#feel free to get off on my trauma or whatever

[respectthepetty]

GMMTV 2025 - Hot Tops and One Bottom

GMMTV offered up ONE straight show, and even though I'm salty that I didn't get Midnight Museum 2 and despite the current state of the world, I have never been happier to be alive at this exact moment that I'm living in. GMMTV really cemented that it is Disney BL, and said FUCK THEM HETEROS!

As usual, I'm listing what shows I'm most excited to see from GMMTV's annual unveiling, but in order to be fair to the other shows, I will not consider one of the shows in the rankings because I am a Jaidee fan first, and a human second:

Dare You to Death

My boys are giving me ~Murder, Manipulate, Make-Out, and MAYHEM~ so I'm already seated, sat, and sitted. I've always thought Joong should play a character who was insincere and a bit crazy, and Dunk should lean into his haughtiness (emphasis on HOT), so even though all these other shows look great, they aren't JoongDunk trying to solve a murder while trying to not murder each other, and it would be unfair of me to hold that against everyone else. I was going to take whatever I was getting from them, but THIS?! Sorry, to everyone else, but y'all never stood a chance.

#1a - Memoir of Rati

Moment of honesty - Inn and Great are fine as fuck. They are already attractive to begin with, so to put them in a historical drama, of course, I'm going to eat it up. This is a serious piece about political and social tensions which I have no doubts they will carry into getting some awards for it. I was getting worried that these two weren't going to have another show together next year, but not only did GMMTV give them one of the meatier plots, the series also has Aou and Boom in it with an amazing story as well, so this was easily my top choice.

Or at least it was my top choice until . . .

#1b - Ticket to Heaven

Religious trauma aligned with Catholicism is my special brand of queer angst, so this series already has me all the way fucked up. Fourth is such a phenomenal actor and Gemini always acts his ass off, so I know they will have me in a fetal position every single episode clutching my rosary and praying for God's mercy since I'm already in my feelings about this. The heathens in the room better read up on some biblical references because if you thought I was doing too much over a cross necklace in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo and the praying in The Warp Effect, I Saw You in My Dreams, and Marahuyo Project, block me now because that was only the tip of the religious iceberg.

#2 - Cat for Cash

Although I'm a vegetarian, I'm a Disney villain who strongly dislikes animals, yet even I was happy to see First getting advice from cats on how to make coffee and how to win over Khao. This is the FirstKhao romance we have been waiting for! It looks soft and sincere, and even though the plot involves hearing cats, First as the worst debt collector and Khao as a grieving sad boy are their most realistic characters they have ever played. The series also looks like it's going to make me cry, so thank goodness Satang showed up to make sure I would be emotional about every show GMMTV gives me next year.

#3 - That Summer

On the topic of Satang, I'm shocked that I clicked with this trailer. I was ready to write this off as a Hallmark series due to its plot about a prince with amnesia falling in love with a commoner until the trailer revealed that he doesn't have amnesia, and the commoner knows he is a prince. The trailer situated the problem will come from their class differences plus Mond is kissing a homie (in secret), and since I just asked for more series with sad wet boys on the beach, this show goes at the top for GMMTV delivering me something I didn't know I wanted but a show I definitely needed.

#4 - A Dog and a Plane

Tay and New got me by the throat in 2019 and 2024 with Dark Blue Kiss and Peaceful Property, and even when I wanted to be mad at Cherry Magic, I couldn't because these men always sell the hell out of a ship even when they shouldn't. I'm a Jaidee fan first, and a human second, but I'll throw on some polar bear and whale jammies any day to join the Polcas because Tay and New have not disappointed me once in their joint shows or individual shows. So here I am, super duper excited to see New play a GAY flight attendant (a stereotype I love to see) whose man is trying to screw Pun only for Tay to take the hush money yet still catch feelings AND FLIGHTS! Marc's there too, so it's time I was served openly gay men who are trying to join the mile-high club since it's been over a decade since I got Pedro Almodóvar's I'm So Excited.

#5 - My Romance Scammer

I support marriage equality, but I do not believe in the institution of marriage, so I'm thrilled that GMMTV decided to throw me some gay divorce the same year gay marriage was legalized! Next, I'm getting the odd ball couple of Ohm and Fluke with Fluke being a dummy who falls for the first man who is nice to him, only for Marc to think he has a great relationship with Junior, BUT IT'S ALL A SCAM! I will probably end up defending this show with my life because this is the romcom romcoN I deserve!

Side Quest - Tarot Card Series

The theme for this year's announcement was "Riding the Wave" but it should have been "Wheel of Fortune" because there were a lot of shows about destiny and changing the future, so I'm going to rank those in a quick sub-category:

1) My Magic Prophecy

This is the dynamic I want to see from Jimmy and Sea. Jimmy IS a doctor, so getting a clean-cut smarmy version of him will pair so well with muscular Sea being a jerk. I was going to make a quirky comment about how they can now see the future as a reference to Last Twilight, but I'm still salty about that show, so I'll just be happy for them and THIS show.

2) Head 2 Head

I'm excited for the Only Boo kids because I think they should've gotten the My Love Mix-Up remake since I think they do well with being complete opposites that make perfect sense being together. This is also how I found out that Surf from I Saw You in My Dream is now with GMMTV.

So although it was awkward to realize GMMTV had acquired another BL boy under my chismosa nose (am I slipping?), it's nice to see the company staying on brand as Disney BL in its attempt to capture all the Pokemon Avengers BL Boys.

3) Wu

Since I've been watching High School Frenemy through my dash, I know plenty of people will be ecstatic to see Nani and Sky play soulmates, again (because High School Fremeny is gay af!), but I'm showing up because I got the red bracelets of destiny tying the boys together!

The trailers this year were surprisingly lax on the colors, so I'm taking what I can get how I get it. Bring me the RED STRING OF FATE!

4) MU-TE-LUV

This is Club Sapan Fine with a different name so it's going to be campy and messy. But do I think GMMTV will handle fems well? No. Am I pressed about it? Also, no. Because I actually watch AND enjoy Club Sapan Fine, so if GMMTV wants to try its hand at wild wacky camp in an anthology-style series, I'm down to clown, at least for the queer episodes that is.

5) Melody of Secrets

This was originally going to be number three on my Tops List, but as the trailer continued, I got more confused. Then, Force's face blurred and it looked like he got snatched by a demon, so I got scared. Like real scared. I don't eff with los espookys, so I'll be watching this show with the lights on and my Care Bear squad to protect me.

Honorable Mentions

I watch ALL GMMTV queer shows (and even the ones that only I think are queer), so I'll still enjoy something about these shows, but they were just lacking that special razzle dazzle:

Burnout Syndrome

Director Nuchy. Gun in black lipstick. Gun being a sex worker. Off being an asshole. Thor. Poly(?). This should have been my Holy Grail, but I can't believe the show will give me a proper love conflict when OffGun are a branded pair. Also, Nuchy gave me ToddBlack, who I will NEVER be over, so even though I know she can and will give me *THE* toxic couple to root for above all other toxicitos, unless these two are about to drown each other in that bathtub and play Olympic-levels of mind games with each other, I'm reserving my excitement until it airs.

Me and Thee

A soap-opera loving mafioso. Pond in suits with slicked-back hair. Phuwin being beautiful. Santa looking delicious. Est back in his Naughty Babe assistant mode. Perth. COLORS! Just like Burnout Syndrome, on paper it looks like something I would devour, but a third of that trailer was Pond and Phuwin in a bathtub, and in my Michelle Visage voice, "stop relying on that body" even if that's the biggest reason I'll be showing up to watch.

Whale Store

Milk licked cat food off of Love's finger, and I fear this might be too lesbian for me. I don't kink shame, and I'm always down to eat a girl out go down, but cat food? Really, sis? On top of that, this felt like a JittiRain series with Love's character clearly hiding something that is going to hurt Milk's character, then the side couple was crying and making everything awkward. I support the lesbians. I support queer rights AND wrongs. I'll be repeating this even as I'm watching it.

Boys in Love

GMMTV was smart putting all the new kids in a show with Papang x Podd as the little older romance crumbs to keep us satisfied for the time being, but that's also why I'm being petty. If this is the stepping stone for Papang and Podd to be leads for GMMTV 2026, then I'll take what I can get, but I feel like Oliver Twist asking for more porridge, when I should already be getting a damn buffet!

Love You Teacher

This show almost had me in the first half. Sam's character was giving me everything. The premise was solid. Perth was an already gay man in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend. Things were going well even with the accident. Then, the show brought on the real plot --- seven-year-olds. Jesús Cristo. It was a lovely time up until then, and now, just like the cat food, I'm realizing new things about myself and my boundaries on a random Tuesday morning, and I don't like it.

Girl Rules

This is the female version of Only Friends saran wrapped in women's empowerment. No me gusta pero lo voy a ver because I support queer wrongs even when they are oh-so-very wrong.

The Love of Siam: The Musical

What. The. Fuck. But also, sign me up!

Dishonorable Mention - Only Friends 2: Dream On

I've reached new heights in my pettiness because this show is in Petty Prison before it even airs. My blog is a living record of how badly I wanted Minx Mix and Flirty Fluke in the first season of Only Friends. It was the only thing I could think about; then, I ended up hating the first season, so I counted my blessings that Minx Mix only showed up for two whole seconds and Flirty Fluke was nowhere in sight. And now this has happened. This is a lesson in "be careful what you wish for" because I have never been more upset that I finally got what I wanted. Unless the show gives Boston his cake and lets him eat it to, I'm not watching it. Not Minx Mix, Flirty Fluke, or Ohm's body could convince me to do this a second time.

[swaglessboygirl]

i find it so sus that my entire life has been full of Almost being raped actually.

like yea my grandpa grabbed my ass and looked down my shirt and liked kissing me on his lap too much but i dont remember anything happening

yea that boy my age led me to the woods when we were kids and my mom said i was gone for two hours so she almost called the cops, and all i remember is getting mud on my pink leggings, but he didnt do anything and i dont remember what we did in the woods, let alone being gone for two hours.

yea that car followed me when i was walking down the street in cosplay but i wasnt kidnapped or anything

and sure my "friend" kissed me when i was drunk and pulled me into a bathroom to see my tits to check if i have the anatomy for nipple piercings, but all they did was grope me and pinch my nipples, they didnt do anything else.

how is it statistically possible that so many times, I've "almost" been raped, but never have been? how is it possible that ive been groped but no one's ever touched me down there? who wants to be the first?

[waywardsalt]

ive spent like 20 minutes trying to world this eloquently but i give up; im a big fan of linebeck just. not being capable of watching over kids not the person to be the guardian of a group of young people he struggles to take care of himself at times and has so much shit going on that it takes about one conversation with oshus for the old man to realize that this guy is. not doing great

[bvidzsoo]

Thousand Miles, just to get you back

 𖥧 District 7 ꒷ this beautiful district is lush with trees, from which these citizens supply our lumber and paper, victors: Blight, Johanna Mason

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: victor!Jeong Yunho x victor!female reader

 𖥧 Warning: suggestive, sexual tension, cursing, ptsd, violence, blood, gore, use of weapons, murder, decapitation but not too graphic, mental manipulation and trauma, alluding to forced sex work and sexual assault, if I missed any, lmk!  𖥧 Word count: 28.7k  𖥧 Rating: mature, nc-17  𖥧 Genre: Hunger Games!au, rivals to lovers!au, set during the Quarter Quell, Catching Fire book  𖥧 Summary: You didn't want this, but then again, you were sure nobody wanted to face the repercussions of being a victor. You hated your life and you hated everyone around you, never trusting a soul again. Whatever President Snow has put you through after your Games was unforgivable and your only solace lay in Finnick Odair, who understood you and your pain. But it didn't end there, no, it never would with Jeong Yunho, another victor, always breathing down your neck and hogging you as if his life depended on it. You didn't like him and you didn't trust him after what he'd done to you despite being your mentor in your Games. And when the 75th Hunger Games come around and President Snow announces that the tributes this year will be the reaped victors, your world comes crashing down, forcing you to do things you never thought you'd do again. But if it meant Panem would be free, you'd do it again.

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! This part took longer but the word count is also...higher. The story is set during the Catching Fire book, but of course, I took creative liberty and changed up some things, I hope you'll enjoy them! I apologize if the action packed scenes are lackluster, I really tried my best while not making it too graphic. I think Yunho's part is my favourite from my HG series, although Mingi's has a special place in my heart. President Snow can die in a ditch for what he did to Katniss and Peeta, no matter how much I like his character, I'll always hate him! This part is really angsty imo so buckle up, you'll be going through it with our MC. I don't think I have anything else to say other than I hope you enjoy and that I love hearing your feedback, so don't be shy! <3 Thank you for reading! divider

            For the past two days, the sky had been covered in dark rainclouds, lightning flashing across the sky every few minutes, the thunder shaking the earth as I stood perched on the windowsill with a cup of warm chamomile tea with plenty of honey in it to make anyone nauseous, even those who enjoyed sweet things. My eyes followed the raindrops as they rapidly slid down against the window, forehead pressing against the cool surface as I could see the reflection of my eyes in it. The house was quiet, so quiet that those who didn’t know would’ve thought the mansion was vacant. Because the victors' houses could easily pass as mansions, bigger than even the mayor's house, it was quiet and cold inside too, the harsh rain welcomed as it cooled the relentless summer heat with which everyone seemed to be struggling. It was truly a blessing to be forced to stay inside my house, with no one to bother me for days on end as nobody from the district was brave enough to venture out in such a harsh downpour. Not that I had anyone in the district who cared for me, I was on my own.

Everyone I once loved was gone. It was solely my fault. I had naively refused President Snow’s little bargain when I looked him in the eyes with an arrogant look and told him to ‘get fucked’. My family, gone for almost five years now, were dead before the train could even take me back to District 7 from the Capitol. Our house, small but spacious enough to house my parents, my two siblings and me, was empty when the train had dropped me off. At first, when no one from my family awaited me on the platform, I had a feeling they might’ve been planning a surprise for me, I wouldn’t put it past them. But when I returned to an empty and cold house with a single note lying on the kitchen table, I knew. It was my fault that all of my loved ones were six feet under, their lives taken away by my foolishness. I would never stop blaming myself, I didn’t want to stop blaming myself. The constant numbness that was wrapped around my heart was a harsh wake-up call to the horrors of the world I was forced to live in.

The Hunger Games had seemed like a nightmare, they were a nightmare, but what came after was the real nightmare. The terror, the pain, the uncertainty and the coldness that followed after having returned home, forced me to face the reality that I was no more than a pawn President Snow could play with however he wished, it hurt. I had been an independent person my whole life. I didn’t need anyone and I knew I would survive on my own if the circumstances forced me to, hence the reason I remained confident that I would return alive from the Games, and the arrogance to put my ego aside and keep my family safe, at last, weren’t worth it. If sleeping with countless men was what would’ve kept my family alive, if only I had known this back when Snow proposed it to me, I would’ve accepted it. I would’ve ignored the disgust I felt and done it without trying to rebel against the only man who could cut off my wings. And he did, he did cut off my wings, right from the root, ripping them out without mercy. At last, my family’s death was in vain. They were gone and I still bedded a different man each night spent at the Capitol, each one of them sent by Snow as a constant punishment to remind me that just because my loved ones weren’t here anymore to be held over my head, he could still do it, Snow could still torture me.

And so, turning my back on everyone and living in solace had been completely my choice. I didn’t want to speak to anyone, I didn’t want to see anyone, I didn’t want to be touched by anyone. I was disgusted by my own body and could never look at myself for too long. Whether my hair was long or as short as a boy's, men would still want me. Whether I ruined my face with makeup or kept it neat, they would still ravish me. In the end, nothing I did mattered. Beauty was pain sometimes, but I was too scared to maim myself, to ruin the pretty face every man in the Capitol lusted after. Snow knew too that I couldn’t do, and he enjoyed my silent pain mixed with rage, grinning at me whenever we crossed paths, taunting me with words against which I couldn’t fight back. It would be a never-ending cycle until my last day on earth and I had accepted it, numbing myself to all emotion to the point that I was just a soulless walking body, uncaring, unfeeling.

My body jolted from its slouched-over form as rapid knocks disturbed my peace, becoming louder and louder the longer I ignored them. The rain was pouring harder, lightning more frequent across the sky as thunder shook the ground, making me flinch when instead of knocking, my doorbell was being rung relentlessly. I knew who it was, I knew because today was a big day. President Snow would make his annual announcement about the Hunger Games, the same old speech, the same old rules. But something felt different, ever since Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark became victors, there were whispers in the districts, feeble words of a different future which felt closer and closer to us. Something was changing and I, as usual, wasn’t included in the grand scheme. I was a mere spectator, twirling around Snow’s fingers however he wished me to. When the doorbell’s rings turned into aggressive bangs against the front door, I released an irritated sigh and stood from my spot, storming towards the one that dared disturb my solace.

“What!” I snapped as I yanked the door open, not surprised that I had forgotten to lock it once again. Of course it was him, it was always him. I hated his face, I hated his voice, I hated his presence. I hated his whole being, and so I didn’t wait for an answer as I went to slam the door in his face, but he was fast, arm already pushing against the door as if he could read my mind.

“The muffins will get soaked, just let me in.” His boyish voice was loud as he spoke over the raging storm, his voice deep but somehow still soft. It was annoying, the ease he carried himself with, the constant serene expression on his face was infuriating. He never looked like he struggled and I was sure he just simply didn’t. He just floated through life, taking whatever it threw his way, just to laugh it off at the end of the day and start over the next one. I hated him.

“Get lost.” I hissed and pressed my full body against the door, wrestling against the desperate man on the other side of the door.

“Are you for real right now?!” He exclaimed, voice incredulous as I let one eye peek over the edge of the door, taking in his form. His hair was damp and his cardigan was slightly soaked by the rain, but as long as he stood in front of my door, he’d be protected by the balcony above his head.

“Yes!” I exclaimed and suddenly yanked the door towards myself, hoping it would throw him off balance and I could shut it in his face, but he was smarter, and thus, he swiftly slipped inside, grinning at me victoriously. I scowled as I slammed the door closed behind him, pressing myself up against the sturdy wood as he uncaringly shook his hair, like a dog, and then stepped out of his shoes.

“I made blueberry muffins,” He beamed as he held up the tray covered by a napkin, which was halfway soaked through, “Your favourite!”

He was right, blueberry muffins were my favourite, but they were from him and I’d rather not eat them.

“I don’t want them.” But by the time I was finished talking, he was headed for the kitchen as if this were his house. Albeit, the layout for the victor houses was the same, but this wasn’t his house and he shouldn’t just walk around as if he owned it. I hated it when he disregarded me, remaining his authentic self of a joy ball, pretending like he didn’t see my sharp glare nor hear my muttered insults. And I hated him, eyes glued onto his tall body as I followed after him to the kitchen. He was tall enough that he could see well the contents of the cupboards on the top shelves as he opened them, looking for a smaller plate. I could’ve told him where they were, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk to him unless it was a complete must. He made a sound when he finally found the right cabinet, back muscles straining even through the cardigan he wore as he moved around my kitchen as he belonged in it. His build was massive, not too muscular but certainly not as lean as it used to be, and he towered over most men of our district. People were tall here, we had to climb trees, yielding an axe as we worked with lumber, but Jeong Yunho seemed to exceed what was the norm. And despite his intimidating build, his face was gentle and soft, eyes twinkling with life in them and pink lips pulled constantly into a radiant smile. His cheeks were almost always rosy, not because he blushed easily, but because he was fair-skinned and even the smallest bruise would be visible on his body.

“But I baked them for you—”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want them.”

Yunho and I had been a mentor pair for a good five years now, sent off to the Capitol during the Hunger Games, forced to watch two children die each year. Children that we knew, that we swore to train and protect as best as we could, children that ultimately were just children and would die at the hands of bigger and stronger children. Because that’s what the Games were, a sick and twisted way of punishing the districts for daring to disobey the Capitol, for trying to overthrow it due to the mistreatment they constantly faced. So, they took children between the ages of thirteen and eighteen and sent them off to their deaths each year, except for the ones like Yunho and myself, who returned as victors. Yunho was barely two years older than me but the passing of time seemed to miss him each year as his face remained youthful, and only morphed into more handsome features, unlike myself, who struggled with bags under my eyes on the daily and did everything to look less pale but ultimately, I failed, looking older than my age or Yunho. It was unfair, even in this, he was better than me.

Yunho paused as his eyes met mine and he gulped, a flicker of uncertainty flashing through his features, only to be replaced by that annoying soft smile which was always present on his face, “My mother would be really disappointed if you refused them, Y/N. She helped too.”

His mother, Yunho’s family, were still alive. His older brother worked hard despite them being rich now due to Yunho’s income as a victor, and his father had retired to pursue a much simpler career. He liked fixing cars, so, now those used by the woodsmen were all brought to Mr. Jeong for fixing or maintenance. Occasionally, I even saw Peacemakers stop by, keen on keeping it hushed that they asked a simple mechanic from the district to fix their vehicles. It was cheaper this way, Mr. Jeong didn’t charge much, it was just a hobby, after all.

“Fine,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest as Yunho’s smile widened into a pleased grin, “Just leave them on the counter.”

He nodded and placed the blueberry muffins on the small plate before he threw the crumbs into the trash, rinsing the tray at the sink. I remained standing, keeping the table and even counter between us, never keen on standing close to Yunho. His scent was too strong, it irked my nose, and it made me sneeze too easily. Perhaps I was allergic to his cologne—to his whole being, perhaps. Once he was done, the tray left by the sink to dry, his eyes slowly shifted, landing on my tense face. I wasn’t happy to have him over, he knew it. Yunho knew I didn’t like him, yet he never stopped imposing on my peace of mind—it was truly disgruntling.

“You weren’t going to watch it, right?” His voice was quiet. Unfortunately, Yunho also knew me too well, much to my displeasure. I stopped watching the announcements three years ago, tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. I didn’t answer as I averted my eyes, jaw clenching at the warm ambers that swum in Yunho’s eyes that had the colour of warm chocolate, “I—I think you should, this year. I’ll stay, it starts in five minutes—”

“I don’t want you to stay.” I said, voice cold as my eyebrows furrowed, looking back at Yunho, “And I won’t watch it, Yunho.”

He gulped, but suddenly his happy demeanour dropped as he placed his hands on the counter, “You know the districts had been stirred with Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark’s win, I think we should watch it this year, together.”

“Just go, Yunho, before the nightfall.” Due to the big storms, electricity would be cut off at twilight and people weren’t allowed to leave their homes. The forest was eerily quiet, with the absence of the lumberjacks, the wolves became too brave, too daring, and they would venture past the District’s boundaries and inside the town, devouring whoever they came across. The Victor’s Village of District 7 was right by the forest, it wasn’t smart to go outside at night. But, in all true Yunho fashion, he shook his head with pursed lips.

“Snow’s speech barely lasts three minutes, maybe he’ll make it five now that he’s mad at Katniss Everdeen.” Then he grabbed a muffin and grinned, “I’ll have one if you don’t mind.”

My jaw clenched when he turned on his heels and headed for the living room, the anthem loudly flooding my otherwise quiet house as I heard the sofa creak, Yunho’s big body settling on it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, telling myself that he would be gone before I could blink. Even if the wolves ate him, I wouldn’t let him stay the night, not tonight, not ever. Jeong Yunho wasn’t someone I could trust, his faux kindness and softness were all but a mask which hid his true intentions. I had seen beyond the cracks of his good manners and big heart, and I knew he wasn’t all that different from those from the Capitol. All those years ago, almost six now, he had been my mentor, the only person who was supposed to help me and protect me from the outside as much as he could while I fought for my life in the Games, instead, Jeong Yunho, everyone’s favourite golden boy, went ahead and turned on me.

My legs carried me over to the living room before I could register what I was doing, body tense despite knowing the same old shenanigans would happen this year too. Except that this year a Quarter Quell was happening, this year it was the 75th year of the Hunger Games, and that meant something unusual would happen. It was the third Quarter Quell and the last I’d heard of was horrible, the number of tributes had been doubled, meaning forty-eight children fought for survival and it was Haymitch Abernathy who became the victor, the now drunkard mentor from District 12. Katniss Everdeen was a smart girl, I watched her closely while she fought in that arena, but Haymitch also did his best when he realized the potential she had. Something Yunho never bothered doing for me while he was my mentor, it still left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. Caesar Flickerman went on about the wedding of Katniss and Peeta before he announced that President Snow would take the lead now.

The sofa creaked under my weight too as I settled as far away from Yunho as possible, his chewing quiet as he cast me a quick glance, a small smile playing at his lips. I ignored him, my body shivering when President Snow’s face was the only thing I could see on the TV. Even after all these years, he still made me feel repulsed whenever I saw him, muscles tensing and my body wanting to coil up in a ball as if that could protect me from his cruelty.

“And now we honour our third Quarter Quell,” President Snow’s tone was determined, confident, and almost coy as a boy stepped forward, holding a box which President Snow opened. He reached inside it, moving envelopes around until his fingers gripped the one with a clear 75 on it. I gulped, feeling irrationally nervous all of a sudden as if I would be reaped next, as if I was back in time standing in the crowd of girls, awaiting the name of the female tribute who’d have to head to the Capitol this year. Yunho could never sit still for too long, always fidgeting or fussing around, but now, even his body was frozen, eyebrows furrowed as I stole a glance at him. He had finished eating the muffin and the little foil it had been in was now crumpled into his fist, “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

The lights of the TV became a blur as I remained seated, staring ahead, ears ringing as President Snow’s words echoed in my mind. For a split second, the world stopped turning, my lungs failed to inhale the much-needed oxygen. And for another split second, I felt my body tremble, my mouth falling open as Caesar Flickerman’s shrieks of surprise and excitement echoed through the eerily silent house, Yunho’s body unmoving on the other end of the sofa. I couldn’t hear his otherwise loud breaths, I couldn’t even feel my own body. And when reality dawned more upon me, the very high chance that I was going back inside that wrenched Arena almost six years later, nothing else really mattered. The TV went silent with a sickeningly loud crack as the remote control flew into it, shattering it into pieces. My lungs were heaving for air as I sprung up from the sofa, a scream tearing through my throat as I stared at my reflection in the broken TV. I looked mad, my eyes were wide, my cheeks red, my body visibly shaking as my thoughts were clouded with suppressed memories, all the pain, suffering, mourning, the great feeling of loss of sanity, of control over myself.

I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t go back inside that Arena.

And before I could rationalize my thoughts, control my urges and blink away the red haze that’s settled over my vision, my fingers were gripping a heavy ornament from the side table, swinging it across the room as it crashed loudly against the display window of the massive cupboard on the other side of the room. It felt satisfying to hear something break, something of material that reflected my inner world perfectly, and made the fall less painful as my legs carried me over the bookcase, yanking off every book I could grab. My body wanted to destroy, desperate to release all the turmoil that clouded my senses, the trauma that bit and licked at my flesh almost mockingly, President Snow’s snake-like eyes burned in the back of my mind, always taunting, always elated as he watched others suffer.

My hand burned when I touched the sharp edge of the vase I had broken solely with my grip, but I couldn’t stop. The pain I felt muted the screams that threatened to tear past my throat, the tears that stung my eyes but never rolled down, and the hollowness inside my chest that only seemed to grow bigger, swallowing more and more of my being. I had no one to lose anymore, just myself. But I hadn’t been myself since I had won the Games, so was I really losing someone? I had no one to return to even if I won, President Snow has made sure of that a long time ago. There weren’t many victors in District 7, not that I was on good terms with anyone. I’d either return without the male tribute or neither one of us would. My lungs burned as I gripped another ornament off the bookshelf, less heavy but very breakable as I raised my arm high, freezing at the nimble call of my name.

My chest was rising and falling rapidly as if I had run a marathon, muscles tensing more when I remembered I wasn’t alone. No, someone was here with me, in the living room, someone who knew what it meant to go back into the Arena, someone whose cheeks were tear-streaked. I gulped, eyebrows furrowing as I looked at Yunho, fingers curling tighter around the porcelain doll. It had been my younger sister’s, was I truly going to break it?

“Y/N.” Yunho’s tone was low, harsh, and shaking. I gulped, my breaths ragged as they puffed through my nose loudly, and my jaw clenched when Yunho’s face contorted in pain, reflecting what I felt on the inside. But he couldn’t stop me, my bones shook with rage and fear and before I could think more about it, I threw the porcelain doll at Yunho, who easily caught it as if he had been anticipating it. It only angered me more as I grabbed another one, my younger sister used to have a collection, and flung it at Yunho again.

“Get out!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, throwing a third porcelain doll he caught again easily, my voice raw as I wanted to sob, but my throat felt tight, unable to release any shrill sounds. When Yunho failed to move from his spot, I screamed again and pushed everything off the coffee table with one strong shove, ready to flip the heavy table over.

“Stop, Y/N, just stop.” Yunho’s voice had lost its softness, it sounded panicked and pained at the same time, begging me as I refused to acknowledge him. No, he couldn’t stop me, nobody could. I wasn’t going back there, I wasn’t going to fight for my life again, he couldn’t make me—President Snow couldn’t send me back there, not again. Not after I lost everything in vain, I didn’t want to do it again, I didn’t want to relive the terror, the struggle, and I didn’t want to feel so alone when I returned, I was scared of facing the dark on my own again. I had barely learned how to cope with the night terrors on my own, with the numbness that chilled my limbs, with the desperate yearning for connections, for a gentle touch, for words that warmed my heart, I barely learned how to live without those. I couldn’t do it again, I couldn’t—I gasped when I felt strong arms wrap around my torso, immobilising my hands and body as the embrace was tight, “No! Let me go, Yunho, no!”

I pushed, I yanked, I even bit his shoulder until he was groaning, but he didn’t budge. He was sniffing, loudly and unashamedly, but his embrace only became stronger and tighter, more and more suffocating. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think straight as his musky scent entered my nostrils, wrapping around me like a cocoon, his big body like a shield from the cruel world. My skin burned where he touched, and my limbs trembled as I tried to put space between our bodies again, but Yunho wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

“I’m here,” He muttered and I felt him raise his arm, freeing my left side, as his hand held the back of my head, pressing my face further into his neck. His skin was hot, but it was soft and it’s been too long since I came in contact with any other person, it made my knees weak as my mouth parted to hurl more insults at him, but I wasn’t able to voice them, “I’m here, Y/N, we’re in this together. I won’t let anything happen to you, we’ll get through this. Together. Like we always do.”

“No, no, no.” I muttered as my fingers twisted into his knitted cardigan, my heart racing in my chest painfully, “Leave, Yunho, just go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He snapped, but his arms weren’t holding me so tightly anymore. His long fingers felt cold against my scalp as they tangled against my long locks, slowly running them through my ginger hair, resting his chin against the top of my head. I loathed this, the warmth of his body, the willingness to offer me comfort, I hated him.

“I hate you, get away from me.” Yet despite my mouth speaking one thing, my body screamed another as my arms swiftly circled his torso, yanking Yunho’s body into mine. I wasn’t fighting my lungs for air anymore, I was able to breathe regularly once again, but everything felt so cold still, so numb. It wasn’t enough, Yunho’s big body pressing against mine so firmly, so eagerly as a reminder that he was here wasn’t enough anymore, and I felt weak when a whimper left my mouth, my head turning until I could hide it in the crook of his neck, nose pressing where his shoulder and neck met. His cologne was familiar, it was something I knew too well, it helped my mind relax as I felt Yunho shift his head away, warm lips pressing against the top of my head once, then twice, and then once again. His other hand dropped lower until his large palm pressed against the small of my back, and I shuddered when I felt his cold fingers slip underneath my blouse, skin on skin.

It was hard to think straight when Yunho was all over me, when his fingers explored and his mouth quivered with quiet sighs, his presence overbearing and insistent. It chased away the ever-present cold that settled into my bones, replacing it with a small flicker of something that made me hate myself. I couldn’t trust him, not after he so unashamedly tried to kill me, yet he was the only one who knew me. Yunho was the only person in this whole world who saw the real me, who saw past my coldness and walls I built to protect myself, he was the only one willing to stick around despite how off-putting I was. And it hurt, it burned, it consumed my thoughts in the dead of the night when a night terror awoke me, when all I could do was yearn for a body to hold, for soft words to be whispered into my ears, for lips that healed instead of ruined, for a touch that put me back together instead of breaking me further apart. And I wanted to take and take, to consume until nothing was left of him, until he couldn’t offer me anything more of himself because I had already taken all.

I felt tears streaming down my face when Yunho’s fingers gently traced my spine, driving my fingers to grip his cardigan harder, muscles cramping, but too afraid to let go. His hot breath fanned over my cheek as he lowered his head and I felt his insistent chocolate brown eyes on me, neither full of pity or regret, just understanding and yearning. Much without thinking, but because I didn’t want him to see me at my weakest, I turned my head further into his neck until my lips brushed against his flushed skin, making him shudder. And because my lips yearned just as much as the rest of my body, I let them explore his soft skin, gently pressing them against Yunho’s neck as he gasped quietly. His fingers tangled into my hair when I raised my head slightly, placing another kiss higher on his neck, and he was still gentle, he didn’t yank on the long strands despite being able to. My breath fanned against his hot skin as I let my mouth open, peppering his skin with gentle kisses until I reached his jaw, teeth nipping at the sharp bone. Yunho’s body was trembling and his head was angled lower, his breaths audible as he breathed through his nose.

