just had to get better and then he could be back on his way to find his family. All this extra added nonsense was just driving him crazy and he could tell he needed to get away from all of this.

#Negan #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Dead City #The Walking Dead #Negan fanfiction #twd fanfiction #Dead City fanfiction #Negan Smith

90 notes · View notes

zeezed01 · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter Nine - Through Enemy Eyes

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a faint silver glow over the camp as Percy and Leo crept through the shadows. The tension between them was palpable, but they didn’t dare speak. The faint hum of a generator and the occasional murmur of voices from nearby tents were the only sounds as they made their way toward the storage shed.

“This is so stupid,” Leo muttered under his breath, crouching low behind a stack of crates. His borrowed pistol felt unnaturally heavy in his waistband, but his fingers still twitched with nervous energy.

Percy shot him a warning glance. “Keep it down. We’re almost there.”

The storage shed loomed ahead, a squat metal structure with a single padlocked door. Two guards stood nearby, their rifles slung lazily over their shoulders. They didn’t look particularly alert, but the sight of their weapons was enough to send a chill down Percy’s spine.

Leo leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper. “What’s the plan, boss?”

Percy’s eyes scanned the area, his mind racing. “We wait for a distraction. Something to draw them away.”

As if on cue, a distant shout echoed from the far side of the camp. Both guards straightened, their heads snapping toward the noise. They exchanged a quick look before one of them jogged off to investigate, leaving the other behind.

“That’s our shot,” Percy whispered, already moving.

They crept toward the shed, their footsteps muffled by the dirt. The remaining guard shifted his weight, yawning as he leaned against the shed. Percy’s heart pounded in his ears as he silently drew the hunting knife strapped to his leg. One wrong move, and this could go south fast.

Leo hesitated, his breath hitching. “Percy—”

“Stay here,” Percy hissed, cutting him off.

In one swift motion, Percy closed the distance, grabbing the guard from behind and pressing the knife to his throat. The man stiffened, his hands flying up in surrender.

“Quiet,” Percy growled. “If you make a sound, I swear—”

The guard nodded frantically, his eyes wide with fear. Percy held him steady as Leo rushed forward, fumbling with the padlock on the shed. His fingers worked quickly, the soft click of the lock opening sending a surge of relief through both of them.

Inside, the shed was cramped and cluttered with supplies, but their weapons were easy to spot. Percy grabbed his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder, while Leo retrieved the pistol. The weight of the weapons in their hands felt like a lifeline.

“Got it,” Leo whispered, stepping back.

Percy released the guard, shoving him roughly toward the wall. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

They slipped out of the shed and melted back into the shadows, leaving the guard frozen in place. The camp behind them was still stirring with activity, but they were already moving toward the gate, their escape now in motion.

Percy glanced down at the rifle strapped securely to his back. The weight of it was reassuring, a solid reminder of their resolve, even if the tension in the air made his stomach churn. His fingers itched to tighten around the grip, but he forced himself to keep them still. They couldn’t afford to draw attention, not now. Not when every second mattered.

He exchanged a glance with Leo, who was fiddling nervously with the borrowed pistol at his hip. The younger boy’s usual bravado was absent, replaced by a quiet unease that only made Percy more anxious. They stood near the camp’s main gate, the towering chain-link fence looming above them, its barbed wire glinting faintly in the moonlight. Beyond it lay freedom—or at least a chance at it. But getting there was the hard part, and every instinct in Percy’s body screamed that this was a bad idea.

“This is insane,” Leo muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the generator. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his dark eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of movement. “But then again, I like insane. You ready?”

Percy’s expression hardened. He met Leo’s gaze, his jaw set in determination. “We don’t have a choice.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, their breaths fogging faintly in the cool night air. Percy could hear the muffled sounds of the camp—the crunch of boots on gravel as a patrol passed nearby, the low murmur of voices from the barracks. The world felt painfully still, as if holding its breath alongside them.

Leo exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Man, this place is giving me serious horror movie vibes. All it’s missing is a chainsaw guy.”

Percy snorted softly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Keep your head in the game, Leo. If we screw this up—”

“I know, I know,” Leo cut him off, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just trying to lighten the mood, bro. You’re wound tighter than Annabeth before finals.”

The mention of Annabeth stung, but Percy didn’t let it show. “Yeah, well, maybe I have a reason to be.” He turned his attention back to the gate, his mind racing through the plan for the hundredth time. The fence was secured by two guards, both armed, and the lock on the gate itself wasn’t going to give way without a fight. They’d need speed, precision, and no small amount of luck to pull this off.

Leo nudged him lightly. “Hey, relax. You’ve got me, remember? And I’ve got the world’s deadliest personality.”

Percy rolled his eyes but allowed a faint smirk to tug at his lips. “Just don’t blow us up, okay?”

“No promises,” Leo shot back, his grin more confident than he probably felt.

