#half baked or that it’s gone through too many edits it’s like it’s scared to exist?? like there’s some differences I love and wish they lol

[thats-my-passion-right-there]

I finally saw the mean girls musical (the movie one) I have so many fucking thoughts oh my god

[spinningintheshadows]

Stupid Fucking Jeep Shirt || JJ Maybank

It's not JJ's fault he looks so good in that stupid fucking Jeep shirt and you can't keep your hands to yourself

Warnings: 🔞🔞🔞🔞 Porn with a side of porn. *consent not verbally mentioned but it is literally a hate fuck so like what do you expect* Fingering, oral (female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it, ya nasties) lowkey hate fuck, choking, the line “seriously JJ, that’s my sister” Sarah, if you see this, no you don’t 😊

Editing to add: verbal consent is great but also body language is a thing too so maybe before y’all attack me for not putting enough trigger warnings you just keep scrolling. And I am not saying verbal consent isn’t a good thing!!!

Second edit: holy shit this got so much hate but even more praise so uh lol. My intent was not at all to write him as rapist, many people misunderstood what I meant, it’s been tagged properly so pls stop with the hate.

Basically, @maybankforlife requested that I personally send her to SuperMegaTurboHell(tm) for being Horny. I had to honor my besties wishes.

Of course, your car had to break down on the hottest day of the year, leaving you to bake alongside the busy road.

Your brother was nowhere to be found, claiming he was out with Pope

He’d told you he was busy and that it’d be at least two hours before he could get to you.

So with a sigh of desperation, you texted the only person you could think of.

‘JJ. 911. Melting beside the road. John B is probably getting his dick wet and is going to leave me here. Leaving your only sister to melt beside the road isn’t a good look.’

Truth be told, you couldn’t stand JJ Maybank.

He might be your brothers best friend, but you only played nice for John B’s sake

Even if your brother swore JJ liked you.

‘Share your location, I’m on my way’

Sighing, you did exactly that. Sharing your location with the stupid blonde boy.

And waiting not so patiently for him to text you back.

‘Still about a half hour out from you, Sweetheart. I’m coming’

It took everything in you to not physically gag at the nickname, especially coming from JJ Maybank.

Truth be told, you probably would have if you wouldn’t have been so hot.

Luckily, your car had quit with the windows down, so at least you had the miniscule breeze to help you out.

Finally, you heard the rumble of JJ’s truck watching as it parked in front of you.

He got out, walking over to your driver side window.

“You look hot, sweetheart”

He was grinning with that stupid fucking toothpick in his mouth.

“Call me sweetheart one more time and I will forcibly remove both of your testicles right here, right now”

He would have looked scared if it wasn’t for the fact he knew you were probably dying from heat exhaustion.

“I have air conditioning. Go, I’ll look at your car.”

“Forgiven, for now, Maybank.”

You went to his truck, practically moaning at the cold air that greeted you when you opened the door.

You scrolled through your phone waiting for a verdict on your car, trying not to laugh when he joined you in the front seat of the pickup.

“I hate your car.”

“Don’t talk bad about her.”

“She’s a piece of shit, Y/N. How is it even street legal?”

“She gets me from point A to point B, JJ!”

“She’s dead, Y/N, it’s time to let her go.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Your whole transmission is gone, sweetheart, that’s gonna cost you like four grand. Do you have four grand?”

“No.”

“See? Time to let her go.”

“Also, what did you just call me?”

“Sweetheart.”

“You better be glad you’re driving right now.”

It was still a forty minute drive to your house, stuck in the car with the man you hate.

And it was then that you realized that he was wearing his stupid fucking jeep shirt.

And you hated him even more

Not because the shirt was annoying

But because there was some way that shirt clung to his body that turned you on

And you hated having any sort of attraction to JJ Maybank.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“Just peachy, dickbag.”

“I can see you clenching your thighs, Y/N. If you’re turned on by me you can just say so.”

“In your fucking dreams, Maybank. I saw a cute guy on tinder.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re so annoying. Why would I be attracted to you?”

“My charm?”

“Ha.”

“You don’t have to be such a brat, Y/N.”

“I’m not a brat.”

You decided to just stare ahead of you, thankful when he finally pulled into your drive and you could get out of that truck.

“Thank you, goodbye.”

“You really want to get rid of me, sweetheart?”

“I would rather shoot myself in the foot than spend more time with you JJ Maybank”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Ditto!”

You walked up the porch steps and slammed the door behind you, rushing into your room to change your clothes.

You audibly groaned when you heard the front door open and close again, hearing JJ’s footsteps coming down the hall.

You were standing there, trying to put a crop top over your braless breasts when your bedroom door slammed open.

JJ leaned against the doorframe and stared at you, looking you up and down as you stared at him frozen.

“Nice tits, Y/N”

“Shut the fuck up JJ”

“No.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

“Excuse me?”

JJ didn’t answer, just walked into your room, slamming your door shut.

He walked up to you, pressing his lips against your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck the brat out of you.”

“Like hell you are Maybank. Why would I have sex with you.”

“Because you left a fucking wet patch in my seat, Y/N. You don’t get that turned on over some guy on tinder.”

“Maybe I do, JJ.”

“Or maybe it’s me. What is it, sweetheart.”

“I.. It’s thats stupid fucking shirt you’re wearing.”

“My jeep shirt?”

“It the way it fucking fits you, JJ.”

Again, he doesn’t respond but just starts placing hot, opened mouth kisses along your neck, moving down until he’s face to face with your tits.

“You’ve got such pretty tits, Sweetheart.”

With that he hooks his lips around your right nipple and rolls your left between his fingers.

And you can’t help but let out a shaky moan from it.

“Take your pants off”

“My brother could be home any minute you fucker”

“Please, he’s with Sarah, he’s not gonna be home until midnight at least. Now take your pants off”

“No”

You can almost hear him roll his eyes at you and your bratty attitude before he reaches up and pops the button on your denim shorts himself.

Sliding them down your legs, you’re almost embarrassed by how turned on you really are by this, but before you can open your mouth again he’s got his fingers in your panties.

“Your cunt is fuckin’ soaked, Y/N, does the shirt turn you on that much”

“Shut the fuck up JJ.”

He doesn’t respond, but instead shoves two of his fingers inside of you, making your knees buckle.

“I- shit, JJ, I can’t stand for this.”

“If you need to sit, you’re gonna have to sit on my face.”

Did those words really just come out of JJs mouth?

Before you can respond, he curls his fingers in you making you let out the moan you were holding back.

“I’m sorry, what was that, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you JJ”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

He’s still moving his fingers roughly inside of you, and you can feel your high building.

Fuck, it two can play this game.

“JJ, get your fingers out of me.”

“No”

“I’m not cumming on your fingers.”

“You are if I say you do.”

“You’re so annoying.”

He just hums in response, continuing to fuck you with his fingers.

He’s moved now to stand behind you and has one hand loosely wrapped around your throat.

And you think that’s fucking hot as shit.

You’re really teetering right on the edge here.

“JJ”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Tighten your hand”

“What?”

“I want you to choke me, dammit.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

Almost as soon as he starts applying pressure to your throat, you let yourself go.

Moaning his name loudly as you feel yourself squeezing his fingers as you cum.

“I didn’t think you were that kinky, sweetheart.”

“Shut up, JJ”

You’re heaving for breath as he lets you go

But only long enough for him to move you to your bed, sitting you right on the edge.

“JJ, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t respond, but throws your legs over his shoulders

And just absolutely buries his face in your cunt.

“Jesus Christ, Maybank.”

Your fingers are knotted in his hair, tugging sharply at every swipe of his tongue against your clit.

You really aren’t expecting the moan that comes out of his mouth against you after a particularly hard tug.

“Do you like your hair being pulled, sweetheart?”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N”

“I’m gonna cum again, you fucker.”

“Do it sweetheart, cum on my fucking tongue. Make a mess for me to clean up.”

You can feel that knot getting tighter and tighter, until suddenly it unravels and you’re tugging on his hair by the roots as you cum again, not at all being quiet about it.

And his tongue doesn’t leave you until well after you’ve come down and you’re pushing his head away.

“Hey Y/N.”

“What?”

“Are you a virgin?”

“No.”

“On the pill?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

You watch him undo his cargo shorts, dropping them to the floor with his boxers.

And holy shit

You realize you’re about to get fucked by possibly the biggest cock you’ve ever had.

How the fuck was he hiding that in his pants?

Before you can process what’s happening, he’s shoving his cock in you.

“Jesus Christ, you’re tight.”

“I think you’re just big, Maybank.”

He’s pounding into you roughly

And you can’t help but think maybe you should be a brat more often. Piss him off more often.

If it meant you’d get fucked like this more often.

You’re practically screaming his name, him trying to quiet you by placing his mouth on yours.

The kiss is really a battle for dominance.

Teeth clashing and tongues fighting.

“I’m not gonna last J.”

“Me either, sweetheart. Wanted to fuck you for so long, not gonna last.”

You let out a loud moan as you clenched around his cock, cumming.

“Gonna cum in you, sweetheart. Can’t hold it back.”

And sure enough, the clenching of your cunt around his cock had him spilling his hot load inside of you, thrusting the entire time.

As he stilled inside you, you finally looked at him properly.

His face had softened, as he laid on top of you.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t hate you, you know?”

“Yeah, the feelings are mutual there, J.”

“Sorry it had to happen like this.”

“I’m not. I need to be a brat more often if that means you’re going to fuck me like that.”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss you properly.

“Let me help you get cleaned up.”

Slowly, he pulled out of you, frowning when you winced a bit.

“Sorry, sweetheart”

He walked across the hall, trying to find a washcloth, then slowly cleaning up the mess between your legs.

Helped you into a clean pair of shorts then handed you that stupid fucking jeep shirt.

“I bet it looks even better on you”

You pull it on, watching him pull his shorts on and then crawl into bed with you.

“You look tired, sweetheart.”

“You made me cum three times.”

“Take a nap.”

You smile, cuddling up into his chest.

Dozing off, you hear the front door open and your brother's voice yell for JJ.

Then heavy footsteps down the hall that stopped in front of your door.

“Jesus Christ, JJ. That’s my sister.”

You can hear the laughter bubble out of JJ’s chest then feel his arm move, in a gesture you’re sure is flipping your brother off.

“Well that’s what you get for leaving your sister to bake on the side of the road, JB”

[0aurelion-sol0]

Yo~

What's your opinion on the Will Byers DID theory? If you like it, which version do you like better? Both interpretations seem cool to me, though I personally like strangertheory's version better ^.^

Hi!

That's a very interesting question. I want to start by saying that I am a singlet, so I don't have DiD or OSDD. My knowledge of this condition is primarly known through medias I consume or some more "advanced" psychiatric documents or researches.

DiD is a condition that hasn't been always best represented or accurately represented since this condition varies from people who have it and so while there are similarities, the experience of it is very much unique and personal. It is also something that in a fictional setting with different genres, themes and tones is very hard to pull off or represent unless you go for the very realistic take on it.

It is bound to be, like many other things in fiction, dramatized. And speaking from a singlet perspective, who also had particular problems represented in fiction, I think it's okay as long as it's done right, in the setting, tone and genre it is in.

For example, we have today a lot more LGBTQ+ representation and like everything, unless you go for the fully realistic route, it's going to be simplified and dramatized. There's so many gender identities and sexual orientations today, you have to simplify it. And that goes for many other things that people care about in media, it has to be done right, but the writers still have a story to tell and unless that subject is the focus of the story, they're not gonna always spend their time talking about that. There is a story to tell.

Secondly, if it is the main focus of the story, that is where people have to do their research and really represent what they are talking about. Not some half-baked representation with dull arguments and points that come from a capitalist and conservative worldview. (Looking at you Disney.)

Now what you are referencing are @strangertheory 's and @kaypeace21 's theories which are about the show being about a DiD system where we see different alters evolving in said story with the host being Will Byers.

There is a lot of evidence pointing towards it, I'm gonna let you go see their posts and read it.

But their theories are very different in the way that they see the show portraying DiD, I have actually find quite a great way to describe the two takes.

@kaypeace21 's take is that elements of the DiD system have been externalised through science-"fictional" or supernatural means. Similar to Legion from the Marvel universe.

(David is a powerful mutant with DiD where each alters, if I remember correctly, has a different power or powers. (Which to this day is still one of the most BADASS thing I have ever come across though it must be quite terrifying for David.))

@strangertheory is an internalised POV on the DiD system existing in the show. She believes that what we are seeing right now is what is exclusively happening INSIDE the DiD system and that what we are experiencing is not our standard definition of the "real world". As in the physical world we all know. This would be in very vulgar terms happening inside Will's self, head, mind or brain. In a sense, it would be a more accurate representation of what DiD is about. A Shyamalan twist if you prefer.

(Though right now I don't have any word for word examples of such take, there is a show called MR.ROBOT that fits a bit of this description since there are moments in the show that we are seeing are only happening in the DiD system itself.

I recommend this show A LOT. It still is a bit dramatized but from what I know the DiD representation is quite accurate and pleased a lot of people with DiD. Also some people on the Stranger Things crew worked on that show.)

Now do I love the DiD theory ?

Heck yeah, I fucking love it! And with a big L! (Am I right "The First I love you?").

And I Love both of the takes and I think each one works at explaining the mysteries of this story. I even think that in some ways both could work well together.

I believe that DiD can be, without the meaning of being used, like many things a powerful storytelling "device" since it is connected to so many themes and other writing tools and is linked literally to the psyche, emotions and personalities of the characters.

I can understand why some people like both or one or respectfully and logically dislike both or one of the takes. But it is close to my belief about what the show is about or were even before I came into this fandom or on the internet, not as complex and thought out as the theory itself but pretty close in the overall themes and aspects of it.

(Though it bewilders me how much people lack imagination or are scared of such twist when I have seen so many of those types before whether it's done well or not, accurate or not.)

Now both @strangertheory and @kaypeace21 are intelligent people with very nuanced takes. And they had their fair share of completely unjust controversies coming from either rabbid ignorant shippers, far too sensible people or downright ignorant stupid people, most of the time 16 year olds. I am not saying that they are perfect, no one is, but the hate they have received is completely unjust.

And I am gonna lay it down right here, they are begging for an accurate representation here, they are not doing this because it just sounds cool and is edgy, they are actually wanting that The Duffers pull this off well. They would be very mad if they use all the imagery just to make it look cooler or scarier.

They are not bringer of truths, they are just like us. They are theorists, they believe in something that they think can explain the story they love and are experiencing. And so far, they have a pretty damn good track record.

They are analysing, dissecting the show because it's what they want to do and they believe in it and they believe the Duffers wants them to do that (I mean how come no one believes it when watching a show like that set in the 80's with so many references ?).

It is also supposed to be fun. Have fun for God's Sake! You can disagree with it but calling names and being disrespectful because somehow they don't agree with very basic, lazy and cliché theories (and no it's not being hypocrite, a lot of people barely do the work.) or are not on board with your creepy projection over the characters IS not okay.

And no, they aren't supporting p*d*philia as some people have claimed. How can you read these theories and come up to that conclusion ?

Most people haven't even read the DiD theory or have gone all the way through with it because they are lazy, easily bored people who don't have the time to just relax, process and think.

Stranger Things is not a kids show, some dumb teenage romance drama show with cool monsters! It's a very mature show, with real problems that are treated, out of which is trauma and mental health. Kids are killing people and even dying on this show. There is sexism, racism, abuse both physical and psychological.

It is a very mature and dark show. And you are being disrespectful to the Duffers when you say they are not that smart or that isn't that important. They are putting a lot of thoughts into this and the fact that no one really recognises this annoys me.

Or people only think it's important when it is only about the things they enjoy in the show. (Which is more hypocrite to me.) OR people are very stupid if they truly think that or are just jealous, bitter that two women have more imagination together and individualy than all of them or that person alone.