The familiarity of his embrace was dizzying, the churning of my stomach nothing new as I detached myself from his warm soft skin, pulling my head back until I could stare into his eyes. They were darker, pupils bigger, and his lips looked slightly swollen like he had been biting the bottom one. Yunho’s full cheeks were flushed and his Adam’s Apple bobbed when he gulped, his eyes searching my face as his fingers untangled from my hair and instead gently traced my jaw, holding onto my chin as he tilted my head further up. My eyes fluttered for a second when our lips were angled perfectly against each other, Yunho’s breath fanning over my mouth making me shudder. Releasing my tight hold on his cardigan, I cupped his cheeks, almost keening as I pressed up on my tiptoes, my eyebrows furrowing as our noses pressed together, slowly nuzzling against each other. Yunho gulped again as his lips parted for his tongue to poke out, wetting the red flesh, and I blinked, dread settling deep in my stomach.

When Yunho leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss against my forehead, my body froze, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribcage. Something was wrong, the numbness was back, the pain, the terror. I couldn’t breathe anymore, Yunho’s musky cologne irking my nose as I could feel an oncoming sneeze, and I gasped when his lips tenderly kissed down the slope of my nose, making my fingers dig into his cheeks painfully. I was scared, I was scared because all of a sudden I realized I had something to lose. I have always had something to lose, even when President Snow thought he had taken everything and everyone away from me, he forgot about one person.

He forgot about Jeong Yunho.

As if his touch burned, I pushed him away, watching as confusion and hurt flashed in Yunho’s eyes upon my rude rejection. I could feel myself trembling, Yunho’s addicting warmth disappearing with him, making me shake my head as I felt my bottom lip tremble, “Get out.”

My voice was hoarse and filled with pain, and Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed as thunder cracked loudly in the distance, making me jump. It had become darker outside, way too dark for anyone to step out, but Yunho’s house was the one opposite mine. The wolves couldn’t have him, even if they wanted to. With a lasting stare, his eyes searching my face for a hint of whatever he had seen just seconds ago, Yunho sighed deeply, hanging his head low.

“Try to rest, please.” He muttered before he turned on his heels, and marched out of the living room, the door slamming shut louder than any thunder that’s ever shaken the house's foundation. Coated in darkness and loneliness, nobody witness of the sobs that wracked my body, I crumbled to the floor, curling in on myself as tears blinded me, making my muscles hurt as I gasped for air.

Everyone would suffer again, innocent and rebels alike.

            The floodlights of the open-air stadium were blinding and the air was relatively warmer compared to the constant rainy mood back in District 7. There was a breeze in the air, a whisper of unease and death brushing against our ears as every tribute seemed tense, but tried to hide it with wide and pleased smiles. Neither one of us was happy to be back and we would try to do something to change it, not that President Snow cared. The cheers of the crowd were deafening as the two horses pulling our chariot neighed loudly, ruffling their manes. My left hand was clutching the railing tightly for balance and to root me into the present moment, my right hand clammy against another warm palm. Yunho’s fingers were long and bony, his palm big and calloused, and somehow always cold. My skin crawled when our fingers had intertwined, a flicker of yearning awakening in my chest, but I was quick to drown it in the permeating numbness. I couldn’t feel anything for anyone, not now—especially not now.

The crowd only seemed to roar louder, probably enjoying the show, when all victors joined hands with their respective tribute partners. To us, to the ones who would have to risk their lives again, it wasn’t just a show, it was a last attempt to show that we stood here, together, unwilling to become jesters for the Capitol. But they wouldn’t understand, they never did. The districts, however, could see us and they would understand that we were united even if President Snow tried to tear us apart. We wouldn’t give up, not today and not tomorrow, never again. His tyranny had run on for too long, and his fragile reign was now threatened by the presence of the Mockingjay. The whispers of a riot in the districts had only gotten louder, more persistent, not just simple rumour anymore. The Peacekeepers had been more on edge ever since the 74th Hunger Games, under close surveillance by their comrades at the Capitol.

The chariot was finally taking us back beneath the stadium, away from the eyes of the Capitol and the cameras. My heart was racing against my chest, my veins filled with adrenaline, but dread as well, as every tribute returned backstage, our chariots coming to slow stops as Avoxes came forward to tend to the horses. My grip had been so tight against the railing that my fingers ached when I finally let go, all too aware of Yunho’s firm grip on my hand. With my jaw clenched, I turned my head to look at him, surprised to find him with an impassive expression on his face, lips downturned, and his eyes shaking. Yunho was always smiling, no matter the circumstances. I gulped and flexed my fingers, trying to pry them away, but Yunho didn’t want to release his own grip yet. It made me huff as I turned my body to face him, feeling anger lick at my skin.

“Let go.” I hissed lowly, mindful of the people around us who could overhear us. Nobody could know that I’d rather gut Yunho than be on his side, to everyone around us, we seemed like the perfect mentor pair, him being a sunshine and me the broody one. Nobody knew that behind cameras I would ignore Yunho’s existence, turn down his attempts at a conversation, and lock myself in my room whenever he’d come looking for me with another far-fetched excuse just to speak to me.

When he still hadn’t made a move, fed up, I yanked my hand out of his and leaned close enough for my breath to hit his cheek, my eyebrows deeply furrowed, “Get your shit together, Yunho. And stay away, everything is for show. I hope you haven’t forgotten—”

“How could I?” His chuckle was sarcastic, jaw clenched when he faced me, and for a second I froze, my eyes widening. It wasn’t even the sudden proximity that threw me off, it was the animosity on his face and the small snare on his lips, “You remind me each year of the same old things, you sound like President Snow at times.”

Appalled that he’d compare me to that man, I huffed and gripped the skirt of my dress, lifting it above my ankles as I stepped off the chariot, storming off. I was headed for the elevator so that I could return to our flat, and in my angry strut, I failed to notice a familiar face race after me. My heels were loud as I walked with purpose, glaring at anyone who blocked my path, and I didn’t greet back anyone as I knew they’d want to speak to me. I wasn’t here to mingle, I was here because Snow forced us to play another one of his games, and I was here to win. Before I could be-line it for the open elevator doors, fingers wrapped around my bicep and halted me, making me release a frustrated sigh as I whirled around intending to tell the person off, only for the words to freeze in my throat. The man holding me back wasn’t just anyone, it was Finnick Odair. And for the first time in a while, I felt my body fill with joy as my face relaxed, lips spreading into a wide smile, “Finnick!”

He chuckled as my arms flew around his neck, pulling his body into mine with little care if it was too aggressive or not, Finnick could take it. His torso was exposed due to his stylist’s poor taste, but it didn’t bother me as Finnick was warm and smelled of the sea and somehow the rain too. He felt like family, in his arms I knew I was safe, no matter what. It was funny, really, how easy it was to trust him, to let my walls down around him and just feel everything. I didn’t have to hide my fears when it came to Finnick, I didn’t have to hide my pain and struggles, because he knew. Finnick knew everything and he was often there to pick up the pieces when nobody else was. He understood and he knew what I needed because he needed the same thing. When in the Capitol, forced to be Snow’s muppets, Finnick was my pillar and I was his, the glimmer of light in the darkness, the embrace of a warm body that demanded nothing in exchange, just simple companionship and a shoulder to cry on.

“I thought I’d get a punch for touching you,” Finnick’s honey-like voice was teasing as he hugged me back just as affectionately, “I’m glad I was spared of a right hook, I’d look horrible for our interviews.”

I chuckled, mouth hurting from smiling so widely, “Even with a black, you’d still look dashing, Finnick.”

“Oh, my,” Finnick chuckled again, his arms loosening around my torso, but I was reluctant to let go. It felt nice to be in the arms of someone I trusted, loved even. It’s been too long since my mind could be at ease in anyone’s presence, in someone’s warm and loving hold. Finnick was like the older brother I had lost, always eager to help me out, and there whenever the burden of living alone got too hard. Living in different districts, the distance made it hard to cope with his absence at times, but at least I had one thing to look forward to whenever I was forced to visit the Capitol. I knew Finnick would be here, and I knew he would be just as excited to see me, “I fear my stylist wants to keep me naked for the interviews.”

I grimaced as I definitely didn’t want the mental image of a naked Finnick in my head, and finally let my arms fall from his body, stepping back to leave distance between our bodies, but not too far back. I enjoyed Finnick’s warmth, it felt like I was around the sun, “You should switch him with someone who doesn’t view you as just a pretty piece of meat to put on display. Wooyoung would be more than happy to design your clothes, he’s literally in love with you. He never stops gushing about your looks and body proportions whenever he sees you, it’s gotten sickening actually.”

“Wooyoung is spoiled and Snow loves objectifying me, so he’d never allow it.” Snow loved objectifying Finnick and me too, but thankfully, no matter how spoiled, my stylist, Wooyoung was, he’d never make me wear anything revealing or uncomfortable. He enjoyed working with raw materials, more specifically with tree bark as he claimed it let him explore creative ideas. With the disappearance of Choi San last year, the most sought-after stylist in the Capitol, Jung Wooyoung was the next hot topic. He certainly enjoyed the limelight, glad that San was finally gone and he could have his spot. The two had always been rivals, trying to claim The Best Stylist title, at least based on Wooyoung’s claims. You couldn’t fully believe whatever he said, he loved to spice things up just for the fun of it and spread rumours like wildfire. He was worse than the grannies back in District 7.

“Snow can go and die in his sorry excuse of a mansion, Finnick, at this point, he can’t do shit to me.” I hissed through my teeth, sharp eyes surveying the place as it was buzzing with jittery tributes, stylists and Avoxes, everyone doing their own thing. Most tributes were mingling before they would retreat to their own flats, and I averted my eyes out of fear that he’d come over when I saw Wooyoung storming towards Yunho, probably, you never knew with his sudden mood changes.

“Careful,” Finnick muttered, lips pulled into a sly grin, “the walls have ears everywhere here, darling, we can’t give Snow free material to hang over our heads.”

“As if he can’t just do that without having an actual reason.” I rolled my eyes and Finnick hummed as he grabbed a sugar cube out of the little pouch he had on his waist, turning around as he searched for his and Mags’ chariot. He smiled when his eyes fell on the old lady, and he nodded with his head for me to follow him. I fell in step with him as Finnick and I walked back to his chariot, and he fed the horses with sugar cubes before he popped one in his mouth. I smiled softly when Mags finally noticed me, her face always gentle and understanding. I bowed my head and kissed her on the cheeks, a lump forming in my throat when she pulled me in her arms with a tight squeeze, reminding me of a motherly hug. Anytime I saw Mags, I’d miss my family just a little bit more. She was a reminder that I’d never get to see my mother grow old, my father, nor my siblings. It was painful, but I gulped before more emotions could surface and cleared my throat, looking back at Finnick who was gazing somewhere behind me.

“Lover boy and his bestie are staring at us,” Finnick mused with amusement lacing his tone, “I don’t think your lover boy is too happy that you’re here with me, instead of being with him.”

I scoffed, turning my head to look where Yunho and Mingi stood, catching their gazes as Mingi flinched and quickly looked down at the ground, but Yunho held my gaze, jaw clenched and eyes slightly narrowed. I rolled my eyes and turned my back to them, grabbing Finnick’s bicep as I leaned closer to him, “I wish we could switch tributes—no offence Mags, but I don’t think I’ll be able to not kill him before the Games can even start.”

Mags snickered and shook her head at me as her stylist approached us, giving the old lady an exasperated look before she guided Mags away, making Finnick wave at her as I bowed my head slightly, “He can’t be that bad, honestly, I never understood why you hate him so much. He’s a genuinely nice guy, I bet he’d even sacrifice himself for you—”

“Enough, Finnick.” I snapped as my jaw clenched, emotions twisting in my chest at the mere prospect of Yunho jumping in front of me to take an arrow or a throwing knife to the heart. Yunho might’ve been genuine and loving in other’s eyes, but I knew who he was. He wouldn’t save me, jump in front of an arrow or a throwing knife, no, he’d send me poison disguised as bread just to take me out, his own tribute.

“Right, sorry,” Finnick mumbled as he grabbed another sugar cube, eyes falling on someone to my left. His smile turned into a sly one as he nudged my arm, pointing towards a tall girl with dark braided hair and a gorgeous black costume. She was the girl on fire, the Mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen, “Wanna go say hi? We should show her we mean no harm before she decides we are her enemy.”

“But we are her enemy, Finnick,” I mumbled but followed the man, making him wink at me with a knowing look on his face. If we put it that way, Katniss wasn’t our only enemy, we were each other’s enemies too, it was only natural when it came to the Games. No previous friendships mattered once we stepped inside the Arena and the canon went off, signalling the start of the Games. I remained standing behind Finnick as Katniss’ attention was on us, her hand slowly petting the horse.

“Do you want a sugar cube?” Finnick asked with his honey-like voice even warmer now, grinning charmingly. Katniss’ eyes narrowed as they glanced briefly at me before she focused on Finnick again, jaw clenching. She completely ignored Finnick’s hand, which was extended towards her and held a sugar cube in his palm.

“No.” She deadpanned and I snorted, masking it with a gulp when Finnick threw me a displeased look. It was hilarious each time a female turned Finnick’s advances down, it didn’t happen often and that’s exactly why I enjoyed it even more.

“Well, girl on fire, you certainly dress to impress.”

“As always.” I couldn’t help but mutter as Katniss and Mingi’s clothes had caught on fire before the parade was over, the roars of the people were so loud that they managed to make my ears ring. Katniss and Finnick ignored my comment and I let my eyes study the girl’s face more, she was way too young to be here. I was an adult, most of us were, but she was sixteen, just a child.

“Thanks, your costume is…lacking.” Katniss grimaced before she quickly averted her eyes from Finnick’s exposed chest and I chuckled again, surprised to hear her addressing me as well, “But yours looks nice—raw, almost.”

“It’s because it is raw, it’s real tree bark,” I explained as I let my fingers trace the corset, sturdy and protective around my torso. I extended my hand towards her, showing her that I meant no harm, just yet, “My name’s Im Y/N.”

“I know,” Katniss muttered as she shook my hand, her grip strong but not lasting, “I’m Katniss Everdeen.”

I hummed and nudged Finnick to suggest that he should introduce himself too, but he just popped the sugar cube in his mouth and smirked at Katniss, who looked clearly uncomfortable, “And he’s Finnick Odair, don’t let his cocky attitude make you feel uncomfortable. He’s just half the jerk he seems to be.”

Finnick scoffed and gave me a sharp look which I ignored as I studied Katniss’ face more, watching her fight a small smile off her lips as her eyes hardened instead, stance determined as she pulled her shoulders back, “Well, it’s not like I’m here to make friends.”

“Not friends, but maybe having a few people on your side wouldn’t help, girl on fire, not everyone is fond of you.” Finnick’s voice dropped as he took a step towards her, making her tense up. My jaw clenched and I averted my eyes because I knew he was right, “We are here because of you and the little stunt you pulled last year, Katniss. Don’t lower your guard.”

“Thanks for the advice, Finnick, but I don’t need it.” Katniss snapped, turning around to take off towards her mentor who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Finnick was about to say something, but I gripped his arm to stop him, my eyes meeting Haymitch’s blue ones. His eyebrows were furrowed as he took both Finnick and me in, a gaze filled with questions flashing over his face before he nodded at us in acknowledgement.

“Well, let’s get Mingi and then we can go.”

“Please, I can’t stay a second longer here.”

I watched as Haymitch and Katniss walked around us, making Finnick grimace as I turned my head to watch them walk towards Yunho, who was unsurprisingly beaming as he was surrounded by a few other tributes as well. Mingi, despite being just as tall as him, was hunched forward and hiding behind Yunho, his head lowered and jaw clenched. Song Mingi had stopped doing well after his Games, always so fidgety and scared of the world around him. But Yunho seemed determined to befriend him and he has never left Mingi’s side ever since his Victor’s Party. I couldn’t help but scowl at the two men before Finnick sighed loudly, grabbing my hand to grab my attention.

“There’ll be a bloodbath this year, Y/N, and I’m not going down so easily.” Finnick’s tone lowered and his eyes shook with conviction, and a flicker of anger, “Keep your ears and eyes open, study those around you, and stay close to the Mockingjay, you’ll know who’s your friend and foe then.”

With his cryptic words, he leaned forward to press a kiss against my cheek before he excused himself and headed for the elevator, his face tired as I watched him hug his torso when the female tributes from Districts 1 and 2 went and approached him like some hyenas, eyes filled with lust as they gazed upon him. People from Districts 1 and 2 were just as bad as those from the Capitol and I hated all of them. Sick of being surrounded by so many people I disliked, I grabbed the skirt of my heavy dress and raised it above my ankles as I stormed off towards one of the many elevators, waiting for one to open its doors as I ignored the insisted stares and whispers from the other tributes. Nobody really liked me, and I intended to keep it that way.

At least fewer feelings would be involved when I’d have to kill them, it wasn’t anything personal, after all.

            The days seemed to blur together when I was at the Capitol, yet at the same time, it felt like no time had even passed at all. As a mentor, all I had to do was focus on guiding the child I was given, making them the strongest and smartest possible. I had to strategize with them and help them build up their confidence if they lacked it, and I had to build them a persona that was easily likeable and cherished by the Capitol. But for that to happen, it also required me to network, to become someone liked by the Capitol. If it wasn’t for Yunho, I was sure not many would’ve liked me. We balanced each other out, where he was too soft and forgiving, I was rigid and hardly able to let go of a grudge. Nobody would willingly become a person disliked by many, but I had long stopped caring about other’s expectations and thoughts. I lived for myself and I lived the way I wanted—as long as President Snow allowed me to, of course. Nothing was made out of sunshine and rainbows in Panem, and if you wanted to have something that was only yours, you’d have to work hard for it, and even then it wouldn’t be enough. It was sickening, really, when I realized that I was at a great disadvantage this year.

I wasn’t a mentor any more, I was a tribute, a person not many would root for. People in the Capitol had twisted and sick fantasies and enjoyed brutality, but if one’s character wasn’t likeable, they would turn a blind eye to their efforts to win them over with their skills. And this meant that there wouldn’t be many rooting for me or sending me gifts and the bare minimum of necessities. I had to play it smart, who I’d team up with, who I’d betray, who I’d trust and who I wouldn’t. I couldn’t let just anyone into my circle of allies, and thus, when people who had no idea what the Games were about tried to give me advice, it only naturally made my blood boil. My stylists, who otherwise were rather acceptable people despite being from the Capitol, had seemed to think they knew better who was good and wasn’t to have in your team. They thought just because they watched us through a screen each year they could give us advice. I have held my tongue the whole week, not wanting to create an even more tense environment. It was already enough that I fled the room whenever Yunho entered it and didn’t speak nor look at him even at the other’s futile attempts.

Tonight was no different as we sat at the big table filled with tasty food to the brim, loud chatter filling the vast dining room. Yunho was to my left, unfortunately, and his musky cologne seemed to be stronger tonight than any time else, making my nose itch as I fought another sneeze away. I raised my hand holding the fork and rubbed at my nose, trying to get rid of the constant itching, it was irritating. But what was even more irritating were Yunho’s futile attempts at grabbing my attention or trying to stir up a conversation with me, it wasn’t happening. We were headed inside the Arena in less than two days and I wasn’t about to frolic around with him. I managed to avoid him so far, I had to remain focused on my own strategy. I wasn’t dying in that Arena, if President Snow thought it would be smart to send victors back, I would make sure to give him a headache lasting for centuries. Did he want a parade? I would gladly create a scene for him.

“Ah, just look at it!” Momo exclaimed, her full attention on the TV’s screen as they were replaying images of yesterday night’s interviews. It didn’t go as planned, of course, it didn’t. Everyone was revolted for having to return inside the Arena, and in a last desperate attempt, we had tried to show our unity to the districts that even if Snow tried to turn us against each other, at the core, we fought together for a better tomorrow, for a better Panem. My lips twitched into a satisfied smirk when I watched ourselves on the screen holding hands, raising them high up in the air as Caesar Flickerman’s panicked voice cut through the microphone, and then the lights went out. Snow hated it, I knew he hated it, and the knowledge of that alone made my whole evening more enjoyable. That is, of course, until Momo’s big and gleaming eyes were focused back on us.

“You are so brave,” She said, lips quivering. Out of the team that worked with us to make us look good, Momo was the least likeable. She was the typical Capitol resident, entitled and sheltered, a bit dumb, and overall annoying, “I wouldn’t be able to stand there, you even held hands to share a last moment together. It’s beautiful.”

Wooyoung, always the little shit, snorted under his breath as he raised his fork and bit the meat off of it. Wooyoung wasn’t dumb, he was far from it, and he seemed to dislike most of the people surrounding him despite not being that different from them. He said nothing as Minghao hummed from across me, his features blank as always. He rarely spoke, but when he did, he’d either say something that would scar you for life or make you wish he never opened his mouth. He was merciless, with everyone.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” My voice was laced with sarcasm and Yunho stopped moving around for a second, I could feel his wide eyes on the side of my face. It was the first time I had spoken tonight, “Sending us to our imminent deaths? Yeah, there’s just something so romantic about it, don’t you think so?”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table despite the amused smile on Minghao’s face, who took hold of his wine glass and tilted it in my direction as a silent toast. I wasn’t fond of him, unsurprisingly, but he seemed to be the only person besides Yunho and myself who was aware of all the horror the Capitol inflicted on the districts. He was quiet about it, but his mask sometimes slipped and I could see the hatred in his eyes, the rage boiling underneath his blood whenever Snow was shown on the screen, giving one of his lame speeches.

“Well,” Yeri, a person full of life and passion, tried to diffuse the palpable tension, “how did your evaluations go? What did you do? You never told us about it.”

“Yeah, you didn’t!” Wooyoung exclaimed with a full mouth, making Yeri grimace as she averted her eyes onto her plate. We didn’t have the time to tell them about it, not that I was in the mood to talk about how I had showcased my skills. I did it in a certainly memorable way, I was sure the Gamemakers weren’t satisfied with it, but I wasn’t here to please anyone. Yunho cleared his throat as he leaned forward to grab his cup of water, eyes falling on me briefly. I ignored him and took another bite of my dinner, the rich aromas never ceasing to amaze me. If there was just one good thing about the existence of the Capitol, it was their food.

As Yunho realized I wouldn’t speak up, he cleared his throat again and intertwined his fingers as he placed them on the table, “I did what I did all those years ago but made it more interesting, I suppose. I’m good with an axe, so…I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, really. That’s not my goal—”

“But, Yunho!” Momo’s exclamation cut Yunho off as her eyes grew wide, “You are supposed to impress them! What if they give you a bad score? That would be terrible.”

I snorted under my breath, rolling my eyes, “The Capitol giving a bad score to their golden boy? Yeah, sure, and I’m President Snow’s wife.”

“You’d kill yourself first before they’d even pronounce you as his wife.” Minghao’s reply came fast, cutting through the growing tension due to my blatant jar directed at Yunho. But, yes, Minghao was right. I’d rather kill myself than marry Snow, it was a stupid and absurd example, just like Momo’s stupid assumption.

“You’d be surprised to find out they aren’t as head over heels for me as you think, Y/N.” Yunho rarely snapped back, but as I glanced at him, I noticed his jaw clenching and unclenching. I couldn’t say that I was satisfied to see him triggered, but it certainly made me feel a little bit smug. Watching Yunho’s perfect mask crumble always satisfied me, it was proof of who he really was. It’s a pity not many were able to witness it.

“Maybe, but—” Wooyoung paused for no reason, just to be dramatic, as his twinkling eyes fell on me, “they certainly like you more than they like Y/N.”

“Say something new, Wooyoung.” I huffed and grabbed my own glass of orange juice, my stomach heavy from how much I had eaten. I had to enjoy full meals before going inside the Arena, I knew there I wouldn’t have the chance to eat much. I hated it.

“Since it seems like the cat finally returned your tongue, tell us about your evaluation.” Wooyoung grinned, lips ghosting over the edge of his wine glass. My jaw tensed as I leaned back in my chair, pushing the plate just slightly away from me as a way of letting everyone know I wasn’t eating anymore. The Avoxes lingering just around us noticed and quickly came closer, taking the plates and silverware away before they disappeared to the kitchen. I didn’t want to entertain those who sat at the table with me, but I knew I couldn’t just stand and go to my room, that would’ve been too rude, and I knew Minghao would very shamelessly drag me back. But just to prolong my moment of silence and peace of mind, knowing the reactions that would soon follow, I took a big gulp of the orange juice and made sure to savour it. Wooyoung scoffed as he rolled his eyes and Minghao, surprisingly, seemed rather interested as his eyebrows raised. Momo had her mouth hanging open as she sat on the edge of her chair and Yeri seemed nonchalant, but I knew she was just as curious as everyone else.

As for Yunho, his torso had turned to face me and his warm chocolate-like eyes were insistent, as if he was trying to penetrate my mind and read my every thought. Irritated, I held the glass in both hands and took a deep breath, “I destroyed the training room.”

The gasps that followed were satisfying, gratifying. I chuckled, staring at nothing in particular smugly, “I walked inside with my head held high, I introduced myself and then grabbed the tables first, pushing everything off of them just to flip them over. Then I went and turned everything I could over, hurling the weapons I could towards the Gamemakers, but sadly, there was a forcefield around them this time. And then, when I felt satisfied with my work, I told them to get fucked in the ass and left the room with a bright smile on my face.”

The mouths hanging open made me chuckle, which turned into quiet giggles as I stared down into my lap, feeling as if I had accomplished something big. This was the best way I could show defiance, and so I took the opportunity and rolled with it. I couldn’t have been prouder, but my joyful moment didn’t last for long when I felt a warm palm pressing against my left thigh. Before I could react, push the hand off or anything, long fingers grabbed onto my flesh through my pants and I gulped, my heartbeat spiking at the inappropriate touch. I whipped my head around, Yunho’s eyes boring into mine as his eyebrows were furrowed.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was deep, low, and scrutinizing. I scoffed but didn’t say anything as his grip only turned tighter, making goosebumps erupt under my sweater. Yunho didn’t look mad, but he didn’t look calm either, it was peculiar, I couldn’t read his expression.

“That’s…” Minghao took a deep breath, face suddenly lighting up in elation, “simply brilliant!”

“No, it isn’t.” Yunho snapped, his head turning around as he looked at Wooyoung, who looked concerned. It made my eyebrows furrow, but before I could speak up, Yeri beat me to it.

“You just put a target on your head, Y/N,” Her voice was hesitant as she glanced around the table, stare lingering on Wooyoung as if she was asking for permission to speak, “You know the President isn’t fond of you, you shouldn’t have angered him further. These Games, they—they are happening to take you down, the strongest, the ones who had proven they were strong enough to fight a battle lest it happens, you should play it smart, Y/N, not make a fool out of yourself.”

My eyebrows raised as I chuckled, unamused, leaning forward to look at Yeri better, “Really? I’m a fool now? You think I want to be here, again?! You think I want to go back inside that fucking Arena and kill those people? To relive all the repressed memories and emotions? Fuck off, Yeri, when all you’ve known is a lavished lifestyle without death constantly looming over your head.”

“Watch your language.” Wooyoung was rarely serious, but when his fox-like eyes narrowed and his lips twitched, he looked scary. He could be scary when he wanted to be, perhaps that is why he laughed so often and tried to always look mischievous, “Yeri is right, stop being so fucking proud that you can’t admit when you’ve just made a mistake. If your score is low the people won’t even bat an eyelash your way, considering there’s someone who likes you.”

“I don’t give a shit who likes me and who doesn’t, Wooyoung.” I scoffed, my thigh burning where Yunho’s fingers gripped it. It was becoming too hot in the dining room, Yunho’s strong cologne was making my head dizzy and I could feel my lungs tightening up. I didn’t want to stay here, I didn’t like being put on the spot, and I didn’t like it when people treated me for less than I was.

“Well, you should.” Wooyoung said, tone cold, “Because your life depends on your sponsors and your allies, you stupid girl.”

Before I could snap back at Wooyoung, Momo, who had been surprisingly quiet, chirped up, “Speaking of that, who are you taking as your allies? I was thinking Enobaria, from District 2, and—”

“Mingi.” Yunho’s tone was determined, eyes hardened as he looked at everyone sitting at the table, his gaze slipping onto mine, “I’m not leaving him alone, he’s coming with us.”

“With us?” I muttered under my breath and flinched when Yunho’s fingers felt like they were digging through my pants, “I’m with Finnick and Mags, I don’t care what you do and who you go off with.”

“You’re a team.” Minghao said, his lips pursed, “You two have to stick together, it’s what everyone else will do too, it’s only logical.”

“And if I don’t want to?” I fired rapidly, eyebrows raising.

“I just told you to stop being fucking arrogant, Y/N.” Wooyoung hissed, slamming his fist onto the table and making me flinch as my heart started thumping faster, “You’d be suicidal to not form a team with Yunho, he’s amongst the last ones the other tributes will go for. He’s strong and you know he’s got your back, you can’t go frolicking with Finnick and Mags, what if they turn on you?”

“They won’t,” I said through a clenched jaw and having had enough of Yunho’s touch, I gripped his wrist and ignored the looks we got. My nails dug into his skin painfully, but he wasn’t budging, it made my blood boil, “Finnick is like my brother, he won’t turn on me.”

“Mingi is like my brother too, I’m not leaving him alone—”

“So, are you saying you want us to team up with the Mockingjay?” I whipped my head around, eyes bleeding into Yunho’s, “You want to put a target on our heads right from the get-go? Everyone hates her guts, everyone will want to kill her first. I’m not teaming up with Mingi and Katniss, Yunho—”

“It wasn’t a question,” Yunho snapped, suddenly flipping his palm up as he grabbed my wrist instead and yanked me towards himself. I gasped as I felt forward, gripping the edge of the chair with my right hand, heart racing against my chest, “Mingi is coming with us, and wherever he goes, Katniss goes too. And you’re coming with us too, whether you like it or not. I don’t care if Finnick and Mags join us, I know they won’t turn against us until there’s just us left behind.”

I scoffed and yanked my wrist out of his hold, snarling at him, “You won’t tell me what to do, I’m not going to be in a team with you. Yet better, get out of my fucking way when that canon goes off because you will be the first person I’ll kill, Yunho.”

My words stung, they were honest but I hadn’t meant them like that. I hadn’t realized their weight until it was too late and I couldn’t take them back anymore. I tried to gulp but my throat was tight, cheeks burning from both anger and the sudden regret and embarrassment I felt. For the first time, I didn’t feel satisfaction as I watched Yunho’s face fall, a very clearly pained expression crossing his face. His eyebrows furrowed as if he didn’t understand why I would say something like that, but his eyes filled with tears and suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore. It didn’t help that everyone was staring at me with wide-open mouths, just as shocked as Yunho by my words. When I heard Momo starting to sob, I knew I couldn’t sit there anymore. I stood abruptly, pushing my chair back forcefully as I took off towards my room, breaking out into a sprint when I felt my bottom lip shake, tears flooding my eyes.

Why was I on the verge of breaking down? Why did my own words hurt me when they were the truth, when they were supposed to let Yunho know that I didn’t want him around? Not here, not home, and certainly not in the Games. I couldn’t trust him, he’d tried to kill me once before, and he wasn’t even in the Arena with me, what would guarantee that he wouldn’t do it again? And now it would be so much easier done, I couldn’t trust him. In my desperate daze to get back to my room, I didn’t hear the quick footsteps chasing after me, and I gasped when my door was slammed open before it could even close. I knew who it was even before I turned around, and my hands balled into fists, throat tight as I tried to gulp again.

“Why are you like this?”

“Get out.”

We spoke over each other, Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion while mine in irritation, “Get out, Yunho, get out!”

“I’m not going fucking anywhere until you tell me how I wronged you!” Yunho had never raised his voice before, it made me flinch as his chest fell and rose rapidly, his lips downturned. He was mad and confused, and he wasn’t budging as I tried to push him out of my room. No, instead, he gripped my biceps painfully hard and shook my body as if that would shake some sense into me, his eyes shaking as they bore into mine. I couldn’t breathe as my heart raced painfully hard in my chest, my face flushed from the adrenaline. I couldn’t even tell what was wrong with me anymore, I didn’t know if I was scared, mad, desperate, or just insane. But I knew that if Yunho continued looking at me with that hurt expression on his face, I would completely break, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not when we were so close to going inside the Games where I had to be focused and committed to the thought that only I was making it back.

“You should think back on your actions, Yunho, it’s very easy actually.” I chuckled, trying to feign nonchalance, but I knew I was failing by how shaky my voice sounded, “I don’t trust you.”

“I know that, but no matter how hard I think about it, I just—” He gulped, averting his eyes, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I did wrong and I can’t—I just can’t have you pushing me away when we are so close, please, Y/N. I care for you just as much as I care for Mingi, we can’t separate in the Arena.”

I gulped as Yunho’s painful grip softened on my biceps, his shaking eyes searching my face as I tried to gather my thoughts, to give him a rational answer, “You think you won’t turn on me when the timing comes?”

I was surprised by how dejected and sad I sounded. I chuckled, fed up even with myself as the silence stretched on between us, Yunho’s lack of an answer being the answer. He knew it and I knew it too, the alliances would last as long as there were still many of us alive in the Arena. After that? Everyone was on their own, everyone. Even those who loved each other would have no choice but to choose. Me or them. And the answer was clear, it always had been. Humans were selfish, we were desperate to survive, and it was obvious who we’d choose.

“But I don’t want to turn on you.” Yunho’s voice was just a whisper as suddenly his hands moved, tracing up to my shoulders as he stepped closer, making me inhale deeply. His musky scent was nauseating, but it was the only thing in this wrenched place that smelled like home, that reminded me of home, that felt like home. Yunho’s closeness was familiar despite my dislike for it, and I found myself gripping his sweater at his hips, tilting my head back to look at him better. Yunho’s eyes were coated with an emotion that ran deep in his bones, an emotion that was so clear it made me freeze. He didn’t hate me, not even when I had been nothing but horrible to him, it was so obvious he didn’t and that was dangerous. It was dangerous because I could feel my walls crumble as I closed the distance between us, pressing my body against his bigger and stronger one. Yunho’s jaw clenched as he gently cupped my jaw, licking his lips as his eyes shifted between my eyes and lips.