Percy’s smirk faded as he turned his attention back to the guards. One of them yawned and leaned against the gate, his rifle hanging loosely at his side. The other seemed more alert, his eyes sweeping the camp with calculated precision. Neither of them looked particularly eager to move, which complicated things.

“How are we playing this?” Leo asked, his voice quieter now.

“We wait for a window,” Percy replied, his tone clipped. “A distraction, a shift change—something. When it happens, we move fast and don’t stop until we’re clear.”

“And if we don’t get a window?” Leo’s question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Percy didn’t answer right away. Instead, he adjusted the strap of the rifle on his back, his fingers brushing against the cold metal. Finally, he said, “Then we make one.”

Leo blinked, his expression shifting from wary to impressed. “Okay, remind me never to play poker with you. You’re scarily calm for someone about to charge a death trap.”

“I’m not calm,” Percy admitted, his voice low. “I’m just good at pretending.”

Leo chuckled softly, but there was an edge to it, a nervous energy that matched the rapid tapping of his fingers against the pistol. Percy glanced at him again, taking in the way his hands shook ever so slightly. For all his jokes, Leo was just as scared as Percy was. Maybe more.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Percy said, his tone firmer now. “We’re gonna be fine.”

Leo nodded, his grin flickering back into place like a mask. “Damn right we are. Let’s do this.”

Percy gave a final glance around the camp, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the distance to the gate. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and out of time. But for once, none of that mattered. Failure wasn’t an option—not tonight.

With a deep breath, he tapped Leo on the shoulder. “Stay close. And whatever happens, don’t stop running.”

Leo’s grin widened, though his eyes remained serious. “Lead the way, Captain Chaos.”

Percy didn’t bother responding. He tightened his grip on the strap of his rifle and stepped forward, his heart pounding as they began their approach.

The night seemed to close in around them, the shadows stretching long and deep as they moved. Each step felt like a gamble, each breath a risk. But they kept going, their eyes fixed on the gate and the slim promise of freedom beyond.

This was it. Their moment.

And they weren’t going to waste it.

Their opportunity came as Davis, the camp’s wiry gatekeeper, strode past with a clipboard tucked under his arm. His sharp features were illuminated by the dim floodlights around the gate, and his boots crunched against the gravel with a precision that echoed his no-nonsense demeanor. He stopped short when he saw them, his eyes narrowing as he raised a hand to halt their progress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, his tone clipped and authoritative.

Percy stepped forward, trying to keep his voice steady and casual, despite the adrenaline surging through his veins. “We were told to check the perimeter. You know, keep an eye out for infected.”

Davis’s eyes flickered with suspicion, glancing between Percy and Leo. He seemed to weigh their words for a moment, his grip tightening on the clipboard. “Perimeter duty? Without clearance? Not happening. You’re not authorized to leave.”

Leo let out a forced laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender. “C’mon, man. We’re just doing what we’re told. Don’t tell me you’re scared of letting two guys like us take a little stroll.”

Davis didn’t so much as crack a smile. If anything, his jaw tightened, and he squared his shoulders, planting himself firmly in their path. “I said no. Get back to the barracks before you make this worse for yourselves.”

The atmosphere thickened with tension, the air almost buzzing with the weight of unspoken intentions. Percy and Leo exchanged a glance—a brief, electric moment of communication that passed between them without words. They had no backup plan, no guarantee this would work, but hesitation wasn’t an option anymore.

Percy moved first. He lunged forward, his hands gripping the rifle strapped across his chest. With a swift motion, he swung the butt of the weapon into Davis’s ribs, forcing the man to stumble back with a pained grunt. The clipboard clattered to the ground, and Davis clutched his side, his face twisted in surprise and anger.

“Go! Now!” Percy barked, his voice cutting through the night as he threw his weight against the heavy chain-link gate.

Leo didn’t need to be told twice. He darted forward, pulling the gate open just wide enough for them to slip through. The metallic screech of the hinges seemed impossibly loud, and every muscle in Percy’s body screamed at him to move faster.

Behind them, Davis recovered quickly, his hand shooting to the radio clipped to his shoulder. “Escapees at the main gate! Lock it down!”

The alarms blared almost instantly, a high-pitched wail that sent chills down Percy’s spine. Spotlights snapped on, illuminating the camp in harsh white light, and shouts erupted as soldiers scrambled to respond.

“Come on, come on!” Leo hissed, slipping through the gap in the gate. Percy followed, his heart pounding as the floodlights swung toward them. The sound of boots pounding against the ground grew louder behind them.

“Stop them!” someone shouted, the command echoing through the camp.

Percy and Leo didn’t stop. They sprinted into the darkness, the world around them a chaotic blur of noise and light. The gravel under their boots gave way to uneven ground, tufts of grass and dirt threatening to trip them with every step. Percy’s rifle bounced against his back, the reassuring weight now a hindrance as he pushed himself to run faster.

“We’re sitting ducks out here!” Leo panted, glancing over his shoulder at the figures gaining on them.

