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therealslimshakespeare · 10 months ago

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Trash Magic

Big Daddy Trailer Park Cop AU One Shot

Summary: it’s 2008 and it’s the pits of recession, not that the suburbs of El Paso would notice, things have been rather shit among the rows and rows of trailers for some time now. With your dad locked up for being a little too ‘entrepreneurial’, it seems your only ally in these tough times is the town‘s scary old softy, Officer Presley, and the more than professional interest he takes in your speeding and footwear.

Era: modern but with that dumbass tumblr dusty Americana feel to it I hope?

Kudos: so many to @eliseinmemphis who was my plot guru, kept this thing alive and gave so many lines and sentences used herein.

Word count: 15k and I didn’t edit this sorry for misspells, etc

18+ and may be thematically disturbing to some please read cautions, proceed at your own risk!! More specifics below the cut

HAPPY NEW YEAR MY DARLINGS!

Specific warnings: sexual content, drug use, stripping, casual prostitution, age gap, reader isn’t a minor for such activities but only eighteen?? which is not touted as a good thing but it’s in here?? if that’s a hard no then be warned. graphic descriptions of kinda gross blowjobs and very gross blowjobs, spanking, officer Presley does take too many pills for his pain ok? driving under the influence, minors drinking, trailer trash lifestyle in general, such as I personally have had experience with, it’s rough out there folks but there’s always the good ones trying their best. Sorry I really threw Joe E under the bus. I’m not really sorry but I’m sorry you have to read about him in here. Please let me know what warnings I missed if I did. Again, could be thematically disturbing due to age, solicitation, law officers, drug use, humans not being tidy little robots.

When you were three years old you recall the smell of plastic heating in the sun, the hot smell of fresh cut grass and the cold splatter of hose water on your skin. A little paradise it seemed, that tiny kitty pool and your mama waving the hose over you with one hand, her cigarette dangling between the fingers of her other, bright warm sun and yellowing grass stretched out in large swathes between the little white shacks stacked row upon tidy row. Always the same and ready to guide you home after each little wander into the thicket behind the clearing.

That was life in the Shady Oaks trailer park. There really was only one mature oak tree and it was a live oak and the sunshine beamed right through its little leaves all seasons of the year.

By five you had a sizable jar of grasshoppers collected and had become too scared of their hoards and awful beady eyes to ever release them, fearful they would swarm you the minute you undid the lid of the mason jar and gave them freedom. You had let one out and watched it hop across the torn Hexagons of the linoleum floor before it jumped in an acrobatic feat and landed in the mac & cheese your mom was making. You never know what she did with those jars, but you were half relieved, half heartbroken at the fact they were no longer your responsibility.

By eight you knew you lived in a trailer park and spending your time collecting ants and moths for the new set of grasshoppers to eat was a peculiar and uncool pastime. As were muddy knees and torn t-shirts on a girl approaching her teenage years. But mama hadn’t been able to take the heat and the rows upon rows of mildewing trailers anymore and daddy was too busy with his “entrepreneurship” to dress you right.

By twelve you had learned that some nights daddy came home, and some nights he didn’t and you couldn’t be sure which you preferred. His drunken state was unpredictable and confusing even though he was not abusive, but his absence left you counting quarters and wondering how long your Fig Newtons would last if he stayed gone longer than a week again.

By fifteen the Dollar Store and its fluorescent bulbs leached the vitality out of you with each long day shift, school was an afterthought, and your days smelled of plastic bags and detergent. You brought that smell home to your musty trailer, seeped into the sweaty fabric of your tank top. The only thing that stayed consistent whether your daddy was home or not was the religious watching of the NASCAR races. Reruns and live, it didn’t matter, where many girls escaped into Disney or Reality TV, you did your dreaming while sitting in the ratty drivers seat of daddy’s Ford, making the engine thrum.

By seventeen, your daddy was gone for months at a time. Sometimes he’d leave the Ford and take off on the road with Benny and Gregg in Benny’s motorhome from a few rows down. Greg had the pale blue trailer with the blinds that were always smashed in the one window. He always left his damn lights on, even when he was gone and they’d glow yellow and demented between the brittle plastic. Some nights when you walked back home from town, maybe a little more plastered than you’d like to admit, you’d keep Gregg’s trailer and his silly window as a landmark to turn left in the maze of trailers.

One night the bulb burnt out. One by one the rest of them did too. The fellas, they’d all been gone so long. Next week the electricity got turned off to yours. The bill hadn’t been paid. Dollar Store wages kept peanut butter and miracle bread in your cabinets and bought you cheap tequila from Terry who lived five trailers down and didn’t care about ID’s so long as there was cash on the counter. What the wages didn’t pay for was electricity or gas money or a new car that could actually accelerate fast enough to give you that thrill you craved.

Despite your lousy education and demotivated upbringing, you had some spark of diligence and ambition residing inside you, it was stoked to a decent blaze by the awful, humid and stale air of the trailer without its swamp coolers humming at night. Not even the fridge stayed cool longer than forty eight hours and you ended up at the seven eleven eating roller dogs.

You weren’t looking for job opportunities while licking corn dog grease off your thumbs but opportunity came to you anyway. As you nibbled at the soggy fried dog and licked at the rancid oil while leaning against the auto supply shelf, you’d have to be some sorta dumb to not know that Carl was hanging around the same aisle for something besides windshield washer fluid.

Carl was a native to the outskirts of El Paso just like you, and he was a married man, married to Clarissa in fact. Clarissa who’s plastic miniature flamingo’s gracing each edge of her weedy gravel drive had a younger you thinking she was the height of trailer park sophistication. That was before Officer Presley, who lived in a spacious double wide down by Gregg’s trailer and its burnt out bulbs, got himself a Tiger figurine made outta real concrete and painted pretty as anything, its blazing feline eyes not missing a speck of paint, unlike the flamingo’s slashed ones. Officer Presley only had the one and it was assumed he was saving up for another, and he placed it by the little porch he built off his trailer door, the proximity to the structure giving it a noble sorta air that sitting statues out by the street didn’t manage.

“If you keep watchin’ me like that I’ll have to start chargin’.” you told Carl and his leering face, and took another bite, munching with the carefree manners of someone actually hungry.

“Can’t do that here.” he wheezed a laugh, then thumbed over his shoulder at the bright lights of the trucker club blazing in the dark sky through the dirty glass doors of the gas station. “But over there it’s legal.”

“You so horny you’d pay to watch a girl eat a corndog?” you were dubious, wondering just how little Miss Clarissa put out if he’d waste money on this, it wasn’t like she was busy repainting her Flamingo’s peeling eyes or nothin’.

“I’d pay for a drink for ya.” Carl offered, fidgety hands wedged in his fraying front pockets. “And you can eat another dog. You like hot dogs? They’ve got ‘em over there.”

“Nah, I need cash.” you declined, aware that you could barter for drinks and end up evicted or else make sacrifices regarding the booze and keep your tin roof over your head.

“Cash?” he repeated like a dumb parrot.

“Yeah, stupid.” you flailed your hands a little in annoyance, fully certain everyone in this run down rural suburb knew you were as broke as you are alcoholic at seventeen.

“Ok, then I’ll pay for your hot dog,” he negotiated with an oil stained finger scratching at the sore on the corner of his mouth, “And you can eat it so long as you do it how I tell ya.”

You sighed and ran your chipping nails along the plastic jugs of car oil. “So long as ya let me eat it.” you stipulate, “And you gotta pay for the show.”

“I ain’t made of money, girl!” Carl protested, “I’m buyin’ dinner, you should be thankin’ me.”

“You were plannin’ on buyin’ me a drink.” you pointed out, “Where’s that money gone?”

“Jeeze ok, ok,” Carl sighed, “I’ll pay you same as a wild Turkey would cost.”

“And a dog?”

“Yeah.”

“With chili on it?”

“Oh c’mon now-“

“-It’ll make for good slurpin.” you pointed out sagaciously

Carl groaned in annoyance and appreciation for the mental image. “Ok, a chili dog and the cost of a shot. No funny shit with the tab and you eat it how I say.”

“Does the club have air conditioning?” You asked your last stipulation.

“Course it does, it would be hot as fuck without.”

Your trailer was hot as fuck and anytime spent loitering elsewhere was greatly desired. “Ok then.” you agreed with a shrug.

By the time you’d crossed the parking lot, with Carl’s guiding hand on your lower back, you were irritable from the heat and exhaust fumes. Inside was cool and almost as dark as the parking lot except for the wild, multi-colored lights swirling around the place, highlighting the girls humping the stage floor in the middle of the establishment. One more underage addition wasn’t remotely as remarkable as the fella in the corner trying to take a bite outta a lap dancer’s boob. He got smacked on the cheek for it and nothin’ more, got his full dance anyway and as you watched her after while sitting up on the bar stool, you noticed her negotiate something similar to what you’d just done. She stayed in his lap after her dance was done and after some gesticulating and her unimpressed sighs, some agreement was reached and you watched them get up and walk to the back of the club, through the backdoor that you knew led to nothing more than miles and miles of desert.

Five minutes later a similar transaction occurred between a trucker and a pole girl. They went out back, too. Ten minutes later the first couple came back in. She went to the stage and he went out the front door Carl had brought you in by.

By that point you were slowly inserting a hot dog onto your pink tongue and swallowing a bite every three minutes or more - at least, that’s what it felt like. Carl’s directions were so slow and infuriatingly erratic that you found yourself grateful for the fact you’d already eaten a bit at the gas station, otherwise this would’ve been the cruelest tease to your belly that hadn’t had lunch and only Raisin Bran for breakfast. You chose to ignore the way his hand moved in the shadow of the bar, wiping at his jeans too many times to be passed off as sweaty palms.

A nearly fully dressed girl in cut offs eating a chili dog was hardly the most sensational thing to be watched in this seedy joint, but it was the most peculiar and no sooner had you finished the dog after a laborious thirty minutes, collected the extra drink cash and prepared to go home after declining Carl’s offer of a ride before you found yourself propositioned for the same ordeal. This big fella actually offered a drink with it and much to Carl’s betrayed horror you agreed. Carl ended up leaving, going home to Clarissa, feeling too cuckolded to continue watching someone else watch you eat meat in a casing.

In between sipping Hard Mike’s lemonade you chatted with the fella and spilled pinto beans on your bare legs from the excess. Even the bartender had stopped being annoyed, he even got a bit invested in your gig, retracting the offered napkins for the spill when another guy, a farm hand from the pecan grove down the interstate, asked to lick it off.

You charged seventeen bucks for that spit bath and felt funny as the saliva dried in the chilled bar room air. The bartender asked you if you lived in El Paso. Hesitating to give yourself away or open yourself up to a driveby, you merely agreed that you lived nearby, he didn’t need to know you lived in the Spark City suburb and walked to this tuck station grill to save fuel.

Marty, he said his name was, and Marty was pleased you lived close. In that case he asked if you’d wanna work there. You knew at the time he wasn’t offering you to bartend, your age prohibitive even in so lax an establishment. Your eyes flicked over to the long gal with her sallow skin and stringy red hair loling around the stripper pole in the glow of a green spotlight. It had to be 3:00 am by then.

“Does everybody do extra?” You asked him, plainly referencing the deals that took folks out back into the sagebrush and the backside of the club.

“You do as much as you wanna get paid for.” he admitted. “Plenty just strip.”

Just, he had said. Just strip.

Just stripping was a gross understatement for the rigorous and demoralizing ordeal of flinging your practically naked body around on stage for gaping older men to ogle each night. But it took up hours of your time not paid by the dollar store wages, and you could snooze from five am to eight when your shift began again in respectable retail. You earned a decent amount, even after having to pay Marty and the doormen a portion and even turning down a lap dance or two. The chili dog schtick kept its novelty for three nights and then you were driven to grinding against the pold like all the others, wondering if they’d all hoped to not end this way, same as you.

After a few weeks of this your piggy bank was less empty than it had been in months, hidden under the sink of your trailer behind the Comet and pulled out only to stuff in bills or else retrieve bread money, one Sunday you counted enough to pay your lease for the trailer slip. What was left would make a tiny little down payment for the electricity bill.

Or gas money for at least fifty miles or more in your gas guzzler. You weighed the bills in your hands and mournfully inspected your bruised knees. It was your off day, you contemplated going to the club in the evening as it didn’t respect the Lord’s day like the dollar store, but until then you had hours of a perfectly cloudless day to burn. Suddenly your trailer felt unbearable in its stuffy crampedness.

You tore outta your door and cranked up your daddy’s old Ford and with relief found it started with only a few tries. You tore down the road too, seeking the interstate after using that cash to top her tank off. For the first time in ages a full smile had begun to split your face. You went east, passing the last remnant of civilization that you called home and comprised El Paso’s dusty satellite cling ons. Then it was open range, nothing just mesas and tumbleweed, no one else could brag of such flat country or so wide a sky.

You floored it, the speed limit a decent 80 on its own, you went up to 120, fast as you dared push the transmission without fear of being stranded in the desert. Billboards warned of “last chance for gas, Van Horn 200 miles” followed by a possibly related: “God is coming, have you repented?”

All flew by in a unheeded blur as you cranked up the stereo and let the wind whip your hair. You covered a patrol car in a cloud of dust and saw his lights flash at you in the rearview. No chase commenced. When you leisurely drove back you noticed it was highway patrol, the sun was setting and he flashed his brights at you. You flicked them back.

“Hey officer Presley.” you murmured amused at him turning a blind eye to the speeding. Back when you had more money and made a regular habit of this amateur racing, you noticed the same benevolent light flicker and never a siren broke the still of the desert. “You ole softy.” you giggled at the thought of the middle aged officer being generous for you and only you, and wondered if he’d heard about what had become of you yet. Seems like most of the trailer park had. Favorite topic these days, right up there with when or if your daddy was ever gonna come home. Had the wives hating you during the day for the suspicion of their men wanking over you at night.

“Maybe if you could spare a single food stamp or somethin’ to help a gal in need I’d not be strippin’!” You had hollered at Ms Clarissa for all to hear and you stood by it. Buncha lousy, miserable hypocrites who did far worse behind their canvas doors.

You do go to the club that night.

You stripped down to your panties and bra and made enough to buy ice and a trip to the dentist. You packed the ice in the dead refrigerator and pampered yourself with some milk and a carton of ice cream for the filled tooth.

Next day you filled up your gas tank again and blazed a path through town, headed to the wide open and dreaming of busting your way into the male ranks of nascar drivers. You were deep into a daydream and committing a little self pity about how you hadn't been able to afford cable and were missing all the races when a siren’s blare broke your fantasy and the flicker of red lights against a pale blue sky filled your rearview. Begrudgingly you pulled to the shoulder as you cranked down your window, fiddling with the radio knobs till you could actually hear your crime when your peruser sauntered up.

“Well, well officer Presley, finally got persnickety about laws, have ya?” you observed to yourself with a grin as you watched the handsome man swagger towards you along the white line in your side mirror, tugging at his pants as he neared, trying to shimmy the article of clothing a little higher but is impeded by his belt, stopped by his sizable belly, his holster and buckle sitting under the bulge of it.

Your mouth watered. It had been close to a year since you’d seen him up close, not since last time he pulled you over, though you always took note when he was lounging outside his trailer in a lawn chair with his dog or stripped down and working under his hood. He was always built, intimidating to all the stupid rascals he kept in line along the border, but now he had become outright fat and his khaki shirt pulled apart between each button. Yet when he came up to your window, that little boy's grin was still gracing one of the most exquisite faces known to man, and his voice was tender and playful when he greeted you, just as you once recalled. You could see his sweaty hair, matted on his chest and belly between the gaps, his underarms have massive pit stains, doubly apparent thanks to the light color of his police uniform.

Your smile had something of the she-wolf in it as you greeted him, sniffing the air in hopes of catching a whiff as he leaned on your window frame, nearly crowding you from outside. “Hey Miss Lead Foot Louie,” he greeted, “you know why ya been pulled over?”

“Haven't got a clue, officer.” You stated the truth and enjoyed the way his title rolled off your tongue in a bantering way. It was easy.

Officer, officer. Somebody important and authoritative. No sir, yes sir, Officer.

His left eyebrow quirked and you wondered what he looked like at twenty five, how devastating that expression would have been before his wound and his meds and the water retention. Whatever power it may have once held, it holds nothing to that slightly bemused, slightly cynical world weariness that shows in his every expression now, that had a twitch of an eyebrow making you feel a fool in the most delicious way. “You’re goin’ seventy in a forty five, Miss.” his tone was patient even as his face suggested he’d like to tan your hide for being so reckless. “Reckless endangerment of others, and yourself,” he quoted sternly, “it ain’t no small matter and I don’t countenance it on my highway.”

Gosh, you just loved it when he laid claim to government property like highways and interstates. It helped you smile meekly at him and nod.

“Sorry officer, I got lax.” You purred, batting your eyes and you could see the heavy flap of their coal coated weight in your periphery. “I’ve seen you lettin’ me fly by on the interstate. I guess I thought…”

He leaned further into her car window, shirt gaping helpfully at his neck and allowing you a glimpse of sweaty hair, little droplets shining like rhinestone studs in the coarse curls. You leaned towards him, nipples hardening beneath your t-shirt bra as your mind started to the taste of salt. “You’re in town, miss.” he pointed out with grave disappointment for your lack of behavioral modulation, “S’one thing on the open plain, it’s another when you’re endangerin’ your fellow citizens, flyin’ through intersections, speedin’ up and threadin’ traffic when you’ve got a visible yield sign. Right there! Ain’t responsible. And I won’t countenance it.”

“Sorry officer.” you pleaded, lingering on his rank with all the sultry appreciation of a girl who lacks authority figures in her life. It made his palm itch.

He sighed and gave you a small smile, puffy, marshmallow lips set under a dark five o’clock shadow and it wasn’t even noon. “Now, how many times do I gotta pull ya over ‘fore ya start listenin’ to me?“ he asked with patient expectancy and you swallowed hard, actually feeling a small bit of guilt.

“Well,” you drew it out, biting your lip before tossing your head and beaming at him, “maybe just one last time. Like always.”

He tsked at you in reprimand but his eyes lit up with enjoyment, and that was worth whatever fine he might slap you with. It really wasn’t, not with how broke you were but gosh, you loved breaking the ice on him, reeling him in for another verbal tussle. One day you hoped those expressive hands would accidently smack you mid-wave when he was explaining something or other. You lived in hope of that day.

You watched as he straightened briefly and reviewed your vehicle, thumbing at the peeling paint on the hood near his thumb and swished at the sand on your tags. You held your breath, hoping the dust would disguise their expiration. Officer Presley just grunted and surveyed your lemoning old truck with the face of a man who appreciates nice things and doesn't see any nice things in sight. The face of a man whose patrol car was a Ford Mustang.

“You like speed.” he observed, still glancing at your tires with lip curling disdain. You wanted him to look at you like that but his face always softened when he turned back to you. It did this time as well.

“Yeah.” you breathed.

“You got a shit truck for speed, terrible drag, shit tread on your tires, bet it’s a gas guzzler, too.”

“Well yeah, officer,” you rolled your eyes at his survey, “but it’s not like I can afford much else right now so -I do this for fun. Fun’s not illegal in America yet, is it?”

He looked at you gravely then and his eyes turned sad. “Yeah I heard about the strippin’. You watch yourself now, be careful and make sure you don’t engage in no extra-curric-u-lars.” he advised sternly, peering over his tinted sunglasses at you while saying the big word, over pronouncing it with authoritative gravitas, “I’ve told Marty that means no bar tendin’ when you’re underage. And I’m tellin’ you now, that goes for solictin’, too. You understand me? Nice lil girl like you could get in a heap of trouble real fast. And I won’t countenance it.”

The rest of you perked up at the heavy handed advice, feeling smothered and also cherished that someone would give a shit, even if they were just defending laws n’ government regulations. Thinking of them as Officer Presley’s laws, as his property you were twerking on somehow ennobled your calling, made you feel like giving it a try to be good and not disappoint him. You felt grateful he hadn't chewed you out for the stripping like half the neighborhood, you’d expected some disgust.

When he finally looked at you with disdain, and you were determined that he would, it would be for something less unchangeable, a little less broke, a little more sexy.

“Yes sir, I got ya.” you acknowledged with a nervous laugh to hide your discomfort with the way he kept staring at you, reading you, it felt.

He kept at it for a few moments, chomping on that gum stick in his mouth, dexterous pink tongue lolling the stuff from one row of molars to the others and back. Most fascinating ping-pong match you’d ever seen and while he did his soul-reading, you watched his mouth.

As his jaw worked overtime, he narrowed his eyes at you, so blue they looked violet behind the tint of his lenses. “A’ight.” he decided at last and suddenly your window was bereft of his congenial bulk, you heard the rap of his knuckles on your truck roof.

“You stay outta trouble now, Missy.” he let you off with only a warning, two sharp knocks on the metal and then, “I’ll be seein’ ya.”

You watched the side mirror with investment as he meandered away, futilly hiking up his holster again as he went before he entered his squad car. He flashed his lights at you as you stayed gawking, you fumbled with the ignition and peeled out off the shoulder, moderating your acceleration upon afterthought. You’d promised to be good.

But nights at the Trucker Bar didn’t pay to be good. You had a laundry list of things you wanted and a hefty list of needs alongside it. You tried picking up a shift at the Texaco but Ashley there near tore your hair out against the beer coolers for encroaching on her shift. Everyone needed work and Spark City had never been much of a City, too little infrastructure to prosper its community in good times, much less in the pits of a recession. The Best Buy in El Paso was hiring, you read in a mail advertisement. Their wages cost as much gas it took to drive there and back.