“We won’t have to turn against each other, Y/N.” He whispered, leaning down so close that our lips brushed together. I gasped, quietly, as my eyes widened, freezing in his hold as I didn’t expect him to make such a bold move. But there was something hidden in his gaze, which quickly darted over the room as if searching for something, his voice really low and deep as he spoke again, “This will be the last time, to us, to them, to the children. Whatever happens in that Arena, it will happen with the intention to fix what’s been broken for so many years, to bring about a new beginning. So we mustn’t forget who our true enemy is, Y/N.”

My mind was reeling as Yunho’s words sank in, heart beating in a frenzy as I couldn’t completely focus due to the mess I was feeling inside. I wanted to push him away, slap him, berate him, but I also wanted to grab his collar and seal our lips together, to devour him, to breathe him in, to feel his body against mine, to give in to the burn situated low in my stomach. I hated him, but I wanted him. Snow took everyone from me, but he left me with Yunho as if he knew I’d torture myself over it, hate him with moments of relapse where all I could do was want him. I shuddered when Yunho shifted his head, his soft and wet lips pressing against the corner of my mouth. I wanted to chase after it, I wanted to taste him, but he turned his head when I tried to finally close the small distance. My lips pressed against his jaw instead and I couldn’t stop myself as I pressed an open-mouth kiss against his hot skin, fingers digging into his sweater, settling on his narrow hips. I couldn’t control myself anymore, it was too much. And maybe I didn’t want to let my logical brain lead me, maybe I wanted to give in to my deepest, darkest, desires led by my heart.

“If we do this together, Yunho,” My voice was hoarse as I spoke, our eyes meeting again as Yunho faced me once again, “The second I realize you’ve lied to me, I will kill you. I will kill anyone because I’m not dying in that Arena.”

“You are not.” Yunho emphasised as he gulped, reaching a hand up as he pushed my hair back, tangling his long fingers into the smooth strands, “But we must protect the Mockingjay.”

“Why?” I hissed, eyebrows furrowed as I turned my head just slightly, pressing my cheek into his, for once, warm palm. Yunho smiled, letting his other hand drop from my jaw as he shrugged, eyes shaking as his face morphed into tiredness. He seemed tired, but not just due to today’s events, he was tired of everything.

“To be free.” My eyes fluttered closed when he leaned forward, pressing a lasting kiss against my forehead. It made my chest ache and my hands almost chased after him when he untangled himself from my body, leaving me alone and cold in the room that would be my bedroom for the last time. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew one thing.

I wasn’t dying in that Arena, and perhaps neither was Yunho.

            Dread, so deep that it rattled your bones, was an emotion one could never get used to. I forgot what it truly meant to fear for your life, to do everything you could to keep yourself alive. President Snow wanted the utmost entertainment as Panem watched their most beloved victors fight for their lives, and he certainly got what he wanted. We didn’t have to run to the Cornucopia this year to get our weapons, no, the Cornucopia was where we stood the second the platforms raised us into the Arena. I couldn’t even focus on my chaotic heartbeat, eyes looking around for Finnick, only to spot Yunho instead straight across from me. He had given me a firm nod, and then his eyes fixed on something past me. When I turned to see what it was, I could see two axes lined up against the leg of a table. They were put there for us. I turned in my spot, muscles tight as the countdown began—may the odds be ever in your favour. Words I never thought I’d hear so vividly again, just through the screen of a TV while I watched my tributes fight until death.

And despite knowing what it meant to be in the Games and knowing it would be no easy feat to get away from the Cornucopia in one piece, it still shocked me how hard I had to fight to gain the upper hand. It seemed like Yunho and I weren’t the only ones yielding an axe, and thus, my first kill had been claimed right after the countdown, it didn’t surprise me. But there was no time for grief or hesitation, everyone was out there to get the other. I had to find my allies before someone could kill me, and upon seeing Finnick’s blonde hair disappear underwater, I knew I had to get away too. The Cornucopia was situated on an island in the middle of a lake, surrounded by lush green and dense pine trees. The breeze was chilly, the air humid. It felt like I was back in District 7 on an early autumn day when the days were starting to get shorter and the nights longer. The scenery felt familiar yet it made my skin crawl, I hated it here.

My ears still rang from the canons that had gone off right after the countdown, and my lungs burned when I resurfaced. The water was colder than I had expected and as I wasn’t an experimented swimmer, I struggled until I reached the shore, the axe I had to somehow carry to land also made my mission more difficult. As I gasped for air, water droplets obscuring my view, hand feeling around for my abandoned axe, I realized with great terror that something was actively sneaking around my ankles, slithering up my legs. In a frenzy, I decided to look back and I was mortified when I realized the weeds inside the water were moving up my leg, trying to yank me back inside the water. I tried to reach for my axe but it was out of reach, and just as I started trashing my legs around in hopes of making the weeds retract, I heard the sound of splashing water not too far from me. Then, the sharp edge of an axe came down and I gasped as I quickly flipped onto my back, my hand gripping the handle of my own axe as I was finally able to reach it.

Yunho’s suit was snug against his fit body, leaving very little to the imagination as it acted as a second skin. Our suits offered warmth but they were uncomfortable, the jacket that came with it only holding us back when we had to swim through the lake to reach the shore. Yunho was breathing hard as his eyes were pointed at me, and then he reached his hand out and I grabbed it without thinking much. I was hoisted up and I made sure no weed remained on my legs as Yunho hadn’t released my hand just yet, guiding us towards another tall person, who stood far away from the wet ground. My teeth clattered against each other as the lake’s coldness seemed to cling onto my every crevice, and I whipped my head left and right as I was trying to spot Finnick and Mags. I could see people rushing inside the trees at a distance, but neither had blonde hair like Finnick’s. Then, realizing that despite him being strong and capable of getting through the bloodbath, one of the canons that went off could’ve signalled his death.

My breath caught in my throat as I yanked my hand out of Yunho’s, making him pause as we finally reached Mingi, who was looking around himself nervously, bow and arrow clutched tightly in his hands. A hunting knife was strapped to his hips as well, and despite the always solemn look on his face, he seemed alert and present. But I couldn’t focus on Mingi or Yunho, all I could think about was the absence of Finnick, Mags, and even Katniss. Weren’t Mingi and her supposed to stick together no matter what?

“Where’s Katniss?” I found myself asking before I could think this through. I didn’t trust Mingi, hell, I didn’t even fully trust Yunho. I didn’t want to be with them, but Yunho’s long fingers found my arm again and he was suddenly walking off, dragging me after himself. I tried to stop, looking back at Mingi with a panicked expression on my face as he followed after us wordlessly, but neither one of them was saying anything. It only made my heart race faster, reminded me of the time when I was betrayed by my own district’s male tribute, flashbacks making my body shudder when Yunho just ignored me, fingernails digging through the fabric of my jacket as he led the way deeper inside the pine forest, “Stop—stop!”

I knew I was supposed to stay silent, but I was panicking, my mind was hazy and my lungs were heavy, I couldn’t continue like this. The Games had just started, I couldn’t freak out so early on, I needed to stay level-headed and in control of my thoughts and actions, “Yunho, I said fucking stop!”

“We can’t stop, Y/N!” He exclaimed, suddenly halting and making me run into his broad back. I gasped as my face collided with it and he whirled around, eyebrows furrowed, “We are too exposed right now, we have to keep going, the others are lurking around still.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Finnick, Yunho, I’ve already told you this—”

“I didn’t see Finnick anywhere,” I could barely speak before Yunho cut me off, as if he didn’t even care about what I had to say. The lump in my throat made it hard to swallow all of a sudden, “We can’t wait around for him, we have to keep moving for a while, at least. And if—he—he might’ve died already, Y/N, we can’t wait around for—”

“What about Katniss?” I hissed, turning my head around as I glared at Mingi, who looked tense and lowered his eyes when my glare burned into his shaken eyes, “Weren’t you two supposed to stay together?”

“We were, but I—she pushed me in the water to save me from a knife and I—” Mingi gulped, sharing a quick glance with Yunho. It made me look back at Yunho, feeling more suspicious than before. Something was wrong, they had to be lying. But why would they want us to separate from Finnick and Katniss? It made no sense, “I lost sight of her, I’m sorry. But she’s strong and she can swim, I know she made it out. The forest is like a second home to her, she’ll find her way back—I hope.”

“Hope,” I scoffed, shaking Yunho’s grip off as I held my axe even tighter, jaw clenching, “is not good enough here, Mingi. Are you sure you didn’t do this on purpose? Why did you want to separate me from Finnick—”

“Nobody wanted us to separate.” Yunho’s sharp tone cut me off and I gasped when I felt him cup my cheek and turn my head around, his chocolate brown eyes hard and glaring, “Things rarely go as planned inside the Games, Y/N, you know that, so we can’t just stand here and argue and draw even more attention onto us. We’ll search until we find them, okay?”

“I know you did this on purpose, Yunho.” I hissed, slapping his warm hand away, my jaw clenching as Yunho closed his eyes and released a long exhale, “I don’t know what sick and twisted game you’re playing at, but I will slit your—”

A twig snapping to our right made the rest of my words die in the back of my throat, making both Yunho and Mingi tense up as they whipped their heads towards where the sound had come from. My grip tightened around the handle of my axe until my joints ached, and I tilted my head, waiting and listening for another sound. It was minuscule, but it was there, someone was hiding behind the tree. It didn’t look like Mingi or Yunho had noticed, though, because Mingi turned his head and Yunho opened his mouth to say something, but I paid them no mind as I raised my arm and flung my axe towards the tree just as someone with a sword jumped around it. The sickening crack of bones was loud as the tribute gasped, flung back into the tree as the axe was lodged almost perfectly in the middle of his chest. Mingi gasped and seemed to freeze as Yunho gulped, his hand tightening around his own axe.

I threw him a glare before I went towards the tribute who was pinned against the tree by my axe, blood flowing out of his mouth as the life slowly slipped away from the man’s eyes. It was the male tribute from District 6, a man I didn’t know well but had heard talk shit about me behind my back. He was still alive but just barely hanging onto life, so without thinking, I grabbed the back of the axe and pushed it even deeper into the man’s chest, making him let out a gurgled groan. It only took three seconds for his head to drop and for the canon to go off. I scoffed and grabbed the back of the axe, yanking it out of his lifeless body as he crumbled to the ground, folding over itself as I wiped the blood on the back of his jacket, grinning to myself. I would’ve apologized if he would’ve deserved it, but a man who’d tried sexually assaulting me before did not deserve my mercy. Satisfied with my work, and slightly hopeful that the Capitol was thrilled by my kill, I turned with a grin on my lips. The feeling of victory didn’t last for long as I froze, taken aback by the sight in front of me.

Mingi’s whole body was shaking, his bow and arrow were on the ground and his head was hidden in the crook of Yunho’s neck, who held his friend close, muttering reassuring words into the younger’s ear. My jaw clenched, and suddenly the adrenaline rush crashed inside my body, bringing back the clattering of my teeth as my body was still way too cold. I wanted to think of Mingi as someone weak, as someone who had lost his mind already, as someone who had no place in the Hunger Games, an easy prey to whom death was certain. But deep down, in a hidden chamber of my heart, I felt sympathy for Mingi because all I wanted to do was crumble into a ball and sob until no emotion was left inside my chest. I was beyond frightened and all I wanted was to be held in Yunho’s warm and comforting arms, in the arms that felt like home. But I couldn’t, if I let my emotions take the lead, I would die and that was a luxury I couldn’t afford—not yet, at least.

“We need to move,” I spoke up, voice surprisingly gentle as I realized Mingi’s reaction had been triggered by my kill. I didn’t want to set him off more, it wouldn’t just be bad for him, it would set Yunho and me back too, I couldn’t have that happen, “We’re too close to the shore still.”

“Mingi,” Yunho’s voice was gentle as he pressed his nose against his best friend’s temple, rubbing his back up and down with both hands as his axe lay on the ground next to his leg, “It’s okay, we’re fine. Y/N took care of him, you’re safe with us. Let’s go, okay? We need to keep moving to avoid situations like this one, hm?”

I heard a sniff as I approached them, crouching down to fetch Mingi’s bow and arrow as he nodded his head, throwing his arms around Yunho’s neck as he gave him a tight squeeze. Yunho chuckled but returned the hug, a warm smile appearing on his face when the two separated. I gulped, feeling uncomfortable at their intimacy, at the ease they showed affection to each other. Even if my body and soul craved closeness to another human being, my mind wouldn’t let me bring the walls built around my heart down, I just couldn’t. It was too late now, softness didn’t get you anywhere in the Arena, only barbarity did.

“Here,” I muttered as Mingi faced me, his body still trembling when his eyes landed on his previously abandoned weapons. He gulped and very slowly reached forward, “I understand that it’s hard, Mingi, but if you let your trauma and fear consume you, you won’t get far in the Games.”

He nodded once and then grabbed his weapons out of my hands, staring at them with a ferocious glare. Yunho grabbed his axe too and then sighed, rubbing his face before he glanced around us, “Let’s head uphill, maybe we find something that we can use as a resource.”

I nodded, letting the two fall in step in front of me as I opted to look out for our backs, making sure we weren’t exposed on either side. My muscles hurt by how tense they were, and my ears were trained well to catch even the slightest shifts, the quietest of sounds. I knew how to survive situations worse than this, but I couldn’t let my guard down, the Games had barely started.

But if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I couldn’t trust Yunho or Mingi. Finnick was my only ally in these Games and I was going to find him, whether on my own or with the help of two tall men walking in front of me, I didn’t care. I was going home once this was over.

            The first night in the Arena had been silent, uneventful. This was good only because we got a good night’s rest, otherwise, it meant the Gamemakers were planning something big. I couldn’t tell what, not yet at least, but the lightning striking a tree in the distance, far more uphill, managed to raise my suspicions. I couldn’t tell just yet what that was supposed to mean, but I had counted twelve strikes. I had been on the lookout when it happened, preferring to be the first to keep watch as the two men I was with slept soundly, huddled closely together. Before the artificial sun could set, we made a small bonfire to try to warm ourselves up, grilling a frog we had found by the creak. It got really cold by the nighttime, but I preferred my teeth clattering to cozying up with either Yunho or Mingi. I didn’t trust them, not in the least, and I had twirled the hunting knife between my fingers as I watched them sleep, so unassumingly, so easy to kill. But I wouldn’t do it just yet, not until I have found Finnick and we’d figure something out together. The Arena was big and I knew we had little chance of finding each other, but for once in my life I could only pray the odds would be in my favor.

Morning came fast and once we refreshed ourselves by the creak, which was surprisingly lukewarm, we took off once again, headed more uphill. We were looking for a good hiding spot, something we could treat as our base, but we were also just keen on exploring the Arena. It felt like the pine forest was endless, and to someone who didn’t grow up in a District that was surrounded by forests, it must’ve felt like an endless maze of trees that looked the same no matter which way you looked. But to Yunho and I it was rather easy to navigate through its density, the scenery was never the same to us. The occasional fallen log, the change of the bush type, or even the way birds flew overhead were a good tale-tell sign of where we were. Mingi seemed to be at ease too, moving around as if the forest was his second home. I knew District 12 was just by the forest, but I had no idea they could go inside it too. Maybe Mingi was hiding things about himself even towards Yunho, it wouldn’t surprise me.

As the day had dragged on and the temperatures rose once again, our stomachs churned loudly as we were getting tired from endlessly climbing uphill, the pathway slippery due to the small rocks we had to walk on. Yunho had exchanged spots with Mingi, and I was keen on remaining at the back as we trekked around some more trees, avoiding bushes that looked like something was wrong with them. We had only stopped when the sound of a drone caught our attention, the beeping of it high-pitched and loud as if it were a child’s toy. It was headed towards us, more specifically towards Yunho, and it looked like a box—a big box when Yunho caught it, his eyebrows furrowed. We had stopped then and once Yunho had opened it up, our mouths started watering. Someone from the Capitol had sent us breakfast and left us a letter telling us to feast on it as they’d send us some more tomorrow morning as well. Yunho, the ever-lovely person he was, faced a camera and thanked the sender with a bright smile and some sweet words, Mingi and I could barely contain ourselves from ravishing the bagels, cheese, grapes, and slices that looked and tasted like ham.

Once our bellies were full, we were off again hoping to find a cave as we had followed the stream until it started disappearing into an unknown direction. Mingi was at the front of the group leading us, his bow and arrow gripped in his hands as we had finally spotted a cave up-front, right by the pathway. He seemed excited upon our finding and quickened his pace, making Yunho and I run after him as Yunho glanced back to throw me an excited smile. I didn’t react as I fixed my grip on my axe, ready to face other tributes if they were hiding inside the cave that we’d claim as ours soon. But it was dark and silent inside as we reached its opening and Mingi halted, looking back at Yunho and I.

“I’ll go check, wait here.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Yunho muttered, his eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s fine, I won’t go in deep,” Mingi reassured him and then stalked inside, his bow and arrow drawn in case he was forced to use it. With a gulp, I settled back on my heels and looked around, trying to evade Yunho’s burning gaze. He didn’t say anything, but he continued to stare as I tried harder and harder to ignore him. My heart was slowly starting to thump faster in my chest, and I could feel myself starting to sweat from still wearing my jacket over the body-tight suit. Just as Yunho opened his mouth to say something, Mingi’s shriek made us tense up and share a concerned glance, and then Yunho was off before I could even tell him to wait.

“Mingi!” He screamed, running inside the cave with his axe raised. I remained in my spot, my breaths audible as I whipped my head around, looking out for anyone who could be prowling on us. My heartbeat was deafening as I tried to tune in to the sounds of the forest, but the pounding feet coming from inside the cave caught my attention rapidly, and I couldn’t even make out what was happening as Yunho and Mingi’s panicked faces came into view, Yunho’s hand gripping my arm hard as he yanked me after himself, sprinting downhill all of a sudden.

“Run!” Mingi screamed as he took the lead once again, his bow around his shoulder and arrow in its holster, my heart started pounding faster as I twisted my head around, trying to make out what we were running from. Going downhill was certainly easier than uphill, but the small rocky path was tricky as it was slippery and made it harder for us to flee safely. If it weren’t for Yunho’s relenting grip on my bicep, I was sure I would’ve tumbled to the ground already.

“What are we running from?!” I asked as my lungs heaved for air, Yunho and I jumped over a fallen log as Mingi was well in front of us, not looking back even once.

“Snakes!” Yunho screamed, and I felt my whole body shudder, fear gripping my insides. I wasn’t afraid of snakes, but I was afraid of whatever mutants these were, certain to kill us. I gulped and twisted my head around again to try and see the reptilians, which turned out to be my downfall— quite literally.

“Yunho, come on!” I heard Mingi scream before my feet got caught in the vines that slithered across the forest floor and I gasped as my feet were cut from underneath me, Yunho’s grip disappearing as he continued to run while I rolled to the side, curling into myself to try and protect my head as I hit the side of a boulder. I groaned, my back numb as it caught most of my fall, and my axe was somewhere on the ground. I tried to look for it, getting on my knees as I heard the slithering snakes getting closer, their hisses menacing. My heart felt like it was in my throat as I could hear my pulse clearly and loudly in my ears, looking up as the fallen leaves rattled not too far from me.

“Yunho?!” I heard Mingi’s raw voice call out in the distance, laced with panic, “What are you—no!”

I could see my axe from here, a colourful snake was twisting around its handle, hissing as its eyes fell on me. I gritted my teeth and fumbled around for my hunting knife, unlatching it from around my thigh as I gripped it in my hand, staring the snake down. The only problem was that it wasn’t just one snake that was coming after us, it was multiple, a dozen, thousands even as the otherwise silent forest was filled with their hissing. My mouth parted as my breathing got heavier, and my eyes widened when I felt something crawling up my left calf. It only took me one second to realize a snake had gotten to me without me noticing its approach, and an involuntary shriek escaped my mouth as I tried to kick it off. I tried to stay as calm as possible and fight with a level head, but the dread gripping at my insides, whispering that I was going to die, made me panic as I tried to stab the snake, but it dodged my knife each time as if it was intelligent enough to do so.

“Yunho!” Mingi’s desperate shout almost felt like it shook the ground, and I hissed at the snake as another one got too close, trying to stab that one too. It was hard to accept the fact that I would die such a pathetic death, but I bet the Capitol would love it. They were always entertained by whatever the Gamemakers had prepared for us, and I felt my lips tremble as a pathetic whine left my lips when the snake’s body got tighter around my leg, opening its mouth in a menacing snarl. But the pain spreading from of its poison never came as Yunho suddenly appeared from around the trees, slicing snakes in half as he stepped hard on others, his eyes finding mine. He looked terrified once he noticed the snake around my leg, and without consideration for his life, he leapt forward and grabbed the snake with his bare hand, yanking it so hard that it tore its body in two. The snake hissed, but before it could try to do more harm, it was decapitated by Yunho’s axe, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Fuck, come on!” He snapped, and it helped me quench my terror as I scrambled onto my feet, almost tripping again but this time due to nothing. My whole body was shaking as Yunho’s fingers intertwined with mine, his palm calloused and sweaty as he was breathing hard.

“Yunho?!” Mingi sounded on the verge of hysteria as Yunho and I ran towards the pathway again, and I retrieved my axe quickly, stomping on a snake vengefully before we sprinted down the rocky pathway again. This time I made sure to not glance back even though the snakes were right by our feet, trying to bite at our calves, and Achilles tendon, some even trying to jump and latch onto our torsos.

“Keep running, Mingi!” Yunho screamed back as we could see him now since we were closer to him. He was standing with his bow and arrow drawn back, hands visibly shaking and his eyes red. But once he had spotted us, he took off again, going off the pathway and jumping over bushes.

“Where are we going?!” I panted out, swinging at a snake as it tried jumping at my body from the right side.

“I have no idea,” Yunho answered breathlessly but veered us off the pathway, following Mingi’s lead. Even though he was well ahead of us, Yunho seemed to constantly know his friend’s location, and which way we needed to go to catch up with him. And it seemed like Mingi had stopped running once we reached the small clearing, his calves soaked in the creak.

“Get in!” He was beckoning us over frantically, marching over to the side of the creak when we were finally close enough, and then he grabbed Yunho’s axe and yanked us aggressively inside the water. Yunho slipped and fell to his knees, his axe remaining in Mingi’s grip as Yunho panted, head hanging low. My legs threatened to give out too but I was mostly confused as I looked at Mingi, and then back at the approaching snakes.

“Why did we stop?!” I asked, fear coating my voice, “We’re going to die, I can’t—”

“The snakes won’t come into the water,” Mingi said, his jaw set tight as he looked at the approaching reptilians.

“How do you know?!” I gave him an incredulous look, my attention shifting onto Yunho when he rolled around, sitting on his bum despite getting his suit soaked once again.

“They aren’t water snakes, just—trust me.” Mingi’s deep tone was raw and tense as his eyes remained on the reptilians. I watched too, gripping my axe and ready to kill as many as needed, heart thundering in my chest. But just as one snake tried to get inside the water, it hissed out loudly and retreated, the others following suit. No snake got inside the water, it tried though, but it jumped back as if they were electrocuted by it. I felt all power leave my body as I crumbled to my knees, steadying myself on my hands as my stomach felt like turning upside down, about to empty its contents. Our pants were loud in the small clearing, the water flow calming despite the retreating hisses of the snakes. It was eery to hear them in the distance, and my body shuddered as I remembered it slithering up my leg.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered under my breath, looking up at Mingi and Yunho. Yunho was still sitting, his eyes staring out into nothing as Mingi had moved to sit on a rock, his plump lips swollen and his eyes filled with tears. It made my eyebrows furrow as I tried to calm my body and mind, but it was hard when dread seemed to have taken its residence inside my body, inside my mind. My jaw clenched as I shakily stood again, eyebrows furrowing, “How did you know?”

Mingi and Yunho looked at me, probably surprised by my feeble voice. I hated it, but I ignored it as my glare burned into Mingi’s face. His eyebrows furrowed, but he shrugged, “I guess I just—I’ve heard it somewhere? I just—it just felt like the right thing to do.”

“So, you didn’t know.” I huffed, closing my eyes as my body continued trembling from the lingering adrenaline in my system.

“Yeah, maybe—but we’re alive, we’re—fine.” Mingi’s voice got quiet as my eyes snapped open, fixating on him. I scoffed, snarling at him.

“We’re fine?” I questioned, feeling the heat rise into my cheeks due to anger, “We’re alive?”

“Yeah, we—”

“No,” I hissed, grabbing my axe tightly for stability, to ground myself, “I am alive because Yunho came back, because he saved me. What were you doing, huh, Mingi? Saving yourself, that’s what you were doing, I’ll tell you.”

Mingi gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as he glanced at Yunho briefly, “I was just…trying to find the creak. I knew you’d follow me, I—”

“So much for being a team, huh?” I chuckled but it was humourless, “Is this what you did with Katniss, too?”

Mingi froze, eyes slightly widening as a hurt expression crossed his face. I heard Yunho exhale sharply but I was focused on Mingi, my eyes narrowing as he continued avoiding eye contact. My heart was still racing but for different reasons now, I could hear the gears in my head turn, twisting my thoughts and whispering at me that I was right all along. Mingi and Yunho weren’t my allies, they were my enemies and they were trying to lure me further and further away from other possible tributes that could maybe help me if I needed it. I scoffed, feeling my skin burn underneath my suit.

“Tell me, Mingi, did Katniss really push you into the lake?” I raised my eyebrows, watching as the guy’s eyebrows furrowed some more, “Or did you jump in because you were planning on betraying her at some point, huh?”

“Y/N,” Yunho hissed, abruptly standing up, “stop talking to him like that, what are you even saying? Do you hear yourself right now? How delusional do you sound?”

I chuckled, turning around to face Yunho as Mingi remained unmoving, frozen, dark eyes staring into the water as his hands clenched and unclenched, “Really, now, Yunho? I am delusional? I didn’t even want to team up with you two, you forced me into an alliance with you and Mingi and look where it got us! We both could’ve died out there while Mingi ran for his life! Did you forget what he’s done to his allies in the past—”

“Shut up.” Mingi snapped, standing up from his rock, jaw clenched and eyes ablaze with anger. He was breathing hard and his height was intimidating, looming over my shorter build as he approached me rapidly, “You don’t know shit about why I did that, Y/N. They were going to kill me that night, I heard them talking about it. I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for it to happen!”

I paused, licking my lips as I shook my head in disbelief, “And do you think at some point Yunho and I won’t turn against you? Do you think we won’t try to kill you?”

“We won’t.” Yunho hissed as he came closer too, his cheeks flushed and his expression conveying the simmering rage he must’ve felt underneath his skin. Yunho was rarely angry, but when he was, his voice thundered and his eyes turned sharp, lips pulled back in a snarl that was both frightening and almost comical, “Because I didn’t come here to kill anyone. We are getting out alive, but we have to find the others first.”

My jaw clenched as I looked between the two, shaking my head as I felt disappointment lick at my insides, somehow disheartened by their naivety. We weren’t going home, not all of us would survive, why could they not understand that finally?

“Are you fucking making fun of me, right now?” I said, voice hard as I looked at Yunho, “What games are you two playing, huh?! You’re insane if you think I’ll stay here with the two of you for one more second—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Yunho hissed, stepping so close I had to crane my neck back to be able to look him in the eyes. My jaw clenched as I felt the axe slip from my fingers and I scoffed, raising my eyebrows tauntingly. The heavy weapon made a splashing sound once it collided with the water, and I could feel Mingi’s anxiety radiating off himself, his eyes watching us carefully, fingers curling around the edge of his hunting knife. I gulped, very aware that I was at a great disadvantage if the two decided to attack me right now, there were few chances I’d make it out alive. But even so, I would fight until my last breath, they couldn’t take me down that easily.

“Mingi is very clearly trying to kill me, why else would he separate me from Finnick? And the fact that you’re standing here and defending your good old buddy just proves to me that you are in on it too, Yunho. You didn’t even let me try and look for Finnick, you just dragged me away.” My heart was beating fast as my voice had started rising. Yunho looked a mixture of hurt and confused as his jaw clenched, not once looking away. I couldn’t see Mingi from my spot, but I could feel his gaze burn into the side of my head, “And the fact that he would’ve left me there for the snakes proves my point that he gives zero shit about me—and maybe about you too, Yunho, because he didn’t even think about coming to help you out. So maybe next time reconsider who your true friends are before making allegiances. If you want to kill me, come at me now.”

“Nobody is trying to kill you—” It was Mingi who spoke, sounding exasperated, “We are a team, I didn’t stop because I didn’t realize you two weren’t following me anymore. And when I finally did, I fucking turned back around and came running to help, but you had already figured it out! Do you think I wanted to separate from Katniss? The only person besides Yunho that I know and trust?! No, I didn’t fucking want to! She pushed me into the lake to save me and I freaking lost sight of her! Do you think I’m not trying to find her? Do you think I want to win these fucking Games again just to be tormented some more and more by Snow, by the memories and all the trauma?! I want to fucking die, Y/N, I hate my life and I hate myself. So killing you is the last thing on my mind, okay?!”

Something broke in my heart at how broken Mingi sounded, the way his tear-filled eyes just spilt down his cheeks, wetting them and making his eyes even redder. He was sniffing as he rubbed at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, looking hurt and betrayed. I gulped, feeling torn between my own thoughts. I wanted to trust them, I really did, but what if they were just trying to soften me up with sob stories? What if it was all a ploy to get me to trust them, only for them to kill me? I wouldn’t put it past Mingi, and neither Yunho, we were in the Hunger Games after all and it wasn’t about forming bonds and long-lasting relationships, it was about survival, it was about killing until the strongest one was last standing. I shook my head, chewing on my bottom lip as I averted my eyes, looking up at Yunho with conflict, but knowing that I had already made my decision. I couldn’t stay with them, not when I distrusted them so much.

“It makes no sense to turn against each other,” Yunho spoke softly despite the anger still displayed on his features. He gulped and licked his lips, wanting to touch my cheek but he must’ve seen something on my face because he dropped his hand last minute, “Y/N, please just think rationally for a second and trust us. I don’t—I could never harm you, I just—I want all of us to go home and—I don’t know, but don’t do this. We will find both Katniss and Finnick, that’s what I’m trying to do, okay? But it’s hard tracking them down in this forest, we—”

“I’m not going with you anymore.” I cut Yunho’s rambling off, my jaw set tight as I released a sigh, stepping back to put distance between our bodies. Yunho and Mingi looked confused for a second, glancing at each other uncertainly, “And you have harmed me before, Yunho, but it seems like you wiped it all from your memory. It’s sweet really, I wish I could’ve too.”

Yunho’s mouth parted in shock, hand reached out but I raised mine, shaking my head, “I’ll find Finnick on my own, you two find Katniss and play besties with her, I guess. Just don’t—don’t cross my path because I won’t spare you, I can promise you that.”

Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed and he tried to reach for me again but Mingi held his shoulder, his jaw set tight. I grabbed my axe out of the water and took a deep breath, looking at the two for a long second before turning my back to them and rushing away from the creak, down the pathway we had explored earlier today. My jaw was tight and my muscles tense as I kept walking and walking, mind spinning as I concentrated hard to catch even the slightest shift around myself.

I had to put distance between myself and the other two, otherwise it wouldn’t be safe.

            Three days had passed since I left Yunho and Mingi behind. I had no success finding Finnick thus far and being alone in the Arena was getting to me. I couldn’t sleep as nobody had my back while I did so, hunting was slightly harder as it took more time than with others to help, and I also had to be constantly on the lookout for the traps the Gamemakers would send my way. I was struggling, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel more relaxed on my own than I did with Yunho and Mingi by my side. I couldn’t trust them and it was driving me crazy. Yunho was supposed to be the last one to keep watch but he had accidentally fallen asleep, leaving us defenceless. He was incompetent and I could put my life into the hands of a person who couldn’t as much as stay awake to make sure no one killed us in our sleep. Alone, without anyone to keep watch, I couldn’t exactly sleep, but I had fallen into a light slumber more than once. Climbing the trees to shelter myself from others for the night seemed like a reasonable thing to do, having learned it from Katniss as she had done the same last year in her Games.

The small fire I managed to conjure up by the spot I had claimed as my campsite was small and it crackled as I had waited for the frog to grill so that I could have dinner. Walking away from Yunho and Mingi also meant no support from the Capitol, and I wasn’t surprised when nobody sent me any gifts, not even a soothing balm after I had accidentally fallen into poison ivy. My skin was itchy and I tried to stop myself from scratching it raw, but it was hard when I had nothing to do but stay attuned to the sounds of the forests and watch out for anything that seemed misplaced. Yesterday, I was forced to kill two more tributes when they tried to take over my campsite, taunting me and laughing in my face, until I had decapitated the male tribute with just two swings. The two were the siblings from District 1, the Capitol’s most beloved victors after Finnick Odair, of course. It didn’t surprise me that nobody sent me gifts, given that I had just killed two people they seemed to really love. Without dwelling too much on what was already done, I continued searching for Finnick.