“Just keep moving!” Percy growled, his eyes scanning the landscape for cover. The camp’s perimeter stretched wide, a barren expanse broken only by a few scattered vehicles and storage sheds. Beyond that lay the forest—thick, shadowy, and their only real chance of escape.

The first shot rang out, a sharp crack that sent Percy diving to the side. He hit the ground hard, his palms scraping against the dirt as Leo dropped beside him.

“They’re shooting at us?!” Leo hissed, his voice a mix of disbelief and panic.

Percy didn’t answer. He grabbed Leo’s arm and hauled him to his feet, dragging him toward the nearest storage shed. They ducked behind it just as another shot whizzed past, striking the metal wall with a deafening clang.

“Great plan,” Leo muttered, leaning against the shed to catch his breath. “Really loving the whole ‘run like hell’ strategy.”

“You got a better one?” Percy shot back, peeking around the corner. The soldiers were closing in, their silhouettes stark against the floodlights. He counted at least five, all armed, and all moving with the precision of people who knew exactly how to hunt their prey.

“Yeah,” Leo said, his tone grim. “We don’t die.”

Percy snorted despite himself. “Good plan. Let’s stick to that.”

They didn’t have time to regroup. Percy motioned for Leo to follow, and they took off again, weaving between the scattered obstacles that littered the edge of the camp. Each step brought them closer to the forest, the dense trees promising cover and, hopefully, safety.

As they neared the treeline, the gunfire intensified. Bullets struck the ground around them, kicking up dirt and sending splinters flying from a nearby crate. Percy clenched his jaw, focusing on the rhythm of his steps and the distant goal of the forest. They were so close.

Then, a voice boomed from behind them, cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Halt! You’re only making this worse!”

Percy risked a glance back and saw Davis, his rifle raised and his expression murderous. The sight only spurred Percy to run faster, his legs burning with the effort.

“We’re not gonna make it,” Leo gasped, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own footsteps.

“Yes, we are,” Percy snapped. He refused to let doubt creep in now—not when they were so close.

The forest loomed ahead, its shadows swallowing the light from the camp. Percy didn’t slow down as they reached the first line of trees, branches whipping against his arms and face. The sudden shift to uneven terrain almost sent him sprawling, but he caught himself and kept moving.

Behind them, the shouts grew fainter, the soldiers reluctant to follow them into the dense undergrowth. Percy allowed himself a fleeting moment of relief, though he knew they weren’t safe yet.

“We need to keep going,” he said, his voice hoarse as he turned to Leo. “They won’t stop looking for us.”

Leo nodded, his face pale but determined. “Lead the way, boss.”

They pushed deeper into the forest, the darkness enveloping them like a shroud. The sounds of the camp faded into the distance, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. For the first time in what felt like hours, Percy allowed himself to breathe.

But their reprieve was short-lived. Just as they neared the edge of the forest, the hospital barely visible in the distance, a figure emerged from the shadows, blocking their path.

“Nico,” Percy muttered, his stomach sinking.

Nico di Angelo stood before them, his pistol drawn and his face a mask of cold fury. The moonlight glinted off the barrel of his weapon, and his stance was rigid, unyielding.

“You think you can just run?” Nico’s voice was low, dangerous. “You think you can betray the camp and get away with it?”

“We didn’t betray anyone,” Percy shot back, his own voice tight with anger. “We’re trying to survive.”

“Survive?” Nico scoffed, his finger twitching on the trigger. “You’re throwing away everything this camp stands for. Everything we’ve built.”

“It’s built on lies,” Percy said, stepping forward despite the gun pointed at him. “On hatred and control. Open your eyes, Nico.”

“Don’t you dare lecture me!” Nico snarled, his voice rising. “You have no idea what it’s been like. What I’ve been through. This camp saved me.”

“No,” Leo interjected, his voice sharp. “It brainwashed you.”

Nico’s gaze snapped to Leo, his eyes blazing with fury. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” Leo said, his hand resting on the pistol at his hip. “I know this isn’t you, man.”

Nico’s grip on his gun tightened, and Percy’s heart raced as he saw the barrel shift toward Leo. “Stop!” Percy shouted, raising his hands. “Nico, don’t—”

The shot rang out, startling the forest into silence. But it wasn’t Nico who fired.

Percy lowered his rifle, his hands shaking as he saw the blood blooming on Nico’s sleeve. The younger man stumbled back, clutching his arm with a pained gasp.

“Stay down,” Percy said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

Nico glared at him, his face pale but defiant. “You’ll regret this,” he hissed.

As Percy and Leo prepared to slip away into the forest, Nico leaned heavily against a tree, blood seeping through his fingers as he clutched his wounded arm. His face was pale, a mix of fury and determination burning in his dark eyes. Despite the pain, he refused to show weakness.

“You don’t understand,” Nico spat, his voice trembling but fierce. “You think this place is evil? It’s order. It’s survival. You’re just too blind to see it.”

Percy glanced down at Nico as the boy slumped heavily against his shoulder. His breaths were shallow, his face slick with sweat and blood. Even in his weakened state, his lips curled into a bitter sneer.