So you got pretty good at something else, something Officer Presley wouldn’t be impressed by, or maybe he would in a moment of weakness but lord, much as you worried and panicked some times about him dropping in on the Trucker stop, meeting eyes and him just knowing you’d been doing extracurriculars, he never showed. Must not have been his scene. Not that you were sure what his scene was, you only ever saw him in his patrol car or else cleaning his guns on his trailer porch next to his Tiger figurine.

You assumed he liked blow jobs as much as the next man. But he never showed and so you got more and more lax, went out back of the bar to the Sagebrush desert and blew heavy tippers against the concrete wall, ant bites and stickers plaguing your knees. So far you hadn’t even needed to walk on over past the broken wall to the dingy motel in back and do the horizontal tango.

Moderate extracurriculars and the dancing was enough to tip your little piggy bank into having a little something to shake at the end of the day. You got yourself a haul of cereal and hot pockets that night, even splurged on milk that went rancid by the next day without refrigeration. You spent your late mornings debating how much money you had left for rent and how much you had for electricity and the viability of buying a generator instead of paying the bill. You also wanted a Blackberry phone real bad, your old flip phone a relic and on its last wheezes -maybe that’s why your dad’s calls never came through.

You were chewing off the price tag of your dollar flip flops, walking barefoot out of your daytime workplace -Dollar General- at the end of your shift when you realized there was a patrol car pulled up beside your Ford. First you cursed, then you grinned as you saw the familiar figure of Officer Presley wiping at your windshield with a bandana. Then you cursed again as you realized he was checking your expired tags.

You jogged over the burning asphalt, still tied flip flops in hand, hoping you didn’t look like shit from having taken off the Dollar Store vest without smoothing your hair afterwards. You hadn’t been good, he could be here for anything, soliciting, or for the speeding you know he caught on his radar or else the tags.

“Hey officer!” you chirped, as carefree and smiley as you could manage -and you’d gotten to be a tidy little liar at the club, insisting you couldn’t wait to have greasy, unwashed truckers in your mouth.

He turned his head slowly, hand still heavy on the windshield and observed you through those glasses again. “Don’t you ‘hey officer’ me.” he retorted, riled despite himself at the way you always said his rank like he had you locked up with frilly pink handcuffs to his waterbed. He shook his head and focused on the variety of delinquencies he had to reprimand you for. “These tags are out of date.”

“Aww,” you feigned consternation pretty decently as you really hadn’t bothered to prioritize the tags with every other dire cost pummeling you right now, “I’m sorry Elvis.” you tried a little familiarity as you drew closer, watching enthralled as a stale desert window tufted the front of his black locks of his sweaty forehead, “Things’ve been a lil tight for a while now, what with daddy leavin’. Slipped my mind.”

He pulled his hand off the windshield and his hands tried to rest on his hips but they slipped and ended up in an odd, off-kilter sorta sling on his pockets and belly, “They’re three years overdue.” his tone sounded unimpressed, you shivered despite the heat.

“Oh.” you chewed your lip and gazed at him hopefully.

“I oughta tan your hide, lettin’ you turn feral with all my concessions.” he said aloud while stippling his fingers on your rusting truck hood. His eyes dropped to the newly purchased, junk flip flops you still clutched. “Why’re you bare foot?”

“My last pair broke.” you explained, end of your shift the thong had snapped and here you were with the replacements.

“Well put ‘em on, the road’s nasty.” he grunted in aggravation, eyes dropping to your feet and widening in disgust at the welts and blisters you’d accumulated from your cheap stripper heels. “Holy shit, that’s gnarly right there.”

You felt a bit offended by that, wanting to object it was the toll of the job, sorta like fat guts came from lounging in patrol cars for a living. Figuring you were in deep deep enough shit as is without outright insulting him, you bit your tongue and chewed on the plastic connector again, trying to free your sandals.

“Oh for God’s sake, stop that.” he growled after a minute and to your bewilderment he stepped in your space and grabbed the foam footwear out of your mouth, “Gonna chip a tooth goin’ on that way, then your tips’ll go down, ya thought of that? No? No you don’t think ahead about nothin’.”

He was working himself up into a frustrated frenzy, tugging at the plastic tag, mumbling all the while about your behavior until it snapped at last and separated the flip flops. He stared dumbly at his success for a minute while you tittered. Bad move on your part, his eyes darkened and he genuinely scowled at you, something more effective than it should have been with his outdated sideburns carving lines in his cheeks.

“Turn around.” he demanded and you snapped your mouth shut, confused by his attitude and furtively eyeing your flip flops still dwarfed in his gloved hands. Who the hell wore gloves in this decade? In this century? In an El Paso suburb that was only a degree or two cooler than the surface of the sun.

You turned around.

“Hands on the hood.” he told you.

You placed them on the burning metal and wished you had gloves, angling your body away from the hot body of the truck, wincing at the heat, on tippy toes to save your feet from the asphalt. Was he gonna cuff you? He hadn’t even read you your rights and could a person even be arrested for tags? You really didn’t know and you never thought he would-

Suddenly a loud snap resounded in the empty parking lot and a white hot sting against your bottom distracted you from the pain of the hot car. You yelped in shock, hand flying to nurse the denim clad ass cheek that was burning from his smack. You glared over your shoulder at Officer Presley, ready to give him what for about him taking parental liberties until you saw his face folded into childish consternation, poofy bottom lip jutted out in remorse as he viewed the snapped flip flop in his hands.

He’d broken a shoe on you. Appreciation flared back, and you wanted to squeeze his cheeks and tell him it was ok, he could ruin the other, too.

“Aww shit, now I-I-I didn’t mean for that-“ he bemoaned, turning the ruined foam pad around and around in his hands as if there was a way to fix it when the other half was on the ground.

“It’s ok.” You heard yourself comfort the fucker who’d just spanked you in broad daylight.

“But you just finished your shift.” he muttered, and his consideration for your inconvenience touched you, “Here I-I-I’ll go buy ya another pair. Uh, yeah, c’mon.”

You skipped alongside him, trying to get him to look over at you but his face was flushed and his eyes trained on his task, picking out a hot pink pair instead of the polka dots you had chosen. “Does nothin’ for your lil sooties and brings the attention away from the polish ya got painted and instead directs the eye to the crustaceans and shit ya got goin’ on.” he referenced your calluses with a grimace and reached into his back pocket to pull out his worn wallet.

You stared at the hefty meat of his ass the entire time and almost missed it when he pulled out five dollars and put them on the register. You watched his ass and its khaki clad splendor as he returned the wallet without change and wiggled it into the tight back pocket.

At the double sliding glass doors of the front he snapped the tag there and then and squatted down with a little grunt, his knees popping audibly as he gallantly laid out your cheap slippers. You stepped into them, taking the liberty of putting a balancing hand on his sweaty shoulder.

His hand ran up your wrist and held you there a minute longer than it needed for stability. He squeezed twice and let go. You watched him heft himself up to his feet with admiration and a little pity for the stiff way he moved when he’d been stuck in one position for too long. Seemed to you so long as he was kept moving he did alright, nice and fluid and you’d seen him chase and tackle a man on foot awhile back, he’d been runnin’ like the wind then. He had it in him, just lounging in the patrol car hardly helped things.

You got the sudden and stupid urge to ask if he wanted to go swimming in the Motel 6’s pool, it would be good for his joints and your sore back and he’d be wet and maybe have his shirt off and you could-

“I got somethin’ to tell ya, it’s w-w-why I-I stopped when I saw your truck and uh, sweetie, let’s stay h-here in the cool.” he gently tugged your arm back with the pads of his pretty fingers hooked on your deltoid, pulling you back over the threshold and into the dryer sheet scented air of the Dollar General.

“What is it?” you asked him as he seemed nervous, a foreign look on him. You started to feel a little panic at the thought he might be leaving, going back to wherever he came from, done with this Podunk town and its big crime and little criminals.

“There ain’t no easy way to say this a-a-and I wanted you to hear it from me.” he chose his words carefully, eyes trained on the white and speckled tile below your feet until after a big breath he lifted his stunning eyes and gazed at you gently and in the most gallant way you’d ever been looked at before, murmuring in clear, compassionate tones, “They caught your daddy the other night -drug runnin’. Ain’t no petty marijuana charge or somethin’, it’s the big stuff. He’s gonna be put away, for a long while, in-car-cer-ated.” he specified with distinct pronunciation, “For a long while, Miss. I’m sorry to be the one t-t-to t-tell but I wanted you to know it’s true, I-I-l booked him in myself.”

“Well,” you swallowed hard, a little ashamed you’d been more alarmed at the prospect of officer Presley leaving than suspecting anything wrong with your walking disappointment of a father, “well damn.” you muttered.

“You don’t seem much surprised.” he pointed out, pulling his tinted shades down his nose to get a clear review of you, he had a red line on his nose from their weight.

“I barely know him anymore,” you admitted, “and I doubted he was gone spreading charity or something.”

“Yeah.”

“But damn -he was supposed to come back.” you felt a little angry about that part. A little childish for believing it too.

“Maybe he meant to,” he soothed, although your father’s entrenched position on the river suggested a more permanent stay, “and was doing all that sellin’ to give you somethin’ better but he was breakin’ the law and endangerin-“

“-Endangering others, I know.” you snapped at him, not because he was anything but nice, you snapped at him because he was very kind and he had a silver, shiny, sanctimonious badge on the large swell of his left peck.

The longer you stared at the badge the more you wanted to sink your dollar store acrylics into the meat of that man and try tearing -they’d probably break and it made your eyes swim with tears of frustration and you stomped out of the double glass doors into the heat of the parking lot. The sun would be going down soon and that’s when your best customers would pour into the club. You snapped your way across the asphalt on the flip flops he got you, ignoring his calls behind you as you wrenched open the squeaking truck door and hopped up into the cab.

“Really it’s fine!” you yelled at him as he came up to the window again, the concern and reproval written on his face way more heavy than you could take right then, “It’s not like I was expecting him back anytime soon anyway and -and you’ve got a job to do, ok? I get it. I get it, ok? Now I gotta go, officer.” You cranked up your engine and diesel fumes swirled around him. He batted the air in front of his face like a dainty lady would a swarm of flies and leaned heavier still on your rolled down window.

“I just wanted to let ya know.” he reaffirmed his intention, his gesticulations bringing your eyes to the gold watch around his wrist that jangled against the car metal, “Tell ya not to uh, don’t do nothin’ rash, alright? Just ‘cause he’s gone. You’re a big girl, you’ll make it. You ‘member what I said last time ‘bout extracurriculars?”

“I’d like to do you some extracurriculars.” you seethed with an angry smile and he looked taken aback, actually stepping away from the truck and his belly heaved with his offended breaths. One hand balled in a fist at his side and the other twitched, fiat palm swaying beside his thigh like he was gonna smack again. Extracurriculars -you’d like to take his no doubt chubby little cock right down to the sweaty thatched base and chew, just to earn a real spanking.

Maybe this lewd intent was written on your face but he slowly backed away from your truck like you’d gone looney, pointing his finger at you as he went, “You be good, I mean it. And that’s goes for respectin’ officers of the law.”

He was about to get into his side, looking over his car top in admonishment and you quickly made sure your truck was still in park before turning round in the seat and hanging yourself out the window, cleavage pressed against the edge to your best advantage and blew him a kiss. “I’m always a good girl, officer!” you swore adamantly and it stopped him dead in his tracks, stopped in a half crouch to his seat, that eyebrow disbelieving, “Officer Presley commissioned me to be good and I ain’t anything but!” you swore.

Took him five whole seconds to recall he was supposed to have his ass seated by then and he lowered himself the rest of the way into his car. His belly brushed the steering wheel and his legs spread themselves even in the driver's seat, it made your crushed breasts tingle. “Be-have.” he pointed that finger again and your thighs clamped shut on your seats, overwhelmed with unbidden thoughts of the long and slender digit probing inside you. How’d his fingers stay so slender when the rest of him bulked up?

You saluted as poorly as you could and watched him drive off, aggression plain in his accelerations and the way he took his turns. He shoulda stayed and spanked the other cheek, you thought, as you turned around and slumped in your seat, legs splayed and fighting a desperate urge to slip a hand down your shorts. You hoped to god he’d find some quiet shoulder of the road in the desert this evening and with a car passing every twelve minutes, tug a load out to the thought of wacking your denim booty with his belt. It would be good for his blood pressure.

Hands sticky from your own dismal release, you pulled out of the parking lot ten minutes behind him and, too scarce on time to go home first, drove straight to the club, knowing full well that you could always just strip down to your underwear.

Or less.

What with dad permanently unhelpful now, it was a fact of life that you’d have to do more than get by till he came back. You’d already accepted that awhile ago, this just confirmed it. You figured you’d need to save another stash of money, like the real professional girls did, girls like Kelcie and Shay, a little fund for renting out a motel room at night. The one a quarter mile out back of the truck stop, no harm in it except for a few bramble scratches in the dark and the odd coyote not scared off by the truckers’ loud moans out back at the blow job wall.

But for tonight you hadn’t any such stash and so after a few hours at the poll and chatting up the fellas lounging on barstools, you found the tip jar lacking and made one of those lil deals that were becoming almost as commonplace as getting your butt pinched.

This time, in the moth attracting glow of the outside light, your customer had a New York accent and while at cock level you learned from his fancy, dangling silver keychain that his buddies knew him as Joe E.

Now Joe E had a little brown cock and a small, fused ballsack under a sizable belly like most of these men in here did, and you did some of your best work on him. It was easy to do with him fitting in your mouth so easily, you pulled out every trick you’d learned at this wall, all of which he unfortunately resisted succumbing to more than the usual client. He’d pull himself out of your throat and he would grip his base, prolonging his experience and you supposed he had a right to it, he was paying money for something and he might as well do it how he liked but your jaw ached after a while. Soon your ears ached worse, exhausted and fed up with the self important monologue he kept up between the usual, self promoting stud talk that an unimpressive man in his forties likes to indulge in while paying for sex acts out back of a hole in the wall truckers club.

Joe E tasted like he hadn’t touched a fresh vegetable in years and through the overwhelming desire to puke you recognized with some pleasure that he was tipping you extra for being “like a damn vacuum down there, you pretty little dog.”

You drove home from the club, headlights on dim in the early morning and passed by Officer Presley’s double wide with intent, choosing the route you’d take if you were walking. It was dark inside but as you passed you saw he wasn’t asleep, his car was still gone.

You wondered if his doggie was in there or on patrol with him. You sighed and pulled into your own weedy drive, depressed with something you didn’t know the cause of.

You brushed your teeth, you ate cereal after remembering you hadn’t eaten, and stripped out of your clothes before crashing into bed, falling asleep in seconds despite the musty, unconditioned air inside.

It was the next morning, so near afternoon as to barely warrant it but Elvis Presley liked to take credit for any bit of effort he made and so let the record show it was still morning, when he entered the Waffle House off Moody Blvd and sat himself down in a booth and ordered his usual. It arrived at 11:56 in the morning and so it was breakfast, not lunch by any stretch of the imagination. He’d been up all night, the usual plaguing reasons and a few added to it. You, thoughts of you and tanning your hide and gripping you and you squirming over his lap made his patrols a hellish experience and he was almost glad for the distraction of the fucker without plates pulling out in front of him and making a run for it through the border checkpoint at 8:45 pm.

Now he was distracting himself with food, and if there was anything in his life to rival his appreciation of a slippery and obligin’ pussy, it was five scrambled eggs piled high on a white plate with burnt bacon to the side and waffles stacked on a companion plate. Brenda put them down with a smile and gave him a side hug that made his face brush her apron and shoulda gotten her fired by the food regulations but Elvis liked Brenda for her affectionate ways and the way he didn’t ever have to correct her about his order.

“You look tired.” she worried over him and he found a smile starting to threaten on his face, he stuck his fork in the eggs to distract himself.

“Just a busy night.” he admitted and absentmindedly rubbed at his sore knee.

“Aww you’re a treasure, keepin’ us so safe.” he patted his arm again and he fully smiled this time. “You just tell me if you need anythin’ else. I’ve got more coffee, lemme get ya more coffee, Elvis.”

“Thanks Miss Brenda.” he called to her and she giggled as she fetched the cloudy pot.

The bell over the entrance jangled and from Elvis’ chosen vantage point in a booth that faced the doors, always facing his entry that man, he saw Joe Esposito walk in, smiling like a motherfucker for a Wednesday morning and swaggering like Elvis hadn't seen the little runt do since he passed the bar back in 1980 something.

“Hey Brenda, hey EP!” Joe greeted and Elvis braced himself for a cheerful morning when all his hopes had been for some quiet and a little maple syrup glazed despondency.

“Hey Joe.” Elvis greeted his old friend, “You in town?”

“Yeah, my route’s takin’ me to Las Cruces.” Joe informed him as he helped himself to the booth across from Elvis without invitation. If he ate one of Elvis’ bacon strips, even reached for it, Elvis would be pulling out his Glock.

“How’s business?” Elvis asked as neutrally as possible, knowing that it was a sore subject for Joe who had once bragged about being destined for big things, holding it over everybody else at the high school back in Memphis. Still Elvis couldn’t help but ask, partly because it was small talk and if he could get Joe on the subject he knew the feller wouldn’t stop talking, and Elvis could then eat his eggs with minimal requirements for speech. He also took some inner consolation in the fact that all Joe’s brags had worked out about as poorly as Elvis’ dreams had.

It made for two portly middle aged men in a Waffle House booth discussing gas prices at noon.

Joe ordered just pancakes and Elvis judged the lack of meat from beneath his lavender shades and patiently asked the right questions to keep Joe smacking his breakfast with an open mouth and waxing sentimental about life on the road. It suited Joe, even if it was boringly unimportant, he was king of the road in between stops at Walmart distribution centers and out in the stretches of no man’s land the girls were cheap, far cheaper than any Times Square street walker. Joe hadn’t been to Times Square since he was sixteen but it was something he still liked to brag of and to incorporate in his life story like it was an integral part of his narrative.

“But are they fresher?” Elvis inquired, always intrigued by the subject of pussy but also harboring a deep aversion to the way most men spoke on the subject.

“Nah, not really, but that’s why ya go for the mouth.” Joe catechsied Elvis on the ways of call girls and Elvis felt his eye twitch, personally he enjoyed blow jobs as much as the next guy but to avoid the pussy all together as Joe was suggesting? It took all the joy out of the act for Elvis and he picked at his eggs morosely as he listened. He’d had such a large appetite before Joe sat down and started talking of fishy cunts and girls with throats like drainage pipes.

Joe had been to the truckers lounge, the trucker club, the strip place, whatever it was called -the place Marty ran. Elvis knew it, he tried not to react to the name, to pretend he didn’t gas up at the Texaco next door with the express intent of hoping to catch sight of you some nights. He never did, and he’d never been in. But Joe had gone in and Joe being Joe sat across from Elvis the next morning and bragged to a law officer about paying for a blow job. Which along with ruining Elvis’ appetite was offense enough for Elvis to decide to arrest the fucker, but the eloquent details of the slut who’d given it to him made Elvis see red.

Elvis didn’t really mind folks watching you, some stupid, possessive part of him was glad that all those fuckers drooled over you and couldn’t touch, same as him as he sat year after year in his lawn chair on his porch, watching you pass his trailer with longer and longer legs, prettier and prettier as the dusty days rolled by.

But to touch you? That someone else had touched you? The butter on his waffles suddenly looked wrong.

“-just fifty bucks man. Fifty bucks well spent.” Joe was bragging like he’d cheated the stock market and Elvis heard a roar in his ears that the doctors swore the pills would take care of.

You’d sucked Joe Esposita for fifty dollars right after Elvis had told you to be good and you’d blown him a kiss.

His chest hurt.

Elvis had Joe’s greasy face pressed into the syrupy plate with his hands behind his back and cuffs clanking before either the officer or the suspect even realized his intent. “Prostitution’s illegal, motherfucker, as is paying for such services in the state of Texas.”

You’d told him you’d be good. Fuck! He so badly didn’t wanna think of Joe being your first that he had to countenance speculation about you making a regular habit of this thing which was both worse and better all at once and he took out his frustration at that knowledge by trundling Joe into the back of the squad car with far more force than necessary.

It was a flimsy charge to file, Elvis knew that even before the clerk gave him the usual papers to fill out with a confused look. Wasn’t like Elvis was gonna put down your face or name, give away your crime. Without that connection the charge of paying for sex was flimsy and Joe would be released before dark. But it was nice to hear him sqealin’ and bitchin’ about his driving schedule and a buncha other ordinary begs that made Joe E sound as pathetic as Elvis knew he was.

It fortified Elvis throughout the day, kept him from going to your trailer or interrupting you at work to ask why in God’s name you would degrade yourself like that. It kept him bolstered with red hot rage until he was staked out in desert twilight on the dark side of the Texaco, headlights off and his eyes squinted as he watched patrons and girls go into the club.

This was his fault, for locking your daddy up, driving you to such lengths. He felt sick about it, shoulda known a stubborn, white trash girl like you would just reach for the next alternative this easy. Made him sick. Elvis suddenly felt nice and superior to all these men filing into the neon lit cinderblock structure, he had resisted touching himself to the fantasies that had filled his mind about you last night. Wasn’t pertinent that he had a stiffy right now, that was just the nerves and excitement of a stake out revving him up

He lit up a cigar and let Mellancamp growl over the stereo, engine off and the key turned just a little for the dash lights to stay on. He wasn’t sure when you got off work at the club, he assumed it must be some time around dawn and that suited his shit circadian rhythm just fine. He wasn’t tired as the hours went by, he was downright furious and his heart hurt and he popped a couple oxys sitting there with his busted knee throbbing and his mind a demented echo chamber.