The forest felt huge and never-ending, and it felt like we were on different ends of Panem despite being enclosed inside a limited space. I was doing what I had been doing for the past three days when I suddenly heard leaves rustling behind me. I didn’t pause nor walk faster, I continued as if I hadn’t heard anything, trying to see if someone was following me—or something—or whether it was just the breeze that would blow through the Arena at times. I had opted not to go uphill anymore as I had a suspicion that Yunho and Mingi would continue searching for another cave to claim as theirs, unless it was infested with poisonous snakes once again. I gripped my axe tighter as I heard twigs snapping to my left, just behind some bushes. My steps halted and my head turned to look towards where the sound came from. I didn’t move, I didn’t breathe as my eyes bore into the trunk of a tree, narrowing when I saw something shift. I gulped and squared my shoulders back, ready to fight another tribute if needed. To be fair, I preferred the tributes over whatever mutants the Gamemakers had prepared for us, they were easier to kill and predictable, unlike the animals that shouldn’t even exist.

I took a step towards where the noise came from, but another twig snapped just behind me, making me whirl around. I couldn’t panic right now or else I’d lose my cool and make mistakes, which weren’t affordable here, especially since I was completely on my own. I gulped and narrowed my eyes, listening closely to the quietest of shifts, my eyes widening when I saw a head duck back behind the tree to my right. Was I surrounded? Who were these people? Did Yunho and Mingi find me? Did they have another ally to replace me?

I gulped, raising my axe to my chest as my jaw clenched, eyes trained on the tree where someone was hiding behind. But when I felt someone move past behind me, I was forced to whirl around and hurl my axe at—nothing. My heart was beating fast in my chest as my eyebrows furrowed, muscles tense as my axe fell to the forest floor, whoever passed behind me faster than my axe. I gulped and swiftly ran to get my axe, but paused just as my fingertips were about to reach it. Someone was breathing heavily to my right, behind a large tree, and with shaky fingers I grabbed the axe and stood up straight, pulling my arm back to swing it at whoever was taunting me.

“Come out!” I screamed, my jaw clenched as I firmly planted my feet on the ground. My chest fell and rose quickly as my eyes narrowed when I saw movement from behind the tree again.

“Y/N?” And just like that, I froze. My muscles didn’t turn more tense, instead, it felt like my whole body was a puddle as my mouth fell open, and my heart almost stopped in my chest, “I’m scared.”

I gasped loudly, my axe slipping from my grasp as my knees shook, mind reeling in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening, she—my little sister was dead. But her fragile voice called out again, shaking with fear, and I didn’t think as I sprinted towards the tree, desperate to catch a glimpse of her. How was she here? Had President Snow tricked me into believing my family was dead? I had never seen their bodies, after all, only their headstones upon my arrival to District 7, and I felt like fainting the more I thought about them being alive all this time.

“Ye-Yena?” My voice cracked as my fingers trembled just as I was about to round the tree. But my little sister whispered again, from a different spot this time, and I turned towards her voice again, hurrying over, “Where are you, Yena, please come out!”

My voice was breathy as tears obscured my vision, and I was on the verge of hysteria as I tried to find her, but she was always in some other spot, “Yena!”

I was panting from both adrenaline and fear as I tried to grab after my sister when she dashed from behind another tree, crying out in frustration. But I froze when a tall frame materialized in front of me, eyes dark and sharp, a contrast to Yena’s soft features.

“Jaebom?” My older brother didn’t move nor say anything as we stared into each other’s eyes, the first tears spilling down my cheeks as I sprung forward helplessly, my arms circling his torso, which was cold to the touch, “Jaebom, what’s happening?!”

But he didn’t answer me as more tears streamed down my cheeks, fingers grabbing onto his t-shirt tightly, shaking his unmoving body when he remained unresponsive, “Jaebom!”

And then, I heard a sinister cackle come from behind Jaebom, eerily similar to Yena’s childlike giggles. I untangled myself from Jaebom and looked past his shoulders, eyes widening when I saw Yena twirl my axe around in her hands as if it were made out of plastic. Her face looked ashen as she smirked, pouting her lips at me mockingly as my eyes shook. Her expression looked nothing like my little sister's. I didn’t understand what was happening anymore. Why were my siblings here, and why were they acting unlike themselves?

“Look at you,” Yena’s voice wasn’t light anymore, instead it was an angry snarl, “Living your happy life, rubbing it in our faces right now. What are you crying for, huh? Are you crying because you have to kill people again, like you’ve killed us?”

“What?” I whispered in confusion, flinching when Jaebom suddenly grabbed my bicep, his touch hot and burning, “I don’t understand—”

“You never do,” Jaebom snapped, and I whined as he started gripping my bicep painfully, “You always thought you were better than all of us, look where that got you. You’re just a pathetic excuse of a human being, everyone is ashamed of you. Mom and dad think you should’ve died instead of us, and now, you will die!”

In my confusion, too focused on the ache in my heart, I almost missed the huge knife Jaebom grabbed out of his belt, aiming it towards my heart. I gasped and punched him in the jaw, jumping away from him, “What are you doing—”

“Die, bitch.” Yena hissed as she took off towards me, making me scream in fright when she tried to lodge my own axe into my body. I was panting as I realized my siblings were trying to kill me, and without wasting another second, I pushed Yena to the ground and took off in a sprint, running away mindlessly as I could hear them pursuing me. My heart was beating like crazy in my chest as my siblings made weird noises, they were almost howling, and they sounded like animals. I couldn’t look back, too afraid that I’d lose my footing again, so I was forced to blindly run from them, making sharp twists and turns in hopes of losing them. But my worst nightmare seemed to materialize in front of me, as suddenly, I started seeing my mother's and father’s faces from behind trees, peeking at me with sinister smiles on their faces, cackling loudly as Jaebom hurled his long knife at me. I was lucky enough to take a right turn as he did so, the knife lodging itself into a tree as I gasped, eyes filling with tears again.

“Why are you doing this?!” I screamed as something suddenly burned my arm, and as I looked to my right, I was horrified to see my mother running alongside me, her hand burning into my arm as she had a wicked smile on her lips, “Stop!”

“You’re coming with us this time, daughter.” It was my father who was suddenly standing by the creak, holding a sword in both of his hands as I tried to steer clear of his path, but my mother’s grip was unnaturally strong and she kept dragging me towards it. I screamed and trashed around, feeling suffocated as my mother continued to cackle, my father’s eyes filled with hatred as he angled his sword so that he could gut me alive. I was a sobbing mess as I struggled to free myself, trashing around, and even trying to punch my mother but nothing seemed to work. I could feel Jaebom looming over me from behind, the heel of my own axe pressing into my back as I cried harder, whimpering when Yena appeared next to my father, twirling a knife in her hands.

“Poor Y/N.” Her voice dropped low, almost as if it was a man talking, and it made me realize that whatever was happening right now wasn’t real. It was something created by the Arena, it wasn’t their ghosts nor their vengeful spirits here to take me away, and yet, I still couldn’t fight my mother’s grip off as I clawed at her hand, biting her cold flesh in hopes that she’d release me.

“Let me go!” I screamed again, twisting my body away when my father’s sword came dangerously close, Jaebom’s burning grip tight on my nape as he angled my body to be strung on the sword, “No!”

I didn’t want to die, not like this. I was shaking from head to toe as I tried one last time to get out of the grip of my mother and brother, but nothing was working as I felt the tip of the sword press against my belly. The four cackled loudly as my ears rang, and I gasped when the sword pressed deeper into my tummy, drawing blood, but all the external pain disappeared abruptly as I felt my body pushed to the side aggressively, wrenching me out of the tight grips of the mutants that posed as my family. I screamed again when I felt hands on my shoulders trying to turn me around, and I drew my fists back, the only thought in my mind being to harm anyone who touched me.

“Y/N!” Despite being so lost in my mind, I registered the familiar ring of the voice, the panic and fear in them as I threw the first punch, breathing hard and loudly as if I were a rabid dog. I wouldn’t fall victim to the Capitol, not like this, they couldn’t kill me by using mutants. I couldn’t give Snow the satisfaction, I had to fight until my last breath, until a tribute killed me. I couldn’t go like this, I wasn’t ready. I was scared. I was alone and nobody would be there with me when I took my last breath, nobody would reassure me that it would be okay, and nobody would smile at me for the last time. I would be alone, and that thought alone was scarier than the fact that I would be dying. So I didn’t stop as I screamed and punched blindly, my sight hazy and my mind a jumbled mess as someone continued calling out my name like a mantra, the sounds around me slowly registering inside my brain, “Y/N! Please, please, it’s us. Y/N, it’s Finnick.”

I gasped, my eyes widening as if I was seeing for the first time. My lungs burned, my muscles ached, and my heart was beating so fast I was having palpitations as suddenly I could see the person standing in front of me, his face pained as tears streaked down his rosy cheeks. He had me in a deathly grip, my biceps sore from it, but it wasn’t to harm me, it was to stop me from doing anything to myself or him, to the others, “Finnick?”

A beat of silence passed as I stared into chocolate-warm eyes, so utterly confused and pent. Then, an arrow wheezed past my head and I jumped with a gasp, wide eyes falling onto the body of my brother, no blood flowing out of his body as he crumbled to the ground. He looked lifeless as he turned into nothing and I felt my bottom lip starting to quiver as I looked back at the person holding me. I had no fight left in me as I attempted to push them off of me, but I was tackled to the ground before I could make another move. The wind was knocked from my lungs as my head thumped painfully, eyes hazy as a weight settled on top of my body, pinning my hips to the cold forest floor, hands above my head as long, cold, fingers intertwined with mine.

“It’s not real.” The man holding me down whispered, his voice shaky as he gulped, “They weren’t real, Y/N. But I am real, I’m here now.”

“Yun-Yunho?” I stuttered, my throat hoarse from having screamed so much. I felt a fresh wave of tears spring into my eyes as Yunho’s filled with tears too, and without thinking, I untangled our fingers and threw my arms around his neck, yanking him down into a tight hug, “Yunho.”

My whole body shook as sobs wracked it, tears wetting Yunho’s jacket’s collar as his warm body slowly melted into mine, offering me the warmth I had been craving so much all this time. His musky scent was comforting and felt like home as I buried my head into his neck, inhaling until my lungs burned and I had to exhale once again. Yunho was safe, he was the pillar I needed all this time unknowingly, he was the one to chase the darkness away and protect me from my own dark and twisted mind. I only cried harder when Yunho started shushing me, pressing kisses against my temple, rubbing my back once he sat back and brought me with himself, letting me settle in his lap as I clung to him. I had been terrified these past three days, scared for my own life, but also wondering whether Yunho had made it past another day every time the canon shattered the quietness of the Arena.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice raw as I gulped, hoping it would help, “Yunho, I’m—I—”

“Shh, it’s alright.” Yunho whispered, gently prying my tight grip off himself as he pushed me back to gaze into my eyes, “I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again, Y/N, I don’t care what you say—”

“Please don’t leave me, Yunho.” I gasped, words tumbling past my lips before I could stop them, “I can’t live without you, Yunho.”

I was vulnerable, I wasn’t in the right headspace, but I knew my confession was true. I had always suspected it, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. I was afraid President Snow would kill Yunho like he had killed my family. I didn’t want him around because I was scared to love again, to offer my heart to someone who could crush it so easily both with words and actions. Yunho knew me best and vice versa, I couldn’t live another day not knowing whether he was safe or not. I didn’t want him out of my sight ever again, I just couldn’t lose him too.

“I’m—” Yunho gulped, his voice deep as his eyes shook, jaw clenched tightly, “here.”

I released a shaky breath and leaned forward, pressing our foreheads together, feeling the safest in the past three days. The rustling of leaves made me tense up again and my head whipped around, eyes widening when I realized multiple people were watching us. I felt my cheeks heat up as I tried to scramble out of Yunho’s lap, but his fingers only tightened into the fabric of my jacket and he held my waist tightly, shaking his head at me when I gave him a sharp look. It seemed like he wouldn’t let go of me anytime soon, so I was forced to swallow my shame as I looked back at the other tributes, who seemed to be looking at me with pity. I ignored it, it made me feel weak.

“Those things are vile,” Mingi muttered, his jaw clenched, “But you should be fine the next time you see them if you ignore them.”

“And if you don’t, don’t let them grab you.” Katniss said, her tone harsh but features soft, “Kill them before they can.”

I nodded, eyes falling on the male tribute from District 3, Beetee. He wasn’t looking at me, his eyes trained on the sky as he muttered something to himself, apparently unphased by the whole ordeal. However, when my eyes landed on the fourth person, my heart skipped a beat, and even if Yunho didn’t want to release me, I pried myself out of his arms and ran to Finnick, jumping into his arms as he laughed while twirling me around.

“Finnick.” I whispered into his neck as his laughter subsided into a chuckle, his smile bright as ever as I pulled back, gazing into his beautiful blue eyes, “I found you.”

“Technically, I found you.” Cheeky as ever, he winked before he pressed a wet kiss against my forehead, lowering me back onto the ground. Our fingers intertwined as I couldn’t help but beam at him, my heart still heavy due to everything that’s happened though, “I’m glad you’re fine.”

“Well, I’ve been better.” I muttered as Finnick and I chuckled, swinging around hands as I glanced around, eyebrows furrowing, “Where’s…Mags?”

Finnick’s expression fell and I knew as I felt tears flood my eyes once again. A shaky breath left his lips as I pressed on my tiptoes to pull him into a tight and warm hug, rubbing his back as he hugged me back just as tightly, “I’m sorry, Finnick.”

“She’s in a better place now,” Finnick whispered, sniffing when we pulled apart, his eyes trained on the ground. My jaw clenched but I knew I couldn’t do anything now, just carry the grief with myself and bury it deep down until the Games would be over. Katniss, looking like she wasn’t keen on all the affection, averted her eyes and looked around the forest, pointing towards the creak.

“We should probably set camp here after we have scoped the area out.” Mingi nodded as he went and helped Yunho stand, his eyes trained on Finnick and me. I gulped and only looked away, body tense. I didn’t want to talk to him, I had nothing else to say, not now. I couldn’t believe I had admitted something so personal, something that was supposed to be buried deep down in my heart and mind. I wasn’t ready to face the fact that without Yunho I would be nowhere right now.

“Let’s go.” Yunho sighed, taking the lead with Katniss as I remained glued to Finnick’s side, eager to catch up with him if it meant I could ignore Yunho and his burning stare. I was most certainly grateful that he had saved me, but he was still not someone I could fully trust. Maybe it was all a ploy, an act to earn my trust, only to backstab me later into the Games.

My only true ally was Finnick.

            Something felt different, weird, almost. Beetee was a genius, everyone already knew that, and yet the way his mind works still amazed me. Apparently, the lightning that struck the largest tree in the Arena each time at midnight, could be used to our advantage. Beetee had the resources to create a sort of electrical fire that would leave the Gamemakers no choice but to rescue the remaining victors if they didn’t want the Capitol to riot for not having a victor for the 75th Hunger Games. President Snow wanted a year of epic games? Beetee was right here to deliver and I was more than willing to help him out. Everyone from our small group was in on his plan, and we were planning to strike tonight as everyone remained unassuming about our great plan. There was something else, however, that nobody was telling me about. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, The Mockingjay, seemed to be the nucleus of it all. She had to be protected at all costs and she was supposed to remain on Beetee’s side as long as someone who could fight remained with them. We had to look out for each other and remain close, but I didn’t fully understand why protecting Katniss seemed to be our most important mission.

Nobody tried clearing up my confusion, and when Finnick reassured me that everything would be alright and that he’d have my back no matter what, I decided to stop asking or wondering. Two days had passed since I joined the small group and things had been quiet—a bit too quiet. Nobody had died in the past two days and there was a simmering tension in the Arena, as if the Gamemakers knew we were about to ruin their so-called ‘perfect’ Games. There was nothing perfect about it, it was purely terrifying and torturous, a barbaric form of entertainment as this just proved that the Capitol didn’t see the people from the districts as human beings. That was nothing new, but being forced back into the Arena made me realize once again that I couldn’t let President Snow control me anymore, I was done playing his games.

I wanted the Capitol to burn, I wanted President Snow to die and suffer like so many of us had under his reign. He could’ve been a better president, a better person, but he chose violence, he chose to punish us for something that we, the ones born after the revolution, had nothing to do with. The cycle of life wasn’t always fair, the trauma parents carried with themselves would pass onto their children, who would carry it with them for generations—unless there was just one person who decided to put an end to it. To change, to prosper, to start a new cycle.

That new cycle started with us, with Katniss, Mingi, Yunho, Finnick, Beetee, and me, here, in the Arena, as a form of riot against the oppression we were forced to endure, the pain and grief buried deep in our souls. I have heard about the riots, people in District 7 were loud and proud about taking the Capitol down if given a chance, and it only took me two days to realize why it was only happening now. A spark had been sensed, turning into a catching fire that would reach us all, either burn us or help us return from the ashes as a new person, as a new nation. The pain and anguish would never be forgotten, instead celebrated and honoured in respect to those who have lost their lives to such atrocities. And we would all thank one girl, Katniss Everdeen, who unknowingly gave the nation the spark of hope they desperately needed. I had no idea whether I’d survive whatever was about to go down tonight, but I was sure of one thing, I wouldn’t regret it. Not now, not tomorrow. I was doing it for myself, for my siblings, for my parents, and for everyone else who has suffered as much, or more, than I have. If Panem had to burn, President Snow would burn with us.

The morning passed by in the blink of an eye as we went over our plan once again, assigning partners and positions. I was supposed to stay with Katniss and Beetee, close to Finnick who’d be watching Mingi from afar. Yunho, who refused to separate from me at first, was supposed to go with Mingi until a certain point, and then he’d have to secure the area, map it out and alert us if anything seemed amiss. He’d be the last one, the one furthest from me, and despite the unsettling feeling creeping deep in my guts, I ignored my anxiety and focused on my task at hand. I had to protect Katniss and Beetee if anything were to happen. I was strong and merciless, everyone knew I could handle myself, but if I needed help somehow, then Katniss would be there and even Mingi. They weren’t people I trusted, but something told me nobody in our small group was out there to kill me…not yet, at least, and I could live with that for the time being.

Knowing that we’d need to be at our best, Finnick, Katniss, and Yunho went out to hunt something for lunch so that our bellies would be full for the rest of the day. Because Yunho and Finnick were so liked by many, thankfully we were also provided with various canned foods from the Capitol, their fans were desperately sending in supplies, and letters too, confessing their love and dread that they might not return. It made me chuckle whenever one of them had to read the letters out loud, looking at a camera with a sad, but grateful, expression in order to keep up the façade. We really needed these provisions, they couldn’t ruin their A-game just now. Finnick had returned with plenty of fish from the lake, meanwhile, Katniss and Yunho had opted to hunt for wild ducks and frogs. The meat had been cooked by Mingi and me while Beetee revised the plan over and over again, asking us questions to make sure that we had memorized what we were supposed to do.

Once the food was done and everyone settled down for lunch, the tense air surrounding us seemed to dissipate as we silently ate our meal, relishing in the comradery that’s formed between us. Finnick was by my side as we sat leaning against a tree, sharing a loaf of bread he had gotten from a fan, as he preferred to eat the fish he caught while I continued to eat the frog Yunho had caught for us. Mingi, very surprisingly, had gotten a package filled with nutrients that we hadn’t even heard of before, and while we were wary of consuming them, Beetee reassured us that he knew what these were and that they were safe for consumption as they used the same nutrients in District 3. As my stomach was finally full and I finished eating everything I had claimed, I continued sitting next to Finnick, leaning against his body.

He was warm and smelled like the ocean despite having been away from it for so long, and I had always found solace in the silence that felt comfortable between us. Finnick knew when not to push someone, and I knew when to speak up to cut through the tranquillity, “Do you think we’ll survive this?”

“Yes,” Finnick’s voice was a mere whisper as he scoped up a good chunk of meat and handed it over to me, “I must, for Annie. She lost Mags, I can’t let her lose me too.”

I gulped, all too aware of Annie’s situation as I accepted the fish despite feeling full. It tasted salty almost, so very different from the frog meat, but I think I could get used to it after having it for more meals.

“I have no one to return to,” I muttered under my breath, bringing my knees up to my chest as I let my arms circle them. I gulped, looking down at the dirty ground as the sounds of the other’s conversing became background noise, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of dying, of being alone, of never having been enough.

“That’s simply not true.” Finnick’s voice sounded strained as I felt him shift, gorgeous blue eyes boring into the side of my head, “You have me, and if I make it out alive, I can’t lose you. You’re just as important to me as Annie is, as Mags was. I never had a little sister, but thanks to you I know what it means to have one.”

I chuckled, turning my head so my cheek pressed against my knees, eyes falling on the frown on Finnick’s face, “Technically, I’m older than you. But I understand you, you’re, well, you’ve always been like a brother to me. And I love you, Finnick, I hope you know that. I have no idea what the outcome of our plan will be, but if we both make it out alive, I want to visit District 4. I want to meet Annie and maybe—maybe I’d like living in a house next to yours, maybe I’d like to see the ocean for real and not just through pictures.”

Finnick’s features softened as he placed his palm over my cheek, warm and calloused, offering me much-needed assurance, “I’d love that, and Annie would too. She has always wanted to meet you, but President Snow never allowed it. Which is for the better, honestly, I would’ve hated the thought of Annie at the Capitol. I fear I would’ve done something unforgivable.”

I hummed and nodded as Finnick’s warm palm fell from my face, his head turning as he gazed ahead. He sniffed and then cleared his throat, glancing at me for a brief moment, “But you’re not alone, Y/N. Even if I’m not there, you’re never alone. He’s—Yunho is always there, even when you don’t see it, Y/N. I think—I think you should let him in, he’s not a bad man.”

I gulped, stomach dropping at the mention of Yunho, and I sighed as I sat up straight again, jaw clenching when I averted my eyes from Finnick’s. Just to my luck, however, I spotted Yunho sitting not too far from us. Mingi was sharpening the axe for him as Yunho’s chocolate brown eyes were fixed on Finnick and me, his eyebrows deeply set and his jaw tense. I gulped and then averted my eyes once again, shaking my head with a huff, “He doesn’t know me, not the real me, at least. He only wants the good and pretty, he only sees those qualities in people. Once the perfect image is shattered, he’ll be gone, he’ll abandon me. I don’t want him to lodge himself into my heart when I know just how quickly you can lose someone.”

“You’re scared of loving him,” Finnick’s tone was full of compassion as I felt him look at me, Yunho’s gaze still burning into the side of my head as I gazed off into the distance, feeling nervous all of a sudden, “And you’re drowning in guilt and unspoken questions and feelings, Y/N. I know you don’t trust him, but you already love him, you just refuse to acknowledge the fact, and it’s doing you no good, trust me. I’m afraid too that I’ll lose Annie, I’m terrified of Snow snatching her away from me, but if I refuse to love and live the life I want, then that would mean I am letting Snow dictate my everything, it would mean that I am robbing myself of the pleasures of life. And you know Yunho would never do anything that you are uncomfortable with, no, he’d bring down the stars for you if he could, Y/N. Stop being foolish and—”

“Excuse me.” My body grew rigid as Yunho’s stern voice interrupted Finnick’s heartfelt speech, “Do you mind if I talk to Y/N?”

“Not at all.” Finnick’s smile was friendly as he nudged me, making me clench my jaw as I glanced at Yunho. He stood in front of me, looking down at me with a glare, rather standoffish for a person who was always smiling, happy and oh-so bright. I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, talk if you—”

“In private.” Yunho snapped, and before I could react, his firm grip around my bicep was pulling me up to my feet, not even letting me argue as I was tugged away from our camp, but not too far so that we’d be in hearing range if anything were to happen to either them or to us. I pulled my arm out of his grip and glared at him, feeling nervous for no reason as Yunho continued to glare back at me. It was unusual, out of character for him.

“What’s your problem with me?” I did not expect that question, and neither what he said next, “What’s so fucking horrible about me that you go willingly into the arms of the biggest playboy known to Panem, that you find solace and trust in that man when I’ve always been by your side, there for you, offering you a shoulder to lean on, a man you can trust and—and love. What does Finnick have that I don’t, Y/N?! Why do you continuously brush me off and treat me like shit, but then you laugh at anything Finnick says and you look at him with so much adoration, I-I just don’t understand, Y/N. I was there, I was always there, I helped you when you saw no outcome, I was there when you grieved your family, I was there when you struggled with the consequences of winning the Games, I was there even when you continued to push me away! I never stopped trying to make you feel safe, to comfort you and to—show you that it’s okay to open up and that you can love again without being scared of death. Why can’t you just—give back even just a little fraction of my affection?!”

To say that I was stunned was understandable. My face fell in shock and my mouth hung open as Yunho became erratic, his expression a mixture of frustration and helplessness as his eyes shook, his hands curled into fists. I gulped, letting his words settle so that I could answer, but I felt utterly speechless. How was I supposed to respond to something that felt like a confession but a complete scolding as well?

“You don’t understand me like Finnick does,” I gulped, licking my lips as Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed, “And you never will, Yunho, because you were never forced to sell your body unwillingly to men that only saw you as a piece of meat. Physical closeness, intimacy—it scares me because I’ve only suffered from it. I’ve never felt the loving touch of a man, no loving words were ever uttered to me, and I was told more often than not that I didn’t deserve love, that I was too rough and scary, too intimidating and manly for a man to love me despite being beautiful. Finnick, he knows what it feels like to be used, to do things you don’t want to out of fear of losing someone. And even if this wasn’t the issue, Yunho, how could I trust you when you’ve tried to kill me?”

“What?” Yunho seemed shaken, his voice breathy as he reached out just to let his hand drop before he could grip my wrist, “What are you talking about—I have never tried to kill you, why would I—”

“Seriously?” I snapped, sudden anger flaring deep in my bones, “You’re still going to act clueless when I call you out on it? Think, Yunho, think for one second for fucks sake! You were supposed to be my mentor, the person that looks out for me, that protects me and helps me win these fucking Games, yet you send in food that’s poisoned?!”

Yunho looked like he had no idea what I was talking about and I scoffed, stepping closer to him as my jaw clenched, “District 6, the female tribute, I was cornered three days before my Games came to an end, and I was hungry. You sent me a package but I couldn’t reach it and it landed between the tributes that were hounding me. The girl decided to eat what was sent for me—she died in four minutes, Yunho.”

And just then, recognition finally flashed in Yunho’s eyes, but it didn’t last for long as suddenly he seemed to look desperate, grabbing my wrists as he shook his head, “It wasn’t food, it was never food, Y/N. If you had seen the small letter, you would’ve known it was poison from the get-go. It said, ‘sweet like honey’, and you know what we use that for in District 7, you would’ve known. I was trying to help you, I knew you’d survive, I was never trying to kill, why would I—I’m in love with you, Y/N. I wasn’t back then yet, but I-I knew I couldn’t watch you die in that Arena.”

My mind was reeling. I gulped, suddenly feeling my lungs constrict as Yunho’s grip felt like it was burning my wrists. I pried them away and took a step back, gulping as my hands started shaking. I have been living in a lie this whole time. I have made myself believe that Yunho was the enemy, that Yunho wanted me gone. I took a shaky breath and gulped again, watching as sadness spread over Yunho’s features like wildfire. His features softened as I felt my heart ache more, disbelief written all over my face. Why had I been so stupid? Why did I let Snow make me believe anything he said?

Why was I so afraid to lose Yunho?

            Nightfall came sooner than before. The tension was back and I felt sick to my stomach. Something felt wrong the longer we trekked, the closer we came to the tree. Everyone was silent, focused on our surroundings and making sure we weren’t being followed by any other tributes. But something was very wrong and I just couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore as I released a shaky breath, my eyes settling on Yunho who was walking in front of me with Mingi by his side, huddled closely together as they conversed quietly. Finnick’s pinkie was laced with mine as he swung our hands between our bodies, I ignored his playful smile when he pretended to stumble on a rock. I needed to speak to Yunho, nothing made sense anymore. I haven’t said anything since he told me he never tried killing me, and Yunho was keen on offering me space as he remained by Mingi’s side, occasionally giving me a soft smile if he noticed me looking his way.

Bothered by the incessant tension in my body, the gut feeling that something would go very wrong, I marched forward and grabbed Yunho’s wrist, making him halt in surprise. Finnick glanced at us as he passed by us and then grabbed Mingi’s shoulder when he stopped to wait for us, whispering something to the taller one before Mingi walked with Finnick again. My heart was thundering in my chest as I gulped, my eyes boring into Yunho’s as it was dark in the arena, yet his chocolate brown eyes were unmistakable.

“Are you okay?” Yunho asked with a gentle tone, letting his axe drop to the ground as he stepped closer, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“No.” I gulped, tone shaky as I glanced past Yunho, at the others who hadn’t noticed our absence yet, “Something is wrong, Yunho, I don’t have a good feeling about this. What—what if we die? Yet worse, what if the Capitol captures us and we—we never see each other again? Yunho, I—I don’t want to do this. Let’s find another way, let’s run away, let’s—”

“Y/N.” Yunho's smile was gentle as he stepped even closer, cupping my cheek with his big palm, leaning slightly down, “We can’t run away, and it’s completely normal to be scared of the unknown. I’m nervous too, but remember, we are doing this to make a statement, to show them that they can’t mess with us anymore. If Katniss manages to pull this off, we’ll be free. We’ll go home and we…we’ll see what happens next, okay?”

No, he didn’t understand. We wouldn’t go home, something just didn’t feel right. It was too dangerous, too risky, what were the odds our plan would be successful when there were other tributes still in the Arena with us?

“It just doesn’t feel right.”

“But we’re doing the right thing.”

I exhaled, jaw tense as I looked up into Yunho’s eyes, stepping closer until our chests were almost brushing together, “Then don’t let them separate us.”

“What?” Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed, his gulp audible as his fingers flexed around my wrist. I released a shaky breath and licked my lips, hesitant to touch Yunho, but I managed to grab the side of his neck, his skin soft and warm to the touch.

“Yunho, I’m asking you to stay by my side no matter what happens.” My tone was firm as he gulped, his eyes searching my face, “I can’t—I’ve been afraid, all this fucking time unknowingly, of losing you. And when we are so close to being free, of exploring whatever could be between us, I—I’m scared that Snow will find a way to snatch you away from me, so please, don’t let go of me. Don’t let me out of your sight, don’t walk away, I know I’m a horrible person, but I’m asking you to hold on just a little more and—”

“Y/N.” Yunho’s sharp tone cut my rambling off, and I gulped, on the verge of tears as I realized just how afraid I was. He didn’t say anything else as our eyes bore into each other’s, he just gulped, jaw clenched and then, he started leaning down, closer and closer, until—our lips touched.

And I don’t think I have felt euphoria like this one in my whole life before. The sounds around us seemed to become mute as my legs felt weak, my body melting into Yunho’s as I didn’t waste any more seconds and pressed up on my tiptoes, circling my arms around his shoulders to pull him incredibly close. Yunho’s lips were warm and soft despite our circumstances and I felt a shudder rake my body when his hand slowly slipped into my hair, holding the back of my head firmly as we parted for a second. His other hand grabbed my waist and as my eyes opened, I realized I wanted this. I wanted Yunho to hold me, to touch me, to kiss me. I wanted to be in his embrace and I wanted to feel his scent on me, I wanted his warmth to envelope my body, and I wanted him to shield me from this cruel world forever. Words that were heavy threatened to tumble past my lips, so instead, I closed the gap again and this time I made sure my intentions weren’t questionable, or hesitant, but full of passion and unspoken words.

Yunho was intense in everything he did, he laughed with his whole body, and he loved with his whole heart, whenever he did something, he put his all into it and his kiss was no different. His lips were demanding as they moved against mine, a little bit frantic as we were pressed by time, and even more desperate when I let my lips part for him, a silent request for him to deepen the kiss. I wanted him to know that I desired him, that it was completely fine to touch me and enjoy our actions. Yunho whimpered as he took my bottom lip between his teeth, and I felt warmth crawl all over my body, settling in my cheeks as my whole face felt like it was burning up. I had never enjoyed a kiss before in my life, but I prayed this would never end. When Yunho’s tongue finally slipped past my lips and reached my own tongue, I wished there was something to support my weight, to ground me into reality as I lost all senses, body and mind alive in a way I had never experienced before. It was careful, but it was intense and demanding, yet I didn’t feel pressured nor disgusted as saliva pooled in the corner of my mouth, fingers tangling into Yunho’s hair at his nape.

As his tongue played with mine and Yunho’s loud puffs of air hit my face, I moaned, unable to keep the sound down when I felt his fingers digging through my tight suit, fingernails leaving dents in my body. I wanted him to mark me up, I wanted him to show the whole Capitol that I was his, that no trashy man could ever again touch me, that President Snow couldn’t do to us anything anymore because we’d always have each other’s backs. I wanted Yunho’s mouth on mine for an eternity, never growing tired of him and his passionate kisses. Our noses bumped together when I tilted my head slightly more, giving Yunho more access as my heart thundered in my chest, so powerful that I could hear it in my ears. It was consuming, Yunho’s love was scary as it swallowed me whole, but I was greedy and I needed more. I had been a fool, such a fool, to deny us this feeling, this moment, this experience. It was too late to go further, even if I threw all dignity away, I knew we couldn’t, but I hoped it wasn’t too late for us. For us to have this in the future, to love and to be loved.

I gasped as we parted again. Yunho was loudly panting as his eyebrows furrowed, cupping my cheeks with both hands as his fingers dug into my skin painfully. A shuddered breath left my lips as I blinked my eyes open, gulping as I copied him, holding his cheeks tenderly as Yunho’s bottom lip quivered, nuzzling his cheek against my hold. He looked at peace, but the furrow of his eyebrows told me that he wasn’t satisfied, that he was bothered by something. In a hopeless attempt to offer him just a fraction of the comfort he’d given me throughout the years, I pressed a kiss to each eye, then to his nose, and a swift peck to his lips. It made Yunho smile as his eyes opened, shining in the dark affectionately as I felt a lump in my throat. It was scary to allow him in, but I was done hiding, I was done fearing the unknown.