Color and costume choices, subtext, context, camera angles, directing, VFX, music, editing, sets, props, script, acting and editing are very important. All must be carefully done or you get very bad or generic stuff if you don't. If you love and you are passionate about the work, you put all the details you can into it.

And the Duffers and all the people working with them have already referenced those sort of things AND the practice of what we do on the internet. They are aware, they know because they have been in the same place too. They grew up with stories too, they made theories too whether it's on the internet or not.

At the end of the day, it is just a theory. An explanation of what is unfolding, may unfold or may have unfolded. I believe in it, I think it is reasonable, it has logic and it makes sense. It also has a lots of elements backing it up.

And the Duffers don't even have to go with DiD or mention it. Will creating some of the characters and supernatural events from his trauma is also similar and more accessible to the masses. But a Shyamalan twist can also work if it is done well.

And I am also open to other possibilities and theories, if they make sense and have enough elements IN THE SHOW and everything connected to it backing it up.

If the Duffers write something completely different but it is as good and also explains even better than this theory than I'll be okay. I love being wrong, it makes me learn new things and enhances the way I approach stories in the future.

If the Duffers only used this as some very inaccurate and disrespectful scary/abstract subtext without commiting to it. That is where I will have a problem.

Or write something completely incoherent with the rest of the show with a bad plot twist catering to the main public masses to sell the story even more and just make money so that they are safe with a fallacy of a work of fiction. Because they are cowards who didn't know how to manage themselves and baited entire audiences or listened to some crappy executive who didn't understand shit about the story. (wink wink, looking at a certain something...)

So yeah, I do love the DiD theory and both of it's takes and if it happens and is done right, with of course my perspective on the thing and PRIMARLY the perspective of people who have DiD or know a lot about it, I'll be pleased with it and I think it could be something very important for stories, people, the world and "art" in general.

Thank you for the question it was really fun! I hope I described the theory and the condition in the right way @kaypeace21 and @strangertheory and also the people who are concerned or know about it if I didn't let me know. Also, if you disagree with what I said, the way I said it or the subject itself let me also know IF it's respectful of course.

[everlarkficexchange]

Written by: @alliswell21

Title: One of Us

Prompt 145: She moves in with her aunt and uncle when her parents dies in a small town. After suffering through trama, Katniss slowly starts to get better with the help of her family (aunt, uncle, cousin) and the Mellark brothers. But when things starts happening to her and the people around her, it’s revealed that she and almost everyone in the towns are apart of the werewolf pack and that one of the Mellark brothers is her mate. #werewolves [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rated: G for general audiences.

Tags: Canon Divergent!AU; Modern with a dash of Supernatural; Grief/Mourning; Feeding as a Language of Love.

Note: This is my final submission to this year's EFE challenge! Yay! I really am grateful to @xerxia31 and @javistg for their continued support of this fandom and for hosting once again this event. You are such amazing people, and I’m absolutely honored to be part of a community with people as amazing as you two are! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for keeping EFE alive!

@animekpopxx, thank you too! You feed my muse! And you give me Werewolves!!!!

This story was a bit of rushed job, though, and there’s more of it, I mean... we haven’t seen them turn into wolves yet!!! 🤣 I just didn’t have time to edit the complete fic before the deadline, but if you’d like to read the finished product, keep an eye out for it on AO3. I’m fairly sure the rating will keep, but we will see.

 Kpkpkpk

There’s nothing but the sound of crickets and frogs filling the vast darkness of the night.

It’s another moonless night out here in Panem… or is I like to call it ‘the middle of nowhere’. It’s weird, how dark nights feel here, there’s barely a start peeking tonight, but in a strange way, I like it.

Sitting on my aunt and uncle’s porch to watch the infinite dark ahead while listening to the nocturnal critters it’s about my favorite thing to do… it’s what did used to do when we came here for long summer stays, anyway. He used to say he felt at peace and relaxed, connected with nature. Too bad it took him to be gone, for me to appreciate what he meant by that. So every night I come out here and sit in the steps hugging my knees, staring at nothing but the deep, black night surrounding the cabin, whisking my dad was sitting next to me.

Tonight is different than usual, though. It was raining until recently, and the smell of wet earth is so familiar my chest feels tight and my throat is knotted.

“Petrichor, Katniss,” I mumble the words noiselessly, “is the smell of rain, hun. It smells the same everywhere in the world.”

I lean my chin on my knees, wishing I could go back to feeling numb like when my parents just died. But thinking of the word petrichor, while smelling the thing, is bring forth a plethora feelings and memories I don’t know how to handle.

Dad used to love Scrabble, crossword puzzles and trivia challenges. He tried to get me interested in those games, teaching me words and their meanings, every time he had a chance.

I wish I had been more enthusiastic about learning the darned stuff; it would’ve meant an extra moment spent with Dad, and less regret to feel right now.

An involuntary whine leaves my chest. It hurts to think about it, and not for the first time, I dig my nails into my skin to keep myself rooted in place, and not tear running into the void.

I feel like I’m spiraling out of control, I fear this time something will break in my head and I’ll do something crazy, like scratch my skin away and run wild into the woods, like a beast… but the overwhelming thoughts gets halted when I hear soft noises from out in the distance.

It’s like the crunching of footsteps on the gravel at the mouth of my aunt and uncle’s property. It’s too dark and isolated here, deep into the country. I’ve seen big wildlife roaming around: deer, raccoons, coyotes and even a lynx. But the longer I hear the noises, the more certain I am I’m being stalked by something big and fast.

My heart beats erratically in my chest; every hair in my body stands on point, fear is clawing its way up my chest and into my throat, my eyes feel about to pop from my skull, and then I’m disentangling my knees from my arms, standing up as tall as I can— which isn’t saying much—and then I call into the night, “Who’s there?!”

I hear a faint disturbance of air, and then…

“Good evening, Katniss!”

Slowly, from the shadows, a blonde head pops, eerie for a second. Broad shoulders follow, and then a torso. Before the rest of his body comes visible into the light of the porch, two more blonde heads come into view, flank the first person on either side: Shoulders, torsos, Jean covered legs… The three Mellark brothers make their way leisurely towards me.

I nearly faint from relief after the rush of adrenaline pumping in my veins. Going through so many emotions: grief, sorrow, dread and relief, so fast in such a short amount of time has left me winded and unsteady.

I lose my balance, but one of the boys— Peeta, the youngest— breaks ranks, and rushes to hold me upright.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, helping me sit back down on the porch steps. I lean my head against the main post.

“I’m okay. Just a little lightheaded,” I try not to glare. They gave me a fright, but I doubt they did it on purpose.

It’s something I’ve learn over the years. People in Panem are kind of quirky.

“Sorry we scared you,” Peeta offers, sheepishly. “We wanted to check up on you, and bring you something…” he looks up at his two older brothers and Rye — the middle one— steps forward, holding up a brown, paper bag, with little greasy spots on the sides.

I can guess what’s inside. They’ve been bringing me cheese buns almost daily, since Peeta found out they’re my favorites.

Rey hands the baggie to Peeta, and the latter offers it to me with a soft smile.

“Thanks,” I mumble, gratefully. I can smell the cheesy, yeasty treat through the bag; I can feel the warmth of the buns too! “While I love freshly baked cheese buns, you guys didn’t have to make this trek just to bring me a treat… on a dark, moonless night no less,” I fix them with a glare. “How did you even get here anyway? You couldn’t have walked and I never saw a car coming?”

My aunt and uncle’s cabin is at least 4 miles from town, and surrounded by woods; but then again, most houses in this weird little place are built in similar locations. It seems the townsfolk take their privacy extremely seriously.

“We rode our dirt bikes,” chimes Rye in, cheerily. “Not much light on those bulbs, though, but it’s okay. Our night vision is prime!” He gives me the A-Okay gesture.

“Rye,” the eldest, Bannock, warns lowly. Baring his teeth.

Rye shrugs and slips his hands on his Jean pockets.

I swear Rye hisses something like “it’s true” under his breath, but Peeta has been rubbing my back with the tip of his fingers all this time, and I’m getting drowsy, so I may have imagined the whole exchange.

“You should eat those while they’re still warm,” Peeta murmurs close by my shoulder.

I nod, and open the bag, releasing all the delicious smells of the buns, while Peeta massages my shoulders, encouragingly.

I must be really out if it tonight, because outside of my family, I’ve never been comfortable with people touching me… but, my family is all gone now, and I can’t go through the rest of my life without human touch, can I?

Grief stricken me out of nowhere, and barrels through me. I gasp at the acute pain in my soul at the loss of my parents. But in an instant, I’m enveloped in strong, thick arms, warm and steady. I’m sobbing into a hot, solid chest, covered in the softest cotton I’ve ever felt.

“Shush… I’ve got you, Katniss. I’m here for you,” Peeta whispers soothingly into the crown of my head.

He smells so good; like cinnamon and dill, from the bread he must’ve made this afternoon at his family’s bakery.

It takes a few minutes for me to get a hold of myself, and embarrassedly push out of his embrace, “I’m sorry,” I mumble, mortified.

Bannock presents me with a handkerchief, and I take it gratefully to wipe off my face and nose, before returning the soiled square of fabric to him.

I’m not sure why the Mellark brothers are being so nice to me. I’ve never been around them more than a handful of days over the past few years, when we came to see Dad’s remaining family outside mom and I, his half brother, his wife and their child.

I don’t know the Mellarks all that well, but in the handful of weeks since my parents’ funeral, the three brothers have been incredibly attentive and generous to me. Peeta more than the other two, but I don’t mind… I like him best anyway.

“It’s okay to cry and be devastated, Katniss.” Says Bannock, sagely. “You’re going through the worst time of your life, and we care for you… like family.”

“Oh,” I sit straighter, blowing my nose. I feel a little strange hearing him say that, “thank you? I appreciate your kindness,”

He nods, “Peeta’s right, though. You should eat the cheese buns before they go cold.”

“A full stomach always helps me feel better,” Rye adds, patting his belly, and smiling at me.

My stomach growls, as if to show agreement. I am hungry. I didn’t touch my supper earlier. I pick up the bakery gingerly, and pretty much shove my nose into it. The steam curls out of the baggie, filling my nostrils with the delicious smells. I pluck out a bun and practically inhale it in a second; quickly followed by another one. My third cheese bun, I decide to savor, slowly.

The Mellark siblings just hang around while I devour my treats.

The front door opens just as I’m wiping my hands on my leggings. My aunt’s head peeks out of the door.

“Oh, why hello everyone!” She greets, as bubbly as always. She’s wearing a dark purple wig, to match her dark purple outfit.

“Good evening, Effie,” says Peeta, standing from his squatting position next to me. “We brought Katniss a gift,” he points at the now empty bag in his hand.

“How sweet of you, Peeta!” my aunt gushes, “thank you for checking on our girl, and making sure she’s put something in her tummy before bedtime!”

I roll my eyes. Aunt Effie keeps treating me like a kid. I hate it. I’m 17 and mourning, not a freaking baby!

“It’s no problem at all, Effie! We were just on our way home anyway.”

“Well, it’s always nice having you boys over,” she offers, “but it’s getting late, and Primrose is already in bed, which is why I came out here to begin with, to let Katniss know that her sister was already asleep, so she’d know to tip toe back inside when she was ready to go to bed herself,” my aunt smiles.

I feel a slight pang of guilt; I’ve been wallowing in my own sadness this evening, and missed tucking my sister in to sleep. She’s the only person I’m sure I love, yet tonight I’ve let my own misery drown me.

“Don’t mind us, Effie,” Says Bannock, “We were about to leave…” he pauses and then calls a meaningful, “Peeta?”

“I’m going to wish Katniss a good night, and then we’ll go,” he says.

Not for the first time, I wonder if Peeta has a crush on me? I wouldn’t know he did, even if I wasn’t feeling so rotten inside. I’m not very good at flirting… but with Peeta it is different I think. He’s so nice to me, he’s taken up asking if I’ve eaten that day and if I haven’t, he feeds me something from his family’s bakery without charging me… it’s like he actually cares for me and my well-being, and his brothers care, because he does. It’s mesmerizing at times.

Peeta looks me in the eyes, “Are you ready to go inside?” He asks, offering his two open palms to me. He helps me up from the floor, and then smiles sweetly. He doesn’t let go of my hands while we stand facing each other.

Then something strange happens. Peeta doesn’t blink, as his clear-blue eyes bore into mine, and then his pupils blow out full, until only a ring of deep, glowing azure remains for his irises, “Sleep well, Katniss,” his voice sounds deeper and warmer than usual, “Rest and have a relaxing, dreamless night. Remember what I said: we are all here for you, to help through this hard time… alright?”

I feel groggy, “Yes, Peeta,” I mumble feeling my eyelids getting heavier.

“Oh dear, can you please instruct her to walk herself to bed? She might look lithe, but I promise, her little body is as heavy as any of us,”

Huh? What’s aunt Effie going on about? I don’t understand.

Peeta chuckles, squeezing my hands warmly in his, “You heard Effie… don’t fall asleep until you’ve gone into your bedroom and change into comfy pajamas.”

I nod, “Okay,”

“Good night, Katniss, I’ll be back tomorrow. Try to eat something on your own, I know you’re sad, but you need your strength for when the solstice comes.”

What a weird thing to say! Everything is strange here though… so I nod and march inside the house, mumbling my good nights to everyone and rubbing my very sleepy eyes. Once I’m in my sleep clothes, I lay in bed, and try to ignore the yearning of having Peeta rubbing my back like he was doing while I ate my cheese buns.

I sigh and go to sleep, a weird thought pops into my mind: “I’m so lucky to have such a sweet, caring mate. Peeta Mellark. Can’t wait to be bonded with him,”

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hi I’m back!💗 I was wondering (if it’s not too big of a hassle) if you could do a Plank All Over Me but they do a relationship test. Like the one Meghan Trainor and her husband did for buzzfeed? Love you tons!-✨

Plank All Over Me - Couples Tag Edition

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

AN: you do NOT have to have read the others to understand this. Enjoy :)

Masterlist

Plank All Over Me 1 & Yoga Edition

“Hi, I’m Tom Holland.” Tom smiled widely at the camera.

“And I’m actually excited to be in this video.” You nodded in approval now that you and Tom were doing a normal video that didn’t require either of you to get into painful positions.

“You never say your name when we do these. You always say something else.” Tom looked at you as he realized the pattern with the intros of the videos you did together. “This is my girlfriend Y/n L/n by the way, everyone. Please pardon her manners.” He cracked a smile. 

“Yeah, but I do it on purpose. Its like my thing for these kinds of videos.” You explained yourself to Tom.

“Oh.” He deadpanned, pretending not to care about your explanation. You laughed at his serious expression.

“I can’t believe this video turned into our breakup.” You said to the camera and he laughed beside you.

“Can we both cry so they have something for the thumbnail?” He suggested to the camera crew.

“Or, better idea, hear me out.” You looked between Tom and the camera. “We start the video.”

“That’s a great idea.” Tom pulled your chair closer to his and slung an arm around you. “I’m Tom, this is Y/n, and we’re doing the Buzzfeed Couples Tag.”

“So first we have to check off what we know about each other.” You said as you scanned the list of questions while Tom kissed the side of your head. “Do you want to just do a back and forth?”

“Sure. I’ll go first.” Tom pulled the completed closer to himself. “When’s my birthday?”

“June 1st 1862.” You answered confidently.

“Perfect.” Tom player along. “Your turn.”

“My age?” You read off the screen.

“Trick question, you’re timeless.” Tom smiled and you gushed. “Just kidding guys, shes 53.” He said to the camera.

“I’m just not but okay.” You muttered.

“What’s my zodiac sign?” Tom read.

“Little bitch?” You asked.

“You got it.” Tom nodded. You laughed and kissed his cheek.