By the time the sky was turning a sickly violet with the first promises of sunrise, Elvis had worked himself up to such a degree as to have his door flung open and one boot rhythmically tapping against the cement in his agitation, legs spread to alleviate the ache his pills had provoked in his groin even as the rest of him felt loose and untethered and decidedly deserving for once.

When you walked out the front of the club into the stale early morning air you laughed to yourself at the silliness of thinking you’d need a coat. Your little denim shorts and cherry print crop top suited just fine even in the early dark. That NASCAR jacket you’d had your eye on, the one Shay showed you on eBay, it would have to wait, the tips were shit tonight. No real hurt with that, wasn’t like it was cold. Just another something you wanted and would have to put off. You hadn’t driven tonight as the walk was cheaper and closer but you’d forgotten your pepper spray back at the truck stop and you hesitated for a moment about going back in, hating the idea of getting sucked into some sorta early morning drama from the drunk leftovers. While you were debating, a flash of white seared your vision and you staggered to a stop in the middle of the mostly deserted parking lot.

Headlights.

Well shit, now you really wished you had that spray. You thought about making a run for it, trying the nearest truck cab and praying the guy in it was less of a creep than whoever stakes out on the deserted side of the building.

“You get over here!” the approaching figure came into view, finally silhouetted by his own lights as he stalked towards you wearing a leather trench coat like some noir villain.

It would be a lie to say you breathed easier when you recognized Officer Presley’s commanding baritone.

“Shit shit shit.” you chanted beneath your breath at how riled he sounded and his right hand started making angry gestures for you to approach as he himself closed the distance with a deceptively fast gait.

“Hey, get your ass over here, I called you.” he yelled far more loudly than necessary with his massive hands already closing around your wrists, you didn’t even think to make a run for it, where exactly in the world was a kinder place to turn to than this angry law officer who always nosed in your business too much? “Get, get over here.” he repeated with a yank and tugged you stumbling over your flip flops to his squad car.

He bent you over the hood, just like you’d dreamed of more than a few times and you felt the heat of the headlight against your thigh as your shoulders got twisted back. “-solicitation,” he was pronouncing and your heart sank at the realization he had caught you after your promise, “prostitution-“ the cold clamp of a handcuff on your wrist had none of the rebel thrill you once imagined, it was terrifying and you whimpered pathetically at the thought that you’d expended his patience, that maybe your flirty banters had been one sided and he really was fed up with you.

“Officer-“ you begged with your cheek smashed to the hood.

Some guy had walked up, actually being a good citizen and concerned about the manhandling. It took one flash of Officer Presley’s badge for the guy to back away with a mere “you at least gonna read her the rights, man?”, throwing concerned looks over his shoulder. Maybe he’d been a tipper, you didn’t recall one face from another unless they were awfully ugly or skinny.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll read you your rights, you got the goddamn right to remain silent-“ Officer Presley was struggling with the other cuff and his weight on your lower back made you wheeze just as he was short of breath. He was awfully worked up, huffily trying to clasp the cuffs and slurring your Miranda rights carelessly for so staunch a believer in laws and precepts.

When he succeeded and stood you upright you craned your neck to look at his sweaty face behind you and his eyes were wild and his hair disheveled like he’d run his hands through it a million times tonight. He looked a bit obsessed with his nose flaring like that, his speech slurring and his usual decorum completely goners.

“Are you drunk?” you balked in alarm as he trundled you into the backseat, face first into leather with your cuffed hands behind you, ass stuck out the door.

“Of course I ain’t!” he howled and pushed your butt further until you righted yourself on the bench seat, “I’m your officer of the law, that’s what I am.”

“I-I-I know that, I just-“ you felt a cold sweat break out at the realization he kept all his stubborn righteousness even skunk drunk on something, “-you seem a little…impaired. For a law officer. For a law officer driving on a government road. See! I do listen, I do and I really don’t think that while you’re dr-“

“I don’t even touch the booze, unlike you.” he spit. “Nothin’ gonna get you outta this, this time you’re gonna learn your lesson!” he wagged his finger and slammed the door shut, you could hear his seething monologue through his open door as he came round and took his own seat up front, the hard plastic partition only muting it slightly. “I can’t stand, won’t stand for it, no hard times gonna make for you-“

You tugged at the cuffs on your wrists and swallowed at their security, the ole man might be inebriated but he sure knew his line of work. It made you doubly anxious at how vulnerable you were, unbuckled and cuffed in the back seat of a man about to hit the road in a blind, possibly medicated rage. Your one glimmer of hope was the fact you were the cause of that rage -and you hoped, hoped so damn hard he cared out of some sort of fondness, not anger.

“Strippin’ and blowin’ and probably snortin’ shit and you ain’t even outta highschool-“

“You turned eighteen?!” He balked, jerking the rearview down to stare you in the eyes.

“Yes sir.” you agreed meekly.

“And you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten you somethin’!” he cried out, “Eighteen and don’t tell nobody, no mama, no daddy, and now fuckin’ with the law-“

“Officer Presley I understand you’re angry and I’m sorry-“ you tried your most vehemently ass kissing tone and scooted up to the edge of the seat, face pressed the the scuffed, forehead greased plastic divider, “I’m so sorry I had to break my promise to ya but money’s been so tight, I—ooh shit-!“

You tipped over on your side as he hit the accelerator, the wheel already turned for a complete 180 spin to leave the dingy parking lot and its flashing neon lights. You sat yourself back up and pressed your face back where you could watch his leather gloves spin the wheel, and breathe as close to him as possible even if it didn’t serve to make him notice. The plastic sorta hampered the more primal assets at your disposal. You were readying for some more protests when he spoke up, his pouty, boyish, hurt tone emphasized by his jerky merging into three lanes worth of morning commute traffic

“— why didn’t you come to me?” he cried out and you had to give it to him, crossing three white lines that smoothly while in a rage wasn’t for anyone, he had a knack, “Why didn’t you say, ‘Officer Presley, if I don’t have me enough money for’ -what is it you need money for?”

“EVERYTHING!” You screamed back, exasperated and a little scared at the blur of tail lights he wove you through.

“You’re greedy,” he surmised, “you’d rather go work at the tit shack as a lot lizard, shakin’ it for strangers and suckin’ Joe E’s cock than ask for my help. My help!” He stabbed at his chest with a gloved finger and it was quite obvious how tore up he was over that mental image, you didn’t know he knew such particulars but you could use this to your advantage, you could try at least.

“Officer Presley,” you cooed as gently as you could with road noise and a plastic divider hampering your sultry intentions, if you had freedom of movement you’d be reaching around his thick neck and tucking that one sweaty curl behind his ear where it tufted with his sideburn, “I’d have preferred it was you,” you watched closely as that sank in, the lead foot easing on the accelerator, there was a choice up ahead, left to the precinct or right to the trailer park, “but I’ve got my pride and I couldn’t just take charity from you. I kept hopin’ you’d come in, then we could both do each other a favor.”

You could hear him sniff, running a hand underneath his nose. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, forehead thudding back against the plastic and at the red light intersection he stopped and craned his neck to look at you. “Don’t take me in, not this morning, please, pleaaasssse!” you begged, “We’ve both been working all night and we’re tired and sad and- you need somebody to make you dinner before you fall asleep, don’t ya?”

It was a dirty, dirty ploy to distract him like that but you could see with searing clarity the way his eyes wavered in their glare, then softened into childlike meekness at the thought of food and companionship. “You wanna come back to mine?” he whispered, gravelly from all the yelling and his eyelids batted under the lavender shades, azure and owlish.

“I really do.” you agreed, “Mine hasn’t had any air conditioning in seven months.” you admitted and he made a wounded noise of protest for your deprivations. You’d make him see why you took to stripping, he just had to be eased into it.

“I didn’t take it outta the freezer ‘fore I left.” he realized dejectedly as he turned right -away from the station.

You took a massive breath and tried to make it go to your swimming head, relief coursing through you at getting your way. Then you tried to process what he’d said. “Oh, your dinner?” you prodded.

“Yeah. It’s frozen. Lasagna.” he mumbled.

“Well, that’s nothing me and a microwave can’t solve.” you assure, gauging how his profile had softened in the dim lighting of the cab lights but his grip on the wheel and his jittery leg were about as stiff and upset as when he cuffed you. “What could I do for you in exchange for a bite?” you whispered, the sudden stop of the car making you realize with a hitch in your breath that you were in front of his place.

“I liked you.” he suddenly spoke up with such vehemence that it would have been comedic, what with him having already given into you and taken you home, but instead it was a little heartbreaking. “I liked you but you was too young!”

“I still like you.” you hedged, “Even though you cuffed me and called me a lot lizard.” you teased.

The solicitation, the sharing, it seemed to be his chief sore.

“That’s whatchu is!.” He grouched, staring out his front windshield at the single hung lamp illuminating freshly washed vinyl. “But I’ve taken you home anyways.”

“It’s really sweet of you.” you insisted, shifting on the peeling bench seat and wondering when he’d take you out of the car. “Are you gonna let me warm up that lasagna?”

“You said you wished I’d come in?” he ignored you and went back to your previous comment, about wishing he had frequented the truck stop.

Well, well, Officer Presley - a man like all others, after all.

You smirked, sticky lip gloss feeling a little cracked at this corners as you beamed at your little victory. “Maybe I could find a way to show my appreciation for takin’ me back to your air conditioned little palace. -while the lasagna is warming up.” you clarified and heard him grunt, and shift, his legs spreading a little wider in the cramped front seat.

“Yeah?” he pressed, sounding a little winded unless you were just too quick with the assumptions tonight.

“Yeah.”

“You offerin’ to be *my* lot lizzard?” He asked and after a tense minute where you were unsure if he was about to be angry again, he tapped the glass and whispered, “A joke, c’mon, don’t you get it? It’s a joke.”

“But I would!” You insisted after laughing for his benefit.

“Hmm.” He sniffed again, “Well. Hmm.” and with that unclear utterance he opened his door and heaved himself out into the stale Texas air, hiking up his pants again in that useless habit and shutting it behind him. It seemed an eternity before he finished hiking and shifting and shaking a leg out before he came and opened your door, a gentlemanly action made necessary by the stupid cuffs, still clanking around your wrists, as you scooted out of the back seat.

Officer Presley surveyed you up and down, blinking blearily as if he hadn’t seen you fully in the dark parking lot, like the glare of his headlights wasn't sufficient to show him your little cherry tank top and denim shorts, the satin tops of your red bra peeking out of the stretched neckline. “Hmm.” he hummed again and surveyed you once more, the pull of the cuffs behind your back adding to your posture being a bit booby. “Now ‘fore you cross my threshold, I’ve got house rules.” he was swaying a bit alarmingly and caught himself on the side mirror, you chose to ignore this and give him all the deferential attention needed to cure his -jealousy? Was he jealous? Of all the men who tipped you? “First rule, no dirty feet in the house. I hate filthy carpets. I hate them.”

“O-ok.” you agreed.

“Clean feet.”

“Okey.”

“Hmm. Ok.” he closed his eyes and recalled the next, “Let’s see uh- no back talkin’! No talkin’ back, what I say, goes, in my house.”

It was a trailer, not a house. But:

“Of course! You’re the man of the house!” you enthused with a little bounce for his benefit. He was still wacky and veering so fast from niceness to belligerence you were pretty sure you’d end up a little worse for wear after this no matter what. The thought excited you.

“Ok.” he pronounced, staring at the gravel and your feet like he didn’t know what to do now. You wondered when was the last time somebody had come into his place. “I got a doggie, too. Backroom. His word is law, don’t go botherin’ him none.“

Having seen the size of the dog, even if you were inclined to be a jerk to it, you wouldn’t dare. “Gosh of course.”

“Ok.” again. “I’ll get the hose.”

He left you there, leaning cuffed against his squad car as he trundled over his singed lawn to the side of the trailer, returning with the running hose in hand.

You knew it was destined for your feet and didn’t make a fuss as the warm hose water splashed against your blisters, soothing away the dust and the sticky cocktail splashes and god knows what else.

“House rules?” he prompted as he sprayed.

It was getting quite light out now. Probably close to six in the morning. What a long night. “Clean feet, respect doggie, no back talking.” You listed.

“And make yourself useful.” he grunted as if he had mentioned that before and you’d been faulty in your retelling.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Mm, ‘cause you’re my lot lizard now, ain’t ya?” he hummed, hose pointed to the side and suddenly his face was very close to yours, his belly closer and pressed to yours.

“Y-yeah.” you gasped.

“You gonna be a useful lil helper, hmm? Let hims take care of ya while you take care of him?”

Well shit, you weren’t at all sure if this were house rules or a big sexual game. Either way you wanted some lasagna and the crisp prospect of air conditioned sleep. “Yes, officer.”

“Good girl.” he turned the nozzle off on the hose, clamping it at the mouth and dropping it to the gravel.

“You- are you gonna uncuff me?” you giggled nervously as he swayed above you, nose almost brushing yours, eyes heavy and drooping.

“Hmm,” he stepped back and hooked a thumb in his belt loop, a shit eating grin spread over his face, bunching up the apples of his cheeks and turning him into a boy before your very eyes, “nah. I think -nope. Not gonna.”

“Well- shit, officer.” You sputtered, “You’ve got some little secrets?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of how little they are, sweetheart.” he cheesed before reaching out and hooking a finger in your strap, and tugging you gently by it up his porch.

It was odd, Seeing his ceramic tiger up close. Like déjà vu, or walking into a movie, some dream playing out. If your hands had been free, you would’ve pet the head concrete reverently, feeling some sort of gratitude to the noble beast for making your girlhood wishes come true as you tripped through the screen door and into an icebox of a trailer.

He shut the door and pressed you up against it with a move smoother and more practiced than you expected from him. Maybe wrestling criminals and doing the nasty called for the same dexterity. Or maybe he’d been fuckin’ somebody else all this time, waiting for you to grow up. Maybe he’d made a whole harem out of the trailer park and you were just his last pick. The thought hurt terribly, worse yet as you knew most days he was a sweetie, a funny man, attractive and well liked, not this grumpy, pill drunk trailer Baron that smushed you with his belly and sneering face so near but never descending as a lover’s should.

“Kiss me.” you goaded, licking your lips in a studied way. The little contemplative, whining sound he made took you by surprise.

He pulled down your bottom lip with a gloved finger and checked your mouth and tongue like a damn dentist. “Listerine first.”

Of course. Hygiene.

Clean feet, clean mouth, just for him to probably put his piss dribbled cock in it.

He stepped away and methodically took off his gloves, laid them on a small, doily adorned side table by the door, and then his gun and his belt came off with a satisfied grunt that made your inner thighs tingle. The thud of his large flashlight finished this routine.

Doilies.

There were doilies and frilly curtains and the oddest assortment of cheap finery around the place. A nod to the Tuscan craze taking over places like Target and such, while having a unique spin on it you weren’t sure what to name. You took it all in as he piloted you to the bathroom and methodically he pulled out a still wrapped toothbrush and plopped a jumbo sized bottle of mint flavored mouthwash on the fake marble counter.

“You kept that in case you have a lady guest?” You teased as the clinical silence was all a bit funny.

“Yeah.” he agreed without a hint of amusement and you sobered up again at the idea of him having anybody in here but you.

He poured a large quantity of the mouthwash into a paper cup, retrieved from the tidy stack of paper cups beside the sink for that purpose. His housekeeping was an odd mix of spectrum-like meticulousness and slovenly disorder. There were three pairs of pants on the bathroom rug beneath your feet and yet the mouthwash cups were stacked as carefully as the Tower of Babel. “Swish it for seventy five seconds.” He directed very soberly, tipping the liquid disinfectant into your mouth. You almost swallowed the shit. While you swished till your eyes burned and your tongue went numb from scalding mint, he tore at the packaging for the toothbrush.

“Ok, spit.” you happily spat out the green torture liquid and grinned back at him in the mirror.

“Never had a man ask me to spit it out before.” you teased.

He fumbled the toothbrush in surprise for a minute before giving you an admonishing eyebrow. “Girl don’t. We gotta brush your teeth.”

Instead of doing the obvious thing, the honorable thing and uncuffing you, he instead took his place behind you and pushed the toothbrush between your lips, moving it as if you had no arms and were helpless. All this to keep you cuffed.

What a pervert, you thought, charmed.

It was oddly cozy even if it was more than a tad bazaar, him pressing himself to you and running his spare hand along your side as you bent over the counter, trying not to ruin the moment by slurping paste too much. It didn’t seem to bother him, he didn’t watch you brush, he just discreetly rubbed the front of his slacks against your butt and kept his hand jerking the brush across your teeth. His other hand soothingly running up and down the curve of your hip, fingers fluttering under the hem of your tank and brushing bare skin with reverent little swoops.

When you were finished he laid the toothbrush down beside his, on a folded little towel in the back left corner of the vanity next to the mirror.

The domesticity made you smile. “Look, they’re spooning.”

He grabbed your chin gently, tilting your head to the side as he leaned over your shoulder. His lips very close again. “Happy late birthday.” he whispered, “I’d have gotten you a cake. Cupcake. Somethin’. You deserve to be celebrated.”

“Kiss me?” you asked again and this time he did, at his own pace, micromanaging each swipe of tongue and press of lips but he kissed you, strongly and angrily and admiringly in turn. He pulled down your tank as he went, stretching the neck out beyond any salvaging and then your bra, unclasping it with strange proficiency and letting your top gather in a ugly bulge around your hips, stuck by your cuffs and shorts, as his hands cupped and squeezed your breasts, somehow making this appreciative mauling seem essential to the act of kissing.

You two finally separated, breathless and revved up, staring at each other with wild, half lidded eyes.

“Ok.” he pronounced and you readied for more only for him to say, “Lasagna. C’mon.”

His kitchen was far nicer than yours, but still it was a mobile home kitchen. And he was a thorough bachelor. He crooked his fingers into the plastic handle and yanked open the freezer, standing aside with a grin on his face that bode no good for you. “I’m helpin’ ya out a little,” he explained sheepishly, “since you’re hampered.” he had a way of saying it like handcuffs were a natural disability, “But I let you off scott-free in exchange for you makin’ me some food.”

“Food and other things.” you bitched, “Didn’t sign up to be a comedy act.”

“Oh that’s right,” beamed, “you did offer other things.” he bit his lip and you thought you’d won when he went right back to it, “You said while it was warming up, you offered other things, while it was in the microwave. Yeah, so go on, grab that TV dinner there, not the fettuccini one, the lasagna.”

You stared at the open freezer and then back to him and then back to the freezer. “Grab it?” you sassed, not having a lot to lose with your tits out and your hands cuffed and a law officer having fun at your expense.

“You’ve got a mouth don’t ya?”

“You’re sick.” you smiled in realization before sticking your head into the cold space, nipples pebbling against the chilled plastic, and biting at the package containing Walmart’s latest gourmet provisions.

“Uhuh, that’s it.” he sounded more pleased at the sight of you with a frosted package between your teeth than he had all this time, “Heyer doll, I’ll open the microwave for ya.” his ability to make himself gallant when he was demeaning you so thoroughly made your pulse thunder uncontrollably.

You had to jut your chin and strain your jaw to plop the heavy foil package of frozen shit into the mounted microwave -fancy mobile home owning bastard- and shove it onto its proper revolving plate.

“There we gooo!” he cooed to you and you stepped back to allow him room to shut the door. “See if you can punch the buttons with your widdle nose.” he suggested excitedly and having gone this far, you didn’t see the point in objecting, not when it made him grin like that. You managed to hit the five for five minutes but the “cook” button wouldn’t respond and after banging your nose against it many times, with many laughs shared between, he finally punched it with one of his oddly pretty fingers.

“There we go.” you echoed, finding that you were blushing the minute the hum of the microwave buzzed the air, his eyes pinned to your face.

“Five minutes.” he whispered.

It was a hint. You expected something a little lewder from a man who had you carrying out food prep like a circus dog. A man of many moods and tastes, was officer Presley. “Can you cum that fast?” you asked, turning to face him.

“That’ll depend on you.” he replied levelly, a challenge in his eyes. He still wore his glasses, somehow that made you feel filthier than all the cash favors you’d ever done. He turned a little in his stance to lean back against the counter, his wrist watch jangling against the edge of the formica, his legs widening.

You dropped to your knees, linoleum freezing against your skin and you looked back up at the ticking microwave timer. You knew what he wanted, and if you were being half honest, it’s what you wanted too. So you didn’t act too good for pressing your face to the crotch of his uniform slacks, forehead indenting the swell of his belly above you and taking his zipper between your teeth. Filled out as his slacks were, with all the stupid gathers and the still fastened button, you could only barely see veiny pink flesh behind the newly opened fly.

“No boxers?” you chided him with a smirk and the unapologetic one he gave you in return made your belly clench, as did the musky smell of him and that soft double chin he had when looking down at you. There was stubble on it blending into his throat.

You’d been right, mouthwash and sterilization for your tongue but not even a spit bath for his sweaty balls and clammy dick -the man was out of his mind. You swallowed down the natural aversion the scent gave you and nuzzled your face nearer, trying to nose the button out of its hole. All you did was succeed in brushing his pants against him and making him impatient.

“Four minutes and twenty seven seconds.” He enunciated the timer reading for your benefit and you whimpered at the impossibility of getting the button undone without hands.

“Please, I can’t undo it.” you asked for his help, tugging at your handcuffs angrily, shoulders painfully aching and only the base of his thick penis visible with its nest of curls and heavy sack.

“Then make due.” he stared down at you unimpressed and you felt an overwhelming urge to grind yourself against his boot at his disdainful expression.

Blinking away horny, frustrated tears, you held your breath and buried your face again, nuzzling inbetween the fly gap, using your chin to tug the crotch further down until his heavy, purplish pink balls spilled over the respectable khaki’s and into the cold air. A bit of hope filled you at how taut and bunched they already were, he wasn’t so cool and unaffected as he acted. You saw him reach into his pocket, digging for something as you weighed your next decision.

