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alchemistc · 26 days

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visions are seldom all they seem

an: warning for a hint of dubcon hidden in amongst tommy's memories

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

That's a fucking fairytale if he's ever heard one. Tommy's had enough friends brought back from the brink, enough experiences of his own, to know that it's a crock.

When you die, you...die. You're there, and then you're not.

Tommy's legs are pinned, and there's smoke filling the cabin, and the last thing he'd said to Evan before he walked out the door was "Tell your father thank you, but I'm happily involved with a younger man."

There's something poetic about all of this, Tommy thinks, as he watches Garrett stumble to his feet, just beyond the door he'd managed to break loose to Tommy's left. Tommy hates poetry. Not necessarily as a general rule, but there's a lot of pretentious shit out there, and this feels pretentious. Maybe that's just the smoke inhalation.

"Kinard!"

Garrett's coming around the other side, lopsided and limping, but still pushing.

Thank fuck they hadn't been carrying passengers. He's pretty sure one of the blades had sliced clean through the hull behind him. He can't really look - there's something caught in his belt, pinning his back to the seat, and he's got one arm too fucked to reach for the blade strapped to his hip, and another that wouldn't reach if he tried. He's losing blood, he's losing time. He's done the math.

"Kinard!" Garrett's not having much luck with Tommy's door, which makes sense. The landing skid had done good work with the whole right side of the bird. Tommy's pretty sure the aftermath of that piece of work is the reason he can't move his fucking legs.

There are tools, somewhere nearby, that might have been useful, if Tommy hadn't used Garrett's clear concussion against him in an effort to get Garrett the fuck out.

It's funny, though. Funny that this is the way he goes. Not in the initial crash, which they'd somehow both survived. Not even from the blood loss, though Tommy guesses the coroner will have something to say about that being a mitigating factor. Probably won't even be the fire, which Garrett seems to have banked, a bit, with the extinguisher he'd scrounged from - somewhere. No. Four tours and a dozen plus years as a firefighter and it's the smoke that's gonna get him.

The windscreen is cracked. If Tommy wasn't in the midst of dying, he'd probably be thinking up the most professional way to tell his superiors that his windscreen isn't supposed to fucking spiderweb out like that, but -

Garrett's got the extinguisher in hand again, which is a nice thought, except he'd watched him drain it earlier. But he's not -

Tommy flinches when the canister makes contact with the windscreen and it cracks a little more.

He wishes he'd texted something better to Evan than a thumbs up emoji in response to his "Be safe" text. Gonna look real fucking ironic in a few minutes, here.

The glass webs out further when the canister makes contact again, and over the crackle as the flames kick back up, Tommy realizes that Garrett's yelling at him. Has been, for a while now, most likely. He can't really hear it, or contextualize it, but he's definitely yelling.

Something cracks. A few shards of glass sprinkle on down towards his knees. Garrett's voice gets louder. "--uckley's gonna kill me if I fuck up your pretty blue eyes, fuckhead, so close them right fucking now, Kinard!"

It's not like he has anything better to do than take orders. He follows his instructions.

The windscreen doesn't shatter - it's built not to - but a second later Garrett's got something wedged into the seal, tearing at it now that the things mangled enough not to be airtight, and Tommy isn't sure where he'd gotten a crowbar, or how the fuck he'd climbed the nose with a bum leg, but he's a little glad he'll be too dead to get the lecture from Garrett's wife on making sure his copilot doesn't do dumb shit.

"-kill you to - little leverage wouldn't - 'mon Kinard - 'mme something to work -"

Tommy's flagging. He can't really breathe, anymore. There's chance the impact shattered a rib or two.

The windscreen actually folds, under the leverage from outside, but Garrett still doesn't know Tommy's pinned. He'd have had a better chance if Garrett had just worked the fire, but Tommy doesn't plan to tell him that. As it is, he sucks in smoke and blinks through the haze as Garrett folds the windscreen farther back. "Hold on, Kinard!"

Tommy laughs. "Not going anywhere," he says, which aren't the last words he'd have chosen for himself, an hour ago, but - seems fitting, anyway. He gets a feeble cough out, and then things go blurry.

"Fuck you, Tommy," isn't the last thing he ever expected to hear, either, but - well. Today's been FUBAR since he took the chopper up, so.

Fuck you, Tommy it is.

---

The field behind his grandparents house is loud, in the soggy twilight - frogs and crickets and cicadas, a cacophony of noise.

Oh, Tommy's absolutely gonna be pissed if all his friends just didn't get far enough into dying for the flashbacks. It's not like he could have asked any of the ones who'd actually kicked the can, of course, and Tommy'd never been actually all the way dead before. Just - on the brink.

This isn't anything like Evan had described.

Tommy turns. And there's nonna, in her sapphire blue muumuu, flicked with gold trim, grey hair permed within an inch of its life. He can smell the romas she must have brought in from the sun at dusk, and the espresso poured into her fancy china next to her porch chairs - a rocking chair he'd never had a chance to fix up for her before she'd been gone, the Adirondack he'd stopped fitting into when he sprouted six inches the summer between sophomore and junior year.

Nonna grins.

Tommy watches a firebug flit by him.

He blinks, and Nonna raises an eyebrow at him - the same way she'd done the first time he tried to lie about where he'd gotten the bruise on his chin, or why his knuckles were scabbed over, or what he thought of the model on her favorite set of dog eared bodice rippers.

Tommy isn't sure what he could possibly be lying about right now, but he doesn't get a chance to ask. Between one blink and the next the night, the frogs, and Nonna's back porch are gone.

---

Tommy fucking hates Dorian Gray. The reasons had changed, over the years, but even more than being wedged into this fucking deathtrap of a desk, with it's lose nuts and bolts and the arm on the wrong side of his fucking body (because Tammy Pritchard always got the lefty desk in every fucking class and not a single one of his teachers had ever thought to wonder why his handwriting on his homework had better penmanship and an incredibly unsubtle smear of ink when compared to his in-class assignments): even more than the scent of Heather Chester's perfume and the reek of weed and Cheetos coming off of Barry Trott, in the seat in front of him; even more than the squeak of chalk against the blackboard as Mrs. Henderson posits the question of the day (What is so horrifying about the painting?); Tommy hates this fucking book.

He sort of wishes this memory had taken him back to freshman year instead - at least he could articulate why Holden Caulfield had been a whiny little bitch.

It's not like he could say -

Well.

Actually.

This is Tommy's death rattle. So.

"It's a mirror," Tommy says, like he hadn't all those years ago. No one notices that Tommy's a few decades too old and more than a few inches too wide to fit in his desk. "It's an indictment on everyone who ever had a hand in creating such a beautiful monster."

Mrs. Henderson doesn't look up. Tommy doesn't know why he expected she would.