“What’s my favorite movie?” You asked.

“That’s easy. It’s a tie between Spiderman: Homecoming, Spiderman: Far From Home and Spies in Disguise, out this Christmas.” Tom winked at the camera after he listed off his own films.

“You were close.” You pointed at him. “It’s actually a tie between Deadpool, Definitely Maybe, and The Proposal.”

“But…” Tom faltered. “But those are all Ryan Reynolds movie.”

“Yea, but that’s just because I wish he was my boyfriend instead of you.” You said with fake seriousness.

“Oh, okay.” Tom nodded as he went along with your joke. “It’s funny though, I haven’t seen any videos of you planking over Ryan Reynolds so…” ,he clicked his tongue.

“Thats because Ryan and I like to keep those videos private, don’t we baby?” You shot a wink at the camera.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough before I actually get mad.” Tom laughed. “And you have never seen Definitely Maybe.”

“Yes I have.” You defended. “That’s the one where they’re British and the little boy from Nanny McPhee plays the drum.”

“That’s Love Actually, and you gave the worst possible description of it, so congratulations.” Tom commemorated you as you laughed.

“We just got so off topic. Who even asked the last question?” You wondered.

“I’ll go.” He looked at the computer for the next question. “What’s my coffee order?”

“Here we go.” You roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Tom doesn’t drink coffee. He drinks sugar with a few spoonfuls of tea in it.”

“Yes, I do.” Tom confirmed. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There’s gonna be something wrong with that when all your teeth fall out. Do you want to be bald and have no teeth? Is that what you want?” You pretended to heckle him.

“That’s weird, I don’t see that question on the computer.” Tom said as he squinted at the computer, pretending to inspect the quiz.

“That’s because I made it up.” You said.

“That’s because I made it up.” Tom mimicked. Your eyes went wide and he bent over laughing. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean that.”

“The title of this video is gonna be Couples Tag leads to a break up?” You did an over exaggerated shrug. “With pictures!”

“And then “shocking!” in parenthesis.” Tom added on, poking fun at the youtube titles you were so used to seeing.

“Emotional!” You put your hand over your heart.

“Can we keep going?” Tom asked through his laughter.

“Yes, sorry.” You laughed and looked at the computer. Oh now it’s generic questions. Does your significant other have any bad habits?”

“No.” Tom said after thinking for a moment. “I’m perfect.”

“Oh, I know. His bad habit is that when he gets scared, he goes like this,” you pull your arm back and make a fist, “as if he’s about to deck someone.”

“That’s just my flight or fight response, darling. I won’t apologize for it.” Tom quipped.

“But you always choose fight!” You laugh. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen him about to punch a clump of hair?” You said to the camera.

“It looks like a spider! Your hair is all over the damn flat and it looks like a spider.” Tom brought up a common argument you two had.

“Okay, but why are you trying to punch a spider?” You defended.

“That’s an excellent question, my love, that I do not know the answer to.” Tom said with a smile and you double over laughing at the stupid argument. “Can you imagine walking into our home and seeing me about to punch a spider?” He chokes out through his laughter.

“Wait,” you wipe your eyes and try to compose yourself before giggling again, “remember that one time with the wind-“

“Don’t mention the wind chimes!” He cuts you off, which makes you laugh harder. “We swore to never speak of that day.”

“You swore.” You pointed out. “I just kept apologizing to the man.”

“Next question.” Tom said quickly. “When and where did we meet?”

“We met on the set of BBC Radio 1, in the studio when we filmed the Plank All Over Me challenge last year.” You recalled with a fond smile.

“Awww. I remember that.” Tom smiled at the memory and leaned over to kiss you. “Look at us now.”

“I know. You’re bald and I’m cheating on you with Ryan Reynolds.” You said with a dreamy expression.

“What was that?” Tom pretended not to hear you.

“I said where was our first date?” You read the next question.

“Oh, we went to that ice cream shop in Soho and got milkshakes.” Tom remembered the first time you’d gone out together.

“Tom told me he wanted to take me out for a drink but didn’t want me to think he was trying to get me drunk, so he took me out for milkshakes.” You recalled to the camera with a fond smile. “I thought that was so cute when you told me.”

“I’m glad you thought me being a massive nerd was cute.” Tom chuckled and you kissed his cheek repeatedly.

“It worked didn’t it? You got me.” You cooed.

“That’s right. I got you.” He smiled proudly and kissed you again, pulling you close. You rested your head on Toms shoulder for the remainder of the video.

“Where and when was our first kiss?” He asked.

“Our first kiss was in your bedroom after I beat you in a game of Wii tennis.” You said proudly.

“That’s right.” He grinned. “The first of many.”

“Just kidding. We’ve been together ten months and have not kissed since that day.” You deadpanned to the camera.

“We kissed twice in this video alone.” Tom pointed out.

“Sounds false.” You shrugged and felt his shoulders move under your head as he laughed.

“Anyway, Y/n was going crazy over winning and rubbing it in my face and I just grabbed her and kissed her.” Tom reminisced about the moment you had first kissed.

“I still don’t know if he actually wanted to kiss me or he just wanted to shut me up.” You joked.

“I don’t know that either darling.” Tom chuckled.

“Thank God.” You laughed. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

“I did, about four weeks in.” Tom nodded as he did the math in his head. “But I knew I loved you long before that.”

“Aw.” You beamed. “I still haven’t said it.” You deadpanned to the camera.

“She’s just kidding.” Tom assured the camera. You shook your head and mouthed “no.” Tom caught your reaction and pretended to tear up.

“I’m kidding.” You giggled and pulled him into a hug. “I love you.”

“Okay.” Tom let out a pretend breath of relief. “I was worried for a minute there.”

“Aw, no.” You bit your tongue between your teeth. “What’s the next question?”

“What’s my shoe size?” He asked.

“Huge. What’s my favorite song lyric?” You continued.

“So we’re gonna ignore that last answer?” Tom looked at the camera in fear. “Okay. You love the lyrics “so why don’t we go somewhere only we know?” and they always make you cry.”

“Do you remember why I love that song?” You asked him. “I told you on our first date.”

“Because it makes you think of Bridge to Terabithia.” He knew the answer immediately.

“Yes.” You smiled warmly at the thought of your favorite childhood movie. “Nothing crushes us.” You quoted.

“I haven’t seen that in so long.” Tom realized. “Can we watch it when we get home?”

“Of course we can. I’m always down to see Josh Hutcherson.” You wiggled your eyebrows. “Ask your next question.”

“Do you think Josh Hutcherson is better than me?” Tom pretended to read the question off the screen.

“Well, he survived the Hunger Games with nothing but baking skills and you died when some dude snapped his fingers, so I think the question answers itself.” You said.

“It wasn’t some dude, it was a titan.” Tom defended. “And Peeta was lying on the floor for half the Games. I actually fought.”

“Look at the material.” You shrugged.

“I can’t stand you. Ask your question.” Tom laughed.

“What did I wear on our first date?” You read. “Who remembers that?” You asked the camera.

“You had on a dark red turtleneck and a little black skirt.” Tom recalled and you looked impressed. “Your hair was half up half down and curled and you had a little black ribbon in it.” He smiled.

“I guess Tom remembers that.” You said with an approving nod.

“How could I forget? You were the prettiest girl in that ice cream shop.” He complimented you.

“I was also the only girl who wasn’t 7.” You pointed out.

“Wait, I think that was our last question.” Tom realized as he tried to scroll down but couldn’t anymore. “I guess that’s it. Thanks for watching our Couples Tag with Buzzfeed.” Tom smiled at the camera.

“Can we go home and watch Bridge to Terabithia now?” You asked as you rubbed his arm.

“Yes, lets go home.” He grinned.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @sunrise-shawn @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @autumnlyholland @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @ho-ho-holland @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @m19friend @justcallmehitgirl @iamanerdot @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines

[mystic-kitten-writer]

OMG HOEE YOURE BACK -tears of happiness- I cant wait till chapter 32!!!!!! Cpuld we pretty please have a lil teaser? No pressure. I just need to a taste of your goodness 😇 Luv yaa gurl 😉

I’M BACK BITCCHESS 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

LOOL - of course, you can sweetie! I love dropping teasers, it keeps me motivated 🥰

Here is the teaser! It’s the start, a nice lil’ taste of this crazy chapter because boooooyyy does shit hit the fan in this chapter. Enjoy~!

Rating: SFW

Words: 2000 (a tiny tease, I gotta save some content for when I post 😅)

Notes: WIP; not edited and subject to change, my loves :) Also, I noticed that the start of this chapter is decepitvely sweet for the shit that is about to happen lol - I’m evil.

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            “You know…you have beautiful eyes, Princess.”

           “Awe, thanks, Sokka.”

           “Too bad your face is ugly.”

           “I swear-”

           The immature hoots that erupted from Sokka were loud and clear. His belly rumbled in amusement, entertained at my exasperated expression as I rested over his stomach.

           We were lounging in Zuko’s and I bedroom, munching on cookies on our bed, despite it being early in the morning. Zuko already rose and went for a morning jog – and I would be lying if I said I didn’t use the excuse of me being under the weather to avoid that run.

           It was as Zuko was leaving that Sokka busted through the grand doors, still in his polar bear pyjamas, with a plate of cookies in hand – “I wanted to check up on Princess, see how she’s feeling.”

           And that leads us to where we were now.

           I grumbled under my breath, stuffing another fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookie into my mouth as Sokka beamed down at me. Despite the pointless banter and teasing, Sokka and I were venting to each other; I was beyond happy. I never realized how much I missed spending time with him – he was my partner in crime, the person who helped me learn to laugh again.

           And while Sokka has been my side from the beginning – we never got a chance to hang out as much as I would’ve wanted. Appreciate the presence of each other, even though ‘sibling time’ means tons of teasing and humiliation.

           A hand rested behind his head as he leaned against the bedframe, stuffing another cookie in his mouth. His hair has grown so much already.

           Usually, it was up in a messy top knot, but today, he let his hair down. Zuko still had the lengthiest hair out of the guys, but Sokka was starting to prove himself to be a worthy competitor. I was always jealous of how attractive Katara’s and Sokka’s brown hair was. There were natural blond highlights, and it complimented their baby blue eyes.

           “Hey…did Aang bring Momo?” I pondered out loud; brows pinched as I tried to recall the last time I saw that mischievous creature. He was already so infuriatingly elusive, but now that we were in the Kingdom, it was like he vanished.

           “Yeah, but you know how Momo is…” Sokka mumbled under his breath, more focused on chewing the cookie stuffed in his mouth than answering my question.

           “I haven’t seen him once!” I exclaimed, and Sokka snorted, “Join the club. I asked Aang the other day, told me Momo is hiding out in the kitchen.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes hearing that – of course, Momo is there. Appa would’ve joined Momo if he were here and could fit.

           “Explains why the kitchen staff is panicking. They keep complaining that the food keeps disappearing – scared it could be a ghost.”

           “You know what would be really funny…” Sokka mused, and based off the tone alone – I knew he was thinking of something evil. My mouth opened and closed, fighting the temptation to ask because I knew better. There was a reason why Sokka and I got along; we were the definition of dumb and dumber.

           My lips puckered, and the next thing I knew, I turned on my side, facing Sokka eagerly.

           “What’s your plan?”

           Right away, Sokka grinned, sitting upright. I yelped, body rolling onto his lap, and in a bold move – he put down the plate of sweets on the bed. He means business.

           “What if we covered Momo in flour – make him look like a ghost? The kitchen staff would lose their minds.”

           “Sokka~! I can already imagine the mess.”

           “And I can already imagine the looks on their faces when they see a ghost.”

           I huffed, crossing my arms. “No, Zuko will kill me if he finds out it was us.”

           “Keyword, if.”

           “Where is Katara when you need her?!” I groaned to myself. If Katara were here, she would’ve shut down this plan before Sokka could even think of it. She was the mother of the group for a reason – she kept us all in check.

           I grabbed a cookie from the plate that Sokka set aside, shoving it against Sokka’s lips. “Lie back down and eat a cookie.” I pestered, the only way I knew how to distract him. Sokka laughed against the cookie I practically stuffed, trying to chew the whole thing in one go.

           “Aren’t you excited? She’s arriving tonight.” He mumbled between chomps. An enormous smile appeared on my lips, brushing my bedhead hair away from my face. “I can’t wait!” I gushed, body sprawling across the bed as I hugged my teddy bear close to my chest.

           My gaze shifted upwards, staring at the wooden lined ceiling above us, with a silly look. It’s been how long since I’ve last seen Katara? It felt like forever, but I knew it was only a few months. Woah…me and Zuko haven’t been dating for that long, have we?

           It felt like Zuko, and I have been together for years – but not in a bad way. I just felt so comfortable with him. Our routines, how open we are with each other, it was surprising to think that we haven’t been together for that long. But also look at everything that happened, everything we have gone through together…

           It’s no surprise we’re as close as we are. We practically went through everything a couple may experience over their lifetime in a span of a few months. Add in the fact that he’s the ruler of a nation – things get a bit complicated.

           “She’s going to freak out when she hears everything that is going on.”

           I pouted, snapping my head towards Sokka, “She doesn’t know?”

           He frowned, his silliness gone and face stern, “No. We didn’t want to give too much information via messenger bird or attached to Appa. It could get intercepted. It’s not worth the risk.”

           A blue silence fell between us; my gaze returned to the ceiling, lost in my thoughts. Despite all the smiles, the giggles, the sweet moments of bliss – that didn’t change the current chaos around us. Mai is a traitor, Azula is back, and Yakone-

           It was like someone punched me.

           The mere mention of Yakone had a shiver running up my spine, the hairs on my arms rising in terror. Zuko didn’t mention his name once around me, and I wonder if it was because he knew how shaken up I was after the incident.

           And the worst part of it all was I still had the handkerchief Yakone gave me that night when he comforted me, hidden away in my vanity. Gosh, I should’ve thrown it out, burnt it –anything, but keeping it. I didn’t know why I even kept the stupid thing. Maybe it was to remind me that he wasn’t that evil as a man?

           That there was still a little bit of good left in him.

           Yakone knew my family’s crane story. Dumb luck? He’s also a Bloodbender. But Aang told me that-

           “Princess…how is your ‘Fire Nation Politics’ lessons going?” Sokka asked, his voice cutting my thoughts in half. I couldn’t help but jump slightly in surprise, and right away, Sokka’s hand fell over my forehead, a soothing gesture spotting my uneasiness.

           “Hmm? S-sorry, I didn’t hear properly.” I mumbled quickly, looking up at Sokka. He rolled his eyes at my aloofness, flicking my head before speaking again, “You’re lessons involving politics. Zuko told me you’ve been learning a few things.”

           I groaned loudly.

           Gosh, bloody Fire Nation politics.

           The moment I accepted that stupid Imperial Consort seal, I’ve had to brush up on my Fire Nation knowledge. From previous Fire Lords, customs, family trees, and laws – I wanted to cry. It wasn’t that it wasn’t interesting, it was just so much information thrown at me at once.

           My hands fell over my face as I internally sobbed.

           “It’s so difficult. I understand the basics, but the system here seems so backwards at times.” I whined into my hands, venting all the annoyance I had bottled up. There were so many things going on; at this point, I felt like I was memorizing words rather than understanding.

           But knowing the rules did help out and gave me the chance to fire that meanie of a councilmember…Maybe I did understand more than I was giving myself credit for. But with everything else going on at the moment, my head hurt tons.

           “Why don’t you ask Zuko to help you out, Princess? He is kind of like, the Fire Lord.” My hands dropped from my face, opting to throw my arms into the air in defeat. “I don’t want to bother Zuko. He has so much on his plate. I want to do this on my own.”

           “But Princess, this is his job. He’ll help if you ask– he wants to help.”

           I huffed to myself, biting my lips in frustration, “I know, but…I-uhh-I don’t know. I don’t want to. Have you seen the book I had to read for this week?”