“Don’t you want some lasagna?” he prodded.

That made you mash your face to his pants and take both of those hairy balls into your mouth, slurping and sucking at them like a shop vac. His jangling movements in his pocket ceased suddenly before picking up again, and then he withdrew it, a sharp gasp heard above you before he stuck a retrieved cigarette between his lips and lit it. A billowy cloud of Marlborough was blown over your crouching form as the microwave hummed on and his chest hummed in satisfaction. He shoved his hand back into his pocket, knuckling along at his cock.

“That’s it.” he sighed as you mouthed at the base as best you could, tonguing at the hefty vein running along the underside, slathering as much as you could reach. He was salty and tacky to taste and his pants were growing wet from something more than your spit. He was a leaky little man, it made your smirk and smack your lips.

“Feel good, officer?” you moaned in question, just as the microwave dinger went off. “Nooo, damnit, no!” you whined at the sound, a poor loser at all times.

Officer Presley only chuckled and twisted a little to pop open the door, hissing and cussing as he grabbed the benign edges of the hot foil and plopped it into the counter, “Hey hey hey, I didn’t say you could get up, now, did I?” he chided as you shifted a tiny bit away to watch him pull off the cover and reveal cheesy red sauce. Your stomach was in knots, it was so empty.

“No.” you admitted.

He twisted his torso to snag himself a fork from the drawer beside your head, and then, stabbing the casserole with it, took both his hands down to his pants and undid the button at last, letting his pants fall to the floor as they’d been trying to do and been prevented by a belt each time you’d seen him. “Finish what you started, doll, and then I’ll give you a bite.”

You swallowed hard, saliva pooling freely in your tongue at the smell of Italian food. It would be of use. He was tapping his sputtering fat cockhead to your lips and after a tiny grunt of resistance, you gave in, opening your glossy lips and letting him slide the thick meat over your tongue, tangy and salty and pulsing like a living rod, all the way to the back of your throat.

“Fuck me, that’s it.” he nodded to himself as you gagged around him, pulling back a little before pushing back in.

You heard the slide of the casserole tray against the counter and the crunch of tin foil, looking up through bleary eyes you saw him cradle the lasagna pan to his chest, balanced on top of his gut. You hollowed your cheeks around him while watching in disbelief as he stabbed at a bite and brought the laden fork to his mouth. He groaned around the bite in enjoyment -your guess over which pleasure was gaining the upper hand. Feeling a little competitive against TV dinner lasagna, you worked his cock faster, sucking more deliberately and trying very hard to let him down your throat, pleased as his hips began to cant and thrust in time with your encouragements.

“That’s it, that’s it, my sweet little homegrown hoe.” he mumbled to you adoringly through a mouthful of pasta and it made your face glow in pleasure, chin and chest dripping with the filth of it all. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna-“ he warned suddenly, pasta tossed back on the counter as he stood up straight and grabbed the back of your head, holding it still, smoldering cigarette pinned dangerously near your ear and hair as he fucked your mouth with fast, frantic pumps before a frankly preposterous amount of spunk filled your mouth and dolloped down your throat.

He petted your head as you struggled to breath again, cloying gloop coating your mouth, one hand coming up to take off his glasses and toss them to the side. He rubbed at his eyes and you realized you weren’t the only one teary eyed from the intensity of it. “Mm, reckon I gotta keep ya after that.” he decided, knuckling your cheek fondly, they were sticky to your surprise. “Want that bite?” he asked conversationally and while you’d have preferred some water to wash down his most recent gift, you nodded anyway and he stabbed at the casserole until he had a great big bite and brought it down to your mouth, smirking as your cheeks once again bulged at the mouthful.

“Thank you.” you smiled up at him and he humphed bashfully before motioning with his fingers for you to stand up.

“Wanna eat the rest of this in bed?” he asked eagerly, licking his teeth, “I’ve got a waterbed.” he added like that would convince you.

“Of course you do.” you giggled. “And of course I do - lead the way.”

He grinned and pushed off the counter, grabbing the casserole as he went. “Might even find the keys for those back here.” he joked about your cuffs before adding with a wicked little wink, “No promises, mind.”

Hope you enjoyed, I write for screams and comments and unhinged feedback. 🤓♥️

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katiemay-025 · 5 months ago

Text

Unexpected

~~~~~

summary: Johanna Mason had a plan for the 71st Hunger Games but she never expected a budding relationship with one of the other tributes let alone a Career

wc: 4.4k

warnings: use of y/n, mdni, character death, angst, graphic violence, mentions of forced prostitution, swearing

~~~~~

Everything was perfectly as planned. Johanna might have had a few bruises from the stunt she pulled at the parade but other than that, everyone fully believed she was weak. Even her district partner believed it, opting to sit with the other tributes. She credited her ability to cry on cue. Johanna was now sitting alone on the training center secretly observing her competition.

That was until a girl put her tray in front of her. When Johanna looked up she was met with the eyes of a career. God she hated them, thinking they owned the place. “Hi. I’m y/n from District 4.” Johanna knew who she was, this year among the careers, she was the top of the food chain. Your brother is the one and only Capitol Darling Finnick Odair.

Johanna stayed quiet hoping the girl in front of her would hurry up and tell her what she was doing here with her. The top of the food chain with the bottom. You didn’t say anything eating her food in silence. It was annoying the district 7 tribute, so she mustered up her meekest voice. “W-why are you sitting with me?”

“My brother won when I was 11 and he would take me out to sea to fish and train. It didn’t go too well with my classmates. They said it was unfair that I got to go on all these ‘field trips’. They were jealous and their jealousy quickly became hate.” What does that have to do with me? Johanna thought. “Anyway I know what it’s like to be an outcast. It’s not fun, so seeing you alone, I didn’t want that for you.” It was like you read her mind, answering her question as soon as she asked it in her head. For the rest of lunch you asked her about her life in District 7 and playing up to the weakling she was, didn’t speak, only opting to shake or nod her head.

Still, you found out a lot. First talking about your brother and then turning the conversation to Johanna’s siblings. She didn’t know what compelled her to tell the truth about them. Nodding when you counted to 4 and then again when you got the correct number of brothers, 3, which meant you knew she had a sister. Other things like her being the middle child, her age (17) and her favorite color (Green because of the forests) were discovered.

Johanna found out about your favorite color (blue for the ocean), your most prized possession was the conch shell you found at the beach, your relationship with Finnick, how he was protective and caring under all that bravado.

After lunch, Johanna fully expected you to rejoin the careers but you didn’t. You went to the weapons station and picked up an axe, which was not in the category of your specialty weapons. ‘Stabby stabs’ as you called it. She sat in the corner hugging her knees as everyone over looked her. For good measure, Johanna decided to cry again.

Through blurry vision, Johanna watched you with the instructor learning the basics. It was okay form and she couldn’t say anything without giving herself away so she turned her attention to crying again. It was its own workout. She buried her face into her knees and practically cried herself to sleep.

Johanna was woken up by you gently shaking her shoulder. You were sitting on your knees at her level. In a calm, soothing and oddly charming voice, you persistently asked her to join you for training. No was not accepted as an answer so Johanna was dragged to the weapons section. You picked up an axe and Johanna dreaded not being able to swing it around like she could. Oh god I’m going to have to pretend to be bad. She thought.

As soon as you instructed Johanna to hold it with 2 hands, she dropped it to the floor. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready.” She forced the tears to well up.

“No. It’s okay.” You consoled her with patience and shook your head helping Johanna lift it. She let you adjust her grip and your eyes lingered on her hands for a few seconds. You simplified your explanations after that and Johanna assumed you were giving up on a hopeless tribute from District 7 who couldn’t even hold their trade weapon but still being nice.

By the second day of training, it was clear you separated yourself from the career pack. Going to the survival sections and checking in on Johanna throughout the day retelling her about what you learned. Finnick got you in a habit of teaching him what he taught you saying the best way to truly know something was to teach to someone else.

The sibling-ship between you and Finnick was definitely stronger than her own relationship with her own siblings. You always had a story with him, like how you almost drowned him, how he let you drive the boat, or even the stupid dolphin sounds he made when a pod of dolphins swam next to the boat. You had your own whale speak that you demonstrated and gave Johanna second-hand embarrassment. She couldn’t have possibly shrunk any smaller.

Johanna wouldn’t lie, you were making her job a lot easier for her checking on her less and less throughout the day, quickly leaving when you couldn’t stop her from crying. God she hasn’t cried this much ever, her stomach was hurting to the point of nausea. To everyone else it looked like you were getting tired of her but she knew you better. You silently left a bottle with her name on the label of water filled with electrolytes so she could replenish the salt she lost while crying.

Johanna nearly had a heart attack when she saw your score after the individual assessment. An 11! Even after taking time to take care of her. Had you been prioritizing yourself, Johanna was sure you would’ve gotten a 12. Anyway, you did miles better than she had, earning the lowest training score ever at 2. Though according to plan, she couldn’t help but think about how you’d react to it. Were you disappointed?

During the interview with Caesar Flickerman, you addressed stepping away from the pack. “Oh those rumors are true. I don’t need them to win clearly with the score I got.” You flashed them a smirk that got everyone swooning over you. Johanna hated it, they didn’t even know like she did. They didn’t know that your favorite animal was a manatee. They didn’t know that you scratched your ear lobe when you were deep in thought. They definitely didn’t know that when you laughed, you place your hand over your heart. “And if that puts a target on my back, let them, I’ll kill them all.”

There was a flicker of darkness in your eyes and a venom in your voice that spread goosebumps over Johanna’s arms. The way you looked into the camera was like you were talking to her specifically. A horrible thought surfaced in her head. You were at the top of the tributes, you could easily feign kindness and kill her. It wasn’t ridiculous, after all, she herself was acting. It never occurred to her that someone else could be acting because at the end of the game, there would only be one victor. When the games started she needed to get away from you.

Johanna focused on herself, trying to speak about her family but then burst into tears again. She spent the rest of her interview time crying. It was getting old, even Johanna herself was getting tired of it by now. Blight was there to retrieve her after it and handed her a water bottle. “It’s from the District 4 girl.”

“Y/n.” She whispered, Johanna felt her heart tighten in her chest. Why am I feeling this way? She pushed it away, these were her cards and now all there was left to do was wait.

The arena was mountainous and rocky with patches of trees. When Johanna rose into it, she saw the cornucopia, and in the center, was a battle axe. You were six podiums to her left and when she found you, you were already looking at her. The moment the gong sounded, Johanna stumbled off her podium and ran toward the trees. She needed to get away from the bloodbath.

Just before reaching the tree line, Johanna dared to turn back. She saw you in the center dodging an attack from someone and grabbing a knife from the pile to slit their throats. You grabbed a harpoon, and a couple more knives before slinging a backpack over your shoulder. You made eye contact with her across the way before darting your eyes towards your left and her right.

When Johanna followed your gaze, she found the District 2 girl running towards her with a sword. Before she could even be close enough to start swinging the sword, a barbed dart flew into her head and her whole body jerked back to the ground as her head snapped. You gathered the rope around your arm and pulled the harpoon out of the dead Career. Johanna stood frozen, the center of the cornucopia and the edge of the tree line was at least 100ft and you just killed the career easily while she was moving.

“Go.” You said putting your hand on her shoulder and forcing her to run. “GO!” Johanna didn’t need to be told twice, and ran through the trees. Dodging and weaving were second nature to Johanna especially either all the tree farms. You followed closely behind for a while until you found a small cave, skidding to a stop. “Johanna! Over here!” Johanna was panicking. She just ran so fast for so long people would clearly start being suspicious. The District 7 resorted to dry heaving. “Oh. Oh man.” You said, you grabbed her arms and placed them behind her head. “Open up your airway love.”

Johanna was fine, but something about the way you called her love made all of her pretending go away. “I’m okay y/n. I’m fine.” Well almost. Her voice still had the softness to it. For the night, you tried to fit Johanna and yourself in the cave but she were hesitant.

You had unpacked your bag before asking Johanna a question, “Jo. Come on what’s wrong?”

“What if you try to kill me?”

You gave her a glare under the flashlight. “Honey, if I wanted you dead, I would’ve done it by now.” That shut Johanna up real quick and apparently the entire cave too. She did not expect to be scolded. “Why did you look back? God you were such an idiot. You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“I don’t know.” She did know. Johanna needed to know you were okay but she wasn’t going to tell you that. “Why did you save me?”

“I do not want or need your obituary to say death by standing in the middle of a cornucopia bloodbath.”

Johanna wasn’t sure what your plan was. Didn’t you know that there could only be one victor? What were you going to do when there was only the two of them left? It seems to Johanna that you weren’t going to think about it until then.

She didn’t mind it, sitting all day in a cave might be boring but if she isn’t doing anything, Johanna’s conserving energy. You and Johanna shared more about your homes, you more than her since now everything was on camera. At night you sat quietly holding Johanna in the sleeping bag you shared, she was sniffling and you decided to glide your nails over her forearm.

On the second day, after a bit of hiking you found a large river and immediately jumped in after stripping. “Come in the water!” You laughed cupping a handful of water and drinking it.

“I don’t know how to swim.” Johanna replied meekly.

Your shoulders visibly dropped before making your way back to the shore. Suddenly you stopped eyeing something down stream. You squinted your eyes and Johanna watched you sink your head underwater only to surface 20ft away fighting a red splashing fish the size of your torso. You laughed as its tail whacked you in the stomach. With incredible strength you hoisted it between your arms and slid your fingers into the second gill and pulled. The fish stopped moving and you held it over your shoulders as you finally made it back to shore.

“Dinner! And breakfast and lunch and dinner again. For the two of us, I could probably last a few days. I hope you’re not allergic to fish Anna.” A small ding sounded and Johanna found a parachute floating right towards you as you were now gutting the fish. You paused for a second opening it to a full ice chest. “Thank’s Finn!” After cutting the fish into pieces, you and Johanna continued hiking finding another cave.

For the next couple of days, you and Johanna stayed in the cave only going out to get water. Johanna played her weakling part, clinging to your arm to not go. The compromise you came to was that Johanna would sit at the entrance with a knife and watch your back as you went to grab water.

On day 5, you told Johanna that since they were nearing the top 8 tributes, they would be interviewing family soon. She hoped her family knew what her plan was and made something up. You ran out of food this morning and told Johanna to not worry about you when you went out. It was only a few minutes you were out of site that a cannon sounded.

Johanna immediately ran out of the cave. “Johanna? Johanna!” She heard you call.

“Y/n!” She called back. You ran up the ridge to her. “I thought you-“

You pulled her into a hug shushing her. “It’s okay Jo. I’m here.” You stroked her hair trying to calm her. She spent the rest of the walk to the river clinging to your arm. The two of you made your way back to where you left your harpoon only to literally see all the water drained into the floor.

“What are they doing?”

“The Gamemakers are draining the river, probably to set up something to bring tributes together.”

“We don’t have to go right?”

“We need the water.”

“How long can we survive without water?”

“3 days.”

“Can we make it 3 days.”

“Yes but who’s to say the Gamemakers won’t wait 3 days to bring everyone together? When we’re desperate water.”

Johanna hated the Capitol. She hated being at their mercy. And she hated her plan right about now. The clueless weak girl that could do nothing could probably tap a tree for sugar and water by now if she had just showed who she was from the beginning and gotten that axe. But had she done that, she wouldn’t have you.

You and Johanna toughed it out waiting the rest of the day and the next before an announcement sounded. Attention Tributes tomorrow morning at the Cornucopia you are invited to attend. Each of you desperately needs something. That will be the only announcement. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

There hadn’t been a cannon since the scare cannon a few days ago. With the fallen tributes tribute that night, you figured out that besides you and Johanna, there were the rest of the careers, a boy from 9 and a girl from 11. You were stressed, Johanna could tell, you were fiddling with a rope you brought in as your token running your fingers through the grooves.

Hiking back to the Cornucopia at night was pretty easy since you and Johanna spent most of your time in cave. Johanna navigated through the trees easily, being from 7 and working in the tree farms, she had to know the way home or she’d become the forest witch’s food, or she was told. The two of you made it to the cornucopia in the middle of the night just after they played the anthem where no fallen tributes appeared.

In the night, neither you or Johanna could get some sleep knowing there were tributes around. You sat back to back and eventually you used Johanna’s shoulder as a head rest and she felt your soft breathing on her neck. Your right hand reached for her left behind you and you ran your thumb over the back of her skin. Johanna turned her head to look at you only finding that you were already looking at her with a sparkle in your eyes. She might’ve imagined it but your eyes were focused on her lips. Johanna felt a weird feeling in her stomach. Part of her wanted you lean in. That thought scared her so she laid on your shoulder. Johnna felt her face go red as she stared ahead to watch you 6.

In the morning, you gave Johanna a knife and told her to walk in front of you. The plan was to get what you needed and get the hell out of there. You stood with you back facing her as being the first people here meant you were the first targets, but she’s seen you throw. It felt like forever waiting for the feast but then Johanna heard a humming and saw the packs. Before it could even finish rising, Johanna grabbed the District 7 pack and District 4 pack trying to run away.

You held an arm out to stop her. Across the way were the four remaining careers. Johanna almost questioned why you didn’t throw your harpoon but then that would be taking your only weapon away. The careers charged towards them raising their weapons. You gripped Johanna’s shoulders as you strapped the backpacks onto her. “Run! You hear me? Run and don’t look back!”

She took off through the cornucopia but stopped when she heard a cannon. You were her ally and friend, she wasn’t going to leave, not after everything you have done for her. In the cornucopia, the battle axe from the first day was no longer there. There were smaller chopping axes and splitting axes that’ll have to do. Johanna picked them up hearing metal clash against metal outside.

She heard groaning that wasn’t yours and another strike that caused another man to scream. Then the dread filled her ears, she heard you gasp in pain fall to the ground with a thud. Johanna gritted her teeth when she heard the careers taunting you.

“Now that you’re as good as dead, your little cry baby is nex-“

Johanna put an axe in his face before he could even finish his sentence and before the other two careers managed to make sense of what was going on, the District 7 tribute had swung in their direction. The second one was barely lifted his bloody sword before Johanna literally chopped his head off.

Johanna saw red, hacking and swinging at everyone around her. The boy from 4 put up a fight but was so badly injured by you that he didn’t stand a chance against her. Back at the feast table, someone else had grabbed a backpack trying to run from the danger but Johanna threw the knife you gave her into the person’s calf. In one swift motion, she removed the axe from the career’s face and split this tribute’s head down the middle.

Blood sprayed on her face. When she looked up, the girl had wide eyes and tripped on the floor falling face first into the gravel. Johanna ran straight to her and swung at her shoulder. She was down but Johanna kept swinging until her body was nothing but a messed up pile of flesh and blood.

Looking around with a strong grip on the axe, she couldn’t see anyone else so Johanna quickly ran towards you. As she approached you, she heard a quiet voice congratulating her but ignored it. You were on the ground in your own pool of blood. The red liquid was flowing out of your torso and your eyes and her heart clenched. “Come on we have to go!”

“Johanna? You’re alive? You’re okay?” You choked out.

“Yeah I’m fine. Theyre dead. We need to go before the others come.” Johanna slings her arm over to carry her but you groaned at the slightest movement.

“Jo. Johanna! Stop! There’s no one left Jo. 22 cannons. We’re the last two.” Johanna was shocked she thought she was keeping track too but she must’ve lost count somewhere. Johanna realized the gravity of your situation. he should have told you she could fight. She could’ve grabbed an axe faster to help you. She might’ve blown her cover but you would still be okay. And you were, Johanna brought her hands to your stomach and pressed into it.

“Hey tell my brother I love him okay?” Her heart beat soared and she felt it in her throat when you said that. You were dying. She let out a choked sob.

“No. No! No you are not dying on me. You’re going to win this and tell him yourself.” She yelled.

“Love, judging by how strong your voice is, only one of us is on our death bed.”

No! Shut up! Stay with me. Stay with me please. Do you hear me? I can’t lose you Y/n!”

“You don’t have a choice Jo.”

She did have a choice. She chose to present herself as weak and now you were dying because she let you do all the work. You could’ve been a power duo, at least you wouldn’t have had to 1v4 the rest of the careers. Even though the careers had stabbed you, it was Johanna’s fault and for the first time since her reaping, she cried real tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head and struggled to open your eyes to meet Johanna’s. “Don’t be. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I lied to you. I- I killed them all. It was all an act, the crying, the fainting, the training score. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” If she didn’t have tears streaming out of her eyes she would have seen the smug smile on your face.

You reached up to cup her cheek swiping the blood from it. You shushed her caressing her face. “You give them hell Johanna.” Johanna let out a whimper leaning into your hand as she pressed into you harder to stop the bleeding.

Something weird filled her vision, waves breaking over the rocks, Finnick’s smile, swimming with the dolphins, a field of wild flowers. The conch shell you liked to listen to after catching it and herself sitting alone at lunch.

Boom.

Johanna burst into tears and buried her face into your neck crying, leaving a trail of snot on your shoulder. She wiped the snot with the back of her hand not caring that she just smeared your blood on her face. Ladies and Gentleman the victor of the 71st Hunger Games Johanna Mason.

You were gone, just like that. You didn’t deserve it, you were a good person. She came in here with a plan and she never expected to fall in love let alone have an ally. She hated the Capitol and she is going to give them hell. They will regret taking you from her.

Outside of the helpless girl act, Johanna proved to be a formidable district girl. She was known as strong, cunning, angry and after refusing to prostitution, extra angry.

Johanna was standing on an empty balcony swirling a drink around with a scowl on her face. There was no need to be cordial with everyone. She openly hated them and everyone praised her for her strategy even fooling a career. You weren’t just a career to her, you were an ally, a friend, her love. She cried all her tears for you, vowing never to cry again.