She'd never listened to him before, either.

---

He'd been expecting his dad, next, which is his own damn fault.

Captain Turner's zipping his pants back up.

Tommy rises from his knees.

The paperwork is there on his desk. A glowing recommendation for the flight training he's been denied twice already. Tommy's throat feels gummy. He can't remember when Turner stopped using condoms.

This isn't how it happened.

"Open your eyes, Kinard."

Tommy's eyes are already open.

---

"I'm proud of you, son," Gerrard says, and Tommy would very much prefer it if he was just dead, already.

The thing is - the thing is Gerrard looks genuinely pleased to see him - a rare enough thing in general, rarer still because this is the older Gerrard, the one he'd shut the fuck down in front of the very first chance he'd been given to tell him exactly how rank Tommy really thought he was.

"You know when to give up," Gerrard continues. And.

Oh.

Well.

Did he have a choice?

"Of course there's a choice. Make the right one. Keep on making it, Kinard."

---

Pain.

Christ. Tommy's had shrapnel under his skin for decades, now - he's been blown up, and shot, stabbed once, although that was a grazing blow, really.

This is so much worse. He feels like he's hemorrhaging, like his lungs are constricting, like -

"You're no son of mine."

Yeah. That'd been worse than the IED by far.

"Dad," he says, but the damage is done. His room is in shambles, which Tommy thinks is overkill - his dad'd probably found the Blueboy Tommy had tucked under the mattress a long while before he had swept all his football trophies off the shelf and emptied what looked like the entire contents of his wardrobe onto the floor.

On the plus side, it looks like he'd actually ripped his annotated copy of Picture of Dorian Gray in half, too, so small favors.

Only.

This hadn't happened. This was his nightmare scenario, the horrific dream he'd had every day for six years until he got out of basic and the nightmare scenarios turned physically violent, instead. If his dad had ever known an inkling of Tommy's inclinations he'd ignored it until the day Tommy made him stop ignoring it.

He'd never found his dirty magazine - just the one, because he'd been too fucking terrified of having a second one lying around somewhere.

Those words he'd reserved for something else entirely.

His dad had thrown a bitch fit when Tommy'd enlisted in the Army instead of the Marines, but those words - those were the words he'd gotten when the father he hadn't spoken to in three years learned that Tommy'd gone for turnouts instead of a gun and badge.

How do you emulate your father and rebel at the same time?

"Love you too, pops," Tommy says, and waits for the blink.

---

"Oh," Tommy says, and blinks open his eyes. Keith smiles back. It's a charming little grin, the first thing that had caught Tommy's eye across the bar three months before this night. And it's not - the room is all wrong, and it'd been midday, not evening, six hours between shifts and the first time their schedules lined up in weeks. Keith is all lithe muscle and smeared makeup, barely an hour out from his latest shoot.

"Don't say it," Keith says, and shifts his weight against sheets that aren't even the right color.

Tommy had wanted to say it, though. Thirty-odd years and he'd never had the courage to say it to anyone who might say it back in a meaningful way, but Keith -

They'd been all wrong for each other. Conflicting schedules, conflicting lifestyles, conflicting expectations. Keith would spend the next six months flying back for hookups, jet setting around the world on a campaign for Dolce & Gabanna, and then text Tommy to let him know he should get tested and never reach out again. Tommy would fly his chopper over the aftermath of a tsunami and wonder how it felt to drown.

The hands on his skin are wrong - rough with calluses, working hands. Tommy slides his thumb across the palm of one and thinks it feels like home.

"Don't go back to sleep," Keith says. There's something playing on Tommy's TV, which had never been in his room when he was with Keith.

That had been a recent development, actually, and technically it wasn't even his TV, but when Evan's lease had been up it had just made sense to the both of them to -

"Monster truck rallies, really?" Keith says, but the volume on the TV is too loud to make out what he says next. His mouth moves, and the words don't make it to Tommy's ears, and when he blinks again he thinks he can hear sirens.

---

The chicken barely moves as Bobby passes it off to Officer Grant, and there's some sort of significance to this moment, Tommy knows, but Sal is too busy making smooching faces at Tommy, his laugh deep and bracing, for Tommy to figure out what that significance is.

Eddie is staring at him from the passenger seat when he swings up into the rig.

"You need to come back," Eddie says, and that stupid fucking mustache twitches. "You stupid bastard, you have to come back."

---

"Just like that?" Tommy asks, staring at the transfer papers, and Nash looks at him like he knows too much.

"Have you changed your mind?"

Tommy's uses his middle and ring finger to pull the transfer papers closer to himself. Bobby hums, satisfied. "Good. I've got my eye on one of the new kids in training - hate to pass up on him."

Tommy shakes his head. "You still haven't replaced Sal. Who's even gonna train this new guy?"

Bobby's in his civvies. He's holding his rosary beads. Did he start out like that, or is this death knell just fucking with him now? "Not your time, yet," Bobby tells him, and Tommy doesn't -

---

"Just a little something I learned at the 118," Donato says with a grin, while Jerry eyes the blown up photo of Tommy and Evan kissing in the hospital lobby that's been hung up on the announcement board right next to Jill's kids butterbraid order sheet. One of the nurses must have taken it. Donato must have bribed one of the nurses to take it on the ride to the hospital. "We're, like, a base and a half away from wiener cousins, you know," she sing-songs, and Tommy tilts a raised brow her way.

He's still staring at the picture. When had Evan's hand made it that far into his turnout?

"I'm just saying, having been on the your end of those lips - congrats."

"Does it smell like smoke in here to you?" Jerry asks, and Tommy tries to swallow, tries to respond, but there's something stopping him from -

---

"Hey," Evan says. He's on nonna's rocking chair. The cicadas and the frogs are loud, against a backdrop of misty fields. It still smells like sundried tomatoes, but there's an antiseptic scent underneath it. There's a firebug perched on Evan's birthmark. "I'd, uh, really hate it if the last conversation we ever had was about my dad's weird obsession with you."

Tommy would also hate that. He goes to say so and can't speak. His chest is on fire, and his leg feels like it might give out if he takes a step forward. Evan's too far away, but he can still feel the calluses on Evan's fingers on his wrist, steady against his pulse.

"So, if you could just. If you could just open your eyes. Twitch your fingers. Um. I have a ring, and a speech, but I'd settle for like, you waking up to tell me you're leaving me for Andrew Garfield."

He's thinking of Andrew Lincoln, but Tommy can't get his throat to work to tell him so, or to remind him that Tommy actually hates that plot in Love Actually. Now Colin Firth...

The fingers slide from his pulse point to his ring finger. His leg screams. The cicadas drown out whatever Evan says next.

---

The lights in this room are too fucking bright. It smells of sterile metal and the cedarwood soap Evan uses. His hand is stuck to the bed.