           Sokka shook his head, and I grumbled to myself, “On my nightstand. See that ridiculously thick book? Yeah, try reading a page and not fall asleep.” Sokka laughed at the evident disgust in my voice, grinning madly as he reached to his side. Just thinking about the book had me shivering in fear.

           But I was trying.

           Watching the way Zuko worked on a daily, it made me want to work just as hard. I wanted the prove everyone wrong – that I wasn’t some arm candy for Zuko. That I knew what I was doing…

           Sometimes; it felt like Zuko was the only one who believed in me in this kingdom. I won the people’s hearts – now I had to prove to the council that I can do this.

           I closed my eyes, letting my arm rest over my eyes, the migraine that I’ve had still dully throbbing.

           It was strange, for the past five or so days, I kept fluctuating from feeling better to isolating myself in bed. My body was hurting; my head felt like a hot mix of heavy and aching. Was having a cold always this annoying? I usually had Katara heal me; I haven’t experienced a full-blown illness in years.

           “I’m gonna read where you have your bookmark,” Sokka spoke, and I merely nodded.

           Although…I don’t remember having a bookmark in my book…I didn’t make it far enough to bother putting one. I could hear Sokka snort as if he was trying to sniffle in a laugh-

           “Yesterday, Zuko used the lounging area after our bath, and I couldn’t be happier! He looked sooooo cute sitting there, reading. He almost fell asleep-”

           “OH MY GOSH SOKKA STOP!” I screamed. This asshole was reading my bloody journal!

[maree-ff]

Adjustments

[CAMILA]

Walking through the classroom door I hit the lights, taking in the flashbacks of my last day at work before going on leave. This transition back into the working field after really getting to know my newborn baby won’t be easy. This morning it took me 45 minutes just to put the baby down so I could get ready for the day. Andre did not pester me or make commentary on my behavior.  I think he was mute for quite a few reasons but only one stands out the most. He’s become an extremely compassionate person. Andre watched over and cared for me from the moment he came home up until now. He knows how attached I’ve become to our new baby and getting acquainted with motherhood once again. Which is why leaving this morning was a major heartache for me. Pregnancy became that much lifelike with him around to soak up the last few months alongside me. Not to forget about how nurturing, strong and level headed he was while I was going through labor.

“Mrs. Reese?” A tender voice spoke out from behind me.

I squealed initially and spilled some of my tea on the floor. The sting from the water against the tops of my feet made me tear up but I didn’t release them. Spinning around slowly I made eye contact with one of my quietest students.

“Good morning, Lee. How are you?” I asked him.

“I’m okay. Sorry if I scared you. I didn’t mean to.” He said timidly.

I assured him that I’m fine and that he didn’t scare me. I don’t have the heart to tell this sweet boy that he did in fact scare the hell out of me. My classroom isn’t even filled yet and I already feel that my nerves are getting the better of me. 

---------  --------

Time seems to be moving at a rather fast pace now. Half of the day is already gone and I received my routine visits from both Zoe and Kenja. Seeing them reminded me of Jorden and although the sadness returned, the girls put a smile on my face.

After recess was over, I pushed through the remainder of my lesson by forcing my sadness deep down inside. My students don’t deserve any inconsistency in their education. The minute the bell rang out, my room alongside neighboring classrooms and hallway were instantly filled with noise. Standing from my desk I removed my cardigan, set it on top of my laptop, and went around the room for a sweep.

“Mrs. Reese?!” I turned around on my heels with three pencils, a notebook, and halfway zipped pencil pouch in hand. I moved so quickly I dropped half of what I was holding.

“Dammit..” I cursed under my breath at my clumsiness and bent down to pick up the items. “What’s the matter Claudia?” I asked.

“I still can’t read the big clock.” She whined.

Going over to her desk I assisted her in gathering her things and talked her through the review lesson on time we went over today. My fill-in for the last few months has really done a great job on staying up on the lesson plan I set up for my kids. Even at home, carrying Jorden to full term I still made sure my babies here at school were taken care of. From what the substitute told me, Claudia is still struggling to read time. I went as far as writing her parents a note explaining to them what exactly Claudia is having issues with.

Once Claudia felt confident that she will get the hang of this lesson, I sat down at my desk to read everyone’s journal entries. There was complete silence in my room until I heard feet closing in on my position. Still focused on these journal entries I picked up my favorite pen and highlighter, going in with this editing.

“Mama, you coming home late today?” 

My head turned to the left and when I saw Zoe standing in the doorway I dropped my pen. I turned around in my chair, stood up and went over to where she stood. With her wrapped up in my arms I felt this sensational urge to weep but our location prevented that. 

“I missed you, my love.” I sniffled. Even after a long day of playing and running around, Zo still smells like home. 

“But I came to visit you two times today. Mom, are you okay?” She asked. The concern in her voice tickled me red. 

Scaling back from our hug I walked her to my desk so I could sit back down. 

“Mommy..what’s wrong? Why do you look so sad?” She questioned with a little more authoritative tone. 

“I’m not sad, Zo. I’m really tired but I’m not sad. And no I’m not coming home late. In fact..” taking a breather I stood up and began gathering my belongings. “Wanna take a trip with me? We can surprise daddy and Kenny with something they’ll both love.” I know that enticing children is a horrible parenting tactic. Especially since I get on Andre, all the time, about spoiling them with material things. However the incentive for her to come home with me is baked goods. 

“Can we go to Ann Marie? Please mom? Say that we can go, please!” Zoe began to guilt trip me about the last time we were supposed to go to the bakery. Together we left the school grounds after I received confirmation that Divya picked up Kenja this afternoon. The drive into downtown LA was an absolute mess. Cars and pedestrians at every turn, not to mention it began to rain just as Zo and I made it inside the shop. 

“Mommy..the umbrella.” Zoe complained, standing close to me. 

“We’ll be alright love bug. I’ll cover you with my jacket before we walk out. Tell me what you want.” I said to her. I granted Zoe the pleasure of getting her favorite muffin and a small cake just for her. I was sure to get Kenja’s and her daddy’s  favorite treats as well. When it came time for me to pick something I froze. 

My drastic change in diet has really hindered my food palate. I chose many months ago to eat to live. I chose to nourish my body with food from the earth not only for my benefit but for my little boy too. 

“If you’re struggling with the main menu we do have a specialty menu you can look at.” The girl behind the counter spoke up. 

“Yes, I’d like to see that one. Thank you.” Accepting a laminated booklet with all kinds of alternatives I felt my eyes widen. “I’ll be damned.” I chuckled quietly. 

“Can I see? I want to look too, mom.” Zoe quizzed frantically. 

Squatting down to her level I read off some goods that caught my eye. Thanks to Zoe I picked out more sweet treats than I bargained for. The girl boxed up our food beautifully and then we went home. The rain lightened up just as I got settled behind the steering wheel. My eye caught the brightest rainbow I’ve seen since the day of my mother’s funeral. 

“It’s grandma and her special rainbow, mommy, look.” Zoe said. 

“Yeah baby, I see it too. It’s pretty right?”

“Uh huh.” She mumbled 

Choking back a mass in my throat I discreetly thanked my mother for the sign of good faith.

——--  ——--

“Alright, all done.” I yawned. Setting down Kenja’s brush and spray bottle I hung my head low with my eyes closed. My body began to sway and when I felt the cushion of her bed underneath my head I remained still. 

“You can sleep here, I don’t mind..” 

I opened one eye up to see Kenja taking the braid out of my hair. A weak smile and airy chuckle later I felt a presence nearby. Shifting slightly I felt my spirit come back to life. Here Andre stands in the doorway of the room with the baby cradled in his arms. I’ve been home tending to the girls for over an hour and I’ve yet to lay eyes on my baby. 

“Is he asleep?” I yawned again, making the girls and Andre laugh. 

“Same state that you’re in now. Come on..” he encouraged me. 

I rose slowly from Evelyn’s bed and stood on my feet even slower. I’m worn out beyond measure. This first day back was brutal on my body. Turning around on my feet I went to tuck the girls into their beds. It’s getting to that time of night where I have to flip the switch in my brain. I tended to my kids and students all day so now is my time to end my night with my best friend and our bundle of joy. 

“Good night my loves, I love you girls so much and don’t ever forget that.” I passed my love to the girls and left the room, stripping out of second change of clothes. I swapped the sweats and hoodie for one of my robes and sat down at the edge of the bed. Andre passed the baby to me and when I laid my sights on him I let the tears go. Too many hours have passed since I’ve held and loved on my little boy. “I missed you so much baby. So so much.” I whispered to him, smothering his face in warm kisses. 

“I can already tell how your first day back went.” Andre voiced, adjusting the temperature in the room.

Sighing tiredly, I crossed my legs and laid back against the bed. “I missed the two of you so much. Being here was all I could think about. The girls came to visit as usual and that really helped. Anyway, how was your day?”

“Quiet. I didn’t take him anywhere. We just hung out around the house. I let him sleep after you left and surprisingly he was knocked out for five hours straight.” Andre stretched out beside me, removing my earrings and my eyelashes. “Why are you still playing around with these? You have beautiful eyelashes that don’t deserve to be covered up.” 

Smiling from the pit of my belly I felt my body tremble at his passive aggressive attempt to poke fun at me. Andre is the most supportive man I know but when I toy with different makeup looks and tools he gets a kick out of making commentary. 

“I like to switch things up, Dre. You know that. I guess you’re right though, they are quite uncomfortable.” Peering at my baby I lifted my hand to stroke his cheek. 

“Switch with me. Go get ready for bed because it’s getting late and you need to rest.” He and I traded places, granting me the peace and quiet I’ve been yearning for all day. Lifting my head toward the shower head I embraced the pounding water, pushing my hair back. 

“Mmm…” I groaned. “Hahh…” my mind is slipping between reality and a dreamland. Life has been gracious to me and so has the Lord. Life has also been cruel to me on numerous occasions. The spattering water against the floor and my feet reminded me of the waterfalls in Puerto Rico. 

“Camila,” I heard over the water. 

“Yeah?” Turning around I leaned forward to let the water penetrate my back muscles. “That feels so good, mm..” 

“I’m just checking on you. Go on with your shower, I’m not going anywhere.” He snickered. “Can I ask you something babe?”

Rolling my eyes I began to take this shower seriously. “Of course.” 

“How are those stitches treating you?” 

Andre mentioning the most painful part of labor and delivery struck a nerve. I truly felt like I was dying when I felt my skin rip apart. “Umm..” as I rinsed the suds from my body I took a seat and delicately fanned my fingertips over my stitches. Even the slightest touch still raises the hair on my body and brings me discomfort. 

“Cam, what’s wrong baby, talk to me..” I jumped at the sound of Andre’s voice and stabbed myself with my fingernail. 

“Crap..” I shuddered. “It’s healing...slowly but surely. Did you get the pain meds I asked for? Along with everything else?” Sighing in defeat I wiped away the tears and sped up this shower. Stepping out I accepted the towel from Andre’s hand. “Gracias.” I smiled. 

“Always and yes I have everything that you asked for. Everything alright in there?” He smirked. 

“The stitches still haven’t dissolved and I stabbed myself. I’m okay I promise but I’m still not-”

Andre stroked the crown of my head and bent forward to kiss my cheek. “Camila, I know how much pain you’re still in.” He began. 

Gulping down the slight formation of bile I looked him in the eye. 

“I care about your health and well-being beyond my sexual needs and desires. I care about your sexual needs and desires before mine, you know that too. I was there behind you, watching you bring this little boy in the world. Meaning that I will never forget how difficult it must’ve been for you. We will get back to our old selves in time. I’m not rushing nor am I growing impatient.” 

I felt the corners of my mouth turn up. “Thank you for all that you do. Your patience and commitment is unmatched.” I said genuinely. 

If I want to have a healthy state of mind I’ve got to refocus. With Andre taking unexpected time off to be home with Jorden, this is the break I need to reinvent Camila Maree. 

[hgsecretsanta-blog]

100 Days and 100 Nights

By @titaniasfics

Written for @norbertsmom, my Secret Santa, hosted by @loveinpanem

In-Panem Canon AU, no Games, no Reaping, just a whole lot of pining.

A/N at the end

“The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?”

― Percy Bysshe Shelley

Peeta glanced down at the floor of the kitchen as he slid the empty bread trays under the counter. The dollops of dried dough indicated the floor needed a good sweeping. This was Rye’s chore this week, but he had gone to deliver a last minute order, leaving Peeta alone in the shop. Peeta wasn’t interested in hearing his mother complain about the matter when she returned from her errands, so he took advantage of the lull in customers and swept the debris into the dustbin.

While he worked, he heard a rapping at the back door. He set the broom in the corner, his chest growing tight because he knew who would most likely be there. As he passed the chrome refrigerator, he checked his face in the reflection, relieved that he didn’t have flour in his hair or dough on his cheek.

With a steadying breath, he opened the door.

“Hello Katniss,” he said, smiling his usual, how-can-I-help-you smile, the one he used to greet all his customers, even though his excitement was through the roof. It was automatic. Safe. Even though he’d been in love with Katniss Everdeen ever since they were kindergartners in District 12’s only elementary school, he made sure to never let a hint of his affections for the aloof huntress from the Seam escape him.

“Got some squirrel to trade,” she said. Unlike him, there was a slight smudge of dirt on her cheek and her hair was matted at the hairline with sweat. The humidity was thick in the air outside, the smell of rain filling the alley where Katniss stood.

“Come in,” he stepped aside to give her space to enter. He noticed with relief that her giant lug of a hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne, wasn’t glued to her side today.

She nodded once, her eyes flickering over him as she moved past, wary as the wild animals she hunted.

“How many do you have?” Peeta asked, absorbing, as he was in the habit of doing, every aspect of her appearance in one glance - her braid which hung over the left shoulder, her boyish shirt and pants which were patched in the strangest places, probably from being snagged in the trees and branches as she hunted. He made other observations, quicker ones that struck him in a flash, the ones he spent hours going over after she left each time - the luster of her black hair, the smooth, uninterrupted texture of her olive skin, the slant of her large, almond-shaped gray eyes, the pillowy-softness of her bottom lip, now sucked into a thin line of impatience.

“Four,” she answered, taking them out of her hunting sack and laying them on the table. “I had three times that but Greasy Sae bought most of them. I told her to leave these for your father.”

It was the most Katniss Everdeen had ever spoken all at once, and the husky sound of her voice struck him low and deep in his belly. “That’s kind of you. You know how much my father loves wild squirrel,” he answered. “How about a loaf of nut bread?”

Katniss’s eyes went wide. “That’s too much! Your father usually gives me a roll for each one. I won’t be cheating my customers.” 

Peeta quaked, not because he was scared but because he didn’t want her to disapprove of him. “I know, but it’s a day old,” he lied. “And my mother was already going to discount it. It’s worth the same as fresh rolls and…”, he nearly lost his courage but continued, “I know how much you like the nut bread.”

She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. She didn’t know the bread had been baked that very morning, and his mother would certainly have a fit if she discovered he’d given away such a prized loaf. But she wanted the bread - he knew she did. It was her favorite. And he desperately wanted to give it to her. Give her anything her heart desired. But she was stubborn and would not take a gift from anyone.

He considered mentioning her mother and sister, for whom she cared and would do anything, but she finally acquiesced. “I’ll take the trade.”

Peeta, satisfied with himself, took the loaf from the shelf and wrapped it in paper, handing it to her with care. The smell of nuts, raisins and spices wafted from it, making his mouth water. He imagined Katniss eating it, making all manner of small moans of pleasure as she bit into the hard crust to savor the tender, aromatic center. He bit his lip to keep from panting.

“Thanks,” she said as she took the package and made for the door, opening it. Peeta desperately wanted to keep her for a little while longer but couldn’t find anything to say to her. 