She heard the door click open and was about to rip into this person until she turned and came face to face with the familiar sea green eyes and tanned skin. Johanna didn’t know how much attention she gave to you and your features until now. “Finnick.”

“Johanna.” He said. The newest victor immediately back tracked on her vow. Tears welled in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall. Here she was categorizing her feelings to love when it did not compare to Finnick’s pain. He practically raised you and it showed on his face, the half smiles and the bags under his eyes, his disheveled hair, though all the capitol elites found it hot.

He leaned against the same railing facing the opposite way to Johanna. He didn’t offer to talk, sitting in the silence was an Odair thing apparently, not that Johanna knew what to say anyway.

She settled for, “I keep thinking about what would have happened if I picked up the axe sooner. I might not have had an ally in her but she’d probably be alive. Some ally I was.”

Finnick had turned his body to her. “I thought Y/n was crazy for wanting to be your ally after the first day of training.” Johanna looked at him puzzled, thinking back to what she possibly could have done to get you to want her. She cried, you sat with her for lunch and you taught her how to use an axe. Well as much as you can teach someone who already knew how. “But I guess she saw something in you.”

“When she taught you how to tie a knot or any other skills, did you pretend to be bad?”

“Yeah. Why?”

It was the axe, Johanna remembered now, when you looked at her hands and then gave her less explanations on how to wield one. Of course, you taught Finnick skills he already knew so you could commit it to memory and actually learn it instead of forgetting it. “I did the same thing when she tried to teach me how to use an axe. She knew! She knew all this time and didn’t say anything about it. God! I should’ve done something to help her sooner.”

“You can’t change the past.”

“I fucking know that.” She was indebted to you. For keeping her secret, for trusting her, for protecting her. Always. “I just wish I could tell her how much she means to me.”

“There are so many things left unsaid. But wherever my sister is, I think she’ll know.”

#the hunger games #johanna mason #johanna mason x you #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x fem!reader #finnick odair #Finnick Odair x platonic!reader #Johanna Mason angst #johanna mason oneshot #johanna mason fluff

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katelynnwrites · 9 months ago

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Flowers, Cuddles And A Hair Bow | Sydney Lohmann x Child!Reader

warnings: none :)

word count: 1083

summary: little eyes watch, little minds learn, you try to do some of the things Momma does for Tante Syd, part of Sydney's Little Liebe

a/n: requested, i hope you like it

‘Tante! Tante Syd!’ You demand, tiptoeing as much as you can to look over the counter top.

You hop up and down, snatching quick peeks of your Tante in between them.

She laughs from the other side of the breakfast bar, looking at your little head bopping up and down.

You huff impatiently as she continues giggling.

‘Tante!’

There’s another snort and then she comes around, her strong arms lifting you up and onto a seat.

‘Hi.’ She grins and you all but shove the flowers you are holding into her face.

‘For you.’ You cheer.

Your Tante chuckles, taking them from you carefully.

The petals and stems are slightly crushed from how hard you had been holding it, the roots and accompanying soil still attached.

‘Wow. They’re really beautiful, meine Little Liebe. Thank you.’

You practically glow at her praise.

It had taken you a long time to decide which flowers you wanted from the garden and you ended up choosing some pink ones because the kind of pink they are, are the same kind of pink your Tante’s cheeks sometimes turn when your Momma kisses her.

‘I give you flowers like Momma.’ You proudly explain.

Your Tante Syd kisses your forehead.

‘I love you, you’re too cute for words.’

Even though you are now four fingers old and know a lot of things you didn’t before, you still don’t know what being too cute for words is.

But Tante Syd puts your flowers into a mason jar, right next to the one of your Momma’s flowers. She keeps them there until they wilt, then dries them and puts them back into the jar.

So you think that just like your Momma, you must have done something right.

******

Momma gives Tante a lot of cuddles.

Just like you, Tante Syd likes the big bed and sleeps there often.

Every now and then, on mornings that you wake up early, you find your Momma holding her and running her fingers through Tante’s hair.

Momma always pats the spot next to them both and lets you lie there as you wait for your Tante to wake up.

You have to be quiet and still so you don’t disturb Tante. Sometimes you are so good at it that you fall back asleep.

On those days, everyone gets out of bed late.

Today though, your Momma has to go to work early.

She tells you before you sleep and your Tante promises that she’ll be there when you wake up.

And she is.

You wake up very early so she’s still asleep.

Instinctively, you climb up into the big bed and settle yourself beside her.

‘Hey Little Liebe.’ She mumbles sleepily, pulling the covers over you.

The warmth makes you yawn and you let her wrap an arm around you.

It’s super comfy and you yawn your biggest ever yawn.

You want to sleep but you remember Momma is not here to run her fingers through Tante Syd’s hair so you do it.

Your Tante sighs softly, ‘Both you and your Momma are way too good at that.’

Hugging Tante Syd, you push your face into her hair and yawn.

She giggles, ‘Sleep sleepyhead. You need your rest to help me make pancakes later.’

You want to protest that you’re not tired and very excited to be your Tante’s assistant chef but another huge yawn bubbles its way up and you give into it.

You hug Tante Syd extra tight and she pulls you snugly into her side.

It’s how your Momma finds the both of you later, still cuddled up and fast asleep together.

******

‘Tante you have to stay very still okay?’ You warn.

Your Tante Syd can’t help giggling simply because you sound so much like your Momma. Her girlfriend tells you exactly the same thing, in exactly the same way, when she’s tying your hair.

Sticking your tongue out in concentration, you focus very hard on brushing Tante’s blonde hair out and putting it up into a ponytail. She’s sitting on the floor of the locker room, where all your Tantes get ready for work and you are sitting in her cubby, just above her.

It’s the only way you can reach Tante Syd’s hair because she’s so tall. Taller than your Momma even. You make sure to eat all your veggies no matter how icky they are so that one day, you can be tall like her.

Momma always does Tante Syd’s hair on game days and you decide that today, you want to be like your Momma and help her tie her hair for practice.

Making the hair tie go around your favourite Tante’s hair is difficult but you manage.

With a bright smile, you clap your hands and announce that you’re done.

‘Danke meine Little Liebe.’

Your Tante pulls you into her arms to hug you tightly and your smile gets bigger.

‘Did I do a good job?’

Tante Syd lets you go, running a hand over her ponytail and nodding.

‘The best job.’ She promises. There’s more than a few strands out of place but she is honestly impressed with how well you’ve done.

You do a little dance to celebrate and she laughs.

‘Do you want to know a secret?

Tante Klara once told you that you must be quiet when hearing a secret so you freeze and stop your happy dance before nodding rapidly.

Your Tante Syd bends down, leaning in close to your ear to whisper, ‘I think you’re way better at tying my hair than your Momma.

‘Really?’ You ask in awe.

‘Really.’ Tante tells you seriously and you’re so pleased with her words that you quickly rummage through your pink backpack and pull out one of your spare bows.

You have a bunch of them in different colours and your Momma’s been putting them in your hair ever since you were little.

There’s a special red and white pair that you wear only on gamedays because they are the same colour as your Momma and Tantes’ jerseys.

You don’t have them with you now but you do have a blue one which you hold out to Tante Syd.

There is a soft smile on her face as she understands what you want and kneels down so you can reach her ponytail.

You pin the bow there and your favourite Tante lifts you up onto her hip.

‘Let’s go find your Momma now okay? I want to show her how pretty you’ve done my hair.’

German Translations:

tante - aunty

danke - thank you

meine Little Liebe - my Little Love

#sydney lohmann #sydney lohmann x reader #sydney lohmann imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #fcb frauen #gerwnt #dfb frauen #katelynnwrites #gerwnt x reader #gerwnt imagine #dfb frauen x reader #dfb frauen imagine

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pernillecfcw · 2 years ago

Text

💙💙💙

#mason mount #chelsea fc #good to see him back #blueisthecolour #up the chels #It’s game day #football #cfc #premier league #mount19 #proper chels #england nt #chelsea football club #hope he does stay #football pictures #mason mount icons #mason mount pictures #coyb

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maximoffwitch · 10 months ago

Note

I love johanna mason, could you do something like reader was In the hunger games before her and they met when Johanna won, and they got close like close and then the 75th hunger games come and both of them get pick to go in. You can choose which districts she from, but maybe just her and johanna In the arena together. (Sorry, it's a lot)

The Calm in the Storm

pairing: johanna mason x reader

warnings: blood, canon typical violence, slight mention of ptsd

word count: 1.6k

summary: You have an effect on Johanna that no one else does. In other words, Katniss should thank you for saving her life from the rage of your girlfriend.

a/n: thanks anon for sending this request in!! this is my first time writing for johanna and the hunger games so it might be a little ooc or rough lol, but i hope u all enjoy this lil story :))

“Someone’s here,” Katniss alerted, immediately drawing an arrow from her quiver.

You stayed behind the younger girl, barely peeking over her shoulder as Finnick looked on through the leaves.

When Finnick had first approached you about the alliance with the District 12 tributes, you were hesitant. But as he further explained Plutarch’s plan, the more willing you became.

Despite being the same age as you, Finnick was your mentor when you won your games, so you trusted his gut. After all, he was a big reason you were still alive.

“Johanna,” you barely heard him mutter. Before you could even register the three distant figures, Finnick took over running. “Johanna!”

“Finnick!” Johanna’s voice echoed across the beach, piercing through your foggy thoughts.

“Johanna?” you whispered to yourself before you pushed past Katniss and took off running behind Finnick, leaving a bewildered pair of victors behind you.

As you got closer, you noticed she was covered in blood and you felt your chest tighten. “Johanna,” you swallowed the knot in your throat, fearing the possibility she had been severely injured.

“It’s not mine,” she reassured, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You saw her guard soften for a brief second before shooting right back up as Peeta and Katniss approached.

“Well, I got them out,” Johanna turned back towards Finnick. “We were all the way deep into the jungle, where I thought it was gonna be safe.

“That’s when the rain started. I thought it was water. Turned out to be blood,” she explained as Wiress continued to repeat “tick tock” over and over again.

“Hot, thick blood,” Johanna moved the older woman out of her way, clearly not wanting to be touched. “It was coming down. It was choking us. We were stumbling around, gagging on it, blind.”

You took a few steps towards her with the hopes of trying to calm her down. Wiress continued to mutter the same two words, starting to irk even you.

“That’s when Blight hit the force field,” Johanna took a deep breath, and you tentatively put your hand on the small of her back. She visibly calmed for a moment, closing her eyes and leaning her head back. “He wasn’t much, but he was from home.”

“Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock,” Wiress put a hand on Johanna’s shoulder, and you could see the annoyance written across Johanna’s face; her patience was wearing thin.

“What’s wrong with her?” Katniss furrowed her brows.

“She’s in shock,” Beetee explained from the water. “Dehydration isn’t helping. Do you have fresh water?”

“We can get some,” Katniss answered.

Wiress braced both hands on Johanna’s shoulders, desperately pleading, “Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.”

Backing up from the pair, you watched as Johanna threw the older woman to the sand.

“Hey! Get off her!” Katniss yelled, moving quickly to push Johanna. Your eyes widened. You knew this could end dangerously for both women if the situation wasn’t deescalated. Quickly, you shot Finnick a glance, urging him to do something, to which he gave you a small nod.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Johanna protested, as she tried to defend herself.

Before more shoves could be thrown, or before weapons could be drawn, Finnick stepped in separating the two, “Hey, hey, hey,” he pulled away a screaming Johanna, moving her towards you.

“I got them out for you!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Finnick murmured, his arms still wrapped around her.

“Let me go, Finnick!” she yelled, trying to shrug him off.

This time, it was his turn to shoot you a glance over her head, telling you it was your turn to take over.

“Let me go,” Johanna ordered, and you raised your eyebrows at Finnick, who relented, releasing her, “I’m fine.”

“Jo,” you held out your hand with the smallest of smiles, “come on.”

As she looked down at your hand, you saw a wave of tension leave Johanna’s body. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed your hand and let you pull her towards the water.

“Let’s get you washed off,” you suggested, the two of you already waist deep in the water. “Lie back.”

Johanna rolled her eyes childishly and grumbled, “I’m not a child, (Y/N).”

“I know, Johanna,” you agreed with a hum, running your thumb across the back of her hand you still held. “Just let me take care of you.”

Johanna visibly softened, squeezing your hand as an apology. You were the only person who put her as their first priority. Even Finnick, though he had a huge heart of gold, had Annie. But you, you always looked out for her.

The two of you met the year after Johanna won her games when you were both mentors. Though many were put off by her abrasiveness and sarcasm, you knew that it was all just a facade. You, too, had spent the years after your games and during your mentoring creating a persona for the capitol.

You were drawn to Johanna’s intelligence and strength, not to mention her beauty of course, so you made the effort to get to know her, the real Johanna.

While she was wary of you at the first, cautious of your charm and outgoing nature, Johanna realized that that was your own coping mechanism for dealing with your trauma.

As both of you let your walls down for each other, you became closer and closer, realizing what you had was beyond friendship. You loved her, and she loved you.

You were the one to comfort her after she woke up screaming from nightmares, or to train with her in the late hours when she couldn’t sleep. And you always listened and validated her feelings, even when they were being yelled and cursed aloud.

And Johanna, she was the one to protect you from anything and everything, even Finnick, when he pinned you during sparring. She was the one who held you when you cried, soothingly whispering calming words. And Johanna, no matter what, always said ‘I love you’ before the day ended.

In a world that didn’t care, the two of you found solace in each other.

Johanna followed your order and lied back in the water so she was floating, your hand offering support on the small of her back.

“Close,” you hummed as Johanna shut her eyes. Carefully, you splashed water over her face and cleaned off the blood that coated her skin. “Open.”

Opening her eyes, Johanna was met with the sight of you and she swore she could cry.

Despite cuts and dirt littering your face and sweat clinging to your hair, she swore you looked more beautiful than ever. You wore an endearing smile as you looked down at her, gently guiding her head back so her hair was soaked in the water.

As you ran your hand through her hair, watching the blood dye the blue water, Johanna hummed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you lightly scratched her scalp.

“My thoughts are worth a lot more than that, (Y/N/N),” Johanna smirked, causing you to chuckle and roll your eyes.

“Do you think it’ll be worth it?” Her voice became more solemn and her lips pursed together.

“What?”

“Saving Katniss,” she let out a dry laugh as she moved to stand up right in the water. “This whole Mockingjay rebellion.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, her question raising all the doubts you had when Finnick originally proposed this plan to you.

“I hope so,” you whispered, pulling her closer by her waist so you were nearly hugging. “I’m done being a piece in their games, aren’t you?”

Johanna nodded but didn’t say anything. Furrowing your brows, you used the pad of your thumb to wipe a streak of blood that was still on her cheek.

“Love?” you prodded.

“Do you ever wonder why one of us wasn’t the Mockingjay?”

“Johanna,” you sighed, trailing off.

“I mean I get why not me,” she continued. “Nobody likes me. But you…?”

“Hey!” you protested, wrapping your arms around her neck. “I like you.”

Johanna bit back a genuine smile. “Thank god for that,” she cupped your cheek and connected your lips. Despite the saltiness from the water and the faint metallic taste lingering from the blood rain, you could still taste the pine from the District 7 Johanna carried everywhere – one more thing from home.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Finnick shouted from the beach, causing the two of you to break apart, and you rested your forehead against hers. “Katniss has something!”

Johanna sighed before pecking your lips quickly, wanting to savor the moment.

“Come on,” you took her hand as the two of you waded towards the shore. “It sounds important.”

As you reached the dry sand, Johanna pulled you back before you could reach the others. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” you turned back around, concern laced in your voice.

“I love you,” she stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You grinned, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I love you too,” you whispered into the crook of her neck.

“Let’s go see what the girl on fire wants,” Johanna teased as you separated.

You could only roll your eyes as she smirked, the two of you rejoining the group.

As Katniss explained that the arena was some sort of clock, you remained close by Johanna’s side, basking in the warmth she radiated. Listening to the explanation, you felt everything to click into place, only causing your anxiety to heighten. Johanna, being able to read you like a book, discretely interlaced your fingers with hers and gave your hand a quick squeeze, helping ease your nerves slightly.

Amidst the chaos and brutality of the games, you were grateful to have her to ground you; and for Johanna, you were the calm in the storm.

#my writing #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason imagine #johanna mason #johanna mason x you

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pacifierbby · 11 months ago

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CHRISTMAS BISCUITS ✧ ; - mm x reader

➺ navi

* ੈ✩‧₊ mason and reader baking cookies for their families Christmas dinner however it didn't end up the way it planed and more of it went on them than it did in the bowel

a/n ➣hello my loveys! since Christmas is coming thought i make a story of mason baking cookies with reader i really do hope you are all enjoying your days loveys cant believe 2023 is nearly ending but another year for mason content and stories! please lovelies give me feedback on my stories it really does help me a lot with my next up coming stories much love

word count ➣ 1,7k

warnings ➣ mm fluff,kissing

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ you and mason was settled on your sofa the fire crackling away that mason turned on a minuet ago the logs beside the fireplace that mason cut down a few hours before the TV above playing a Christmas movie that you seen 100 times before your phone on your lap scrolling down through pinterest pulling up snowmen cookies "we should make these" you said showing mason your phone diverting his attention away from his phone to yours "you know i cant bake for shit right? did you not watch that video" mason laughed slightly making you giggle a little " i remember but it be fun plus we can bring them over to your mum's house tomorrow for the dinner " you said you always wanted to bake with mason from that video to be honest you did find it cute how confused he can be but you never brought that up and honestly that will forever stay with you and only you "alright my love come on then lets do it but first lets match our jumpers so we can take a photo together" jumping up from your couch clapping your hand very lightly since it was 9 pm at night and you didn't wanna wake your neighbors up. rushing upstairs, grabbing your Christmas jumper that you bought earlier for you and Mason. him already wearing his because he wanted to see how it fits.

Walking back downstairs your kitchen staring back at you from your living room mason already looking through your cupboards slowly walking into the kitchen wrapping your arms around his waist making him jump slightly "what you doing" kissing his neck lightly" looking for the pans and stuff" mason turned around wrapping his arms around your waist you moving your arms around his neck. mason kissing your lips ever so slightly " well it wont be in their" you giggled lightly letting go of his grip shutting the overhead cupboards and opening the bottoms cupboard doors grabbing your pans and oven trays placing them on the counter top mason watching your every move already knowing this will be a long night yes he cooked before but its always gone terribly wrong. one time he accidentally burned a pan and after that his mum wouldn't even let him touch anything cooking related "what do you need now my love" mason asked not wanting to just stand like a spear part "can you bring me the eggs and the baking soda you should know where the eggs are and the baking soda is in this top cupboard" mason rolled his eyes opening the fridge door grabbing your eggs and the butter placing them next to you . walking to the cupboard, placing his hands on your back, opening the cupboard, grabbing your baking soda that was thankfully at the front, placing it next to the butter and eggs "alright whats next?" wrapping his hands around your waist like you did to him moments before. already having the things you need on the counter top.

Putting the butter and the sugar in the large pink bowl "can you crack them eggs i'm not very good at it the egg shells always end up in the mixture" you said quietly that was one big flaw when you always cooked you always ended up cracking the eggs and the shell with it so you always end up taking ages to bake because your taking so long taking the egg shells out but thankfully mason was the pro at doing it so when it came to baking everything you always asked mason to crack the egg's. mason nodded grabbing the egg from its packet braking it perfectly adding the yolk into the mixture you adding the vanilla extract and the baking powder "alright lets do the next part" grabbing your new whisk that your mother bought you " do you want to do it" looking at mason making sure he joined in with everything which he nodded "alright" passing him the whisk watching him very warily "alright before you turn it on make sure that-" not getting time to finished your sentence mason already turned it on the mixture spilling outside of the bowel going onto his jumper " the whisk is in the bowel" you finished your sentence laughing a little grabbing it off him not wanting all the mixture to go all over your kitchen.

Alright lets do the next step looking down at your phone skipping to the next steps mason sighed behind you "i told you this is going to be a bad idea" his arms crossed around his chest like a toddler making you giggle once again "its okay mistakes happen plus i'm having fun anything with you makes it more memorably kissing his lips ever so slightly which he instantly kissed back. moving away both of you mincing each others reactions you will forever love his kisses it will forever bring something to your heart turning towards the bowel "okay" you said looking back at your phone completely forgetting what it told you to do "woo this is the fun part" rolling up your jumpers sleeves up mason doing the same behind you confused on why your so excited "alright come behind me" your hands already in the bowel. waiting on mason turning your head around to his eyebrows wiggling "not like that you freak" laughing at his little innuendo his arms coming behind you his hand placing on top of yours his soft skin and his warm hands leaving yours toasty "follow my lead" putting your hand in the mixture softly playing with the dough threading it with your hands mason repeating your actions his on the other side of the bowel. bringing his hand out from the bowel, a small mixture dough at the bottom of his finger placing the batter at the bottom of your nose laughing a little. "Mason!" You squealed, grabbing the batter, putting it on his cheek. Going back to the mixture, mixing it together, making it as dough. "Put the flour onto the counter top, but please watch the bag it's broken." Mason being the clutz he his drops the flour all over the floor and onto the both of you "oh mase" you said looking at the floor then back at him his Christmas jumper not looking so Christmas with the mixture of the flour sticking together. Mason looks down at the floor with a small pout on his face. Bending down, grabbing the bag from the floor "thankfully we still have some left," you mumbled, placing the last bit off flour onto the tops. Opening the draw, grabbing your rolling pin, and holding it out to Mason. " Come on, my love, you can do the rolling part." feeling slightly sorry for him. Maybe he is right? Maybe he shouldn't of baked at all. Mason taking the rolling pin out of your hands and putting the dough onto the flour.