"Tommy."

Tommy's pretty sure he's imagining the firefly perched on Buck's brow as he slides into his sight line, but the rest of him is real, and solid - his ridiculous fade and the curls askew atop his head and the slow blooming smile across his face, the hand sliding up his arm and the suddenly wet corners of his eyes.

"ey," he says, or tries to say - it comes out as croaky as the frogs that'd guided him through whatever strange dream he'd been having. He's losing the edges of it already, trying to grasp details even as they slip way. Evan's going to be so fucking disappointed they can't trade coma dream stories.

Evan hovers while a nurse looks him over, demanding ice chips from someone out in the hallway, and Tommy can't stop looking at him. He'd been dead. He'd been sure this was it, this time.

Tommy gets three ice chips down before he's allowed to speak.

"Why's the chicken important?" Which is - great. They've got him hooked up to good drugs. He'd meant to start off with the basics - I love you, and don't propose to me in a hospital room I know it's a Buckley special but I'd like to limit our significant moments here until they actually dedicate a wing in your honor. "Did Eddie shave the mustache while I was out?"

Jesus Christ.

Evan's laugh is wet, and his hand is wrapped around the cup of ice chips, instead of around Tommy's, which seem unnecessarily cruel.

"I love you," Evan says.

They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. Evan informs him, eventually, that he'd crashed twice on the med-evac and been gone for a total of one minute eighteen seconds ("There's no significance to that. A coincidence," Tommy tells him. Evan doesn't fight him on it. Not then, anyway.) The flashing thing is still a crock of shit. Tommy's lost most of it before Evan gets around to 'you'.

Tommy finally gets Evan close enough to grasp his hand - slide his finger over the rough pad of his thumb, dig a nail into the forking lifeline in his palm. "Hey," he says, when Evan's grip goes tight, and tears well up in his eyes again. "Were you watching monster trucks while I was out?"

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #why did rereading one of my fluffiest fics inspire this

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scoonsalicious · 4 months

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9.3 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, violence toward inanimate objects, real talk.

Word Count: 2.2k

Previously On...: You're Bucky's guide on his first trip to a rage room.

A/N: Early today. Ugh, my professional life is trash atm, lol. Please enjoy this foray into fantasyland that keeps me sane.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much. Or, rather, he supposed, he couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed himself so much when it didn’t involve having sex with Major.

There was something so absolutely freeing about being allowed to smash shit to smithereens without having to worry about the repercussions of it, and Bucky was feeling liberated. He had to wonder if there wasn’t a secret part of Bruce that actually enjoyed it when “Hulk smash!”

Once they’d donned their safety gear, Major had let them into the room, where a pounding rock track was blasting. The space was filled with… stuff. Everything from old televisions to china to fake walls.

Along the wall by the door they’d just entered was an array of tools under a painted sign that read “Choose Your Weapon.” There were baseball bats, sledgehammers, crowbars, axes– even a couple of golf club drivers.

Nat had immediately gone for one of the axes, swinging it around and testing the balance in her grip. “This one’s mine,” she had announced delightedly.

Bucky, meanwhile, opted for a sledgehammer, and Major picked up a wooden baseball bat. On her count, they set off to release any pent up rage.

Bucky immediately headed for one of the fake walls and began smashing away. The three shouted jokes and taunts at each other over the music as they went, and the hour that made up their appointment flew by in no time.

Bucky watched as Major went to town on an old computer monitor, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He couldn’t imagine how Lily could ever have a problem with him dating her, not when he watched her laugh and tease Nat over something the redhead had said. He gripped his sledgehammer tighter, anger at his best friend rising in his mind.

She didn’t even know Major, he thought as he brought the hammer down onto a ceramic bust, shattering it. Where did she get off calling Major a bitch and a slut? He moved over to an old couch and began whacking on it. What gave Lily the right to say those things about someone she didn’t even know, just because he had feelings for her? Who did she think she was?

“Bucky!” Nat called out, but he didn’t hear her, his anger at Lily sending the blood pounding in his ears. He kept raising his sledgehammer over and over again, taking out his frustrations on the helpless piece of furniture.

“BARNES!” Natasaha shouted, and that permeated the fog,finally getting his attention.

“What?!” he snapped, unable to reign in his anger immediately, but instantly regretting it when he realized it was Nat who was speaking to him, and not Lily, like he had immediately imagined.

“That couch do something to personally offend you?” she asked.

Bucky looked down. The couch before him was reduced to nothing more than splinters and stuffing. “Shit,” he laughed nervously. “I guess I let myself get a little carried away.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll say.”

Bucky sheepishly turned to Major, offering her an apologetic smile, but she was staring at the pile of debris before him, baseball bat hanging limply from her hand.

“Sugar?” he asked, but she didn’t seem to hear him, transfixed as she was on the destruction he had left in his wake. He took a step toward her, reaching out and putting his hand on her arm. At the contact, Major let out a gasp and pulled back, startled.

“Sorry.” She blinked, seeming to come out of a trance. “I just… what did you say, Bucky?”

He frowned, not liking the expression on her face. “You alright, doll?”

“Yeah,” she told him, a smile coming to her lips a little too late. “I’m good.” Her hesitation left a pit in the center of Bucky’s stomach.

A beeping sounded throughout the room, indicating that their session had come to an end.

“Alright,” Major said, looking around, her tone full of false cheer. “Let’s put our stuff back on the wall, and vacate the space so my staff can get it ready for the next group.” Without looking at either Bucky or Nat, she returned her baseball bat to its resting place on the wall. She opened the door and held it, waiting for them to follow.

Nat hung up her axe. “I’m going to run to the bathroom before we head down,” she told them both. She squeezed Major’s arm on her way out the door, leaving her and Bucky alone.

“Is everything alright, doll?” he asked her.

She sighed and looked up at him. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I just didn’t realize how… strong you really were?” She inclined her head toward the demolished couch. “That… um… that was something.”

Her words concerned him. God, had he frightened her? He didn’t think he could live with himself if he had scared her. He dropped his head. “Oh,” was all he could manage to say.

“Hey,” Major said gently, taking a step toward him and reaching out a hand to touch his elbow. “It just took me by surprise, that’s all. I mean, I knew you had super strength, but actually seeing it was something else.”

“It didn’t scare you?” he asked her with some trepidation. He wasn’t sure he wanted to really know, if he could stand the way she might look at him if she, too, thought him a monster.

“Scare me?” Major laughed, but when she noticed the expression on his face, she grew serious. “You seriously think you scare me? Bucky, no.” She made a point of taking his metal hand in both of hers, bringing it to her lips, and then up to cup her cheek. “You could never scare me.”