“Weather’s nice today,” he blurted out. 

Katniss turned, raising an eyebrow. “Have you been outside today?” 

Peeta glanced past her. The air now entering through the open door had become drenched in humidity and storm clouds swirled overhead. People were moving quickly through the center to get to shelter before the sky dropped its heavy rains on their heads.

“Oh,” he said, feeling like an idiot.

She shrugged. “I’ve got to get home. Thanks again.” She skipped down the steps and raced away even as fat droplets began to land on the ground.

He watched her leave, just as he always did, and stayed in that spot long after she’d disappeared from his sight.

 XXXXX

 After Peeta’s shift ended, he slipped upstairs to the apartment he shared with his parents and two older brothers. They were more well off than most so he could afford the large sketchbook he kept beneath the floorboard of his bedroom. He rolled the corner of the throw rug and pulled up the plank of wood. Inside was the black, faux-leather bound volume filled with fine sheets of drawing paper. He could also afford the pencils in the metal box he stored with the book. He lifted both up and set them at the small writing table. Opening the book, he scanned the pictures he’d already drawn - sketches of the birds that flew in from the surrounding woods, the snowy tops of distant mountains visible from his second story home in the Merchant quarter, where his family’s bakery was located. Drawings of his brothers, one each of his parents.

And Katniss. Ten, fifteen, thirty sketches of her over the years, engaged in different activities. He passed her face turned in adoration towards her little sister Prim, or one in which she’s scowling at something in displeasure. He’d drawn her with her bow and arrow, though he’d never actually seen her hunt. He’d sketched her standing at his backdoor, with the sun behind her as if she were a magical creature. And sometimes, when he was blind with a need so powerful, he thought it might surely burn him from the inside, he drew her in ways he’d never seen but could only dream of - smiling, soft, open, naked, inviting him close. Those pictures were folded away, saved for only the most desperate moments when he could find no other relief from his wanting.

Today, he was not aflame in that way, so he drew the moment he gave her the loaf, the joy of getting something she so badly wanted but was too proud to ask for. He was completely enraptured, each line he drew as if it were another moment he spent with her. After half an hour, he stared at the final product. It would require some editing, he knew, but it was good enough. It had to be good enough, because these furtive drawings were as close as he would ever get to her.

 XXXXX

 Later that week, Peeta approached the Hob, a makeshift market at the edge of District 12. It was part oversized shack, part canvas tent, its shape given by piecemeal metal construction, where Seam residents came to trade or find oddities that could not be found in more respectable quarters. Most of the Merchant class stayed away from the Hob, but Peeta had come out of a quiet desperation, hoping to catch a glimpse of Katniss. Each time she came to make a trade, the pressure for another encounter built up more quickly, until lately, it seemed he could not get from one day to the next without at least a glimpse of her. He didn’t care about the strange looks he received - he searched the entire interior, despondent to realize she was not there. Something quivered, brittle and aching in his heart, an ache which bore the name of Katniss Everdeen.

Outside the entrance of the market was Haymitch Abernathy, the old drunk from the Seam, perched on a table as worn as he was, a bottle of white liquor at his side. Haymitch had come into a great deal of money when he was younger, when he was a soldier and fighting wars in far off lands for Panem. It was rumored that he’d made a deal with the government that resulted in him being given a generous stipend for the rest of his life, though no one had a clue what the nature of that arrangement was. A mysterious figure, he piqued the interest of the young people of District 12, who often followed him around, hoping to hear an anecdote about his time beyond the borders of their small country.

Haymitch was surrounded by a small group of people, all awaiting his tale. The old man looked up, clear grey eyes so like Katniss’s and others of the Seam, and captured Peeta’s gaze where he stood at the back, leaning on a gnarled apple tree that had long since ceased yielding fruit. It was as if Haymitch spoke directly to him.

“Once upon a time a king gave a feast and there were all the most beautiful princesses of the realm. One of the guards saw the king's daughter: she was the most beautiful one of all. And he immediately fell in love with her.

“But who is a poor soldier when compared to a king's daughter? One day he managed to meet her and tell her he couldn't live without her. The princess was so struck by the depth of his feeling that she said to the soldier, 'If you will wait a hundred days and a hundred nights beneath my balcony, then in the end I'll be yours.'

“The soldier immediately took up a place beneath her balcony and waited. One day, two days, ten, twenty...Every night she looked out of her window, but he never budged. Come rain, wind, or snow, he never moved from his spot. After ninety nights he was gaunt and pale and tears streamed from his eyes but he couldn't hold them back. He didn't even have the strength to sleep any more. The princess still watched.

And on the ninety-ninth night, the soldier got up, picked up his chair and left.”

Several moments passed before the group came to realize that Haymitch had finished his story. “That’s it?” one man, a young Peacekeeper named Darius, called out. “What kind of ending is that?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Haymitch groused. “That’s just how the story goes.”

The group wandered away, exasperated, muttering under their breath, though they would be back again the next time Haymitch set himself up on the bench to tell his stories. Peeta made his way towards him as he took a swig of the white liquor bottle.

“Why would the soldier give up just as he is about to get what he wants? After all of that effort?” Peeta mused.

Haymitch set down his bottle, eyeing him carefully. “I don’t know. I’ve never wanted anyone that much.”

Peeta frowned. “That’s actually sad.”

The old man shrugged, getting off the table and clutching the bottle to him. He stared at it instead of Peeta. “It is. But I bet you’ll tell me what it means soon enough.”

At that, Haymitch walked away, remarkably composed for a man who had just swallowed half a bottle of powerful drink. As Peeta watched him leave, he caught sight of Katniss approaching the Hob with a silent tread. She had learned from many years of hunting how to move like a shadow and just as silently, slipped inside.

Her unexpected appearance brought a surge of happiness to Peeta’s heart, prompting him to follow her without conscious volition. Her arrival, like the flickering of a star through a cloud-covered night sky, lit up his mood and inspired a powerful sense of possibility, and risk.

She weaved her way through the tables to the back, approaching Rooba, the butcher. Katniss spoke with the older woman, emptying the contents of her bulging hunting bag onto the counter.

Peeta moved as quietly as he could, dodging the tarps and canvases that hung from the roof of the haphazard structure before stepping behind one that hung just adjacent to where Rooba’s was set up, peeking in through a tear in the worn fabric. From his vantage point, he listened to Katniss become more insistent as she negotiated for her meat. He hung back, listening to snatches of her conversation with Rooba until she packed up what remained of her unsold meat and stepped away from Rooba’s table.

Peeta was prepared to move and follow her again but she surprised him by setting her things down on a bench directly in front of where he stood. He was so close, he could see the part of her thick, dark hair. Her braid was neater than it had been when she’d last come to the bakery, perhaps because the day was not as rainy and humid.

A powerful desire to touch her welled up inside of him, and that fragile thing that quivered at the thought of her wailed, threatening to shatter if he did not, at that very instant, do something to satisfy it. His heart beat wildly and his palms were damp with sweat but he gave in, calling Katniss’s name from where he stood.

“Who’s there?” Katniss said, looking around her.

“Sssh,” he said, poking his head through the partition in the canvas. “Just pretend everything's normal. It’s me, Peeta.”

Katniss’s eyes popped open in amazement. “I know who you are.” She glanced around her, and he wondered if she was waiting for Gale. “Peeta, the Hob’s no place for you. What are you doing here?”

“Forgive me, Katniss. I know it’s stupid of me. But I had to talk to you.”

She looked up at him and her eyes were even more beautiful in the dim light of the Hob’s interior.

This time Peeta found the courage to speak to her. Unlike his stammering heart and ragged breath, he was filled with determination. That curtain helped him, allowing him to only partially be seen.

“You're so beautiful...That's what I wanted to tell you.”

Katniss stared, dumbfounded but he pushed on. “When I speak to you, I can't put two words together because...you make me tremble. I don't know what people do in these situations, or what I’m supposed to say. But I think I'm in love with you.”  

Katniss leaned into the partition, staring at his face, as if that flood of passion bewildered her. At that moment, an older woman stopped to ask about a trade. Without looking, Katniss snapped at her and told she had nothing left. The woman insisted, pointing at her full hunting bag but Katniss fairly growled that all her haul was accounted for and returned her concentration to Peeta.

Peeta chuckled, provoking a tiny answering smile from Katniss. It overwhelmed him to see her face so transformed. “When you smile, you're even more beautiful.”

Katniss swayed on her legs, as if under a spell but pulled back and fixed a stern, but not cruel look on her face.

“Peeta, that’s really...kind...of you---”

“I promise you, it’s not kindness that I feel,” he interjected.

“Okay,” she said, disconcerted but pushing on. “I like you. But...I'm not...in love with you.”

It was as if a knife had been plunged directly into his heart. He held her luminous gaze, unyielding. He had come this far.

“Is it because of Gale Hawthorne?”

Katniss scowled. “He has...intentions.”

“But you’re undecided,” Peeta insisted, hope springing inside of him, becoming stronger when she refused to answer his question.

“I don’t care about Gale Hawthorne’s intentions,” he said. “I’ll wait.”

“For what?” Katniss asked.

“For you to fall in love with me too.”

She shook her head, beginning to protest but he rushed to explain before he lost his chance. “Listen. Every night, when I get off work, I'll come and wait beneath your window. Every night. When you change your mind, open your window. That's all you have to do. I'll understand…”

He smiled at her, trying to disarm her with his sincerity. Her eyes narrowed briefly in response, as if undecided or unbelieving. “You’re out of your mind. You’re Merchant. I’m Seam. You can’t just walk into my neighborhood and park yourself outside my window.”

Peeta smiled again, this time full of the courage of his certainty. “I am out of my mind with love for you.” He leaned his head from the rift in the canvas. “Don’t forget - your mother was Merchant and your father, Seam. And as for sitting under your window, it’s the smallest price I would pay to have you.” He pulled back again, so that he knew she could not see him, only hear the susurring of his voice. “I’ll see you tonight.”

He slipped out between the tarps that hung low, himself a shadow between the canvas. As he escaped, he saw Gale arrive, his eyes sweeping the interior of the market, no doubt also seeking Katniss.

Even with the presence of his greatest rival, Peeta was filled with hope. He felt powerful and optimistic and did not mind Gale Hawthorne very much at all.

XXXXX

Peeta did exactly as he promised, waiting patiently outside Katniss’s window. He was careful to select a spot where her mother could not see him. Katniss’s house was the very last one in the Seam, next to the fence that was used to keep the animals of the forest from roaming the streets of District 12 at night. He slipped in each night just after sun down and stayed until the lights of the small house went dark. During the hours of his vigil, which were not so many, he watched for Katniss’s silhouette, sometimes hearing her voice. But in those first autumn weeks, she ghosted near her windows, the only evidence of her curiosity was the corner that was gently pulled back to spy on him, but dropped in haste, in fear of being discovered.

He marked the passing days on a wall calendar in his room, each X building like the relics he’d read about in some book or other, each a testament of his devotion, each one pushing him toward the next one. Katniss still came to trade, at times with Gale but many more times, without. She said nothing of Peeta’s escapades - his visits to her house, regardless of the rain that pelted down or the cold that gnawed him to the bone. The courage with which he confronted this challenge waxed and waned, sometimes strengthened by an odd look she gave him when she accepted his trades, or the passing of his body close to hers when he held opened the door to let her in the bakery. Her breath caught, her eyes fluttered, and he knew as sure as his name that she’d felt something in response to him.

But there were other days, days when she walked the dirt roads of her neighborhoods as they wound towards the pavements of the center, in the company of Gale, pretending not to know Peeta - those were the days that sapped his optimism, making him question why he had ever thought someone like Katniss could care for someone as plain as Peeta.

Each night, her window remained closed. There were only a handful of moments when Peeta was sure her resolution wavered, moments when a curtain was pushed aside, a tremulous hand reaching for the handle, only to pull back. Those nights crushed him and sent him with a heavy heart back to his home, where his family eyed his strange, late night expeditions with curiosity and concern.

The nights became longer as autumn brought cold winds and leaves the color of singed metals. It also brought the Harvest Festival with its jocular lights crisscrossing the square, tables of food and drink set up around the center. The entrance to Town Hall was converted into a stage, before which an area which had been cleared for both the young and old to dance the frigid night away. Peeta, like all young men, both Merchant and Seam, prepared himself, with autumn wreath in hand and romantic dreams in the heart in the hopes of persuading the girl he most desired.

He smoothed out the new, green, button-up shirt he’d chosen for the evening and dress pants so typical of District 12. He pulled on a thick sweater which set off his shirt with colors of browns, greens and his favorite autumn orange, which appeared to have been borrowed from a candle flame. His artist’s eye was satisfied with the way it augmented his blue eyes and ashy-blonde hair. When his brothers called for him, he left his room, pulling on his formal coat, and slipped out of the houses towards the center.

They found the square already filled with young people. Groups of parents and older citizens clustered together, Seam at one corner of the plaza and Merchants on the other. There was some mingling between groups, most notably Haymitch and Prim, Katniss’s affable and universally loved younger sister.

Peeta pretended to carry on a conversation with Dillon Cartwright, the son of the shoemaker, while his eyes searched the crowds for Katniss. He greeted the children of other Merchant families, their parents all friends or business associates of his parents. It was second nature for Peeta to be so effortlessly charming.

An hour into the Harvest Festival Concert, where men and women played the local music of the season in makeshift groups, Peeta found Katniss. She wore an intricate weave of beautiful braids, typical of District 12. In fact, many of the girls had their hair swept up in braids like hers, but to Peeta’s eyes, no one wore them better. Under a pale, cream-colored wool shawl, she wore a pastel-orange dress which showed off her figure to lovely effect, to the extent that other boys noticed her as she walked by. But no matter what clothes she wore, no one had the courage to approach her.

Peeta glanced around the square with its decorated tables, twinkling lamplights and festive music and set one foot before the other, moving towards her. She pretended not to notice him but slowed her pace, allowing him to reach her. He fell into step next to her, ignoring the way a group of girls from his former school days watched them and whispered furiously.

“Hello, Katniss,” he said in a low, steady voice.

“Peeta,” she answered, her face impassive but without her usual scowl.

The music started, making it difficult to speak, but he did anyway. “Did you just arrive?”

She shrugged. “I was late in getting here.” Her eyes flickered quickly over him before she looked away.

“I…” he swallowed hard, wishing he’d rehearsed something before he approached her. “I was wondering if you’d like to dance.”

She tilted her head to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “You dance? I’ve never seen you do it.”

Peeta smiled nervously, trying to hold her gaze and failing miserably. “I don’t usually dance in public.”

“Hmm,” she said, stopping in front of him. “Alright.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You will? I mean, you’ll dance with me?”

“That’s what I said.” She put out her hand, inviting him to take it. “Do you know the steps?”

He nodded, not believing his luck. He tried not to make too much of the humorous twinkle in her eyes, tried not to read too much in her acquiescence. He took her hand and led her to the dance line, where people were arranging themselves. With her hand firmly held in his, he listened to the beat of the music, and when the dancers moved he led her through the steps of the jaunty song.

Peeta moved awkwardly at first, fearing to tread on Katniss’s toes or commit some other misstep. But when he spun her around and pulled her towards him for several beats, she whispered, “Relax, you’re doing fine.” This had an instantaneous effect on him and he fell into step with more ease. The clapping and stomping of the other dancers made him euphoric. But what lifted his heart, more than anything else, was the way Katniss’s eyes brightened with excitement, laughter bubbling from her like the ale fizzling in a cold glass. Her happiness captivated him and he found within himself an endless desire to always see her that way.

They danced until they were breathless. When the music stopped, Katniss collapsed against his chest, her smile wide and bright. He hugged her to him, pleased that she let him before leading her away from the center.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, indicating the table of ale.

Katniss nodded, catching her breath. “Yes, please.”