Walking towards your oven, putting it to the right temperature, making sure Mason was okay with the rolling and doing the technique correctly, which he was turning the kettle on grabbing two mugs from your cupboard with hot chocolate putting the amount of scoops you need in the mugs waiting for the kettle to boil moving over to where mason was stood looking at the dough "alright we can start cutting out our shapes" grabbing the circle biscuits cutter cutting the dough into small circles placing them on the baking tray making them into small snowmen mason doing some himself "you should go on bake off" mason laughed looking at you and your hard work that you done together "wont say much about you" giving him a kiss on his cheek which he turned around making your lips pressing onto his "that's what happens trying to be a smart bum" tapping your bum lightly, hearing the kettle pinging behind you "alright lets place these in the oven and have our hot chocolate" already walking over to your oven placing the tray in the steamy hot oven putting the timer to 15 minuets. Mason pouring the hot water in the two mugs adding the milk "come on my love lets sit down for a sec" walking into the lounge your TV still playing the movie mason placing your steamy mugs on the coffee table "well at least its not all over our kitchen "looking at his mess that he created".

The oven pinging from the kitchen tells you that your cookies were done baking. you and mason cuddling on the couch like where you started off your hot chocolate settling in your systems getting up grabbing masons hand come on my love decorating time pulling mason off the sofa dragging him into the kitchen throwing him your oven gloves "you grab them while i grab my already made icing and please make sure you take them out slowly i know much clutz you are" taking the icing out of the fridge. mason rolling his eyes behind you placing the hot oven tray on the counter tops walking over to him kissing his cheek "i'm sorry but its true and don't roll your eyes at me" confused on how you noticed that but thinking maybe that's just women intuition for you. you being too interested in your decorating the biscuits not noticing Mason starting at you "What?" you asked confused why hes not joining in " i just love your concentration face i love it" he softly spoken grabbing the other icing packet starting decorating his own snowmen making you blush a little still getting used to his small compliments. feeling a cold thing at the bottom of your noise, knowing Mason did it again this time with the icing. walking over to where he stood, putting some down his back. "What the hell, that's cold!" Mason shouted you, smiling while watching him struggle getting it out of his jumper. him stopping looking at you bent over slightly laughing at your actions, him slowly walking over, putting the full tube of icing down your neck. you copying his exact actions your cookie decorating completely forgotten about, and that was the last time you and Mason cooked cookies together.

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kierantierney3 · 1 year ago

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Mason Mount/ New man

The one where your have a new man

Summary: You and Mason broke up over a year ago and you have been giving hints that you have a man of the scene.

Face claim: Yewande Biala

——————-

yourusername

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yourusername Paris 🇫🇷🥖🧀🥐

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sanchoo10 No

user I hope you tried the famous hot chocolate

user I love her

yourusername story

masonmount

liked by kepaarrizabalaga, ellatoone and 341,028 others

masonmount 🇫🇷

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benchilwell Enjoy it!

username Y/n and Mason in Paris???

username Dinner date with who? Cause it wasn’t me.

yourusername

liked by benchilwell, masonmount and 153,037 others

yourusername 24 hour layover in Rome.

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username Stunning girl

username So maybe she is not with Mason :(

username I hope she doesn’t have a new bf her and Mason were soulmates.

benchilwell Enjoy it!!!!

masonmount story

yourusername

liked by masonmount, bukayosaka87 and 185,945 others

yourusername Madrid you own my heart ❤️

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username I never knew she was spanish?

⤷username i believe her mum is spanish

masonmount Nice

⤷username Nice????? What does that mean????

masonmount

liked by yourusername, madders and 928,027 others

masonmount 👱🏼‍♂��👱🏼‍♂️

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yourusername Did you steal my photo? and upload it as your own? wow

⤷masonmount The last photo? No i found it on pinterest 🫣

username BLOND MASON EVERYONE!!! STAY CALM

username This all but confirms y/n and Mason are dating again. Both in the same places, Paris, Rome and Madrid and Mason using y/n photos.

yourusername and masonmount

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yourusername Summer break with my favourite person 💞💞

tagged masonmount

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declanrice Yess guysss!!!! Now you both just need to move back to London

username I knew it!!!!!

username I always knew they were soulmates. ❤️‍🔥

#football #football imagine #football imagines #footballers #footballer #premier league #football x reader #manchester united #man utd #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #mason mount #mason mount imagine #football fanfic #insta au #instagram au #instagram

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mountttmase · 1 year ago

Text

A Mountain To Climb: The Sequel

Chapter Eleven

Note - the penultimate chapter 😔 I can’t believe we’re here. Chapter 12 will be posted on Sunday but for now I hope you enjoy this one and I’d love to hear what you think 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 5.2k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut and angst

Masterlist

When Freya came to visit it was usually the highlight of your week. This time however you were nervous. She was observant and you were desperately trying to hide a secret.

You’d managed to fool Mason, him being busy with the end of the season nearing making things easier and he was currently at an away game so you could suffer on your own but it had always been the plan for her to come and stay and if you cancelled now she’d be suspicious.

‘Hello my love’ she smiled as you opened the door, pulling you into her body and you felt your eyes prick at the feel of her. Freya was home to you and you knew you couldn’t hold anything in for too long.

‘Hey Frey’ you whispered, trying to clear your eyes before she pulled back but the sound of your strangled voice caused her to pull away quickly and hold you at an arms length.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’ you laughed, hoping the smile you sent her would be enough for her to move on but she only eyed you’re curiously.

‘Oh yeah like I’m gonna believe that’ she laughed, hooking her arm through yours before walking you into your living room and sitting you on the sofa. ‘Now spill’

‘There’s nothing to tell’ you smiled, trying to shrug her off but she wasn’t having any of it and the panic of having to tell her what was going on in your brain made the tears spill from your eyes again.

‘Oh baby, come here’ she breathed, pulling you into her side as she rubbed your arms soothingly. ‘You know you can’t keep things from me you silly goose, so you might as well come out with it’

You knew it was something you had to tell her, this thing was big and if you left it it would only get bigger and there’s no doubt she would find out eventually but the fear kept the words in your throat. This thing was the biggest secret you’d ever kept in but you were a ticking time bomb and you knew you needed to confess.

‘I’m late’ you suddenly choked, Freya’s arms stopping for a second as she stuttered before carrying on. Your words shocking here a bit before she pulled you a little closer to comfort you even more.

‘How late?’

‘Three weeks’

‘Does Mase know?’

‘No’ you sobbed, shaking your head as you tried to wipe your eyes.

‘Let’s not panic yeah? Is there anything else?’

‘I’m exhausted, like all the time. Everything aches and I feel sick constantly in the mornings like I’ve gone through a multi pack of mints this week trying to settle my tummy’ you told her and you could see the cogs turning in her head. She knew it didn’t sound good but she was trying to be the voice of reason and not freak you out but you were absolutely petrified.

‘Right well there so use sitting here panicking eh? Let’s go grab a test and find out’

‘But I’m scared, frey’

‘I know my love. But there’s no point putting it off is there?’ She asked and you shook your head. ‘Exactly. So we’ll go find out and we can deal with it from there’

‘Okay’ you sniffed, giving her one last squeeze before jumping in the car. The ride was pretty silent and you let her pull you around the store until found what you needed but you had no idea what you were meant to be looking at so you let her assess your options before giving her opinion.

‘Get the multi pack, I’ll take one with you’ she told you, causing you to eye her suspiciously but she just shrugged with smile. ‘It’s always good to check’

‘I can’t even imagine a mini you and woody. Like my brain won’t let me visualise it’

‘Let me tell you, mini woody is not-‘ she started but covered your ears with your hands and sing loudly, not wanting to hear the rest of what she had to say. You were feeling sick enough already and the thought of Woody naked didn’t help.

You couldn’t wait to take the tests I till you got home, anting to know as soon as possible what you were dealing with so you pulled Freya into loo’s where she dished the tests out for you to take before meeting by the sinks where she sent you an appreciative smile.

‘You fancy putting them back in the box so we can play pregnancy test roulette?’ She winked but you shook your head with a panicked expression.

‘No way, I’m not risking anything and I’m not taking another one’ you told her, packing your stuff up so you could go check them in the car and once you were settled down you took a deep breath in preparation to look. ‘What does yours say?’ You asked, gulping down a lump as you tried to distract yourself from the bomb in your hand.

‘Negative’ she smiled, showing you the test before you handed her yours.

‘Can you tell me, I cant look’ you asked before hiding your face in yours hands. It felt like the longest wait in the world as you shut your eyes and tried to keep your breathing normal. The next few words from Freya had the power to change the rest of you life and as your heart hammered away in your chest you weren’t sure you can handle what she was about to say.

‘It’s negative, babe’

The rush of relief you were expecting to feel never came. If anything you felt your heart sink just a little bit but you were quick to dismiss the feeling and take a deep breath out that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

Not pregnant.

You were okay.

‘Let me see’ you breathed, taking the test back from her and looking over it. There it was in black and white, not pregnant and even though your heart rate was slowly getting back to normal you felt your eyes prick at the sight.

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m glad I know now. I wonder why I’m late though?’

‘A woman’s body is a mystery’ she shrugged before looking back at you. ‘You sure you’re alright?’

‘I feel a little bit silly but I’m fine’ you laughed, hoping she’d buy it and even though you knew she could tell you were a bit upset she thankfully knew not to push. ‘Shall we head home? Mase’s game will be on soon’

Thankfully she didn’t ask any more questions and you put it to the back of your mind so you could focus on the game and you watched on with pride as he ran around like a maniac on the pitch. Seeing him on your tv only made you miss him even more and you couldn’t wait for him to get back home tomorrow so he could wrap you and make you feel better in the way only Mason could.

Freya left the next afternoon and you used your alone time to sit and think through your feelings so that you’d be fine for when Mason returned home the next morning.

You were freaked out that it might be positive, but now you knew it was negative why were you feeling so weird about it? You didn’t want a baby, not right now at least but the weird sensation settled in your stomach and you didn’t know how to feel. What would happen when you told Mason? Would he be disappointed? Or relieved? And what was worse? If he was disappointed then at least you knew you could try again but any type of relief would make you think that’s not what he saw for your future. Did he even see a future with you?

You were driving yourself crazy with all these thoughts so you did the only thing you knew how and went to sleep in hopes you feel better tomorrow when Mason got home.

You tried to busy yourself the next morning and make sure the house was spotless for when Mason got back but it was no use. Again finding yourself laid down staring up at the ceiling as you ever thought everything about the last few weeks.

Soon enough it was time for Mason to be home and as soon as you heard the door go you were up and rushing over to greet him. His wide smile and excited eyes settled you and you just prayed you could fool him into thinking you were fine and that the last few days hadn’t happed but one look at him and you knew you were gone.

‘Hello baby’ he smiled softly as he took you in, pulling you into his arms so he could hold you, your body melting as you took in his smell and you automatically felt at home ‘you alright?’ He asked, pulling back and eyeing your curiously. It was scary how quickly he knew something might be wrong even when you tried to hide it and the concern on his face made your bottom lip wobble. ‘Hey, what’s happened?’

You didn’t mean to as you were trying to hold it together but you burst into tears, your comfort person was all that you’d wanted for the last few days and now that he was finally here you needed to get your emotions out. You didn’t think you’d be this upset but the tears kept coming so he bundled you inside and into the living room so he could pull you into his lap.

‘I didn’t play that bad did I?’ He laughed, trying to ease the tension and even though you were sobbing your little heart out you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in his neck to reassure him before sitting back so he could help calm you down and the gentle kisses along your forehead were working wonders. ‘It’s okay baby, just take your time’

‘Sorry’ you hiccuped, letting him wipe your eyes before leaving a delicate kiss on your nose.

‘No need to be sorry. Whatever it is you can tell me’

‘I know’

‘You’re not hurt or anything are you?’

‘No no I’m fine. Just something happened and I thought I was okay but maybe I’m not’ you laughed, rolling your eyes to try and play it off but he wasn’t having it.

‘You’re worrying me now, what’s happened?’ He asked, holding you by your jaw and you let you cheek rest in his hand as he gently stroked under your eyes.

‘I’ve not been feeling well for a little while. Nothing major just a bit sick and dizzy and some other things and I think I freaked myself out a little bit’

‘I thought you seemed a little off before I left but I just presumed it was your special lady time’ he joked, one hand moving so he could tickle your side to make you laugh and when you eventually smiled he smiled back twice a brightly before his face turned sympathetic. ‘Was it a bad one this month?’

‘If only’ you joked but you realised he didn’t understand from his confused expression so you gulped down a nervous lump before explaining further. ‘My period never came, Mase’

‘Oh well that’s alright then, one less to worry about’

‘No I don’t think you get it’ you laughed, thinking his puzzled face was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen and you weren’t sure if you had it in you to burst his bubble. ‘Normally it means something if it doesn’t come’

It took a few seconds but you saw it when the information clicked in his brain. His eyes going wide as his mouth dropped open but you were quick to break the news as not to make him think something would be happening.

‘I’m not, I just thought I might be’ you explained, your voice breaking at the end and you thought you saw his face drop slightly before the tears started flowing again. ‘I don’t know what I’m crying so much’ you laughed, hiding your face before he held you to him again.

‘Shhhh it’s okay’ he told you but your attempts at trying to calm down were futile. ‘It’s probably been a stressful few days huh? It’s no wonder your upset’ he whispered whilst rubbing his hands over your back gently. ‘You don’t have to tell me yet but when you’re ready to talk we can’

‘I love you’ you whispered into his neck, feeling him squeeze you a little bit tighter as he kissed your forehead gently. He was your rock and no matter how bad you felt you knew you were so blessed to have him.

‘I love you too’ he told you before a comfortable silence fell over you for a few moments. ‘I tell you what. Why don’t you go get into bed? I’ve got a few bits to sort out and I’ll come join you soon’

‘It’s 11am Mase’

‘I know but you’re tired baby, and I am to. We can have a nap or just cuddle for a bit yeah?’

‘Okay’ you agreed, letting him help you up before you went up to your room to get settled. You could hear him moving around downstairs but your eyes were heavy from your tears so you let them shut until you felt Mason slipping into bed besides you.

‘You alright?’ He whispered, kissing your cheeks and you nodded as you cuddled up to him. You weren’t sure if you were ready to talk but now he was in front of you you felt as if you owed him an explanation for everything.

‘I’m okay. Just feel like a lots gone on I should tell you about. If you’re ready that is’

‘I’m all ears’ he smiled and you sent him one back before spilling everything that had happened.

‘When Freya got here the other day she could see something was wrong and it kinda slipped out. The missing period, the sickness and dizziness. All of it. She came to the same conclusion I did so we took a test together but it was negative’

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘I didn’t want to disappoint you’ you laughed ‘We’ve not really spoken about any of that and I didn’t know what you’d think’

‘What? About kids and stuff?’

‘Yeah’ you breathed, you bottom lip wobbling again but you held your emotions in so he could say his piece.

‘You want me to be honest?’

‘I always want you to be honest’ you winked and he laughed whilst nodding his head.

‘All I’ve ever wanted is a family of my own. Yes it may be early days but if it’s something you wanted then I’d find a way for us to work it out. You don’t ever have to worry about telling me anything like that. I love you and I want us to have all of that and more’

‘I know, I feel silly about it now but I was all hormonal and stressed’ you laughed. ‘I’ve never thought about kids and as awful as it sounds I was praying for it to be negative at first but when I finally saw it, I didn’t feel like I thought I would’

‘How did you feel?’

‘A little disappointed. Is that weird?’

‘I don’t think so’ he laughed ‘is that why you’re so upset?’

‘I think so. Maybe in the back of my mind I knew if it was positive then things would be fine and you’d be happy. Now I feel like I’ve disappointed you a bit’

‘You could never disappoint me, gorgeous’ he whispered, kissing your nose before leaving a gentle peck on your lips. ‘Of course I would of been happy if it happens, you’re the love of my life and I can’t wait for all of that stuff to happen for us but we can do it in our own time yeah?’

‘Yeah’ you agreed, smiling at his words as he always knew what to say but you could feel the tears welling in your eyes again.

‘Are you alright though, with all that stuff’ he laughed, hands tickling your sides to indicated he was talking about your womanly issues and you nodded with a laugh before he kissed you again.

‘I guess so? I mean still no movement on that front so who knows’

‘I wonder why? Could the test of been wrong?’

‘I’m not sure, I have a spare so we could always take another just to double check’ you mused and he nodded at you shyly.

‘If you think it will sell your mind a bit more then we can’

‘Wait here I’ll go take it’ you told him before scurrying off. When you came back Mason was sat up against the headboard and you settled yourself next to him with the test in your lap.

‘You know whatever it says on that test, we’ll be fine. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us for mini Mounts and whatever else comes our way’

‘I know’ you laughed, eyes filling with tears again as you looked up at him but he was quick to brush them away. ‘I think I was a little unsure but I really like the sound of mini Mounts now’

‘Yeah?’ He smiled, eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them and you felt your heart thump at the little intimate moment you were having.

‘Yeah, someone to look after and keep me company when you’re away. And considering how cute you are I can only imagine how adorable a mini you would be’

‘I think they’d be cuter if they looked like you’ he laughed, kissing your nose. ‘You’re so perfect’

‘Well then I want them to have your resilience. You never gave up on me and I’ll always love you for that. You dragged me up our mountain kicking and screaming but I’ve never been happier’ you told him, smiling proudly at the way he blushed at your words before he pulled you in even closer.

‘Well I want them to have your brains cause let’s face it they won’t have any hope if they’ve got mine’

‘You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for’

‘Well I managed to pull you so I must be good at something’ he winked before leaning down to give you a soft kiss that made your heart flutter. ‘I want them to have your eyes cause they’re the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen’

‘And I want them to have your smile. Though I think I’d let them get away with too much if they did’ you laughed but it was true. Mason melted you so you could only imagine what a little one of him would do to you.

‘Shall we have a look then?’ He asked, nodding down to the test and you took in a nervous gulp. His fingers were on your chin in an instant though so he could pull your face towards his and the look of joy on his face settled you instantly. ‘Whatever that says on there, it changes nothing okay? You’re my girl and we’ll get through whatever it is together’

You didn’t have the strength to reply but you hoped he knew that you felt the same. His eyes were soon on the test and you followed them so you could pick it up, taking one last breath before flipping the test the right way around.

Not pregnant.

You knew it was coming, but it still didn’t sting any less and you bit your lip as you let out the breath you’d been holding.

‘It’s not our time yet, but we’ll get there’ Mason whispered into your hair, pulling you close as you melted into his body. ‘Now we know it’s something we want we’ve got more time to prepare’

‘I guess so’ you whispered and even though you didn’t want to you let him tilt you face up so he could look at you.

‘No tears okay? Breaks my heart seeing you cry and not being able to do anything about it’ he smiled and even though your heart was still breaking a little bit you sent him a smile back. ‘Lay down with me’

You did as he asked, wrapping yourself around him and settling your head into his neck so you could hold each other. The stress of the last few weeks freeing you now that it was out in the open and you left yourself fall asleep in the arms of the man you loved more than anything.

Things went back to normal in the coming days and soon enough the sadness lifted. In it’s place a sense of joy and excitement about the future and even though you both agreed there probably wouldn’t be any babies in your near future plans, you were high on the knowledge that one day you could have the family you never did with the man of your dreams.

‘I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day’ Mason said as you slid in to bed next to him a few days later and you looked up at him with raised brows. ‘About having someone to keep you company when I’m not here’

‘I’m not having Woody move in’ you told him, watching him roll his eyes with a smile.

‘I didn’t mean Woody. But don’t tell him that he might get offended’ he joked before pulling you into his chest. ‘What do you think about getting a dog?’

‘Really?’ You laughed, loving the idea instantly as you looked up at him with a wide smile that he matched.

‘Yeah, I’ve always wanted one and I feel like we’re pretty settled now so it’s the perfect time. I’ve been looking at shelters and there’s one not too far from here. Thought it would be nice to re home one’

‘Like doggie foster parents’

‘Exactly’ he laughed, kissing your nose as he was so happy at how excited you were. ‘I’ll give them a call tomorrow and see if we can sort an appointment out for my day off’ he told you and you could hold in the excited squeal. You had always wanted a dog but never been able to afford one or have the right space but Mason was right. You were settled and it would be great practice for whatever else came in the future.

Sunday came around quicker than you expected it to and soon enough you were sat in the car park of the dog shelter. You couldn’t help but bob you knee up and down in excitement as you were so full of adrenaline at the thought of getting to see some dogs and you could see Masons smile out of the corner of your eye.

‘Do you think we should set some ground rules?’ Mason asked, his hand settling in your knee so you would stop moving it and you sent him a shy smile.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well I have a feeling we’ll get in there and suddenly I’ll be agreeing to adopt 7 different dogs’ he laughed and you rolled your eyes in his direction. ‘So rule one, we’re getting one dog. That’s it’

‘Fine. But rule two is that I get the final say on what one we pick’

‘How is that fair?’

‘Cause I’ll be the one spending more time with it’

‘Okay well I’ll see about that one’ he laughed before turning to face you properly. ‘This is the game plan. We do a lap and see all of them so we can make a list of our favourites and then hang out with those ones a little more until we find the one we vibe with most’

‘Sounds good. Can we go in now?’ You asked impatiently and after he nodded quickly you were out of the door.

Once you spoken to a few of the staff you were lead through to some kennels and you started your hunt straight away. It was difficult though and each dog seemed to be cuter than the last but you were having the best time seeing them all and learning all about them. As cute as they were you still couldn’t pick one out to say that was the one you wanted and you started to loose a little hope.