“They’ll kill me,” Nico rasped, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with venom. His dark eyes flicked to Percy, sharp even through the haze of pain. “You think you’ve saved me? You’ve signed my death warrant.”

“They don’t waste supplies,” Nico continued, his voice gaining a desperate edge. “If you’re weak, if you’re broken—they’ll put a bullet in your head before they’ll waste a bandage. It’s efficiency. It’s survival.”

“Survival?” Percy repeated, his voice cold. “That’s not survival, Nico. That’s murder.”

“You don’t get it,” Nico spat, though his words came out weaker with each breath. “They’re building something bigger. Something better. It’s not about me—it’s about what’s best for the whole. I knew that. I—”

His words faltered as his knees gave out. Percy adjusted quickly, hoisting him up with a grunt. Nico let out a choked sound of frustration, his head hanging forward. “You don’t understand,” he muttered. “You’ll never understand.”

Leo, walking just ahead, turned and fixed Percy with a hard look. “You’re really sure about this? He’s still brainwashed, Percy. Still sold on the whole ‘greater good’ garbage.”

Percy’s jaw clenched as he kept moving, his boots crunching over fallen leaves. “I’m not letting him die because of what they did to him.”

“I’m not brainwashed,” Nico hissed, his voice like a knife’s edge despite the pain dragging him down. “I believe in them. I believe in the camp. They’re rebuilding the world, and you—” He tried to lift his head, his dark eyes boring into Percy’s with pure spite. “You’re just running away. You’re cowards.”

“Cowards, huh?” Leo barked a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. “You’ve got a funny way of talking about the guys dragging your sorry ass out of the woods instead of leaving you for dead.”

“They’ll find me,” Nico ground out. “And when they do, they’ll kill me for failing. But they’ll come for you too. You won’t get away.”

Percy exchanged a look with Leo. Nico’s words were laced with conviction, but underneath the defiance, there was fear. It wasn’t just pain making his voice tremble—it was the certainty of what awaited him if he went back. Percy exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Then you don’t go back.”

Nico let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “And do what? Die with you? There’s no running from them.”

Leo threw up his hands, his frustration palpable. “You hear this, man? He’s ready to die for them. And you still want to save him?”

“Yeah, I do,” Percy snapped. He adjusted Nico’s weight again and looked Leo dead in the eyes. “Because he’s not thinking straight. And even if he was—he’s still a kid, Leo. I’m not leaving him to get executed because he bought into their lies.”

Leo muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as he trudged on ahead. Percy glanced down at Nico, who had gone quiet. His head lolled slightly, his face pale and drawn, but his lips were pressed into a thin, angry line.

“You’ll regret this,” Nico whispered, his voice faint now, like he was barely clinging to consciousness. “You’ll regret… everything.”

Percy didn’t respond. He just kept walking, his jaw set, the hospital looming closer with every step.

11 notes · View notes

second-wife-playbook · 2 months ago

Text

Hunger Games Simulator! Second Wife Playbook Edition:

(this seemed fun so here's a progression of how this silly simulator went some some of the pals I've RPed with, and a few I haven't, just to fill in spots :D Enjoy, and let's see if Coronis makes it to the end!)

The Districts:

The Bloodbath:

(Oh no Blitz!!! Well, Stolas, looks like you're gonna be single this round, sorry D: Also Stella coming in for the FENCING MASTER with a sword and sweet Zal punching Octavia is too much JESUS)

(Stolas you bastard! Losing Blitz really turned him! Also GOOD LORD CASS I thought your specialty was TEA not EXPLOSIVES)

End of Day One:

(....well. Good luck Babybird O_O)

Night One:

(WELL THERE GOES THE HEIR TO THE THRONE AND THE MARQUISDOM GODDAMN. Stella you burned your ice-queen bro alive HOW IS THAT AN ACCIDENT. Also Stolas and Cori?!?! Striker, wake up, he's stealing yo girl!)

Day Two:

(Again, Cassandra and Striker seem to have switched, that goat is OFF THE CHAIN. Coronis running to higher ground? Trying to get away? ALSO STELLA WHAT THE HELL YOU MURDERER YOU KILLED ZAL AND YOUR BROTHER???? IS THIS A GOETIA PURGE?)

End of Day Two:

(Slim pickings but Cori is still alive!....And so is Moxxie and Millie aww, couples survivin)

Night Two:

(Moxxie???? Moxxie YOU'RE A MARRIED MAN MOXXIE. Also FINALLY Striker getting in the royal assassination! Sorry Beelzy you didn't deserve it (probably). Stella not killing her husband?????? What?????)

Day Three:

(WELL THERE GOES THE WIFE GOOD GOING MOXXIE. Also did Cori learn to steal from Stolas??? ALSO NOOOOO STRIKKKKERRRRRR!!!!! And then Stolas too?!? This is getting intense!)