Bucky closed his eyes and released a breath. “I’m used to people seeing me as a murderer, a monster,” he told her. “I’ve gotten to the point where it doesn’t bother me if it comes from strangers, but if it came from you…” He left his thoughts hanging, the words unsaid.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she told him, putting a hand on each of his cheeks. “I see you, Bucky Barnes. Not some monster. I never could. Don’t ever think that. I admit, I was startled, but that’s all, I promise.” She leaned up and kissed him lightly. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about anything, and most definitely not about that.”

“Thank you, doll.” Her words to him were a balm on a wound he thought he’d long healed, but apparently was capable of being reopened at any moment.

“Of course, honey,” she replied, tucking her arm under his and ushering him out the door and into the hallway where Nat was waiting by the elevators.

Bucky loved the feeling of Major pressed against him as they rode the elevator back down to the lobby, and though she told him he hadn’t scared her, he couldn’t shake the look she’d had on her face at his display of aggression. He never wanted to see a look like that cross her countenance again.

The lobby was bustling with people waiting to be taken to their rage rooms when the three of them exited the elevator.

“I’m glad business is doing good,” Nat said, looking around the crowded lobby with a smile. “You deserve the success, Major.”

Major buried her face into Bucky’s shoulder, pleased. “Thanks, Nat,” she replied. “It still seems weird to think that we’re not operating in the red.”

“Was it difficult?” Bucky asked her, suddenly curious about what it had been like for Major at the beginning of her business.

“Ugh, that’s a story for another time,” Major said. “When I’ve had a few drinks in me.”

“Hey, Major!” Zadie called once she had gotten the new group of people all checked in. “Package came for you while you were upstairs. I left it on your desk.”

Major let out a dejected sigh. “Well,” she said, turning to look up at Bucky with a forlorn expression, “I guess this means I have to get back to work. We’re still on for dinner tonight, though, right Bucky?”

He smiled down at her; as if he could have forgotten. “Of course, sugar. How ‘bout I meet you back here at five thirty, and we can figure out where to go?”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, standing up on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss while Nat looked on with a knowing smile. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, doll,” he replied. With a final farewell to Nat, Major turned and made her way back to her office, leaving him and the former assassin to make their exit.

“Don’t you dare hurt her,” Nat warned as they made their way into the lobby.

Bucky turned to face her, halting in his steps. “What?” he spluttered. “Nat, I–I would never–”

“I know you don’t think you’d do it on purpose,” Natasha replied, “but your former girlfriends have a habit of getting their hearts broken and ending up miserable because of you. I’m telling you not to do that with Major. She’s a good person, and my friend. If you think that, once again, you’re going to let someone else call the shots on your relationship with her, you should let her go now, before she gets in too deep. She’s been hurt enough.”

“Nat,” he said, grabbing her arm and forcing her to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sincerely didn’t. Who else would be calling the shots on any of his relationships if it wasn’t him? Yeah, it was true that his past relationships had ended messily, that the girls had been hurt, but… well, that wasn’t entirely Bucky’s fault, was it? Things just hadn’t worked out, for one reason or another.

But with Major? Well, things were different with her. Bucky could feel it.

Nat gave him an appraising look, studying him as if she could read his mind through his facial expressions. “You really don’t, do you?” she mused. “It’s not my place to tell you her business, but Barnes–” she gave him a serious look– “if you let her get hurt because you can’t figure out where to draw a boundary, you and I are going to have a problem."

She gently pulled free of his grasp and made her way to the door of the building. Bucky paused for a moment, contemplating all that she had said, and wondering just what she had meant by any of it. Though, knowing Natasha, if she didn’t feel the need to explain it to him, there was no way he could get her to elaborate.

As he was about to follow her out the door, he heard Major shouting for Zadie’s attention. He turned around and saw her angrily waving a thick manilla envelope in the air as she stalked toward the reception desk.

“Where did this come from, Zadie?” she asked in a tone Bucky had never heard her use before.

“Courier dropped it off, why?” Zadie asked. “What is it? Who’s it from?”

“What company was the courier from?” Major continued, ignoring Zadie’s own questions. “Did they have a logo or anything like that?”

“Doll?” Bucky said as he stepped back toward the reception desk, concerned by the previously unseen agitation Major was displaying.

“Bucky!” Major exclaimed, as though surprised to still see him there. “I thought you left already.” She plastered on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and Bucky knew it was performative for his sake.

Bucky frowned. “What’s wrong, sugar? What’s in the envelope?”

Major’s eyes widened a fraction in alarm as she maneuvered to position the envelope behind her back. “It’s nothing, honey. Just… some business stuff. There’s no sender, so I need to figure out where it came from so I can make sure it gets dealt with properly.”

Bucky knew her explanation was bullshit, but he didn’t feel comfortable questioning her in front of her employee, so he let it slide. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No!” she exclaimed, a little too quickly, and then seemed to realize she’d nearly shouted at him. “No,” her voice was softer now, calmer, “but thank you. I appreciate that you want to help, though. That means a lot to me.”

Those words rang true; Bucky could tell that much. He sighed and took a step closer to give her a quick parting kiss. “If you’re sure, doll,” he said.

“I’m sure,” she told him, then leaned in to whisper in his ear: “and if we were still having sex, I’d show you how appreciative I am.” She pulled back and grinned up at him.

“Gonna make me really regret that decision, huh?” he asked. He knew she was changing the subject, putting distance between them and the mysterious envelope, but he was willing to let it go for the time being.

“Oh, most definitely,” she teased him. “At least until you change your mind.”

Bucky smiled at her. If she kept it up, he’d be changing his mind sooner than later. “Alright, I better get going before Nat comes looking for me,” he said, taking a step back from her. “I’ll see you at five thirty, yeah?”

“Don’t be late,” Major called after him. As if he would ever be late for her.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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pomrania · 11 months

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You have five seconds to grab something you can use as a weapon; what is it, and how well might it actually work as a weapon?

I just tried this myself, because there's a couple different things within arm's reach, and what I ended up grabbing first was a slightly-bent crowbar. (Other options were "a wooden baseball bat" and "the handle of what was presumably an axe, I don't know because it was just the handle when I found it".)

Pros: solid metal; heavy enough to cause serious damage upon impact; easy to get a good grip on it; ends can gouge; can also help open stuck doors or windows. Cons: I have weak noodle arms so I wouldn't be able to get much force behind a blow nor easily carry it for long; crowbars are designed as tools not weapons; the slight bend means it's unbalanced and thus even worse at the purpose than a crowbar that didn't undergo whatever caused it to be bent like this.

But I'm playing on easy mode here, since I'm sitting in my room, and I have a lot of different things within arm's reach because if I find something vaguely interesting then I bring it home with me, and it's my room so I don't have to worry about things like "carrying it around with me" or "being seen in public with it". If you're playing on a harder difficulty, you'd have to get more creative, and I'd love to hear what you have for this.