You were nearing the end of your search when you came across Parker, a three year old German shepherd and you fell in love with him instantly. He was a big boy with big brown eyes like Mason but you could tell he was so soft and gentle and when he came straight up to the glass to say hello you felt yourself melt.

‘Masey, come here’ you called quietly and he came over quickly with a slight laugh to come and see what you were looking at.

‘Who’s this?’

‘His name is Parker, look at him I think I love him’

‘Parker? Like Peter Parker?’

‘Yes Mase’ you laughed and even though he was smiling you could tell he was about to rain on your parade.

‘Baby, he’s massive’

‘Bit of luck you bought us a massive house then, eh?’ You teased but you could see in Masons eyes he was slowly falling for Parker himself. ‘And don’t call him massive, you’ll give him a complex’

‘I’ll give you something in a minute’ he said under his breath but you chose to ignore him for now.

‘I want this one’

‘Well hold on. What does his fact sheet say?’

‘See Mase, he’s perfect for us. We can give him a large space and you can take him out on runs and stuff. Can we at least meet him properly?’

‘If you really want to we can but I get the feeling you’ll be sold as soon on him as we do’ he laughed but with a quick kiss to your nose he was off to reception to enquire about Parker. The receptionist told you that Parker had been at the shelter the longest out of all the dogs they had as he was quite large and you we’re starting to think the more you knew about him the more you felt like he was put there just for you.

You were lead to a separate room and someone bought Parker in shortly after. He seemed curious about you at first as he quietly came over to sniff the pair of you and soon enough he was sat in your lap with his head cradled in your arm as you scratched in between his ears.

‘I want this one, Mase’ you whispered, looking up to him as he was staring back down with just as much love in his eyes. ‘He’s so sweet’

‘Yeah, he’s pretty cute. And he loves you by the looks of things’

‘He’s got good taste’ you winked before Parker shuffled over to inspect Mason and once he was happy with him he cuddled into Masons lap and you almost lost it. ‘Oh look, Mase. He loves you too’

‘You sure you’re 100%? There’s no going back if we get him’

‘I’m 1000% sure. He’s perfect for us’

‘I’ll get it sorted then’ he smiled before you let a squeal of delight out.

‘Thank you, Mase’

‘Anything for my girl’ he whispered, leaning over to peck you gently but the pair of you couldn’t stop smiling.

Mason arranged everything with the shelter, the house having to be inspected before the final agreement was made and two weeks later when you were getting in from work you dashed upstairs to get ready. Mason would be home any minute with your new fury friend and you couldn’t wait to finally be a little family unit.

You heard Parker’s bark before anything else, causing you to rush to the door where Mason was half struggling to keep him from coming to you but as soon as you were near he calmed down and let you pet him.

‘Hi baby, welcome to your forever home’ you smiled, gently scratching over his face as he panted at you and it almost looked like he was trying to smile.

‘I’m gonna have to bulk up some more, Parker’s got some pull on him’ Mason laughed as Parker began to attack you with face licks until you were on the floor in a fit of giggles. ‘Wow, he’s trying to steal my woman already’

‘You’ll have to learn how to share’ you told him as he laid down next to you so Parker could lay over the both of you.

‘Are you happy?’

‘I’m always happy with you’ you smiled, leaning over to place a light kiss on his lips before Parker wanted to get in on the action.

‘Come on Parker, let’s give you a tour of your new house’ Mason exclaimed, stroking his head as you all got up and you watched on with so much love in your heart as your boys ran off into the living room.

Y/n

Liked by: masonmount, freyaaaaxo, declanrice and others

Y/n Happy homecoming Parker. We’ve had the best week with you so far and we’re so happy to have you here. We can’t wait to be your forever home 🩷

view 254 comments

masonmount parker loves his mummy just as much as I do 🩷 family 🏠🐾

Y/n my boys 🥺 what a trio we make 🩷 ily

declanrice bringing Raffa over for play time

benchilwell Oscar is coming to join

masonmount my dogs bigger than yours

freyaaaaxo auntie frey is coming over for cuddles 🥰

Y/n we can’t wait to see you 🙊

lukeshaw23 not Mase being kicked out of his own bed

Y/n he’s my protector

masonmount I only went down to get a cup of tea and he’d taken over. Had to bribe him with treats so I could come back

woody_ that’s a smart dog

petrehomeruk that smile 🥺 Parker looks like he’s having the time of his life and we’re so thankful you came to us 🩷

Y/n Thank you for all your help and for making this process so smooth. We love Parker with all our hearts 🩷

Tagged: @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @mm-vii @footiehoemcfc @masonmount07 @aundercover

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canirove · 5 months ago

Text

Friends, lovers… and an orange | Chapter 14

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"I hope your birthday present is the best one ever. I deserve it after tonight" Adele sighed when the car dropped her and Mason at the hotel where they were staying, the launch of his perfum and everything that came with it finally over.

"Thank you very much for this, Addie. It means a lot."

"You're welcome" she said, taking his hand on hers. Holding hands had become something they now did without thinking, something that had become normal and organic for them.

"And about your birthday present… I wasn't going to say anything until tomorrow, but fancy an Italian road trip?"

"A road trip? Where?"

"It's a surprise" Mason smiled, his dimple showing.

"But when are we leaving? Tomorrow?"

"The day before. Tomorrow is a day to relax and recharge."

"I don't know if I'll manage to relax or even sleep knowing that you are taking me somewhere."

"You've been as worried about the launch party as I've been, Addie. So the moment you get into your room, you'll instantly fall asleep. But try to make it to the bed first" Mason smirked.

"It'll try" Adele laughed. "Same goes to you, tho."

"I'll do my best. And here we are" he said, stopping in front of her room's door. "Breakfast tomorrow?"

"Breakfast tomorrow" she smiled.

"Ok."

"So… ummm… Good night, Addie."

"Good night, Mase" she said. Though neither of them moved, their hands still linked together.

"Good night, Addie" he repeated, finally moving and kissing her cheek. Her cheek, or the corner of her mouth, the feeling making her knees go weak. "I'll text you when I'm up."

"Ok" Adele whispered, still trying to process how close his lips had been to hers.

"Good night, Addie. For the third time" he laughed.

"Good night, Mase" she said, frozen in place as she watched him walk towards his room. As he opened the door, he looked at her one last time, giving her a smile that made Adele's stomach flip inside her and that she was pretty sure would show up in her dreams. And it did.

She dreamt about that smile and about his lips almost on hers. Though maybe not just almost…

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Mason, is that… no! It can't be!" Adele said as she looked out the window. They had been on the road for a few hours, laughing and singing their hearts out to the playlist he had made especially for this trip with all their favourite songs.

"Do you recognize this town?"

"Of course I do! My dad took a photo of us looking at something on our cameras in front of that church! I actually printed it and have it in my room."

"What? Why? It is such a random photo" he laughed.

"I don't know. I like it" Adele shrugged. "I have many others from that summer printed. It was one of the best of my life."

"Same" Mason smiled. Though he suspected she didn't remember it for the same reasons he did.

"If we are here… does it mean…"

"Maybe" he smirked.

"Oh my God, Mase. Please tell me you managed to do it. Please, please, please."

"You must be patient, little padawan."

"Little what?" she laughed.

"Just be patient, ok? It'll be worth it."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"And?"

"It was worth it" Adele smiled as she looked at the view. Somehow, Mason had managed to rent the same villa where them and their families had spent the summer when they were sixteen.

Their parents' original idea had been to do a road trip around Italy, but they soon realized that doing it with two teenagers and two early teens, would not be the dreamy vacation they were expecting. Instead, they rented a huge villa in a small town, which turned out to be exactly what they all needed.

"How did you come out with this idea?" she asked him.

"The perfume" Mason smiled. "Since we were already in Italy for the launch party and it was your birthday month, I thought it would be cool to remember the summer that inspired it all."

"So a whole month in Italy, away from everything and everyone?" Adele said, a big grin on her face.

"And just the two of us" he smiled back. "At least until our families arrive to celebrate your actual birthday. Do you think we'll make it?"

"What?"

"To your birthday. Do you think we will survive spending so much time together just the two of us, or that we will end up hating each other?" Mason chuckled. Though there was something in his voice that made Adele think he wasn't completely joking.

"There is nothing like trying" she replied, taking his hand on hers and giving it a squeeze. "Should we go for a tour around the house? I want to check what they have changed."

"You mean you want to see if they painted over your graffiti" he laughed.

"It was an accident, and it was all your fault" she said, pointing at him with their joined hands. She had been painting her nails in her room and minding her own business when Mason, Luca and Alex decided to scare her, which ended up with the little bottle of red paint all over the wall. They tried to clean it and cover it, but they only made it worse. "You better not try anything like that again if you want to make it alive to my birthday."

"I won't, I promise" he smiled.

And he kept his promise, making the following two weeks and a half basically perfect. They had even found themselves following a routine, feeling as if they were actually living there, as if that was their real life.

They would wake up in the morning and go for a run before it got too hot. Once they were back in the villa, they would make breakfast and eat it while catching up on everything that had happened in the world. Then it was time for a quick shower before going into town to do some grocery shopping, most people saying hello to them as if they had been living there for years, some even remembering them from when they had visited for the first time. "It is impossible to forget women as gorgeous as your mothers" one man had said.

After making lunch and eating it in the garden, they would either take a nap or just chill, most times falling asleep on each other's arms. And then it would be time to go for a swim, sometimes to the little beach hidden just a few kilometres away from town, sometimes in the big swimming pool the villa had.

It had been during one of the days where they had stayed in, that Adele had noticed Mason's eyes following her every move as she got out of the pool and laid down in her hammock.

"Mase, are you checking me out?" she asked him, finding the courage to do it God knows where.

"What? No, no, no, no" he quickly said.

"Then why are you so red?"

"The sun. I guess I didn't put on enough suncream" he shrugged. "Anyway, I think I should probably go for a dip too."

"Sure" she replied, trying to hide a smile.

After that day, they would constantly tease the other about it. And especially at night, when they would go into town to have dinner and enjoy the night, and make themselves look a bit more presentable.

"Addie, are you checking me out?"

"I'm sorry, Mase. But those trousers make your bum look so good…" she had said. Which wasn't a lie.

"That dress also makes your boobs look really good" he had smirked, his eyes going down to her chest and making Adele's cheeks turn on fire. Which was what Jourdan was telling her over facetime after she had finally confessed her feelings for Mason and everything that was going on in Italy. That they were playing with fire.

"Addie, you like each other. You are falling in love with each other. And if you don't talk about it, it may come back to bite you in the ass. Yours and his very nice one. Have you seen his new underwear campaign?"

"Daily and in real life" she chuckled.

"Lucky bitch" Jourdan said. "But I'm serious, Adele. Talk to him before your parents arrive and things get out of hand, messy, or both."

"I'll try" she sighed.

"No, you won't try. You will."

"Fine. I will" Adele replied.

But will she? Will she find the courage to do it? Because their families were arriving in just two days, and she was running out of time.

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #football fanfic #football imagine #mason mount x reader

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ilguna · 28 days ago

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☼ the moon loves the sun (Johanna Mason) ☼

summary; like two magnets, you and johanna will always find each other, inside of the arena and out.

warnings; swearing, weapon use, drowning, death and blood mention, the usual hunger games stuff.

wc; 7.2k

Out of the many tribute intake routines in the Capitol, you think the preparation for the Tribute Parade has to be your least favorite. There is absolutely nothing appealing about having strangers rip all of the hair on your body off. And then to be rubbed raw after by their fancy scrubs, stings like a bitch.

You don’t think the prep team fully understands the fact that you’re not used to their beautification process. You don’t have it done regularly enough for it to not hurt nearly as much. There are no places in District Five that specialize in what the Capitol does. Maybe in the Career districts, but certainly not in the outsiders.

Besides, they don’t do it for the mentors, only the tributes. It doesn’t matter what the mentors look like after they win. You could ask for the prep team’s help, if you did like the way you looked after, but they already have so much on their plate from the stylists.

This means the last time you had this done was about two and a half years ago, on your Victory Tour. You were hoping it would be the last time. And it would’ve, if it weren’t for this year's Hunger Games, which happens to be a Quarter Quell.

Despite the fact that it’s been several months since the reading of the card, it still feels like it happened yesterday. You were sitting at home, hosting a few of the other victors for dinner to watch the Capitol showing of Katniss Everdeen’s wedding dress, which was being chosen through votes.

No one had any idea of the announcement that would come after until Caesar mentioned it. Right around that time, everyone was beginning to wrap up. They were grabbing coats, pulling snow boots back on, preparing to go home because they had no interest in what the Capitol was planning this time for the Quell.

Once the anthem’s first notes began to play, the room around you came to a halt. President Snow came onto the stage, a boy following him. The boy was holding a wooden box, probably fully aware of the fact it contained an important card that would decide the fate of many people. What he didn’t know was it would steal the lives of those who didn’t deserve it.

Snow delivered a speech, reminding viewers of the Dark Days, and where the idea of the Quarter Quell was born from. He went on to tell you what the punishments for the past two anniversaries had been, before turning his attention to the boy with the box. He pulled out an envelope marked with a neat 75. He took his time breaking the seal on the flap, gently pulling the small square of paper out.

And then he turned to the microphone and read directly from the paper.

“On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

You could hear a pin drop in your house. Even worse, you could hear the screams of your neighbors as the news hit them next.

It quickly became a different atmosphere in your home. At that moment, everyone wanted to leave to be with their families so they could console them. A couple of them even left their belongings because of the rush they were in. The last person to leave was kind enough to shut your door on the way out.

No one stayed to keep you company as you began to sink into your couch.

You don’t think anyone saw the twist coming. None of the citizens in the Capitol, and certainly no one in the districts. When you walked the streets the next morning, it was like a ghost town. Those who were outside, were pale, and almost avoided eye contact with you, as if it would be disrespectful.

While on the other hand, the Capitol has not been mourning the loss of their victors. In fact, all your prep team seems to babble on about is how excited they’ve been to see favorites return in the arena, remarking how the Tribute Center has been remodeled in several areas.

You usually have a lot of patience for Capitol citizens, and you know that your prep team is nice—just painfully clueless—but there’s only so much you can take. The truth of the matter is that the Games aren’t about them this year. It’s about the Quarter Quell, and how far President Snow is willing to go to prove he’s in charge.

It’s about crushing the spirit of the victors.

“We’re almost done.” The girl tells you, her voice is higher than the boy’s by several octaves, and you can’t tell if it’s her natural voice or if she’s forcing it. Either way, the more she speaks, the worse your headache gets. You’ve been trying to nod and smile through most of their conversation, but you think they’re beginning to catch on to your strategy.

You hum a response to let her know you heard her.

“Will you go over the checklist?” The boy asks, his accent is thick, harder to understand. You mentioned this to your girlfriend once—she’s a victor in another district—because you were curious as to why his was thicker than most of the citizen’s you’ve met.

All she could tell you was that he was from a richer part of the Capitol. She sounded like she was being sarcastic when she said that, so you ended up having to ask District Five’s escort if it was true, and he was able to confirm it. Sometimes you can’t tell when Johanna, your girlfriend, is being honest, with how often she likes to mess with you.

“Of course.” The girl responds, reaching for a device she’s picked up and set aside a few times. She flickers her pink hair out of her face. “We’ve trimmed her hair, done a hair mask, washed and styled it. We fixed her nails. And we’ve waxed her body twice, and washed her three times.” She squints at the screen. “All that’s left is the lotion to rub down and I think we’ll be good to pass her off.”

“You think?” The boy asks. “You’ve been marking off the checklist, right?”

“Yes.” She raises her eyes from the device but doesn’t move her head. “She’ll be good to pass off after the lotion. You can apply it.” She promptly shuts off the device, sliding it onto the counter.

From what you’ve gathered from the few times they’ve willingly spoken to one another, you’re pretty sure they don’t get along. You wish you could say you recognize either of them from last year’s Hunger Games, but you think the prep team and the stylist got replaced. They’d been working on District Five for years, you’re not entirely surprised they’re gone, you just wish you were able to say goodbye.

“Fine.” The boy says, reaching for a bottle on a metal table. He squeezes a large amount of a white glitter liquid into his palm, and then approaches you.

He takes his time wiping handfuls of it onto certain sections of your body, before going back and working from the neck down. By the time he’s done, the stinging sensation has subsided into a cool soothe.

With that, the girl makes a wide motion with her hand, and the two of them file out of the room without another word, leaving you in there alone. The silence is nice, but it doesn’t last for long. The stylist must be eager to meet you, or get this over with, because she appears in the doorway and wastes no time getting to work.

“My name is Galina, I will be your stylist this year.” She says. “Stand up from the table.”

You follow her instructions, and wait patiently as she looks over you, inspecting every inch of your bare skin to ensure her prep team did a good job. When she’s done, she plucks the silk robe off the hook on the wall and hands it to you. You pull it on, and follow her into the next room.

“I will be taking care of you alone.” She informs you. “I work quicker than those two. I’m surprised they did as good of a job as they have.”

“They were very nice.” You murmur, feeling as if you need to defend them.

“Not to each other, that’s for sure.” She shakes her head, motioning for you to sit on a chair in front of a vanity. “This shouldn’t take long.”

She cracks her knuckles, which seems almost painful with how many gold rings varying in thickness cover her slender fingers. She doesn’t seem to mind them, reaching for your hair to get to work. She must be used to doing everything herself, because she doesn’t complain once about the circumstance.

It’s clear that Galina has a vision of what she wants to do with you, she doesn’t hesitate when she moves. There is no deliberation, she moves with confidence, conquering your hair, and immediately moving onto your nails next. She murmurs a compliment about how they’ve been perfectly shaped, and then she paints them an electric blue.

When it comes to makeup, she tells you to close your eyes and hold still. You’re not allowed to open them until she says, and by then, she’s almost done. All she does is apply a white mascara to your lashes, and then moves out of the way, giving you a chance to see yourself in the mirror. Her work is beautiful.

She accessories you in silver jewelry, tests to make sure your nails have dried completely, and then pulls a white and blue dress out of a closet. It’s over the shoulder, wrapped around your upper arms tightly to keep it from moving, and it ends just above the knee.

“Everyone’s going after that fire effect because of Cinna.” She says. “I figured to let the sun do all the work.”

“Is it solar powered?” You ask.

“To an extent.” She runs her finger along a line of rubber that goes around your waist. “It’ll make you look like you’re glowing.”

“Oh.” You raise your eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

She half-shrugs, “If you want to call it that. You can put on the heels and go. I’ll see you later this evening, after the parade.”

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a seat on a chair to pull on the white wedges.

When you’re done, you let yourself out, because she’s sitting in the lounge part of the room, eating grapes while typing on her device. As much as you liked District Five’s female stylist last year, she wasn’t nearly this organized with tributes. It took her several hours to get your girl tributes ready. There was one year she took so long that your tribute was the last to walk out on the floor.

It makes sense why Snow replaced her, and the prep team went too because they were just as bad as the stylist when it came to being timely.

You carefully shut the door behind you, walking down the cement hallway, following the signs until you step into the main area for the Remake Center. There are a couple victors out here already with their horses and chariots. You know some of these people by name, mostly those who won in recent years, all the older victors don’t really mentor anymore—besides the ones that have to.

Your eyes land on a close friend of yours, Finnick Odair. He’s standing beside his horse, talking to the tamer, who hands something over to him. Finnick nods his head in thanks, and then turns away to look around the room.

“Ah, look who it is.” He says when he sees you. “I see your stylist has gone with something different this year.”

“New stylist, actually.” You smile, coming up next to him. “And prep team.”

“Did you like them?”

You open your mouth, taking in a breath, but no real compliments come to mind. Finnick lets out a loud laugh, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. He throws his head back for a couple of seconds, and then looks back at you.

“That bad, huh?”

“Well,” You start, “I mean, the prep team likes to argue and Galina, the stylist, is very straightforward. I think it’s nice that they’re quicker than the last bunch, but I would not surround myself with them frequently.”

“You’re too nice for your own good.” Finnick smiles, and then offers his cupped hand to you. “Have a sugar cube.”

“Sure.” You say, picking one off the top.

You pop it in your mouth, causing it to water, but it soaks up almost instantly. It isn’t long before the cube loses its shape and has become a pile on your tongue. The sweetness spreads across your mouth, hurting your teeth. It’s worth the pain.

Finnick nudges your shoulder, jerking his chin up to make you look. You turn around to see what he’s looking at. A smile spreads across your face quickly, as you begin to run away from him, and to your girlfriend instead.

“Johanna!” You gasp.

She finds you with a smirk on her face, arms held out for a hug. You slam into her, hugging her tightly, as she rotates you in a small circle. When you pull away, she reaches for the undersides of your jaw to avoid messing up the makeup on your cheeks. She guides your lips to hers, a warm happiness spreads across your body.

She pulls away for a second, and then presses a quick second kiss to your lips. She lets out a quiet laugh after, using her thumb to wipe away the dark lipstick she transferred to you by accident.

“You look stunning.” Johanna says, “I heard District Five got a new stylist.”

“And prep team.” You nod. “They’re better than the last group Five had, but I wouldn’t say they’re perfect.”

“I wouldn’t say any of them are. Maybe District Twelve.”

“I like your stylist.” You smile. “She has a theme and she sticks with it.”

Her eyes narrow at you. “She’s been doing this tree gimmick for several decades and no one has stopped her. I almost said something to her this year.”

“Oh, don’t. She’s old. She doesn’t know any better.”

“As if I care.” She rolls her eyes.

“Well, I think you’re beautiful in anything you wear.” You tell her, causing a small smile to peek at the corners of her lips.

“Thank you, babe.”

“No need to thank me, I’m just speaking the truth.” You take her hand, starting to pull her back to where you were standing with Finnick.