End of Day Three:

(So far Stella and Cassandra are the most RUTHLESS BITCHES EVER on this. Coronis still survives though! And no kills, just staying alive. I am sad the Bros Stalker and Striker are dead, fare thee well my cowboys ;_;)

Night Three:

(The theater kids with musical numbers are SINGING! That's oddly cute. Poor Cori though, just singing softly to herself :'( )

Day Four: The Feast

(I think maybe their are no supplies and memoirs for Coronis, because her parents don't like her. Also Ozzie running from this brutal Goat-Girl is amazing given Cass is getting so brutal this round. Poor Beelzabub didn't get to the Feast though awww)

(OH CRAP THERE GOES CASS! I guess all the killing didn't save her big ol' goat feet from making the wrong step. Also Coronis and her sister teaming up a little??? This can't possibly go wrong-)

End of Day Four:

(Only Cassandra died but GOD what a player! Five kills and taken out by a landmine. Sorry about your luck. But Cori still holding out!!!! Let's see how long that lasts-)

Night Four

(......well that didn't take long. So long Cori. You were sadly no match for the wily possum.)

Day Five:

(Disturbingly normal, though I see the Lust Pals are teaming up. Stella has got PLANS for that makeshift slingshot and all of them involve murder, just you wait!)

End of Day Five

(We lost Coronis ya'll ;-; But she's down in Hell with Striker now, so it's all good.)

Night Five:

( YOU SPARED STELLA????? BRUH SHE KILLED LIKE FIVE OR SIX PEOPLE!!!)

Day Six:

(This is getting tense.....)

Night Six:

(WHY CAN'T YOU GUYS TELL YOUR DRINKS APART?????? Also you four are seriously messed up telling ghost stories with Stella, she's gonna MAKE YOU a ghost)

Day Seven:

(OH NO STELLA OH NO. OH AND POOR BABY BOY DAMIAN!!! He's with his big sister now-)

End of Day Seven:

(err....there's only four left. this is about to pick up rapidly)

Night Seven:

(Oh Moxxie baby I hope that doesn't come to haunt you. Also Verosika SLIT HER THROAT she's just going to kill you later-)

Day Eight:

(eerrrr.....guys? what are you talking about????)

Night Eight:

(OH MY GOD ONLY THE GIRLS ARE LEFT THE GIRLS ARE FIIIIGHTINGGGGG)

Day Nine:

(Stella honing those killer instincts. She's had enough of high-society life and now she's a rutheless killer.)

End of Day Nine:

(It's coming down to the wire. These feisty ladies are bound to end one way or another!)

Night Nine:

(OH MY GOD THERE GOES VEROSIKA. Yui learned a thing or two from the wife. It's now Bird vs Fox! Who's it gonna be!??!)

Day Ten:

(.....what?)

(WHAT?)

(THIS IS THE TWISTED ENDING STELLA WINS??????????)

(Well that was interesting! It made sense Coronis never killed anyone but MY GOD Stella was the unexpected victor in my opinion! Among killing her brother and countless others though????? Not bad!)

(Thanks for reading this! Hope you enjoyed it!

@a-hell-of-a-time

@viagoetia

@helluvaoutlaw

@always-sleeping-in-his-grave

@moxxietude

@crystal-infusions

@keeperofquestions

@damian-morningstar

@holyfurnace

#hunger games simulator #seemed like fun!#one too many drinks; nonsense

10 notes · View notes

addicail · 3 months ago

Text

Facilities Request 7987-20230529

Main article: SCP-7987

Submitted by Agent Owen Mark, C3

Results of experiments conducted on SCP-7987 indicate it can sense the thoughts of other sapient entities within 10 metres of itself, including through barriers such as walls. Results indicate SCP-7987 is also able to evoke thoughts in the minds of other entities in this range, including through barriers. (See Experiment logs.) For the safety and comfort of SCP-7987, facility personnel, and other facility inmates, requesting the following updates to the Wallace Facility:

Acquisition of 625 m2 area north of the facility main building

Preparation of land, including tree felling and placement of concrete foundation

Requisition and installation of 20 m2 mobile home with 8 m2 porch

Connection of water, sewer, and electric utilities to the complex

Furnishing of mobile home similar to other cells in the facility

Erection of 1.8m chain link fence in a 25m square around the mobile home, topped with barbed wire

Electromagnetically locking gate for fence

Heavy lift drone for unmanned transport of supplies to the entity

See attachment for full breakdown of budget. Such an enclosure would keep SCP-7987 away from the other personnel and inhabitants of the facility, preventing harm to all parties as a result of the documented telepathy, while meeting the Foundation's standards for containment of cooperative human-like entities.

Status: APPROVED

Approved by Director James Harrison, 30/05/23

Note: Unit is to be designated cell 13 (trailer).