“When we’re out of here,” Yunho gulped, determined as his eyes melted into mine, “I’m going to marry you.”

I would’ve gasped if I could’ve, but I was too stunned to even react as he kissed me again before we heard Mingi call out our names. We didn’t have time for this right now, but we’d have plenty in the future. I wasn’t ready to marry Yunho just yet, but with time, I was sure I’d be able to fully trust him, to give my all to him.

“Just don’t let me go,” I whispered as Yunho very reluctantly released me, our hands finding each other as our fingers intertwined, a motion I was used to but found something new in it now. It wasn’t just for show, it wasn’t just to show me that I had someone next to me, it was to seal our promise and tell me that Yunho wasn’t going anywhere.

            Beetee’s plan failed. Someone had sabotaged us, the wire had been cut, and the lightning wouldn’t bring the Arena down. We were stuck here, forced to kill each other, forced to choose between two people I loved and myself. Katniss looked frantic from my spot, I was watching her from the bush just as planned. Electricity was gathering in the air, tension filling the Arena as the lightning prepared to strike. Katniss was too close to the tree, hell, even I was too close to it, but Katniss was in danger right now and she wasn’t moving away. I could hear rustling coming from behind but it was supposed to be Finnick, I wasn’t worried about it. Just as the sky became lighter, energy crackling above our heads, Katniss did something I never thought anyone would do. She grabbed the wire and tied it to her arrow, standing up strong and tall as she pulled it back, her eyes set on the lightning that was just about to strike her. As I was about to shout her name and tackle her to save her from her insane plan, it was too late. The lightning struck as the arrow shot straight at it, the wire frying off and sizzling as a deafening boom shook the arena.

The blast was so strong that I couldn’t react before the explosion sent me flying feet away from my initial spot, my back cracking when I hit a tree. My spine tingled in pain as I fell to the ground, groaning and wheezing for air as my body trembled from the shock of the hit, panic rising in my disoriented state. I couldn’t hear as my ears were ringing, and my vision was so hazy it made me sick and unable to stand as I tried to find my footing, instantly tumbling back to the ground. Then, something even worse happened. The darkness of the Arena was slowly disappearing as the sky cracked and tore into heavy metal pieces that were plummeting straight at us. I knew I was in danger, and I knew both Yunho and Finnick were too. I pushed myself up and ignored the aching of my body as I heaved for air again, crawling on my fours towards where I knew Finnick was at. But I didn’t get any far when I was tackled back onto the ground, Mingi’s blurry face appearing above me. I panicked, trying to find my axe, but I was so powerless that it was easy for him to get on top of me and press a hand against my mouth as I tried to scream for help. His forehead was bloody and the top of his suit torn, jacket long lost somewhere in the Arena. His bow and arrow were missing and were replaced with a knife he held menacingly.

I gasped against his sweaty palm when I felt a sharp pain in my lower arm, close to my veins, somewhere close to where the tracker had been injected. I screamed against Mingi’s palm when the knife was twisted into my skin, feeling warm blood trickle down to my wrist and hands, a burning feeling spreading up my arm, to my shoulders. And then, as fast as he came, Mingi was gone, running off into the distance as my body convulsed, shaking even more as I turned onto my back, pieces of the Arena’s roof shaking the ground as they fell around the forest. I was petrified, I was disoriented and my throat wouldn’t work as I tried to call for Yunho, frantically getting up to my feet to look for him. I stumbled into every possible tree and almost slipped on the weeds as I went downhill, searching for the one man who’s always been there for me. I couldn’t abandon him, not now, not ever. But when I finally found him, it wasn’t the way I hoped to be.

Yunho lay on the ground, unmoving and sickly pale as blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, coating the collar of his jacket and suit a deep red. I could faintly hear myself call out his name again and again, feet carrying me over quickly, only to tumble to the ground and bruise my body more, but at least Yunho seemed to stir awake. His eyebrows were furrowed as his eyes opened and he clutched at his chest with a pained expression. I scrambled to get to him, but the ground shook and my legs were so weak I couldn’t stand again. I felt tears in my eyes and dread grip my heart as Yunho turned onto his side, coughing and spitting up some more blood.

“Yunho!” A scream so shrill my ears rang left my lips, and he finally seemed to realize he wasn’t alone as his eyes snapped up, rounding when he noticed me. I couldn’t hear him as I tried to drag myself over, feeling nauseous and on the verge of passing out, but it looked like he was saying something, like he was calling out to me. And then, the ground shook another time and I lunged myself forward as the light in Yunho’s eyes dimmed, his hand extended towards me as I fell not far from him, reaching out desperately towards him. Our fingers touched as dark spots started coating my vision and I gasped for air, fighting against the urge to give in to the darkness, waiting to aid Yunho, but I couldn’t. As blinding light flooded the whole Arena, the roof completely caving in, all I could do was mutter a prayer to see Yunho once I woke up again. If I’d wake up.

The next time I was conscious again, however, what I heard despite the unbearable headache and the dull ache of my spine, didn’t sound at all good, nor reassuring, “Katniss, there is no District Twelve.” And all I could think about was, where is Yunho?

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[e-nonsense]

Congrats on getting 2k followers!

I would like to request hydrangea (srry if I got it wrong, my memory sucks) + string + "wish you loved me just as much as you loved her (kory)" !

LOVER OF NOT MINE

pairing. dick grayson x reader

warning. angst

prompts used. “wish you loved me just as much as you loved her.”

you could see the difference in the way he looked at you and her. dick could try to deny it, promise you that he and kory were done, but god you could see through him. the stupid looks of pity that his friends sent your way.

and that’s when the doubts started forming in your mind. how could you compare to her. kory was a princess, from another planet. an alien princess and you… you were just you.

a normal person, who lives a normal life. no vigilante tendencies, you had your load of trauma but who doesn’t?

was it you? were you too boring for him? too normal?

this “outing” as he’d called it had confirmed everything you were feeling. he’d dragged you along against your will, you hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid vigilante/superhero/anti-hero get together at some bar.

the second you’d arrived he kissed your cheek to make his way to kory, her eyes lit up at the sight of him as they hugged, his hands lingering on her hips a lot longer than they ever did yours.

what were you going to do now? you didn’t know anyone here, so you sat at the free spot at the end of the bar, alone and disappointed. it’d been half an hour now, and he hadn’t even spared a glance in your direction yet, too busy listening to whatever stupid nonsense was coming out of kory’s mouth.

honestly you looked too pretty to be left behind like this, you wanted to just go home. you didn’t have the car keys though, dick insisted that he drive the two of you there.

maybe that was his plan, keep you trapped here, watching him and kory so you’d know where you stood in this relationship. you felt that lump in your throat get heavier, you couldn’t walk home. not in fucking bludhaven, this place was nearly as bad as gotham — wait, they’re leaving.

together?

you froze in your seat as they walked past the bar, he’d forgotten you were here, you could tell by the way his eyes focused on her completely.

you should’ve stayed home. guess you’re gonna be walking home after all.

people didn’t pay you any mind as you slipped past them and out onto the chilly streets where you could catch a glimpse of dick’s car speeding away from the bar.

you felt sick. scared and sick. bag clutched as you walked tensely, head low to avoid anyone’s gaze. the dark made the city look a little peaceful, but everyone knew that was far beyond the truth.

you distantly hear a few whistles calling out to you but those men make no move to pursue you either. so you kept walking until you reach the entrance of you apartment building, you stepped in as quickly as you could, pressing the elevator button a few times, impatiently.

the door dinged as it opened, you shivered as you stepped in, pressing the button of the floor you lived on, it was times like this you were glad you hadn’t moved in with dick.

you didn’t bother changing when you crawled into bed, kicking your heels off at the door, greeted by your cat meowing at you and following you to bed.

at least someone was acknowledging you, your little companion jumped up onto the bed, taking the side dick usually would most nights with a purr as he tried to get as close to you as possible.

you couldn’t hold it back anymore, silent tears falling down your cheeks as you curled up. eventually, sometime past 11pm you passed out. you had exhausted all your tears and just given up.

it’s only at 1am that dick comes looking for you. his key to your place jingled softly enough to not stir you as he opened the door, barging through and going straight for your bedroom, the noise startling both you and your cat awake.

you let out a noise something between a scream and a cry and your cat hisses as the sight of dick. he’d never liked your ‘boyfriend’ in the first place, maybe you should’ve trusted his instincts.

“sweetheart, i’m so sorry.”

the apology is the first thing that slipped from his tongue and it all came back to you.

“i lost track of time and—”

“where were you?” you ask, throat sore from your crying, he could see the dried tear stains on your cheeks and he knew he’d messed up past what was forgivable.

he’d left you alone, in a room of strangers with no way home.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes dropping to the floor and you notice the disheveled way his hair sat, collar covered in the same shade of lipstick kory had been wearing, and if you looked close enough there’d be a matching stain on his lips.

you didn’t need this. “get out.”

you gave him no time to argue, standing up and shoving a box of his stuff into his arms. things you’d collected in your state of sad anger, the box contained his clothes, random little trinkets he’d brought along, gifts he’d brought you — never anything expensive just stuffed animals and cards.

“can’t we talk about this?” he pleaded and failed as shoved him further.

“no, if you want kory so badly. then have her, but don’t drag me along to play the fool.”

he winces at your retort, shame settling in his bones.

“is it me?” you cant help but ask, “why can’t you love me as much as you love her? wish you loved me just as much as you love her.”

he’s starting to really wish he’d left the first time you asked — told him to.

“you’re perfect,” he whispers, “but she… me and her, we..”

“just leave, i don’t want to see you again, dick.”

he doesn’t fight it, he doesn’t have the right anymore does he. his heart sinks when he closes your bedroom door behind him and he can hear the way you break down, trying to keep quiet.

you deserved to know but he’d never tell you, it was never real. you and him, you were just a sweet innocent girl he was using to get his ex back, and it worked. now he’ll move on and leave you to suffer the consequences.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[drabblesandsnippets]

Safe

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female reader

Background: TW: (Past) SA. During times when old traumatic memories start to pop up again (for whatever random reason/trigger), I find myself seeking out art that I can connect with to help me process things. Over the years, I’ve spent endless hours searching for stories/books where the main character is dealing with sexual trauma while also trying to have/maintain a healthy sex life - this is my attempt to write that type of story (without delving into the details of the trauma).

Summary: (4k) TW: (Past) SA. Bucky’s girlfriend craves intimacy while struggling with triggers and flashbacks.

Warnings: 18+ Only. TW: Mention of past SA/trauma (very vague), flashbacks (including during sex), anxiety. Established relationship. Bucky doesn’t always sleep with his prosthetic on (who else has this headcanon?). Fluff. Praise. Enthusiastic consent. Soft and sweet Bucky. Pet names (doll, sweetheart, baby). (Unprotected) PiV. Aftercare.

---------------------------

Trauma has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. 

One minute, you’re laughing and dancing in the kitchen with your boyfriend, his hands around your waist while he sings a song from the 40’s, and the next thing you know, you’re leaning over the sink, your knees nearly giving out as you try to remember how to breathe. 

All it took was one fleeting press of Bucky against your back and you were suddenly transported to a different time, your mind taking you back to those moments when your life irrevocably changed.

Other times, it’s less conspicuous. 

You’re on the back of his motorcycle, enjoying a peaceful ride outside the city, taking the scenic route to enjoy a bit more time together, when you’re hit with a wave of anxiety. Something in your brain made a connection to the past, and the only signal you can give Bucky is a tighter hold around his torso.

There’s not much that fazes him, given his own history and lingering struggles, but it doesn’t always make it easier. You oscillate between wanting to talk it all out and just wanting to pretend you’re fine - Bucky doing his best to meet you wherever you’re at, trying to ease your burden as best he can.

When you’re really lucky, it’s a momentary thing, your mind allowing the memory to fade so you can focus on the present. When that happens, you get to go weeks, sometimes months, without it happening again.

Of course, you’re not always that lucky. There are times when it invades the rest of your day, seeping into moments it has no business being a part of. Trying to control parts of your life that you swore it’d never touch. 

And then, there are times like now, when it sticks around. When it feels like the smallest thing sets you off, brief flashes of things you’d rather not have to think about playing out behind your eyes. Your body constantly on edge, giving you no reprieve, even when the memories finally fade out.

You’re not sure how many days it’s been, or what the initial trigger even was, your mind too preoccupied with trying not to take a trip down memory lane. The only lifeline you can cling to is knowing you have a partner who supports you as much as you support him, especially during dark times, refusing to give up on each other.

As painful as it all can be, it’s a familiar pattern, one you know you’ll eventually break free of, no matter how turbulent it gets. Until then, you ride the wave, doing everything you can to stay afloat, to allow yourself to continue to live your life, seek out the things that bring you joy and pleasure.

Yesterday was filled with laughter and adventures, Bucky taking you to some of his favorite places, whisking you off to the next destination when your anxiety started to get the better of you. As if he’s made it his mission to help you find your footing again.

Bucky’s love and patience is more than you could have ever hoped for, and as you wake up with him snuggled against your back, in the bed you’ve shared for years, the remnants of your dream trying to take hold, his name spills out of you, filling the dark silence.

In an instant, he’s awake enough to breathe your name in return, his voice husky with sleep as he asks, “You okay? S’wrong, doll?” Bucky’s aware it was probably another nightmare, or maybe a flashback, but he’s learned not to assume anything, giving you the space to decide if and how you want to be heard.

It’s not always that simple. Sometimes your voice can fail you, words getting trapped in your throat as you struggle to focus on the moment. You’re not even sure how to describe what’s happening, other than to admit that you feel on edge, like your skin is crawling, your body growing restless.

Bucky doesn’t need more explanation, his hand leaving its normal resting place on your thigh to slide along your back, his intention clear. His familiar touch draws the expected reaction out of you, a soft sigh of relief as a bit of tension leaves your body, his fingertips dancing across your shoulder blade.

Almost immediately you’re curling up, inviting him to keep going, his reverent touch spreading tingles across your skin. As intimate as it is, there’s nothing inherently sexual about it, Bucky wanting nothing more than to help you relax, to lull you back into a peaceful slumber.

Yet, your body seems to have other ideas, each tender caress of your back sending sparks of arousal to your core. It’s far from the first time, even over the past several days, but it’s yet another aspect of your relationship that gets thrown off balance during times like this.

Any other time, Bucky would read your subtle cues, happily accepting the silent invitation to touch more of you, to bring you unspeakable pleasure. Until you’re back on solid ground though, it’s not an option for him. He can’t risk pressuring you, the thought of adding more stress on top of everything you’re already struggling with too unbearable to him. 

You can’t exactly blame him. When the roles are reversed - when Bucky is dealing with his own trauma, ghosts of his past invading his mind - you follow his lead, offering him nothing more than a place to rest. A safe space, where he’s completely in control.

That’s what he’s been offering you since your brain decided to spend so much time in the past. Intimacy, in whatever form it takes, is on your terms, things never progressing unless you’re vocalizing your desires. 

Bucky’s patience is unyielding. No matter how much your soft, breathy noises of appreciation stir up his need for you, the path of his hand doesn’t alter. His fingertips continue to draw circles across your skin, exploring the contours of your back, as if he hasn’t already mapped every single inch of you. 

One of his favorite things is to touch you. To bring you comfort, to provide safety, and yes, when you allow him, to bring you pleasure. And right now, despite - or maybe because of - the turmoil broiling beneath the service, it’s what you need.

There’s a risk that things might overwhelm you. That you won’t be able to lose yourself in the moment. You try not to think about that, telling yourself that you at least deserve to try, knowing Bucky will help you through it, wherever it leads.

Your request for more remains subtle, a slight shift of your hips, pressing back into him, the evidence of his own arousal growing against your ass. Nothing changes for Bucky, his gentle touch following a trail up along your spine to the back of your neck, his thumb stroking a particular tense spot, refusing to take advantage of your trust in him.

There’s a part of you that wonders if you should just allow yourself to succumb to the sleep that’s threatening to overtake you again, but you miss him. And, as he drags the back of his fingers down to the dip of your waist, you moan softly, your thighs tensing with need, seeking out friction.

Bucky knows exactly what he’s doing to you, each pass of his hand along sensitive flesh making you tremble, goosebumps spreading across your skin. It’s not long before he’s able to smell you, the knowledge that his touch turns you on so much nearly enough to make him lose his resolve.

Somehow he remains steadfast, even as you shift again, arching your back and angling your hips to find more pressure, his erection trapped against the curve of your ass. There’s an ache building inside of him to grind against you, to give you what your body is so obviously asking for, your shuddering sighs encouraging him to keep touching you, waiting for permission that he knows might not come.

It’s more than okay if it doesn’t, Bucky content with easing your burdens in whatever way you’ll allow him. It’s a privilege he’ll never take for granted. 

As is the privilege of getting to bring you more pleasure. And the moment you whisper his name, followed by a barely audible utterance of “please,” he’s asking you what you need. Desperate to give you everything you desire.

It provides the catalyst to empower you to ask for more, telling him how good he feels as you shamelessly rub against him, Bucky’s own heavy breaths and words of love spurring you on. The gentle caress of his fingers never cease, tentatively dipping lower to tease along your hip, and you leave no room for doubt, quickly letting out a needy moan of “yes.”

His reaction comes as no surprise, your consent making him groan, his hard cock throbbing against you. You’re about to reach back, wanting to feel more of him, when you’re triggered without warning, your breath catching and your back stiffening, unwanted images flashing in your head. 

“Are you okay?”

The concern in his voice keeps you in place, choosing to ignore your body’s instinct to pull away, forcing yourself to breathe through it. As the silence tries to consume you, threatening to derail everything, Bucky’s hand on your hip helps you get the words out, the soft clearing of your throat letting him know a response is forthcoming.

“Yeah,” you finally whisper into the dark, grateful when he doesn’t move, his thighs flush against yours. “I don’t- I’m okay, I don’t wanna stop.” Before he can ask if you’re sure, your hand comes into contact with his arm, your fingers sliding down to gently take hold of his wrist, refusing to second guess yourself as you guide his hand higher up your body, showing him exactly what you want.

The heat of his hand cupping your breast brings you fully back into the present with him, ripping a strangled moan out of you, your back arching to grind harder against him.

“Fuck,” he exhales heavily, Bucky wasting no time in following your lead, your erect nipple pinched between his long fingers, his palm squeezing your tit as he murmurs soft words of praise. His ears are trained on you, listening for every noise he elicits, from the loud moans to the barely audible gasps, ensuring his touch remains welcome.

It’s everything you could possibly want, his leg soon finding its way between yours, Bucky barely getting a chance to ask you if it’s okay before you’re begging him to keep going. Your whine of pleasure drowns out his own noises of appreciation, his thigh pressed to your slick heat, his rock hard cock starting to leak pre-cum.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, one hand gripping the edge of the bed, giving you leverage to grind on his thigh, the fingers of your other hand still gripping his wrist, keeping him pinned to you.

“So do you, baby,” he moans in your ear, nudging his leg higher to find a steady rhythm against your swollen pussy, intent on drawing this out as long as you’ll let him. “Love when you ride my thigh like this, when you let me feel how wet you are.”

Your body takes over, chasing the high, Bucky letting you set the pace, his large hand palming your heavy breasts, the occasional pinch and playful tug of your nipples building you higher. He never lets the silence settle for too long, filling the moments between heavy breaths and barely coherent words with a string of praises, reminding you how much he loves every inch of you.

The darkness seems to amplify your senses, allowing you to get lost in the sensations, your walls pulsing with every delicious grind against your clit. You’re on the verge of begging him to fuck you, the words on the tip of your tongue when a wave of tension takes over, ruining all your plans.

Your hips falter the same time Bucky’s do, his gentle assurance of, “it’s okay,” calming your racing heart before it can beat out of control. Keeping his hand pressed to your stomach, you breathe through the confusion, trying to pinpoint the trigger before deciding to focus on how to move forward instead.

A request for more comes in the form of asking him to turn on a light, the need to see him overpowering everything else, and Bucky’s climbing off the bed, a lingering kiss and touch to keep you company until he returns. You’re kicking the covers off just as he clicks the adjoining bathroom light on, your eyes adjusting quickly to the soft glow now illuminating the room.

The irresistible image of you waiting for him has him returning to the bed within record time, his feet only pausing when his gaze drifts to his prosthetic arm, safe in its resting place in the corner of the room. He doesn’t always wear it to bed, your sex life never suffering without it, but he knows how much you enjoy having both his arms wrapped around you, the slight furrow of his brow telling you exactly what he’s thinking.

You interrupt the unspoken question, your voice pulling Bucky’s attention back to you, your unprompted words taking him by surprise. “I wanna ride you.”

“Oh really?” he asks, the former subject easily forgotten, a grin spreading at the eager nod of your head. He doesn’t need to be told twice, jumping onto the bed with a flourish, landing on his back with a soft thud, a giddy look plastered across his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh, getting to your knees beside him, not missing the way his eyes travel along your curves, the peak of his tongue wetting his lips giving you momentary pause, your thighs tensing with need.

Bucky’s obviously thinking the same thing, his laughter sending a thrill down your spine as he asks, “Whatcha thinking about ridin’, doll?”

You enjoy having his head between your thighs just as much as he does, the teasing flick of his tongue along his top teeth having you shaking your head at him. “Your cock, if that’s okay with you,” you tell him, the playful grin on your face masking your concern of being triggered again if you can’t see his eyes.

“Oh, no complaints from me,” he emphatically promises, offering out his hand to help you climb on top, your worry not lost on him. You’ve been through so much together, Bucky having learned to read your body, understanding your emotions even better than you sometimes. As obsessed as he is with you, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting you, he won’t push for it, especially not tonight.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, puzzle pieces interlocking like you were made for each other, his thick cock stretching you slowly with each roll of your hips, taking him inch by glorious inch. His firm grip on your thigh encourages you to keep going, his audible grunts and gasps filling your ears, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

“Jesus,” Bucky pants, his lashes fluttering every time you let him slide in just a bit deeper, his hips tense underneath you, determined to give you complete control. “Feel so good, baby. God, I love you.”

You’re quick to nod your head, your hands finding their way to his chest, allowing you to find an easy rhythm, your eyes nearly rolling back when he bottoms out inside of you. “Oh fuck,” you whine, your hips moving on autopilot, grinding in slow circles, soon finding the perfect pressure against your clit that has you trembling on top of him.

There’s something incredibly intoxicating about being in charge of your own pleasure, especially when Bucky could easily overpower you, the occasional twitch of his hips signaling just how hard he’s working to control himself.

It leaves you breathless, your body finding a quicker pace, the head of cock hitting that spot deep inside of you that has you seeing stars. When his name starts to fall past your lips like a prayer, his thighs tense, shifting underneath you, the new angle forcing out the words burning the back of your throat, “Bucky… baby, please. Please, fuck me.”

“Co’mere,” he growls, pulling you down on top of him, your palms finding purchase against the mattress on either side of his head, his eyes never leaving yours. With his arm wrapped around your waist, hand splayed across your lower back, he starts a slow pace, watching the pleasure play out across your face.

Bucky pulls out until your walls pulse, a prideful grin twitching at the corners of his mouth at how greedily you welcome him back in, his eyes darkening when he bottoms out, your thrusts soon meeting his.

“That’s it,” he pants, nodding his head, his hold on you grower firmer, doing his best to keep the right amount of friction against your clit. “Just like that, take whatever you need baby.” He’s aware your muscles are going to grow tired soon, your knees likely needing a break before long, but he refuses to stop until you tell him to, gritting his teeth with effort to hold his own orgasm back.

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come close to the edge yourself, only for the feeling to fade, your mind threatening to spiral into unwanted territory. Until this very moment, you’ve done a good job at holding the unwanted feelings at bay, your desire for intimacy and connection driving your actions.

Except, that’s suddenly no longer the case, a particularly sharp burst of pleasure has you closing your eyes and before you realize it, everything’s come to a standstill. The unwarranted apology dies on the tip of your tongue, a heavy sigh of frustration leaving you as you quickly shake your head, sitting up to try to regain some semblance of composure.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs, taking hold of your hand to bring it to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles to soothe your anxiety. “Tell me what you need.”

You breathe heavily, your bodies still connected, Bucky nestled deep inside of you, your walls spasming uncontrollably around him. There’s no reason to push through this, to ignore your body’s obvious discontent, no matter how much you want to pretend you can handle this.

It’d be unfair to subject either of you to that inevitable discomfort. The only thing you can do is face it, admit that you’re not as strong as you’d like to admit, your independent nature wanting to fight you the entire way. A gentle clearing of your throat, followed by a rough swallow and you’re bringing your awareness back to the present, your eyes finally opening to meet his once again.

One look at him and it’s easy to find your voice, his warm smile breaking down your walls like they’re paper-thin. “I need to feel you on top of me.” To feel the comfort of his weight, the safety of his embrace.

Bucky’s more than happy to oblige, trusting that you understand your own needs, knowing you’ll tell him if it becomes too much. Guiding you back down on top of him, his lips find yours, pouring all his love and devotion into the simple act as he secures an arm around you, cradling you against him in order to roll you both over.

It’s not as seamless as either of you anticipate, your tense muscles and abundant wetness causing him to slip out. Neither of you are able to hide your exhales of disappointment, Bucky’s grin meeting your own when he lines himself back up, the head of his cock nudging your entrance, giving you every opportunity to change your mind.

As grateful as you are, it’s not needed, and your hips shift, telling him everything he needs to know, the nod you give him alleviating any lingering doubt. With his weight settling on top of you, his body aligned with yours, he slides his arm underneath your shoulder to cradle the back of your neck in his palm and finally surges forward, sinking back into your tight heat. 

Your unbridled reaction spurs him on, your gasps and cries of exquisite pleasure causing heat to race up his spine, his hips setting a familiar pace. He can’t stop himself from praising you, watching you start to fall apart for him, your walls fluttering around him with every deep stroke, his body grinding hard against your clit.

You cling to him, nails digging into his back, your orgasm just out of reach, sweat covering your body, the desperation written all over your face. You’re so close, Bucky’s loud groans and animalistic grunts usually enough to send you spiraling, his words causing more arousal to coat his cock, but there’s still something holding you back, your body on the verge of tensing again.

“Tell me I’m okay,” you gasp, your eyes locked on his, your hips meeting his thrusts, your body begging for release.

“You’re okay,” he promises, dropping his forehead to yours, his heavy breath fanning your face, using every ounce of energy to not succumb to the pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. “You’re okay, my sweet girl. You’re safe, I’m not going anywhere.”

His steady stream of assurance has you crying out, tears pricking your eyes, the familiar tingle starting to build to unbearable heights, surely about to tease you again. Bucky refuses to give up, fucking you through it, maintaining the perfect, consistent speed, his cock bottoming out each time, the sounds of your bodies meeting in a heated rush adding to the sensations coursing through you.

“There we go,” he groans, his grip on the back of your neck tightening, holding you in place as you start to tighten around him, refusing to let you push him out. “You feel so fucking good, sweetheart, just let go for me. You’re safe, you’re right where you belong.”

That’s all it takes, your mouth opening in a silent scream as your entire body tenses, your limbs wrapped around him, his movements never faltering, letting you ride out the intense waves taking over your senses. You’re not even aware when your voice returns to you, a string of incoherent noises filling the air as you come hard, sobbing from the onslaught of pleasure, Bucky not missing a single second of the glorious vision unfolding underneath him.

He doesn’t allow himself to let go until he’s sure it’s what you want, your gasping pleas triggering his orgasm. With a groan of your name, he pulls you into a fiery kiss, his hips thrusting just a few more times as his pulsing cock fills you with his release.

You've been reduced to heavy pants and trembling limbs, Bucky's body shaking against yours, more sweet utterances of love and devotion being shared as you both return back to reality.

For the first time in too long, you’re able to stay relaxed in his embrace, refusing to let him move for several moments, the weight of him pressing down on you keeping you grounded. It’s not until your lungs start to ache from lack of deep breaths that you relent, letting Bucky roll you both over, your bodies continuing to draw comfort from each other.

There’s no rush to clean up, no dire need to leave the bed, the two of you remaining there for as long as you want, your mind at ease, Bucky’s steady breaths and gentle caress of your back almost lulling you back to sleep. 

This time, there’s no need to fight it. You let yourself drift off, peaceful rest once again overtaking you, Bucky content to hold you for the rest of the night, promising to keep you safe wherever your dreams take you.

---------------------------

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[holdmytesseract]

Safe Haven

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When Daryl threatens to lose his grip and gets swallowed by the trauma he experienced in the Sanctuary, you try your best to catch him and being his safe haven he desperately needs.

Warnings: quite some angst, fluff, insecurity? mentions of scars, injuries and torture, nudity, FEELS, FEELS, FEELS

Set in Season 7!

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This story is based on an idea from @erebus-et-eigengrau . I hope you like how this turned out, lovely friend! 🤗

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Daryl?" You spoke his name in a quiet voice as you took the archer's hand slowly and carefully in yours. His fingers twitched, but didn't pull away from your gentle hold. "Do you trust me?" Your voice was just above a whisper; so afraid to scare him off or make him feel even more comfortable than he probably already felt.

Tainted, yet still incredibly beautiful blue eyes met yours, as Daryl lifted his gaze; peeking through long strands of sweaty, greasy chestnut brown hair which hung in his face. You patiently waited for an answer while your thumb had absent-mindedly started to caress the rough skin on the back of his hand - an attempt to provide him some comfort and reassurance.

The archer started to nod; merely noticeable, but he did. "'M trustin' ya," he added quietly; voice even more raspy than usually. Hearing those words leaving his lips caused your heart to skip a beat. Sure, you and Daryl had been a thing for quite a few months now and deep down you knew that he had been always trusting you. Unless he'd have never opened his heart for you. But nevertheless was it wonderful to hear.

You nodded, "Okay." gently squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile. "Come with me?" Daryl nodded once more; wordlessly and let you guide him wherever it was you wanted to take him.

Your destination was the small trailer you - and now Daryl, shared in Hilltop. Crickets and some distant chatter from the other residents was all that could be heard alongside yours and the archer's steps through the grass.

You led Daryl inside your home and closed the door behind the both of you - never letting go of his hand. Not even for a second. Cautiously stepping closer, you lifted your free hand to cup his cheek; feeling the greyish hairs of his beard tickle your palm. Daryl's eyes fluttered shut at your touch; a soft gasp leaving his lips.

Your eyes widened. "Fuck..." You cursed under your breath; knowing that you just did what you swore you wouldn't do. Unintentional or not. "Daryl, no, I-" You inhaled a shaky breath; afraid to hurt him. "I put that wrong. I don't ask you to tell me what... What happened there. I would never force you to do so. Never. It's entirely up to you. Your decision." You gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. "A-All I wanted to say is... We need to give you a shower and fresh clothes... Your wounds... They... I don't want them to get infected. L-Let me take care of you, please?" Your gaze never left Daryl's; always checking in on him - on how he felt.

"My love... I won't ever force you to this..." you started; gently tracing the last remains of a bruise underneath the archer's eye. "Never, b-but-" Before you could even finish your sentence, you felt Daryl flinch slightly; a literal storm of emotions starting to rage inside his eyes - and you immediately realised that you had chosen the wrong words.

Daryl had escaped Negan and the Sanctuary not even a day ago and whatever they had done to him... Whatever he had experienced... You knew it was something traumatic. Something horrible. He hadn't told you. Not even a word - and you would never force him to do so. If he ever wanted to talk, you were going to welcome him with open arms and a sympathetic ear. You were his partner after all. You'd wait until he was ready to open up to you - whenever it might be. One day, one week, one month, one year - or hence, even never. All you cared about was his well-being and safety.

The archer swallowed at your words; seemingly giving your words a thought, before he bobbed his head in a small nod. "Y-Yeah, a'right," he whispered and turned his head only a few inches; just enough that he was able to press a feather-light kiss against your palm.

Another soft smile darted over your face and you retreated your hand from his cheek. Then you gave the hand which was still neatly tucked in yours a small tug; urging him on to follow you again - what he did.

The bathroom wasn't really spacious. Barely big enough to fit two people inside, but you had less and definitely worse. You wouldn't complain. Never. This was the end of the world after all. You'd take what you get and make it work.

Once again you closed the door behind the two of you, before returning to face the man you loved. "You trust me?" You repeated your question from earlier, now that he knew what you were up to - just to make sure. Your thumb worked gentle circles in the skin on the back of his hand.

It wasn't like you had never seen him shirtless or well, naked before, no. You did. That wasn't the point. But this right now... This was different. So much more... intimate. Perhaps the most intimate moment in your relationship so far, since you and the archer had yet to take the step of being physically joined. You, neither Daryl didn't want to just rush into things. You both agreed to take your time - which definitely proved to be the right decision, because you and the archer weren't exactly experts in romantic relationships.

Like before was Daryl's answer a clear 'Yes'. Giving his hand a last squeeze, you let go - much to the archer's dismay. His hand twitched - unbeknownst to you, as he held back the urge to chase after your hand - your reassuring touch, which kept him grounded.

Instead were hovering your hands now above his shoulders; fingertips grazing the plaid shirt he wore over the white t-shirt. "M-May I?" You asked hesitatingly; again afraid to make him feel uncomfortable, despite his promise of trust.

Nevertheless did it happen from time to time, that one would walk in on the other after a shower or while getting dressed to which you and Daryl got used to and normally were comfortable with. It had taken him quite a while longer than you, though, given the fact of how insecure he was. Not exactly about his body itself, but the scars which were covering it - a steady reminder of his abusive father and the traumatic past he had experienced. You felt absolutely honoured; heart aching with love, as he started to feel comfortable enough around you to be shirtless and even naked.