“Hey, Johanna.” Finnick says.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Johanna asks, letting out a snort.

Finnick looks down at his parade costume, which is almost inappropriate. His stylist has draped a golden net across his body, and it nets at his groin. His outfit is so fragile that all it’ll take is one bump before it falls off his body.

His face twists. “I would ask you the same, but I think we all know what you’re supposed to be.”

Johanna mocks a smile.

“So, what’s the plan?” You ask, changing the topic before they start bickering.

He raises his eyebrows. “Is this your way of asking for an alliance?”

“I just thought that there’d be a plan in the works.” You motion to the chariots. “You know, since this is clearly rigged.”

“I don’t think anyone’s made one yet.” Johanna murmurs, “I’m sure someone will come out with something.”

“What will we even do?” You ask.

Finnick shrugs. “We’ll have to see what the Capitol does first. If I had to take a bet, though, I would say Haymitch might try to clean up his tributes’ mess.”

“If he’s sober.” Johanna remarks, you elbow her.

“I just hope it works out.” You sigh. “It would be a shame to have gotten here for nothing.”

—

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!” Claudius Templesmith announces.

The countdown until the gong sounds, begins. You have less than a minute to figure out the arena and decide what to do next. And right now, it seems you’re off to a bad start.

The podium you have risen on is completely surrounded by water. Despite being from District Five, you are not the strongest swimmer. In fact, you only know the very basics to get you to land. You probably would know more if you went into a district job—they teach everyone how to swim if they work near the dam—but you didn’t. Instead, you got selected for the Hunger Games at seventeen.

There was never a reason to learn after that.

You look into the blue waves, hoping to find sand. Maybe that way you’ll be able to wade to the beach that surrounds the water. Your wishful thinking is quickly gone when you realize there is no sand. It’s just water, and there’s no telling how deep it is. All you know for sure is it’s a drownable depth.

You take several breaths to calm the rising anxiety, lifting your eyes to focus on anything else around you. The golden Cornucopia is straight ahead, of course, just floating on a giant black rock island. There’s strips of black sand coming out from the island, connecting to the ring of beach.

Beyond the beach is the jungle.

The sound of someone coughing nearby makes you jump out of your skin. You turn in the direction, and find another tribute, who's staring right at you. You think it’s the man from District Nine, but you can’t be sure. You’ve never seen him before the interviews last night. You don’t think he’s part of the rebel alliance.

You eye him for a few seconds before settling on ignoring him. He probably knows how to swim just as much as you do. Probably even less. He is not the biggest threat in this arena, you can get away from him, especially since one of those strips of land is to your right.

When the gong sounds, you’ll swim there… and then what? You go to the Cornucopia? You run into the jungle? If you go to the center, who’s going to be there?

You have to close your eyes to focus on your thoughts. The only people that will be able to get to the Cornucopia first is going to be Finnick and Mags. Actually, it’ll be Finnick. Mags is in no shape to cut across this water like she was probably able to in the past. As cruel as that sounds, it’s just what happens when you age.

Finnick will get to the middle first. He’s an ally. You can trust him to have your back while you grab a weapon. But how fast is Johanna going to be able to get there? She knows how to swim, you think. She won’t be the best at it, so it’ll take her time to get there. At that point, the Careers might already be there. You trust they were taught how to swim in their home districts.

As you weigh it, you realize it’s going to be dangerous for you to meet Finnick in the middle, much less Johanna. You begin to think it might be easier to find them in the jungle, when you remember how thick it’s going to be. And as nice as it would be, there is no way you can stand on the beach and wait for them to come to you.

You’re going to have to go to the Cornucopia and hope Johanna gets there in time.

The gong sounds seconds after your decision is made. You jerk forward to dive into the water, but hesitate at the last second, almost sending you over the podium. Your arms flail, trying to restore balance, but it’s too late, you’ve leaned forward too far. You manage to get a breath before you hit the water.

It’s warm, engulfing your body from head to toe. You kick hard, bringing you back to the surface, causing a wave to wash over your face. You sputter out a cough because of the salt water, and then you begin to paddle to the strip of land, taking your time getting there.

Once your hands come into contact with sand, you pull yourself out of the water, and head directly to the Cornucopia. As you go, you take time to assess the people in the water, wondering if any of them could be Johanna. From what you can tell, most people are bobbing around, struggling to make it to the rock. And no one has the qualities of your girlfriend.

You’re almost to the center when Finnick rounds the corner with a trident in his hand, raised to attack, but then he relaxes. “Oh good, it’s you. Do you see Mags?”

“No. How about Johanna?”

“Not yet. She might be swimming this way, a lot of people are.” He motions for you to follow, and you do.

You’re almost unable to hide your surprise when you see Katniss is here. How is she able to swim? There can’t be many opportunities in District Twelve, or at all. You give a look to Finnick, wondering if he’ll have an explanation, but he’s too focused on finding anything valuable on the island.

Katniss tenses up at the first sight of you, and then relaxes considerably. She trusts you, of course she does. She pulled that stunt in the Training Center, and while many people jumped to tell Haymitch they wanted an alliance, you let her have her space. Yes, she would be a very good ally with her skill, but you knew she would come around.

She did. Haymitch reached out to you to tell you Katniss wanted you to be her ally. By then, he’d already recruited you for the rebel alliance, so there was no action needed. It was more of a heads-up that you were going to be a trusted friend in the arena to her. As for Finnick and Johanna, it was a completely different story. They couldn’t help taunting her, naturally that drove her away.

“Let’s clear out.” Katniss says, moving down one of the rocks without waiting.

You don’t follow immediately, digging around in the mouth of the Cornucopia until you find a long knife you’ll be able to use. As soon as you have it in your hand, you jog to follow Katniss and Finnick, who are heading after Peeta. He’s still standing on his podium, waiting patiently to be helped.

He can’t swim.

Once you’ve joined them, Katniss begins to remove knives from her belt, likely thinking to go and retrieve him. Finnick grabs her shoulder. “I’ll get him.”

Katniss’s face twists. “I can.”

Finnick doesn’t listen to her, shedding his weapons onto the sand. “Better not exert yourself. Not in your condition.” He says, motioning to her belly, reminding her that she’s supposed to be pregnant.

A wave of realization crosses her face, mouth opening to say something. Before she can, Finnick prepares to dive. “Cover me.” He tells you, or her, and then launches off the rock strip.

You look over your shoulder at the Cornucopia, finding that the Careers have made it, and they’re gathering their supplies. You know Gloss, Cashmere and Enobaria fairly well. They weren’t your crowd, especially since you’re dating Johanna—she’s a pot stirrer—but the few conversations you had with them were polite. As for Brutus, you hadn’t seen him before the reaping. He’s an older victor, if you had to guess, he won around the same time as Haymitch.

Water splashes. You whip in the other direction, worried it’s a stray opponent, and instead see Mags, paddling her way to you guys. She moves a little bit faster than you do, but not faster than Finnick. He’s able to get Peeta and swim him back to the rock before Mags has made it halfway.

“Hello again.” Peeta murmurs to Katniss, they kiss. “We’ve got allies.”

“Yes. Just as Haymitch intended.”

“Remind me, did we make deals with anyone else?” Peeta asks.

“Only Mags, I think.” Katniss nods to her, and she’s almost made it the whole way.

“Well, I can’t leave Mags behind.” Finnick laughs. “She’s one of the few people who actually likes me.”

“I’ve got no problem with Mags. Especially now that I see the arena. Her fishhooks are probably our best chance of getting a meal.” Katniss tells him.

“Katniss wanted her on the first day.” Peeta pitches in.

“Katniss has remarkably good judgement.” Finnick says.

He reaches down into the water once Mags has made it into his arms length. He’s able to scoop her out, her weight playing no factor in his strength. He places her on her feet, and then smooths some of her grey hair out of her eyes.

You do a full turn where you stand, looking for Johanna, hoping you’ll see her.

Between Mags’s accent and the mumbling, you have a hard time trying to figure out what she’s saying. Something about the belts and bobbing, you think.

“Look, she’s right. Someone figured it out.” Finnick points, you follow his finger and find Beetee, flailing around in the waves, but he’s not drowning.

“What?” Katniss asks.

“The belts. They’re flotation devices.” Finnick says. “I mean, you have to propel yourself, but they’ll keep you from drowning.”

“We should go.” Katniss says.

“Does anyone see Johanna?” You ask, eyes still searching the water.

“I don’t think she’s on this side of the Cornucopia, (Y/n).” Finnick tells you. “I’m sorry. We should be able to find her later on.”

“You’re sure?” You ask, turning to look at him. “If you’re sure, I’ll go. But if you think we won’t see each other again—”

“I’m sure.” Finnick tells you, his green eyes boring into yours. “It’s Johanna. She loves you. She’s going to find you. And we might even come across her by the end of tonight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “Let’s go, then.”

Mags crawls onto Finnick’s back, holding onto his shoulders tightly. He begins to lead the way down the spoke, with Katniss and Peeta taking the middle, and you slowly following in the back. A part of you waits for her to call your name to bring you back, but you know it’s not going to happen. She’s not here yet. And you can’t wait for her to be.

You’ll see her again soon.

—

As you near where Finnick is sitting on the jungle’s treeline, your body begins to shut down, knowing you’re safe. All it takes is your knee buckling to send you falling to the sand, barely catching yourself before you faceplant.

Since you’re still struggling to breathe, you close your eyes and take deep breaths to get a hold of it. It’s easy to forget just how exhausting the arena is when you’re watching it from the outside. You didn’t win that long ago, and yet your initiation preparation is already leaving.

It felt like you were being electrocuted when you were woken up by Katniss’s screaming, warning you about the fog. To navigate the jungle’s greenery in the dark is a whole talent that you might’ve discovered. You tripped too many times to count, with how many roots and weeds stick out of the dirt, desperate to take you down. It didn’t help that you were being actively corralled by the Gamemakers via the poisonous fog.

You will say you got lucky, you didn’t get it nearly as bad as the others did. Their blisters cover almost their entire body, even after washing most of it off in the salt water. You mostly got it in patches on your arms and legs, because you were running for your life, willing to leave them behind to save yourself.

And then to immediately be attacked by mutts less than an hour later… Peeta had gone into the jungle to begin to drill into a tree to get water, and when you went to join him, there were these monkey mutts on the tree branches. They completely surrounded you, but their attention was on Peeta, who was oblivious.

Well, until he could sense the danger, then it was all over from there. There were monkeys flying at you from every direction, angry and ready to attack. Between only four of you, it was impossible to keep up. And they didn’t slow down. It wasn’t until Peeta was vulnerable, did things get serious.

A monkey went flying at him, Katniss went to rescue him, but right before he was tackled, an ally—the woman from District Six—came running out a tree she’d camouflaged herself into. She got right between the monkey and Peeta, killing herself but saving him in the process.

As soon as the mutts had gotten their kill, they backed out. Peeta and Katniss are sending the woman off in the water now. She’s not going to make it. The fangs punctured vital parts of her chest, leaving deep holes. You had to walk away.

“It’s a good thing you’re with us.” Finnick says. “I don’t think we would’ve found a good path getting away from the fog.”

“You’re just being nice. I should’ve helped more.” You tell him.

“You did help. You found us a path.” Finnick says. “Besides, we definitely would’ve had trouble with those mutts.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen tributes get attacked back-to-back like that by the Gamemakers.” You murmur, using your finger to draw in the sand.

“I haven’t, either. There’s something going on.”

“I hope Johanna��s okay.” You look up at the jungle. She could be anywhere in there.

“It’s Johanna.” Finnick says, trying to comfort you. “She’s smart. She survived the bloodbath, and so did Blight. They’re probably together.”

You hum. Katniss drags her feet through the sand, coming in your direction. She’s got this solemn expression on her face, probably having something to do with the dead victor they had to say goodbye to. She stands over you two for a second before she speaks.

“Why don’t you two get some rest?” She asks. “I’ll watch for a while.”

“No, Katniss, I’d rather.” Finnick says.

All it takes is one look at his face, and she nods. “All right, Finnick, thanks.”

She moves away, going to join Peeta, who’s already laid down on the beach. You watch them for a couple of seconds, before you look back at Finnick. There’s tears in his eyes, he swallows thickly. He must be thinking about Mags. You lost her during the fog.

“Do you want me to move?” You ask.

“No, it’s okay.” He tells you, wiping his eyes. “I want a minute.”

“Take as many as you need.” You tell him, looking away to give him some privacy.

The two of you sit on the beach, watching the sunrise, wordless. Katniss and Peeta toss and turn several times, trying to get comfortable on the uneven ground. For a while, Finnick sits still, and then he gets restless and gets up to gather some giant leaves from the jungle. He works beside you, creating mats that he hangs on the tree branches to give Katniss and Peeta shade while they sleep.

He moves on to making three tightly woven bowls. You take two of them from him to fill with water, which he thanks you for. He takes the third bowl and goes poking around in the saltwater. By the time the two of you come back together, he’s got a full bowl of shellfish. He shows you how to crack the shells open, and you try a couple of them.

“How do you like it?” He asks.

“I don’t.” You tell him honestly. “But it’s food, and I’ll eat anything right now.”

“Do you like fish better?” He asks, eyebrows raising.

You shrug, playing with a shell. “Not a lot of fish to go around District Five.”

“Really? You’re on the coast.”

“Not me, I live closer to the Capitol than I do to the water.” You tell him.

His face twists, tilting his head back while he stares at the sky, trying to picture it in his mind. “Where’s your Justice Building, then?”

“In the middle.”

His face twists.

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye, causing you to turn quickly to see what it is, but it’s only Katniss. She’s rubbing sand out of her eye, a quiet yawn leaves her lips before she blinks to focus.

Finnick holds up one of the shellfish. “They’re better fresh.” He tells her, cracking it open and ripping a chunk of the flesh out.

She reaches forward to grab one, but stops at the sight of her hands. She scowls, beginning to get to her feet.

“You know, if you scratch you’ll bring on infection.” Finnick tells her sarcastically.

“That’s what I’ve heard.” She says back to him. She washes her hands off in the saltwater, and dries her hands by shaking her hands. She stops suddenly after she’s taken a few steps in your direction, throwing her head back. “Hey, Haymitch, if you’re not too drunk, we could use a little something for our skin.”

The parachute appears seconds later, as if Haymitch was just waiting for her to ask. She takes something in the palm of her hand, muttering, “About time.” And then she comes toward you two, taking a seat in the sand.

She unscrews the cap and begins to squeeze the ointment onto her palm. It’s thick, and dark, and it smells disgusting. She hesitates for a second, but as soon as she begins to massage it into her leg, she lets out a moan. Once she starts on her other leg, she hands it off to Finnick.

“It’s like you’re decomposing.” Finnick tells her, because it’s staining her skin a grey-green color. But he follows her example, and rubs it onto his scabs.

“Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven’t looked pretty?” Katniss teases.

“It must be. The sensation’s completely new. How have you managed it all these years?” He asks, passing the tube to you.

“Just avoid mirrors. You’ll forget about it.” She remarks.

You spread some of the ointment across the itchy patches, and as soon as it comes into contact with your skin, it disappears completely.

“Not if I keep looking at you.” Finnicks says back to her.

You begin to feel better once you’re covered. Katniss and Finnick are able to move more freely, too. When they’re done rubbing it on the exposed skin of each other’s backs, Katniss gets to her feet. “I’m going to wake Peeta.”

“No, wait.” Finnick gets up to join her. “Let’s do it together. Put our faces right in front of his. Come on, (Y/n).”

“His heart has stopped once already, I don’t want to share the responsibility for killing him again.” You tell them.

Finnick laughs. “I’ll just perform CPR again.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, watching them get in front of Peeta’s face. Katniss gently wakes him, shaking him, softly saying his name. His eyes flutter open, as if he’s a storybook princess, but then a scream leaves his mouth and he jumps three feet in the air.

Katniss and Finnick fall back away from him, laughing their asses off, rolling around in the sand. You join in on their laughter, but Peeta’s trying not to encourage their behavior by crossing his arms. All it does is set them off into giggle fits, where he struggles to fight off a smile.

“Guys.” You point at a parachute that’s coming down in your direction.

Finnick pulls his attention away to see what you’re pointing at. He catches the loaf in his hands, examining it carefully. It’s one of the Capitol’s specialty loaves that they make in association with a district. This one is tinted green, marking it as District Four’s.

“This will go well with the shellfish.” He announces.

While Katniss helps Peeta with getting a layer of the ointment on his skin, you help Finnick clean the meat from the shellfish. He’s quicker than you are, but he appreciates the help. When it’s time, you gather together and eat the meat with the salty bread, taking healthy gulps of water in between.

It isn’t until you’re almost done, a few pieces left, does a scream erupt out from the far side of the jungle, causing each one of you to freeze and observe. A wedge on the other side is shaking, like an earthquake. Then, a huge wave breaks through the trees, soaring higher than the tallest one, coming down the hill fast. It hits the center water, causing a large ripple to spread out.

The four of you jump to your feet, watching as the tide reaches your knees, raising your belongings out of the sand. It takes a couple of seconds for you to grab what belongs to you, besides the jumpsuits, which have been eaten away by the fog so badly that they’re nothing but rags. You let it go.

A cannon fires. A hovercraft appears over the area, a claw being sent down to retrieve the body. It grabs them, pulls them out, and then disappears inside of the ship, which blends in with thin air seconds later.

As you begin to settle back down onto wet sand, Katniss halts. “There.” She whispers, nodding ahead.

You follow her gaze, seeing three people stumble onto the beach. The others retreat into the jungle treeline, trying to hide in the shadow, but you observe, squinting. They’re in rough shape, one of them is getting dragged out by a second, and the third one is wandering around in circles. They’re all covered in a dark red.

“Who is that?” Peeta asks. “Or what? Muttations?”

Katniss grabs an arrow, drawing it back on her bow. You hold a hand out to stop her, watching as the first person collapses on the beach, causing the second one to stomp their feet, turning to push the third one over.

“Johanna.” You say, moving forward. “Johanna!”

Johanna whips around to follow your voice. “(Y/n)!”

“Johanna!” You shout, sprinting across the sand. She throws her arms out to catch you as you collide into her body. Her hand hands the back of your head, squeezing you into her chest tightly. After a few breaths, all you smell is blood, so you pull back to look at her. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Finnick has appeared at your side.

“No, I’m not hurt, babe. This idiot is, though.” She motions at the one laying in the sand, and now that you’re closer, you can see that it’s Beetee. The one walking in circles is Wiress, and she’s muttering something to herself.

“What happened?” You ask, rubbing the red on her skin.

She motions to the jungle. “We thought it was rain, you know, because of the lightning, and we were all so thirsty. But when it started coming down, it turned out to be blood. Thick, hot blood. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak without getting a mouthful. We just staggered around, trying to get out of it. That’s when Blight hit the force field.”

“Oh, Johanna.” You murmur.

“I’m sorry, Johanna.” Finnick says, Katniss and Peeta are just joining you.

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t much, but he was from home.” She says, she looks at you for a long moment. And then down at Beetee in the sand. “And he left me alone with these two.” She nudges him with the toe of her shoe. “He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her—”

All attention is on Wiress for a moment, “Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”

“Yeah, we know. Tick, tock. Nuts is in shock.” Johanna says, which seems to draw Wiress to her. As soon as Wiress begins to touch her, she loses her patience, shoving her down to the beach. “Just stay down, will you?”

You shake your head, putting a hand on her chest.

“Lay off her.” Katniss snaps, making it worse.

Johanna’s eyes narrow in her direction. “Lay off her?” She hisses. Before anyone can stop her, she slaps Katniss across the face. “Who do you think got them out of that bleeding jungle for you? You—”

“Woah!” You push Johanna back, and when she doesn’t budge, Finnick comes to your aid.

He throws her over his shoulder, but this doesn’t stop her from screaming insults at Katniss for her disrespect. You stand with Finnick in the water, watching as he dunks Johanna beneath the surface, turning the water pink. After about the twentieth time, she begins to calm down and come to reason.

“You’re going to apologize to her, Johanna.” You say. “That was uncalled for.”

“I’m dealing with a lot.” Her voice is harsh, but you’re not taking it personally. “It took me hours to get them down to the beach. Wiress kept running off, and Beetee’s as useless as that stupid spool of wire that I had to carry down for him.”

You take handfuls of water to dump in her hair, scratching it gently to get the dried bits off. She begins to relax, eyes closed, head tilted back. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for you at the Cornucopia.”

“It was better you didn’t.” She tells you. “When Beetee was finally done splashing around, he ran right into the Careers. If Blight weren’t there, he probably would’ve died because of it. He’s lucky all he got was a knife.”

“Did you get hurt at all?”

“No, none of them were able to touch me. We made it out to the jungle just fine. Wiress was still stable so she was guiding us to water for a while.”

“There’s no water in the jungle.” Finnick tells her.

“I figured that out after a while, but it shut them up so I went with it.” She admits. “Do you have any?”

“We can get water.” You tell her, wiping her eyes free of the salt. “And Finnick can get more shellfish, right?”

Finnick nods, “I can start, give you guys some privacy.”

“That would be nice, Finnick. Thank you.” You nod.

He wades away, you turn your attention to Johanna, who’s opened her eyes. You get to her level in the water, a smile on your face. She shakes her head, “Are you okay?”

“Besides some scabs and cuts, I’m fine. I’ve been worse.”

“Good.” She murmurs. “I was worried about you, but I saw that you were with Finnick and Mags, so I knew you’d be okay.”

“He’s got my back.” You agree. “I almost didn’t go with them. I had to tell him if he thought we wouldn’t see each other again, that I’d go back to the Cornucopia.”

“I’ll always find you, babe.” She tells you. “I will always get back to you.”

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