⏮️ First ◀️ Prev 🟩 Next ▶️ Last ⏭️

#addison #SCP-addi

4 notes · View notes

thatshadowhunterlife · 5 months ago

Text

Pressure Makes Diamonds (THG AU)

Summary: Winning isn't everything. It's just the only thing that matters when you have people waiting for you at home. Chrysanthemum Everdeen is the oldest of the Everdeen siblings. Her whole life is based on the survival of her and her family. When it's time for the annual Hunger Games to take place, she can't even imagine her name getting picked even with the odds stacked against her. When she is called to enter the deadly games she feels her whole world shift. Winning would mean everything to her family but her odds aren't the best. If she is to win, she has to make difficult decisions about survival, family, and love.

OR an AU where Katniss has an older sister that participated in the 70th Annual Hunger Games.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56708572/chapters/144155971

─────── ─ ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚─ ───────

Chapter One

The early morning sunlight shines brightly from between my blinds, waking me up. I can’t help but groan. I hate waking up so early but I know I have to. I roll on my side and look at my sleeping sister. She always looks younger when she sleeps, more relaxed. Normally I’d wake her up and ask her if she wants to come with me, but she deserves to sleep in today. It’s her first Reaping Day afterall.

I slip out of bed and stretch. I need to hurry up before Katniss decides to come along. From our room I can see my other little sister, Primrose, sleeping with our mother. She looks fresh and innocent. Just as beautiful as the flower she was named after. I can’t help but smile. I can’t give them much, but I can at least let them stay like this for a little while longer.

I grab a shirt and pants and put them on before slipping on my hunting boots and my father’s hunting jacket. It smelled of coal dust and the meadow. He hasn’t been in this jacket in about a year now but it still mildly smelled of him. I dread the day when it won’t anymore. I still can’t believe it’s been a year without him already.

When I walk into the kitchen, there was a little bit of cheese wrapped in herb leaves waiting on the table for me. There was a little note sitting next to it that read “From Katniss.” She probably went into the woods yesterday and traded something for it. That kid is sweeter than she likes to admit. I put the cheese into my pocket, slip my forage bag over my shoulder, and head out the door.

Our part of District 12 is nicknamed “The Seam”. Normally by this time, it would be swarming with coal miners heading to the mines. But not today. Not on Reaping Day. Today, people try to sleep in for as long as they can. It’s the one day that they can so why not? Sleep helps you forget about everything for a bit. Like a pause in a song.

Since we live on the edge of District 12, I only have to walk past a few gates to get to the little field we call the Meadow. The Meadow and the woods are like saviors for my family. They kept us alive on a miner’s pay. Sometimes during the fall, those who were brave enough to enter the Meadow would go to gather apples and syrup to make maple syrup. It always sells very well in the Hob. The only thing that separates the Meadow from the woods is a chain linked fence with barbed wire loops at the top. The fence is supposed to be alive with electricity 24 hours a day, but since we are lucky to get any electricity at all it is typically off. Either way, I always listen out for the hum of the fence and I’ve taught Katniss to do the same. You can never be too careful. As expected, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

There is a little hole in the fence that is hidden behind two bushes. I suck in my stomach and slide under the fence. Once I’m in the woods, I instantly feel more relaxed. It feels like I’m coming home. I walk over to the hollow tree that my father kept our weapons in. My specialty is throwing knives. My father made me a set for my birthday one year. The supplies must have cost a fortune and I’m sure my mother was not thrilled to see her ten year old daughter with a set of knives. Sometimes I use my father's bow as well, but not very often. That is more of my sister’s thing. Killing things with a knife is just easier for me.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss my father. He was blown up in the coal mines. I still get nightmares about it. My father was too good of a man for this world anyways. It didn’t deserve him.

“I hate this goddamn place,” I mutter once I’m in the clear. If I got caught saying that in the district, I could be shot on the spot by a Peacekeeper. I reserve my thoughts about District 12 to the woods where I know I’m safe. Even at home, I need to be careful that my sisters don’t repeat something I’ve said. Though Katniss has some feelings of her own.

I push through a few bushes and arrive at our meeting spot. My best friend Ashton Hawthorne leans against a tree, popping wild berries into his mouth. I can’t help but to smile when I see him. He is one of the only people I can truly be myself with.

“Hey Chrissy!” Ashton waves at me.

My real name is Chrysanthemum. Our father loved plants so much that he named each kid after one. Unfortunately for me, mine had to be the longest and most complicated. First child problems I guess. Regardless, it’s a mouthful for everyone so it’s just easier to call me by my nickname.

“Look at the little present Gale left us,” He takes out a piece of bread. Actual bakery bread, not the stuff we make with our tesserae rations. That must’ve cost him at least a squirrel. Maybe even two because it’s a holiday. Though I don’t think it should be called something so joyous.

“I swear him and Katniss must’ve gone hunting together. She left me a little bit of cheese.” I say.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if they did,” Ashton says, “they’ve been doing pretty well on their own lately.”

“What can I say? I’m a great teacher,” I tease.

When my father died I had to take over teaching Katniss how to hunt. Once she met Gale, it became a duo thing. They are as close knit as Ash and I are. Maybe closer. I can see them getting married when they are older.