A higher declaration of love didn't exist. Not when your name was Daryl Dixon.

You squatted down and made quick work to untie the laces of his shoes. "Can you take off your shoes for me, love?"

"Y-Yeah," Daryl's deep voice managed to snap you out of your thoughts; giving you permission to help him. You smiled gently and shrugged the plaid shirt over his shoulders, down his arms; throwing it carelessly aside on the floor. Next was the sweaty, stained t-shirt he wore.

"Can you...?" You asked; gently tapping his elbows. "O-Or does it hurt?" Wordlessly, Daryl lifted his arms and let you pull the dirty t-shirt slowly and carefully over his head; leaving him shirtless - and the sight you were greeted with caused a gasp to leave your lips. His upper body was littered with bruises and cuts. Your heart ached seeing all his injuries; violently inflicted to the man you loved. You swallowed hard, "Daryl..." quietly calling out his name; voice filled with hurt. The archer lowered his head. "'S okay... H-Had worse," he muttered and definitely tried to downplay the extent of his pain - physically and probably even mentally.

You instantly shook your head. "N-No, it... It's not. They hurt you..." Tears gathered in your eyes, as your fingertips hovered over a particularly dark bruise on his rips. You didn't receive an answer. Daryl's eyes were still directed at the ground, but you could see that he was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. You couldn't quite tell what was going on in that pretty head of his. Was it insecurity? Shame? Guilt? Fear? All of it? Whatever it was that had captured the archer's mind, you knew it wasn't good and therefore immediately tried to pull him out of this again.

Your hand found his again; fingers intertwining as you guided him towards the trailer's shower. You slid the creme-white curtain aside and opened the tap; hand underneath the water jet to feel the temperature. Once the water was pleasantly warm, you turned to face Daryl. "Water is ready. I, uh, I'm going to give you some space now, okay? Call me whenever you need me, yeah? I'll be just outside the door." You squeezed his hand and gave him another soft smile, before letting go and stepping aside.

Your tender voice urging to Daryl's ears seemed to do the trick. Slowly, he lifted his gaze; even more troubled blue eyes meeting yours, as he started to kick off his shoes, together with the socks.

Now there was only his jeans and underwear left. Hesitatingly, you reached for the button and zipper of his pants. Locking eyes with the archer once more, you silently asked for his permission again. When there was no objection, you continued and helped him step out of his jeans first and lastly out of the grey, absolutely uncomfortable looking briefs. A few small grunts left his lips; clearly indicating that his body was definitely aching and hurting - which gave your heart another jolt. And Daryl? Daryl didn't even do as much as flinch. His gaze was still directed on the floor; his mind most likely returning to wander down that dark path like minutes before.

You cursed yourself internally.

Space. The word echoed through Daryl's head like the ring of a gunshot. Well, it certainly felt like a bullet had pierced his heart to leave him aching and bleeding. Space... It was the last thing he wanted from you. Watching you walk away only caused to double the pain. He needed you as close as possible. You had been already too far away from him for the last weeks. He couldn't bear to lose you again - even if it was just for a few minutes.

"N-No, please... Stay. D-Dun'- Dun' wantcha to go," he whispered; voice strained and raspy. It caused you to stop dead in your tracks. Stay? He wanted you to stay? Your heart skipped yet another beat. You swiftly turned to face him once again. The expression on Daryl's face broke you. He looked so... lost. Desperate. Afraid. And once again, you immediately noticed that you had just committed another mistake.

How could you leave him alone after all he's been through; thinking he needed the space, when it was clearly written all over his face that he needed everything but space?

"Of course, I'll stay. If that's what you want..." You spoke in a compassionate voice; the gears in your brain turning.

"Do you feel comfortable enough for me to join you? T-That okay for you, o-or...?" You asked Daryl cautiously; not wanting to take this too far. But to your slight surprise nodded the man opposite you immediately. "Please..." That one word was enough.

You made quick work to shed your own clothes; leaving you entirely bare as well. Daryl didn't make a sound. Except for shy eyes travelling your now exposed body - and his cheeks flushed. You took his hand in yours again; unbeknownst anchoring him to you - to the here and now and not letting him wander off to the Sanctuary again.

With a soft smile, you gently tucked at the archer's hand; pulling him into the shower and underneath the pleasantly warm water jet after you.

He was visibly comfortable - and that was all that mattered.

The water was quick to get the both of you soaking wet; Daryl's chestnut brown bangs sticking to his face. You brought your hands up and gently peeled the loose strands away and out of his face; not missing the opportunity to caress his beardy cheeks. The archer just stared at you in silence and didn't even move an inch. He relied completely on you, as if he had lost the control over his own body. His heart in the palm of your hands.

"C'mere, sweets," your voice grabbed his attention - and the lack of warm water cascading down his beaten and bruised body. He blinked and took a step closer to you. "I'm going to wash your hair now, is that okay?" Daryl gave a confirming nod and within seconds had you squirted some shampoo on your hands and buried them in his curls; massaging gently. The man's eyes slipped shut with a cute grunt and groan of relaxation and satisfaction. You couldn't help but smile.

While you washed the archer's hair, he was fighting the urge to bury his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder; hands twitching to cup your hips - but he didn't dare to do so; too afraid to cross a line. He didn't want to do something wrong and push you away. It was a nightmare he wasn't strong enough to fight right now. Never - if he was being honest.

Once you had rinsed the brown mop of hair on his head, you moved on to his body - but not without asking for his consent again. You were even more hesitant and cautious in that regard, since touching his head and touching his whole body were two very different things...

"Dar... Will you allow me to..." You questioned him almost nervously; trailing off and kinda awkwardly gesturing between the bottle of shower gel and him. "I-I don't have to. Y-You can-" "I trust ya." And once again were - this time three - words enough from the man in front of you to jump into action; feeling a rush of love flooding your veins. He was trusting you enough to let you touch his body. Even in the vulnerable state he was currently in. It meant the world to you and you were determined to show him. You gave him yet another sweet smile and went to work; always making sure to capture his eyes now and then to make sure he was still okay with what your hands were doing.

Rinsing off the remaining soap, you got the first real close look of the tattoo on his shoulder blade and his scars, of course. You felt a pang of compassion and sorrow deep in your heart. Life had certainly left its marks on him. That much was clear. He didn't deserve this... All the pain. All the hurt. All the losses he had to endure. It wasn't fair.

You started with his soaping his upper body; feeling the bumps of his scars underneath your palm - what you didn't mind at all, of course. You had told him a hundred of times by now that he was beautiful to you no matter what.

Your touch was soft and delicate; making sure to not hurt him and being cautious about his cuts and bruises. Unfortunately, you couldn't prevent the shower gel from getting into the deeper cuts, which caused Daryl to hiss and you to repeatedly mutter the words 'I'm so sorry.'. Then you moved on to his legs and gave them a gentle scrub as well, before you went to rinse the soap off of his body again; starting with the front and lightly tapping his shoulder to signal him to turn around for you - what the archer did. Wordlessly - but words weren't needed anyway. Not between the both of you.

Returning the shower head back into its holder, you felt the overwhelming urge to give him all the love he deserved and slowly snuck your arms around his waist; pressing your smaller body against his back. Daryl flinched slightly at the sudden contact, but his muscles relaxed instantly again; knowing it was you and not just anybody. And yet he couldn't stop the gasp to leave his mouth when your lips started to trail a path of kisses over ever single scar and bruise; mapping out his broad back.

Until now.

Daryl's eyes slipped shut; a feel of love and comfort rushing through his veins - so much, it was overwhelming. It was like the connection he shared with you had reached a new kind of depth - in the most positive way. He hadn't felt this loved and accepted in years, decades even. Not before you stumbled into his life.

Daryl had felt like falling deeper and deeper; a dark hole sucking him in. It was like his body was present, but his mind still stuck in the hellhole Negan had caged him in.

Emotions exploded within Daryl; his heart threatening to burst from his ribcage with all the love it was feeling. He couldn't help himself but to turn in your embrace and press his forehead against the crook of your neck; not hesitating this time.

Now all he could feel and see was you. Even when he closed his eyes.

Sure, the archer's mind would still need some more time to heal, but you had caught him; kept him from losing his grip.

His sudden movement caught you by surprise at first, but then you just smiled and buried your hands in his wet curls, while Daryl's calloused, gentle hands skimmed over your bare back, sides and hips. But not in a sexual way. All the archer wanted was to feel you; needing to convince his brain that you were truly real - and his. Yes, it was the most intimate moment you and Daryl shared - and it was perfect.

Sure, sex was great, but that... That was a whole other level of intimacy. It was so much more.

You were so lost in the moment, that you didn't notice how your archer's tears mixed with the warm water still cascading down over your intertwined bodies, as he almost frantically held onto you.

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[seriiousgiirl]

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝒢𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓉𝓎 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. I'm so sorry.

❛ Part 1 ⋅ Part 4 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Dear Readers! Thank you so much for taking the time to comment on my story! Your words mean the world to me and have truly brightened my day. Knowing that my work resonated with you is the best kind of motivation and keeps me excited to continue writing. Your support makes this story even more special, and I can't wait to share more with you. Thank you again for reading, commenting, and being part of this experience. It really means more than I can say!

➜ ┊: chapter 3/?.

When James woke up, it was to the blaring sound of his alarm, startling him from the thin veil of sleep he’d managed to slip into. The red numbers on the clock glowed harshly in the dark: 7 a.m. 

He blinked, disoriented, his body heavy with the remnants of exhaustion. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he had slept through the night. The realisation brought an unexpected wave of relief. He sighed softly, feeling the tension in his muscles begin to release, the rare moment of peace filling him with something like gratitude. Maybe the nightmares were finally letting him go.

He moved to get out of bed, but before he could even shift the covers, a sudden pressure gripped his throat. His breath hitched violently as he was shoved back against the mattress, the force pinning him down like an iron vise. Panic shot through him like a jolt of electricity, his hands instinctively flying to his throat to fight off whatever was holding him. His heart raced as his eyes flew open, and in the dim light of the room, he saw it. 

Him.

The towering figure of Pyramid Head loomed over him, its massive form blocking out everything else, its presence suffocating and oppressive. The weight of its hand pressed down on James’s throat with merciless strength, each thick finger wrapped around his neck like a vice.

James's breath came in short, panicked bursts as he struggled to free himself. His hands clawed at the creature’s arm, fingers digging into the cold, slick surface of its flesh, but it was like trying to move a mountain. The Pyramid Head didn’t budge. He didn’t flinch. He was as immovable as stone, watching James struggle beneath him with that same terrifying stillness.

James's vision blurred at the edges as the lack of air began to take its toll. His mind raced in frantic circles, trying to make sense of what was happening. This can't be real, he thought, but the crushing pain in his throat told him otherwise. Every attempt to fight back was futile, his strength draining faster with every passing second.

Desperate, James let out a strangled cry, his voice hoarse and broken. It felt like his lungs were on fire, the pressure mounting with every beat of his heart, but the Pyramid Head’s grip never loosened. It was relentless, unwavering. The monster's strength was absolute, and James could feel his own slipping away.

But then something changed.

The Pyramid Head let out a deep, guttural grunt, a sound so raw and visceral that it sent a shiver through James's already trembling body. The sound was filled with pain—its pain. For a moment, the monster’s grip tightened even further, and then it paused. The creature's head twitched slightly, its movements slow, almost hesitant, as though it was fighting something inside itself.

James gasped for breath, trying to make sense of what was happening. Why is it hesitating? The agony coursing through his throat was unbearable, but there was something different now—a strange, shared torment that wasn’t just his own. It felt like the Pyramid Head was suffering alongside him, trapped in the same unbearable anguish. 

James’s mind reeled. He wasn’t just being punished. He was being mirrored. The pain, the desperation, the weight of everything crashing down on him—it wasn’t just his alone anymore. It was their pain. 

As his vision continued to darken, James felt his strength fading. His hands, still clawing at the creature’s arm, began to weaken, his muscles giving in to the exhaustion. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, each pulse slower than the last. The room around him seemed to blur, the edges of reality slipping away.

Yet, through it all, he could still hear it—the agonising grunt of the Pyramid Head, its silent suffering intertwining with his own. His thoughts were scrambled, fragmented memories flashing before his eyes. Mary. Silent Hill. The sins he could never atone for, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like the very hand around his throat. 

Was this his punishment? His eternal reminder of what he had done?

That was it? There was no escape, no way out. 

And then, just as his vision blurred completely, the hand around his throat... loosened.

"James?"

The sound of Laura’s voice cut through the suffocating haze, sharp and clear. His eyes flew open, and he was no longer beneath the crushing weight of Pyramid Head’s hand. Instead, he was in his bed, drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for breath. The bedroom was still cloaked in darkness, but the nightmare had loosened its grip, retreating back into the recesses of his mind.

James blinked, disoriented, trying to focus on the small figure standing by his bed. His eyes darted towards the clock: 3 am. His heart hammered violently in his chest, the remnants of fear and panic still clawing at him, but the world around him was real again. It was a dream... just a dream.

Laura stood at the edge of the bed, her wide blue eyes staring up at him with concern. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her pyjama shirt, the innocence in her face a stark contrast to the terror he had just experienced.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry. "You were... making weird noises."

James swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. He sat up slowly, running a shaky hand over his face, wiping away the cold sweat that clung to his skin. His throat still felt tight, as if the hand of the nightmare had left a lingering imprint.

"Yeah," he rasped, his voice hoarse and strained. "I'm okay. Just... just a bad dream."

Laura frowned, not entirely convinced. She stepped closer to the bed, her gaze still fixed on him. "Are you sure? It sounded really bad."

James forced a weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "It was just a dream," he repeated, hoping the words would somehow make it feel less real. But the weight of the nightmare still pressed down on him, the image of Pyramid Head looming over him burned into his mind—he hadn’t seen it so clearly in the past three years.

Laura hesitated for a moment, then sat on the edge of the bed. "You don’t have to be scared," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "It's gone now."

James looked at her, his heart twisting at the sight of her small figure sitting there, trying to offer him comfort. She shouldn’t have to do that—shouldn’t have to worry about him. He was the one who was supposed to protect her, not the other way around. He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. "Thanks, Laura," he murmured. "But I’m fine, really. Just... tired."

She nodded slowly, but her eyes didn’t leave him. "You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to," she added, her voice gentle, "but I’m here if you need to."

Her words, so innocent and sincere, tugged at something deep within James. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I know," he said quietly. "Thank you."

Laura gave him a small smile, "Okay," she said, "but you should try to sleep again. I don’t want you to be grumpy in the morning."

James chuckled softly, a faint glimmer of warmth breaking through the lingering cold of the nightmare. "I’ll try," he promised.

Laura lingered at the door longer than usual, shifting nervously on her feet. James noticed the way she hesitated, her small fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe as if she was weighing her words.

"Dad..." she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can I... Can I sleep here with you tonight?"

James looked at her, surprised by the question. She usually slept fine on her own, her confidence never wavering, but tonight there was something different—something in the way she looked at him, as if she wanted to make sure he would be okay. His heart clenched. He wanted to say no, to tell her she didn’t have to worry about him, that he could handle it. But as he looked into her concerned eyes, the words died on his tongue. 

He didn’t have the strength to refuse her. He didn’t want to.

James nodded, his voice soft. "Yeah... sure. Come on."

Laura smiled, a small, relieved smile, and without hesitation, she padded over to the bed. She climbed up and settled herself on the other side, her small body sinking into the mattress. James shifted over, making space for her, and pulled the blanket over both of them. The bed felt different with her there, warmer in a way that chased away some of the lingering coldness from his nightmare.

She lay on her side, facing him, her eyes blinking up at him sleepily. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice thick with drowsiness. "I’ll stay quiet. I promise."

James smiled faintly at her words, knowing that she wasn’t the one who needed to be quiet. He nodded, his heart a little lighter now. "It's okay. Get some rest, sweetie."

She closed her eyes, nestling into the pillow, and within moments her breathing started to slow. It didn’t take long before she drifted off, the tension in her small body easing as sleep took her.

James stayed awake for a while longer, looking at her fondly, listening to the steady rhythm of Laura’s breathing beside him. The nightmare still clawed at the edges of his mind, but with Laura next to him, it didn’t feel as heavy—didn’t feel as suffocating.

Just as he thought she had fallen asleep, Laura's voice piped up, soft yet curious. "James?"

He opened his eyes slightly, glancing at her. "Yeah?"

"You know, Y/n?" she asked, her voice still sleepy but curious. "I think she likes you a lot."

James chuckled softly, trying to keep the mood light despite the weight of his own emotions. "You promised to be quiet, remember?"

Laura ignored his teasing, "But really! You two talk a lot after school. It's like... you're friends or something."

James felt a warmth spread through him, but guilt quickly followed. "Laura, she's just being nice. It’s part of her job."

"But it feels different," Laura insisted, her eyes brightening. "I mean, she listens to you, and you look at her like she’s really special."

James shifted uncomfortably unsure how to respond—was he really that obvious? "It's not like that, kiddo."

Laura pouted, clearly not convinced. "You should ask her out! It would be fun."

"Let’s not rush into things, okay?" he said, trying to divert the conversation. "Get some sleep."

But Laura's enthusiasm remained undeterred. "Just think about it, James. You could be happy again."

───────────────

James could hardly believe the morning he was having as he pulled into the school parking lot. The sun hung low in the sky, illuminating the campus with a golden glow, but the warmth did little to ease the chill in his chest. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, his heart sinking when he realised how late it was. 10 am. A knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach as he replayed the events of the morning in his mind.

He was usually a master of routine, a creature of habit who thrived on early mornings filled with journaling and quiet reflection. Each day began with his insomnia, a reminder that he needed to confront his thoughts and feelings before they overwhelmed him. Then, his alarm would uselessly ring��signalling it was time to get ready for work. But this morning had slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving him disoriented and breathless. He had woken up to find Laura sprawled across him, her small form curled up against his side, blissfully asleep. 

For a fleeting moment, he had thought it was a dream, the sunlight streaming through the window and filling the room with a golden hue. But as he shifted to sit up, he felt her weight shift, and a wave of panic washed over him when he glanced at the clock and saw that it was already past what was supposed to be his alarm. 

He cursed himself for letting time slip away, for not managing to wake up on time.

It was the first time in… he couldn’t even remember.

Now, here he was, late for dropping Laura off at school, the first hours of class already long gone. As he stepped out of the car, he took a deep breath to steady himself, but the air felt heavy, suffocating in its stillness. The laughter and shouts of children drifted from the playground, where kids were already enjoying their break.

James's heart raced as he walked Laura to the entrance, her small hand in his, each step heavy with the guilt of not having given her a proper start to her day. "Alright, kiddo," he said, kneeling down to her level. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead, his thumb lingering on her cheek for just a moment. 

“Have a great day at school. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Laura beamed up at him, her eyes sparkling with youthful energy, unbothered by his stress. “Okay! Bye, James!” she called out, her voice ringing with innocence as she dashed toward her friends. The sight of her running off filled him with a mix of pride and sadness, knowing that she was growing up too fast and he was struggling to keep pace.

As he turned to leave, still feeling the weight of guilt on his shoulders, he heard a familiar—sweet voice call out to him from behind. “James! Wait!”

You were standing by the school entrance, your expression a blend of concern and curiosity as you hurried over. The way your brow furrowed slightly over your pretty face made his heart race, a mixture of anxiety and something deeper rising in his chest. He paused, turning to face you, breathless from the rush of the morning and the unexpected tightness in his throat.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft yet probing, as if you could sense the turmoil churning beneath his surface. Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, he felt as though you could see right through him, peeling back the layers of his façade.

James hesitated, his gaze dropping to the curves of your lips then to the ground, avoiding your eyes. The weight of your question hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the tangled emotions he was struggling to untangle. He felt a flush creep up his neck as memories of the previous night rushed back. The sinful images of you lingered in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the shame that clung to him like a shadow.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though the lie felt thin and unconvincing even to him. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he recalled how he had crossed a line he never thought he would, the memory of touching himself to the thought of you still vivid in his mind. The pleasure had felt so—so good, so real, and it had terrified him. 

“Really?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow. “Because I sent you a text this morning. I thought something might be wrong, but you didn’t respond.” 

James finally glanced up at you, guilt washing over him. He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, fumbling for the right words. “I don’t check my phone a lot,” he replied finally, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt like a lame excuse, but it was the truth. “I slept in, and rushed to get to school for Laura.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “You can talk to me, you know.” 

His heart raced, a tempest of emotions swirling inside him. He couldn’t meet your gaze; the shame was too much. The way you cared about him felt like a gift and a curse all at once. James felt a twinge of shame, but it was quickly replaced by a darker, more intense emotion. He wanted to show you the depths of his desires, to make you understand the forbidden fantasies that consumed his thoughts, maddening him. But he knew he couldn't. 

He had to play the part of the noble, kind dad, even if it meant hiding his true nature.

“It’s just… a lot on my mind,” he finally admitted, his voice heavy with unspoken burdens. “Things have been complicated lately.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, he felt the tension ease just a fraction. “You can trust me, James. I’m here for you. But you need to let me in,” you urged gently, a plea wrapped in kindness.

But could he let you in? The thought made his stomach churn. “I appreciate that,” he said, his voice low, “but I really don’t want to drag you into my mess.” 

You crossed your arms, your gaze unwavering. “You’re not dragging me anywhere. I care about you, and I want to help. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

James felt the heat of shame rise again, and he struggled to push it back down. How could he look you in the eyes, knowing the truth about his thoughts? He wanted to be strong for you, to be the man you could, at least, trust. But all he felt was weakness, and the weight of his guilt settled on his chest like a lead blanket.

“Maybe it’s just a phase,” he murmured, finally managing to meet your eyes for a brief moment. But the intensity of your gaze made him falter, and he looked away again, unable to face the truth of what he was feeling. “I’m just… working through things.”

Your silence spoke volumes, the unyielding concern in your eyes making his heart ache. He wished he could explain everything, but how could he possibly share the darker parts of himself with someone like you? 

“Just… promise me you’ll reach out if you need anything, okay?” you finally said, breaking the tension. “I’m serious, James.”

He nodded, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. “I promise,” he replied, though a part of him knew that it was easier said than done. 

As you turned to walk away, he felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t opened up more. But the fear of crossing that invisible line held him back. James watches you walk away, the subtle sway of your hips and the gentle curve of your waist etched in his mind. He feels a surge of longing, a desperate desire to reach out and pull you back, and confess his sins. His cock twitches, already half-hard from the mere thought of you.

"Fuck—Y/n," he mutters under his breath, "Why do you have to be so damn irresistible?"

───────────────

As the clock ticked closer to the end of the workday, James sat at his desk, staring blankly at the scattered papers before him. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered slightly, casting a sterile glow over the room that felt almost suffocating. He felt like a ghost, floating through the motions of his job, answering emails and attending meetings without really being present. Today, he was just a shadow of a man—or, accurately, more so than usual.

People had noticed, of course. Colleagues shot him concerned glances, occasionally asking if he was okay or if he needed anything. Each time, he forced a smile, shaking his head and offering a noncommittal “I’m fine.” But inside, turmoil brewed, like a storm waiting to break. The night had been particularly gruelling, filled with restless dreams that dragged him back into the depths of his mind, reliving memories he wished he could forget. 

It was one of those days when the weight of his past felt heavier, the shadows of his choices creeping closer. He thought of the bottle—his old friend during those dark moments when he felt utterly helpless. The memories of late nights spent drowning his sorrows flashed before him, the blurry faces of friends and the muffled laughter that felt so far away now. Back then, the alcohol had numbed the pain, the overwhelming ache of watching Mary suffer, feeling so utterly powerless to change anything. Those memories clung to him like a shroud, and the shame of his past habits stung like an old wound.

The image of her pale face haunted him, the way she had looked in those final months—fragile and thin, her laughter replaced by the echoes of hospital machinery. He remembered how her eyes had once sparkled with life, but now they were often clouded with pain and confusion. The sight of her suffering had been a visceral blow, each moment a reminder of his helplessness. 

He could have fought against the world, against fate itself—and literally did. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered. 

It has been too late.

But the truth weighed heavily on his heart. He felt the ghost of Mary’s disappointment in every corner of his mind, a reminder that he could have been better, when she was still alive. 

James felt a familiar ache in his heart as he thought of the countless nights spent sitting by her bedside, holding her hand as she drifted in and out of sleep. Each breath she took felt like a precious gift, and yet it was always laced with the knowledge that it could be the last. The feeling of despair had washed over him like a tide, threatening to pull him under. Those moments had changed him irrevocably, carving deep lines of sorrow into his soul.

He had retreated into himself during those difficult months, drowning in his own despair. The nights had been the worst. He would pour himself a drink—a bottle even, hoping it would drown out the pain, hoping it would help him forget the image of Mary lying in that hospital bed, frail and pale.

Today, he couldn’t afford to give in. He had Laura now, and he knew that drinking would only lead him down a path he was desperate to avoid. If he allowed those demons back in, he could destroy everything he was trying to build for her. The thought sent a chill through him; he couldn’t bear the idea of failing her, of becoming the man he once was. It was a battle he had fought before, and he felt the scars of that struggle etched deep within him. 

As the final minutes of his workday ticked away, he gathered his belongings, stuffing them into his bag with a quickness that belied his earlier lethargy. The anticipation of picking her up sparked something inside him.

Walking through the office, he exchanged polite nods with coworkers who asked about his weekend plans or made small talk about the weather. He felt detached from it all, their chatter a distant hum that faded as he focused on the rhythm of his heartbeat. With each step toward the door, the heaviness in his chest lightened just a fraction. 

As he arrived at the school, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the playground where children laughed and played. He parked the car and stepped out, adjusting his khaki jack as if it was his armour.

As he walked toward the school building, he caught sight of her, laughing with a group of friends, her blonde hair catching the light as she spun around. In that moment, everything felt right. He made his way over, feeling the corners of his mouth lift in a smile that had been absent for too long. 

“Hey, kiddo!” he called out, and her head whipped around, a huge grin spreading across her face. 

“James!” she shouted, dashing toward him and throwing her arms around his waist. 

The embrace was everything. In that simple moment, the weight of his struggles fell away, replaced by the warmth of her affection. He lifted her up, spinning her around as she squealed with delight, the sound a balm for his troubled soul. “Did you have a good day?” he asked, setting her down but keeping his hands on her shoulders.

“Yeah! We did art today, and I made a drawing for you!” She beamed, her excitement infectious.

He smiled warmly, “I can’t wait to see. Do you know where Y/n is? Perhaps… Well, I could thank her for encouraging my little artist.” He says, casually trying to mask his curiosity and neediness. 

Laura’s smirk was instantaneous, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She cast him a knowing glance, as if she were privy to some secret that he was oblivious to. James felt his cheeks warm slightly, caught off guard by her expression. Did she think he was being too obvious? He quickly focused on her, hoping to deflect any teasing that might come his way. Before he could say anything else, he caught movement in his peripheral vision. 

You appeared, walking toward them, and a wave of relief washed over him. The way you carried yourself—so pretty and poised, your hair catching the light, made his heart race. As you lifted your hand in a gentle wave, he instinctively returned the gesture, his smile widening as he did.

Laura observed the exchange, her smirk growing wider as she clearly relished the moment. “Y/n!” she called out, her voice laced with playful energy. “Come over here!”

You approached, and James felt a rush of warmth at the sight of you. It was as if your presence illuminated the space around him, chasing away the shadows that had lingered throughout his day. Laura looked back and forth between the two of you, her eyes sparkling with mischief as if she knew something he didn’t.

“Looks like someone was missing you,” Laura teased, nudging him playfully.

James shot her a warning glance, but the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. He couldn’t deny it; he had been thinking about you. As you drew closer, he felt a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling within him. The air crackled with unspoken words, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before he could find the courage to say what was really on his mind.

“Hey James,” you said, your voice bright and inviting. “I just finished my class. What are you two up to?”

James found himself momentarily lost in your gentle gaze, his thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. He opened his mouth to respond, but Laura beat him to it, her teasing nature coming alive. “We were just talking about you! James was wondering where you were.”

He shot Laura a look of disbelief, his mind racing as he tried to recover from the unexpected confession. But your smile only widened, and he felt a thrill of warmth spread through him. Maybe this interaction wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Really?” you replied, tilting your head slightly as you met his eyes. There was a playful curiosity in your expression, and he suddenly felt vulnerable under your gaze.

“Uh, yeah…” he stammered, fumbling for the right words as he tried to shake off the flustered feeling. “I was just… curious.”

Laura was practically beaming, clearly enjoying this. “Curious, huh?”

James felt his heart race, embarrassment creeping up on him. “It’s not like that,” he protested weakly. James felt his cheeks heat again as you chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through him. This was supposed to be a simple pickup, yet the dynamic felt charged, filled with possibilities that hung in the air between the three of you.

“Anyway, what are you two up to?” you asked again, your tone light, but he sensed the underlying curiosity as you glanced at Laura.

“It’s time to head home and James says he will cook some pizzas,” Laura replied. “You should join us! It’ll be fun!”

James’s heart raced at the thought of spending more time with you, but he hesitated, unsure of how to navigate this moment. Yet, as he looked at you, he felt an urge to say yes, to perhaps—embrace the connection that had begun to blossom between you.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he finally managed, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within him. Maybe this was a step toward something more, something he had longed for but had been too afraid to pursue. 

But then you smiled back—that damn smile he couldn’t resist.

As the conversation flowed, James felt a sense of ease he hadn’t anticipated. And just like that, he found himself sharing his address with you, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest.  “You can come over for dinner anytime you want,” he said, trying to sound casual but secretly hoping you’d take him up on the offer. 

You nodded happily, a bright smile lighting up your face, and it made something warm bloom in his chest. “I’d love that,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “See you later, then?”

With a final wave, you parted ways. As James drove home with Laura, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope—which was surprising considering the mindset he had started the day with. 

Once home, James quickly changed into more comfortable clothes, shedding his jacket and loosening his tie. He could hear Laura humming to herself in the living room as she played, her excitement palpable at the thought of having you over. It felt surreal to think of someone else in their space. 

Since they had found this home, it had always been just the two of them—James and Laura, along with the lingering shadows of his past that seemed to haunt every corner. Laura’s beaming smile was infectious as she darted around, setting up her toys in preparation for dinner. “I can’t wait to show Y/n my drawings!” she exclaimed. 

James couldn’t help but smile back, but there was a bittersweet edge to his joy. “I’m sure she’ll be pleased.”

With a resigned sigh, he set to work in the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients to make the pizzas. He rolled the dough, meticulously spreading the sauce, layering cheese, and sprinkling toppings. Each movement was methodical and precise,  and once the pizzas were in the oven, James leaned against the counter, staring into the heat.  

Just then, the doorbell rang, breaking him from his reverie.

He wiped his hands on a towel, glancing toward the living room to see Laura perk up, her excitement radiating as she bounced on her feet, leaving her dolls aside. “It’s Y/n!” she squealed, racing to the door before he could react. 

James hesitated for a brief moment, lingering behind Laura as she flung the door open with childlike excitement. His nerves tingled, tension building in his chest as he prepared for whatever was about to unfold. And then there you were, standing in the doorway, framed by the fading light of the evening, your smile so warm it seemed to chase away the gloom that clung to him.

You looked... radiant. James couldn’t help but wonder how you always managed to look so effortlessly beautiful, no matter the occasion. It wasn’t just tonight; he realised, in all the years you had been teaching Laura, not once had he thought of you as anything but pretty. Whether it was seeing you in the classroom or running into you at a school event, there was something about you that always caught his eye—your soft smile, the way you carried yourself, the kindness in your voice. It had always been there, even when he was too lost in his own grief to notice.

But now, standing in the doorway of his home, the feeling was different. The warmth of your smile didn’t just pull him in—it melted something inside him. 

"Hi," you greeted softly, that same spark of warmth in your voice, and it made something stir in his chest. He nodded, returning the greeting a little more awkwardly than he'd intended.

“Hey,” James finally managed, his voice rougher than he’d expected. Laura was already tugging you inside, eagerly talking about the pizza and her day at school, but James stayed still for a moment, just watching as you stepped into the space that had always been reserved for him and his daughter.

His mind raced, and for a fleeting second, he wondered what you saw when you looked at him. Did you see the tired, worn-down man he had become? Or did you sense the heaviness he carried? He felt a little off balance—vulnerable, in a way he hadn't expected. 

And yet, here you were, stepping into his home, into his world.

The smell of pizza filled the air, a warm and familiar scent that seemed to relax everyone as the three of you sat around the small dining table. James had set out plates while Laura eagerly chattered, her voice filling the room with energy. You had settled in effortlessly, your presence a surprising but welcome contrast to the usual quiet of their dinners.

"Pizza's looking good," you commented with a smile, watching as James carefully cut a slice. Laura nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing in her seat. 

"Yeah, James makes the best pizza!" Laura grinned, reaching for a slice as soon as James slid it onto her plate. "He used to let me put the toppings on, but I kinda put way too much cheese last time."

James chuckled softly, the sound rare but genuine. “You really buried the pizza under a mountain of it. Could barely taste anything else.”

You laughed along, glancing at him. “Sounds like Laura knows how to make pizza fun, though. Maybe next time I can help out, too.”

James paused for a second, caught off guard by the casual offer. “Yeah... maybe,” he said, the corners of his mouth pulling into a slight smile as he looked down at his plate.

Laura, ever the observer, noticed and jumped in, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “You should! We could have pizza parties!” She beamed, clearly excited at the prospect. “James, don’t you think that’d be awesome?”

James looked at her and then at you, feeling the warmth of Laura's excitement. “Yeah,” he finally said, nodding. “It could be nice.”