#no fandom #not a reblog #derpblogging

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runningfrom2am · 9 months

Text

leveling the playing field XV

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k (omg)

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do.). implications and mentions of abuse and some non-graphic violence, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (heavy on that one in this part guys). also, r is unhinged as shit in this one!! enjoy!!

a/n: and it all comes down to this… damn. only one more part 🥲. this one was long but so so fun to write and i really hope you enjoy it!! final part and the epilogue are coming soon! oh! and the playlist is here!!

series masterlist // playlist

When you finally make it to the compound, you're grateful that it's almost deserted by the peacekeepers. There were a few around here and there, but from the hole in the fence you were about to enter through, you had a clear shot to where Sejanus was supposedly being held.

Deep breath. I've got to make this quick.

You exhale and start running, light on your feet with a crowbar in hand, either to break the bars or swing at anyone who tries to stop you from freeing him. Crouched down next to the wall now, you peek in the barred window to one of their many interrogation rooms. Nothing. He has to be in one of these, so you slide over against the wall to look in the next window. At least you didn't have to go far.

"Sejanus." You whisper through the open window, seeing that he's alone inside. And he doesn't look good. His face is swollen, cut, and bruised. Clearly, he's been tortured, but hopefully he hadn't given up Coryo.

He looks up, dazed as if he wasn't sure he was really hearing you. "Sejanus." You repeat. "Get up, we have to go. Right now."

Before he responds, you're already attempting to pry the bars apart.

"Y/N?" He says quietly, stumbling to get up as he makes his way over to the window.

"Yeah, it's me." You nod quickly. "Now how were you going to open these bars for that girl? We don't have much time."

"Uh, okay, uh... Give it to me." He says, gesturing for you to hand him the tool, which you quickly slide through the bars. As soon as he takes it you're digging in your bag, pulling out a hammer to see if you can help pull them out with the backend.

He's much stronger than you, so it doesn't take long for him to yank out three of them- just enough for him to fit through. He moves a chair over to help himself climb out, and you pull him the rest of the way, both of you falling back into the dirt.

You're grabbing him as soon as you get your footing, and you're both sprinting for the hole in the fence where you entered, hidden behind the generator shed. You run until you get to the treeline, stopping to catch your breath once you're out of sight. You don't believe anyone saw you. You're home free.

Panting, hands pressed on your knees, you look over at Sejanus who collapsed into the grass, chest heaving from the exertion. His injuries likely didn't help. "We gotta keep going." You breathe, throat stinging.

"Yeah, I know..." He agrees, clearly just as out of breath. He was in better shape than you, but you assume his injuries are no help. "Why did you do it?" He adds, sitting up and pressing a hand to his chest as if that will help slow his heartbeat.

"What?"

"Come save me." He takes a quick, shaky breath. "You could have been caught, they would kill you too."

"I won't bury another friend." You answer, standing up straight again with a shake of your head. It was a stretch to call Arachne, Felix, or the Twins your friends, but they were just about the closest thing you had to it besides him and Coryo. "You didn't do anything worth killing you over."

Sejanus squints at the sun as he breaks a small smile, looking up at you. "Thank you."

"Anytime." You nod, readjusting the bag over your shoulder. "Now, we gotta get out of here. I don't know where we're gonna hide until morning, but...”

"We?" He asks, brow furrowed as he gets up, dusting off his blue peacekeeper jumpsuit.

"Yes." You confirm. "The four of us are gonna go, without anyone else who was there last night."

"Four..." He hums to himself. "Me, you..."

"Lucy Gray and Coriolanus." You nod, finishing the thought for him.

"I... why?"

You sigh, looking past the trees back to the base. "They're looking for the guns that killed Mayfair and Billy Taupe. The mayor is deadset that it was Lucy Gray, but if they find the guns it'll be both her and Coryo who are killed for it. And I... just aided a rebel escape." You explain, smiling a little as you point to yourself. "And released all those birds. My fingerprints are probably all over those cages, that's probably treason."

"You..?" Sejanus asks, shock crossing his features. "You set them free?"

"Yeah." You nod matter-of-factly. "God, it feels so good to tell someone too. I wouldn't have gotten any credit otherwise."

"Why?" He asks, tilting his head at you.

You shrug. "Wanted to piss off Coryo. It worked, didn't it?"

"Kinda..." He gives you a weird look you can't quite decipher.

"Anyway, let's get going. We have to get Lucy Gray."

"Why are we waiting until morning?" He asks, and you can't help but feel it's somewhat of a stupid question. He's also literally a peacekeeper.

"Coryo can't leave until dawn." You explain. "Probably has to spend the rest of the day hunting you down, now..." You say, mulling over the words as they leave your mouth. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to stick around, but you weren't leaving without Coryo. "Actually, why don't you go ahead?"

"I... Well..." He looks back over his shoulder at the camp as it disappears between the trees, both of you walking deeper into the woods to take the long way back to Lucy Gray's meadow.

"When we get to the meadow there's a pretty clear path out to this lake and cabin in the woods. About three hours walk on that knee, you could be there by supper time, spend the night there and we'll meet you there in the morning." You tell him. "No one knows about it spare for the Covey. You'll be safe there tonight."

"Okay. Yeah, that's a better idea." He agrees, following along after you through the woods.

The night couldn't have gone by slower. Curled up under the trees on the far side of the meadow, you and Lucy Gray hardly said a word to one another but you knew neither one of you was sleeping. That was, until just before you had to leave to meet Coryo. You felt a little guilty for waking her up when she had only just fallen asleep, soft snores falling from her lips until you shook her awake.

Groggily, the two of you made your way to the hanging tree, a clearing in the woods near the peacekeepers compound. It was a haunting area, to be certain. You didn't dare say a word, in case the Jabberjays were to make an echo of it.

You sat down behind the tree just before the sun was set to rise, letting Lucy Gray lean her head on your shoulder to try and get a bit more sleep before Coriolanus showed up. But again, that wouldn't be long.

It was a solid half hour, and the sky was in the middle of its slow shift from orange to blue when you heard footsteps approaching. You both stood quickly, backs pressed to the tree. You peak around it, relieved to see it was him.

"Coryo." You whisper, smiling softly and pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, Y/N/N..." He hums, rubbing your back gently. You can still see the sleep in his eyes; at least one of you got some rest.

"Alright." You sigh, turning to face Lucy Gray before gesturing in the direction of the woods. "Lead the way."

She nods, small smile forming on her face as she looks up at your boyfriend. You had to assume that's what he was to you now- friends don't do what you do.

The two of you follow after her for miles, as quickly but as quietly as possible. It's hard to think about the fact that you're leaving your whole life behind, so you just don't. You zone out as your feet crunch through the now familiar underbrush of the woods, thinking of what the future will hold. Not what it will lack.