I gather some more wild berries before sitting down next to Ashton to eat. I take out the cheese and he splits the bread in half. We split the berries between the two of us then dig in. It was the nicest breakfast I’ve had in awhile.

“Oh I forgot, happy Reaping day.” Ashton says.

“Happy Reaping Day Ash. And may the odds be ever in your favor!” I say in that stupid capitol accent. It sounds so ridiculous that it’s hard to not make fun of it. Ashton and I laugh softly. “So, what are you in the mood for today?” I ask.

“We can see if we can find some shellfish by the lake then gather some greens and berries. Get something nice for today?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We start walking down to the lake. “You know, we should make a deal” Ashton says looking up at the sky.

“What kind of deal?” I ask.

“If one of us gets picked-”

“We aren’t going to get picked Ash,” I say dismissively.

“Quit cutting me off. I said if because we don’t know. Our names are both in there a whole bunch of times. I lost track, I don’t know about you. But if one of us gets picked, we need to take care of the other person’s family,” he says looking into my eyes.

He is right about our likelihood of getting chosen even if I hate to hear it. “Alright you got yourself a deal,” I hold out my pinky. We interlock pinkies and squeeze. “Now it’s official. You know how serious I take pinky promises.”

“Trust me, I know. You still remind me of when I promised you that I would get you strawberries for your birthday and didn’t,” he laughs. He claps his hands together loudly. “Alright! Now that that conversation is done, how about we get some dinner?”

We made out good today. We found about a bag of shellfish, two bags of greens, and a gallon of the wildberries. On the way back, we kill a couple squirrels to sell to Greasy Sae in the Hob.

“Let’s head to the Hob first then we can sell some of the berries to the baker and the mayor.” I say. We have enough that we’d still be able to split them between the two of us after selling.

“Alright.” Ashton says.

I felt strange after that conversation with Ashton. We don’t normally talk about things that dark. If you don’t count starving and stuff. But I think it makes it worse because it’s Reaping Day. On Reaping Day, it’s a different kind of survival running through our heads; one that we have no control over.

Our feet just take us to the Hob. Muscle memory I guess or whatever my science book said. We make our way over to Greasy Sae and plop the squirrels on her table. She looks it over and then pays us nicely for it.

“Once it’s in the soup, we’ll call it beef.” she chuckles.

I don’t normally eat her soup for that very reason. You never really know what’s really in it. I have to be starving more than usual to eat Greasy Sae’s soup. We continue throughout the Hob selling some of our spoils. We split the money like always and then split what was left of the food.

“See you in the Square.” I tell Ash as we get closer to his house.

“Wear something pretty,” he says in a teasing tone. I roll my eyes and just mumble my answer before we go our separate ways. On the way to my house, I mentally prepare myself to act tough in front of Katniss and Prim. I know Katniss is terrified right now. I need to be like how my mother was for me on my first Reaping day.

I walk through the door with a big smile on my face.“I’m home!” I say in a sing-song voice. Prim comes running towards me yelling my name. I pick her up and rest her on my hip. She is eight years old but years of malnutrition has kept her small enough for me to carry her. “Hey there my little flower,” I say kissing her cheek.

“Katniss looks super pretty Chrissy! Come and look!” Prim says excitedly. I walk over to our room and see my little sister in the new outfit I bought her for her first Reaping: a pretty white blouse and a beige ruffled skirt.

“You’re right Prim, she does look very pretty,” I say softly. I place Prim down so she could get ready herself. I sit on the bed and pat the spot next to me. “Let me do your hair Katniss.” She brings a brush and sits down next to me. I brush out all the knots in her hair before braiding it down her back. When I was done, Katniss goes to look at herself in the mirror. She smiles at her reflection. “Thank you Chrissy!” she says.

“Any time,” I say. I leave to get myself ready. It’s one of the only days I get to dress up and I would like to take my time. I find a bath waiting for me with warm water. Katniss and Prim must’ve filled it up for me. I soak in the warm water for a few minutes then scrub all of the dirt and grime from my body. I grab the soap and wash my hair then get out of the bath. When I enter our room, I see a soft yellow dress and matching shoes laying on the bed. It’s much too fancy to be something I own. It looked more like something from my mother’s apothecary days. “Mom? Did you leave this for me?” I call out.

“Yes. I thought it would look nice on you.” my mother says very softly.

I just accept the kindness she is trying to show me. It’s the most I’ve heard her talk in awhile anyways. I thank her before putting on the dress. I look at myself in the mirror and I hardly recognize my own reflection. I towel dry my hair then style it. “Alright get your shoes on everyone!” I call out.

Katniss and Prim walk in. “You look so beautiful.” Katniss says in awe.

“Not as beautiful as you two.” I smile. I look over at the clock. We need to leave now or else we’ll be late. Attendance is huge at the Reaping. You have to be dying not to come, and even then Peacekeepers will come and check to see if you’re telling the truth. If they find out you’re lying, you’re dead on the spot.