You smiled back, the ease of the conversation making the room feel lighter and James’ heart missing a beat. “Well, I’m always up for a pizza party. It’s kind of hard to say no to pizza.”

Laura took a big bite and looked at both of you with a mischievous grin. “See, James? I told you she’d be cool with it.”

The way Laura was looking at you two didn’t escape James, and he felt his face grow warm. The last thing he expected tonight was for you to become such a natural part of their evening, but there you were—laughing with his daughter, making things feel... normal.

As the meal continued, the conversation shifted between Laura’s day at school and little stories that you shared. At one point, Laura proudly announced that she’d scored well on a recent maths test, which made James beam with pride. “She’s doing really well in class,” you added, glancing at James. “She’s smart and determined. You’ve raised a great kid.”

James looked down at his plate, something tightening in his chest. He didn’t feel like he deserved credit for that, not after everything, but hearing it from you made him feel... lighter. “Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter. “It’s mostly her. She’s always been bright.”

Laura, oblivious to the weight of the moment, kept eating happily, but you caught the subtle shift in James’ tone. You didn’t push, though, just offered a kind smile and continued the conversation, giving him space to be in his thoughts. Eventually, Laura leaned back in her chair, full and content, her eyes flicking to the clock. 

"Can I go play for a bit before bed?" she asked, giving both you and James a hopeful look.

James nodded. "Just for a little while," he said, and she shot out of her chair, racing off to the living room. 

That left the two of you alone at the table. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something palpable about it. James glanced at you, unsure of what to say. 

“You really do make good pizza,” you said, breaking the quiet with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” James replied, feeling a bit more relaxed. “Used to make it a lot more... back then.”

You noticed the way his voice shifted but didn’t press him. “Well, I’m glad you made it tonight.”

There was a pause, and James looked at you again, something unspoken hanging between you. It was as if both of you felt the weight of the moment but weren’t quite ready to acknowledge it. 

He cleared his throat, standing up and collecting the plates. “You want any more?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“No, I’m good,” you said, your voice light but your gaze steady on him.

As James moved around the kitchen, washing the plates, he couldn’t help but glance back at you every now and then. You were sitting quietly, but the way you were here, in his home, sharing this meal—it felt strange, but in a good way.  A part of him, the part he kept buried deep down, almost didn’t want the night to end.

After another trivial discussion and the plates were washed and put away, the evening began to wind down. Laura, still buzzing with the joy of having you over, had reluctantly agreed to get ready for bed. She came out in her pyjamas, clutching a book close to her chest, her green eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Can Y/n read me my story tonight?” she asked, her voice hopeful as she looked between you and James.

James hesitated, unsure if you’d want to stick around any longer. He felt like he’d already taken up so much of your time. But before he could say anything, you smiled warmly at Laura.

“Of course, I’d love to,” you said, and James felt his heart tighten in his chest. 

You followed Laura to her room, and James trailed behind, lingering in the doorway. He watched as you sat on the edge of Laura’s bed, the book resting in your lap as Laura snuggled into her blankets, her eyes wide with anticipation.  The moment felt almost surreal—too normal, too peaceful. It was something James hadn’t experienced in what felt like a lifetime, this quiet domesticity. And it scared him. 

As you began reading, your voice gentle and soothing, James leaned against the doorframe, his eyes drifting from the book in your hands to your face. The soft glow from Laura’s bedside lamp cast a warm light over you, making you seem almost ethereal. He tried not to stare, tried not to let his mind wander, but it was impossible. There was something about the way you read, the way you interacted with Laura, that tugged at something deep within him.

You would be a good mother, he caught himself thinking, and the realisation hit him harder than he expected. 

James swallowed hard, his chest tightening as guilt crept in. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. Not about you. Not about anyone. He’d already crossed too many lines, already indulged in thoughts and feelings that he had no right to. 

He thought about Mary then. How he had never really wanted children, never really allowed himself to consider it. It had always been a silent, unspoken disagreement between them, never fully addressed but understood. They’d dodged the conversation for years—he told himself it was for the best. Mary was too sick, their lives too complicated. But deep down, he knew the truth: he had been afraid. Afraid that he wouldn’t be able to handle it, afraid that he would fail as a father the way he had felt like he was failing as a husband.

But now, looking at Laura, listening to the sound of your voice as you read to her, James couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted inside him. Laura had changed everything. He hadn’t been ready for her, hadn’t wanted her at first, but she had become his lifeline. And now, with you here, reading to her, it felt like some part of him was waking up that he had long buried.

And it scared him.

He clenched his fists, trying to ground himself, but the sound of your voice, the softness in your tone as you read, pulled him back into the moment. He wanted this. He hated how much he wanted it—wanted you, but the desire was there, clawing at him. This wasn't just about Laura. It was about you. The thought of sharing a future, of having something more than the emptiness he had known for years.

James tried to remind himself of everything that had happened. Of who he was. Of what he’d done. But the more he tried to push those thoughts away, the more he found himself indulging in the present. In the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could have something different now.

But even as he chastised himself, he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop the way his heart beat a little faster when you smiled or the way his breath caught when your eyes flicked up to meet his for the briefest of moments as you read aloud. He felt like a monster. Like he was betraying everything he’d once held dear. Yet here he was, standing in the doorway of his daughter’s room, watching you with a longing he couldn’t ignore.

The worst part was that it wasn’t just about the physical and sexual attraction anymore. It was more than that. He admired the way you cared for Laura, the way you brought light into a room without even trying. You made things feel... bearable. 

And that terrified him.

He barely noticed when the story ended until Laura’s voice broke through the fog in his mind. 

“That was great!” she said, beaming at you as she settled deeper into her blankets. “Thanks, Y/n.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, your voice soft, giving Laura a gentle smile before standing up from the bed.

James straightened up, trying to compose himself as you turned toward the door. Laura yawned, stretching out her arms before looking at both of you with sleepy eyes. 

“Goodnight, James. Goodnight, Y/n,” she murmured, her voice growing quieter as she drifted off.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” James replied, his voice hoarse. He stepped aside as you moved toward the door, giving you space.

As the two of you stepped out of Laura’s room, closing the door gently behind you, the silence between you felt heavy. James glanced at you, then quickly looked away, unsure of what to say or how to even begin to process what he was feeling.

“Thanks for reading to her,” he finally managed, his voice low.

“It was my pleasure,” you replied, smiling softly. 

James couldn’t meet your gaze for more than a second before the guilt washed over him again. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve any of it. But despite all the reasons he gave himself, despite the self-loathing that filled him, he couldn’t shake the warmth that your presence brought.

James stood at the door for a long moment, torn between the overwhelming urge to ask you to leave and the inexplicable desire to keep you close, just a little longer. It was late, far too late, and he knew that. He parted his lips, ready to say the words: It’s getting late, you should probably go. But instead, what came out surprised even him.

"Would you... like to stay for a coffee?"

The words hung in the air for a second too long, and James immediately regretted them. What was he doing? But you smiled warmly, nodding without hesitation. "Sure, I'd love that," you said, and he could only nod back in response, still a little shaken by his own decision.

"Make yourself comfortable in the living room," he muttered, gesturing toward the door. "I'll... brew some coffee."

You gave a small nod and quietly slipped past him, heading toward the living room. James watched you go for a moment, feeling a nervous tension building in his chest before he shook it off and turned toward the kitchen. As he filled the coffee pot with water and measured out the grounds, his mind raced with what-ifs and doubts.

By the time the coffee was ready, the smell of it filling the small apartment, he felt his heart thudding against his ribs. He placed the mugs on a tray, feeling the weight of the simple act—sharing a moment with someone that wasn’t stained by the past.

But when he stepped into the living room, he froze.

You were standing by the shelf, your gaze fixed on a photo. His heart sank as he followed your line of sight, his stomach churning. It was Mary's picture—the one he had placed there after everything had happened, as a permanent reminder of what he'd lost. Her face, smiling, frozen in time.

For a moment, everything else disappeared, and all James could feel was the crushing weight of guilt. 

You turned as he approached, your expression soft, understanding, as if you knew the heavy silence that had settled between you both. "She is beautiful," you said gently, offering the words like a balm to soothe the raw wound the sight of that photo had just opened. 

James swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten. He placed the tray down on the small coffee table and ran a hand through his hair, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.  "Yeah," he whispered, the single word full of years of pain, regret, and memories he could never let go. 

His hands shook slightly as he sat down, unable to look at the photo any longer.

"She was."

You turned toward him, hesitating as your gaze flickered from the framed photograph of the woman on the shelf to James. There was a question in your eyes, but you didn’t know how to ask it, so your voice came out softer than usual, tentative. “Is she...?”

The words hung in the air, unfinished but full of meaning. James knew what you were asking. It was the question everyone skirted around but eventually needed to know. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His lips parted as if he needed to find the right words, but in the end, there were only the simple, inevitable ones.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost like it scraped its way out of him. “She’s dead. That was my wife, Mary.”

It still felt strange, even after all these years, to say it out loud. To hear the finality in the word “was.” It wasn’t like the first few months, where he couldn’t even form the sentence, where denial was stronger than acceptance. No, he’d long passed that. But every time he acknowledged it, it was as if he was chiselling away at some part of himself that he couldn’t get back.

You nodded slowly, taking in the weight of his words with an understanding that made him grateful. You didn’t rush in with platitudes, didn’t try to soften the blow with awkward condolences. You just... listened. You let the moment breathe.

But something inside James stirred, like an itch that wouldn’t go away. There was more to the story, more that you didn’t know. Maybe it was because you were here, sitting in his living room, in a space that had only been his and Laura’s, a space haunted by the presence of a woman long gone. Maybe it was because he felt like if he didn’t say these things now, they would continue to fester inside him like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

“Laura,” he began, his voice wavering for a moment. He glanced at you to see if he should continue, but you were still watching him, your expression open and waiting. So, he pressed on.

“She shared a hospital room with Mary.” His eyes drifted away from you, lost in some far-off memory that repeated itself in his mind with painful clarity. “They became... friends, I guess.”

That word, “friends,” felt inadequate for what Mary and Laura had meant to each other. It felt too light, too shallow for the connection they’d shared in that sterile, cold hospital room. 

“Mary,” he continued, his voice tightening with emotion he thought he had buried, “she wanted to adopt her. Laura didn’t have anyone else. No family. Mary thought… when she got better… when she was cured... she wanted to take Laura in.” James let out a bitter laugh, though it was hollow, empty. “But she never got better.”

He finally looked back at you, wondering if you understood what it had all meant. How his entire world had fallen apart in that room, how Mary’s death had left him with not only the guilt of her loss but also the responsibility of a little girl who had no idea how broken he was.

“The least I could do,” James murmured, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to maintain control, “was to honour that part. Take care of Laura, like Mary would’ve wanted. She deserved that much.”

He let out a long breath, feeling as if he’d just opened an old wound, the pain of it sharp and raw again. His fingers twitched as he ran a hand over his face, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled over him.

“It’s been hard,” he admitted, almost as if he were confessing to himself. “But I owed it to her. To both of them.”

The room felt thick with the weight of his words, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. You didn’t push him, didn’t ask for more than what he was willing to share. And that, somehow, made him feel more vulnerable, like you were offering him a quiet kind of acceptance that he didn’t deserve.

His mind wandered back to the thought he had earlier while watching you with Laura. He’d never really thought about children before, not with Mary. They had avoided that discussion, each for their own reasons. Perhaps Mary had known something deep down—that her illness would make it impossible—or maybe James just hadn’t been ready for that kind of responsibility. He hadn’t known how to be a husband, let alone a father.

But Laura… Laura had changed that. Changed him.

He blinked, realising how long he had been quiet, and looked at you again. You hadn’t moved, still watching him, a gentle understanding in your eyes. For a moment, James considered telling you more, but the words caught in his throat. It felt like too much, too soon. 

The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything James had just revealed. He could feel his heart thudding heavily in his chest, the vulnerability of it all still raw, and part of him wished he could take it all back, bury it again beneath the layers of guilt and grief he was so used to carrying. He didn’t deserve to unburden himself, not after everything he’d done.

But then you spoke, your voice soft, cutting through the stillness like a balm.

"James," you said, and the way you said his name made him pause. There was no pity in your tone, no judgement—just understanding. "You’re such a brave man. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. But I’m glad you told me. I understand so much more now… about you, about Laura… everything." You smiled gently, and the warmth of it reached him in a way that made something inside him crack.

James stared at you, the words washing over him like a wave he didn’t know how to brace for. Brave? Him? The notion felt foreign, almost absurd. Brave was the last thing he felt. He felt like a coward, someone who had failed time and time again—failed Mary, failed himself. And yet, here you were, looking at him with such softness, such kindness, like he was worth something more than the mess of a man he’d become.

His throat tightened, the breath catching in his lungs as he struggled to keep the flood of emotions at bay. But your words had reached somewhere deep inside him, a part he’d long thought was dead, or at least too buried beneath his guilt to ever feel anything again.

He opened his mouth to say something, to brush it off, maybe make light of it somehow, but nothing came out. Instead, a tremor ran through him, his hands suddenly unsteady as he clenched them into fists by his sides.

You didn’t push him. You just watched, that same gentle understanding in your eyes, and it was your silence—the fact that you weren’t asking anything of him—that undid him completely.

Before he could stop it, the first tear slid down his cheek, hot and unbidden. James quickly raised a hand to wipe it away, trying to regain control, but the more he fought it, the harder it became to hold back. He sucked in a shaky breath, and it felt like the dam he had built over the years was finally breaking, piece by piece.

"I—" His voice cracked, and he clenched his jaw, trying again. "I’m not… I’m not brave."

The words came out thick with emotion, almost inaudible, as he struggled to keep his composure. But it was no use. The walls he had built around himself, the ones that had protected him from feeling too much, were crumbling, and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to.

His shoulders shook, and before he could stop himself, he brought a hand to his face, covering his eyes as the sobs broke free, raw and uncontrollable. He hadn’t cried like this—not in years. He didn’t even know he still could.

James broke down, standing there in front of you, all the grief, the guilt, the shame he’d held onto for so long spilling out of him in waves. He cried for Mary, for the life they never got to have, for Laura, for you, for himself—for everything. Through the blur of his tears, he felt a presence beside him, and then your hand touched his face, gentle and reassuring. He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. Your touch felt like the only thing anchoring him in that moment, the only thing keeping him from drowning completely.

"You are brave, James," you whispered, your voice soft but firm. "You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here. You’re doing your best, and that’s more than enough."

He shook his head—leaning into your touch, not trusting himself to speak, but your words resonated inside him, even as he fought them. You didn’t know everything, didn’t know what he had done. But there was something in the way you looked at him, like you believed in him—like he wasn’t beyond saving.

And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were right.

You stayed there beside him as he cried, not saying anything more, just offering your quiet presence, and it was enough. More than enough. Because in that moment, James didn’t feel alone. Not anymore.

Your hand, gentle and steady, reached up to James’ face, your fingertips brushing against his rough, unshaven cheek. The touch was soft, almost hesitant at first, but then you let your thumb sweep over his skin, chasing away the tears that had fallen. His breath hitched at the contact, and he closed his eyes as if it took everything in him just to accept the comfort you were offering.

He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to being cared for like this. For a moment, he closed his eyes, just trying to breathe, trying to let himself accept it. He let you guide him to the couch, moving almost mechanically, like he didn’t trust his own body to follow through on its own. His legs felt heavy, his heart even heavier, as he sank down beside you. He should have pulled away, should have put some distance between you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. It was like he was tethered to you, and that scared him. The kindness in your touch, in your voice—it was too much. 

But at the same time, it was exactly what he craved, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

The room felt too quiet, too intimate, with the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The kind of quiet that made it hard to escape his own thoughts. He tried to look anywhere but at you, but it was impossible. His gaze kept drifting back, kept landing on the softness in your expression, the concern etched in your eyes. 

His heart pounded harder in his chest when your hand moved from his cheek down to his chest, resting over his heart. The warmth of your palm was grounding, pulling him out of the haze of guilt and self-loathing for just a second. He could feel his pulse thudding beneath your touch, unsteady and anxious, as if his body didn’t know how to handle this closeness. He wasn’t sure how to handle it either.

He swallowed hard, trying to speak, to say something, anything, that would make sense of this. "You don’t have to…" he started, his voice hoarse and unsteady, but you just shook your head gently, stopping him before he could finish.

"I want to," you whispered, and your thumb brushed over his cheek one last time.

James clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping to your hand on his chest.. He shouldn’t be here with you like this. He shouldn’t let himself feel anything for you. But he did. He had for a long time, longer than he wanted to admit. And now, with you so close, it felt like those feelings were crashing down on him all at once.

And then, his heart races as you suddenly—yet, gently straddle him, the warmth of your body pressing against his. He can feel the heat radiating from your core, your thighs clenching around his hips. It takes all his self-control not to buck up into your touch, desperate for more.

His trembling hands rest on your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He hadn’t done that for so long, he doesn’t even remember how and where to place his hands. James wanted to explore your body, to map out every curve and crevice, but he’s frozen in place, unable to do anything but stare into your eyes. You lean in closer, your breath ghosting over his lips. He can smell the faint scent of your lipstick, a sweet and intoxicating aroma that makes his head spin. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place as if you might disappear if he lets go.

"What do you want from me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes dart down to your lips, watching as you wet them with the tip of your tongue. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

You press your forehead against his, your noses brushing, and he can feel the heat of your breath mingling with his own. "I want you," you murmur, and he feels the words reverberate straight through him, igniting a fire in his veins.

His hands slide up your sides, skimming over the thin fabric of your shirt. He can feel the heat of your skin through the material, and it makes him ache to touch you, to feel you naked and bare beneath him. He starts to pull your shirt up, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach, and you shiver in his arms. Your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch into his touch.

He pauses, his fingers just beneath the swell of your breasts. He wants to go further, to explore the treasures hidden beneath your clothes, but he's suddenly uncertain. What if this is a mistake? What if he's just taking advantage of you? He looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But all he sees is desire, raw and unchecked. It’s a heady feeling, knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you.

Emboldened by your gaze, he continues to lift your shirt, revealing inch by tantalising inch of smooth, pale skin. He can't help but run his hands over your body, tracing the lines of your ribs, the soft swell of your breasts. You moan softly, pressing yourself into his touch, and he feels a surge of power and desire.

He wants to worship your body, to show you the depths of his desire. He wants to make you feel as crazy and desperate as he feels right now. But he's also terrified of ruining this moment, of pushing too far and losing you forever. "Tell me what you want," he whispers, his voice husky with need. "I'll give you anything."

You smile, a sultry, seductive look that sends a jolt of excitement straight to his core. "I want you," you repeat, your voice barely above a purr. "All of you."

He could feel the warmth of your core through the thin fabric of his jeans, and it sent a shiver down his spine. His hands instinctively gripped at your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh, anchoring you there as he tried to make sense of the sensations coursing through him.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice low and strained. "So fucking perfect."

He couldn't help but grind up against you, seeking more of that delicious friction. His cock was hardening rapidly, straining against the confines of his pants, aching to bury itself deep inside you. James knew this was wrong, that he should push you away and set things right. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when you were offering him such a tempting escape from his own demons.

Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of muscle and sinew, before slipping under the hem of his shirt. The touch of your fingers on his bare skin ignited a fire within him, and he groaned at the sensation. James bucked his hips up against you, desperate for more contact. He needed you, needed this, needed to feel something other than the emptiness that had consumed him for so long. 

He starts to grind against you, his hips moving in small, circular motions. The sensation of your clothed bodies rubbing together is exquisite, and he groans low in his throat as the friction builds. He can feel your heat through the thin fabric of his jeans and your skirt, and it's driving him wild.

Your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch into his touch. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, and he can feel the heat of your breath on his face as you press your forehead against his. Your noses brush, but you never quite close the distance, never quite allow your lips to meet. It's maddening, this near-contact, and it makes him want you even more.

He continues to grind against you, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. The ache in his groin is becoming unbearable, but he pushes on, determined to make you feel good, to show you just how much he wants you. He can feel his erection straining against his jeans, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he can't hold back any longer. You moan softly, your head falling back as you lose yourself in the sensations. James takes advantage of the moment, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses along your neck. He nips and sucks at your skin, leaving a trail of marks that he knows will be visible in the morning. A thrill runs through him at the thought of you wearing his touch, of you bearing the evidence of his desire for everyone to see.

He feels your hands moving down his back, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. You explore the planes of his broad back, your touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He arches into your touch, a low growl escaping from his throat as your fingertips skim over the sensitive skin of his lower back.

James's heart pounds wildly in his chest as he feels your body pressing against his, your thighs straddling his hips. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he begins to grind against you. The sensation of your clothed bodies rubbing together is exquisite, and he can't help but let out a low, desperate moan.

You lean in closer, your breath ghosting over his lips as your forehead pressed against his. Your noses brush, but you never quite close the distance, never allowing your lips to meet. The forbidden nature of this near-contact only serves to heighten James's desire, making him ache for more.

"Please," he whispers, his voice cracking with need. "I can't... I need you."

You smile, a sultry, seductive look that sends a jolt of electricity straight through him. "Shh," you murmur, running your fingers through his hair. "I've got you. Just let go, and let me take care of you."

James nods, his face flushed with desire as he continues to grind against you. The friction is maddening, and he can feel his control slipping away with each passing second. He's desperate to feel your heat, your wetness, but he knows better than to push too far.

Your hands move to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you arch into his touch. The pain is exquisite, and he moans louder, his hips moving faster, more urgently, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he can't hold back any longer. You whisper words of reassurance in his ear, your voice low and husky. "That's it, James. Give in to it. Let me feel how much you want me."

James's moans become whimpers as he loses himself in the sensations. He's never felt so desperate, so needy, so utterly consumed by desire. He wants you more than he's ever wanted anything. He leans in, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he breathes greedily in your scent. It's intoxicating, and he can feel his body responding to it, his arousal growing with each passing second. He continues to grind against you, his movements becoming more erratic, more uncontrolled. "I need you so bad," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't... I can't take it anymore. Please, let me feel you."

You respond by pressing even closer, your body flush against his as you continue to whisper words of encouragement. "You're doing so well. Just a little longer, and then I'll give you everything you want."

James nods, his face contorted with pleasure and pain as he continues to grind against you. He's never felt so alive, so connected, and he knows that this moment will stay with him forever. No matter what happens, no matter where life takes him, he'll always remember the feel of your body against his, the sound of your whispering voice, and the overwhelming desire that consumes him in this moment.

James's body trembles with desire as he continues to grind against you, his movements becoming more and more erratic. The friction between your clothed bodies is unbearable, and he can feel the pressure building inside him, threatening to burst at any moment. Your reassuring whispers in his ear and the way your body responds to his touch only fuel the fire burning within him. 

He's lost in the heat of the moment, consumed by the desire to claim you, to make you his.

With a final thrust of his hips, James reaches his climax, his body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over him. He cries out your name, his voice raw with emotion, as he spills his seed, soaking the front of his jeans. The sensation of his release triggers something within you, and you follow suit, your body convulsing with your own orgasm. You press your forehead against his, your noses still brushing, but never quite touching, as you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

James collapsed back onto the couch, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. For a brief, stolen moment, everything felt right. He could feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, the lingering softness of your touch. But the quiet after was suffocating, and the reality of what he had done began to sink in like poison.

His mind started to race. What the hell have I done? The thought tore through him, a sickening knot forming in his stomach. The guilt hit him hard and fast, twisting deep inside. He’d crossed a line—no, obliterated it. This wasn’t what he was supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to take, to use someone like this, least of all you. He was a broken man, ruined, and he didn’t deserve you, not your kindness, not your warmth. Nothing.

Without warning, he sat up, his body tense as if ready to flee, and he pushed you off his lap with a roughness that startled both of you. The suddenness of it left you blinking in confusion, your eyes wide with hurt. You stood slowly, stepping back, unsure, your gaze searching his face for some explanation.

“You should go home,” James muttered, his voice cold, hollow. The words barely escaped his mouth, strangled by the knot in his throat. He couldn’t meet your eyes. “This was a mistake. I don’t want to see you again.”

The air between you became icy, your confusion shifting to hurt, and then something else—pain. He could feel it, could sense the betrayal rolling off you in waves, but he couldn’t bring himself to look, couldn’t bear the sight of what he had caused. “James…” Your voice was soft, pleading, as if you were trying to understand, to reach him through the walls he was so frantically putting up.

“No,” he snapped, the crack in his voice betraying him. His hands trembled, his whole body rigid with the effort to keep himself from breaking down entirely. “Please.” His voice wavered, the raw emotion in it spilling out despite himself. “Just go. Leave me alone.”

Silence filled the room like a weight. You stared at him for a moment, your chest tight, the sting of tears building in your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you didn’t understand, but the pain radiating from him, the sheer self-hatred in his voice, made it clear—he didn’t want you to stay. He was pushing you away, not because he didn’t care, but because he thought he didn’t deserve to.

With a slow, heavy sigh, you gathered your things, your movements deliberate, as if giving him one last chance to change his mind. You paused at the door, casting one final glance over your shoulder, hoping for something—an apology, a word, a look. But all you saw was his back, his broad shoulders hunched as if weighed down by the world. He didn’t turn around.

You bit your lip, fighting the tears as you stepped out, closing the door softly behind you. The echo of your footsteps down the hallway was the only sound that broke the stillness in the room. James remained where he was, standing frozen in place, his body shaking, not from desire but from the overwhelming torrent of emotions he could no longer suppress.

The moment the door clicked shut, James’s knees buckled, and he collapsed back onto the couch, his face buried in his hands. The tears came then, harsh and relentless, tearing through him like a storm he couldn’t escape. He hated himself—hated that he had let this happen, hated that he had hurt you. But most of all, he hated that he wanted you to stay. That he needed you to.

You’re doing the right thing, he told himself, even as his heart twisted painfully in his chest. You don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve anyone. But even as he tried to convince himself of that, the emptiness swallowed him whole. He had pushed you away, and now he was left alone, drowning in the guilt and regret that would never let him go.

James sank deeper into the couch, his fingers digging into the soft materials as if trying to hold onto something—anything—that would ground him. But there was nothing. No Mary. No you. Nothing but the silence and the ghosts of his past. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he had saved you by pushing you away—or if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

[alicethenobody]

Thinking about how fucking ridiculously kind Dante is.

Trish lured him to Mallet Island through manipulation which lead to him “killing” (we know Vergil survived but he didn’t) his brother but he still forgave her and offered her his kindness, empathy, and even trust and friendship. His kindness impacted Trish so much she was able to become her own person outside of Mundus’ influence. Speaking of helping people change for the better, in DMC X he fights Credo and even though this guy is out for his blood he only wants to help him change his ways and manages to convince him to do the right thing. Which I think is what lead to him protecting Nero in his last moments. The canonicity of DMC X isn’t stated but considering the fact that we know Dante was originally supposed to have a longer campaign I can’t help but think a lot of the stuff in that game is remnants of those scrapped ideas.

He very openly felt bad for Griffon when Mundus killed him despite the fact that he’s loyal to the guy who killed his family and even gave him a respectful sendoff in DMC5. Generally he’s known for roasting his opponents but he still has a level of respect for them which I think is cool. In the first novel he even laments about the people who had to die on his missions, as he despises unnecessary bloodshed even if it involves bad people and popularized showing mercy among the other mercs in the business.

In the anime he often takes on jobs for free out of the kindness of his heart and is happy just being able to help people who need it even if he’s broke. Most of the money he DOES get goes to victims of demon attacks like Grue’s daughters and Enzo who lost his arm because he feels immense guilt for not being able to do what he feels like is enough for them.

He’s shown to be very protective of the younger generation through Patty and does everything he can to shield her from seeing him fight demons because he doesn’t want her to be traumatized like he was at a young age. He does the same thing with Nero, really, trying to keep him from fighting Vergil because he believes the result will either be his nephew getting hurt or him killing his own dad and having to live with that trauma like he did after he thought he killed Vergil. The way he looks at Nero and Kyrie fondly at the end of DMC4 before leaving Fortuna, he was willing to do whatever it took in order for Nero to keep that happy life with her. (Side note, Dante grew attached to Patty like, immediately. 15 minutes in he’s like “WHERES MY DAUGHTER?!” He’s so silly like that.)

It’s nice to see Nero is following in Dante’s footsteps too. In an interview it was stated Nero only really stepped into action in DMC4 because he wanted to protect Kyrie but in DMC5 we see a much more mature Nero who cares about civilians too, my favorite example being how he offered a total stranger food because he assumed he was just hungry. Dante in DMC3 was in a somewhat similar situation, though he was obviously a lot more selfish starting off than Nero ever was until he matured by the end of the game and took on the role of humanity’s protector like Sparda. It was his journey of “waking up to justice” like his dad.

Uhh… yap over. I typed this at 3 AM.

[anxious-witch]

I apologize for irritable tone of this post, but a portion of this fandom is starting to irritate me, so let's analyze catwin through the lens of how age works for ghosts and how situational irony is used in a scene where Edwin and Niko talk about kissing.

Let's start with age. Right at the beginning, when Emma asks Charles and Edwin to take her case, she tries to play it off as her being just a little girl. This is what Edwin replies:

And before anyone jumps the gun and says: "He said SUPERNATURALLY speaking! He is still physically 16!"

Okay. Let's unpack that. Considering how for people who are immortal, which ghosts essentially are, and as such unchanging, that isn't quite a proper argument, is it? Because the way I see it, there are two ways someone could argue this. Either your gripe is about the Cat King finding Edwin attractive despite him physically being a 16 year old or your gripe is that Edwin is mentally 16 and as such, cannot consent.

If it's the first, I think that argument is quite lacking here, because we know the Cat King is aware Edwin is older than 16. And as someone who is an adult and often gets mistaken for a minor, I think the idea that you can just always tell someone's age by looking at them quite funny. Also, by that logic, I shouldn't be able to consent either, because people generally gauge my age to be between 16-18, when I am in my mid 20s.

If it's the second, your point doesn't work because being frozen at 16 would mean being unable to learn and develop firther than what you did by that age. Which we know is false for ghosts, especially Edwin. He changes and develops constantly throughout the s1, and we have a front row seat to that! Human brains aren't clear cut, and before you jump under the post to say your brain isn't fully develop until age 25, I will kindly tell you that human brains, in fact, never stop changing and developing. And that experiences, traumas, etc hugely impact developments of individuals.

One argument I can sort of is perhaps Edwin and Charles having somewhat stunted emotional growth, but as we also see throughout the season, that has more to do with them stagnanting rather than them being unable to emotionally develop. And frankly, I know bunch of adults with the same issues, so.

Now for the "But Edwin said he doesn't want to kiss the Cat King!" argument. How about we look at what Edwin says before that, huh?

He says he has never been kissed and didnt understand the appeal, until recently. And you cannot tell me it wasn't the Cat King who made him realize it. Yes, he wanted to kiss Charles and I am not saying he didn't like Monty too, but if it wasn't for the Cat King getting physically close to him and playing into his desires, he wouldn't have realized that he too, feel physical attraction!

As for him saying "Absolutely not!" When Niko asks him if he wants to kiss the Cat King, I think that's laughable argument to saying "Well, see, he didn't want him!" Because first of all, characters can lie. Edwin most certain, lies about things he wants, both to himself and others, up until pressed.

Besides, if I am not mistaken, given English isn't my first language and I learned this stuff in a different language, this is also called situational irony, aka, someone say something won't/can't happen and then it happens. This is very often seen in romance plots too. A characters says they hate someone and then they end up dating them.

Think of Lizzy Benett and Darcy

And then she goes ahead and married him later, once her opinion of him changes. It's a classic romance trope!

Similarly, Edwin says he doesn't want to kiss the Cat King and what happens at the end? Oh yeah!

He kisses the Cat King. Shocker.

But yeah just like. Y'all are free to not like the ship for whatever reason, but for the love of god, stop making up stuff that's just blantantly untrue. There is an "anti catwin" tag for a reason, if you truly cannot stop yourself from commenting, but in all honestly, you could just enjoy your own ship without putting other ppl's ships down. Cat King is not perfect by any means, but this isn't a predator type of situation. I and many others have addressed the whole "coercion" bit quite a few times so I won't get into it again, but these two arguments I have seen pop up and I just had to address it. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[sansculottides]

playing disco elysium for the first time felt so familiar because it was made by communists. i kept getting the feeling of - i see you! i know you! every time i came across encyclopedia worldbuilding checks and recognized the tools of historical materialism brilliantly used. i wince when i see people describe DE as just being ironic about communism or whatever - no! this is the most communist game ive ever played!

sometimes i see people point to the deserter's character as evidence that DE isn't truly a communist work, but i don't think the deserter is meant to be a paragon of communism in the game. he's a revolutionary stuck in the past and that is his grave error. "The material base for an uprising has ended," "The historical condition for a revolutionary opportunity has passed. It will not come back anymore. However hard I try, whatever I do." but everything you've seen the game proves his statement wrong. DE's world still has the objective conditions for revolution because the working masses are sick of all the ruling order's shit, and there are plentiful opportunities to develop the subjective forces as we see in the communist quest that young people are willing to continue the communist struggle. but the deserter cant see that from his position and his trauma - ultimately this is what makes him fail as a communist because he has let go of the basic principles: that world is always changing; that change is made by people, through class struggle; that a communist must always be grounded and alert of their own material context.

the scene in the communist quest where you get through to steban and it tells you that "you're witnessing his ironic armor melt before you" - i think that was the devs taking their ironic mask off, too. i believe that because steban's reasons for his communism are the same as mine. we have to struggle even if it's hard and even if they kill us because this is what keeps us human. to struggle for freedom is the next best thing to actually being free. to fight for communism is to fight for the future. it is not about being imprisoned by failures of the past. in fact it IS about failure - because the movement is the working class's school in the struggle for power and we need to learn from each failure and move forward.

i just know that if my comrades and i were somehow in a room with the devs and we had to sing the internationale, we would all know the words. in different languages, but we'll sing the same melody and when we get to the part, the word "international" will be sung in unison. do you get me? i think disco elysium is to some young game-savvy communists of the world today as "what is to be done" was to lenin's generation. something something international communist solidarity...