Peeta squeezed her hand before leaving her at an empty bench and made his way to the table where Mr. Undersee, the Mayor of District 12, was serving drinks. Peeta’s heart was full to the brim with happiness - he had been able to hold Katniss close to him and she had not only let him, but appeared to welcome his company.

“Two cups of ale, please,” he asked when he reached the front of the line.

“Peeta!” Mr. Undersee smiled, shaking his hand in greeting. “You were dancing up quite a storm out there.” He ladled the drinks into paper cups and handed them to Peeta.

“I’m only really just learning,” Peeta said, almost bashful.

“Well, you have quite the teacher. Enjoy the rest of your night, son.”

Peeta smiled, all benevolence and joy as he weaved through the crowd, which had lined up behind him. He glimpsed Katniss near the table where he’d left her and approached, eager to spend the evening with her, calculating which stands he could take her to, what gifts he could buy her.

But when he emerged from the crowd, he instantly deflated. Katniss was not alone. Towering next to her in clothes that were better than what he usually wore for hunting, was Gale Hawthorne. He stood close to Katniss, speaking to her in low tones. Peeta approached, holding the two cups in his hand, handing one to Katniss, who avoided his gaze by staring resolutely at the drink, a scowl fixed on her face. He offered his free hand to Gale, gritting his teeth as the tall man shook his hand in response.

“Are you enjoying the festival?” Peeta asked, calling forth every ounce of politeness.

Gale shrugged, eyeing the crowd with his usual dour expression. “It’s been fun so far. I was just coming to get Katniss. Her mother’s looking for her.”

“She can wait,” Katniss grumbled, taking a quick sip of her drink.

“It sounds important,” Gale said. It was then Peeta sensed the tension in the air between them, which made him uneasy.

“I can walk you over, if you like,” Peeta offered gently.

Katniss glanced up at him with a grateful look. “It’s okay. I might as well get it over with.” She paused, sipping from her cup again, ignoring the impatience in Gale’s stance. “Thank you for the dance. I’m going squirrel hunting tomorrow.”

Peeta nodded. “My father will be happy to hear it.”

With that, she turned, allowing Gale to lead her away. She cast a last glance over her shoulder before melting into the crowd. Peeta knew he would not see her again that evening. He left soon after, his mind filled with images of her that he would replay and draw for days to come.

XXXXX

After the Harvest Festival, the cold, busy days of preparation for Yuletide raced by. It was a busy period for Peeta and his family, and he worked without pause, filling endless cake and cookie orders in preparation for the upcoming festivities. The weather was icy cold, the ground covered in frost each night Peeta took his excursion to Katniss’s house. Now she made no effort to hide her face when she peeked through the curtains, but still the window remained closed.

The hard work, the frozen nights, the hope that was dashed each time Katniss shut her lights off at the end of Peeta’s vigil at once drove him forward and wore him down. At last, without knowing how, ninety nine days and ninety nine nights had passed beneath her sealed window, that resolute glass and shaded curtain chipping away at the certainty that had brought him to commit to this path to begin with.

Peeta stood at his post, beneath the giant evergreen tree. Few people came this far to the edge of the Seam, unless they required some medical assistance from Katniss’s mother and sister. So it was with some surprise that he saw Gale arrive with a giant package. He watched as Katniss opened the door and welcomed him inside with the easy familiarity of a friend - or lover.

Peeta did not wait for the night to end before turning on his heel and returning home.

XXXXX

The hundredth day coincided with Yuletide’s Eve and the festival of the longest night of the year. All the houses of District 12 were filled with evergreen boughs and holly branches. Fires crackled, warm and fragrant, while cakes and cookies for those who could afford the fine flour and sugar abounded on tables that often remained empty of desserts the other nights of the year.

Peeta woke that morning emptier than he’d ever been in the previous three months. He barrelled through the day, working hard so he wouldn’t have to think of his withering heart. In the evening, he perused the treasure beneath his floorboard, the one sketchbook that had grown into two, and turned first one page, then another, each one a different version of Katniss. He had derived so much joy from the expectation of catching a glimpse of her, the hope he carried each night that one day he would arrive and find her window open. But now that he’d come to this point, he found the energy that had driven him forward all these months was now depleted.

Katniss would never open her window, never feel the way he felt for her. She had Gale and there was nothing more Peeta could do.

He slammed his sketchbooks shut and shoved them deep under the floorboard, as deep as they would go, and fitted the wood slab in place again, lowering the edge of the rug resolutely over it. When he glanced out the window, he saw Haymitch idling in the town square. Peeta grabbed his coat, putting it on as he took to the stairs and quickly found himself before the old, drunk storyteller.

“Now I understand why the soldier went away just before the end,” he blurted out, full of misery. “Just one more night and the princess would have been his. But she might not have kept her promise. And...that would have been terrible, he would have died from it. So instead, for ninety-nine nights, at least he had lived with the illusion that she was there waiting for him…”

Haymitch hung his head, scraping at the snow on the ground. “So the soldier’s dreams were more real to him than reality.”

Peeta followed the design Haymitch etched into the ice. Around him, the light of the afternoon was fading quickly, becoming darker and darker. It would be Yuletide soon, his family would sit around their dinner table, carving the winter fowl, slicing the warm, freshly baked bread, wondering where he was. He himself would not know where he would be until he found himself there, for his heart had exhausted his store of hope, and like the weather-beaten soldier, with chair firmly in hand, Peeta was ready to take his illusions with him.

Haymitch’s gravelly voice interrupted his thoughts. “Boy, go home. Eat well. Tomorrow will bring more fables and tales. Maybe you will find another dream to dream.”

The old man clapped his hand on Peeta’s shoulder, not waiting for him to return the greeting before turning to walk toward Greasy Sae’s, where he traditionally had his Yuletide dinner. Peeta looked to the path he’d taken so many times in the last months, the one that had led him each time to his place beneath Katniss’s window. The pull was weak but it was still there, beckoning him forward to try one more time, to live in his dream for one last night.

He let his gaze linger, his heart filled with a love he would bury for the rest if his life, turned around and walked back to the bakery.

XXXXX

Dinner was agony. His mother had invited their aunts and uncles and myriad of cousins to dine with them. Peeta made a half-hearted effort to appear happy, forcing himself to eat and socialize, all the while making every effort to push each tortuous thought of Katniss from his mind. He was in a bad way by the time dessert was served and only just made it through the end of toasting the meal when he slipped out of his apartment and snuck downstairs to take fresh air outside the bakery.

He didn’t bother to turn on the light in the shop as he unlocked the back door, making sure to leave it unlocked as he stepped out into the alley. There were a handful of people milling around, walking off the meals they’d just shared with their friends and family. Peeta’s stared out at the lamps that were hung with wreaths and holly, fixated on the flickering stars beyond. So he did not hear the shuffling of boots on snow until a voice startled him from his thoughts.

“I opened my window and you were gone.”

Peeta turned and saw Katniss as if in a dream. His heart gave one, resolute thud inside his chest and faltered before picking up speed, beating wildly.

“I thought…” he began, but the look on her face was nothing like he’d ever seen before - wonderful, sweet, the look of somebody who understands she is loved and now realizes at last that she is in love too. Her single braid was gone, replaced with an elaborate array of smaller braids arranged high on her head, revealing the endless, smooth column of her neck. She wore a powder-blue dress, fur-lined snow boots and her father’s hunting jacket, damp with fallen snow. She had never looked more beautiful.

“What about Gale?” he asked, praying that she was not a figment of his overheated imagination.

“Gale?” she answered, taking a step forward. “I got into the habit of having him around. But he’s not what I want.”

Her words overwhelmed him, making the moment almost unbearable. To be met, not with a scowl, but with an invitation. He opened his arms with a timid restraint, as if this was a reality he could not believe. But she stepped inside, without hesitation, and pressed her strong body against him.

“Am I what you want?”

She clutched the material of his sweater, balling it into her fist. “Yes.”

They held onto each other awhile longer, her small body swallowed in his arms. Peeta was filled with both happiness and the fear of letting go. Then, without warning, he lifted her up and brought her into the warmth of the bakery. His action elicited a squeal of surprise from her, which became laughter when he spun her around and around in wide circles. She buried her face in the crook of his neck until they landed, dizzy, against a wall.

They exchanged an intense look. Peeta didn’t know who started but with eyes locked on each other, they kissed, at first timid, almost clumsy, and then with more determination. Katniss’s lips gave way to him, and he kissed her hungrily, heady with the taste of her. They only broke apart when the bell of the town hall chimed midnight, but instead of ending their rapture, it was magnified a thousand times, reflected in Katniss’s glassy eyes and swollen lips.

Peeta was speechless but felt Katniss’s fingers twine through the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer. “Kiss me again, once for each night you waited for me.”

“A hundred kisses,” he whispered, pressing his lips against hers, wanting to get lost in the wet warmth of her mouth.

She pulled back before they became entangled again.“Were they really one hundred nights?”

“One hundred days and one hundred nights,” he answered, dizzy with want.

She shook her head, smiling up at him, a smile so full of love, he thought he might be blinded by it. “Then kiss me again until you lose count.”

 XXXXX

 Based on a series of scenes from the movie, Cinema Paradiso. Some lines of this story were taken directly from the script. If you get a chance to watch this movie, it’s lovely.

@norbertsmom - I was so happy to get you as my Secret Santa! I’ve enjoyed doing this with you. I wanted to write you more stories but it was not in the cards this time, so I decided to write a longer story for the great reveal instead. Searching for things to put on our blog was a lot of fun for me. Hope you have a wonderful holiday! I got so much out of it. Thanks for being a friend and a supporter over the years.

Betaed by the incomparable @eala-musings and @akai-echo. Happy holidays to my friends :).

[loremonster]

Slush Pile : Nightmares

While not plot-important, this little scene is something I feel like would go between the current story and the next as Kenny and Dee start breaking more rules to spend time together. I’m still considering it for inclusion in the story, but I don’t know if it fits in just yet or would play any important role to the plot... more likely than not, it won’t make it over to fanfiction, so enjoy this bonus content! Feels, somewhat unsettling descriptions, and cursing ahead! Enjoy!

It’s the right thing. 

She’d told herself the moment she began to feel her insides squirming, the way they churned, as if some living creature within her guts were eager to burst forth. It was not unlike the feeling of being entirely too full, the contents of the stomach threatening to burst up through the mouth when the midsection was so much as bent... but it wasn’t an excess of food she was gritting her teeth against, trying desperately to ignore as more and more coppery-tasting black bile was swallowed back, welling up from places unknown. No, no, there was something unthinking and vicious, gluttonous and oh so hungry. 

It was going to escape if this didn’t happen. She knew it would. It would emerge from the chrysalis of her flesh, and wreak the very havoc she’d come to avoid. 

It’s the right thing. 

She looked up, up to the good doctor Kartwright and her silenced pistol where it hovered a mere inch from her brow. This had been the plan since she began throwing up at home, since she arrived in this un-disastered timeline and became aware that she was the disaster, walking about with both the key to salvation and the disease that would consume everything in its wake if not stopped. 

She’d expected to cry, or be afraid.

Get it over with. 

Gunshots in movies were bullshit-- there was no flash. All of that was edited in post-- and they rarely reflected just how loud a gun was. How the shot could be felt in the flesh and rang in unprotected ears. Even with a silencer, there was a punctuation to a gunshot that was immistakable, a reverberation in the ribs as shocked air rushed away from a point of ignition. 

Somehow, she found herself aware of it. Aware of this moment, and perchance that was fitting, as it would be her very last; her last breath, gasped in at the exact second of the shot. Her last impulse, to twitch upwards into a tense posture.

Her last thought, wondering if she really would continue on as the self that was still alive, or if that girl was an entirely separate existence that she’d never get to know. 

At least she’ll get to live.

-PAGEBREAK-

She awoke in the dark of her room, not in her bed but on the floor. It wasn’t like she’d fallen out of bed-- no, she was upright, sitting upon her knees. Kneeling. 

Her hand flew to her forehead, where she could almost still feel where the bullet had ripped through her. Feel the sensation of skin and skull giving way before her brain had been sundered and her awareness ended in a terrible lack of all. No dark, no light, no sound, nothing.

Terrible, terrible nothing. 

But that wasn’t what was here. No, she inhaled deeply and could smell the familiar scent of home. Her room, her blankets, the wood of the house-- even faint traces of the casserole her father had baked that night, probably not more than three or four hours ago. 

She was the girl. The girl that other version of her had been so worried about-- the one who didn’t get shot in the head, but had instead safely slept through the whole ordeal, believed sick by her parents and left alone. 

Her posture bent, her other hand feeding up into tangled curls of red hair, nails digging into her skull. 

She could still feel the track of the bullet, burning, searing, torn through-- the shock-wave that had gone through her brain and turned her gray matter into jelly.

She could still feel herself dying.

She wanted to claw it out. Rip her own head open just to make it stop, as if she could dig in and scratch away the offending sensation like one did an itch. Great balls of hair were gathered into fists, and she pulled, pulled until it hurt, pulled until she doubled over and cried into her knees. 

Somewhere behind her, she heard her phone buzz. The sound was distinct; vibration against a hard surface-- her end table? That was where she usually left it, but incidents of sleepwalking had left her phone in odd places before. 

Who cares? It’s crazy late. No one is gonna give a fuck whether I respond now or later. 

An excuse, an excuse to remain down with her eyes pressed into the tops of her knees, nose fitted into the crease between her legs and her merciless knuckles refusing to loosen their grip.

It buzzed again. And again. And again. And again. 

Serial murders snorting jizz, who the fuck needs me this badly at-- at-- at whatever fucking time this is?? 

Damnit, she had to let go of herself just to check the clock-- 1:00 AM. Oh. That time. 

Even as she confirmed it, the sudden barrage of what sounded like texts made even less sense. Who the fuck was blowing up her phone past midnight? Sniveling, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand, she toddled back to her bed and flopped over onto the soft surface of her mattress, reaching across for her phone to unlock it and see which name was taking over her notifications box.

Kenny. 

Suddenly, her little episode was near forgotten. She opened her messenger quickly, scared that something had happened, that Kenny needed her and she was just sitting in a heap in the middle of the floor, freaking out about a phantom bullet in her skull. 

[Received, 1:00] Hey [Received, 1:00] i no its rlly late but... [Received, 1:00] idk i just had this fucked up dream and it made me worry about u [Received, 1:00] just making sure ur ok [Received, 1:01] srry if i woke u

She blinked at the small wall of texts, having to scroll a little to see all of it. What was he talking about? What kind of dream? 

Was he suffering from a memory echo as well? Something from that aborted timeline, or one of the dozens of others she’d undone in the past in which he’d taken mortal damage? 

[Sent, 1:01] I’m awake... I actually just had a bad dream, too [Sent, 1:01] Well, not a dream. Memories. Y’know. I’ve told you about it before. [Sent, 1:01] You?

There was a pause, and she worried he may have fallen back asleep, having only been awake enough to send a bunch of texts before passing the fuck out again... but that theory was proved wrong a moment later. 

[Received, 1:03] same [Received , 1:03] its weird, i dont remember anything from it when im awake, but the dreams happen and its like remembering, like its real [Received, 1:04] then it fades away again. its almost gone right now [Received, 1:04] cartman was a zombie? he bit me, u pulled him off me, i ran away [Received, 1:04] i was scared for karen

That was something she hadn’t heard before-- then again, she could barely remember what happened half of the time. Certain things stuck in her mind, came and went, but it was so hard to hold two separate realities in the mind at the same time... and other timelines intruded upon her at seemingly random intervals as well. Things got intermixed all the time-- the only one that made the zombie time-line special was the fact that she died at the end of it, and that she’d been speaking to Kenny for a great deal of it... a first, in all of her mishaps through time. 