“Alright, come on everyone. We need to leave.” I say. I’m the last to leave the walk out the door so I can make sure everyone was okay and presentable. I always have to make sure we look presentable and stronger than we were. If I didn’t, Peacekeepers would’ve taken Katniss, Prim, and I right after our father died since our mother basically shut off like a light switch. She could barely take care of herself, let alone her three children. I was angry at her, sometimes I still am, but in a way I feel bad for her. She lost the love of her life. But she left her eldest daughter to be the head of the house, which is something I still can’t forgive her for.

I hold Katniss and Prim’s hands as we walk into the Square. The crowd is big and I don’t want the two of them getting lost. Our mother falls slightly behind us. “Katniss and I have to get checked in. Watch Primrose. Do not let her leave your side,” I firmly say to my mother. It feels like this is how I have to talk to her. She nods and stays silent. I kneel down to Prim’s height. “Don’t leave Mom’s side,” I say in a softer tone.

“Okay!” Prim says smiling. She’s starting to lose her baby teeth so her smile makes me giggle.

Katniss and I walk over to the check in station. Several Peacemakers were lined up at stations taking everyone’s blood and making them sign paperwork. They ask some people a few questions.

“They are going to prick your finger okay? It only hurts a little bit. Then they’re going to ask you a few questions. It’s okay. I know you’re a tough kid so you’ll be fine,” I tell her.

“I’m not even scared Chrissy!” she pouts. I know she is trying to be tough and I appreciate her for it. The conversation I had with Ash is still playing in my head. As much as I hate to admit it, he planted seeds of doubt in my head. What if one of us does get picked?

“May the odds be ever in your favor, little one,” I tell Katniss softly. I kiss her cheek and send her off to stand with her age group.

I go to stand with the other sixteen year olds of the district. From my spot I could see Ashton very clearly. He cleaned up pretty nice. He’s always been a looker. All the girls in our school seem to think so anyways. He must have felt me staring because he turns his head to me and smiles. “Boring right?” He mouths.

I nod. “Very,” I mouth back. He laughs a little bit. I guess it’s easier for us to laugh about the Reaping than embrace our impending doom. In front of us is a temporary stage that was set up just for the Reaping. A podium was placed downstage with a few chairs behind it for the important people of the district. I look over at the bowl with the girls’ names in it; Chrysanthemum Everdeen is carefully written on twenty nine of those little slips. How they even managed to fit it I would love to know. I had to take out tesserae for all of my family to help us not starve. A tessera is a year’s worth of oil and grain from the Capitol for one person.

As nice as that sounds, there is obviously a catch. With every tessera you take out, your name gets added into the Reaping bowl more times. That’s why my name is in there so many times. I’ve been taking them out for all of my family since I was twelve.

Katniss insisted on taking some out to help, but I refuse to let her take out any. As long as I am still breathing, Katniss will only have her name in that bowl only the seven times that is required. I would do the same thing for Primrose. That is my job now that my father isn’t around anymore. I protect them now.

The national anthem starts playing, then Mayor Undersee walks up to the podium and recites the history of the Hunger Games and the Dark Days. We’ve all heard it year after year. The districts rebelled against the Capitol, the Capitol fought back, District 13 was blown off the map, and now we have the Hunger Games as punishment. So, kids 12-18 from the rest of the districts have to enter an arena and fight to the death for the Capitol’s entertainment. Is it sickening? Yes. Can we do anything about it? No. So we carry on with it every year. Our district never really wins because we are all basically just skin and bones. District 1, 2, and 4 normally win the Games because they are stronger, well fed, and better liked by the Capitol. They treat the Hunger Games like a tournament rather than a death sentence.

Effie Trinket comes forward after the Mayor is done. Her outfit is as eccentric as always. It looks to be inspired by a tigerlily. I’ve seen them in a book once. The dress itself is a vibrant burnt orange color. The skirt was fashioned to represent the flower itself. It has maroon colored dots stippled in a uniform way. Her face is filled with dark red faux freckles and green heels that wrap around her calves to simulate the stem of the flower. Her wig is a reddish brown this year.

“Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!” She says cheerfully. Her accent makes me want to throw up. It’s worse than when me and Ashton were making fun of it this morning. “I’m so excited! I think this year we should start with our lovely ladies!” She says.

Effie walks over to the bowl and I feel my palms begin to sweat. Something doesn’t feel right.

Maybe I’m being dramatic. I’m probably overthinking it because of how many times my name is in there. But come on, there are hundreds of names in there. Plenty of people have to take out tesserae in this district. I try to slow down my breathing and wipe my hands on my dress. Everything is fine. I need to calm down. I tell myself that yet I still can’t shake this sinking feeling in my chest. My breakfast keeps threatening to make a reappearance. Why am I so nervous this year? The uncertainty never bothered me this much before. Maybe it’s because it’s the first year Katniss’s name is in the bowl with mine?

The time it takes for her to unfold the little piece of paper felt like an eternity. I see her lips move, but it takes me a moment to fully register what she was saying. The name Effie called out...was Chrysanthemum Everdeen. It was my name.

4 notes · View notes