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the brie

buttercup, chapter two

a/n: i was originally gonna go into more detail and dive into and actually write the traumatic moments, but i decided to go a little bit more easy on myself, just focus mostly on the healing part and regaining the good.

summary: “well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, wingman foggy, reference to croissant theft, alcohol consumption, drunk munching on cheese, kissing, crying, retelling of trauma (if it gets too much for you, then please feel free to just skip the last part of this chapter)

word count: 4978

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Scooping one divided lump of dough closer with the bench scraper in your grasp, you put it down before first folding the bottom of the blob over itself, then the sides and then stretched the top down as well before you rolled it all up to create that much more tension in the loaf. As you plopped the soft mass into one of the nearby dusted bannetons, nippily pinching the seam and giving it a few stitches, the ingrained dance only kept on as your fingers moved on to shape the next loaf of sourdough. 

To your left, not at the central table where you worked, stood your uncle Howard, a piping bag of vanilla-flaked cream in his grasp as his rotund frame bent over rows and rows of delicate, flaky little pastries, filling the sunken centre up before he could top them off with little chunks of crimson berries. 

“Are you alright, cupcake?” you glanced up to see Walter leaning against the doorframe that led directly behind the counter, “you look like you’re about to nosedive into the dough and use it as a pillow.”

“I’m alright, just didn’t sleep much last night,” you blinked back down at your work, noting how your weary eyes stung slightly from the lack of rest, “I had a nightmare that was really, really not fun, and immediately when I woke up I started crying and shaking, like instant panic attack, so I couldn’t really fall asleep again after that,” you glanced back up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I just don’t get why it has to feel so real,” you let your hands halt their waltz as you shared, Howard too glancing over in your direction, “why my body needs to remember it so vividly when I fall asleep. It hasn’t forgotten it while I’m awake, so I don’t feel like I need the reminders… sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s–…” instead of uttering the painful truth, Walter instead let a heavy sigh flow and offered, “…do you want me to make you a cup of coffee? Maybe that could be nice, just a little bit?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “thanks,” before clapping the worst of the flour off your hands, briefly wiping them against the chocolate brown apron that partially covered your t-shirt and jeans, and wandered around the table, shadowing Walter as he fiddled with the espresso machine, making it hum and puff, till he handed you a steaming mug that had a little heart in the frothy foam floating on the top. 

“Here you go.”

Bringing it up to your lips, you offered him a genuine smile, “thank you, Walt.”

Staying behind the counter as Walter disappeared into the back, the chime of the small bell above the door brought your attention to the pair that then strolled in. Setting down your latte and expecting it to be just any other customer, your eyes instead went wide as you saw who it was.  

“Heya, neighbour!” 

“Y/n, hi,” Matthew smiled as both he and the floppy-haired man beside him came to a stop on the other side of the stocked display case, “uh, Y/n, this is my friend Foggy Nelson,” he gestured to the friendly looking fellow, “Foggy, this is my new neighbour Y/n.”

“The pastry goddess!” Foggy exclaimed excitedly, “I bow to the.”

“Goddess?” you giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you glanced over at Matt, secretly in hopes that he’d gotten that nickname from him, “oh, I don’t know about that. My uncle’s the one who oversees most of the pastries. He studied in Paris back in the 70’s, so in other words he’s a bit of a control freak. But, he is getting better! Slowly letting me take care of more things that I’m more than capable of doing… I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?” you sucked in a sharp breath as you noticed 

your rambling, “I’ll shut up. The point was just that he is the one who makes most of the pastries here, not me. He’s the goddess.”

“Well, I tasted one of your croissants the other day–”

“Actually,” Matt raised a hand and interrupted his friend, “you stole it.”

“I did not–”

“You came over and I turned away for two seconds and the next thing I knew you’d obliterated the entire bag.”

“That sounds more like your problem,” Foggy joked, managing to keep a straight face as Matt chuckled, “you’ve known me how many years now? You should know not to trust me with baked goods unless you mean for me to enjoy them,” turning his attention back to you, he leaned his folded arms against the tall section of the counter, “anyways, Y/n, that croissant was properly one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Really?” your face lit up with a bright grin. 

“Yes, it was so buttery and flaky and urgh!”

“Well, if you liked that, you might like today’s special…” your feet began to carry you further to the left to the very far side of the counter. 

“Oh, please do tell me,” he followed along like a magnet.

Pointing down to the pastry row on the other side of the glass, you explained, “it is this rhubarb danish that also has a little base of pastry cream at the bottom to balance out the tart compote.”

“Oh… my… god…” Foggy nearly salivated, his hypnotised gaze never straying from the treat, “you gotta be some angel sent from above.” 

Busting out a laugh, you grabbed a brown paper bag, “should I take that as confirmation?”

“Yes, please,” he nodded as you plucked one up with a set of tongs. 

“Will that be all?”

“I don’t know if it ever can be all, but slowly but surely I’ll get through your spread, and that is a promise,” Foggy accepted the bag into his waiting fingers, “but for now, yeah.”

“Matt, do you want anything?” you asked, feeling the flutter of butterflies wake up within your stomach as you returned your attention to him, “do you want me to describe the options for you?”

“No, I’ll just have the same as Foggy, as well as–, do you sell coffee?”

“Oh,” the scent wafting off your half-empty mug probably caught his attention, “yes, we do.”

“Then I’ll have a cup as well.”

“Oh, one for me too,” Foggy interjected. When you’d packed up another pastry and filled up two to-go cups, the shaggy-haired man pipped up as they were paying, “hey, what are you doing later tonight?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Properly just head home and rewatch some series for the billionth time,” you said, putting the cash they’d handed you away in the register, “why?”

“Well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

A laugh then rumbled within Matt’s chest, “we’re not gonna go dancing, Foggy.”

“You never know,” Foggy sang, “I’ve got moves like you wouldn’t believe!” he snuck a small sip of his steaming coffee before meeting your eye, “so, Y/n! Please tell me you’re coming?”

“…and then Karen was like what’s that? Turns out a giant piece of glass had stabbed my side,” Foggy clutched onto his drink as he told his dramatic tale, “I nearly died.”

Cutting her sip of beer short, the golden-haired woman sitting beside him at the round bar table objected, “you did not nearly die.”

“Oh yeah?” Foggy squinted light-heartedly back at Karen, “says the person who barely got a scratch. I single handily rescued both you and Mrs. C from that building and got a sick ass scar to prove it.”

Their voices faded away like grown-ups in a Saturday morning cartoon as you glanced back down at your drink and let the radiating heat of the man next to you seep into your bones. As your fingers brushed down the sides of the glass and played with the condensation, Matt suddenly reached out for his own, though in his search for the stout glass that stood ever so close to your own, his touch briefly grazed against your skin. But if that wasn’t enough to spike your heart rate, when his long fingers enveloped his short glass, the back of his hand pressed up against yours at the proximity.

You weren’t sure how long it persisted before he raised his dark drink up to his lips, but it didn’t seem like he was in a rush to let the contact fade. Your breath managed to grow ragged in the chunk of time you got to stare down at his hand, it looking so massive up against yours. Though the light in the dingy bar was low, you could still manage to make out the dizzying pattern of prominent veins that cascaded off the back of his hand like a calm rainfall rolling down a windowpane. 

For a moment there, assisted by the few drinks in your system, you let yourself dream, just for a little while, just until Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and stirred you from your fantasy. 

“… I mean, am I right? I’m right. Come on, Y/n, back me up here!”

“Huh? I’m sorry, uhm…” you blinked, in some ways feeling more drunk than you had a minute ago, “wha–what did you say?”

As Foggy then began to explain what you’d missed, Matt leaned down close to your ear and whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin and causing goosebumps to erupt. 

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed fuzzily. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you glanced down and noticed how rapidly your chest was rising and falling. 

“Do you wanna go home? I can walk with you if you want,” he offered quietly. 

“Uhm…” you blinked up at him before uttering, “sure, but I don’t wanna end your night before you want to.”

“No, you’re not,” he reassured you, “I’m ready to go home myself.”

“Alright then,” you nodded before Matt turned to the others. 

“Guys, we’re gonna head home.”

“No!” Foggy boomed, “really?”

Throwing her hands up, Karen added, “but we haven’t even gone dancing yet!”

“Sorry,” Matt got up from his tall stool, “another night.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you tugged your jacket back on, “I had a lot of fun.”

To your surprise, they both got up and hugged you in return.

“Thank you for coming!” Karen gave you a tight squeeze before Foggy took over. 

“And we’ll be seeing you for the next one, right?”

“Uh, sure,” you gave his back a light pat, “if I have time and stuff the day that it happens, then I’d love to tag along.”

Casting his glance upon the other lawyer, “bye, Matt,” Foggy then yanked him into an embrace, “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, clapping his friend’s spine, “I know, buddy.”

“You love me too, right?” Foggy pulled back, though still kept his hands fast on Matt’s broad shoulders, “don’t leave me hanging, it’s bad for a man’s health.”

“Foggy, I started a firm with you. Of course, I love you,” Matt smiled back at his sloshed pal, “good night.”

“Night, night,” Foggy patted his scruffy cheek before letting him out of his gasp, though adding as you turned to exit the bar, “night, Y/n! I love you too! I just met you today, but I love you!”

Soft giggles bubbled out of you as the door slammed shut behind you. 

“So, those are your friends...” you smiled into the night, “I like them. They’re nice.”

“Yeah,” the corners of Matt’s lips turned further up till dimples bloomed, “they’re good eggs.”

As the two of you began to move along, the silence didn’t last very long at all. 

“This is really nice of you, walking me home like this,” you uttered, “I know it’s just because we’re neighbours and headed in the same direction, but–”

“It’s not.”

“What?” your eyes found him.

“It’s not because we’re neighbours. It’s just, you know, the decent thing to do.”

“Right,” you exhaled, casting your glance back down onto the sidewalk as you momentarily got your hopes up. 

“And you know how this city can be,” Matt went on, “it’s not smart for anyone to walk alone at night.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “of course.”

When a street then appeared before you, slicing the path you journeyed on, and even though there wasn’t any traffic in sight, your hand still instinctively shot down to grasp Matt’s forearm before the two of you could cross.

Realising what you’d done, you quietly muttered, “sorry,” though couldn’t find the strength to withdraw your touch just yet. 

“It’s okay,” his low voice slid from his lips like silk. 

“I just didn’t want you to walk straight out into ongoing traffic...” you tore your gaze away from him and forced yourself to look at the road before you, “but there aren’t any right now, so we can cross the street…”

Guiding his palm up to the curve of your elbow, he accepted the gentle aid as you began to cross the lane. 

Once you’d reached the other side and his grasp slowly began to drift back down. When his palm reached the height of your own, you softly caught it before timidly testing, “…do you mind if we–…”

“Hold hands?” with a gentle smile, he filled in before you might wonder if he could even sense your shy touch at all.

“Yeah…”

“No,” you felt him weave his fingers with your own, “not at all.” 

His touch somehow felt even better than you’d imagined. Though surprisingly gruff, with harsh calluses all throughout, he cradled your palm with such care, like he’d held it a thousand times before, occasionally swiping his broad thumb over your knuckles, presumably just a subconscious gesture from his end that still caused shivers to trickle down your spine every time he did so. 

You wanted the latter part of your walk home to last forever, engulfed in the comfortable silence of endless possibilities. But alas, when you did reach your building’s front door and then climbed the steps all the way up to your respective apartments, you couldn’t get yourself to let go just yet. 

“Are you hungry? Because I kinda am,” you weren’t really, but anything to just stretch the night a little longer, “or maybe it’s just my subconscious taking care of me and lessening my hangover by giving me a sudden craving for cheese.”

“I don’t think I have any cheese.”

“I do,” you said maybe a bit too fast, “do you want some?”

Exhaling lowly, a soft smile twitched at his lips as he then uttered, “sure.”

As you unlocked your door, you finally let go of his hand, “make yourself at home!” you placed your keys down on the slender entry table before kicking your shoes off and peeling off your coat, hanging it up on the row of hooks, “oh, do you want me to, uh, describe the layout for you? Or just plant your down on the couch?”

“Just tell me the direction and I think I’ll be fine.”

Facing him, you haphazardly explained, “alright, the hallway goes on for a few steps and then it’s to your right–, no, wait, my right, that’s your left. It’s to your left.”

Whirling around, you delved deeper into your home till you reached the kitchen. Ripping open the fridge, you snatched up a block of half-eaten cheese before seizing a clean butter knife from the dishrack and a roll of seedy crackers from a cupboard. 

Matt was already comfortable on your sage couch as you laid the humble spread out on the coffee table and joined him. 

“I hope you like brie because that’s what I got. Unless you want a single slice of american cheese, then this is all the cheese I have to offer.”

“Brie it is then,” he relaxed into the cushions as you unwrapped the snack. 

“Here, let me make you a bite,” slicing off bits of soft cheese, you spread it both on a cracker for him and one for you. Gently picking up his hand to place his snack in his palm, you then popped your own in your mouth and nearly melted into the couch next to him, “yep… that’s the spot…” you grinned hazily out the tall windows at the night sky as you chewed, “there’s just something about eating cheese when the moon is out that’s just so right in a way I can’t describe…” 

Your murmuring conjured a light chuckle to rumble within Matt, one that swayed your gaze to train on him. Resting your head against the back of the couch, you watched as the moonlight reflected in his tinted glasses. 

When the silence stretched on, Matt eventually cocked his head, “…what?”

Not tearing your eyes off of him, you breathed, “nothing…”

“You’re quiet,” his dark brows furrowed gently, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you repeated, feeling almost like you were floating in a calm sea. 

“You tired? Do you want me to go so that you can go to bed?”

“No, please don’t, I–…” you reached out and grazed his arm, “could–… do you want to go?”

Letting his body relax once more, he breathed, “not particularly…”

Gazing up at him, your bottom lip snuck its way in between your teeth, “Matt…”

“Yeah?”

“You–… you’re–… I–…” your pulse pounded in your ears. 

“Mhm?”

“I really, really wanna kiss you right now…” you uttered thickly before you had the chance to chicken out. Like a wave crashing a shore, you didn’t even think as you let yourself dive in and press your lips to his. The kiss however didn’t last too long as you swiftly drew back as soon as your brain turned back on and you realised what you’d done, an apology hastily rushing out of your lungs, “Oh my god… I am so sorry.”

“Y/n,” hearing your name on his silky tongue did not help matters. 

“I didn’t mean to just–”

“Y/n,” he repeated, trying to cut through your fog. 

“We can just forget any of that ever happened, I totally get it if you don’t–”

As he brought his hands up to cradle the sides of your face, your nervous ramble fell short. When he ghosted his thumb across your cheekbone, you swore that you stopped breathing entirely. 

“…can I kiss you?” he slowly asked, leaving you utterly dazed. 

“W-what?”

Drawing in a breath, he repeated for you, “can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Blinking back at him, you hazily hummed, “mhm,” before he leaned in and brushed his lips against your own. The kiss was soft, just as your shoddy attempt had been, but it made your limbs feel like they morphed into jelly. When the pecks soon departed, you filled your lungs with a shaky breath as you gazed back at him in total awe, “holy shit…” only staying there a moment before you had to have another taste. 

Slowly growing more confident, the intoxicating kiss gradually grew more hungry. When his fingers then weaved into your hair, you realised that up till now he’d been holding himself back, gatekeeping a kiss that caused your frame to crawl into his lap, starving for more. Your little whimpers vibrated against his tongue as he danced it against yours, growing dizzy as you melted into the heart-stopping sensation. 

But suddenly a tormenting flash stabbed your being, and you abruptly tilted your lips away from his, breathlessly uttering, “wait, wait, there’s-, there’s-, uh…”

“What,” he breathed thickly, nose grazing yours before you retracted further, “are you okay?” 

“I’m…” carefully crawling off his lap, you kept going till you were a safe distance away on your own side of the couch, “Matt, there’s something I need to–, uhm, tell you…”

Staying silent, he patiently waited as you gathered up the courage needed to jump off the cliff and tell him.

Casting your gaze up to the tall and dark ceilings above, you felt your limbs begin to tremble, “okay, alright… I have no idea how to, uh, say this, so I’m just gonna do it,” and like a band-aid, you uttered, “I-, I was raped,” your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to risk glancing at his reaction, “a little over a year ago… and I haven’t–, uhm, done or tried anything with anyone since… so yeah, I just thought that was a good thing for you to know since even though I hope for there not to be any problems, I just don’t know, I don’t know what it will be like for me, if my body will suddenly freak out, but I just wanted to tell you so that in case something does happens, that you know not to automatically take it personally...” drawing in a shaky breath, you fluttered your gaze open and waited for his response, “Matt?”

“Yeah?” he answered carefully. 

“Please don’t say that I’m scaring you away right now…” you shifted your position, turning to face him once more.  

“You’re not, you’re not,” his head softly shook from side to side, “I just–… I really, really sorry.”

“Yeah…” you exhaled slowly, feeling tears sting the corners of your eyes, “me too…” staring at him a moment, you then bared your all and uttered, “I really like you, Matt,” a faint smile accompanied the declaration, “I think you might be the only guy in all of New York that I’m not scared of,” every other man you could think of had all had at least a second, a little flicker, of something that over the past year had terrified you, “and I don’t want you to think that I’m made of glass, that’s not what I want, that’s not why I’m telling you this. Please trust me when I say that I want to, I wanna do–…” a weighty exhale flowed from your lungs as your lips remembered his taste, “I wanna do everything with you… if–, if that’s something you’d like as well… but if we do, even though I really, really want to, I think it’s probably smartest to go slow, no pressure, you know, just in case, so that my body doesn’t freak out. Also, I’d really appreciate it if I at any point indicate for you to stop or even just pause a moment, that you’ll do that, that you’ll listen to me,” you briefly glanced down at your fiddling fingers, “and you know, I’m not saying let’s only do PG things, there are so, so many wonderful steps on the way that we can have fun with… I just–, I wanted to let you know now, before, so that we wouldn’t potentially have this conversation when something did happen.”

Only parting his lips when he was sure you were done, he uttered, “thank you for telling me. Are you–… are you okay? Was what happened before too much?”

“No…” you shook your head gently, “no, it wasn’t,” taking his hand in yours, you shared, “and I’m okay, I think… I mean, some days it still feels like it just happened, and others I notice something, something small, that I’ve gotten back, that I’ve regained…” absentmindedly tracing the lines of his palm with your thumb, you asked, “do you–… do you have any questions? Is there anything you wanna know?”

“No, I–… I just want you to tell me however much or little you feel comfortable with sharing.”

“…can I tell you? About it?” you asked slowly and he swiftly offered you a soft nod. Drawing in a deep breath, you began, “It, um, it was a Saturday night… I’d just gotten back from the bakery super late, maybe close to midnight… and when I was getting ready for bed, my roommate came home, he’d been out drinking as he usually spent his weekends. I remember we stayed up a while, just talking about the mundane stuff we always did. It was like any other Saturday, really. That was until I got too tired and went to go to bed, but he didn’t wanna stop talking, so he followed along into my room while I got ready and stuff,” averting your gaze, your bottom lip began to tremble, “we were just talking, it wasn’t anything special and then the next thing I knew, he was kissing me. It just–… it happened so fast… his hands were all over me… I remember he pushed me up against my closet so hard that my back was bruised the next day, and I don’t bruise that easily. He was just so wasted that I don’t think he realised or maybe even cared what he was doing. I tried to say something, tried to make him stop, but he didn’t listen to me. If he heard me, then I don’t think he understood what it was that I was saying… I would have pushed him away, slapped and hit him, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move my body, not even a little, I just froze…” 

“I can still feel what he felt like… like my skin won’t let go of the memory…” tears rolled down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to ignore how your palm tingled with recollection, “how he forced me to touch him and held his hand over mine, making it move as if he just thought I didn’t know what to do… he was my friend, you know? He wasn’t just some stranger who dragged me into an alley and held a knife to my throat. He was my friend. He would always make offhand jokes about seeing me as just a little sister and how he wasn’t attracted to you at all. Made such a big deal of it that I never thought he’d try anything… I have no idea how long it actually went on… I don’t even remember when it was that I landed on the bed, if it was before or after he–… after he–… did stuff, t-touched me… I just remember I was laying there when it happened. The masked man, the devil of hell’s kitchen, he ripped him off of me…”

“He’d somehow heard… I think maybe if I hadn’t opened the window that night to air out the room, he wouldn’t have saved me… he beat him up... knocked him out… he told me to call the police, but I couldn’t, so I instead asked my uncle to come get me… my body’s never shaked the way it did that night… I remember I was so confused because I wasn’t cold, didn’t get it till the masked man said I was in shock… it didn’t stop till the next night… when he was about to leave, I asked what if Mi–,” you couldn’t get yourself to utter Michael’s name out loud without feeling as if your whole world would crumble around you, “what if he woke up before Howard arrived, and so he just stayed there with me, right till he somehow heard my uncle walking up the stairs and then he slipped out the way he came in, right before I heard the front door unlock.” 

Letting out a long and unsteady breath, you raised a trembling palm up to wipe your cheeks. 

For a while, the silence got to encompass the space completely, your left hand still shaking in Matt’s as you eventually heard him ask. 

“Did you ever go to the police?”

“No. In the small window that I had to do one of those kits, I was just way too overwhelmed and confused and I just couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t do anything but relive that moment over and over again, so I didn’t do anything in time. But the longer time that passes and the more it sinks in what he did and the ways that I’m still paying for it, the things he ruined inside of me that I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back, the more I wish that I had gone to the police. But it’s too late now.”

“No, it’s not,” his fingers squeezed slightly around yours, “I could help you, I’m a lawyer after all.”

“No, Matt,” you said firmly, “it is. I don’t wanna sit there and hear them go oh, it’s your word against his, sorry, and have them think that not enough happened technically for them to take it seriously. Enough happened, trust me. I’m eternally grateful that Daredevil saved me from whatever else he could have done to me that night, but enough happened. Just because he didn’t stick it in me doesn’t mean nothing happened. That is the kind of belief that only belongs to people who think that the only sexual act that counts as sex is when a penis is in a vagina, and that is just so incredibly wrong,” an enraged laugh tumbled out of you as you fumed, “they are the kind of people who think that someone queer, disabled or just someone who isn’t into that sexual act isn’t actually having sex when they are. Sex is about connection, it’s about pleasure and there are endless amounts of things that can give a person pleasure,” clenching your jaw, you let out a heavy sigh, “I wish it could be different, I wish many things, I wish it hadn’t had happened at all, but it did, and I hope that at the very least he learned something from it, that he changed, that he wouldn’t do it again to someone else.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mediumgayitalian]

“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you���re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

[thisdreamplace]

for those who struggle

i recently got sent an anon message about frustrations surrounding the law, and how non-dualism hasn't made it any easier for them, but actually just more frustrating to the point where they're officially walking away from everything and wanting to just go back to live as they knew it before any of this.

the truth is that, oversimplification runs rampant in this community. as well as, hiding behind the realities of how difficult it all can be, because people are afraid of affirming that it's difficult or identifying with difficulty... but when we hide from this experience and try to come off as if it doesn't affect us, while simultaneously trying to give out advice, there tends to be more damage than good happening. the oversimplifying isn't the fault of anyone, as the truth is most of this is simple. but in actually living it, it tends to not be simple at all. the ego will fight till the very end to keep things the way they are, even when they hurt us. and that is worth being honest about.

when it comes to non-identification and indifference, this is not meant to be used to as yet another way to pretend something isn't happening or push down your feelings or gaslight yourself. i see these posts like, "just ignore the 3d and don't identify with it and you would have already have what you wanted" ..... this doesn't actually really help anyone, unless you're a person who strives on that kind of mentality. but i think a lot of people need a little more gentleness and realness, otherwise this journey wouldn't have been so difficult and painful. we'd all just get it overnight, but clearly, this community stays extremely active for a reason. because the million ways its already been explained still leaves so many confused and frustrated.

indifference is a daily practice, and it is NOT one that includes pretending something doesn't exist in exchange for getting what you want. it is actually, the extreme opposite. it's by acknowledging what's there... and allowing that to be what it is. the non-identification comes in from how you choose to see YOURSELF in relation to whatever that thing is. "this is painful, this sucks, i hate it... but that doesn't mean tomorrow won't be better for me. it doesn't mean my life is doomed..." etc etc etc. it's this very small flip within yourself, that actually leads to results. not trying to force yourself into believing you aren't even who you are when you've identified as yourself this entire life. remember that god's name is I AM, and literally nothing else.

and doing something to get something else is just... not it. it's time for you to truly want to feel better, regardless of anything else. that's why so much of this starts to get trickier than it needs to be.

non-identification is literally as simple as realizing... you are bound to no past, and you have the opportunity of every future you can possibly imagine. why ? because non-identification is literally just non-attachment. when you're not attached to this idea of who you were, of the struggles you used to face, you're able to allow in different experiences. and y'all... this as simple as being able to say to yourself, "i am allowed to experience something new" and don't let your fear of the unknown stop you from experiencing something new.

here's where it doesn't feel so simple though. how can you just stop identifying with this whole human self when the traumas of the past keep coming back to haunt you ? thats the thing. you don't just stop identifying with it. you let this be a process, a non-linear path to liberation. slowly, but surely, if you keep at it everyday, even when you feel you're only going backwards... one day you will realize how much more free you are. how much more easier it is to move into a new beautiful story for yourself, one that isn't contiminated by your past. but let today be today ! and whatever may come, let it come.

this is why just focusing on yourself is so helpful because if you're simply doing the best you can for yourself and your feeling state, the daily dramas are no longer your ruler.

the gag is that, the more you just do these small daily practices of sitting with yourself, choosing to not engage in the stories you used to identify with in the past, and allow new experiences to come to you... the more easy it gets, the more the truth of yourself begins to show itself on its own. you have to realize that the days are going to keep passing by anyway... so stop counting them, and just commit to yourself.

i also want to quickly note that so many seem to leave out the fact that behind all of this, within the pure nothingness that is also everything. behind our human identifications and all the things we have experienced in our lives, there is unconditional love. and when we actually begin to stop identifying so deeply with who we thought we are, we are lead right back to unconditional love. love in its purest form. so, use love as your guide when things get too difficult. it's the truest thing to who you really are.

you have to let allow yourself to experience the beautiful, despite how strange it may feel. because it's going to feel strange if you've never really experienced it before, and the ego is going to fight because even when it's good, the unknown is still strange and scary. and you never have to be perfect at this to get to experience the things you want, believe it or not. i know that i still have a long way to go on this journey, there may be much more time before i ever get to fully experience the promise in full, but that hasn't stopped me from experiencing the desires of my heart on a daily basis. that's because i used these simple things, these small little flips in how i chose to see life. even if the anxiety never went away, or it was a more difficult day full of tears... this is way more possible for you than you realize. if only you're willing to allow your life to be different than it's always been. just that small allowance, opens up all the doors.

xo dream 🕊

[dollbnuuy]

agere headcanon ask game !

seen a few of these go around and i thought i'd try my hands at making my own! just send me a character and a number :) feel free to rb and do this yourself!

how did they find out about age regression? did they stumble upon it online? did a friend tell them about it?

do they have a specific age or range they regress to, or do they just go off vibes?

why do they regress? is it trauma or stress related? do they regress to go back to simpler times, or to create new memories? what causes them to regress?

is their regression more voluntary or involuntary? do they ever regress without realizing it?

do they ever find themselves only regressing partially, or do they fully drop when they regress?

are they a stuffie or a blankie kid? both? neither?

do they have a caregiver? are they a caregiver/flip?

in what ways are they different when they're regressed? do aspects of their personality or interests change at all? are they similar to how they were when they were an actual kid, or completely different?

do they identify with any specific labels (regressor, flip, pet regressor, etc.)?

do they have any regression gear (teethers, pacifiers, diapers, specific toys or outfits, etc.)? do they try to hide it from friends/family?

do they fall into any 'regressor stereotypes' (baby talk, loving disney movies, liking pastels, etc.), or do they diverge from the 'norm' (liking horror media, regressing to an older age, etc.)?

do they have any specific nicknames for when they regress? how about nicknames they've given to their caregiver(s) or friends?

what do they like to do when they're regressed? do they like to play pretend, watch tv/movies, color, etc.?

what kind of snacks/drinks do they gravitate towards when regressed? do they use a sippy cup or bottle? how about those little divider plates/trays?

what do they wear when they're regressed? do they have specific clothes, or do they just wear whatever is most comfortable? do they have a comfort article of clothing?

where do they tend to regress? do they mostly regress at home, at the park, at a specific friend's house? do they have a specific place they like to go once they're regressed?

do they prefer to play indoors or outdoors? do they get upset when it rains?

do they take naps? if so, do they take them at a specific time, or just nap whenever they feel like it? do they get fussy over having to take one?

what kind of things do you associate with their regression? is their a specific aesthetic or general 'vibe' you think suits them and their regression?

what is age regression to them? what do they like/dislike? are they proud of their regression, or feel a bit more insecure about it?

[skythealmighty]

why am i just now finding out about thisisnotawebsitedotcom i feel a little stupid.. then again i dont have the Book of Bill so maybe im lucky to know about it ???

#rocket talk #gravity falls #miss this show. anyway twink cipher fuckign jumpscared me

(3 notes)

👓 the-nerdiest-glasses Follow

Why Flatland counts as an object show: an essay

Keep reading

🔧 warp-pipe-sfx Follow

Why Flatland does NOT count as an object show: a rebuttal

Keep reading

⛓️ chainsaw-massacres Follow

why flatland isnt an object show: its a book + movie you assholes

#this argument is fucking stupid its just flatland

(3,821 notes)

🔘 join-my-evil-polycule-deactivated08142020 asked: Im going to tear apart your circuitboard until its broken irreparably

🌈 super-rainbow-epic-computer Follow

lol ok have fun w that 👍

also do u know any recipes for roasted pumpkin seeds the internets failing me rn and im cooking a big dinner for me and my bf

🔘 join-my-evil-polycule-deactivated08142020

Oh yeah sure https://www.jessicagavin.com/how-to-roast-pumpkin-seeds/#wprm-recipe-container-35845

🔘 join-my-evil-polycule-deactivated08142020

Wait why am I telling you this go die I hate you

🌈 super-rainbow-epic-computer Follow

thx for the help!

☝i-date-iconic-posts Follow

Date of origin: November 3rd, 2021

(216,025 notes)

❌ mephonex-deletes-your-favs Follow

~~Welcome to MePhoneX deletes your favs!!~~

I'm mod Xav (the only mod rn - -"), here to cause trauma to your favorite characters :)! PLEASE keep in mind that submissions will take a while to get to, because I have to photoshop out the limbs + background or even completely recreate someone's object if they're transparent!

The background flag is in the header and the X (recreated from an image of MePhoneX) I overlay on top is the profile picture if you want to make your own :) just @ this blog and I'll reblog it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~❌~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RULES ABOUT SUBMISSIONS:

NO INANIMATE INSANITY CONTESTANTS. I would like to avoid Apollo's Dodgeball thanks (plus it's insensitive)

No algebralien or algebralien-adjacent characters! I love those guys too I get it but I honestly don't have a good method of 'deleting' them planned. Feel free to do it on your own time though!

If someone asks me to take down a submission with them in it I will do it without questions. This is for a variety of reasons, but I think you get it.

Alright, that's it! Have fun :)

#not xed out #mod xav #pinned post #your fav is #your fave is #mephone #mephonex #inanimate insanity #ii2 finale

(681 notes)

📁 sticky-note-hit-post Follow

has anyone else wondered why this spaghetti code webbed site can connect across DIFFERENT UNIVERSES??? or is that just me

(2,416 notes)

🦀 thesamepictureofbaxtereveryday Follow

follow for the same picture of my crab every day!!!!! look at him :D

(3 notes)

anonymous asked: greeny how does it feel to be technically a higher being than most other people on the site

🟢 greenyguy Follow

sir this is a wendys

#i didnt order an existential crisis today :(

(37,102 notes)

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

todays liveblog!! B)

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

knife and suitcase made it to the finale!! hell yeah so proud of them

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

balloons talk with suitcase didnt go so well :/ i hope they can get some alone time without anyone else so they can like talk properly next time

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

mepad???

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

oh i think the finale challenge is happening

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

baseball looks worried but lightbulb's brushing him off :|

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

ojs backing away from paper??? wh

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

WHJDT THE FUCK

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

WAIT I HAVENT SEEN SOAP IN A WHILE WHERE IS SHE???

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

OH GOD

#mics ramblings #SOAP???!??

(11 notes)

anonymous asked: evil woman are so hot <3 i will do whatever you want queen

🌐 dr-who-could-never Follow

Awwww, this means a lot to me, anon! Could you find Film Reel for me and doxx him? That would be really helpful <3

#He's been evading me #It's really annoying #Hard to take over the world when I have to worry about him 🙄

(6 notes)

🥄 only-a-spoonful Follow

WHY DO I KEEP GETTING SENT ASKS ABOUT PREGNANCY?!

#I'M GOING TO QUIT TUMBLR AT THIS RATE.

(47,284 notes)

📗 journal-of-secrets Follow

if this fuckass hand keeps showing up at the edge of my vision i'm going to hit something

📗 journal-of-secrets Follow

#maybe hes in love with you

what the hell is wrong with you.