She read over his description, over and over, trying to make herself recall. She thought she did-- mostly she remembered Cartman’s bloated body falling down a set of stairs before she went after him to stomp on his fucking skull. The rest refused to remain solvent.

[Sent, 1:06] i remember him falling down the elementary school stairs.

[Received, 1:06] me too. u jumped on him. i watched long enough to make sure you were okay, but something was wrong with me. i had to run. [Received, 1:07] ... i think i went up to the roof? [Received, 1:07] ... i think i jumped. 

That’s one way to make sure you don’t hurt your sister. She couldn’t speak to any of that. She couldn’t remember leaving the elementary school, but she knew some short time after dealing with Cartman, she’d run into Dr. Kartwright, who had given her a cellphone with a message to convince her past self to take action. 

She didn’t know what to say to him, what might help. Did she tell him about her own nightmare? How the sensation of being shot haunted her? It felt like she didn’t have room to talk; he’d been through thousands of deaths, spoken about how each and every one of them was still vivid in his memory. That he knew what it was like to be impaled, burned, electrocuted, shot, stabbed, and many others... what was her single moment of suffering in the face of his much more tortuous state? 

Her screen blurred. She was tearing up again, swallowing over a lump in her throat while her cheeks burned in a mixture of shame and... and... she didn’t know what-- terror? The danger was past, she was alive, and still the horror of it robbed her of her sleep and left her in this empty and broken state, traumatized by an event that no longer existed. 

Sniffing, she typed.

[Sent, 1:09] Are you alright?  [Sent, 1:10] I think I’m going to be awake for a while if you need someone to talk to.

She rolled her head into her pillow, stifling a sob. 

[Received, 1:10] im good [Received, 1:11] i texted to see if u were ok [Received, 1:11] u said you had a dream too, what happened?

It took her several minutes of shoving her head into her pillow before she even lifted her head and peered at the new set of messages upon her softly glowing screen. She rolled onto her belly, sniffing hard and crumpling her pillow beneath her chest and staring down at her messenger, trying to figure out what to say while the tears once again came to a stop, although breathing was still harder than it should have been. 

He asked. She told herself. That makes it worth telling, right? 

She typed for longer than she meant to, going into details she’d half-forgotten by this point, but apparently her thumbs were able to uncover those little things-- the sound of the birds out in the woods, the way the leaf litter had felt under her knees, the smell of the oil Dr. Kartwright used to keep her gun clean.

She painted a terribly vivid picture, even to herself. She wrote of the moment, so much so that her phone had to pause a second and convert into a multimedia message because she’d typed too much for SMS. She’d gotten to waking up, the sensation that still itched inside her brain case.

She stared at it. Paragraphs of description, of the horror that had been replaying the most often for her these days. Why? Why this? Did her subconscious choose which moments to fixate upon? Why did this one have to keep coming back to her? 

She frowned faintly. Was she being over-dramatic? Maybe this was too much... 

[Received, 1:19] pls dont delete anything [Received, 1:19] i want to hear it

HOW THE FUCK DOES HE DO THAT??? Glaring at her phone-- no, no, she was pouting, pouting at her phone, she pressed and held on her great big text-block and hit the ‘select all’ button to copy it, delete it, and type a shorter message in its place.

[Sent, 1:20] WOULD YOU KINDLY EXPLAIN HOW YOU READ MY GODDAMN MIND?!

[Received, 1:20] i know u. u dont think your shit is worth talking about, worth listening to [Received, 1:21] it is. pls tell me?

Knows me too damn fucking well. If this were a spy movie, I’d have to kill him.

With a sigh, the text block was pasted back into the messenger, and she sent it-- her whole episode in grueling detail. 

Reading over it, seeing it confirmed as sent made her bury damp eyes into the fabric of her pillow once more. Something in her was so goddamn afraid, but she didn’t understand why. 

She remained there until her phone buzzed in her hands. Eyes were bleary and wet when she rose up, blinking a few times. 

Then she blinked a few more. 

[Received, 1:24] do u want me to come over? [Received, 1:24] i noticed ur basement has one of those little storm windows, i could slip in thru there and we could hang out

[Sent, 1:25] It’s past midnight on a school night, and you wanna hold my punching bag for me? 

[Received, 1:25] if itll make u feel better, yeah

... well, if he’s offering... 

[Sent, 1:26] I think it would. [Sent, 1:26] Thanks. 

[acabecca]

Tessa - All odd numbers and B, D, F, H, J ☺️

1. What’s the maximum amount of timeyour character can sit still with nothing to do?Wellbefore all this werewolf stuff ruined herlife, Tessa would get antsy if she had nothing to do for too long, but nowshe’s quite happy to sit on her ass staring into space for hours on end becauseif she’s got nothing to do, that means there’s no imminent threat from some badguy wanting to kill her brother and her friends.

3. How do they put themselves to bedat night (reading, singing, thinking?)She has to turn her mind off or she’dnever get to sleep thinking about everything that’s always going on in BeaconHills and the only way she’s really able to do that is by listening to musicuntil she falls asleep (since Theo has been gone, Liam has made a  habit of going into her room to turn hermusic off before he goes to sleep himself).

5. How easy is it to earn theirmistrust?The second someone hurts anyone shecares about, they’re practically dead to her – unless there’s a very good reason for them doing whatthey did (like, say if they were being manipulated by a gang of demented surgeons......)

7. What triggers nostalgia for them,most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?Smells. Like the smell of bread orcookies baking reminds her of when her and Liam would spend weekends with theirgrandparents who would teach them how to bake stuff (well they would try, Liamwas more interested in playing video games and eating the cookie dough). Thesmell of freshly cut grass or the smell of rain reminds her of the few campingtrips they went on as a family before her parents got divorced. Tessa mostlyhas happy memories so she doesn’t mind feeling nostalgic and even though herdad isn’t around anymore, it’s not a bad thing because her stepdad is amazingand she adores him.

9. Do they swear? Do they remembertheir first swear word?She swears a lot when she’s around certain people (mainly Stiles).

11. How do they cope with confusion(seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?She’d definitely ask for whatever shewas confused about to be explained in a better way. With the kind of stuff theyget up to in Beacon Hills, there’s no room for mistakes so she can’t afford tobe confused about anything.

13. What color do they think theylook best in? Do they actually look best in that color?Red, and no, it was just a colourTheo loved on her. She actually looks best in blue.

15. How do they speak? Is what theysay usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?Tessa just says whatever’s on hermind, but sometimes she has to censor herself a little to avoid hurting people’sfeelings.

17. Are they easily embarrassed?Not at all, growing up with Liam as alittle brother has rid her of any shame she might have had.

19. What is their favorite number?Two, because that’s how old she waswhen Liam was born and she got her best friend.

21. Why do they get up in themorning? So her mother doesn’t think anything’swrong with her. She has to act as normal as she can.

23. How does envy manifest itself inthem (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? Tessa isn’t a very resentful personand she’s not really envious either, if she wants something then she works forit. She doesn’t believe in taking something for nothing.

25. What are their thoughts onmarriage? Tessa had to watch her parents gothrough a bit of a messy divorce and it was hard on her and Liam, it shook themup a bit but watching her mom fall in love all over again and get married toher stepdad made Tessa the happiest she’d been in a long time. She would loveto get married one day and be even half as happy as her mom and stepdad are.

27. What causes them to feeldread? The thought of something happening toher family. Tessa’s lost so many friends, so many people she cares about andshe’s constantly scared that something is going to happen to Liam.

29. Do they usually live up to theirown ideals? Definitely not. Tessa always thought sheknew right from wrong and that she had strong morals, but Theo came along andturned her world upside down.

31. Who are they the most glad tohave met? Isaac Lahey. He’s been her bestfriend for years and even though he’s not around anymore, she knows he’s alwayson the other end of the phone if she needs him (even though she likes topretend she doesn’t need him).

33. Could they be consideredlazy? Definitely not.

35. How do they treat the things theirfriends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? She used to be? When they were kidsand Isaac would geek out over comic books she would listen to him explainingall the characters and stories to her for hours, but with everything that’shappened she’s just lost interest stuff like that. She doesn’t care aboutcoming across as rude or uncaring anymore.

37. Do they have a system forremembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certainorder (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? Tessa writes everything down. She’s got all kinds of notes and she likes tothink she’s organised but she isn’t at all. She writes stuff down to rememberit, and then forgets where she put the notes.

39. How easy is it for them to ignoreflaws in other people? It depends how close she is to them,really. She can’t ignores Stiles’ flaws, in fact she’s pretty keen to pointthem out on a daily basis, but the people closest to her can do no wrong as faras she’s concerned. Like she knows Liam has issues with his temper but in hermind it wouldn’t be so bad if people left him alone, which just isn’t true.

41. How do they feel aboutchildren? Tessa adores kids! She’s been babysitting since she was 13/14, she justloves looking after kids and kids seem to love her, too. She likes taking careof people.

43. If someone asked them to explaintheir sexuality, how would they do so? She’s only ever had boyfriends, butshe wouldn’t rule out dating a girl if there was a spark there. B) Whatinspired you to create them?Honestly, I know she’s a Theo OC but I just really wanted to give Liam somekind of familial support and Tessa just popped into my head one day. She sortof created herself. D) Have they always had thesame physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?She’s always looked the way I pictured her, as soon as I thought of her Ijust knew how she looked.F) What do you feel when youthink of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?A little bit of fear actually because I really love Tessa, she’s probablymy favourite Teen Wolf OC that I’ve created and I’m scared to actually getposting the fic properly in case people don’t like her.H) What trait do you admiremost?Hmmm I’m not sure? I want to say her strength, but I’m not sure she’sactually that strong. I do admire how much she cares about Liam, though. Shewould do anything to protect him. J) Did you have tomanipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?I’ve had to manipulate certain things but I don’t think I’ve excludedanything!

[psychosistr]

Worth It Chapter 15- Worth It in the End

Summary: Joseph wakes up alone and goes to find Caesar, leading to a much needed exchange of words.

Notes: Whoo! Final official chapter! There’s an edited out sex scene in this chapter, but I’ll link to that once I have it up on AO3. There’ll be an epilogue after this, but that’s just me being self-indulgent.

Edit: Here’s the full finale on AO3, enjoy :)

Joseph yawned and rubbed his eyes as he woke up. “Mornin’, Caesar…” When he didn’t receive a response Joseph sat up in the bed and opened his eyes, suddenly aware of how cold he felt with a distinct lack of body heat anywhere near him. “Caesar?” Seeing the empty bed around him froze Joseph’s blood instantly. Caesar was nowhere to be seen. Joseph quickly got out of bed and looked around for any signs of the blond, but all he saw was the barren chain on the floor. “Shit!” He swore at his own carelessness and rushed out of the bedroom.

His heart raced and he internally berated himself. ‘Damn it! Why didn’t I check the other one?! Why didn’t I chain his leg instead?! Why didn’t I get the lock replaced?! He’s gone now! He’s gone and could be anywhere! Did he take my car keys when he left?! I can track it if I need to, but I have to find-!’ He reached the living room and was about to go out the front door when he realized it was still locked. ‘Wait..why is it..?’

It was then that Joseph noticed a faint humming from somewhere in the house. His body moved on autopilot towards the sound, his brain not yet catching up to the situation. He soon found himself at the doorway to the kitchen. The light was on and the air smelled like hot coffee and fresh baked bread. He stepped through the doorway and there, standing by the oven, humming softly to himself while slicing up an apple was-

“Caesar…?” Joseph questioned aloud, his voice breathy and barely audible. His chest felt tight, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing- was too scared that he was just hallucinating.

“Hm?” His voice seemed to be just loud enough for Caesar to hear him. He looked up from his cutting board and saw Joseph standing by the doorway. Caesar smiled at him, a bright, genuine smile that Joseph had been longing to see for so long now. “Ah, buongiorno, Jojo.” He greeted Joseph easily, looking so natural and at ease as he set the knife down and walked over to him. “You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be. You were so dead to the world, I thought I wouldn’t see you ‘till at least noon!” He chuckled a little. “I hope you’re at least hungry- there’s biscuits in the warming drawer, and I’m working on some fruit sal…” He trailed off when he ended up right in front of Joseph, looking up at him with a confused frown. “Jojo? What’s wrong?” He reached up and touched Joseph’s face, brushing away some water there.

Joseph was crying. He knew he was, even if he couldn’t feel the tears on his own face. Reaching down, Joseph wound his arms around Caesar’s waist and held him close in a tight embrace. He buried his face in Caesar’s shoulder and choked back a sob as he all but clung to the smaller man. “I…I thought…I thought you’d left me…” He whispered, his voice shaking when his breath hitched.

Caesar stroked his back gently with one hand, bringing the other up to run his fingers through Joseph’s hair. He pressed tender, sweet kisses along Joseph’s head as he stated in a firm but caring voice. “Why would I leave? My home is here, with you.”

Joseph turned his head to look at Caesar out of the corner of his eye, sniffling a little. “You-You really mean it, Caesar?” He felt so hopeful at that moment, like he was waiting for the culmination of everything he wanted in life to come true all at once so he could let the emotional dam in him burst and be washed away by the happiness. If Caesar truly felt that way, then maybe he actually felt the way Joseph had hoped for all this time.

Caesar’s reply was a soft smile as he looked down to meet Joseph’s gaze. “Yes, Jojo, I mean it.” He pressed a kiss to Joseph’s cheek. “I’m staying right here with you, caro mio- I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” Joseph saw only pure honesty and joy in Caesar’s beautiful eyes. He had meant every word he just said.

“Caesar…” Joseph held Caesar against himself and lifted his head back up to kiss all along his face. “Thank you. You-You have no idea what that means to me. I promise, I’ll work hard to make you happy here the rest of your life!” He pressed his forehead to Caesar’s and closed his eyes as he smiled contently. “I love you, Caesar. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” The reply was unexpected, to say the least. Joseph’s heart stopped for what felt like a full minute (in reality it was only a second) as his brain tried to absorb those words properly. Had he really heard that, or was it just wishful thinking?

He opened his eyes, looking at Caesar with what must have surely been shock on his face. “What….What did you just say, Caesar….?”

Caesar simply continued to smile up at him with that same look in his eyes as he brought one hand around from the back of Joseph’s head to cup his cheek. “I said I ‘love you too’, Jojo.” He kissed the corner of Joseph’s mouth and Joseph could feel the smile against his skin. Caesar whispered softly against his lips, looking Joseph dead in the eyes as he spoke. “I love you, Joseph. I love you and I want to be with you forever.”

That did it: The dam had officially burst.

“Cae…sar…” Joseph’s voice trembled around Caesar’s name, but it was all he could get out before he was surging forward to claim Caesar’s lips in a hungry, passionate kiss. “Mhh! <3” His tongue breached Caesar’s mouth easily, earning muffled moans from his lover as he eagerly explored and claimed his mouth. He pulled back a little, just far enough to pant against Caesar’s now kiss-swollen lips. “Say it again! Please, Caesar!”

Caesar gazed up at him with a coy smirk, amusement clear in his eyes as he looped his arm around Joseph’s neck. “Well, I suppose I owe you for all the times you’ve already said it..” He leaned close to Joseph’s ear and kissed the shell of it before saying softly. “I love you, Jojo~<3”

Joseph felt heat lighting up every nerve in his body while a shiver simultaneously ran down his spine from Caesar’s words. “O-Oh my god, Caesar..” He moved his hands to Caesar’s lower back and lifted him up, Caesar reflexively wrapping his legs around Joseph’s waist and bringing his other arm up to wrap around Joseph’s neck too. Joseph’s chest rumbled with something akin to a growl as he began biting and kissing at Caesar’s neck, earning plenty of gasps and moans from the blond in his arms. “Mhhh…keep saying it, Caesar- and don’t stop any time soon~<3”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Caaeesaaaarrrr~” Joseph said in a sing-song voice as he cuddled closer with one arm around Caesar on the bed, the blond laying on top of him while idly playing with Joseph’s hair as they just basked in the warmth and contentment of the moment. “Say it again~ Pleeeeeaaaseeee? <3” He said in the same tone of voice, leaning into Caesar’s soothing touch on his head.