It'll lack structure, no doubt, but you'll have all the freedom the world has to offer. You don't know where you'll go, but you can't help but daydream about building a cabin out of the woods, maybe by another lake, where you and Coryo could live together forever. Maybe you'd learn how to make new clothes with materials you find, if you could find any, or maybe you would start your garden again and grow all kinds of beautiful natural flowers alongside almost all of your food. Maybe Coriolanus would become a proficient hunter, and all you would have to do is lay in the sun and look pretty, occasionally gathering things from your garden to go with his catch for dinner. Maybe you'd grow raspberries and wild roses.

Maybe you'd have a child. A little boy he could teach how to speak as eloquently as he does, or hunt as successfully as he will. Maybe it'll be a little girl, who he can dote over while you tend to your garden, and teach her songs you learned from the Covey. She'll be a beautiful singer, a beautiful girl with Coryo's blonde hair and blue eyes to die for. Regardless, you can tell your kids about your lives. About home, about where you grew up and what life used to be. About the uncle they have back home but will never meet, and about your friends who you lost. About Arachne, and Felix, and the twins, about the games and about Sejanus who needed saving more often than not and about how you were both full of pride when your tribute won, Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray.

You're snapped out of your daydreams within a moment. You don't know how long you had been lost in your own mind, imagining a life that doesn't exist, but by now, Coryo was walking a few feet ahead of you with her.

The endearing smile on her face that you can see only when she turns her head to look at him is making you uneasy. She would be there, you won't have to tell your kids about her because she will be there. That's not necessarily a bad thing, Lucy Gray is lovely, and by now you consider her a friend. But maybe she's too lovely. Maybe Coriolanus considers her a friend too, it's clear he does. He has much of a right to as you do, you both saved her life, but mostly him. He pulled the strings, you just helped however you were asked to and more. He decided that her life was worth risking both his and yours to save.

Maybe she meant more to him than you thought. Maybe she is what brought him to Twelve. Maybe, he got to choose and he chose her moments after "choosing" to throw your life away in front of you. He chose her.

"Are you thinking about Sejanus?" She asks, and it's the first bit of their conversation you catch.

"He's fine. Not too injured, he should be waiting at the cabin. I said we'd meet him there." You interject, reminding them of something they already knew.

"I just wish it hadn't come to that." Coryo replies, looking back at you for a fraction of a second before turning back to Lucy Gray. "Sorry, you had to leave this place." He adds after a few moments of silence.

"I'll miss the Covey." She hums, "I hope they'll follow me someday, though." You look at the orange scarf draped over her shoulders, a pit of unease settling uncomfortably just behind your ribs.

"You know what I won't miss? People." Coryo says, and you hum in agreement.

"People aren't so bad. Not really." Lucy Gray shrugs. "It's what the world does to them, like all of us in the arena. I think there's a natural goodness born into us all."

Both of you scoff in practical unison. If you had to guess, it was quite the opposite.

"No, really. You can either... cross that line, into evil... or not. And it's our life's work to stay on the right side of that line."

"It's not always that simple." Coryo replies, looking back at you with something indecipherable behind his stare. Pity? An acknowledgment of your nature being something unworldly in her description? You bite your tongue.

"I know. I'm a victor." Lucy Gray says with a click of her tongue, distaste dripping from her tone. "It sure will be nice to not have to kill anyone else out north though, huh?"

"Two and a half is enough for me." Coryo chuckles, stopping as she continues ahead. You stop with him. "I'm gonna make a walking stick. You want one?" He offers to you, picking up a tree branch from the underbrush.

"I'm fine, thanks." You smile, watching as he tries to brush it off and wincing when he sticks himself on the wood.

"Three? Who's the third?" Lucy Gray asks, turning slowly up ahead.

"You okay?" You ask, ignoring her as he sucks his thumb into his mouth to stop the bleeding you already saw begin.

"What?"

"-Person you killed, Coriolanus. You said you killed three people I only know about two. Do not lie to me." Her voice is harsh. Accusatory. And you don't like it one bit.

"He said two and a half." You chuckle hesitantly, eyeing the girl up and down at her drastic change in attitude. You didn't know who he was talking about either, but you were the one with a hot temper and you wouldn't even react like that.

"Can you help me get this out?" He asks, taking a few steps over to her in effort to distract her from the question.

"Here." You stop him with a gentle hand on his arm. "Let me look..." He stops, looking between the two of you as you take his hand, looking down at the splinter in his thumb.

"There was Bobbin, in the arena, and Mayfair, and who's the third?" Lucy Gray continues, only escalating in her upset over nothing.

Coryo locks eyes with you for a moment, and you raise your eyebrows slightly to try and portray your antipathy with her reaction.

"My old self." He speaks, looking back over at her as you gently try and push the splinter out from under his skin. "I killed him, so I could come with you girls."

"And Sejanus." You giggle, trying to lighten the mood and also distract him from you using your nail to pull the splinter out. It looked painful. "Also, I would say your old self is half of you. Well put."

Lucy Gray clearly wasn't buying it. You could see it in her face as he hissed at you finally getting it out. "There you go." You hum, squeezing his hand gently as it was still cradled in between yours.

"Thank you, Darling." He smiles, pulling back his hand and patting your arm, gesturing to the faded path ahead. "C'mon."

You try your hardest not to glare as you catch up with Lucy Gray, Coryo's arm now rested comfortably over your shoulder.

The rain picked up into a downpour, further softening the ground you were walking on.

"Why don't we stop here at the cabin? Wait out the storm." Coryo suggests as the cabin comes into view up ahead.

"Ugh, please." You agree, already attempting to flatten your soaked hair that is frizzing up from the rain and the humidity.

"We should really keep goin'." Lucy Gray cuts in, making you roll your eyes.

"We're gonna need food on the way." Coryo insists. "Let's catch some fish while we're here." Even if you got to sit in the cabin for a few minutes, it would be well worth it to try and dry off just a bit.

"Sejanus!" You call out as you climb up the steps. "It's us! You okay?" You push open the door, finally feeling like you're able to breathe out of the rain until you realize he's not there. "Sejanus?" You ask, looking around the only corner in the small cabin.

"Not here?" Coryo asks and you shake your head, brow furrowed.

"No..." You hum, peeking out the window. "He must be nearby though. We'll have to wait for him to get back."

"If you wanted fish, there's rods under the floorboards." Lucy Gray says, completely ignoring you and closing the door as she's the last to enter.

Coryo nods, stomping around on the floor to check for which ones were loose. "These ones?"

"Uh-huh." Lucy Gray nods at him, watching as he kneels down to lift the old wooden planks.