Caesar sighed in feigned annoyance, but the amused smile and soft look in his eyes gave him away easily. “Fine- I suppose I did say I had some catching up to do.” He kissed Joseph’s forehead before smiling down at him. “Ti amo, Jojo.”

Joseph’s grin was practically ear to ear as he pressed a kiss to Caesar’s cheek in turn. “Again?”

Caesar rolled his eyes, but the smile never faded. “How many times are you going to make me say it, Joseph?”

“As many times as I can get away with!” Joseph proudly declared before holding up his hands to do some quick calculations. “You said you wanted to catch up to me, and I’ve said ‘I love you’ at least three to five times a day MINIMUM every day since we moved in! That means you owe meeeeee…” He did the math in his head before smirking up at Caesar. “At least 1,020 more ‘I love you’s/‘ti amo’s. And that’s me going easy on you!” He winked at the end of his statement, still smirking teasingly up at his lover (he could finally call him that out loud now!).

Caesar chuckled and shook his head. “I do love you, Jojo.” He mussed Joseph’s hair playfully. “But I hope you don’t expect me to meet that quota in one day. I don’t want to lose my voice.”

Joseph let out a long sigh, pouting up at Caesar. “Aw, fine, you don’t have to say ALL of it today…” He wrapped both arms around his blond lover’s waist and smiled brightly up at him. “I’ll be generous and let you spread it out till you’re caught up- sound fair?”

Caesar’s smile matched Joseph’s own as he gave him a peck on the lips. “Hm, I suppose that’s fair…is what I would say if I didn’t know you so well and knew there would be a catch.”

Joseph chuckled and kissed Caesar back briefly. “What? Would I REALLY do that to YOU, Caesarino?” At the deadpan look from Caesar, Joseph just laughed more. “Aw, c’mon!” After his laughter calmed down, Joseph grinned at Caesar. “I’m serious about you paying me back- you can take as long as you want! Of course…” His grin turned into a smirk. “I’m not going to stop saying I love you every day, so that debt will just keep growing. Soooo, I guess you’ll just have to spend the rest of our lives paying me back~<3”

Caesar flicked two fingers against Joseph’s shoulder. “I knew something like that was coming. Also, what kind of half-assed proposal was that?” Though he tried to look annoyed, there was the slightest blush across his cheeks that highlighted his birthmarks adorably.

Joseph couldn’t resist how cute that looked and pressed several kisses to Caesar’s cheeks before pulling back to smile at him again. “It’s not like I haven’t said it before tons of times: I finally have you and I don’t plan on letting you go. Ever.” He brought one of his hands up to cup Caesar’s warm cheek as he gazed into his eyes. “I love you, Caesar. I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you- if you’ll have me, that is. And if you don’t feel like you’re ready yet, then I can wait my entire life till you are. I don’t want anyone else but you, Caesar.”

Caesar gazed back into his eyes and placed his hand over Joseph’s on his cheek. “I don’t want anyone else, either, Jojo. No one out there could ever love me anywhere near as much as you do, I know that now.” He closed his eyes and squeezed Joseph’s hand. “I’ll gladly be yours and you can be all mine in return. That’s all I want for the rest of my life.”

Joseph felt his heart swell with emotion at Caesar’s open and honest words. He had just the thing for this moment! He rolled over, keeping one arm wrapped around Caesar’s waist to hold him close, until they were laying on Joseph’s side of the bed. At the confused look Caesar gave him, Joseph just grinned more. “Close your eyes- I have a surprise for you!” Caesar reluctantly did as he was told, apparently curious what Joseph was up to. Joseph placed a kiss just above one of Caesar’s eyes before leaning over to his nightstand and rummaging around in the drawer before finding what he had been looking for. He opened a small box and grabbed Caesar’s left hand, carefully sliding something onto one of his fingers and then his own before sitting up with an excited smile. “Okay, you can look now!”

Caesar opened his eyes and held up his hand to inspect what Joseph had done. He gasped softly, a look of surprise and awe coming over his face at what he saw on his left ring finger: A gorgeous golden men’s wedding band with wide stripes of peridot running vertically down the front. Together, the colors resembled Joseph’s favorite striped scarf that he wore in almost every season possible. Joseph proudly held up his own hand to display the ring on his own finger:  A matching band in more of an orange-tinted gold with triangles of purple tanzanite lining the bottom to create a triangle pattern with the metal. The color and pattern strongly resembled Caesar’s headband that he often wore when he went out.

Caesar gazed at the rings before looking back up at Joseph. His cheeks were slightly flushed and he looked awe-struck. “Joseph..you..”

Joseph just smiled, pleased to have left his normally articulate lover speechless for a change. “I had these custom made a while ago. Figured I’d hold onto them and pull ‘em out when you were finally ready.” He gently held Caesar’s left hand with his own and laced their fingers together, the two rings pressing together perfectly. He looked down at them as he spoke. “I came up with the designs and thought ‘hey, this way we can wear each other’s colors and make it obvious to everyone we’re together’. Also, I think it’s kinda nice, y’know? It’s like we’ve each got a piece of the other with us, even if we have to be apart.” He looked back up to meet Caesar’s gaze. “So, what do you think? Do you like it?”

Caesar stared down at their entwined fingers for a while before a soft smile spread across his face. “…..” He surprised Joseph by pulling him down onto the bed next to him by their joined hands. After Joseph adjusted himself to lie on his side and look at Caesar in confusion, Caesar just smiled more and moved closer so he could wrap his arms around Joseph’s neck and kiss him. The kiss was slow but passionate, communicating so many emotions through the careful movements of their lips that Joseph felt a bit breathless by the time it was all over. Caesar was the one to break the kiss just as suddenly as he started it, moving back just enough so Joseph could see his smiling face again. “I love it.” He stated simply, letting his left hand rest over Joseph’s cheek. “I love it and I love you so much, Joseph. Promise you’ll never leave me?”

Joseph smiled back at the love of his life and placed his own hand over Caesar’s to squeeze it gently, never breaking eye contact with him as he spoke. “I’ll never leave you, Caesar. I love you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted and I won’t let anyone ever take you away from me- anyone who tries WILL die.” He felt that possessiveness tugging at his heart, making the last of his words sound almost like a growl from a beast.

Caesar’s smile shifted into a coy smirk. He lightly glided his fingertips from his free hand up along Joseph’s arm to his collar bone and back down as he spoke. The action and Caesar’s seductive tone of voice made goosebumps rise on Joseph’s skin “You know…it’s kind of hot when you talk like that. It makes me want to hear more about what you’d do..maybe even see you do it..perhaps even..participate a bit myself..if you’d be interested?”

Joseph’s own smile turned predatory as he snaked his free arm around Caesar’s waist and held him close. “Oh my GOD, you are PERFECT! How did I get so lucky to have someone like you?~<3”

Caesar chuckled and hooked a leg around Joseph’s hip, clearly ready for yet another round. “You drugged my coffee and chained me to your bed, if I remember correctly.”

Joseph chuckled too, bringing his hand down to squeeze Caesar’s ass teasingly. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to chain me to the bed to make up for it sometime, eh, Caesarino?”

Caesar’s response was a lick of his lips before he captured Joseph’s mouth in a much more fierce and wild kiss than before. Joseph eagerly reciprocated the kiss and silently thanked anything in the universe that was listening for his current happiness. It had been an emotional rollercoaster for both of them to get to this point, but, all of the blood (of others), sweat, and tears had been worth it in the end. His hard work had finally paid off and won him the heart of his beautiful, precious, beloved Caesar.

‘Yes,’ He thought as he embraced and made out with his sweet fiancé. ‘I knew it would all be worth it in the end. After all, it WAS for Caesar- and Caesar will ALWAYS be worth it.’

<-Previous Chapter Epilogue->

-From the Beginning-

[alittleimagine]

a helping hand pt. 3

Oliver Queen x Reader

part 1  part 2 

Your stomach grumbled louder than you would have liked in the silence of your building’s hallway, reacting to the smell of the Big Belly Burger bag in your hand. You had taken the day off to run errands and have lunch with friends, but lunch had been hours ago and you’d walked what felt like a hundred miles all day.

You keyed open your front door, struggling while you held your bags and drink, and nudged it open with your foot. With your elbow you flipped the light switch and walked over to drop everything on the coffee table.

“You should lock your window.” A voice said in the relative silence of the apartment.

For lack of a better word, you yelped. You jumped, nearly losing your grip on the soda in your hands, and turned to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.” The Green Arrow rushed out from his spot over the sink in your kitchen.

You glared at him, breathing heavy from the scare, and cursed.

The door across the hall opened and you threw everything onto the coffee table and rushed back to the door you’d left open. You angled yourself and the door to make the kitchen impossible to see as one of your two same floor neighbors came out of his apartment.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay? Jacob and I heard you scream.” Antony asked from his doorway.

You flushed at your scream. “I thought I saw a giant spider.” You lied. “It was a shadow.”

Antony laughed. “Oh sweetheart.” He waved an arm at her in amusement. “Have a good night.”

“Good night.” You muttered back. As you closed the door you could hear him report back to Jacob and their shared laughter.

As soon as you closed the door and turned all three locks you glared again at the kitchen. “They are never going to let me live it down.” You informed him. Your glare, half-hearted as it already was, fell away when he stepped out from behind the kitchen counter.

He had a number of paper towels wrapped around his left arm and even then you could see the blood seeping through.

You cursed again and rushed to him. “Are you alright? What happened? What do you need?”

“I’m fine.” He said. At your scoff he continued. “It’s a small cut, bleeds a lot because it’s the arm. Just need to wrap it.”

You weren’t sure you believed him, but you took his arm and put a hand to his shoulder and started pushing him toward your bathroom. “Come on. It pays to have a fully stocked first aid kit in the Glades.”

It had only been just shy of two months since the first time the Green Arrow had been in your apartment and only two times prior, but it felt perfectly natural to manhandle him as needed. He wouldn’t hurt you, you were sure of it, and he needed help even if he disagreed.

“Can we take off your sleeves? Or are you okay to take the whole thing off? You’re wearing a mask, but is your hair super recognizable?” You snorted to yourself. “Please tell me you have pink hair.”

“I don’t have pink hair.” He said, sounding amused.

You were a little disappointed.

Flipping the switch on the bathroom light you point to the closed toilet lid and he obediently sat. You looked around the room quickly, making sure there were no unmentionables lying around, but all you saw was discarded makeup and haphazardly tossed t-shirt by the sink. You dropped down to dig around under the sink.

“So, can we take it off? Or do you want me to run and grab you a hoodie? We can pull those sleeves up. The leather you’re wearing now… not so much.” Nearly smacking your head on the sink as you pulled back you brought the first aid kit out from the cabinet. It wasn’t super well organized, but you had plenty of gauze and antiseptic.

When he said nothing you sat back and looked up at him. He seemed to be ruminating.

You pulled yourself up and set the kit on the sink. “I’ll get you a hoodie. I have some big ones that will fit you. Then I can wrap you up.”

“I can do it.” He said. “I just needed to be off the street.”

You scoffed. If it was just wrapping his wound you were sure you could handle it, and it wouldn’t make sense to let him do it himself. He was here for your help, after all.

Rushing across the hall to your room you dug through the closet for some sweatshirt. You pulled one from the hanger and ran back to the bathroom. He could be the Blue Arrow for the night.

“Here you go, friend.” You set the hoodie down on top of the kit and looked at him fully.

He was wearing a little half smile and he painted such a strange picture sitting on your toilet lid in full vigilante costume. You couldn’t help but smile back. Everything was a little surreal.

“Need help?” You asked even though it would defeat the purpose of changing into the hoodie. The tilt of his head and the little smile was answer enough. “Okay, I’ll give you a sec. I’ll be right back.”

Before you closed the door behind you he spoke up. “I won’t be able to talk.”

It took you a second to understand and then realization dawned. Whatever he was using to change his voice was attached to his suit. You nodded. “I guess I’ll have to do all the talking.” You shrugged. “What a change for us.”

While he changed you went back into your kitchen and grabbed a new bottle of water for him. If he was going to keep visiting you were going to need to buy more water bottles. And maybe organize your kit.

You knocked on the bathroom door. “You all done?” Then paused. “Wait, damn, you can’t say. Knock on the counter once for yes, two for no.” When you heard only one knock you let yourself in.

He was zipping the sweatshirt up, hood already pulled over his head, as you swung open the door and it would have been absolutely impossible for you to not have zeroed in on the bits of his bare chest that were visible. It was… distracting, to say the least.

When you managed to tear your eyes from the now closed hoodie and looked up at him there was no missing the amused look on his face.

“Shut up.” You muttered. You set the water bottle on the space left over on the counter and pointed to it idly. He shook his head.

He’d already rolled his sleeve up, revealing a long gash on his forearm and a mixture of fresh and dried blood. You thanked every star above that blood didn’t make you queasy.

You grabbed the metal trash bin from your bathroom and set it in the center of your bathtub, then sat on the edge. “We should wash this first, right?” You asked.

He nodded.

Leaning to the side you turned on the faucet and gestured for him to let it run over his arm. His knees bumped yours in the small space of the bathroom as he turned in the seat and you mumbled out apologies. He shook his head and you took it to mean it wasn’t a big deal.

Cleaning and wrapping the cut wasn’t a quick process and you found yourself talking to fill up the silence while you worked. You talked about your job editing articles for a pop culture and tech website and your very sweet neighbors who just happened to be drug dealers (“only weed and some prescriptions pills and they’re the best neighbors and, you know what, just forget I mentioned them, don’t worry about my poor neighbors, leave them alone, they bake for me,”).

Every time you looked up to gauge his expression you found him at various levels of trying not to smile at you and you figured he was alright with your rambling.

As you went you tossed any paper towels and used gauze into the trash bin.

“Is this too tight?” You asked as you finished the first wrap. When he shook his head you continued until you had probably done too many layers. “Feel alright?”

He nodded and then carefully pulled the sleeve back over the bandage. Almost pointedly he reached for the water bottle and cracked it open for a drink.

You only just managed to hold back an ‘aww’, but there was no stopping your grin.

While he gathered back up his green leather suit you made a quick jaunt back to the kitchen and grabbed a box of matches. You skirted past him in the small room and struck a match then tossed it carefully into the trash bin and watched it all catch fire.

He put a hand on your arm and you looked up at his face. It was far less shadowed than it used to be in his costume and it was easier to identify the question he couldn’t say out loud.

“I don’t want you to worry.” You said. “I don’t want you to think I would do anything with your blood, like get it DNA tested or anything.” You felt his hand squeeze your forearm gently. “This is supposed to be a safe place.”

His hand remained on your arm while you both watched the fire burn out.

When only the last embers remained you turned on the water and nudge the can under it. The last thing you needed was to light your apartment on fire.

You looked up at him and he tilted his head to the side, gesturing to the door.

“Time for you to go?” You asked. He nodded. “Alright, friend, let’s go.”

He slung his quiver and the arrow back on over the blue hoodie and let you walk ahead of him to open the window. You stuck your head through it like you had the first day, double checking that the coast was clear. You pulled your head back in and nodded.

Before he stepped through the window onto the fire escape he leaned close, his hand at your elbow. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice no doubt altered from its normal state by the low volume “thank you.”

It was the first time he’d said your name and you couldn’t help the dopey smile that spread across your face. “Hey, anytime.” Turning your arm just so in his grasp you reached for his forearm and gave it a squeeze through the fabric of your oversized blue hoodie. “Now, try and stay safe.”

And then he was gone.

A few days later your hoodie miraculously appeared on the table by the window, neatly folded with a typed note on top. Lock your window.