"You gonna stay in here, Y/N/N? Dry up a bit?" He asks you and you nod, giving him a small smile. In the corner of your eye you can see Lucy Gray looking at you. She doesn't necessarily look mad, but something is just so... off.

You can't help but wonder if all her negative energy she's putting out is because of you. Not literally, because you remember her being so sweet when you were alone. Is she mad because of you and Coryo? That has to be it. What happened to the girl who helped you write a love song to him and encourage you to sing it?

She helped write it. She was dead set on writing it, actually. You provided the tune and she did most of the rest. You were never much of a poet. She wrote that song to him- you were just the voice she used to tell him. You were a puppet to her, and suddenly your wrists ache from the mere idea that she manipulated you in that way.

The floorboards creak underneath you as you sit down, leaning against the wall. If Lucy Gray was going to be handing out dirty looks, you could too. You lock eyes with her, trying to maintain some semblance of a smile, but you just stare at each other.

Within seconds it's evident that any bit of trust you had for one another is gone. That just won't do if you were running away together. She had to go.

She's the first to cower away from the staring contest, of course, when Coryo stands up again.

"What is it?" She asks him, and as you look, you see he's holding the gun.

You gasp, shooting up from where you had just settled on the ground. "Is that?"

"It's the gun." He answers before you finish your question, an expression of shock and relief embedded in his features.

"The one you fired at Mayfair." Lucy Gray gathers, seeming as she wasn't there. "Spruce must've known about this place." She shrugs, avoiding your gaze completely. "Well, you destroy that gun you're free. You can go back home."

You and Coryo look at each other, unsure what to do or say. He could go back, he was home free. But leaving you with her? And poor Sejanus who was out in the rain somewhere either dead or limping on an almost useless knee? No chance.

"Will you?" She asks.

"No more loose ends..." He nods a little to himself, looking down at the gun in his hands. You poke your tongue into your cheek and look down at the floor. He's actually considering leaving you behind.

"Besides us." You look at Lucy Gray through narrowed eyes as she speaks. What was she trying to imply? You would never do that to him. You figured that was pretty obvious.

"Besides you?" Coryo asks, looking between the two of you. When his eyes land on you he’s more worried, with something more accusatory when they glue on to Lucy Grayverifying your perspective that yes, he knows you would never do that. "You wouldn't tell anyone." He says to her, but it comes out more as a question.

She hesitates before shaking her head with a smile that's so anger inducing you'd like to throw her in the lake and watch her drown. "Course not..." She tops it off with, and you tick your head to the right.

"I mean, it's not like anyone would really believe you." You state. "They're all convinced it was you who pulled the trigger."

"I'm just gonna go dig up some Katniss. There's a good patch down by the lake." She ignores you again. Am I missing something? Am I fucking invisible?

"Thought it was too early for that." Coryo reminds her, and the nervous smile on his face brings you hope that he also knows something is off.

"Well, the world changes awful fast." Even so much as her heavy district accent is driving you up the wall at this point. It's hardly even english.

"Lucy Gray. It's still raining." Coryo pleads with her and you eye the knife in her hand, taking a small step closer to his side.

"Well, I'm not made outta sugar." Lucy Gray says, smiling innocently before turning and walking out, closing the door behind her.

You both stand there in silence for a few moments, him staring at the gun, you staring at him.

"It was Sejanus." He says so quietly you can hardly make it out from under a yard away.

"Huh?"

"I sent a recording of his confession to Dr. Gaul. I was the reason they were going to..." He can't even say it.

"You?" You whisper back. "I... no. That's not your fault."

"It is."

You shake your head, reaching out to gently lower the gun so you can place your hand on his cheek. "It's not, but it doesn't matter anyways because he is out here, with us, and we're gonna be okay. He's gonna be fine, and you're gonna be fine. Yeah?" You assure him, smiling softly as you run your thumb over his cheekbone.

"Yeah..." He mumbles, relaxing under your touch.

"Will you go home?" You ask, chewing nervously on your bottom lip. You really, really didn't want him to leave you out here alone. You wouldn't survive and you knew that.

Coryo looks down at you, shaking his head softly. "No. Not without you. I told you that."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? No, no. Don't be sorry. We're doing the right thing." He promises.

"You think?"

"I know." He smiles. "Don't you trust me?"

"More than anything." You whisper. "But I have one... fear, I guess." You say, rubbing your forearm nervously and looking out the window.

"What is it?"

"Oh, no. It's nothing. I think I'm just being crazy." You chuckle, going over to the window to look out now.

"Y/N, what are you afraid of?" Coryo's tone is serious now, and you have to fight back a smile.

"Well, I was just thinking on the walk out here... Like, what will happen to us, what will we do, you know?" You start, letting the smile slip through at the memory of your daydreams. "I'm thinking we'll build a house out here, a little bigger than this one, but not a whole lot, and I'll have a garden and grow our food and some roses just for you, and we'll just have a happy little life."

The crease of worry in his forehead morphs into one of confusion as he smiles. "What? Then what are you afraid of? That sounds lovely."

"Well... And like I said, I'm sure I'm just being crazy, but Lucy Gray... I just feel like she doesn't want that for us." You say, looking up at him and scanning his face for a reaction.

"Why not?"

"I don't know! That's why it's making me feel crazy because it's so out of character for her but she's been really mean to me all day. Like, I don't know if you've noticed but she's been ignoring me or glaring at me and when she snapped earlier about what you said and I just... Yeah. It's not sitting right with me." You try and wave it off with a nervous smile, but Coryo's eyes are locked on the window, deep in thought.

"Do you think she was using us?" You ask him, when you can see that you're getting in his head. "I mean, from the beginning. She is a performer, after all. Maybe it was all a show, and she didn't want us to come here and she's been waiting for a chance to get rid of us ever since, but now she's stuck with us for the rest of all of our lives. I feel almost... unsafe."

Coryo looks over at you now, eyes cold.

"Okay, and actually, what the hell was that that just happened? She would totally go back and tell them it was you! That was the fakest reaction I have ever seen, and I was friends with Arachne and Clemensia for years!" You laugh bitterly. "Like, who's to say she wouldn't run straight back to town and tell them you shot Mayfair and exactly where to find me? I'm sure my father put out a reward!"

"You're not crazy." He mumbles, joining you at the window with the gun gripped tighter in his hands.

"You don't think so?" You ask, painting on the puppy dog eyes as you look up at him.

"No." Coryo shakes his head slightly, looking through the window to where you both know the katniss patch is, and Lucy Gray is nowhere to be seen.

"...She's been gone for a while." You add for good measure, and he just nods.

"Stay here. Don't come out. I'm gonna get rid of these." He says, picking up the bag of guns and walking out the door.

You huff at the seriousness of his tone and sit back down on the ground, leaning back against the wall. You really wish you had taken a towel from the house or something to attempt at drying your hair or warming your skin, but the only thing you had time to pack in your rush yesterday was those tools and your clothes from home. Most of the backpack was full of that coat Tigris gave you, folded up as small as you could possibly get it at the bottom. It was beautiful, and real, and you could tell it meant something to her so you wouldn't dare use it as a towel. Besides, it probably wouldn't be very effective anyway.

But, the Covey did always come out here to swim, so maybe there was one lying around here somewhere. Under another loose floorboard, or something.

While you're looking, you hear Coriolanus's voice fading as he calls out for Lucy Gray. Clearly, she wasn't at the katniss patch like she said she would be.

Maybe she did run back. She had a solid head start on you guys if she did, and as you scrap your task of looking for a towel to swing the door open, you freeze. Coryo told you to stay, to wait for him to come back. He's got it handled. But does he? Is he just going off to find her and they'll both run off without you?

Screw it. He'll forgive you for not listening later.

You open the door, looking out to see if you can catch a glimpse of his white shirt or blonde buzzcut anywhere, but you can't. "Lucy Gray? If something happened we can talk about it!" You hear his voice fading into the woods.

You take a hatchet from the side of the cabin, and follow the sound of his voice as best as you can, still not wanting to make your presence known.

Until you hear Coriolanus screaming. Pained screaming that makes your stomach turn in fear for his life.

"Coryo!" You break into a run toward the sound, trying to track him down with the axe clutched in your hand.

"Is that poisonous?" He shouts, and while you're absolutely panicking, you're happy to hear that he's not already dead. "Are you trying to kill me?" Much closer now, and you spot him kneeling on the ground a little ways away. "Lucy Gray!" His voice flipped from pained to angry like a switch, but you knew he was already on the brink. You designed it, after all. "I said, are you trying to kill me?!"

"Coryo, Coryo what happened?" You ask, running up and dropping to your knees in front of him as he starts to laugh, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Hey, look at me, what happened?"

He ignores your question, chest heaving as he clutches the scarf in his hands. It was a beautiful, orange silk that was now completely muddy and destroyed from being on the wet, muddy ground.

"Are you hurt?" You ask, dropping the hatchet and reaching for his face instead while he holds the crumpled-up fabric to his face.

"Snake." He chuckles dryly, shaking his head. It turns quickly into his shoulders quaking as he sobbed into the material.

"Hey, okay, okay. Let me see. Let me see it. Where are you bit?" You ask, trying to look him over.

When it's clear you won't get a better answer out of him, you stand up, picking the small tool up again, feeling the shift of the wood as it turns into a weapon in your grip.

"Lucy Gray?" You call out, trying to quell the shakiness of anger into something soothing. "You don't need to hide! Come talk to me. I'm not going to hurt you..."

You stop a few feet away from your friend, looking at the area around you and wishing you could see through the trees. "He didn't mean to scare you, Hun!" You adjust your grip on the wet handle of the weapon sitting heavy in your palm.

"Lucy Gray!" You yell, unable to hide the frustration in your tone as you walk further into the woods. "Did you do it on purpose?!"

A few more steps, and you hear twigs cracking a ways to your right. You quickly look, but see nothing. "Fine, Lucy Gray. If you want to play Hunger Games, we can play Hunger Games..." You settle the hatchet between both hands now, lifting it up to your shoulder as you walk toward the sound. "Don't forget, we survived it too."

"Y/N." You hear Coryo's voice behind you and you turn to look at him. He gives a quick whistle, nodding for you to come back to him as he stands with the gun back in his hands.

You look around quickly again before backing up to meet him halfway. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's breathing heavily. You can see it in the tense rise and fall of his shoulders.

He steps in front of you, nudging you behind him with his elbow as he lifts the gun. A twig snaps a little ways away, and by the time you look past him and catch a glimpse at Lucy Gray's dress between the trees he's already fired the gun.

She yelps, stumbling and falling behind some bushes. You grip the small axe tighter, brushing past him to go to her. To make sure the job is finished.

"Y/N. No." Coryo barks at you, voice stern. "Go back to the cabin, gather our stuff. I'll handle it."

You nod, glancing at him only briefly before following his direction and heading back toward the cabin.

You open the door, sighing with a small smile on your face. "Y/N? What happened? I heard a shot."

You're confronted with Sejanus standing inside now. You just stare at him in your shock. You had completely forgotten about him, Coryo must have as well.

When you don't reply, he speaks again. "I just was looking around to see what direction we should go from here, I came back as soon as I heard it."

Your eyes narrow as you look at him, eyes flitting back and forth while you decide what to say.

"Where's Coryo? And Lucy Gray?"

You glance back over your shoulder out the still open door.

"Y/N..." He mumbles, concern riddling his face. "Did he... did he do something to her?"

The silence that falls in the room is suddenly thick, and heavy, and it changes everything.

"Is she..."

You tighten your hold on the hatchet, shaking any reason out of your head. "No loose ends."

"Loose ends..?" Sejanus asks, taking a step back from you. "I won't- I won't tell anyone, there's no one for me to tell... but you have to understand he's dangerous right now."

"Lucy Gray," You take a step closer, lightly swinging the weapon. "Was plotting against us. You have to understand, he didn't have a choice. So I don't either."

"Y/N, you do." He holds his hands up defensively between the two of you. "You can be better. You don't want to do this, okay? You're just... panicking, and I get that, but let's just talk. Okay? We can sort it out." His voice is shaking now.

You bite into your cheek. "No. You're not one of us. You've made that very clear, Sejanus." You shake your head, raising the axe over your shoulder. "We, are going to have our own house, our own family, and I am going to have my own garden, and I am sick of people trying to stop me." You say through gritted teeth, taking steps closer with every statement.

"Y/N, I won't stop you. We're best friends, I know you don't want-" His panicked pleas are halted as his back hits the wall behind him, and you hear several more shots fire out in the woods. You look back for just a second before snapping your eyes back to your friend.

"Run." You tell him, tossing the hatchet onto the ground a few feet away in a moment of weakness.

"Y/N, I can't leave you out here with him like this. I just-"

"Sejanus, run." You tell him again, taking in the fear and panic on his face.

He nods, and you let him walk past you to the door. He stops, and you both turn to face each other at the same time. As you look at his beat up, sad face, you know you'll never see him again and your eyes start to well up with tears that you quickly blink away.

Before you know it, he's pulling you into a hug. "Thank you," He mumbles as you hesitate to hug him back. "For everything."

"I'm sorry." Is all you can muster up, whispering it as you rest your chin on his shoulder.

He pulls away, patting your shoulders gently. "Your garden will be beautiful." He smiles weakly, voice still shaking as he turns and walks out of your sight. Hopefully, for the last time.

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